Title: Blue Eyes
Authors: zaganthi & perryvic
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Gil/Jim
Warning: Slave-fic of a sort, mentions of child abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, branding, and sex.
Thanks: tzi let us take the CCCC concept, and she also proofread it. Thanks, Tizzy!
Disclaimer: CSI and its characters are the property of CBS, Alliance Atlantis, and Jerry Bruckheimer. We just spend a lot of time drooling.
Summary: He arrived home with a file full of documents and pictures but the preliminary Choice had been signed and sealed. Jim just felt something right about it and yeah, maybe Choosing a boy wasn't what his parents had in mind, but they could get a surrogate heir if necessary.

***

She had bright brown hair that reached to the middle of her shoulder blades in wild ringlets that turned thick and frizzy in the middle of the summer heat. She'd tried everything to combat them, and it was always funny to watch his mother combing something new into her hair to try to 'tame the mane'.

He had the prettiest mother out of everyone at school. Everything was just so, and even when she was dressed down, she was dressed sharply, perfectly.

She wasn't just pretty -- she was brilliant and smart, and a smart-mouth. And she cooked and sang and played the violin, and still danced with his father. Sometimes he'd catch them like that, laughing in the living room and ballroom dancing when he was procrastinating on his homework or thinking of sneaking out.

His parents were probably the most loving set of parents he'd ever seen, even at his friend's houses. Everyone was rich at the school, but money didn't buy happiness and he'd been party to some really nasty knock down drag out fights between some of his friend's parents while he was kicking back there, listening to music and trying hard to be cool.

Not that his parents didn't fight. They did, but it never lasted long and he was honestly sure that his mother usually won.

He had the best mom, but he wished that his father hadn't spent all of the previous night relaying stories to him about how he'd picked her and his Choosing day, and yada yada yada. No guy wanted to spend his sixteenth birthday listening to his dad talk, and give him all of these rules and stuff. There was a beautiful car in the driveway, a Porsche 951, which was just waiting for him to take out on the road. And while he knew that choosing a Companion was a life changing experience, blah blah, that car was in the driveway.

Waiting.

While his father had talked to him about making sure that their teeth met when they closed their mouths, no jaw issues, and how he had to think about if he'd be all right with the long-term implications of having a deaf or a blind Companion. His aunt was blind, but she was no less amazing than his own mom, and his uncle Fred had done things around his house to make life easier for her. Her clothes were all coordinated by shape-tags, and that was kind of neat. His dad stressed that choosing a Companion with flaws wasn't a bad idea, just one that required creativity.

Now that he was on a small tour-bus packed with mostly other sixteen year olds -- but a few older men, because his father had also stressed that he shouldn't just pick one to pick one, and it was better to wait until the Choosing in the fall than to be less than perfectly sure -- it was easier to give his father's words a little more thought.

It wasn't like he hadn't had sixteen years worth of knowledge that he would be one of the select few to be given the opportunity to pick a Companion. He'd had to attend compulsory classes for those with that all-important 'B' symbol stamped on their birth certificates. He'd sat through the lectures on the rewards and responsibilities of being a Benefactor and in his own mind it boiled down to several key points. He got to choose a Companion, both a privilege and a responsibility, he got social status and certain opportunities, he got to compulsorily 'serve his country' for a minimum of four years and attend certain ceremonies that were frankly rather boring.

It all kind of balanced out. Sort of. He guessed. Everyone else at school was talking about college and Jim was looking at the military. His father was a career officer, though, so it wasn't a stretch. He understood it; he knew how the lifestyle went. It wasn't something he could do for years and years, but he could do it for four. He knew why his father loved it -- he was a technician, not a shooter or a battle commander. A niche like that...

Jim was supposed to be thinking about what he wanted to do. His father had told him he could pick a boy or a girl, that was up to him. But that he had to consider that whomever he picked would be with him for the rest of their lives.

Truth was he was open to both, he knew that much from school. And for all his laid back attitude and tendency to break the unwritten rules about mixing with non-B he was taking this seriously. There wasn't a choice about this. A Benefactor had to have a Companion. And when they Chose them they were pretty much kids, they basically mapped out their Companion's training, educations and skills so when they picked them up, the Companions were almost perfectly tailored mates.

Jim looked out the window as they traveled to the Companion center. It was a bit daunting having that sort of control offered to you. He wasn't exactly sure he was comfortable with it but his parents were perfect examples of how it could work. He had never doubted that they were in love.

He wanted that kind of love. Some day, when he was older, he wanted to be able to come home and have that to look forwards to, like something out of a storybook. That was what it reminded him of, storybook love. Even when they fought, it was never long or bad or something that didn't really need to be settled. His mother was ultimately patient with his father, steering and guiding him for all that he'd chosen how she'd been educated and brought up. It was kind of funny, and it made Jim wonder what else they were taught.

No one on the bus was really talking to each other, everyone else lost in their thoughts.

He guessed if he was really honest, he was hoping to look at these Companions and have some sort of... 'experience'. Something that said, 'Yes Jim, this is the right one'. He was more than a little worried about that because his attempts at young love so far had been singularly bad and each time he would have sworn it was the real thing. And how could he look at a kid, aged four or five and know?

It wasn't a lot of help with his dad saying that he had just known his mother was the one. Or maybe that was something they just said now, and more to the point he knew a few others where it was nothing like his parents' relationship.

Sure, his family did all right with them. His dad and his uncle, and his grandparents, it all worked out. But that had a lot to do with them, Jim thought. The people involved. He figured his parents were kind of permissive, and his grandparents and his uncle, because Jim had a friend whose Companion mother was like a heeled dog and it was weird.

He'd once seen his grandmother smack the back of his grandpa's head in an argument, and he hadn't flipped out.

But sometimes he saw things on the news and they weren't always good things about Companions. He wasn't that into politics and social stuff but he didn't like the fact that there had been cases where Companions had died and it had not been murder. "Disposal of Property" just didn't sit right. But that happened with ordinary marriages, abuse and violence, things going wrong...

No, it couldn't be pinned on the existence of Companions.

Half of him hoped he would look at this batch and he could just say, no, nothing there he wanted and he could go back to the Porsche. The Porsche was awesome, and he didn't have to think too hard about appreciating it. Candy Apple red, brilliantly polished...

He wanted that car so badly, wanted to take it out on the road right now, right then, and instead, the bus was stopping. The doors opened, but a pretty petite woman stepped on, smiling at them all. She was pretty hot, long blonde hair and a skinny pretty black dress.

"Good morning, gentlemen. We all know why you're here, but I just want to go over a couple of new rules. No alcohol is allowed, and refreshments are soda, juice, and a few sweets. We had an incident in the fall, and there will not be another incident this year."

Jim found himself looking down. He'd heard about that. Someone taking the Choosing opportunity to be more than familiar with the candidates. For God's sake, they were only four or 5. It seemed incredible, but he knew it happened. It was that sort of thing that made him think about going into Law enforcement after his Benefactor service. His dad wasn't sure if that the right way to go -- Benefactors usually became lawyers, judges -- that sort of thing if they went into law enforcement -- but Jim knew his father wasn't that concerned. He'd been a career officer and he would respect that in another branch of service. Besides, it had decent prospects.

Work was work, and as long as he enjoyed it, he was pretty sure his father wouldn't care.

The woman at the front surveyed them for one last minute, and then nodded. "Welcome, gentlemen, to the Controlled Companion Choice Camp." She turned smoothly, and the men at the front seats started to stand up to file off the bus. Jim could lean to look at the window, to see the red carpet that led up the steps to a building that looked like it was an auditorium.

He got up with the rest of them wondering if some of his friends from school were doing this in other CCCCs. It did make them seem like dignitaries, the red carpet treatment. He caught himself smiling a bit and toned it down. No, he was cool and calm about this. It was just a necessary rite of passage like the Benefactor Acceptance when he'd been seven and he was formally acknowledged. All he remembered from that was he'd had to wear a suit and it had itched like crazy, and his parents had spent all the time taking photographs of him. Thank God, this was one rite of passage he did alone. Well, alone with a busload of other people.

But his mom wasn't there with a camera insisting he smile wider, brighter, something, oh, god, Jimmy, don't do that with your hair. That lack of embarrassment factor made it easier when it was his turn to stand up and join the silent, almost dignified-seeming line off of the bus. They were heading right up the stairs and the carpet, and while most of the men looked right ahead, probably thinking, Jim peered around a little.

There weren't many CCCCs, and even though he had friends who were probably choosing on the same day, they liked to mix people around and send them to go to different ones. It was so no one Camp got a choicer selection or something. Jim wasn't sure, but his mom had come from one in Florida, which was weird with them all being up north.

Part of the experience.

The grounds around the auditorium were a little less formal and over-polished. He could see a playground and a two-story building that was across from it, and lots of benches and trees, places where the snow had been tramped down to bare dirt because people had been playing there.

Jim could only imagine what a pain in the ass it had been to clean the steps perfectly enough to lay a carpet like that down on them.

In some ways that made him feel better. If he had to have a Companion, which he did, then he wouldn't want one so precise that they couldn't think outside the norm a little. The thought of one so precisely conforming to everything was just... wrong. Like his mom challenged his dad, he wanted that. Someone who could do something more than just what he asked. How boring would that be?

They were being ushered inside and he hoped they were going to be told how things were meant to go. His dad said some of the Centers did things a little differently. When he'd Chosen his mother, they had all been allowed to socialize at once and sort of gravitated to each other. Some places arranged so the children could be seen one by one.

Jim was actually feeling nervous about it, for all his attitude about it that morning. They piled up in the lobby, and the woman stood at the front in front of the closed lobby doors, waiting until they were all in. "Now, after the children introduce themselves, you're free to mill around, sit down, talk with them. No arguing and we expect you all to be on your best behavior. We have two deaf Companions this year, and one blind Companion, and I ask you to be aware of this and respectful towards them."

She pivoted smoothly, and placed her hands on the handles, backing up to pull them open. "Welcome to your future."

There was a moment of them crowding forwards, before they seemed to understand that there was no need to rush. There was a line of children waiting, dressed up, each standing by a chair. Mostly girls, but there were a few boys. The girls had perfectly arranged hair, some with pins and ribbons and bows, pretty dresses on, and the boys were all wearing suits, some black, some gray, all with little bow ties.

It was then the strangeness of what he was doing really struck Jim. Here he was just legally an adult going to pick a child to be a lifetime Companion for him. Maybe one of these children. He wondered almost instinctively which ones were deaf and which was blind, but almost immediately discarded the thought. That wasn't necessarily an indicator of compatibility. He looked around to see what everyone else was doing before he stepped forward.

The worst part was that most of the kids looked scared, or they were fidgeting. One girl was rocking on her heels, hands clutching the back of the chair she was standing behind instead of beside. The woman running the show gestured to each child, and they said their names, but Jim kind of missed what they were and missed most of that because he was looking at them.

There was no way that one of them, just a little kid, was going to be his Companion. One boy was chewing on his jacket sleeve. His dad was going to be disappointed, but he'd get over it. But he had said he'd give it a shot and he always did what he promised so he could at least say, yeah he was sure there wasn't one there for him.

He looked over them carefully, seeing his fellow Benefactors homing in on the prettiest of the girls, clustering around them. That was predictable. And this was just ridiculous.

They were kids. And it was weird to see the other Benefactors start moving around, mostly heading for the girls, the pretty ones with big eyes and long hair, blond or black hair before they went near the brunettes. And the rest of the kids were just watching, watching those select few that were the belles of the ball. Standing by their chairs and waiting. That had to be sad, didn't it?

Jim almost didn't notice the woman who was supervising when she came up beside him, except that she touched his elbow. "Mr. Brass. You don't seem to be looking."

"Oh I'm looking," Jim said immediately. "I'm just, uh... not sure where to begin." Or if he even wanted to -- everything had seemed fine in theory, but faced with the reality, things were different.

"Do you know what gender you prefer? I can help you. I know these Companions fairly well and can steer you in the right direction, if you'd like." And hey, it was probably easier to deal with one guy who looked lost than the Benefactors who were showering the couple of stunning girls with attention.

"I like either," Jim replied and thought it was a good thing he was sure about that at least. "I guess... I guess the problem is I can't really see how I can Choose based on them being so young, y'know?" He might as well be honest about it even if everyone else managed to do it without complaining.

"Through the process, they're trained to suit your needs and wants. All you can be sure of now is the basic personality traits. There are some Companions here who are sweet, some who are happy, some who are willful, and some who are a little hard to fathom. If gender doesn't matter to you, then might I suggest you consider what kind of person you would prefer?"

Like it was as easy as picking a year of wine.

Problem was he wasn't really sure sixteen year olds, including himself, knew what they wanted. "Kind of person? Someone with a sense of individuality. Intelligent, quirky sense of humor," Jim paused, thinking hard about what initially attracted him to people even if things didn't play out. "...sense of fairness, I guess, and caring."

"Oh, well. It wouldn't be either of those two," she said with a smile, gesturing to the two who were being crowded around the most. "They're actually rather spoiled. Five year olds can be quite manipulative, do you know that? I think... you should meet Gilbert." She looked around, towards the chair where the boy who'd been chewing on his coat sleeve had been standing, but he wasn't there.

"Oh, uhm... Why don't you follow me? I think he's wandered off. He tends to do that." And he didn't seem to be with any of the people who were standing there or crouched down talking to Companions, or following anyone to the tables and chairs to sit down. "He's a little hard of hearing -- he was actually sent from our Camp from California after his first showing in the fall of last year. He was involved in one of the 'incidents' -- but he's very bright. Just a little... troublesome."

"Troublesome?" Jim asked. Poor kid. If that had happened to him, he wouldn't just wander off if he was put in that situation again, he'd sneak out and hide somewhere until it was all over. Jim looked around, seeing what appeared to be a cloakroom off to the right. Easy to get to, out of sight. He'd look there in a minute, see if the kid really was smart.

"Well, he doesn't always listen word for word. Or sign for sign. Sometimes he prefers one to the other, and, well." She smiled again, and looked over to the refreshments. "Uhm, stay around here, I'm going to see if he's under a table."

Jim watched her go and then headed off to the cloakroom. He figured he could say he was looking for a toilet if he was wrong. As he did so, he tried to remember the limited sign they had been taught in their Benefactor classes. It was usually enough for the niceties because a lot of the Companions that moved in the same circles as they would as Benefactors were deaf. Hopefully it would be enough to communicate with a four or five year old. He pushed open the door, looking in carefully.

Sometimes, it was good to be right.

There was Gilbert, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a napkin spread out on front of him, with a few cookies in the center and a blue plastic cup full of what looked like coke. He'd even turned the light on in the room, but now that Jim was there, he stared up at him, blinking owlishly.

It made Jim grin a little. "Hi... uh..." He belatedly remembered to try his rusty signing at the same time. "Hi, you must be Gilbert right?" It took him a little while to work that out in sign but it was coming back to him. "Sorry, I'm not very good at signing; I hope I'm not saying anything stupid."

The kid broke out into a grin, and signed for him to sit down. "Hi." His voice sounded pretty normal, a little rough, but not strange toned like Jim was expecting. "I'm Gil. I got my own drink this time. Who're you?"

"Jim," he said and sat down, mimicking the cross-legged posture. He grinned back. "I'm meant to be out there, too, but..." He shrugged. "Everyone was fussing over a couple of the girls and I wasn't that interested."

"They're pretty." He picked up a cookie, and watched Jim for a minute before he held it up as an offering. Maybe it was a peace offering. "Ashley said someone was gonna choose her. They will, too. I'm not pretty. My chin has a dent in it."

Jim took the cookie. "It does? Thanks," he said while he ate a bite. "Not bad. Besides, pretty is just a matter of opinion right?"

"Miss Anne says so." He was watching Jim eat that cookie intently, and it was funny how he only started to eat his after Jim had chewed on his own. Okay, so the kid was using him as a poison tester for food. That was pretty creative. "Are you gonna choose one of them?" he asked after he'd swallowed.

"Dunno. What do you think?" Jim asked a little amused by the boy. "Should I?"

"No~o." He made a sign with that, and reached for his coke, which he diligently offered to Jim first. "Choose me. I want to go home with somebody."

Jim sipped the coke and passed it back. "I think it's okay," he said. "Choose you huh? Why should I choose you?" He didn't say it harshly but as a genuine question, and it started him thinking.

"Uhm..." Gil hummed a little, and took his drink back, taking a big sip. "I don't know. I knew last time. I had a list. But it didn't work and my head hurt and people kept putting me on their laps and I didn't like it. It was a stupid list."

"Yeah?" Jim said taking that in. He'd never had to worry about that sort of thing. "What sort of things do you like?"

"Bugs." He gave a big grin then. "I like being outside. I dug a big hole yesterday and found a beetle burrow. An' there was a bunny in it, so maybe it was a bunny burrow, or maybe the bunny from the yard got out and made a new home. But there were beetles in the bedding, so I gave the bunny big bunches of grass to sleep in. And then it ate it."

Gil put his drink down when he answered, and when he talked it was with big gestures and signs.

"They have a tendency to do that sorta thing," Jim replied agreeing. "What sort of thing would you like to do when you get older? As well as being a Companion?"

"I don't know? I want to..." He went quiet for a moment, and his eyebrows drew together. Gil had bright blue eyes, and curly brown hair that looked like someone had tried to hard to brush it straight and it had defied them anyway.

He didn't have a chance to answer when the cloakroom door creaked open. "Gilbert, there you are. And Mr. Brass."

Jim looked around. "Oh hey, Gil and I were just having a talk," he said easily enough. "Then we were going to come out and find you."

"Mmhm." She was peering at him suspiciously for a moment, but it didn't last long once she saw the little picnic that Gil had set out for himself. "Why don't the two of you come out here and sit down at a table?"

"Whaddya think, Gil? Want to talk some more with me?" Jim said. He leaned forward. "I think she's worried I might do something to you if we're on our own. But I wouldn't."

It was hard to guess what was going through Gil's mind, and maybe he was one of the ones that she meant was unfathomable. Gil looked at her, and then looked at Jim, and then he started to fold the napkin around his cookies so he could pick them up and take them with him. "Okay. I like you."

That was important. He wasn't sure why, but that made a difference to him somehow. He actually believed Gil meant that rather than it being some phrase pulled out to impress a potential Benefactor.

He smiled a little. "C'mon then, we can go talk some more. You can tell me more about bugs and things."

"Okay!" That got enthusiasm out of him, and he got to his feet as carefully as he could, clearly trying not to spill coke on his suit. "We've got ladybugs in the attic of the dorm, and they're sleepin'..."

Jim smiled as Gil rattled on as they walked out. Somewhere he ended up carrying the coke, and holding Gil by the hand. He glanced around at everyone outside, suddenly finding that mentally he was comparing them to the boy by his side. Which was strange.

They sat down at one of the dining tables and Gil was still going. And Jim was trying to do what his dad had told him. Listen beneath the words; see what sort of character was underneath.

That was the important part in the long run

Gil seemed excitable, smart, and he grinned a lot. If Jim progressed that a few years forward, that could all imply great things. And he seemed a little desperate for attention, because he was kind of physically plain compared to a lot of the kids. He watched Jim's mouth when he talked, so he was probably harder of hearing than he seemed.

But Jim had to admit he wasn't ever going to be the most handsome guy compared to some, and he was finding it surprisingly easy to talk to this kid. They talked about bugs, they talked about cars, they talked a little about what Jim thought he was going to do because Jim didn't want to force anyone into anything. They talked about the sort of things he liked to eat and drink, about games, about the other potential Companions there.

"Have you ever wanted to be Chosen by someone before?" Jim asked half expecting some sort of a lie. They did probably train the kids to say the right things.

"Yes. And no." That was kind of ambiguous, and Jim wasn't sure if they exactly trained that into kids. "I want to be chosen? Because if I'm not then nobody wants me ever. But I didn't want to go home with anyone last time, they were creepy. Not bug creepy, just..." Gil gave an exaggerated shiver.

"They shouldn't have done that to you," Jim said seriously and believing it totally, with all the sudden fire that a teenager could muster.

"They were worried no one would want me because of it?" He kept making things questions, and Jim wasn't sure if that was because it was the way he talked or because he couldn't quite hear himself. He'd tried to sit them over to a table off to the side, but there was still noise around them. "No one's supposed to do anything until I'm as big as you are. And I'm..." He leaned forwards in the chair, holding his hand out. "See? Smaller. Everything's little. But I can stick my hand into holes in the dirt and look for things, so it's okay."

"Stick your hand into holes in the dirt?" Jim asked. "And find bugs and bunnies right?" Jim smiled a little, though he couldn't help feel a tug of concern for the kid. Being handled like that. Treated like that.

"Yeah!" Gil grinned again, and he kept talking, "Miss Anne says one day I'm gonna find a snake, and that'd be cool. That'd have to be harder to do when you get bigger. I'm not supposed to play as much as I do, but Miss Anne lets me because I get everything done fast. Math and reading and things. There's supposed to be even less playing when we get older. That's sad."

"That is pretty sad." Jim agreed, hoping there would be some way for there to be play for this kid. "So you're good at reading and lessons and stuff, right?"

"Yeah. I like reading. We've got encyclopedias full of pictures and everything. I'm still in the B book, but I'll probably finish it soon." That held the slightest hint of pride when he said it, like he knew that most children, non-Companion children, couldn't hardly read at all.

"That's pretty impressive Gil," Jim said and hesitated. "You haven't been signing too much. Is your hearing not that bad then?"

"I can hear." It was almost a protest, and he sat back a little. "And you're not moving. I can see your lips."

"You do it really well," Jim complimented him. "In fact, it sounds like you do a lot really well." He smiled again. "Better than I did when I was going to school."

"What did you do?"

"Me? I go to one of the Benefactor schools. Only I've got a habit of not always mixing with the right kind. I'd sneak out and play basketball with some friends, or we'd get a ride out to parties. I've always been a bit better with working things out and doing things." Jim said. He shrugged a little. "Soon I'll be doing Benefactor Duty in the Army. You know what that is right?"

"Armies protect the country." Gil paused, and then frowned a little. "I don't know what Benefactor Duty is."

"Well you know how Benefactors are the only ones that get to Choose Companions?" Jim explained softly. "One of the things they have to do in return is defend the country for at least four years. So if there's a war, then I'll go there. I'll be a soldier and they'll give me training as well towards my degree and then I'll be released to do what I want... and to have a Companion. It's like... payment."

"Oh." Oh, and Gil tilted his head a little. "But army people die."

"Yeah." Jim sometimes let himself think about that, sometimes didn't. It was just something they were expected to do whether they wanted it or not. In fact, the thought of not doing the Duty was almost impossible though he had heard of people who got out of it on medical, or got cushy positions stateside away from action. "But, I like not being dead so I was thinking to avoid it, you know? And then maybe look at becoming a detective. To stop bad things happening."

There seemed to be two Gil smiles: full teeth like he was going to start laughing, and a softer, more thoughtful one. When Jim said that, his face shifted towards the softer smile, and he peered at Jim's face. "Like.... like what happened to me?"

"Yeah. Especially that sort of thing," Jim said and was surprised to realize that he actually meant that. It was if a lot of half formed ambitions and thoughts had snapped into abrupt focus. "Not just helping people, but stopping bad things from happening." That was what he wanted. Hell of a time to realize that, talking to a kid.

"That's neat." It was just that simple to a five-year-old, but Gil gave that soft smile again. "That'd be neat to do. Could I do that, too?"

"Maybe," Jim replied with a smile and reaching across and ruffling the boy's hair a little. "Maybe."

If I Choose you, he added to himself and it seemed strange, but he just didn't seem to have any room in his head to think about anyone else apart from this one child. He looked again at the others there, and knew he should be talking with them, and comparing and seeing if there was someone else he might Choose.

"I should be letting other people talk to you, Gil." But he didn't want to. Was this how it felt? What had happened to his dad?

He halfway hoped it was, because Gil shook his head at Jim. "I don't want to. I don't want to be somebody's second Choice. I like you."

God help him, he liked this kid right back. There were already random stray thoughts wondering, planning what he could do, what might be best...

"Gil, you wouldn't be anyone's second Choice."

There was a moment while Gil eyed him with understandable suspicion, before he said, "No?"

Jim smiled and reached for his hand. "Well you're my first Choice and I think I'm a pretty good judge of character."

And there it was, and it did feel right, and strangely worrying and exciting all at the same time. He'd said it and it was a promise and he always kept his promises.

He just hadn't expected for Gil to make a noise that had sounded kinda happy and fling himself from his chair to try to hug Jim.

Jim found himself hugging him back and it was somehow just right. Gil wanted him, he wanted Gil and that was how the system worked and everything would work out just right. "Yeah. You and me, kid. You and me."

---

He arrived home with a file full of documents and pictures but the preliminary Choice had been signed and sealed. Jim just felt something right about it and yeah, maybe Choosing a boy wasn't what his parents had in mind but they could get a surrogate heir if necessary. That was part of it. And he could still marry technically and have a Companion. At this point in time, that had faded into the background. He was still smiling to himself because when they had gone to leave, somehow -- and no one knew how -- Gil had managed to sneak out of the children's area and was hiding behind his coat, wanting to go home with him. He'd lifted his coat up and there had been a pair of wide blue eyes looking at him and arms that wrapped around him so he had had to pick him up and try to stop laughing a little.

The CCCC staff had apologized profusely for Gil being troublesome as if worried he would suddenly withdraw his Choice and he had laughed and told Gil he was impressed he'd worked out which was his coat and he would take him home, but he would be going on that Duty soon, and he couldn't come with him there.

He'd promised to write and send pictures and he wanted to hear all about Gil's exploits. Somewhere in there Gilbert had become Gil, even though the paperwork called him Gilbert. It was what he called himself, and it seemed to fit. He wasn't much of a Gilbert, but Gil... worked.

Jim shouldn't have been surprised when his father appeared mere moments after he'd unlocked the door. "Your mother's playing mahjong over at the Benning's tonight." Old family friends of his dad's, Benefactors and Companions just like them, permissive and nice just like they were, so his dad never had problems with his mother being friends with Mrs. Benning. Mahjong nights were every couple of weeks, gossip and coffee and cakes and recipe swapping. Jim had been dragged to it a few times when he was little and it was an experience to be avoided. "So, how did it go?"

"I've Chosen," Jim said with a smile he just couldn't seem to shake. It had stayed there all the way through the trip home, through everything. It was somehow like today his life had come into focus and he like feeling this way. With an aim, a goal and knowing he had made the right decision.

"Congratulations!" His father even hugged him, a manly one-armed hug that involved back patting, but he was laughing and grinning, and then he pulled back, gesturing to the sofa. "Sit down and tell me about your Companion."

Well first hurdle to get over. "He's called Gil," Jim said by way of breaking the news. "And yeah, I know, you and Mom probably weren't anticipating that.

He was watching his father's face for something, and he wasn't exactly disappointed. His smile lost a little of its lightness, and then he nodded. "I see. Well, that's all right. As long as you're... aware that one day he's not going to be small and ambiguous anymore. Why don't you tell me about him?"

Jim nodded. "Dad, I went there and I was just hanging back. I kept thinking about all the stuff you told me, and everything felt weird you know? Like how on earth could I Choose a Companion if they were so young? They were just kids. So I was just watching and I just couldn't see anyone there that... well there was nothing like what you told me happened with you and Mom. So one of the assistants came over and asked me to basically start looking and when I explained she talked about this boy Gil who had disappeared from the group. And he'd been one of the ones molested in the incident a few months back, remember that? And I just knew where he would be."

He paused a moment. "I found him and we started talking and it was like... none of the others even interested me any more. I mean, he's not the best looking of them there, and he has a hearing problem... but..."

It was strange to see a little of the light return to his smile. "Ah. But, it didn't matter. Well, if you want children, you can get a surrogate, so that's not a problem. That was what I was hoping you'd say, Jim. Have you looked over his files yet? Have you thought about how you want him to be schooled?" It was kind of nice that his father was plowing on. He knew some of his friend's parents would freak out if they picked someone that had... had that happen to them. Used goods, touched by someone other than them, because Companions were supposed to be just their Benefactor's.

But not his father, and his mother would probably hug him when she got back.

"He's bright. Really bright I think. I think it would be pretty criminal to limit him to one specific thing. I'll probably give more broad directions for him," Jim said, still staring at the piece of paper in front of him that had a conclusion he was wrestling with a fair amount of teenage angst involved. "I'm just looking at the files now. At the report about his hearing."

It looked pretty bad. Gil's mother had been a Companion who'd gone completely deaf at age eight, and it hadn't ever been corrected. He was the illegitimate son through another Benefactor that wasn't his mother's Benefactor -- something that made Jim want to wince a little, but there were no names named -- but he'd inherited his mother's genetic condition. It was kind of over Jim's head, but it looked like there was excess bone growth or calcium or something that eventually hosed up the works.

It was fixable, though, once he got older and wasn't growing much. Once he was eleven or so, and it was right there on the sheet. Recommendation for surgery, to the amount of... a hell of a lot of money. Jim couldn't figure out how he'd have that much money in four or five years, not unless he started to save now. And that was just the start, because school cost money and Gil needed to be fed and dressed and...

It was a hell of a lot of responsibility.

"What's it say?"

"It says it's fixable. If I pay. Or he'll go completely deaf," Jim said looking up at him. There was one option. The Benefactor levy was taken from his wages when he started the Duty, but this was something else and he didn't have that in savings. But if he gave up one thing and invested the money, he could have. "I'm just thinking whether I can do it."

His father shifted closer, leaning so he could read the paper. "Where there's a will, there's a way. Some Benefactors prefer their Companions deaf." But that was isolation, and Gil talked. He talked and he talked and he gestured, and Jim wasn't sure if he could take that from him so easily. Legally he could, just by not making a decision, but that didn't mean it was... right.

He sighed a little. "The Porsche is mine right Dad? You think I would get enough from selling it to cover this?" He tapped the underlined figure that was the estimated cost of surgery.

The beautiful red Porsche that he'd ached to drive. That he'd planned to show off to his friends. Damn.

His friends would coo over the car, and probably freak that he'd chosen a boy for his Companion, no matter what or who they'd chosen. Dammit, he was going to lose his cool factor over it. His father was watching him. "It's new, Jim. And it's yours. If you sold it, you could cover the surgery and afford to get yourself a decent used car so you can still drive..." Decent used car meant a junker, but maybe his father would pull strings, it didn't matter.

Jim nodded slowly. His friends would never believe that he was going to give up the Porsche, but a Porsche would be out of date -- hell, he wouldn't get long before he was on the Duty, then who knew if he'd get to drive it for four years? Whereas it was a lifetime gift to Gil.

"I've gotta sell it, Dad. It's one thing if it wasn't curable deafness, but this is something I can do something about." Jim made the decision, getting better and better at the process. It was the right decision.

"I'm very proud of you today, Jim." Words were just words, but he could hear it in the timbre of his father's voice. "You're a good kid. Man. Young man, god, where's the time gone? Making responsible decisions without me having to prod you." He leaned past Jim a little and flipped through the papers, reaching for the picture that had been taken of Gil with Jim just before the ceremony had ended. That had been part of it, a little token to remind the Benefactor and the Companion. "This is him, right? He looks happy."

"Yeah. Yeah he wanted to come home with me," Jim smiled looking at the picture. He had a wallet sized one as well, and he was going to carry it with him. "He snuck out and I found him hiding in my coat. He'd worked out which one it was and gotten out. It just seemed compared to him... everyone else was just..." It was difficult to explain. "Anyway, I decide that after I've done my Duty, I think I'd like to get my degree and try and become a detective. Things just... fell into place a bit for me today."

"That's good. The police do good work, son, and it's an admirable job. Prosecuting lawyers also do good work..." His father wheedled that a little, but he was smiling in a way that told Jim it was all right. It was a good choice. "So he tried to sneak home with you, huh? Your mother stole my wrist watch."

"She did?" Jim smiled a bit at that. "Dad, it was just like you described it. I'm not even sure how it happened, but I was suddenly and completely sure I was making the right decision. To be honest, I thought I was going in there looking for a girl. Like you and Mom."

"That's all right, that you didn't pick a girl. If your interests go both ways, what's important is the Companionship. And you can always marry if you want to. That option isn't closed to you. I'd prefer that you chose a boy who felt right than a girl you didn't really care about." It was a convoluted way to explain it, but it worked. It was right, a lot of those girls were pretty but they didn't.... do anything for Jim, in his mind, and they were all too young to do anything in his body. He was pretty sure that when Gil grew up, he'd do something for his body, and it already felt right as a mind thing. Person-to-person.

That cleft chin was pretty cute. Even if Gil thought it was a dent.

"Thanks, Dad. It's a pretty big deal. I feel like I've become a big brother all of a sudden, and I'm responsible for him. And a lot of my friends don't have anything like that to deal with." Jim looked at him. "Was it like that for you?"

"Yes." His father looked slightly nostalgic. "It comes on you all of a sudden that you suddenly... have someone who's wholly dependent on you. And that if you skip your Benefactor duty there won't be enough money to feed them and let them have the best, and you want them to have the very best. It's a lot, but I think it's very important that it happens. You're learning responsibility a lot sooner than your non-Benefactor friends."

"Yeah I guess. It's gonna be weird." Jim looked at the photo again. "I think he'll be worth it, though. I want him to have the best. I want him to do things he's interested in. He likes bugs a lot." He grinned as he remembered Gil's enthusiasm.

He wanted him to stay that way, even though he couldn't figure out how he'd maintained it after what had happened. Miss Anne had said the files on that were in the folder, but he hadn't gotten there yet. He wasn't sure he wanted to, because it wasn't going to change his mind and he couldn't do anything about it but get pissed off for Gil.

All Gil wanted to do was play outside and read. He hadn't done anything to invite what had happened. Some Benefactors were scum, even if everyone there in his group, that day at that CCCC were all good and well behaved. "Bugs, huh? Maybe science."

"There's science in law enforcement. Maybe he can skew his studies a bit that way," Jim replied. "It would be good if he understood something about what I'm intending to do. How did you choose for Mom?"

"I had her taught a little of everything and she eventually started to pick out things she liked. It was mostly because I had no idea, and... We didn't exactly encourage female Companions to work back then. Male ones, always. Always."

"Maybe I'll do that. I want him to have a little fun as well. He deserves it after what happened," Jim looked at his father. "I don't want to screw this up, Dad. I think I've got a shot at what you have and that's a high standard to live up to."

His father seemed proud of that. "Good. As long as you remember that he's yours, it should be easy. He'll love you unconditionally, all you have to do is give him the chance and treat him the way he deserves." His father patted him on the back again. "I'll let you read over that in peace," he said while he stood up from the sofa. "But if you have any questions, I'm always going to be here to listen to you. You're not going this alone."

And that was reassuring, because all these decisions aside, he was feeling a little overwhelmed and it wouldn't be that long before he could be shipped off to war. Alternatively, he could spend his Duty stateside somewhere doing war games and climbing rank. At sixteen, either prospect was more than a little scary. "Thanks, Dad. I appreciate that."

And somewhere he had become a son who could talk to his father without feeling embarrassed. And his Dad was proud of him and his Choice. As birthday presents went, that beat a car that would be traded in eventually. He couldn't trade in the memory of this day for anything.

---

As far as birthdays went, Gil had had better.

He usually liked his birthday. There was usually a long card and letter, or even a phone call from his Benefactor and a gift and it was just a very quietly enjoyable day. Sometimes he was allowed to go out, supervised, to someplace he wanted to go instead of on the mass field trips that they'd done when they were little. He could drive now, but just to his internship and back, and it wasn't the same. If he wanted to, he could drive off, theoretically. Sometimes he thought about it, and sometimes he thought about taking one of his letters and driving to his Benefactor's address.

But he followed the rules, mostly because he knew no amount of rule bending would make him happier.

Birthdays had at one point marked that he was one year closer to Going Home. And then he'd turned sixteen and Jim hadn't come for him. And then he'd turned seventeen and Jim hadn't come for him. And then he'd turned eighteen, and Jim still hadn't come. And his card came late. And then he'd turned nineteen, and there was no Jim and a card, and Gil didn't care much anymore. Or he tried to pretend he didn't care because he wanted to Go Home.

It hurt worse every year, and it while he could logically understand that he was being given a top level education, and everything else the rest of the year, but now he was twenty-one and there wasn't going to be another year. No card or gift, but maybe it was late. Gil wasn't sure, and he could content himself with organizing the box of correspondence he kept under his bed. He didn't feel like asking to go anywhere special that day, and he didn't want to go down to the commons to socialize.

He was the oldest one there, and at one time that had been a good thing, and now it was a mark of obscure shame. He'd helped with some of the younger Companions, he'd even taught a little in the subjects he had excelled at. He'd done unusual things and had Companion equivalencies to a Doctorate and practical experience that rarely got organized but now...

Now he was twenty-one and he still hadn't Gone Home. He picked up an old letter, looking at it, remembering the joy he'd had whenever one of Jim's letters came. They started off so bright and he was sure he wasn't imagining that Jim wanted him as much as he wanted to go home with him.

He picked up one of his favorites where Jim had told him to be brave for his operations because it was just ... right.

'It will be painful Gil, and I'm sorry about that but hopefully you'll be able to hear more than you ever have before. It's not that I thought there was anything wrong with you the way you were, but this was a gift I could give to you. However you are is just perfect, but with this you can have new experiences and enjoy things maybe you've missed before...'

The paper was worn, but it was one of his favorites, even with the old creases and faded ink. It was from back when he was sure that Jim loved him, back when letters from him had been full of tiny tones and things that Gil had fed off of. Little subtleties that he'd been trained to pick up on, things that hadn't been there in...

A long time. And that was why he hadn't ever asked Jim why he hadn't picked him up yet. Maybe Gil was a little afraid of the answer.

There were times where he just lay awake wondering what if, what if? What if he had changed his mind? What if he didn't like him anymore? Jim had gotten married and that had worried him a lot, because sometimes the wife wasn't happy unless she had her own Companion. For a while he had said, yeah, it was that. But then things had gone wrong and he had been sure that Jim would come for him then, completely sure. But he hadn't. He hadn't come then and nearly two years had gone past and he still hadn't come.

But he would read the letters and wonder because he wasn't sure if there was a difference or not. His last letter had been that he was leaving New Jersey. Where he lived. His last 'real' letter at least. One where he talked to him rather than just sent presents and wishes at Christmas or birthday.

He rifled to that one, scanning it. '...There's nothing in Jersey for me any more Gil, I have to leave and start somewhere new. I know you'll be disappointed because I talked about all the things I'd show you here and people you'd meet but I've had to do a few things and they've changed everything. They've changed me...'

That was what he was worried about.

Because things did happen and change people, and Gil wished he knew what it was, wished he could do something. He still sent Jim letters, still talked about his internship and hoped he was doing well, but he didn't get answers anymore. Just those sometimes cards and it made Gil tempted to drive out there to see what had changed.

If there was nothing in Jersey for Jim anymore, then he wasn't married and Ellie... maybe wasn't his. It jumped too-quickly to Gil's mind, but that was part of his own schema for seeing the world, and he knew it. Maybe something else had happened. Jim hadn't ever explained.

And now he was twenty-one. It meant that Jim had to come for him, but it didn't mean that Jim would want to come for him.

A rejected Companion was one of the most tragic things in the world. Different not to being Chosen. Not being Chosen could just mean your Benefactor just hadn't met you, seen you. Sad, but understandable. To be Chosen and rejected was worse. It was... failure.

He was smart; he'd done everything he could that would make Jim proud. Maybe he had done too much? Maybe... maybe it had all been lies and he hadn't been enough for him.

That was a wrong thing to think. Lady Heather would not be happy with him, but then she hadn't looked happy whenever she'd looked at him over the past week. He was trained to notice things like that even from the Lady. She'd looked almost angry.

And he didn't know what to do. Whether she was angry at him or not was hard to tell, except that she was usually quick to discipline when out of line crossed to unacceptably out of line. So that made Gil want to lean towards thinking it wasn't his doing, but he couldn't be sure.

He hated not being sure.

And he hated sitting there wondering what else he could possibly do to make the situation better. But he was supposed to have been out of there already, and the Companion College hadn't had a Companion there as long as him in years. The last one had been five years before him, and Lady Heather hadn't told him what had happened to her.

But silence told a clear story by itself.

There was a gentle knock at the door, and it pushed open. Lady Heather was one of the few that could open any door at any time and she had tested that prerogative in the trying teenage years when Companions might be tempted to fraternize. Never knowing when she might walk in day or night put a crimp in a lot of furtive plans.

"Gil?"

He didn't startle much, and started to fold up the paper he'd been looking at. "Lady Heather. Do you need help with anything?" That was usually why she came to his room, to see if he was busy or would mind lending her a hand with some of the younger attendees to the college.

"I have need of this room, Gil," she said softly. "This place here. I wish you to pack your things as soon as you can."

"Oh." Well, that made sense. He got to his feet, and started to look around. It wouldn't take too long, but he hadn't really... expected that. It wasn't the same as being told that he was Going Home, and that was what he'd hoped she'd say. "All right. I can... I can be packed up very soon."

"You should also dress in your Presentation outfit," Lady Heather said with a smile. "It is a little last minute, but we will be joining the Presentation ceremony tonight after all."

What...?

"Is he coming to pick me up, or is this just so I don't end up dead in a ditch?" He was waffling between smiling and frowning, trying to shove down the knot in the back of his throat. Did they just want him to have an ID before they kicked him off the premises?

"He's coming to pick you up. I have spoken to him personally and confirmed this. He wasn't sure if he could get the time off of work but then I spoke directly to the Sheriff in Las Vegas and he ensured he would be available," Lady Heather said. "It's really happening, Gil. You are Going Home."

He was Going Home.

He'd wanted to Go Home since he was little, since Jim chose him. He'd wanted to go home with him right then and there and damn the schooling and everything else. He'd wanted to feel safe and loved and everything else that Companions were supposed to feel that he hadn't been too sure of. And then Jim had Chosen him and he...

And Gil had held out hope for so long, and now, after all of that anticipation, he didn't know what to do. He didn't know whether he wanted to sit down or stay standing, and Lady Heather was just looking at him. "Am I going to get to meet him before it happens...?" Usually Benefactors had their Companions for a week or so before the Presentation, and they took them home to be Presented, but with time the way it was... Jim probably didn't have that leeway.

"You will Go Home with him from this Presentation, and then attend your own Presentation in Vegas in a week's time," Lady Heather said gently. "He has come here to take you Home."

Jim was going to do it right. That was... Gil wasn't sure, but it was strangely a little heartening. That some tradition was being stuck to, and Gil knew how Presentations went. So when she'd said his Presentation clothes she'd meant the clothes he'd wear to attend one, not to be in one. That was easy to pick out, even if he couldn't get himself to move.

"I..."

Lady Heather came and sat down next to him. "Gil, I know that this must be strange for you. I know the doubts you've had, your fears. But I want you to know that I have spoken to Jim Brass and I know that he is a good man. Underneath it all. He's having difficulties, but I want you to remember that he's still the person who Chose you the moment he met you, underneath it all. You might have to remind him of that. But you are a very very capable Companion, and right now, you are most definitely what he needs most in the world, even if he doesn't realize it, understand?"

That didn't sound good. It didn't sound encouraging, but Gil still turned towards Lady Heather so it was easier to look at her. Reading lips was a habit he hadn't been able to kick, and it kept him listening which was important. "I don't even know what to do anymore. I, I don't even know him anymore, I don't know what to do for him."

"You do what a Companion does. You love him, you serve him and you provide for his needs as well as his desires," Lady Heather replied softly. "Gil, I haven't seen that much of him, only spoken to him briefly but I know that it's something to do with him, not you, which has caused this delay."

She would know. Lady Heather was the best of the best, they all knew that. "Exactly what that is... that's a mystery you must unravel. But, as we know, you are at your best unraveling mysteries."

Gil almost wanted to laugh a little, but he dropped his eyes for a moment. He needed to try to keep that in mind, and hope that it wasn't him, because he didn't know what else he could do. If it was something wrong or going on with Jim, then... Then he could help. Had to help. It was the least he could do. "Did you notify the county? I was helping on a case..."

"It is all taken care of. They've written you a glowing reference for your file and they are very sorry to see you leave," Lady Heather said. "As will I be. Pleased for you on the one hand, but sad to lose a Companion who has done credit to the name and been an example to many of the young ones."

While Gil knew that intellectually, he wasn't sure what kind of example he set for the younger Companions. "I'm going to miss you..." But he'd wanted to go with Jim for years. And he couldn't be scared now.

Lady Heather smiled. "You will have your Benefactor and a new life. You'll be too busy to miss me." She patted him gently on the shoulder and stood. "You'd best get ready Gil."

"I'll pack first." He stood with her, and stepped back, trying to figure out where to start. "I... How much time do I have?" He'd need to get dressed, too, look his best. Cleaning up and packing and looking his best didn't go hand in hand.

"Four hours," Lady Heather replied. "Time enough, Gil." She paused in the doorway and looked back over her shoulder. "If you can't take it with you tonight, I'll have it sent on to you."

"All right. Thank you." There was too little time for him to freeze up and panic. He'd take clothes, a few books, his letters, and everything else could be sent. He'd... pack like he was going on a trip. A long field trip.

Gil watched her turn and close the door, and then he turned to put the letters away and lift the box onto his bed. He had to shower and he needed to shave again, and style his hair and make sure that everything was shaved and he was groomed just... just perfectly. Until he was presented, there wasn't supposed to be any sex, but Lady Heather had told him years ago that it wasn't out of the ordinary to be looked at, touched, and everything short of the actual act. That was normal.

And even if Gil wasn't expecting normal, he wasn't going to let his own standards slip.

He would do what he had been trained, and over-trained to do. He'd be a Companion. And that meant being the best for them, for the one that had Chosen him. Jim had Chosen him and in doing so had given him a life that a lot of people would never get. Even some of those who had been waiting with him to be Chosen. He was the lucky one, someone had wanted him.

Had wanted him.

---

Jim didn't like wearing suits. He never had. He had a tendency to rumple even if he breathed in the wrong way. Even his army dress uniform had been a chore to keep crisp for the periods of time he needed to wear it in public.

But it was a Presentation. Not his Presentation, of his Companion but Lady Heather had deftly maneuvered him into a position where he had to attend. She'd even gone as far as booking his time off work which had astounded Catherine, who had never seen him put in for vacation, and was used to him working doubles and triples until he hit the overtime ceiling every month.

So here he was, a fair way from Vegas doing something he didn't want to do, being somewhere he didn't want to be and at the same time knowing it was a Duty that he had to perform or risk disappointing his family even more.

He sighed and looked a little morosely into the rather weak wine they had offered him. A whiskey would have been better. Or something stronger.

Vodka maybe. He definitely didn't want to be there, but the guy was twenty-one, and Jim had been sternly informed that he wasn't allowed to stay at the California Higher Companion College any more. He had to be picked up. He might procrastinate to the utter limits but he couldn't abandon his Companion, no matter his reservations.

The doors on the other side of the room opened, and a stately woman, wearing a low-cut black dress, severely cut red-brown hair stepped in. She was a stunner, and she smiled at him, while she started to walk towards him. "Mr. Brass. I'm glad that you've finally made it."

Oh. He recognized that voice. "Lady Heather," he nodded, acknowledging the rebuke. It was nothing that he hadn't heard from his father. "I came as soon as circumstances allowed." Hey, he hadn't completely forgotten all his Benefactor manners after all.

"I'm sure that you did." She was eyeing him, sizing him up in the way he was pretty sure he sized up a suspect. "Gil was very excited to hear that you were coming."

"Well, I'm very excited to be finally taking him home," Jim said in a dry tone.

If nothing else it would stop the near constant barrage of pressure from his family, his family friends, the local Benefactors of Vegas who he didn't even know sending him messages to pick up his Companion. He knew he had to he just....

Well there had been reasons.

He had his reasons, even if no one was going to understand.

Lady Heather didn't seem to take kindly to his dry tones of voice, even as she sat calmly down across from him. "Mr. Brass. Gil has been an exemplary student while he's been at this college, and he attacks every task set before him with a fervor. If you allow him, he'll be a very mindful, loving Companion."

"If I allow him...?" Jim wasn't going to miss that sort of insinuation. He bristled unconsciously. The last thing he was going to do was abuse or mistreat Gil. He just... couldn't have a Companion. But that was what he was being forced to have.

"If you allow him to get close to you," she clarified. "He wants to, but the rest depends on your willingness to accept the young man you've helped form."

"Look, Lady Heather, you don't know much about me. It might be that Gil is better off not being anywhere near me, that ever occur to you?" he said a little sharply. "Or maybe I'm just too damn lazy to come out here and pick him up."

Jim found that most people were more likely to believe the second option. That was fine with him.

"I don't believe that. You Chose Gil, full well knowing that you weren't getting a pristine Companion, and you've always provided for his needs. I have seen lazy Benefactors, Mr. Brass, and while it might suit you to seem like one, you aren't. Gil is fully prepared for whatever has happened to make you change. He's not a little boy any longer." She was staring at him, or maybe he was just imagining that.

"Yeah, well I'm no teenager either," Jim replied, taking a large gulp of his wine. "I appreciate all you've done for him, I really do and I get that he's my responsibility. So... better late than never right?" She didn't have a clue. None of them did. It wasn't something that could be explained, not over weak wine and all of that tension because she was pissed off at him.

Hell, he usually got one date in before beautiful women were pissed off at him. "I suppose. You're aware that your responsibilities are very much like those in a marriage?"

"Oh yeah." And he had such a great track record when it came to marriage. "Trust me, I know."

He looked at his empty glass a moment and then said in a very low voice. "Gil will be safe with me. He won't be mistreated, he won't be hurt. He will be allowed all the freedom I can give him and I'll do my best to give him what he deserves, okay?"

"Then you're aware that what he deserves is you?" That was a hell of a thing to say, but she stood up and headed towards the door. "I'm going to bring him in now."

Jim nodded, and made some attempt to be a little more presentable. It wasn't the kid's fault; he hadn't had a choice in this.

Which was kinda the whole point.

She stepped outside and into the hallway, and Jim wondered if the kid was out in the hall. She was quiet out there, no talking, but that didn't mean anything. Gil signed.

He didn't expect Lady Heather to step back in the door with a taller man following her, wearing a crisp white shirt, black pants, polished shoes... He was good looking, Jim could tell when Lady Heather stepped to the side. Cleft chin, curly hair that looked like he'd taken time to comb into some semblance of order. And his eyes lit up, god knew why, when they landed on Jim.

"Jim Brass, meet Gil, your Companion."

Oh God, those blue eyes. It hit something too raw inside him, that memory that had never faded, no matter how much he had drunk, how close to oblivion he had skirted.

He had intended a lot of things. Maybe to be diffident. To be a bit scornful or.... something. But he was standing there staring as if someone had stunned him with a concussion and he just had no words.

"Gil." He managed that much and he had a smile there for him, drawn out of somewhere long forgotten. "It's been a long time."

Gil smiled, that soft smile that he half remembered on a child's face, and stepped forwards. He walked like he was gliding, and it was only if Jim looked hard that he noticed he was a little bow legged. "It has. Hi."

He'd been right. It was a damn sight easier to do this when he hadn't seen or spoken to him. "You look good," he said after a moment to get his brain to talk to him properly. He knew what he was doing. He shouldn't have started drinking, he couldn't concentrate as well. Or maybe he hadn't drunk enough.

He looked young still. Jim guessed he looked that young once, but he had a feeling he never appeared quite as innocent.

"Thank you." Gil was still smiling, like he had to continue keeping a hold of himself. "I've been... wanting to see you again, Jim. To Go Home with you." There was a strange importance put to the words, and Gil was still walking towards him.

"Yeah." Jim felt a little ashamed of that but he had reasons. "Yeah, I know, Gil. We're going home. Together." It was a worthless sort of apology after five years of waiting, but that was his point. The kid had to wait five years for him and he didn't get a choice in the matter.

"I...." Gil's face twisted a little, and then he was right there, down on his knees, arms around Jim's legs. "Thought you were never coming."

"Hey, hey... kid... you don't have to do that," Jim said hurriedly, embarrassed at the gesture. "Get up, Gil. Up." He tried hard to get him to stand. If he thought of him like a little brother that was easier. Much easier. "C'mon, it's gonna be okay."

"Now that you've come." And he was still holding on, arms around Jim's legs, the side of his face pressed against Jim's thigh. "This is the best gift, Jim."

Talk about embarrassing, and uncomfortable. "Gil. Come on. Please, get up now." He tried a little firmer. "No kneeling, Gil, I mean it." It made his head ache and he didn't want to think about it. He knew the kid didn't mean anything and it was a sweet reflection of a Companion's devotion but.... he wasn't comfortable with it.

He didn't want a kneeling groveling Companion. He didn't even want Companion, period. Gil started to stand up, but he used Jim's leg to steady himself when he shifted back, getting up smoothly. "I'm sorry. I just... I've missed you. It's so good to see you here."

"Gil? Why don't you sit down? You're going to need to go to the hall soon, and I can have your bags put in Mr. Brass's car."

"Thank you, Lady Heather, I appreciate that," Jim replied rather cynically, considering it a move to make sure he didn't go off and leave his Companion behind. He'd driven out from Vegas to be here, he wasn't going to take off again. "Have a seat Gil. And I... I guess you can tell me what I should expect to see at this 'Presentation' huh?"

Gil sat down in a movement that Jim could only call precise -- knees together, forearms resting on the arms of the chair. But he looked comfortable that way, even sitting up straight and tall. "It's only the formal presentation of the Companions that were picked up last week. There were three of them, and they're all local. Since the College is so close, they don't bother to rent out a hall for the ceremony."

"That would be a bit over the top, yeah." He nodded, some of it coming back to him. But Benefactor lessons were a long time ago and he remembered something about a compulsory ceremony that officially marked the Companion as his and that was about it. "So what happens?"

Gil was looking at him for a moment, and then he shifted, loosely crossing his legs at the knee. His shoes were polished to a shine that put Jim's old army parade dress to shame. He probably did that himself, too. "It's a social event. There's a meet and greet, and then everyone is seated. The Companions come out on stage -- they're introduced, ceremonially deflowered, branded, and then they're given their ID. Then their Benefactors socialize a little with them. They usually take their Companions home early in the evening."

Yeah, to un-ceremonially deflower them. Did that even count with Gil?

"Uh... they can do that to guys?" The thought of it made Jim very uncomfortable. Of course when he had been having those lessons he had been thinking he would chose a female Companion and he understood that bit of it. Symbolically breaking the hymen in a similar way to the old ways of medieval marriage where the practice had its roots.

"And when you say branded you mean... with fire?"

"Some Benefactors arrange different ways, but it comes down to the same thing -- your family symbol, or one of your creation burned onto my skin. Branding," Gil shrugged a little. "It's... been a while since you socialized with other Benefactors?"

If at all.

"Yeah you could say that. The lessons were a long time ago and they didn't go into a whole lot of detail." Jim looked at him. They were making him take a goddamn slave. Dress it up in tradition, in history all you liked, they were making Gil into a slave and him into an owner. He tried to stop the feeling of anger that welled up. "I don't suppose there's anyway of getting around that bit is there?" he asked faintly.

"No." Gil tilted his head a little. "A Companion has to be presented before they can get their ID card. Without a Benefactor ID... We don't exist after the CCCC ID expires." Blue eyes had the oddest expression in them, like Gil didn't know what to do with Jim.

"Oh right. Uh, what about missing out the branding and deflowering bit?" Jim asked a little hopefully.

He'd promised himself. Name only. He would fulfill duty but that was it. No other binding connection. He nearly smiled. He didn't need to take anyone else down with him. He'd already done that once, if he thought about it long enough. "No?" Gil's voice sounded like it was taking on a worried note. "That's part of being presented. Some Benefactors mitigate the circumstances, but..."

"Mitigate?" That sounded promising. "Mitigate sounds good." Jim commented. "That's got to be a good thing right?"

"Well, the Benefactor... you. It's up to you to choose what's used, and where the brand goes, and what it is." A faint furrow developed between his eyebrows, and he was still watching Jim.

"Well... I guess I'll think about that a little more," Jim replied as he looked at his empty glass and wished for a refill.

No brand if he could help it and he could be 'deflowered' with a damn feather as far as he was concerned. He looked down again, looking and feeling a little morose.

"Sometimes Companions and Benefactors... pick them out together." Gil seemed to suggest that so tentatively, even while he stood up, and headed to the sideboard on the other side of the room.

He didn't want to think about it. He didn't even want to consider the idea let alone go into some weird bonding ritual over how precisely to mutilate his Companion. "Oh?" he made the answer bland and not very open to the idea.

Gil came up behind his chair, and picked up the wine glass. He had the bottle in hand, probably the only drink there in that sidebar, and refilled Jim's glass. "In the spring, one of our Companions had some kind of pen-branding, like a tattoo. It was interesting, and her Benefactor was there the whole time. I doubt we'll have that this time."

"Tattoo's aren't so bad," Jim replied. "Thanks." He took a too big a mouthful and hated the fact that he wanted nothing more than to get drunk to the edge of oblivion because that would mean not having to deal with any of this shit. If he did that then he would have less time to drive back to Vegas, less vacation. But this wasn't really a vacation at all. This was an exercise in forcing him to do
what everyone expected him to do.

Gil hovered by the side of the chair, and set the wine bottle down. "Jim?"

"Yeah?" Jim looked up at him trying to convince himself that he wasn't interested in him that much. Really.

He seemed to hesitate, those blue eyes looking a little confused. "You seem tired. Is there anything I can do?"

"Nah, it's okay, Gil, it was just a pretty long drive and I was doing it in the time I usually sleep so I'm a bit... you know, irritable." It wasn't the kids fault. He just didn't know any better. He didn't know what he could have, just what he was given to and that wasn't right.

He was a handsome young man. Gil was supposed to be out in clubs and bars picking people up and having bad one-night stands. Like Jim did. "I can understand that. Are we going back tomorrow, or...? The presentation will probably go on for a while."

He'd drive tonight if he thought he wasn't over the limit. "I've got a suite in a nearby hotel," Jim replied. "We'll head back tomorrow." He'd be better on home ground. If Vegas was home ground.

It was as close as he got.

Gil inclined his head, and opened his mouth to say something when the doors opened again. Lady Heather was back, looking faintly amused and flustered. "Gil? You're going to have to take your tarantula with you, so she's going with your things to Mr. Brass's car. Will she be all right?"

"She'll be fine." Gil finally smiled a little wider, a little brighter.

"Tarantula?" Jim looked at her to see if she were joking. "You're kidding right?" Spiders. He knew Gil liked bugs but...

There was liking bugs, and then there was liking them a lot, owning one. "No. She's a red-baboon tarantula, just a little over five inches long. She's great." Gil was still smiling, and it was funny how the conversation was suddenly less stilted and halting. Probably because Gil knew what to do with his bugs. "Defanged and very safe. I saved up my allowance to buy her."

"Well if she makes you happy, then that's great," Jim said genuinely enough. Bugs didn't do it for him, but he liked the way Gil smiled when he was talking about them, being happy and real about what he was feeling. Not having to be a certain way. "Got many more I should know about?"

"Lucky escaped last year and met an untimely end with a vacuum cleaner."

Lady Heather was smiling as she walked towards them. "That's a 'no'. You're lucky that we talked him out of raising the… gigantic roach he brought home from a crime scene."

"...A crime scene?" Jim had missed that. No, wait, hadn't he signed some authorization for work placement experience? He remembered something like that. "Is that where you've been getting experience? With the police?"

"And the coroner's office. But mostly with the Criminalistics lab, lately." Gil moved to put the wine bottle back to the sideboard while he talked.

"They'll be sad to see him go," Lady Heather murmured. "It's time, and if you'd like to walk..."

"Sure. Sure." Jim got up, frankly relieved that he was going to be able to talk about his job with someone who vaguely knew about it. And that it was something he could pretend was at least vaguely normal. "You want to show me the way in, Gil?"

"Of course." Gil stepped away a little, waiting for Jim to stand up and join him. He seemed to be standing a little awkwardly again, like he didn't know what to do with his hands while he stood.

Jim walked over and felt a little awkward just standing there. Damn, he hated expectations. Rather tentatively he put his hand on Gil's lower back to steer him next to him because he remembered what it was like to be embarrassed in front of all of his friends. He could play some of the part even if he felt awkward and ashamed of doing it. He'd done worse.

"It's this way." Gil was still smiling, and he moved one hand a little, sliding back behind Jim a little, fingers touching his back.

Okay, that was a little friendly, and when Gil started to walk, Jim could feel the smooth shift of muscles under his palm with every motion.

Jim moved with him, just half wishing this were something normal. No Companion complications involved. That he'd met Gil in a bar and had been flattered that someone so young and smart and good looking had been interested in him, and things had gone from there. But... there was the complication, and he couldn't avoid it. Gil was a Companion and he just... couldn't deal with a Companion. As a person yeah, as a pseudo-brother or friend, yeah but... he choked on the concept of Companions. Because now he was older and wiser -- nah, more experienced rather than wiser -- he knew what it really meant.

It had seemed like a great thing when he was a kid, but Gil didn't get any choices. Didn't have a chance to be normal, didn't know how to be anything other than what he was. Didn't get to choose Jim, because Jim knew even he wouldn't choose himself.

"It's a nice auditorium," Gil told him as he lead the way out of the Headmistress's house, opening the front door. "They hold dance classes there normally, and Practicum."

"You did dance practice?" Jim asked. He shouldn't be surprised because his mom still danced even now, danced with his dad and he wondered even now how much of that was real. How much of it she really wanted, how much of it was because she didn't know any better. Would she have chosen his dad if things had been different? Why did no one else have this problem? Why couldn't they see that there was a big flaw in the system -- they talked about unconditional love and all of that, but was it real? How could love be unconditional without a choice?

It never seemed to bother anyone else. Maybe that was why he drank so much.

"Classical dance. Ball room, mostly. I still have two left feet and I lead better than I follow." Maybe he was imagining it, but Gil got closer to him as they headed down the stairs, and he started to lead them across the lawn, cutting through the grass instead of sticking to the sidewalk.

"My mom was better at leading too," Jim replied smiling a little. He remembered her attempts to teach him grace and poise. It had been an uphill struggle. "I think I've got two right feet. You think we might even out?"

"We might." That was said slyly, and he didn't want to know what Gil's face looked like, because he was going to keep looking at him if he didn't look at the scenery around him instead. "If you're not too tired, we could see tonight?"

Hell, he could. Make a good impression with the Headmistress, head off some suspicion. "Sure. If you don't mind making a spectacle of yourself."

"I do it on a daily basis just by driving to work. This won't be the first time I've danced badly." He moved his hand a little, higher, closer to Jim's shoulder blades. He was glad he was wearing a suit jacket, even if it was summer, and wished that Gil was so he wouldn't have to keep feeling those muscles move while Gil led him towards the auditorium. Once they'd rounded a corner, it was pretty obvious where they were headed, since there were men in suits and sharply dressed women, mostly, with them.

He and Gil looked downright plain compared to them.

He didn't really care that much -- he worked on the principle that he was pretty often better dressed than the people he worked with. Well the dead ones at least. Looks and presentation were not his thing -- he was in a department with what he privately termed the Vegas Calendar Boys and Girls who could be glamorous, rugged, handsome even while pulling trace out of a two month old corpse.

"Well, I'll try not to step on your toes. You can kick me in the shins if I do."

"Okay." And Gil laughed, a quick chuckle as they got closer to blending into that crowd. There was one sharply dressed man wearing a tuxedo, arm over the shoulders of a girl of maybe seventeen, who was wearing a long gold cloak. That stood out in the crowd, because there was fancy, and then there was wearing a cloak.

Jim looked at her a moment. "Someone you know?" he hazarded a guess. A cloak? There was hearkening back to historical precedent and there was... a cloak.

"Denise," Gil murmured. "She's going to be presented tonight. I tutored her in history and Practicum. She's a nice girl." A gorgeous girl, black hair, dusky skin, and that bastard who had his arm around her... well, Jim was assuming he was a bastard. He could save himself time if he just assumed every guy in the room was a bastard.

That included himself if he was brutally honest. "Are cloaks compulsory?" Jim said still staring. "Because I could see you in a sort of Dracula type get up..."

"I think my hair would lessen the effect." Gil turned his head a little, looking at Jim for a moment, and then he seemed to decide upon something, and Jim couldn't fathom what. "There are clothes to be worn. You'll see."

"What, like something... ceremonial?" Jim asked. He shouldn't be surprised. Brides wore white on their wedding day after all.

"The cloak. That's it, almost. I have a cloak and a what might as well be a jockstrap." Jockstrap, right, because Gil had a penis.

Jim blinked a bit. "That's it?" he said in a slightly stunned voice. The mental image was nearly blinding him -- a cloak and a jockstrap. Jesus Christ.

"The point is to show us off," Gil told him in a reminding tone. His voice fell a little quieter as they started up the short stairs into the auditorium, and he moved closer to Jim. "I think she'll have a bra on. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't. It doesn't matter by the end."

Jim could see an evening of complete misery looming in a week's time. Could they have designed it to be any more humiliating aside from stripping them naked and forcing them to prostrate themselves or something? "Okay, tell me what happens at the end," Jim said a little tersely.

"What do you mean? Most of us are branded on the shoulder, so..." So it wasn't as bad as Jim was half-assuming. Just logic that bra-straps and freshly burnt skin didn't mix. The fucked up part was that he was even having to consider it.

"Is that what you want?" he asked tentatively. He'd look for a way out but he had a sinking feeling that he couldn't get out of it. Like he hadn't been able to get out of picking Gil up. "On the shoulder?"

"I'm... not sure. I haven't given it much thought." That was a little firm, so maybe he was being honest and didn't know, but that didn't know seemed to be leaning towards a 'no'. "I'd like it somewhere that doesn't hurt."

"Yeah, I'd like that for you too," Jim said with genuine conviction. Maybe he could ask Al when he got back to Vegas where he thought would be best or if he could get some drugs to help or something.

Al would know. The only problem with that was that did he ask it in a casual 'I'm planning to get a tattoo' friend of a friend way, or did he tell him what the problem was? Because while they were going to figure it out at work sometime, the morgue was gossip central.

"Thanks."

He had no idea what they would do with the knowledge there was a genuine Benefactor working as a CSI. Benefactors didn't work at that level. They also weren't cops either, they got the breaks and the promotions and the hand ups to the promotions and were in safe, well paying jobs.

Jim wouldn't know about any of that, so maybe he really wasn't the right type to know.

He'd never gotten the cushy jobs, he'd never taken them, and he'd never taken the easy way out. Except this, with Gil, except that he had a feeling that the easy way out would have been to abandon him. Just let him get turned out onto the street and...

Jim wasn't sure what would have happened to Gil if he hadn't have come. He would've ended up homeless, probably, and without an identification all of his Companion certificates wouldn't get him anywhere in life. He probably would've ended up a whore. On the street, instead of a clean, well-groomed personal whore for Jim.

They passed through the lobby, and Gil's fingers were still on his back. Every so often, he waved to this girl or that boy, and it seemed like half of the Companions there knew him.

Maybe one of them would have taken him in. Maybe... no, that wasn't how it worked. And he'd known that if nothing else, he couldn't walk away from a situation just because it was uncomfortable. Yeah, he could try and avoid it, or procrastinate some, but in the end if there was a choice between Gil being on the streets and him picking him up, he'd pick him up.

He knew all about Duty even if he knew none of the niceties of Benefactor life anymore.

Part of him wanted to be like that -- strolling around in a tux, secure in himself, but... That wasn't him. That wasn't Jim Brass, and it would've been a lie. He hadn't ever been cut out for the Benefactor shit. After all, they were heading into the ballroom, and he didn't know what he was supposed to do. Chat with people? Network?

Jim wasn't interested in any of that. He didn't deal with those... his type of people except if one of them was involved in a crime. He'd never had to seriously socialize. He'd stick close to Gil and maybe that would be a good thing if they thought he was over-enamored of his new Companion.

There was booze circulating, too, Jim realized as they moved into the place, waiters circling with trays. He was just about to grab for one when another Benefactor started to talk to him.

"I don't think I've seen you before. Are you new to the area?"

"New in that I'm only here picking up my Companion," Jim said politely enough. "Tomorrow we'll be heading out of town." Maybe the guy would get the hint he didn't want to exchange life histories and back off.

Gil's fingers turned a little nervous, moving fitfully against Jim's back. "Really? He looks a little old..."

Maybe a year younger or the same age as the man's Companion. She had red hair that looked chic and stylish, and she looked absolutely miserable. "My name's Todd Piccone, Assistant City Attorney, and this is Sasha, my Companion."

"Jim Brass, CSI Las Vegas," Jim replied, knowing he had little chance to do anything but make small talk. "And this is Gil. My Companion. "

Damned if he'd justify his life and decisions to a stranger. Todd's face registered a strange not-expression that piqued Jim's curiosity. "Gil. I think he was here when Sasha was just finishing up her certificate. Isn't that right?" That was Sasha's cue to talk, or permission, or something. Jim wasn't sure.

"Yeah. Hi, Gil. Looks like you're finally getting out of here."

"Mmm." That was the least talkative he'd ever seen Gil. "Jim, do you want a drink?"

"Please, Gil," Jim nodded, resisting the urge to narrow his eyes at the other man. The man was guilty of something. It oozed out of every pore and he could tell. He was good at that, at knowing the way people twisted and turned. That was his area of 'genius' at the lab. The things that could happen when you least expected it. "Yeah, I was... unavoidably detained in Nevada and Gil used the time well in his training."

"I'm sure he did it well. So you're a CSI? They're CSAs out here, but it's all the same. How did you decide to do that?" While Todd talked, Gil broke away from Jim, with a determination to his step that made Jim wonder if he was going to tackle a waiter to get a drink. Sasha moved to step away, but she couldn't. Todd's fingers were white knuckled on her hand.

"Yeah." Jim barely glanced at his hand but he noticed it and plastered on a smile. "Oh hey, I forgot to tell Gil not to get me white. Would you mind sending your Companion after him just for a moment?" He made it sound casual and reasonable as if he really were that stupid. A lot of people were that stupid. "I sort of slid into the role when I moved up to Vegas. I had a lot of field experience from Jersey but I wanted something new. You know how it is..."

"Sure. Sasha? Be a dear and see to that." He released her hand, and if she would've run in those heels, Jim would've bet that she would. She could definitely get the leg movement she needed with that slit up to her thigh that her dress had. "So what do you do back in Jersey? Cop?"

"I was a cop in Jersey," Jim said. "Homicide. And then made the move to Vegas. You've done well to be a DA."

Todd was looking at him like he was a space alien. "It was hard work, but, well. When you want something hard enough, you work for it. I know some good cops in homicide -- actually, I know a homicide cop that's local who used to work in Jersey. Annie Kramer, did you know her?"

Annie. God, yeah. "Yeah, I know her pretty well," he said. Mentally he was pretty damn sure that Annie would want nothing to do with this ladder-climbing piece of shit. "Used to be good friends." Still would be if he hadn't taken everything so hard.

His life with Janice had fallen apart and then there'd been Annie, and strangely the worst blow had been to find out that there were people higher up than him undercutting every move he made against corruption. Against him. "Yeah? Fallen out of touch? I can give you her number if you want..."

"Yeah, that might be good," Jim agreed and cast around valiantly for some form of conversation. "I have to admit, I'm a bit nervous about this whole Companion thing. How long has Sasha been with you?"

"Sasha? She's great. A little willful, but we've been working on that." Todd smiled a little to himself, and he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, fishing through it probably for Annie's card. It made sense if she was still a homicide detective. Assistant DAs worked pretty closely with them. "She's three months along now."

"Well congratulations," Jim said because he guessed that was what he was meant to say. "Willful, hey?"

What, she said 'No' or 'Stop' sometimes? Fuck, yeah that was willful. Jim was abruptly tempted to introduce the man to the realities of street justice.

If they weren't in a crowded room, he would've hit the guy, even though he was handing over Annie's card. "Here you go. Yeah, a little. She was enamored with some of the men she did Practicum with here at the college, and I guess I don't entirely meet her standards. We're still getting used to each other."

"Yeah? How long do you reckon that takes?" Jim asked as if he really were as green as all that. He knew people and he knew that sometimes people just weren't compatible. He wondered briefly if Gil had been enamored of someone at the college as well.

"It depends from person to person. Sometimes no time at all, sometimes a few weeks, sometimes years. Sasha and I will work it out." And if she was a little older or as old as Gil, and he'd had her out for a while, then he was talking in terms of years. Years having already passed. "How do you think it's going to go with yours?"

"Pretty good I hope," Jim replied. "Though I'm pretty used to doing my own thing." Sitting drinking, or working, mainly. Working in someone else into that schedule might be difficult but he guessed he'd manage it.

"Going to marry?" He glanced to the card he'd passed Jim, and that Jim was pocketing.

"Once bitten..." Jim said and shrugged. "I don't know. What's the difference with marriage then?" More legal binds? Did they get any more rights or was it just another way to tighten a hold?

"Well, after Sasha has our child, I have to marry her. Then she won't be a Companion anymore, not in the traditional sense. She could leave me if she wanted." Somehow, Jim thought that was probably what Sasha wanted to do the most. "Your Companion, though... well, it's not unheard of for a man to have a marriage and a male Companion. Some women like that, you know?"

Privately Jim began to wonder if the solution to all of this was to get married to his male Companion. It wasn't like there weren't a lack of one-stop marriage shops in Vegas. He felt a little more at ease.

"Yeah, well my ex wasn't one of those," he said a little ruefully. Janice had cheated on him and he'd taken it. But he had some pride.

Eventually.

"No? Ah, so you've been married. Well, you'll find that Companions are quite different." Todd craned his head, but Gil was coming back, Sasha at his side, both of them carrying glasses of wine. They looked like they'd been conferring or who knew what. He'd ask Gil later. He hoped though that there was some out for Sasha. Maybe Companions weren't so brainwashed that they couldn't leave because she looked like she would run the moment the ink was dry on the marriage certificate. If Todd tried to stop her, if it was a normal case, he was pretty sure that they'd be processing his death scene in short order.

He hoped for her sake that she would. Todd was a prick, he could tell that.

"Well I'm hoping so?" Jim returned with fake sincerity. "I don't need complications."

Todd laughed. "I don't think any of us do. Jim Brass, I like you."

Gil pressed the glass into Jim's hand, and was pressed tight up to his side right away. Sasha seemed reluctant to even get close to Todd. "I wasn't sure if you wanted something other than wine." Maybe he was imagining it, but Gil's breath smelled like alcohol. In fact, like they had whiskey somewhere around.

"Well, maybe later I'll change to something stronger," he said. "Thank you, Gil." He made a show of looking over the room. "Mmm, looks like they're getting ready, doesn't it?"

Todd smiled, and turned a little. "It does. I think Sasha and I are going to get seats while the first rows are still open. Do you want to?"

He wasn't sure if he wanted front row seats to watch that, and he guessed he ought to be gracious, but he wasn't the gracious type. "You go ahead, I think I might have to pay a visit to the rest room before everything kicks off." He smiled a little. "Gil, could you show me where they are, please?"

"Of course." Gil's fingers were pressed against his back again, and he twisted to start leading Jim off.

"Good to meet you, Todd, Sasha," Jim said cordially as they walked away and he tried to resist looking back because that would give away the fact he was essentially running away. His expression mirrored his distaste and as soon as they were far enough away he muttered, "Asshole," under his breath.

"You have no idea," Gil murmured in return, still walking. The crowd thinned out down the side hall, and then turned to almost nothing by the time that Jim could see a sign on the door with a male figure. Men's room.

"So what's the real deal with him?" Jim asked in a low murmur. "What did you find out from Sasha?"

"He's a poor excuse for a human being." Gil's voice fell to a whisper. He probably would've been using sign if they were among the normal population, but there at that function, signing was like yelling. "I knew that before Sasha told me how she's been doing."

"Yeah, well I've never met either of them before and I think I worked that one out," Jim murmured. "So she'll leave him when they marry right?"

"I'm sure she will. If he doesn't decide to brain damage her some way. I wouldn't put it past him." Gil pushed open the bathroom door, and pulled away a little. A quick look under the stall doors proved they were alone.

"There must be some way to stop that," Jim said frowning even as he ducked into to take advantage of being there. "Under what circumstances can Companions get out of the situation?"

"There isn't any." Gil was running water, washing his face maybe. "You just hope that the person who chose you is good. Like you."

Jim snorted. "Gil, you don't know me. I'm a bastard when it comes down to it, okay? What's this deal about being able to leave once she's married to him?"

"That's right. Once she gives him an heir. Your mother could have left your father, but it doesn't sound like she did. There's a large degree of freedom after that happens." The running water splashed a little, and then Jim could hear him unwinding paper towels.

"No, my mom... stayed." It some indefinable way he was relieved. The doubts that had plagued him were eroded by that one fact. His mom could have left if she had needed to, but she had chosen to stay and that made his memories sweeter. He rinsed his hands. "Hmm, you know, turns out that Todd and I have a mutual acquaintance. I might give her a call in a few days and get her to keep an eye out on those two. Annie won't stand for that guy's shit. Might be enough to give her a chance."

"Good. She's not happy, and I doubt she's kept that a secret from him. I couldn't... handle someone like him." Gil's voice sounded unsteady, and he was still drying his face. "She was his second Choice."

"Oh. Right." That was some big deal to a Companion. He could remember the young boy being worried about that. "I remember you not wanting to be anyone's second Choice." Jim glanced over at him. "You okay, Gil?"

"No?" Gil grabbed another paper towel, and rubbed at his eyes again. "I don't want to sit near him."

"C'mon, I know he's not exactly the nicest human being in the world, but what's got into you huh?" Jim asked. Gil would have to toughen up a bit if a slime ball like Todd reduced him to a quivering wreck. Unless there was something he was missing.

"Before I started to work for the county, Lady Heather pulled me aside and told me that two of those... people who molested me worked in the county. She wanted me to avoid them, and I'm, I'd like to keep doing that." He took a deep breath, and wadded up the paper towels to toss them into the trash.

Jim froze. "He was one of them?" he said in a flat voice. He had no idea where the anger came from. It was as if there was a limitless well of it inside him that he could just tap at any given moment. "One of those that hurt you?"

He'd wasted polite conversation on that fucking bastard who had molested Gil when he was a kid. His Companion, had touched him, thought no one would chose him and what? That he could come back afterwards?

"He thought no one would choose you after." Jim said flatly. "Right?"

"Right." Gil was watching him, standing mostly still. "It doesn't happen often, if something like that has happened." Probably because either their molester picked them or no one picked them, because there was that strange emphasis on purity and virginity and Companions being just their Benefactor's. "So, that's what's gotten into me."

"Gil..." What could he say? What could he do? Start a fight? Beat the crap out of him? What would that gain anyone?

Well he'd feel a hell of a lot better. Better call that Plan B. Plan A was going to need more work. He knew the way people worked, the down side. He knew that someone who had that craving in him for young boys then never lost that. Somewhere, there was a trail, and he'd find it.

"I'll deal with it, okay?"

The only way he could. After all, just because he was a Benefactor meant that he could treat his Companion like crap, but there couldn't be a string of little Companion boys for him to molest. Lady Heather seemed too much like a mother bear to let that happen without calling a hit down on the guy, and it made Jim wonder what her story was. So that meant he was probably hurting boys, neighborhood boys.

All someone needed to do was start nosing around.

"Okay. Do you want to go back now?" His instincts tugged at him. He wanted to comfort Gil, to protect him and he'd only known him for a couple of hours. "Only if you're okay," he said seriously.

"I think I'll be all right." Gil rubbed at his wrist for a moment, and then glanced to Jim again. "As long as I don't have to sit with him."

"We'll be fashionably late then and stand at the back," Jim replied and moved closer. "I wish you'd told me sooner. I would've had an excuse to hit the guy and that would have saved me a lot of boring conversation."

"But you wouldn't have known your friend was in the area." Yeah, that was a point. Jim was wondering if it would be better to call her, or to try to meet up with her before he and Gil drove back to Vegas. "I had something to drink while I was getting your wine. I hope you don't mind."

"Well if I'd known there was some of that around, I would have asked you to get me some, too," Jim said. "Anytime you want to drink is fine by me, Gil."

Shit he should have come down earlier, but he wanted to do something. Maybe tomorrow. They could fit in a visit tomorrow and Annie would understand, even if things had been screwed up. That would mean not a lot of time before they got back to Vegas, but if he left it, it wouldn't happen.

"C'mon, let's go back. There's some sort of music going on so I'm guessing that is the cue for the Presentation right?"

"It's probably started," Gil agreed. He seemed to have trouble moving smoothly from standing there to getting close to Jim again, like he didn't know how to do it in any way but a rush. "You probably don't want to see it, I can guess that. But Lady Heather seemed to think you should. I've attended a few of them now. There's never much different about them."

"I think we've pretty much established I don't know enough about what I should know, so that's probably why," Jim said. "C'mon, we'll go, we'll see and then sneak out." And he could drink off some of the bank account in his hotel room.

At least he'd gotten two beds. Then there wouldn't be any problems, nothing sexual going on. Hell, Gil probably didn't even want sex. He wouldn't, if he were Gil. It wasn't like he was getting much say in the matter.

"Sure." And then Gil stepped towards him, slipping his fingers to grasp onto Jim's hand.

He was reminded as they walked of the moment when Gil had Chosen. It seemed so simple then, so easy. But he'd been sixteen and no matter what he thought he was ready for then, he hadn't been. The world had taken great delight in taking every expectation, every ideal he'd ever had and trampling on it. The simple act of Choosing would be no different, he knew that. It would be messy, tangled and inevitably doomed just like every thing he had ever tried to hold on to in his life.

They entered the hall where the Presentation was underway and he stopped, paralyzed by the sight of it all. It was laid out a little like a conveyor belt, he guessed, so there were two parts of the show going on at the same time. The stage wasn't decorated, unless you counted the Companions as decoration.

The girl that Gil recognized was bent in half, naked, holding onto her ankles, facing the wall so that her side faced the crowd. There was one man in a tux with a Mardi Gras style mask over his face, and he was shoving some sort of object into her. Dildo or something. It looked shiny, but standing at the back it was hard for him to guess, exactly.

There were people clapping when he pulled it out and held it up in the air for a moment. Then he put his hand on her back, and she stood up, beautiful graceful motions, and moved to stand on the other side of the stage. There was a little artificial fire pit, and there were two brands heating in it, the third being pressed firmly onto the shoulder blade of another naked girl. She was screaming, and her Benefactor was standing on the side of the stage looking anxious.

Jim just stared. No. No, what the hell was this anyway? An excuse to publicly debase and hurt other human beings? How was this different than the sickos they dealt with all the time on the job?

All he could think was that that was going to be Gil up there, and that once that had been his mom up there. It was just fucked up, and he knew he should have learned about it beforehand, but he'd skipped classes and hadn't paid attention, and then there had been better things to give his attention to. More normal things.

Gil jostled him a little, shoulder against shoulder. Huh, he was taller than Jim. Not by much, but a couple of inches was enough to be noteworthy. "Jim? You should probably blink."

He blinked in reaction if nothing else. It made him sick. He'd seen people do worse, he'd... no, he wasn't going there but they were going to make him a party to doing that to someone else. To Gil.

"I think I want to leave," he said in a grim tone.

"Then you've seen enough." It was a strange thing for Gil to say, but he squeezed Jim's fingers and twisted to head to the doors that let into the lobby, ready to drag Jim with him.

"You don't want to say goodbye to anyone else?" Jim asked even as he made for the door as if it were the gateway out of some hell he had stepped into. This had been Gil's home for most of his life and he was just taking him away. Even if he'd sent him all the way out there from Jersey years and years ago.

"I said my goodbyes to Lady Heather and the other teachers before you arrived. I'm older than most of them, and..." He could feel Gil shrug when his hand moved in Jim's. "I'm ready to move on." The kid sounded more certain, more sure of who he was and what he wanted to do than Jim was. He'd been like that once.

"We'll go to the hotel, then tomorrow I might call Annie before we head back to Vegas." He could drive on this amount of wine even if he probably shouldn't. Fuck it, He didn't want to wait for a cab.

Plus, they'd loaded Gil's things into his car. Tarantula and all.

"Annie? Annie's your old friend, right?" There was a funny quiet note to Gil's voice, and it reminded Jim about the time he'd sent Gil a letter mentioning how Janice had picked a fight with him just before their wedding. Gil had mailed him back a carefully labeled picture of a stick woman with an anvil falling on her head. With 'Janice' written beside her, arrow pointing to her, just in case Jim didn't get it.

"Yeah. We were close. She wasn't pleased that I left for Vegas," Jim replied letting the door close behind him on those surges of applause for what he saw as acts of pain. "She helped me out in Jersey. I'm surprised she moved here. Thought she was Jersey through and through."

Who was he kidding? He had torn through the PD like an avenging angel and no matter how righteous, in the cops' unwritten code, he had broken a key precept. He had turned on his own. It was only the fact that an almost more primal police 'rule' had been broken that saved him; he'd been betrayed by his partner. That was something that was wrong. A guy always, always watched his partner's back, trusted them...

A guy didn't fuck his partner's wife and try to have him killed. Mike had ironically saved his life but no one was going to be comfortable with him around there. Or his allies. And Annie had been one of those by association.

"Maybe Jersey stopped agreeing with her. She's police?" The sun was starting to set. They probably needed to grab something to eat, but that was what room service was for.

"Yeah. Damn good police. She'll be a Captain some day. Head of department," Jim said with absent pride in how Annie could hold her own in the rough and tumble of Jersey police politics. "Here? She'll wipe the floor with them." Which was exactly what he hoped would happen. Annie never gave up.

They headed to his car. He never had managed to get another Porsche. He smiled a little at the memory. He drove a Ford Mustang nowadays. It was a decent car, got good gas mileage, and with all of the driving he had to do, that mattered. Comfortable and a good after market stereo system, sure, but once upon a time, he'd owned a Porsche.

Now he owned a human being with surgically fixed hearing. He probably still had the letters somewhere, the one where Gil had sounded scared and worried about what might happen to him if he had the surgery. Jim had felt so mature writing and telling him not to be scared. Sending him music to listen to when he got out from the surgery. All of that, all of that was the fairy tale before things had gone to hell for him.

He opened the car up and got in, wondering if he ought to tell Gil to run and take his chances rather than hang out with a bitter, cynical guy like him.

Gil opened the passenger side door, though, and got in. He seemed to be taking everything in, soaking up the look of Jim and Jim's car. "If you're still tired, I could drive."

"Nah, it's okay," Jim said. "Besides, you had a whiskey and I'm guessing you don't drink much. You've got to have practice at it to get tolerance." And he had that in spades. "It's not far to the hotel."

"All right." Gil buckled his seat belt, and leaned his head back against the headrest. "I don't drink much. A little wine on the holidays. But it was drink something or throw up."

He knew that feeling. "Yeah. Look, Gil, I guess you've worked out I don't really have much to do with the normal Benefactor Companion protocols. I just basically want you to do whatever you want to do right? If you want to drink, you drink. You want to go somewhere, do something, you just do it. I'm not like Todd."

If he was, he hoped he would have had the decency to actually make good on the suicide attempts.

"I know that you're not like that. I don't know what happened to... change you, but you're not a bastard." Had Gil even listened to what he'd said before that?

He sighed even as he turned the ignition and pulled out. "Yeah, I am, Gil. A different type, maybe, but definitely one. I'll tell you sometime and you can make the judgment for yourself. In the meantime, I drink too much, I piss people off and have the talent of knowing the criminal mind probably because, as more than one person has suggested, I'm not that far removed. Just think about that."

"Actions speak louder than words." And of course he'd seem like a saint to Gil. Who knew how the kid had built him up in his head? He'd paid for his hearing to be fixed. He'd Chosen him. He'd at least been good to him in terms of care.

Maybe there was a saint out there that had incidentally been a right bastard. "Yeah? So what about the action where I left you for nearly five years past your normal time to Go Home? Huh? What does that tell you?"

Gil didn't answer. He was probably trying to think of an excuse, Jim figured, while he drove past the guard gate at the entrance of the college's grounds. Gil leaned forwards and turned the radio on, and then sat back again.

"That you don't actually want me anymore."

Jim sat in silence a moment as that simple observation cut him to the quick. "I don't want a Companion," he said a little harshly.

But that was very different from not wanting him specifically. He would, he did, he felt the attraction there and he was lonely, bitter and a poor excuse to be responsible for anything or anyone. He got by in Vegas by being everyone's good guy, but no-one's real friend. He was the guy who'd cover your shift, who'd pull the double, who could imagine the unimaginable.

Think the unthinkable with too much ease.

"You Chose me. I'm your Companion." Gil shifted, leaning his arm against the door. He'd probably been thinking about that conversation for years, if that was what he thought. "You're supposed to want me."

"Goddamn it." Jim steered a little vigorously. "You know the worst part? I do. I do fucking want you, and I know I shouldn't. I want you, but… the Companion thing... shit, I can't deal with that."

"So if you'd just... met me somehow, that would be all right? But this isn't?" Gil sounded so curious and calm, and Jim was suddenly having trouble steering. Yeah, he was damn glad the hotel wasn't far. God-dammit.

"Ye- No." Jim wasn't actually sure. "Look, I've got issues with it. I didn't have them before, but I do now. But that shouldn't mean that you have a hard time, you don't have to worry about that."

"I'm not worried about it, because I know you're not one of those Benefactors. You're not a bad person." There was Nirvana playing in the background on the radio, and Jim wanted to find the people who'd created angst rock and kill-- Oh yeah. Too late.

"They teach you how to work that out?" he asked automatically to cover his thoughts. All he wanted was to sit down with a scotch, or whatever spirits came to hand and drink until he wouldn't dream. There was no way he wouldn't after what he had seen today.

They had terms for what they'd seen, work terms for it, and Gil had to be familiar with them. Ritual mutilation, penetration with a foreign object, object rape, sodomy. Usually mixed up with said victim's death or imminent death. And branding... Jim didn't want to think about hot pokers. Ever. He didn't want to think about what they felt like, didn't want to think about them being pressed to anyone's skin like they were a fucking piece of cattle marked so no one could walk off with it.

"It's logic. Either you're a good person, or a very un-charming sociopath."

"Going with the second might be less disappointing for you," Jim pointed out as they came close to their hotel. "In the long run." He pulled in to park the car.

"Given that you don't remind me of a car salesman, I want to say the second option is unlikely." Gil twisted a little, looking into the back seat. He was probably trying to figure out which bags he actually wanted to drag into the hotel.

The one thing that woman hadn't been wrong about all of those years ago, Gil had a lot of personality. Not many people in that position could banter like that, calm and collected, like he wanted to be there.

Jim was starting to get a sneaking suspicion that things were slipping out of his control. He'd tried warning him, he'd tried being a miserable bastard, cynical and unpleasant and it felt like he was shouting at himself in a padded room. The worst thing was he could easily fall for Gil, easily. His personality was right, his look, his feel, even that need to be protected that triggered that certain something in Jim he couldn't avoid. "Get your things. Whatever you need for tonight."

Gil popped open the passenger side door, and unbuckled his seat belt in the same smooth motion. "Okay." The question was, what did the kid thing he'd need for the night? There was a world of possibilities, and Jim didn't know what Gil had been taught was 'normal'. There were probably all sorts of expectations in his head -- first night with his Benefactor, in a nice hotel. Gil leaned into the back seat, the bottom edge of his shirt pulling out of the tidy tuck-job that he'd had it in. He grabbed a strange little terrarium thing that had a handle, and a small duffle.

The duffle had been one of Jim's back from his duty, and somewhere along the line he'd sent Gil some gift in it, using the duffle as padding or wrapping or something. He just hadn't expected Gil to keep it, but what did the kid have except his allowance money and the scraps that Jim gave him?

Nothing, and that was a sobering thought. And that, Jim considered as they headed up to his room together, was the last thing that he wanted right now. Or ever again.

---

It could have been worse.

It could have been worse, and Gil kept reminding himself of that. Jim was in the bathroom of the two bed suite, and Gil was left to the quiet of the too-lush decorations. Lola was walking between his hands, and she seemed to want to walk up his arm, but Gil didn't want Jim to startle himself -- and Lola -- when he came out of the bathroom. A tarantula on the loose was always a troublesome event.

But he could stroke over the delicate hairs, and it calmed him while he tried to plan what he was going to do because Jim didn't seem to want anything that he'd been trained for. He wanted Gil, apparently, but not a Companion, and that was a strange mental twist for Gil, because he was a Companion and there was no undoing it.

It was a mental leap that couldn't be avoided. It wasn't something he did, it was who he was and he was good at it, and he wanted to be good at being a Companion. Lady Heather had held a long discussion with him about what it was Companions did and he knew that she believed wholeheartedly in Companionship as a calling, not just a role. She sometimes disapproved of the way their gifts were squandered but she had said that a Companion was a treasure because they could give what was lacking in life for so many.

Gil had hoped to be able to do that, and do it for Jim. He had been 'reading' his Benefactor-to-be and the man was a mess of conflicting needs and desires. He was beginning to wonder how the man ever made the decision to get up in the mornings.

But where did that leave him?

With, if he was going to live up to years of over-training, a lot of work on his hands. First would be getting Jim to trust him, or over that mental hurdle. He just wasn't sure how to go about it, because he hadn't been taught how to approach things in singular stages. There wasn't clear cut 'if your Benefactor has problems' lessons anywhere that said how to build trust and when to do what or when to make what movement.

All Gil could do was follow his gut instincts, and be himself. Focus on Jim and not his own issues.

It probably would have been easier if Jim had picked a Companion who'd been a little more... something. Together or focused, except he didn't seem to want that kind of Companion, the ones who could shut themselves off wholly for their Benefactor.

Lola wandered over his fingers and he watched her intently as he tried plotting and planning. It was difficult, his thoughts were still all over the place from seeing Todd at that party. He hadn't thought it would hit him that way, and it just made him wonder if he was as ready as he seemed to think for the physical stage of their relationship.... if they ever got that far. Jim seemed to be thinking he was going to push him off to one side and that would be that.

And then in the next breath he was promising to fix things, to make things better. To protect him.

So how did he get him to trust him, to open up to him? Difficult. Very difficult. Maybe he could just talk about it? Or... show him somehow.

Actions spoke louder than words, after all. But if Jim wasn't going to believe him, then Jim wasn't going to believe him, actions or words. He seemed to think they were all like... Puppets, when it was entirely different than that. Jim had chosen Gil, but that didn't mean that Gil had to like him, and sometimes Companions didn't. Sasha hadn't ever liked Todd, possibly because he was a sick child molester. It had been a while since he'd thought about that, but it had also been a while since Lady Heather had made him attend Practicum, and it had always crept to the edge of his mind then, the faint thought-knowledge that he knew what sex could actually feel like, that being dressed and rubbing against another male Companion was nothing like a hand clamped over his mouth when everything hurt. That was the bad side of it, of course, and Gil didn't have to question whether he actually liked men or not. Or women. Both, because he'd always spent Practicum as hard as a rock, and he'd had to jerk off in the shower afterwards because it was the only place on campus he could touch himself and get away with it.

Lola started to walk up the sleeve of his shirt, and Gil shifted his thumb to stop her from walking further. "Sorry. You have to go back in the tank. I should get undressed."

He carefully guided her onto his palm and let her walk back into her tank.

That was the other thing. What was he going to do? He needed things to do. Sasha didn't work and had confessed to being bored as hell. They were trained and educated to the highest standards and then when they left, sometimes that meant nothing. They just sat there waiting for their Benefactor to tell them what next. Jim didn't seem like that type, but on the other hand he obviously hadn't given a lot of thought to the whole deal. He had known very little about the ceremony and he'd seen his face when he witnessed the Presentation.

Jim had been horrified. That was a little comforting, actually, because while Gil considered it a fact of life, a reality, he wasn't happy about facing that. He was hardly comfortable being naked with himself. Being publicly 'taken' was a little much for him to contemplate. But the branding...

He liked the idea of the branding, a little, but he wasn't going to tell Jim that. He liked the idea of bearing Jim's brand, of being his.

There was a security in it, a sense of belonging, and sometimes that wasn't a bad thing. Not for Companions anyway. It was what they all wanted. He wondered if he could explain that to Jim.... it would be worth a try. But he had a sneaking suspicion he needed to find out what had happened to him to make him this way. It might be breaking up with Janice, which he had been secretly really happy about but he couldn't see how that translated to objecting to a Companion, but not to him. It might put him off relationships of any type.

But not just... Companions.

Gil closed and secured the lid on Lola's terrarium, and then walked to set her on the desk on the other side of the room. The water had stopped running, finally.

Jim came in with a towel wrapped around his waist and a slightly alcoholic look of blurring around the edges in his expression. He'd been drinking since he came in and seemed not to care any more about anything. Gil couldn't help but look at him. Fit enough, still showing muscle in the right places. What he hadn't been expecting was the faint silver of scars. He guessed that normally they wouldn't show up so much, but after a hot shower the contrast was there.

"You want a shower?" Jim said even as he rubbed at his hair.

"Not really." He'd showered that morning, cleaned, shaved, essentially everything he needed to do to impress his Benefactor. He'd been right in guessing that all of that effort was going to go to waste. Gil started to unbutton his shirt at the wrists, eyeing Jim. His hair was thinning a little at the front, but. But he was good looking and Gil still wanted him.

He knew that being a cop could sometimes be physical but some of those scars didn't look.... right. He had to remind himself not to stare too much, not just yet. Jim just slipped on a pair of boxers under his towel and that was apparently him ready for bed.

Gil watched him as he bent over and rummaged in one of his own cases. "Fucking pills," he heard him grumble and then apparently he gave up looking and walked over to fetch himself another drink.

"Can I help you find something?" Gil offered, putting his cufflinks on the desk beside the terrarium.

"Nah. Probably shouldn't take them with all the alcohol I've been drinking," Jim said and added to it by pouring a shot from a bottle that Gil was certain hadn't come from the mini bar. "I'm still on Vegas time. It can screw with my sleeping patterns. Did you order any room service?"

"Yes and no. I called a Pizza Hut, and it should be here in ten minutes." Which meant that one of them should be presentable for answering the door, so Gil stopped undressing after he'd taken his belt off. "You don't mind an everything?"

"Sounds good," Jim replied. "I have pretty simple tastes. Cop's tastes. Same for CSI. You eat take out because you need it at night."

"I know. Dayshift isn't that much more food-friendly." Except Gil watched what he ate and tried to stay healthy because he wanted to look good for Jim and that had been a waste of time, hadn't it? Gil smiled a little at himself, and moved to sit on the edge of 'his' bed. "And IHOP is always open. The supervisor swore by it."

"There's a great little Chinese place that Warrick and Nick found. Their take out is as good as eating in," Jim mused as he lay back, hands pillowing behind his head. "We use it sometimes when we're working through and having a department meeting on a tricky case."

"That's good." When they got home, maybe he could keep himself busy a little by making lunches for Jim. Except that was a weird thought, and he didn't really want to be trapped at home bored and just waiting for Jim to come back from work. "I've, uh, gotten really used to working. So when we get back to Vegas, I'd like to see if I can get a job."

Jim looked at him and shrugged. "Sure. What would you like to look at?"

Well that had been easy. They'd had a lot of talks on how to delicately open the subject of getting a job and earning if the Benefactor didn't bring it up and Jim had just agreed in two heartbeats to something that could be a major stumbling block in a Companion's relationship.

It really wasn't helping that they were working from completely different points of reference. Gil leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. "A crime lab. I know there's the sheriff's office, but there's also the metropolitan, and there's an FBI lab out there. If no one has an opening, I can at least leave my resume on file with them. There has to be something in the area. I'm qualified to assist coroners, so that's an option."

Jim was looking at him, assessing him somehow. "So how much do you actually know, Gil?" he asked after a long pause. "With all the extra time I left you with them... how good are you?"

"I started to work with the coroner's office when I was seventeen. I started part time at the county when I was nineteen. And last year I stopped working with the coroner's office and moved full time to working with the County's Crime lab. I have a CCCC doctoral certificate in biology, a masters certificate in entomology, a masters certificate in forensic science, and an associates in law." Gil paused, and managed to smile a little more to himself. "I didn't really like lawyers, but I finished up those classes by the time I was sixteen and forgot most of it within a week."

Jim was just staring at him. "Jesus." He took another gulp of his scotch and carried on staring at him. "Gil, what the hell are you doing hanging around waiting for me? With a resume like that you could be doing anything."

"Except that I can't. I can't work without an ID. I can't work without your permission and you'll get my pay. My pay from the county went back into paying for the last of my classes, but my last couple of weeks of pay will go to you." Jim didn't get it, did he? That Gil wasn't quite a person free to do what he wanted. Or maybe he got it too well.

Jim grimaced slightly and looked at his drink. "Fine. We'll go through with this Presentation thing and then... you can get what job you want. I'll see what's coming up in the department. It's a high turn over job. Then we'll work a joint account and I'll give you a card and we'll share." He paused for a moment. "I'm going to have to do this whether I want to or not aren't I?"

"Going to have to do what?" If he couldn't already feel the faint fuzz from the one whiskey, Gil probably would've taken to drinking, too. And that wasn't a particularly good sign.

"Go through with the Presentation. It's... Christ, we banned slavery but we think it's acceptable to stand around eating canapés while we publicly 'deflower' and brand people?" Jim sounded angry at the mere thought of it. "What's the difference?"

"Do you actually want an answer to that? You could call it mostly benevolent slavery, if you wanted to. I don't care what you call it. I'm not actually looking forward to the 'deflowering' part of the presentation, myself. If--" There was a knock on the door, and Gil stood up. "That's the pizza."

"My wallet's in my pants. There should be enough in there to cover it," Jim said looking at him with a little more calm after that outburst.

Gil got up and went to fetch the wallet. So. It was the slavery aspect of it that seemed to be setting him off. Maybe it wasn't about Companionship, but more about slavery. He could pry at that, carefully, while trying to emphasize that at least.... at least Gil was happy. Would be happy, if Jim gave him a chance. Let him be himself, and that included being a Companion. Gil pulled out a twenty, and opened the door.

He was feeling pretty hungry now. He hadn't eaten much because of nerves once he had been told Jim was coming for him and now things had been exhausting enough that he needed some food for fuel. He paid for the pizza and then considered that it might be a good way to get closer to Jim if he took it over to his bed and casually sat there to offer to share.

After all, Jim couldn't survive on booze alone. Even if he seemed determined to do just that. Gil stopped in the bathroom and grabbed tissues to use as napkins before he sat beside Jim on the bed, and put the pizza box between them. "You should eat."

"Alcohol has calories," Jim replied lazily, closing his eyes a moment. "But it smells good." He was looking at Gil again. "You know something? You're... really good looking." His lips twisted into a wry smile. "I remember you saying you weren't. When you were a kid?"

"Pretty," Gil agreed while he opened the box, and handed Jim a piece. "When you're a boy being raised with girls, by girls, it takes a while to realize that girls are supposed to be pretty, and that boys shouldn't try to sneak into their skirts or put ribbons in their hair. I think I'd worked out the different gender standards of 'good looking' by about ten." But what mattered was that Jim thought he looked good. Everyone else could go hang themselves.

Jim smiled at him, and he could recognize the faint looseness about him that was alcohol induced. "You were worried about your chin." He smiled at that. "But you had these blue eyes that I just couldn't forget. They look just the same. Heh."

"I thought it was a dent. I used to trip a lot when I was a kid and some other kid told me that I'd dented my chin, and I thought she was right." Gil grinned a little ruefully, while he picked up a slice of pizza for himself. He wasn't exactly the picture of grace and dignity that he was supposed to be, but he had a feeling that Jim wasn't going to be attending public functions with him and trying to use him to impress people.

Jim leaned over and stole a piece for himself. He nearly dropped it on his bare chest. "I remember that day. I was sure it was a waste of time. I couldn't work out how I could feel enough to be sure I was Choosing right. I seemed impossible. I was wrong though. I was so sure. So sure when I got home I gave up my birthday Porsche..." He took a bite. "That was before I knew what life was really like."

"And what is life really like?" Gil asked quietly, taking another bite so it didn't look like he was watching Jim as intently as he actually was. He wanted to know, because there had been a few shifts in the way that Jim had seen the world. And he'd gone missing for a while when Gil had been little, and no one had had any answers for Gil. His grades had just started to slip when Jim had started to write again, saying he'd been sick.

"It's full of people who get crazed with wanting power, and abusing it. It's full of people doing fucking terrible things just because they can. It's all about there being no choices." Jim wasn't looking at him when he spoke, but staring off somewhere into the middle distance. "You didn't want to be someone's second Choice, Gil. I don't want to be someone's no choice. There's nothing worse than that. Nothing."

Not having a choice. So somewhere something had happened and Jim hadn't had a choice. Gil shifted a little, as much as he could with the pizza box between them. "You aren't a no choice. You might not have noticed, Jim, but a lot of Companions don't actually like their Benefactors. We don't have to."

"You can be brainwashed into it, though," Jim answered even as he ate the slice of pizza slowly. "You've spent your life waiting for me and you've hardly met me. Known me. What if you had been leading a normal life? You could have fallen in love, out of it, done whatever. What if by choosing your education I robbed you of a talent you might have found. What if you could be the world's greatest pianist? Don't you get it? And yet you're pleased to see me. Want me to pick you up and all I can see if what you might have been if you had been allowed to find your own way."

"But I did find my own way. Trust me, I wouldn't have been the world's greatest pianist. For one thing, I can't carry a tune in a bucket, and I can hardly dance. Maybe I can spite you a little for the dance lessons. But I liked to get into things. I liked science and insects, and you know what I studied? Science and insects, and then I worked at a job that let me deal with both of them. It's fun. I like lifting fingerprints and recognizing what happened to a victim. I enjoy this." Gil picked a piece of pepperoni off the top, and ate it by itself.

"Has anyone ever asked you what you want?" Jim asked softly. "Really asked you and meant it?"

Gil took a long moment to finish off the crust of the first slice, throwing back his mind. "Sometimes. I'm not sure if you mean 'what I want' in a grand scheme, or a particular moment."

"Either," Jim shrugged. "We don't always get what we want but having the option is pretty much what it is all about. You didn't have someone at the college who you wanted to be with? You didn't see someone and think, yeah, I should be with them."

"No, I actually didn't." He'd always been a little apart from the rest of the students, always, and in the professional world he'd always been a little apart from them because they saw him as something exotic and strange. Which was funny because his fellow students thought he was nice enough, but boring.

Jim raised an eyebrow at him. "Really?" He ate the rest of the slice. "So I'm not a disappointment to you then?" It was said with almost a hint of challenge as if it was a test of some type.

"No, you're not." And while he was sure that Jim would take the no as either 'because nothing better has come along' or because Gil just didn't know any better, Gil could only be honest.

Jim laughed a little. "You don't have to lie," he said in a mutter. "I'm damn sure I'm not the ideal Benefactor you've built up in your mind."

Gil reached for another piece of pizza. "I'm not lying. I am getting a little pissed off that you seem unwilling to believe that I'm not a brainwashed puppet. I've gotten pretty far academically for someone who apparently can't think for themselves, and I'm starting to wonder why this obvious flaw hasn't hindered my investigative work."

That actually got more of a genuine smile than his agreeable answers. "Yeah. Yeah, well maybe I'm wrong. I've got experience at that. Quite a bit of it."

Hmm. So Jim liked it when he contradicted him, or got angry.

Was that proof for Jim that he was normal? "What I mean is that... if you hadn't chosen me, someone else would have. Maybe Todd would have chosen me. Or no one else would have. I would have been a completely different person than I am now, and there's no telling if it was for good or for bad. Or if I hadn't been born the bastard child of a Companion -- maybe my father would've been abusive and caved my skull in when I was four. You can't just take yourself out of the equation and assume everything would have been perfect or better." Gil chewed a couple of more bites of pizza, and sat back a little, leaning on one hand. "I like who I am. I'm comfortable with myself, and you made me as much as your experiences have made you."

Jim paused on his way to bite at a piece of pizza. "I should probably be less drunk to really get what you just said. I guess... I guess that's okay then." He looked faintly puzzled, as if he wasn't sure how he'd been maneuvered into agreeing that.

"Okay. I'll be sure to repeat it to you when you're sober." Gil worked his way towards the crust for a moment, chewing and swallowing before he sat up a little more and started to unbutton his shirt.

He was conscious that Jim was watching him, even if he was eating his pizza. He wasn't good at feigning disinterest if he was even trying to and from his more unguarded tongue since they had reached the room, he didn't think he was. He slipped off his shirt and folded it neatly before putting it to one side.

"Mmm."

Gil wasn't sure if that was random appreciation of pepperoni or to do with him.

It emboldened him a little, made it easier for Gil not to sit down again yet, toeing off his shoes. He knew how to undress himself for show, but that wasn't exactly what he was doing. He was just gauging Jim's reactions, he told himself. It wasn't like he was good at undressing himself for show, and the girls had always teased him for standing like he was a cowboy. Besides, he had a feeling that Jim might just take that sort of deliberate move as some dire proof of his apparently brainwashed state.

Jim's reactions were definitely telling him that he was interested, very interested. Maybe once they had eased over this sensitive patch, Jim might appreciate the full show. Possibly with a cowboy hat and boots.

He smiled a little to himself at that and glanced up to see Jim staring at him as if he was witnessing some vision of beauty. It really was very strange.

"You can do more than look, if you want," Gil murmured, and then quickly corrected himself with he new awareness of a little of what made Jim tick. He unbuttoned his pants, and stepped out of them, bending to pick them up off of the floor. He had underwear on, but it was gray and didn't leave anything to the imagination. "If that interests you. It interests me, but it might be a little weird for your Companion to take advantage of you while you're drunk."

"Maybe it's a kink of mine," Jim replied reaching out towards him to touch Gil's skin.

It made him shiver in way he hadn't been expecting. He could see why the quick turn around for a presentation was needed, because a week now seemed like a very long time.

A very long time.

Except it didn't really matter for him, did it? It was really just ceremonial for him, because he'd been 'breached' and even if it had been before he was chosen, he wasn't sure how that counted. Lady Heather hadn't addressed it when she'd talked to him, probably because she didn't want to get him thinking on it again.

But Jim's hand sliding against his side was very nice, and Gil took a step towards him. He wanted to kiss him, and he wanted to touch him, and he just wanted. Wanted what he could get, as long as he didn't have to sit on the pizza box to get it.

Jim's hand had found its way into his own and was pulling him closer, and he was pushing himself up even as he pulled him down towards him. The sudden proximity exerted a pull between that that was disconcertingly like magnetism and Jim didn't seem to be fighting it now.

That was okay. A little... but Gil knew what to do, knew what he wanted to do more importantly. He had a free hand and that pushed the pizza box to the end of the bed, and then he could put a knee on the bed, bending so he could kiss Jim, hoping the other man would move back on the bed a little or something so they could get closer.

Jim moved enough to he could lean up, could kiss him and he did. Kissed him with the smoky taste of whiskey on his lips and there was a fire there that wasn't alcohol based. Jim kissed him like he was starving for human contact.

Maybe he was. Those scars had to come from somewhere, and they didn't look like line of police duty injuries. Someone somehow somewhere had taken Jim's choices from him and they'd left those scars. Gil let the kiss deepen, felt Jim's five o'clock shadow on his face when he turned his head so the friction was better, so he could open his mouth and taste the whiskey on Jim's tongue, the aftertaste of the pizza, slick muscle twisting against his own tongue.

He couldn't help it, he wanted this. It was the first unequivocal sign that Jim wanted him, really wanted him and that was a heady feeling. There was something more truthful about the way he kissed and the feel of his broad hands over his back, smoothing over bare skin. Jim wanted him. It hadn't been a lie, he had wanted him and this proved it.

Jim had problems, but he still wanted Gil, and that soothed down years of worry for Gil, pushed back the back of his mind concerns. Jim's hands roamed and Gil shifted, crouching over Jim while they kept kissing. He could do it forever, but when he shifted he had more proof that Jim wanted him, because Jim was hard. Somehow, despite all of that booze.

Needless to say he was, too. Hard as a rock like he always had been in Practicum but with the exciting thought that this was real. Very real. Wrong and breaking the rules but Jim looked like he broke rules that were irritating.

Jim was pulling him down on him so movement became a stimulant between them. The material of the boxers brushed against him and Jim was kissing hard enough to mark his neck as he moved everywhere that he could reach with his lips.

It made Gil shiver, made his fingers twitch and halt and start again because his hands settled on Jim's shoulders, kneading because it gave him the traction to press down against Jim, rubbing counterpoint to the pressure of the hands on his back because he wanted it as much as Jim did. He was going to have a hickey in the morning, and he was going to wear it like a badge of honor because Jim felt so damn good.

He wanted his briefs off now, yesterday.

For one horrible moment Jim hesitated as he put his hand on his hips at his waistband. No, this was not the time to come over with a rash of sticking to the rules. Gil headed that off with an insistent kiss that melted any form of resolve Jim might have come up with. Hands were tugging at his pants, pulling them down, and then at Jim's and ...there, hot flesh sliding against each other, suddenly.

That felt so much better than anything in Practicum. That was simulated sex, foreplay and teasing and practice on how to suck a dildo, and this was real, warm muscle and hot skin and Jim moving under him when Gil squirmed down a little and dropped his hips, pressed them hard against Jim's. Jim's pubic hair itched, and Gil was gong to fuck his stomach if he had to. "Fuck, I want..." He wanted a better position, a way to sneak his hand between them, but that meant moving.

Jim was already doing that for them. Not as coordinated as he could be, he wrapped his legs around Gil's and rolled them, and in a tumble of heat and limbs, there was weight on him, a wonderful weight and some uncoordinated fumbling later there was a sudden grip on his cock, firm and tight.

Gil was really glad he'd moved the pizza box. He'd probably be more glad later, because there was a hand on his dick that wasn't his hand, and it felt good. It felt better than Gil had words for, shivering, grinding up against Jim good, tilting his head a little so he could kiss at the junction of Jim's neck and shoulder, trying to give back as good as he'd gotten.

"No.... fucking... lube..." he thought he heard Jim mumble in between kisses even as that hand pumped hard on him and Jim's cock rubbed against him. That seemed to be the only think holding him back from going even further.

They could rectify that. If he thought Jim would be awake long enough, he'd go out and find a place to buy it and then come back. Except Gil didn't want to stop moving and he was almost there. He sucked at Jim's neck, and then bit a little before he kissed Jim's mouth again. Almost there, he was almost there and he should have been making sure that Jim was almost there, but fuck it felt good and he was going to come all over Jim's hand and his stomach and Jim's dick.

That was sort of lube, in a way, but not the most useful.

"Yeah... yeah, come for me, Gil..." Jim was murmuring, his fingers doing unbelievable things as they slid up and down, and smoothed over the head of his cock and made him want more than anything to thrust hard against any resistance that was there. Hard, fast, slick and hot, sex down to the bare essentials and maybe that's where he needed to start.

Normal and simple and good. Gil drew one leg up, pressed it against Jim's side, and used that for the leverage he needed for another good thrust, and the smaller jolting thrusts while he finally came. It felt good, starts and spurts of oblivion that made his muscles go tense and shaky.

It carried on feeling good even when he felt Jim use the slickness there between them to make his own movement smooth and hot against him before a surprising heat came again between them both and Jim panted a little before easing down and tipping them on their side, still entwined. "Fuck me. Probably broken a ton of rules eh?"

"Pretty sure the only rule is not to take my virginity," Gil murmured, shifting a little to kiss Jim's mouth because he liked the sensation. "And look, that's not possible. No rules broken. That felt great."

Jim smiled and it was a real smile, just for him. "Yeah, it did, didn't it? You're just so... so much. So... everything." He kissed him again. "Think we should take a quick trip to the shower? Together?"

It hurt for his dick to twinge like that at him, and Gil nodded. "Yeah. This is the second shower of the night. We should be squeaking by the time we get to bed."

"Just a rinse," Jim promised shifting to get up. He was still smiling, still looking at him that way as if he'd crashed some sort of barrier. Lady Heather hadn't been wrong about the power of sex in a relationship. And it worked both ways.

"Just a rinse," Gil echoed, but he let something of a smirk twist his mouth as he looked up at Jim. It wasn't going to be sunshine and roses, but very little in life actually was. He was determined to make it work.

Gil was determined to be Jim's Companion.

---

Jim had slept strangely. His body still roused him with nightmares, but there had been a warmth next to him that had made it easier for him to slip back to sleep. He woke with a hint of a hangover, which was about usual, and a complete amazement at himself.

So much for will power. So much for all these ideals and his insistence that he wasn't going to have a Companion. He knew now why he had just stayed away -- it was pretty much because he just wasn't able to say no if someone even appeared to like him.

Hardly anyone did. Janice had, and then things ran lukewarm to cold. There had been others but... drinking was a bad idea around temptation. And Gil was most certainly a temptation. It was sheer luck that not having lube had stopped him going any further. He would have. He knew he would and he berated himself for it.

Gil on the other hand seemed very happy with it all, enough so that he began to doubt his own conviction that taking a Companion was just like taking a slave. The way things were going, it was more like Gil working him around to what he wanted. That was okay in a way. That he could respect and feel happy with.

People like Todd -- now they deserved to be taken down. He'd called Annie and she'd been at first astounded and then pleased to hear from him, and they'd arranged to meet for dinner. And there they were. Benefactor and Companion to be and already he could see the interested looks finding him as he introduced Gil to Annie and took his seat himself.

"This is Gil, Annie. My soon to be Companion." It didn't sound so strange any more.

And maybe it wasn't so strange anymore because he was getting a lot of hints that Gil was very firm about what he thought. There was the half-memory of Gil having told him something very sharp and witty and convincing, except that ironically, Jim couldn't remember what it was anymore. Gil would probably remember, just like Gil had been the driving force of what had happened the night before.

Gil had dressed up again, but watching him pick his clothes out had shown to Jim that he did own normal clothes, probably for the job. Jeans with worn out knees and polo shirts and t-shirts. One from the yearly police force desert marathon they held in Vegas, and Jim wondered if Gil had gone or if one of his coworkers had just given him a shirt. He had a body like a guy who ran, not lean and long, but solid. He could handle endurance running, probably.

"So this... is Gil." Annie was gorgeous as she'd ever been, and she was smiling when she reached to shake Gil's hand. "Nice to meet you. His ex-wife used to bitch about you, so I know of you."

"Janice used to bitch about everyone indiscriminately," Jim said as he sat down. "So I wouldn't be worried about that Gil. You're looking good, Annie. Never thought I'd see you out of Jersey."

"I never thought I'd see you out of Jersey, but then one day you just packed up and left." She sat down, and scooted her chair in a little before she added, "Not that I can blame you. After you cleaned up Mike and his crew, and after the divorce."

Jim shrugged. "Kinda hard to stick around after tearing the place apart. People get a little unsettled, a little testy when they think there's a sellout hanging around."

And Jim had always known that not getting on in a closed society usually meant people ended up dead. Back-up a little slow in attending an emergency call out. Victim of 'friendly fire'. That sort of thing. He needed to trust them to watch his back, and he couldn't trust them because they didn't trust him anymore, so. So it had seemed obvious.

"Yeah. What're you doing now? I'm still working my way up the ranks. We've got some good people here in L.A., and..." And she peered at Gil. "Wait. Wait. You're the cute tech in the county crime lab." She started to laugh, and Gil's cheeks colored a little, an odd smile curling his lips. "Oh, god, Jimmy! I can't believe this, this is great. He usually does everything short of putting dirt on his face not to get noticed. A few of the other women cops love it when they send him out."

Jim looked at Gil with a half smile. "I bet they do. And you would as well, Annie, if you had a chance. But Gil has been my Companion in training for somewhere around fifteen years..."

Gil probably knew to the day and here he was feeling like a bit of a hypocrite considering the way he had behaved the day before. But he couldn't deny a spark of jealousy at the thought other people were interested. "Trust me on this, Gil is going to wipe the floor with Vegas when I find him something in there. I'm in CSI up there now. Working my way up as well."

"CSI, too, huh? Damn, Jimmy." Annie grinned again, shaking her head at him. "You wanted clean, and that's as clean as it gets, doesn't it? CSI. That's a switch up."

"You don't picture me as the science type?" Jim teased back a little. "I thought I had the touch for it."

It was what was there at the time. An opening far enough away in a city where no one cared what his history was or where he had come from.

"Investigating, sure. Science..." Annie laughed again, and brushed a pretty strand of hair back from her face. Yeah, she hadn't aged at all since he'd last seen her, and he'd probably added on a decade in three years. "Not so much, Jimmy. I'm glad you found something better than Jersey."

"You want a break sometime, you come up and visit us in Vegas," Jim replied expansively. "I'll show you how to lose your money." He picked up a menu glancing at it swiftly even as he spoke. "So why did you leave? I thought you were far enough away from the action to get away with it."

Gil leaned over, and was looking at the menu over his shoulder. He hadn't said a word, now that Jim thought about it, but he did get quiet sometimes. Jim would figure it out as they went.

"Well, I wasn't far away enough. After you left, all eyes turned to me and a couple of the others. Michael's moved on to New York, and he really likes it up there, and Brett's up in Michigan. It was easier to transfer out than stick it out. You know?"

"Yeah. Yeah I know. I'm sorry, Annie. I never wanted to take anyone else down with me. Not on our side," Jim said with more than a hint of regret. "Now our team is scattered everywhere."

Michael and Brett had helped out on a couple of the times Mike and his crew had hit back at him. It had gotten way too messy, too quickly and he was still trying to hold on to evidence.

"Yeah, it will. There's a new chief of police, and it's easier when the crackdown comes from above. I think things are going to work out there." She smiled at him. "How's Vegas treating you?"

"Pretty good. I managed to pull myself up to a CSI 3 since I got there." Just. About a week before he'd pulled in the right amount of cases closed and he had the promotion. But then he had been a workaholic and a half.

Maybe he could ease back a little. Hell, maybe Gil would start swooping in on cases, because he was so qualified for the job it wasn't funny. If there was an opening. He wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea of Gil in an FBI lab. "Yeah?" Annie was still smiling and she meant it. "That's amazing. You've only been there three years?"

"A little under, yeah," Jim nodded as the waiter came over to take their order.

"And it's in a top lab. That means more than if you were climbing the ranks that fast back home." Back home it would've meant that he knew the right people, but even if there were incompetent people in the lab, they didn't run the place. They got fired or kicked in the ass as necessary, and Jim liked that.

Vegas was a clean lab.

The waiter broke into their conversation, tried to sell them the specials of the day. Annie ordered steak and something that sounded fancy, Gil went for pasta with coke to drink. Jim went for steak as well, all the trimming and he held back from drinking this early. They were going to be driving back to Vegas later and he'd get a bottle of something somewhere and see if it would get him through the night without the nightmares. He was pretty sure Gil had slept through them, which was good.

"Look, Annie, I've gotta admit, I'm mixing a bit of business with pleasure. I met this guy, Todd, a DA and he gave me your number here," Jim said after their drinks had been brought over. He was half hoping his juice was concealing vodka but they had give it to him plain and simple. "Only there's something I could do with you looking at with regards to him. How well do you know him?"

"Todd Piccone?" Annie tilted her head. "He's a Benefactor, and I think his Companion is... Sara? Sasha? Something. He's a good DA. Why?"

Jim nodded a little. "You have many cold cases on child abuse of young boys?" He asked casually as if it were unrelated.

"A few. This is LA, Jim." Annie was smart, though, and she caught on quick. "What's this about?"

"Jim, I'm uh, going to go find the restroom," Gil said suddenly. Either he was sick, or he just didn't want to be there.

That was fair enough. Jim nodded and watched as Gil excused himself and then leant forward before speaking in a low voice. "Look, Annie, when I went to Choose my Companion when I was sixteen, I found Gil hiding in a cloakroom because he was one of a few that had been molested by another Benefactor candidate the previous year. Do I need to spell out who that was? Because Companions have no rights at that point in time because they have no legal identity, no charges could be brought and I'm pretty sure that he thought no one would Choose damaged goods. And then I came along and ruined that plan. But you and I both know that type of sexual predator. If he molested a kid of four or five when he was sixteen.... well."

It wasn't like someone suddenly lost their taste in little kids if they were sick like that from the start. "Then he's probably still doing it." Her expression shifted a little, a look like she had a headache. "Jesus, Jim. Okay. I'm uh… Is there any way I can get a record of that? I know it wouldn't be permissible in court, but if I do start poking around, proof of previous incidents would put a case a lot further ahead. If you're right."

"You go to Lady Heather at the Companion College. She'll provide you with documentation. I've got copies of what was done to Gil, but... there were two others as well," Jim replied. "At least before they worked it out and then they locked down tight, put in new procedures. I'm thinking that pushed him out onto the wide world. There you can get prosecuted for it so you might find that interest in the law had a practical basis. Gil remembers him now. His current Companion hates his guts and Gil made some comment about how he might injure her to keep her from leaving after they marry. Somehow I don't think he was joking. I'd follow it up but they'd think I had a revenge agenda, which truthfully? I do. "

"Yeah, well." Annie shook her head a little. "Lady Heather at the College here, huh? I'll look into it and see what I come up with. And your Companion..." Annie looked off in the direction he'd headed. "He's a good kid. I wouldn't think that anything like that had happened to him."

"I'll be frank, Annie, I'm not dealing with the fact I've got a Companion too well in a concept way. I'm not really big on concept stuff, but I feel uncomfortable with having what amounts to a slave but Gil..." Jim shook his head. "I don't stand a chance, I really don't. I stayed away so long because I knew I couldn't hold back when I got to know him again and I can't. He's incredibly bright, he's got a quirky sense of humor and he independent enough to put up with my own brand of shit. He'd pulled through what happened, but last night, he was shaking like a leaf and white as a sheet when he saw him."

"Who wouldn't be?" She took a sip from her beer, and sat back. "That'd be like having the boogie man of your nightmares come up to you in real life to say hi. That'd shake anyone. So taking him back to Vegas with you is probably a good idea. Because Todd's going to fight this..."

"Yeah, and I wish I could fight it right back. But, no proof... well no proof that counts in a court of Law on record, I'm just giving you a heads up, I guess." Jim said and looked up at her. "You know I'd be in on this if I could. You know I'd do worse if I could, which is why I'm passing this to you. I don't think I trust myself not to lose it."

Because Gil was his, property, yeah, but he wanted to protect him, too, and that was something left over from before he'd been able to protect it, something that everyone else was just nonchalant about. He had a feeling that the other Companions and teachers had glossed over it, and the only thing he could be sure of was that Gil was still uneasy about the guy.

"Yeah, you always did have a little bit of a temper when it came to certain things."

Jim laughed a little. "Yeah, I keep telling Gil I'm a bastard but he doesn't believe me. Maybe you should tell him when he gets back." Annie would deal with it. She'd look and if there was anything to be found, she'd find it. That's why he was willing to trust that to her, something that was that important to him. Really important for all their relationship was a day old. Sixteen years and a day maybe.

"Bastard? Nah, I save that for the big times. You're kinda bitchy, though, Jimmy. Just sometimes. And you probably still drink too much." She gave the juice a glance, like she was trying to elicit an answer from him.

"Yeah, I still do." Jim had to agree with that. He never denied it. "I just work more so I have less time to drink."

At least in Vegas where the temptation to drink was easy when they brought you free drinks as long as you gambled and kept the prices down because people bet heavy when they'd had a few. "I haven't become miraculously less screwed up since I last saw you Annie."

"I wasn't really expecting you to." Some motion caught her attention, and she turned her head. "Oh, Gil's coming back. And so's our food."

"Good," he glanced over his shoulder to watch Gil walk back in. He still looked fantastic and his libido clamored that having a Companion was a very good thing. Definitely. Time to change the subject a bit. "You seeing anyone Annie? Weren't you getting serious with Mark when I last saw you?"

After they had sworn off of seeing each other because Jim was worried, too worried they would come after her as well like they had after him. He'd always wondered, right up to the end why all his attempts to protect Janice and Ellie weren't necessary. He found out around the time he tumbled to the whole deal and his partner and best friend's role in it.

"Yeah. It didn't work out, and... well, there're a few people out here who interest me. Mostly, I've been working on making friends again before I start to make enemies." She winked at him, and smiled at Gil while he moved behind Jim to sit in his chair again.

"Sorry about that."

"That's okay Gil. Annie and I were just catching up," Jim sipped at his orange juice and it was incredibly bland. "She was always the one who made the friends. I did the enemies better."

"Why's that?" Gil scooted his chair in, and eyed his plate for a moment like he wasn't really hungry anymore. But he started to unroll his napkin. Annie was watching Gil like he was fascinating, and Gil seemed oblivious to it.

"Because he likes to put the shoulder with the chip on it first."

"That chip's got some weight behind it," Jim contributed. "It ought to after all these years."

He wanted to ask what was wrong, but he knew that might embarrass Gil so he slipped a hand out of sight and patted him reassuringly on the leg. He hoped that would help.

Jim didn't really expect for Gil to shift his leg and lean his knee against Jim's.

"You keep stacking stuff on top of it, you'll be right. You know, Gil, when he wants to be, Jim can be a pretty funny, fun guy. He's just had a bad..." Annie smirked a little. "Decade?"

"Yeah, thanks, Annie," Jim mock growled and smirked right back at her and then reclaimed his hand to start on his steak. He ended up waving a bit at her. "I can still be a fun guy. I'll prove it. Gil, when we go back to Vegas we'll... uh... well go to one of the amusement parks."

'Could we?" Gil perked up a little, and he was still pressing his leg against Jim's underneath of the table. "I love roller coasters."

"You want to ride roller coasters, we'll ride them," Jim said firmly. "See? I can do fun." Gil seemed a little upset. Maybe it was just thinking about what they were talking about. He'd have to make sure he understood Annie would do everything she could.

"He can also do throwing up if he gets dizzy," Annie grinned slyly at him. "And are you really ready for that, Gil?"

"Sure. There are some roller coasters that don't do the traditional up and down, which is usually what makes people sick."

"Annie, you're ruining my image here," Jim mock growled at her. "Aren't you the one that doesn't like heights?" He was pleased Gil was talking a little more. His silence worried him.

"Oh, no argument there. But I'm not volunteering myself for roller coasters because I know I'd have to be blindfolded to even get on one." She was cutting up her steak, and starting to eat.

"Well if only I'd know that," Jim said instinctively flirting back. He ate some of his own dinner, smiling a little. "Just as well... whatshername… Deborah, that friend of yours from Vice isn't around. Gil has a pet that would send her screaming. A tarantula, right, Gil?"

"Red Baboon," Gil agreed, eating a little of his pasta. He was picking at it, but finally starting to eat.

"That's right. You're the bug guy." Annie grinned a little. "God. I still can't believe that the crime lab's knight in dirty baseball cap is your Companion."

"Why do I get the feeling I need to hear some more about this crime lab's knight huh?" Jim said looking at them both. "What's the deal huh?"

Gil looked down, and cleared his throat a little. "Uh..."

"He's being modest. Last year he was on a scene with one of our senior CSIs, and there was still a suspect on the grounds. One of our cops fucked up and didn't clear the scene. The suspect pulled a gun on the CSI field officer, and Gil there talked the man down like it wasn't anything."

"She's exaggerating a little," Gil cut in, turning his head to look at Jim. "I wasn't in any danger, just, uh..."

"...They pulled a gun on you?" Jim found rational thought seeping out of his ears. "I thought you weren't meant to be in any danger on that placement?" It was on thing for a CSI to be in that position, they had guns, they could fire back. Gil had nothing.

"No, the man pulled a gun on Philip. That's different." Gil seemed to realize the insanity of what he was suggesting, and waved his fork a little before he ate the pasta off of it. "I had a gun, and I know how to fire if I had to. You had me taught that, remember?"

God, yeah, he had hadn't he? It had caused a right uproar at the time. "I'd forgotten that," Jim admitted. It'd been after he'd come back from his Duty and he had felt the need that Gil should be able to fight back, to protect himself with such intensity he would have gotten him an illegal weapon if necessary. "You talked him down though?"

"Yeah. He'd killed his wife by accident, and I managed to convince him that it was better to turn himself in than it was to... kill someone else." Gil leaned a little, twisted in his chair so he could look at both Jim and Annie. "They decided to take me on full time after that."

"As if we didn't already consider him the day shift's mascot before then."

"Sorry, Annie, I'm stealing him away from all you guys," Jim said and it was the first time that he actually realized what taking Gil away to Vegas might be having. Gil had made a difference here, and here he was just swanning in, picking him up and taking him away. He hadn't even thought that Gil might want to stay here. That other people would want him to stay here. So much for all his conscience ridden introspection. It just went to prove he didn't deal with that very well.

The conscience riddled introspection or the Companion thing.

Annie grinned a little, and lifted her eyebrows at Gil. "No, I think it's okay. After all, Vegas is one of the best labs in the country and they could use the best, right?"

"I've been looking forwards to Going Home with Jim. Vegas is a plus point to that," Gil murmured as he put his glass down.

"Vegas could use someone like you Gil. Don't worry, I'll find something you'll be interested in when we get there," Jim replied eating some more. He was glad that he'd had Gil shown how to drive now. Maybe he could get something in CSI for him. Catherine would be crazy to turn Gil down with that sort of resume. "It's a whole different ball game there -- so many people passing through, so many homicides. I thought Jersey City was bad, but Vegas has it beat on bizarre homicides.

"Well, nothing like gambling and people on vacation to make for some interesting deaths," Annie guessed. "We get wild shit, but we get a lot of gang stuff, too."

"L.A.? Come on there's got to be movie star call outs," Jim said. "Been to anyone famous?" He asked them both considering they had both been working the area.

Gil shook his head. "They don't let low levels do the 'career cases'."

"A few. Mostly for robberies, and nothing fun and salacious." Annie ate a few of her vegetables. "Mostly, we get a lot of cases with people who wanted to be and never became anything. They show up with stars in their eyes, can't make rent, start to turn tricks."

"Yeah, I can believe that. Dreams can become nightmares pretty quick," Jim said concentrating on his food for a moment.

What was he going to say to Gil about his nightmares? Or should he just try taking those damned sleeping pills again that made him feel drugged and hung over even when he wasn't. Maybe he could just avoid the subject.

If it came up, then it came up. And he'd explain it however he could then.

---

Everything was turning out both good and bad for him at the same time.

Gil figured that it was par for the course that his life went that way, that there was bad to outweigh every good, or... good to outweigh every bad. Gil wasn't sure what came first. It was one or the other. He was essentially, like Jim had said, a slave. But he was happy with his position, and he was happy with Jim. Jim was a mess of things, and from talking with Annie and listening to them talk, he could work out that it had something to do with his Benefactor duty and to do with back in New Jersey.

Jim had let him drive for part of the highway, when it was just following the road and there wasn't any chance of Gil getting lost. He liked Jim's car, the smooth handling of it, much better than the CCCC registered vehicle he usually drove.

It was a long drive to Vegas and they didn't get there until the evening when the lights were blazing and the streets were humming with activity. Jim headed out of the strip a little and finally pulled up outside a small house. An actual house, not an apartment like he was expecting. Jim had shrugged and said something about money from a Duty payoff and the fact that there had been requirement that he have enough room to support his Companion when he purchased property in Vegas.

It was a big place for one person, and it didn't look like it was in the best of condition. Jim had agreed with that too. Said he'd got it as a bargain and he'd been doing a bit at a time. When he had time.

They went inside and it was unmistakably a single man's home. Even though it looked like someone had made an effort, the place was still untidy. The TV was top of the line, and the couch looked like it had been dragged from a dump.

Gil was used to the clean, almost lush furnishings of the College, and it was going to take time to get used to it. Or he could help out once he got a job himself, and Jim would appreciate that, wouldn't he? If Gil maybe replaced the sofa and helped with some of the cleaning up the house needed. Fixing up.

"I'll get the rest of my stuff." The stuff that was in the car, at least. Lady Heather was going to have the rest sent up to him.

Jim looked around. "I'd... uh... I'd fixed you up in one of the rooms downstairs. Put a bed in there. But..." He cleared his throat. "You can put your stuff wherever you want. There's quite a few rooms I haven't used properly. It really is kind of big for one."

Gil set his duffle and Lola's case down on the sofa. "Would you mind if maybe I kept my books and Lola in that room, then?"

Jim looked at him even as he was heading off towards somewhere that was obviously the kitchen. "Gil, I'm going to say this once. This place is your home, and in my head it belongs to you as much as it does to me. If you want to put them there, then do. If you want to clear out any of the other rooms, then we'll do that. I was going to use my vacation time this year to try and get a few things done anyway. Took me a while to deal with some dry rot, and it needs some painting and I need to get a few things. You know how it is... I kept putting it off. Next thing I know, you're here."

Gil followed after him a little. His home. He'd like it if it were his home, and Jim's, but he also preferred to work his way into Jim's life before he started to get too comfortable. "Now that I'm here, I can at least help you paint."

"Yeah, might actually get it done. I've bought most of it but then... something crops up and I never get to doing it," Jim put on the coffee machine and reached for the fridge. There was way too much beer in there. It didn't stop him taking a can and cracking it open with a practiced move. "So, I guess we get to do it together."

"We do," Gil said insistently. "I'll be back in a minute. I'm going to bring the rest of my stuff in, and..." And Jim couldn't be drunk by the time he got back. A couple of trips from the car and back into the house wouldn't take Gil more than five minutes.

"I'll just uh... I left my bedroom. Well, I'll just pull it together a bit," Jim replied. "Like it is you'd break your neck getting in there." He smiled a half grin at him and swigged back on the beer. "Upstairs, first right."

"Got it." Gil turned to head back to the door then. Once he'd ducked outside he could gain a better appreciation of the area. It was cold outside, desert temperature drop cold, and the neighborhood was quiet. Not the best of areas but definitely not the worst. And if Jim had a week off, then he and Jim could spend a week fixing things up. Get used to each other before the ceremony, and maybe get used to a little more, a little sex, but Gil was just being hopeful. He grabbed three bags, and eyed the last one before he tried to grab the handle on that one, too. Gil had to close the car door with his hip, but it worked, and he got them all into the house in one trip.

When he found his way into what was originally going to be his room, he was surprised. It was freshly decorated, clean, brand new and spacious. There was new furniture, a brand new computer from the looks of it and still the faint smell of fresh paint. Here, Jim had made an effort. It seemed strange and a little sad somehow. He could do this for Gil, but not for himself.

He needed to start making that kind of effort to himself, too, and if he couldn't or wouldn't, then Gil would start to make the effort for him. He set most of his things in there, and that way he could still give Jim the space he needed while sharing his bed. It seemed like a sensible arrangement. Jim was used to having his whole bedroom to himself.

He could hear some thumping and stomping around going on upstairs -- Jim was obviously taking things seriously with his cleaning and he half wanted to say to him that it wasn't necessary. Not for him. The kitchen looked... lived in, there was a downstairs bathroom as well. He had a quick look around just to give Jim a little time.

Nothing that told him too much about his Benefactor, actually. It was like Jim lived there but he wasn't himself there. There were supposed to be clues in a person's house. Lady Heather had told him that, except there was attention to electronics and beer and worn out furniture and carpet that probably needed to be replaced. Gil started up the stairs after a moment more of poking around, walking slowly.

He wasn't sure what that said apart from the fact that Jim barely seemed to actually 'live' in his house. He might spend time there but living was another matter. On the other hand, maybe there were more personal things in his bedroom. Gil listened to the muffled swearing and a few odd thumps and wondered if there was going to be anything left in that bedroom at all by the time he got in there.

The door was ajar and Jim appeared to be in the process of trying to put clean sheets on the bed as there was a bundle of crumpled bed linen on the floor.

Gil couldn't help peering into the door, curiosity pulling at him when his better sense told him to back up and pretend he hadn't caught his Benefactor doing... whatever. Trying to tidy up the bed. Gil leaned a hand on the doorknob, and smiled as he leaned in a little more. "Hi. Can I help?"

"I dunno, can you? I need someone able to wrestle a duvet cover into submission," Jim said dryly. "Should've changed it before I left but... thought it was only me going to be in it."

Jim's room was a bit cluttered, although less so than it had been. Gil saw signs that laundry had been hastily thrown in a basket, and papers in a bin. There still wasn't that much around, although there was an interesting array of oriental hangings that didn't fit with his knowledge of him at all.

Gil shrugged a little as he walked into the room, reaching for the other side of the cover to see if two of them could get it done better than one. "One of the CSIs back in LA changed her sheets every night, because she hated what she'd see if she used an ALS on them."

"Yeah well, not a lot of problem with that," Jim replied. "I pulled a few doubles before I came down. I was literally coming in, crashing out, getting up going to work and fitting in sorting out your room while I was eating breakfast. I'll understand if you want to sleep down there. Hell, even I'm tempted."

"We could," Gil suggested, even while he pulled at the duvet. "And make this the next fix-up project? You did a... really nice job down there. It's nice. You didn't have to."

Jim gave a half smile. "Yeah well, I may be an asshole sometimes but I didn't think you deserved to have the benefit of my many years of experience without somewhere nice to hide out. It won't take that long to clear this out, but we could sleep down there if we redo in here. It could probably use it. I haven't done anything to it."

Ever was the implication. Gil nodded, just trying to back up that observation in a gentle way. "You have a few more days off until you have to go back to work. If we get started on the jobs you know need to be done around here, I can keep working at them until I find an opening somewhere." Probably finish them before he found an opening somewhere.

"Well that would be great, because I just don't get round to it." They pulled the covers straight and Jim picked up and took another swig from his beer. "I'll just throw the rest of it in the laundry. I guess we need to think about practical stuff like maybe moving that wardrobe upstairs. You might hate my taste in decorating as well. Catherine says I don't have style."

"That's okay. I don't have style, either." Gil itched to take the beer from him, but he wasn't going to. He bent down and tucked the covers in -- practical things like that he knew how to do, for the purpose of taking care of his Benefactor. "Who's Catherine?"

"Someone I think you'll like. Supervisor of Night Shift, used to be a stripper and put herself through college to train as a CSI and worked her way up," Jim grinned. "We get on pretty well because we're both down and dirty CSI's -- you know, seen a bit of real life, know the way the world works. She's got a sharp sense of humor too which is always good in a boss."

That he'd like her implied that he was going to end up meeting her. Gil grinned a little, too, and then straightened up, watching Jim's grin. "That's good to know." And there they were, in Jim's bedroom. Unsupervised, a thought which amused Gil, and Jim had all of the comforts of home. One slightly messy made bed, beer, and now a Companion.

"You know, I've still got stuff in boxes in the spare room?" Jim shook his head at himself. "I guess this gives me a kick in the rear to get organized at least."

"Or I could be an enabler and add to the boxes in your spare room. Lady Heather was going to have the things I didn't have time to pack mailed up here." He could only imagine all of those books in transit. "I, uh, have a lot of books," he admitted sheepishly.

Jim shrugged. "We should probably convert a room into a study or something." He didn't seem bothered at all by the intrusion into his space. Gil was beginning to wonder if that was he wasn't really feeling it as his space.

"Are you going to put things in it?" Gil asked, taking a step towards Jim. Maybe he could wrestle that beer from his hands yet.

"Yeah, I've got a load of books I could put out. I usually end up borrowing the lab copy when I need it," Jim replied looking up at him. "Which is stupid when I went to the trouble of buying it."

That made Gil tilt his head a little, and he made the careful move to take the beer from Jim's fingers. "Then we'll put together a study. You should actually start living in your own house, Jim."

Jim shrugged. "Yeah. Things... got in the way." He went quiet then, walking abruptly over to the laundry hamper and pushing an armful in.

Gil could guess. Drinking from the looks of it. Work. He could say Jim had an addictive personality the way he threw himself into those two activities.

"I can understand that," Gil murmured, setting the beer down on the nearest flat surface. He'd been tempted to take a sip, but he didn't really want to. "We don't have to start cleaning things up tonight. It's late, so..."

Jim smiled. "So you want to go to bed right?" He looked at him. "Feeling tired from traveling?"

"Yes and no." It was a slyly spoken line worthy of someone else. Someone who wasn't him, but Gil used it all the same, trying not to let his mind dwell on the little things that were starting to gather in his mind. "I'm ready for bed, but not too tired..." Muzzy, a little sleepy, but Jim was nightshift. He needed to get on those hours himself.

"Aren't I meant to be getting to know you and establishing boundaries or something?" Jim asked looking after where he had taken his beer and put it down, but ending up being distracted by Gil's proximity.

Maybe he could seduce Jim away from incipient alcoholism.

"Do you want to establish boundaries?" Gil asked, taking another step closer to him. There was only a foot of space between them.

"Well in theory," Jim murmured. "But I've always been a bit of a non-boundary guy." He stepped and had his arms around Gil in one movement. "I'm seeing a lack of boundaries here."

"Yeah, I am, too." Jim's tone and approach was appealing to Gil, a little bit off the cuff. He slid his hands down, but didn't move his head yet. He just kept looking at Jim. "I'm okay with that."

"You know, I'm thinking I'm breaking rules here. Didn't I say that back in L.A. as well or was I too drunk?" Jim murmured as his hand slid up to cup around the nape of his neck.

"You said it then. And I told you, in case you were too drunk," Gil murmured, tilting his head backwards a little to lean into that hand. "We can do, without breaking any rules, everything up to penetration. To supposedly preserve the virginity that I don't have, so I think it's a stupid rule."

"Semantics huh?" Jim grinned. "Want to see how far we can stretch the rules before we break them?" Fingers were in his hair stroking and Jim was smiling, really smiling not the cynical twist he usually used. When he smiled like that he looked handsome. "Hey is that penetration on you... or on me?"

He hadn't expected that. It was pretty well accepted that Companions were on the bottom, servicing and not... anything else. Gil had to blink for a moment to concentrate, and he quirked an eyebrow at Jim. "Me, I think."

"Well, there's something to be thinking about," Jim replied. "That surprised you huh? They didn't teach you about that in your Practicum?"

He seemed to like the thought that there was something he could teach him.

And maybe that was something all on its own. Gil shifted, fingers resting on the waistband of Jim's jeans. "No, not really. It was mentioned in passing, but, uh. Not very easy to teach that hands on."

"So what did they teach you?" Jim asked him as his other hand smoothed over his ass gently. "I'd be interested to know."

"Honestly? Everything from how to suck you to all kinds of kinky derivations. If you wanted to tie me up, I could tell you how to properly tie knots," Gil drawled. "It doesn't help that I've had a lot of time to think about it."

Jim didn't look quite so taken with that idea. "Maybe some other time on that one. But what has your overactive imagination come up with while I've kept you waiting?"

That hand was stroking him with deliberate languorous strokes.

"I thought you wanted to get around to fixing this place up before your vacation was over. It might take me that long to talk everything out." He liked the feel of fingers stroking his ass, but in the end it was simplistic. "Being with you, every way possible. Every conceivable way."

"Every conceivable way?" Jim asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking a little. "What even the thing with the chandelier?"

"I'm kind of anti falling glass. So no chandeliers," Gil murmured. He was supposed to be teasing Jim, but it wasn't working. It wasn't, he was getting teased instead and even sliding his fingers beneath Jim's waistband wasn't helping him. He leaned in to kiss him, knowing everything would go downhill from there, or for a little relief. Gil didn't care what it was.

It was quite flattering the way kissing him seemed to ignite Jim's need for him so thoroughly. "Show me one of those... ways," Jim murmured kissing him again. "Show me what a Companion fantasizes about."

Jim wouldn't get it, but Gil did. Gil liked the feeling of lips on his and he liked, wanted to service Jim. He wanted to show him what he'd spent so many embarrassing Practicums learning, what he'd had to push through numerous freak outs to get to. He wasn't going to freak out, because he could trust Jim, and he had just the night before.

"Mm, say stop if there's something you don't like." Gil leaned back a little, and started to unbutton Jim's shirt.

"I think I can grin and bear it," Jim promised and he allowed Gil free rein even as he now and then darted in to kiss him.

Gil liked that, constant touching novel enough that he was almost basking in it by the time he got Jim's shirt off and onto the floor. He shifted then, inched back a little and then knelt in front of Jim, fingers unbuckling his belt while he leaned in to nuzzle against the front of Jim's pants for added distraction.

"You want me to stand for this?" Jim asked in a rough voice. "Or you want to make it to the bed."

The belt slid free with only a little encouragement, and Jim's fingers were in his hair, stroking through slowly.

"Stand," Gil murmured, fingers moving up to unzip his zipper. Some of them preferred to do it with their teeth, but Gil liked his teeth white and unchipped, and it was a little humiliating. Gil slid the zipper down, and then pushed his hands inside to push down Jim's jeans.

Jim was more than happy with hands, the hardness inside his pants testified to that. "Fuck, yeah... I'll stand if you touch me like that..." he murmured aloud.

Gil took his time pushing down Jim's underwear, and smiled to himself when Jim's dick caught on his underwear a little. But then everything was bunched down around Jim's knees and Gil realized that he was glad he had a dick of his own, because if he was a girl, he would have been more than a little stressed. Practice had nothing on the real thing, and Gil at least had his dick and his hand for experience. Except he was shaved and perfectly groomed, and there was hair for him to thread one hand for as he smiled to himself before leaning in. It was easy to press his mouth against the underside, sucking gently.

"Oh... god..." Jim groaned and the fingers clutched a little in his hair. "Practicum lessons must have been the best... Jesus!"

He smiled, and then lifted his head a little to slide his lips over the flared head. He was going to keep one hand on Jim's balls so he could stop before Jim finished, so he could keep a sense of how things were going.

"I'm... gonna find out who your teacher was and send them... flowers... uhnn..." Jim tensed a little. "What is it about you that makes me so hard? All the damn time?"

Gil didn't know, but it was the same thing that had him worked up. It was probably ownership, but Jim was uncomfortable with that and Gil didn't want to stop sucking to say anything. Later, he'd tell Jim that Lady Heather liked orchids.

Later. For now, he was content to suck and work on taking Jim in, tasting him a little, the tang of precum that wasn't anything that they officially ran into in their lives. He started to rub at Jim's balls, and with his free hand, slipped a finger into his mouth along with Jim's dick, getting it spit slicked for what he had planned.

He knew what he was doing, he knew a lot of theory and so far theory was paying off big time with Jim's reaction. He could feel the shake of muscle as Jim tried to stay upright and focused and it made him want to smile, but that would have ruined the technique.

Smiling would've exposed his teeth, and that was a huge no. Gil swallowed, and then he slipped his finger out of his mouth, sliding that hand back behind Jim under a pretense of steadying him. But his fingertip had a target and he lowered his head down until he was almost gagging, pubic hair so close to his nose. He should've been able to take it all in, but he couldn't for whatever reason. He'd try to do better later, but he didn't exactly want to trigger his gag reflex and throw up on Jim's crotch.

That was a huge no as well. There was something more to the real thing, something more intense about the movement, the sounds, the touch of him. The way Jim groaned as he tried not to move too much and ruin everything. He was leaning against that hand, his voice managing broken syllables of words that somehow described his astonishment and pleasure.

"Fuck... y...yeah...just...ah..."

He was almost there, but not quite, so Gil slowed down, closing his eyes as he concentrated on Jim's sounds and the feel of him. Everything, even as he slid that slicked fingertip right into Jim's ass. He wasn't ready for the sudden jerk Jim gave, a near bellow of reaction that showed the additional sensation had caught him by surprise and sent him instinctively rocking, moving in his mouth, hot and full and very close to the edge.

Gil should have stopped, he should have, but he wanted to make Jim come, wanted to taste him and make him feel good with just his hands and his mouth. Gil twisted the finger, and didn't stop bobbing his head.

It didn't take much longer for Jim to thrust at him, in his mouth with less control and then there was the gathering under the fingers around his balls and the sudden spurt of hot salty musk in his mouth even as Jim was just saying "Gil...fuck....Gil...." in shaken tones.

Gil swallowed, suppressing a cough, and sucked a little more while he eased his finger out of Jim's ass. He slowed down, slowed the sensation, and then sat back, Jim's dick sliding out of his mouth before he leaned in to rest his cheek against Jim's hip while he wrapped one arm around Jim's ass. "Mm."

"You've sucked... the bones out of my legs through my cock," Jim managed with a gasp. "I ...yeah... that was damn good. I bet you had some happy practice vegetables back at the college." He was stroking gently down his face for all his flippant words,

"We used sex toys, but occasionally bananas. It was harder to hide if you used your teeth in one of those," Gil murmured lazily, comfortable there. He was hard and eager and worked up, but Jim was on the comedown.

"Just don't be tempted to try and unpeel me," Jim murmured. "I wasn't expecting a finger in my ass. Don't think I've had anyone do that to me before."

"Did you mind?" Gil asked, lifting his head to look up at Jim.

"Nah, it felt great. Just surprised me," Jim replied looking down to meet his gaze. "C'mon, up on the bed. I like to do my part in a bit more comfort. I've got a leg that doesn't like kneeling too much and I always overdo it at crime scenes. "

And it had been a long drive, and... Gil shifted to stand up, fingers lingering at the sides of Jim's hips. He had to step out of his pants still, anyway. "The bed sounds like a good idea."

Jim nodded, still smiling. Most men did after a blow job and Jim was no exception. Jim put his arms around Gil, a move he seemed to relish. "If you weren't taller than me I'd pick you up. At this rate we'll just have to fall vaguely in that direction."

"I'm okay with that." He smiled back, too, aware that he was still mostly dressed, no, completely dressed while he and Jim walked back the few feet to the bed.

"How was it? Your first time doing it for real?" Jim said as he patiently undid buttons and pushed him to sit down on the bed.

Gil let himself be pushed. "It's different than theory. I liked it better." He liked Jim better, but he didn't know how an answer that simplistic would be taken even if Jim was in a good mood.

Jim smirked. "Glad I wasn't a let down." Gil found his shirt was removed and then Jim was pushing him to lie back so he could get his pants off.

It was easy for Gil to go with it, to let himself be guided and goaded because there was something a little hazy, a little enjoyable about being undressed, even if he toed off his shoes while Jim's fingers fiddled with his zipper. "That was so far from a let down..."

"I hope you'll... not be let down by this," Jim murmured and decided Gil's nipple was the ideal place to latch on to while he was undoing his pants and tugging them down.

Lips right there, a mouth sucking and biting and just being there felt amazing. Gil groaned as he tried to move his legs and lift his hips so he'd be easier for Jim to undress because he wanted to be naked right away, right fast.

They came off and Jim was all over him, his lips traveling over his chest and torso distracting him from being naked, as he moved down over his stomach towards his groin. He was bending and then he pushed Gil further onto the bed so he could slip up between his legs into a more horizontal position.

That was sort of comfortable, and it had to be easy on Jim's knees, right? Right, so Gil scooted back, half trying to stay aware of his surroundings. "How's this?"

"It's... just right. Lie back and relax a little," Jim murmured before he continued on his journey.

It felt good, really good. Lady Heather had tried to explain it, what it felt like when it was good because in his memories there was a linger of shadow. But there was no shadow in any of Jim's kisses, or in his grin. "Your first blow job. You never forget your first, Gil..." and with that he slowly lower lips to his cock.

There was heat, a wet pressure against his dick, and then a motion that was Jim moving, licking over the head and touching it with his hands, and it made Gil wonder why anyone ever masturbated if they could have real sex. Because it did feel good, good enough that Gil was struggling not to lift his hips or squirm too much, legs spread and limp around Jim's body.

It didn't help that Jim lifted his head a little a chuckled with a huff of breath over his erection. "Enjoying that, Gil?" he murmured. He didn't use his hand to cup at his balls, but instead took one into his mouth and sucked, rolling it slightly.

Gil dug the heel of one foot in, and groaned, arching up against Jim's mouth. Lips and tongue over bare, clean skin, sensitive skin, crossed the line between taunting tickle and wondrous pleasure. He hadn't expected that, but while his Benefactor hadn't been to Practicum, his Benefactor had been in real life. Practicing on real people, and he was glad that Jim had because it felt amazing when Jim pulled at skin with a suck.

He did it to both sides before returning to his cock and taking it into his mouth. In the parts of his brain that were functioning he had to wonder how Jim knew how to do this. He'd been with Janice and he'd mentioned most of the people he had met through his letters. He was skilled for someone who had one-night stands and casual encounters. But after a while all he could feel was the pleasure.

Gil could think later. He could think when he wasn't comfortable and in a warm bed and when his Benefactor didn't have his dick in his mouth. When his Benefactor wasn't pulling back and doing something with his tongue, twisting it around the head of Gil's dick and sucking before taking him in deeper again, while Gil groaned. He was beginning to think he would pass out before he came, which might just leave him with a permanent hard-on. But he felt like he was floating, every suck a wave of sensation that swept him deeper into it all. He couldn't answer, talk or breathe...

Didn't need to, and Jim's hand snuck down to his balls. That was it for Gil, and it was maybe pathetically short but he didn't care. He could work on that later, because it felt so damned good. Lying there and just relaxing and coming, no worries about getting caught or anything else, because he was where he was supposed to be.

Jim sucked him clean, and then moved slightly so he could lie next to him. "So you like being sucked off?" He grinned a moment. "I always thought that was a stupid question to ask a man. It's like asking if you like breathing."

"I like breathing, too," Gil murmured once he was sure that he'd caught his breath. He shifted, trying to gauge whether and how he could move closer. "That was amazing. That... I guess I know why you never forget the first one."

"Well sometimes it's because the other guy bites you or something by accident," Jim smirked at him. "You know, I should've waited to change the sheets."

"Probably." It was hard to suppress the edge of a smirk that touched his lips. He gave a lazy stretch, and then twisted so he could stroke his hands over Jim. "Are you up to anything else? I think I'm still living off of the coffee from earlier, so..."

"We should pace ourselves, otherwise I'll be one guilty looking Benefactor when your Presentation comes up," Jim replied. "We can just go to bed. I like holding you. It feels good."

He could withstand that. A little at a time was actually a relief, because if Jim actually meant the offer to fuck him, he probably would've come all over Jim's crotch before he got anywhere near to the act. And that would've been pathetic. "That sounds good. I'll get the sheets."

"Yeah, if you don't mind. Some in the bottom drawer there," Jim pointed as he relaxed there. "If you can walk, I can't've been on my best form."

"I'm thinking about walking." Gil shifted, and tucked his head down comfortably against Jim's shoulder. This was working out better than he'd expected. Maybe he could keep distracting Jim from drinking with sex. "Thinking very hard."

Jim laughed a little more and wrapped his arms around him again. "I always knew brainpower was your strong point."

Gil moved in even closer to him and looked across slightly.

The beer stood on the side, only half empty.

He smiled again and hid it against Jim's skin.

---

Jim had been thinking. There were a few people who would say that was a rare occurrence but they were people he didn't care to keep in touch with. No, the Presentation loomed and despite his insistent claim he didn't want to do it, wasn't going to do it, he sort of knew that he'd end up doing it for Gil's sake. His Companion was, to quote whatever hell literature it was, an 'un-person' until he went through the presentation, got registered and after that point he at least existed.

Jim couldn't quite bring himself to think about the brand or the... object but he did know one thing. If there was pain involved he wanted it to stop. He needed a prescription painkiller and he hadn't signed up with a doctor since he got to Vegas for the same reasons he hadn't seemed to have unpacked his things, decorated his house....

In the last few days, the place was being transformed and he and Gil had been having fun doing it, but right now while Gil was painting the living room and going to unwrap their new couch, he had ducked in to work to see if he could get painkillers out of Doc Robbins. He was usually good about that sort of thing.

He'd get the old rigmarole about him needing to get a doctor and get his knee looked at and everything else, but Doc Robbins knew that Jim would do that on Jim's time frame, which might start next neverday and end with the end of time itself. So he mitigated Jim's neglect a little, here and there. After all, he was still a licensed general practitioner. He was just practicing on dead bodies now. Writing out a form, probably cause of death, when Jim peeked his head in.

"Hey, Al," Jim half grinned at him from the door. He wrinkled his nose a little. "Ripe one, huh? Don't envy you that."

"Very little affects my nostrils anymore, Jim..." Al turned a little, his face curious as he signed his name at the bottom of the sheet. "Aren't you supposed to be on vacation?"

"Yeah, I am," He walked in with a heavy limp. "I've been doing all this driving, just got back in and my knee is killing me. And there was I was thinking, geez, if Cath sends me out I won't be able to drive. I nearly locked up three times on the way over. I was thinking a couple days with painkillers and I'll be fit to come back and no worrying the boss."

"Uh-huh." Al always eyed him dubiously, just a little. Not that he doubted Jim, but he probably thought he really needed to see a doctor of his own. "So you're actually planning on resting your leg?"

"Now I'm back? Yeah. Came back a bit earlier than I was going to originally so I've got some time." Jim mentally crossed his fingers as he said that. "Would you mind? Only the strongest stuff over the counter never touches it."

"Did you go skydiving while you were on vacation?" Al teased, turning away towards his desk in the far corner, past the bodies and the rinsing tables.

"Something much more terrifying. I went to LA. Caught up with an old friend," Jim said and was pleased he wasn't exactly lying. He was just missing out how long they had spent with Annie and that one of the old friends was his Companion.

His Companion counted as an old friend, after all. Sort of. Al was scribbling on a sheet of paper, and watching him. "This is just a couple of doses. You really need to get your own doctor. Jim..."

Jim shrugged a little sheepishly. "I know, I know, I might try and register over the next couple of days, it's just that will be too late to fix the problem."

"Just... please do it this time, Jim. It'll make it easier for you if something happens to that knee and you need post surgical care. As a man who knows about leg troubles, trust me." Leg troubles. Not having legs, but Jim knew the doctor had the same kind of reasons that he did for his 'troubles'.

Just twenty something years beforehand. Al moved over towards Jim, and was just handing him the slip for the prescription when the door opened again.

"Doc, have you got-- Brass?"

"Hey, Cath," Jim said raising a hand to say hi. He'd hoped to get out of there before anyone spotted him. It was way too easy to get sucked in. "Came to see if you'd let Sanders blow up the lab while I was away."

"He's been getting bored without you here to entertain him," she joked a little, stepping into the morgue and eyeing him, then Al, then the sheet that Jim was pocketing. "So, vacation cut short?"

"Yeah. Knee's playing up, thought I'd head back," Jim said looking at her. Cath reminded him in a strange way of Lady Heather now that he had met the woman. It was odd, but he made the connection and nearly smiled. Imagining Catherine teaching a Practicum was up there in the realms of the very possible.

She'd been a stripper once, after all.

"Oh yeah? Heading back home, or... where were you going again?" She was curious, she'd been curious when he'd found his time off applied from on high.

"I went to LA," Jim said. He gave a half smile. "And Al here is way too innocent to hear the sort of things that went on. I'm heading back home, resting the knee, maybe doing some decorating."

"Decorating, huh? Beer can curtains?" Catherine winked at him and moved further into the room. "Enjoy your last couple of days off, Brass."

"I'll be back on Monday," Jim replied, turning towards the door and remembering to limp. "No doubt Vegas will welcome me back in its own way."

"I don't know what we'd do without you." He was going to pretend that he didn't hear a hint of sarcasm in Catherine's voice as he limped towards the door. Al probably knew there was something up. But as long as he was functioning, he wasn't going to say anything.

Hey, he even deserved some of that sarcasm. Someone got too close, he pushed them away. Well, unless they were like Sanders who always reminded him of the type of puppy that kept trying to climb in his lap no matter how many times he pushed it down. He nearly laughed at that as he limped slowly up the corridor. Gil and Greg... now there was a meeting he'd like to see. Might be the first time the kid met someone who could outthink him. Both kids. Gil would like it here. It might be worth waiting until there was a position in the lab, or maybe he could do consulting? Nah, he'd need experience for that. Or perhaps Al needed help, and Gil had experience there. They'd have to work on his resume but there was this.... strange problem they had. A total inability to stop having sex.

It was amazing, even if they hadn't gone 'all the way'. It was like his libido was getting a workout for the first time in years -- and it was -- because there was an intelligent, fun, gorgeous young man who wanted him. Pretty much every moment that the thought crossed Gil's mind. He wasn't as leery of sex as Jim had expected him to be.

And that was amazing. Jim couldn't say that Gil decided to settle for him because he was sheltered, because he'd been out and out there in the world working in LA county. Lots of people he could meet and be attracted to.

LA was full of people who made their looks their living and Gil wanted him. He couldn't fake that. Jim had spent nearly a decade interrogating suspects and sifting statement and evidence for truth and he seen the grieving widows who turned out to be murderers and there was always something a little off when they were trying to pretend. To lie to him. Gil wasn't lying to him and in some ways that made the whole thing worse. He was buying into it. The thing he had spent despising, avoiding certain it was morally wrong and he hadn't even lasted a night of temptation.

Not that Gil didn't have some points. But, but... But. Jim didn't want to admit that he was buying into it even as he was. He'd bought into Gil, at least, even if he was going to try to give Gil as much freedom as he'd take. Gil just didn't seem to want much freedom.

Besides, Gil seemed to really enjoy decorating the... their house. And he had to admit, he finally felt like it belonged to him somehow, even with dust sheets and paint cans everywhere. They were useful if Gil got a look in his eye after one to many strokes. Jim was considering keeping them permanently.

He realized he was walking through the lab beaming inanely. That would convince everyone he was on drugs for sure. But hey! Maybe that was what they thought he was doing on vacation. Who knew?

Jim at least had part of his goal accomplished. Drugs so that Gil was already out of it before the torture kicked in. There was no way he could pretend it would be anything but torture for him, and he hated himself that he didn't stand up to it, find a way to stop it. But he would be there for him, he would try and ease things as much as possible one way or another and Gil wouldn't have to suffer it alone.

There was nothing worse than being alone.

Thoughts plucked at the edge of his mind, and Jim had to concentrate not to give in to them. It took a little of the grin off of his face as he headed for the parking lot. He wanted to get home in one piece, not pieces, and Gil didn't need to deal with that kind of shit. Gil didn't even know what kind of shit Jim was dealing with.

So far he'd managed not to wake Gil with his own insomnia. He covered it with trips to the bathroom, or downstairs to try and find a beer that Gil hadn't hidden. He had noticed and he didn't mind except when it was too bad, and just... there in his head and only alcohol would send it away.

He probably needed to work on it, because Gil had noted and he was trying to mitigate it in his own quiet way. Gil wasn't exactly confrontational, but he was stubborn in his own way. He stood up to Jim, and that mattered. That made Jim feel better about it, that Gil could joke and relax, and be himself. Even if himself was someone Jim had created.

He needed someone who would argue with him, he needed someone who gave a shit about him enough to make him miserable and not take the easy way out of things. He'd thought he'd found it once with Janice and that had ended up not just pouring salt in open wounds but dousing them in acid and gas and tossing a lit match at the resultant mess. And he'd thought he'd blown his one chance and anything else would be an empty construct of human emotion, artificial and trained to a false mimicry of the real thing.

Instead of that, he'd got Gil. Maybe his second chance, but when he allowed himself to remember what had really happened, always his first choice.

---

He had paint on his nose.

It was going to be a long story when he explained it to Jim, but he had the ceiling painted even if he was looking a little worse for wear himself. Worst case scenario, he was in a little trouble for really making the drop cloths dead and paint in his hair.

Even so, he was pleased with what he had accomplished. It made such a difference to the place. Filled it with light and a warmth of color that he thought would please Jim when he got back in. He didn't actually think he'd get all of it finished before Jim got back, but so much the better.

He still had the trim to do, after all, and that had to dry. That wasn't so bad, though. Jim could help and... Gil smiled to himself. Yeah. They were lucky to have made it as long as they had without breaking that one important rule.

He considered he'd had an excuse. He was twenty-one, and had even received training in the art of sex but had never been allowed to put it into practice. In his head, he had years of catching up to do. Maybe tonight they might... go a little further than blow jobs, hands, fingers...

Jim tasted so much better when he hadn't been drinking.

It was stupid and possibly all in his head, but Gil liked that thought and he wanted to keep Jim from drinking much. He knew he'd been sneaking off in the night, because Gil would move close in his sleep and taste whiskey on Jim's lips. That was inexplicably sad for Gil, but he was going to work on it. He had years to work on it, to try to help Jim through it.

Life, even full of strange little things like that, was good for Gil.

The knock at the door however, threw him a little. He stood and wiped his hands off a moment considering. Was he meant to let people in? Entertain them? There had been whole sections on hospitality and what to do and what approaches to take depending on who was there and...

He'd apparently not had the lessons where the people knocked and just walked in the house if the door was off the latch.

"Jim, sweetheart?! James?" A woman's voice called out.

James? There were few people who would call him that, Gil knew that already.

He really should've locked the front door, and he wasn't in any state to be greeting people. It was a woman's voice that he heard, which left him very few options -- ex wife, no, she wouldn't show up in Vegas, Jim's boss, maybe? Gil started out of the living room and towards the front hallway to see whom it was. Maybe he could see them before they saw him.

"I didn't see his car out front," a man's voice said. "I told you we should have called before we came up."

"Well, he didn't even send out invitations to the Presentation, and though he doesn't keep in touch with most of everyone back home, as his parents we should have been invited," the woman replied. "Besides the door is open. He must be here somewhere."

That was logical -- people didn't leave their doors unlocked as long as there wasn't anyone home. Gil edged a little closer to the open doorway of the living room that let out into the hallway. They had their backs to him, and were facing towards the kitchen, and Gil took a step closer. They were older looking, older than Jim.

"I'm afraid that he's out right now. Can I help you?"

The woman turned and he immediately recognized the poise and appearance of someone Companion trained, and as the man turned his head he recognized the eyes and jaw line. Definite relations, and guessing from the conversation most likely Jim's parents. It was strange, they looked young for how old they must be to have had Jim, as if Jim had aged prematurely.

"You must be Gil," the woman said warmly. "I'm Rebecca. It wonderful to meet you at last. To be honest, I was beginning to wonder if we ever would."

"Rebecca, I thought we agreed not to talk about that," Jim's father said.

Rebecca made a dismissive gesture, "Richard darling, you don't know how important Going Home is to Companions. I don't think I could even put it into words, and James kept poor Gil waiting for so long."

He suddenly wished that they had called ahead, so he wouldn't greet Jim's parents while covered in paint. "It's all right. It's been worth it. I'm Gil. It's nice to meet you." But they knew that, so he offered his hand to each of them, after he'd finished wiping his fingers on the paint rag he'd been holding. "We're redecorating. I'd invite you into the living room, but I just painted the ceiling and I'm not sure it's not going to drip."

"That's quite all right dear," Rebecca said indulgently. "I'm perfectly at home in the kitchen. I expect you are as well." She smiled at him. "Richard, did you remember to bring the box in?"

"The... No, I left it in the car," Jim's father said. "I'll just get it."

"That's a good idea," Rebecca said and watched him go. "We can put some coffee on while we wait. Jim has gone out?"

"He was looking for something." Gil assumed that, because Jim had been a little secretive. He didn't try to hide his drinking, so Gil could only guess it was some kind of surprise. Whether it was a good one or not, time would tell. "Do you prefer cream or sugar, or?"

"Both. Richard has his black," Rebecca said as they moved into the kitchen. She smiled. "I think you're going to be good for Jimmy. He's been here a long time and he hasn't done a thing to the place. And now you're here, it's come on in leaps and bounds."

"He doesn't... really take care of himself," Gil said a little vaguely as he moved towards the jar where Jim kept coffee. He liked to splurge on good coffee like he liked to splurge on electronics, and that was funny to Gil. "He redid a whole room so it'd be ready when I came home with him, but he still has boxes he never unpacked from moving out here."

"That sounds like Jimmy," Rebecca sighed a little and took a seat at the table. "He didn't used to be like that. Of course, everything with Janice and the whole situation back home -- It was meant to bring him back to himself and it did, but then when it went wrong, it made things worse."

Gil lifted the lid off of the grinder, and dropped four scoops of beans into it. "What... happened? I can piece together what happened with Janice, but that's not what makes him do..." Do what? Ignore himself in favor of anyone else who'd take the attention, work hard, drink. "This."

"Well that, my dear, is the million dollar question," Rebecca said seemingly effortlessly comfortable in his company. "Something happened to Jimmy on his Benefactor Duty and he's never told anyone. Believe me, Richard and I tried. And I've kept trying over and over. Frankly I'm glad he didn't tell Janice because come the end, she would have used it against him and what she did hurt him enough. I used to be quite good in the people reading classes -- modesty aside, but it's like reading a brick wall. So don't be surprised if you get that sometimes."

It wasn't quite like reading a brick wall. There was too much beneath the surface pain, but it washed over and overrode any clear signals that Jim might've been giving. Gil frowned a little to himself as he ran the grinder for a moment, the high-pitched loud noise enough reason for him not to talk before he turned it off. "When I was eight, he stopped writing. For months. One of the other Companions had just lost their Benefactor because he died while doing his Duty. I couldn't think or concentrate until I finally got a letter from Jim saying he'd been too sick to write." So whatever had happened during those few months was... very important.

"It was a bit longer than just a few months. The mail from where he was, it was very bad. He tells us he was injured and then got unwell in the jungle. That's all he's ever said," Rebecca replied. "I was just so pleased to have him back, I didn't press him then when maybe it would have been of more use. But he went into the force, seemed to do really well, met Janice, had a whirlwind romance..." She sighed a little even as they heard the door shut and Richard came back in.

"I've got the box."

That was a little ominous. "I worked in as a CSI in LA. There's injury scars and there's... inflicted." It was funny to feel himself realizing it as he said it. Giving voice to words was sometimes as good as knowing what he was talking about, because the pieces were jagged and maybe they weren't all in the right place, but they were starting to make sense finally. Jim had gone missing, Jim liked to have choices, liked for Gil to have choices, Jim had scars. Jim didn't want his choice taken away, and the implication was 'again'.

He turned a little even as he filled the coffee maker with fresh grounds.

"You talking about Jimmy?" Richard asked looking between them both. "Well, he was in a war. It was bad luck there was combat service when he did his Benefactor Duty. We know he was injured and he kept saying he was fine."

"I've told you before, darling, that there's fine and there is 'fine'." Rebecca did a perfect inflection imitation of Jim's response when he was being difficult to talk to. "Gil needs to know about these things. It's part of what he'll be doing. There are always great mysteries and wonders to discover about the one who Chooses you. You should know that, love."

He supposed that they would know, and Richard just smiled. Gil turned away to get mugs, and then headed to the fridge to get milk. He wasn't going to talk it out with Jim's parents there, or more pointedly, Jim's father. He was another Benefactor, and Gil wasn't quite comfortable with that even if Rebecca looked lovestruck with him.

Rebecca felt... comfortable, normal to him even with her poise and precision. She was familiar, and like the family he had known until Jim had come for him. Richard on the other hand was a Benefactor and not his Benefactor. That was an entirely different thing.

"So, you have been getting on well? With Jimmy?"

"Very well." Once they'd gotten past that initial problem and he'd apparently convinced Jim enough that he wasn't a mindless drone. "I enjoy his company and I understand him on a professional level."

The sex was amazing. But he wasn't going to say that.

Rebecca was smiling at him over the lip of her coffee cup. "Broken any rules yet?" she asked with a smile.

Gil finished pouring Richard's cup, and then added milk and sugar for his own. "No. Not really." Not the big one, and that was all that Lady Heather had stressed for him to follow, given his age and his circumstances. He turned around again to put the milk away, and Richard had sat down beside Rebecca at the kitchen table.

Richard chuckled. "I think we managed a 'not really' as well," he commented. "If the Presentation had been any longer... well, things would have been different."

"Your presentation is while we are here Gil. Jimmy tends to forget about things like inviting people, or realizing what a big thing it is to the Companion. I had a feeling he would do that," Rebecca said.

Then she knew her son well. Gil sat down across from them, curling his fingers around his coffee mug. "It's... I'm not actually looking forward to the presentation itself. What it means, yes."

Rebecca leaned over and patted his hand. "I know, dear. I was terrified before mine. But it's a few moments of discomfort and then life really begins. Now, I suspect Jimmy hasn't done anything about the Brand or the Opener?

"No. He's not comfortable discussing it." Gil took a sip of his coffee, and sat back a little. It had just about been time for him to take a break from painting anyway.

"I told you, Richard," Rebecca glanced at him.

Her husband sighed a little. "She has a tendency to be always right," he said in a low voice. "Well, we wondered about that. The Brass line of Benefactors goes back to one of the original twelve families in a direct lineage. As such, we have an heirloom brand..."

"Very tasteful," Rebecca interrupted. "Really. I'll show you mine if you want to see it. Although of course there is the bit that can be altered to make it unique. Seems such a shame to have to discard that part forever, but it is right there should be a unique mark..."

"And..." Richard continued as he revealed a sizable gleaming object, "A solid silver Companion Opener. It has some exotic proper name but I forget what it is."

The Orange Juicer, Gil decided mentally, staring a little. It looked like a long orange juicer, and he started to open his mouth to say something before he closed his mouth. No, he wasn't going to say that. "It, uh..." Needed to be sterilized. Thoroughly, in an autoclave or two.

Rebecca rather unexpectedly giggled. "I know exactly what is going through your mind," she said stifling laughter. "I think my first words were something along the lines of if that's been locked away in a box for years on end I want it scrubbed boiled and soaked in iodine."

"I was actually thinking that it looked like some kind of deranged orange juicer, but that was a close second." Gil shook his head a little and took another sip of coffee. That was supposed to go up his ass. It was ridged, lengthwise, and it was supposed to go up his ass.

Rebecca laughed again. "And I was only saying we needed a new one," she said. "Now we won't have to get one, Richard."

He smiled back at her. "May I remind you it is a cherished heirloom? Dating back to the Imperial days before Independence?"

"You may, but Gil's right, it might make a good juicer."

"It..." Gil shook his head at the thing, and was glad he was already sitting back in his chair. "I'm sure it was very cutting edge at the time." And it hadn't been used in at least thirty years. Did it get polished every year?

Richard nodded. "It would mean a lot to us if it were used for your Presentation. A way of making you part of the Brass lineage. We both want that."

And it wasn't as if Jim was going to come home with one, so Gil nodded as he put his mug down for a moment. The presentation was just the next night. That wasn't long at all. "I understand."

There was the sound of another rattle at the front door. "Hey Gil! Brought something to eat. Got to keep our strength up!"

Gil glanced to Jim's parents for a moment, and then slid out of his chair. "Jim..." He walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway, and once he was out of sight of the kitchen door, he gestured to the kitchen door. "Your parents arrived while you were out."

Then he added in sign ~They've brought tools for the presentation.~

They had been practicing it a bit and Jim was getting better as the lessons came back.

~Fuck, that's all we need~ he signed back and then went into the kitchen

"Mom, Dad... you didn't tell me you were coming up to Vegas?" He said as he put down the bags of food and his jacket.

"Our invitation got lost in the post," his mother said to him and Jim had the grace to look away, a little embarrassed.

"Yeah well, I didn't exactly get around to... invitations."

"There just wasn't time," Gil shrugged as he moved to peek into the bags. "Jim, I finished the ceiling. Once we do the trim, that room's finished."

"Hey, that's great, Gil," Jim said as he slipped behind him heading for the fridge and one of his ever present beers. "So, Mom, Dad, I take it you'll be there then? You didn't have to come all the way for this."

His mother looked scandalized. "James, this is a very important time for you and your Companion. For the family. We are welcoming someone into the family and you are accepting your full status as Benefactor."

"Which is something I could do without," Jim muttered.

"It doesn't make much of a difference, does it?" Gil asked as he reached into a bag to lift out a takeout container. There were groceries in another bag and some thick chocolate looking cake, hiding under a head of lettuce.

He liked the contrast of the two things. Healthy salad and thick cake. That was very Jim.

"More to the point, son, we've brought the family Brand and Opener," his father said. "All Companions of the Brass lineage have had the family Brand and used this Opener."

"You make it sound like something you should find on your desk at work Dad," Jim said even as he put some other items away. He was obviously not impressed.

"Believe me, Jimmy, you wouldn't find this on a desk anywhere," his mother said holding up the solid silver 'juicer'.

The look on Jim's face was one of complete horror. "No way. Not a chance in hell."

"I think it'd make a great orange juicer," Gil murmured, the most he was going to comment as he unpacked the groceries. It looked like they had a couple of meals worth of takeout food, particularly if he added the salad as a side. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"No, I think we'll let you to continue to get to know each other. We'll leave you with the appropriate items," Rebecca said with a knowing look at them both. "You have some discussion to do and the brand to decide on."

Gil folded the grocery bags, and on his way to put them under the sink, he brushed Jim's arm, so he'd at least go a little less stiff. "We will, thank you."

Jim's mother got up and gave her son a hug. "We'll be staying in Vegas a little after so we'll catch up at some point then, and at the Presentation."

Jim kissed her cheek. "That'll be good, Mom," he said and it was obvious he still loved his parents and they loved him even as his Dad gave him a clap on the shoulder in farewell.

"We're proud of you son. Good to meet you, Gil," he said with a nod. "We'll see ourselves out."

"It was nice meeting you." Gil turned, waving a little, and was half-tempted to shadow them to the door so he could lock it once they were gone.

Even so, Jim saw them out obviously having the same idea. Gil heard the door shut and then Jim give a sigh. "Well that was entertaining."

"Your mother was very seriously trying to convince me that I want a fruit juicer put up my ass," Gil deadpanned as he moved to meet Jim out in the hallway. "You missed the entertaining part."

"Yeah, sounds like it." Jim winced looking at the box on the table and then away as if he couldn't bear to look at it. "I... can't do that. Not let them put something like that... there."

Gil let his hands drift, loosely holding onto Jim's upper arms. "Then we need to decide what's going to be used. Your father was insistent that it's a family heirloom..."

Jim very artlessly turned away to unpack another bag. "The standard ones aren't really any better. I looked." He seemed very uncomfortable about the whole thing. "I don't want to do this to you. I don't want them pushing that in you for the sake of some barbaric ritual and causing you pain."

Ah, so that had been what Jim had been doing. Gil shadowed after him, and stood a little behind him, but not so close that he'd get walked into when Jim turned around. "I need to be registered, Jim. I need my ID. I'm not looking particularly forward to it myself."

"I know that!" Jim sounded a bit angry and frustrated. "I know that. I just... I can't see my way around this. I've tried... I... I've got some strong painkillers from Doc Robbins that you can have before hand. They make you a bit woozy, but I guess that won't matter."

Gil put his hand on Jim's shoulder, and started to massage there almost absently. "I appreciate what you're doing, Jim. I know you're trying."

"Yeah, but I'm not good enough to get you out of it," Jim said. "I'm not good enough to think of a way where you don't have to be hurt to live a decent life. And that really pisses me off."

Gil stepped closer to Jim, and on an exhale, leaned his forehead against the back of Jim's neck. "You're good enough, Jim. But sometimes, rules are rules. You can't tell me there hasn't been a case or a time at work where the rules were going to take down someone even though they were doing good."

Jim nodded. "Yeah, and the same ones sometimes protect the ones that shouldn't get away." He relaxed a little. "I don't want you hurt. The brand is bad enough."

"I don't mind the brand so much," Gil murmured. He shifted a little closer, and slid his arms around Jim's waist, not lifting his head yet. "I like the idea of your mark. There's a great deal of safety implied in it."

Jim went silent at that for a moment then he sighed. "Yeah, Mom said that once. I just... Look, I guess we should look at it. It's the Brass registered symbol and there's this box that has hundreds of small other symbols that you chose and then traditionally you keep. We... could look at that. You don't have to, no matter what my parents said."

"I know. But I think... that would be okay." He turned his head a little, and kissed just above the collar of Jim's shirt. He was definitely doing his part to impede the grocery unpacking. "If you have any ideas for the other..."

"The only idea I have for the other is to get you ready to take it beforehand." Jim replied. "We could... practice a little. Maybe it's rule breaking but better that than having a large object shoved up your ass."

"I'm not actually sure that it is rule-breaking," Gil murmured, still curled up against Jim's back, holding onto him, trying to soothe him. He liked that, standing there and holding onto his Benefactor. It was nice to have human contact and not feel guilty about it. "Since you have to be a virgin in the first place to actually lose it with your Benefactor before the Presentation. Lady Heather was vague about how the rule applied to me."

"We'll eat and maybe fool around a little," Jim said decisively. "We've worked hard, we need something."

"I think I need to take a shower, but I'm getting used to paint in my hair." Gil pulled back, eyeing the takeout. "Takeout, salad and cake?"

"Balanced diet, I thought," Jim said and smiled. "I thought you deserved chocolate. I know I do. Lying to the boss to get painkillers."

"You lied to your boss?" Gil let a hand linger on Jim's back, and then walked to grab plates and see if they had salad dressing or something.

"Yeah, well kinda. Said my knee was bad and persuaded Al to do a prescription so I would be fit for work Monday. Catherine was there," Jim said as he warmed up a few of the takeout cartons.

"I need to meet her some time," Gil murmured, while he started to put things together. It was a sort of healthy meal, and as long as Jim was eating real food and not calling Jack Daniels a meal, then it was very healthy for Jim.

He even looked a bit healthier even just from the week of not drinking as much and having to provide dinner for Gil. "Yeah... I..." Brass twisted a grimace. "I haven't exactly told anyone I'm Benefactor ranked."

"Oh." Oh was an understatement. Gil paused, and then started to put the salad on the plate. "How do you think they're going to react, if... you tell them at all?"

"I don't know." Jim shrugged. "I really don't. It's just never been that important a thing in my life. At least... not until you."

"You don't take advantage of what that means," Gil shrugged back, reaching to grab forks and the ranch dressing that looked like it would expire in a week or two. "That's not necessarily a bad thing."

"Not so far. To be honest? Most Benefactors really irritate me." Jim sat down as Gil came over. "Even my Dad gets it sometimes. The whole 'we have a responsibility and a Duty'..." He faded off on that word and reached to serve out food as if it had been deliberate.

"You served your duty. What duty is there left?" Gil asked. He backtracked for a moment to get something to drink, and very pointedly poured Jim a glass of juice.

"The duty of upholding the name, the privilege and providing an Heir. It sounds like some ridiculous medieval story but trust me, they believe it. They really do." Jim looked at the juice and then away as he served out some of the Chinese take out he had put on the table.

"You're a CSI -- that's upholding a name. You have a nice house, and..." Gil paused. That last one got him a little, and he had to pause while he sat down in his own chair across from Jim's. "Ellie?"

Jim went very still mid reach and when he unfroze his face was full of that self mocking bitterness Gil had seen when Jim looked for the drink. "Yeah. Ellie. My little girl."

Gil shifted his leg forwards, brushing against Jim's. "I'm sorry, Jim."

He was looking at his food as if he had lost his appetite. "I don't want them to disinherit her. She's not mine, they don't think I know but... she is mine. My only daughter, but that's not good enough for succession."

"They want a blood heir." Gil stuck his fork in a little pile of lettuce leaves, and contemplated eating it. "How do they know she's not?"

"They suspect. And they have the right to demand a DNA test before establishing a Benefactor Trust Fund. They're planning to do that for her Acceptance," Jim replied. "When it comes back... Janice will be formally denied Benefactor Rank again, so will Ellie and there's nothing I can do about it. And then they'll come pushing at me to marry again."

"And you don't want to?" Gil guessed. He didn't particularly want to share Jim, no, he definitely didn't want to share Jim, but if he had to... then he had to. It wasn't his choice to make, no matter how much Jim went on about choices.

"No. I didn't want to before and now..." Jim looked at Gil directly. "Now I definitely don't."

He wasn't going to smile at that. Gil was going to eat his salad. "There are other ways to get around that, aren't there?"

"Well, I guess if I really refuse, they'll invoke the clause that allows for donor sperm or genetic material for a surrogate," Jim replied. "And they'll do it rather than let the line die out. My dad is pretty laid back, and was about my choices as long as there was an heir. He was fine about me divorcing Janice because there was still a Brass heir in Ellie."

Until they did a DNA test. Gil shifted his leg again and sat back a little. "Whatever you decide to do, I'll back you up. I'm not sure how much that means, but..."

"It means a lot. I guess I've been alone a long time," Jim replied dryly. "Even when I was married. It was my fault, I was working long hours, and ...things were going sour on me. That was about the time I could've come and picked you up the first time. Janice didn't want it and I was trying to save the marriage." He sighed a little. "Should've done it then, I guess, but then you might've been in danger so I'm glad I didn't."

"Janice..." Gil stuck another bunch of lettuce. "We wouldn't have gotten along anyway. Anyway, I probably wasn't fit to bring home when I was sixteen."

Jim smiled. "Yeah, but we could've had fun arguing," he said and ate a mouthful. "I was stirring things up then for a couple of years. It was pretty bad. "

"With the cops back home?" Gil guessed. "Was that what you meant when you said it wasn't safe?"

"Yeah. I became pretty good at checking for traps and ambushes. They tried to get rid of me all the time, and for the longest time I wondered why they never went after Janice or Ellie," Jim shrugged. "That was before I found out it was my partner who was in it up to his eyes and who had been in Janice up to something completely different. The knee problem came from when we nearly killed each other." He made it sound matter of fact. "In the end, I got him more than he got me."

So he shot him or the man went to jail. Either or, it wasn't good for a cop. "What happened to your knee?" Gil pressed curiously.

"We were fighting. Well, technically he was resisting arrest. He threw me down the stairs and kicked the crap out of me." Jim mused for a moment. "Which I guess was to be expected as I'd been doing the same to him. I sort of twisted my knee up good. But Mike didn't think I had the nerve to go all the way. Didn't think I had it in me. He was wrong. When he thought he'd beaten me, he left me no other choice and I killed him. He was my best friend."

The gentle joking tone he usually had was gone and replaced by something harsh and snappy.

Gil chewed quietly on the salad he already had, but he set his fork down. "You apparently weren't his. That's not your fault, Jim. He put you in that situation..."

"Gil, don't make excuses for me," Jim said. "This is what I've been trying to tell you. I'm the type of guy who would take down their best friend and kill them. I've done things I doubt you would approve of. I've blurred lines, broken promises and that's not all of it. I'm not the type of person you should defend. I can't even do that for myself."

"Then someone has to defend you, even if you won't do it yourself."

Jim ate another couple of mouthfuls. "See, how can I hope to resist you?" he murmured. "I don't stand a chance."

"I meant that, Jim. You can say that you're a horrible person all you want, but I'm not going to believe it. You were doing your job and upholding the law." Gil stabbed some noodles, and tried to wind them around his fork.

"Well I was punching his face in but, technically I was upholding the law," Jim agreed. "You been at the CCCC all your life, I just... worry you'll been shocked by things you'll find out about me."

"I've been working for the county since I was old enough to, Jim." Gil waved his fork at him a little. "I'm not completely sheltered. I haven't been sheltered like that for a long time."

"No I guess not." Jim seemed to be considering the sort of exposure that people who worked in close proximity to death got of the darker side of life. "It's difficult to explain Gil. Even after I took Mike down there were all the others and... it just wasn't safe in Jersey. And Janice wanted me out. She despised me. I killed her lover. I left for Vegas and I'm sorry but I couldn't even deal with myself then, let alone the whole Companion thing."

"I'm not holding that against you," Gil murmured, taking another bite of his food. "I understand. This is the right time. Now is the right time."

"Despite the paint in your hair?" Jim replied eating a little more as conversation lifted out of the somber and reflective. He looked at the box still on the table and flipped it open. There was the heirloom 'orange juicer' and then a smaller box and various flat trays. "You want to see the family brand?"

"Over dinner? Are you sure that's sanitary?" Gil joked a little. "I'd like to look at it. Your parents were so busy trying to convince me that the other wasn't an orange juicer that they didn't have time to show me the brand." Show him or sell him? He wasn't sure.

Jim smiled a little. "It'll be clean." He opened it up and the brand glittered like a ring of precious metal. Gil wasn't sure what he had been expecting but it hadn't been the elegant intricate circle with two swords crossing in it and a space underneath within the circle that could obviously be for the additional symbol. "My Dad used to tell me the story of the Brass symbol. You know the Twelve Benefactors and all the half legends and tales around them and the stories of the Great Empire? It's a bit like that but it belongs to our family. The name of Brass comes from the name Broesian -- you recognize that right?" It was hard not to. Everyone grew up with tales of the Twelve Benefactors -- especially Companions.

"I recognize that," Gil told him, waiting a little happily to hear the rest of the story. It was an elegant brand, something that he'd bear proudly even if Jim didn't understand. "It's hard not to. So your family descends from him?"

"So the story goes. Broesian apparently means wielder or creator of Brass and there's the story of the last sword -- when the Benefactor who became Broesian was left without a weapon and made and cast a Brass sword and won in a duel in defense of some innocents though the sword should have splintered. Which is why there are swords crossed. After that, he was named Broesian and became one of the Twelve." Jim grinned a little. "You should hear my dad tell that story. It's like he believes he was there, defending honor and Duty with his Brass sword which justice and right has tempered tougher than the hardest steel. That's a direct quote by the way."

"From the story or your father?" Gil asked with a faint smile curling his mouth. The need to keep the line alive made so much more sense now, and Jim's father's pride in the 'old tools'. He'd possibly challenge Ellie because she was a girl and not a boy.

"Both. The Brass line and the other variants on it have had an unusual amount of people in military, law enforcement, the judicial system," Jim said. "There was a great uncle who kept trying to convince me that the saying 'Bold as Brass' came from our ancestor. I think he might have been lying. It's not like we are the only line to come out of the Broesian root. There are Brashers , Brasser, Brash and blah blah blah..."

"I'm not familiar with the Blah lineage," Gil teased a little, eyeing the brand a little before he leaned to check the trays instead of eating his takeout. "Is there a J in here?"

"A J? Why do you want a J?" Jim asked. "There are symbols pictures, letters -- all sorts. There might be. I don't think even Dad knows all of them. Have a look."

"J is for James?" Gil offered, leaning to peer through that. "Unless there's something better?"

"You get to choose that," Jim said as he ate some more. "Anything that you feel is good. And then that one is yours and yours alone."

"Mmm." Right, because couples kept the symbols. Some of them probably made their own, but he and Jim were running short on time. And maybe someone else had already chosen a J. Gil shifted his plate a little sideways, absently eating as he started to sort through the trays, laying them all out. "I know you're uncomfortable with that idea."

"It's just... that it's too like slavery and we got rid of that. It's making lines around people and saying that you're different from me. Well, yeah you are, you're smarter for a start, but... it's like racism. "

"Geneticism," Gil corrected a little. "Most of us are deaf or blind due to genetic reasons. But it..." Gil shrugged his shoulders a little, peering over some of the design blocks on the trays. "I don't know."

"It's..." Jim hesitated. "Look, I think we might be the lucky ones. Despite everything I know I've never felt about anyone like I do about you and I've only met you face to face barely a week. But I think of Sasha and I think... that's not right. She's not happy, and she has no choice. She's bright, superbly educated and trained with a lot to give the world and... she's stuck with a complete bastard."

"Which you're not," Gil added just because he could. "I feel sorry for her. And I worry about what he's done to her, but I know she's going to leave him as soon as she can."

"It's just she should be able to do it when she wants to," Jim said. "I don't like the discrepancy in the laws where Companions are essentially classified as property unless they marry their Benefactor."

"And only female Companions have that out." But Gil didn't personally need or want an out. He couldn't marry Jim, but he didn't want to leave him.

"I reckon males could if they were married, but that doesn't happen because of the business with an Heir," Jim replied. "I wonder if that would ever come up if it was tried?"

"The Heir? Oh, probably." Gil picked up the J he'd been looking for, a florid letter with scrolling decoration, and smiled as he looked sideways at Jim. "Do you like this?"

Jim nodded. "As J's go it's pretty stylish. If you want that. You could have a G for Gil?"

He ate a little more of the takeout, mulling it over before he shook his head. "It's supposed to be your mark, Jim."

"Our mark," Jim corrected. "Our mark, so if you want uh... the star cluster or the butterfly, I'll be happy for you. If you want the J and that feels good to you then have it."

"There's a butterfly?" Maybe there was a moth or a spider or something. Gil started to pore over the little symbols a bit more intently.

Jim chuckled as he kept eating, occasionally making helpful comments or pointing out possible symbols of interest. There was indeed a small spider on a web, several butterflies, one that Gil swore was a moth though Jim said he couldn't see the difference. There was even a beetle. Gil had to correct Jim and explain it was actually a scarab.

He liked the idea of the moth -- even if Jim wasn't sure what it was --and finally, if a little reluctantly, put the J back into the tray and started to put them away, keeping the brand itself and the moth out. "I think I prefer this one."

"Well if you want a moth, you're going to be the one wearing it," Jim smiled at him, a lot of his bitterness of before faded in the wake of their choosing experience. "Why a moth?"

"Do you prefer the scientific reason, mythical justification, or the more simple 'I like it'?" Gil turned the symbol around so Jim could look at it. He's abandoned his food somewhere in there, but that was all right. He was done eating, full, and the pieces that would fit in the brand had been fascinating. "They're a little less socially revered than butterflies, but serve the same useful purposes. Also, they have a unique navigation system, using the moon to guide them through the night. And unfortunately, the occasional porch light."

"The 'I like it' holds the most weight," Jim said examining it carefully. "And kinda apt considering our first discussions were about bugs. That's what got you really talking."

"Beetles, wasn't it? Maybe I should go with that," Gil waffled, smiling at Jim. "Except I think I see enough of them on scenes at work."

"Moths are good. And very you. Unique. There's probably some family legend behind it being included in the symbol rack. We'll have to try and look it up," Jim murmured finishing his last mouthful.

"After cake, and possibly finishing the molding?" Gil offered. Just one night off. He'd have it put on his shoulder, he supposed. The small of his back was a good place, too, but there were so many nerves there, even if it was less likely to be seen. "The room looks really good."

Jim nodded. "It does. After cake though. Everything after cake."

Gil nodded in agreement. When it came to chocolate cake, he wouldn't have it any other way.

---

Jim looked at his suit hanging up ready to get changed into at the last minute and listened to Gil shower. Gil's Presentation Cloak -- yet another gift, this time from his mother, would be the majority of what he would wear, and it was a rather stunning black velvet with the circle and swords of the Brass insignia embroidered in gold. So much for his idea of things being inconspicuous; his parents weren't allowing that. The small brand box stood separate with their choice ready made up for them and the Opener gleamed silver wrapped in a velvet cloth. He picked it up and looked at it.

A couple of hours... If he did it right, Gil would be loose enough not to hurt at that too abrupt movement they did and he had witnessed... god was it only a week before?

It didn't feel like it was just a week before. It felt like he'd known Gil for forever, particularly since in just a few days, he and Gil had made amazing progress on the house. And Gil had definitely been working on him.

Jim wasn't blind to what he'd been doing and yeah he'd drunk less, ate better and was feeling rested with all that healthy exercise they were getting decorating. He reached in the drawer for the oil rather than the lube. Lube soaked in a lot quicker, the oil would last long enough to be effective. Ah. The shower was stopping. He hastily threw a towel over the bed so Gil could lie down.

A big part of him wanted to be doing it under better circumstances. Low candlelight kind of circumstances, not that they'd done that yet since Gil had a habit of starting to touch him and things just happening. Jim couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up to someone jerking him off. Gil had the sex drive of a twenty-one year old, and it showed.

The water was off now, and he could hear Gil moving around. Probably toweling himself dry, trying to tame his hair. Gil didn't usually put quite that kind of effort into how he looked every day, but this was a big thing, This was standing naked in front of a bunch of strangers.

He was glad the cloak was generously long and full. Hopefully Gil wouldn't be too cold. They wouldn't wait to come home. Once it was done, it was done.

"Gil? I don't think you should worry too much about your hair right now."

"I nicked myself shaving. I'm trying not to leave blood streaks on myself," Gil called through the door. "Dammit."

"Stick tissue on it," Jim offered, even as he sprawled out next to the towel, "We have important things to do here."

"Okay..." The door opened a moment later, and Gil came out of the room naked. Jim shouldn't have been surprised to see a piece of toilet paper neatly folded and pressed against the inside of his thigh. "If I didn't like being shaved down there, I'd never do it again after tonight."

"You like being shaved down there?" Jim asked leaning up on one elbow. "Here, I've reserved a place for you." So he was biased but his Companion was the best looking in the world. And he was looking at his eyes when he thought that.

Gil eyed the towel for a moment, and then laid down, facing Jim. "I like the view," he said, looking at Jim's face as he settled in. "What's the reservation for?"

"Preparation," Jim said succinctly. "I promised, and... I want to be sure that it feels okay for you now at least." He smoothed his hand over still damp skin. "You want that?"

"I prefer it." And they had time to do it, another hour before they had to go. Gil had gotten nervous and started his shower early, tired of eyeing the clock. He shifted minutely closer to Jim.

Jim leaned in to kiss him. "Good. It'll feel good done right," he promised as he stirred their interest with close contact. He knew it would and it could and he was determined to give Gil what advantage he could.

"This makes the shaving nicks worth it," Gil mused, shifting closer, almost off of the towel because he was sliding an arm around and underneath Jim to get more contact. He seemed a little nervous, but the whole thing had Gil's nerves wound up tight.

"I'll kiss them better," Jim promised, holding him close, giving him that contact. Gil needed it, and he could feel him relax a little as they moved close.

Skin on skin was an amazing feeling, and Gil wasted little time in pressing close, sliding one of his legs over Jim's legs, his other knee pressed up against Jim's. "That sounds like a nice promise."

"I'm going to be using the heirloom 'Juicer'," Jim murmured kissing him again. "Well. Eventually."

Gil's mouth curved up a little, and he kissed at Jim's jaw, turning his head. "We're working up to it, right? I had a little trouble with some parts of Practicum..."

"Working is the whole point. What problems did you have?" Jim murmured as he stroked hands down Gil's back and over his ass. He was hoping to get him used to it, gently before he started getting more intimate.

"We used to practice simulated sex while clothed. I, uh... didn't always manage that with flying colors. If that was the only thing we were graded on in Practicum, then that would have been my only bad grade." He shifted his leg, and moved just a little, turning his hips like he was offering himself to Jim's touch.

"But you and I...?" Jim was worried suddenly. "You haven't been hiding that you've been upset or uncomfortable have you?" That would be the worst, if Gil was pretending.

Then he wouldn't know what to do because he'd been sure all along that Gil was lying about everything because he hadn't seemed like he was lying about anything. At any point in time. "Huh? No, no. I mean simulated sex, not... everything else we've done. It's different positions and different implications. Different..." Gil shifted his hips a little again, and he was definitely offering his ass to Jim's hands as they lingered over the upper curves. "Body language."

He was relieved. "Good because... you need to trust me for this, that's what it's all about." When Gil had fingered him for the first time he had nearly gone through the roof with shock and then pleasure.

It had helped that Gil had been sucking his dick at the time.

"I trust you." And hell if Jim could work out why, but Gil did. Gil trusted him, against all sanity. He seemed eager, too, probably because he preferred Jim to some stranger.

He guessed it was about expectations being built up. He just had this nagging feeling that somewhere, sometime he was going to fall well short of any expectation that his Companion had.

"Good." He kissed him again and the hands smoothed over the swell of Gil's ass and in between a little, just so he could stroke over that area to get him ready even as he distracted him with kisses.

It seemed to be a good plan, because Gil eventually seemed to concentrate more on the kissing than the hands on his ass, slipping his tongue into Jim's mouth and groaning.

Jim was glad then he'd left the oil open on the side, because it was easy then to carry on kissing as he reached and dipped his hand in it before returning to let the excess drip into Gil's crack before starting move his fingers in after it. He could feel over muscle, over Gil's tailbone, and then in to trace around the rippled edges of puckered skin. He might've been worrying about Gil lying to him about his comfort level, but Gil groaned a little and stopped kissing Jim when Jim did that. "Oh..."

"Feels okay?" Jim asked in a soft voice against his ear. "You ever do this to yourself?" He stroked over his entrance gently, teasing at it. It was a little early in the process to use his tongue there. That could wait for another night.

A night with a better atmosphere for them both. "Sometimes. They liked to keep a close eye on us so we didn't do anything..."

"Mmm and maybe not form strong attachments to other Companions," Jim murmured, wishing he could turn off the cynicism for a moment. His finger teased at the oil-slicked entrance and pushed in a little and then out, and then repeated as he worked it with infinite patience.

Gil exhaled a huff of breath, and his fingers started to roam over Jim's shoulder. He shifted his leg over Jim's legs, and moved the other leg back, spreading. "Mmm. That feels... really good."

"That's the idea," Jim assured him, pushing in with one finger a little much as Gil had done to him. "Now you know why I reacted like I did before."

"I know why," Gil murmured, "but knowing and feeling are two different things. Now I feel why." He was trying hard to be coherent and witty, but his cheeks were starting to flush, and his dick was definitely hard and rubbing against Jim's thigh.

Jim had to try and stop smiling as reached for the oil again and allowed a generous amount to trickle in. More than they would have needed ordinarily, but he wanted this to last until Gil needed it. It made it easier to slip in two fingers and work the oil in deeper. "I'm pushing deeper okay? With more. If it hurts tell me to stop. Slow down." God, Gil looked fantastic like that, flushed with arousal, hard and pressed against him.

"How about 'don't slow down'?" Gil hitched his hips a little, between Jim's hip and Jim's hands. "I'm never going to be able to get the thong on like this."

"We'll make sure you've... dealt with that problem," Jim murmured. "You're relaxing in there. That's good. You think you're ready for our family venerable Juicer?"

Gil managed to huff out a laugh. "Maybe? If you try it slow." His voice was a little towards the good side of breathless. Gil didn't usually talk much during sex, and it was possibly because he had trouble stringing words together.

Jim could cope with that. He'd sterilized the Opener, and he'd been reliably informed that the fact it was silver stopped infection in itself. Still, he dipped it in the oil, pleased that the grooves seemed to collect extra liquid. It felt slippery in his hand but he very slowly nudged its tip to Gil's ass and pushed just a little. "It'll feel... big."

A shift, and Gil tucked his face in against Jim's neck, alternating between kissing and just breathing. "Okay." Okay, because Gil was apparently game for anything and Jim was going to be so careful with him.

He made sure he inched the object in with extreme care, pausing and kissing Gil, to let the muscles relax. It took patience, more patience than they would give him, he was sure. It also enabled him to brace Gil when he was wriggling. "It's going in..." he reassured. "How's it feel?"

"Huge." Gil was trying hard not to squirm and shift too much in any one direction, and by now his mouth was open against Jim's neck, breathing through his mouth and trying to suppress the noises he was making. "Fuck. Not... bad, just a lot."

"Trust me, it'll feel easier soon." Trust him. He knew that all right. Sometimes it had been true, sometimes it just... hadn't been. "Then wait until it moves. It'll loosen everything and then tonight will be a lot easier."

"Okay." It was hard to tell if Gil was uncomfortable or just enjoying himself too much, and while he couldn't see Gil's face, Jim liked the position they were in while he did that, Gil half-lying on top of him, holding onto him, and Jim didn't have to see the opener going into Gil.

He could feel Gil's reaction, hard against him and once he had the opener in he hooked his oil slick finger around the handle like protuberance at the bottom and twisted it very slowly and carefully. He kept telling himself it should feel good. It should feel more than good.

A noise that was something like a sigh and something like a groan sounded in Gil's chest, and his dick gave a twitch against Jim's thigh. "I think I know what the ridges are for...."

"Mmm. Feels good huh?" Jim said twisting some more. He could imagine the sensation and he couldn't hear any sound of pain in the groan. He added a gentle small rocking movement.

"Yeah, that..." Gil groaned, and his fingers moved a little twitchily against Jim's back. "Fuck. I didn't think this..."

"That it would feel like this?" Jim murmured as he worked the object into a more thorough back and forth motion. If he did that Gil would stay loose, would be okay when they pushed it in and hopefully if it hurt some, he wouldn't rip or tear.

"This good." Gil was breathing hard, and if Jim had been him, he probably would've been jerking himself off, but Gil kept his hands on Jim's back and the back of Jim's shoulders. "Almost there."

"Hold it back, Gil... hold it back," Jim told him. He wanted to move the Opener a little more before then. He upped the pace and the depth of penetration hoping Gil would last a little longer.

Just a little longer. Not that he'd done so well the first time he'd had sex, but Gil had to last more than a couple of minutes like that. "Trying." Gil's fingers pressed tight against Jim's back, and the leg that he'd looped over Jim's legs shifted restlessly. "Slow down, stop, or I'm going to."

Jim reached down between them a moment to squeeze underneath Gil's balls just a little to rein it back in. "That should help... " He went back to slowly moving it again.

It was getting easier, and he was sure to pull it out more and more every time, and after anther minute or so more, it was probably enough. Gil's breathing was ragged, and he was trying hard not to come. It was probably cruel to keep him on edge.

Jim didn't want to be cruel and he kissed Gil again. "Okay, you can let go.... whenever you need to." It felt loose and mobile in him and that had been the whole point of the experiment.

He just hoped it would last until the ceremony and that no one would call him on it. Between that and the painkiller he was going to give Gil before the thing started, everything should be all right. "Needed to... about five minutes ago." There was a laugh in that groan, and then Gil was humping Jim's hip, still breathing hard.

They were both going to need showers.

The humping was enough friction to get him going and they could dart in and rinse off again. They'd be there in time and oh, god, that felt good with the oil residue making them slick and a real motion against each other as he waited for Gil to let go as he angled the Opener all over the place.

Gil went a little stiff, body jerking and tense, and his hips stilled finally. Faint wetness against Jim's skin turned to something thicker, a solider slick feeling, and Gil gave a stuttered groan, kissing shaking against Jim's neck. "Oh, god. Shit, that..."

"...hit the spot," Jim grinned a little and slowed the movement of the opener and then slowly drew it out. He'd have to clean it off but maybe he could request it was dipped in oil before they used it. "You'll tighten up some but you should be looser when they do it later. Might hurt some but it shouldn't damage."

"That was a creative way around the rules," Gil noted a little muzzily. His leg over Jim's had gone limp, and that felt good, that Gil trusted him that much to relax. It was a shame they had to go anywhere.

"Didn't hurt?" Jim had to check again, wishing they could just stay there and sleep or rest. He was meant to go to work the following day and for the first time he found the possibility that he might want to do something different. More important than work. He had no idea how his life had rearranged on him so quickly except that it had, and he was glad that he hadn't brought Gil home when he was in Jersey, because that was a time when he couldn't have afforded to be distracted the way he was now. That and Janice wouldn't have taken kindly to him basically dildo-fucking a young man in bed.

"Didn't hurt."

"Good." Jim kissed him again. Janice had been a bit scathing of his bisexual leaning. He remembered one particularly hideous row when she had flown off the handle because she had accused him of fucking with his partner. With Mike.

It was only with the clarity of hindsight he realized it had been jealousy that had motivated the outburst. She'd been jealous of how much time they spent together, not angry or shocked. Some days, even the hindsight was a little hard to wrap his head around.

Gil gave a lazy stretch against him, and turned his head a little to make it easier for Jim to kiss him. "Having you as a Benefactor makes this worth it."

"I just think there should be a less damaging ceremony," Jim murmured. He couldn't say he was worried, that he was scared even for him because that would make things worse. "I know you can do it, I just think having to do it is wrong."

A couple more minutes and they should rinse off and change. Not long to the ceremony.

Gil made some noise of assent, and Jim decided he could eyeball the clock for another couple of minutes. For Gil as much as for himself.

---

Jim had to keep reminding himself not to accept the complimentary champagne that they were being served. All in all, Vegas went out for Companion Presentations in a much bigger and glitzier way than the one he had witnessed back at the CCCC when he had picked up Gil.

For once he was grateful for his mother's interference when she accosted them as they reached the building, because if he had gone with the choices he would have made, he would have been woefully underdressed. Instead, Gil was resplendent in his black and gold velvet cloak and he was now wearing the Brass family blazer jacket heavily embroidered and picked out with gems and matching pants. He protested he looked like a complete idiot, but when he entered the room, he realized that compared to the crowd there, his and Gil's outfits were tastefully restrained.

The place glittered; colors blazed as Benefactors displayed their line affiliation to the Twelve in a bewildering degree of light and opulence.

Even so, Jim wasn't sure he was meant to be fondling Gil under the cover of that voluminous cloak. But it made the party and boring conversation more fun.

That and he was pretty sure his arm around Gil was the only thing keeping him standing. Gil felt loose limbed, and looked mellow, and it hadn't even been in his system long. Possibly, possibly he'd given him too much. Jim wasn't really sure, since the dose was relying on his statistics and not Gil's.

He wasn't sure what was the worst part -- the fact that everyone there, mostly strangers to him, were fawning over how Gil looked and how happy he must be, the fact that his parents were there, or the fact that Jim swore he'd seen Sam Braun in the crowd.

If Sam was there, Catherine would know within the week.

He'd left Gil with his parents when he went to have a few quiet private words with the designated Opener for this Ceremony when he delivered the Heirloom device and the chosen brand. He mentally checked that he had put the soothing ointments in the car and tried to smile for what seemed like the thousandth picture his mother and father insisted on.

"You both look wonderful, sweetheart," his Mom was saying. "Is Gil all right? Gil dear, you with us? I know the thought of it is very distracting..."

Gil wasn't with them. Gil had started to finally be a little less than calm in the car, and he'd just about demanded that Jim give him the drugs that Doc Robbins had prescribed. Well, he had demanded, in a very polite, firm way. In a very Gil way, and he'd downed it with a gulp of stale flat soda that had been in the car since their drive from LA.

But Gil managed a nod, and leaned into Jim a little more. "I'm okay."

"I remember my Presentation," Rebecca reminisced. "I was terrified, but it was worth it. I remember thinking that, because it was the final link between us. There was no uncertainty anymore about who I was or where I was going to be. I had purpose..." She looked at Jim, her eyes trying to convey a message. "That's a very powerful thing you know."

Yeah, he knew. People would give up their lives for a sense of purpose. Or would take their own if they had none. It was strange to think of that.

"Yeah, I know, Mom. Gil's going to be okay. I'm going to take him off home the minute we've signed everything and have his ID."

"That's probably a good idea," his father chimed in, lowering the camera. Then he turned his head a little. "Oh, I think it's time, Jim. Do you want pictures of the ceremony?"

Jim shook his head. "I don't think I'm going to forget a moment of it, Dad," he said softly and turned to Gil. "I'll walk you to the stage, okay?"

Others were making their way there, the front row being for the Benefactors waiting for their Companions to be Presented. If Gil had to do this, he had to watch. For his sake.

There were four of them, four chairs roped off for the Benefactors and just the Benefactors. Gil was quiet and pliant, and just nodded when Jim offered to take him to the stage. They'd get through it -- they had to. And then it was over and they could make their own damn rules.

He steered him there and murmured. "You okay? I'm going to be there... I'm going to be watching, and I'll be there when it's over, okay?"

One of the other Companions looked terrified as they took their position ahead of Gil at the side of the stage.

"I know. And then we'll go home, right?" Gil leaned into him a little more, but he seemed to understand that he was supposed to get in line, and stepped away from Jim a little unsteadily so he was second. Getting it over with, that was the spirit.

"We'll go home and then it'll all be official, and we can do anything you want okay?" Jim soothed. He kissed Gil, not caring about public decorum even as the introduction music swelled.

So what if he was seen as too touchy-feely. Benefactors were supposed to be enamored of their Companions, and he knew that once they started up the steps onto the stage, he had to step back and take his seat.

Jim knew that, and even when Gil broke the kiss and gave him a faintly wobbly doped up smile, he still didn't want to sit down. He wanted to be there with him. He wanted... god, he wanted to be the one that would use the damn 'Juicer' because he would use it and it wouldn't hurt. He wanted to be there to hold him if they had to brand him, hold him tight and try and soothe the pain away.

Instead he was down here watching as someone who moved with the same poise and bearing as Lady Heather took to the stage and stood at the front, waiting for a hush.

"Good evening Ladies and gentlemen, Benefactors and Companions, and welcome to this season's Vegas Presentation of Companions. Tonight, four Companions are to be Presented and joined legally and emotionally in this most ancient and binding of ceremonies. It is a solemn occasion, where the nature of Companionship is celebrated and the long history of Benefactors is remembered. This is an event that has spanned generations. This is a demonstration of the unconditional gift of themselves that the Companions make to reward the sacrifices of the Benefactors throughout history. They have always been the first to defend, the first to lead, the first to sacrifice and as a reward and responsibility they receive the unconditional support of their Chosen Companion. Someone who will be their support, their foundation in all that their Duty demands of them."

Jim found that he was the only one not clapping as the woman paused in her glowing speech.

He didn't care. He'd served his duty and suffered for it, and he'd kept doing what was right and just and every time he did it he got bit in the ass. Ironically, scum like Todd Piccone back in LA got luck's good hand in life's poker game, easy street and no sacrifice at all. And no one else in the room seemed to realize it. No one else in the room seemed to be bothered by the looks on the Companion's faces.

All of them looked a little proud of themselves, and most of them looked scared. Gil was smiling, but that was the Percocet talking. And Jim missed the last blah blah part of the speech, because the masked 'Opener' was walking in front of each Companion and unfastening their cloaks.

He had to clench his hands so hard his short nails were digging into his palm. Gil looked gorgeous but oddly lost up there. The young girl had gone traditional and was bare breasted and that caused a mutter of approving comment, but he was just staring, staring at Gil, catching his eyes, willing him to look at him.

His eyes were down, though, and he didn't lift them. Looking at Jim would probably mean looking out at everyone that was sitting behind him, and that was more than enough. They announced the family name of the girl who was going first, and Gil shifted his position a little, standing up straighter.

Jim wasn't going to watch what happened to the rest of them. He was going to keep his eyes on Gil.

There was a suitable fanfare but it didn't quite drown out the gulping sob of the first girl before they moved to Gil and the masked Opener picked up and brandished the gleaming silver object.

"To the Family Brass of the Lineage Broesian, Companion Gil is Presented. With your own instrument we verify that he is pure and worthy to be affiliated to a Benefactor's blood." Like his blood made him any different to anyone else. Like he had requested Gil to be tested when he would do anything to avoid this. He watched as Gil was bent over by an insistent push and he wanted to growl, to stop them.

Gil was his, and this pure and worthy shit was really starting to get on his nerves. It was a miracle that Gil wasn't a bag of insecurities if he'd been hearing that all of his life and remembering what had happened to him. Pure and worthy, hell, Gil was probably a better person than he was. He was the 'knight in dirty baseball cap', as Annie had called him.

He didn't even flinch when the man shoved it in, but bent down like that, Jim couldn't see Gil's expression. He knew it hurt. Despite everything, how could it not? Gil wasn't that experienced to be loose enough to take it with no resistance. People were applauding as Gil straightened and it made him blindingly furious all of a sudden. Couldn't they see what they were applauding? An act that under other circumstances would have them in jail?

There was blood on Gil's lip and a strain in his expression and he wanted to stop this.

It would've been easier if he weren't seated between two of the other new Benefactors. They didn't seem nervous or strained or worried, no, they were clapping and happy because they... Because they were too fucking stupid to know any better. Gil folded his hands loosely in front of himself, some attempt to preserve modesty, because the Opener had untied one side of the thong he was wearing to cover himself. That was somehow more humiliating for Jim than if Gil were just up there naked.

He hardly noticed that the first girl was being taken over to the side to be branded.

The first he knew about it was the scream. She screamed as if it had been wrenched from her and he saw the Benefactor on his right get up and walk at an unhurried pace to go to the desk where they would sign the forms together. Walk as if it were nothing. The girl had tears running down her face, and she looked barely able to stand even as her mark was clearly displayed to the crowd.

But Jim was watching Gil even as there was more applause as one of the others was 'Opened'. He watched as he was steered over towards the glowing brazier. It was all for show most of the time. And he wanted this to be for show. He wanted this to be an elaborate joke but they were holding Gil and lifting the brand and... He shouldn't be able to hear the sizzle of hot metal on flesh, but the smell of burnt meat was there.

He was standing up before it was even finished, and Gil was making a sound -- not a scream, not a groan, because Jim was pretty familiar with moans and groans, but something that reminded him of a wild animal being smothered. A deep-voiced cat trapped in a bag, and the sound went on because the brand was pressed precisely against his skin a second time before he was turned to be presented.

It wasn't even like anyone could see what the damn symbol was going to be. It was burnt flesh for the moment, and Gil was pushed along to walk off of the stage when he tripped.

Jim was up and moving towards him before he was signaled, and he pushed past the ushers with a complete disregard for protocol. He reached Gil even as he was struggling to get up and very gently slipped his arm under his shoulder. "I'm here, Gil, I'm sorry, I'm here now, okay? Just a little more."

Gil clung to him with the arm that wasn't attached to his branded shoulder, and struggled a little more to get his footing. He didn't say anything, though, he just hung onto Jim, so he was going to go to the table with him while Jim signed the papers. An usher hurried over to them with Gil's cloak.

Jim practically snatched it off of him, and held on to it as they rather perfunctorily slapped on a dressing to the brand even as they were moving. He was practically holding Gil up as he signed the papers impatiently and while they were rubber stamping everything, he helped Gil put his cloak on again. "It's okay, Gil, we're going home, it's fine."

"Sir, we need you to stand away from him for a moment so we can get his picture?" One of the aids said a little tentatively. He had a camera that was attached to the laptop on the side table. There was a printer, and some kind of press, and they apparently made the ID up right there.

Jim took a moment to wipe Gil's face of blood and straighten his hair if only because he knew Gil would be mortified to have an ID like that. He needn't have bothered as the moment he stepped away, two assistants hastily wiped off Gil's face and brushed his hair and as he looked up, a little dazed, there was a flash, and a photograph was taken, even as Jim went back to holding him.

The man with the set up smiled at him, and Jim found another sheet of paper thrust into his hands even as Gil leaned into him. "If you wish, your Companion can take your last name."

"He doesn't get one of his own?" Jim asked even as he scanned the document. "Fine, he can have mine rather than do without."

Privately he wasn't going to have Gil going around without a second name as if he were only pet or something. He'd give him one of his own if he could but belonging to him seemed to be something important to Gil so he wouldn't deny him the name. It would make applying for jobs easier at least.

"Very good, sir." The man typed it in, and checked Jim's signature. Gil was breathing unevenly, and leaning into Jim's side by the time that the man turned around with one gleaming ID card that bore the mark for a Companion, Gil's picture, and the name 'Gil Brass'.

"Thank you," Jim said taking it and managing not to be too impolite though he was angry as all hell with the system, the Presentation, the whole thing that put Gil through this just so society would recognize him somehow. "C'mon, Gil... we're going home okay?"

"Mmhmm." Gil straightened up a little, and seemed ready to put one foot in front of another, and they could slip out the back exit, except that his parents were headed towards them.

"Congratulations, sweetheart!" his mother enthused. "And Gil, you did ever so well."

"Well done, son," his father added clapping him on the shoulder. It was all he could do not to lash out at him.

"Mom, Dad... thanks, but not now, okay?"

He could keep walking down that back hallway, but he had a feeling that they were going to follow him, or worse, make him socialize. "No, son, you should be proud! Gilbert did so well, except for the..." Part where he tripped on stage, sure. That wasn't exactly graceful, and Companions were supposed to be graceful.

Jim didn't give a fuck. Jim didn't give a fuck, and his cell phone was vibrating inside of his pocket.

Jesus Christ couldn't he get a break? It could wait until he got to the car. "Gil and I are going home." He said that with all the restrained authority he could muster.

"You should at least just exchange pleasantries with the others," his mother warned. "Gil will be better for sitting down for a bit. I know I was."

Jim practically whirled on his mother. "Mom, I'm not even going to argue with you... you don't have a f-... a damn clue what you're talking about. It's very different for men, and a lot more painful and dangerous. And if I stay and socialize I'm gonna end up telling them what a f-...a barbaric ritual this is and how it should be abolished, and everyone who sat and applauded the willing infliction of pain and humiliation on another human being should be put in jail!"

His cell phone was still vibrating away, and now his mother looked hurt. And Gil was still leaning into him, loose-limbed and as calm as he really wasn't only probably because he'd had the good drugs before hand. He hadn't meant to hurt his mother like that, but his father clenched his jaw once, and put an arm over his mother's shoulders.

"James..."

"Dad. Don't. Just... don't. If I had my way this day would never have happened no matter what anyone said. I agreed to this for Gil's sake and that's as far as it goes," Jim snapped back. "I'm as angry as hell, and I don't want to say something to you that I'll regret. But before you tell me that it's necessary, that it's only something minor I'll tell you that you don't know what you're talking about."

And they were just staring at him. It wasn't the time or place to have that conversation. They'd get in contact with him again before they went home. It wouldn't change that he wasn't the kind of son that they'd wanted, the kind that had trust in the system and believed in all of that Benefactor shit. It was easier to turn than it was to hear his father's rebuttal, and Gil walked with him when he moved.

His phone had stopped ringing, but it started again.

He had pushed out into the cool air of the evening, before he fumbled in his pocket almost automatically and answered the phone in a very short tone. "Brass."

"It's Catherine. We're all tapped out, Jim, and I know this is the last night of your vacation, but we really need you to call in. There was a gang shootout off of the strip, we have four fatalities..."

Fuck. He looked at Gil. "I can't, Cath. Any other night than tonight. I'll come in later but I can't right now."

Gil was pressed up close to his side, and he was shaking. Of course he was shaking, he was nearly naked and probably in shock and it was cold out once the sun went down. "Is something wrong?"

"It's a... family thing," Jim said as they made it to the car. Gil was his family now; he was responsible for him. They shared everything and he was hurt and needed him. "Give me the address and I'll get there as soon as I can, but I've got to get this... under control first."

And his temper, otherwise the first stupid comment of the night and some would have their head bitten off.

He was somehow managing to talk on the phone and open the passenger side door to ease Gil down into the passenger seat. There was some groggy signing going on, and it always took Jim a minute to work out what Gil was saying. ~Go if you need to, I'm okay.~ Except that he wasn't and while that was stubbornly brave of Gil to suggest that...

"Uh... Okay." Catherine probably couldn't conceive of Jim having a family to give him trouble. "It's 28th and Rodeo."

"It won't be immediately," he warned. Not until Gil was at home, sleeping, resting. "But I'll be in."

He didn't know why he was even offering.

No one else would. Nick would've politely told Catherine to kiss his ass if he'd had a family emergency, but Brass was 'hard ass Brass', known for overtime and not having any connections. Maybe he needed to wean them off of using him as an overtime crutch. Maybe he needed to wean himself off of that crutch, too.

"Thanks, Brass. I've got to go now."

So did he. He had responsibilities. He had Gil and somehow work was not the most important thing any more and no one could be more surprised than you. "Yeah, bye." He hung up and got in the car. "Gil. We're going home, okay? I'm not going anywhere until you are home and comfortable."

"Okay." It was mumbled and quiet, and Gil closed his eyes. If he wasn't seat belted in tight, he probably would've fallen out of the passenger seat and lolled onto Jim's lap. "I want to go home and sleep. My shoulder hurts."

"I know. I've got some cream here that'll take the sting out," Jim said fumbling for the ointments he had shoved in the glove compartment. There was one. Fuck. "Lets see your shoulder."

Gil leaned forwards against the seat belt, and turned his shoulder towards Jim. "It's over. We can go home now and I'm yours and..." There was a noise like a chuckle, even if it was a fuzzy one. "Life can start."

"Yeah, Gil, we can start," Jim reassured and squeezed out a dollop of the pain relief cream and very gently smoothed it in. "You have my name, your ID and... me. It's gonna be okay."

"Yeah." Gil seemed to find a smile, and he was quiet while Jim rubbed the cream in around the edges of what looked like an agonizing ripple of charred skin. He had some aloe in the fridge at home that had numbing properties, and that would work better than the cream that was probably going to make the thing feel even hotter as time passed.

"They'll need me in, but I'm taking you home, putting you to bed," Jim said in a low voice. He wiped off the excess and turned the engine. "The painkillers helping?"

"Oh yeah." Gil sat back, and started to absently try to retie his thong. "Feels okay. Everything's blurry."

"Blurry's better than it hurting," Jim replied as he set off. How long across town? twenty minutes. "You sleep, Gil, try and sleep okay?"

"Okay. Wake me up when... We get home?" Gil would be out in another few minutes. And Jim could take care of them and then he'd go to work.

"Yeah, Gil, when we get home."

When all he wanted to do was stay there with him, instead he'd be turning around and heading back out again. God help the rest of the night shift.

---

It hurt to lie on his back, and that was how he was used to sleeping. Or, ironically, on the side that he was branded on. So he was having to lie on the other side or on his stomach and it ached and no matter how tired he was, he apparently wasn't tired enough to rest well.

Gil wasn't sure when Jim had left, but he had. Work had called.

He understood that. In fact, there had been a half woozy drugged side of him that had half imagined that Jim would have driven right there with him in tow, wrapped in a velvet cloak, but he hadn't. He had brought him home and he had vague memories of being carried, of being kissed gently and a voice that had murmured even when he couldn't catch the words.

He liked the sound of Jim's voice, the timbre of his sounds. Gil just didn't like it when there was that miserable undertone. Jim either had felt bad or didn't want to go in to work, or both, and Gil probably hadn't helped when he'd clung to Jim until sleep had claimed him.

No matter what Jim said, he was a good Benefactor. A good man.

It confused him why Jim seemed to think otherwise. That he did was obvious. He had come out and said it, several times in fact trying to convince Gil that he was and yet...

Gil knew all the thought Jim had put in to preparing for the Presentation when he had accepted the inevitable. Things he knew other Companions didn't always experience. Jim was careful with him and wanted to try to make things better. Gil half remembered Jim yelling at someone at the presentation, and all Gil could think of still had been that he'd tripped and probably shamed Jim. Except he hadn't, because Jim didn't think that way.

Jim didn't seem to care how he was as long as he was happy and that was just... strange. He had been taught to be the person giving happiness, and all Jim seemed to want was for him to be happy. Jim didn't care if he tripped and shamed him. Jim wouldn't have cared if he'd screamed, but in a strange way that had made him all the more determined to be strong and together.

His shoulder was throbbing again and the house seemed empty without Jim there.

But that was all right. Things were working and Jim hadn't rejected him. He was alone, but... But he understood work and the call of it and more importantly the importance of collecting, finding and interpreting the evidence. If he was lucky, he could see about applying for a job there. In the lab, so he could at least work near Jim. So he could see that side of Jim, along with everything else.

Gil wanted that. He didn't think it was just Companion Dependency or any of the other fancy names that the social psychologists had tagged onto his kind. He thought it was real. He'd known it was real since he was a kid and a stranger had smiled at him and looked him in the eye instead of avoiding looking at him, stealing pitying glances or whispering out of earshot saying 'Yes, that's the one. He's the ...tainted one. No one will have him now...'

It worried him, even though Jim had Chosen him. And every time he'd brought it up even circumspectly, Jim had changed the subject. He didn't dwell on it, and there was a way in how Jim was doing it that he didn't seem to be doing it on purpose. It just wasn't a factor for Jim. Gil wanted, liked that, liked how he was more important than his problems were.

He could still remember another visiting CCCC trainer who had gone to Lady Heather after watching him and said, "And he was Chosen even when the Benefactor knew? Remarkable." It had sunk into his mind, chilled him. Made him want and crave the security of the brand and of the ritual for all its unpleasantness. The mark said, 'I belong' as much as it said 'I belong to'. A sore shoulder was a small price.

He wondered when Jim would be home. He would be tired. That was all right. Gil was tired and he could probably sleep more. If he happened to wake up before Jim, he'd get out of bed and make him something to eat. Something good and healthy, since Jim would be going back to work that night.

It was just part of what Gil was supposed to do, expected to be able to do, and there was a pride in the ability. He'd tried so hard in everything and it hadn't ever seemed enough because of one thing, because of three human beings that Jim was vehement in saying didn't deserve to live.

And in a way, Gil was glad Jim hadn't picked him up when he was sixteen, because as eager as he'd been, he'd still been having problems at the time. There had been a lot of long talks with Lady Heather, and one tense occasion that Gil could remember where he'd threatened something rash. Something stupid, and it had been after that when she'd suggested he start actually working so he had a sense of purpose in life other than Companionship.

Now it was easy to say he wouldn't have done anything, but then it had been a real enough pain. A real enough threat. A real enough scalpel stolen from the science lab and waved at the calm Lady trainer in his desperation. If Jim had been how he had said he was then, and Gil as he was, it would have been more volatile than any of his homemade science experiments.

Janice added into the mix would've been like throwing a flame-thrower into the experiment.

No, this... this, just he and Jim, and work sounded good to Gil. He liked it conceptually and in reality, even as he turned it over and over in his head. The next room they were going to work on was Jim's bedroom, and Gil could start throwing the drop clothes over things, move things down to 'his' room once Jim had gone back to work.

He stirred as there was a noise downstairs. Keys in the door, the door closing and footsteps. They barely paused downstairs, but headed up as if that had been their only destination. Jim.

He twisted and shifted in the bed, making himself sit up. Movement made his head hurt a little, but he wanted to at least greet Jim, to at least seem awake.

The door opened and Jim peered in. "Hey," he said, seeing him sitting up. "You're awake. I was hoping to get back before you woke."

"I just woke up a few minutes ago." It wasn't a lie. Gil just hadn't looked at a clock, and as Jim walked into the room, he sat up a little more. "You look tired."

Jim was ironically limping. "Yeah, I am a little. Messy one. Gang war, trace over everywhere, neighborhood's in an uproar. I can't blame Cath for calling me in. Damage control for the media. How's the shoulder?"

"Warm." Sore, but that was a given. He'd been branded. Gil shifted the sheets back and started to make a careful attempt to stand, not caring that he was naked. "How's your knee?"

"I suppose it's ironic that I ended up twisting it when a suspect surfaced in the middle of a crime scene," Jim replied. "That'll teach me to lie to the boss. You don't have to get up, I was just going to get undressed."

"I was going to help," Gil offered, but he did sit down on the edge of the bed. "You only gave me the one dose. Maybe you can take one of the other and sleep it off before work."

"You need it more. I can put some of that pain reliever gel on it. It'll be fine. Oh, did I leave the aloe up here? I'll put some more on you in a minute." Jim was toeing off his shoes, and flinging his jacket over the back of a chair.

"I'm not going to work tomorrow, Jim. Tonight. I can take aspirin if it bothers me," Gil countered. "I'll get it for you, and you finish undressing. I'm not going to let you guilt yourself."

Jim looked at him sternly. "I'm thinking a hot metal burn is a damn sight more painful than a gimpy knee," he replied.

"I can lie in bed all day if I need to. You can't," Gil reasoned a little hazily as he walked past Jim. There was a glass in the bathroom, and he could fill it up with water and grab the pills while he was there.

By the time he came back, Jim was down to his boxers and tonight he didn't strip them off. Gil wondered if there was any reason why or it was just being careful.

"Well technically I will be lying in bed all day, I'll just be up all night," Jim responded.

He wasn't sure why Jim hadn't taken off his boxers. Maybe that was a way of telling Gil 'no', which was all right because while he had the energy to get up and get Jim a painkiller, he didn't have enough energy for anything else. "Nightshift semantics. We both know what I meant..." Gil held out the glass of water to his Benefactor where he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, and offered the pill.

Jim hesitated a moment and then took it, and the glass and gulped it down. "Yeah. So you're going to rest up a lot tomorrow right? Or you want to go out and give Vegas the benefit of a newly ID'd Gil Brass." He paused a moment. "I... uh... elected for you to have my last name rather than none."

"I know. I was admiring the card when I got up to go to the bathroom," Gil murmured. He took the glass back and put it aside before moving to crawl back into bed. "I'm going to rest. And check the want ads. And possibly study some maps before I go anywhere."

"Maybe I should get Warrick to give you a tour of Vegas," Jim suggested even as he moved closer.

"Warrick?" Gil shifted close, lying on his good side. And even though he didn't like that side, being face to face with Jim was nice and made it worth it. He slid an arm around Jim, and his other hand slipped down to rest over the edge of the waistband of Jim's boxers. He was careful with where he put his legs, trying not to knock against Jim's knee.

"Warrick Brown. Another CSI. Vegas born and raised. Knows the gambling culture, the casino culture all of that. He's good. A little competitive, but they're good guys."

"Oh. I'm not too interested in gambling, so..." Gil shifted, and pressed his forehead lightly against Jim's. He could sleep like that, easily.

"Stay in Vegas and it's part of the air," Jim replied. He kissed him gently. "I'm sorry I left you last night. I didn't want to, Gil."

"I know. But work is... work." Work was work. Work was something Gil understood. "Anyway, you came back. You should probably rest."

"You're right, I should. It's hard to, though, the case keeps replaying over in my head," Jim replied slipping an arm carefully around him so he wasn't hurt.

"Why don't you tell me about it?" It was an easy, almost careful suggestion. "If that would help."

"It might... if I knew where to start. And that's the problem. We can't find where it began, though there's a big pile of evidence where it ended. With a lot of bodies. It looks like gangs, but the gang insignias or tells have been stripped off. Why would they do that? Gang's want people to know it was them. We don't know if they were all members of one gang or two... All we know is that they're very dead."

"Was everyone missing tells?" Gil turned his head a little, so he could see some or part of Jim's face while they talked.

"Yeah, which shows that someone walked away from there. There's evidence of hand-to-hand violence. Bad, but nothing that an ER wouldn't deal with. I left Al digging out bullets. There were handguns at the scene, which is pretty odd. Most gangs I know? They'd take the piece of their own or an enemy. Guns are hard to come by, especially ones off the books."

"Mmm." Gil closed his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine the scene. "Don't... think in... terms of justifying why a gang member would do it. Look at what was done and then think of whom. It might not be gangs -- someone walked away and didn't do the things gang members would. Maybe the survivor isn't a gang member."

"Yeah, that's where I was going with it," Jim replied sounding pleased. "Only the Sheriff is already using it as a means to deplore gang violence so there's a pressure to investigate that angle first. I heard Cath do her 'We can't make assumptions with the evidence' speech at least three times to various lackeys."

"Maybe someone is taking gang violence into their own hands," Gil suggested, half jokingly. He liked it when Jim sounded pleased like that. "I think sheriffs exist to play justice with a PR angle."

"It could be a vigilante. There's no lack of people with a grudge against the Gangs and a lack of faith in the justice system of Vegas," Jim murmured. "I think I'll check ballistics. Got a feeling the bullets and guns won't match."

"Sounds like a good hunch," Gil murmured, letting his fingers wander a little, rubbing over Jim's hip. "You'll do good."

Jim smiled. "You do that and I'll forget that I wore boxers to stop me forgetting you were hurt," he murmured.

"Oh, so that's why you did it." Gil turned his head and brushed a kiss against Jim's mouth. "I thought it was a very thin chastity belt for yourself. If I was more awake, I'd do away with it."

"Not immediately, because Companion or not you don't get used to it that easily. And I want our first time to be... right."

Gil could appreciate that although how it was going to be better than when they had loosened things before hand... well.

"It will be. Whenever we do that. Until then, you'll have to mind my roaming hands." He pitched his voice low, and snuck his fingers beneath the waistband a little before he stopped.

Jim just raised his eyebrows at him and smiled. "I can deal with that. Tomorrow you take it easy, and then maybe when I get in we can finish that bit in the downstairs bathroom." Jim's own fingers smoothing down Gil's back made the words a lie. They seemed to know what they would be doing instead of decorating.

Even if Jim wasn't willing to admit that his fingers knew, Gil knew. Gil noticed, so he smiled to himself and closed his eyes. "That sounds good." And he had to stop talking to Jim or they'd never get to sleep.

Jim must have had the same thought because there was an unexpected soft kiss over one of his closed eyelids and then a murmur of "Night Gil," before Jim settled into a position to sleep.

And once again, there was no alcohol on his breath and another small victory there for Gil.

***

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