Title: What Is and What Should Never Be Author: Amedia (amedia@fanfic.tv) Fandom: Adam-12 Summary: Jim's marital troubles force Pete to make a difficult decision. Note: Published in Diverse Doings 8, November, 2001. Disclaimer: No infringement intended

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Jim Reed's latest nightmare began the same way it always did, the way it had in real life. His friend and partner, Pete Malloy, was lying wounded on the floor of a rundown house during a gun battle between undercover police and a gang of drug dealers. Jim ran forward, into the line of fire, and tried to drag his partner to safety. But no matter how hard he pulled, Pete didn't move. Bullets zinged around them, missing Jim by inches, but Pete's body seemed to be cemented to the floor. Finally Jim gave one last mighty heave and pulled Pete free--but in doing so he tore open the gunshot wound that had dropped his partner in the first place. A trail of blood a foot wide marked the path as Jim dragged Pete along. Although the floor felt hard under Jim's feet, it was expanding like a sheet of rubber, increasing the distance between their position and the door. Pete was bleeding to death in Jim's arms, and they were no closer to safety than when they started.

"Jim, wake up!" His wife's voice intruded, breaking the spell the dream had cast.

He clutched at her. "Jean!"

Her voice was bitter. "Finally! You've been calling for Pete for the last ten minutes."

He squinted at the clock on the nightstand. "And I woke you up at 2 a.m. Again."

"Jim, this can't go on," she said, more gently. "You've been having these nightmares constantly since Pete got shot. Especially when you have a tough day out on the streets."

He knew where she was leading. The compassion in her voice could only be a smokescreen; she wanted him to get a desk job. "Jean, I don't want to talk about this now."

"You never do," she said. "It's always later. When will there be a 'now,' Jim?"

She was right and he knew it, but somehow that only made him more resistant. "When I'm ready," he said coldly.

"I don't see why we both have to live on your schedule," she said. "What I want always gets put on the back burner. You care more about your work than your marriage." Her voice rose in anger. "Sometimes I think you should have married Pete instead of me."

He was too astonished to reply coherently. "Jean…." He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. He found his voice at last. "I can't believe you'd say that."

"Well, it's true!" she said. "You always put him first. You love him more than me, and you care more about that stupid job that's going to get you killed than about your own safety or my feelings!"

Jim threw the covers back. "I can't stay here," he said.

"You're already gone," she said sadly. "You've been gone a long time."

For a moment her sorrow touched him, and he longed to close the distance between them. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be, wasn't the way it used to be. But it had become the norm, and he didn't know how to change it back. He paused for just a moment, then took his pillow and went downstairs to sleep on the couch.

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Pete Malloy was looking forward to a relaxing afternoon of doing nothing in particular. He'd been back at work for a few weeks now, the mostly-healed gunshot wound giving him no more than the occasional twinge. As grateful as he'd been to get back to the familiar routine, it was good to have the weekend off.

Judy was away visiting some friends. She had been invaluable during his recovery, but seemed to sense that he needed some space. Pete enjoyed being with Judy; they were good together. She never pressured him about making their relationship permanent; Jim and Jean were the ones pushing him to marry her. Lately he'd been thinking more seriously about the idea. He had resisted getting married for many years; settling down with a woman would mean setting aside for good a part of himself that he was reluctant to give up. But one couldn't play the field forever.

He had just gotten himself settled in front of a football game when the doorbell rang. Putting down his beer, Pete turned down the volume on the TV and ambled to the front door. He was surprised to see his partner.

Jim was wearing blue jeans and a polo shirt, but in sharp contrast to his relaxed clothing, his face was drawn with stress and his eyes looked haunted.

"Hey," Pete said.

"Hey," Jim said. "Um, can I come in? Are you expecting somebody?"

"Yes. No. Please," Pete said, opening the door. "I'm all yours." Jim looked at him oddly. "Got something on your mind?"

"Yeah," Jim said. "I don't know if I want to talk about it just yet."

"You, not wanting to talk?" Pete tried to chuckle, but Jim didn't respond and the joke fell flat. "Something must really be eating you."

"Yeah," Jim said again.

Pete pointed to the couch. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll get you a beer."

Jim sat down and looked at the TV. "The 'Skins, huh?"

"Hope springs eternal," Pete said, coming back with two beers. He handed one to Jim, and sat back down on the couch, maintaining a distance between them as he always did. He never wanted to risk getting too close.

They watched the game for a while, mostly in silence except for the occasional comment on the game. Pete noticed that Jim was drinking faster than usual, as if he were trying to get drunk. Pete didn't try to keep up; one of them needed to have a clear head.

During his fourth beer, Jim finally cleared his throat and said, "Pete...."

"Yeah, pal?"

"I had another fight with Jean."

Pete nodded. He'd suspected something of the sort. Jim's marriage had been rocky before the incident where Pete had been wounded. Jim's reckless rescue of Pete had earned him a medal from the department, but it earned him nothing but trouble from his wife. And Pete couldn't blame her; he was pretty angry with Jim himself once he'd realized how Jim, a husband and father, had endangered himself to pull Pete to safety. Indeed, Pete had more in common with Jean than she realized.... He brushed that line of thought away and forced his attention back to the conversation at hand. "Was it about the job?" he asked Jim.

"Sorta. She wants me to get a desk job."

"Did she say that?"

"She was gonna," Jim said. "I - I left. I just couldn't take it." He took another swig. "Damn it, Pete, she knew what I was when she married me!"

"You've been saying that a lot lately," Pete said neutrally.

"Well, it's true," Jim insisted.

Pete spoke quietly. "It goes both ways, you know. Didn't you know what you were getting into when you got married? When you had a son?"

Jim blinked and looked surprised. "So you're taking her side now," he said, sounding more hurt than angry.

"No, pal, I'm still on your side. I want you to be happy, and for you that means happily married." I'm not just stabbing myself in the back, Pete thought, I'm twisting the knife! If Jim were available…. Again he cut off that line of thinking and pressed on. "Have you thought about compromising?"

"I don't want a desk job," Jim enunciated more clearly than necessary.

"I said compromise, not cave in," Pete corrected. "There are other options - it's not like a desk job, or a cop on the beat, or nothing."

"Oh, sure," Jim said sarcastically. "I could give out parking tickets. Or direct traffic."

Pete glared at him. "You know, Jim, I thought you were ornery enough sober. I hope that wasn't meant as a crack against our colleagues who do those jobs." Jim had the decency to look ashamed. Pete continued in a kinder tone, "I was talking about trying for detective."

Jim regarded him with astonishment. "I couldn't--"

"Have a little faith in yourself, partner," Pete said with a smile. "I know you can do it."

Jim returned the smile with a curious shyness. Pete eyed him cautiously, and the smile faded. "Something else, Jim?"

Jim nodded. "You smiled at me," he said, and took a gulp of his beer. "Jean said...." he stopped.

"What'd she say?" Jim looked down, and Pete reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. "Was it about me? C'mon, I'm a big boy. I can take it."

Jim looked up, but he wouldn't meet Pete's eyes. "Jean says I should have married you."

"Wow!" Pete forced a laugh. "She must have really been upset. Hey, you want some chips to go with that beer?" He half-rose as if to go to the kitchen.

Jim pursued the subject. "She said I love you more than I love her."

Pete turned back to him, startled. He didn't know what to say. He'd been attracted to his partner since they met, and he'd been hiding it the entire time. Early on he had realized that there was no way the attraction could be reciprocated, and over the years he had come to value Jim's friendship more than he desired Jim sexually. Or at least, that's what he kept telling himself.

Jim went on. "I was just wondering if she's right."

Pete sat back down and found his voice again. "You don't mean that, partner. It's apples and oranges. The way you feel about Jean, the way you feel about me - we're talking about two different kinds of love here." He had the uncomfortable feeling that Jim could see right through him, could detect the sudden rush of hope and despair.

"Maybe," Jim said. "Maybe not." He shifted closer to Pete. "I'm not as naïve as I used to be. I hear things. I know… I know you're…." He couldn't seem to finish the sentence.

Pete was amused. "Bisexual?" he suggested calmly, as nonchalantly as if he'd been saying "Irish" or "fortysomething."

"Yeah," Jim said. "And maybe, maybe Jean senses something. Maybe you're not the only one who's like that."

Pete felt a terrible chasm open in his heart. Here was a dream come true: a handsome man with a drop-dead body, disaffected from his wife, wanting Pete to help him explore the other side of his sexuality. And Pete couldn't do it. He just couldn't do it.

Jim had that look of dogged determination on his face that he got sometimes when they were working on a case. Pete knew it would be hard to dissuade his partner. He thought for a moment, then a strategy came to him. "Have you even thought about what this really means?" Pete asked harshly. "What's involved? The physical details?" Jim shook his head.

Pete was relieved. The "eeew" factor was a powerful asset here; often the so-called bi-curious were easily frightened away by a brief demonstration. "It's not all moonlight and roses, Junior."

He grabbed Reed by the shoulders. Here goes, kid, he thought, and kissed his partner hard on the lips. He carefully ignored the fleeting thought that if only he could stop to enjoy it, this was something he had dreamed of for years. Instead he focused on making sure there was no gentleness, no affection, just a rough man-to-man demonstration of power.

He knew how Jim would react. Jim would be horrified. Any moment now Jim was going to pull back, break free, and scoot to the farthest end of the couch. The physical and emotional distance between them would be restored, even increased. And all of this nonsense would stop.

Pete's partner had surprised him before, but never more than now. Jim didn't pull back or try to break free. Instead, he brought his hands forward and rested them on the sides of Pete's head. And instead of resisting the kiss, he responded to it, bringing the sweetness to it that Pete had tried so hard to leave out.

It was Pete who finally pulled away, disengaging Jim's hands. Jim reached for him again. "No," Pete whispered.

Jim's eyes were dilated, his face flushed, his lips parted. "Pete...." he begged.

"Jim, no. This is wrong."

"Why?" Jim pleaded. "Because I'm a man? Because I'm your partner?"

Pete shook his head. "No. It's because you're Jean's husband. And even more, you're Jimmy's dad." He sighed. "I always swore I'd protect my godson from anyone who might do him harm - even myself."

"We wouldn't have to...." Jim's voice trailed away.

"You wouldn't dream of cheating on Jean and you know it," Pete said. "You can't even bring yourself to say the words now, when you're half-drunk. And you know would never leave her and Jimmy." He steeled himself. "You know why what Jean said to you hurt so much?"

Jim's answer came in a husky whisper. "Because it's true?"

Pete shook his head. "No. Because you love her so much." Jim looked away. Pete put a hand under Jim's chin, guiding it back so that Jim faced Pete again. "You belong with Jean and Jimmy," Pete said. "Not with me."

Jim met his eyes. "You must hate me now," he said brokenly.

Pete kissed him lightly on the forehead. "I've never loved you more, partner," he said softly. He stood up and held out his hand. "C'mon. Gimme your keys and I'll drive you home."

As they left, Pete closed and locked the door behind them.

THE END

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