Ross Barclay felt his world drop away at the words. He was falling while sitting more or less comfortably in his own home, on his own couch.

The words had registered, but his mind was refusing to understand, let alone work with them.

"What?" he finally stuttered.

Ryo's face was calm, very serene, as if he was simply talking about the weather.

"What would you have done if I had responded?" he repeated the question.

"But you didn't," the older man tried to evade the answer.

Ryo tilted his head. "What if I had? Would you have made it happen?"

Barclay curled an arm around his injured stomach, sinking further into the cushions, physically trying to evade the other. Would he have gone through with it? He had been attracted to Ryo, he was a beautiful man, but would he have gone past a kiss? He wanted to think that yes, he would have. There had been desire there, desire for this slender body, the handsome face. He had wanted to kiss and touch – and he had. His reward had been a fist into the face.

"You think you would have responded to me if not for Dee?" he tried to dig deeper, find out about Ryo before baring his own soul.

Ryo contemplated that for a moment. "I don't know. I never gave it a thought because Dee was... always there. There was never any doubt that he wasn't. When you kissed me... I didn't feel anything. Hitting you was a reflex. I didn't have that with Dee."

Barclay smiled a little. "You weren't a bonded Shaman Pair back then, but something was working toward that," he mused.

"Probably. I wondered whether, if not for Dee, I would have let you continue your advances or not. You're very much like him. A lot, actually. It's what confused me so much."

Barclay studied the younger man, surprised by the openness.

"What is your experience with men?"

The commissioner's eyes widened in utter shock. So much for questions that couldn't get any worse! Where was Ryo coming from? Why was he asking such intimate details? How come such a apparently gentle and laid-back man whose temper flared only in the most extreme situations was digging into his soul?

"I..." he stuttered, drawn in by the dark brown, almost black eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity. The same curiosity that keeps me wondering what could have been."

"But it didn't happen and never will, Ryo," Barclay fought for a semblance of control. "I don't feel anything like this for you."

"Ever or not anymore? Was it just a moment of lust or was it genetics? Did you know what might happen or was I a possible conquest?"

Barclay cringed. What had he been thinking back then? Ryo was an attractive man, Dee was a thorn in his side, and McLane had been... an interest of Dee's. It would have been a way to take Latener down a notch or two. But would he have slept with him?

"Maybe it was all," he finally confessed. "I have some experience with men," he added softly. "At least a little."

A hand job in college. A blow job in the last year of the Academy. Ever since… look but don't touch. Maybe a kiss, hidden in a dark corner, but nothing further.

"My job and my search for my brother got between me and many relationships, be it men or women. When I saw you... I was confused about this attraction. It was the most intense thing I had ever felt. I didn't know how to handle it. I didn't know it was my dormant paranormal heritage reacting to what you were about to become."

He was baring his soul here and somehow it wasn't as bad as he would have thought. Ryo was radiating such calm and encouragement, it was almost a release. He had noted this about his officer before, but Barclay had never given it much thought. Now he wondered if it was a trade of a shield.

Ryo looked thoughtfully at him, then nodded. "Thank you for telling me."

Barclay tilted his head, studying the younger man. "What about you? Would you have responded if not for Dee? Could there have been something further?"

"I'm not sure. Dee was the first man who ever gave me this feeling that… well, women weren't the only possibility. It was slow... it was filled with a lot of obstacles, but I don't think anyone could have made me feel what he did and still does. You confused me when we met, just like him, but his approach was... different."

What ifs were running through his head and Barclay finally put a lid on them. He didn't feel anything romantic or remotely sexual for Ryo any more. It had been a moment of insanity, of lust brought on by attractiveness and beauty, but now McLane represented something different for him. He was his brother's shield, his to protect.

And that he would do.

° ° °

Ross Barclay lay on couch of his home, a blanket covering his casually dressed form. A thick blanket. The man was suffering from bouts of freezing and shivering, all stemming from the blood loss and hospital stay, as Ryo had explained to Dee. So Dee had found the thickest blanket and draped it over the reclining man, ignoring the surprised look he had received for it. He still wasn't very much at ease with the shared 'baby-sitting duties' as he secretly called them.

He left Barclay to watching some TV as he made himself coffee, casually studying the apartment he had seen only once when he had driven the man home. Now he had the time to give it a closer look and it made him frown.

It was sparsely furnished; functionally one might call it. There weren't any unopened moving boxes, but it didn't look like Barclay liked to display personal items. There was little to no personal touch to the furniture. The kitchen held enough dishes and glasses for a single person to entertain a guest or two. No photos anywhere.

Taking his coffee, he walked back over to the couch and found that Barclay had dozed off. One arm had been flung over his head, the other resting protectively against his stomach. A normal gesture by now. One he was getting used to seeing. The pale face was relaxed in sleep, the pain-killers had kicked in. The glasses were off, giving Dee an unrestricted view of the narrow features that Ryo claimed weren't unlike his own, except for a few differences and the hair and eye color.

Like in the hospital, watching the sleeping man transmitted a feeling of vulnerability. There were no shields left; everything had been torn down, and Dee was looking at the real Ross Barclay.

It scared him more than anything to see that the man was human.

He switched off the TV and turned away, resuming his exploration of the apartment. There was nothing much to find anywhere, not even the bedroom. Someone lived here, yes, but he didn't spend a lot of time in these walls, nor did he plan on staying long. Whatever Barclay possessed, it was easily packed within an hour or two. Dee wondered if the furniture had been rented with the apartment or was Barclay's own.

Thumbing through the book collection, the suddenly discovered what looked like a family photo album, wedged into the shelf next to scrap books. Curious, Dee pulled them out and leafed through the first one.

Two minutes later he had found a place to sit down and was engrossed in what he had found.

The scrap books were old, dating back thirty years. The first one had been created by a child. The handwriting was a dead giveaway, but the words sounded incredibly mature. They told Dee of a young boy who had lost not only his parents, but also his baby brother. It told of the same boy who had sworn to protect the baby with his life because his brother was special in so many ways. He read of the search the growing Ross had continued, of how he had listened in to the grown-ups talking, had been keen on picking up any hints, evidence and ideas, had followed them with dogged determination. He had talked to witches, wizards and other paranormals, he had even gone to the police to file a missing persons claim. No one had been able to keep him from finding Desmond Barclay.

There were baby pictures and little snippets glued in next to the diary. Even drawings had been made. The scrap book continued throughout school and it was amazing how this little six-year-old had so doggedly kept to his oath. Even when he had been older, when he had gone through puberty. Where other boys had played football or gone to the movies, Ross Barclay had spent a lot of time still following up hints. College had come and gone, as had the Academy.

Older now, still collecting every snippet he could find, while the rest of the family and the paranormal world had already given up. Not Ross. The words repeated again and again. He wouldn't give in, even if it took all his life to find that his brother had truly died. Orphanages had been searched, people questioned. As a police officer he had a much wider access and he used it. He had changed precincts, States, even countries. He had even thought about the FBI.

Throughout the hours passing by unnoticed, Dee Latener suddenly met and got to know his older brother. Thirty years condensed in these books, filled with the pain and desperation, the determination and fierce conviction of a child that grew up into a man who would never give up.

It amazed him. It humbled him. And it touched something deep inside.

°

Barclay woke to the silence in his apartment. The TV was switched off, there was no radio playing, and the faint scent of coffee hung in the air. He blinked his eyes open and stretched carefully, just as much as he could without aggravating the wound. Slipping the glasses back on he was surprised when a mug of tea was held out to him and he took it, looking up into the face of his current 'guardian', as Ryo had called it.

Dee's expression was strange, thoughtful, slightly bemused, and when he sat down, Barclay discovered the collection of scrap books sitting on the table. His personal diary and way of coping with the search for his brother.

"You read them all?" he asked quietly, sipping at the wonderfully hot liquid.

"Yes."

"Find anything interesting?"

"A lot."

Dee's voice was soft, as thoughtful as his expression, and Barclay wondered what the younger man was thinking. They looked silently at each other, lost in thought. Dee's hands caressed the cover of the very first scrapbook, the one he had started when he had been six. Almost seven. Three weeks before his birthday.

"I had no idea. You were really looking for me. Back then..." Latener murmured.

Barclay ran a hand through his hair. "Yes. I had sworn to protect you."

"I had no idea..." Dee repeated, his voice a whisper. "When I was little, I always wanted a big brother. I gave up on that thought when life on the street taught me its lessons. Now I've got one, and I've a really hard time accepting that..."

"That it is me?" Barclay asked calmly, resting the mug on his lap. Still, there was a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

Dee sighed. "Yes and no."

Barclay shot him a quizzical look. "Apart from Ryo, why don't you like me?"

It was an honest question, one he had wondered about for a while now.

Dee studied the table top. He was clearly trying to find an answer. "Ryo once told me that you don't like people who are too much like yourself, that show the same mannerisms, behavior and so on... I scoffed at that back then, but... I think he was right. You are too much like me."

The blond smiled a little. "And Ryo was between us. He still is."

Dee bit his lower lip. Yes, Ryo McLane stood between them.

"What do I have to do that you'll believe me, Dee? That I'm not interested in your partner this way?" the older man wanted to know.

There was no answer for that question and Barclay knew it, but he desperately wanted one. He needed for Dee to understand that he wouldn't touch Ryo in any other way than a friend or brother would. Ryo was Dee's; had always been. One rash action two years ago was costing him something he had sought for over thirty years.

"Ryo will always have someone to protect him when you're not there," he added, voice intense. "Always. Not just me, but my sisters, too."

Dee looked at the older man, feeling something boil up inside him again, but it was no longer so hot and violent as before. He had noticed how Bethany had behaved around his partner, how she had acted like a protective mother or sister. So completely like Barclay, without the fact that it was Ross Barclay who tried something before. It was the one sore point between them-- Ross had actually kissed... molested! a voice cried... Ryo.

"None of your sisters tried to kiss and get him into bed," Dee shot back with more aggression than he had wanted.

Barclay flinched and evaded his eyes. "Will you keep bringing that up for the rest of my life?"

He sounded tired and exhausted, but not physically, just mentally. A new line had appeared in the pale face, one that had just been added. A pain that was not physical.

"It's been nearly two years. I haven't laid a finger on him since! What is it I've got to do that you believe me?" he demanded, blue eyes filled with emotions.

"I... I can't!" Dee blurted and he knew right then that it had been the wrong thing to say.

tbc...