Previous part of Blue Eyes.

***

Jim had had some bad days in his life, but though this wasn't the worst, it was definitely one of the shittiest. He knocked back another shot with the serious look of someone on a mission to drown themselves in alcohol as efficiently as possible.

He was succeeding too.

Funny how what he had thought was going to be the big problem, which was taking on his Companion had been the one good thing recently, and his relationship with his parents, usually so stable had taken a dramatic nosedive and plunged into a spectacular crash-landing.

They'd stayed in Vegas, and while they were still there the DNA test results came through on Ellie.

It wasn't a surprise to him at least and not really to his parents but it forced the issue everyone had been pretending was not a big deal to come crawling out from under its shameful rock into the open.

The resulting discussion hadn't been pretty.

It hadn't been a discussion, not really. His parents were making a sane point, Jim knew that, but dammit, Ellie was still his daughter. He'd raised her and that had to count as something except it didn't. She wasn't going to get a trust and she was going to be cut off, bam, just like that. Trap door opening cut off.

The best-worst part had been their timing. Coming to him just when he'd been up and awake and contemplating going in to work. Gil had made some interesting omelet thing with chopped grilled vegetables and cheese, and it was a good start to the day. That and flirting over breakfast, and sitting Gil down to make sure his brand was healing and putting aloe on it. Then his parents had knocked, and it was all downhill from there.

As far as arguments went, that had been a marathon, too, with Gil trying to support him without really knowing all of the story and too much of the legalese.

The problem with his parents were that as long as he was doing what they thought was the right thing, they were proud of him. When he wasn't or they didn't understand, he was disturbed rather than having an actual viewpoint. It was bad enough that Janice had pushed him away and practically cut him off from his little girl, but now he was finding that it didn't matter what he wanted; the Family as a legal entity had a legal imperative to preserve the direct bloodline.

He had announced he wasn't interested in marriage, or anything like that and they had tried persuading, and cajoling, then shouting and issuing ultimatums. When his father started to berate him about shirking his Duty, he had nearly exploded. He had been so close to hitting something, someone. So damn close, and his dad had known he had crossed a line there.

What did his father know of Duty? Career Officer with enough rank to be most useful in 'headquarters' when the shit hit the fan.

And they all knew something had happened, but Jim hadn't ever talked about it, and his father had still known he'd crossed a line. Gil had tried to step in and suggest that there were so many other possibilities about what to do, and that hadn't helped because Jim's mind kept leaping back to Ellie. He'd held her the day she'd been born. He'd taught her how to ride a bike and he'd tried in between work hours to be a father to her, a good father and now it didn't matter. He had no rights to see her because he wasn't her biological father.

And then he'd had to go to work like that

He'd gone to work with his father's final parting shot that they would invoke the Family right to surrogacy if he was truly serious about not marrying and Jim had nearly staggered out of the house at the shock of that last retort. He would have no choice. A daughter or son would be born, of his blood and raised probably by his parents or sometimes by another branch of the family so they would have siblings.

But whatever the decision, he would have no choice. And that always pissed him off.

It had been really unfortunate that Sara had been in one of her pissy moods all night as well and they had been out on a pretty clear abuse and murder call. Any other time he rolled with it. Took her punches, let her spout off, let her rant and rave at him for somehow being complicit in the victims death and implying that he knew nothing about fear, nothing about brutality....

And he'd just snapped. He hadn't meant to, but he'd snapped and he hadn't snapped like that in years. It had probably been building that long. And he wasn't stupid -- he knew why she acted like that sometimes with cases. She'd been there, done that and because he acted the way he did she just... made assumptions. She got angry and lashed out and he'd lashed back. She'd probably never even realized that she was venting her stress at him like that, because he'd let her.

She'd probably never do that again. Catherine had gotten involved once they'd arrived back at the lab and...

He was here instead of at home and there was a sense of a coiling bitterness in his stomach that he was trying to drown with liberal application of scotch before it could get a grip on all of him. He didn't like to disappoint Cath, because he liked his work and he'd been pleased he was good at it, brought something to it all and he didn't like the fact he'd snapped at Sara although it was a minor miracle he hadn't done so before.

Jim also didn't like the fact by sitting here he was letting Gil down. But then, he reasoned, if he went home and shouted, he'd hate himself even more. If that were possible.

It didn't really seem possible. But he would've gone home in a foul mood and Gil was still hurt. He had a fucking brand on his shoulder, and he was playing at manly and sucking it up, but Jim knew that just throbbed and ached and hurt no matter how Gil was acting.

He didn't want to go home and yell at Gil or get into some weird argument because anything was going to set him off, even Gil trying to be helpful. Maybe he just needed to pick up a one-night stand and knock her up and get it over with. At least then he'd have an heir, and a little choice about it.

When Jim noticed his drink was empty, he scowled and signaled to the bartender for another. Not nearly drunk enough yet. Because with these black moods came the worst nightmares. Nightmares that would have him screaming most of the fucking night if he didn't damp them down somehow. He needed to be drunker, and he needed to go home and he needed to sleep alone tonight. No telling what he could do.

Gil really didn't need that kind of shit. He didn't need to figure out that there was a lot more wrong with Jim than whatever he thought he was up to handling, and Jim honestly didn't want Gil to know it because Gil was something special to him. Gil meant something, and he didn't want to fuck it up.

He felt like a damn fool for resisting so long. He remembered the feeling; he'd clung to that feeling when things were bad, that somewhere in the world he'd done something right. He'd made the right decision, he'd felt it with a certainty that couldn't be faked and that was what had made him so determined not to make Gil into any sort of a slave. He deserved more. He deserved more than maybe he knew how to give anymore.

He drank some more of the cheap whiskey. No use wasting money on a first class ticket to oblivion when you could travel economy. He could probably call a cab to get home, or he could just walk. One way or another, he'd get home. Just then it didn't matter because he had to think about what he was going to do but he didn't want to. He wanted to go home and sleep, and he was maybe going to take advantage of Gil's training and just let Gil do his Companion thing. That weird thing when he got quiet and he was just there and supporting.

That was... nice. Just somehow right. He wasn't completely alone and Gil knew how to fill a place with his presence, even if he were silent. He wanted him then with a tugging pull inside that astounded him. He wanted to see him, see that little quirk he did with his mouth, the way his eyes followed him, blue and watchful. He just wanted to know that someone gave a shit about him for no other reason that he was Jim. Not Jim Brass, father of an Heir to be, or Jim Brass, workaholic, or even Jim Brass, Benefactor. Just him.

And Gil did that. It was kind of weird, that the Benefactor part didn't matter to Gil or didn't seem to. He didn't want him for his 'power' or that imaginary wealth or anything other than for himself. Gil wanted Jim, but Gil didn't know about the nightmares or the fact that Jim had a temper or anything else. Gil just knew he tended to be a drunk.

Well, that was what Gil was going to get when Jim got home.

He looked at his once again mysteriously empty glass, not even remembering drinking that one. That was usually the sign he was reaching his limit.

Limits were made to be broken. One more and then he'd go home. Just one more.

---

He was pissed off.

It had been a while since he'd been pissed off like that. The last time had been at work and he'd reorganized the chemical closet alphabetically because he wasn't on a case, and then when he'd been put on a case he'd just about tried to wring the suspect out himself. Now there was nothing to do but pick up with painting and try not to let the anger bleed too much into worry. Jim was at work. Jim was okay, even if he was late and it was getting on to nine. Jim had taken the car and he hadn't done anything stupid or gotten himself hurt, or anything else that Gil was worrying about because Jim's parents seemed too damn stubborn to understand what the problem was.

He hadn't helped matters after Jim had left by telling Jim's father to go fuck himself.

The stupid thing was Gil's mother was a Companion and she had to be reading Jim, but somehow she was missing it. Okay, he hadn't exactly told Richard to fuck himself but he had been a lot more forceful that he had anticipated.

Gil had seen Jim's face when they told him about the DNA results. He looked like someone had just told him someone he loved had died. Jim couldn't have looked any more hurt if his father had take a scalpel and shoved it in his chest and had a good rummage around in there for his heart before yanking it out. Even though Jim had known, Gil understood at least that Jim felt he had a daughter, she was his until reality caught up with him.

His parents, on the other hand, were assuming Jim had spent years getting used to the idea and was indifferent to his not-daughter's fate. And he hadn't, and Gil had tried to explain that to them but they'd just told him that Jim had known for years and was just in denial. No matter what Gil had said, they'd just barreled on going on about the Family and how Jim needed to move on, until Gil had finally told them that he didn't care what they thought, his concern was for Jim and if Jim wasn't having the idea of having an heir, then Gil wasn't going to serve as the backdoor way to get him to agree. They'd upset Jim and they were not going to bring it up again.

Oddly, that had made Rebecca smile, pat him on the hand and after whispering in her husband's ear, they had left. Gil got the oddly disturbing feeling they were approving of what they thought to be blind loyalty to his Benefactor.

He wasn't entirely sure whether he should be complimented or insulted. He settled on anxious as he waited past time for Jim to come home, and there was no sign of him.

So nine had come and gone and Gil was taking a break from painting to putter around a little, cleaning up and ready, restlessly waiting to hear Jim's key in the door. He was going to wait another hour, and then he was going to call the lab.

It was possible that he had stayed on for a double but Jim had promised he would phone and tell him. Jim phoned and talked to him from work anyway, which had surprised him. When he was driving places, stopped for a bite to eat. Maybe just for a couple of minutes but Gil had got the impression he just phoned because there was actually someone there he could talk to.

Someone who wanted to hear how he was doing and what was going on, a sounding board for cases. A familiar voice, and Gil appreciated those calls. It broke up the tedium of trying to put together a resume that was good with some of his academic research and his glowing recommendations, and painting and... It was good to hear from Jim.

He hadn't heard from Jim since he'd left.

That was why the knock on the door made him get to his feet before his brain kicked on.

Jim wouldn't knock, so it wouldn't be Jim. He wasn't sure who would be. Jim wouldn't knock on the door of his own house so it wouldn't be him. This time of the morning? Who would come around now? Salesman, door-to-door, maybe someone who knew Jim's shifts?

If it was someone who knew Jim then maybe they knew if he were staying on late at work.

The knocking came again more insistently, and then a voice. "I'm not going away until you open up and talk to me, Jim! ...Brass? You in there?"

Gil peered out of the peephole, and then stepped back for a moment before he started to unlock the locks. It was a woman, someone who knew Jim and thought he was home then.

He opened the door.

"Hey J..." The woman stopped mid word and took a breath. "Who are you?" she asked without any other form of small talk or courtesy. "What are you doing in Jim's house?"

He hadn't been expecting that question, hadn't been expecting to be asked that, or anything else. She was pretty, in an unconventional way, and she was just standing there on the porch looking pissed off and relaxed all at once. "I'm Gil Brass. He hasn't come home yet. I thought he might be pulling a double shift."

She was frowning at him. "You're what? A younger brother?" she asked still looking at him intently.

He started to open his mouth, and then closed it. Dammit, he didn't know if Jim wanted them to know or not or what and now he was having to make a decision that he wasn't comfortable with and didn't feel like he had the authority to make. "Can I ask why you're here?"

"Well, I'm looking for Jim. Who isn't working a double." The dark haired woman paused again. "Absolutely no family resemblance. Jim doesn't have brothers. No half brothers either. That makes you a mystery, Gil 'Brass'."

"Then if he's not at work, I don't know where he is." And Jim had the car, so he couldn't look for him. He wasn't sure if Jim had his cell phone with him, let alone -- no, he hadn't taken it with him so trying to call him was a no. He'd left his pager, too. It was just a wonder that he'd taken his car keys. "He should've been home by now."

"You sound worried," the woman said and Gil realize that rather bizarrely she was almost interrogating him. "I'm Sara, Sara Sidle, by the way. In case you were wondering. And yeah, he should be home only we kinda had an argument. A big argument. I wanted to talk to him."

Sara Sidle. Gil filed that away, and while he should have invited her in, he wasn't sure he wanted her there when and if Jim came home soon. He didn't need to leave home from a confrontation only to arrive home to another. "He's not here to talk to. I can take a message for him and tell him when he gets home. Or you... could wait, but since I don't know how long he'll be..."

"I'll wait. For a bit," Sara said stepping towards him to invite herself in. "It's not the sort of message I can leave."

There was nothing for Gil to do but take a step backwards, torn between politeness and the knowledge that she'd just been treating Jim about as well as his parents had, if they'd been arguing. "All right. Would you, uh, like some coffee?" he offered a little lamely, turning to head towards the living room. She'd possibly never been in there before, and even if she had, she'd probably hardly recognize the place now.

"Sure," she replied. "Wow, Jim's been doing some work here. Paint still smells fresh."

She stood looking around in the middle of the living room. "New couch, too. New roommate?" she asked by way of a question.

That was one way to define it. "We've been working on cleaning the place up. I was painting the back room today. Next week, I might try to tackle the exterior," Gil said, small-talking as he ducked into the kitchen to pour her a cup of coffee from the drip machine's carafe.

"Sounds like a plan. Jim's always going on about how he hasn't had time to sort this place out." He could hear her walking around and it was disconcerting. She was a trained observer and he could tell she was looking. "So I'm thinking... Jim is suddenly gay and got married while he was on vacation? Because you don't look like any of his family at all and I know he doesn't have siblings or cousins around your age."

"Yes. He picked me up at a party and took me home with him," Gil deadpanned from the kitchen. He went light on the sugar, and came back with coffee for Sara.

She was looking at the photographs Jim had that Gil had dug up and hung up the day before.

There were some of him, sent back and forwards between the two of them and with a near jolt he realized he was staring at one of him taken when he'd been about sixteen and he'd thought that reminding him where he was would prompt him to get off his ass and come and get him. The sign of the CCCC was visible behind him and he was waving and he'd sent the letter and written a mock 'Wish you were here...' postcard to go with it. Jim liked the photo and had picked it to go up.

Sara glanced at him and back at the pictures again. "Oh my God. You're a Companion aren't you?"

It was a little late for lying. Gil held out the coffee mug. "I turned twenty-one last week. Jim finally came and got me. So I guess you could call me his new roommate."

Sara took the coffee mug and just stared at him. "Wow. Well, that's something that none of us saw coming. Jim's a Benefactor? Our Jim, a Benefactor. The guys aren't going to believe it."

"He's a good Benefactor," Gil felt the need to say. "Before you get any ideas in your head about what it means."

Sara seemed derailed from her original mission by the revelation. "It's just that if you knew Jim... I mean, he's the most unlikely guy to be a Benefactor." She shook her head again. "So that was the vacation huh?"

"That was the vacation," Gil confirmed, studying her as much as she seemed to be studying him, the living room. He didn't know what else to say to her, except that he wanted to know what they'd been arguing over, and so what if Jim seemed unlikely to be a Benefactor? That wasn't a bad thing.

"And we really weren't thinking along the lines of the male thing either. I thought Sofia was in with a chance after all," Sara replied. "So you know where he's likely to have gone?"

"A bar, maybe," Gil guessed. "But I don't know the area. And he has the car."

"Probably best to wait for him to roll in," Sara looked at her watch. "He must be really pissed off at me if he's stayed out this long." She glanced over at Gil. "We had a fight at work. I've never seen him do that. I mean, Jim is the CSI guy of mellow usually. Nothing fazes him and today he blew up, I shouted, he did, too, and... then Catherine got in on it and...."

"He had a fight with his parents just before work," Gil cut in, watching her glance at her watch. "The day didn't get off to a good start."

"Ah." Sara sighed. "I've got to get going. I was hoping he was hiding out here somewhere, but I reckon if he sees my car he'll just wait for me to leave. Look, Gil... can you tell him I'm sorry? Looks like my issues hit his issues head on and I don't know what half of what he said meant but I want us to stay good enough friends to find out. Can you tell him that?"

"I'll pass that on." Gil took a back step, still watching her. That was one way to phrase it, and maybe he could ask Jim what had happened, if he needed to know at all. "It was... interesting meeting you."

"Not the best circumstances," she smiled then suddenly, and the expression transformed her from darkly suspicious to someone a lot more pleasant. "Sorry about the grilling -- worked a few cases where perps covered for the fact they were doing a crime in progress when people came to the door. I guess you get in the mindset after a while." She shrugged and put the coffee down after a gulp of it.

"I know." He didn't want to get into professional dick waving, though. He wanted her to leave and then he was going to take Jim's cell phone and pager and his house keys and maybe go looking for him. Gil wasn't sure but he couldn't ruminate around the house much longer waiting. He wanted Jim home, and now that he knew Jim wasn't at work, he was getting more worried. "It's all right."

"I'll talk to him tomorrow. I hope he's okay." She headed off to the door and paused as she opened it. "I know Warrick, Nick and him once took Sanders down to a bar that's about a mile away I guess. Called Aces High. Maybe you could call there, see if he's around."

Gil had followed her to the door, and had a hand on the knob, ready to close it once she started to walk away. "Thanks, I'll do that." Once he found a phonebook. "And I'll tell him what you said."

Sara smiled and nodded and raised a hand in farewell before walking away, leaving Gil with the knowledge that Jim was out there somewhere and he had apparently let loose a pretty big secret in Jim's life just by existing.

Great. Just... Great. Gil closed the door, and turned to the kitchen where he knew he'd seen the phone books stuffed. It wasn't like Jim would have the phone numbers of his favorite bars stuck to the fridge. There were takeout menus, which were places that one actually called. People didn't call bars, they went there and drank.

It took him a few frustrated moments, but he finally found the number and dialed it.

"Aces High." The guy on the end of the phone sounded like he had just woken up, which Gil had to admit he might have done. The bars might be 24/7 in Vegas but the staff wouldn't be.

"Hi, I'm looking to see if I have a friend there. He's about five foot ten, he probably would have shown up after eight am, and he's probably drinking whiskey. He's stocky and his hairline is starting to recede. Can you help me out?" Gil set the phone book down on the kitchen table.

"Hold on, I just got in." He heard the muffled sounds of someone putting a hand over the phone as he called out to a fellow worker. Eventually he came back. "Yeah, got a guy here who's had over a bottle on his own who looks a bit like that. He's just staring at an empty at the moment. We think he's run out of cash."

"Can you keep him occupied for a few more minutes? I'm going to come and pick him up so you guys don't lose your liquor license if he happens to kill someone when he drives off your premises drunk." Gil looked at the address listed on the ad that was tucked into the yellow pages, and decided he could walk there. He could jog there. It was still early enough in the morning that the heat wasn't going to kill him.

"Yeah, sure. Doesn't look like he's thinking about moving much anyway. He's quiet enough," the man said. "But if he starts heaving, I'm chucking him out. See you soon."

"Thanks." Gil hung up, and he was glad that he was already dressed because he only had to jog towards the door, making a fast break for the door, barely stopping long enough to grab Jim's cell phone and the keys. He shoved them into his pockets, and started.

When he hadn't thought the day could get any worse or stranger, of course it had.

Jim was really unhappy and upset to do this. He had to be, and Gil wasn't sure what to do aside from jog a mile and find him, hope he hadn't lost the keys somewhere while he was getting drunk.

He was young and fit, and a mile wasn't far, even if the exercise regime hadn't been his favorite thing at the CCCC. They all had to be fit for their Benefactors, in good shape as much as they could be. He had to stop once or twice to get directions, but he found his way there. Aces High looked like a mediocre bar -- good enough to have customers drifting in and out even now, but small enough that it wasn't heaving with people.

The best thing was that he could see Jim's car in the parking lot, so he slowed to a casual walk before he walked through the doorway. He didn't want any extra attention, he just wanted to grab Jim and get out of there and drive Jim home. Get home, and then he could figure out how to fix what was going on. Gil pushed the door open, and started looking.

Jim was hard to miss. He was propped up at the bar just staring at his empty glass as if waiting for it to refill. Gil paused a moment and watched and not even for a second or a moment did the other man move or look away. He could have been a statue.

It left Gil of two minds about how to handle him, but he followed instinct and sat down beside Jim at the bar.

"Hi."

It took a moment before Jim responded. "Hey Gil," he said softly. "My glass is empty you know that?" He carried on staring at it. "None of this glass half full, half empty shit for me."

"Jim..." Gil glanced to the glass, and then to Jim's face. "Come home. We can talk about it there."

"I guess I should. I was just going to have one more and..." He shrugged a little. "There wasn't any more to have. So I couldn't go."

"Jim, they're not going to invoke the clause." He wanted to stretch for an oblique comment that would work Jim around, but there was such a desperate look on Jim's face that he couldn't quite think.

"They will because it what has to be done. And we've always done what has to be done." Jim replied. His hand gripping the glass looked white with the pressure he was exerting. "I don't have a choice unless I marry."

"There is always a choice." Gil reached to grip the edge of the glass in two fingers, pulling it out of Jim's hand. "It's just not always optimal. If you choose to do this every night for a week, Jim, I'm going to keep choosing to find you and take you home. I'm not sure what that would accomplish, but there are other choices you can make, Jim."

"Its the only way to stop it Gil," Jim let him take it though he seemed suddenly unsteady as if the glass had been an anchor of sorts. "The only way."

"No, it isn't. I'm just going to tell you this once, Jim, but suicide is a selfish act. Slow suicide under the influence of alcohol is just as effective as a razor or a gun. Let me help."

"I'm not trying to kill myself, Gil," Jim replied trying to get up. "Just to make it stop. When it gets too much. I've done everything I was meant to do, fuck, I've done more but it's not enough."

"Then let someone else do whatever else is expected. Let someone else step in when you can't." Let him step in, which was what Gil did when he reached to put an arm behind Jim's back to steady him.

"You don't understand Gil. No one else can step in here..." He tapped at his temple. "This is where it's all fucked up. If I don't drink, no one on the fucking street will get any sleep. Though I guess it's day so that's good. Think that's why I started nights." He weaved a little as they walked.

Nightmares, Gil guessed as he guided Jim to the door. He tried to keep Jim from weaving, while simultaneously looking for Jim's keys. "Might be able to do something about that, too. I don't know. Sara Sidle came over to apologize to you."

"Sara? Fuck, I screwed up there, too," Jim was doing a good job of faking walking upright. "Any day but today. Any other time to say I didn't know what it felt like...."

"She wanted to apologize. I don't know what was said, but..." Gil found the keys in Jim's left pocket, and once he had a hold on them, he started to guide Jim towards his car. "She seemed sincere. What did you know what it felt like?"

Jim shrugged. "Stuff. Being alone, being afraid and no one to help when the worst was happening. 's pretty obvious she had a tough time was a kid. I worked that one out. She was put in care. Marital abuse cases, she flies off the handle. No one wants to be paired with her one on one with those cases because she bitches that you aren't doing enough, that it's your fault because you don't understand what they're going through. I usually just let it slide so Cath pairs me with her..." He stumbled a little. "She's okay really, it's just a thing. Everyone's got a thing. Sends you to the edge of sanity."

He managed to hold on tight to Jim, and keep him from falling. Yeah, he had a thing but Jim could guess what it was. "Easy. Car's just a few more steps. Then we're going home, and between aspirin and water you should be all right. Today was the wrong day for her to fly off the handle at you."

"I guess," Jim propped himself up against the side of the car. "Hey... knew there was a reason I asked them to teach you to drive. Wanna know the real reason?" Jim leaned in conspiratorially. "...'s so you could really leave me when it came time. Freedom."

That was a little saddening, but Gil was getting used to that. Jim had been ready to throw open the door to his cage, had been preparing for it for years, only to find that Gil had already sawed most of the bars off and had turned the whole thing into a canopy bed. If he was going to keep following that metaphor, that was. "And surprisingly, I'm not leaving you in the parking lot and driving off."

"Yeah." Jim looked him. "They didn't teach you common sense or survival instinct did they?" He struggled to open the door of the car.

Gil reached past him and popped the door open for Jim, and then guided him to sit in the passenger seat. "I think they did but there's a very real possibility that I slept through them. Sorry."

"That... explains a lot," Jim pronounced as he sat back in the seat. Gil made sure his belt was on and went around to the driver's side and got in. He was looking for the right key when Jim spoke again and he wasn't sure if he was talking to him.

"Shouldn't have fallen in love with you, Gil. That makes it all worse. All of it."

"Why?" He hadn't really contemplated that Jim had fallen in love with him. That was just how it was supposed to be, Benefactor and Companion and he wanted Jim. He wanted to protect and be there for Jim.

"Because." Jim seemed to be unable to put things into words. "Because I want you to have… chosen to love me, not be taught how to... Because I'm selfish and I want you. So much but they'll take you away or you'll leave or something I don't know but it never lasts. "

He was drunk, so it was little wonder that he had trouble putting things into words. Gil put the right key in the ignition at last, and turned the engine over. "No one is going to take me away. And I'm not going to leave you. You're... you're Jim. I think I wanted to be with you since I was just a kid. You... I almost fell apart when you were 'sick' and couldn't write when you were on your Benefactor duty. If something happened to you, if you drank yourself to death, I..."

He didn't know what he'd do, and that was the honest truth. He couldn't say he'd kill himself, but the much more honest even if it was impossible rose to his lips. "I'd have to hunt you down to throttle you for doing that to me. I don't know."

Jim looked blearily around at him. "After I was dead? You'd hunt me down?" He raised his eyebrows a little. "I have to get you a job in CSI. That's the only place that sort of thing isn't weird."

"Probably." Gil twisted a little so he could back out of the parking space. They'd be home in no time. "I'd have my waking self haunt your ghostly dreams or something. If you did anything like that I'd be very angry at you."

"I'll try to avoid it then. But I can't sleep so I can't have ghostly dreams," Jim murmured closing his eyes. "I've lost Ellie forever, Gil, you know that?" There was a glimmer of moisture at the corner of his eye. "I've lost her."

"I know. I can't fix that for you," Gil answered back, voice quiet. The radio tried to turn on, and Gil turned it off before he pulled out onto the road. "No words will bring her back, and nothing can replace her, no matter what your parents think."

Jim was just silent but he was finally, impossibly crying as Gil drove. "I... kept hoping that maybe... maybe Janice would let me... see her. But she won't. She only did for the Trust fund, for the Benefactor status. Anything I send her, if I try and call..." He stopped and swallowed a few times. "She was my daughter. It didn't matter that there wasn't blood involved. I love her. I love her and I'll never see her again."

Janice would take whatever it was that Jim sent, whatever contact he tried to maintain now that there wasn't a trust fund coming her daughter's way. Gil swallowed, and kept his eyes on the road, trying not to think too hard on the pain that people inflicted on each other for no logical reason. It wasn't as if Ellie would understand what was going on, just that her father had gone and away and never wrote anymore.

"I'm sorry."

The worst thing was that he could tell Jim was all too aware that Janice would make it so it was his fault to Ellie and that the little girl he had so doted on -- and the letters to him were proof of that even when they became more critical of Janice -- was going to grow up blaming Jim. Hating him.

And Jim was going to let them because there was nothing he could do about it. For the first time Gil was seeing some of the restrictions that Jim seemed to fight a losing battle against. And as he parked the car outside the house he realized that Jim had probably known from the moment he divorced Janice, or even the moment that he realized Ellie wasn't his that he was going to lose her. And he'd still been the best dad he could, all the while mentally counting down to this devastating loss.

He turned the engine off, got out, and moved to the passenger side to get Jim out. And there wasn't a damn thing that he could do for Jim to soften the blow, except try to step between Jim and Jim's parents until Jim had a better footing to deal with it, until the grief had dimmed a little. Gil wasn't a fool, and he didn't think that Jim could just... shake it off so easily. He couldn't.

She was his daughter, and he was still crying, trying to choke it back while Gil unbuckled his seat belt and leaned in for a long moment to just hug Jim.

---

Jim had a level of tolerance to the morning, or evening after, but even by his standards this made his top ten worst hangover experiences. Gil had forced him to drink water, to get food into him which was sitting a little uneasily in his stomach. He was heading into nightshift wearing sunglasses and he guessed that said it all.

After the debacle of yesterday he nearly wished he'd called in sick, but the problem wasn't going away.

It wasn't like he could just make it go away, and if he stayed home, he'd just have Gil fussing at him. Over him, in that quiet but definite way that Gil fussed. He was just there, always present, trying to do little things to make Jim feel better but it just... Some days he was better cut out for contact with bodies than real people. And Gil seemed worried and had made sure that he had his cell phone and his pager along with everything else when he left the house.

So the kid wouldn't have to go calling bars if something happened again, Jim figured.

He hadn't gotten up in the night, at least, but even a night's sleep wasn't going to push away the emptiness that threatened every time he thought about what his parents had brought down on him. He'd thought taking on a Companion was going to be his biggest trial, but instead without Gil things would be worse.

Times like this he felt old, especially compared to Gil. He walked into the lab, wondering what the hell he was going to say to Sara, to anyone.

Maybe he could blow it off. Hah hah, nothing wrong here kind of thing, pretend it wasn't anything at all, that he hadn't flipped out at a coworker, that he was fine and everything was dandy and great. The lab was busy, always was. There was an overlap between swing and night and that made for a crowd he could blend into for a while, long enough to duck into the locker-room to put his stuff away.

It would've worked better if Catherine hadn't followed him. Nothing like a confrontation in the locker-room.

"So."

"Hey boss," Jim said even as he put his things away as if there wasn't anything wrong. Not for good old Jim who never got wound up about anything, who'd seen too much to let it get to him.

A generalization that worked for everything aside from his private life.

She started to walk towards him, heels making a slight click click noise on the tiles. "Are you and Sidle going to be able to work together tonight?"

"You could ask her that..." he suggested mildly. "I don't have a problem." Yeah right, not a drink problem, not a problem he couldn't talk about. Sara was nothing in comparison.

"Well, apparently she stopped by your house yesterday after work, and your Companion said he was going to pass on that she wanted to apologize." Now Catherine was looking at him with full cocked eyebrow. "So I can guess what your vacation was about, huh?"

Jim turned around. "It was something I needed to do. I did go to LA and catch up with old friends as well though." He said that like it made a difference that he hadn't exactly lied to her. He shrugged. "Yeah, I'm a Benefactor. Yeah, the other night when I couldn't come in I was at Gil's Presentation. "

"I don't remember you... ever mentioning before that you had a Companion, Jim. Off at a wherever it is they store them or otherwise. That's pretty important to know when we have to deal with cases that involve Benefactors. Do you think this might have ever been brought up in cross examination at a trial, Jim?"

"Why would it?" Jim looked at her. "You may have an idea of what Benefactors are like, but that's not who I am. I have a Companion, he's called Gil, and Cath, he's brilliant. A genius." He shook his head. "I don't see where cross examination at a trial would compromise anything."Truth was he tied to push away all thoughts of what being a Benefactor meant. He'd seen enough.

"Oh, god." That was a hiss of frustration. "Because everything is game, Jim! You've worked on cases that involve Benefactors -- they could call your calling the evidence everything from jealousy to, to I don't know! But it's important that I know that!"

"So. You know," Jim looked at her a moment and then shut his locker decisively. "Frankly it's been something I've tried to forget and I was doing a pretty good job for a while. Anything else I should be declaring? Is everyone going to be asked about things in their personal life?"

"There's personal life, Jim, and then there's information that they can pull up at the DMV," she snapped, and Jesus she was blocking the doorway. "You own another human being. Or pet, or whatever they call them. Sara thought it was a hoax."

Jim froze. "Cath, he is not a pet." The very implication of it made him feel nauseous. "He is not a slave. He is my Companion and trust me, I'm getting the impression I'm not going to be the one calling the shots. He's Gil Brass and please... don't ever say anything like that about him, or me again." He was surprised to see his knuckles had gone white as they clenched automatically. He was also surprised his voice was so soft and controlled.

It implied horrible things, things that Jim wouldn't ever do, things that he wished no Companion ever had to go through. Shit like that Todd Piccone did, and that was just... fucked up.

Catherine was eyeing him, probably thinking of a way to save face, or argue back at him. It was a fifty fifty chance of either. "Look... I just... Don't know what to say. I'm thinking one thing and it doesn't fit with you."

"You're telling me," Jim said exhaling. "Why do you think I hadn't picked my Companion up before? I can't explain it Cath, but I've never wanted to be who I am and I've done a pretty poor job of it when I've had to. But I was lucky. I Chose Gil and... and I think for once I did something right."

She shook her head a little, like she was trying to clear her mind of disbelief. "So you chose this... guy who's right for you? Okay. All right. Do I have to fill out the forms to put him on your health insurance?"

Jim smiled a little. "I guess, yeah. I want him to have the perks. I should've known that Sara would tell everyone."

Not that he had been capable of thinking that at the time.

"She was a little surprised. If you had lace doilies decorating your house, I'm sure that would have gotten onto the rumor mill just as fast. I'm... not sure what's rumor and what isn't right now, but I don't think it matters. Are you going to be okay with Sara tonight?" she pressed again.

"Y'know, I think it's more a case of whether she's okay with me." Jim replied. "I told you that yesterday. You know what she gets like on marital abuse stuff. I had a bad day before shift and being told I was pretty much personally responsible for the wife's death because I'm a man kinda... rankled a bit. I bit where I usually back off."

"Yeah, you bit all right. Don't feel bad about it. Nick can't take working those cases with her, either, but since he has seniority to you, Jimmy..." Catherine winked at him. "Low man on the totem pole. I'll get started on that paperwork. Gil Brass, right?"

"Yeah. And if there's any positions going in the lab or CSI anywhere, he is ideal." Jim put in as he relaxed a little. "Scratch that, we'd be nuts to pass him up. He's Companion trained with doctorate equivalents and a load of practical experience... He's got a forensic entomology specialty. I can't even remember all the things he has."

She paused, and just looked at him. "Funny that you should mention that. Sofia was just put up for swing shift supervisor and Covallo rubber-stamped it this morning. Why don't you have him come in and fill out the paperwork tomorrow night?"

Jim stared. "You're kidding, right?" He looked at her to see if she was. Not that he wanted to lose Sofia. Sofia was smart and they got on and managed to laugh and connect because she had a family that knew about the street and police. But with swing, they'd overlap sometimes, so they wouldn't miss out and if Gil could be a CSI on night shift....

That would be perfect. That would be so perfect that of course it would never work out because it was what Jim wanted. It would fail to work out on the sole basis that it was what Jim wanted and thus... Thus his head hurt. "Nope. If your Companion is as good as you say he is, we'll hire him. Barring anyone having a problem with him, that is."

"And might someone?" Jim asked wondering what she meant by that. He was beginning to wish he had paid attention to what people really thought about Benefactors instead of tuning it all out.

"I..." Catherine paused, and then shrugged, one hand on the door like she were keeping it closed but ready to slip out at any moment. "Don't know. Conventional wisdom is that Companions are like the Geishas of old. Impressive, well schooled whores."

"Impressive and well schooled, yeah. But not a whore. Never a whore," Jim replied. "Pretty much the opposite since they're celibate until they have their Presentation. Though..." He did sigh then. "I've met a few Benefactors that were like that. So I guess I can see where it's from. Cath, I don't expect you to hire him unless you think he's up to it, I know that, but you wait until you see how good he is."

"And it's all hype until I meet him. Make sure he's in a suit, okay?" Catherine finally opened the door, and that was his signal that the conversation was over. Tada, just like that.

Yeah, well he knew Cath well enough to cope with that. Even if the assumption prickled at his already raw sensibilities. "Suit it is," he replied. "I'll catch up with Sara. I'll try not to contaminate a scene with blood from a bitten tongue."

That got him half of a laugh, and then Catherine was gone.

He didn't want to face Sara, and he didn't want to have to put up with it again or listen to asinine assumptions and accusations again. He just wanted to work the case, no talking. If Catherine who was pretty cool, open minded and smart had those preconceptions about Companions, he had a nasty feeling that she wasn't going to be the only one. And Sara had a big problem when it came to any sort of domestic abuse.

But Gil had said she'd seemed okay -- but then Catherine had said she thought it was a hoax. Damn. He picked up his field jacket and headed towards the break room. See if they were in or out tonight.

Sara was standing in the break room, making up a cup of coffee, and that was a pretty clear signal that tonight was an in night. Working the evidence since they'd already cleared the scene, and not far along in the case yet to start with footwork that could lead to yet more evidence. There was some trace they were going to have to get, and Jim was pretty sure they'd both end up going to the autopsy of the woman in an hour or so. Whenever Doc Robbins paged them, since he'd been a little stacked up the night before.

"Oh, hey."

"Hey," Jim said making an effort to sound normal. "Working on the trace right? We don't need to go back out?" It was as much a conversation starter as anything else. He knew what they were doing and he went to get his own mug of coffee, even though he was sloshing with the stuff.

And pancakes. If he was the kind of abusive Benefactor to keep a Companion trapped in the house, Gil'd be a pretty good choice. He cleaned, he did repairs, he cooked, he looked great in Jim's bed...

Sara was frowning at him. "No, not yet. I've got Hodges running the matter that we found in her hair."

He could understand the temptation, but Gil needed more than he could give him to be happy. He needed a challenge and Jim knew when he was outclassed, and when he was the expert. Catherine might think he was talking Gil up, but he had detailed information from the CCCC and he knew what he was talking about.

"I'll give you odds it's car grease. Even if we haven't found the exact tool that was used, it will be enough to get us a warrant for the garage he works at." Jim said keeping it calm and level. He was waiting for the frowning to ease off.

"That was what I was hoping," she drawled, tone dropping a little as she stirred sugar into her coffee. "And if we find blood on one of his tools, we can at least have something to file."

Even if he'd probably cry 'anyone who worked there could've done it'. And hey, maybe they had. Jim couldn't be sure. "So, you, uh..."

Oh, there it was. "Yeah, I am." He picked up his drink. "Still the same guy you had a blazing fight with yesterday though." As if that was a recommendation.

"I wanted to apologize about that. And I came by your house this morning, and... This guy in short shorts and a tank top opened the door. I thought I'd stepped through a portal back to San Francisco."

"Yeah, that's Gil," Jim grinned a little. The shorts were... great. In a very particular way. "He said you'd been by." At least ten times until he had stopped groaning.

"I thought it was a hoax. I'm still not sure it isn't, because..." She looked at him, holding loosely onto her coffee mug. "God, you have a kid living with you. He's younger than Greg."

"There's mental age to consider and believe me, Sanders is the youngest here," Jim said in response. "You're giving me that look, Sara. I've seen it when you're working -- go on, you might as well get it off your chest."

"No, I'm just... trying to work out how you can do it. It doesn't seem like something you'd do, but... You picked him out like a dog or something when he was just a kid. Am I right? He couldn't have been more than, what, four or five? How is that not trafficking in human beings?"

The problem was he kinda agreed with her. He sighed. "You know something Sara? I agree with you. Really. What you've got to understand is that you don't get a hell of a lot of choice on the Benefactor side either. I was a kid myself, an older kid but sixteen is no real age to be making that sort of decision. I thought that at the time. I thought how can I possibly pick someone? I can tell you, I had big problems with it. I wanted to be out in my birthday Porsche tearing up the road." He shrugged a little. "And I met Gil, and I guess I was lucky because we clicked. Even so, it hasn't stopped me trying to avoid the whole thing for years."

"How... can you even click with a kid that young? Shouldn't they be... coloring or something?" Yeah, if Sara was being wishful, but Gil had been doing kid-things. "And if you disagree with it, why're you... why's he in your house?"

"Do you know what happens to Companions who don't get chosen? Who don't get picked up?" Jim asked. "They don't have any rights, any identity and they can’t function in society. It's just... Look, I supported him when he was growing up, I looked after him, I made the sort of decisions family would make. I gave up things and I pushed my luck until eventually they pulled rank at the Sheriff's level to get me to fulfill my Duty and go get him."

She was probably listening to him and thinking 'bullshit', but she didn't say it. Sara just looked at him. "So... you paid for him and now he's... what? Your housekeeper, or your sex toy?"

Jim had to almost literally bite his tongue. "He's my Companion. For me, he's my partner, he's going to get a job he wants to get, do what he wants to do and knowing Gil, he'll succeed. And for your information, as far as sex-toys go, I have plenty already."

The frown faded a little, and she ducked her head for a minute, hiding her faint smile behind a coffee cup. "Uh, I didn't need to know that. I'm still not sure how different this is from mail order brides, either, but..."

"One day when we've got way too much time, I'll try and explain it. And you can ask Gil when you see him. He'll be dropping in tomorrow if he agrees he wants a shot at being a CSI," Jim replied easily. It made him tired being pleasant when he had the leftover's of a hangover

"Really?" Sara seemed a little startled, but hey. She could be startled all she wanted. If Jim was Gil, he'd be tired of people judging his abilities before they even got a chance to talk to him. Even as himself, he was getting irked at the conclusions. "Okay. Hey, do you want to get started on the things we took out of the home, while I go over her clothes?"

"Yeah, let's do it. I don't need any more looks from the boss today. I've had my share," Jim replied as he finished up the coffee and put the mug down. "If we're really good, we may close the case tonight."

Sara gave him a faint snort at that, but she abandoned her coffee mug on the way out the door. Maybe, just maybe, that had been something like a truce, and they could concentrate on work instead of Jim's personal life.

They were meant to be professionals, after all, and work was what it was all about.

But as they walked the corridor to their task, and every person who walked by turned their head to watch him, to murmur to another about him, Jim knew that somehow he wasn't going to be that lucky.

---

Resumé, a portfolio of some of his academic research, his certificates, and the letters of recommendation that he'd had to have Lady Heather fax him because they were still in the mail in transit. All of it was stuffed into Jim's old briefcase, and he was holding onto the handle a little nervously as he sat beside Jim in the passenger seat of his Mustang.

"I've never actually had a job interview before."

"Gil, if I can get through a job interview and get employed, I'm pretty sure you won't have any problem," Jim replied. "You've got politeness and poise down pat, just be yourself."

"Lady Heather organized the internship for me with the coroner's office, and they took me on in CSI just by chance..." Gil looked out the window as Jim drove into the employee parking lot, and it made Gil want to fidget with his necktie. His shoulder still ached, and he still had to move carefully, but Jim had made sure he was well wrapped up today and if the interview wrapped up early, Gil had keys so he could leave and come back to pick Jim up when his shift was over.

"So? That's more experience than I had when they took me on. I had police experience, not actual CSI experience, training and qualifications coming out of your ears. Besides... you'll like Cath," Jim smiled at him briefly. "She reminds me a little of your Lady Heather with a sharper sense of humor. She likes strong personalities. Trust me, don't say anything you don't believe to her -- she'll spot it immediately."

"Lying is more trouble than it's worth," Gil murmured as he twisted to look over at Jim. "You have your beeper?"

"Tucked away in my pocket like I promised," Jim said. "Gil, you'll do fine. That resume is enough to make any Law enforcement department drool, and Catherine is going to seriously owe me for tipping her off to you. They might question you about Companion stuff and all that. Just tell them what I've told you. You're your own person."

"I know how to answer questions about Companions, Jim." Gil peered out of the windshield for a moment, but then returned his eyes to Jim. "Maybe better than you can. I can handle that. I'm just... nervous." Everything was fitting together perfectly in his life, and it had all happened so fast. He had a right to be nervous, right?

"Hey, I'm nervous for you, too," Jim replied. "But not because I don't think you can do it. More because I want you to get something you want. And from the way you reacted last night, I'm thinking you want this."

"To be working in a crime lab? As a real job, to be able to learn more and contribute to cases, and..." Gil laughed a little at himself, and leaned back while Jim pulled into his parking space. "I want this so bad I can't think straight."

"You'll do it. Good CSI's are hard to find," Jim parked and turned to him. "I discovered yesterday that if you think I'm clueless about Companions, they're worse. All they've got is media information. I had a few tough questions about it so they may be curious about you."

"Believe me, I can handle that part of it," Gil insisted again. He leaned over the console, close enough to kiss Jim. "So, uh... good luck with the case. It might be better if you go in first and then I go find where I'm supposed to be." It would look less like he needed Jim's permission and support. The more independent he seemed, the easier it would go.

"Sure." Jim leaned across to him and kissed him reassuringly. "Remember, Supervisor Willows, Catherine Willows. She might have Covallo with her, I don't know. Good luck Gil." He kissed him again. "See you later."

"Thanks." He wanted to stay for more kisses, but Jim was getting out of the car, and taking the keys. Gil would count to thirty, and then he'd get out, lock the car, and head in and hope that he didn't do anything awkward. Jim had seen him at his best and most comfortable the whole time because he was Jim's. Jim hadn't ever had to work with Gil, so he wasn't sure what Jim expected him to do, or...

Or just be himself. He knew that one, that was easy. And counting to thirty was a lost cause because Gil didn't start to count, he just watched Jim's back disappear through the doors.

He hadn't been lying. He wanted this. He wanted this so much. He'd get a chance to work with Jim, he'd work the same shifts and he would be doing something that fascinated him and that he believed in. He knew that from his experience in L.A. He took a deep breath and got out of the car, moving round to lock up, glancing in the mirror to make sure that he was looking respectable.

Gil had shaved, and he'd combed his hair. The curls were getting a little out of control, and he needed a haircut again soon, but that could wait. Gil clutched at the briefcase handle, and momentarily hoped that he wouldn't let himself down as well as Jim by not getting the job. But there wasn't any more sense in dwelling or stalling.

Gil started to walk towards those doors. There had to be a secretary he could ask where to find CSI Supervisor Catherine Willows.

Sure enough, the moment he stepped inside he saw the reception desk and the secretary smiled and flirted with him even as she rang through to see if Supervisor Willows was ready to see him. Apparently he was interesting enough for her to offer to take him to her office.

"Thank you." He was used to that, though. The flirting was something... interesting that he'd had to start dealing with in the coroner's office. He wasn't sure if all people flirted that much and it just struck him so obviously because he'd been kept away from it for so long, or if he was living his training and somehow flirting first.

Time would tell.

He was lead through the corridors into the glass-walled center that was the Las Vegas crime lab. If he concentrated he could hear Jim's voice off in one of the rooms to the right. That was comforting in its own way, just knowing he was there somewhere even if he wasn't there with him.

The secretary smiled at him again and knocked on the door to introduce him to the older woman sitting behind the desk who was looking at him apparently stopped mid conversation with an older man next to her.

"Mr. Gil Brass to see you," the secretary murmured and then slipped out of the way.

"Mr. Brass, please, come in and take a seat," Catherine asked even as she hastily scribbled something and put a piece of paperwork in a try on her desk. "We appreciate you coming in at such short notice."

Mr. Brass. That sounded... funny, because Gil's instinct was to look for Jim, because Jim was Mr. Brass. "It was no problem at all. And please, call me Gil," he smiled at her, sitting down as quietly and gracefully as he could.

"Gil then," she replied. "Please, call me Catherine. You've caught us a little unprepared as regards paperwork of job descriptions as we haven't even had chance to advertise the position. So instead, Assistant Lab Director Covallo agreed to sit in on the interview to make sure I didn't miss anything pertinent." She gave the merest hint of a wry smile and Gil could tell almost immediately that this Covallo was a frequent problem for her.

"I'm sure you won't, Catherine," Covallo said and didn't reach forward to shake his hand but sat down in a chair opposite him.

"Sir." Gil inclined his head to Covallo, smiled at him. He was waiting for a signal, something that said he should start to talk and not just sit there, clutching his briefcase.

Catherine seemed to be waiting as well, giving a lengthy pause as if there had been something said before he got there that implied that Covallo would be running to show but he failed to so anything, so she cleared her throat and started talking. "Well I'm assuming, Gil, that you haven't brought the briefcase along as an example of a bomb you can analyze. Did you bring your resumé and references?"

"And a few of my forensics articles that have made it into some of the journals. Also, I brought my certifications, since I know that's usually required." Gil flipped the latch open, and started to offer them in neat piles. "My resumé and references..." He held them out towards Catherine. "I worked for LA County's Crime Scene Analysis lab for two years, but before then I worked for the Coroner's office."

Catherine raised her eyebrows and leafed through them. "Why don't you give us a run down of the sort of things you did at the coroners office and then with the Crime Lab?"

It was most likely a tactic to break the silence so they could get a feel for where he was in the grand scheme of things.

"In the Coroner's office I performed supervised autopsies, after I received my equivalency doctorate in biology." Gil fished out his certificates and leaned forwards to set them down on her desk. "Usually I prepared the bodies, documented physical findings, ran SART kits, collected samples that were taken to the CSA. Through my meetings with them, I was asked to start to intern there, and after eight months the CSA hired me. My pay went towards my schooling, and while I trained in field techniques I worked on my entomology degree. I was still a level 1 CSA in LA, and I don't know what the equivalent would be out here. My specialty is in insect activity, and collecting trace."

"And... how old are you?" Covallo said as he reached to take a look at some of the certificates and his resume. It was there in front of him, but Gil guessed he had to tell them even if they seemed to find it so amazing.

"I turned twenty-one the week before last." He bit down on his words before he said 'and Jim picked me up and took me home', but he was still proud of that and of Jim, and of the fact that his shoulder ached.

"Well this is a very impressive set of qualifications and experience for someone who's only twenty-one," Catherine said. "Forensic entomology huh? That's an unusual specialization."

"I know, but since I was allowed to pursue my own interests... They lead me there. It's a very interesting field, and with the LA CSA dayshift we managed to solidify a few cases with the timelines of insect activity. It takes a certain amount of time for a body to attract insects, and after that their patterns are very... precise." Gil sat back, and promptly closed the briefcase on his tie.

"There aren't that many entomological experts in the country are there? Not with relation to forensics," Catherine smiled at him and made a very small invisible to Covallo gesture to the tie area even as she continued. "So, tell me about the timelines. How can they help with a case? Or insect specialties?"

Gil popped the briefcase, and used the opportunity to both tuck his tie back and to pull out the two best journals he'd gotten lucky and had gotten into. "Time of death. Coroners can only make estimates at a percent of decay, but insects are very precise when they move in on a body, and most of the variables can be controlled for -- temperature and location -- when the body is found. So, say that a young woman is found dead in... a back alley. Urban conditions, heat, access for wildlife. The suspect in her death is her boyfriend, who says he was out of town -- and aren't they always? -- during a certain period of time. By timeline marking the insect activity, we can verify whether he was out of town when she died or whether he was in town. People lie, but the evidence doesn't."

"And you have perfected this technique?" Catherine asked and he sensed a hint of challenge in her voice. Maybe she wanted him to say yes. Or... not. Jim had said just to speak the truth with her.

So he did.

"No technique is perfect, but many of us in the entomological community have come to agreements on any part of a timeline that I'd suggest for presentation to a jury. For my doctoral equivalency, I did an experiment on the conditions that would effect blowfly development on a pig -- pigs since their tissue and composition most resembles a human being -- and managed to talk a local body farm into allowing me to take 'real life' samples there to verify my findings. These aren't earth-shattering developments in forensics, but as I said, they can help shore up a case to the jury, and they can help with warrants. There are certain insects that can only be found in conjunction with rotting flesh, and the presence of those insects are often good reasons for a warrant to look for a body stuffed, say, in a wall."

Catherine nodded. "And have you had much experience with finding bodies stuffed in a wall? Or anywhere else for that matter?" Covallo seemed to be intently reading the documents he had produced rather than interviewing him.

"Actually, yes. Philip Gerard, the dayshift supervisor, took me under his wing, so I usually worked scenes in conjunction with him. He's a man of the belief that no amount of simulations and computer programs can replace fieldwork and, if need be, field crime scene recreations. I happen to agree." Gil sat back, finally starting to relax a little. "We had a few gruesome cases, but I'd already become accustomed to stomach contents and corpses in the Coroner's office."

"After the first autopsy it gets a little easier huh?" Catherine commented. "It's definitely hands on in this lab. Las Vegas is a city with a very high percentage of transients in all shapes and sizes and the homicide rate is very high compared to other cities. Still, we're the second best lab in the country and Covallo here is always hankering after that number one spot. As the budget doesn't always run to top of the line equipment, we refuse to compromise on the people who work here. What would you say would be the most important thing you could bring to CSI Vegas Night shift?"

"A different point of view and a very strong work ethic." He didn't even have to hesitate to say that. "I enjoy the work, the mix of science experiments and giving the victims a chance to... be spoken for. Their bodies tell a story of the crimes committed on them, whether they're on a slab in the morgue or whether they're filing a spousal abuse charge and need someone to document their wounds."

Covallo cleared his throat and looked up at him. "Yes, speaking of a different point of view, I understand that you're a Companion?"

"Yes, I am. Registered to Jim Brass." Gil glanced over to Covallo, waiting for the man to make whatever point he wanted to make.

"Who is employed by the night shift as well." Covallo leaned forward. "What impact can you see your Companion Status having on your ability to work effectively?"

"None, or very little. At scenes, it isn't as if I have my status tattooed to my forehead." Just branded on his shoulder. "I had no professional problems in LA, where there's a very large Benefactor Community, and I foresee no problems working in the same environment as Jim. I'm very much my own person, sir."

"Nevertheless, as I understand it, is your prime loyalty not to your Benefactor?" Covallo asked. "If he asked you to do something... theoretically, you would do it?"

"When Jim tells me to do something, I do what's in his best interest. That's not necessarily what he wants. So if you're implying that he would ask me to tamper with something, which he wouldn't, I wouldn't. Going to jail is not in his best interests." Gil smiled when he said it, and skipped over any sexual implications that he could.

He could see Catherine smile at that but Covallo remained serious.

"Small interactions can also be detrimental. For example fraternizing in work time, the difficulty in pairing in case work-life conflicts spill over into what we do. You have to understand that we have reservations about hiring any couples onto the same team for this reason. With the work we do, there's no way you would not work with him on certain cases even if the supervisor pairs you primarily with other CSI's." Covallo looked at him. "I'm guessing I'm asking whether you can be an independent professional in a situation where sometimes your work may put you in conflict with your... owner."

"I would be more than comfortable professionally disagreeing with him, if that's what you're asking," Gil answered. "There isn't going to be much at home conflict to spill over into work due to the nature of our relationship -- as you so eloquently mentioned, I'm property. Thankfully we get along. But I won't have a problem being an independent professional while at work. And fraternizing at work would be most inappropriate."

"It's not like we'd ever get time to fraternize at work," Catherine said dryly. "Why do you want to become a CSI? With these qualifications, you could have a research fellowship, offers from the FBI... pretty much anything you want?"

"Research is very... withdrawn from reality. After a while most researchers forget why they started in the first place and have fallen in love with their own theories. The FBI... the local FBI actually has Benefactors in their ranks, and that makes me uncomfortable. Also, I'm a scientist not a policeman. With the CSI, I'd be able to do hands on scientific applications that have the point of trying to help victims."

"So you would prefer the dull and tedious work of printing up a room or sweeping a scene for fiber?" Catherine asked.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "I wouldn't characterize either as dull and tedious, but I do prefer them."

Catherine nodded a little at that and sat back. "What would you say has been your most difficult experience to date in this field?"

"We were working a scene that hadn't been cleared properly. We didn't know that it hadn't been cleared properly until the suspect came back in with a gun and threatened to shoot Philip. I, uh." Gil cleared his throat. "Against common sense talked him out of it."

That seemed to have Covallo's attention. "You talked him out of it?" he asked leaning forward. "How?"

"The man had killed his wife by accident, and I managed to convince him that it was better to turn himself in than it was to... kill someone else."

Catherine nodded looking impressed. "Have you ever worked a night shift before?" she asked as she leaned back.

"No. That would have been past my curfew," Gil noted wryly. "But I can learn, and I've already been starting to adjust to those hours."

"Because of... ah yes," Catherine sat back. "We have a close-knit team here, Mr. Brass. How do you think you interact with other individuals?"

"Quite well, I hope. I'm a little quiet, I've been told, but there's more to talking than just words. On the weekends, the headmistress of the school usually had me teaching and watching some of the younger students at the college." He wasn't sure whether that spoke well of him or not, but it was hard to articulate listening training to outsiders.

"Well, you appear to be in good health and have glowing reference," Catherine said. "I must admit, we're not used to such... thorough documentation. Looks like you have some supporters, Gil."

"Can't say I've heard Brass directly pitch anyone before," Covallo said in a low voice. "Have you had experience of Companion prejudice?"

"Do you mean within or without the community? The answer is 'yes' to either. We've been well trained to handle it, sir, and my circumstances within the community weren't exactly normal." Gil had his fingers folded loosely on top of the briefcase. Now that he was there and talking, he was calmer.

"Would you care to elaborate?" Covallo asked sounding curious. "I thought there was little conflict within the community."

"There's a point of contention over what to do with Companions who didn't make it to their presentation in a pristine condition. And that's not even getting into the discussion over whether a deaf Companion should be repaired or not if it's possible."

Catherine looked at him. "Something happened to you?"

He liked the fact that she assumed that rather then he'd done something wrong. That was actually surprising. "We had a Choosing ceremony go awry when I was four or so. The laws on our community are quite vague about what to do when something like that happens." Awry, the best way to explain it without divulging details. "So I've developed a very strong belief in right and wrong, and the legal system."

Catherine nodded thoughtfully. "And I take it that you had deafness corrected? Either that or you're excellent at reading lips."

Gil laughed quietly. "Both. I had corrective surgery when I was eleven. I'm still fluent in sign, because so many students I interacted with either had no recourse for correction or their Benefactors preferred them that way."

He could tell from Catherine's reaction she didn't like that implication much. "Well, I have to say you're lucky you did as active fieldwork would be very difficult if not impossible with your senses impaired." She cleared her throat a moment. "Gil, would you mind waiting in our break room while Robert and I have a brief discussion?"

"No, of course not. I'll, uh, leave my documentation here." Gil smiled pleasantly at them both, and stood smoothly before turning to leave. No lingering, no looking back over his shoulder -- he at least knew how to follow instruction.

"Thank you. Down the corridor, first on the right," Catherine said, sending him on his way before looking over to Covallo as he left the room.

He was pretty sure she wanted to hire him. The other guy? Not so sure.

Gil meandered down the corridor, peering at people and trying to get a feel for them as he walked. He took the first right, and then stepped into the break room.

It was occupied by a man who looked more like he had stepped out of a catalogue than belonged in a crime lab. He turned and noticed him even as he was drinking and gave a slow easy half smile. "Hey, you lost?"

"I came here to apply for an open position and I was told to wait here. Supervisor Willows and Assistant Director Covallo wanted a moment alone." Gil smiled at the man, taking in his posture and his slightly too-aware smile. He was turning up the charm but was ready to probably dive for a gun if something was amiss.

The man did a slightly overdone moment of recognition. "Gil right?" he said in his soft Texan accent. "Jim was talking about you earlier. You just missed him. I'm Nick by the way." He transferred his coffee into his other hand and stuck out his right to shake his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you," Gil murmured. He didn't ask what Jim had been saying -- it was probably praise, and that made Gil smile a little.

They shook hands and Nick sipped at his coffee. "Trying out for CSI, huh? If you're everything Jim says, you're in."

"I'll find out soon. I worked in LA for the CSA. Different names, same things. I'd certainly enjoy working here in Vegas. I'm sure the cases are interesting." Gil stepped back a little, and finally back stepped so he could put the briefcase down. He felt a little silly holding it when it was empty.

"You can say that again. Man, the stuff that goes down in Vegas is just... plain weird," Nick said. "Sara used to be in San Francisco and she say she saw more strangeness in her first week here than she did in her entire time there. Still, L.A. was probably pretty wild."

"It had its moments. There were a lot of gang issues in L.A., but not too much by way of exotic crime. Break-ins, robberies, shooting deaths." Was Nick supposed to be doing something other than talking to him, or was he on break?

"Well right now? I'm waiting on a page from Greg on a DNA sample from this magician case where someone disappeared in his act and then in front of everyone the guy gets set alight inside an impenetrable box," Nick said. "We were actually there waiting to question him when it happened."

"And you don't suspect it was him in the box?" Gil half-asked.

"Lets just say Warrick and I have a hinky feeling," Nick shrugged. "Greg must've been backed up from Swing shift, he's usually run our samples by now."

"Only from swing? Were these samples you turned in... today?" Gil asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Ours were always at least two days."

"You haven't met Greg. Fastest DNA tech in the west," Nick replied with a smile. "A little crazy, but you get used to that."

"Crazy is a relative thing," Gil shrugged, turning his head to glance out of the windows. "I don't think the Assistant Director was keen on hiring a Companion."

"Don't think the department's ever had one," Nick replied seeming unperturbed. "I met a few back in Texas. My cdad's appointed to the Supreme Court, so we mixed with Benefactors pretty often. And where you find Benefactors, you find Companions, right?"

"They go hand in hand," Gil agreed. He liked that Nick didn't seem to care. He wasn't interested in passing but as long as the people he might work with were comfortable with the idea, then everything would be easier. If he didn't get the job, he'd still have to interact with them because of Jim.

"Gotta admit, Jim's not the type of guy I would have pegged for being a Benefactor. The ones back in Texas wore their status large," Nick replied and then his pocket started beeping. He fished out a pager and looked at it. "That's Greg. Better go see what surprises he has in store for me. Good to meet you Gil. Hope you get it." He was already halfway out the door as he said goodbye. When work called, everything was dropped it seemed.

"Thanks. Good luck with that DNA." He liked that, too. Doing the job, less time on the niceties. Gil could sit and mull and watch people walk by while he waited for them to finish debating his fate.

Nick gave him a grin and was off down the corridor in a hurry, leaving him alone for a moment, observing the busy nature of the lab. There were a lot of people there, going back and forwards with evidence bags and papers.

He was surprised when a woman with long blond hair came in, holding up a small collection vial which had something crawling around in it. "You're Gil right? Jim's Gil? Stokes just told me you were in here and Jim was talking you up this morning to everyone."

He could feel his cheeks flush a little, but it was easy to keep smiling. "That would be me. What do you have there?"

"Well I was hoping you could tell me, I'm Sofia by the way." She didn't offer her hand, just the vial. "He said you were into bugs and insects in a big way. I can identify it using reference books, but..." She shrugged. "I found it on a DB and I don't recognize it beyond the fact it's a type of spider."

Gil reached for it, and peered at the vial. It took him a moment of watching it race in its tiny tomb, and then he glanced up at her. "And you found this on the body? It's a male mouse spider, which is native to Australia. They're venomous, and can cause extreme sickness in the elderly and young." Gil twisted the vial, watching the three-centimeter spider react unhappily.

"Enough sickness in the elderly to cause death?" Sofia asked frowning as she looked at the arachnid trying to climb the sides of the vial. "Our DB was 67, male, with a preexisting heart condition. And then the question becomes what's an Australian spider doing roaming around biting people in Vegas."

"It's possible -- the bite effectiveness depends on location, his health at the time, whether the male had used it on prey recently... And also how a poisonous Australian spider ended up in Vegas," Gil drawled, offering it back to her. "It could have been a convergence of strange coincidence. Did the man keep them himself, perhaps?"

"Trust me, first thing I looked for," Sofia replied. "As well as anything obviously imported because I've seen most of our native spiders and this guy here sticks out. I wonder if it was planted. He was found in bed." She looked thoughtful as she accepted it back. "Thanks, you've saved me a good few hours leafing through text books."

"You'll probably have time to wrap that before you move to swing after all," Catherine said from the door way where she had been undoubtedly observing them both.

"You might want to ask some of the local dealers. If someone's sold one of those, they'd remember," Gil told Sofia, but his eyes drifted over to Catherine a little anxiously.

"I'll do that. Thanks," Sofia nodded as she turned to leave even as Catherine stepped into the room.

"Handy you were around, huh?" she said with a quirk of an eyebrow.

"I guess so." Or it had been a test. Gil wasn't sure, but he had his faint suspicions. He stood up out of politeness when she started into the room.

"Start getting used to everyone bringing you their bugs," Catherine said as she walked closer and smiled. "You're in."

"I'm in?" It didn't seem to make sense, but she wouldn't joke about that. "I..." He started to laugh a little. "Wasn't really expecting to hear that."

"Well I've got to admit, Jim if anything was being modest about your achievements. You're twenty-one and you got more qualifications than most of the lab put together," Catherine said with frank honesty. "And you've even got practical experience so I know you're not some cloistered academic who's going to pass out the first time he encounters corpse soup. Plus, I'm taking it you can start as soon as possible, no notice to give, all that?"

"I had to quit LA at the drop of a hat when Jim came to pick me up. No notice needed to be given anywhere, I can start as soon as you want me to. If the department needs it, I have a physical on file from a few weeks ago at the CCCC." He had the job. He had... the job, and it was hard not to grin too much.

"After the weekend then. It'll take me that long to push the paperwork around even with all my years of practice," Catherine replied. "I look forward to having you on my team, Gil. Covallo had some issues with the Companion thing, but I know Jim and he's never going to let that be in the way of work."

"No, he won't. He actually wanted to try to let me go, but, uh..." Gil cleared his throat. "I talked him out of it. Is there paperwork I need to fill out, or does Jim do all of that?"

"In your situation? Probably Jim. I'll send it back with him and you can fill it out for him to bring in tomorrow," Catherine replied. "Now you've solved my staff shortage, I've got to follow up on this Magician case. Very public deaths tend to get the Sheriff's attention. I'll see you on Monday, Gil... nice and late."

As opposed to bright and early he guessed.

"Thanks. I'll be here promptly." With Jim, but he didn't have to say that, and it was hard not to vibrate with delight as he headed to leave.

Catherine nodded to him and set off herself, heading in the opposite direction. He couldn't believe it. He had a real job, and a job where he would see Jim sometimes, and they could talk about things and their shifts would match and ... He had the urge to do something very immature to celebrate but his Companion training prevented him from shaming his Benefactor in any way. What he could do was go home and prepare a celebration meal for them both and... prepare for something more as well.

So he held the briefcase in one hand as he walked down the hallway, and pulled out Jim's cell phone with the other hand, and started to text together a page to let Jim know that he'd gotten the job and to call him when he needed the car and Gil'd pick him up.

He was going to need a cell phone, and eventually he was going to have to start saving for a car of his own.

Everything was just perfect. He had a wonderful Benefactor, the Vegas CSI's seemed like a nice bunch of people and if he'd had to wait a little longer than most then what he had waited for was worth it.

---

Getting the text from Gil had made him walk around the rest of the shift beaming uncharacteristically. They were used to Jim Brass giving a part smile, maybe a chuckle of amusement but on the whole he didn't laugh out loud or look... happy. This shift was different. He couldn't stop smiling. Especially when he and Sarah closed in on their wife-killer abuser and got enough for Homicide to take him in. All in all it had been a great shift and coming up to the end of it, he was having a quick cup of coffee as he ran his eyes over their final report of the evidence which he was going to put on Catherine's desk on the way out.

Then the evidence would be filed and charges would officially be brought and it would end up in their court docket to testify at, if the bastard didn't cop a plea bargain or just save the world some time and plead guilty before the judge.

Some days, Jim really loved his job. And he had a hunch that Gil was going to love it, too.

"Hey, Brass." Sofia with a stack of papers in hand, looking a little tired as she headed with a cup of soup over to the microwave.

"Hey," he replied glancing up. "Thought you'd have been out of here long since?"

She was meant to be starting on swing, and getting settled in over there. Warrick had said something about them going out to dinner on Friday to officially send her on her way. DB's permitting of course.

"I just wanted to tie up any loose ends. After all, a supervisor has to seem responsible." She winked at him as she sat down. "I met Gil today, earlier. Cute kid. Is he that eager about insects naturally?"

Jim grinned a little. "Yeah. He really is. And you know something? I could've sworn I heard you'd finished up that case with the spider last night. Grandson smuggling one out of a museum exhibit? Or is this a coincidentally similar one?"

She smiled down into her coffee cup. "Okay, you caught me. Covallo wanted me to put him on the spot and see what he did. In a few seconds he figured out what took me eight hours. They all look the same to me." She tilted her head a little, still grinning, and god she was pretty to look at. Completely at ease with herself, too. "So is that why you're not much of a big spender? Putting the kid through college. Seems like it was money well spent, Jim."

"He's unbelievable," Jim said with genuine sincerity. "And yeah. You don't get Benefactor pensions for quite a while. But it was worth it. Gil is bright and I knew Catherine would go for him. I could've told Covallo he was for real. Our first conversation when he was a kid was about bugs."

That got a laugh out of Sofia. "Sounds like one of my cousins. He was the kid who came inside from playing somehow covered head to toe in dirt."

Jim smiled again. "Yeah. So... I don't think I've said congratulations yet, have I? About being supervisor and all. You deserve it."

"Well, you were on vacation when it came down. But I'm proud of myself, too. I knew I'd get there one day, but... I'm going to miss working closely with all of you. And with you."

"Hey, you're in swing. We’ll be crossing over some," Jim said wondering what she meant by that last comment. "I would've thought you would've missed working with Warrick more?" He wasn't sure where she was heading with all this.

"I doubt swing shift has someone as good at footprints as Warrick," Sofia grinned. "I, uh... was wondering, now that we're not working together, if you'd like to go out sometime."

Jim stopped and stared a moment. "You're asking me out? On a date?" he asked a little flustered. "W… Why?"

"Because you're funny, and interesting, and..." Sofia quirked a look at him. "I'm comfortable with you, and I hadn't asked before because we were on the same shift."

"Oh... right." That did surprise Jim. "But I have a Companion... Gil." And that had been a big deal for Janice. A huge deal and enough to make his life hell. "Doesn't that worry you?"

"Not really. You're not a normal Benefactor, Jim. From the outside looking in it seems like a pretty strange place, and I know you well enough to know you'd think the same thing." Except that he liked parts of it. That he liked, loved Gil and that mattered to him.

The argument with his parents was still at the back of his mind. Had been for days now, nagging at him with hints of duty this and responsibility that, if only to keep them off his back maybe he could date. He didn't want to, but he had a lifetime of doing things he didn't want.

"Well, okay... I guess if you don't mind..."

"He seems like a sweet kid, Jim. It doesn't bother me. How--" Her cell phone started to beep, and she stood up. "How about we talk about this later and work out when we both have some time?"

"Sure. Yeah, I'll look forward to that," he said even as his beeper went off in his pocket as well. Gil.

"Great. Have a good day, Jim." She gave him another smile, and slipped out into the hallway.

Gil was waiting for him, and he'd somehow managed to line up a date. Without trying or thinking about it or even meaning to.

He couldn't quite keep that in his head. It was weird and he didn't really want to do it because he was happy with Gil and he was all he needed. Really. He picked up his report and dropped it off on his way out, not finding Catherine in her office or in the locker room as he picked up his things and headed outside.

Ah there he was. He half jogged over to the car and pulled open the door. "Hey there, CSI guy," he greeted him

Gil had the car running, and he was seat-belted in, but it didn't stop him from leaning over to bear hug Jim. "I can't believe I got it! I even closed the briefcase on my tie, Jim, and they still hired me."

"Can't think why considering how important not doing that in the field is," Jim said smiling and enjoying the hug. "C'mon, they loved you."

"Supervisor Willows loved me. Covallo didn't know what to do with me." Gil barely seemed like he wanted to lean back to breathe or to let Jim breathe. "Everything's working out so perfectly, Jim. I didn't expect to get the first job I applied to..."

"Gil, if any of the other departments had got wind of your résumé they would've been headhunting you," Jim replied, kissing him and pulling back a little. "Catherine owes me big time for tipping her off in your direction. You're more than good, you're brilliant, you know that."

Or he at least hoped that Gil knew that. Hey, maybe he didn't. It was always a possibility, and with Gil half the time he seemed to have missed out on really obvious things. Gil sat back, and licked his bottom lip. "That's debatable, but at least I'm in the right field. C'mon, should we go home? I have dinner ready."

"Dinner huh?" Jim was pleased to here that. "Been preparing?"

He was stricken with a suddenly longing to… just do something in the car. Anything. Everything. Probably not the best idea in the parking lot where he worked.

Where they now worked. Gil sat back, and readjusted his seat belt before he put the car out of park. "I think you'll like it. I hope you'll like it. I prepared... quite a bit."

"Oh yeah? Care to tell me exactly what you have in mind?" Jim asked recognizing that tone of voice. He didn't think it was wishful thinking.

And if it was right, it would be a good capstone to his day. He and Gil hadn't done much since the presentation, hadn't done much since he'd had his fight with his parents. "Do you want to know exactly?" Gil smiled a little, turning the steering wheel.

"Give me the general gist of things?" Jim asked finding that it was going to take much to get him hard today. Just being here and wondering was doing it.

"When we get back, I need to finish grilling your steak, and reheat everything else. Everything is pretty much ready for eating whenever you want. After that..." Gil gave Jim a glance. "I hope I wasn't overstepping myself, but, uh..."

"Overstepping sounds promising.... go on."

"I stopped at a store on the way home. See, you said you wouldn't have sex with me until I was ready, and I assumed you meant mentally and physically, so where the mind is willing, the body... The store sold butt plugs. I have it in right now."

Jim found his pants abruptly a little confining. "Oh god Gil... you really want to?"

"I want you. I want... all of you, everything I can have. So... Yeah." Gil's mouth looked a little unsteady, a smile twitching the edge of his mouth. "This makes it really hard to drive. Your suspension is too tight."

"If you want to swap we can," Jim offered and his eyes kept roaming over Gil as if he could see the effects. "Gil, I hope you don't mind if I'm in a hurry to get through dinner...."

Waiting could be for another day. He wanted Gil to be ready and he was eager but he wanted it to be something wonderful. Something to burn away any memories of anything else that might exist.

"Maybe we could do that and then dinner?" They coasted to a stop at a red light, and the way Gil shifted, it was obvious that he was as hard as a rock, tenting up against the fabric of his pants. "It's not a long drive."

"Once I'm done with you neither of us will be able to do anything like get food," Jim replied twitching a smile. "I....on the other hand..."

His other hand reached over to stroke swiftly over Gil's crotch.

Gil groaned quietly, and shifted his hips against Jim's hand. "Oh, fuck. It almost feels better knowing we can't do anything out here."

"Maybe I should make you wait through dinner, knowing you've got that inside you," Jim murmured caressing over the material just for a moment.

He liked that idea, making Gil squirm and wait it out, but not quite as much as he liked the idea of pounding into him. Gil slowed the car down a little, going the speed limit when Jim teased him again. "Maybe you should."

Jim smiled to himself. "I'm going to make you love it... you think that feels good in you? You think it felt good when the opener was used by me? It'll be nothing compared to having me in your ass." He wanted it. He wanted them home and dinner eaten and both of them bending over the bed and moving together... and --

He was going to come in his pants at this rate. Gil exhaled in a huff, and Jim almost belatedly realized that his hand was resting right over Gil's crotch still. "That's what I'm hoping. You're not cold metal or plastic."

"I'm... uh... going to make sure we get home in one piece," he said removing his hand thought the warmth lingered on the palm of his hand. "And I'm definitely not cold metal or plastic." How far was their house anyway?

"I've come to appreciate that. And I don't think potholes would make you vibrate." Gil swallowed, but he was still grinning as he drove. "I still can't believe I got the job. This is the sort of thing Covallo was worried about, too."

"What? That I'd drag you into Evidence and bend you over a table?" Jim asked and then paused. "Or vice versa for that matter."

The idea was not without some merit.

"Or vice versa," Gil agreed. "We're not supposed to fraternize, and I told him that I hadn't planned on it. After all..." And there was another sly glance. "Sometimes the waiting is worth it."

"I promise you now, any waiting we have to do will be definitely worth it," Jim replied. How had he managed to get to this place? Where suddenly there was something to look forward to? Something worth living for? When exactly had he fallen in love? Last week or over fifteen years ago?"

He wasn't sure, couldn't be sure about any of it, but Gil was there and he was vibrant and he thought out of the box and he was suddenly Jim's reason to keep going. Maybe his only reason left. "I don't doubt it. Particularly if it keeps us from getting fired." Gil exhaled a little loudly again, but they were already pulling onto their street. "Catherine was going to give you the paperwork when she had it ready."

"She wasn't in when I left so I'm guessing tomorrow. When are you starting?" Jim asked willing them to get there faster. Then dinner then... everything.

"Monday. I have a couple of days and the weekend more to get used to the nightshift hours. I haven't been doing badly." Gil coasted the vehicle up into Jim's driveway.

"We'll work on it. And we'll have to start looking for a car for you," Jim said thinking of the practicalities. Okay so they didn't live far away but having a car to get to crime scene was pretty necessary.

"I don't need anything fancy. Just... something that won't leave me broken down." Gil popped the door open after he turned the car off and put the brakes on. Now that he was standing up, Jim could see him moving a little funny, because he had something, some kind of plug, stuffed up his tight ass.

"You'll need something decent..." Jim replied opening his door. "Crime scenes are pretty frequently in the middle of nowhere. I've got money, don't worry. "

More now considering the DNA test had proved adultery and Janice was now on her own. Benefactors did not pay alimony to partners who tried to corrupt the family line. In fact, she was apparently lucky the Brass family didn't prosecute her. Apparently they could do that as it was a criminal offense to tamper with, appropriate or utilize Benefactor status without legal rights to it. Janice had ruined everything for herself, and for him.

Now wasn't the time to think about it, though. Not when Gil was slipping a hand to tug at the back of Jim's belt between two of the loops it was threaded through, keeping close as they went into the house. "I'll start... finishing dinner."

"We can eat the steak raw if it helps," Jim offered as he followed and reached for keys so they could remain in contact even as they fumbled to get inside. Gil was so close and so much there, under his touch. He wanted him... He really wanted him.

And he was sure that Gil wanted him just as much. Somehow, Jim got the front door unlocked, and they were heading into the hallway, Gil still that close to him. "No, by the time they're done I'll have everything else reheated."

Jim couldn't wait. He swung him into his arms for a kiss, unable to stop himself even as the door banged shut behind them. "How... hungry are you really?"

"It can wait a few hours?" It was a good thing that Gil had changed out of his suit and into a t-shirt and jeans again, because that suit was good enough for court, and not made for being manhandled. Gil was already starting to pull at Jim's jacket. "We can skip it for a few hours. Everything is in the fridge."

"I changed my mind. I want you... I need you," Jim murmured wanting that t-shirt and jeans off. Wanting the skin beneath it, wanting all of him here and now. His hands fumbled hurriedly and he really needed more practice at undoing clothes.

Once his fingers started to pull at the buttons of Gil's jeans, he seemed to finally relax again, and he started to try to unbutton Jim's shirt. "Whoa, hold on. Gun comes off first..."

"And watch that hair trigger," Jim murmured as he leaned in trying kiss Gil and help get the shirt off at the same time. "I... have no will power when it comes to you."

"Is that a bad thing?" Gil unbuckled the holster, and the gun ended up on a table stand thing. Jim'd find it later, because he was being backed up against the wall so Gil could get his shirt off.

It was a strange kind of exciting feeling and he nearly laughed. It was so far the other side of what Sara imagined as to be ludicrous. "There might be times when patience could come in handy," he replied as the shirt came off and the wall was cool against his back.

"We'll work on that at work. Home is a different story." Home was apparently going to involve a lot of sex, and Gil leaning into him, chest against chest to kiss him while his fingers slid down to unbuckle Jim's belt.

"You know, maybe I should recommend those extra years waiting to others, if this is the result..." he drawled and kissed him again. "On the other hand, maybe I wasted five years missing this..."

"No, I wasn't exactly... all together until I got out of the college and started to work," Gil mumbled against his bottom lip, tugging at the zipper. "It's stuck."

"It’s been under pressure." Jim felt he had to point that out and his fingers fumbled over Gil's as they tried to help and settled on practically ripping the zip off. And then he pulled at Gil's jeans and he was hungry to touch his skin.

Gil's underwear was tight against his skin, and when Jim slid a hand around to grope his ass, he could feel the round flared base of the plug. "Shoes need to come off..."

Everything needed to come off. Gil hadn't bought a small one for himself. Fuck... He would be well stretched, and ready and hopefully not sore. God, he just wanted more of him. It was like being presented with a feast when he was starving. He didn't know what to try next.

It was hard to concentrate with Gil kissing him like that, with Gil kissing him and not stopping while he tried to get his shoes off, and then tried to help Jim out of his shoes. Jim had no idea how they were going to make it up the steps.

Hey, there was... a bed in the room he had done for Gil... but... Upstairs was their bed, together and he wanted it to be about that as much as anything else. He was pretty fit, maybe he could half carry him.

Then again, Gil was pretty fit, better than pretty fit, and he was taller than Jim. He groaned against Jim's mouth, and then finally pulled back. "We should... we should go downstairs. Upstairs."

"Upstairs. Our bed," Jim nearly growled and started moving. Clothes were strewn randomly over everything and he had this incredible urge to pounce on Gil and just let things get very physical. It was like feeding an addiction. A healthier addiction than one he'd had normally.

After all, how many addictions included what was basically cardiovascular exercise? Gil stepped out of his jeans, and half-reached a hand back behind him to make sure the plug didn't come out while he walked. But he didn't need that precaution.

In fact his own hand was reaching down to help with that effort, or to just touch there and know that Gil would be feeling him and wanting him there. "Move," he murmured, impatience making it more of an order than he would have ordinarily said.

Gil did, though, walking up the stairs ahead of him naked, with Jim shadowing after him. There was a little voice in the back of Jim's head that sounded sort of like Janice, sneering, 'see, I knew that was what you wanted him for', but he could ignore that. At the time he'd wanted him because anything would have been better than living alone with Janice, but in truth that wouldn't have been fair to Gil.

His hands smoothed over Gil's ass as he preceded him up the stairs and he had to try and talk himself down from leaping right in. He owed Gil to make it good. There was a lot he owed him. Time and so many other things, if they were going to make it work. If he couldn't give him his freedom, he could lead him most of the way to what he wanted to give Gil. Gil kept ahead of him down the hallway, grinning at the corners of his mouth as he half-walked, half-jogged to the bedroom.

Getting there was a flurry of touches and movement as he tried to maintain contact as they made it up the stairs. His relief on seeing the bed there was immense. "I want you..." he breathed as they practically dived towards it. "I want you so much."

And somewhere he had turned into an insatiable sex machine as well from the feel of it.

"Good." Gil's face was flushed red, and his hands drifted to Jim's hips as soon as they were close. "Then take me."

It was tempting, very tempting. It had been a long time since he had just let go and... he couldn't now. He needed to make it good. He pushed Gil down on to the bed, letting him settle as he reached for oil or lube. He was going to tease him some more and... they didn't need condoms because Gil was his, and he knew he was clean, he'd never do that to anyone and.... he could tease him by playing with the plug, gently moving it, flicking it just a little.

Gil squirmed to lie on his stomach, and shifted onto his knees a little, head turned back to peer at Jim. "Please..."

"Not yet, Gil, not yet. We've gotta be ready," he said. Who was he kidding? He was more than ready, they both were. Two seconds he could have that out and him in and be inside him and... deep and....

He had to slow down. He twisted the plug a little checking for looseness. It wasn't very loose, but it did make Gil groan and spread his legs, lifting his ass so Jim had better access. "Ready, uh-huh..."

"How... long have you had this in..." Jim asked as he toyed with it. He wanted Gil looser than that. He was above average in size, but no monster. Big enough to feel, he'd always said.

"A couple of hours." Gil slumped down a little on his crossed arms, resting his cheek against them. "Just like Lady Heather suggested."

"Now if we'd had these sort of classes, I can guarantee there would have been full attendance," Jim murmured smoothing some more oil into his crack and working it in around the plug. "Did she tell you what it would feel like?"

"We discussed it," Gil murmured, his voice sounding a little shaky. "Since I'd already-- but it wasn't how it was supposed to feel. When we... with the opener, just before the Presentation. That felt good." Gil rubbed his cheek on the sheets a little.

"This will be better," Jim promised, wiggling the object some ore until the muscle began to give a little more. He was as hard as a rock himself and it was going to take all his discipline to do this and make it last. "I don't want you to have bad memories, just good ones."

"This is a good one." Gil shifted his knee, and sighed quietly. "You're teasing."

"I'm good at that. I'm sure you are too," Jim murmured. "We'll do it this way tonight because it's easier... for you." He leaned in and wiggled the plug painstakingly out of Gil.

He was going to have to pretend that he wasn't watching the muscle close right up behind the plug that he pulled out, only a little loosened looking for all of that effort. "I can move if you'd prefer it. There are other ways that are technically easier…"

"No, Gil, it's okay." He reached and slicked himself up. "You ready?" He shifted up and over him, warmth covering his lover where he hadn't been able to do so when they had used the opener. He'd be able to hold him close.

Real close, as close as two people could get without sharing body parts. When he asked, "You ready?", Gil shifted his position a little, like he was presenting his ass to Jim.

"Yeah."

When he started pressing in, it was so much sensation he nearly forgot his resolve to go slow. Gil was so tight he had no idea how he had gotten through the presentation. Fuck, the heat and pressure and stopping... stopping then moving a little, then some more and all the while each muscle spasm was a flash of fire.

There was a thin constant groan escaping Gil, and he shifted one leg backwards almost restlessly, slipping a little. "Jim..."

"I'm here... I'm… in you..." Nearly. Not completely and fuck he was tight. So damn tight and hot enough to burn. He had to grit his teeth not to push in hard but that would hurt him and he couldn't.

He couldn't hurt Gil. "Kind of noticed." And even with Gil's voice strained, he still sounded a little wry. "Nn, move it around?"

"In a... moment." A moment after he was in deep and his muscles relaxed and he was seeing stars from the effort. There, he was in deep, deep enough to rock a little and wrap arms around Gil, and nuzzle the back of his neck as the sensations burned.

The groan finally turned softer, and one of Gil's hands ended up on Jim's forearm, hugging onto him. Apparently he didn't mind taking Jim's weight if it meant closeness. "Oh, god."

It allowed for limited movement but that was fine. Limited was all he should be doing right now anyway, but it made him gasp and clutch even as he tried to give him that twist of movement he'd asked for. "So... tight..." he moaned half to himself. "So...fucking tight."

He half-thought he heard Gil laugh, a short muted noise, but maybe he was hallucinating. Gil rocked his hips a little, and he was starting to give up on staying on his hands and knees. "Yeah. Just like that. F... fuck me just like that."

They went down and they were generating a lot of heat between them as he pushed and moved and started to feel it become easier to make bigger sweeps of pleasure, pushing in. He angled everywhere, trying to hit the prostate. He'd find it in there somewhere.

As long as he kept moving, he'd hit it eventually, hunching his hips against Gil's ass, feeling Gil shift and groan beneath him. He gave a hiss of breath, and turned his head again. "Do that again?"

"Which? This?" He tried the same angle, slowly and surely, looking for the reaction

Gil gave a certain tone of groan, and the muscles at the back of his neck tensed. "Oh, god, that. That, right there, it, it..." He was babbling. Finally.

Now he had the spot he could move and indulge himself, knowing that as he moved, Gil would be moving as well, feeling bursts of incredible sensation as he thrust. He began drawing back further, plunging deep, each stroke still measured and slow but increasing in pace.

Gil was starting to get into it, couldn't talk himself through it, wasn't teasing Jim with words anymore. He groaned and clutched at Jim's arm and turned his head and moved with him to try to get more of the sensation. Jim liked the sound of those wild groans, liked the way Gil bucked a little when he thrust just so.

It was enough to encourage Jim to let slip his control a little more, to move harder, faster, to clutch at Gil and slide over his skin until there was nothing but that touch, the noises they made and the heat inside. Oh god yeah, yeah he could do this forever...

And he could. Gil wanted him, who the hell knew why, and it wasn't a one-night stand. This was for keeps, and he needed to try to get a hand between Gil's body and the mattress, because his own balls were starting to feel tight, closer to cutting loose entirely.

He wriggled that hand in, finding Gil's hard erection and gripping it. He tried with a degree of success to match his thrusts and strokes though he was out of practice and oh god, there wasn't anything that could stop him now. He was letting go and there were stars in front of his eyes, pounding in his ears and any moment, any moment it was going to be that release and explosion of ecstasy...

When everything went tense and fuzzy, and his body was still there, going for it, shooting into Gil, hips jerking and dick twitching even while he somehow kept his hand moving on Gil's dick. He could feel it twitch, and could feel a spasm of muscle around his dick.

He knew Gil must be feeling the rush of warmth inside him and he pumped hard over his cock even as he thrust in with the last few gasps of his orgasm.... and there it was, Gil following suit, warm and sticky over his hand and an incoherent sound beneath him.

It was all right to lie there on top of him, slumped there for a minute. Gil squirmed a little. Shifted his shoulders, and sighed. "Wait until the bandages come off."

"I didn't hurt you?" Jim asked, feeling he needed to check. He was still inside of Gil, but spent. He kissed him again. "It was okay?"

"It was great. Amazing. I should quote poetry, but..." But the side of his face was pressed against the mattress, and Jim could only half kiss him as it was. "God. Maybe working is overrated."

"They say a lot of things are better than sex. I take that to mean they're not doing the sex right," Jim murmured. He pulled himself out slowly and shifted a little to the side to ease his weight. "You're... so beautiful. I don't know how I got so lucky to have you here."

"You Chose me." Gil shifted, stretching his arms lazily for a moment before he shifted to loop an arm over Jim's waist. "And I happily approved. I think it was a good choice all around..." Gil's voice was muzzy, and he shifted closer.

"So I did one thing right in my life," Jim said tangling happily with him. "I hope I get to last."

"You will." Gil shifted closer, half-hard cock brushing Jim's thigh and making him shiver a little. "I think dinner can wait a little longer."

"Remind me to start going to the gym again. Otherwise, I'm never going to keep up with you," Jim murmured. "Younger, smarter, stronger... god, more beautiful than anyone I've ever seen."

It was true. Just then, at that moment Jim knew he was in love and it felt right.

Maybe he got a little silly, but Gil laughed quietly. "Have you looked at your coworkers? No, don't answer that." Gil didn't give him a chance to answer. He just kissed him, and Jim decided he didn't mind that at all.

Later there was going to be steak -- medium rare and maybe more sex. Maybe dinner and sex would overlap somehow but right now he didn't care as long as he could stay here, kissing and reveling in their newfound contact. If this was how life was going to be, perhaps everything else he'd gone through had been worth it.

---

He had an ID badge, and a lab coat, and he was spending his first day in the lab, more excited than he’d been in, well, since at least the previous week. Catherine had stressed that he needed to know where things were in the lab and get used to Vegas's techniques and not try to stick to LA's techniques. Gil could guess that had been a problem with other hires, but Gil was viewing it with an open mind.

What it actually meant was that he had spent part of the shift with various members of their lab team seeing how they went through things and prioritized them for action. He was going out later with whoever was handy, but Jim and Warrick were already out somewhere and he had a feeling he'd just seen Nick go past on his way somewhere.

In the mean time, he was being dazzled and confused by Greg.

Not in the technical stuff he was throwing out at him, but in the way that Greg seemed so... all over the place and at the same time was doing precision DNA work that he had never seen done at LA. At the same time he was running trace, making notes, talking and he was easy to like as well. He was by far the youngest person in the lab except for Gil now, and he seemed to relish the thought of another younger member.

"You ever try DNA?" Greg said even as he effortlessly scooted back on his chair to set up another batch.

"Nope." Gil was looking over where the chemicals were, looking around the room. They ran trace in there, too, a busy central room, and Gil couldn't help but make sure everything was just the way it was supposed to be. "I prefer biology to chemistry, on the whole."

"I did chemistry," Greg said slotting another batch of samples into the spectrometer. "So what pretty much happens is I get sent up a bunch from evidence and I look them over. Sometimes day shift leaves me with a pile. I hate having a big backlog. I take a look, I prioritize homicide over robbery that sort of thing, and then... each of them comes in and demands that their sample gets processed first." Greg half smirked a little at him. "I promise everyone theirs will get put to the top of the pile."

"And you do them in your own order?" Gil asked, eyeing the fume hood in his check for where things belonged. It looked hot in there, warping like the air over hot pavement. "Hey, is the hot plate supposed to be on?"

Greg turned around. He frowned. "No. They're meant to put unidentified substances under the fume hood if evidence is locked. Someone might have knocked it on when they went under there." He got up and went a little closer. "Smells like something's burning under there." Greg reached under, flicking off the heater and moving the beaker of green liquid, and then yelping as the slow bubbling liquid spilt over his hand at the movement. "F--Jesus! Gil, you give me a hand here? I've got a volatile here that needs... dampening. Get one of those smother covers there..."

Gil dove for it, and pushed Greg back carefully before he put the smother cover over the fume hood. "Your hand -- wash your hand off!" A hot plate in a closed space and chemicals that could just explode at any moment. Whose stupid idea was it to just *store* unknowns there, even if it was part of a procedure. Some things caught fire at a mere spark, never mind the, the danger of moving things around every time the hood needed t obe used. Gil got a little of the bubbling liquid on his hand, but he also managed to lay the smother covers down without knocking over any of the other evidence under the hood.

"Not until this is... secure," Greg replied and he was a far cry from the bouncy almost scatterbrained young man that had been answering questions and teasing him slightly. But Gil got it secured down, and it didn’t seem like there were any fumes trying to escape. He leaned over to hit the venting switch so they didn't die of the fumes that were in the air. "There... you got it. Now we rinse off. And then I'll analyze the damn stuff see what it is. You get any one you?"

"A little." Gil was keeping his hand away from himself, and stepped back now that everything seemed to be okay. His heart rate could go back down now. "That was a close call -- here, you have it on both hands, I'll get the tap."

"I seriously owe you, man," Greg muttered as he ducked his hands under the running water once Gil had turned it on. "That thing was about a few seconds from igniting vapor and that would've been 'Boom! Goodbye Lab'. And us, too, but definitely the lab."

"Hell of a way to start a job," Gil murmured as he ran his hand briefly under water to get the hot substance off, and waited for Greg to finish now that he’d at least rinsed. "Why's the hot plate there?"

Greg rinsed his hands off in a process that Gil Guessed took at least sixty seconds. Soap, rinse, soap, rinse, different soap, slow rinse. "It's the fume hood and lab procedure has us doing all heating chemical tests under the fume hood," Greg said looking at his hand. "I need to find out what that stuff is. For once, I get to prioritize and I can do it a damn sight faster than any where else."

He took a sample of the liquid from that jar, lifting up the fume hood to snatch it, and set it up rapidly for analysis. "Catherine will kill me if I hurt her brand new CSI."

"It's not Catherine anyone would have to worry about," Gil told him as he soaped his hands and cleaned it as thoroughly as he could. He half-way wanted to sit down, plop on the floor and shake, but Greg was movingmovingmoving, and he could definitely keep up. "Hold on, and I'll help you in a minute. Do we need to document before we clean up?"

"Yeah, I'm just rushing this through in case it's something that's going to eat our hands off or something," Greg said, working intensely. He pressed a few buttons. "C'mon, give me a nice harmless volatile...."

At least it wasn't acid. Gil would have noticed, and instead of his hand feeling a little burned and warm it would have been much worse. "It tends to take more than a couple of minutes to run."

"I know, that's why I wanted it on now. Catherine and Warrick were thinking a poison, that's why I'm worried. But smells like some sort of hydrocarbon y'know?" Greg said. "You okay, though?"

He stopped drying his hand long enough to halfway hold it up. "I'm okay. And it did smell like a hydrocarbon -- most of which are pretty poisonous if ingested."

"But not too bad if you splash them over your hands. An irritant, but..." Greg seemed to be calming down. "You want to help me document this up? We're going to have to change that procedure and the guys in the Evidence vault are going to have to start coming in to work on time."

"I'll grab a camera." Gil leaned back to grab the kit from the floor. He had a department issued kit until he started to add his own pieces to it. "I'll be glad when my own camera catches up to me. The delivery truck is supposed to come by tomorrow or the next day."

"You have your own?" Greg asked and he seemed a little envious. "How much CSI work have you done?"

"A couple of years. I saved up a lot of my allowance funds to get a good one of my own. But this lab is run quite a bit differently, and uh..." Gil flipped the lens cap off of his camera. "Excepting the fume hood, I think it's better."

"Yeah, well everything is better until it blows up in your face," Greg replied. "I... I kinda like helping them out with the puzzle part of the investigating. They think I'm crazy because I've been looking at training for it. When I'm the highest qualified lab rat they have."

"If you're interested in it," Gil told him, checking his position on the film roll. "Then go for it. The field training was the worst part, and I didn't even do that the right way."

"Cath might let me try, but... I dunno. I mean, they don't like to lose their DNA guy," Greg said even as he scribbled notes on what was happening.

"You're faster than the guy we had in LA," Gil told him. Either way, Greg was exceptional at what he did. Gil took a few quick shots of the scene as it was, and then lifted the smoother sheet carefully. "You'd take a pay cut."

"Yeah, well... Money's not everything right?" Greg replied watching him work. "See, I process the evidence but it's just information here. It's not the puzzle, it has only the context that I try and find. You know? I could easily process and everything remains just fragments. But I like to know when my trace or DNA cracks a case."

"I'll remember that." Gil laid the sheet to the side, and photographed that quickly before he started to take snaps of the mess that what had happened had left. It looked, now that everything had cooled down, like a very close call. "It's good work. When I worked with the coroners, it bothered me that I never knew if the people who'd been killed... ever had their cases prosecuted, if anyone was ever charged. Most of them ended up being bodies in drawers as far as I knew."

Greg even offered up his hands for photos, the patches looking livid and irritated where he had been splash. "The moment I know what this is, I'm getting some cream for it. Itches like hell," he complained. "Who you going out with tonight then? Maybe I should tell them to go easy."

"Hydrocortisone." Gil took a few more snaps, and then lowered his camera. "I'm not sure who I'm going with tonight, but it's really not necessary."

"Well, Catherine is going to find out anyway so..." Greg shrugged. He finished writing and turned his attention back to him. "You know, there's been gossip already about you. Nick said you're Jim's Companion and Sara keep's half exploding when anyone mentions it. Warrick says she's planning some sort of solo liberation front."

"That's a sad waste of her time. I'm his Companion," Gil told Greg, cutting right through the gossip. He wrote down which photo numbers were the ones that pertained to the incident on a notebook sheet. He honestly couldn't wait until his camera came, with its digital card, his one nod to technology in the field.

"I think she thinks Companions are all abused or something," Greg replied seemingly totally unashamed about the frank discussion. "But, we're talking Jim here and he's so laid back no one had him pegged as a Benefactor. I mean, I can't imagine him even trying to Network. I bet if he'd wanted to, he could have started in at CSI 2 or higher, but he didn't."

There was something about Greg's unashamed forthrightness that made Gil smile as he decided how to tidy up the interior of the fume hood, and where to start cleaning. "I think Jim enjoys making things harder on himself than they need to be. I'm pretty far from abused or exploited."

"Sara gets weird about that sort of thing," Greg said. "Nicky gets freaked over kid cases. But she was talking about some Companion cases on file. That they never got prosecuted because the laws weren't there. I think Jim was getting ready to snarl... you know, he does that lip curl thing? That's the point to start running. I think Catherine sent him out with Warrick because she's already spoken to Sara about it all but she's making it pretty hard on Jim at the moment. Like he's turned into some sort of monster."

"We have internal systems. There's blood payment, and..." Gil shrugged his shoulders a little. Maybe he needed to talk to Sara about it so she'd stop giving Jim a hard time. "If something happens before we're Chosen, we're written off entirely. Whatever happens is just swept under the rug. If she has a problem with the system, she shouldn't be bothering Jim about it. He doesn't like it, either. He encouraged me to take an interest in law enforcement."

"Cool." Greg looked at him, and his face was all sly smiles. "He's good at what he does. He thinks of angles the others don't. But that's why we have everyone. They're each good at what they do."

The printer started to churn out a set of results and Greg's attention focused one the printout. "Hydrocarbons it is. Spiked with a few other things, but it looks like a lighter fluid and turpentine."

"That could explain the skin irritation." Gil moved to lean so he could look at the results over Greg's shoulder. The orientation of the printout was a little different than he was used to, but it still looked good. "Do you want me to run and go stick a note on Catherine's door so she knows what's up when she comes in?"

"Yeah. Take the report up. I'm going to go get some cream from my hands," Greg replied. "Hey, if you guys go out for lunch, don't forget me or something."

"Will do." Gil took the sheet of paper and his own sheet of notes for his film roll, and headed down the hallway to leave the information for Catherine. Over and done with, as easy as that, and it was funny how fast they moved past things in the Vegas lab. How fast things moved period. But he saw the caseload coming in and he could understand the need for it. LA had its share but comparing the sizes of the places, Vegas was proportionately higher on murders.

Greg seemed nice, though. He had even unconsciously flirted with him, much to Gil's amusement. He wondered if he was aware he was doing it. Probably not. Greg was a naturally outgoing guy, too at ease just saying whatever came to his mouth right away. He wouldn't be aware, any more than he was aware of the shift between banter and a straight face when he panicked. Gil walked down the hallway, papers in hand, and then he peeked into Catherine's office.

The 'boss' was in, industriously moving a pile of papers, still looking like she had stepped put of a glamour magazine. She would have done well in LA where people were acutely aware of things like presence, and appearance. She would have had them eating out of her hands.

She glanced up. "Gil... good, I was just one my way down to find you. You survived the Sanders experience?

"Actually, the lab almost exploded." He slipped into the room, offering the sheets of papers. "Someone had left a hot plate turned on under the fume hood, and there was a volatile under it, too."

"...What?" Catherine was looking at him with a peculiar intensity. "Tell me you're joking?"

"No. I photographed it since the contents of the green glass container was boiling off. Greg and I spilled a little trying to smoother it, and the hot plate was turned off. He ran it through trace and it came back as a hydrocarbon -- lighter fluid and turpentine."

"The lab nearly blew up." Catherine restated. "And that doesn't worry you at all?" She seemed more stunned by his lack of reaction than anything else.

"I..." Gil paused, halfway to saying something before he stopped. Yes, but more in that moment than long term. It wasn't like it was going to almost blow up every day. "Since it didn't actually happen, no?"

"Well you're a cool customer," Catherine replied. "You're both okay?"

"Greg went looking for hydrocortisone. I only ended up with a little on me. It brought some irritation up on his hands." Gil lingered near her desk after he'd handed her the sheets. "I think, uh, that maybe that procedure of putting unlogged evidence under the fume hood should be changed."

"I think you're right considering I'm the one that put it there," Catherine replied. She looked over the sheets while she stood up. "You and Greg wrote it up well. Well done. I'll take a detailed look later. I've had a call in, and I was going to send you out with Sara -- but do you need to get something put on your hand?"

"No, I'm fine." Anyway, he needed to talk with Sara and see what working with her was like, even if Catherine didn't know he knew what she'd been doing. Maybe Catherine didn't even know. "I'd like to go out. I've considered this a tour of the lab."

"It's useful to know how they all work. When it comes to lab work we're pretty close to the top," Catherine said. "Here, Sara is in the garage waiting for Nick to bring in the car from the strangling victim. This needs priority."

Trace collection, then. Fantastic. Gil nodded as he took a step backwards. "Then I'll head over to the garage?"

"Got it in one," Catherine half smiled at him. "Follow her lead. Sara may be a lot of things but she's a damn good CSI."

Funny, since he hadn't thought that she wasn't. He quirked a look at Catherine, as if to say 'what would make you think I wouldn't?' but he didn't say it aloud. "I know. Thanks. I'll be in the garage, then."

Catherine nodded and just looked down as if he was dismissed from her presence. He had the oddest feeling that she was aware of more than she was letting on. Perhaps she wasn't aware that he knew about Sara's possible reactions courtesy of Greg and his open conversations.

Interoffice relations weren't half as interesting as the cases, but as long as he was new, he was going to have to establish his place in them before he could comfortably concentrate solely on cases. Lady Heather had told him that much in one of their many talks. He was doing well so far.

The walk to the garage involved stopping in the locker room to pull on overalls, and then making good time over there with his kit in hand. The garage was clean except for what looked like some permanent stains on the floor of the garage, and the door was open, but the car they were waiting for apparently wasn't there yet. But Sara was.

"Hi."

Sara turned around. "Hi," she said and crossed her arms. "You with me?"

"Mm-hmm. Catherine said we were going to be going over a car for trace. I've been being passed around the lab all evening learning the methodologies here." Gil walked closer to her. Crossing of arms was a protective, barrier-like gesture.

Lady Heather had been very good on teaching nonverbal language. Sara smiled a little obviously, a bit wary. "Bet that was an experience. Seen Bobby's bullet and gun collection?"

"It was impressive. I've spent most of the evening with Greg in DNA and working trace. I like Greg more than Hodges," Gil half-confided.

He saw Sara give a slight chuckle. "Yeah. Greg is more likable. He'd flirt with a stick though." She seemed to relax a little. "So. While we're waiting, I've gotta ask... Don't you want out of the Companion thing?"

"Do you ever want out of the being a white female CSI thing?" Gil quirked a look at her, and went on before she could say anything. "It's what I am. I'm very happy with my life, and I've been afforded a lot of opportunities I wouldn't have been otherwise."

"Yeah and denied other opportunities," Sara insisted, her expression lighting up with intensity. "You have to do what Jim says, he owns you. Like a... pet. That's just wrong."

"There's a certainty and safety in being owned. I'm proud of the brand on my shoulder. I don't have to do what Jim says. We're just lucky that we get along and agree on most things to begin with." Gil tilted his head a little, looking at her expression. "I know what you're thinking."

The set of her mouth told him that she doubted that. "So tell me. What am I thinking?"

"That I need to be liberated, and that I've been raised to think the way I do so of course I don't know I need to be set free from the horrible situation I have to be in." Gil quirked an eyebrow at her, daring her to say he was wrong.

"Look, when you're in a bad situation and you've been raised into it you don't know it's wrong. It seems normal to you. Totally normal, and you don't think you have options," Sara tried to explain.

"To be honest? I legally don't have options. Oh, I could run. Except all of my identification papers mark me as a Companion. And then there's the fact that I actually care about Jim and wouldn't do that to him if I wanted to." Gil turned his eyes to the garage door. There was a vehicle slowly nearing, backing in. A big tow truck. Good. "Which I don't. How do you think we're brought up, anyway? In a kennel, fed scraps?"

"I don't know. But I don't think it's right for one human being to own another, no matter what great deed their ancestor did." Sara replied. "We've dealt with Companion cases. Deaths that never get prosecuted as murder because it's legally 'disposal of property'."

"I've been a Companion case. We try to deal with these situations within our community. It's not fair or just, but things are quietly taken care of. Kill another man's Companion, and die in a botched robbery a few weeks later. Hurt your own..." Gil shook his head a little. "Jim's a good man."

"But he still had you publicly sexually abused and then branded!" Sara said with some conviction. "Jim... is... Well, I didn't think it of him."

"There are rules. Rules that I'm well aware of. We tried to work around them, and he tried to see if they could be circumvented. He was more uncomfortable with the idea than I was." Gil watched the tail lights of the tow truck as it backed into the garage, ready to offload their work for probably the rest of the night. Processing a car took about four hours if there were two people working it and they were thorough. "And I picked the brand myself."

"You did?" Sara shot him a look. "I don't get it Gil, I... just can't see how you can be happy in that situation. He's a lot older, he controls your life, you have no rights. Any other way that would be a recipe for abuse."

"That isn't what the community is set up to do. We have the same incidence of domestic violence as 'normal' society -- did you know that? There's no abnormal rate of abusers. You forget that the mother of most Benefactors was a Companion herself. Benefactors render a service to their country. The head of my college lost her Benefactor to his service years ago in a war. Before that, he encouraged her to work at the college in the first place. They had a daughter who's very independent and smart. It... We're kept. We're protected. We're treated on the whole very well. If I'm a pet, then I'm a very expensive pet who can freely speak his mind."

"It just makes me uncomfortable for you," Sara replied. "I guess the departmental counselor would say I was projecting, but I don't like how Jim has changed. We never argued like that before. Never so badly."

"You were arguing over... what, abuse? And you apparently suggested that he was a man and couldn't understand it, or he was at fault as a man. At least, that was what I got out of Jim before he went to sleep." And getting Jim to be coherent while he was drunk was a chore for Gil. "His parents had previously plucked his last nerve. I'm fairly sure he was a POW. He went missing during his Benefactor Duty. He's been tortured at some point in his life, and you stomped all over him. If he's changed, it's all in your head. You're interpreting information in a different way because you now know that he's a Benefactor."

That had successfully stopped her in her tracks. "He was... I didn't realize, they say all Benefactors get stateside officer roles... I thought..."

"Didn't I just tell you that the head of my college had her Benefactor die in a war? You don't get shot by enemy combatants at a desk job," Gil murmured. He was content to watch the tow truck lower their vehicle carefully, slowly, because concentrating on that kept his voice level and sociable. "You shouldn't assume things about people because of labels. Some people make a career of their Duty."

"Maybe not," Sara acknowledged. "But Jim's never said anything. Never mentioned he was a Benefactor, never mentioned any war or that he wasn't getting along with his parents."

"Jim doesn't tell people these things. He doesn't advertise himself, he doesn't like to wear his problems on his sleeve."

"Yeah, I worked that one out," Sara said. "But Catherine said that people interaction isn't my best thing. She's got a point. I understand what we do. People on the other hand... They get me every time."

"I'm not a natural with people, either. I had my moments when I was younger, but the headmistress tried to teach me how to watch. And listen." The driver of the tow truck was getting out, with paperwork for Sara to sign, Gil could guess. "I want to enjoy working with you, Sara. Let me."

"I've got no problem with you, Gil. I just... want you to know if you need something, then talk to me," she said and turned to sign receipt. "Now let's see how we go about processing this truck huh?"

"Do you want prints or trace?" Gil asked as he eyed the old, slightly beaten up looking vehicle. "If I ever need something, I will talk to you. I just find it very unlikely."

"Unlikely is fine. It's just so there is a choice," Sara said. "So, why don't you impress me with how you'd work over this truck huh?"

Gil grinned as he backtracked to get his kit. "I'd love to. So, prints or trace -- you choose what you prefer and I'll take the other."

"You take trace," Sara said and there was a challenge there but one that he understood more than her concerns about who and what he was. "Show me what you can do."

And with that she picked up her own print kit to start to work, not giving him any more instruction than that.

He didn't need it, though. Gil knew how to photograph the generals, and then start to look for things -- samples, and then a pill caplet that he photographed with ruler, part of a tooth, a crown or... something, that he repeated the technique on. He worked quietly, meticulously, shifting when Sara needed to lean in somewhere.

She was watching him, he was watching her. It was pretty funny in its own way. When she first began speculating aloud about what might have happened, it surprised him, but soon he was joining in. And the hypotheses bounced back and forth and when Sara was thinking and talking work she lost most of those sharp edges in her conversations.

Gil decided that he liked her. She was rough around the edges but she was likable and they worked well together. They thought along the same lines, and he could probably work well with her. Once they'd gathered the trace and the prints, and Gil had made sure all of his was carefully labeled, he declared, "I think we've got enough to keep trace and prints occupied for days."

"No kidding," Sara replied straightening up. She paused a moment and looked at him. "Jim was right. You're not just competent, you're good. I've known people who've been doing this a long time not hit every area like you did. Not without prompting."

"Thanks. I like to be thorough. There's no need to rush processing a scene." Gil twisted his head, cracking his neck and then his shoulders as he sat back. "I still have a lot to learn. If I do something wrong, please tell me. I want to be better."

Sara shook her head a little ruefully. "The moment you do something *really* wrong, Gil, I think I'll be marking it off on the calendar. But believe me, we're all still learning here."

He liked that attitude towards things. Gil straightened up, and watched her collect her fingerprints up. "Let's go see what trace can make of all of this. There's someone out there missing a tooth."

She smiled at him and led the way. As first days went, this was doing okay. Avert a lab explosion, process a car in an unusual homicide, knock down a few prejudices on the way...

He was pretty sure Jim would be proud of him.

---

They couldn't always have their nights off together and it was almost as if his parents had some sort of alarm that told them when he was at home on his own. Either that or they phoned a lot more frequently than he thought and Gil intercepted the calls.

He shouldn't have been sitting in the living room drinking. Not when most of his life was so good, so... right. He was hopelessly in love with Gil, to the point where he had made discrete inquiries about same sex weddings and discovered they could be done.

And he'd been really happy with that and thought about rings and finally being able to think that Gil was choosing to be with him. Right up to the point where the fine print kicked. Yes, he could do all that -- marry his male Companion as long as he had sired an Heir to the Family line.

It all came back to that. It came back to losing Ellie, to being cheated on, to every last moment of failure thrown in his face as his parents pushed and start talking about invoking their right to take his sperm and choose a surrogate and it left him every time with a need for alcohol, a depression that never moved and no way forward because he wasn't going to date anyone. The thing with Sofia had showed him where that was likely to go.

Perfectly fucking nowhere. She'd apparently thought that he was platonic with Gil. At least she'd had the guts to come right out and say that was why she'd changed her mind -- that she'd caught them kissing in the parking lot, she'd realized that they were a package deal, and while she thought Gil was likable enough, it wasn't her thing.

That had been months ago, and it wasn't as if he was ever going to get another half a chance. He wasn't a looker, except if a person counted that he looked tired. Gil was head over heels for him, even with his moods and his trouble sleeping, and Jim wasn't sure how he did it. Or why.

So he tried to keep his stress and depressions to days when Gil wasn't there because he wanted to be happy with him. They'd transformed the house, they'd transformed their lives and they had people come over now and did things and....

Then he'd get a call and emotional blackmail dropped on him from a great height. At first it had been gentle, but now things were getting worse. The remarks more wounding, more liable to send him looking for the bottle.

And then he'd know he'd disappoint Gil as well and everything just got worse. The nightmares would be back, and he'd just want everything to stop.

He didn't know how to stop it. But he was pretty sure that Gil didn't know what was going on, so that was a consolation. Unless Gil was trying to catch the calls for him on days when he was home. He usually got to the phone before Jim did, so it was a possibility, and it made Jim wonder just how often it was 'damn telemarketers' calling. If it was his parents, then it wasn't much of a lie -- they were trying to solicit semen from him for a grandkid.

It wasn't that he didn't want kids. He did. He just didn't want that heartbreak again of losing them, didn't want the mess and the stress of a wife or a surrogate fucking around with his rights. He wanted a choice, and if he was going to have an heir, he wanted something to do with his or her life.

He couldn't see a way out of it, and that feeling was never good for him. It always took him right back to his Duty. When they'd been captured.

A single sentence of description that couldn't hope to convey what had happened. His parents had always wondered why he hadn't said anything and it wasn't just because of the feelings of shame which he knew were normal, it was because he just couldn't think of any words that would come even remotely close to what had happened. Saying nothing was better than making an attempt in this case because people would get the wrong idea and neatly parcel up that time in their heads and there would be assumptions, and a difference in the way things were that wasn't true to life.

And he couldn't share the experience well enough to be understood, so Jim just... didn't. Hadn't even told Gil, but every once in a while he caught Gil running his fingers over scar lines. Gil didn't ask, about that or the nightmares. He'd probably made assumptions, and Jim couldn't be sure they were right.

Jim couldn't be sure of much of anything, and it was pissing him off.

He was angry and stressed and he woke up in a sweat, never getting enough sleep, and he was losing weight which hadn't been a part of the diet and exercise plan and he was worried that he was taking it out on Gil even though he was trying to hide it.

It was funny how things could go to hell just because he was involved.

Jim didn't expect the door to open just then, or to hear Gil out in the hallway, moving around, getting his jacket off, setting stuff down. "Hey, Jim? Are you in here?"

Fuck, he hadn't had chance to clean up or do anything. "Uh... yeah. Yeah, I'm in here."

"Hey. I got out early because the lab lost power. Some idiot took out a transformer with their truck." Gil wandered into the room. He wasn't quite so perfectly groomed as he'd been when he was fresh out of the CCCC. They didn't always have time for him to shave, and when he was crawling around under a car or sifting through dirt for evidence, he usually came home looking like he had been. His hair was sticking up here and there, so he'd definitely been rummaging around a scene.

Gil stopped short when he caught sight of the whiskey bottles.

Jim looked at him and then sighed. He wasn't going to defend himself, there was no point. "I uh..." He looked at his glass and put it down.

"I was going to ask what you did on your day off today, but I guess I have my answer." Gil stood there, frowning a little like he wasn't sure what to do next, and with his stance he looked a little like a pissed off cowboy. The bow legs showed worse in his dirty scene clothes. "So, what happened?"

"Nothing." Jim considered getting up and striding across the room and out of the way of confrontation and then realized that he had drunk probably a little too much to carry that off. Fuck. "I'm fine."

"You're drinking, and you've probably been drinking for hours. So, what happened, Jim?" Gil moved to kneel down beside his chair, taking the glass from his hands. It was funny that Gil could kneel down like that, and still not ever be submissive to Jim.

"I'm having a bad day." The moment he snapped it out he realized it had sounded harsh and angry. He sighed. "Sorry. It's not your fault."

And maybe he had had too much because his words just kept on coming even though his brain was flagging up an urgent halt. "It's my fault. My fault for picking a male Companion, my fault for being the stupid fuck who got cheated on, and then allowed it to go on as if my daughter was my own flesh and blood because I keep forgetting she isn't. All the time, and everything boils down to the fact I'm fucking up everybody's lives because I really don't want to date a woman and I don't want them to court order my sperm out of me like Dad just threatened because there are more pleasant ways to get fucked over than using the legal system."

Gil's lips went tight, and he set the glass aside, taking Jim's hands in his own now that Jim didn't have his drink. "I told you I was working on a solution, Jim. The only way to get them to stop harassing you is to... well, you have to provide an heir."

"I can't do that. I can't because it means doing things I just can't do," Jim replied wishing he didn't feel quite so clearly aware of his problems considering the alcohol he had managed to drink. "It's too much."

"I know you don't want to date, Jim." Gil leaned closer, fingers stroking over Jim's hands. He was probably trying to relax him and Jim wasn't sure that it wasn't working. "But you can find a surrogate on your own."

Jim shook his head. "Come on, Gil, no one would be interested in me enough to date let alone have my kid. And I couldn't lose them out of my life. I... I've lost too much already, I can't do it again. Stupid really. Benefactors are meant to have everything and they make out it's all benefits, all privilege and the Duty is nothing much. "

Nothing. Yeah right. How long had he been missing? Over eighteen months and longer trying to do... whatever the hell it was, trying to survive when everything went to hell out there, when it had been bombed to hell and the few left alive tried to escape.

He didn't want to think about it, but Gil was shaking his head at him. "Jim. Jim, I know that your duty wasn't 'nothing much'. I meant someone who wouldn't take your son or your daughter away from you. There are people out there who wouldn't."

"Sure." Jim had the craving to reach again for the alcohol. "Gil, no one knows what it was like, okay? Not because I have to keep it a secret but... Because I don't know how to tell anyone. I really don't. It's doesn't fit into words."

And he was horrified that he had even referred to it indirectly.

Gil exhaled, and he tilted his head down for a moment, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth for a second. "Okay. We'll start there, and then I'll get back to my original point. Tell me what happened, Jim. Try for words."

Jim just looked at him, feeling his mind go blank. "I... can't. I... Gil, I can't, I don't know how to even try."

"It's hard. So you give it a couple of phrases but no one really gets it. I understand that." And he would in a way. His file said he was 'molested', tada, end of story, pretty non-graphic, but there was a little something in his medical file and if Jim thought about it, he still didn't know the whole story. Every once in a while Gil said something about it, in a half-hearted way like he wanted to talk about it, but not. Gil was still looking up at him, earnestly, concentrating his attention on Jim. "I just want to understand, Jim. I know what happened is a lot bigger than you ever said. You have marks on you, burns. You weren't just sick."

"No. I wasn't," Jim murmured. He exhaled. "I, I ... we got left behind. I went back to get Robbie and his team and they left without us. Guess they had to ... and... we tried really hard not to get caught. Half Robbie's team got killed." It was strange to feel the taste of words long unspoken in his mouth.

And Gil was just watching him. Not even nodding or any of the usual patronizing things that Jim associated with 'listening'. He just moved his fingers over Jim's hands, slowly massaging them out of the almost fists they were in. "It's not your fault."

"People have a tendency to die or get killed around me," Jim said and tried to relax his fingers. "My debriefing was a bit like this. I think I covered the whole time with the phrase, we were kept as prisoners of war and not given the due consideration that would be expected. I mean, it was obvious. I didn't have to say anything."

Gil still kept watching him, gently rubbing at his fingers. "That's also not your fault. They broke the conventions, the rules of warfare."

"They broke us, Gil. All of us eventually one way or another." Jim tossed that out into conversation. Something he had never been able to admit to his dad. "I mean, there wasn't much military justification for it. They just wanted to. They... had the power and we didn't. They were killing us very slowly over that period of time just because they could. "

He sounded so bitter even to himself and there they were, the images flashing back at him. Bright, sharp enough to make him flinch. Robbie crying when Jeff finally died and then refusing to speak at all. The night they had picked one of them and then tied them all so they could watch him tortured nearly to death. He'd died a couple of days later anyway. He couldn't even remember the kid's name anymore and somehow that was the worst thing. A betrayal of sorts.

"Jim." Gil's voice cut through the thoughts and images, soft toned. Gil probably wouldn't have survived it. Jim didn't know how he survived it, and he was younger than Gil was when it had happened. So damn young to have everything go to hell like that, no choice except to try to keep alive to spite them. "You don't have to keep killing yourself just so it's... your choice instead of theirs."

He twisted his head to look at him. He hadn't thought of it like that. "I'm... I'm not... I'm doing this so I don't wake up screaming and keep you awake. I want to get rid of it. I don't want to remember. I thought that maybe it felt something like that to be you. To be a Companion, you know? Not having a choice in what happened, not being... a person. Less than a person."

"And that was why you didn't pick me up for so long. I don't feel like less than a person. In the coroner's office, we had so many people who didn't have a choice in what happened in their lives. Children whose parents decided they were just too much trouble or hassle to let them live any longer. Spouses and friends who made the same decisions, random killings. My lack of choice has... a strange status to it, but it isn't as if the rest of the world is free from a worse lack of choice." Gil inched closer, his chest pressing against Jim's knees. "You're killing yourself, Jim. Before the, the nightmares and your memories can. That's not how you take control again, by hurting yourself."

"It's better than hurting you," Jim said the words involuntarily. They took him by surprise and he shuddered a little. "I love you, Gil. I was pretty sure after everything love was something else that got sacrificed to the Benefactor Duty, but... then I picked you up and I told myself I'd provide for you and we'd lead separate lives. I'd done it with Janice for a long time. And I thought things wouldn't change."

Gil's expression had shifted towards quietly sad, but he was still watching Jim's face. "I know. I didn't want to let you do that. You mean too much to me to just... have let you do that. You mean too much to me for me to just watch while you hurt. I can't take the war back. I can't make you... not have been a prisoner of war. But give me a couple of days to work on the heir situation, Jim. Please."

Jim smiled at him. "I'm not going to do anything Gil. Except maybe snore louder in bed, be grumpy as hell. I can't walk away from anything, and I'm not going to. I promise that. I'll do something. Think of something. Give them the damn sperm and pretend I'm okay with it."

"No, don't do that. Just... don't answer the phone if it's them. I have an idea." Gil tilted his head down, and kissed Jim's knuckles. "I have a few of them, if you'll let me try."

"Gil, you can try what you want, I just..." Wished he hadn't drunk so much because he wanted Gil. "You work this out and you get to choose anything you want."

"Anything I want, huh?" Gil sat back, crouching comfortably now, but still watching Jim intently. "I have everything I want. I have a tarantula, a broken in pickup truck, and a Jim. C'mon, let me get you to bed."

"I think my legs got drunk before the rest of me," Jim said and gave a half quirk of a smile. "Could be difficult."

"I'm up to the challenge." Just like that, Gil quirked a smile at him. Moments like that lasted only so long -- confronting their problems face on for short, almost bearable periods of time. Gil had backed off before Jim had to do anything stupid like cry. Maybe they had the same coping mechanisms in that respect. It didn't really matter because Gil was standing up, pulling at Jim's hands. "Wait until you see the case I started on with Warrick today. We'll need you on it tomorrow."

He stood and wobbled into Gil's arms. That was okay. It was okay to hug another guy if you were under the influence. He remembered Greg doing a lot of hugging of everyone when they'd all been round not that long ago. "Yeah....? Tough one?"

"Possible serial. He was caught in the act of burying two victims that had no visible connection." Gil wrapped his arm around Jim from behind. Hell, Gil was his Companion. He didn't even have to make up an excuse if he wanted to hug him. He could do anything he wanted to Gil, except if he did something unacceptable there was a pretty big chance that Gil would push him down the stairs he was trying to walk them both up.

Or not, since Jim was pretty sure that Gil loved him, too, and love did stupid things to people.

"Sounds... interesting," he replied, holding on to him and wishing he hadn't let him down. He'd let Gil do anything. Anything he wanted and he'd love him for it to. Guess he did stupid things too.

"It's interesting. He swears he didn't kill them and that was when we realized there were two. I need to take a shower after all of that dirt, so..." So Gil was somehow getting him up the stairs, and then they were walking down the hallway to their bedroom.

"Maybe a shower will wake me up enough to go to sleep," Jim said just about coordinating going up the stairs.

"Okay." Gil turned left instead of right, and walked Jim carefully into the bathroom. He was a little drunk for sex, which was a shame, but Gil didn't really have qualms about his state of soberness or lack of when it came to sex. So, maybe...

Gil flicked on the lights, and guided Jim so he could lean against the counter.

He managed that and he always forgot the real curse of alcohol was to make you horny but not give you the means to do much about it. Unless he sucked Gil off or Gil fucked him. Both seem like pretty good ideas right now. "Gi~il..."

He nearly fell over. Sooner he was in the shower the better.

"Mm?" It was more of a questioning sound than any word, and Gil was already starting to unbutton his shirt. "Oh, shit. I should get the water going first. Hold on."

Jim opted in the absence of Gil to hold him up to sit down. And start taking off his shirt. He wasn't that good at it.

"..want you, Gil..."

He could hear the water running now, and Gil moved to close the door so the heat wouldn't just disappear and leave them cold. "Hmn?"

"Want sex, Gil." He was proud of that. He'd nearly said 'fuck'. "Fuck. Wanna..." Well, it had lasted all of two seconds not saying it. Letting out even the hints about what had happened had filled him with a surge of restless energy.

"Yeah?" He was sitting... sitting on the closed toilet lid, okay, that explained how he was sitting, and Gil knelt down in front of him again. "Yeah? I was thinking about making it a bath and not a shower, but we could try. Hot water, you, me, your liquored up libido..."

"The spirit is willing... 'cause it's met a lot of other spirits, but the flesh is gonna be pretty weak," Jim replied looking down at him. "You wanna try things reversed? You get to do all the work."

"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer the first time we do that for you to be.... sober? It might be a blow to my ego if you don't remember in the morning." Somehow, his shirt had been unbuttoned and Gil was leaning forwards to kiss his chest while he started to unbutton Jim's pants. He was only half-hard, and that was a damn shame.

"I'll remember it," Jim replied. "I want you to make sure I remember it." He tried a bit of a leer but he couldn't keep a straight face. "It's not like you don't know the mechanics by now."

"Maybe we'll need to be standing up after all. You think if I lean you against the wall, you can stay standing?" Sure he could, and Gil was a little taller than him. Gil was slipping his hand into Jim's pants, fingers tugging gently over the skin of Jim's dick before he was even undressed.

"I can stay standing," he promised. Even his cock stirred a little from its alcoholic haze at his touch. Hey, this would be good. He hadn't bottomed... well in way too long. And that had been with someone who cared as little about him as Janice had. So, not at all really. Anything Gil did was going to feel great.

"Okay." Gil leaned back a little, and stopped tugging on Jim's dick because he was making him lift his ass up so Gil could pull his pants off for him. Then he was sitting naked on the lid of his toilet, and Gil was standing up, undressing himself in the same half-thought out striptease way that he'd done when he'd first gotten Jim to bend rules.

No one at work would believe it, but Gil was pretty vacant on the personal morals front. And Jim loved it.

Who wouldn't? Gil had been taught sex and had a lot of theories he wanted to try in practice. With him. He'd sit and discuss them with him in the same tone of voice that he used when he was discussing something fascinating and then he'd turn and give a look that told him he knew exactly what he was doing and what was Jim going to do about it? They'd had sex in some pretty interesting positions and Jim was sure that Gil spent his first paycheck at the place he got the first butt plug.

Well, that and part of the truck. Gil had been so happy to contribute to buying it himself, and he'd bought a cover for the back so he could stow his kit and equipment in it and lock it. But Jim enjoyed Gil's theoretical interest maybe a little more than his practicality. His dick was finally coming to life, watching Gil squeeze himself through his jeans while he toed his sneakers off.

It was like having his own porn movie in front of him. "You look gorgeous even covered in dirt." Jim said after a moment. "You roll in the crime scene or something?"

"Sort of. I dug it out. Low man on the totem pole gets to do it while everyone else sifts." But Gil liked it, Jim could tell. He was grinning when he said it, even if the skin where he had been covered with a t-shirt was a different color than the exposed skin. He squirmed and worked his way out of the jeans with one hand, because the other was pretty occupied stroking himself.

"Do we have lube in here?"

"Gil, we have lube in the kitchen. Of course we've got lube in here." Jim had a vague memory of finding it in the fridge one night when he went to make a snack. He still wasn't sure why. Gil would no doubt surprise him with it.

Just, he'd surprise it with him some other time.

"You weren't supposed to find that." Gil kicked his jeans off and up against the door, joining Jim's clothes in a pile that was going to need to be run through the laundry before any of it was worn again. Gil popped open the medicine cabinet, and leaned in to look. "We've -- yeah, in here. I'm going to duck under the water for a second to rise off."

"Give me time and I'll be with you," Jim replied and smirked to himself. He could brush his teeth or something before Gil got out. Lessen the intoxicating fumes from his breath.

As he was, there was a good chance Gil could get drunk just kissing him. Gil glanced at him, and seemed to deem that a good idea, because he ducked quickly under the shower. No modesty, and that was nice. Gil had a great ass that Jim liked to look at.

He'd spent the best part of a Sunday morning looking at Gil's ass not that long ago. The covers had slipped off a bit and the light had just caught it... there and he'd just lain there staring and unwilling to let even the shadow of his fingers ruin the view.

Toothpaste. Brush. A near poke in the eye, toothbrush nearly up his nose -- no way should he be navigating the penis today. That nearly made him laugh. It made it sound like he and Gil only shared one between them.

He managed not to choke to death laughing at himself while he brushed at his teeth, and somewhere in there, Gil had materialized beside him with the spit cup for Jim to rinse with. He waffled between playful and soft when Jim was drunk, like he wasn't sure what was the best approach when it was really whatever he wanted to do that worked best.

"I'm not longer a man half composed of dirt."

"Hey. Congratulations," Jim replied trying not to chuckle any more. "I think I'm getting better. I haven't maimed myself."

"I noticed." Gil took the toothbrush from his hand once Jim lowered it, and worked around him, leaned against him while Jim rinsed and spit. "So, still feeling up to it?"

"More than ever. Alcohol in moderate doses makes me horny," Jim said as if reciting some scientific fact. "If I had the flesh rooting for the spirit, you'd never have bent over for the soap in there, but I know my limitations."

"Not too many." Gil reached around him, and groped him by stroking fingers loosely over his dick. He shifted his hips, and Jim wanted to grin when Gil's hard cock rubbed against his ass cheek. Yeah, that was good. "C'mon."

"We going in the shower?" Jim asked pressing back against Gil. Of course Gil was ready, he could be ready in seconds. He was only twenty-one after all and probably thought about sex all the time in and around the murder cases.

Gil was ready to go at the drop of a hat, and sometimes Jim wondered about him and his bugs, but... "Mmhm." Gil pulled at him, taking a step backwards. His hands were on Jim's hips, keeping him steady as they walked.

He was getting better with each moment. He loved Gil being so close, so near to him. It was nice not to have to be responsible for once and do what everyone expected. "Good... When was the last time we did it in the shower?"

"Last week? No, two weeks before that." The water was running, warm but not poundingly heavy, probably because the only pounding going on was going to be of an entirely different sort. Gil still walked Jim under the spray once they were in the shower, and his fingers moved up from Jim's hips, wandering over his stomach and chest. "Love how you feel."

It was nothing to how Jim felt with those fingers wandering. "Is amazing... that... you want this old... man." Okay so he wasn't past it but sometimes Gil's energy made him realize the difference between them. The hot spray was helping to clear his head a little and he was a bit steadier.

At least until Gil gently bit at the back of his neck, nuzzling against him before he kissed over the faint pressure he'd made. "People are funny about what they want. No sane Benefactor was supposed to have chosen me, and yet... Here you are." Getting his dick stroked by a hot younger guy who was determined to try to fix his life for him. Yeah, and Gil thought he was the lucky one?

"I never said I was sane," Jim replied even as the hot water splashed over them both. "Just lucky. Or smart. Probably lucky." Gil could kiss in a way that would make his head spin at the best of times.

"Luck is a mental concept." Gil nudged Jim forwards, and he couldn't do much more than put his hands up to keep himself steady. He was pushed right up against the wall, with hot water splashing over the top of his head, and pouring down his back. It had to be getting Gil almost right in the face. "Unless you mean 'getting lucky'."

"That too," he murmured splaying his hands against the tiles wall and altering his stance a little, opening his legs a little. He wanted him, he was hoping they would do it. Complicated and orchestrated wasn't his thing. He wanted to ride the feeling. He wanted Gil to be there.

As simple as that, because he didn't need fanfare. Jim just needed to stop thinking and to concentrate on the feeling of Gil sliding the fingers of one hand down between his ass cheeks. There wasn't lube involved yet, but there were wet fingers and Gil teasing his thumb right against the ring of puckered skin.

It was good. He remembered it feeling good even with people who didn't care. Fuck, yeah. He leaned forward a little so he could push his ass out. Fuck. "That's… fucking good Gil."

Even better because Gil was almost plastered against his backside, and he still had one arm wrapped around Jim. He didn't do a whole lot of looking and admiring when they had sex. He liked to get up close and feel and touch and that kind of made it hard to see much. Jim didn't mind. "Yeah? Tell me to stop if you..."

"Don't stop. I need to feel... you." He nearly said feel alive but that took him towards memories he had been deftly avoiding. He just wanted him in him, someone who wanted him, he cared about it. It would be a first.

Gil bent his head over Jim's shoulder for a moment, and then he pulled back for a second. Lube, right, that was a good thing to remember even with running water, and Jim could live without an arm around his body for a second while Gil unscrewed the cap and squeezed some onto his hand.

It felt cool even in the heat of the shower. He could only imagine what the lube in the fridge would feel like when this was enough to make him shiver for the brief moment that it was cool against his skin. He was teasing inside now and he was aware that he was breathing hard, gasping nearly.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Gil mumbled that against the back of his neck, and he worked a second finger slowly into Jim's ass, curling it in so he could bend them together, stretch him out.

"God, yeah..." Jim held himself still with an effort wondering how much of the dizzy feeling was alcohol or Gil related. Both probably.

"I'm just hoping I come in your ass and not on it," Gil laughed, the sound quiet and content and maybe a little nervous as he twisted his fingers and hit right there, right over his prostate.

He didn't have enough air to bellow -- it came out a little like a whimper even as he couldn't stop the movement that went with it. That woke up the half dormant parts of his body. "Oh... god yeah...."

It was like someone had stuck a cattle prod against his dick, but in a good way. A little oversensitive, but that was enough feeling to get him going, and Gil groaned a little, rubbing his dick against Jim's ass a little harder while he kept making that motion. "You like that?"

"Are you kidding?" Jim said incredulously. "Mmm... yeah... yeah, just... yeah..."

"Yeah?" Gil teased a little, sliding his fingers in as deep as he could, a little past that spot that felt so good. "Are you ready?"

"You know me and patience levels don't go together," Jim encouraged feeling the burn of a need to have something more in there. "I'm ready. I've had... more practice than you."

"Okay..." Gil tilted his head down, chin against Jim's shoulder again, pressing close against him when he pulled his fingers out of Jim's ass. There was lube from... fuck, maybe he was still drunk, because he wasn't sure where Gil got the lube from, but he was smearing more of it, cold and slick, against Jim's ass.

That was all that mattered. That and the pressure, the push... and the familiar burn of tight muscle trying to give way. "F..Fuck..."

Gil was pretty decent down there, and Jim hadn't ever thought about it much except that Gil was a good handful when he was hard and he was trying to put that up Jim's ass now, so maybe he should've thought about it before. But Gil was giving the softest moan, pushing in slow, so damn slow and steady.

He was liking it. He felt good and maybe it was something that he never thought to experience because Companions didn't top. Not officially.

Not letting Gil top with a cock like that would be something worthy of criminal charges. He was stretched to his limits, every millimeter of progress making him tremble. "Yeah... god, Gil.... you got that penis on steroids or something.?"

"No..." He could still hear the faint edge of a moan in Gil's voice when he answered, and once he was in, he wrapped both arms around Jim again, just leaning there. "God, you're so tight. This, this feels a, amazing..."

Jim tried not to chuckle and exhaled. "You think I did it out of... need for exercise?" he managed. He could feel it everywhere.

And he could feel against his back when Gil sucked in a breath, resting his wet head against Jim's ear for a moment. They probably had another ten minutes of hot water. "No, but it still feels..." Gil gave a shaky sigh, and shifted his hips. "So good."

"Wait… 'til you start moving," Jim managed. Except he couldn't wait. He had always been a little impatient when under the influence. At the shift of hip, he groaned and clutched at the water slick tiles. "Yeah.. move and move hard. Wanna feel it."

"Not going to break you," Gil agreed in a quiet grunt. He was pretty sure that Gil had told him that very thing at some point -- that Jim wasn't going to break him -- and that was a very true thing. Not with sex, at least. Gil slid a palm to rest flat on Jim's stomach, and his other hand wrapped around Jim's dick just when he started to rock his hips in and out.

That felt fantastic as he braced and moved with the thrusts a little. Gil was very satisfying when it came to filling and moving and doing two things at once. Fucking has ass and jerking him off -- multitalented and multitasking. No wonder he was up for promotion already.

Not that Catherine had anything to jerk off other than some really tidy case files that Gil turned in. That was a weird thought, a thought Jim didn't have to entertain for very long because Gil was working his hips harder, faster, and finally starting to pound into him until the sound of his balls slapping against Jim's ass joined the noise of the water falling from the shower head.

Then it was just easy to ride with it, to feel the burn in him and hardness hitting over his prostate time and time again until there was nothing but burst of lights behind closed eyelids, and clenching muscle giving way under hard hot thrusts and...

He didn't want it to end, but he knew he could get it again, any time he wanted, any time he asked, and Gil would appreciate the change up, probably, because Gil was making an amazing sound right near his ear, quiet and low and satisfied, and his hand was shaky when it stroked Jim off.

The alcohol had dulled things enough that he hadn't come immediately but now he was getting there and that sound was enough to spark things in him. His cock was hard and they were moving together and he was pushing against Gil's hand feeling himself tighten in preparation. He pushed hard not to just fall over the edge but jump into climax.

And there in a twist and a gulping cry he was coming, his muscles tightening and spasming in a natural response.

His Companion kept stroking him, milking his cock even when he was done and his muscles were twitching, shaking with the shivering aftershocks. Gil was still plastered against his back, still in him, breathing hard and still feeling pretty hard when he stopped stroking Jim. "So good."

He was loose and relaxed now, in a post orgasmic haze that was better than any alcohol induced blurriness. "Oh god yeah...yeah...come inside me..." He wanted to feel that warmth deep in him.

Gil gave a quiet chuckle, and turned his face to press his mouth against Jim's neck. "I already did."

"You could do it again...?" He must be drunk on sensation to miss that. "Oh that was... great... just... great."

Fingers traced up his stomach, and over his ribs, and Gil was still leaning into him. "Yeah, it was. I don't think I actually can just yet. It aches, but... so good." Gil was going to have to pull out eventually, and that was going to feel interesting for both of them.

And the damn shower was running out of hot water. Typical. "I'd nearly forgotten what it was like..." He murmured.

"Sex under the shower?" Gil joked quietly. He moved his hands to Jim's sides, and leaned his hips back, pulling out. Not quite as bad as the fullness of going in, but Jim had forgotten what it was like to be young and almost always hard.

He made a grunting sounds and was happy to let the shower clean them both. "You know, I was pretty determined to have a crappy night?" Jim murmured even as he turned a little unsteadily. "You ruined that right off."

"Good. Maybe I can finish off the night by making you eat dinner with me before we both pass out and sleep?" Gil kept his hands on Jim's hips, and he was leaning in again like he wanted to kiss Jim again, like he couldn't help it. "Water's turning cold."

"Only if I can eat in my robe," Jim replied kissing him again, glad for the mint of the toothpaste then even as he fumbled to turn off the shower. "Dinner then sleep is good. Or we could get take-out."

"I was thinking of hot sandwiches. We've got bread, cheese, I think we're set." Somewhere in the kissing, Gil backed Jim out of the shower, and into the bathroom.

He'd completely ruined Jim's plans for a miserable night.

Somehow, somewhere in the getting downstairs and blatant groping under bathrobes when they were meant to be making the hot sandwiches, and the fact they ended up taking them back to bed with them and eating them in among seeing how close they could really get, Jim decided he might just forgive him.

Just this once.

---

He was insane.

If either of them were insane, then Gil knew it had to be him who was right out of his mind. He'd shown up to work early in the hopes of getting hold of Catherine before she wouldn't accept any interruptions. But it meant waiting just outside of her door, peering down the hallway at every noise and every set of high heels that headed that way.

There were a surprising amount in CSI and though he knew Catherine was generally early in, she did have a tendency to get called in by the sheriff or Covallo for whatever reason was high on the political agenda that night.

He respected Catherine. It was hard not to because she could be tough as nails when things hit the fan and she never compromised on the evidence and never really gave up even on cold cases. If there was one fault he'd noticed, it was her inability to pick men who were any good for her. It was almost as if it was the Catherine that had been the exotic dancer all that time ago was the one picking when it should have been the CSI Supervisor.

Old habits and their inability to die, Gil guessed. He'd just seen some of the things that happened with men she'd dated, things that had gone wrong, bits of the office rumor mill, and it was sad. It was like she was still punishing herself, and in Gil's mind that immediately linked her to Jim, at least in personal styles.

Hopefully she wouldn't punch him when he was done explaining himself.

No one could ever know with Catherine. Warrick and Nick liked to exchange stories in the break room although he was pretty sure some of it was made up to stir Greg up.

"A line at my door and the shift hasn't even started." Catherine rounded the corner. "Something I can do for you, Gil?"

"I need to talk. It's not work-related." He stepped back from the door so she could unlock it with him not in the way.

She looked at him curiously and gestured him inside. "Come in, shut the door, and let's hear it," she said putting down her papers and sitting at her desk.

"Yes, ma'am." And now that he was about to ask it, Gil wasn't sure how or if he even should. He still closed the door, and then he walked towards her desk. "I was wondering if you'd be willing to do Jim and me a favor." He took a deep breath. "I'm not actually sure how to phrase this," he warned, like he was warning her of... well, the very real possibility that she wasn't going to like it. "And despite all of my training there's no simple polite way to phrase this. Is there a possibility that I could talk you into having Jim's baby?"

Catherine nearly choked a laugh of surprise. "Excuse me? Did you just say what I thought you said?"

Unfortunately he had. Gil shifted his feet a little, and tried not to take the laughter personally. "Yes?"

Catherine blinked at him. "This is a joke, right? You've concealed a camera on yourself somewhere and you're filming this for the guys?"

He was starting to wish that it was a joke instead of a very real request, because then he wouldn't feel quite so stupid. "No, I really meant it. I'm almost at my wits' end trying to solve this problem."

"Why don't we back up a bit?" Catherine said a little more seriously. "What problem... and why on earth would you think I could help you?"

Telling her that she had to still be dating men that were bad for her for some reason wasn't the best tactic to take. No, he was going to try to be more diplomatic than that, so Gil sat down across from her and tried to gather together his thoughts. "The problem is that Jim's parents want to... essentially court order him to masturbate into a cup so they can use his semen to impregnate a woman so there'll be an Heir. Or they want him to marry."

"I thought Jim had a daughter. This isn't one of those things where the Heir has to be a son is it?" Catherine asked skeptically.

"Ellie isn't genetically his. His ex-wife cheated on him." Gil sat back, arms resting loosely on the armrest. "Apparently she cheated on him a lot. His parents had her DNA tested before they'd create a trust fund for her."

Catherine looked a little more serious then. It seemed she knew all about being cheated on and what that felt like. "I would've thought that he would go for giving them the cup of sperm. I'd forgotten there was legislation for that."

"Losing Ellie hurt him a lot. He doesn't want to know that he has a kid somewhere out in New England who doesn't know him from a hole in the wall. His parents are so wrapped up in the 'there has to be an heir' part of the system that they've apparently forgotten that it's nice if that heir actually has a family. For any surrogate, the kid's going to be a source of income. She could legally keep Jim away, but not his parents. It's..." Gil sighed. "Messy?"

"Sounds like it. So Jim wants a kid that he knows and what... the kid gets Benefactor status and trust funds and all that? " Catherine asked, her voice still a little shy of being completely incredulous.

"All that," Gil agreed. "It's not the easy way out, but he... really gets along well with kids and if he has to have an heir, he wants to be part of his life. Her life. Whatever. They're not picky about gender."

"And the problem with the dating thing? Getting married?" She looked directly at Gil as if challenging him.

"He's done it before and she cheated on him from the start? Strangely enough, most women who're actually interested in Jim... don't know what to do with me." He shrugged. "I make them uncomfortable."

"They probably think they'd end up three in a bed," Catherine drawled. "That's not for everyone. Okay, so Jim is quietly going to pieces over this? Is that why he's been looking so lousy recently?"

"Yes." And Gil was starting to feel a little ragged around the edges himself. He could handle Jim, but every day and trying to walk the line between taking care of Jim and just locking the fridge and throwing out all of his booze was getting harder not to cross.

"And it's worse than a bit of depression isn't it?" Catherine said astutely, making him uncomfortable with the way she was looking at him

"It is," Gil admitted. "It's stirring up a lot of things, but if I could take care of the one problem, everything else... is manageable."

Catherine seemed thoughtful. After a moment she said. "So why me? Of all the people you could ask, or am I the last on the list?"

"First on the list, actually." Catherine was frowning a little, but the expression was flattering. "It's really just a one person list. It's because you're an intelligent person, so you'd get a hang of the system fast. And you're trustworthy, and Jim gets along well with you."

"And Jim asked you to ask me?" Catherine was asking questions like she would in an interrogation.

That was all right, though. Gil knew the best way to muddle through things was to be honest and just... try. Well, he was trying. "No. I'm doing this on my own and he doesn't know."

"Well at least he's not going to be looking at me funny," Catherine sighed. "Was there any particular reason you thought I might just be dying to have a child of any description?"

"In six months, you've dated four men that if you ran into them on a scene, you'd classify as 'scumbags'. Either you're desperate to create a semi-nuclear family, or... I'm not sure, because it can't be for companionship, and one night stands have to be easier than putting up with people like that."

"Ouch." Catherine looked at him again. "You don't pull punches, Gil. And maybe you don't know what I want..."

"Maybe I don't," Gil agreed. And maybe she didn't either. Maybe she wanted to join his short but apparently growing list of people he liked and knew who had self-destructive habits.

"And maybe I don't either," Catherine murmured. That was something he admired about Catherine. She was sometimes brutally honest, and just as much with herself than everyone else. "Give me the sales pitch, Gil, I owe Jim enough to at least listen."

"Thanks. If... you were to say yes, and go along with this, you'd gain Benefactor status. No matter what gender, the child is a member of the family line, heir to quite a bit of money and a trust fund that would more than put them through college. There's a monetary benefit for you, too. Uh, a girl would be part of the family line and if she went on to have any sons, they'd be Benefactors and have to choose a Companion and the whole thing. Same if there was a boy. The girl has no real familial obligations other than to enjoy her life. Uh..." He hadn't actually expected to get that far, and he didn't have much of a pitch. "I've spent a lot of time at the College teaching and handling kids, and Jim's already raised one daughter. If you went through with it and then decided you didn't want anything to do with him or her, we at least know what to do. If you went through with this and actually wanted to be a mother, we all have different nights off, pretty staggered. You'd only need to worry about uh, nighttime daycare a couple of times a week at the most. I'm pretty sure a kid can't die from having too much attention."

"Less likely than having not enough." Catherine was thinking, he could tell, and it was hard to not respond to that and prod more. "So I'd get Benefactor status even if I wasn't married? What happened to Janice?"

"Benefactor status is conferred along bloodlines, not marriage. Janice cheated on Jim, and Janice lost everything she was getting. I'm pretty sure that Jim's parents are going to sue for recompense for the trouble she caused. Also, the oldest surviving members of the family are the Benefactors who take care of the trust funds and everything else. So when Jim's parents die, then it's his responsibility until he dies." Just in case she hadn't known that. Janice probably hadn't liked that, either -- not having her hand right in the till.

"Wow, I bet she thought it would be hers, divorce or not," Catherine replied. "But technically I won't be part of the bloodline. Any children would be, but not me. Or is surrogacy more binding than marriage?"

"Carrying the child is more binding than marriage. It's what confers a greater status to Companions in normal situations that allows them the degree of freedom to stay and marry their Benefactor or to leave. Marriage is... important in normal society, but for our laws, surrogacy is more important."

"So I'm guessing that if male pregnancy actually existed you'd be a few months along already?" Catherine replied tapping her nails on the desk. She shook her head. "I still can't believe you asked me this."

"To be honest? I can't believe that I asked you, either, but I'm really running out of ideas. I know this isn't very professional of me to put you in this situation." She was right, too -- if such a thing were at all possible, he and Jim would have already gone down that route. The less people involved, the better.

"And what happens if I say no?" The tone of her voice made that outcome very likely.

"Hopefully you don't hold it against me that I asked in the first place and I... go see if Sara will hit me if I ask her." He tried to make it a joke, even if it did fall a little flat.

"You're braver than I thought, Gil," Catherine replied and exhaled a little. She sat back and looked up at him. "I'll think about it. Give me some time, okay? And don't ask Sara if you don't want to be picking your own teeth up."

"I'm less worried about the teeth and more worried about my continued ability to hear." He started to stand up. "Take all the time you want, Catherine. Just... get back to me with a yes or a no. I'd appreciate it."

Catherine nodded watching him go. "And Gil? Try to make the next problem you need help with something about Warrick and Nick stealing your socks okay?"

He finally managed a smile. There wasn't a chance in hell that anyone would grab socks out of his locker, not with them knowing how much he liked insects and wondering just what he kept in his locker, but he grinned and nodded. "Sure. I'll, uh. Come back in a few minutes when you've got the sheets for tonight."

"You do that," Catherine replied and as he left he could see her settle into one of her thinking poses.

It was better than he'd expected. She was at least thinking about it. To be honest, he had no idea why he'd even thought he had a chance with this, but here he was asking their boss to be a surrogate mother for his lover.

Benefactor.

It was no wonder that his coworkers gave him strange looks from time to time, because looking at it from her point of view, he'd just thrown her a doozy and expected it not to be held against him.

And there was the small matter of breaking it to Jim what he had done. Or whether he did until he had any sort of an answer.

---

Jim was seriously getting to the point that removing all phones in the house would be preferable to the barrage of phone calls they got. He had reached the stage of connecting it permanently to the answering machine, but if he didn't speak to them every so often then things would get progressively worse and then his parents would be on his doorstep.

The problem was they believed totally that they were in the right. That it was for his own good, for the good of the Family and it was how they were brought up. They thought the relationship between him and Gil was wonderful, like an epic romance not because they were two males but because they were Companion and Benefactor finding true love together. The only problem was the lack of heir and in their search for a 'Happy Ever After', they were willing to be ruthless.

So, instead of staring at a drink, Jim was absently rattling around a bottle of freshly acquired ulcer pills. "So how many of these do I have to take again?"

"Two. With a glass of milk -- if you can find them, I'll get you the milk." Gil had dinner going and a book on the counter top, and it just wasn't going to be one of those days where eating was put off because of wild sex. He was tired, Gil could hardly keep his eyes open, but he hadn't wanted to bow in to take-out when sauce in a can just took a minute to reheat, vegetables came out of a frozen bag and into a microwave, and spaghetti didn't take long to boil.

It had been a hell of a night. That suicide-murder killer from a couple of years back had come back. Nick joked that he guessed it was the rain that brought him out, and Gil had chimed in that worms were much more stately creatures than serial killers.

There was a lot of pressure to track down this guy and there were some bits of trace that were turning out to be staged and everyone had been tense and wound up over the whole thing. Jim put out two of the pills and looked at them. It would be nice not to have crippling pain in the center of his chest or in his gut. The first time it had happened he'd thought he was having some sort of heart attack. It was a minor relief to discover it was 'just' an ulcer and a combination of antibiotics and proton pump inhibitors would sort it out. As long as he didn't get too stressed.

"Thanks. You doing your spaghetti?" Jim felt really tired, which was a shame. He worried he hadn't paid Gil enough attention. It always brought him back to Janice and the arguments that they'd have over him not paying her enough attention. Except he hadn't really felt guilty about her, where he would've if he'd owned a dog and it hadn't been getting walked enough. Gil was his responsibility, a good one, and every once in a while, he worried.

"Yeah. Alfredo sauce." Since tomatoes and his ulcer would make for a really crappy combination. Janice would have used tomatoes just to spite him. "Why don't you sit down and relax? It'll be done in another five minutes."

"I'll cook tomorrow," Jim promised half closing his eyes. Not that he was likely to get any better because the stress was getting more not less. Maybe his parents would back off when one of his ulcers ruptured or something.

The knock at their door surprised him. As Gil was cooking, he pushed himself up. "I'll get it, Gil."

He strode over and took a look out, and raised his eyebrows before opening the door. "Catherine. Didn't we leave you at the lab entrenched in politics?"

"The sheriff understands that we're doing the best that we can. Is this a bad time? Because you look like hell." And she didn't look too much better, but hey. She just looked like she was one step away from punching the next person who mentioned the FBI.

"Nah. You want some spaghetti Alfredo? Won't take much to stretch it... opening another can, that sort of thing," Jim replied stepping to the side to invite her in. "It's not a bad time, I'm just... not feeling 100%."

"Yeah, Gil mentioned that to me a few weeks ago. Sure, I'll stay for dinner." She walked in, and that at least gave him the chance to close the door. Gil was probably already adding spaghetti to the boiling water and more sauce to the pan. For a guy who'd been deaf for a few years, he had obnoxiously keen hearing.

Jim always experienced a faint glimmer of pride over that even though he grumbled and groused about how he should've kept the Porsche when Gil picked him up on something. "Yeah, well we've all had a pretty rough day so come in and unwind. Unless you're bringing us pink slips or something."

"As understaffed as we are?" She laughed, and followed after him into the kitchen. "Hey, Gil."

"Hi, Catherine. You don't mind lima beans, right?"

"I can live with them," she replied as Jim reached for the glass of milk Gil had left on the side and knocked back the pills in short order.

"Just consider yourself lucky you came on a Gil cooking night. Chicken stir fry tomorrow. With cashew nuts." Jim said turning back to face her.

"Hey, you're not riding the take-out express anymore. I'm proud of that. The guys at the China Wok knew you on a first name basis. They still ask about you." She was joking, and she winked as she wandered into the kitchen. "So, did Gil tell you about his proposition?"

He saw Gil go abruptly still and he looked at her. "Proposition?" he asked the air generally, while experiencing that strange bewildering feeling that the ground was about to disappear from around his feet.

"So, that's a no." Catherine pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, and leaned her elbows on the tabletop.

"That's a no," Gil admitted as he turned around, peering at Jim with an uncertain, sheepish expression on his face.

"I'm thinking someone needs to throw me a clue here?" Jim asked them both. "Gil? You made some sort of proposition to... Catherine?"

He couldn't think of a single thing he might have done. Maybe it was some sort of research thing. Or... swapping shifts? No, that would be really bad.

Jim was pretty sure he hadn't driven Gil to want to swap shifts. But Gil didn't answer for the longest damn time.

"I asked if she'd be willing to... have your baby."

Have his -- Jim felt his entire brain empty of anything like thought. He was a zen master through virtue of shock. He knew he must look like he'd been stunned by a brick to the back of the head and it felt like it too, because Gil had asked that? Of their boss?

"I hope those weren't heart pills he was just taking, Gil," Catherine said looking concerned.

"Drugs for his ulcer. Jim? I, uh... talked to her about it a month or so ago." Yeah, right after his last good drinking episode, then, when his parents had caught him on his day off. Gil turned his back to them, under the guise that he was getting plates down.

"Wow." Jim cleared his throat. "Well I'm pretty glad I didn't know about that. I think the ulcer would have exploded."

She must be coming in to say no. He just noticed that she looked... like she'd been upset over something. He frowned a little. "You okay, Cath? I mean, don't worry about letting us down easy or anything."

"If I was going to say no, I would've cornered Gil in my office and told him there." She managed a laugh, a sort of laugh, and shook her head a little. "No, I... It got me thinking. Eddie died, and I had another bad date, and... I'd like to meet this headmistress of your college that you talked so much about, Gil. She taught you how not to pull any punches. You were right."

"I'm sorry."

Jim sat down because it was easier than trying to stand up to the weight of that confusion. "I'm completely lost here. When did you two start talking in code?" he asked, looking between them both. "I'm really sorry about Eddie. I know we didn't exactly see eye to eye on him...."

Punching him that one time had put him on the shit list for some time, but he hadn't cared. He'd been cheating. But it was difficult to speak ill of the dead. "...But I'm really sorry you lost him."

Because he was sure Catherine had thought she loved him. She kept going back even when common sense dictated otherwise. Maybe she'd thought she always could.

"Yeah, well, the sex was great, but he never... I never could trust him. No matter how much I wanted to, whenever I did he slapped me in the face with some stupid Eddie trick." Catherine was watching them both, her eyes roaming a little. "Gil... really does speak his mind. He said he asked me because he thought I was dating the men I was dating for the wrong reasons. I thought about it, and... and I was. Eddie was never going to clean up his act, and it's cliché, but I can hear my biological clock tick tick ticking."

Jim couldn't even imagine thinking about having that sort of conversation. "I'm sorry, Cath. Love makes us do stupid things. Like... fighting being really happy for once." He glanced at Gil and back to her. "I'm really sorry about Eddie."

And somewhere belatedly in that he realized she hadn't actually said no. That was a little boggling unless she was planning to get around to it, or -- but hadn't she just said that if she was going to say no, she would've cornered Gil in her office and stopped it right there? Catherine wasn't into publicly humiliating people.

"I am, too. I can't bring him back to life, and I can't make him... have been the person I wanted." She waved one hand a little, and she looked close to crying. "I want to do it."

She wanted to do it? Jim was nearly stunned again, but found himself moving forward towards her. "You want to?" Jim asked even as he moved to gently hold her. He knew what it felt like to lose people. To death, to shitty luck, to everything. "I don't want you doing anything unless you want to."

"I'm to the point that I'm dating men for all the wrong reasons, and I don't want to be the crazy lady who puts holes in condoms." She was laughing, but she seemed damn close to crying, and she leaned into Jim. In the background, Gil turned off the microwave. "I just need to think of how I can excuse it. Drunk one night stand with you or something..."

"You don't need to excuse it," Jim said gently. "You don't even have to go anywhere near me. It's... a legitimate reason in its own right, isn't it?" Janice had married him, faked love to get his status. Surrogacy *was* a more truthful way of doing it.

Catherine shook her head. "No, no, it's not. I just... want a child. To a man who isn't going to be a deadbeat and just disappear." Like her father had, from what Jim knew. "And you need an heir. And both of our asses will be in front of Covallo if we do it for those reasons."

Jim shook his head. "Cath, you know you're the one doing us a favor if you do this. I can play any role you want if it helps."

He meant it. If Catherine really wanted this he couldn't think of anyone better to be the mother of his child. She wouldn't put up with his shit for one, and she wasn't likely to just cut him off all together. "Good. Great. I have no idea how we're going to do this, but it solves a lot of things."

Gil pulled out his chair, and sat down across from them. He settled a hand on Catherine's where she was clutching Jim's arm. "However you want to."

"And if you change your mind, Cath, that's fine." Jim said softly. "And hey, we're not going to go anywhere, or leave you in the lurch. If this is what you want then I'm more than happy."

"This is what I want." She sat back a little, and made a sound that was suspiciously like a sniff. "We'll just... have to pass it off as an accident."

"So you want to... actually try it as... an accident or try IVF and then... fake an accident?" Jim asked. The problem with IVF was that it was traceable, they might find out. But he hadn't particularly wanted to do it for real because of Gil.

Catherine seemed to be thinking the same thing, because she peered over at Gil and Gil lifted his eyebrows at both of them. "What?"

"The whole pregnancy thing. Um, the method of getting there?" Jim was aware that he was blushing. "This not a conversation I thought I'd ever be having."

"I think the... old fashioned way might be the most... untraceable. Particularly with some of the cases we've had going on." Gil rubbed at Catherine's hand a little, but once she sat back, he stopped. "It doesn't bother me. I'm pretty sure Catherine doesn't want to take you home and keep you."

"Sorry Jim. I like you but... You know, there's no reason Gil can't be there," Catherine replied.

There Jim’s thoughts went again. Zen Mastery in two sentences.

"That sounds very workable," Gil agreed. "Look, we're all tired and hungry, and Dinner's done. Maybe we can finish this over food?"

Finish it, start it, do something with it. Jim wasn't entirely sure where they were going with any of this. Only that he was faintly aware that his life had been turned around in the course of a very short conversation. "Sure. Sure, let's eat and maybe we can think on this some more."

Because god knew he needed to think about it. Catherine was nodding while Gil stood up to get make their plates. "God, I need to sit down and work out when I'm fertile. I haven't done that in years except to make sure I wasn't," she laughed a little.

"This has to be the most surreal conversation I've ever had," Jim said aloud. "I can't believe you really want to do this. With me."

"Yeah, well. You're a good guy, Jim. If things were different..." If she wasn't who she was and he wasn't the way he was, she meant. Yeah, maybe there was half a hope in hell, but he was content, happy with Gil, who was finally grinning a little when he turned around with two plates in hand, setting them down in front of Catherine and Jim before he grabbed his own.

"Oh, forks -- hold on."

"And I can't believe Gil just came out and asked you," Jim said as well. "There is no way I would've done that without arranging to have half a state between us."

"I figured that there was nothing for me to lose?" Gil half-said, half-asked as he pulled utensils out of the drawer, and turned back to the table.

Catherine laughed a little again. "I think he has to have huge balls. I can't think of anyone who'd do that -- I thought he was joking at first."

"I feel it should go on the record that his balls are moderately sized at best," Jim pointed out with mock seriousness. There was a bit of him that was just bubbling over with the gradual unwinding of a whole lot of tension.

"But they're brass balls. That has to explain something," Gil deadpanned as he sat down, offering them forks. He'd forgotten to get drinks, too, but that was the only proof that what had just happened had made Gil's brains scatter as badly as Jim's.

Jim didn't ask him, he just got up and got some out of the fridge. "We're all smart here... most of the time. I'm sure we can out think Covallo and Ecklie. If not maybe we don't deserve to procreate."

"I think the once in a lifetime drunken accident excuse has merit," Catherine murmured as she picked up the fork, eyeing the spaghetti. She'd realized she'd like it once she got going. Sometimes home-cooked food was pretty crappy, but that wasn't going to be the case even when Gil was so tired he was yawning at the table. "It'll probably be a week or so."

"You really think we can get it to take the first time around?" Jim asked even as he took a mouthful. Gil knew how to cook and he'd been teaching Jim even if they got distracted. It was a good distraction, a hands on distraction, and they'd only set off the fire alarm once.

Or twice.

"Maybe not the first time around, but the second or third, sure." If Jim wasn't shooting blanks, and that was… What would his parents do if there was something wrong with his sperm? A court-order wrung out of him cup of it wouldn't do anyone any good if that was the problem.

He was pretty sure he hadn't though. He had a suspicion that Janice had been genuinely surprised to get pregnant at all which meant that she was probably taking contraception and was being careful. Only maybe not careful enough. So.

"I'm pretty good at knowing when I'm fertile," Catherine replied. "And believe me, it's all still working up there."

What was he supposed to say? 'Oh, good'? Gil was smiling, slyly, head ducked down for a moment. "You're right, Jim. This is very surreal."

"And strangely logical," Catherine agreed, waving her fork a little. "With bad timing with the case that's going on, but..."

"Hey, we catch the guy and then we'd have an excuse for a drunken celebration," Jim pointed out. "Better forensics through sex."

"It might take two or three weeks to catch him anyway," Gil deadpanned, picking up the soda Jim had grabbed him. "Warrick and I had no luck today. A lot of evidence that tells a story but has no case-meaning."

"We're looking at this in the wrong way. The guy is playing us out here," Catherine said sounding more stable on the issue of work. "We're not going to find things in the evidence, only what he wants us to see. I hate to say it, but this is one of those times when we can't trust the evidence."

Jim considered a moment, eating a mouthful. "Maybe that's the point. Maybe that's the message."

"When the fingerprints are leaving Pam cooking spray behind, I think that's a pretty clear message." Gil set his cup down, and sat back a little. "I wish we could find a context."

"That's what we should focus on. Finding context. We go back to the original case. Gil, you can look them over with fresh eyes and we'll track down any lead that might lead us to a context," Catherine said. "Hey, this isn't too bad, Gil."

"Thanks." Gil ate some of his lima beans, looking thoughtful. The topic change was a good one, and it kept Jim from feeling awkward while the three of them sat there. Gil, apparently, could comfortably ignore the elephant in the room, probably because he was usually the elephant in the room himself. "I'll take a look over them. The fake hand guy... He has an alibi?"

"Him personally? I don't think anyone checked him personally after he said about the hand," Jim chipped in. "We should, now that we're scrabbling around for leads."

"I can do it," Gil offered. "Or... maybe he has a list of places he's sold them to? It's a start. We need somewhere to start."

"You and Jim head straight there instead of coming in first when you are on shift," Catherine replied. "He's a strange guy, Paul Millander. But making me uncomfortable is not a means of determining guilt or complicity."

It would've made life a lot easier on all of them if it was. "Okay." Gil grinned a little, and drank another sip of soda. "Ecklie makes you uncomfortable, so..."

"With reason," Catherine replied. "He keeps trying to poach you and step up over the other supervisors. I have the best team." She smirked a little at that.

"Well, you have Gil. He's practically a team all told," Jim murmured glancing at the younger man.

A faint color rose in Gil's cheeks, but he kept eating.. "Jim..."

"You're embarrassing him," Catherine grinned. "One of us can say that and he turns red, but if a complete stranger said it, he'd take it all in stride."

Jim nodded. "True. Hey, Gil you're my Companion, I get to bask in your reflected glory as if it were my own, don't I?"

He felt a little more relaxed and his stomach wasn't on fire any more and his brain had not caught up with events.

"Yep," Gil agreed. "Unless I'm proving you wrong on the field. Then I think they negate each other."

"No," Jim said. "Because if either of us are right, it means I am. Even when I'm wrong."

Catherine was looking at him. "Have you been drinking or something Jim?"

He paused a moment, feeling a hint of shame. "For once, Cath, no."

Gil's leg bumped his under the table, and stayed there, leaning against his. "The jokes get worse when he's sober. That's all."

"Even though we're going to fake being drunk, I think I'd prefer not to be when we do this," Catherine replied even as she finished another mouthful. Jim was still struggling with the idea of him and Catherine. Him, Catherine and Gil was likely to hurt something in his head.

"I don't think it's something you have to worry about." Gil sounded confident and warm when he said that.

"I should hope not," Catherine replied, looking at them both in a different way.

Jim decided it might be an idea to have a few more dinners together first before they went any further. Get comfortable around each other and that was something they could keep under wraps or disguise by inviting some of the others. Just establish a growing familiarity so the leaping into bed when drunk would not be a big stretch for any of them. In the mean time, they could talk over the cases, bounce ideas around and do what they usually did. Talk work... and with any luck they could get things moving that way.

"So, did we get anything off of that print in the tub or not?"

"Two guesses who it is, first one doesn't count..."

---

It was hard to believe that he'd been out of the CCCC for almost a year. Time had moved in jumps and spurts for him, and it wasn't a quiet life but it was a happy life. The work in Vegas was good, the coworkers were honestly better than they'd been in LA, and he was always learning, studying, trying new techniques.

And Jim. Jim was amazing. Even when he snored in his sleep and they were both too tired to have sex. That was all right. Sometimes even they had to sleep.

He'd half expected Jim's infatuation with him to fade off a little over time, but that was far from the case. Jim seemed more taken with him -- by him, on occasion -- than ever before. He'd had a niggling worry that when they furtively consummated the deal with Catherine that Jim would have been overwhelmed by her feminine presence and draw away from him. In fact when it came to it, things had been very different.

In fact, the thing with Catherine, three meetings all total and if it didn't work this time, then again the next time, had been pretty damn embarrassing. Gil grinned to himself, and pulled his pillow over his head. Days off were for lazing, and he was going to laze for a while before he got up and thought about doing anything. He just wasn't made for dealing with women in a comfortable way.

Jim had looked pretty uncomfortable and it amused Gil to remember that Catherine had, with a sigh, ordered them to start off and then basically moved in at the appropriate moment. A lot of embarrassed laughter had occurred after the event and each time Catherine had gone, leaving them both in bed together. Where Jim would very gently, and carefully show Gil the difference between sex, and making love.

There was a difference, and Gil did appreciate the difference between the two. There was a difference in a time and the attention and the feeling. Catherine had laughed quite a bit, and it wasn't too bad. She was a beautiful woman and it hadn't been hard.

Just interesting.

Still, he'd prefer it if they didn't have to do it again if only because he wasn't naturally tuned into being an exhibitionist even if Catherine did say that watching them together was unexpectedly hot.

Jim had said that was probably the start of the menopause so she ought to hurry... which had led to some good-natured scuffling. Even so, they would be trying again soon. Each time they had to mask it enough and provide enough leads that it wouldn't be a surprise if something should happen. Gil knew there had been a hint of gossip about Catherine and himself, but only a hint.

It was kind of funny since it wouldn't have been less true. He'd hardly touched her, just enough to stay a participant in it, which seemed important to Jim. Jim with his worries that Gil would think he was cheating on him. It took a certain type of crazy to do what they were doing, but Gil had to admit that he was that kind of crazy.

He stretched a little. There was a particular lazy feeling that came with knowing that he was still in bed while others were working. Jim would be on his way to work, so would everyone else and he was lying in bed.

The phone started ringing.

Gil wanted to ignore it, but they didn't have telemarketers calling that late at night. It was probably someone asking if he could come in to work for them, and that was a shame if he had to get out of bed. As it was, Gil reached to fish for the phone received, grabbing it before he pulled it into the bed with him. "Hello?"

"Hi, Gil, it's Catherine," came his boss's voice. She was obviously driving in. "Just thought I'd give you a call and invite myself over for dinner, breakfast or whatever later on."

"Okay." He sat up a little, rubbing at his eyes. "I'll go through the fridge later and see what's acceptably edible. Jim's already heading in to work, so..."

"Yeah? I'm going to be a few minutes late," Catherine said giving a lengthy pause. "I've been to the doctor's."

That made Gil pause, shifting to hold more carefully onto the phone. "And what did the doctor say?"

"He said I'm very fit which is just as well because I'm a bit old to be a primagravida," she said. "Which... at long last, I am."

Gil could feel his mouth registering what she'd just said before his brain did, because he was smiling. "You -- so that means -- god, Catherine, if you tell Jim at work he'll pass out!"

"Exactly. So that's why I'm inviting myself to dinner," Catherine said and he could hear the smile in her voice. "I'm finally pregnant. Not even a hint of morning sickness and I have to be at least a month in."

"That's really good. God." Gil sat back, still holding onto the phone. "I almost can't believe it. You're going to have to be careful at work now, but..." But she was a supervisor so she could be, and god. God, Jim was finally going to have an heir.

"Not to worry. It's not like I won't have time to groom up someone to be a stand in for the maternity leave," Catherine said. "I'd just thought I'd let you know -- dealing with Jim is going to be hard so I thought having you used to the idea would help."

"He's not going to be hard to deal with," Gil promised. "He'll just faint." Nick would probably be the deputy supervisor, and he'd be good at it, Gil knew. Or Warrick. He'd be great, too. He closed his eyes, still holding onto the phone. "Wow. This is amazing, Catherine. Congratulations."

"Congratulations to you and your Benefactor, too," Catherine said. "No alcohol tonight though, that's for sure. I'll see you later, Gil."

"I'll see you when you get off work," he agreed. "Catherine? Have a good day." God, it felt so good to have that solved, to know that everything was working out right.

Of course there was all the problems yet to come. Being parents of a sort, depending on Catherine's wishes, all of that. But Jim was good with kids, and Gil knew he did okay when he was teaching so he was sure everything would turn out well. He half considered writing to Lady Heather just to tell her things were going well. Now more than ever he felt sorry for her losing her Benefactor, even if she'd had his child.

Companions were a one-cart horse, so to speak, and if he'd lost Jim, Gil couldn't think of what he'd be doing. What he'd do. They weren't trained to live alone, and maybe he should write her, just to express his gratitude for her years of work on him.

It would be worth doing. He was just considering getting up when the phone rang again which was really odd. Perhaps it was Jim calling in to make sure he was awake.

He picked it up again, and his hello this time was a little more uncertain. "Hello?"

"Uh, hi? Can I speak to Jim please? Jim Brass?" The female voice was one that he couldn't place but fortunately she provided some identification. "This is Annie from LA?"

"Oh, Annie. Jim's just gone into work. This is Gil speaking." Gil finally sat up, and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. It seemed like he was going to keep being called by people, so he might as well get up.

"Hi, Gil," Annie replied sounding a little uncertain. "Uh, do you think you could get Jim to give me a call? I've got some news for him.

He frowned a little, and rubbed at his eyes in an effort to wake up. "Sure. Is there any message you want me to pass on?"

"Only that he was right and now I've proved it I might be looking to see if Vegas has any vacancies," There was a hint of a laugh at that, if a nervous one. "Look, I better go. I'll speak to you soon, Gil."

That sounded a little strange, but Gil caught himself nodding to the phone. "Uh, sure. I'll pass that on, and he'll call you back."

"Bye, Gil," she said and hung up. Strange. Really strange. Did he really want to think about what she had been talking about? Was she referring to news about ...Todd?

Even after all this time the name made him uncomfortable.

He suspected he'd always be uncomfortable at the mention of it. It wasn't as if having a loving home and a great job just... fixed everything, and Gil still had his funny off moments. But he could at least keep it to the inside of his head instead of letting it tangle with his real life.

Gil hung up the phone and wondered what he was going to do with himself that day. He could go all out and prepare an impressive meal for Jim and Catherine. It might just tip Jim off that there was momentous news, especially if he bought a crash mat and put it behind him. Jim might get the hint before anything was said.

That was the best he could do without spoiling Catherine's reveal. Gil stretched, and finally wandered out of the bedroom. He could do steaks, or a roast or something. He'd need to put it out to thaw, and then he could shower and catch up on some reading.

It was going to be really difficult to concentrate on anything until Jim got home. It was possible that he could phone Jim and tell him about Annie though. Maybe he could call her on the way to a scene or something.

He backtracked to grab the portable phone, and started to dial Jim's cell phone number as he wandered downstairs. Roast sounded good. Catherine liked red meat and vegetables.

"Brass," Jim answered and it sounded like he was driving somewhere already. Nothing surprising there, then.

"Hey. Annie called a couple of minutes ago. I think she wants you to call her back. She said that you were right about something, and that she might have to be looking for a job in Vegas?"

There was a moment of silence. "Sounds like I better call her now," Jim said in what Gil was starting to recognize as his 'oh god, this is my fault' tone of voice. "Nick's driving anyway and the rate he drives, we won't get to the scene for another thirty minutes."

He could hear Nick's, "Hey!" and denial in the background.

"Probably twenty. You wouldn't have any idea what's going on, do you?" Gil asked a little hopefully as he peered in the freezer.

"Yeah. You know when I picked you up and we went to see her and we were talking?" Jim said heavily. "And you went out for a bit?"

"So it's about Todd," Gil guessed a little mutedly. No matter what the news was, it wasn't good. And it was about him, and he wasn't going to think about it. "Okay. Hey, I'm going to put a roast on for dinner, so try not to work a double."

"Okay. I won't. I'll tell you about it when I get home okay? Nick and I have a hit and run or a body dump up in the middle of nowhere. Should be straightforward." Jim paused a little and then said, "Love you Gil."

That was surprising considering Nick was there in front of him. Gil tilted his head a little, cradling the phone between his shoulder and his cheek. "I love you, too. Good luck tonight." And he hung up because if he didn't then Nick was probably going to hear more than he ever wanted to hear.

He and Jim had a bet on how long it was going to take Greg and Nick to actually do something instead of flirting. It was becoming complicated because Greg had also started flirting with Sara and Nick really didn't like that much. He also flirted on occasion with Gil, which amused Jim no end as he spun ridiculous stories about what would happen if Greg ever got his hands on Gil. Fainting was a popular theory, particularly when the pants were dropped. Hypothetically, of course.

It wouldn't ever happen, though, and that always made Gil laugh. He was very content, more than Jim could probably guess. They had a pretty even workload in the house, with Jim doing laundry every other week, and them rotating who made dinner dependent on who had the day off or who had the worst day.

If both of them had a really bad day then they would cave and order take out, but even with Jim's ulcer getting better, he still had to be careful, and Gil had to admit he looked better for his new diet. All he wanted was for that weight and burden of expectation and duty to be pushed off of his shoulders somehow. God, the more little bits and pieces he discovered, the more he wanted to take his parents to one side and tell them exactly what they were doing to Jim.

The information came out like blood drops from a beneath a picked scab, slow but inevitable. He knew now that yes, Jim had definitely been tortured. That he'd seen a lot of friends die like that, but had survived. That he'd almost been blamed for surviving when he got back because they assumed he had sold them out. That was part of his insistence on doing absolutely the right thing no matter the cost. The implication he tried to save himself bit deep.

He hadn't. He'd just gotten lucky, and even now it wasn't a very lucky kind of lucky. Gil wasn't going to let Jim keep taking pieces out of himself for what had happened, and if he was honest with himself, Jim's turnaround in recent months was the only reason why he hadn't started to suggest that Jim seek professional help. Because with someone watching him and making sure he couldn't self-destruct, making sure that he was offered things that made him happy even when he was determined to be pissed off... it all helped.

That was good because it was the best that Gil could do. But this would get Jim's parents off of his back, and that would go a long way to taking unnecessary stress off of Jim.

If Jim hadn't cared about what they thought, nothing they did would touch him. He'd seen Jim not give a damn to other people but what his parents thought was something he did value and they were rather selfishly torturing him all over again. But this would stop that and maybe Jim would get enough of a foundation to work on the rest of his life. Deal with some of those issues to do with choice, and Ellie, and betrayal and everything else.

All he wanted was for Jim to be happy. He was hoping that this meal tonight would be the first step in the right direction.

That, and the crash mat.

---

Gil had certainly gone all out for the roast, Jim realized when he got in. He'd exchanged a nice comfortable kiss as Gil darted around the pans and then had been banished to have a quick shower because apparently Gil had decided to invite Catherine over as he was cooking a roast. Still, he wanted to tell Gil the news before they were interrupted, because he had spoken to Annie and Todd was locked up, ready to go down and Annie had taken a few people out in the process of getting him.

But she had got him.

So right now, clean and with jeans and t-shirt on, he sneaked in behind Gil again and wrapped his arms around him mid stir of a saucepan. "Hey."

"Hey. You smell good." Gil tipped his head back slightly, leaning into Jim. "So, was it a hit and run or a body dump?"

"Hit and run," Jim replied. "Knee fractures, skid marks... whole thing. The crazy thing is how with a whole desert road to choose from someone managed to find a person to hit."

"So you and Nick are trying to figure out how they got there, right?" Gil guessed. He always asked about the cases he wasn't a part of -- not to try to insert himself in them, but kind of as a check on what everyone else did. He was already trying to learn more, and there was almost always a forensics journal on the coffee table if he'd had a day off.

"Yeah, more of a why rather than a how," Jim said. "Listen, I've got something to tell you. Kinda good news in one way."

"I like good news," Gil told him nonchalantly. He didn't turn around, and Jim could guess why. Gil had confided a few times that he liked it when Jim 'snuck up' and did that.

"Annie got Todd. Got him nailed down tight and looking at life. She also broke up a child porn ring in the process and took out some heavy weights up in LA."

Gil went a little stiff in Jim's arms, and then he leaned forwards to turn off the element. He left the spoon in the pot, and it was only then that he leaned back against Jim. "Jesus."

"Yeah." Jim cleared his throat. "I knew the type, after you told me. Someone who would do that to you and got away with it wouldn't stop just because he didn't have a legal gray area to exploit. I went to Annie because I knew even if there was an answer she didn't like, she'd follow through. Like I did. She and I were pretty alike. Alike enough to be friends, too alike to ever make anything more."

"She took him down," Gil murmured, like he didn't believe it. "What about Sasha?"

"Sasha, it turns out, did get pregnant and they married just after the birth so she has the Benefactor status. His Family rejected him and taken her on as the continuation of the Family bloodline. Apparently she's called her little boy Alexander Gilbert...." Jim smiled a little. "She seems to think you had something to do with this."

Gil finally turned his head, and placed a kiss on the side of Jim's face before he turned all the way around. "God. You have no idea how good that is to hear. I spent all day thinking that he'd gotten away."

"I'm sorry, I should've phoned you back earlier." He should've known Gil would do that. It was stupid of him to wait. "Annie doesn't give up either. I think she'll make it there and I think this will lead to a promotion because someone high up went down with Todd, but... I said I'd look for jobs here."

"She'll feel better if she has something to fall back on, even if she doesn't need it." Gil slid his arms around Jim. "God. This is going to be a celebration dinner, then."

"I hope so," Jim murmured and leaned forward to kiss him. It was so easy to do and he'd never once felt self-conscious about it since the Presentation. He loved Gil so much sometimes it hurt. "Shame you asked Catherine over otherwise we could get to the celebrating."

Gil's mouth twitched up. "Nah, I think it's a good idea I asked her over. We can get to the celebrating soon enough."

"I'll set the table then. What time is she due over?" Jim asked unable to resist another nuzzle into Gil's neck.

"Another ten or fifteen minutes. She was coming here straight after you so..." Gil wasn't letting go of him yet, so that was a good sign.

He could settle for kissing and he was genuinely happy that Todd was brought to justice. He didn't like the fact they hadn't been able to get him for Gil's sake, but now there were a lot of kids who were safer due to him knowing and Annie's dedication. He just wished he could take away the memories. He could try kissing them away.

Jim just wasn't sure it would actually accomplish anything other than delaying the setting of the table. And getting Gil to slid a hand down to his belt, hesitating. "Dammit, no, hold on, or we won't be waiting."

"Catherine's seen worse..." Jim murmured. "You're just hard to resist when you wear an apron."

Not that he actually was but it was something to distract him, to get a laugh out of Gil. "You're the one who owns an apron. Just for that, you can go set the table."

"Yes sir," Jim replied and smirked while he did his task. Just as he was putting the glasses out, there was a knock at the door and he went to open it as Gil seemed to be timing dinner to perfection. "Hey, Cath, come on in."

It was nice having her around as a guest. Sometimes they got some departmental gossip out of her after a while, and Catherine seemed to thrive on the close contact. Not that being on good terms with the boss changed a damn thing at work. She was still as likely as ever to rip him a new one, but Jim didn't mind. If he had it coming, then he had it coming and it was always better to know if he'd fucked up or not. "Hey, Jim. I see you got home on time."

"I see you got away late," Jim answered. "And got yourself an invite to dinner. I notice you only do that on Gil's cooking nights."

"It's purely coincidence," she smiled brightly at him. "Happy coincidence, but coincidence. So..." She was eyeing him. Why was she eyeing him like that?

"What? Gil left lipstick on my collar or something?" Not that Gil had lipstick but that was something to contemplate for another day off. He found himself looking at her in a puzzled way, stare for stare.

"Just a little." She winked at him, and then brushed past him in the hallway. "I have some news for you."

He shut the door, very nearly checking to make sure he didn't have it on. "News, huh? Must be a day for it. What news is that?"

"I'm pregnant."

Just like that, with him standing halfway to the kitchen. No windup or softening blow, just...

Just years worth of frustration, of failure and anxiety starting to unravel all at once in his head. Fuck, his knees were going shaky. "You're... pregnant?"

"Slightly over a month along. When my period didn't come, I was suspicious, so I took a test at home and then went to the doctor's. We did it, Jim." She looked so damn pleased, and his knees really were probably going to give out and shit, he was going to be a dad again.

He reached out for a nearby chair to steady himself and found that Gil was there. "Jesus. You're... we're... really going to..."

He was going to be a father, he was going to stop arguing with his parents which hurt him over and over because he needed them. Needed their approval and acceptance because he'd lost everything to that damn Duty.

Gil had a hand on his shoulder. Well, almost everything, but almost was close enough, and he wasn't sure how he was still standing up. "Yeah. She called to tell me the good news after you went to work."

"You guys set me up?" Jim looked at the pair of them. From the look in Catherine's eyes that was a definite yes. "So it was the last poker night? That time?"

"Probably. That's what I told the doctor was probably the conception date." Catherine was smiling to herself while Gil pulled at Jim's shoulder, tugged him to sit down.

"Here, so you don't fall over. You're going to be a father."

"You could've warned me." A father. To not have to let go, to not... be pushed away. He knew he was grinning. "We're having a baby. All of us."

"I'm carrying him or her, but... trust me, you two are going to be doing your share of work, too." Catherine was grinning, and Gil slid into the chair beside Jim, sliding an arm over his shoulder.

"I guess we can say goodbye to sex on the sofa."

"Well no one told me that..." Jim replied still smiling. "Is it too late to reconsider?" As if he really would. This was the last piece slotting into place. This was where things stopped being a failure and moved into being a success. This was where he could start saving for rings and planning a discrete wedding. He wouldn't reconsider, too much of his life rested on it.

"Oh yeah." Catherine reached forwards to push his arm gently. Gil leaned into him to kiss the side of his face.

"I'll be back in a second. Dinner's done. Try not to fall out of your chair."

"Do we get to argue about names? Work out how we're going to break it to the world? You going to wait until three months before saying anything?" Janice had wanted to because after then the risk of miscarriage was less.

Catherine nodded her head. "I'm a supervisor. I can be careful on scenes for at least that long. In a couple of months I'll talk with Covallo and take care of it. We can argue about names all we want, but I'll probably win unless you have some name you're sentimentally attached to?" She was teasing, still smiling as she leaned her elbows on the table.

"Not that I'm aware of... Gil? You have any preferences?" Jim called out finding himself staring at her as if trying to see signs of pregnancy.

It was hard to tell, and probably way too soon. The only sign was that Catherine was smiling a lot, and Jim was glad that she wasn't regretting doing it. For herself and for them. "Not really. Names are... I don't actually know anyone I could honor by suggesting something."

"Then it looks like mother gets the choice with us vetoing." Jim looked at them both. "How long should I wait before telling my parents, do you think?"

"Don't." That was almost a chorus of both Catherine and Gil at the same time. Gil's was a half a second behind Catherine, but that was possibly because he was closing the door of the fridge, and coming over to the table with drinks.

"Don't wait or don't tell them?" Jim asked a little startled by the reaction.

"Wait," Gil said first. "Don't wait. If something, and I don't want to think about that, happened, it's different than if work was told and then something happened." Different stresses, and Catherine was nodding while Gil said it.

"The way they've been, I'm half tempted to make them wait until our youngest CSI has actually been born," Jim replied with just a hint of bitterness in his voice. He'd never be able to explain how much they hurt him. Never.

Gil put his dinner down in front of him, and then sat down beside him, scooting his chair close, while Catherine talked. "I know, but if you do that, they'll keep nagging you about it. And Gil said they could compel you through the courts..."

"I can hold them off for a couple of months more," Jim said with steely determination. "I'll throw the ulcer thing at them. That should be good for a couple of peaceful months due to the wonders of emotional blackmail."

"Tit-for-tat," Gil shrugged, picking up his fork. "Reminds me to thank Nick for the book. It's a theory of political interaction, but I think it works well with your parents. The key to winning is not to be the first to defect in the interaction, but to give back every time what the other player gave the time before. So... guilt for guilt."

"What's that? Game theory?" Jim asked even as he started eating. He had an appetite now. Two bits of good news in one day. That was something of a miracle.

"Nick figured it was the best way for Gil to get a hang of office politics after he pissed off Covallo last week," Catherine said with a lift of her eyebrows. "Not that you were wrong, Gil... you just need to find smoother ways to be right."

"I'm not sure how applicable the theory is, but it's a good book."

"He doesn't do smoother ways," Jim said finding the food good. "He speaks his mind. And unfortunately his mind was telling him what Covallo was doing was stupid."

"Trust me, I know." Catherine grinned as she picked up her glass of juice, and then made a face. "Oh, god. What is this? Cranberry?"

"Nick said it was good for you." Gil mimicked the face a little, and lifted his own glass. "Uh, maybe I should've taken the suggestion with a grain of salt from the man who eats granola?"

"Granola shouldn't be inflicted upon anyone," Jim said gravely. "There are some things too horrible to contemplate. Those Texas men are completely mad."

Gil grinned, and tilted his head. "I'm being mocked. We'll see what you say when I sneak ants into your scrambled eggs."

"I thought you did that last week and told me they were bits of pepper?" Jim grinned. "Anyway, I get to be the irresponsible guy here so I can do what you want."

"You're the least irresponsible guy I know, then," Catherine decided as she took another testing sip of the juice, and shook her head before stabbing a green bean. "You really did that, Gil?"

"You really figured out it wasn't pepper?" Gil asked, staring at Jim.

"CSI level three. Bug expert since he was four or five. Yes and yes," Jim replied to them all. "They weren't too bad. And you went around smirking to yourself all day. You look good when you smirk."

Gil laughed, and sat back. Beneath the table, he leaned his knee against Jim's. It felt like everything had shifted slightly, slightly for the better, but some things, good things, stayed the same. "Caught. At least you didn't tell me.

"You were having fun, it seemed like the best thing to do," Jim murmured. "But the chocolate covered crickets are still not something I'm trying."

"They're actually good," Catherine told him with a smirk of her own. "Really. As long as you don't see what you're doing. They taste like almonds. Covered in chocolate. Except they're almonds with legs."

"One day, I'll get you to try those, too. I think I've cajoled most of the lab..."

"This is not something to be eating when you're pregnant," Jim said smiling still. "No matter how full of vitamins they are."

"He meant you, Jim, not me." Oh. Oh, right. "I'm not trying them again. They were good, but I only promised I'd try."

"Which is fair enough," Gil agreed, sitting back again. He was restless, and seemed excited, and hell, why not? They were going to have a kid. He was going to be a father and Catherine was going to be a mother and Gil was going to be an uncle or something.

Jim just hoped that his luck, which seemed to bring him the extremes of good and bad, was going to come down on the good side again. He figured after the decade of misery he'd had, he was owed Gil, and now a child of his own. Something had to come out of doing the right thing all the time, otherwise how would he ever carry on doing the right thing?

Not that it would change what he did or didn't do, but it would just be nice if... things kept working out. Jim had high hopes for his future. Their future.

---

Jim considered that if he took all things into consideration, the high price of selling his soul along with Catherine's and Gil's to get the time off so all three of them could be with Jim's parents for July 4th and take Lindsay to finally see them was probably worth it.

It wasn't like they hadn't managed to keep them away from the moment he had announced that yes he had got an Heir brewing, thank you very much. His mother had shrieked in a very un-Companion state of excitement and the emotional thumbscrews and rack had been taken off. It was amazing what a difference that made.

Still, all three of them were now high level CSI's and so it was that Lindsay was four before they managed to have enough weight to throw around between them to get the time off and visit Jersey so Jim's parents could show them all off to their friends who had been existing on a news-starvation diet of photographs and word of mouth.

Lindsay was soaking up the attention of all of those strange old people, so it was worth the fact that Jim was on shift for about two straight weeks when he got back, and Gil was going to be working through weekends for a month. Watching Gil sitting cross-legged on his parent's back lawn, pumping air into a kiddy pool so that their daughter could splash around in the heat was worth the price.

It was all pretty damn well worth it, even if his mother had just about squeezed the life out of Lindsay when she'd said hello.

Lindsay, of course, following in her mother's footsteps had very politely hit her until she let go. She didn't bother with the screaming and yelling. Gil liked to joke she got that from him, for all the lack of genetic input. Still, they'd sat through the endless visitors and today was family day which was nice because his mom and dad were absolutely smitten by Lindsay. She had Cath's looks, for which he thanked God, and she knew instinctively how to charm anyone and was a bright kid. Maybe not Gil bright, but Catherine was no slouch and neither was he.

He, on the other hand was performing the traditional duty of setting fire to things. The barbecue was radiating enough heat to create a perfect heat haze mirage effect over the top of it.

Jim wasn't sure what was the best part, except it might've been that his father was standing beside him, smiling and putting chicken wings on the grill. His dad has been right up there with his mother the whole time in high strung delight, but now he seemed mellower, the way Jim was used to seeing him.

"I'm proud of you."

Jim grinned. "I know, making a good barbecue is an art, huh?" he said lightly glancing at him.

"Which you didn't know the last time we talked," Richard agreed. "No, I mean... what you've done with your life, Jim. I'm proud of you."

"Yeah?" Jim felt he had to ask. "There was a time I wasn't too sure about that. Then I guess I wasn't too sure about anything much really."

"After Janice... She tried to ruin you, Jim. We saw it, we just didn't know what to do." His father sighed, and poked at one steak a little before he glanced wryly at Jim. "But look at you now."

"I always tried to do the right thing, Dad. I don't think you and Mom realized how much you hurt me when you had Ellie tested." He was saying the words calmly but the fact still remained that somewhere not even fifteen minutes away, was his other daughter. Ellie. And he knew that if she ever came to him for help he'd treat her just the same as he would Lindsay. He couldn't forget her, even though he was meant to.

He just hoped that she hadn't forgotten him.

"We were trying to look out for your best interests," his father shrugged. "Retrospectively, we... weren't acting as rationally as we should have. And I'm sorry for that, son. We should have listened to your Companion."

"Gil is always right," Jim agreed with mock-solemnity. "It's fast becoming a department motto." He looked over at the younger man, unable to stop smiling. Five years in, and he loved him so much there were times he would just hold on to him, unable to speak, scared that he might leave him. Rather than the whole deal with Companion and Benefactor, he found himself more amazed by the thought of 'why would someone like Gil want me'? Gil was smart, a rapidly rising star in CSI and gorgeous.

"I was making things difficult, I know that, Dad. There were reasons."

"I know. Gil kept telling us that, but..." He shrugged again, probably at a loss for words. "And we should have listened. But I'm glad he looked out for you, and Lindsay... is adorable." Richard winked then. "And so's her mother." Who was wandering over with Lindsay towards the pool that Gil was still inflating. Lindsay had decided that morning that she was a big girl and she was going to walk everywhere she wanted but she was still going to hold her mother's hand.

If she kept that up for very long, Catherine was going to need a back brace.

"Cath is something else. Between her and Gil, everything gets organized," Jim replied watching the chicken sizzle before turning it. "We're lucky things worked out like this."

"You needed something to work out." His father set the huge fork down, and turned to face him a little better. "I still wish some days that you'd been a lawyer, but... CSI. You seem happy there."

"Dad, I couldn't be a lawyer. They screwed me over too much after the Duty thing. Besides... I've always been a hands on kinda guy." Jim shrugged a little. "I may go back to being a cop sometime, but right now I'm happy in CSI. It helps they're all a great team. Best set of babysitters around."

That got a laugh out of his father. "And when I ask Gil about them, all he can talk about is science. All Catherine can talk about is bureaucracy and paperwork and the insanity of the town. I have no idea how any of you can hold a conversation. It's all over my head."

"You fall into it. You see weirder sh-stuff in Vegas in a week than I did in all my time in Jersey," Jim replied. "Between all of us we add pieces to the puzzle. Since Gil started, Vegas lab stats have gone way up. Cath is lead supervisor and we've got more publications from our shift than the others put together."

Gil had even put out a new insect related one, on urban blowflies of all things. He was a little more interested in trying to get Lindsay to like bugs, and he'd been working hard since she was a baby to make them acceptable to her -- stuffed insect toys, lots of butterflies, and for her birthday, he'd gotten her some caterpillars that he'd set up in a terrarium so she could see cocoons and see them hatch and fly outside.

They tried not to talk about when she'd smushed his tarantula. He hadn't even gotten angry because it was his fault for having taken her out of the tank in the first place, or so Gil had said.

Not many tarantulas ended up buried out in the backyard.

One thing was sure, Lindsay was going to be the only kid in school who knew bugs by their scientific names.

"Well, you're doing okay for yourself," his father said. "So is Gil. Lindsay ensures the Brass line continues and you can do what you want."

Jim poked at the cooking meat and took a deep breath. "Yeah about that.... I've got something to ask you."

He was used to that look where Gil cocked his head as if to say 'yes?' instead of the wary look on his father's face and the raised eyebrow. "Go on. Ask."

"I want to marry Gil." Jim said. "I know there hasn't been a legal male Benefactor to male Companion marriage, but that's just because no one has been bothered to circumvent the maze of legality."

His father was looking at him like he was crazy for a moment, and then he craned his head to watch where Gil was running the hose into the poor. "He'll always be a Companion, even if you do marry him, Jim. He'll always be your property. I know that makes you uncomfortable, but if that's why you want to do it..."

"No, Dad, I checked. Under the new marriage rights bill, he'll be legally entitled to the same rights as any other male-male marriage if you as the Family Patriarch sign that we have fulfilled the Benefactor duty of providing an Heir," Jim said. "I know you don't understand, Dad, but I know what it feels like to be less than property, okay? And it's important to me to know that Gil is with me because he loves me and not because he's my Companion and it's a Duty. I've done a lot of things for Duty and I don't want staying with me to be something he hates."

"Somehow, I don't think he will. He's not going to just... leave you, you know." Jim watched his dad watch Gil and Lindsay and Catherine, and then he finally met Jim's eyes again. "So don't push at him to see if he'll go, all right? You'd just break his heart."

"I won't. But I want him to be my husband," Jim answered. "Didn't you want that with Mom? Well, not to be your husband, but to be married?"

"Mmm, I did. Do. And I'm not saying that I won't sign the documentation, Jim. Just..." Richard smiled at him. "Just let yourself be happy. And be comfortable with the reality that the title change from Companion to Husband won't make much difference in Gil's mind. It's more for your sake than his, and it was the same way when I married your mother."

"He'll understand," Jim replied. "He knows why I have problems. It's not that I hate Companion-roles, not like before but... it's about having choices. Giving them back. Sometimes things are stronger because you choose to stay when you could've gone."

And even if it didn't make sense to anyone else in the whole world, it made sense to him. He could be a little less scared in day-to-day life that someone could hurt Gil and not owe anything to justice but some money. Gil was... worth so much more to him than any dollar amount. He wasn't comfortable with a dollar amount being placed on a life, or the fact that Gil was worth slightly over a million in restitution based on his qualifications and his state of health according to Jim's yearly update on the matter. Which he was given for tax purposes.

"I have to agree with you there, Jim. All right. I'll sign. Could I guess that you have the paperwork with you?"

"I do. But I think it can wait until after we've burnt the chicken and steaks a little more." He smiled to himself. Besides he'd left the rings in the car. He'd had them engraved with the Brass brand symbol and Gil's own unique brand. Gil might understand how important this was for him, but Jim understood how important that symbol was to Gil. He was sure his Companion would see the relevance. When all was said and done, for all the 'exciting' legal precedence they would set, and the furor in the Benefactor community, this was about him and Gil and making it so they belonged to each other rather than the Companion just to him.

"After dinner," his father agreed, peering sideways at his family again. "So have you told Gil?"

"We haven't discussed it recently. He treats it like an eccentric hobby I have," Jim replied with a smile. "He can always say no, I guess."

"I doubt he would. Companions always have an ear to the ground about their Benefactor's best interests." Richard clapped him on the back. "I'm going to go rescue the macaroni salad before your mother stirs it to death. She's probably eavesdropping, and who knows what she's half-heard."

"Don't worry, when it comes to the word marriage, Mom's never misheard," Jim said. "Thanks, Dad."

Richard hesitated and then leaned in to hug him briefly. "Don't thank me. I'm not the one who'll say 'yes' to you that matters." And then he pulled back, so it didn't linger too long and get weird, and he headed back into the house. Actually if he knew his mother, she was getting pictures of Lindsay through the window blinds so she had a record of her granddaughter not hamming it up for a camera.

Lindsay had a habit of doing that and Gil could be just as bad, though he preferred to be the one in control of filming. He looked up at Gil who was filling the pool with a garden hose and flicking the water out at Lindsay who was trying to run away, or towards him, inevitably pulling Catherine into the line of fire. He could hear the good-natured threats to Gil's job if he carried on like that and he smiled, watching them.

Like he always did, Gil seemed to know when Jim was watching him.

Gil turned his head a little, peered over at him and smirked for a second before he went back to what he was doing, quiet acknowledgment that he knew Jim was still there and watching him. The only time he could get away with watching Gil unobserved was if he was sleeping. Sometimes even then he'd watch Gil's mouth curve into that soft half smirk as if he was fully aware of what he was doing. He'd never watched Janice sleep. He found the words I love you pretty easy to say, because he realized that when he'd said them before he hadn't been talking about real love.

He moved the chicken from the hot part of the grill. Maybe they'd do this at their place now they had got their yard under control. Invite the team around, their own family. Laugh as Lindsay wrapped Warrick around her little fingers, as none of them could work out who was the bigger kid, Sanders or their little girl. There was Family and there was family. Both were important.

Blood and water versions. Jim was pretty fond of the non-blood type of family, of his Vegas family. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. Maybe the next time that most of the team could at least show up at some point during the day. He prodded at the steaks, but they weren't cooking as fast as the chicken. Probably because it was thinner meat.

Gil had abandoned the hose to Catherine, and wandered over toward Jim. "Hey. Need any help?"

"I can burn meat pretty well," Jim murmured reaching out a spare arm to hook him in. "But any interference is welcome."

He wasn't really surprised that Gil reached to take the fork from him, and he slid an arm around Jim's waist. "Good. You were looking pretty sneaky over here for a while. Keep that up and Lindsay's going to think she's getting a pony."

"She needs a pony when she persuades the both of us to crawl around on hands and knees?" Jim said with mock surprise. "Besides, some moments of sneakiness aren't about her."

"Oh yeah?" There was that half smirk again, like Gil had his suspicions, but he didn't say it. He just prodded at one steak. "I think these are just about done."

"Yeah. Time to eat, you think?" The sooner they ate, the sooner he could go to the car, and maybe when they were watching fireworks later, he could ask him and let the light glitter over gold.

Gil would say yes. It wasn't a worry, and his dad was right. He sometimes woke up after Gil and found him just staring down and smiling like he'd been willing Jim to wake up. He was pretty sure that if Gil was unhappy, he would've noticed. He was pretty sure that he noticed a lot about Gil -- when work left him with sore muscles and when he had a migraine and when he just wanted to go get Lindsay from the night-care daycare and hug her after a bad day.

"I think so. Lindsay wants chicken, and to eat in the pool. Catherine is bartering with her about that now."

"Oo that's definitely Mom stuff. That's multitasking she's talking about doing there and we're just men. Linear thinkers, you know," Jim said amused.

"That's me not thinking of a good reason to say no," Gil groaned a little, turning his head to press his face against Jim's hair. He went a little still. "Your parents are watching us through the Venetian blinds. Why are they peeking through the blinds?"

"They think I'm asking you something," Jim murmured. "But it's difficult because there's something necessary to the asking in the car." He smiled at Gil and kissed him again. Let the steaks burn.

"Can I get a hint or should we not speak of it until after dinner?" Yeah, Gil had a guess because he was smiling when Jim kissed him.

"Well you know, it should involve romance, and fireworks and good timing," Jim murmured. "Signatures and the end of a long standing hobby..."

"Oh." It was a drawn-out oh, and Gil squeezed Jim's side. "Then I won't pry again and we can wait for the fireworks."

Jim turned to him, into that touch. "Maybe I can give you an advance on the fireworks, Gil Brass," he murmured and leaned in for a serious kiss. A kiss with promises in amongst the pleasure. When he surfaced for air he said softly. "You'll always belong to me, Gil. The difference being, I'll belong to you, too. You can't steal something when it's a gift, can you?"

"No, not if someone gives it to you first." Gil's fingers stroked a little, too aware of the audience and Catherine and Lindsay. "I'd like to have you belong to me."

"Save that up for later and act surprised," Jim said in a murmur. "Just as well we're staying in a hotel tonight huh?" With champagne, and every extravagance he could think of. Gil deserved to have it done right even if it was just so he could laugh at everything.

Gil would probably laugh at it, too, but he'd enjoy it, and he leaned in to kiss Jim one last time. "Yeah, it is. Or your parents wouldn't get any sleep at all. Get the steaks off, I'll help your parents set the table."

He grinned, knowing there would be question about why Daddy Jim was smiling so much and he'd have to say something about it being a nice day, his family there, all the people he loved best in the world there. It was one of the first times he had smiled on the Fourth of July. Before Gil, before Lindsay and his new family, he had spent the day drink to the memories of everyone he'd lost in his own battle for independence. Today was the first time he hadn't felt guilt about being happy and alive when they weren't. It was the first time he was going to let himself be happy, guilt free, and it made him want to laugh and propose to Gil every day for the rest of his life if this was what it felt like.

In some ways, he guessed, that was what marriage was all about if it was the real thing. He and Gil were definitely the real thing whether they were Companion and Benefactor living up to a Duty lost in the mists of time, or just two men who got lucky when they chose each other out of all the possibilities there were in the world.

***

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