The Box Read online

  There was a note with it. Blair had written it by hand on a scrap of parchment paper he had found and had wrapped it up with the picture.

  Ellison unfolded it and started to read it out loud. "To Jim -- the best partner and friend in the world." He stopped suddenly, glancing up at Blair and then over to Simon and back to Blair.

  It was Blair's turn to shrug. "Sure, go ahead. It's okay. I mean, Simon knows all this stuff anyway. It's not a secret or anything."

  Jim nodded and started again. "To Jim -- the best partner and friend in the world. You're there when I need you. You listen to me and take me seriously. And there isn't any place I'd rather be than at your side. You have been protector and teacher and father and brother to me, but mostly you're just everything all wrapped up together in one person so I don't have to go looking. You have shown me what it means to love someone unconditionally. Merry Christmas, 1997. Blair."

  Jim carefully folded the note and put it in his shirt pocket. "Thanks. That's great. I'll put this picture on my desk at the station, and maybe we could find a place for the Burton print here in the loft somewhere, okay? Great." Jim smiled and cleared his throat, and got up to check the turkey.

  Blair and Simon gathered the wrappings and put them in the box that the backpack had been in, then moved the box closer to the door. They put the other opened gifts under the tree. Blair took a deep breath and stared at them, trying to relax and breathe out some of the residue tension. Feelings were put way back on the top shelf. He'd pull them out and look at them later, but now apparently wasn't the time. 'Thanks. That's great??' That was the response to him baring his soul?

  Simon disappeared into the bathroom and Blair went to see if there was something he could do in the kitchen. Jim had the turkey out and was busy rushing around doing final preparations. He started to ask if he could help, but Jim turned to him, blue/gray eyes again intense with emotion.

  "Jim?"

  "Thank you," Ellison said softly, leaning on the counter and staring at the cluttered surface. He reached into his shirt pocket and took out the note, looked at it for a moment, then refolded it carefully and put it back. "Thank you. For being here. For the gifts. For everything."

  "Hey, I'm the one that should be thanking you for--"

  For the second time that day, Blair found himself wrapped in Jim's arms, but this time he returned the crushing bear hug, his knees weak with relief, his face pressed against Jim's neck as he tried to breathe normally. Just as quickly, he was released and Jim had turned and was scooping the stuffing out of the turkey.

  "Jim?"

  "Is the table set?" Ellison asked, dumping the stuffing into a bowl.

  "Jim? Before Simon comes out, I want to say something."

  Ellison stopped moving. "We can exchange the backpack if you want--"

  Blair interrupted him. "What? You sure make these weird leaps sometimes, Big Guy. I love the pack, man. It's the best. And, well, so are you. The best. I mean it. Thanks." He shrugged, then looked up at his partner.

  Jim nodded back, neither man knowing what to say.

  The door to the bathroom opened and Simon came out, glancing over to them and rubbing his hands expectantly. "Almost ready?" he asked, hopefully.

  "Set the table, Chief," Jim said with a laugh.

  "Yes, oh, yes, this looks good." Simon got the bottle of wine from the refrigerator and opened it, pouring the glasses as Blair lit the candles.

  Ten minutes later, the feast was ready and they settled in the chairs. There was an awkward pause as they stared at the food.

  Blair mumbled something and Simon turned to him, "What was that?"

  Jim took his napkin, unfolded it, and placed it on his lap. "Say it again, Tiny Tim."

  Blair glanced up at Simon and then at Jim, then closed his eyes for a moment. "God bless us every one."

  "Amen to that," Simon said softly.

  "To friends and family." Jim held up his glass for a toast and waited for the other two men to join him. "It's easy to say Peace on Earth, but in our business, it takes on a new meaning. So this is not a flippant wish for Peace on Earth. I mean it. And for us, individually, a measure of peace in our own lives, despite the troubles around us. May next year find us together again."

  Blair felt the wine go down his throat, and he let the heady warmness relax him. He looked across to the tree, the light of the star on the uppermost branch, and the gifts beneath it. The lights all blurred for a moment. He put his glass down, met his partner's quiet gaze, and smiled, feeling it all echoed back to him.

  * * *

  Merry Christmas.

  December 1997