| "Jim!" Artie jumped to his feet when the door to the parlor car opened and his partner walked in. Rather, Jim staggered in, looking pale and sick. Crossing the room, he threw an arm around Jim, barely preventing him from crumpling to the floor. "What happened to you?" "Artie? That you?" Jim passed a shaking hand over his damp forehead, turned a bewildered gaze on his friend, and leaned heavily against Artie. "Let's get you off your feet." Artie helped Jim to the nearest couch and sat him down. He snatched away Jim's hat and tossed it aside. Kneeling on the floor to pull off his boots, he lifted Jim's legs, reclined him on the couch, and stuffed a pillow under his head. "Jim?" Artie perched on the edge of the couch, and he ran his hands over Jim's torso and arms and legs, searching futilely for any sign of a wound. "I'm not hurt, I don't think." Jim's voice was soft, with a hesitant note that Artie had never heard before from him, and he gripped Artie's forearm. "But I don't feel very well." Artie looked into Jim's eyes, searching for signs of anything out of place. "Were you drugged? Who did this to you?" Jim's eyes were the clear blue-green of Lake Tahoe, if a little bloodshot, and Artie felt the familiar tug of physical attraction as he studied the brilliant orbs, but when he recognized the faint odor of whiskey on Jim's breath, he said, "Stay right there." He stood up and went to the back of the parlor car. Concerned about what might have provoked Jim to drink to the point that he was suffering a memory loss, he dampened a cloth with cool water and returned to press the cloth to his partner's forehead. "How much whiskey did you drink?" "I don't know." Jim closed his eyes and shook his head. "I don't remember drinking anything. My head hurts, but--" "Do you have a concussion?" With his free hand, Artie gently felt along the base of Jim's skull and worked his way over the scalp, searching for a telltale bump. Feeling no abnormalities, he took a deep breath. "Let's try to see what you do remember. You left here yesterday afternoon for a meeting with the Territorial governor. You told me to wait here in case the Vigilance Committee tried to contact us here. Did you have your meeting with Governor Crandall?" "I don't remember." Jim's eyes opened, and he gazed intently at Artie. "I woke up in the middle of the desert." He shook his head. "Luckily, Dusty was right there--in fact, I think he woke me up by nudging me--and he brought me home." Artie compressed his lips. "I didn't hear you in the stable car. Did you get Dusty settled?" "No." Jim turned his head and looked at the door blankly. "I guess he's still out there." He started to sit up. "I should--" "No, Jim." Artie pushed his friend back against the pillow and struggled to hide his dismay. He had never known Jim to neglect his horse; the man could ride up half-dead, and he still would water, feed, and rub down his horse before seeing to his own needs. "I'll take care of your horse." He massaged a hand over Jim's shoulder. "Are you hungry?" "No." Jim closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. "Just tired. I think I'll head off to bed." He tightened his grip on Artie's hand. "Sorry, Artie. I just don't remember anything." "That's okay." Artie slid one arm under Jim's shoulders, the other under his legs, and lifted him easily. "Let's put you to bed." Jim's head lolled against Artie's shoulder, and his right hand slid up to rest on Artie's chest. Artie breathed in Jim's familiar scent. His body held a rarely glimpsed relaxation, and Artie had to blink a couple of times so that he could see well enough to carry his partner into the bedroom. "You know," he said gently, "I've never dared to carry you off to bed before. I figured that you would dislocate my jaw for my trouble." Jim's eyes opened again, and innocent bewilderment showed on his handsome face. "Why would I do that?" "In spite of everything we've been through together, you have a streak of independence about a mile wide." Artie settled Jim on the bed and undressed him. He lay passive under Artie's touch, his eyes following every move as Artie folded the clothes and placed them on the chair beside the bed. "Get some sleep," Artie ordered with a faint smile. "We'll talk in the morning; try to figure out what happened to you and your meeting with Crandall." He leaned over to kiss Jim's mouth gently, the kiss a silent pledge of protection to a man who rarely required anything from another. "I'll send a telegraph to his office. If I play innocent, maybe he can fill me in." "Thanks, Artie." Jim's hand squeezed Artie's before he let go, and he turned on his side with a soft sigh. "G'night." Artie frowned down at Jim, smoothed a hand over his bare shoulder, and pressed an additional kiss on the top of his head. "Sleep, my dear. You'll feel better in the morning." He extinguished the lamp and quietly closed the door behind him. When he returned to the parlor, Artie reseated himself at the desk that held the telegraph. He tapped out a short message to Crandall before he rose again. Jim's horse was waiting patiently outside, and he neighed an inquiry when Artie reached up to pat him. "Jim's okay, boy. A little drunk, I'm afraid." He grasped Dusty's reins and led him around to the stable car. "You know that I wouldn't let anything happen to him." Dusty raised his head and whinnied softly. "He's a hard man to protect, isn't he?" Artie patted the horse's flank, feeling slightly ridiculous for having a one-sided conversation with a horse. If Jim ever caught him at it, Artie was sure he'd never hear the end of it. He led the horse into the stable, and Sierra, his own horse, nickered a greeting. Artie smiled and reached out to pat him, too. As the horse dug into the hay and water, Artie brushed him down. "I'm sorry that he forgot about you, Dusty, my boy," he said. "It isn't like him," he added with a frown. He closed his eyes with sudden weariness; the gentle breathing of the horse under his hand as he brushed him lulled him to a state of relaxation. Before he'd joined his life to Jim's, he'd found the scent of horses unpleasant, but now their scent was oddly soothing. "Artemus, you can probably stop now, or Dusty won't have any mane left." Artie whirled to stare at Jim, who stood fully dressed at the opening to the stable car, an ironic smile twisting his lovely lips. "Jim, I just…" Artie frowned and stepped away from the horse. "If you don't like the way I take care of your horse, maybe you should do it yourself." "Don't be like that, Artemus," Jim said smoothly, stepping forward to grasp Artie's wrist. "I'm just glad to come home and see that he's here, safe and sound." Artie allowed himself to be drawn close against his friend. He looked into his bloodshot eyes, and the smell of whiskey was even stronger than before. "I don't think another drink was what you needed, Jim." Jim's warm breath teased Artie's lips, his hard, muscular body pressed against Artie's, and his cock swelled against Artie's thigh. "You're the last man that I'd expect to scold me about a little drinking, old friend." His free hand clasped the back of Artie's neck, drawing him close, and their lips met. Closing his eyes, Artie opened his mouth under Jim's, and their kiss was hot and wet and sweet. Jim pushed his tongue deep into Artie's mouth, and his fingers pressed into Artie's scalp. Vertigo seized Artie, and he had to wrap his arms around Jim's back and hold on to keep from falling. Jim's mouth released his, straying down to bite gently at his Adam's apple and place kisses along his jaw. Jim's hands opened his shirt and caressed his chest. "Let's fuck," Jim said, his lips against Artie's ear, his hands opening Artie's trousers and squeezing his cock. "I want to open you up and shove my dick inside your tight ass." "Wait a minute, Jim." Artie clutched at Jim's biceps, alarm sounding in his brain at Jim's unaccustomed crudeness. He tried to shove Jim away, but the man was too strong. "I don't think that you're in any condition to--" "You worry too much." Jim's mouth moved down Artie's chest. "Just let yourself feel how good it is between us. "Jim, please." But Jim's lovemaking was irresistible, and Artie melted under the assault of lips and hands on his body and the sound of the low, velvet voice in his ear. After all, Artie reasoned, Jim couldn't be that inebriated if he could maintain an erection. He cried out softly as Jim bit down on his nipple. Pleasure-pain surged through him as Jim handled him roughly, as though he couldn't hold back his desire. Artie took a deep breath--he knew the feeling of wanting his lover desperately, and it was flattering to have Jim demonstrate that same desire for him. He would allow Jim to make love to him, Artie decided as Jim's hands cupped his ass possessively. After, he would try to figure it all out: sometimes post-coitus was the best time to get answers from his partner. "That's better." Jim pressed forward, walking Artie backward into the laboratory, backwards until Artie could feel the cot against the back of his legs. He allowed himself to be laid down on the rough coverlet. Warm metal scraped his right wrist even as Jim's teeth grazed his right nipple. He moaned softly, but when he heard the snick of the handcuffs, he tensed and his eyes opened. Another handcuff captured his left wrist. "Jim, what the--?" "Relax, Artemus." The smile on Jim's face was unfamiliarly lascivious. He stood over Artie, his hands resting casually on his hips and his eyes roaming over Artie's body possessively. "Usually, I'm perfectly content to let you have your way with me. But tonight…" He stripped off his jacket, his cravat, and his white shirt, revealing his perfect chest in the low lamplight. "Tonight, I'm having my way with you." Artie flushed. His shirt and pants were open, his chest was bare, and his cock jutted out but, inexplicably, he wanted to hide himself from those acquisitive eyes. "Jim, you don't sound like yourself. Are you sure that--?" "James," Jim growled, his smile turning into a frown, and his hands pausing on the buttons of his fly. "Jim is your partner, but James is your lover." His eyes held Artie's as he toed off his boots and stripped off his stockings. He lowered his trousers and undergarments and stepped out of them, revealing his generous cock, his flat stomach, and his heartbreakingly perfect hipbones. "You're mine, Artemus, as much as I am yours." The solemn, intent look on Jim's face unnerved Artie as much as his own inability to escape from the handcuffs. Although he adored Jim, craved his touch when he was away, prized his kisses and the feel of his strong body in their bed, Artie had always called the shots in their physical relationship, just as he submitted to Jim's dominance in their professional relationship. Artie hadn't consciously known that the pattern was necessary to him. But he was the experienced lover of men who had taken Jim to bed the first night that he'd met him, and Jim was the beautiful, younger man, who was used to being pursued, one who had learned early that he could barter his favors for what he desired. "At least, finish undressing me, James." Artie could hear the nervousness in his voice, and the sick feeling in his stomach was causing his erection to soften. "Of course, I will. I want to see you." Jim rummaged in his clothing, snatched the knife from the back of his coat, and approached the bed. Artie gritted his teeth as Jim made the first incision in his shirtsleeve. Cool steel whispered against his skin as Jim drew the blade over the cloth, but he worked with absolute precision, the blade razor-sharp. He didn't spill a drop of Artie's blood before both sleeves fell away, and he easily lifted Artie free of the ruined shirt. Artie had a moment of relief that he'd removed his jacket before he began caring for the horse. Jim poised the knife over Artie's right hipbone, but then he smiled a faux innocent smile. "Nothing quite as dramatic is needed here, is it?" He tossed the knife over his shoulder, it stuck in the wall above the workbench, and Artie swallowed a gasp before turning his head away from Jim. He could feel Jim's hip pressing into his side, and he inched away from that heated flesh. "Artemus." Jim grazed his lips over Artie's jaw, and he drew his fingertips down Artie's chest, awakening a thousand nerve endings. Warmth bloomed in the pit of Artie's stomach, his cock swelled again, and he swallowed a moan, his body betraying his will as he arched himself up into Jim's touch. "Artemus." Jim's low voice was muffled against Artie's chest, his teeth toying with Artie's right nipple. "I want you. Tell me that you want me, too." He didn't wait for an answer before he peeled away Artie's trousers and undergarments, and Artie felt the scratch of the coverlet against his bare buttocks and the backs of his legs. "Unlock the handcuffs," Artie said, gazing unsmilingly at Jim, who knelt between his spread thighs, "and I'll show you how much I want you." "Doesn't matter," Jim said carelessly, sliding his hands over Artie's inner thighs, spreading him and teasing one blunt finger against his opening. He paused and moistened his finger with saliva before inserting it, pushing deep inside until he nudged against Artie's prostate, and Artie bit his lip to keep a moan from escaping. "You're mine," Jim said, "and I'm going to have you whether you want it or not. But first…" Jim straddled Artie's chest, his knees pressed into Artie's armpits, and he ran his hands down Artie's pinned arms. "I think I like you this way." He tilted his head to one side, and his right hand caressed his cock. "Artemus, you suck cock better than any woman that I've ever been with." He nudged his erection against Artie's lips. "And I think you enjoy it more than any woman, don't you?" He rubbed the leaking cockhead over Artie's lower lip. "You like cocks, in general, don't you, Mr. Gordon?" Unable to resist, Artie snaked out his tongue to lap at the thick, salty-sweet fluid and breathed in Jim's scent. He thought about all the times that they'd been in trouble and just breathing in Jim's essence had been enough to calm him and bolster his confidence. He thought of countless ecstatic homecomings after he'd despaired of ever seeing the man alive again; he'd take Jim in his arms and kiss him until they were both dizzy, but Jim had always insisted on washing away the trail dust before making love. Now that Jim was the passionate lover who couldn't wait to make love to Artie, it felt strange and frightening and…incredibly exciting. He moaned softly around the warm column of flesh and opened his mouth wider. "That's right, Artemus," Jim said in a low voice, pressing his cockhead insistently against the roof of Artie's mouth. "That feels wonderful." His hand slid down to caress Artie's throat. "Your ass is going to feel even better." "Oh." Artie relaxed his throat to accommodate the head of Jim's erection. He strained against the handcuffs, but Jim merely dug his knees harder into Artie's armpits, pinning him effectively on the cot, and pushed his cock in deeper. Artie was caught between arousal at the scent and taste of his lover and fear that he was going to asphyxiate. Jim, as if he sensed that fear, pulled out slightly, allowing him to breathe. They established a rhythm of alternate breathing and sucking. Jim's eyes were closed, he wore an expression of calm contentment, and Artie had a moment of pride that he could put that expression on Jim's face. For several minutes, Jim fucked Artie's mouth, and his hands moved in a restless caress over Artie's pinned arms. Then he said, "That's enough." He extracted his cock from Artie's mouth and reached up to unshackle the handcuffs. He lifted himself away, out of reach of Artie's free hands. "Roll onto your stomach." Artie didn't obey immediately. He rubbed his abraded wrists and watched Jim rummage in the chest of drawers. There was oil in the chest by their bed, but he wasn't certain what Jim would find here. "Let's move to the bedroom." "Artemus," Jim said with a silky smile, "you're not paying attention. I'm in charge tonight, and I intend to fuck you right here." He turned with a triumphant exclamation, holding a small vial. "I bought this the last time we were in New Orleans." "Holding out on me?" Artie raised himself on his elbows, swept his gaze over his partner's body, allowing it rest on Jim's cock, and a familiar but ordinarily suppressed hunger bloomed in his stomach. "You are beautiful, James. And I do want you. I don't know why I--" "Why you put up a fight?" Jim chuckled softly. "Part of the game, Artemus, my boy." Artie smiled and sat up, stretching his hand out to Jim, suddenly amused by his lover's unaccustomed playfulness. "I do want you, James. Desperately." Jim sat on the edge of the bed and gathered Artie into his arms. They kissed, Jim's tongue stabbing deep into Artie's mouth. Jim opened the vial, and the pungent scent of sandalwood wafted through the air. His hand moved down to caress Artie's hip and then slid between his thighs. Artie moaned and writhed as Jim pressed two fingers inside of him. Jim bit down gently on Artie's tongue before he drew away, his free hand caressing Artie's chest as he removed his fingers from Artie's opening. "On your stomach, Artemus." Artie obediently flipped over, and he clutched at the coverlet as he felt Jim's weight sink down the bed. He bit his lip as Jim slid his knees between Artie's thighs, spreading them impossibly wide, but he couldn't swallow his groan when Jim's tongue teased at his opening. Jim spread Artie open with his thumbs and pushed his tongue deep inside. "James, oh, my God." He practically sobbed into the pillow, overwhelmed by the intimate caress, which seemed to go on and on until he was moaning and helplessly writhing under the tender assault. "I knew you would like that." Jim lifted himself away slightly and poured cool oil along Artie's crevice. "It drives me crazy when you do that to me." He slipped two fingers inside Artie, searching and unerringly finding the nub of his prostate gland, massaging it strongly. His other hand moved down to squeeze and knead Artie's balls. All the while he kissed and nipped at Artie's inner thighs and buttocks. "Oh, James." Artie pushed himself up on his hands and knees, and Jim's hand slid around to caress and squeeze Artie's erection. "Now then…" Jim's fingers slid out of his opening, but they were scarcely gone before the blunt tip of Jim's erection invaded him. "Oh, God, Artemus." Jim pushed in strongly, opening him up, painfully at first, jouncing hard against him, his balls slamming against Artie's, and one hand pushing Artie's upper back and shoulders down to flatten him on the pillow, so that only his ass was raised in perfect position for Jim to take him. "James, oh, James." The initial jolt of pain turned to pleasure as Jim drummed against his prostate, and Artie squeezed down on Jim's phallus. It didn't take long before Artie reached his climax, spilling his seed into Jim's fist. "Artemus." Jim increased the tempo of his thrusting, holding Artie's hips firmly between his semen-slick hands. Jim pushed hard, like a dynamo drilling into Artie's body, and the fucking seemed to go on for hours. "Oh, God, James." It wasn't the first time that Jim had fucked Artie, but it was certainly the most energetic, the most violent, and the most passionate. Artie had an irrational moment of fear that he would be split in two, but he pushed back against Jim, opening himself up further. "Artemus." Jim's voice escaped in a near sob as he pushed himself ever deeper, and he spurted his seed, but he continued to piston in and out. He slowed his thrusting, and he burrowed his face against Artie's shoulder. "James." Artie reached back to smooth his hand over the sweet curve of Jim's ass. "That was…" He sighed contentedly into the pillow. "I don't think I have the strength to make it into the bedroom." "We'll sleep here," Jim said firmly. He pulled out of Artie and rolled away, sitting up to blow out the lamp. "Fine with me." Artie peeled down the covers and sheet and slipped beneath, closing his eyes and composing himself to sleep, but Jim didn't settle down beside him immediately. "Artemus." Artie opened his eyes and peered at Jim, who was still sitting up, a faint shadow in the dark room. "What's wrong?" "I could use a drink." Artie stretched contentedly. "I don't suppose another will do any harm at this point." His blood was singing with the sweetness of their lovemaking, and he wondered why he'd been so foolish as to be worried by his lover's desires. "I'll join you." He sat up, too. "If you're hungry, I've got some leftover roast beef that I can heat up." "No food. Just some whiskey, I think." Rolling out of bed, Artie relit the lamp and rummaged in one of the drawers beneath his lab bench. He handed Jim the half-full bottle of whiskey. "I suppose you want glasses, too." "Not necessarily." Jim's eyes sparkled as he unstopped the bottle and tipped his head back to gulp at the whiskey. "Save some for me," Artie said with a laugh, sitting down beside Jim and slapping his arm playfully. Between the two of them, they polished off the bottle before they settled down to sleep, Artie smiling at the pleasant fuzziness in his head, the warmth in his stomach, the dull ache in his ass, and the reassuring bulk of his partner beside him on the narrow cot. ////////// Artie woke up when a shaft of sunlight poked into the window and fell across his face. Jim was curled on his side, snoring softly. He rolled onto his side, stared blearily down into Jim's relaxed face, and stroked a hand over one bronzed shoulder. When he forced himself to roll out of bed, he tripped over the empty whiskey bottle, but he grabbed it up before it could roll across the floor and break. He crossed the room and checked the water level in the barrel that fed water to the shower in the corner of their washroom. Opening the spigot, he stepped under the cold stream. He regretted for a moment that he hadn't bothered to heat the water first, but the cold water was exactly what he needed to clear the fog from his brain. Filling his hand with shampoo, Artie scrubbed at his scalp. When he soaped his shoulders and the cool water ran down his back, he began to feel more alert. He started to smile as he remembered the events of the night before. He finished cleaning himself, rinsed and stepped from the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He paused to fondly study his sleeping partner, and he shook his head wonderingly. Jim had been wiped out when he'd walked in the door the night before, but after a half-hour of sleep, he'd recovered enough to give Artie one of the best fucks of his life. Artie hadn't realized before last night how much he'd enjoy having Jim so aggressive in bed. Variety was always a good idea, he reflected, especially for two people who had been together for a couple of years. Pulling open a drawer, Artie dug out fresh undergarments. From the closet, he selected a pair of trousers and a white shirt. He slipped out of the laboratory, closing the door quietly. Jim had worked hard the night before, and he deserved his sleep. Artie started water for coffee before he walked into the parlor car. He paused and stared a little guiltily at the silent telegraph. He'd sent a message to Crandall, but he'd forgotten all about looking for a response. He perched on the chair in front of the desk and tapped out the same inquiry concerning the meeting between Crandall and Jim West. He wandered back into the kitchen for coffee, and he smiled at the slight ache in his posterior. When Artie returned to the parlor, a fresh cup of coffee in hand, the telegraph began to chatter. He grabbed a pencil and paper to record the message, and his feeling of well being faltered. "Coffee smells good." Jim stood in the doorway, charmingly rumpled in his dressing gown. He smoothed a hand through his mussed hair. "Am I disturbing you?" His voice was softer than usual, and his eyes were dull and gray with fatigue. Artie stared at his partner. "The governor said that you told him to take care of his own problems. That the Secret Service had more important things to do than to risk our necks for..." He paused, realizing that it sounded like something he would have said, but he would have said it privately to Jim, not to the governor that Richmond had sent them to assist. And it certainly didn't sound like his partner. He rubbed the back of his neck distractedly. "He says that he's sent a strongly worded complaint to Richmond." "You can't be serious." Jim sank down on the couch nearest to the desk where Artie was seated. "I honestly don't remember." He eyes held bewilderment when he lifted his chin and gazed up at Artie. "Somehow," Artie said wearily, "I don't think that's what I want to tell Richmond when he contacts us." "It's the truth." Artie sighed and stood up. He crossed the room and leaned against the mantle, meeting his partner's gaze. Jim looked even more tired than he had last night. "I hoped that you would feel better today. Maybe remember what happened yesterday before you came home." He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "Guess we should have talked about it last night." "Well, I don't remember." Jim's words were defiant, but his tone was mild and his expression was bland. "Get dressed, Jim." It came out as an order instead of a suggestion, and Artie was vaguely surprised to see Jim rise to his feet to obey. Feeling suddenly as though he really needed a cup of coffee--perhaps heavily laced with brandy--Artie said, "We're going to pay a visit to the governor. See if we can find any clues, some explanation for your memory loss." He watched Jim cross the room as though he was sleepwalking. "Jim." Jim paused at the door to the parlor. "What is it, Artie?" "Come here." When Jim returned to him, Artie enfolded his partner in his arms. Trembling, Jim buried his face against Artie's neck, and Artie rubbed his back soothingly, a lump of cold ice congealing in his stomach. He had thought that he knew his partner better than any man alive, but he wasn't sure he recognized the vulnerable man in his arms. Nor was he sure that he knew the sexually aggressive young man who had all but raped him the night before. Artie thought fleetingly of Janus whom their old nemesis, Miguelito Loveless, had altered to resemble Jim. But Janus wouldn't raise Artie's suspicions by acting so erratically. Or would he? "No," Artie said aloud, "I know it's you." He'd kissed Jim, made love with him, and although their lovemaking had been rougher than usual, he knew Jim's scent and taste. "I'm glad you know it's me," Jim said softly. "Personally, I have my doubts." Artie smiled. "Don't." He tightened his embrace around Jim and kissed the side of his neck. "Go get dressed, and I'll make breakfast." He patted Jim's backside before he released him and went into the kitchen. Whistling softly, he poured himself another cup of coffee, fetched eggs and bacon from the icebox, and lit the stove. Soon, breakfast was ready, and he reached into the cupboard for plates. "Hope you saved some coffee for me." Artie had frequently joked that a shower made him feel like a new man, but he was unprepared for the transformation in his partner. Jim stood in the doorway, buttoning his shirt and tucking it into his pants. His eyes sparkled bright blue, his face was becomingly tanned and flushed, and the mischievous smile from the night before turned up his lips. "Not only do you suck cock better than any woman …" Jim sniffed the air appreciatively, "…you also cook better than any woman. I'm a lucky man to have you." Pleased at Jim's unusually florid compliment, Artie flushed and poured a cup of coffee. "Flattery will get you just about anything you want, Mr. West." Jim's fingertips brushed lingeringly over Artie's wrist before he accepted the cup, and their smiling gazes held. "I counted on that, Mr. Gordon." He sipped the coffee. "Breakfast smells wonderful, but it probably helps that I'm very hungry. I can't remember my last meal." Artie turned off the stove and heaped two plates with scrambled eggs and bacon. He'd made too much, but Jim often wanted seconds, so he left some in the frying pan. "Crandall's supposed to have a pretty good cook, so I'm surprised that he didn't give you a dinner that you would remember." He paused, silver and napkins in his hand, recalling Jim's memory loss. "Sorry, I--" "That's okay, Artemus." Jim lifted both of the plates and carried them out to the table in the parlor, and Artie followed with the utensils and Jim's coffee. "I'm afraid Crandall didn't ask me to stay." Jim sank into his chair, picked up his fork, and took a wolfish bite of his breakfast. "Mmm, good," he commented and continued to shovel the food into his mouth. Artie should have been pleased to see his partner's evident enjoyment of the meal he had cooked for him, but instead his earlier uneasiness with Jim's erratic behavior was turning to alarm. For a moment, he felt as though he couldn't catch his breath, and he rose abruptly. Jim looked at him quizzically, and he said, "I forgot my coffee." When Jim started to rise, too, Artie lightly touched the back of his hand. "Go ahead and eat, Jim. I need to make another pot anyway." But when he reached the doorway, Artie turned around again. "What do you mean 'Crandall didn't ask you to stay'? I thought you didn't remember your meeting with him." He struggled to keep his tone of voice level. Jim paused with the fork halfway to his mouth. "I haven't told you about our meeting, but I don't know why you would assume that I don't remember it." He shrugged. "I don't tell you everything." "Well, maybe you should," Artie snapped, walking over to the desk and snatching up the piece of paper on which he'd written Crandall's message. "Want to try again to explain why Crandall thinks that you refused to help him." "Probably because I did refuse to help him," Jim said before digging his fork back into his plate to scoop up more eggs. "Why did you tell me earlier--?" The train lurched, and Artie had to grab the desk to keep from falling. "What the hell is Simpson doing up there?" If he had been paying attention, he realized, he would have noticed that the engineer had brought up steam in the last half-hour. "We're moving!" He crossed the room and grabbed the horn to call up to the engine. "Artemus," Jim said firmly, "don't call the engineer. I told him that we were ready to go. Crandall said he was going to file a complaint with Richmond, so we're headed for Washington to explain." Artie swallowed a curse. Forcing himself to be calm, he said, "That's not what we're going to do, Jim. We already decided that you and I are going to visit Crandall together." "No, we're not." Jim dropped his napkin on the table and crossed the room to stand in front of Artie. Smiling sweetly, he slipped his arms around Artie's waist and drew him close. "We've got two days travel in front of us, and we're going to spend those two days in bed. I never get enough of you, you know." When Jim kissed him, Artie automatically kissed him back. He moaned softly as Jim's tongue moved in to take possession of his mouth and, when Jim's fingers leisurely untucked his shirt and splayed over his back, Artie's arousal was undeniable. Closing his eyes, Artie floated on desire that was a gentle wave lapping up on a beach. Jim was warm, his skin fragrant with the citrus and light spice of his cologne, and his mouth tasted of breakfast and coffee and something else that was even sweeter. Clutching Jim around the waist, Artie allowed himself to be pressed back against the sofa. His hand wandered down to cup one of Jim's perfect buttocks, but the jerk of the train penetrated his desire-fogged brain. "Stop it, Jim," he choked out, pushing his friend away, his stomach churning. "This isn't like you." Jim's jaw tightened; his eyes had become gray and hard as cold steel. He gripped Artie's left wrist hard, bruising his flesh, just as he had the night before. "How do you know?" Artie tried to pull away, but Jim was strong. "How do I know what?" His head ached, and all he wanted was to give in. He wanted to slide his arms around Jim and forget everything else in the sweetness of their lovemaking. But he knew Jim too well. Although Jim's sometimes humorless idealism could be exasperating, it was part and parcel of the man Artie loved. "You've never walked away from a mission like this. You'll hate yourself if you--" "Are you trying to tell me what to do?" Jim's eyes held anger, but his voice was deceptively mild. He was a couple of inches shorter and several pounds lighter than Artie, but when he wanted to be, he was physically intimidating. "You think that because I let you fuck me, you can tell me what to do?" His voice was slightly slurred as though he'd been drinking, but Jim rarely drank in the morning, and there was no smell of liquor on his breath. Perhaps, he was still drunk from the night before. "No, James." Despite the sharp pain in the wrist caught in Jim's grip, Artie pitched his voice low, imitating the calm tone that Jim used when soothing a panicked horse. "I'm telling you what we're going to do because I'm worried about you." He swallowed. "Because I love you." "If you love me," Jim said, his expression shifting to puzzlement, "why are you being so argumentative? Why are we having this ridiculous fight? If you love me, why don't you trust me?" The engineer blew the whistle, and Artie clenched his fist at his side. "Jim, please. How often do I ask you for anything?" He forced himself to relax, to allow the tension to drain, and he attempted a smile. "Humor me, won't you?" When Jim, his expression wary, released the death grip on his wrist, Artie instinctively took a step backward and looked down at his wrist. It still bore the faint marks of the handcuffs from the night before. Rubbing it to get the circulation back, he winced at the pain of the fresh bruising. "Let's go back to see the governor." "Artie, why didn't you tell me that breakfast was ready?" Artie looked up sharply. Jim's voice hadn't come from the man who stood beside him. Rather, it came from across the parlor. From another man who, unbelievably, wore Jim's face and body. "Janus!" Jim whirled and planted himself protectively in front of Artie. "He must have escaped from prison." He put his hand up to touch his own face, his expression dismayed. "I should have insisted that Loveless take my face away from him before we locked him up!" The imposter dropped the plate of food that he'd been carrying. "Janus!" He flushed and, in spite of his obvious alarm, he knelt to pick up the broken pieces of china. "Artie, that explains why the governor thought that I had met with him." He rose to his feet again. "Loveless must have drugged me and sent Janus in my place." "What are you talking about?" Jim exclaimed. "You're Janus!" He whirled around to grab the gun from the holster that Artie had left draped over a chair. Artie was still numb with shock, but he recovered enough to grab Jim's shoulder. "Have you lost your mind, Jim? He isn't even armed!" The gun went off, but the bullet broke a window. The other man stood still as a statue, a look of confusion on his face and the broken pieces of china in his hand. "Damn it, Artemus! What did you do that for?" Jim wheeled around and cuffed Artie's chin with his left hand. His right hand still clutched the gun, still pointing it at the imposter. Artie stumbled backward, slamming his shoulder against the sideboard, and yelped more with surprise than pain. If Jim had been serious about hitting him, Artie knew that he'd be on the floor with a serious welt on his chin. Bewildered, he stared at Jim, and a warning from Richmond replayed itself in his head: "Jim West is the best agent I've ever seen, but he's a prime candidate for war-sickness; sometimes, I think that he's a time bomb waiting to go off." Although he secretly agreed with Richmond, Artie had always believed that he could control Jim with the generous application of love, nagging and humor. Artie realized now that his control had always been an illusion. Cold fear twisting his stomach, Artie grabbed a derringer from the sideboard and leveled it at his partner. "Drop it, Jim. I'm not going to let you shoot an unarmed man." The gun in Jim's hand tracked around to point at Artie's chest, and he gazed coolly at Artie. "You wouldn't shoot me to protect him." Jim threw a contemptuous look over his shoulder at the only unarmed man in the parlor car. "Would you, Artemus?" "Leave Artie out of this," the imposter said, stepping forward. "This is between you and me, Janus. We should settle it between ourselves." The man was empty-handed, rendering the threat equally empty. "Very clever," Jim said, lowering his gun. His gaze shifted to Artie. "By pretending to be more concerned about you than himself, he's trying to win you over to his side." He replaced Artie's gun in his holster, and he turned a brilliant smile on Artie. "Is it working? You don't seriously believe that man is me, do you?" He tilted his head to one side. "You do remember which man made love to you last night, don't you?" Artie swallowed and lowered his own gun. "Yes, I remember last night very well." He turned away to shove the derringer in the drawer, hiding his dismay and his reluctance to face Jim. "But you aren't acting like yourself." He wheeled around and grasped Jim's shoulder. "I don't think that you're Janus, but I can't ignore the possibility that you're under another outside influence, possibly Loveless'." A stubborn expression flitted across Jim's face, but then he dropped his gaze. "Okay, Artemus, you win. I'll do what you want. We'll go back and talk to the governor. Then you'll see how ridiculous his accusation is." He put his hand over the one that Artie had placed on his shoulder. "Then maybe we can get back to normal." "Artie," the imposter said, "don't believe him. Don't go anywhere with him." Jim's hand was warm over Artie's, and his scent was dizzying. Artie closed his eyes, trying to think. "I won't kill him," Jim said firmly, "but I won't let him go either. We'll put him in the rolling cage while we go see the governor. Then we'll take him back to prison." "That's fine, Jim." Artie felt like he was moving in a fog as he turned away. He picked up the horn to order the engineer to stop the train. "Artie--" the imposter said; his low voice was exactly like Jim's, but the pleading tone was unfamiliar. Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a curse: Jim's voice, too, but unfamiliarly angry. Artie didn't turn around even when he heard a soft gasp of pain, presumably when Jim took the imposter none too gently by the arm and removed the man from the parlor car. Artie cleared their half-finished breakfast from the table and carried the plates out to the pantry. ////////// "Are you happy now?" Jim asked, a sulky expression on his handsome face, one that had been there most of the day and one which Artie was getting very tired of seeing. "Well, the governor is anyway." Artie sighed and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "I don't think we have time to go back to the train to dress for dinner." He brushed dust and dirt off the arms of his suit before looking critically at Jim's attire and brushing at his sleeve, too. "We'll do. It's not a state dinner tonight." "Let's just go back to the train," Jim said. He started for the door, but Artie reached out to grasp his shoulder, stopping him. "Since when do we turn down an invitation for a good dinner?" Artie said. He frowned. "Not only is his private chef one of the best in the Western Territories, but we don't dare offend the governor by turning him down. He's grateful, of course, but I don't think he's completely forgiven you for your earlier run-in." "In case you hadn't noticed," Jim snapped, "I haven't been exactly sitting around taking my ease." He pushed Artie's hand away. "My shoulder hurts. Half the muscles in my body ache from tossing those so-called vigilantes around. I don't care about the governor's duck a la orange. I'd prefer a hot soak in the tub, a brandy, and bed." "Jim," Artie said in a soothing voice, "I know that you got knocked around, but…" His voice trailed away. Jim never complained about taking a beating. Artie practically had to tie him down before he'd allow a doctor to see to him even when he was seriously injured. "Why didn't you tell me that you'd been wounded, Jim?" He put his hands on Jim's arms, running them down to seek out broken bones or broken skin. "I'll have one of Crandall's servants find a doctor to--" "I'm not wounded. Just bruised," Jim said irritably. "And I want to go home." He shook Artie's hands off. "But obviously your stomach is more important than what I want." "And, obviously, you don't care about insulting the governor," Artie said with equal heat. "Fine, we'll go home, but don't expect me to feed you. In case, you hadn't noticed, I've had a tough day, too." "Artemus." Jim's tone of voice suddenly became contrite. "We'll stay for dinner, but I don't want to stay after for the endless boring conversation. And we've got better brandy and cigars at home than the governor has ever thought of offering his guests." Reluctantly, Artie smiled at the truth of Jim's words, but his smile faltered. "I just wish I could figure out what was up with you, Jim." "What would be the fun in that?" Jim said lightly. "It isn't only women whose attractiveness is enhanced by mystery." "I don't think you have to worry about your attractiveness," Artie said, the irritation in his voice belying his words. "You mean it, Artemus?" Jim's voice became a seductive purr. "You know what would make dinner bearable for me?" His arms slid around Artie's waist, and he pulled Artie into an embrace. They were in the governor's drawing room; someone could walk in and catch them. Artie started to object, but Jim's kiss was irresistible. He allowed himself to be pressed back against the door. Jim turned the key in the lock, and he pulled back to gaze into Artie's eyes. "What did you have in mind?" Artie blushed as he read the intention in Jim's eyes, and his heart rate accelerated. "It'll have to be quick," he said. The kiss had been effective and, in combination with the look in Jim's eyes, he was already hard. "Open your trousers," Jim said with a lascivious smile. He dropped to his knees on the floor, impatiently pushed away Artie's hands, and lowered his trousers and undergarments. Grasping the base of Artie's erection, Jim swiped his tongue along the underside, his eyes closing with evident enjoyment as he tasted Artie. "You can't wait for dinner?" Artie asked, stroking his hands into Jim's hair, but then he closed his eyes and groaned softly as Jim took his shaft deeper into his mouth and lifted his balls in the palm of his left hand. "God, James, your mouth feels good." Because his tongue was otherwise occupied, Jim's response was non-verbal, a caress of his tongue over the leaking cockhead, a careful scraping of teeth over the shaft, and a tender massage of the tightening balls with his fingertips. "Mmm, that's good." Artie's hands slid down to cradle the back of Jim's head. "You're doing it just right." Jim alternately drew the erection deep into his mouth and leisurely pulled back to allow himself a breath. When Artie's hands moved down to clutch Jim's shoulders, he increased the tempo of both his suction and the caress of Artie's shaft and balls. Respiration increasing, Artie gasped, "I'm almost there." Jim tightened his grip on Artie's cock and, holding only the cockhead in his mouth, he brought his partner to swift completion. He even managed to swallow most of the thick liquid, and the rest he wiped off his mouth and chin with the back of his hand as he sat back with a proud smile on his face. Artie sank to his knees and gathered Jim into his arms. "James, my dear." He cradled Jim's head in his hands, lifting his lover's face for a tender kiss. He gave himself over to the kiss, loving his partner's complete lack of inhibition as they shared the taste of Artie's seed between their eager mouths. After they ended the kiss, Artie held on tight, burying his face in Jim's neck, and Jim stroked his fingers through the Artie's hair. "I guess," Jim murmured in Artie's ear, "I can survive dinner now." "But you didn't--" Artie started to object, but then he looked down. He had been so wrapped up in his own sensations that he hadn't even noticed that Jim had opened his own trousers and, at some point in their encounter, he had brought himself off, too. "What a mess," he said with a laugh as he extracted a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the semen that Jim had spilled over both of their groins. "Good thing we're both wearing dark suits. It'll hardly show at all." "Always practical, aren't you, Artemus?" Jim pulled his own handkerchief out of his pocket and helped Artie dab away at the mess. "The washroom is down the hallway." He looked more relaxed and content than he had in a long time, and Artie felt a surge of hope that whatever demon had possessed Jim had been effectively cast out by their loveplay in the governor's parlor. That hope was short-lived, however. Jim was quiet and sullen at dinner--except when he was being rude to the governor's daughter. Artie engaged the governor and his wife in conversation, desperately flattering them both, hoping they wouldn't notice Jim's offensive behavior. He then used all of the charm he possessed to make their excuses early and practically dragged Jim out of the governor's mansion. Alternating between hot anger and dull weariness, Artie didn't say a word to Jim during their ride back to the train. Jim was similarly quiet except for a few muttered curses to his horse. Dusty *was* uncharacteristically skittish, although Artie couldn't really blame him. He was being ridden by the demon who now possessed James West's body. Sierra was also skittish, adding to the overall misery of Artie's evening. They took care of their own horses that evening, feeding and watering them, before walking through the stable car to the parlor car. Jim made a beeline for the wet bar, selecting an expensive bottle of brandy and two glasses. Artie hung back, rubbing his neck wearily and trying to decide what to say to his partner. "Well, I figured out why you really wanted to stay for dinner." Jim crossed the room and offered Artie one of the glasses. Artie accepted the glass of brandy. "Because I was hungry?" He was amazed how calm his voice sounded, and, in fact, his hands were barely shaking. "Deborah Crandall." Jim gulped at his brandy. "I don't really understand why you would be interested in that girl." He reached for the bottle and poured himself another drink. "She's quite a beauty, Jim." Artie's eyes widened. "That's why you were such a shit to her? You thought that I was interested?" "You said yourself that--" "Go to hell, Jim," Artie snapped. He turned away in disgust. "Since when are you so unsure of me that you're jealous of some pretty little girl?" "Since…" Jim paused and sighed softly. "Maybe I always have been." His voice had lost its sharpness, and he placed his glass gently on the sideboard. "I keep asking myself why I'm not enough for you. Why do you have to chase after every pretty girl who looks your way?" "Jim?" Artie whirled around and crossed the room to grasp Jim's shoulders. "What is wrong with you? We always chase after girls. It's just what we do. It doesn't mean anything." He shook Jim gently. "Just tell me what's wrong with you." His own shoulders sagged, and he took a step backward. "Maybe I shouldn't say this, but I want you back to the way you were before you went to see Crandall the first time." He dropped his gaze to the floor and crossed his arms on his chest. "Jim, you know that I'd do anything for you. Just tell me what to do." "Just…" Jim stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Artie's neck. "…love me." "I do." Artie wrapped his own arms around Jim's waist and pulled him close. "I will." Their lips met in a kiss that was initially gentle but quickly became wild. They matched strength against strength in their embrace. Artie gazed into Jim's eyes, which reflected the lamplight, or maybe the lamplight reflected the flames in Jim's eyes. "Artemus," Jim whispered and lifted his hands to Artie's shoulders to strip off his shirt so roughly that two of the buttons popped off and rolled across the floor. "You are mine." His hands fumbled open Artie's trousers, ripping the fly in his haste. "Shit." Jim laughed and eased Artie down to the floor. "I'll pay your tailor's bill." "Oh, hell, don't worry about it," Artie chuckled as his undergarments were stripped away. A few torn garments were a small price to pay for the desire in Jim's eyes and the sight of his erect cock. Jim stood up again to remove his own clothes. "I thought about this all the way though dinner." He lowered his naked body onto his Artie's, and Artie was caught between the delicious softness of Jim's flesh and the roughness of the carpeting beneath him. They wrapped their arms around each other, and their mouths met in a fierce kiss. In that kiss, Artie was sure that he would be incinerated. Jim's tongue was gentle at first, but then became more demanding, roughly plundering Artie's mouth, and his hands were everywhere: touching, teasing, stroking, and soothing. Artie heard himself whimper softly as he clutched at his lover. He had completely forgotten any love arts he'd ever known, and he was at Jim's mercy. "I want you, Artemus," Jim murmured between kisses as they entwined on the floor. "I'll never get enough of you." None too gently, he pushed the tip of one finger into Artie's ass. "Whatever you want," Artie gasped. "God, yes, I want you to fuck me." Jim lifted himself away from Artie's embrace and straddled him, pushing his cock against Artie's mouth. "Suck me. Get me wet so I can fuck you." Artie almost suggested that they retrieve lubricant from the bedroom, but he didn't quite trust his lover's mercurial moods, so saliva would have to do. He closed his eyes and sucked hungrily, spreading his spit over Jim's hard, hot shaft. Jim's hands cradled the back of Artie's head, and Jim made soft noises of pleasure. "That's enough." Jim pressed Artie's shoulders to the carpet and drew Artie's knees up to his chest. He bent to kiss Artie hungrily, his finger rubbing against Artie's prostate. "James. Oh, god, James." Artie thrashed from side to side. "I need you to fuck me. I have to feel you inside me." He was almost embarrassed to hear himself begging, but the fire in Jim's eyes melted him until he cared about nothing beyond Jim's mouth devouring him, Jim's body pressed against his own, and Jim's cock pressing against his opening. Jim lifted Artie's legs over his shoulders, and Artie had a moment of unease. He wasn't as limber as Jim, couldn't pretzel himself into position as easily, but Jim grabbed pillows from the couches until he had Artie exactly where he wanted him, and he centered the head of his cock. Artie gasped as Jim pushed inside. The initial penetration was painful. His saliva was a poor lubricant, Jim's cock was of a respectable size, and both were too aroused to be careful. He forced himself to laugh as unshed tears pooled in his eyes. "God, you'd think I was a virgin," he murmured. But then, Jim's cock bumped against his prostate, and the pain turned to pleasure. Jim wrapped his fist around Artie's erection and kissed him deeply, his tongue fucking Artie's mouth as steadily as his cock fucked Artie's ass. "I'm almost there." Jim sped up the tempo of his fucking, pushing in deeper with each thrust until he froze. "Oh." His warm semen spilled out, and his grip tightened on Artie's erection. "Oh, James," Artie groaned as he, too, came. He panted softly, folded up like an accordion under Jim's weight, but he didn't care. Not wanting the beloved weight to move off him, he overcame his lassitude reluctantly and opened his eyes. "Damn." "It was that good?" Jim grinned and kissed the tip of Artie's nose before he carefully pulled out and helped Artie lower his legs. Artie groaned as Jim massaged his quadriceps until the feeling began to return to his legs. "You alright?" Jim asked. "I'm not as young as I once was." Artie struggled into a sitting position, and Jim wrapped an arm around his shoulders to support him. "We'll use the bed next time." "Next time?" Artie looked at him incredulously. "I hope you don't think that I'm in any condition to--" "I do think precisely that." Jim laughed softly, and he dragged Artie to his feet. "I told you: I can't get enough of you. It's up to you. Will you go willingly, or am I going to carry you into the bedroom?" "You're insane." But Artie grinned back and allowed himself to be led into the bedroom, leaving their clothes where they'd shed them. He settled himself on his stomach on the bed, and felt Jim's weight shift on the bed behind him. "And you're irresistible," Jim whispered, and he spread Artie's thighs and pushed his cock in again. It went in more easily this time because he was already lubricated with Jim's semen, and Jim moved inside of him gently this time, as though feeling his way. He caressed Artie's hips and sides tenderly as he took him. After, Artie rolled onto his back in their bed, and Jim curled up against him, his head resting on Artie's shoulder. "Ah, James." Artie stroked his fingers into Jim's hair, not caring that it was damp with perspiration. "Are you still angry with me?" Jim asked against Artie's neck. "Impossible." Artie kissed the top of Jim's head and smiled. "How could I be angry with you after that?" Jim lifted his upper body, supporting himself on his arms in a push-up, and he smiled down at Artie, his face bright with pleasure in a way that it had not been all day. "Tell me that you love me." Artie reached up to touch Jim's cheek. "I do love you, Jim. I love your beauty, but even more, I love your spirit." "Artemus." Jim smiled sweetly. "I really want to fuck you again." Eyes widening, Artie looked down. Jim was erect again, the swollen cock sliding wetly over Artie's belly. "How many times…?" He swallowed and forced a smile. "I guess I knew the risks when I fell for a younger man." He slid his hand down to caress Jim's erection gently. "As long as you don't expect me to go horseback riding with you tomorrow…" "No." Jim laughed softly. "As I told you this morning, we're going to spend the next couple of days in bed. I'm planning to fuck you all the way to Washington." He thrust strongly into Artie's hand. "And after we get there, who knows? I might even let you fuck me." ///// Artie woke up when Jim slid out of their bed. "Jim," he murmured, intending to ask him if he was well or if his bruises were hurting him, but Jim slipped on a dressing gown and darted out of the bedroom without acknowledging him. On nights that the train was in motion, the singing of the rails and the clacking of the track were a soothing background noise loud enough to mask nearly any sound. But tonight, the train was parked on a siding, and Artie could hear Jim moving around the parlor. He heard the clank of a bottle and glass as Jim poured himself yet another drink. He imagined even the sigh of the sofa as Jim sat down. Rolling onto his side, Artie pulled Jim's pillow to his face and buried his nose in the scent that clung to it. When they had been new lovers, Jim had confessed to occasional bouts of insomnia, but Artie had quickly cured that. At least when they were together. After so many years together and possibly due to the danger inherent in their profession, neither slept well without the other. Artie considered rising from the bed. He should walk out to the parlor, sit down beside Jim, and put his arms around him. But he was exhausted and, after the day they had spent together, it was nearly a relief to lie alone in their bed. He didn't know what he would do tomorrow when he woke up beside the man who wore his dearest friend's face but exhibited moods that he had never seen before. Artie slept, but he woke again when Jim slid back into bed, smelling strongly of brandy. He ran one hand down along Jim's arm, but his gesture was ignored, and, soon, judging from the snores that rattled the room, Jim was soon asleep beside him. Sleep was no longer possible, and Artie rose from the bed. He tugged on a pair of trousers as well as a dressing gown. He paused on the way to the parlor when he heard the nickering of the horses, and he opened the door to the stable car and lit the lamp. "Artie." "Oh." Artie whirled to gaze at the jail cell tucked into the corner of the stable car, and he realized guiltily that he had completely forgotten its inhabitant. For over twelve hours, their prisoner had been without food or water. "I'm afraid that Jim and I forgot all about you." The imposter was seated on the floor, eschewing the cot with its think blanket, his knees drawn up to his chest, a concerned expression on his face. "You're okay, aren't you, Artie? He didn't hurt you?" Artie stifled a chuckle. In fact, his body was bruised and sore from Jim's attentions, but he doubted that was what the imposter had meant. Ignoring the question, he approached the cage. "Are you hungry or thirsty?" "No, but I'd like to use the washroom," the imposter said, rising to his feet, his gaze meeting Artie's steadily. Artie's mouth felt dry. The duplication of Jim's features was absolute perfection. The calm in those beautiful eyes was a welcome contrast to the anger and restlessness he'd seen in his partner's eyes most of the waking hours of the last day. "I really shouldn't…" But he grabbed the keys off the far wall and unlocked the cell door. He hesitated before he drew his gun and pointed it at the man who wore Jim's face. "Just don't try anything." "No, I won't." A small smile flitted over the imposter's face as he brushed past Artie. Dusty nickered again, and Artie went to the horses' stall to check on him. Tucking the gun into the pocket of his dressing gown, he stroked his hand over the black horse's back. He realized that his hands were shaking, and his knees were weak. Vertigo seized him, and he had to lean heavily against Dusty to keep himself from falling. "I love him," Artie said softly into the horse's mane. "But I don't know what the hell to do about him." "You're afraid of him, aren't you?" The imposter entered the stall, and Artie watched amazed as he expertly calmed Jim's horse. "I'm afraid *for* him," Artie admitted. He swallowed, pushed himself away from the horse, and leaned back against the wall, clenching his fists at his side. "You aren't Janus, are you? Who are you?" "I'd tell you that I was Jim West, your best friend, your partner and your lover." The man who wore Jim's face nuzzled that handsome face against the horse. "But I don't think you'd believe me." "Why should I believe you, if you don't believe it yourself?" Artie said quietly. The vertigo was returning, and he had to sit down on the floor. Fortunately, Jim always kept the stall spotlessly clean, so there was little risk that he'd sit in something unpleasant. "I've been thinking about that," the imposter said slowly. He pushed his fingers through his hair in a gesture that was one hundred percent James West. He smiled a lopsided smile. "I haven't had much else to do today except think." Artie looked up at the calm, soft-spoken man and thought fleetingly of the cantankerous man with whom he had spent most of the day. "Except maybe worry about what we're planning to do with you." "I rarely waste my time worrying." An involuntary smile quirked up one side of Artie's mouth. "And you insist that you're not James West?" "I didn't say that." The man that Artie had been thinking of as the imposter patted Dusty a final time before he moved across the stall and stood looking down at Artie. "I have a theory. That man in there…" He tilted his head in the general direction of their shared stateroom. "Are you absolutely convinced that *he* is James West?" Artie looked down at the floor miserably. "Well, at least, *he's* convinced that he is." He shook his head slowly. "How can I be so unsure? When I kiss him, I know that it's Jim, but…" He paused as he saw misery flicker across the other man's face, and he realized that the man they'd locked up in the rolling cage had very likely heard the lovemaking that had gone on in the bedroom. What if this were really Jim? What if he had been making love to the wrong man? He clenched his hands together, imagining how he would feel if he had to listen to Jim make love to another man. "Oh, hell, this doesn't make any sense." He looked up defiantly at the other man. "Maybe you really are Janus, and Loveless sent you here to make me doubt Jim." "I'm not Janus," the imposter said. "And I can prove it." He put out his hand, Artie automatically clasped it, and he helped Artie to his feet. "There was a dispatch a couple of weeks ago." He jabbed a thumb toward the parlor car. "Mind if we go take a look?" Artie considered redrawing his gun, but he had no sense that the imposter meant him any harm. He followed him into the parlor and over to the desk. He crossed his arms on his chest and watched the imposter unerringly disarm the booby trap before opening the drawer. He opened his mouth to protest when the imposter started to rifle through the contents of the drawer, but he decided that if the man knew enough to disarm the drawer, he probably already knew every secret that was documented there. "Here's the dispatch about Janus." The imposter flipped open one of the dossiers, and handed it to Artie. "You can see right here that he was attacked in prison, and his face was badly scarred." He paused to give Artie time to read the paragraph. "Guess whoever did it was convinced that Janus really was me." He shrugged. "Loveless had already escaped, and even if he hadn't, I doubt that they would have allowed him to perform surgery to restore Janus' face." Artie closed the dossier, dropped it in the drawer, and deliberately closed it again, resetting the booby trap. "If you knew that he wasn't Janus, why did you accuse him of being Janus?" The imposter sank down in the chair and put up a hand to rub the back of his neck. "I simply forgot. The shock of seeing him…" He looked up at Artie. "I imagine that Jim--the other Jim, I mean--forgot, too. He hasn't had time to think clearly enough to remember glancing at this report." He tilted his head to one side. "We get so much paperwork, Artie, there isn't time to do much more than skim--" "Why are you talking about Jim as though…?" Artie frowned and carefully seated himself on the sofa facing the other man. "In your opinion, which one of you is the real Jim West?" He felt a little foolish as soon as the words were out. His head was starting to hurt, and he massaged his temples. "What I mean is--" "Neither of us," the imposter said seriously, clasping his hands together between his knees. "If neither of you are…" Artie jumped to his feet, panic welling up in his chest. "Where is Jim West? What have you done with Jim? And what is the purpose of this--?" "Right here, Artie." The imposter stood up, too, and reached for Artie's arm. "I'm right here. Calm down, buddy." "But you said…?" Artie pulled out of the imposter's grasp. "What are you talking about? First you say that neither of you are Jim West, and now--" "I believe..." The imposter gripped his hands behind his back. "...that neither of us are--separately--James West. But both of us together are." Artie stared at him. "Are what?" His jaw dropped. "What are you suggesting? That you were somehow split in two." The other man nodded slowly but remained silent, gazing calmly at Artie. "I've heard of personality disorders that are caused by extreme trauma, but you're talking about a physical separation. It's impossible!" Artie exclaimed. "Not for Miguelito Loveless." Sinking down on the couch, Artie buried his face in his hands. He didn't want to believe it--any more than he had wanted to believe it when Loveless had shrunk his partner so small that he'd been in danger of being killed by a housecat. "Damn." He scrubbed his eyes with his fists before he peered at the man who wore his best friend's face. "Jim," he said softly, "it really is you, isn't it?" He shuddered. "How the hell are we going to put you back together again? Do you remember where Loveless is?" "I can't say that I'm very happy about the idea," Jim said quietly. Artie frowned at him. "What are you saying? You don't want to be re-integrated?" Jim's voice came from the other side of the parlor. "Artemus, you don't actually believe his ridiculous story, do you?" Jumping to his feet, Artie turned to face the other man who wore Jim's face. Recalling that the man had insisted on being called James, Artie calmly decided that it was a good way to keep them separate in his mind. But when he spied the gun in James' hand, his heart thudded in his chest. "Let's not start this again," he said as calmly as he could manage. "Put down the gun." "Artemus, when did you start thinking that you could order me around?" James snapped and, with his gun, gestured at Jim. "Why is he out of the cage?" Artie took a step forward, his hand outstretched. "If it makes you happier, I'm asking, not ordering. Please give me the gun." James grabbed that outstretched hand, swiftly pulled Artie against himself, pressing his chest against Artie's back. He pushed the gun's muzzle hard into Artie's neck. "When did you start doubting me?" "Shouldn't I doubt you?" Artie said with equal heat. "Jim West wouldn't pull a gun on me--not unless he were under some outside influence." Cold sweat ran down his back, but he was determined to keep up at least a show of defiance. "Oh, hell, Artemus." James tossed the gun onto the sideboard and twisted Artie around to face him. He grasped Artie's shoulders and, his expression serious, he said, "Do you really blame me for being a little tense? How would you react if someone showed up wearing your face?" He pressed his lips against Artie's, and smoothed his hands down Artie's back, pulling him into a tighter embrace. At first, Artie wanted to resist, but James' lips were soft and moist, his tongue traced along Artie's lips, and Artie returned the kiss. He tasted of whiskey and sex, his hands were warm even through Artie's dressing gown, and his hard cock--God, how could he be ready to make love again?--pushed against Artie's thigh. "Is it any wonder that I don't really want that part of me back?" said Jim's voice from across the room. "What are you talking about?" Artie resolutely dragged his mouth away from James', but he remained in the embrace. He read confusion on the face that was inches from his. And fear. The man in his arms trembled slightly, awakening Artie's protective instincts, and he wrapped his arms around James' waist, holding him close. "He's so obvious about manipulating you," Jim said. "God, Artie, how can you stand it? He's impetuous, stubborn, argumentative--" "And passionate. The best lover, I've ever had. And strong. Definitely, a good man to have around in a fight." Artie felt a smile turn up his lips. Although he was addressing the man across the room, he held the uncertain gaze of the man in his arms. "James, my boy, without this half of you, you could never be the finest secret service agent Richmond has." He brushed his thumb over James' lips. "Without this half, you would never have seduced me and subsequently tricked me into becoming your partner." A faint smile turned up James' mouth briefly, but he was frowning when he said, "And what makes you think that I want that…?" He gestured over Artie's shoulder at Jim. "He's afraid of emotions. He's hiding behind you, Artemus, instead of facing me. He's weak." "No, he's not." Artie extricated himself from James' embrace, but he left one hand on the small of his back as he turned to gaze from one Jim West to the other. "That half of you is strong enough to know when to lean on someone else. And to trust someone else. " He paused, considering the man across the parlor car. "The rationality and calmness that allows you to negotiate in the thick of tension. The gentleness and caring that allows you to bond with animals, children, and victims. He's also the half that is responsible for your leaps of intuition. He just figured out this whole mess." "You do believe me, don't you?" Jim rose slowly to his feet, and he looked directly at James. "It's absolutely insane," James said slowly, his earlier anger extinguished as though it were a candle blown out, and he ruefully added, "About as insane as the time that Loveless made me hallucinate that you showed up a day early, Artemus. He made me crazy enough to…to shoot you." He took a step away from Artie, and clenched his fists at his sides. "You should be afraid of me. I thought that he was the danger, but it's really--" "No, James," Artie said quickly, grasping his arm. "You didn't shoot me then. And you didn't shoot me this time." He rubbed his hand soothingly over James' arm. "We just have to figure out how he did it, and how to…" He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "How to reverse it." "How to put us back into one body?" Jim compressed his lips. "I was trying to remember how he split us. We need to know that, I think, before we can even formulate a theory. But all I get are brief flashbacks." He tilted his head slightly to the side. "Can you hypnotize me, Artie?" "Of course not," Artie exclaimed. "You're resistant to hypnotism, you know that." "Sure, when Dr. Argus tried to hypnotize me, it didn't work, but it would work with you." Jim rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. "Because I trust you, I believe that I could relax enough for you to attempt it." Artie nodded before glanced over at James. His expression had become wary, but Artie dredged up a faint reassuring smile. "Maybe he's right." James' eyes shifted away, as if he didn't quite want to meet Artie's gaze. "We have to try." His grip tightened on Artie's arm for a moment, but then he let go of Artie and practically collapsed onto the couch. "You all right?" Artie knelt anxiously in front of James, and he realized that this was the same couch to which he'd half-carried Jim the night before. "Actually, I don't think either of us is all right," Jim said from across the room. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I haven't felt well since…" He shrugged. "Since all of this began. It doesn't surprise me that having half of my consciousness peeled away is hazardous to my health." He smiled ruefully. "To our health, I should say." "I recommend that we stop talking and do something about it." James clutched his head between his hands. "Your head hurts?" Artie asked anxiously. "Maybe I should get you--" "Never mind about that," James snapped. He swung his legs up on the couch and draped his arms over his eyes. "Wake me up when you figure a way out of this mess." "Artie." Jim's voice came from across the room, summoning Artie away from his recumbent twin. Artie rose to his feet and crossed to stand beside Jim at the window. His scent was fractionally different from his doppelganger's, the same scent of citrus but with a hint of lavender. His eyes, also, were a deeper blue, his handsome face smoothed of the telltale signs of work and worry that years of dangerous work had etched there. Artie's heart gave a lurch. He had kissed these lips after he'd carried this man to bed, but he'd not made love to this body. He saw in those eyes the first time that he'd kissed James West, the first night that the man had surrendered to him. "I remember that I was…" Jim paused. "What is it, Artie?" "How can I be sure it's really you, Jim?" Artie didn't wait for an answer before he cupped Jim's face in his hands and touched their lips together. He closed his eyes and smiled into the kiss as Jim sagged against him. Opening Jim's mouth gently with his tongue, Artie kissed him deeply. He brushed his fingertips over the smooth jaw. "My dear," Artie murmured against his Jim's lips, "you are indisputably my James." "Indisputably?" Jim chuckled into the kiss. He rested his hands on Artie's chest and pushed him away gently. "Later." His eyes sparkled, and he sank down on the chair behind the desk, holding his hand out to Artie. "Ready?" Artie opened the desk drawer and extracted a pocketwatch. He perched himself on the edge of the desk, suspending the watch by its chain. "Relax. Concentrate on the motion of the watch." He rubbed a sweaty palm on his trousers. "When you left the train, you rode south for your meeting with the governor." "I was early for the meeting," Jim said softly. "I stopped in the hotel for coffee." He put his hand up to the back of his neck. "Someone must have hit me with a drugged dart." Curious, Artie pushed Jim's fingers aside, and his own trained fingertips found the slight wound made by the dart. "I missed that earlier. I am sorry." He curved his hand around Jim's neck tenderly. "Where were you when you woke up?" "On a bed. I think it was upstairs at the hotel." Jim moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. "I thought that one wall of the room was mirrored." "Mirrored?" "I turned my head and…" Jim closed his eyes and sagged back against the chairback. "You saw another bed," Artie guessed. "And you saw yourself on that bed, so you assumed that it had to be a mirror?" He pocketed the watch and grasped Jim's shoulder. "What about Loveless?" "I heard him laugh." Jim's eyes opened again. "I'd know that laugh anywhere, wouldn't you?" He gazed apologetically at Artie. "I didn't see him, and I…" He shook his head. "I remember my head felt like it was in a vise, and I passed out again. I don't remember anything else. Not until I woke up in the desert." "Damn," Artie murmured. "We don't know anything." He jumped to his feet and paced over to the window. "We just have to find Loveless. We'll go back to that hotel." "All three of us?" James sat up on the couch with a groan. "Artemus, you can't be serious. For one thing, we only have two horses." Jim rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. "I trust that you're not proposing locking me up again." "What I'm proposing…" James rubbed his chin thoughtfully and awarded his doppelganger a sardonic smile. "Artemus seems to think that you're the one with all the brains, of course." "If you've an idea…" Jim said, gripping his hands together between his knees. "Let's hear it," Artie said, perching on the arm of the couch. James had been resting with his eyes closed, but Artie knew his partner well enough to know that when it appeared that the man was taking a nap, he was often crunching a problem through his brain. "We should go to bed together." James' gaze skittered between Artie and Jim. He laced his fingers together across his stomach and lifted his chin with a challenging expression on his handsome face. "To fuck." "What are you talking about?" Jim's outraged tone revealed the strongest emotion that he had displayed since returning to the train the day before. The parlor car was getting overheated, Artie decided, so he stood up to open two of the windows to get a cross-breeze. "Not that I'm precisely opposed to…" He paused and flushed when he saw the feral expression on James' face. Jim, on the other hand, had blanched as though he were going to be sick. "This is your suggestion for reuniting your halves permanently? Or is it just a--" "There's a Cherokee legend that when the world was young, people were created with four arms, four legs, and one heart." James' voice had dropped so low that both Artie and Jim had to lean forward to hear him. "Don't remember why, but a jealous god split them in two and scattered them throughout the world. These men appeared like other men, but they each had only half a heart. The only way to ensure their happiness was to find the other half of their heart." "I've never heard that," Artie said softly, astonished to hear James tell such a sentimental tale. "It's a beautiful legend." "But it's merely a legend, and it has nothing to do with our problem," Jim said, standing up and crossing to the window. It was still dark out, so Artie doubted that he saw anything as he peered out through the curtains. "Strange. I thought of that legend when I met you, Artie. I didn't even know that I had been walking around with half a heart until…" He leaned his hands on the windowsill, his shoulders slumping. "Oh, hell, Jim." Artie's eyes began to sting, and he dabbed at them with the corner of his dressing gown. "I don't know what to say. I feel the same way, my dear." Flustered, he looked from one Jim to the other. "I guess I should say 'my dears,' shouldn't I?" "When we make love, Artemus…" James moved closer and placed a hand on Artie's thigh, and he smiled up at him. "…we're not two people any more." "And that's why you're suggesting that we…" Jim whirled around to stare at his mirror image, and his jaw tightened. "I don't think that I could." "Why not?" James asked, his smile widening. "You don't think that I'm attractive?" "Oh." Artie looked from one Jim to the other, and his cock hardened almost painfully. Two Jim Wests were, naturally, twice as desirable as one. More times than he could recall, he'd watched with interest as Jim kissed and caressed a pretty girl, but he'd never watched Jim with another man. In truth, he'd never quite dared to suggest that he'd enjoy watching such a performance. Hell, he wasn't certain that Jim had ever been with another man other than himself. "It's not only crazy," Jim said sharply, "it's indecent." "Indecent?" James chuckled. "Sounds like you still remember when your mother told you not to touch yourself 'down there.' What about you, Artemus? What do you think?" "It does sound like a crazy idea," Artie said slowly, "but it's just crazy enough that it might work." He stood up and went to stand beside Jim. "I think it's worth trying." Jim turned and his uncertain gaze held Artie's. Artie added, "But if you're not comfortable…" He brushed his fingertips thoughtfully over the lips of the man that he loved. "We don't have to decide right now." "No, we don't. We can certainly sleep on it," James said, rising to his feet and crossing to stand behind Artie. "It's another hour or two before dawn." He placed his hands on Artie's shoulders and massaged the tight muscles tenderly. "Come back to bed, Artemus." "What makes you think that he should go to bed with you?" Jim wound his arms around Artie's waist. "I have just as much right to sleep with him as you do." Closing his eyes, he lifted his face and kissed Artie's mouth lightly. At nearly the same moment, James' lips brushed over the back of Artie's neck, causing him to shiver with delight. "Isn't that what I suggested?" James said with a low chuckle as he fitted his body against Artie's. "I wasn't actually proposing that just you and I sleep together. I want Artemus there, too." Artie gasped and closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation of being sandwiched between two Jim Wests. Four lips, four hands, and two cocks. "I don't think," Artie murmured against Jim's lips, "I'm much interested in sleeping." "Not to force the issue," James said into Artie's ear, "but unless either of you have any objections…" He gently sank his teeth into Artie's earlobe. "…our bed is certainly large enough for three." Artie wrapped one arm around the waists of each of his two Jims. He turned his head to kiss one man and then the other. Jim was trembling, but he returned the kiss with a heat and intensity that pleased Artie. James was restless and hungry, pressing himself hard against Artie. Somehow, between kisses, they stumbled toward the bedroom, but they had to separate to pass through the narrow door. Artie was breathing hard, overly excited, and he had to sit down on the bed to compose himself for a moment. His eyes widened with interest as James dropped his dressing gown on the foot of the bed and stood naked, his gaze shifting from Artie to Jim. The lamplight reflected the fire in his eyes, and he reached for his twin. "Wait, I--" Jim's protest was muffled by his doppelganger's mouth capturing his in a wild, open-mouthed kiss. James roughly stripped away Jim's shirt, running his hands appreciatively over the bronzed flesh. He peeled down Jim's trousers and undergarments, and he pressed their naked bodies together. "Oh, God." Artie opened his trousers and gripped his own cock roughly, using the pain to steady himself. He'd been with twins before--two lovely identical girls in his bed was one pleasure he didn't mind paying for--but it had never been as exciting as this. Two identically beautiful male bodies entwined at the foot of his bed. He'd join them in a minute. Certainly, he wanted those hands and mouths on him, but not just yet. He had to control himself or he'd climax too quickly. For now, he was content to watch them together. Now that they were nude, Artie couldn't tell his two Jims apart. It was like that ancient gambling game where the prize was hidden under one shell, the shells were rolled around, and the player had to identify the correct one. In this game, there were only two shells, and he should be able to tell which was which. Jim and James had each had very different body language earlier in the parlor. But it didn't matter now. Both Jims were beautiful. Both Jims were fierce and wanton, their kisses and caresses had nothing to do with lovemaking but everything to do with hunger and unquenchable desire. "What about--?" One of the Jims pushed the other away, and he gazed uncertainly at his twin. "Do you really not know how exquisite you are?" Jim--no, it had to be James, Artie decided--grasped Jim's hand and pressed his mouth to the palm, biting down on the fleshy part. Jim swallowed, staring at his other half. "I thought that you wanted Artie." "Of course, I do," James said with a soft laugh, "but I've already had him. I'll have him again, of course, but you're fresh meat." He tilted his head slightly to one side. "But if it makes you happy…" He released Jim and turned to face Artie. "Artemus, you're overdressed for this party, wouldn't you say?" Artie flushed under the heat of that gaze, and he fumbled with the tie on his dressing gown. He realized suddenly that the bedclothes were still mussed from their earlier lovemaking, but his brain became foggy when James pushed him down on the bed and stripped him expertly. The dressing gown thumped when it hit the floor, and Artie guiltily recalled the gun in the pocket. They were lucky that it didn't go off when it struck the floor. The next moment, Artie didn't care about anything else but James straddling him, kissing and caressing his chest and his stomach. He closed his eyes and slid one hand down to caress the back of James' head, and James' mouth returned to capture his, and James' tongue parted his lips, kissing him hungrily. Artie gasped with pleased surprise when Jim joined them on the bed and began to place wet kisses on his inner thighs, his strong hands kneading Artie's buttocks. "Oh, God, James." Artie's gasp was muffled by the mouth that continued to feed on his lips and tongue. Then the lips moved down to suck at his Adam's apple, two hands smoothed over his chest, playing with his nipples, and two other hands spread his thighs wide. "Oh." Oil trickled down his groin and was rubbed over his thighs, the tormenting hands carefully avoiding his throbbing shaft. He cried out softly as two oily fingers entered him, and then James' mouth stopped the sound again. "Artemus." Two fingers massaged Artie's prostate strongly, a hand squeezed his balls tenderly, and he realized that he'd lost track again of which man was which. "Are you ready for me to fuck you again?" "Always." Artie grasped the nearest Jim around the waist. "Bring your cock up here," he begged. "Fuck my mouth while…" Almost as perfectly choreographed as though they had practiced it, one Jim slid his cock into Artie's ass as the other Jim pushed his cock into Artie's mouth. The twin sensations made Artie's cock jerk spasmodically, and a rough hand squeezed down at the base, preventing him from orgasming. "Not yet," Jim's velvet voice said, and Artie didn't care one bit which Jim was which. "We've got a lot of fucking to do first," Jim added. The cock in his mouth moved slowly, tenderly, but the cock in his ass was less merciful. Artie imagined both Jims coming together, filling him at both ends with their semen. He grasped the nearest Jim's hips and suckled hungrily at his cock. The other Jim held Artie's hips firmly and fucked him with a corkscrewing motion. "Oh." The cock in his mouth jerked, and Artie opened his eyes just in time to see the ecstasy suffuse Jim's face as he climaxed. The other Jim shifted forward to wrap his arms around his twin's waist and pulled him backward off Artie's chest, leaving a wet trail of semen. His cock popped out of Artie as he continued his backward motion, and one Jim ended up on his back with another Jim on top of him. But their positions quickly reversed, and one Jim straddled the other. "Are you ready to get fucked." He rubbed a hand tenderly down the other man's cheek and over his chest. "You're too damn beautiful to resist." "Artemus." The Jim on the bottom turned his head pleadingly toward Artie. "You're the only one--" "He's right, Jim." Artie swallowed, and he rolled over and settled against his agitated friend. "You're too beautiful to resist." He cradled Jim's head in his hands and lowered his mouth to kiss Jim's lips. Jim surrendered to his kiss, but then jerked spasmodically as James prepared him to be penetrated. Artie stroked his fingers soothingly through Jim's hair, and his tongue played with Jim's tongue. When James shifted Artie out of his way, Artie ended up at the head of the bed, kissing Jim upside down. He pulled clenched fists away from the bedclothes, and he wrapped them around the back of his neck and gripped them tightly to keep them there, rendering Jim helpless against whatever James wanted to do to him. "Oh, God." Artie broke off the kiss and lifted his head to watch the show. James lifted Jim's legs over his shoulders before bending to kiss and tease his buttocks. He swiped his tongue over Jim's perineum and rectum, and Artie's cock swelled again. James worked slowly, laving the sensitive area with his tongue and using his fingers to spread the buttocks wider. His tongue slid into Jim's rectum and probed deeply. Only then did he reach blindly across to grab the vial of oil. "Let me." Artie took the oil from James' hand and opened it. Jim's hands tightened around the back of his neck, and Artie poured a generous amount into his palm. "Perfect." James smiled up at Artie and dipped his fingers in the oil, coating them thickly. He drew a line down his twin's belly, circling around his half-erect cock, and dipped his finger inside. "Oh." Artie bent to kiss Jim's mouth, felt him tense and then relax as James probed him. He tasted the moment when James found Jim's prostate, and he deepened the kiss, wishing that he could crawl inside Jim and share that delicious sensation. Desire, not unmixed with envy and jealousy, ignited the blood in Artie's veins. He envied Jim that he was about to get fucked by the cock that had been inside of him so recently, and he was also jealous that another was fucking Jim's ass, which had long been Artie's personal possession. "Oh." Jim bit down, biting Artie's tongue so hard that it drew blood. "I'm sorry," he said, and Artie kissed the corner of his mouth in forgiveness, smoothing back Jim's damp hair off his forehead. Jim groaned, his eyes squeezed painfully shut. "Relax," Artie murmured. He lifted his gaze, and his mouth went dry at the look of concentration on James' face as he penetrated his twin. "You're hurting him," he protested. James' clear blue eyes opened; he smiled and met Artie's gaze. "Actually, he's loving this, Artemus." His gaze shifted back to his twin. "Except, I'm not enough to satisfy him. You're larger than I am." Artie swallowed. "I've never been disappointed by your size, James." Jim writhed under the assault, and Artie had to agree that it was sexual pleasure rather than pain that convulsed him. His own cock jerking again, he said, "What do you suggest?" "Join us." James continued to slowly fuck his twin, but his gaze held Artie's. "Gladly." Artie licked his dry lips to moisten them and reached for the oil to lubricate his cock. "Do you want to--" "Come around behind me." "Oh." Artie licked his lips again. Because James had showed no interest in being penetrated, he'd expected James to make him wait until he'd climaxed and then allow Artie to take over fucking Jim. Artie positioned himself behind James on the bed and massaged his cock to its full length. He opened the oil again and spread more on his fingers before he ran them lightly along the ridge between James' perfectly formed buttocks. "Not me." James shifted his twin farther down on the bed and raised himself to a half-crouch. He reached behind to grasp Artie's cock. "Both of us," he said. "I don't think…" But Artie moved forward, allowing James to press their cocks together. He hesitated, shocked, as he realized that James intended to stretch Jim wide enough to allow them both to penetrate at the same time. But the flame of desire burned away his reason. In truth, Artie had tried this position before. With another man, he'd hired a girl who was willing to try anything. She had charged them plenty for the privilege and hadn't been the worse for wear afterward. The two Jims each had the flexibility of an acrobat, but, luckily, Artie's assigned position required less athleticism. It merely required the generous length of his cock. "Not asking you to think, Artemus," James purred. He squeezed Artie's cock. "You know that it'll feel good. I want to feel your cock against mine when we come." "Don't hurt him." Artie grasped James' waist, his chest pressed against James' back. He mouthed James' shoulder, tasting the salty skin. He wasn't arguing anymore. James moved back to straddle Artie's hips, and Artie slid forward, keeping his eyes closed at first and allowing the other man to position him. But when his cockhead started to breech the tight circle of muscles, his eyes opened wide. He raised his head from James' shoulder, and he met Jim's gaze. A flicker of discomfort darkened Jim's eyes, but he blinked once or twice, and then his lips turned up in a smile. "It's alright, Artemus. It's tight, but it's good." "Oh, God, Jim...James." Artie's eyes closed involuntarily for just a moment as he was overcome by the incredible sensation of Jim's tight ass holding him and James' hard cock moving against his own. "Mmmm." James turned his head, and their lips met in a deep, hungry kiss. His mouth tasted of brandy and semen, and Artie was dizzy from too much fucking and kissing and not enough sleep. "I'll never get enough of you," James murmured against Artie's mouth before he gently bit his bottom lip. "Now, shall we…?" Artie tightened his arms around James, allowing him to set the tempo. He groaned softly, and he heard Jim gasp, "That's good. So good," but he wasn't sure which Jim had said it. And then it didn't really matter because Artie was climaxing and so was James, and they were both moaning incoherently, filling the third man with their warm, thick semen. Artie pulled out carefully and so did James, both collapsing back on the bed, rolling to the right of the man they'd just fucked. Artie, still sandwiched between them, reached out to caress both, one with each hand. Jim was still hard, and he groaned as Artie's hand brushed over his erection. "Can't leave you like that." Artie rolled over again and used his mouth and hands to bring Jim swiftly to orgasm. He swallowed a mouthful of before tenderly kissing the tip of his cock. "We didn't hurt you, did we?" Jim's eyes opened, his lids heavy with exhaustion and satiation, and he smiled a sweet smile. "Never, Artemus, my dear." His eyes closed again, and he rolled on his side. "I think I'll sleep for a while." Artie let out a long, shuddering breath and settled against Jim's back, wrapping his arms around to hold Jim close. Usually after making love to Jim, he felt peaceful and relaxed, but he doubted that what they had just done qualified as lovemaking. This feeling was more akin to the excitement of hired sex. He had experienced physical release, but his heart felt as though it were encased in a block of ice, and his stomach felt hollow. Jim's breathing regulated to a seemly near-snore, but James was still awake, pressing a kiss to the back of Artie's neck and massaging his hands down Artie's side. Artie unwound one arm from around the sleeping man to reach back to caress the restless one. James' gentle touch melted some of the ice around his heart, and he remembered why he was in bed with both of these men who wore Jim's face and body. "Did you really think it would work?" Artie turned his face toward James; their lips met and clung together in a leisurely kiss. "Not really." James' lips turned up in a smile. "But we'd have been crazy to pass up the opportunity, don't you think?" Artie laughed softly and opened his mouth to allow the other man's tongue inside. He lazily sucked on that sweet, moist flesh for a moment before he said, "You don't think he would have gone along with it otherwise?" "Hell, no, Artemus." James chuckled softly. "He's pretty inhibited, isn't he? But I was certain that you were interested." He winked at Artie. "It was pretty good, wasn't it?" "I don't think that you wanted it just because you thought it would please me." Artie gently disentangled his other arm from Jim, and he rolled over to face James. His expression turned solemn as he said, "It's difficult to believe..." "That our two halves could be so different?" "And both be indisputably you, my dearest." Artie stroked two fingers leisurely over James' stubble-roughened jaw. "Which of us do you love more?" In the low lamplight, green eyes shone brightly, and Artie chose to read amusement there. But he couldn't help thinking of the man's earlier jealous reaction to Governor Crandall's daughter. Behind Artie, Jim stirred in his sleep, murmuring Artie's name, his hand reaching out, seeking. Artie grasped that hand and kissed it before settling it on his hip. "I could never choose," he told James. "I love your wildness and passion, but I also love your calm, intelligent idealism." "You mean his--" "No, you're the same man. I'm convinced of that." Artie sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "And I don't want to live without either of you." "Go to sleep, Artemus. We'll sort it out in the morning." Artie closed his eyes for just a few seconds of rest, enfolded between the twin bodies of his beloved friend. A light kiss was placed on his brow, and James whispered, "You didn't really believe that crazy story about us being split in two, did you?" Artie's stomach jolted, but his eyes were too heavy to remain open, and he slept. /////// A cool, damp cloth was pressed to his face. The back of his head throbbed. "Easy, buddy. You're going to be just fine." Artie opened his eyes and squinted at the spill of sunlight through the drawn curtains. "Oh." He put up a hand to shade his streaming eyes, and Jim's face, tense with worry, swam into view. "Jim." Artie's voice was rusty, as if he hadn't used it for a week. "Yes, I'm here." Jim sat down, and Artie realized that they were no longer in their bed. He was on a couch in the front parlor. "How did I get here?" Artie licked his dry lips and squeezed his eyes shut again. Much as he needed the reassurance of seeing Jim's face, the light hurt his eyes. Jim's hand rested on his shoulder, and that light touch was enough. "Maybe we should put you to bed." Jim pressed the cool cloth to Artie's forehead again. "The light is bothering your eyes? I'll draw the shades." "No." Artie grabbed Jim's hand to keep him from leaving. He swallowed and cautiously reopened his eyes. The faint shadow of a beard darkened Jim's jawline, his hair was mussed, his dark suit was dusty, and he smelled of sweat and horses. Artie's heart thudded in his chest. "Where is he?" "I locked him up in the back," Jim said, rubbing Artie's shoulder lightly, "but the US Marshall will be here any minute to take him into custody." "You can't do that, Jim." Artie sat up and cursed the vertigo that made his head swim. "Calm down, Artie." Jim pressed him back down. "What do you expect me to do with a man who nearly killed you?" "He wouldn't have killed me," Artie insisted. Jim's forehead creased with worry. "If I hadn't found you..." He squeezed Artie's shoulder. "Any idea how long you were unconscious?" "I wasn't unconscious. We just went to bed--" A knock at the door interrupted him, and Jim patted Artie's shoulder reassuringly before he stood up. "I asked the marshal to find a doctor to have a look at you. That's probably them." Artie was too tired to protest, too tired to think about how he was going to stop Jim from turning his other half over to the marshal. The oddest part of all this was that he couldn't decide whether it was Jim or James who was opening the door to greet their guests. He lay back, saving his strength, and idly wondering how Jim was going to explain that the criminal he was turning over wore his face. "Now then, Mr. Gordon, let's have a look at you." Unfamiliar hands skimmed over Artie's head and stopped at the base of his skull, probing it painfully. "That's quite a lump. No wonder your Mr. West is concerned about you. Now, let me have a look at your eyes. He said that the light was bothering you." Artie obediently opened his eyes and wearily studied the gray-haired man. "You're a doctor?" His voice was still unaccustomedly rough. "That's right, Mr. Gordon. Dr. John Cleveland. You're a fortunate man." Cleveland turned to rummage through his bag. "The crack on the head that you sustained could have caused a brain hemorrhage and death. I believe you got away with little more than a concussion." He held a syringe up to the light. "I'm going to give you a shot to help you sleep. You'll feel much better when you wake up." "No, I don't need a shot." Cold fear raised Artie's voice an octave. If he slept now, the marshal would take the other Jim away. They just needed to find Loveless. They had to find a way to reverse whatever he'd done. Artie saw the wary look on the doctor's face, and he knew that he'd have to proceed with caution. If he appeared hysterical, the doctor might judge it to be because of his concussion and wouldn't hesitate to medicate him. "Doctor, I need to speak to my partner. Keep him from making a terrible mistake." He smiled disarmingly. "We have laudaman, and I'll take some later. I promise that I'll rest in a minute or so." "I'm not sure I approve of a layman prescribing for himself," Cleveland said, but he put the syringe back in his bag. He rose to his feet. "Mr. West, your partner has a serious concussion, but he'll be just fine. I'd advise him to keep to his bed for the next couple of days, but I don't see any need to hospitalize him." "Thank you, Doctor," Jim said in a serious tone. "I was concerned. He seemed disoriented when he woke up." "Now, maybe I can take a look at your injuries, Mr. West," Cleveland suggested. Artie sat up quickly. He'd been too distracted by his own concerns to notice, but Jim had one black eye and his right sleeve was torn, revealing a bandage stained with dried blood wrapped around his upper arm. "Oh, hell, Jim, did he attack you? Is that why you put him back into the cage?" Artie gingerly got to his feet and clasped Jim's left arm. "No matter what happened, I still think that we need to find Loveless. Sending him away won't solve our problem." "I'm fine. This was nothing, just a bullet graze," Jim said to the doctor before swinging around to stare at Artie. "Loveless? Loveless doesn't have anything to do with this." He looped an arm about Artie's shoulders, steadying him, and escorted him back to the couch. "You heard the doctor, Artie. You need to rest. Now lie back. We'll get you to bed as soon as the marshal leaves with--" "Don't do it, Jim," Artie begged. "Don't send him to prison. Remember what happened to Janus?" "Calm down, Artie." Jim looked bewildered. "You're not making sense. You're probably disoriented from that blow on the head." He glanced up. "Doctor, can't you give him something?" "I don't like to force pain killers on a man," Cleveland said. "And Mr. Gordon was very agitated, most insistent about talking to you." "Just hold on a bit longer, Artie." Jim patted his shoulder and stood up. "Marshall Glenn, can you handle the prisoner?" Artie turned his head and spied a man wearing a U.S. Marshall's star, but the prisoner that he was leading was also a stranger. He was taller than Jim, his dark, shaggy hair hanging down nearly to his collar. The man had an ugly scar on his cheek, and a white bandage wrapped around his head. "Who's that?" Artie exclaimed. Jim turned around with a look that was half amusement and half concern. "You don't remember clocking this guy? He apparently broke into the train and got the jump on you. You put up a pretty good fight, Artie, but I found you both in the stable car when I came back from meeting with the governor." "Oh, hell," Artie mumbled. He flung an arm across his eyes. Ignoring the conversation between his partner and the other men, he tried desperately to sort out his memories of the last two days. His headache was getting worse, and his stomach was churning as he heard the door close. "Artie." Jim settled on the couch. Resting his hand on Artie's shoulder, Jim squeezed gently. "You want to tell me what you were talking about before? About Loveless and Janus?" "I'm not sure." Artie turned to hide his face in the couch. "You're not sure what you were talking about?" Jim asked patiently. "Or you're not sure you want to tell me?" He rubbed his palm soothingly down Artie's arm. "Both." The cold lump in Artie's stomach was spreading to his extremities. "You're shivering." Jim increased the friction of his hands on Artie's arms, massaging hard to speed up the circulation. "I'm going to take a bath. Join me. It would warm you up." "No, I'm okay. I'll just rest here for now." Artie closed his eyes again. Jim conjured up a blanket, which he settled on top of Artie. "I'm going to have that bath, and then I'll check back to see if you need anything." Artie opened his eyes to watch Jim cross the floor and exit the parlor. When he was alone, he rubbed his hands down his shirtsleeves, mimicking Jim's attempt at comfort. He suddenly recalled James removing this shirt several hours ago, when they had come home from the governor's mansion, tearing the shirt in his eagerness to make love. But the shirt was undamaged. None of it had happened, Artie realized. None of it. Jim had handled the governor's request for assistance solo while Artie had remained on the train. His own concussed brain had created the two Jims. Artie blushed as he remembered his fevered imaginings. Suddenly lonely in the quiet parlor, Artie tossed aside the blanket and heaved himself to his feet. He pushed open the door of their bedroom. Jim reclined in the tub that was easily large enough to accommodate two adults, the lantern's soft light casting shadows on his freshly shaved face. His hair was damp, his eyes were closed, and one hand trailed in the water and the other hung limply over the side of the tub. His face was composed in an attitude of absolute weariness and well-deserved relaxation. Although Jim insisted on washing daily--and Artie certainly had no objections to his obsession with cleanliness--they rarely filled the tub. Showers were quicker and required far less water. The tub was generally used only for this: a much needed therapeutic soak for Jim upon returning from a punishing mission "I thought I'd scrub your back." Artie paused in the doorway, breathing in the humid, lavender-scented air and drinking in the sight of Jim's head and shoulders above the soapy, steamy water. Jim opened his eyes and offered Artie a curiously shy smile. "You're always taking care of me." He lifted one hand and stretched it out invitingly. "Climb in. You look like you could stand someone taking care of you for once." Artie obediently undressed and stepped carefully into the tub, allowing Jim to ease him down to recline on top. He was buoyant in the water, his body nestled against Jim's. In contrast to the steaming, soapy water. Jim's lips were cool on the back of Artie's neck and on his right shoulder before he began to wash Artie's hair. Artie closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of Jim's fingers massaging his scalp for a moment or two before he said, "So, what happened with the governor's little problem?" "Oh, that?" Jim cradled Artie's skull in the palm of one hand and carefully rinsed the shampoo away. "He was having a bit of trouble with some hangers-on from a previous administration--one that had been removed for cause. But once they realized that Crandall had brought in a federal agent--" "You mean, once they knew it was Jim West." "Occasionally," Jim admitted, "my terrible reputation comes in handy." He wrapped soapy arms around Artie. "That just about sums up my last couple of days." His tone was deceptively casual when he added, "What about you?" "Oh, you know, the usual thing--thug breaks into our train and beats me up. Fortunately, I got in a few licks of my own. You saw the result." "Only trouble is: you don't remember anything about it." Jim rubbed the palm of one hand over Artie's stomach Artie squeezed his eyes shut, turning to nestle his cheek against Jim's strong shoulder. Inexplicably, the memory of those two other Jims seemed nearly as real as the body supporting his own and the soft breath in his ear. "Jim." Artie turned his head just enough so that their lips met in a brief kiss. This kiss, their first since Jim's return, was nearly devoid of sexual tension, but it warmed him soul-deep, in a way that hired sex never had and never would. And when the kiss ended, Artie told Jim everything. Everything that Artie remembered anyway. Jim listened silently, his palm leisurely caressing Artie's side and back. When the bath water cooled, they climbed out of the tub, Jim located towels, and they dried themselves off. They settled between the sheets of their bed. Still talking, Artie slid one arm around Jim's waist to pull him close, and he cradled Jim's head against his shoulder. Jim listened, offering no comment or clue as to what was going on in his mind. When Artie stopped speaking--finally running out of words--he was exhausted, and he turned his head to study Jim anxiously, not really certain what reaction he was expecting. Jim remained silent a long time before he said, "It was just a dream, you know that now." He slid one hand down Artie's side in a slow caress before he added, "What do you think it means, Artemus?" Artie slid his other arm around Jim, tightening his embrace. "Possibly that your partner has lost his mind." Jim rubbed his forehead affectionately against Artie's shoulder and laughed softly. "Artie, I wouldn't worry. You've always had vivid dreams. Remember when you dreamed about that house being haunted when we were taking Lawrence Day back to prison?" "Yeah, that was pretty crazy," Artie agreed. Jim shook his head, a small movement against Artie's shoulder. "Compared to yours, my dreams are pretty drab. I suppose it's because you're more creative than I am. Maybe it's just a sign of greater intelligence." His arms were warm around Artie. "Why don't you sleep for a bit? You'll feel better when you wake up." Artie considered objecting. He should make sure that Jim ate something. He should offer to take care of Jim's erection, which nestled against Artie's hip. But he was tired, and Jim's touch was gentle and undemanding. Artie closed his eyes and slept. //// "Artemus." Artie woke to sunlight streaming into their bedroom window. The motion of the train jounced the bed side to side slightly, but that motion was so familiar that he hadn't even awakened when the train had started up. He had been asleep on his side, but he flipped onto his back and turned his head in the direction of Jim's voice. Jim lounged beside Artie, a sensuous smile brightening his eyes and turning up his lips, and he leaned over to graze his lips over Artie's jaw and down his throat. "Good morning, Artemus. I wondered if you were planning to sleep all day." He drew his fingertips down Artie's chest and rubbed his palms over Artie's nipples, awakening a thousand nerve endings. Jim still smelled of the lavender in which they'd bathed the night before, but he also smelled warm from sleep, redolent of his own special musk. Warmth bloomed in the pit of Artie's stomach, his cock leapt, and he instinctively arched himself up into Jim's touch. "Artemus." Jim lowered his head to Artie's chest, and he gently nipped at Artie's right nipple. "I want you. Tell me that you want me, too." He didn't wait for an answer before he trailed a series of kisses across to Artie's other nipple. "Give me a minute to wake up," Artie gasped, his eyes widening as Jim shifted to kneel between Artie's spread thighs, "and I'll show you how much I want you." He drank in the sight of Jim, his body bronzed by the sun and his face flushed with desire, and Artie knew himself to be the most fortunate of men. "Doesn't matter," Jim said carelessly, sliding his hands over Artie's inner thighs, massaging slowly before spreading his thighs and teasing one blunt finger against his opening. Jim paused and moistened his finger with saliva before inserting it, pushing deep inside until he nudged against Artie's prostate. Closing his eyes, Artie arched up ecstatically, and pinwheels of light exploded on his inner eyelid as Jim continued to caress him. "You're mine," Jim murmured before withdrawing his probing finger, "and I'm going to have you whether you want it or not. But first--" "Jim, what the...?" Artie stared wide-eyed at his partner. Ignoring Artie's astonished outcry, Jim straddled Artie's chest, knees pressed into his armpits. Tilting his head to one side, Jim caressed his own cock for a moment before he nudged the warm flesh against Artie's lips. "You do like my cock, don't you?" he asked as he rubbed the leaking head over Artie's lower lip. "Yes, but…" Although momentarily stunned by Jim's wantonness, Artie couldn't resist snaking out his tongue to lap at the thick, salty-sweet fluid. He breathed in Jim's scent; the strength of Jim's desire for him was strange and frightening and incredibly exciting. He moaned softly around the warm column of flesh and opened his mouth wider. "That's just right," Jim said in a low voice, pressing his cock insistently against the roof of Artie's mouth. "Your mouth feels wonderful." His hand slid down to caress Artie's throat. "Your ass is going to feel even better." "Oh." Artie relaxed his throat to accommodate the head of Jim's erection. He strained up against Jim, but Jim merely dug his knees harder into Artie's armpits, pinning him effectively on the bed and pushing his cock in deeper. Artie was caught between arousal at the scent and taste of his lover and fear that he was going to asphyxiate. Jim pulled out slightly, allowing him to breathe. Jim's eyes closed, and his face wore an expression of calm contentment. He fucked Artie's mouth for a moment or two before he said, "That's good." He extracted his cock from Artie's mouth and lifted himself away. "Roll onto your stomach." Artie didn't obey immediately. Instead, he sat up, stretching his hand out to Jim. "I'd prefer you to kiss me first." Jim flushed slightly before he gathered Artie into his arms. They kissed, Jim's tongue stabbing deep into Artie's mouth. The pungent scent of sandalwood wafted through the air as his hand moved down to caress Artie's hip and then slid between his thighs. Artie moaned and writhed as Jim rubbed two slick fingers along his perineum, but he didn't put them into Artie's his body. Jim bit down gently on Artie's tongue before he drew away. "On your stomach, Artemus." Artie obediently flipped over, and he clutched at the coverlet as he felt Jim's weight sink down the bed behind him. He bit his lip as Jim slid his knees between his thighs, but he couldn't swallow his groan when Jim's tongue teased at his opening. Jim spread Artie open with his thumbs and pushed his tongue deep inside. "James, oh, my God." He practically sobbed into the pillow, overwhelmed by the intimate caress, which seemed to go on and on until Artie was moaning and helplessly writhing under the tender assault. Jim lifted himself away slightly and poured cool oil along Artie's crevice. "It drives me crazy when you do that to me." He slipped two fingers inside Artie, searching and unerringly finding the nub of his prostate gland, massaging it strongly. His other hand moved down to squeeze and knead Artie's balls. All the while he kissed and nipped at Artie's inner thighs and buttocks. "Oh, James." Artie pushed himself up on his hands and knees, and Jim's hand slid around to caress and squeeze Artie's erection. Jim's fingers slid out of Artie's opening, but they were scarcely gone before the blunt tip of his erection replaced them. "Artemus." Jim pushed in strongly, opening him up painfully at first, jouncing hard against him, his balls slamming against Artie's, and one hand pushing Artie's upper back and shoulders down to flatten him on the pillow, so that only his ass was raised in perfect position for Jim's fucking. "James, oh, James." The initial jolt of pain turned to pleasure as Jim drummed against his prostate, and Artie squeezed down on Jim's phallus. Artie reached his climax first, spilling his seed into Jim's fist. "Artemus." Jim increased the tempo of his thrusting, holding Artie's hips firmly between his semen-slick hands. Jim pushed hard, like a dynamo drilling into Artie's body, and the fucking seemed to go on for hours. "Oh, God, Jim." Artie buried his face in the pillow, astonished by the pleasure that Jim's rough usage gave him. "Artemus." Jim's voice escaped in a near sob as he pushed himself ever deeper, and he spurted his seed, but he continued to piston in and out. He slowed his thrusting, and he burrowed his face against Artie's shoulder. "James." Artie reached back to smooth his hand over the sweet curve of Jim's ass. "That was…" He sighed contentedly into the pillow, and they shifted onto their sides, Jim's softening cock still buried inside. "That was what you wanted, wasn't it?" Jim kissed the back of Artie's neck tenderly, and his hands caressed Artie's sides. "Oh, hell." Artie's voice came out in a gasp, and he squeezed his eyes closed, cold fear blooming in his stomach as he realized that he had landed back in the middle of his nightmare? "What did…?" He cleared his throat before he got the words out. "What did we talk about last night?" "After Marshall Glenn left? You were pretty tired." Jim wrapped his arms around Artie's waist, holding him tight, and his lips grazed over Artie's shoulder. "Don't you remember?" "Which one are you?" Artie could hear the tremor in his voice. "Stupid question." He sat up disentangling himself from Jim's embrace. "I should have guessed from the way that you just fucked me--" "You're complaining?" Jim sat up, too, and he stuffed a pillow behind his back. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Oh, you think that I turned over my other half to the marshal." He rested a hand lightly on Artie's shoulder. "And what if I did?" Artie almost pushed that hand away, but instead he grabbed it hard. "You never believed the other Jim, did you?" Jim carefully brought Artie's hand to his lips and kissed it. "It's a pretty crazy story, isn't it?" He tilted his head slightly to one side. "So, what do we do now?" He lounged back against the pillow. "I guess we don't need to do anything. We'll be in Washington in a couple of days--" "You'll have to resign," Artie said. He shook his head. "You can't possibly continue as a Secret Service agent the way you are now." A faint smile turned up one corner of Jim's mouth. "Am I that different?" His smile faded. "What about you, Artie? You don't trust me to be your partner anymore?" Artie sighed and rubbed his fists over his eyes. "I'm not sure how I can forgive you for sending him away. You've signed his death warrant. If they put him in prison…" Artie shook his head, but then his shoulders straightened. "But I have no choice but to forgive you. When you resign, I'm going with you." "Why would you want to come with me if you think I'm so very changed?" "Because I love you, James." Artie's fists clutched the bedclothes convulsively. "I'm yours as long as you'll have me. No matter what--" "Artemus." Jim grasped Artie's nearest hand and gently disentangled it from the sheet. "Look at me." He took Artie's hand and placed it on his cheek. "I was only teasing. I shouldn't have scared you like that." Artie touched Jim's face gently, tracing the dark area of Jim's black eye. His fingers dropped to Jim's shoulder and brushed over his right arm, over the mark where the bullet had creased the skin. He reached up to touch the back of his head to feel the bump there. "You might have faked all this." He gripped his hands together in front of him. "Don't you think I know the difference? The way that you touched me this morning…" Jim shifted to kneel in front of Artie, placing his hands on Artie's face. "After you fell asleep last night, I couldn't sleep. I was thinking about what your dream meant." He looked at Artie sternly. "Believe me, Artemus, it was just a dream." "It was so…vivid." Artie compressed his lips, but he didn't push Jim away. "Know what it means?" Jim traced a line along Artie's jaw with his forefinger. "Apparently, as your partner, you find me somewhat overbearing. And as your lover…" He smiled faintly. "…not overbearing enough." He paused before he added, "Your subconscious mind created two Jim Wests. To work through your conflict." His smile widened. "I don't know how well you succeeded at that, but it sounds like you conjured up a boatload of sexual fantasies." "Very funny." Artie flopped back down on his back and studied the ceiling. "You may be right, Jim." He turned his head to glance at his partner. "It is somewhat disconcerting. How different you are as my lover from your public persona, I mean." Jim shrugged. "I wouldn't expect you to want to make love to the same man who thrives on bar fights." He reclined beside Artie, supporting his head on one hand. "And the man who would rather stay in bed with you on Sunday mornings wouldn't be much of a Secret Service agent." He ran his free hand down Artie's arm. "Maybe I overcompensate a little, but--" "That doesn't explain why you…" Artie flushed. "You came on a little strong this morning, don't you think?" "You're complaining?" Jim grinned and leaned forward to kiss Artie lightly. "I thought you'd appreciate my efforts." Artie's flush deepened. "It was rather…" He slid one hand behind Jim's head and pulled him down for another kiss. When the kiss ended, he laughed at a sudden thought. "Does this mean that I can look forward to a similar effort towards improving our partnership?" "What do you mean?" A frown creased Jim's forehead. "I thought since you were now willing to take the lead in bed, occasionally, you might be willing to change enough to let me make some of the decisions in our partnerships." Jim's frown deepened. "I don't do that now?" He rolled onto his back and it was his turn to stare up at the ceiling. "I'd have to be a fool not to enjoy the benefits of your intelligence, Artie. Am I really that bad? As bad as the fellow that you conjured up in your dream?" "No, of course not." Artie frowned and rolled onto his side facing Jim. "Well, maybe you are." He studied Jim's profile. "You always think you know best, always leaving me behind while you ride into danger." "Looks like your part was the more dangerous this time." Jim turned his head and offered a smile. "There's two of us in this partnership. You're the one who prefers to act aggressively in bed. Have you considered the possibility that you prefer to be submissive in our partnership?" "In my dream, you were the one that got split in two," Artie protested. "Which proves that--" "Dreams don't prove anything, but I don't doubt that it meant something. That I've made you unhappy," Jim said quietly. "No, never that," Artie insisted. He closed his eyes wearily. "No, I'm just losing my mind." He sighed and licked his lips. "I should get up. Make coffee and-" "The doctor said that you should take it easy." Jim shifted on the bed, pressing his leg up against Artie's. "If you're hungry, I'll make you breakfast, but you're staying in bed." "Do you really think," Artie said, opening his eyes to gaze at Jim, a frown turning down his mouth, "that the doctor would categorize what we just did as 'taking it easy,' James?" "Probably not," Jim admitted, his own expression solemn, "but I think we both needed it." "Yeah." Artie smiled suddenly. "I think we did, too." His smile widened. "I guess you're right about my crazy dreams." He shook his head. "You never have dreams like that, do you?" "Artemus." Jim placed his palm over Artie's heart. "If I were to have a similar dream, I would have a tough time splitting you into just two people." He smiled his most charming smile. "Given your mercurial nature, I wonder if ten people would be enough." He leaned close to gently touch his lips to Artie's. In spite of his weariness, Artie chuckled. "Sorry, James." He put his hand over Jim's to cradle it against his chest. "We'd never be able to get eleven people in this bed." - finis- |
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