James Ellison and Blair Sandburg don't belong to me. This story contains original ideas that I do think are mine, and several characters I exercise differing amounts of control over. Tracy MacKinacmakan graciously consents to cameo in this work, and reference is made to certain young Frasers who don't belong to Alliance. No Mounties were injured or defamed in the writing of this work. Any other copyrighted or trademarked products appear through cultural mandate. Thanks, PTB. Thanks also to Charly!

This may include content and/or situations you, your parents, your government or your next-door neighbor find contrary to various beliefs. If that affects you, use discretion and depart. Rated PG. Mildly strong language, little to no violence, no non-consensual or promiscuous contact. Contains family structures not consisting solely of a mother, a father and their biological 2.3 children. Includes faithful couples of twenty-five years. Does not promote a single religion/philosophy or economic system. Comments are appreciated.

Connections

They were waiting. They had been waiting for some time, waiting to meet their fathers. Exactly what that meant, 'their fathers', they weren't sure. That was ultimately what they were waiting for, now that the men were about to arrive.

B.B. glanced around the room. His little sister looked like a ref, in polo shirt and shorts, dressed-up for the occasion. She was a study of chromatic control, from her cropped caramel hair and hazel eyes to the beige of the shirt and tan of the shorts. His other sister had abandoned her usual overalls and scarf. *Guess we're all posing.* He was wearing only one of his earrings, and that hoop was small and centered through his lobe.

His brother was another story. *Always is.* He was his usual colorful self, sitting on the table like a coiled jack-in-the-box.

They all noticed the sounds at the door. Then they were staring at the two men, one half a foot shorter than the other. The taller of the two was bald and powerfully built even for a man of lesser years. The shorter, bespectacled man had long silver-grey hair pulled back and held by a clip, displaying several earrings in the left ear. A brightly patterned tie completed the formal look.

Jim quickly took in the bland seminar room, with wire chairs and plastic-topped tables that could have been as easily at Rainier as here in Chicago. Three of the kids stood, while the fourth sat cross-legged on a table. He regarded first the two he had thought of as the twins. Both were slightly taller than Sandburg, with dark shoulder-length hair. The girl was more fairly complexioned with blue eyes, while the brother was still faintly freckled under aqua-green eyes. The other girl was taller, tanned and clearly athletic. *Her hair's not much longer than mine. When I had hair.* The perched boy, gazed back with an inscrutable expression, made more so by his fiercely green eyes. It made him look much older than the riot of red curls and small frame suggested.

"Um, this is B.B." The dark haired girl gestured to her freckled counterpart. Next she directed attention to her sister. "B.J. and Jay. Oh, and I'm J.B."

"Don't call me that." Unfolding himself, he hopped down. Making it apparent he was several inches shorter than Blair. "It's J.J."

"Not like you use that either." B.J. glanced at her brother. "Guess he isn't going to share."

"You all go by initials? Um, he's Jim and I'm Blair." *How many 'is it a girl or a boy' cracks have the older two heard?* While B.B. was built more solidly, J.B. could nearly double for him.

There was a chorus of 'hi' and 'hello', and some of the tension passed.

"Except for John Jason." J.B. nodded towards her little brother.

"Thanks, Joey."

"This isn't best foot forward." *Great, first words out of my mouth are an order.* The mumble of 'yes, sir's didn't help.

"Let me guess. Kids thought your names were strange at- four?" Blair could sympathize.

"Trust me, I don't want to hear how cute Berkeley is." B.B.s dark curls shook.

"Berkeley?" Why did that call a young Naomi to mind?

"You were named after someone." Blair shook out his memory of the one Berkeley he'd known. Well, dated briefly... she was a little older... Found out her mother knew Naomi and that was a little too close for him.

"Yeah." *Finally.* Too many adults considered his conception an open subject for speculation. "It's Berkeley Burton." He'd been named after a great-grandfather of each of his moms.

"Burton?!" Blair looked over to Jim, who clearly was trying not to laugh. "It's just, well, Richard Burton..."

"The explorer, not the actor." Considering the look Blair flashed him, Jim knew he'd pay for the interjection.

"You researched him a lot." J.J. hopped back to his perch, tucking his feet under as he lifted up.

"How did you..." Blair looked inquisitively at the young man.

"He knows all, sees all." *Show off.* Actually, B.B. was jealous of his brother. Despite of, and maybe because of, all the trouble he got into. *And back out of.*

"You're an anthropologist?" J.B. looked at the shorter of the two men. All their moms said they knew was that their fathers had very dangerous lives, and they were in law enforcement. *Curiouser and curiouser.*

"That's what he tells me." *I am really in trouble.*

"Yes, I'm an anthropologist." *James, what has gotten into you?*

"And he's a cop." J.B. thought that was a safe assumption. She started to futz with a hammer-loop only to realize that, of course, she didn't have one.

"Used to." Blair gave Jim a one-cornered smile. "They keep bumping him up."

"How did it go?" Tracy had figured a few hours was enough time for virtual strangers.

"I guess well." It was still a blur for Blair. "Jim?"

"I think they like you." He was less sure of what they thought of him. Other than talking sports with B.J. he hadn't said much. "Is she really trying to get on the boy's wrestling team?"

"What?" Blair had not heard that.

"She plays football already."

"With boys?" *Wrestling?*

"Congratulations. You have a worried papa." Tracy turned to Jim.

"Is she any good?"

*Cutting to the important part.* Tracy just smiled at Jim and turned back to Blair. "They wear a lot more padding than rugby players. Other than Bernie, they are all a bunch of sissies."

"Bernie?" *I have a daughter named Bernie?* Who plays football, and wants to join the wrestling team?

*Tracy slipped up.* Jim could hear the older professor's heartrate go up. He suspected 'Bernie' was a nickname you had to earn the right to use. *What is it short for?* "So, J.B. does industrial art?"

"Yes. Blair, didn't you do some welding?"

"Cutting. Wrestling?"

*Definitely a worried papa.* "He isn't going to let that go?"

"Short-circuit probably. Darwin, you okay?" Admittedly, Jim wasn't too sure about co-ed wrestling. *School board will be hard to sell.* With only a few years left there wasn't much chance of it.

"Sure." He waved Jim off. "What style? Of art."

"Neo-Deco, Social Romantic, post-Grunge Utopian."

"Formalist?" Blair was really going to have to pay more attention to current art.

"It's not rusted coffee cups, or Cherry on Spoon."

"Was that yes or no?" Jim didn't know much about talking art, just what was good. And what he didn't like.

"Basically yes. Representational Abstraction."

"What about the boys?" B.B. hadn't talked much, and Blair thought J.J. hadn't said much more.

"B.B. writes."

"He actually say that?" Tracy was impressed.

"Jim?"

"Doesn't he?"

"So you just detectived it out." *That shield is no Cracker Jack prize.* "He writes, but doesn't let many people know it." *Fewer get to read it and know the author.*

"And J.J.?" Besides being incredibly intelligent and quick-witted, he was still a mystery to Jim.

"What doesn't he? Science, history, music. Used to dance."

"Used to?"

"Irish step. He's kind of boycotting."

"Because of his height." With the red hair, it wasn't hard for Blair to imagine the kinds of 'witticisms' people might come up with.

"Last performance was his bar mitzvah. Still practices though."

"Bar mitzvah?" *Surreal.*

"One mom's Jewish and the other is Buddhist." *And people always assume backwards.* Admittedly, there still weren't many six-foot tall blond Buddhists.

"I think they're cute." J.B. saw that her siblings weren't getting it. "Come on, obviously they were trying not to embarrass us, but they kept reassuring each other." *Bet they didn't even notice.*

"I thought they were just nervous." B.B. did a little shoulder roll. It wasn't like Moms didn't kiss and stuff around them.

"Jaz, you're awfully quiet." B.J. wondered why her brother hadn't warmed to Blair.

"He was hoping to get taller." *Like he wasn't already shaving.*

"I guess they're okay."

"John Jason, do I have to e-mail Robin?"

"You don't have his addy." *She wouldn't.* J.B. gave the patented 'Big Sister grin'. *She does, and she would.*

*I only fight dirty because I love you.* "What don't you like about Blair?" *You seemed pretty keen on Tracy being your pop.* J.B. wasn't sure what the difference was between the two anthropologists, that explained her little brother's lukewarm reception.

"Jaz, since when do you listen to those idiots?" B.B. knew they got in his brother's face more. *'Cause he always rises to the bait.* Never mind that he trounced them soundly. That was the problem of fighting a battle of wits with unarmed opponents. *They still think Gay Jay is the height of rhetoric.* It never occurred to him that any of it had stuck. *And now you have someone to pin it on.* That looks like him.

"Maybe I'll write Robert." Everybody looked at B.J. "You're being stupid, Jay. Do I have to tell him you're mooning over Rachelle?"

J.J. smiled wanly at the stares of his older brother and sister.

"Got his sight on height." *Seniors don't notice sophomores.*

"And a death wish." *You don't pursue your friend's little sister.*

"B.J.?" Jim was surprised by the visitor. For convenience, he and Blair were staying at the Fraser household. Today she was in athletic shorts, and a slightly stretched out tee, both in mustard.

She had suspected Tracy knew their fathers after recalling the tie. It was rather similar to a chef's apron they had given to 'mommie and mama'. Which after thirteen year of hard use still looked remarkably good. "Is..." B.J. looked around.

"No, Blair isn't." They still hadn't figured out what they were supposed to be called. He wondered at her relaxing.

"I wanted to talk to you about Jaz. J.J."

"But not to Blair."

"They need to talk. Actually, Squirt needs a vowel." *Right.* There'd be little reason for him to be up on slang, especially Chi-edition. "Vanna?"

"Jaz? He has a problem with Blair?" *Is that show still on?*

"He's got a problem all right. The vacuum between his ears." B.J. noted the look she was getting. "He's smarter than this. I think he saved up his dumb points."

"He hates me." Blair had gone over to Tracy's office and ran into J.J. on the way. He'd thought that was a good thing. *Man, was I wrong.* Right now, all he wanted to do was curl up and disappear.

"Blair... What's wrong?"

"Nuthing."

*Damn it, Blair.* "Who hates you?" Somehow, Jim didn't think it was the librarian. *Not when you sound like you believe you deserve it.*

"Jaz. What kind of name is that?" Blair slumped into Jim's touch.

Jim wanted to make a fogy crack. "He doesn't hate you." *Who could?*

"Does too." He should have put two and two together when Tracy softshoed around teasing. *Only after I've really stepped in it, does it strike me.* No, he had to laugh at something sent in cruelty. *Context. It's all context.*

"Blair. Chief." *I'm the one who zones.* Finally, he was acknowledged. "What happened?"

"Remember that single Tracy gave Ray? That he figured would get passed on to Frannie? Girl-group style?"

"Oh, g-d." Eventually, Jim had gotten the joke. Sometime after they had both been rescued from the young woman. And learned she had hit on both Ben and Tracy before finding out they were together already. *Explains why he doesn't go by John.* "Go on." *Where would kids stumble on Johnny, Are You Queer?*

"A word with you." Jim noticed John Jason start at his voice. *Good.* The tight red curls shook in sympathy with the kid's earlier movement. "You have a problem with Blair and me?"

"No." *Great. He even needs me handled by Big Jim.*

Jim pushed away his immediate reaction to the dismissive response . *I am not my father.* "So you just have a problem with Blair?" The observation startled the boy. "Why?" The kid looked back not answering.

"So you think he's all the things people throw at you? But you don't think they apply to me." *Didn't think of it that way.* "Son, Blair is a lot of things. A coward is not among them."

"That's why you are talking to me."

*Sparky...* The kid really had an attitude. Even with the foot difference in height, Jaz was defiant. *He doesn't fear me.* Jim tucked that part away in his psyche for later. "You really hurt him. That's why I'm here." He paused to let the boy weigh the statement.

"He didn't send you?"

"Am I picking up groceries?" *Or research material, lunch...* "Why do you assume he's a coward and I'm not?" He stopped Jaz before he could speak. "Because I am. It was much easier being a cop and before that a soldier, than to let anyone too close. Including my wife."

"Wife?" *Turning into a talk show.* He smiled weakly to excuse the interruption.

"Less than two years from dating through marriage and divorce. A toaster was better company than me most of the time." Jim continued. "When I tried denying my feelings for Blair, he was the one with the courage to not let me give up."

"And that makes you a coward and him not."

Jim was quickly becoming frustrated. *Would you have gotten the lesson at thirty, Jimmy?* Acknowledging that even at forty he hadn't fully learned it, he switched tactics.

"The day he got his observer credentials, the station was taken over by a militia group. He ended up taking out two hostiles before being captured. It nearly got him killed until he convinced the leader he was a valuable hostage. Instead he was hustled into a helicopter to dispose of later. Even after that, he didn't turn in his I.D. Once they were made up." Jim noted the wide green eyes at the account.

"Where were you?"

"Originally, at lunch. At the end, handcuffed to the helicopter skid."

"Did that sort of thing happen a lot?"

"More than I'd like to admit."

"J.B.?" Blair looked around the studio she had a little space in. *Wonder what, if any, of this stuff is her's?*

"Oh, hi!" She waved to him, stepping from behind some unfinished pieces. "Braving the wilds?"

"Supposed to be what I do." He took in what his daughter was wearing. Overalls with a stamped tee, and a shibori-dyed denim shirt over it. A scarf tied under her dark hair and around the back finished it off. "Think you could show me around?"

"Hummm. Sure." Tidying up her work table, she led him to the cat walk. "Jaz will come around."

Blair made a noncommittal sound.

"I'm the big sister. I have my ways." She stared at him when he didn't respond. "You really are in the dark about this, aren't you?" At first his body language tried to deny it, but then she saw his acknowledgement of the statement.

"I don't have any siblings." *That I know of.*

"That wasn't what I meant." J.B. directed them both back to the art. The pieces ranged in size from larger than a bread box to smaller than a grand piano.

Blair looked over the collection of pieces, clearly up here in storage and not under display conditions. "That's the Social Romantic?" It was the only figurative piece, and while it had certain similarities with works of the 1930's, the face was more individual, more expressive.

*So you know Tracy?* "You didn't come here to talk art."

"I am interested."

"Didn't say you weren't."

"So, what makes you tick?" Blair noticed the wry smile that bloomed. "You're right, I am in the dark." An idea struck him and he dug for his wallet. He pulled out a picture. "It really seems like it was just the other day this was you."

J.B. looked at the photo. In this version she was holding Jaz. *I've been two for the past fifteen years?* "How long have you been carrying this?"

"That copy, maybe five years." He caught the raised eyebrow. "I've been a regular Danger Daphne." Even Jim becoming Captain hadn't kept him, and therefore Blair, completely out of the field.

"What does Fred have to say about that?" J.B. watched as Blair crumbled into laughter. Then she followed.

Blair struggled to catch his breath. It took awhile. *I think Space Ghost would be closer.* "Does that bother you?"

"Only if you've been accosting people with it."

Blair leaned into a wall. "No." *How could I? I never even told Naomi.*

"Ten spot for your thoughts." Jim carded the ends of Blair's grey locks, as they lay in the quiet of the basement guest room. *How much soundproofing did they use?* Blair looked over confusedly.

"That's a penny, Jim."

"Inflation. Besides, we are talking about yours." He jostled at Blair to get the man to talk.

"She drives a hearse. A hearse. A bright yellow hearse."

"Engine should be in excellent condition." Blair stared back at him, though the room was too dark for anything but a sentinel's sight. *And a very visible color.*

"It's a hearse."

"And?"

"She is driving a car that used to haul dead people, a car with a lot of room in the back, doesn't that bother you?"

"I am not even going to ask you to think about what you just said. Don't you think maybe she has to haul stuff?" *Like, sculpture?* "It's not as if she'd wreck its suspension."

"It's a hearse."

"Blair. I did hear you."

"Jim. I mean, she drives a hearse, B.J. plays football, Jaz hates me and well, I guess B.B. hasn't said enough for me to figure out what is going on with him."

*Jaz doesn't hate you.* If anything, the kid was going to over-idolize Blair for awhile. Jim hoped he had made it clear that Blair didn't go out looking for trouble. *Much.* Barring the rather obvious exception of the Dr. McKay masquerade. And that it was keeping his wits about him that saw him through. "Chief, this isn't a good side of you. Next thing you know, you'll be telling them to turn down their jungle music."

Blair turned on the nightstand lamp and shoved on his glasses. Not facing Jim, he didn't notice the larger man shielding his eyes with a hand. "You aren't taking this seriously."

His eyes adjusted, Jim reached out. "Does the car burn oil? Have bald tires, worn brakes or rusted-out floor boards?" He felt Blair shake a negative. "I like it already. You haven't even seen B.J. play." Jim had gotten a highlight 'tape' out of Tracy. B.J. might be smaller than some of the guys, but she was faster and more agile. "So what is this really about?" Jim pulled Blair closer.

"I really don't have a place in all this." *They're their moms' kids.*

*Blair.* "We're just getting to know them. They are just getting to know us. Other than the hearse, how did things go with J.B.?"

"I just don't know. I mean, we laughed some, talked a little. Jim..." Blair tipped his head up as he leaned in closer.

"They wanted to meet us. Maybe we don't know what they are looking for, but they are looking. I think they get to 'define the paradigm'."

Blair glanced over warily. His eyes flashed a big 'What?'

"Let them figure out where we fit." *Yes, Darwin, I picked up one or two words.* "Okay, Blair?"

"Okay." Blair got a wicked gleam. "Say, for Halloween, would you dress up as Space Ghost?"

"So, do Joey and Bernie flip for e-mailing Robert?" B.B. wondered how long Jaz had been folded up reading.

"How many tries?" Jaz put in a bookmark and slid down from his perch. "It's okay. Well, after I apologize. Why is that their answer?"

"It works, doesn't it?" B.B. caught Jaz's smile at that and joined him. "Now what is this about Rachelle?"

"Um. Can I come in?" Jaz hadn't exactly figured out what he was going to say. *Total blank.*

Blair briefly wondered what new knife twist J.J. had planned. "Sure." He watched as the kid homed straight for the living room.

"I was really stupid, and I'm sorry for what I said." Deflated, he continued. "Boy, that's lame." *I should have waited.* "I guess I should leave." He turned to go.

It took Blair a moment to catch-up with the conversation flow. "Hold up there a moment." He pointed Jaz further into the room. "Look, I messed up too. It's just... Well, that song means something entirely different to me."

"You really think it's funny?"

"Just the expression on Jim's face..." Jim had been real skittish, even though they'd been together for three years. *Without anyone knowing.* "Yeah, I do."

Jaz looked around. "Insider versus outsider humor?" He started handling objects from the 'mantle', absently returning them to their places before moving to the next.

"Something like that. Partly it's the dissidence of the style with the content. And some stuff you'd just have to have been there." Blair fumbled for some way to continue. "Why Jaz?"

"It just sort of stuck." *You aren't buying that.* "Kids kept twisting everything else around. It can pass as a short form of Jason."

"You like it, and you scammed the teachers into using it."

Jaz smiled. *Guilty.* "What made you study a detective?"

Blair opened his eyes wide. "Closed societies..."

"Generally don't entail that much danger to the anthropologist."

Blair spluttered.

Jim stopped into the cafe intent on a meal of cholesterol and caffeine that Blair would balk at more than it was worth. *Glad I'm the one with Sentinel senses.* Otherwise he'd never escape Blair's scrutiny. Usually he took the concern in good stride. *Sometimes I just want fried food.* Taking a look at the menu board and giving his order, he slid into a booth.

About the only real way the place differed from the diners and dives he knew as a younger man was the thankful absence of cigarette smoke. That and the purposeful mishmash of decor. Red topped chrome tables warred with mint green and pink, bentwood chairs were scattered among car backseats. He was busy slapping ketchup onto his fries when he noticed B.B. across the room sitting low in an orange chair.

*How many earrings?* The metal glinted from beneath the dark curls. Jim sat the bottle down before the fries were completely buried. Turning back to his meal, he pondered whether to wave the young man over. Several moments later he heard the click of a heel, and looked up.

"Can I?" B.B. gestured to the other side of the booth. At Jim's nod, he sat down. Tossing his jacket into the corner, he leaned back, apparently studying the other man eat.

Jim was making his own observations. Vee-collar tee and blue jeans. *Would have been rebellious when I was born.* Now it was incredibly retro. Boots rather than tennis shoes. Long hair, generally seen only on nearly forty-somethings or older. *And half a dozen earrings.*

"Do you want to order something?" *That the best you can do, Jimmy?* The kid started to wave off but then went ahead. It was all in cook code. "You hang out here a lot?"

"A little." The wry smile, while small, was genuine. "You on furlough?" He pointed at the fast work Jim had so far made of his meal.

"Oh." Jim wiped at his mouth with a napkin. "I have an in-house food fascist."

"But at least the meals come on time?"

Jim smiled. "He is the better cook. As hard as that was to believe." Jim picked at his food. "You know, Blair almost took his earrings out before we met with you."

B.B. put his hand up to his left ear. "Guess I'm busted." At that moment his shake showed up, with the metal tumbler.

Jim tried to identify the flavor of the sweet black sludge. "What is that?"

"Licorice malt. With a little mint." He worked at some of the clumps of the bottom. "So how did you two get together?"

Jim just managed to not choke on his food, or spit it across the table. He waved off a concerned B.B. as he first clutched a napkin to his mouth and then took a drink of his ice water. "What?"

"It's okay. Verboten, I can handle that." He looked over towards the counter wondering what was taking so long with the rest of his order.

"It's not that." Jim wiped at his mouth some more and sipped at his water. "Just a strange question." *Maybe not.* "At first, I was just a research subject." *Right.* "Eventually we became a pretty good team." *Eventually. More like damn quickly.* "It was about two years later things started to change." B.B. just nodded at him. "I started falling for him. And it really p... ticked me off."

B.B. watched the other man dig back into his food. "Because you were losing control or because he was a man?"

Jim paused. "Both." He consolidated his remaining food. "There I was, late thirties noticing my very male roommate."

"Roommates?"

"His apartment had gotten blown up and I got used to someone else cooking." B.B. bobbed a bit. "And I think he is a designated target. Elevator rigged with explosives, he'd pick it." Jim paused, hearing the waitress coming over. *What is that smell?*

B.B. snagged the more precariously balanced dishes. He nodded at Jim. "Hope this isn't too strong." He bit into something batter coated.

Jim's eyes were watering. "What are those?"

"Ricotta and garlic filled peppers tempura." Among the dishes were nacho potatoes, gyros and onion rings. "How long were you just roommates?"

"Nearly two years." *Didn't take long for him to get thoroughly into my life.* "I thought I was losing my mind." *Again.*

"And?"

"He kept pressing at me-- it was affecting the job. Then, he used guilt."

"He's Jewish? Or Irish." *Faux pas.* "Just that guilt on ..."

"Both." He searched for the right words. "He simply made it impossible for me not to love him." *Even more so.* "I've been making up for even trying to ever since."

"Sounds like hard duty." Swirling a piece of gyro with the cucumber sauce, B.B. popped that and then a piece of potato into his mouth. "And then moms' letter comes into the picture."

"Several years later." He watched a little in awe as B.B. ate from all of the plates, washing everything down with the licorice shake. "Doesn't it get confusing calling them the same thing?"

"Not really. We can generally figure it out from context. Otherwise we fall back to their old names." He found the olive and chewed it from the pit. "Mommie and mama is a bit much the rest of the time."

Jim laughed in sympathy. "How is it with your classmates? I mean..."

"With 'out' parents? Guess it's like anything else. Some people won't like you no matter what." He ate some more. "What was your childhood like?"

"Competitive. My father wanted his sons tough." "And your mom?" He let the silence hang. "What are your brothers like?

"Stephen? He turned out okay. Wrapped up in his job, but I think he enjoys it."

"About Ja..." "...bout Jaz." They laughed and gestured the other to continue.

"Whatever you said to him worked. He's just a little..."

"More of a target." B.B. might be just barely taller than Blair, but he was even broader in the chest. *J.J. is both shorter and slighter.* Jim knew ignoring bullies was more an option if you looked like you had a choice.

"They got bored with me years ago. Same with J.B." *Like her crowd would find it an insult.*

"And B.J.?"

"She growls very effectively."

"I bet she does. How do the other football players react to her?"

"With her arm? At first they weren't too keen, but she's good and on their team. Some of the other schools' coaches... Besides, moms are both great cooks."

Jim looked at the nearly demolished plates on the other side.

"One's a vegetarian."

*Hope I didn't let anything important slip.* Blair suspected Jaz knew there was more going on, but the kid hadn't pressed too hard. Eventually, they'd tell the kids about the Sentinel thing. "Jim, what did you tell him?" Okay, Blair was pretty proud about catching the car with the crane hook. *But I am not some kind of action hero.* He hoped the very edited version of the Lash story wasn't too harsh. Blair entered the gym to find B.J.

"You know this guy?" Blair was completely dwarfed standing next to the heavily mustachioed, muscular bald man.

B.J. looked up from the bench press. "It's okay; he's family." She continued her set. Once the burly man made his apologies and left, she handed the bar to the spotter. "Don't mind him, he's really a sweetheart."

"Sure. I could tell that immediately." Blair looked around, thinking the place was even more hard-nosed than where Jim worked out.

"I'm almost finished if you can hang around for about ten minutes." Seeing that that was okay, she set the weights on the triceps machine. "You and Jaz get things straightened out?" She sat and started her pulls.

"Yeah." Then he flashed a 'how'd you know?' look.

"He's my twin. Well, we have the same moms and were born at the same time."

"And you're waiting to exercise sisterly prerogatives."

"If I have to." She released the bar, and stretched a little. Grabbing the bar she started her next set. "Squirt can be a little dense for all his brains."

"Squirt?"

"Only I get to call him that. Generally not to his face anymore."

"Like him calling J.B. 'Joey?'"

"He was pushing it. But it's better than Josh." *He learned that lesson.* "It's really Joscelyn."

"What's wrong with that?" He could see where Berkeley-- well, he knew why the friend of Naomi's picked the name for her daughter.

"Nothing when she's cleaned up." *You have seen her.* "And her middle name is Brighid. Ends in 'd', has an 'h'." Seeing he was about to ask her own name, she let go of the bar again and stood up. Looking around and not seeing anybody too close she whispered it. "You can tell your taller half." 'And no one else.' was implied by the look she gave. "I just have to get a quick shower."

*Bernadette Jemima?* He was still pondering that when she came back . Now she was wearing a mustard mesh jersey and khaki laceup shorts. Following her outside, he fumbled for conversation. "Would your favorite color happen to be beige?"

"Wash anything enough times... everything can go in the same load." They walked a bit farther. "You really don't know what to make of me."

"Why are you trying to get on the wrestling team?"

"Because it is there. Football, the coach let me try out before making a decision. The wrestling coach doesn't even want to know if I have what it takes." ====================================================

"Let me guess, you are here to see some art?" J.B. turned off the torch and raised the mask.

"Actually I came by to talk, if you aren't too busy."

"Let's head outside." She stowed the equipment and showed him out a back door. She pulled over an upended bucket and sat down, pointing Jim to the only real chair. "So, is where you live the most dangerous city in America, or what?"

"Some weeks it certainly seemed it." He paused for a moment. "A lot of it just went with the job."

"Of an anthropologist?"

"He quickly made himself invaluable. That's how he went from observer to consultant." *How he became my partner.*

"What made you read the letter? The one my moms sent."

*Uh.*

"There must have been some reason."

"We'd been considering options, and not liking any of them."

"So what was different?"

"That possibly we'd get to know you, and that you'd be siblings. I... you know what I mean."

"Never thought about raising children?"

The question stunned Jim. "We did. Something I had never planned to discuss." *Managed to avoid discussing with Carolyn.* "Before Blair... I always considered myself a poor risk for fatherhood."

"And?"

"It was one of those options that didn't work." *You're right, you deserve more of an answer.* "Even if we had been able to have kids, I would've had to find a different line of work. We both pulled long hours, and my job didn't always stay on the streets." *And I don't know that I could have.* With Blair's ethical objections, it had never come to that point.

"That's why you agreed to the conditions."

"We thought that they were right. That it would be too distracting if we came and went." *It was hard enough as it was.*

"Why did this option work for you? You just acknowledged it wasn't like having kids. What made their conditions reasonable?"

"They sounded like they would be good parents, and just because we couldn't have kids, didn't mean they shouldn't." *Don't let this fall apart now. Not now that I've met them.* "If we hadn't believed that, nothing else would have mattered."

"Then why was the possibility of meeting us important? If you wouldn't see us until our moms let us decide."

"Blair never had that choice." * Oh sh.....* J.B. piqued at that. "We wanted you to know that we knew you existed. That we would like to know you. And that you could get to know us. Blair never had that." *And he is probably going to kill me.*

"And what about you?"

"What?"

"Why did you think you wouldn't make a good father?"

"I'd pretty much screwed up every other relationship."

"Until..."

"Until Blair. And that was touch and go at first."

*Did that go okay?* Blair wondered. At first he thought B.J. was only into sports. But apparently she was also pretty interested in physics. *Try old-boying her out with football terms.* Amused by the thought of someone bungling their assumed machismo, he nearly collided with a switchbacked queue.

"Hey, did Jaz catch up with you?" B.B. appeared out of the mass.

"Yeah." It took him a moment to notice the earrings. When he found himself nearly physically counting them, he stammered: "Sorry. It's just..."

B.B. chuckled. "Where were you headed? Mind if we go someplace and talk?"

"What about your line?"

"I showed, I waited, I had something else to do."

"You sure?"

"Yeah I'm sure." He momentarily waded back into the line, and then returned. "How'd it go, with Jaz?"

"You all keep on him, don't you?"

"When he's smart, he's brilliant and when he's dumb, he is downright dangerous. Either way, three of us is just about a fair fight."

"Why so many earrings?"

"I could ask you why so few." When Blair acknowledged the point, B.B. continued. "Just what I like. You?"

"Pretty much the same. Three was pretty weird. Well, different without being bizarre. Bizarre of course being a strictly relative term."

"Didn't freak your peers and it tweaked the cops."

"And made me vaguely cool with their kids. You've really got it down."

"Well, I tweak my peers and confuse the teachers. Considering some of them once had eyebrow rings or laberets..."

"Any of them still do?"

"Just the art teacher. Laberet." They walked in silence for a time.

"I have been led to believe that you write."

"On occasion I even read." *Good. You got the joke.* "It's true."

"What about?"

"This and that. I do a guest article on the sly every so often."

"On the sly?"

"Nom de plume. Just because my moms are out doesn't mean everybody needs to know. Basically it's an advice column."

"On..."

"This and that. Stuff adults want to know but they can't ask their kids about, or want an opinion on. I send a piece in every so often when I have enough material. Sometimes it's real letter driven, sometimes it's just a riff."

"Published?" *He's published?*

"Just in some cheap weeklies."

"So, what do I want to know?"

"Well, I don't... Okay. 'As we approach the quarter-century, 'out' parents aren't so weird. Any more than anybody else's. Some kids have half a dozen dads-- the biological dad they never knew, the adoptive dad who is now divorced, the step-dad who got custody, the ex-wife's new husband, the adopted mom's new husband, and the birth mother's current significant other. And that's strictly het.' Best I could do off the cuff."

"Do you really know kids like that?"

"No. But the real stories are too confusing. I've got two moms and two dads and they've been together for more than my whole life. Simple, no Venn diagrams needed."

Tracy was pacing in the hall. *They're awfully quiet in there.* The kids had barely said a word during the little godfatherly pep talk. *Not that Blair and Jim had been much more talkative.* "I better go in there." Knocking on the door, Tracy entered the room.

To the loudest, most egregious detonation of a confetti bomb. "What the?"

"You've known all along." "If you do not explain, a similar device will go off in your office." "How long of a delay did you use?" The last one was whispered.

Tracy looked around in bewilderment. "Who planned this?" *A fine display of finger pointing.* If anything, everyone looked pretty proud of themselves. *Well, they should.* The room was veritably coated in ripped crepe, glitter shapes and hole punches of every color. With the odd streamer for variety. "You expect me to capitulate to an act of terror?" Tracy looked at the faces. "Who has the signed confession and which way to face the camera?

"Who figured it out first?" Tracy looked over the six-person force eating their way through the better part of several days' pay. "Okay, everybody say when they first suspected."

"I thought it strange that Jaz didn't hesitate futzing with the curios in your living room." Not that there was any logical connection, since there was no question that Tracy knew the kids' moms. Blair figured no one would call him on the irrelevancy.

"I suspected when I saw the tie, and it was confirmed when I went over to talk." Which really was backwards. The tie was the most conclusive.

"B.J. told me where to go. Hey, I was temporarily incapacitated."

"A chronic condition." J.B. smiled sweetly at him. "Tracy, you tipped your hand with 'Social Romantic'." Fraser could have possibly both known their fathers and not known they were their fathers, but that just didn't work for the anthropologist. Of course that had still been supposition until the confession.

"I got dribs and drabs of it last night during our powwow."

Everyone turned back to Jim. Who looked visibly uneasy.

"Thirteen years ago when Blair's tie came." *Maybe I can stay with Daryl. For a few weeks.* "Blair, would you really have wanted me to tell you?" *Please, Chief.* "It was only a suspicion based on the quality of the tie. Tracy, you really are a perfectionist."

"Jim, you come over here for a moment. They turn hostile, maintenance will have less of the carpet to replace. Jaz and B.B., help the other three figure out who knew what when. So, what was it about the tie that tipped you off?"

"Have I been pardoned or should I seek sanctuary at the Consulate?" *At least they moved my plants to the secretaries' office.* It was going to be several days work getting everything back in order. Confetti was everywhere. Tracy could only hope the computer had been covered at detonation. Even with the advances in technology, there were still air vents. *Trust them to shuffle my bookshelves too.* Tracy had not even considered opening the file cabinets.

"I've never kicked a man out of his home."

"Think the kids will forgive me?"

"We have counseled leniency." Jim cracked a grin. "They understand that you were honor-bound not to tell them." He looked at Blair.

"I get it too. After the ritual acts of reprisal." To hear the New Zealander tell it, he wouldn't have known, except one of the moms got too effusive at some point. "You might want to talk to Robert before Jaz gets a hold of him."

Tracy stood absolutely dazed.

"We know. Eventually he will talk to us. And we'll get through this rough patch. Tracy. Earth to Tracy." Blair looked in concern over to Jim.

"I better go call. By the way, have the kids figured out what they are going to call you two?"

"Pop and Da."

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

A New Beginning.

Frameless?
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