BABY STEPS
by elfin

Backstrom sat up when Amy put her head around his open door. �I didn�t shoot anyone,� he declared and she smiled. It looked genuine. �I know. You didn�t even shoot Mason Perry and I don�t think anyone would have blamed you.� Mason Perry. The bastard who�d kidnapped, raped and murdered John Bryant, and five more boys that they knew of. Ten years ago, he would have murdered Valentine if he hadn�t escaped. �So why are you here?� �I just came by to say hello.� �Really?� He wasn�t buying it. �Why are you always so suspicious?� �Because usually you only come down here when you�re after my balls.� �I�m not after your balls.� She took a seat on his couch and crossed her legs. �You look good, Everett.� �You didn�t come all the way down here to tell me I look good.� She shrugged. �Maybe I did. Your doctor says you�ve quit drinking, your team say you�ve quit junk food, you look as if you�re sleeping properly.� �Last time I checked, that isn�t against departmental policy.� �I used to think it was against your policy.� An idea half-formed in his mind but it was insane. �Did you� are you trying to ask me something?� She almost did, then decided against it and stood up again. �No. Honestly ,I just came to see how you were doing. You look well.� He considered telling her he wasn�t seeing anyone, but Niedermayer interrupted them with barely a single knock. �Sir? Valentine�s been arrested.� ~ Moto got all the details he could from a friend of his over at the Portland Police department; Valentine had managed to get himself arrested in a retail unit full of guns in crates during a joint raid carried out with the AFT and the FBI. Backstrom recognised a set up when he heard one. He had Paquet create a little bit of magic while Niedermayer drove them across town to the Portland Police bureau. Immediate demands for Valentine�s release had them laughing in his face, but a phone call to the chief at least got him into the interrogation room where Valentine was being held, cuffed to the table. His head snapped up when Backstrom entered the room and he looked as relieved as it was possible to get, immediately launching into his own defence, �I swear, I had no idea. Guns are definitely not my thing, you know I wouldn�t-� Backstrom held up his hand to stop the tirade. �I know. Wrong place, wrong time.� He dropped onto the seat on the other side of the table. �Did you touch anything while you were there?� �What?� �The crates, guns, anything?� He spelt it out. �Did you leave fingerprints?� �No! I was barely in there half a minute when everything went crazy.� He pulled back his sleeve with a trembling hand and Backstrom saw the multiple cuts, a couple still bleeding. �From the glass that came flying in on top of me when they blew their way in.� �Have they called a medic in to look at those?� Val�s expression didn�t need words. �Useless bastards.� Val reached out suddenly, pulling the chain between the cuffs taut, catching Backstrom�s fingers. �I can�t go to jail.� He might have been shaking but his voice was steady as a rock. �Juvie was bad but real prison�. I can�t.�� Backstrom could hear the unspoken implication at the end of that sentence. �Calm down. You�re not going anywhere. Someone set you up.� He leaned forward and whispered, �Can you get out of those cuffs?� Valentine took a deep breath, panic subsiding. �Of course. But I don�t think Detective Sergeant Greaves will let me just walk out of the building.� As if he�d heard his name, the door opened and Greaves blundered in. �Who the hell are you and why are you questioning my suspect?� Backstrom was immediately on his feet, quickly glancing at his watch as he pushed Greaves back out of the room and crowded him up against the wall, Gravely and Moto taking their place either side of him. �I am Lieutenant Everett Backstrom of the SCU,� Backstrom hissed into the sergeant�s face, �and he is a police informant, my police informant.� �He was caught red-handed in a unit full of guns, a unit known to be a drop off location for an arms dealer we�ve been after for three years.� �Three years? It�s taken you three years and the best you can do is catch a gay goth?� He laughed. �If it takes us three days to make arrest we�re underperforming.� He was buying time, waiting for- �Sergeant Greaves?� A uniformed officer stepped into the corridor. �There�s been a positive sighting of James Doone at the Blaze Bar.� �Right. Okay. Good.� He lifted a finger to poke at Backstrom but thought better of it half an inch before actually touching him. �We�ll sort this out when I get back.� Backstrom waved at Greaves� retreating back, waited a beat, then pushed open the door of the interrogation room again and smiled at Valentine. �We�re getting out of here.� ~ Arriving back at the SCU, Backstrom squared his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. �So it seems like we have to do Greave�s job as well as our own. Paquet, find out who owns the retail unit Greaves� team have been staring at while holding their dicks for the last thirty-six months. And I want to know who planned the raid for today. Niedermayer, I need coffee; large, white, non-fat.� Valentine had taken a seat at the table where the paperwork for their last case was still awaiting filing, and Backstrom pulled a chair around to sit next to him. �Tell me why you were at that unit.� �I�ve been trying to set up what I thought was a base for a legitimate business.� He looked and sounded embarrassed about it, and Backstrom knew he was telling the truth. �What business?� �Antiques. Legal, above board, antiques. I thought if I could get a shop in town, I could make something of what I�m good at. Try to stay on the same side of the law as you.� He was actually touched, but it was Paquet who got in there first. �That is an excellent idea, Gregory. You�d make a great shop owner.� Backstrom nodded his agreement. The rest could wait until later. �Give Paquet all the details - contacts, phone numbers, the works.� Valentine already had his cell out. ~ Three hours later, with the chief on the warpath over Portland PD�s missing suspect, they decamped to the barge. Valentine fetched them all drinks, but the path to the people who framed him was complex, and by three in the morning, he was asleep in Backstrom�s chair, curled up on his side with his hands tucked under his chin and his feet on the stool while they were still at work. Backstrom dropped a blanket over him, risking a brief touch to his hair, before rejoining his team. �We should all get some sleep,� he told them after another hour of following endless threads, even though Paquet looked as fresh as she had when she�d said good morning eighteen hours ago. Almond, Moto and Gravely stood and pulled on their coats, Gravely promising to bring coffee at nine a.m. prompt. The way Niedermayer was looking around, Backstrom knew he wasn�t leaving. He pointed across to the open door towards the bow of the barge. �My room�s through there.� The sheets were reasonably clean, as far as he could remember. There was no sign of disappointment on the detective�s face, or any sign that he�d hoped for something else, but Everett hovered close to Valentine until the door had been closed to. When Paquet vanished into the bathroom, he crouched down and pressed the tip of his nose against Val�s until he stirred. 'Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Bedtime.' They lay in Valentine's bed, Val's back to Everett's front. His initial wriggling had caused the first stirrings of an erection, which seemed to come more and more easily each day, without the drag of alcohol in his bloodstream. But no way was Backstrom doing anything like that with two members of his team aboard. Risky enough being in Val's room, but he had given his to Niedermayer.... 'Why didn't you go out tonight?' He kept his voice quiet. 'Why did you tell Peter he could sleep in your room?' Peter? There was amusement in Val's murmur, and Backstrom wish he'd just gone to sleep. 'I asked first.' 'I didn't feel like it.' 'How many hook ups have you had since you and I...?' 'The first time or the second time?' 'Second.' 'Four.' He was actually relieved. 'You haven't brought anyone home.' 'I was being respectful.' 'You can bring people back here. I don't mind. It's not like we're ever going to be exclusive.' It was a lie, but not a big one. He did mind, but still he preferred to know where Val was, and that he was safe, than pander to his own petty jealousies. He tended to save those for Amy, although his thoughts hadn't strayed in her direction for a while. Even that morning when she'd dropped in for no good reason, he hadn't tried to make anything more of it. He realised Val had gone quiet, replayed his last words in his mind, and kissed the back of Valentine's neck. 'Don't say things just because you think I want to hear them.' He had no response to that. 'Answer my question. Why did you give Peter your room?' 'When did he stop being Niedermayer and start being Peter?' 'It's his name. Stop evading.' Backstrom refused to say it. 'You know why.' Valentine turned to face him. Neither of them had stripped naked, but the thin material of his worn out T shirt meant Backstrom could feel the warmth of his smooth skin through it. 'You think he might be interested, that I might have a chance. But now you don't want me to take it.' 'I never wanted you to take it. I don't need you messing up my team.' 'Have you given him the 'touch Valentine and I'll break your fingers' speech?' 'No.' He went for indignant but wasn't sure that's how it went across. Valentine scrutinised him for a long moment, then turned over again and unsubtly pushed back against him, nestling into Everett's embrace, pulling his arm closer around him. 'I won't mess up your team.' He didn't know if that was a surrender or a side bet. But he stroked Val's bare ankle with his foot until he started to snore softly. Whatever Val did, Backstrom was always going to love him, and that was a weird and wonderful revelation they were both going to need to get used to. ~ In the morning, the barge became a warm hive of activity. Val was up by the time Backstrom headed for the shower, chatting to Paquet, making coffee and cooking breakfast, wearing nothing but a shirt that came down to his thighs and, he could only hope, underwear. If she wondered why they'd both slept in Val's room, she said nothing. Backstrom wouldn't have put it beyond her to have worked it out, and not to care. By the time he exited the bathroom, Niedermayer was up too, which meant he could grab a change of clothes from his room. Valentine put a mug of coffee in his hands when he returned to the kitchen, smiling at him in a way that made it tough to speak for a second or two. Propriety and etiquette had never been things he'd bothered about in the past, but just for a moment he wished Val was older, or he was younger, and that no one knew they were half-brothers. So many people had assumed Val was his boyfriend in the past and it hadn't bothered him in the slightest. It would have made life simpler now if he'd let them carry on believing that. So would Valentine wearing more clothes in the mornings. That was when he recognised exactly what he was wearing. 'Is that my shirt?' Val shrugged. 'I grabbed the first thing I found on my floor, sorry.' Guilt made Backstom look up. Niedermayer had his head buried in Paquet's laptop, but Paquet was smiling at them as if she'd just come up trumps on a bet. He rolled his eyes and for reasons best known to his treacherous subconscious, he reached out and popped the top button just below the base of Val's throat. 'I want this back.' Too late he realised his mistake. It was the find of thing he'd have done drunk, as if he'd left his brains in bed. No way Val wasn't taking advantage, and his expression was all heat and promise. 'Now?' Gravely saved him by banging hard on the barge door and declaring she and Almond were laden with coffee and pastries and wanted to be let in. Valentine turned away and trotted up the stairs, and Backstrom risked a glance at Paquet who was still grinning. He couldn't help himself. 'What?' 'You two. You are so sweet. Sometimes it's as if there's a place only you inhabit.' 'Ugh, I'm surrounded by poets.' The pastries Gravely bought were fresh but Valentine made spectacular breakfast rolls which they all tucked into. Half an hour later, Paquet was explaining what had already kept Niedermayer so entranced throughout the morning; the long and sordid story of the ATF's three year attempt to to catch a man called Tai Lon in the same place as the weapons they believed he was trafficking all over the globe. Each time they raided one of his places, they only caught petty criminals, men they'd been able to charge with little more than possession and the sale of illegal arms, most of whom had beaten the charges due largely to a lack of evidence. An hour after arriving, Gravely made a quick visit to the Portland Police Bureau and returned with the news that there wasn't a single fingerprint or document linking Valentine to Tai Lon's operation, and that a judge had already refused to sign a warrant for his re-arrest. Backstrom, however, was on their hit list, primarily for springing their suspect, something Amy backed up when she dropped by before lunch. They were packing up, no longer feeling the need to solve the ATF's case. Quite frankly they'd realised it was possibly beyond them anyway, and they would probably have needed to frame someone else in Val's place in the worst case scenario. �Lieutenant.' Amy called him that when it was business. Her hips swayed as she descended the steps, and he was relived to note that despite this thing with Valentine, his body wasn�t beyond succumbing to the charms of a beautiful lady. Even when she was his ex-fianc�. 'I told you, I haven't shot anyone.� 'I'm more concerned with the suspect you stole from under the noses of the Portland Police yesterday.' 'He's my brother, they weren't keeping him.' His team stopped mulling around his kitchen and started looking around for somewhere to hide. 'You can't keep bailing him out of trouble, brother or not.' 'I can assure you that no money changed hands.'   'They still need to talk to Valentine.' Niedermayer stepped in. 'There's no evidence to connect him to Tai Lon at all,' he pointed out, 'they have no grounds for his arrest.' 'They know that.' Amy turned, hands out, and Backstrom realised she was there to negotiate. 'They just want to speak to him as a witness. They're willing to come to the SCU.' 'If anyone tries to arrest him, I'll shoot them.' Amy regarded him curiously, but in the end she just nodded. 'I'll let Greaves know. Not everyone is out to get you, Everett, or Valentine. Sometimes people are just trying to do their jobs.' ~ Gravely stepped into his office at the end of the day. 'I guess Amy was right,' she pointed out, with a brief glance at Valentine where he was sitting out on the window ledge, browsing through an antiques catalogue. Backstrom's desk was covered in newspapers, all folded open at the �units for rent� pages, some ads circled in red. 'Just because she was right this time, that doesn't make it a rule we should live by. Go home, get some down time.� �What are you two going to do?� He looked across at Val. �We�ll get some food.� An idea crossed his mind. �Maybe we�ll go see a movie. I can�t remember the last time I went to an actual cinema.� Val was up for it, so they went to see the latest Jason Stratham flick. Val had a thing for him, Backstrom just lost himself in the insane special effects and crazy stunts. Half an hour in, after their fingers had been brushing in the popcorn for thirty minutes, Val reached over and took his hand, and they sat there like first-date teenagers for the rest of the film. A cab dropped them at the top of the port and they walked back to the barge in the semi-lit darkness, still hand in hand. �When was the last time you went to the movies?� Backstrom asked and Val laughed. �2005, I think. I saw Sin City with this guy who had a hard-on for Elijah Wood, even when he was eating people and getting gnawed on by rabid dogs.� �Sounds� horrible.� �I don�t know. I can�t say I saw a lot of the actual film.� He smirked and Backstrom rolled his eyes. �Don�t you ever get sick of the sex?� �Did you seriously just ask me that?� But before Backstrom could answer, he said, �Actually, recently� I�ve started to realise I may have been missing out on something.� He curled his free hand around Backstrom�s arm and clung to it for a second, maybe two, before releasing him. �You do know� you and I are a seriously bad idea.� He shook his head. �No, we�re not. I�ve had some seriously bad ideas before, I�ve made a lot of terrible mistakes. Being with you isn�t one of them.� They trotted down the wooden boards towards the barge, but once on deck, Backstrom stopped. �You�re not giving up sex, are you? I mean, with other guys.� �No.� He said it like the thought hadn�t crossed his mind, and that was a relief. �Do you want me to?� No! God, no. For starters, I can�t do the ass thing. Especially not with you.� He unlocked the door and Valentine followed him inside. �Wait. Why especially not with me?� Habit took him to the fridge, willpower made him take out a ginger beer, a normal beer for his brother. He popped the caps and handed one bottle over. �I love you, Val. I couldn�t� that? I couldn�t.� He looked hurt. �Could you with someone else, someone you don�t love? Because the �ass thing�, it�s an expression of love between guys of my sexual preference.� Backstrom held up a hand in peace. He hadn�t meant to cause offence, for once. �The men who�ve hurt you�.� Thankfully, Valentine stepped towards him, not away. �You know that when men rape women, it�s nothing about sex and everything about power. When men rape men it�s the same. I promise you, I enjoy fucking, enjoy being fucked. I would love - love - to have you inside me.� �Stop!� Backstrom tipped the bottle to his lips and almost spat out the drink. If there was a time he needed alcohol it was now. �Jeez, Val, give a guy a break here!� But he did the opposite, moving closer until they were almost touching. �You know what it�s like to make love to a woman you care about. Don�t say you don�t want to make love to me. The way you look at me� not quite how you�re looking at me right now�.� �No. Absolutely not.� �Ha! You always say when someone says that, they�re absolutely lying.� Backstrom frowned. �Can�t you just get� that from your other hook ups?� �Okay.� Valentine nodded, and Everett didn�t know if he was relieved or disappointed. �We�ll see how long you can hold back.� �Hey, I�ve never had the urge to try the ass thing. I don�t think I�m suddenly going to wake up and decide it�s just what I�ve been missing.� �We�ll see. Because the way you look at me, you want everything. And the way you hold me, you want to be as close as it�s possible to be. Being inside me would feel like nothing else.� He leaned forward and put his mouth against Backstrom�s throat. �I promise you.� He was hard in a second. Yet he imagined Valentine would step back, walk away, point made. He didn�t. Instead, he nibbled his way gently along Backstrom�s stubbled jawline until their lips touched and they were kissing. He was right, damn him. Having Val close was the best thing he�d ever known. He was pliant, responsive, such a sexual thing. Too many people had taken advantage of that. Backstrom refused to. He pulled back instead, immediately regretting the flash of fear and hurt he saw on Val�s face. �We don�t have to do anything-� �Stop.� He put his bottle down and leaned back against the table, one hand tangling with Val�s, one hand on the back of his neck, thumb stroking gently. �Just give me some time to get used to the idea. I�m not pushing you away, God knows I don�t stand a chance of doing that. Apparently my body made a decision that my conscious mind refused to make.� They shared a knowing smile. �Look, without you� I don�t know what I�d be living for.� Valentine settled between Backstrom�s legs, fingers extended over his shirt. �Ditto.� He changed the subject. �Did Amy want to know why you�d quit drinking?� �She�s suspicious. She knows I�m seeing someone, I think. She just won�t ask who.� �Is she going to take you away from me, eventually?� He shook his head. �No. She had her chance.� He grinned and Val smiled. �It�s okay. I can share.� �And when someone rich and gorgeous sweeps you off your feet?� Val didn�t answer that, instead effectively silencing him. He was hard as nails when his phone announced he was wanted by work. Ignoring it did cross his mind, because he wanted sex and he wanted it there and then with Valentine. But his phone wouldn�t shut up and finally he had to answer it. �What? This had better be life and death.� Admittedly he was distracted by Val�s mouth at his neck and long fingers stroking his cock through his pants, but it was clear he needed to go to where Niedermayer and the team were. �I�ll be there in ten.� Hanging up he leaned back and looked at Val with the same regret he could see on the expressive face. �I need you to drive me to a crime scene.� �What is it? Arson? Murder?� �Armed robbery. Something about a shooting.� �Doesn�t sound like I�m going to get lucky tonight.� He turned away. �Sorry. Drop me off and you can go on the prowl.� �Yeah. Maybe.� He didn�t sound convinced. The crime scene was obvious from a mile back, thanks to the flashing lights of patrol cars blocking the road. Backstrom flashed his badge and the uniform waved him through with a �take caution, Sirs.� His team were in a semi-circle the other side of an unmarked car, weapons drawn, focused on the doorway of a building which was masked by the SWAT van as they pulled up. Valentine stopped the car and they both got out, Val staying back while Backstrom approached. And only then, only at that moment, did he realise it wasn�t a crime scene, it was an active scene. There was a man with a rifle in the doorway of the property immediately opposite them. No hostage that he could see, and it didn�t look as if he�d shot anyone yet. He was a fake, and Backstrom decided on the most direct approach. �I�m Lieutenant Backstrom,� he called out, �what the hell is so important you have to interrupt my sex life on a Friday night?� Two things happened which shouldn�t have done. The first was Niedermayer and Gravely yelling �no� in chorus. The second was the sudden and flaring pain in his chest. Then someone was screaming and he heard gunshots. He looked down to see his shirt turning red. His legs failed him and the ground was hard, wet and he hit it. It felt as if he was breathing fire in a smog, darkness crowding in at the edges of his mind. Everything felt distant, a long way off, and there was nothing but a ringing in his ears before everything went black and he checked out of consciousness. Valentine heard the shot and saw Backstrom fall. He screamed, running towards him, ignoring the shouts he barely heard and more shots that could have been going in any direction but at least didn�t hit him. He was there before Everett�s head smacked the ground, hand pinned between his skull and the wet asphalt. Knowing what he needed to do, he scraped the back of his hand on the rough ground to free it, and pressed both palms down hard on the centre of the red rose of blood blossoming high on the right side of Backstrom�s chest. Everett regarded him with wide-eyed surprise for a moment or two and he mouthed the words, �You�re okay. You�re gonna be okay,� before his brother lost consciousness. Valentine wasn�t alone long, Gravely and Niedermayer were at his side in seconds, and already he could hear sirens. Niedermayer slowly pushed his hands away, saying, �Let me,� and he tried to protest but he couldn�t speak and he was shaking so badly. His right palm was covered in blood and he stared at it, wondering why it was blurred until he realised he was seeing through his own tears. He tried to wipe his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. Almond was crowding in, and suddenly Valentine was terrified he�d never see his brother again. As the ambulance pulled up, and the EMTs got out, he tried to push forward again, grasping Backstrom�s shirt, begging, pleading with him not to die. �Sir, you need to let go now. Let us take him from here.� Niedermayer shifted back, tried to pull Valentine away too but he could barely see straight, barely think straight, he didn�t want to let go. �Val, he�s going to be okay. Come on. Let them do their jobs.� Niedermayer put his hands on Valentine�s shoulders and drew him gently but forcefully back. Valentine fought him, yelling his frustration, but he held on until he felt the tension leave the surprisingly small body in his arms. Backstrom was swiftly lifted onto a gurney, into the back of the ambulance. �Is someone riding with him?� Gravely took charge. �Niedermayer, go with Valentine. Look after him.� He nodded. �We�ll finish up here and meet you at the hospital.� The ambulance journey was relatively quiet. Valentine, thankfully, had calmed down. He held onto Backstrom�s ankle, just maintaining contact, while the EMTs stopped the bleeding, got oxygen up and an IV line in. Niedermayer sat in silence with his arm around Valentine�s shoulders, the man�s distraction clear in the total lack of reaction to their close physical proximity. Even at the most inopportune times, he�d taken advantage of any opportunity to flirt, but not today. Something in his need to be close to Backstrom was unusual, even given the circumstances. Yes, his brother had been shot and they travelling with him to the hospital, and maybe that was it, but one of the EMTs had reassured them that he would be okay, that his pulse was strong and blood loss minimal. Niedermayer couldn�t help thinking there was something else. At the hospital, he had to hold Valentine back. The emergency team had been alerted, told that Backstrom was a police officer with a gunshot wound sustained in the line of duty. They took over from the EMTs as soon as the ambulance pulled up. Niedermayer took Valentine around to reception and registered him as Backstrom�s brother, as next of kin, then sat him down and bought him a hot chocolate from the cleanest of the vending machines. As he handed him the styrofoam cup, he let his touch linger. Still no reaction. He felt like an arsehole, using the situation to test the waters, so to speak, and backed right off. The others arrived half an hour or so later. They badgered the nurses for news they didn�t have and wouldn�t give them even if they did. Through it all, Valentine stayed quiet. The gunman had been shot and killed the moment he�d opened fire. They were still trying to work out who he was and why he�d tried to kill Backstrom, although there were a thousand possible reasons; even those who liked him had thought about doing the same on occasion, however fleetingly. Two hours after they�d arrived, a doctor came through into the waiting room, checked with the duty nurse, and asked for Gregory Valentine. He got to his feet, reaching back to grasp Niedermayer�s hand as the doctor approached, although it felt like nothing but a need for support. As soon as the doctor said the words, �your brother�s going to be fine,� he let go. �We�ve removed the bullet, which missed his lung. It splintered a part of his shoulder but given time and therapy he�ll regain full movement. He lost some blood, but not enough to be of any concern. He�s in recovery now, in an hour or so we�ll move him to a private room and you can sit with him. He�ll sleep for several hours, probably into the early hours of the morning, and he�ll be in pain when he comes around, but we�ll make sure he can manage that before releasing him. He�ll need someone to look after him for a few weeks.� Valentine nodded. �I live with him. I can be there.� �Good.� Niedermayer watched the doctor smile. �I�ll make sure someone comes to get you once he�s been moved.� When he�d gone, Valentine collapsed back into his chair and put his face in his hands. Niedermayer rubbed his shoulders while Paquet crouched in front of him and put her hands on his knees. �He�s going to be fine,� she repeated, stroking his hair. Valentine nodded again but didn�t speak. A nurse came for him forty minutes later, and he went with her with a glance back at the rest of them. He couldn�t stop the tears when he saw Backstrom lying in the bed, eyes closed, machine next to him beeping softly. There was a snow white dressing covering his right shoulder and a hospital gown pulled up to the base of his neck. The sheets were loose around him. He looked pale but peaceful, the way he looked when he was asleep in his chair, or in Val�s bed. He pulled up a chair to the right side of the bed, away from the monitors, the IV line and wires. He hesitated, but took Backstrom�s right hand in his own and hugged his right arm. He put his head down, let his tears fall onto his sleeve and spoke only when he thought he could without his voice failing him. �You�re not allowed to leave me, Backstrom. Of all people�. You said tonight you wouldn�t know why you were living if not for me. And like I said, it goes both ways. You�re the only person in the world who loves me. You�re the only person I trust. I love you, Everett Backstrom, the only person� I�ve ever loved. So you can�t leave me.� He moved his fingers over Backstrom�s wrist and found his pulse. It beat the same rhythm as the machine beeps and he focused on it, hung on to it, let it lull him to sleep. ~ Amy got to the hospital around two am, frantic. She asked for Backstrom at the reception desk and the duty nurse looked at her, an odd resignation in her eyes, �So, which family member would you like to be?� It only made sense when Amy reached Backstrom�s room, following the nurse�s directions. Gravely, Almond and Moto were slumped in plastic chairs out in the corridor, leaning on one another, sleeping in positions that were going to mean aching necks for all of them when they woke. She opened the door quietly and peered inside. Paquet and Niedermayer were both sitting in the visitor�s chairs by the window. He was sleeping but she was awake, reading a battered paperback she�d probably found left in the room from a previous vigil. She waved, and Paquet waved back. Backstrom was sleeping and he looked okay, better than he�d looked a year ago when he�d hit rock bottom. Valentine was a surprise, curled against the side of the bed, fast asleep, Everett�s hand in his own. She pointed at him, frowned, and Paquet unfolded herself from the chair, taking Amy back out into the corridor so they could talk. �He�s going to be fine,� she reassured. �Chances are they�ll release him in a day or two.� �Valentine?� �Oh. He saw his brother get shot.� She said it as if it explained everything, which perhaps it did. Amy didn�t know Valentine, she realised; he�d come along a couple of years after she and Everett split up. What was irking her, she realised, was that he�d taken her place in Everett�s life. Presumably not in all aspects of it, but definitely in his heart. There wasn�t a place for her here tonight, and that upset her more than she wanted to admit. �I will make sure the Lieutenant knows you were here,� Paquet told her gently and it cemented her exclusion. Backstrom�s team didn�t hate him, they were all here, they�d blagged their way by the duty nurse and were sleeping in plastic chairs. There wasn�t anything they could do, they could have gone home, come back in the morning. But they hadn�t. She was wrong about Everett. Something had changed and she�d been left behind. ~ Backstrom opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was Niedermayer and Paquet sleeping awkwardly on one another in two chairs across the room. His shoulder hurt and his arm felt heavy, although getting shot explained the shoulder and looking down he could see that Valentine was to blame for his arm. He lifted his other hand, stared for a second at the IV line taped into the back of it and carefully swept his palm over Val�s hair. �Hey,� he murmured softly, not wanting to wake the rest of the party. Valentine woke suddenly, lifted his head and his face lit up. �You�re awake!� �You�re here.� �Of course I�m here.�  �They�re here. Why are they all here?� �You got shot.� �I know!� �They were worried. I� was worried.� Judging by the state of him, worried didn�t come close. �You look worse than I feel,� he murmured. �Your mascara ran.� Something in that touched him like a bee sting. Valentine�s bleary eyed smile was painful to look at, so he looked away. �I guess they don�t hate me.� He was in awe, actually, that his whole team was there. Behind Val�s shoulder, out in the corridor, he could see Gravely, Almond and Moto. He tried to shift on the bed and his shoulder reminded him of the damage inflicted. �What happened to the bastard who shot me?� �He�s dead. Someone - maybe everyone - shot him. Do you want me to fetch a nurse?� �No.� He settled back and closed his eyes, flexing his fingers still grasped in Valentine�s hand. �You should go home.� �I�m not going home.� �Then don�t snore.� �I don�t snore.� Backstrom smiled, stroking Val�s palm with the last of his strength. �People will talk.� �I don�t care.� At that moment, he didn�t either. ~ The staff hustled his team out in the morning, but the nurses let Valentine stay. It didn�t surprise Backstrom, his brother had a knack of being able to wrap those he wanted to around his little finger. They talked about nothing much until the doctor visited mid-morning, when Val gave them some privacy. He came back half an hour later with a new shirt, jeans and underwear in Backtrom�s size. �I don�t know what happened to your clothes,� he said by way of an explanation. �Your shoes are here but I guess they disposed of everything else.� �My clothes are evidence,� Backstrom guessed. �The doctor says I can go home.� Val looked suspicious, unsurprisingly. �Did he really say that?� �Yes! You can check with the nurse who�s crushing on you.� That seemed to reassure him. He handed over the bag of new clothes. �Thank you.� �You�re welcome.� It was begrudgingly said, and he understood. They didn�t do this, didn�t provide this kind of care for one another. They looked out for one another and looked after one another. But it was always within boundaries they�d created a long time ago, boundaries which were blurring now. It was going to take time to redefine them. Getting dressed pulled on the wound and the stitches, and Backstrom found himself close to tears from the pain within a few minutes. With a sigh, Valentine told him, �Let me.� Gently, he put Backstrom�s arm back in the sling he�d been given, and pulled the shirt around his shoulder, buttoning up the ones he could. He even helped him pull up his new jeans and couched down to fasten them. Backstrom stared at the top of Valentine�s head and a wholly inappropriate idea popped into the forefront of his mind, unbidden. He brushed the fingers of his left hand through Valentine�s hair and he looked up, smile sliding across his lips. �Like the look of me down here, do you?� he murmured. �No.� Val�s sceptical expression dragged the truth out of him. �Maybe. Do you� enjoy doing -that-?� Valentine nodded slowly. �Oh, yes.� �Would I?� �Would you enjoy me giving you a blowjob? Definitely. I am incredible at it.� �No, idiot! I can imagine that wouldn�t be� horrible.� Valentine stood up and perched on the bed at his side. �I mean -� �I know what you mean, and I can�t answer that. I�ve met plenty of gay men who won�t go down on guys, who think it�s disgusting.� He shook his head. �I like to call them selfish pricks. But it�s not something I imagine a straight guy would think about too often. I�m happy for you to give it a try, see if you like it.� �Would you� do me?� �As long as you showered first.� Backstrom rolled his eyes. �You�re so fussy, you men!� Val leaned in and kissed his temple. �Come on, let�s get you home. You won�t be doing anything for a while.� Backstrom got off the bed. �I don�t need my shoulder for you to blow me.� Valentine laughed. �Oh yeah, you really like the idea of me on my knees.� �I like the idea of everyone on their knees, bowing down in front of me.� They left the hospital unimpeded, despite the fact that the doctor had wanted to keep Backstrom in one more day. Valentine had guessed that, but he didn�t care. Neither of them were the rule-abiding type, it�s what made them so good for one another.