The answers are given in two different ways.

The first is a list of fandoms. The second is a repeat of the story with the answers in asterisks.

We would like to thank Dash for putting together the answer key for us.

FANDOM LIST

21 Jumpstreet
7 Days
8 MM
Addams Family
Alias
Alien
All My Children
Andromeda
Angel
Armageddon
Barretta
Bastard
Batman
Beautiful Thing, A
Beauty and the Beast
Beefcake
Bill, The
Blade
Blake's 7
Boston Public
Bouncer, The
Bounty, The
Buck Rogers
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Bugs Bunny
Cats
Charmed
Chicago
Chicago Hope
CSI
CSI: Miami
Dawson's Creek
Dead Man on Campus
Dogma
Dr Who
Dracula
Due South
Early Edition
Emergency!
Enterprise
ER
Family Ties
Forever Knight
Friends
Fugitive, The
General Hospital
GI Joe
Gladiator
Go!
Hello, Dolly!
Hercules
Highlander
I Think I Do
In and Out
It
It's A Wonderful Life
Law & Order
Legend
Lethal Weapon
Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels
Lone Gunmen
Lost in Space
M*A*S*H
MacGyver
Magnificent Seven, The
Miami Vice
Mr Deeds
Mulholland Drive
OZ
Pearl Harbor
Perry Mason
Pitch Black
Practice, The
Professionals, The
Quantum Leap
Renegade
Road Trip
Robin Hood
Robin Hood Men In Tights
Scarlet and Black
Scrubs
Sentinel, The
Sharpe
Sherlock Holmes
Shot, The
Shot, The
Simon & Simon
Six Feet Under
Slam Dunk
South park
ST: The Next Generation
ST: Voyager
Stargate
Suddenly Susan
Superman
Them
Thirteen Days
Tombstone
Twin Peaks
Two Guys, and a Girl
West Wing, The
Wild, Wild West
Without A Trace
X-Files


ANSWER KEY

"No, Blair! Stay in the truck!" Tom yelled at *the Sentinel* character on the tv, then shook his head in exasperation. Where did these shows come up with their ideas of police procedure? He realized that accuracy wasn't one of their main priorities, but didn't they do any research at all? As a member of a *CSI* unit in Miami, he often found himself criticizing the police shows he watched on tv. Nitpicking, Mike called *it*, except, of course, when it was a show in his field of expertise. As an *ER* physician, Mike insisted that medical shows should be held to a higher standard than mere police dramas. After all, which one was
the public more likely to deal with in real life?

Tom shook his head again as the *X-Files* theme began and he turned off the tv. They'd had a lot of good-natured arguments over it in the last four years. Four very good years, he thought as he went into the kitchen. Who would have believed that someone with his issues could remain with the same man that long? But Mike was different; Mike understood that his behavior had deeper roots than simple immaturity and was willing to help him deal with it in a tangible way. Mike kept
him grounded and sane.

He laughed at his inadvertent pun as he rubbed cut garlic over pork tenderloin and sprinkled it with herbs. Garlic-*mash*ed potatoes, fresh green beans and rolls would complete the menu. Would Mike remember that it was the first meal Tom had ever cooked for him? Or realize that Tom was recreating that whole evening? From the dinner menu to the dishes to the two dvd's lying on the tv - '*Pearl Harbor*' and '*Robin Hood*'. He couldn't believe that Mike had never seen *Robin Hood. Men in tights* scared him, Mike had claimed with a laugh. But he'd loved the movie once Tom had convinced him to watch it.

The only thing different was the wood neatly laid in the fireplace, waiting for a match. There hadn't been a fireplace in his apartment, but they had made love in front of this one so many times that he didn't think Mike would mind the discrepancy. It was a sensuous pleasure they'd discovered on their honeymoon - *thirteen days* in the *wild wild west* of Wyoming, spent in a secluded cabin beneath the *twin peaks* of Mt. *Tombstone*.

He swore softly as the phone rang and he checked the caller id. "No, I'm not coming in tonight," he said before the caller had a chance to speak. "Get someone else."

"There isn't anyone else," Captain *Sharpe* told him. "Come on, Tom! You know I wouldn't call you in if it wasn't an *emergency*!"

"What about Addams?" Tom asked desperately. "He needs the overtime more than I do."

"He went to *Chicago*. The *Addams family* reunion is this weekend and you know how he is about *family ties*."

"*Chicago? Hope* he freezes his butt off," Tom grumbled. "All right, what's the case?"

"We got a call from the university. They have a *dead man on campus*."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Tom told him with a sigh. After getting the details, he put the roast back in the refrigerator and called Mike's cell phone. Mike wouldn't answer the phone if he was busy, but Tom still had to leave a message explaining why he was leaving the house while grounded. Luckily he was only a few blocks from campus; maybe he could do the prelims and get home in time to finish dinner before Mike got home.

"It looks like *Armageddon*," he said as he surveyed the bloody crime scene a few minutes later.

"More like *Beauty and the Beast*," Susan commented, looking from the *angel*ic young man still being treated near the ambulance to the dead old geezer on the sidewalk. "Professor Knight had been receiving anonymous death threats for the past *7 days*. His new boytoy - that's him by the ambulance - was picking him up after class when a *lone gunmen* jumped out of the bushes, yelled 'Good-bye *forever, Knight*!' and opened up with an *8 MM* pistol."

"An 8 MM isn't usually a *lethal weapon*," Tom observed.

"It was in this case. Most of *the shot*s went wild, but he managed to kill the professor and wound his boyfriend, and three innocent bystanders - *two guys and a girl*, then vanished without a trace."

"Nobody vanishes *without a trace*," Tom told her. "Not if we do our jobs right."

Just then, an elderly woman rushed up to *them*. "Oh, please, can you tell me where they took my grandson? They said he was shot by a madman!"

"To *General Hospital*, ma'am," Tom told her. "At *21 Jump Street*. Do you know how to get there?"

"No, I'm just visiting," the woman sobbed. "I don't know where anything is!"

"Calm down, ma'am," Tom said soothingly. "Do you have a car?"

"Yes, a minivan, right over there."

"All right. Go out of the parking lot and take a left. Go *due south* for 6 blocks, turn right on *south Park*, then right again on east *Mulholland Drive*. The hospital is at the intersection of Mulholland and Jump and the ER is in *the west wing*."

"Poor woman," Tom commented as she leaped into the la*st Voyager* in the row and drove off.

"I know." *Suddenly Susan* felt a lot of sympathy for the woman. "Makes me glad *all my children* are still in elementary school."

"Let's get to work," Tom said, cracking his knuckles. "Maybe we can get the prelims done in time for me to salvage some of the evening."


Mike sighed wearily as he checked his voice mail. He was reluctant to tell Tom that he was going to have to work late on their anniversary, but he didn't see any way out of it. With *Baretta* out sick and *Blake's 7*:00 meeting with the building committee, they were too short-handed for him to leave. He smiled slightly as he listened to Tom's message, both because it got him off the hook for a couple of hours and because he was pleased that Tom had left it. One of the hardest rules for Tom to follow was the one about checking in regularly, a rule that was especially important when he was grounded. He had just finished leaving a message of his own when one of the new interns rushed up to him.

"Mike! We have multiple gsw coming in! Three males, one female, two of them critical."

"Thanks, *Andromeda*. Page Dr. *MacGyver*, please. Then alert the OR *Go*!" he ordered as she hesitated.

"But I didn't hear the name," she protested. "*Dr. Who*?"

"MacGyver! Big guy, looks like a *gladiator*."

"Oh, him! I think he looks more like *the bouncer* at a local bar," Andromeda replied before hurrying away to do as he'd asked.

*The professionals* worked long and hard before Mike had time for another break. The gunshot wounds had been followed by two car accidents, three cases of food poisoning, one mental case who insisted the intern taking his blood was *Dracula* in disguise, and the power had gone off twice, leaving the ER *pitch black* until the backup lights kicked on. At least Blake had come back so he could go home now. He stretched vigorously before stripping off his dirty *scrubs* and
pulling on his street clothes. Maybe Mike would be finished soon and they could do a little celebrating before the night was over. He was *lost in space*, thinking about getting Tom naked, when another new intern came in.

"Mike, there's a guy out here that says he has a bleeding ulcer and Blake is busy. What do I do?"

"Order an upper *GI, Joe*," Mike advised, "and then talk to Blake. I'm off-duty now."

"Right." Joe left, only to be replaced by Andromeda.

"Mike, there's a cop here to see you," she said anxiously, hovering in the doorway.

"Relax, it's probably a *friend s*howing up to see if I'm ready to go home," Mike told her as he finished tying his shoes. "He's with CSI and I think he's working on the case with the gunshot victims we had earlier.

"He's with what?" she asked in confusion.

"Crime Scene Investigation," Mike elaborated. "*CSI. Miami* has one of the best departments in the country."

"That's because in *Miami, vice* is a major industry, second only to tourism," Tom said as he came up behind her. "All *the practice* makes us perfect."

"Andromeda, this is Tom *Blade*. Tom, I'd like you to meet Andromeda *Buckrogers*, one of our new interns.

"Pleased to meet you," Tom said, shaking hands. "I take it you're not a native of Miami."

"No, I'm from Boston," she replied, already *charmed* by his good looks and open smile.

"Really?" Tom asked. "I have a cousin who went to *Boston Public*. Maybe you know him."

"Andromeda! We need you," Joe called and she smiled apologetically before hurrying off.

"How much longer do you need to work?" Mike asked after she had gone, resting his hand on Tom's shoulder affectionately.

"I'm done for the night," Tom replied. "It was a pretty easy case; it didn't take a *Perry Mason* to solve it."

"Perry Mason is a lawyer, not a detective," Mike informed him. "I think you mean *Sherlock Holmes*."

"Whatever. It's a *slam dunk*, *in and out*, open and shut, won't even make the *early edition* of the paper. We know who did it. We have him *lock, stock and two smoking barrels*. We just have to pick him up."

"Tell me about it in the car on the way home," Mike invited. "Or do you have your car here?"

"No, I caught a ride with Susan."

"So what happened?" Mike asked as they walked out together.

"I was able to interview Nicky Simon, the boyfriend of the dead professor, and I recognized him right away. He's an exotic dancer at the *Beefcake*. I saw him perform the night of Bob's bachelor party. He identified the shooter and was able to provide us with a motive."

"Which was?" Mike asked as he unlocked the car and they got in.

"The perp, Dawson Leery-"

"From *Dawson's Creek*?" Mike asked dryly.

"Great *alias*, huh?" Tom said with a laugh. "His real name is *Hercules* Patopoulous and he's a very *enterprise*ing young man. He stowed away on a cargo ship to escape *the bounty* the *Greek* authorities have on him and got a job at the Beefcake as an exotic dancer. He and Simon had a Superhero strip act together. Simon was *Batman* and Dawson was *Superman*. The act is practically a *legend* in gay Miami. I saw them perform it once. They started out in full costume, then slowly stripped and..." his voice trailed off as he pictured Mike in a Superman costume.

"Hey!" Mike took one hand off the steering wheel to snap his fingers in front of Tom's face. "You were telling me about the motive."

"Oh, yeah." Tom blushed, happy that for once Mike wasn't reading his mind.. "Leery was in love with him. He wanted to continue the act off-stage with *Simon and Simon* was more interested in finding a sugar daddy than playing games with his co-workers, which pissed him off. Totally *alien*ated by Simon's greed, it wasn't a *quantum leap* from love to hatred. He started out just trying to terrorize them, but the *bastard* meant to put both Simon and Knight *six feet under* today."

His cell phone rang and he answered it, spoke a few sentences, then turned it off and dropped it into the map pocket on the car door.

"You're not going to be able to find that in the morning," Mike informed him with a reproving glance.

"You'll remind me," Tom said confidently. "And you're supposed to be admiring the symbolism. The case is solved, *the fugitive* has been apprehended, *law and order* has won. I'm yours for the rest of the night." His face fell. "Too bad it's too late for our anniversary dinner."

"We can have it another time," Mike told him comfortingly. "It's the thought that counts and I know you put a lot of thought into the evening. So I can be just as happy eating pizza and watching *Buffy the Vampire Slayer* with you."

"*Highlander*!" Tom protested with sparkle in his eyes. "You know how I feel about Buffy!"

"Highlander, then," Mike agreed. "There's something about a man in a kilt..."

The thought of Mike in a kilt was even more attractive than Mike in a Superman costume and it was some time before Tom realized that they weren't on their way home. "Where are we going? Isn't it a bit late for a *road trip*?" he asked. "What happened to a pizza and Highlander?"

"We have to pick up your anniversary gift first," Mike told him as they pulled up in front of a *scarlet and black* Deed's residence. "It's a little late, but it won't take long."

"What are we doing here?" Tom was totally puzzled as he got out of the car.

"Mike! Tom!" The door was thrown open and a woman greeted them enthusiastically as they started up the walk. "I have them all ready for you. You just need to pick out the one you want."

"*Hello, Dolly*!" Mike called and when waved to *Mr. Deeds*, who was standing just inside the door.

"Hi, Dolly, Andrew," Tom greeted them as well, wondering what the hell she was talking about. He soon found out as she led them into the living room where two majestic purebred Irish setters stood guard over the puppies rolling and tumbling about the floor.

"A puppy?" Tom turned to Mike with shining eyes, hardly daring to believe it. Ever since they'd bought the house, he'd been hinting at the need for a *dog. "Ma*y we play with them, Dolly?"

"Of course," she said. "*Oz*! *Renegade*!" She snapped her fingers and the parents obediently followed her out of the room.

"We're really getting a dog?" Tom asked hopefully after she had left.

"Unless you'd rather get a couple of *cats*," Mike teased.

"They're all males, so we call them *the magnificent seven*," Dolly told them when she came back. "They're named after the characters in one of my favorite movies, but feel free to change it if you want."

Tom was on his knees in front of the puppies, gently rolling them about, crooning to them and rubbing their tummies, and didn't seem to hear her. He picked up a stuffed *bugs bunny* toy lying nearby and played keep away with one of the puppies, who darted after it, growling and barking as it nipped at the toy. "I'd like this one, if that's all right," he said after playing with it a few more minutes.

"That's fine," Dolly approved. "I think you'll be very happy with him. We've had good luck with our puppies in the pa*st. The next generation* should be even better."

"Thank you." Tom stood up, cradling the puppy against his chest. "And thank you, Mike."

Dolly brought out a small carrier, a bag of puppy food and a small blanket. "This has been in the basket with them and will keep him from being quite so homesick," she told them. "I'll send you *the bill* later," she added quietly to Mike as Tom placed the puppy in the carrier and carried it out to the car.

Later, Tom lay curled up against Mike in front of the fire. He really ought to wake Mike up so they could move to the bed, but it seemed like a lot of effort. And besides, the puppy was happily gnawing on a pizza crust. He was afraid if he tried to move it, it would start whining again. The murmur of the tv in the background caught his attention and he twisted a little in Mike's arms so he could watch the end of *Stargate*. It had been a good anniversary, he thought, even if it hadn't turned out quite the way he'd planned. "You're *a beautiful thing*," he whispered to the puppy as it tired of the crust and came over to snuggle up against him. "It's been a good four years. And *it's a wonderful life*."