Archive of Our Own

Author's website: http://wetblanket.kixxter.org
Pet Fly and Paramount own these characters, and I do not. Make of that what you wish.
This was originally published in the zine "Senses of Wonder:2", and I'd like to thank everyone involved with that. SOO much fun!
Also, a special thank you to all the Lurkers, most of whom helped beta. Thanks, girls!

This story is loosely based on Charles de Lint's wonderful "Someplace to be Flying".

"When I think of heaven, I think of a black-winged bird, I think of flying" Rain King by Counting Crows

Jim Ellison walked along the deserted street, alert for any out-of-place sound in the two a.m. darkness. A rat skittered down an alleyway, pulling a startled "Fuck!" from the hooker on the corner. Jim's mouth twitched in his version of a smile. "It's got a little more class than your usual clients, hey, Candy?

""Bite me, Ellison!" But Candy smiled while she said it. She reached into her tube top and pulled out a sheaf of bills. "Here's tonight's take." She passed him the money. Jim counted it quickly.

"Little short tonight, hon." He raised an eyebrow in question

Candy shrugged. "It's fifty-five fucking degrees out. What do you expect? Nobody's going to pull it out if it's going to freeze and break off!"

Jim threw back his head and laughed. "Fair enough! And in the summer I suppose they're afraid of it melting away?"

Candy struck a sultry pose and winked at Jim. "Trust me, Sugar; that's always a problem when they're dealing with me!"

Jim patted her on the back. "Whatever you say, darling. Just try to do better tomorrow, okay? The boss has certain expectations."

Candy rolled her eyes. "Jim, you're too nice for this job. Lee's last enforcer would have sliced me for being short."

Jim's tone hardened. "Well, then it's a good thing I'm not Lee's last enforcer, isn't it?" Candy reached out a hand, but let it drop before she touched Jim. "Sugar, I didn't mean-it's a good thing. You know that, don't you? You're the best thing that ever happened to us."

Jim, slightly embarrassed, waved a hand at Candy. "Whatever. Just do better tomorrow, okay?"

Candy grinned. "Okay, tough guy. Just for you."

Jim raised a hand as he left. He cut across the vacant lot and headed for the waterfront. Candy's words kept running through his mind, making him somewhat introspective. He smiled to himself. 'This really is not the career I had in mind when I left home.' The smile slid away from his face. Pretty much nothing had gone the way he had planned when he left home. Not the Army, not the Rangers, and for goddamned sure, not. .. Peru.

Jim scowled as he thought about that last mission. So many men dead. Dead so young, and for no good reason. And it was his mission, his fault. If only he'd been a little quicker, a little bit more on top of things-Jim sighed. What was done was done. But it had left him tainted, unfit. He didn't feel as if he could associate with decent people, people who didn't realize what an imposter, what a failure, he was.

Jim laughed bitterly. Well, he didn't have to worry about that now, did he? Lee Brackett was about as far from 'decent people' as he could get. Prostitutes, numbers, guns ... pretty much everything in Cascade except for drugs was under Brackett's control. And he, Jim Ellison, kept everyone in line. He shook his head. He was a hell of a long way from his father's country club. . .

Jim snapped his head around. What was that noise? It had sounded too big to be a rat. Maybe it was a different kind of vermin. He tried to -stretch- his hearing. It was something he'd been able to do ever since Peru. He couldn't really control it, but sometimes he could hear or see farther than normal people. When it worked, it gave him an advantage that had saved his life on more than one occasion.

There! There were two people behind the wall of the furthest warehouse. He could hear their breathing, their heartbeats. A horn blared over on the interstate and Jim winced in pain, almost dropping to his knees. Fucking ears! Nothing ever worked out right for him! He crabbed-walked over to the sidewalk, trying to put a parked car between him and the two people.

Jim stood up shakily, waiting for the ringing in his ears to clear. He blinked; two men came from behind the wall, separating slightly to flank him. They stopped about five feet away. Jim put his hands on the trunk of the car and hoped it wasn't obvious he was using it for support. "What do you want, Kincaid?" he snarled, forcing himself to stand upright.

Kincaid laughed. "What the hell do you think I want, big man? I want your job."

"You'll need to talk to Brackett, then. He's the one who gave it to me."

Kincaid made an obscene gesture. "Fuck Brackett! I've been working for him for years, I dedicated my life to him, then you come along, Mr. Army Ranger Hero, and it's like I don't even exist! Well, fuck that! I earned that job, I worked for it and I'm not going to let some slumming rich boy prick take it from me!"

Jim turned to the other man, who was standing by, alert but silent. "What's in it for you, Bill?"

Bill shrugged. "More money. What else?"

Jim nodded. "And if I offered you even more?"

"How much more?"

Kincaid pulled a gun from under his coat and pointed it at Jim. "Shut up, shut up! Just kill him already, you asshole!"

Bill nodded and pulled his gun, just as Jim pulled his and dove behind the car. Three shots rang out and Jim rolled under the car, clutching his shoulder. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he muttered under his breath, as he looked to see where Bill and Kincaid had gone

Bill was sprawled on the ground, a puddle of blood spreading slowly out from under him. 'One down, one to go,' Jim thought, as he rolled out from under the car. He stood up quickly, looking for Kincaid. He heard a noise behind him, and slowly turned. Kincaid cocked his gun.

"Say goodbye, big man." His eyes widened as he looked behind Jim. "What the-?"

Jim heard a thump and a metallic crinkling kind of noise, as if something heavy had landed on the roof of the car. Kincaid began firing wildly at something over Jim's shoulder, his eyes wide and unfocused. Jim threw himself to the ground and rolled past Kincaid, standing up just in time to watch Kincaid fall over on his back, a knife quivering in his throat.

Slowly, Jim looked over at the car. A young-looking boy stood on the roof, his head tilted as he stared down at Kincaid's body. His curly dark hair was wild and untamed, hanging over his face, obscuring his features. He was dressed all in black: t-shirt, pants, unlaced combat boots, all black. He jumped lightly from the car, his black trench coat billowing and flapping behind him. As Jim watched, bemused, the boy bent over Kincaid and pulled the knife from his throat. He wrinkled his nose, shrugged, wiped the blade on his pants, and stuck the knife into the top of his boot.

Jim was still holding his gun. He pointed it in the general direction of the boy, although not directly at him. "Who the fuck are you?"

The boy smiled, a brilliant smile that transformed his face and lit up his blue eyes. "I'm the guy who just saved your life, man." He casually stepped over Kincaid's body and lightly touched Jim on the shoulder. "You're bleeding."

"I was shot."

"Yeah, I was a little late getting here. Sorry."

Jim reached up and grabbed the boy's wrist, hard, pulling it away from his shoulder. "Wait. You knew this was going to happen?"

The boy easily pulled his wrist from Jim's hand, and then laughed at his surprise. "Stronger than I look, man. And no, I didn't know this specifically was going to happen, just something like this. So I dropped by."

Jim shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."

The boy laughed again. "Not much of life does, you know? But you're an important person, and you're at a crossroads, a time of change. So I stopped by, helped you a little." He paused and looked up at the moonlit sky. "It's allowed, sometimes."

Jim blinked, confused. "I don't understand a single thing you're saying."

The boy shrugged and absently waved a hand around. "Yeah, I get that a lot. I always tell them it's an occupational hazard." He tilted his head, listening. Jim could faintly hear sirens in the distance, getting closer. The boy stepped up next to Jim. "Look, we don't have much time. Let me see your shoulder."

Jim crossed his arms. "What? You don't want to stay and talk with the cops?"

"The cops that choose to work this beat? Mother would freak." The boy reached out and uncrossed Jim's arms. Then he pulled the coat off Jim's shoulder, grabbed a hold of the shirt underneath, and pulled. It ripped easily, causing Jim to shout "Hey!"

The boy ignored him and peered at the wound. "Cool! It's a quick in-and-out. No problem." As Jim watched, stunned, the boy leaned in and began to delicately lick at the wound. Jim tried to stop him, his whole body flinching in outrage, but it was as if he were paralyzed. He couldn't move, and a slow heat spread out from his shoulder, filling him, making every cell in his body feel alive. He almost sobbed when the boy pulled away. Jim reached for him, but the boy jumped back, laughing once more.

"I have to go. But don't worry, I'm sure you'll be seeing me again." He turned and took a running leap onto the trunk of the car, jumped on the roof and then off the other side. He ran down the street, his black coat trailing behind him until the darkness swallowed him.

Jim slowly turned his head to look at his shoulder. The wound had stopped bleeding. In fact, it was completely healed; there was only a smooth, shiny scar to show that he had ever been shot.

The first police officer on the scene found Jim staring off down the street while absently rubbing his shoulder. The officer raised an eyebrow at the two dead bodies, and then tapped Jim on the shoulder. "Sir? Can you tell me what happened here?"

Jim turned to look at him with eyes that were a little unfocused. He couldn't seem to stop touching his shoulder. "I'm not really sure. For a while there, I thought I'd been shot."

Jim leaned back in the hard wooden chair and casually surveyed his cuffed hands. Interrogation rooms were the same the world over, no matter what police station they were in. Jim turned his head toward the two-way mirror; like he didn't know they were watching him. "Some coffee would be nice!" he yelled to the room at large.

The door to the room opened and a large black man with a ferocious scowl walked in, two cups of coffee in his hands. He put them on the table and sat across from Jim, just watching him carefully.

Jim straightened up and took a sip of coffee. He watched the other man through the steam. "Wow. Captain Banks from Major Crime, here to interview little old me. To what do I owe the honor?"

Simon Banks actually growled. "Grow up, Ellison! Two of Brackett's top gunnies, dead? You're lucky the Feds aren't all over this."

Jim placed a hand over his heart. "God, not the Feds! Captain, you're frightening me! Can't you hear my heart pounding?"

Bank's mouth twitched, but his amusement didn't make it to his tone. "What happened?"

Jim leaned back and addressed the ceiling. "Shouldn't I be allowed to call my lawyer?"

"So this is illegal and inadmissible. So humor me."

Jim considered it while watching Banks through narrowed eyes. They were rivals of a sort, considering their jobs, but he and Banks also had a wary respect for each other. And so far, Banks had never lied to him. Decision made, Jim shrugged. "Kincaid wanted my job, and he and Bill tried to take it." He smiled ferally. "They failed."

Banks nodded. "A guy like you, ex-Army, ace marksman, you could take them both before they could shoot you. I can see that." He leaned over the table, his voice deepening in anger. "Trouble is, only one of them was shot."

Jim crossed his arms and remained silent. Banks slapped his hand on the table. "Dammit, Ellison, it's not like I'm going to cry over two pieces of scum like that being taken out! But I have got to know what happened!"

Jim still didn't say anything. Banks sighed heavily and took off his glasses. "Ellison, I don't like you. But you're a hell of a lot better than those animals you work for. What the hell a man like you is doing-" He raised a hand, stopping himself. "Never mind. I don't like you, but I know you, so I know this was self-defense. And I really don't want to waste my time and the taxpayer's money on those two jackals. But that's what I'm going to have to do if you don't tell me what happened!"

Jim held his cuffed hands out to Banks and raised an eyebrow, playing for time. Banks snorted and unlocked the handcuffs. Rubbing his wrists, Jim decided to tell Banks about the boy, just to see his face. "Complete honesty with the cops,"he thought, sitting up straighter. "A first time for everything."

Jim crossed his arms. "Kincaid and Bill had the drop on me. We all fired at the same time, and I ducked behind the car. I got Bill, and Kincaid got me in the shoulder." Banks leaned forward and opened his mouth, but Jim shook his head. "Let me finish. I stood up, Kincaid pointed his gun at me, and a little raggedy kid jumped onto the roof of the car and threw a knife at Kincaid." He stopped speaking and leaned back in the chair.

Banks waited a moment, then said, "That's it? What kid? Where did he come from? And you're not wounded."

Jim shrugged. "I don't know what kid, and I don't know where he came from. There was no place for him to come from. It was like he fell from the sky or something. And Kincaid shot me in the shoulder. See?" He pointed at the scar, easily visible through his ripped shirt.

Banks came around the table to look at the scar more closely. He pushed at it with his finger. "Ellison, who the hell are you trying to kid? That scar's years old."

Jim shook his head. "It's hours old. After he killed Kincaid, the kid licked it and it just healed."

Banks stared at Jim for a long moment. "So you're saying the Amazing Falling Knife Boy killed Kincaid, and then saved your life with his magical spit?"

"Basically, yeah. And I know how it sounds. But that's what happened."

Banks jammed a cigar in his mouth. "Get out!"

"What?"

"Get the hell out of here! I can always find you when I need to. I'm going to find out who or what you're protecting, and the next time I drag your ass down here, I'm not going to be nearly as pleasant!"

Jim pushed back his chair and left, snapping a salute as he passed. Banks stared after him, then sighed. "Wasting his damn life. Fuck!" He drank his cold coffee in the darkened room

Jim entered his loft with a sigh of relief. For a while there, it seemed as if he'd be spending some time in a cell. He still wasn't sure why Banks had let him go, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, either. He stretched extravagantly, feeling his vertebrae pop. First things first.

He opened the balcony doors to let in some fresh air. Jim squinted into the morning sun. Ten o'clock already and he hadn't been to sleep yet. "A beer and a shower," he thought, walking into the kitchen, "and then to bed for a million years." He was leaning against the kitchen table, finishing the beer, when he noticed the tree outside the balcony was shaking wildly. And there was no breeze at all.

Jim slowly reached behind his back for his gun. He had just gotten his fingers wrapped around it when a combat boot fell out of the tree, landing on the balcony with a thump. Jim raised an eyebrow. That boot looked very familiar. As Jim watched, bemused, the boy from last night dropped gracefully out of the tree and landed on one foot. Balancing like a stork, the boy bent over, picked up the boot and jammed it back on his foot in one swift movement. He looked up at Jim and smiled brilliantly, wriggling his fingers

Jim let go of his gun. "Come on in, why don't you?"

The boy walked past him into the kitchen and started opening the cupboards. "You got any sugar, Jim?"

Silently, Jim passed him the sugar bowl from the kitchen table. The boy hopped up on the counter and started eating the sugar with his fingers, legs swinging happily. Jim got another beer from the refrigerator and sat down at the table. He could tell that he was about to have a conversation that would make more sense if he were drunk. He took a long pull of the beer, draining half of it. He decided to start from the beginning. "What's your name, kid?"

"Rav."

"Rav?"
"Yup."

Jim shook his head. "I can't call you that, it's not a real name."

The boy tilted his head and shrugged. "Okay, Blair, then."

"Blair? What do you mean 'Blair'?"

"You can call me Blair."

"Is Blair your name?"

"It is if I want it to be,"

Jim took a deep breath. He could feel one bitch of a headache building behind his eyes. "You want your name to be Blair?"

"No, I want my name to be Rav, but you don't like it."

"So now you're Blair?"

"Now I'm Blair."

Jim nodded. Definitely, he needed to be drunk. He finished his beer in two swallows. He looked at "Blair" who was holding the sugar bowl up to his mouth and licking the sugar out. Maybe if he tried his questions from a different angle? Jim coughed. "What does your mother call you?"

Blair smiled, eyes shining. "Mother never calls me."

"Ah." Jim tapped the table with his fingers. "But if she did call you, what would she call you?"

Blair put down the sugar bowl and considered the question carefully. Finally, with a tone to his voice that suggested he wasn't sure it was the right answer, he said, "Son?"

Jim stood up and got another beer. Leaning against the refrigerator, Jim waved a hand. "Forget all that. Blair's a fucking beautiful name. Where do you live, Blair?"

Blair was now lying on the counter, licking his finger and sticking it into the sugar bowl. He put his finger in his mouth and spoke around it. "Tree."

Jim looked out the balcony at the tree. "You live in the tree. That tree?"

"Yup."

"I've never seen you there before."

"I wasn't looking at you before."

Jim nodded, as if that made sense. "Your mother lets you live in a tree?"

Blair sat up. "You know, I really don't understand that question." He held out the sugar bowl. "Look, Jim. It's empty."

Jim was aghast. "You ate a whole bowl of sugar?"

"I like sugar."

"Well, that's fucking obvious!" Jim narrowed his eyes. "You're not going to get all crazy and hyperactive now, are you?"

"I don't think so. I can if you want me to, though." Blair jumped off the counter and hopped around the kitchen, arms spread wide, as if he were flying. "Do you want me to?"

Jim's head pounded. Whether it was too much beer or too much Blair he couldn't tell. He grabbed the kid by the arm as he zoomed past. "Look, you need to go home, now."

Blair pulled free easily. "I am home. Home is where the Family is."

"I'm not your family!"

"No, but you are Family."

Jim put a hand over his eyes. He had the feeling he and Blair were talking about completely different things, but his head was throbbing so much he couldn't make sense of anything. He slid down the refrigerator and sat on the floor. "Blair. Where's your mother?"

"Mother's everywhere."

"Yeah, kid, I'm sure she is. But I meant right now, specifically, at this moment."

"Mother's always everywhere."

"Blair!" Jim pushed the words out through clenched teeth. "Who is your mother?"

Blair squatted down in front of Jim and touched him in the middle of his forehead. "The Earth is my Mother, Jim. I'm a citizen of the world!" Blair jumped up and began "flying" around the room again.

Jim, head aching, watched Blair's hair bounce in the sunlight, colors glinting and twisting, changing and moving. Jim let go of his pain and followed the colors down and down, until the whole world disappeared, and he sat slack and silent, lost within Blair's hair.

Jim was floating gently in a blissfully silent sea of color, rich waves of mahogany and brown flowing around him. Over time, he became aware of a noise at the very edge of his consciousness, a sound that he found strangely compelling. He concentrated on the sound, and it suddenly became words, softly-spoken words in a rich and pleasant tone. " ... Brother Mouse climbed into the hay bale, and seeing his bravery, the other mice-- hey! You're back!"

Jim blinked twice and found himself staring deeply into Blair's eyes. For just a moment they seemed as deep and mysterious as the ocean, layered with knowledge and sorrow, and an almost palpable sense of time. Then Blair laughed, and his eyes were just eyes, blue and impenetrable.

Jim scooted away from Blair, pretending he just needed room to stretch his legs. He felt a little shaky. Knowing it was not the best idea, but unable to stop himself, Jim asked "Just how old are you, Blair?"

"Older than you."

Jim shook his head and reached a hand to gently touch Blair on the cheek. That's impossible. You barely look fourteen. "

Blair leaned into the caress, rubbing his face against Jim's hand. Jim snatched it back as if burned, and Blair laughed again. "I was fourteen once, but I haven't been for a very long time."

"No, I don't believe-"

"I'm old, Jim. I'm older than you, older than your father, your grandfather. I'm older than anyone you know, older than this city, or this country. I'm very, very old."

Jim scowled. "I don't believe you, that's not possible!"

"Well, neither is getting lost within your own senses, and yet you did that."

Jim's headache returned with a vengeance. "I don't understand anything anymore! What's happening to me?"

Blair hopped up on the kitchen table and peered down at Jim. "I could tell you. If you're sure you want to know."

"Of course I want to know! Why wouldn't I?"

"Knowledge brings responsibility. And that's a hard road to follow, sometimes."

Jim stood up and faced Blair, arms crossed. "I don't back down, Blair."

"Are you sure? Because once known, things cannot be unknown. And even if you don't believe what I tell you, the consequences of ignoring your responsibilities knowingly are very different than they would be if you did so out of ignorance."

Jim looked at Blair as if he had grown another head. "Who are you, and what the fuck have you done with Blair? You make it sound like I'm joining the Masons or something!"

Laughing, Blair rolled backwards off the table, falling straight onto the floor. He popped up, rubbing his back. "Well, that hurt. And no, you're not joining the Masons. Come over to the couch, and I'll tell you the story of how the world began."

"Oh dear God." Jim dropped his face into his hands. "Blair, I thought you were going to help me, tell me what's happening."

"l am.""My problems are connected with the beginning of the world?"

"Well, yeah." Jim raised his head to look at Blair, who was staring at him with an "obviously, idiot" expression on his face. Jim sighed and walked over to the couch, stopping to pull a six-pack from the refrigerator. This was turning out to be a day where there couldn't be enough alcohol in the world.

Jim slumped into a corner of the couch and curled a possessive arm around the beer. Blair squatted on the coffee table and faced him. Jim shook his head. "Off the table, hot shot." Blair shrugged, moved to the couch, and sat tailor-fashion in the middle of the couch. "How's this?" Jim waved a hand and started drinking the first beer.

Blair took. a deep breath and began speaking. "In the beginning, there was Mother and she was alone. She brought forth many children."

"How?"

"What do you mean, how?"

"If she was alone, how did she 'bring forth' children?"

"She was Mother."

"Yeah, but-"

Blair pointed a finger at Jim. "She was Mother. She had to have children. Otherwise she would have been Sister, or something."

"Yeah, but-" Jim broke off, shaking his head. "Nevermind. Just tell me the story."

"Just drink your beer, Jim." Jim looked offended, but Blair ignored him. "Mother brought forth many children, and was lonely no more. Eons passed, and the children grew restless, so Mother made Earth for them, to give them new things to experience. The children fell to Earth and became corporeal. "

"Became corporeal?"

"They got bodies."

Jim glared. "I know what it means!"

"Then stop interrupting!" Blair glared right back at Jim.. but he couldn't hold the expression. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Each child took a form that suited his nature. So Curiosity became Cat, Peace became Dove, Trickery became Coyote, Vigilance became Panther, Clever became Fox, Thief became Raccoon, Liar became Snake, and so on."

Jim thought about that for a moment. He had a sudden. unsettling idea of where this whole story might be going. Slowly, he asked, "Who did Teacher become?"

Blair smiled. "Teacher became Raven."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "I think I've heard this before, from Joe up on the reservation. I thought Teacher became Wolf."

"It depends on who's telling the tale." Blair shrugged. "Wolf, Raven, they're the same."

Jim opened another beer, and drank it down completely. He wiped his mouth on his hand. "But you prefer Raven."

"I've always preferred Raven."

Jim nodded slowly. "So what you're saying is ... ?"

"I'm saying I'm Raven, a child of Mother, one of the People."

"The 'People'?"

"Mother made people to populate the earth, but the People are her children."

"And the People have been around since the world began."

"Well, before actually." Blair shrugged. "I told you I was very, very old."

"Uh, huh. Okay, let's say I believe all that. Let's say every goddamn thing you've said is true." Jim paused to jab an angry finger at Blair. "What the fuck does it have to do with all the weird shit that's been happening to me?"

Blair stood up on the couch, and sat down on the back of it, his feet resting on the cushion. "You have the attention span of a gerbil, you know that? I wasn't done."

Jim raised an eyebrow and made a "go on" gesture with his hand. Blair winked. "So, once the People had physical bodies, we had physical urges. You know." He made a thrusting motion with his fist. "So the People mated with the people. And our blood is strong, and runs true. If there is any People at all in your blood, no matter how distant the connection, you'll have certain abilities."

"Abilities?"

"Well, it would depend on which People were your ancestors. I mean, you must have wondered about George Bush, right?"

Jim blinked. "Snake?"

"George senior, yeah. Junior's just stupid."

"I thought you said the blood ran true. So why isn't junior a Snake?"

Blair winked. "Let's just say senior needs to have a talk with the missus. And we're kind of drifting off-track, here."

"Sorry, sorry." Jim pulled his thoughts back to the matter at hand. "So you're saying I have People blood in me?"

"Panther."

"Panther?"

Blair nodded solemnly. "Panther was Vigilance. So all your senses are expanded to help you be vigilant. You see farther, hear farther, smell farther-everything designed to watch out for people."

"Like a scout?"

"More like a guardian or a sentinel. You watch and protect." Blair leaned forward and placed his hands on Jim's shoulders. "And even when you try, you can't get away from your nature. You try to punish yourself by working for a criminal, but you spend more time protecting his employees than you do acting as his enforcer."

Jim sat stiffly under Blair's hands. For a while, talking to Blair, listening to his stories, he'd forgotten what a complete fuck-up he'd made of his life. But now, it all came crashing back over him, flooding him with despair. He pulled away from Blair and stood up by the couch, his face as cold and as empty as stone. "I think it's time for you to leave."

Blair looked startled. "But I'm not done yet, Jim! I haven't explained what happens when you get lost; I haven't told you about the dang-"

"Go." Jim went to the front door and held it open. "And the next time you want to see me, don't climb the tree, okay? It's dangerous. Use the front door like a normal person."

Blair looked at him with disappointed eyes, and Jim felt guilt twist inside him, as if he'd kicked a puppy. Suddenly, Blair spread .his arms and laughed. He let himself topple forward off the couch, narrowly missing the coffee table. Jim took a few steps forward, then stopped. He had to stand firm. Blair stood up and started walking slowly across the room, one foot directly in front of the other, as if he were walking on a balance beam. He tilted his head and looked at Jim through his hair. "I forgot stubborn and cocky. That's Panther, too."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Whatever, kid. You're amusing, you can bullshit with the best of them, but I've got work to do. Time for you to go."

Blair began backing away from Jim, aiming for the balcony. "Whether it's a genetic accident, or whether it's from Panther, you've got the abilities, and you have to learn how to use them."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. Nature abhors a vacuum, man."

Jim started walking forward. He was a little uneasy about Blair getting so close to the balcony. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're a black hole, and getting denser every day."

"You know, I've got almost a whole six-pack in me, and I still don't understand anything you say." Jim narrowed his eyes. "Get away from the balcony."

Blair stopped, his hand on the balcony door. For the first time since Jim had met him, Blair looked completely serious. "Look, man. You have got to learn control. Or somebody stronger is going to come along and control you."

"Blair-"

"JIM. You wondered how George Bush came to power. Haven't you ever wondered the same thing about Lee Brackett?"

Jim raised his eyebrows, considering it for a moment. Then his mouth took on a sardonic twist. "Oh, I suppose Brackett is 'People' too, and he's the one who's going to control me?"

Blair shrugged. "You know what they say: 'There are more things in heaven and Earth, Jim-atio, than are dreamt of in your philosophies.''' He flashed Jim a brilliant smile, turned, and with a running leap threw himself over the edge of the balcony.

Jim was frozen, the image of Blair falling seared into his brain. He actually felt his heart stop within his chest. "Oh, Jesus God," he whispered, and that was enough to break his paralysis. He ran out onto the balcony, Blair's name ripped from his throat. Holding the railing in a white-knuckled grip, Jim slowly tilted his head, eyes focused on the sidewalk three floors below.

The sidewalk was empty.

The next two weeks were almost surreal to Jim. He absolutely refused to believe that Blair was Raven; that there could be such a thing as "the People"; that he had abilities passed down through the generations by Panther. And he never, ever thought about Blair leaping gracefully from his balcony and ... not falling. At least, not when he was awake.

His nights were filled with jumbled dreams, blue-tinged and eerie, images flashing through his mind, jagged and sharp. Dead wolves, flying and falling, thrumming jungle drums, explosions and death, an omnipresent sense of dread, crows on a phone line with bright, knowing eyes. And wherever he turned, Blair's blue eyes were watching him, filling him with equal measures of comfort and shame.

After five days, people refused to talk to Jim unless they absolutely had to. After ten, they were actually leaving the room when they saw him coming. Intellectually, Jim knew he was acting like a bad-tempered asshole, but he was unable to stop. The dreams, the lack of sleep, the iron control needed not to think of things were taking their toll on him.

On the fourteenth day, Jim started seeing traces of People in the faces of his co-workers. He would be collecting from Candy, and she would suddenly develop mouse ears. Or Fat Lew, the bookie, grew cat whiskers and a tail; Brackett's driver sprouted snow-white wings. It got so bad Jim couldn't stand to look anyone in the face, and he took off running, heading for the park.

Jim sat slumped on a bench in the most isolated corner of the park, hands dangling between his legs. Damn that Blair! He was sure the kid had just been trying to amuse him, but those wild stories had really taken hold, making him imagine all sorts of crazy things.

"What if they're not stories," a nasty voice whispered in his mind. "What if they're all true, and you're too damn stupid to deal with it?"

"Shut up!" Jim yelled out loud, startling the squirrels. "It's not true, none of it's true, it's just not possible!"

"Arguing with yourself, Jimmy?"

Jim started at the sound of Brackett's voice. "That would be bad enough, but you don't seem to be winning." Brackett grinned, sat down next to Jim, reached into his jacket, and pulled a bottle of beer from a pocket. He passed it to Jim, who stared at it blankly for a moment, then took it gratefully.

Brackett watched with an air of concern as Jim finished the beer in a few deep swallows. "Feeling better now. Jimmy?"

Jim shrugged.

"Yeah, yeah. The great Jim Ellison doesn't want to talk about his feelings. Why am I not surprised?"

Jim looked a little sheepish, but he still didn't say anything. Brackett sighed, then hardened his tone. "Jimmy. you can go crazy if you want to, I don't give a shit. But whatever's bothering you is making you fuck up my business, and that is something I won't stand for."

Jim nodded in acknowledgment. He knew he'd been screwing up lately, but what the hell was he supposed to tell Brackett? Some crazy story about Panthers and Ravens and the beginning of the world? He snorted. Why the hell not? His stone-cold denial of it didn't seem to be working.

Jim turned to face Brackett. "Okay, you deserve to know what's going on with me. But I warn you, Lee, it's fucking crazy." Brackett nodded and motioned for him to continue.

Jim took a deep breath and began. "It all started when Kincaid took a run at me. He had me in his sights, and all of a sudden ... " and for the next hour, Jim talked himself hoarse, telling Brackett everything. He told him about Blair and his knife and the People, the history of the world, Panther and Raven, Blair jumping from the balcony, everything. When he was finally finished, Jim leaned back against the bench, feeling oddly cleansed.

Beside him, Brackett pursed his lips, and crossed his arms over his chest. He turned his head to look at Jim. "Raven, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I see."

The silence between them lengthened until Jim felt awkward. He was trying to think of what to say when Brackett spoke again, his tone almost idly conversational. "You know, out of everyone, you'd think it would be Cat who would be sticking his nose in my business, wouldn't you?" Brackett shrugged. "But no, it's always Raven. It must be the teacher in him, always trying to learn something new." He smiled without mirth. "What do you think, Jimmy?"

Jim slowly turned to face Brackett, his body icy with disbelief. "What, what did you say?"

"Oh, come on, Jimmy! You can't tell me those little Panther ears of yours didn't catch every word I said!" Brackett narrowed his eyes. "I can't believe I've had one or Panther's brats working for me all this time, and I didn't know it! We have been seriously under-utilizing your talents, my boy."

Jim felt as if his thoughts were moving through wet concrete. "What? I don't, I mean, you, you believe me?"

"Jimmy, Jimmy! Look. You told me you were starting to look at people and see People, right?" Jim nodded slowly. ''Well, then, look at me and tell me what you see." Brackett spread his arms wide. "Take a good, long look."

Jim looked at his boss. At first, he just saw the good-looking, deceptively friendly face he was used to. But then it started to blur at the edges. The ears elongated and grew pointed. Whiskers sprouted from under the nose. A splotched tongue curled around pointed teeth. Coarse, sandy fur flowed over the face. Jim blinked.

"Coyote," he whispered. "You have Coyote."

Brackett laughed delightedly, and his face snapped back to its usual contours. Jim shuddered, looking away.

Bracket slapped him on the shoulder. "Oh, you are good, my boy! We're going to have a lot of fun together!"

Jim subtly edged away, not wanting to touch Brackett at all. "What do you mean, 'we'll have fun'?"

"Now that I know what you really are, what you're capable of, well, it expands my plans considerably." Brackett's tone turned serious. "You know I haven't been able to add smuggling to my operation?"

"Yeah, the Japanese control the waterfront." Jim was a little confused by the abrupt change of subject.

"Yes! And Ari Tanamachi controls the Japanese. Or he used to."

"He used to? What happened? Was there a takeover?"

"You are what happened, Jimmy my boy."

"I don't understand."

Brackett laughed cruelly. "You're going to take him out for me."

"Take him out? You mean kill?" Jim's tone was pure ice. "You can just forget it, Brackett! I told you when I started that I would not kill for you! I had enough of that in the Army."

"Ah, but things have changed now."

"How? Because I'm crazy and seeing animals everywhere?" Jim was contemptuous. "Well, trust me, I'll never be crazy enough to kill for you."

Brackett sadly shook his head. "You're not crazy, Jimmy; you're Panther."

"So? What do you expect me to do? You think I'm going to go to the docks and maul him to death, or something?"

"No. But you are going to use your enhanced eyesight to gun him down from a long, long way away."

"My enhanced eyesight! You think I can control this shit? Because I can't! And even if I could, I wouldn't, so just fuck off!"

Brackett looked at Jim, thinking. Then he smiled, making Jim very nervous. "Tell me, Jimmy: when Raven was telling you his little tale, did he mention anything along the lines of 'zoning' or 'getting lost'?"

Jim was sorry he had ever said anything to Brackett. It was making his whole time with Blair seem ... tainted. He decided to deny everything, and not let Brackett have any more information. "No. He just told me his messed-up story and left. And his name's Blair!"

"Hmm." Brackett appeared to be lost in thought. Then he pointed to something behind Jim and said, "Hey! What's that?"

Jim turned his head. The park was empty; he didn't see anything. The only thing behind him was the duck pond. "What's what?"

"There! Over there, in the water!" Jim looked. All he saw was the water, the sun making a myriad of sparkling surfaces. The wind blew across the water and it flashed and twinkled, dancing in front of his eyes in a complex pattern. Behind him, he could hear Brackett speaking in barely audible tones. "Look at it sparkle and shine, like a crystal sun catcher, like a waterfall of diamonds, moving together, breaking apart, over and over and over, as inevitable as the ocean. Watch the water, Jimmy, concentrate on it, look at it, look deep within it. .. " Brackett's voice faded away, and Jim slid effortlessly into a world of glinting lights.

Jim snapped back to awareness, his face stinging. He blinked. It was completely dark out, and he was soaking wet. It was raining. When did it start raining? He looked up to see Brackett standing over him, holding an umbrella.

Jim spoke, and his voice was hoarse. "What, what happened?"

"Confused, are we, Jimmy?" Brackett waited for Jim's nod before continuing. "That was what I like to call a zone."

"Zone ?"

"Yeah. Where you get so focused on one of your senses that you 'zone' on it and you aren't able to concentrate on anything else. The only reason you're back with me now is because I slapped you in the face. Otherwise, you'd still be looking at the pretty water."

Jim slowly raised a hand to his face, feeling the heated welt. Brackett smiled. "I put you into that zone, and I got you out. Do you know how long you were sitting here, insensible? Do you have any idea?"

Jim shook his head.

"Twelve hours, Jimmy. It's two o'clock in the morning." Brackett paused to enjoy Jim's look of horror before continuing. "You were just sitting here like a big, dumb lump. Unprotected, vulnerable; anything could have happened, and you couldn't have done anything about it!" Brackett leaned over and poked Jim in the chest. "And I can put you in a zone anytime I want! You might want to remember that, the next time I ask you to kill someone." He patted Jim on the head gently, the way one might pet a dog. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" Brackett walked off, leaving Jim sitting dully on the bench, his life in ruins around him.

Jim opened the door to the loft with a groan. He couldn't believe how stiff he was, although he supposed sitting in the rain, in the same position without moving for twelve hours probably had something to do with it. It had taken him a half hour to walk out of the park; it had taken him five minutes to run in.

He turned on the lights and just stood there for a moment, dripping. He sighed, locked the door, and sloshed over to the refrigerator for a beer. He drained half of it, leaned against the counter, and sighed. "Where the fuck are you when I need you, Blair?" he muttered.

A voice from above him said, "Ask and ye shall receive, man."

Jim jumped, startled, and almost dropped the bottle. Placing it carefully on the counter, he slowly looked up and saw Blair, sitting on the railing above his bed. Blair waved merrily.

With what he felt was admirable restraint, Jim said, "Please get off the railing, Blair." Blair tensed his arms, preparing to push off, and Jim waved his arms, yelling, "Wait, wait!"

Blair paused, looking expectant, and Jim took a deep breath. "Look. We all know you can jump or fall or fly or whatever, but just. Just, just use the stairs, okay?"

"No problem." Blair tipped backward, fell onto Jim's bed, and bounced off onto the floor. He picked himself up and hurtled down the stairs, stopping directly in front of Jim. "Hey, Jim! Have fun with Coyote?"

Jim picked Blair up by the arms and slammed him against the support pillar. All restraint gone, he yelled directly into Blair's face. "Why the FUCK didn't you tell me about zones?"

Blair smiled and kicked Jim in the groin. While Jim rolled on the floor, moaning and clutching himself, Blair jumped onto the kitchen table and squatted, watching Jim. After a couple of minutes, Jim was able to stand up. He eyed Blair warily.

Blair tilted his head and looked at Jim. "Actually, man, I think I tried to. Remember? I was talking about control and danger and getting lost? You kept telling me to leave, I jumped off the balcony?" He tapped the table and looked down. "Isn't that how it happened, Table? I'm right, aren't I?" He looked back at Jim. "Table says I'm right, Jim."

Jim took a deep breath, glad the pain was finally receding. "Yeah, well, you could have tried a little harder," he grumbled.

Blair rolled his eyes and dropped his legs out in front of him, so he was now sitting on the table. "Jim, when you were a kid, did you ever want to know how to spell a word, so you asked your dad, and he said, 'Go look it up in the dictionary?' "

Jim shook his head. He'd forgotten how headache- inducing talking with Blair was. "I, um, what? What are you talking about?"

Blair sighed, and began speaking slower and louder. ''When you were a kid, did you-"

"I got that! I meant, why are you saying it?"

"Just answer the question,"

"Fine, fine! Yeah, he used to say it all the time, and it pissed me off! I mean, how could I look it up in the dictionary if! couldn't spell it? It's alphabetical!"

Blair nodded happily. "Exactly! So you eventually had to figure out how to spell it by yourself, right?"

Jim took an angry step forward and winced. He settled for glaring hostilely at Blair. "Are you trying to tell me that this endless day from hell was some kind of fucking object lesson?"

Blair hopped off the table and waggled a finger at Jim. "If I tell you how to do it, you're never going to learn," he said piously. Then he sat on the floor and giggled.

Jim leaned against the pillar and pinched the bridge of his nose. Oh, yeah, it was headache time. With his eyes closed, he said, "You do that a lot. Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Jim looked at Blair, who had rolled under the table and was lifting it off the floor with his feet. Jim shook his head in defeat. "You speak in parables and quotations and stuff. Why?"

Blair kept playing with the table. "Well, it's partly because the sentences are culturally familiar, and they already have an emotional component attached to them. So not only do I impart needed information, but I can also convey a necessary, underlying 'tone' to that information, efficiently." Jim nodded, that actually almost made sense.

Blair continued, "But mostly, I do it because people find it really fucking annoying." He grinned at Jim and let the table drop to the floor with a crash.

"Why would you want to do that?"

"What, annoy people?"

"Yeah." Blair rolled out from under the table, stood, and brushed off his pants. "Eww, when was the last time you cleaned under there?"

"Two days ago. And you're avoiding the question."

"Naw, I'm just annoying you again," Blair said, grinning. He walked over to the couch and flopped down. Leaning his head over the arm, he looked at Jim while upside-down. "So: what do you suppose is the very worst thing about living a really, really, really long time?"

"Blair!"

"I'm not avoiding the question! Really!" Jim looked dubious, and Blair sighed. "Have I led you astray so far?" Jim raised an eyebrow, but after a moment he muttered, "I suppose not."

"Good! Then you answer my question, and we'll get to the answer for yours"

Jim thought about it carefully. Finally he said, "Watching people you love grow old and die, leaving you to carry on without them?"

Blair sat up and stared at Jim, appalled. "No! Jeez, Jim, way to bring a guy down!"

"Sorry."

"Whatever, man! Thank you so much for that cheerful thought!" Blair shivered. "Okay, yeah, that sucks, but it's not the worst thing. The worst thing about living a long time is that you get really bored."

"Bored? The worst thing that happens is that you get bored?"

"Well, yeah."

"Being bored is worse than watching people you love die, being able to do nothing about it, having to live on after them, alone?"

Blair stared at Jim for a long moment, sympathy evident in his eyes. "It's not like Peru, you know."

Jim jumped, startled, then his face closed up, all emotion wiped away. "That's not what I was thinking of."

"No, of course not, not you." Blair patted the couch. "Jim, come over here, sit down."

Jim walked to the couch and sat down in the other comer, as far away from Blair as he could get. Blair rolled his eyes and scooted over to the middle cushion. He put a hand on Jim's knee. "Look. Yeah, it sucks when people die. But you have to remember that it's different for me. Mother and the Family, the people most important to me, they all live just as long as I do. So I'm never, ever truly alone."

"Well, maybe." Jim didn't sound particularly convinced. "But to say that being bored is wo--"

"Jim! Trust me on this. After the first couple of thousand years go by, you run out of things to do. And after ten thousand years? You start to envy the people who can die."

"Ten thousand years? TEN THOUSAND YEARS?"

"Calm down, okay? I told you I was old."

"Yeah, but my God! Ten thousand ye-"

"Give it a rest, okay?" Blair ran his hands through his hair. "We're getting off-track here. The whole point is: you live a long time, you get really bored, and if you don't want to go crazy, you have to learn to amuse yourself."

"That's it?"

"In a nutshell, yeah."

"You annoy people because you find it amusing? That's the best you could come up with? You couldn't, say, learn to knit, or something?"

"Knit? Knit? Well, that's a nifty idea, Wally. There's nothing like a Fair Isle sweater to take your mind off your troubles!"

Jim threw up his hands. "Or something! I said knit or something!"

"Just shut up, okay?"

"Well, I just think-"

"Stop thinking and listen! This is not what we need to be doing right now. We really need to be working on controlling your senses."

Jim crossed his arms and pouted. "Well, I still think-"

"Jim!" Blair jumped off the couch and stood on the coffee table, towering over Jim. He waved his arms as he was speaking. "We do what we can, okay? I'm Teacher or Raven or Wolf- whatever! The point is, my basic nature is to impart knowledge. But the knowledge I have is specialized. The nature of the universe, the way of the shaman, why things in the world work the way they do, that sort of thing."

"So?" "So, there's not that many people equipped to understand that knowledge, okay? Some Native Americans, people with Family blood, the occasional ecstatic saint or prophet. You know, like that."

"I repeat: So?"

"So? So?" Blair's arm movements became more agitated. Jim noticed with alarm that Blair was actually rising a few inches off the coffee table. "So without very many people I can teach, I can't fulfill my basic nature, and I get bored. But because my nature is also helpful and benevolent, I amuse myself by annoying people. Nobody gets hurt, nobody gets damaged, they just get pissed off."

Jim pointed at Blair's feet, which were now six inches above the table. "Um, Blair.."

Blair suddenly grinned and dropped into a cross-legged position on the table. "But that's not important right now."

"It's not?" Blair shook his head. "Nope. I'll tell you what's important: one, getting control of your senses; and two, stopping Coyote."

"Oh, hey!" Jim sat up straighter. "Brackett's one of Coyote's kids! Oh, wait, you already knew-why are you shaking your head?"

"Brackett is not one of Coyote's kids, Brackett is Coyote."

"Brackett's Coyote? Like you're Raven?" At Blair's nod, Jim threw himself deeper into the couch, disgusted. "I go my whole fucking life without meeting one single elemental force of nature made flesh, and then-"

Blair reached out an arm and grabbed Jim's shirt, dragging him over. He leaned in until their foreheads were touching. "I need you to focus, okay?"

Jim nodded, eyes wide. Blair let go of his shirt. "All right, then. What Coyote does is play tricks. He-"

"Why?" "Because ... because, just because! That's what he does, that's what he is, okay? Coyote plays tricks!"

"There has to be a better reason than that!"

Blair pinched the bridge of his nose and continued as if Jim hadn't spoken. "But even with all his tricks, there are still rules, still certain things he can't do." Blair looked at Jim and his face was completely serious. "But Coyote's gotten bored too, and this time, with this trick, he's decided that he's going to break a rule or two."

Jim raised a hand. "Wait, wait. Brackett's Coyote, right? So his whole operation, somehow that's part of this trick he's playing?"

"Yeah, right! No, he just likes stealing things. He thinks it's fun."

"Oh." Jim looked confused. "Well, what's this trick he's playing, then? The one you want to stop?"

"Nothing much." Blair smiled and stood up. "Just the end of the world as we know it." Blair left Jim sitting stunned on the couch, and walked to the kitchen. He started looking through the cupboards. "Do you have anything to eat?"

"Do I have anything to eat? How can you tell me something like that, and then go eat?"

Blair looked over his shoulder, puzzled. "What? You'd rather I tell you something like that and then go hungry?"

"Well, actually, yeah. I'd kind of feel better about it."

"Oh, well, as long as you feel better." Blair hopped up on the counter and crossed his arms. "I'll just sit here, starving. Don't mind me. It's not like I need to eat to live or anything."

"Oh, for the love of-" Jim leaned back and covered his eyes. "I bought some more sugar last week. It's in the left-hand cupboard."

Blair opened the cupboard. "Oh, wow, man! Bulk-size Sugar in the Raw!" His smile was incandescent. "With a convenient pour spout on the side!"

"Knock yourself out, kid. But do you think you can talk and suck sugar at the same time?"

Blair flipped Jim off and continued to pour sugar down his throat. Jim sighed and stretched out on the couch. He placed his arm over his eyes and waited. After a few minutes, Blair threw himself into the chair next to the couch. "Okay! I'm feeling much better now! Where were we?"

"Stop Coyote, end of the world ... " Jim raised his arm and looked at Blair incredulously. "Did you eat that whole box of sugar?"

"Yeah."

"It was a two-pound box!"

Blair shrugged. "I like-"

"-sugar, I know, I know," Jim finished. He sat up. "I'm surprised you have any teeth left."

"Jim!" Blair looked angry, even censorious. "Do you really think we should be talking about my teeth at a time like this?"

"But you started, I mean, it was you ... " Jim trailed off, unsure of what to say. He glared at Blair. "You really are an annoying little fucker, you know that?"

"Why, yes; yes I do!" Blair smiled happily, and pulled his feet up into the lotus position. "Okay. Let's see how I can explain this. Everything in the elemental world has an exact opposite. You know, like good and evil, light and dark? But thermodynamics aside, these opposites are not equal. Sometimes there's more of one than the other. It's an ebb and flow kind of thing."

Jim nodded, his eyes intent on Blair's face. "Okay," Blair continued. "Now. This world was brought forth by Mother. She created it. And the opposite of creation is destruction."

"Yeah. Like death."

Blair looked puzzled. "What are you talking about? Jackal doesn't destroy, she transmutes."

"Yeah? Well, tell that to my men in Peru! They looked pretty fucking destroyed to me!"

"Jim!" Blair waved his hands, agitated. "They're dead. not destroyed. I mean, you buried them, right? You could find their graves if you had to?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"And you still remember them? And their families remember them? You have pictures, their still military records, high school transcripts, that sort of thing?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then, they're just dead, not destroyed. They're probably still around somewhere, in the nitrogen system of a fern, or eaten by monkeys or something."

"Blair!" Jim looked faintly repulsed. "Those are my friends you're talking about."

Blair waved a hand, dismissing Jim's objections. "Sorry about grossing you out, but you understand what I'm talking about, right? They're not destroyed. Destroyed would mean that they were completely eradicated from this world. No memories, no families, nothing! It would be as if they had never existed."

"That's, that's not possible."

Blair just stared at Jim. Finally, he said, "Jim, I'm Raven! You have Panther blood, you've met Coyote. And you want to talk about not possible?"

Jim blinked. "Oh. Yeah. I see what you mean. But still, it seems really hard to believe."

Blair sighed. "Mother brought forth this world out of nothing. You really think her opposite couldn't bring things back to nothing?"

Jim glared. Blair just raised an eyebrow and laughed. After a moment, Jim smiled, too. "What the hell! What's one more impossible thing to believe?"

Blair patted Jim on the arm. "That's the ticket, big guy! I'll turn you into a shaman yet!" Jim shuddered theatrically.

"Yeah, the whole world shudders with you, Jim. Okay, so you understand the difference between dead and destroyed?"

"I think I'm managing to keep up," Jim said wryly.

"Great! So, basically, this whole world is the epitome of creation, since Mother brought it forth out of nothing. And pretty much, the People don't have rules. They can do whatever they need to, in order to fulfill their natures, they just can't destroy anything."

"Why not?" Blair sighed. "Well, that's the thing, nobody's really sure."

"Nobody's really sure? That's it, that's the result of ten thousand plus years of wisdom? Nobody's really sure?"

Blair looked irritated. "Well, how would we know, huh? If every trace of, of- something was completely eradicated from the earth, how would we know? It would be completely gone from our memories, from everyone's memories."

"Ah." Jim thought about that for a moment. "Well, if something's gone, but nobody knows that it's gone, does it matter that it's gone?"

"Yes! It does matter! And trees that fall in the forest without anyone around do make a sound! If you're interested!"

Jim grinned. "I think you're rubbing off on me."

''Well, you're certainly annoying enough," Blair muttered under his breath. He rubbed his hands rapidly over his face. "Look, destruction negates everything about this world. It's the complete opposite of how Mother created it."

"So?"

"So it would be a very bad thing! If one of the People managed to actually destroy something, not only would, would ... whatever it was be gone, but it would ripple through the world, and everything left would be distorted and changed."

"Oh. So not good."

"No. Not good at all."

Jim nodded. "Okay, I understand all that. And it's been really informative. But why are you telling me this?"

Blair stood up, crossed his arms, and looked down at Jim, waiting. He tapped his foot.

Jim looked puzzled. "What?"

Tap. Tap. Tap.

''What?''

Blair tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

"WHAT? Blair, I need you to-oh. Coyote. His trick, stop him."

"Yup, you got it in one. And that means we have to figure out how to control your senses."

Jim sighed. "Blair, I'm tired; I've had a really bad day; can't we do this tomorrow?"

"No, we can't! Or have you already forgotten why you had a bad day? Zoning? In the rain? Coyote threatening you?"

Jim stood up and made an 'enough' gesture with his hands. "Oh, I'm not about to forget! But right now? I don't give a shit." He left Blair in the living room, and climbed the stairs. When he got to the top, he looked over the railing. "Look, can we do this in the morning? You go do ... whatever it is you do when you're not eating my sugar, and we'll start fresh tomorrow."

Blair crossed his arms and glared. Jim waved a hand. "Whatever, okay? I'm going to bed." He turned away and took his last steps into his bedroom, where he stopped dead, staring. Blair waved at him. He was sitting in the middle of Jim's bed.

Jim stepped back and looked down into the living room. No Blair. He went back to his room. Blair on his bed. Blair had already taken off his clothes and gotten under the covers. He looked over at Jim and frowned. "I hope you don't snore. It gives me a headache, sleeping with people who snore."

Jim sighed. "You know, sometimes I really hate my life."

Blair winked. "Come to bed, big guy."

"Oh dear Lord."

Jim was jolted out of a sound sleep by a huge weight dropping onto his stomach. His eyes snapped open as all the air 'whooshed' out of his lungs. Gasping, he reached up to grab Blair, who was kneeling on his stomach and bouncing. He tried to push Blair off him, but he was rapidly weakening due to oxygen loss. With black spots dancing in front of his eyes, Jim made a desperate, convulsive movement, tumbling Blair off of him, and onto the floor. Jim sat up, sucking in great lungfuls of air.

On the floor, Blair sat up, rested his arms on the edge of the mattress, and regarded Jim thoughtfully. "Hmm. I guess you're just not a morning person." Jim glared. "Don't worry about it. Not everyone can be perky in the morning."

Jim finally caught his breath. "I'm perfectly perky in the morning," he shouted, "except when people are trying to fucking kill me! What the hell did you do that for?"

Blair stood up and put a finger in his ear, wriggling it around. He scrunched up his nose. "No need to shout, Jim, I'm right here." He grinned as a thought occurred to him. "Hey, you wouldn't be having trouble with your hearing, would you? That would be so cool! We could work on it all morning!"

Jim's glare intensified. "My hearing is fine! What I'm having trouble with is you, jumping on my stomach while I'm sleeping! What the hell were you trying to do?"

"Wake you up."

"Well, congratulations, I'm awake. I'm angry as hell, but I'm awake."

Blair waved away Jim's objections. "Oh, suck it up and be a man, already! Jeez! You'd think I removed a limb or something."

Jim stared at Blair, stunned into speechlessness. He closed his mouth with a 'snap' when Blair started giggling. "Oh, man, your face! If you could only see your face!" He rolled around on the floor, clutching his ribs.

Jim swung his legs over the side of the bed and sighed. This had all the earmarks of becoming a very long day. He stepped over the still-giggling Blair and headed down the stairs. "I'm going to take a shower. Why don't you make yourself useful and make breakfast or something?"

After his shower, while brushing his teeth, Jim had the sudden thought that having Blair make breakfast might not have been the best of ideas. Jim entered the kitchen and looked around warily.

There were no messes, nothing was on fire. A little more confident, he walked over to the table where Blair was waiting, a proud smile on his face. Blair pulled out a chair and waved Jim into the seat. "Sit down and dig in, man. We've got a lot of ground to cover today; you're going to need your strength."

Jim sat down and looked at the table in dismay. On its surface, in irregular rows, Blair had arranged four jars of jelly, a bottle of maple syrup, and a container of Tang. He looked up at Blair, who had already put a sizable amount of Tang into a bowl, and was busy pouring syrup over it.

Jim shuddered, got up, and went to the kitchen.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Blair said around a mouthful of Tang. "Aren't you hungry?"

Jim pulled a box of Apple Jacks from the cupboard and leaned against the counter. "Not for that! Don't you ever eat anything but sugar?" He began eating handfuls of cereal right from the box.

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so I should eat healthy like you? Because I'm sure there's no processed sugar in that."

Jim looked at his cereal guiltily, shrugged, and continued eating. Blair stuck out his tongue and finished off the strawberry jelly.

Kitchen cleaned and dishes put away, Jim walked into the living room, where Blair was waiting on the couch. Jim sighed. He was not looking forward to this. "I feel like a damn lab rat," he thought angrily. "This just sucks!"

Blair patted the spot on the couch next to him. "Oh, sit down, you big baby, it's not going to hurt." He grinned. "Much."

Jim sighed and sat down. "Look, Blair, I've managed to get along without these senses most of my life. Can't I just get rid of them?"

"No."

"Well, why not?"

"Jim, they're a part of you! Part and parcel of who you are! You can't get rid of a part of yourself!" He waved his arm. "It's like saying, 'Can I get rid of this pesky little gene sequence in my DNA? I don't really use it all that much.'''

"Fine, fine!" Jim slouched down in the couch. "What do you want me to do?"

"Well, first of all, sit up straight." Jim stayed where he was and Blair poked him in the stomach. "I mean it! Sit up!"

"Oh, for God's sake-"

"Jim, you're going to need good breath control for some of this, and for that you'll need to be sitting up."

Grumbling, Jim sat up straighter. Blair smiled at him and asked, "Okay, so what kind of control do you have over your senses?"

Jim snorted. "Control? I don't have any control over them!"

"Really? None at all?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. Well, have you tried to control them?"

"Have I tried?" Jim glared at Blair. "Of course I've tried! Do you know what it's like, suddenly smelling everything a person's been touching? Or hearing your neighbor having sex five apartments away? I've tried everything to control them!"

"Really? You were trying to control them? Or were you just trying to make them go away?"

"Well, I-" Jim opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, then said sheepishly, "I guess I was trying to make then go away."

Blair rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Ha! Now we're getting somewhere! Didn't work, did it?"

"No."

"All right then. Tell me, how are they working now? Anything online at the moment?"

"'Online'?"

Blair shrugged. "Hey, I can use a computer, you know. And it's a good term for it. Descriptive."

"I suppose." Jim tilted his head and ran through his senses. "I think maybe my hearing's .. .'online'."

"Yeah, I wondered when you'd figure that out."

"And just what do you mean by that?"

Blair rolled his eyes. "Jim, I've been sub-vocalizing to you all morning."

"What?"

"It's like whispering, but really, really quietly." Blair raised his voice to a normal level. "See? This sounds a lot louder, doesn't it?"

Jim yelled and clutched his ears, curling up into a ball to protect his ears. "Ow ow ow! Jesus Christ, warn a guy when you're going to scream!"

''I'm not screaming; this is just a normal tone of voice."

Jim whimpered and buried his head under the couch cushions. Blair reached over and rubbed gentle circles on Jim's back. He whispered, "Jim? Come on, you can do this. Picture something that controls sound, okay? Like a remote control or a volume knob or something. Do you have it? Are you picturing something?"

"Radio dial," Jim gritted out between clenched teeth.

"Great, great! Imagine that it's attached to your ears, okay? Slowly turn the dial down, notch by notch, until sound is bearable. You got that? Turn the dial, Jim. Turn it down."

Jim clenched his jaw and concentrated. He could hear Blair talking behind him. Slowly, slowly he moved his imaginary dial until it didn't feel like his ears were bleeding with every word he heard. He pulled his head out from under the cushion, looking amazed. "It works! It really works!"

Blair buffed his fingernails on his shirt, and then blew on them, looking smug. "Of course! It was my idea, wasn't it?"

Jim rolled his eyes, but sat up to face Blair, a huge smile on his face. "I don't care whose idea it was, as long as the fucking thing works!"

"Well, there you go, then. And the cool thing is, that 'dial' idea should work for all your senses. Just have a dial for each one, and you can turn it up or down as you need to." Blair patted Jim on the back one more time. "Okay, let's talk about zones."

Jim looked startled. "That's it? I was just barely able to dial down one sense, and now we're all done and moving on? What if I'm not ready?"

"Jim, we don't have a lot of time, here." Blair steepled his hands in front of his face. "Look, I just wanted you to understand the basic concept. We are going to practice it later, I promise. But right now, it's more important to work on zones. Coyote can't turn your senses up and down on you; he can put you into a zone."

Jim slowly nodded, seeing the sense of Blair's argument. "Okay, I've trusted you this far. So what do you want to do about zones?"

"Oh, this is so annoying!" Blair got up and paced in front of the couch. "Normally when I'm teaching one of Panther's children, I'm not in such a time crunch. I mean, there're meditation exercises, spirit walks, rituals-I just hate having to rush your teaching like this!"

"So we'll do it in a day, rather than a week. So what?"

Blair shot Jim an exasperated look. "It doesn't take a week, Jim. It takes years."

"Years?"

"Yes, years. It's like becoming a, a monk or something! It requires a lot of introspection and reflection and self-knowledge."

Jim leaned back and covered his eyes. "We're screwed."

"Not necessarily." Blair sat on the coffee table facing Jim. "A zone is what happens when you focus on one sense so hard, all your others just fall away."

"So, in the park-"

"-you were watching the water so intensely that you got lost in it. And it took a severe shock to a different sense to bring you out of it."

"Brackett slapped me."

"Exactly!" Blair leaned forward and put his hands on Jim's knees. "What you need is something to ground you, something that you can always find, so that you can't get lost. Now normally, after studying with me, you would ground yourself with your own center. You could never get lost, because you would always be secure within yourself."

"I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon, Blair."

"I know, I know! Let me think a minute!" Blair snapped his fingers. "I've got it! We'll ground you with me!"

"With you?" "Yeah! It's not like I'm going to leave you alone, with Coyote running around. So why not use me?"

Jim shrugged. Blair sat down in front of Jim. "Look at me, Jim. Open up all your senses and concentrate them on me. Is there anything about me, anything at all, that you think you could always find? That you think you could always concentrate on, no matter what the circumstances?"

Jim regarded Blair intently, using all his senses. Blair's scent was unique, like open sky and heather, but Jim didn't know if it would be enough. He concentrated harder; then it came to him. A thrumming noise, a comforting, rhythmic sound that he realized he'd been hearing on some level ever since he'd first met Blair. Jim smiled, wide-open and beautiful. "Your heartbeat."

"My heartbeat?"

Jim nodded happily. "Yeah. I could find that anywhere, and follow you home."

"That is so coo!!" Blair said, blushing faintly. He looked Jim in the eye. "Are you sure? Because it could mean the difference between life and death."

''I'm sure. Absolutely sure."

"Good!" Blair jumped up and pulled Jim off the couch. "Let's go back to the park."

"Why?"

"Well, I'm going to try and zone you again. We'll see if you're right."

"Oh joy." But Jim got up and got his coat, following Blair out of the loft.

Jim and Blair stepped out onto Prospect, walking briskly. Blair was chattering a mile a minute, and Jim had his hand on Blair's back, trying to keep him walking in a basically straight line. They had just reached the corner when a voice behind them said, "Going somewhere, Ellison?"

They both turned around to find Banks leaning against a lamppost, cigar clenched in his teeth. Jim sighed, but Blair eyed him with open curiosity. Banks took a couple steps toward them. "I still haven't figured out what exactly happened with Kincaid. So, you two won't mind if I tag along, right?"

"Well, actually-" Jim said, but he was interrupted by Blair, who pushed in front of Jim and smiled brilliantly. "No, we don't mind at all. You should come with us; we're going to have lots of fun."

Banks let his eyes travel slowly over Blair, cataloging him. He met Blair's eyes and was annoyed to see the amusement lurking there. Banks took the cigar from his mouth and pointed it at Blair. "Ah. You must be Spit Boy."

Blair's eyes widened and he whirled around to face Jim. "'Spit Boy'?" He shoved Jim in the chest, sending him staggering backwards. "You're talking about me to other people, and you're calling me SPIT BOY? You think of me as Spit Boy? That is so fucking lame!"

Jim raised his hands defensively. "Calm down there, Sparky! I haven't been calling you Spit Boy! I didn't tell him that! I didn't even know your name when ... oh."

"Oh?" Blair's voice rose to an incredulous squeak. "What 'oh'? What?"

"Well, um. I did tell him. You know, about that thing you did?"

"I've done a lot of things in my life, Jim. What thing, specifically, are we talking about here?"

Banks stepped between the two men, breaking the tension. He raised an eyebrow at Blair. "He's talking about when you licked his bullet wound and," Banks paused to make quotation marks with his fingers, "healed it."

Blair snorted. "Oh, that!" He looked quizzically at Banks. "Why does that make me Spit Boy? I mean, why not Healer Boy, or Doctor Boy or something? I mean, Spit Boy, that's just nasty!" He shuddered.

Banks crossed his arms and looked at Blair. "Maybe I'd call you Healer Boy if I actually believed you'd healed him! Look, I don't know what kind of game you two are playing, but-"

"It's not a game, dammit!" Jim broke in angrily. "You have no idea of the forces you're messing with! You just can't-what?" Jim turned to glare at Blair, who was laughing so hard he was snorting.

He turned to look at Banks, whose mouth was twitching with his efforts to suppress a smile. Jim threw up his hands. "WHAT?"

Blair wiped the tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry, man! It's just, just..." He paused, and then spoke in a surprisingly good imitation of Jim's voice. " 'You have no idea of the forces you're messing with!'" Blair giggled, then spoke in his normal voice. "I mean, jeez, Jim! Who writes your dialogue?"

"Stan Lee?" Banks suggested diffidently.

"No way, man, no way! Stan's cool! It sounds more like it came from the DC universe to me."

"Hmm, you may be right. The Flash?"

"No, not lame enough! I know, I know! Aquaman! Jim's speaking in Aquaman-ese!" Both Blair and Banks broke out laughing.

Jim switched his gaze from one to the other, getting more and more angry. "What the fuck are you two talking about?"

Banks and Blair looked at each other, and then at Jim. Almost in unison, they said, "Comic books!"

Jim's eyes widened in fury. "I do not sound like a comic book!"

Blair patted Jim's arm. "Of course you don't, Jim."

"No, you just sound like your dialogue comes from one," Banks added helpfully. Blair started sniggering behind his hand.

An expressionless mask slipped over Jim's face. "Since you two seem to be getting along so well, you don't need me around." He turned around and stalked off towards the park.

"Jim! Yo, Jim!" Blair yelled, waving his arm. Jim turned his head and Blair continued, "I'll catch up with you by the pond, okay? Don't fall in or anything!"

Jim flipped him off and kept walking. The two men watched until Jim was out of sight. Banks lit his cigar and turned to Blair. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"What makes you think I want to talk with you about anything?"

Banks snorted. "Right. After that performance? You might as well have been wearing a sign: 'I Need To Speak With You Privately'"

"You didn't have to play along with me."

"I wanted to see what you had to say." Banks stuck the cigar in his mouth. "So? What do you have to say?"

Blair stepped over to a nearby lamppost and swung himself around it a couple of times. He hopped off facing Banks and considered him seriously for a moment. "Are you Jim's friend?"

"No." After a long pause, Banks added, "But I'm not his enemy, either."

Blair nodded slowly. "That's good. Jim's going to need all the .. .'not enemies' he can get."

"What the hell is he into now? That bastard Bracken's bad enough, but the way you two have been acting ... just what the hell is going on?"

"We told you."

"You've told me shit! All I've gotten from you is evasions and misdirections and obfuscations!"

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Ooo, obfuscations! Now that's a cool word, one you don't hear too often."

"You're doing it again. Misdirection." Banks pointed a finger at Blair. "You forget, I am a detective. So I ask you one more time: What the hell is going on?"

Blair looked long and hard at Banks. His entire demeanor was serious and stern, and for just a moment, Banks felt the weight and power of everyone of Blair's years weighing heavily upon him. Then Blair smiled, and he once again seemed to be just a very odd man. Banks blinked, confused about what had just happened.

Blair laid a hand on Banks' arm. "We told you what's going on. You have no idea of the forces you're messing with."

"Why doesn't that sound nearly as silly and ridiculous when you say that?"

"Because you are a wise and perceptive man." Blair tilted his head and grinned. "And after all, you are a detective."

Banks shook his head. "I know I'm going to regret this, I just know it." He sighed heavily. "So. What are we going to do today, and how much trouble have I just bought myself?"

"Lots and lots and lots!" Blair skipped away from Banks, then turned back to face him. "But first, we're going to go to the park, find Jim, and watch him stare at a pond for three or four hours." He tilted his head and thought about it. "Maybe five."

"Be still my heart." Banks quickened his steps and caught up to Blair, who appeared to be dancing an Irish jig. "And then?" "And then?"

Blair stopped dancing and smiled, his eyes filled with unholy glee. "And then we're going to find Brackett, and I'm going to challenge him to a duel to the death." As Banks stared at him, his mouth wide open with shock, Blair stepped in close and touched him lightly on the nose. "You and Jim can be my seconds."

Banks' hand shot out and grabbed Blair's wrist, hard. He shoved Blair against the nearest building. Leaning in, he put his face right next to Blair's. "Do not fuck with me, punk!" he growled. "Or I will be your worst nightmare!"

Blair just grinned and twisted out of Banks' grasp, breaking his hold easily. He took a couple of steps away and waved at Banks, who was looking at his empty hand in amazement. "How did you ... ?"

Blair shrugged. "I'm stronger than I look. And you're too late."

"Too late for what?"

"Too late to be my worst nightmare." Blair smiled, a little sadly. "We seem to be stuck right in the very middle of my worst nightmare." He giggled. "Maybe if you try very, very hard, you can be the second-worst."

Playing for time, Banks took out a new cigar and lit it, staring intently at Blair the whole time. He inhaled and slowly let a stream of smoke drift out of his mouth. "You're not going to tell me a thing, are you, kid?"

"I've told you all I can, all you can deal with. For the moment."

"And you're really going to challenge Brackett to a duel?"

"Yup." "That's illegal, you know. What makes you think I won't just run you in?"

"You mean, besides the fact that talking about it isn't illegal, only doing it is, and I haven't done it yet?"

Banks rolled his eyes. "Yeah, besides that."

"Because you're too curious, too much the detective. You're not going to do anything until you know what the hell is going on."

Banks crossed his arms and glared. "You're that sure of me?"

"Yup," said Blair, grinning smugly.

Banks scowled. "I'd love to slap that smile off his face," he thought, "but the little bastard's right. He sighed deeply, and clamped his teeth down hard on his cigar. "Where to?"

Blair bowed and made an expansive "after you" gesture. "Into the park, find Jim, stare-"

"-at the duck pond, yeah, I remember." Banks pulled his coat tighter around his body. "So what are we standing around here for? Let's go find Ellison!"

Blair snapped off a crisp salute and headed off into the park.

Banks looked at his watch for the fourth time and sighed. Damn! When the kid had said they were going to watch Jim stare at the duck pond, he didn't think he really meant it. He shifted uncomfortably on the park bench and wondered how much longer this was going to take.

He looked to where Ellison and Blair were standing. They didn't even look like hey were doing anything! When they had first arrived, Blair had told Banks to sit on the bench and stay there. A little bemused, Banks nonetheless sat on the bench. Blair then went over to Ellison and talked with him for a few minutes, using a lot of wild hand gestures. Then Blair dragged Jim over to the pond, and they'd been there ever since, for four hours and fifteen minutes. They barely even moved; everything stayed exactly the same!

Banks moved his cigar to the other corner of his mouth and considered it. Okay, so it wasn't exactly the same. When they first arrived at the pond, Ellison would stare into space for a really long time, then Blair would talk quietly to him, maybe rub him on his back, and Ellison would snap out of it. But now, after four plus hours, Jim would stare blankly for just a brief moment, then he would jerk himself out of it, without Blair even touching him. Blair seemed very pleased by it all, but Banks couldn't see what the fuck the point was. Except maybe to bore him silly.

He sighed and slouched down on the bench. Another half hour passed, and Banks was getting ready to call it quits, duel with Brackett or not. He stood up and stalked over to the pond.

Blair looked up at his approach, smiling. "Hey! Is Jim great or what? He's, like, the fastest learner I've ever had!"

Banks growled, "Fastest at what? Standing around like a goddamned tree stump? Yeah, he picked that up real fast."

Blair stuck out his tongue. "No, fastest at getting out of a zone! He can do it on my heartbeat alone; I don't even need to touch him!"

"Zone? Heartbeat? What the hell are you talking about now?"

Jim reached out and put a hand on Blair's shoulder. "Look, can we sit down and talk about this? I've got a bitch of a headache."

"I'll stand, if you don't mind," Banks said snidely. "But you go ahead; sit down. I can see how standing around for five hours could wear a guy out!"

In a telling measure of how bad Jim's headache was, he just waved a hand at Banks and headed to the bench, Blair dancing around him, telling him to "dial it down".

Banks sighed and followed them back to the goddamned bench. Jim sat down and dropped his head into his hands, Blair next to him, rubbing gentle circles on his-back. Banks stood in front of the bench and glared down at them. "Now, look, you two: I have been more than patient with you, but I want some answers, and I want them now, all right?"

Blair nodded. Jim said "Whatever" and kept his head down. Banks took a step forward and pointed a finger at Blair. "First, are you really going to challenge Brackett to a duel?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm." Banks looked from Jim to Blair and back again. "Nothing personal, kid, but if you're really going to fight Brackett, don't you think Ellison here is a little better suited for it?"

Blair looked sheepish. "Well, it's kind of, kind of a Family thing."

"What?"

Jim raised his head. "They're brothers."

Banks looked startled. "Brothers? You're Brackett's brother?"

Blair nodded. "Yeah. Kind of embarrassing, isn't it?" He grinned happily.

Banks slowly shook his head. "Well, that makes even less sense. Why do you want to kill your own brother?"

"Mother always liked him best?" Blair offered.

Banks glared at Blair and raised a hand, staving off further comment. "Never mind! Let's say all that's true; let's say I believe all that. What I really want to know is what you were doing with Ellison all day, and how he fits into all this!"

Jim turned to look at Blair. "You know, I'd kind of like to know that, too."

Blair smiled and pulled his feet up into the lotus position. "Ah, Grasshopper, it is so simple. Coyote cheats."

Banks looked confused. "Coyote? Who the hell is Coyote?"

Jim sighed. "Blair calls Brackett 'Coyote'."

Banks turned to Blair. "Why?"

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Because he is Coyote."

Banks turned to Jim, eyes full of questions. Jim just shook his head. "Just go along with it, and don't try to understand it. That's what I do."

Blair hit Jim on the arm. "Bite me, Ellison!" He turned back to Banks. "That's just how it is."

Banks nodded slowly. "Okay, so Brack-Coyote is your brother. You're going to fight a duel with him. He'll cheat, and that's where Ellison comes in." Blair nodded happily, pleased with Banks' grasp of the situation. Banks pinched the bridge of his nose. "So, how is, uh, Coyote going to cheat? And how do you know he will cheat?"

Jim chimed in, "Yeah, what's he going to do?"

Blair stood up and began pacing around the bench. "Well, it's supposed to be a duel just between the two of us, but Coyote will cheat. I mean, he's Coyote, that's what he does. He thinks it's funny." Blair tilted his head and thought about it. "He'll get some of the Family to fight with him."

"There're more of you?" Banks asked, startled.

Blair laughed. "Dude, the planet is swarming with Family!"

Jim raised a finger. "Blair? How is Brackett going to get Family to fight with him? I mean, considering, well, you know---everything."

"Jim, Jim, Jim," Blair's tone was horribly disappointed. "He's Coyote. He'll trick them."

"Oh."

Blair rolled his eyes. "Yeah, 'oh'. They won't know why they're fighting, and they won't know it's a duel. Normally, Family would never interfere in a duel."

Banks raised a hand and interrupted. "Wait. Your family fight duels often enough that they have rules about it?"

Blair grinned. "Everybody's got to have a hobby." His grin grew even bigger at Banks' expression. "Look, it's like this: We'll duel, Coyote will cheat and bring in Family, I won't cheat and fight with extra Family, and Jim-"

Jim stood, understanding lighting up his face. "-and I'll keep the Family away from you two, so it stays just a plain due!!"

"Yes!" Blair jumped up on the bench and danced around. "By Jove, I think he's got it! Henry Higgins, you're a genius!"

Banks and Jim stood together and watched Blair dance. Banks turned to Jim. "And that's who you're following, Ellison? Against Brackett?"

Jim grinned. "Life's kind of strange, huh?"

"And you really think Brackett's going to go along with this? Duels and family and Coyotes and all this weird shit?"

Jim's face lost his smile. "I don't really know. But we can ask him." He pointed to the path leading to the duck pond. Brackett was walking towards them, whistling idly. Banks clenched his teeth so hard, he bit his cigar in half. "Well, fuck."

Blair stopped dancing and turned to see what Jim and Banks were looking at. He saw Brackett and muttered "Showtime!" under his breath. With a huge smile, he did a back flip off the bench, ending up in a huge, theatrical bow.

Brackett walked up the hill to the bench, clapping slowly and sarcastically. "Well done, little brother. Very stylish."

Blair took a step back and hopped onto the bench, sitting on it backwards. "I'm not really your little brother, you know."

"You're littler than me."

"Oh, well, if you're going to get personal..."

Brackett shrugged and turned to Jim, his expression turning hard and angry. "Is this something I should worry about, Jimmy? You here, with my brother and that," he paused to look contemptuously at Banks, "person?"

Jim crossed his arms. "Yes," he said simply.

Brackett raised an eyebrow. "My! And after all I've done for you, all the opportunities I've given you!" He shook his head and made a tsking sound. "It's so hard to find good help these days."

Jim refused to be intimidated. "Yeah, like the 'help' you gave me by the duck pond. Like the 'opportunity' you gave me to kill Tanamachi. It's so hard to imagine why I'm not more grateful, isn't it?"

Banks took a step forward. "Wait a minute! Kill Tanamachi? Goddamn it, Ellison, you never said anything about-" He broke off, startled, as Blair, Jim and Brackett all turned and yelled "Shut up!" in varying degrees of hostility. Then they all looked at each other, embarrassed.

Finally, Blair said sheepishly, "It's just that, well, that's not the most important thing right now, you know?"

Banks raised his hands to the sky. "God forbid that the police officer should be interested in crimes! Forgive me, I don't know what I was thinking! Go ahead, talk about your illegalities right in front of me, I'm not even here!" He slammed himself down on the bench and glared, arms crossed.

Brackett blinked, then turned to Jim, mouth twitching. '''Well, someone's quite the drama queen, hmm?"

Jim and Banks ignored Brackett, but Blair snorted. Loudly. They turned to glare at him, but Blair just shrugged. '''What? It was funny."

Brackett coughed. "Yes, I'm sure this is all very amusing, gentlemen, but what exactly is going on here?"

Blair hopped off the bench, walked over to Brackett and slapped him soundly in the face. Brackett raised a hand to rub the welt, stunned. Blair giggled madly. "Damn! I have always wanted to do that! That's so much fun!" He turned to Jim. "Why didn't you tell me how much fun that is?"

Jim looked confused. "Well, how would I know? It's not like I've slapped Brackett before!"

"Oh. Well, still."

Brackett stepped between them. "Look, kids, enough with the courtship rituals." He turned to Blair. "What the hell was that for?"

Blair tilted his head and regarded Brackett solemnly. "Son of the Mother, Blood of the Family, I challenge you.".

Brackett's eyes widened. "Really? You're challenging Me?"

Blair nodded.

"What are the terms?"

"If I win, you give up this trick you're playing, and you never, ever try to play it again."

"Ah, so you know about that, do you?"

''I'm Raven. I know everything."

Brackett rolled his eyes. "Of course you do. And if I win? What are the terms for that?"

"Well, that's kind of moot, isn't it? Considering. You know, destruction, void, negation of everything. Yadda yadda yadda."

"Oh, well, that!" Brackett waved a hand, airily dismissing the entire problem. "Suppose the destruction isn't as bad as you think it'll be. What do I get then?"

"Coyote. Trust me. It's going to be that bad."

"Just humor me."

"Fine, fine!" Blair sighed angrily. "If you win, and the world is not completely destroyed, Jim and I will come to work for you."

Jim looked up. "Hey, now! Leave me out of this!"

Blair waved a hand at Jim in a shushing motion. "Well, is that good enough? Do you accept the terms?"

Brackett crossed his arms and looked down at Blair. "Jimmy already works for me."

"I said Jim and I will come work for you."

"Ah." Brackett looked over at Jim. "So he's your student now, is he?" He turned back to Blair. "Tell me, Raven, don't you ever tire of the whole Obi Wan shtick?"

Blair shrugged. "What can I say? The Force is with me." He hardened his voice. "Do you accept the terms?"

Brackett laughed. "Why not? If nothing else, it's certain to be entertaining." He and Blair reached out and shook hands solemnly. Brackett laid his free hand over their clasped ones and said, "I accept the challenge and terms so stated. I, Coyote, Blood of the Family, Son of the Mother, swear it."

Blair smiled brilliantly. "Cool! When do you want to do it?"

"I've always said 'no time like the present'." Brackett took a step back and looked at Blair with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "How about now?" With no more warning than that, Brackett shook himself and shifted shape, his skin flowing off him like water. In seconds, his human form was gone. What remained was a large, golden-brown coyote, which threw itself, snarling, at Blair's throat.

Blair seemed to shimmer, and he too changed, his huge raven's form barely evading the coyote's jaws. With a harsh cry, it beat its wings and flew high into the sky, only to dive down a moment later, talons extended towards the coyote's eyes.

The coyote rolled, and the raven dove past, almost hitting the ground. The coyote pounced, clawing at the raven, catching the very tip of its wing. The raven cawed in pain and flew awkwardly away, a few feathers drifting to the ground. The coyote howled and leapt at the raven again and again, each time coming a little closer.

Over at the bench, Jim had dropped to his knees and was watching the fight with his mouth wide open, the color drained from his face. Behind him, Banks' eyes were wide and his fists were clenched so tight his nails were drawing blood.

Banks tried to speak, but his voice wouldn't obey him. Finally, he managed to choke out, "Ellison! Are you ... the coyote and the raven. Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"Oh, God, I hope so! Otherwise I'm going crazy."

"Jesus." They watched the fight in silence for a minute. "Ellison? You can call me Simon."

Jim turned his head. "What?"

"You share an experience like this with a guy, you ought to call him by his first name."

Jim nodded. "Call me Jim." He turned back to the fight and saw the raven swoop in and grab a hunk of the coyote's ear with its talons. He shook his head. "Damn. I never thought he meant it literally."

Simon frowned. "Meant what literally?"

"Blair kept saying he was Raven, but I didn't really think he was a raven, you know?"

"Well, nobody would, would they? I mean, that's just crazy!"

"That's what I thought! But, I mean, you know ... " Jim gestured to the scene in front of them.

"Ah. Well. I see what you mean." Simon jammed his cigar into the corner of his mouth. "Still crazy, though."

Jim nodded, distracted. The raven was sitting on a tree limb, cawing disdainfully at the coyote, who was stalking around the base of the tree, snarling. Suddenly, the coyote used its powerful back legs to spring high into the air, its front claws catching the raven's wing and knocking it from the tree. The raven barely managed to keep ahead of the coyote, dragging its wing painfully behind.

Jim stood up, his heart in his throat. "Oh, God, Blair!" he yelled, as the coyote caught the injured bird and pinned it to the ground with one huge paw. But the raven's body shimmered, and the coyote was faced with an angry, silver-gray wolf. It bared its fangs and lunged for the coyote's throat, drawing blood.

The two animals rolled each other in the dirt, biting and clawing and growling. Jim took a step forward, but Simon stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Ellison? Jim? Weren't you supposed to be doing something? Brackett was supposed to be cheating somehow, right?"

Jim blinked. He'd completely forgotten about that. He looked around the park, but didn't see anything unusual. Well, except for the two people turned into animals, fighting to the death. Jim rolled his eyes; what a fucked-up mess his life had become.

Jim shook his head in frustration. "This is ridiculous! How am I supposed to tell if Brackett's cheating?"

Simon put his hands in his pockets. "What was that weird shit you were doing by the pond? I thought that had something to do with it."

Oh, yeah! His senses! Jim closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and concentrated on stretching out his hearing. He immediately focused in on Blair's heartbeat, still familiar, though in an unfamiliar form. Grounded, Jim stretched his hearing even further, sending it throughout the park. He heard Simon and Brackett, wind on the grass, leaves rubbing against branches, feathers drifting through the air, everything. He could hear absolutely everything, and around it all, mixed throughout everything, the steady thrumming of Blair's heartbeat.

There! Two strange heartbeats, getting closer! Jim opened his eyes and looked at the hill where he had heard the heartbeats, but he didn't see anything. He focused his sight; was that movement by the tree? It was, but when Jim looked even closer he saw it was just two squirrels.

Jim sighed in frustration. This was useless! Slowly Jim turned his head and looked suspiciously back at the squirrels, which were a little closer. 'Oh, come on, Jim!' he thought. 'They're just fucking squirrels!' He turned again to watch Brackett and Blair, fighting as wolf and coyote.

Jim tapped Simon on the arm. "Give me your gun."

Simon narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Never mind why! Just give me the fucking thing!"

Simon glared at Jim for a moment, then passed Jim his gun. Jim looked down the sight, cocked it, and took aim at the squirrels. Just in case, he didn't try for a killing shot, choosing instead to aim for the base of their tails. He narrowed his sight until those tails were the only things that filled his vision, and pulled the trigger twice.

Suddenly the squirrels were gone, and in their place were two slender men, rolling on the ground in pain, clutching their asses. Startled to have actually been right. Jim dropped the gun. Behind him, Simon's mouth fell open and his cigar fell unnoticed to the ground.

Simon sat down heavily on the bench and covered iris face with his hands. ''I'm getting too old for this shit!"

"Like I'm all that much younger!"

Simon looked up and glared at Jim. "Yeah, but you were weirder to begin with."

Jim hopped up on the bench as the coyote and wolf tumbled past, still biting and clawing, fur matted with blood. With a burst of strength, the coyote pushed the wolf with its hind legs, sending the wolf rolling down the hill towards the pond. The coyote howled in triumph, and shifted back into Brackett.

Disheveled and bleeding, Brackett limped over to Jim and said, "Hey, Jimmy, check this out!" He threw a handful of sparkling dust into Jim's face. While Jim stood dazed and transfixed, lost among the glitter, Brackett leaned over and punched Simon full in the face, stunning him.

With a smile, Brackett bent down, picked up Simon's gun, and jogged down the hill, to where the wolf was slowly struggling out of the water. Jim could feel himself slipping away, traveling among the little darts of light. In the back of his mind, he knew there was something wrong, something he should be .. .listening for? With a desperate, convulsive effort, he focused in on Blair's heartbeat, and pulled himself out of the zone.

Blinking, a little dazed, Jim looked around wildly, searching for Blair. There! Blair had shifted back into human form and was on his hands and knees by the edge of the pond, shaking violently. Simon had recovered a bit and was fighting with Brackett, struggling for possession of the gun. But Simon was still a little dazed, and Jim could see he was losing.

Jim ran down the hill towards Blair. Brackett raised the gun and hit Simon viciously in the head, knocking him to the ground. He smiled and pointed the gun at Blair. "I win, little brother," he said, and pulled the trigger.

"NOOOOO!" Jim screamed, as he dove the last few feet towards Blair. The bullet struck him high in the chest, knocking him backward into Blair. Jim lay on the ground, blinking at the blue sky, blood pooling around him. He coughed wetly.

With an inarticulate cry of rage, Blair shifted into his raven form and flew directly at Brackett's head, talons extended. Bracket took a step backwards and fell over Simon, who was still lying unconscious on the ground. The raven clawed him across the face, ripping into his eyes. Blinded, Brackett flailed vainly at the raven, who easily avoided Brackett's grasp and dove in once more to rip out Brackett's throat, killing him instantly.

Jim lay on the ground, struggling for breath. He'd heard the screaming which had suddenly and horribly gone quiet; he just wished to God he could lift his fucking head and see what was happening. Blair was kneeling beside him, his hands pushing hard against Jim's wound.

Blair laughed, but his eyes were wet with tears. "That was fucking stupid, man!"

"Stupid?" Jim coughed, spraying blood. "What was stupid ... was letting me ... ground myself. .. to your heartbeat. What did you think ... was going to ... happen to me ... if you lost?"

Blair's eyes widened almost comically. "Oops."

"Oops? ... That's it? ... Oops?"

"Well, I can't think of everything you know." Blair tilted his head and looked at Jim, blushing slightly. "Now don't take this personally, okay?" He wrinkled his nose. "Unless, of course, you want to."

"What the hell-umph!" Jim stopped talking as his mouth was filled by Blair's tongue. Blair was kissing him, tasting him, deeply and completely. Jim's eyes fluttered shut, his entire body suffused with pleasure, an electric pulse pouring out through Blair, concentrating in a pool of warmth in. his chest, making him feel contented and complete, satisfied and whole.

An ageless moment later, Blair ended the kiss, his hand rubbing gentle circles on Jim's chest. Jim smiled tenderly and then blinked. He realized he was breathing easily. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down. He was still wounded, still bleeding, but the wound was a lot smaller, the blood already beginning to clot. Jim turned awe-filled eyes to Blair. "You did that?"

Blair shook his head. "No, man. We did that." He sat up and looked down at Jim, waggling his eyebrows. "Did I ever tell you about Richard Burton, the explorer, not the actor?"

Jim dropped his head back to the ground and laughed until tears ran from his eyes. In the distance, he could hear the wail of an ambulance siren, getting louder as it approached the park. All in all, he guessed it hadn't really been that bad of a day.

Epilogue
Jim sighed irritably and pushed the tray full of mashed potatoes away. "Goddamned hospital food isn't even real food," he grumbled.

In the bed next to Jim's, Simon also sighed. "Would you shut up already about the stupid food? Are you always this pissy when you're injured? Because I swear, broken ribs or not, one more word out of you and I'm coming over there!"

Jim glared. "Oh, yeah, and you've just been a joy of a roommate these last two days! It's been like bunking with Hitler's more annoying cousin!"

Simon blinked twice. "That doesn't even make sense!"

"Well, well, fine!" Jim fumbled for a witty reply, and then just gave up. "Just shut up, why don't you?"

"Fine!"

"Great!"

Both men crossed their arms and ignored each other, staring out the window of their hospital room. As they watched, a black speck appeared at the horizon, moving quickly, getting closer and larger. Soon they were able to see that the speck was a large raven, flying directly towards their window. At the last moment, just before it hit the glass, the raven shimmered and changed into Blair.

Blair hit the window full-force, rattling the glass in the frame. With an astonished look on his face, he slowly slid down the glass and disappeared from view.

Simon sighed once more. "Why does he keep doing that? I hate it when he does that!"

Jim nodded. "Me, too. I think that's why he does it."

"Why?"

"Because we hate it."

"Ah. Well, isn't that just Blair in a nutshell?"

"Yup."

They were silent for a moment, then Simon said, "Good thing we're only on the second floor."

Jim just nodded again.

The door to their room burst open and Blair came running in. "Hello, hello! I've got presents!" He threw a bag of honey-roasted peanuts at Jim, and a bag of cocktail peanuts at Simon. They looked at their peanuts, then at each other. Without speaking, they traded bags.

Blair rolled his eyes. "A peanut's a peanut, guys." He hopped up into the only chair and squatted, staring happily at Jim and Simon. "So, you two are getting out tomorrow. Happy?"

"YES!" they shouted in unison. Then they glared at each other.

Blair rubbed his hands together. "Jim, man, when's the best time for me to move in?"

"What?" Jim was startled. "Oh, no, no, no! You are not moving in with me!"

"Oh, come on, Jim!"

"No! What's wrong with your tree?"

"Tree?" Simon asked, obviously curious.

Jim waved a hand at him. "And besides, I couldn't possibly afford the sugar!"

Blair rolled his eyes. "Jeez, Jim, I can buy my own sugar, you know! I can afford it. Especially since I'm employed and all" He buffed his fingernails across his shirt and blew on them, looking smug.

"Employed? You?" Jim sounded extremely skeptical. "Employed as what? A hyperactive clown?"

"Oh, ha ha, funny man! I'll have you know you are looking at Blair Sandburg, anthropology PhD candidate and teaching fellow at Rainier University."

Jim and Simon just stared at Blair, nonplussed.

Finally, Simon asked the question that was in both their minds. "Why Sandburg?"

Blair grinned. "I liked the initials."

Simon threw up his hands and then winced, grabbing his ribs. Jim looked confused. "But, I mean, why did you get a job? And why anthropology? And, and, why?"

"I told you, Jim, it's going to take years of study before you'll be able to control your senses on your own. So we're going be spending a lot of time together. That's why I need to move in with you, and that's why I got a job."

Jim turned to Simon. "Now, see, that's the part I just don't get." Simon shrugged.

Blair sighed. "Well, we needed an explanation for why I'm living with you, didn't we?" He winked. "Unless you want to tell everyone I'm your rent boy, or something."

Simon choked and coughed, sending a peanut flying across the room. Blair watched its progress with interest, and made a goal gesture when it hit the back wall. Simon crossed his arms.

Blair grinned and continued with his explanation. "So, I picked anthropology because I could write a dissertation on closed societies, and what's a more closed society than the police department, and that's why I'm hanging out with Jim!"

Both Jim and Simon stared at Blair for a long moment. Then Simon said gently, "Yeah, but you see, I'm the cop. Jim's a criminal."

Blair snorted. "Yeah, right! And I'm a three-toed sloth!" He looked for a moment at their startled expressions and sighed. ''I'm not, okay? That was sarcasm."

Jim waved a hand. "Whatever. The point is, Simon's right. I am a criminal."

Blair bounced off the chair and started pacing. "Yeah, but you don't have to stay one, do you?" He turned to Simon. "Look, you could just say he's been undercover or something, right? Think about it! With his senses, he'd be a walking organic crime lab! You'd get results back in seconds, not days. He'd be a monster, man!"

Simon looked tempted, but then he shook his head. "It wouldn't work. He's never been to the Academy, none of the other officers would know him- it just wouldn't work."

Blair waved away the objections. "Don't worry about it! You could say he transferred in from another city. especially for the undercover assignment. And I've got a friend in the CIA who can get you all the paperwork and back cover you need!" He grinned. "If it wouldn't seem too unbelievable, we could even make Jim graduate at the top of his class!"

Jim flipped him off, but Blair just laughed. He turned back to Simon. "What do you say? He'd be really, really useful. And I'd help, too! You have no idea how much crime in Cascade is really Family-based."

Simon blanched. "Thank you very much for that happy thought!" He turned to Jim with a serious expression. "It's really up to you, Ellison. What do you think? I have to agree with the kid; I think you'd make a fine addition to the department. But it's up to you. Do you think you've got what it takes?"

Jim sat lost in thought, a little stunned. He couldn't believe that Simon was willing to give someone like him a second chance, a chance to make up for all of the mistakes he had made in his life. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He wasn't going to fuck this up. Jim took a deep breath and looked at Simon, resolve clear on his face. "I think I do, sir. Just give me a chance, and I'll prove it to you."

Blair clapped his hands. "Yay! Jim's a cop; I'm a teacher; Simon's our boss; and all's right with the world! Yay, yay yay!" He danced around in a circle, singing happily.

Simon and Jim looked at each other. Simon smiled wryly. "I think I might have made a big mistake."

Jim shrugged, smiling as well. "At least he won't be living with you." He looked over to Blair and yelled, "One week, okay, Chief? You can stay with me for one week."

Blair smiled, a huge, brilliant smile that lit up his whole face. "Sure, man, no problem. One week, and then I'm out of there!"

End Raven by blankety: [email protected]
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