[this is the sa half...aka saraid. ever start a story and hate it when it won't do what you want it to? i have, here. by dint of unflagging enthusiasm, pumpkin saved this story from the delete file...i hope everybody agrees it was worth it.
Squash half of sasquash here, I just wanted to thank sa for letting me work with her on this one. It was a wonderful and intense experience, I hope it is for you, the reader, too.]
"Dammit, Blair! I told you to save me some hot water!" Jim
snarled as he came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his
waist.
"Uh...oh, sorry, Jim. Guess I got carried away. I don't know
why, but I was really sore when I woke up this morning...go on
and get dressed, breakfast is almost ready." Blair spoke from
the other side of the kitchen, where he was slicing bananas that
he then sprinkled on the waffles he'd piled onto a plate.
Jim came back down, dressed for work, and sat at the table,
giving him a *look*.
"Waffles, Chief? During the week?"
"I felt like it." Blair shrugged, bringing the food over,
handing Jim a plate. "Got up early."
"I'm not complaining." Jim picked up his apple juice and
drained the glass. Blair hopped up to get him a refill and
winced.
"What's wrong, Chief?"
"Yeah...nothing. It's no big deal." Jim stared. It looked
like his roommate was *blushing*?
"If you're hurting it's big deal," he said while Blair got
the juice bottle and brought it over to the table.
"Just leave it alone, okay, Jim?" now Blair sounded upset
with him.
"Whatever you say. I didn't sleep too well last night
either." Jim admitted, eating. "Must be something in the air."
"Yeah. In the air." Blair muttered. He was unusually quiet
for the rest of the meal.
"I'll see you at the station today?" Jim asked as they went
out the door together. He watched Blair walk down the stairs,
noted the faint limp his friend was trying to hide.
"I should be there by noon." Blair answered, shifting his
pack and heading for his car without another word.
***
It was late and they'd had a long day. Jim was glad of the
chance to relax and stop thinking for a bit.
"Hey, Chief, where you going?" Jim sat up from the couch and
watched his roommate gather his pack and coat and keys.
"I'm gonna hit the library for a few hours." Blair grinned
at him, but it was lacking the usual vibrancy.
"You feeling okay?" it was the most straightforward inquiry
into Blair's health Jim had ever made. Blair noted that with an
increase in his grin.
"I'm fine, buddy. Just a bit stiff. Must have slept wrong."
{He doesn't look like he slept wrong.} Jim watched him
leave, still limping slightly. Following the movement with his
eyes, Jim traced a mental diagram of the muscles and the
conclusion startled him. {He moves...like his ass hurts.}
That brought a startled snort into his beer.
"No wonder he won't talk about it." Jim shook his head. "I'd
better leave it alone."
When he finally turned off the Tv and went upstairs, he
realized that he needed to change the sheets on his bed. They
had been so busy this weekend that he'd forgotten, and he hated
that. Sheets needed to be changed once a week. At least.
As he pulled them off he picked up a strange scent...not one
he recognized, but it was vaguely familiar...although he stood,
breathing it in and thinking about it for several long minutes,
he still couldn't identify it. He threw them in the wash and
decided it couldn't be that important.
{But it's a weird smell in my bed.} the thought kept him
awake longer than he wanted to be, bothered him more than he
thought it should.
Hanging up his jacket, Blair moved directly to the kitchen
and opened the fridge. "Wasn't it your turn to get groceries?"
Flipping through the mail in the basket Jim didn't turn as
he answered.
"Yeah, sorry. I'll go tomorrow."
"Then it's either eggs or we order in. And I'm flat busted."
Blair closed the door and stared over at Jim. "Hey, Jim. Earth to
Jim. What do you want for dinner?"
"Call in Chinese, I'll cover it." the older man headed for
the couch and the Tv, still distracted. He heard Blair on the
phone behind him, but he couldn't sit still.
"You okay, man?" his roommate came up behind him as he
stood. Jim registered peripherally that Blair was still limping
slightly.
"I should be asking you that. What did you do to yourself?"
Blair turned away immediately, his voice dropping as he
answered, heading for his room.
"Nothing, man. I told you, I slept wrong."
"Three nights in a row, Sandburg?" Jim called after him,
irritated. There was something his friend wasn't telling him.
He sat back down, channel surfing, at last just putting on
CNN for the background noise, not hearing it, just thinking.
Sandburg had been acting weird since that first morning he'd
complained of being sore. Several scenarios had occurred to Jim
since then, as he became more acutely aware of where and *how*
Sandburg was hurting. None of them were things he wanted to
think about for long.
{But he stayed home that night. And every night since,
except going to the library that one time.}
No matter how he tried he couldn't see a pattern in the
things that were bothering him. Blair's obvious injury, the
smell in his sheets...and there were other things. He'd heard
Blair on the phone yesterday, turning down a date with a girl Jim
knew he'd gone out with before.
Jim gave his head a shake, trying to clear it.
{Blair's okay. It's his life, no matter what he wants to do
with it.} he told himself sternly. {If he wanted to talk about it
he would.}
When the food came he called, but Blair didn't come out to
eat. Jim listened and heard only the sound of drums, played
loudly into headphones, and the clicking of the laptop keys.
Deciding to give him some space Jim ignored him for the rest of
the evening.
Climbing the stairs later that night he stopped and scented
carefully. There it was again. That smell. Where had it come
from? It wasn't on the bed this time...slowly Jim circled his
bedroom, eventually dropping to his knees and carefully going
along the edges of the bed, until he got to a spot on the
comforter. He had it dry-cleaned regularly, but not recently...
It was only about a quarter-inch wide and maybe half an inch
long, the material stiffened by it. He couldn't detect a color,
but when he lifted it and brought it to his nose the scent burst
through his sinuses like an explosion.
{No *way*!} just to be sure he tested the center of it with
his tongue.
{Yes way.} he hastily dropped the edge and stood, suddenly
aware that his body was trembling...with rage? fear? he couldn't
identify the emotion that raged through him.
{Calm down. There's got to be a reasonable explanation for
this.}
He sat on the bed, unconsciously avoiding touching the spot,
even with the backs of his legs.
{Okay. It's semen. There's no mistaking that. But it isn't
mine...It tastes wrong, and I haven't done anything in this bed
in months.}
"So who's is it?" he asked himself aloud. "How could it be
Blair's? He's never up here when I'm not."
{But he's *home* when I'm not.}
He didn't want to think about that. Had Blair been using
his bed to seduce his girlfriends in? Sure, it was nicer than
Blair's little room downstairs...but there were *no* other smells
that didn't belong up here. No perfume, no scent of female
arousal...and those would be much harder to get rid of.
He knew his friend jerked off occasionally. Heck, he did
too, and Blair tried to be discreet about it, doing it in the
shower most of the time, just like Jim tried to be polite and not
listen.
Was there any way Blair had come up *here* to do that?
{I don't want to think about it.} he decided. With military
discipline he put the thought out of his mind. {I'll get the
spread cleaned tomorrow and that will be the end of it.}
*****************************************************************
He was in the shower the next morning when he saw it.
"What the fuck?" he almost shouted, he was so startled, but
at the last second he remembered his still-sleeping roommate, who
didn't like to be woken early on a Saturday, even if they were
going to work today.
It stood out clearly on the pale skin of his inner thigh, a
few inches below the groin, dark and purple and unexplainable.
Trying to be objective, Blair studied the mark. It looked
like nothing more than a big hickey.
{Oh, god.} his hands shook as he finished bathing. {There's
something really wrong here.}
He was aware of Jim coming down the stairs as he left the
bathroom, towel wrapped tight around his waist.
"You okay, Chief?" Jim asked too casually. Blair understood
that Jim was responding to his elevated heartbeat and breathing.
"Yeah, fine, Jim." he ducked into his room and shut the
door, hoping his friend would let it drop.
No such luck. There was a quick knock at the door and then
it opened. Caught with his briefs around his ankles Blair
glanced up and then shrugged, pulling them on and reaching for
his jeans.
"I'm a little concerned about you, Chief." Jim leaned
against the doorframe and watched him dress. The stiffness of
the younger man's movements was more obvious today.
"I'm going to drop by the clinic before class, Jim. You can
turn down the Blessed Protector dial." Blair pulled on t-shirt
and then a sweater before dropping to the bed to slip on his
sneakers.
"That would make me feel better." Jim let Blair pass him but
protested when the younger man went directly to the coatrack and
pulled off his jacket, backpack already over his shoulder. "What
about breakfast?"
"There're bagels." Blair shrugged. "If I'm gonna see the doc
before class I don't have time to cook."
"I meant what about *your* breakfast, Chief." Jim's eyes
filled with the concern he couldn't voice.
"Oh. Uh, I'm not hungry, Jim." with that reply Blair was out
the door, leaving Jim staring after him. Still worried.
*****************************************************************
Sitting in his underwear on the examining table Blair went
over things in his head.
Unexplained muscle pain. Tiredness after a full night's
sleep. Bruises he didn't remember getting.
Unexplainable pain when he...{Don't go there.} he scolded
himself. {It hurts to go to the bathroom. I don't have to mention
that.}
A shiver caught him by surprise. He quelled it and wrapped
his arms around himself.
Cancer. It sounded like cancer. Leukemia or Hodgkins....
something horrible.
This time he let the shiver run through him.
"Mr. Sandburg." the third-year resident that staffed the
clinic came in and smiled at him. She was cute in a little-and-
blond way. He wondered if she had trouble getting people to take
her seriously the way he sometimes did. "I'm Dr. Tond. We haven't
seen you in here in awhile. The nurse said you didn't list any
symptoms, so what seems to be the problem?"
"Um..." no other sounds came out of his mouth so Blair shut
it and tried again, forcing his arms to relax, resting his hands
on his thighs. "I've been really tired lately. Even when I get
plenty of sleep I'm still tired. And I hurt in weird places,
places I've never hurt before. And then this morning I found
this..." he rolled his leg to display the bruise. "I don't know
where it came from."
Her short blond hair brushed Blair's bare stomach as she
leaned close, hands gently turning the leg to the light.
She was quiet for several minutes and then glanced at him,
looking mildly confused.
"I hate to put it this way, but it looks like a hickey."
"But I haven't been with anyone in weeks!" he protested,
then continued with a frown as he thought about it. "More like
months."
"Describe the pain you're feeling." she took a step back and
made some notes as he did, detailing the way it hurt. He was
mildly embarrassed but spoke clearly.
"Okay, I'm going to need to take a look," she said when he
finished, and gestured downwards. Blair winced inwardly. He
wasn't surprised, though he'd been hoping to avoid it. She
stepped closer and gathered her clipboard close. "Would you like
me to bring someone else into the room for this?"
Startled, Blair gave her an inquisitive look.
"I don't want you to be frightened," she said gently.
"Having a third person in the room often makes people more
comfortable with something like this."
He could tell from her eyes that wasn't her real reason, but
decided to let it slide.
"No, I'm fine. One person looking at my butt is plenty." he
tried to lighten the atmosphere, but the smile wouldn't really
come. With a grimace he pulled his shorts down and rolled over.
"Relax." she urged as her hands, cool in the gloves, rested
on his ass with professional detachment.
A hard shiver ran through him as she spread his cheeks, and
he waited, resisting the too-strong urge to bring his legs tight
together.
"Well, there is some bruising here, and a small amount of
tearing. I'm just going to check your prostate quickly..." he
heard her say and then he clenched up tight as a gelled finger
slowly intruded into that private place. "Relax, Mr. Sandburg.
This isn't going to hurt."
"Actually..." he hissed. "It does." and it did, the deep
ache reawakening at her touch.
"There must be some internal tearing as well." she probed
gently and he flinched, catching himself and breathing deeply
through it. When the finger withdrew he couldn't prevent the
sigh of relief. Quickly he rolled back over and fumbled with his
shorts, getting them up.
When he was covered again he looked up and found Dr. Tond
watching him. Her expression was carefully neutral and she was
standing several feet away, clipboard clasped to her chest.
His face must have shown his confusion because she
immediately stepped closer and laid a hand on his arm.
"Mr. Sandburg. *Blair*. If I'm going to help you I need to
know everything that happened. When, where and how often. You
don't have to tell me who if you don't want to, but you know that
I'm required to report this to the police."
Blair's mouth sagged open and he realized that he was
speechless.
"It's state law, Blair. That we report rapes. Male and
female. We don't see many of them here..." she trailed off,
disturbed by the expression on his face.
"I...I wasn't raped." Blair managed to blurt out.
"Then you need to have a talk with your partner. He *really*
needs to be more careful and do more preparation."
"I Haven't Been Having Sex!" the shout filled the small room
and bounced off the walls. Blair wrapped his arms tightly around
himself, staring blindly at the floor between his feet.
{I can't deal with this. This is *insane*.}he knew he was on
the verge of babbling so he didn't say anything, fearful of
losing the control that was stretched thin.
At last he looked back up, teeth worrying his lower lip.
Dr. Tond's face was concerned and caring. It was almost
more than he could bear.
"If this is new to you, Blair, I can arrange for you to talk
to someone in the psychology department. I realize that
questioning your sexual orientation can be very frightening,
especially at your age."
"I'm haven't had sex in nine weeks plus." Blair answered her
very quietly, his voice strong despite the tremor that ran
through it. "No men, no women. I haven't even *wanted* sex."
{That's right - I haven't.} he was thinking and closed his
eyes briefly, missing the doctor's next words. {When was the last
time I got turned on?}
"Blair? Mr. Sandburg." the hand on his shoulder brought his
eyes open and he stared into her face. "There's nothing here to
indicate anything other than sexual activity. Have you been
taking drugs or drinking heavily?"
He shook his head, which was starting to pound.
"Do you live alone?"
"I have a roommate." he whispered.
"A man?"
Nod.
"Is it possible that he's been taking advantage of you,
Blair? There are several new drugs on the streets that make the
victim amenable and then wipe out the memories of what happened
under their influence."
"He's a cop. And he wouldn't *do* that."
She squeezed his shoulder before stepping away. She was
frustrated when she spoke again.
"I don't know how to help you. I can't help you if you can't
trust me."
Blair slid off the table slowly, reaching for his clothes.
He didn't speak as he dressed. The intern watched him carefully.
Blair knew that he was moving stiffly, but now it was more
embarrassment than pain.
"Please, Blair. You need to talk to someone." she tried
again.
"I appreciate your concern," he said softly, buttoning his
shirt with fingers that trembled.
"At least take this." she pulled a pamphlet from the rack by
the door. To soothe her conscience Blair took it and folded it
into his back pocket without looking at it.
She only watched sadly as he left without saying another
word.
*****************************************************************
He stayed at his office as long as he could, not going to
the station, not answering the phone when it rang, knowing it
would be Jim looking for him.
By midnight he'd decided to just sleep there, as he had many
times in the past...but not since he'd moved in with Jim. He
wasn't supposed to, but he'd never been caught.
Hard as he tried he couldn't make sense of it. He *knew*
Jim wasn't doing this to him - whatever this was.
{She's just an intern at a clinic. I need to see a real
doctor.} he told himself as he settled down on a couple of
storage blankets, on the floor behind his desk, back to the wall.
It was uncomfortable, but he'd slept worse places. "I'll go to
the hospital in the morning," he said it aloud.
"Sandburg?" the voice from the hall startled him, and the
door opened before he had a chance to respond. "Dammit, Sandburg.
What are you doing? We were supposed to meet this afternoon for
the Adley raid."
Towering over him in the dim light from the window, hands on
his hips, scowling, Jim looked impressively fearsome.
"I've got a lot of work to do, Jim." he felt his heart pick
up and hoped the man blamed it on the circumstances and didn't
guess Blair was lying through his teeth. "Thought I'd sleep here
and get an early start." he ignored the comment about the bust.
"Do you know what kind of an idiot I looked like today? I
kept telling Simon "Sandburg wouldn't do this to me, he'll show,
he wouldn't leave me in the lurch like this. But you did, and any
goodwill you'd earned with him is long gone now."
With a wince that had nothing to do with physical pain Blair
sat up, pulling the blanket up with him, though he was still
fully dressed.
"What were you saying about the hospital?" Jim hunkered down
now, his anger quickly sublimated to worry about his friend.
"Nothing." Blair shook his head, not meeting his eyes. "I
went to the clinic and they said nothing was wrong."
"Sandburg." Jim put one hand on the floor for balance and
used the other to force Blair's face up so he could look into his
eyes. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing, Jim." he pulled his head away, gently bumping it
against the wall behind him. "I'm sorry I forgot about today. I
guess I was a little...preoccupied."
Jim just stared at him. Then he stood, shaking his head.
"Come on. I'll make sure you get back here early tomorrow.
You've got a bed, there's no sense sleeping on the floor."
With a sigh Blair got up and gathered his things. Jim was
right, there was no reason for him to sleep here.
*****************************************************************
It was a nice dream. Jim sighed and rolled over, hands
reaching in his sleep for the warmth he imagined touching
him...warmth that went lower and surrounded his now-aching cock
with wetness that brought a moan to his lips.
The sensation was so real...perhaps it was his nerves, or
the nagging feeling he'd been having of missing something that
was right under his nose...whatever it was, he woke suddenly and
sat up.
Then he shouted in shock and kicked out violently as he
looked down between his legs realized that it was no dream.
"Sandburg! What the fuck are you doing?!" he kicked again
and then lunged to the end of the bed as his feet sent his
roommate tumbling to the floor with a yelp of pain.
Splayed on the floor, one hand to his bleeding nose, Blair
stared at him, his blue eyes wide with terror, other hand in the
air warding off a further attack.
He was nude. Jim spotted his boxers and t-shirt on the
floor near the stairs.
Too stunned for a moment to think clearly Jim could only
stand and rage over the smaller man.
"Is this what's been going on!? You've been sneaking into my
bed and getting off?! Of all the disgusting low-life...." he
bellowed and then trailed off as the younger man's fear leapt
higher and he gasped for breath, heart racing dangerously.
"jim...I...I dont't...I didn't...oh god..." Blair curled
forward, protecting his stomach as if he expected to be kicked
again, one arm over his head, and Jim took a step backwards. It
brought him to the edge of the bed and he sat heavily, still in
shock.
"I'm not going to hit you." he snarled, only slightly
calmer. "Explain this to me!"
"I - I can't." Blair didn't look up and Jim became aware
that his partner was breathing shallowly, panting, adrenaline
pouring through him, his heart still pounding furiously.
Unable to even begin to make sense of the situation, Jim sat
in thundering silence.
He couldn't find words or the will to speak them when Blair
finally moved. Rolling clumsily to his side, he crawled to the
stairs, only pulling himself unsteadily to his feet after he went
down the first two. A trail of blood spatters followed behind
him. Jim could only stare at them, uncomprehending.
Breathing heavily, feeling an unknown weight pressing on his
chest, Jim listened as Blair made his way to his room and
gathered a few things into his backpack before padding unevenly
across the living room to leave the loft, shutting the door
quietly behind him.
The coughing roar of the Corvair's engine caught his ear and
he heard it cough, turn over, then sputter and die. He felt a
brief urge to go to the window and watch, but it passed as
suddenly as it came and he sat still. The car door slammed and
Blair's footsteps faded into the night.
*****************************************************************
For once, it wasn't raining. The sun was going to shine
when it was up and it was rising early, seemingly glad to have
the sky to himself.
With a groan, Blair stood and stretched. The pack he had
been laying on slumped slowly over on it's side, the movement
catching his eye, making him stare.
He walked most of the night, finally coming here, to the
small park tucked away between two ageing office buildings. Once
it had been only a vacant lot scattered with old tires and trash
and used needles. He'd been one of the volunteers that had come
with a group of teenagers from the local Boys & Girls Club to
clean it out, plant grass and flowers and dig the little pond in
the center that he now sat beside, sheltered by a slightly
unsteady bench built in a B&G Club workshop.
That had been pre-Jim, something that made the place seem
safe -- Jim wouldn't know to look for him here.
{If he looked for me at all, after *that*.}
Sitting on the bench now, Blair stared at the new day and
finally let himself think about what had happened.
At first he had been hurting too much physically. Then the
shock of *Jim* hurting him had taken over. But now he was just
tired and sore and *angry*.
{What the fuck *was* that?! I wake up in Jim's bed,
*apparently* trying to swallow his dick whole....and he kicks the
shit out of me!}
{I guess there are two questions here.} he gingerly fingered
his sore, swollen nose, feeling the crust of dried blood that
decorated it. {Why the *hell* was I doing that, and why did it
suddenly make him so damn mad? Was I doing it *badly*?}
The last thought brought a brief, reluctant grin. Blair
gave his head a slight shake.
"I can't believe he did that," he said aloud, startling a
sparrow that fluttered away. "He didn't even ask me what I was
doing? Just flipped out and then stared at me like I was
something he'd scraped off his shoe!"
{Why was I doing that?} his mind turned the question over,
tasted it, tested. "It must have something to do with the
Sentinel-Guide thing." He'd never read anything that mentioned
this, but so much of Burton's work had been lost. His long-
suffering wife, bless her soul, had finally gotten fed up with
his lecherous ways. Burning the diaries and journals that
detailed his many extra-marital indulgences, she had sought to
wipe them from her memory, but had only succeeded in destroying
decades of valuable anthropological data.
It occurred to him that he wasn't really surprised that
their relationship had turned this way. Speaking from a
psychological point of view, sex was a strong bond, and an
ancient Sentinel would have needed to be bonded as closely as
possible to the person that guided them, for the sake of the
village. Theirs needed to be a strong, close, trusting
relationship if it was going to work.
"Well, I think it's obvious that this one isn't." Blair
stood and gathered up his pack. It held everything he considered
essential to life: pictures, journal, laptop. There was more
important stuff in his office, including all the Sentinel data.
He could replace everything else.
Except Jim.
Except the friendship he'd just lost. A friendship that had
first surprised, and then comforted him. He'd finally found a
friend he could really trust, someone who made him a real part of
their life.
The kind of friend he'd always wanted.
The kind of friend he would never find again.
Blair was aware of the tears that slipped slowly down his
face as he walked the nearly-empty streets and contemplated his
next move.
{God, that hurt.} accepting the pain, making it a part of
himself, that was supposed to make it hurt less.
But not this time.
Some things you didn't forgive. Jim's first reaction had
been to hurt Blair -- something Blair would never have imagined -
- and he hadn't even given him a chance to defend himself.
{I guess Jim wasn't the friend I thought he was.}
Blair walked on, making plans.
*****************************************************************
It was only an envelope. He stepped on it when he opened
the door. Since he'd noted the Corvair's absence in the lot,
he'd hoped there would be something...
Smelling Blair on the pale blue paper, he felt a moment of
hope; maybe he wanted to meet -- to talk things over. Jim hadn't
been sleeping well since the younger man left, and part of that
was worry about him. Though he knew intellectually that Blair
had lived on his own for years before meeting Jim, Jim had gotten
into the habit of looking out for him, even if he'd forgotten
that in the heat of the moment one dark night almost a week ago.
He wasn't angry anymore. Most of it had been shock, and the
realization that he'd been enjoying what Blair was doing. He'd
admitted that while he was cleaning the mess on the floor, though
he had *not* enjoyed acknowledging it to himself.
He had nothing against homosexuals...or bisexuals, that was
what he'd have to call Blair, he'd smelled too many women on him
to think the younger man didn't like them or wasn't often
successful in his pursuit of them. Blair could have just told
him, they could have talked about it....surely his friend knew he
wasn't that shallow.
A single sheet of computer-printed paper was folded in the
envelope, with a message that could have been written on the back
of Blair's business card.
"Here's your key. Do what you want with
the other stuff, I don't need any of it."
There was no signature.
No apology or request for forgiveness. Definitely not an
offer to talk.
Nothing to indicate that they had ever been more than two
people working together for mutual benefit. A practical
transaction.
The pain Jim felt was newly familiar. He'd thought that
Blair understood. Had made the connection -- that they were
friends.
Obviously, he'd thought wrong.
After another long night of worrying, Jim woke early. After
thinking about it for a while, standing on the balcony and
watching the water, he came to a decision.
{I *really* overreacted. But Blair should have given me a
chance to explain, not just run off like that. We have to talk
about this, find some closure here.} he grinned slightly, hearing
himself using Blair's phrase. {Maybe we can't work together
anymore, maybe we aren't friends the way I thought we were...but
there has to be something left to salvage.}
Mind made up, Jim went in to the station long before anyone
else arrived. The Vice cops and other late-shift people were
surprised to see him, several of the ones he had worked with
before teased him about going back to his old ways.
At his desk in the empty bullpen, Jim began making a list of
places Blair could have gone, people he could have crashed with.
He hadn't met that many of Blair's friends, especially
girlfriends since those changed almost weekly, but he took enough
phone messages for the younger man to get a list almost twenty
names long. A glance at the clock convinced him it was too early
to start calling them, but he could check other things....
Forty minutes later he'd confirmed that Blair hadn't
registered with any of the apartment hunters in town, and he
hadn't had a credit or rental history check run. He would need
one or the other to rent an apartment, unless he moved into
somebody's garage or something.
With a sigh he turned to the stack of paperwork that was
waiting for him. Without Blair it would take twice as long.
"Jim." Simon's quiet voice came from his office door, where
the big man stood watching him. Jim held up one finger, ear to
the phone.
"Hargrove Hall." the secretary answered for the fifth time
that day. Jim gritted his teeth.
"I need to speak Blair Sandburg," he said once again.
"Is this Detective Ellison?" the way her voice changed...it
sounded accusing, even angry.
"Yes." he snapped. "Why isn't he answering his own phone?"
"I'm sorry, sir, I'm taking Mr.Sandburg's calls. Would you
like to leave another message?"
"Is he *getting* my messages?"
"They will be delivered when he asks for them, Detective."
the edge to her voice...she wasn't going to help him.
"Just tell him I called." he hung up before he could hear
her artificially polite response and went into Simon's office,
swallowing the anger that was rising in him.
Taking a seat on the edge of the table he crossed his arms
over his chest while Simon went to the coffee pot.
"French Vanilla Almond." the captain commented as he poured.
"I *know* you don't want any." he sat and pulled a file out of
the stack beside his monitor, then glanced up. "Where's
Sandburg?"
Schooling his expression to one of amused tolerance, Jim
shrugged and spread his hands.
"He said he had something to do on campus today so I cut him
some slack."
"That was awfully nice of you." Simon eyed him warily. "He's
been busy a lot lately."
Jim forced a smile, and changed the subject.
"So, do you have something for me?" he eyed the folder Simon
was holding.
"Yeah. It's something Sandburg can probably help on. Last
night a uniform on walking through the Kemp Edition heard some
strange noises from a building site. When he investigated he
found a newborn infant inside. She was only a couple of hours
old."
Jim winced slightly.
"She's going to be okay." Simon hastened to assure him. "The
cop, Roshberg, he actually put her inside his shirt to warm her
up while he waited for the ambulance. Saved her life."
"What has this got to do with Sandburg?"
Flipping open the file Simon turned it so Jim could see it,
coming to lean over the desk.
The picture showed an unfinished room, bare sheetrock, the
seams unfilled, the floor plaster-splattered plywood. In the
center of the room was drawn a large symbol that Jim didn't
recognize. On one side the edges were obscured by a large
bloodstain. It was surrounded by pools of wax from burnt-down
candles.
"It looks like the kid was born there, Jim," Simon said
quietly. "And the mother probably didn't survive."
Jim lifted the picture, studied the one beneath it -- a tiny
infant, fragile and thin-looking, with a light fuzz of dark hair
and scrunched-up face.
"Shouldn't we be calling a cult specialist on this?"
"Already ran it by them. This symbol -- " Simon drew out an
artist's sketch of it, " -- isn't one they recognize. That means
it's not Satanists or Neo-Nazis or any of the other groups we
deal with regularly. I've sent it on to the Bureau, but who knows
when they'll get somebody to take a look at it."
"And you think Blair might be able to place it."
"I was hoping he could at least give us a place to start."
Jim closed the file and picked it up.
"I'll just run over to his office," he said easily. "I'm
sure he'll be glad for the break."
"We're keeping this one quiet, Jim. Especially from the
media."
"I understand."
Simon didn't even glance at him as he left.
He tried the knob again....just in case he hadn't turned it
properly the first three times.
Nope. Still locked.
Still no heartbeat behind it.
The schedule said clearly that Blair had office hours today;
right now, in fact. He knew the anthropologist well enough to
know that he wouldn't skimp on his students.
Leaning against the door he heaved a sigh and debated where
to look for him next. He'd tried the number of every friend he
knew of. Most had been out but the few he'd gotten hold of had
responded to him with exclamations ranging from astonishment to
rage. Molly, one of Blair's ex-girlfriends, had *shouted* at
him, telling him in no uncertain terms how badly she would hurt
him if he ever got close to Blair again. Jim had been stunned by
the depth of her anger. He'd always thought she was very nice
and treated her with respect.
Jack Kelso had hung up on him. Not once, but six times.
After that he'd simply stopped answering his phone. Jim didn't
think it would be worth a trip to his office to get the door
slammed in his face.
{What did Blair tell them? Did I hurt him more badly than I
thought?}
He closed his eyes for a minute and then flicked them open
as someone came down the hall.
The girl stopped in front of him with a wary smile.
"Are you looking for Mr.Sandburg?"
Jim nodded, half-afraid to speak.
"He announced in class that he would be in the student
center if anyone needed him for the next few weeks," she said it
with a shrug. "Kind of a weird place to do office hours."
"Thank you." Jim was almost to the corner before she
realized that he'd moved.
The student center. He had only been there a few times,
once with Blair when he'd gotten a paper published in a good
journal and convinced Jim to come to the party some other grad
students had thrown for him. He'd had a better time than he'd
expected and Blair had teased him about it afterward.
They had so many memories like that, good times and bad,
memories of them together.
But now Jim had no idea where in the maze of rooms and
offices and entertainment areas his friend would be, so he
stopped just inside the main door and listened.
Blair's voice and heart were surprisingly easy to pick out.
Jim shook his head, he hadn't been aware of how attuned he was to
Blair until he started missing him.
Coming around the corner into a small study room with
several couches and a tv in the corner, he caught sight of Blair
before the younger man saw him.
Jim drew in a quick breath and stood still, feeling his legs
go weak...he had to lean on the doorframe.
Blair looked just the same, except for the swelling of his
nose and the fading bruise, green and yellow and purple in the
middle, that flowed outward over his cheekbones and down to the
scabbed purple lip.
{Did I do that? Oh, shit, I *did* that!}
Blair heard the breath or sensed his presence -- it didn't
matter. All that was important was the way he stood quickly
and began backing toward the wall, eyes wide with -- fear?
The man he had been talking to stood and turned. There were
three other people in the room, watching tv while they studied
from textbooks and consulted notes, and they all turned to watch
as well.
"Sandburg..." Jim began, but then his view was cut off as a
huge young man came over the back of the couch and got in his
face.
"You're his *roommate*, aren't you?!" he snarled, meaty
hands on his hips. "You're the jerk that hit him!"
Jim took an involuntary step back into the hallway, trying
to see Blair around the imposing form. At least 6'6" and
weighing about three hundred body-building pounds, the guy
confronting him must have been a football player.
Now others in the room were standing. There was another big
guy, not as big as the first, but he was coming to join him.
"Why can't you pick on somebody your own size?" the football
player leaned in, using his size as a threat.
"Uh...I just need to talk to Blair," Jim said, shock making
him sound stupid.
"I don't think so." the second guy arrived. A girl had gone
to stand beside Blair, her hand on his shoulder as he stared at
Jim.
"I really need to talk to him." Jim held up the folder.
"We've got a case we need your help on, Chief," he said louder,
seeing Blair's eyes get rounder and bigger and knowing that he
heard.
"You want to talk to him, Blair?" the football player looked
back at the smaller man.
Blair shook his head 'no', closing his eyes as if to banish
Jim from his mind.
"You better get out of here and leave him alone or he'll
file harrassent charges against you and I'll be his witness." the
second player added. "We don't need creeps like you around here."
Dumbfounded, Jim could only stare at Blair, who was
stubbornly keeping his eyes closed. His lips were moving
fractionally and Jim wondered which god he was praying to.
*Was* there a god designated for protection from unthinking
roommates?
"Come *on* Sandburg," he said at last, knowing he sounded
angry but unable to stop it. "This is ridiculous. We need to talk
about what happened."
Those eyes snapped open and he saw anger in them as well,
overriding the fear.
"You had your chance to talk." now he moved, picking up his
pack from the floor and rummaging through it. "Now you want to?
You need me for a case so you want to talk?!" he surfaced with
his station i.d. Straightening, he threw it at Jim, who didn't
try to catch it, just let it hit him in the chest and fall to the
floor. "Get out of my life, Ellison," Blair said bitterly, with a
sadness so deep it threatened to drown him. He turned away,
presenting Jim with his back, and crossed his arms over his
chest, curling forward into himself. The girl beside him moved
in front of him and embraced him. Blair accepted it and leaned
into her, shoulders shaking.
"I don't care if you *are* a cop." the first football player
snarled. "Any guy who beats up on his lover deserves to get the
shit kicked out of him. Unless you think you can take both of us
I suggest you get the fuck out of here."
"He's not my..." Jim cut the words off. Blair wasn't his
lover. I don't swing that way. {Remember how good it felt, Jim?
Before you woke up?} his mind teased. "*Fine*." he spat the word
and picked up the i.d badge from the floor. "You want to run away
like the child you are, Sandburg, just *fine*. I knew you'd never
understand concepts like friendship and loyalty."
The low moan that came from Blair's lips was clearly audible
to the whole room and the football players came closer.
"Hide behind more children, Blair." Jim hissed as he backed
up into the hall. "*Bigger* children." he snapped the last words
before turning and striding away. Anger was burning through him,
eating him up....and he didn't understand why.
He could hear Blair's choked sobs all the way to the front
door.
Outside Jim stopped as the sobs cut off abruptly. {He must
have gotten control of himself.} walked to the side of the doors
and leaned back against the cold brick, closing his eyes.
{Something that wouldn't hurt you, Jimmy.} he taunted himself,
allowing a grimace to twist his features, feeling his skin
stretch and tighten, knowing he looked nowhere near as bad as he
felt.
"What was I doing?!" he whispered it loudly, violently. "I
beat the guy up and then get mad at *him* for being afraid of
me?! I should be turning myself in!" the last words rose and
several people walking by stared at him. He pushed himself off
the wall and began walking, agitated, to the truck, in the
Hargrove Hall parking lot. His hand closed on Blair's i.d, the
plastic cutting into calloused skin, concentrating on the sudden
pain.
*****************************************************************
"hey, baby. you sleeping alone again tonight?"
The whisper cut through the doze Blair had managed to
achieve and he tensed, hand closing tight around his swiss army
knife, holding it close to his side under the thin blanket.
"it won't be much longer, kid. you're too pretty to sleep
alone in a place like this."
His cot was barely two feet from the ones on either side of
it. Just another in a long row of fifty, that row only one of
twenty that filled the echoing space that was never warm enough.
It had been a warehouse once, but the city had turned it into a
shelter. Every night men lined up at the door to wait their turn
for a safe bed -- no street thugs, cops or psychos here to harass
them.
Blair had been sleeping here since the third night, when the
security guard caught him asleep in his office and asked about
it. He'd known it was against the rules, but hoped to get away
with it a few more nights...but the man had explained, a little
ashamedly, that he couldn't look the other way, because if
something happened then it would be his fault and he needed his
job....Blair had nodded and said that he understood and it wasn't
a problem...
He didn't want to crash with any of the people he knew. In
part because he was embarrassed to be in this situation -- the
pre-Jim Blair would never have let himself get so comfortable
that he was caught without an emergency stash, a getaway plan.
But he'd only given Jim his rent and his share of bills the
day before it happened. And he'd had to make a payment on those
greek translations Alfonso, the bookstore owner, had located for
him. He would never get another chance at them, he knew, and
he'd put down $200 that he'd lose if he didn't buy them.
But there was another reason he didn't want to crash with
his friends...
{I'm going insane.}
That had been his first thought when he noticed it. After
the lack of sexual attraction that he'd been feeling, this was a
like a lightning bolt spiking through him, nailing him to the
floor.
But he'd been watching a *guy* when it happened. Not just
any guy, but Tod, a guy he hung out with sometimes.
Suddenly he was almost overwhelmed by the urge to kiss the
handsome black man, to throw him to the floor and grind himself
mindlessly against him...{Oh, God. I'm going insane.}
He'd gotten away from his friend as fast as he could and
tried to think through what was happening to him.
He reluctantly admitted to himself that he was now sexually
attracted to men. It *had* to be a side-effect of the Sentinel -
Guide connection.
But he didn't have a Sentinel anymore.
And the urge, which reappeared everytime he let his control
slip even a little bit, was growing stronger.
It was making him nuts.
{Not nuts enough to fuck *him*.} that thought was crystal-
clear. Blair listened to the man in the next bed, a predator
that had been stalking him since his first night in this concrete
cave.
There were attendants, but they stayed up front, at the
desk, in the safety of the small pool of yellow light thrown by
the one lamp allowed to burn all night. Blair could complain,
but that would get him labeled a troublemaker and he might not
get a bed after that. And the only thing that scared him more
than sleeping beside Cliff Keane was the thought of sleeping
outside, alone and unprotected.
He could handle Cliff. The man always shut up and went to
sleep eventually. Yeah, he always managed to be in the bathroom
at the same time as Blair, to stand next to him in line, to rub
up against him, touch him, whisper dirty words to him whenever no
one was listening....but Blair could handle it.
He hoped.
{I need a place of my own. This is gonna get bad fast.}
Blair knew what happened when people like Cliff didn't get what
they wanted.
They took it.
*****************************************************************
"I'm sorry, captain. Sandburg's not going to be able to help
on this one." Jim stood in front of Simon's desk, shifting
nervously, file in one hand, Blair's I.D concealed in the other.
"He looked at it and couldn't give us *anything*?" Simon was
surprised and it showed. Jim almost grinned, realizing that the
captain had expected their boy wonder to pour out a river of
facts and history to match the symbols in the photo.
Laying the file down with exaggerated care, Jim held out his
other hand a let the plastic badge fall on top of it.
"He won't be working with me anymore, sir," he said it with
quiet, pained conviction.
"What did you do, Ellison?" the warning gleam in the black
man's dark eyes pinned him to a chair and Jim sat, tired. "Kick
him out for breaking one too many house rules?"
"Nothing like that." Jim sighed and Simon observed just how
bad he looked. Traditional no-sleep zombie, eyes wide and dark,
deep circles beneath them, lack of energy.
"We just had a fight...and I guess he thought I was on the
wrong side of it. So he packed up and left."
"I've saw his car there last week when I came to pick you up
for poker."
"He left the car a couple of days, Simon. And hasn't come
back for most of his things."
Sitting and leaning back in his chair, the captain studied
his detective closely.
"Just how long has he been gone, Ellison?"
Jim stared at some point just beyond Simon's shoulder when
he answered.
"Eight days, sir."
*****************************************************************
"You can work nights?" The woman, older, was hard and weary.
Blair nodded. In the last two days he'd discovered that a
partime job was going to be harder to find than he thought,
especially one that would work around his schedule and still
leave him time to study.
"I need somebody for Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights.
Six to three. You show up late, you drink or you try to ask for a
night off and you're out. Got that?"
Blair nodded again. It would make Fridays and Saturdays a
bitch, but he'd have time for his Tues-Thurs discussion group and
office hours in the afternoons.
"Six bucks an hour."
{Ouch. I'll never get a place on that.}
But he hadn't found anything else even close to workable.
Maybe he'd be able to move to one of those residence hotels after
a week if he was careful with his money.
{First, last and deposit.} he told himself as he left the
bar, needing to get to the student center and start grading the
stack of midterms in his bag. There were always people there and
he felt safer around potential witnesses. {Next month's stipend
will cover about half after I finish paying for those books...}
He would have to stop by eight so he could go get in line
for a bed at the shelter, and he couldn't do anything while in
line, not while trying to deflect attempts at conversation and
defend himself against Cliff Keane and his ilk. Things had been
so much simpler when he could come and go as he pleased.
He hugged himself as he walked in the cold, missing the
warmth and security of the loft acutely.
*****************************************************************
Turning in his bed restlessly, Jim sought sleep, but it
eluded him, as had become the norm.
He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was worried
about Blair. Ever since his visit to the campus, he hadn't seen
or heard from or about him. Admitting to himself that his words
had been rash and harsh, he wished fruitlessly for a chance
to take them back, to somehow make this better.
{You could have just told me, Sandburg. We could have dealt
with it some other way.}
Wherever his friend was, he hoped he was safe and warm.
{He has tons of friends. One of them must be putting him
up.}
Clutching that thought, Jim finally settled into a light
doze.
*****************************************************************
"Blair. Hey, dude. That guy over there wants to talk to
you."
Busy washing glasses, Blair didn't even glance where Rick
pointed.
"Look, man. I know I talked about it, but I didn't mean I
was ready to try it. I'm not that desperate yet." he kept his
voice calm as he answered, trying desperately to ignore the
pounding in his head, the pressure in his cock.
"Like you didn't almost fuck that guy on the dance floor
tonight? Give it up, dude. You may as well get paid for it." Rick
was small, smaller than Blair, and delicately pretty. He turned
one trick a night and used the money to buy a hot car.
Blair didn't answer.
"He's a good customer, Sandburg. A nice guy. He won't hurt
you. Go talk to him." the redhead turned off the water and gave
him a not-so-gentle shove. Blair grimaced and went.
{I need to do this. I do. It's just my body...people have
been doing it for years. There's nothing wrong with it.}
He snorted softly.
{Let Jim hear you say that.}
As always the name hurt...and brought a wash of sweat and
unbearable arousal.
The man in question was one Blair had seen here many times
before. In his fifties, looked prosperous. Polite when he
ordered. In very good shape. Tall and blond and slightly
balding.
The way Jim was.
And he had blue eyes.
"Hey, man." Standing beside the table, Blair rocked on the
balls of his feet.
"Blair. That's your name, right? Can I buy you an early
breakfast?"
Considering it, Blair finally shook his head.
"I have to get what sleep I can before class."
"I know where you've been sleeping."
Blair's face tightened and he spun around, intending to walk
away, but a hand caught his arm.
"Look, kid. Ricky says you're available. He says you need
cash."
"Did he say I've never done it before?" Blair looked back at
him, meeting his eyes steadily.
"Yes. And I believe him."
"How much?" even hearing the words didn't make the situation
real to Blair. He was negotiating a price to sell his body to a
stranger.
"Three hundred. Five if you don't insist on a condom."
"Four and a condom." dropping his eyes, Blair waited and
hoped...but he didn't know what he was hoping for.
The hunger in his body had become unmanageable through
masturbation. The situation at the shelter was rapidly becoming
unbearable. With $400, what he had in the bank, *and* his next
paycheck he might have enough to get a place of his own...he'd
have to share it with the roaches, but anything was better than
staying at Mercy House.
Sam stood and waved to Rick, who nodded and went back to
cleaning.
Blair followed Sam out of the bar, head low, hands stuffed
in his coat pockets seeking warmth that he knew he wouldn't ever
find again.
*****************************************************************
It was an expensive house, in an upscale neighborhood. Blair
was silent as Sam led him through it. He could find no words for
the sterile beauty of the place.
Stopping in the middle of the large bedroom, Blair stood
very still.
He felt the warmth of Sam's body as the man came up behind
him but didn't touch him.
"You're very special, Blair." the man whispered, his voice
husky. "And I know exactly how you feel right now. I've been
there."
Blair flinched at the words. He didn't turn when Sam left
him and walked to the table in the corner, pushing a button on a
cd player. A ponderous drum and guitar beat pounded out and a
male voice sang, almost falsetto. Despite himself, Blair
listened.
A heavier drumbeat and pounding guitar echoed the vocal
anguish.
Give me a moment
Got to get this weight up off my chest
Don't feed me sorrow
Pain is a poison I digest
Find yourself another soul to hold
You think, you thought, I know
Off upon my journey I must go
To where the river flows
Sam returned to Blair, this time standing in front of him,
his large form backlit by the soft light that streamed in from
the darkened night outside. Blair shivered as he leaned close
and whispered the words of the song into his ear as the singer
wailed them.
I'll give you answers
To the questions you have yet to ask
Silence is beauty
Words they only complicate the task
The shiver became a shudder when Blair realized that the hot
breath over his ear was making him hard. Sam continued.
Make no more wishes
All of my patience has been spent
Gods of the season
Lead me to my next incident
The song disintegrated into a raging guitar solo and Sam
wrapped his arms around Blair, pulling him close to his body and
nuzzling into his thick hair.
"No kissing..." Blair was on the edge of tears, but Sam only
nodded and returned to his ear, tongueing it and whispering
again.
"I understand, Blair. Better than you know."
Feeling the tide of loathing rise in him, Blair did the only
thing he could to push it back; he returned Sam's embrace and
pressed closer to his body, feeling the craving begin to ease as
he was touched and rubbed and caressed.
Considering everything, Sam was very considerate. He
soothed Blair, stroked and teased him, encouraged him. By the
time they got to the king-size platform bed, with the thick
cream-colored lace comforter and multitude of pillows, Blair was
hard and hot and panting for him. He turned to his stomach with
minimal urging. His body responded hungrily to Sam's intimate
exploration, hips thrusting against the fingers that found
their way inside him, moans rising to his lips as he discovered,
appalled, that this felt as good as he'd feared it would.
There was pain when the man entered him, but the gentle
hands on his back and the soft words whispered against his neck
helped. The pain faded but didn't disappear, and he was
surprised when orgasm rushed him and he clutched his ass around
Sam's cock, buried so deep within him. Blair shouted with
pleasure and collapsed in horror.
Much later he stirred, then climbed out of the bed and began
to dress as quietly as he could.
"You could stay." Sam's whisper startled him, but he didn't
stop what he was doing.
"It wouldn't feel right." zipping his jacket, Blair turned
to study the man on the bed.
Sam looked tired and...old.
"Thank you," Blair said softly. "You made it okay."
"I wish I could make it more." with a heavy sigh the
businessman turned over, pulling the covers high and closing his
eyes, leaving Blair to make his own way out, picking up the plain
white envelope from the dresser on his way.
*****************************************************************
After that it was scary how easy it was.
At first Blair would pick up tricks at the bar, leaving with
different men when his shift ended. But when the owner realized
what he was doing, she told Blair to take it out of the bar. Once
or twice was fine, but they didn't want to attract too much
attention to the place.
So Blair moved to the streets. It wasn't hard to find out
where the other male prostitutes hung out. And as long as he
didn't draw too much attention to himself he was left to do his
own pimping. And he was picky. He only took men larger than
himself, usually in good shape. Always, always white. They made
him feel the best.
*Sham* was soon the talk of the street. Safe, clean,
mature, and the best bottom to come along in ages.
What had started out as a temporary measure to garner some
cash -- and calm the need within him -- had turned into a way of
life.
Before long Sham was picking up two or three tricks a night.
It was soon after that he was rolled by a pimp.
Freddy Tenth -- so-called because he ran everything from
tenth street to twelfth -- warned him that if he wanted to trick
for volume he'd better get a keeper. Otherwise he'd better play
to only one a night. Freddy took all the money he'd made that
night and beat him until he couldn't stand. Blair crawled behind
a dumpster and missed a whole day of classes recovering
partially. He didn't stir until twilight the next night, when
self-preservation overrode pain at last.
It took nearly an hour to stagger back to the mission. All
the way there all Blair could think about was whether he'd make
it before the door was locked.
He sighed when he saw the line out front. It was going to
be close. Maybe he should go back to his office, just for
tonight?
A shake of his head nearly made him fall as dizziness
overwhelmed him. Freddy had made a good try at shoving it
through a brick wall, but he wasn't going to the hospital.
Someone there would call Jim, he just *knew* they would.
But, considering as he stood, head hanging, and caught his
breath, the shelter wouldn't let him in if they thought he was
hurt badly. They would call an ambulance.
It took everything he had to straighten and walk fairly
steadily. They were used to drunks...and he'd kept his head down
and mouth shut every night he'd been here. Never made himself
noticeable. So they wouldn't know that he wasn't usually
drunk. With one arm wrapped firmly around his ribs -- he was sure
one of them was cracked, he had to breathe in short little bursts
-- he managed to reach the end of the line.
"Oh, hey, *baby*, I was worried about you." the taunting
voice came from the middle of the line. And it was moving
closer. Blair huddled in his coat, too sore and sick to be
hearing this.
"I saved you a place in line, pretty baby." A hand on his
shoulder, an arm coming around his waist, bringing a fresh wave
of sharp pain. Blair staggered and tried to pull away.
"Sweetheart, what's the matter? Are you *hurt*?" the syrupy
voice, filled with evil anticipation, flowed over Blair, through
him, filling his ears and clogging his throat as he fought the
urge to vomit. It didn't matter if that was a reaction to having
his head smashed into a wall or this man...he couldn't stay here
tonight.
He couldn't protect himself tonight.
{It's not like you haven't done it before, Sham. Shaman of
the great city....Shame.}
But this guy was *nothing* like Jim. And since every other
man that he took up his ass was only a high-paying substitute for
his one-time best friend...
He couldn't stay here tonight.
With a low moan he wrenched from Cliff's grasp. Stumbling
several times, he almost went to the pavement. A large hand
reached to help him and he shoved it away, then glanced up and
saw that it belonged to someone else, someone not Cliff. An
elderly man, who looked barely more stable that Blair was
himself.
Gratefully Blair took the hand and allowed himself to be
steadied.
"thank you." the whisper acknowledged the existence of
kindness in hell.
When he could breathe again he continued, making his painful
way down the street, heading for the lot where he parked his car.
***
It was a sensation he'd felt before, but he wouldn't say he
was familiar with it.
Waking to pain.
Usually, it was accompanied by harsh chemical smells and
busy sterile noises...and the warmth of Jim's presence, either
beside him or nearby or soon to come. This time there was only
the pain, and the cold, and the fear that had kept him from
sleeping for half the night. His head throbbed so fiercely he
couldn't open his eyes for several terrifying minutes. And when
he finally managed to pry the lids apart, everything was blurry.
{Prolly have a concussion..} he decided that his hypothesis
was also 'prolly' correct if he was thinking in net speak.
{Not supposed to sleep with a concussion. But, hey, maybe
dying in my sleep would have been better. I'm beginning to think
that *anything* would be better than this.}
It took forever to sit up. The old blanket stashed int he
trunk had proven it's worth once again, but he was all too aware
of the stench it wafted. {I can shower at the gym if I hurry. At
least then I can teach a class without driving all the students
to the back of the room.} he sighed and roughly shoved his filthy
hair back behind his ears. {Look on the bright side, Sandburg. At
least it can't get much worse.}
He dug for his car key in his boot. It was the only one he
carried now. His office key was in the secretary's desk at the
university, protecting everything he owned of value and,
thankfully, most of his money, stashed there just in case
something like this happened. Pulling the heavy old-fashioned
key from the bottom of his sock, Blair ran through the worst-case
scenarios that he used now to cheer himself up.
{Jim could find me. I could get busted. Some asshole could
rape and torture me to death. The car could die.} He turned the
key in the ignition and froze in shock when nothing happened.
{Oh, *fuck*. The car could die!}
Frantically he turned the key again and again, pumping the
gas until he was sure the engine was flooded...and then he
slumped over the steering wheel, gasping.
The sobs were too deep to even allow tears.
*****************************************************************
There was a hush in the bullpen when Jim entered. Acutely
aware of it, he headed straight for his desk, not making eye
contact with anyone. His recent attitude hadn't bought him any
new friends and had strained the patience of the old ones.
Picking up the file, he went back to the report. The case
had turned into one of those that solved itself. All they'd
needed was the word out to patrol cars, extra checks in suburbs
underdevelopment, and, sure enough, suspicious activity had been
spotted on the night of the most recent full moon. Ten people,
members of a cult that claimed to be trying to revive an ancient
Mayan god, were arrested without incident.
{Sandburg would gave recognized them.}
The pregnant woman they had drugged and kidnapped was taken
to a hospital, where her baby was delivered safely.
All that was left was the paperwork.
{A theme for my life.} he thought as he reached for a pen.
But a disturbance in the aural pattern of the room made him
pause.
"Jim." He looked up to see Brian Martins, from Vice,
standing at his desk. Because he hadn't seen the man in months,
maybe even years, Jim looked up warily. Aware of the Vice cop's
entrance, he'd been monitoring the reaction of the room when the
man walked in, and it hadn't sounded promising.
"I heard they busted Sandburg for dealing."
Who said that? Jim knew his concentration wasn't up to
standards anymore. And, worse, he knew why.
"Did Ellison kick him out for coming on to him?"
"This guy I knew on campus said Ellison beat the shit out of
the kid first."
The murmurs died down as Martins waited for Jim to reply.
"What?!" barked Jim, not ready to deal with any of this.
"I need to talk to you, Ellison," the man said it
deferentially. Jim sighed, regretting his harsh tone, Martins
sounded sincere enough. He wasn't afraid of Jim. The detective
remembered that about Martins, he was unflappable. Calm to the
point of insanity. That's why he'd lasted so long in the sewer
of Vice.
"Let's get some air," Jim said flatly.
Martins nodded and they walked out together. Jim turned
toward the stairs. He'd developed a dislike for the elevators,
where he could be trapped with people who couldn't keep their
mouths shut.
Monitoring the people they passed, reaching his hearing out as
they glanced up and watched him. As if they all knew something
he didn't.
{Well, he can't be hurt. They'd say that up-front. This
probably has nothing to do with Sandburg. It's not like he's my
responsibility anymore.}
There was a sudden sharp pain behind his eyes and he blinked
several times to ease it.
{But he is. I know that, I've always known that. No matter
what he's done, or I've done...Incacha gave him the place beside
me. Gave Blair *his* place. In my life. Maybe even in my heart.}
They were going out the doors to the street when Jim stopped
suddenly. He had considered and dismissed a similar line of
reasoning before...but he'd never his Peruvian Guide into it.
{Would it have happened with him? If I had stayed in the
jungle?}
He shook off Martins' hand when the man grasped his arm,
concerned.
{What would I have done to Incacha, if I had woken to find
him in my bed?} the answer came too easily. {I would have
welcomed him. Believed him if he said that was the way it should
be.}
"Why couldn't I give Sandburg the same respect?" he hissed
the words aloud, softly.
{Maybe I can still fix this.}
His eyes were calmer when he turned to Martins, ready to
listen.
And a minute later, a minute of unbelievably ugly truths,
that hope was gone.
"Why the fuck are you telling me this?" he snarled. It must
have been impressive, because the unshakable Brian Martins
actually took a step away from the threat in that voice.
"I know you, Ellison. I've heard you talk. You've got a
typically military attitude about things like this." Martins shot
back. "But that kid was your partner and you *owe* him!"
Belatedly Jim remembered that Martins' brother was gay. A
leader in the Cascade version of the civil rights battle.
When he'd started in Vice Jim still had a chip on his
shoulder, a huge military-mindset weight. His initial reactions
to the netherworld of Vice, and some of the people caught in it,
had been less than kind.
Although he had gotten over that before leaving the
department, the only person who was aware of it was Jack. To the
others Jim had just got quieter.
So it wasn't fair to be pissed at Martins for his attitude.
He could only go on what he had and what he had told him that Jim
was a sexist, homophobic jerk.
Jim's voice was softer when he spoke again, hands spread
placatingly.
"You're right. You're right. Thank you for bringing this to
me, Brian. I'll get him off the street if I can."
"He's been sleeping at Mercy House," Martins said, leery of
this sudden change-of-heart. "He works the corner of 11th and
Sullivan. Thursday through Sunday."
"You've been watching him for a while." Jim met the dark
eyes wearily.
"I almost didn't believe it myself, Jim." Martins allowed
him to make it a friendlier conversation. "Not until I saw it for
myself. He looks..."
"He's beautiful when he wants to be." a glance down, then up
to meet the dark eyes again. Eyes that widened and then went
blank, covering any feelings that might have been there.
"I can hold off another night. Maybe two. No longer."
"I understand."
Brian Martins had never been a close friend of Jim Ellison.
They had worked some cases together, run a couple of stings side-
by-side.
Tonight he had given Jim a chance that Jim had done nothing
to earn.
Jim determined that he would be worthy of it.
{Maybe I can't give Blair *that*. But I can give him better
than a shelter, or jail.}
***
Soft lips, warm mouth....long curls gripped in his hands.
A roaring wave of pleasure through his body.
"God!" waking with that shout, Jim's hand went to his belly,
came away coated with semen. "Oh, shit, yuck!"
Blair's mouth, Blair's lips, Blair's curls....the steak he'd
had for dinner stirred threateningly and Jim barely made it to
the bathroom before he lost it.
"I did not like it. I didn't like it. I will never like it."
the words did little to comfort him as he brushed his teeth and
returned to the bed, unsleeping. "He's my friend. I don't feel
that way about him. I *won't*." a large, tight fist beat the bed
repeatedly.
"I WON'T!!"
*****************************************************************
From the other end, Jim watched as Blair cruised along the
poorly lit corner.
Wearing spraypaint-tight jeans and a t-shirt torn off
raggedly just below his nipples, his hair was loose and hanging
partially in his face, giving him a fey quality that Jim knew a
hungry man couldn't resist.
The sight hit him like a fist in his gut and he felt his
breath knocked out of him as if by a physical blow. Had he
driven his friend to this? He got out of the truck and slowly
made his way over to Blair.
Blair was grinning at him in a very predatory fashion,
strutting towards him in an age old invitation. Despite
himself, Jim felt the pull of attraction stir his groin. He
ruthlessly beat it down.
Ahead of him, Blair stopped abruptly and began to
head in the other direction as he realized who it was who was
coming towards him.
{Oh, god, damn, damn, damn, damn.} Blair cursed himself
silently. No wonder he had thought this would be the perfect
trick, it was the man himself, the one all the rest couldn't live
up to, couldn't compete with.
Jim quickened his pace until he was even with his ex-best-
friend.
"Blair."
Blair turned on his heel and began walking in the other
direction. Jim pulled a quick u-turn and caught up to him again.
"Blair!" This time a hand on his arm accompanied the
name.
"The name is Sham," Blair said as he continued to walk, eyes
straight ahead.
"*Blair*." The grip became more insistent. Blair stopped
but still refused to look at him.
"I said the name is Sham. Use is or get lost." Blair ignored
Jim's restraint and started to walk away again. Jim was
beginning to get frustrated, he was just trying to help the
younger man.
"Blair." He growled dangerously. Blair didn't miss a step,
he didn't even hesitate.
"Sham." Jim spoke the name with a pain-roughened voice, he
could only guess at the hidden meanings behind the simple name.
Blair slowed but didn't stop.
"*Sham*" Jim repeated, "I only want to talk to you, please
stop and look at me, talk to me."
"Time is money, man. You got the dime, I've got the time."
Jim stared at Blair, astounded. Did Blair actually believe
that he was going to give him money just to talk to him?
"How much?" he heard himself asking.
"$200 will buy you an hour." Replied Blair, an unpleasant
smirk besmirching his face, as he slowed to a crawl.
"$200?" Jim all but shouted, incredulous. "You want me to
give you $200 to talk to you?"
Blair shrugged and picked up the pace again.
"You mind not blocking the merchandise?" Blair bit out
coldly when Jim caught up to him again. "If you ain't buying,
clear the path for someone who is."
"Blair -- Sham." Jim's hand reached out for Blair's arm
again. Blair looked at it pointedly. With a frustrated growl Jim
fished for his wallet and pulled four fifty dollar bills from it,
thrusting them into Blair's hand. "Blair." Jim began again.
Blair waved his little finger under Jim's nose and shook his
head. "I just given you $200 -- I can call you any damn thing I
please." His anger made his words harsher than he'd intended.
Blair's stance became stiffer.
"Where?" he asked shortly.
Jim nodded towards the truck, and grabbing his arm, again
began to haul him toward it. Blair hung back slightly, but let
the larger man drag him to the vehicle. Jim opened the passenger
door and all but threw him in.
Blair watched with half-closed eyes while Jim stalked around
to the driver's side and got in.
With harsh movements Jim started the engine and drove the
truck around the corner to park in a nearby deserted alley. He
turned off the engine and sat stiffly facing forward, hands
gripping the steering wheel until they turned white.
Blair turned in his seat to watch Jim, defiance evident in
the jut of his jaw and the curve of his posture. He was as mad
as Jim, maybe even madder.
"Easiest $200 I've ever made."
"Don't," said Jim, voice hard with anger and unacknowledged
grief.
"Don't what?" Blair's tossed his head at the older man, the
motion matching the flip tone he'd adopted. "Don't assume you're
going to let me out of the truck without fucking me first?"
"Just shut the *fuck* up, Sandburg!" Jim growled menacingly
"I'm trying to help you here!"
Blair snorted and turned away, looking out the window and
trying to keep the tears from falling.
{Fuck it.} With a sudden flurry of activity he reached for
the door of the truck and was halfway out before Jim realized
what he was up to.
Jim shot out from his side of the truck, charging around the
front of the vehicle. Grabbing onto the lapels of Blair's shirt
he slammed the young man against the cold steel of the truck
"Just where the fuck do you think you're going?!" his voice
was low and calm, menacing in it's very quietness.
"What?" Blair managed not let his voice break. "You want
your money back?"
Jim tightened his grip on Blair's shirt and moved in closer.
"We are going to talk, Sandburg, if it kills you."
Blair stayed silent, hoping the bigger man would put his
accelerated heart rate and slight shiver down to fear and not the
desire which was coursing through his veins. Even in anger his
Sentinel's touch made him hard and ready.
"Damn it Blair, I'm trying to help you here."
"Seems to me like you're helping yourself!" shot back Blair.
Did Jim even realize how close he was pressing his body?
With a disgusted growl Jim abruptly released him. Blair
silently wished he would help himself. The older man was pacing
now. "Vice knows you're here, they came to me to let me know, do
you know how embarrassing that was for me?
"Oh so this is about you now, is it?" Blair knew he was
playing with fire, but right now all he wanted was to be burned.
Sure enough, Jim grabbed him by the lapels again and once again
pressed him to the truck. "If you don't get off the street you
*will* be arrested, do you understand?"
"You going to be the one to do it?" Blair taunted softly.
Jim was reduced to another growl. He put his face to
Blair's, his body pressing against the smaller man's.
"I am not going to warn you again, Sandburg."
Blair's erection, rock-hard and pulsing, presses into Jim's
thigh, but the cop is too furious to notice.
Blair noticed. It frightened him. He isn't afraid of what
Jim will do....rather, of what he won't.
"Well, thank you so much for taking the time to come down
here, Jim." He watched as Jim's face got redder and the muscle
in his jaw clenched. Jim pressed closer to him, if that were
possible.
"Why you ungrateful, little piece of -"
Blair cut off the tirade before Jim said something Blair
didn't think he could stand to hear.
"What's the matter, *stud*, can't stand to think that you're
the only one *not* fucking me?"
Jim pulled Blair forward a little, rocking back on his heels
to do so, and slammed him against the truck again, his body
following Blair's.
"Oh yeah." Blair moaned. "That's it baby, this is going to
be soooo good." Blair moved his hands to cover Jim's ass and
pulled their groins tightly together.
Startled, Jim let go of Blair's shirt and tried to back
away.
Blair hung on with ferocious strength.
"Oh-no-you-don't, lover." whispered Blair in his ear.
"I know you want to fuck me." he punctuated each word with a
tight thrust of his hips.
No longer blinded by anger Jim suddenly realized that
Blair's cock was hard against his own erection.
{My *own* erection?}
Jim recoiled from the thought, pulling away from Blair with
an animalistic grunt, trying to get some distance between them,
{When did I totally lose control over the situation?}
But Blair hadn't let his grip on Jim's ass go and he moved
forward with Jim as the older man pulled back.
"Come on Jim." Blair pleaded huskily, nuzzling Jim's tit
wetly through his shirt. "Just this once. Please..."
{I need it. I need you. Then maybe this nightmare can end.}
His thoughts had Jim pulling away again, this time with
enough force to break free of the smaller man's clenched arms.
"Fuck you!" he rasped out harshly.
"That's the *idea*, Jim." replied Blair, trying to catch
hold of the bigger man again.
But Jim was backing away, arms out, palms facing Blair.
"You're on your own, kid, don't say I didn't warn you."
With those words Jim walked around the truck, climbed into
the driver's seat and drove away.
They had been parked near a streetlamp. Blair was standing
near it, but suddenly it wasn't lit anymore.
Or maybe it was. But he couldn't see the light.
It wasn't just the tears that filled his eyes, blinding him,
stinging.
The darkness of his life just absorbed it.
Blair turned and walked back to *his* corner.
****************************************************************
When the hush fell in the bullpen this time Jim knew what
caused it, and looked toward the door expectantly.
Brain stuck his head in and gave Jim a searching look.
Jim shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.
Martins just stared for a minute, and then shut the door,
walking away, in control.
"That was cold." the comment came from across the bullpen.
A sharp look at Brown brought only a bland smile, and then Jim
was back to paperwork.
Twenty minutes later, after everyone else cleared out for
lunch, he was on the phone.
"Martins?" he hated the way his voice sounded, so unsure.
Almost as if he were afraid. "Look, I went out there last night.
I talked to him."
"The beat cops said it looked like you did a lot more than
that!" Martins snarled. "I didn't tell you where he was so you
could shove him around somemore, *Ellison*."
"It wasn't like that....!" cutting off the indignant
protest, Jim switched subjects. "When will it go down?"
"Why, you want to gloat?"
"I want to be sure I'm drunk." Jim snapped, too honestly.
"You do that Ellison. Get plastered and stay the hell out of
my bust. Drink yourself into a stupor, and out of my way all
night. I'll see that your *friend* gets some help. Like you
should have in the first place, you homophobic son-of-a-bitch."
The slammed phone made Jim drop the receiver, his ear
ringing.
{Well, I tried.} he forced the philosophical thought into
his overtired brain and went back to the second page of the
report. {And I've been looking for a reason to chug that bottle
of Jack Daniels.}
***
He was swimming.
He wasn't sure of much else. Except that he was swimming,
and he liked swimming.
The shrill ring of his cell phone, on the bed beside the
empty fifth, made him jump right out of the dreamy water.
"E-El-Ellsom." thick lips mangled his name.
"Great job, you dick."
"M-M-Matrtindsss?" his body responded slowly and it seemed
to take forever to reach a sitting position. "Iz it done?"
"Your *partner*." the angry man continued like Jim hadn't
spoken, "He fought like we were trying to kill him, Ellison. What
the fuck did you do to the kid?"
"Sss'lriht?" the bottle was pushed aside, rolled to the
floor and clunked on the small rug there. The sound reverberated
in his throbbing head.
"*Nobody* is alright here, you ass. Sandburg's gonna get
slapped with assault, I've got a man in the hospital with broken
ribs and a shattered kneecap, you're a drunken waste, and I've
got to testify against this kid that you somehow fucked up so
badly he'd rather turn tricks than let you help him."
"*love* him..." mumbling, Jim lay back in the bed again,
curling over on his side protectively, the phone cradled to his
chest. He didn't hear Martins' enraged response;
"Well you've got a damn strange way of showing it!" before
he slipped again into warm dreams.
And remembered.
The first night Blair had climbed the stairs to this
bedroom, dropping his clothes on the way. Blair's gentle Guide
voice in his mind soothed as he became agitated.
"It's all there, Jim. We never really forget anything. You
can find it if you need to."
The younger man had been blank with sleep, his body soft and
warm when he crawled into the bed beside Jim. Who had opened his
arms and welcomed him, thinking he was dreaming.
They had both dreamed that night. Or had it been real? Had
any of it ever been real?
Did it matter?
It had felt so good...turning Blair beneath him, spreading
his legs, gripping those rounded asscheeks and thrusting home
while Blair whimpered and twisted beneath him, torn between
pleasure and pain until pleasure won out.
How many nights had Blair come to him in Jim's dreams?
How many times had Jim welcomed him in Blair's?
Until the one night he woke. And his rational mind had
taken over and destroyed it all, torn them apart.
"No, Sentinel. Beside you or no, he is your Guide. That will
never change. All that changes is what you do about his absence."
Incacha's wise face and encouraging words gradually drew Jim
into a more natural, restful sleep.
"Be strong, Sentinel. You will need this strength now."
A low growl filled the still air in Jim Ellison's bedroom.
The sound of softly padding cat's paws echoed in the silence.
Big green eyes glowed in the darkness.
*****************************************************************
Jim Ellison stared into the small cell, a private one off to
the side where a one-time police observer wouldn't have to worry
about being jumped by angry arrestee.
"Keep him away from me."
The words were plain, understandable, but the voice...James
Ellison couldn't suppress a shudder when he heard that voice.
It wasn't the voice of his partner, his best friend.
This was the voice of an angry stranger.
Still he persevered.
"Sandburg, you need to talk to me. Talk to your lawyer. You
can get this dismissed if you just give them a good reason." he
spoke between the bars, hands curled into fists behind his back.
If he released them, even for a second, he new he'd grab those
bars and start screaming, screaming at Blair to wake up and stop
ruining his life like this.
But Blair just sat, in the far corner, pressed between the
wall and the filthy metal toilet, curled in on himself, refusing
to look at Jim, or answer him further.
The daytime desk guard, a lady Jim had dated, a woman who
had been in the loft months ago, when they were still friends, a
woman Blair had cooked dinner for more than once, came over and
lay a hand on Jim's shoulder.
He turned to her, unaware that his face was a mask of pain.
"I don't think he's ready to talk to you, Jim."
"Sherry..." he whispered. "Why is he doing this? Why won't
he let me help him? All I want to do is help him!"
"Go home for a while. Maybe he'll be ready to talk in the
morning." her eyes were sad and Jim wondered again, helplessly,
why things hadn't worked out with her. Why they had never worked
out with anyone...except Sandburg?
Until that night.
When Jim came back the next day Blair wouldn't even open his
eyes. And the next, and the next. No matter what the big
detective said, and he couldn't really say much, not with Sherry
right there.
She came over after Jim had talked for fifteen increasingly
frustrating minutes, and leaned close to speak into his ear.
"He's not eating, Jim. He hasn't eaten anything since he
came in. They're considering force-feeding him."
"Oh, god."
{I did this. I pushed him away, I hurt him, and this is what
he's come to.}
"Let me go in and talk to him, Sherry."
She nodded and unlocked the cell.
The curled form didn't even shiver as Jim approached, but
the Sentinel heard the heartbeat pick up.
This was it. The end of his world.
All the joy and beauty that had come with his discovery -- a
real, live Sentinel! -- had faded, until there was only this,
triggered by that Sentinel's presence.
Debased, sordid, twisted hunger. Filling him, making him
shake with the effort to contain it.
He was nothing. He had ceased to exist. This vileness was
all that remained of the man who had once been Blair Sandburg.
He couldn't live like this.
"Sandburg." Jim approached slowly. He felt the pain of
guilt, as well as a deeper pain, triggered, he knew now, by the
bond they had been denying. The ache of a Protector who had
failed. Worse, had abused his charge.
{Abused, hell. I've destroyed him.}
That thought was enough to make him go to a crouch beside
the still form.
"Let me help you, Blair."
Jim's voice. Offering....salvation?
A shudder ran through Blair's exhausted body.
There was a way...
Jim watched, a hint of relief trickling through him, as
Blair turned toward him and opened his eyes. Eyes that Jim could
now say were beautiful, even as flat and lifeless as they were
now.
"How can you help me?" voice rough, words slurred.
Putting his hands on the floor, Jim leaned closer, intending
to tell Blair the truth he had found for himself...that they
belonged together and he, Jim, wouldn't try to fight that any
longer.
Blair moved faster than Jim could have believed.
One second he was just sitting there, curled in on himself,
eyes barely open.
The next he had Jim's gun in his hand and was pushing
himself up the wall.
Jim stared. Over his shoulder he heard the gasp of surprise
and the sound of Sherry's weapon being drawn.
Blair checked to be sure the safety was off. Then he met
Jim's eyes.
The young man's dark blue were more then lifeless now. They
were *dead*.
"I'm not going to die in here, Ellison." he gestured with
the weapon toward the cell door. "Move."
Rapidly Jim sorted his choices. He could get the gun away
from Blair, he was sure of that, but somebody might get hurt in
the process.
"Back off, Sherry," he said softly. "Let me play this out."
"I can't do that, Ellison," she said.
"Call for backup."
Jim held Blair's eyes as he back slowly from the cell, Blair
following just out of reach, the gun trained on his best friend.
He ignored Sherry as she followed his movements with her
gun, speaking into a phone pressed to her ear.
"Blair, my god, you don't have to do this," she said as he
urged Jim past her. He didn't even spare her a glance.
"It's the only way to make it stop."
Tears began rolling slowly down his face as they approached
the stairway door.
"I want it to stop."
When they got to the stairwell door he met watched Jim's
face as he slowly turned the gun around until it was pointing at
*his* head instead of Jim's.
"Don't make me die here, Jim. Let me see the sun one last
time." it was almost pleading. Jim could only stare in horror as
a bad situation got infinitely worse.
Blair backed into the stairway, turned, and ran.
{I did this. I drove him to this. I have to stop him.} there
was no room for any other thought in Jim's head.
He ran after Blair, his head pounding with fear as his
senses began to spin out of control.
Behind him Sherry called Simon.
He was met on the stairs at the seventh floor, Simon and
Ryf and Brown and a couple of guys from Vice who had seen Blair
go by, a gun in his hand, barefoot and crying.
"He's going to shoot himself, Simon." Jim blurted as he ran
past. "We have to stop him!"
The others ran behind him.
Standing at the side of the building, Blair flinched when
Jim came out. The young man was shivering visibly, with fear and
cold.
"Don't come any closer." he let Jim get within a few feet
before he objected. When Jim took another step Blair turned the
gun and tucked the barrel beneath his chin, holding it there
tightly.
His heart was racing. There was a light in his eyes now,
but it wasn't something Jim wanted to see. Not the light of
life, or even hope.
A crazed light of release.
The others spread out behind Jim. Simon turned to the Vice
detectives and conferred for a minute, and then they left, to
watch the doors as he had asked.
Jim just watched Blair.
Fresh tears welled from his young friend's eyes and he
squeezed them shut for a minute, but they didn't make a move, not
with the gun there.
When the eyes opened again, there was a new determination in
them. It frightened Jim further. He took a step forward and
Blair took another back, putting him right at the low wall.
His hand came up, to ward Jim off.
"I hate heights, Jim. Please don't make me die like that."
his whisper was raw.
"Blair..."
{I've killed him.}
The thought was too much for Jim. He dropped to his knees,
hard, and spread his arms in supplication.
"Blair...*please*. I'm not worth it."
"Of course you aren't." the agreement startled him. "But
you're what I need. And if I can't have you...this is the only
way, Jim. Don't you *see* that? The *only* way we can both be
free."
"I'll do anything you want. *Anything*."
Jim could see Blair's finger tightening on the trigger. He
reached a hand blindly behind himself and Simon took it, held it
hard.
The shock on the others' faces was fading to pity and
sorrow.
"Blair!" Ryan Ryf shouted. "This will hurt more people than
Jim!"
"Think of your mother, Sandburg," Simon said urgently.
A gasp, a sob torn from a throat too tight to breathe
properly.
"...*so* not fair, Simon."
"I can love you, Blair." Jim was leaning forward, he'd
released Simon's hand and now clasped his own together in midair.
"I *do* love you." the murmur of shock and behind him didn't
matter, he barely heard it.
All that mattered was Blair.
Gaining his feet, Jim watched his Guide carefully as he took
a slow step forward.
Blair was shaking vividly now, his body shuddering like he
was having a fit of some kind. But the gun never moved from the
soft skin he pressed it into.
"it's not enough." the whisper just reached Jim's ear before
Blair tightened his finger on the trigger.
Jim's lunge was silent and sudden. Grabbing Blair's arm he
wrenched it brutally to one side and the shot went wild, into the
sky. Their eyes met for one fragment of a second, and then Blair
tore his arm from Jim's grasp and leapt from the roof.
"BLAIR!!!!!" the scream tore forth now, and Jim almost went
over the side after him as he gabbed desperately for some part of
his friend. There was a fierce jerk at his back -- Simon had
grabbed his jacket -- and his hand closed on Blair's shoulder.
Trusting Simon's strength, Jim leaned over the building and
reached the other hand to clutch Blair's arm and begin the
laborious task of pulling him back up. Not fighting him, Blair
hung limply against the side of the building. Jim grunted at the
weight and pressure on his arms. Then a second pair of hands
joined his, and a third...dark and fair, Brown and Ryf stretching
to help him, help them. Not understanding, but still their
friends.
Safely on the roof again, Blair curled over onto his side
and resumed his protective position.
Simon stood over Jim where the younger man sat beside his
friend, afraid to touch the youngest.
"We'll have to get him admitted," he said quietly.
"No, Simon. No psych ward. I know what's wrong with him, and
it's my fault."
"Those are the rules, Ellison."
"Break them." Jim didn't even look up.
"Jim, look." Simon squatted on the other side of Blair.
Brown and Ryf were moving the others off the roof. The captain
waited until Jim looked up to meet his eyes. "I can get away with
not admitting him. But he'll have to go back to his cell." Simon
glanced away and there was a share of guilt on his face as well.
"I haven't done everything I could for the kid, Ellison. Or
for you. I just didn't understand. Let me make some calls, call
in some favors, and we'll get him out of there tomorrow morning,
afternoon at the latest."
"What about..." Jim gestured around him. Only Brown and Ryf
remained on the roof.
"We'll work it out." the tall black man leaned over Blair's
quiescent form and lay a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Whatever it is
between you two...you both need it. I see that now. It's a
Sentinel thing, isn't it?"
Jim just nodded, then began to gather Blair into his arms.
The smaller man was limp and unresponsive.
"I'll stay up here with him, Simon. He'll be guarded that
way." Jim's eyes begged his captain.
Simon nodded, relieved with that solution.
"We'll fix this, Jim. I'll help you fix this."
Detective Jim Ellison spent the night sitting on the rough
pavement of the roof of the Police Department with his
essentially catatonic best friend wrapped in his arms.
Blair's lawyer....picked by Simon, showed up just past dawn
the next day. He didn't ask any questions, just studied the
situation and told Jim that he had a plan.
"All you need to do is get him on his feet and able to say
'yes, your honor' and 'no, your honor'. Agree with what I say and
we'll have him released to your custody by noon."
Jim agreed, thankful when the man left, and then set about
bringing Blair back from wherever he'd gone.
Sitting him up beside him, frightened by the way Blair
molded to whatever position he put him in, Jim shook him, hard.
"Blair. *Blair*. You gotta come out of it, Chief. You gotta
go to court so I can take you home."
There was no response, and Jim waited a few minutes. He
just couldn't bring himself to hit his friend, not with the
memory of that bloodied nose and swollen eye looming in his mind.
He shook Blair again, with no response.
Gathering the smaller man into his lap, for the first time
Jim let himself feel his body's reaction. *God*. He wanted
Blair to look at him, so he could start explaining.
"Blair...Chief. Open your eyes. I'm going to take care of
you now. I'll never hurt you again."
A gentle shake of the still form, coupled with a check of
vital signs. Slow, but normal.
"Please, Blair. Just get through this hearing and we'll go
home and talk about this. I want to be everything you need me to
be."
The tickling of Blair's tangled hair on his forearm alerted
him as Blair shifted slightly.
"Blair?"
The eyes opened. Dark, disoriented, still lifeless. And the
voice was worse.
"i don't have a home."
Catching his chin in gentle fingers, Jim met those eyes and
tried to pour his own strength into them.
"You live in our home, Blair. You're who made it a home.
Before you...and after you, it was just a place to sleep."
Those eyes stared, unwilling to believe.
"Let's get this over with and soon I can take you there and
prove it."
*****************************************************************
Blair sat mute during most of the proceedings. Citing
security interests, Simon had gotten the hearing closed. And
since it was to be a plea-bargain, there would be no trial, no
more appearances. Jim was relieved, he didn't want Blair to have
to go through this more than once.
Blair stood when Jim nudged him. Opened his mouth when Jim
told him to. When the judge -- who was beginning to look a bit
perturbed by the defendant's attitude -- asked for a plea, the
lawyer was the one who stated it.
"No contest, your honor. Temporary insanity. We've accepted
a deal from the DA's office."
"What does this deal entail?"
Jim tensed. He didn't think the judge was going to like it.
The prosecutor spoke up. He'd worked with Jim -- and Blair
-- on several cases in the past.
"The charge of Prostitution has been reduced to pandering,
your honor, with six month's probation and a $500 fine.
Assaulting an officer has been reduced to resisting arrest, with
two years' probation, to be served concurrently, with deferred
adjudication."
The judge scowled. Jim was right, he *didn't* like it.
"Deferred adjudication? So he'll have no record? And you
agreed to this?"
The prosecutor stood firm.
"It's his first offense, your honor, under what can only be
described as unusual stresses." now the prosecutor sounded like
he was on *Blair's* side.
{I wonder what Simon had on the DA.} Jim nudged Blair again,
urging him to stand as the judge addressed him.
"Mr.Sandburg. I don't have to ask if you accepted this deal,
this is a walk in the park compared to what you should get. Do
you have any reason I should let you get away with this?"
Looking at the floor, almost swaying, Blair mumbled his
answer.
"No, your honor."
"I'm adding my own condition to these." the judge leaned
back, looking thoughtful. "You've been in my courtroom many
times, Mr.Sandburg. You've always been articulate, respectful,
and generally a reliable witness. If there was any person in the
world I would be more surprised to see in this situation, I have
yet to meet them."
Blair didn't look up.
"Your colleagues have closed ranks around you. They're
protecting you like one of their own. I hope you realize how
valuable that is."
A pause, for his words to sink in.
"I'm ordering six months of counseling for you, Mr.Sandburg,
to help you deal with whatever it is that has driven you to this
point."
Jim gave Blair a bump with his shoulder.
"Yes, your honor," Blair said automatically.
And it was over. Jim paid Blair's fine...it was only the
beginning of his atonement, there was so much more he had to give
his friend.
Gently, Jim led Blair from the courtroom and took him home
to the loft, to begin.
*****************************************************************
Jim kept glancing over at the young man in the seat beside
him.
Huddled by the door, he seemed unaware of the scrutiny.
Jim was distracted by his presence, because he was there,
but he wasn't *there*. Blair usually couldn't sit still, he was
constantly in motion. At least he had been, before Jim hurt him.
Before his Sentinel flipped out on him and drove him from their
life.
But as they drove back to the loft he just sat in a
motionless heap, not saying a word, not playing with the radio
station, not watching the world going by the window and sharing
his insights on it with a usually indulgent Jim.
As they pulled up to the Loft Jim wondered if he was going
to be able to guide Blair back to himself, or if he had left it
too long.
{He's never going to be the same. But maybe he can get
close. I have to try, I did this to him.}
It was infinitely worse than the realization that had shot
through Jim when he first saw Blair after kicking him. The
bruised and battered face had only been the barest outward
sign of how badly he'd been hurt inside.
Jim got out of the truck and waited a few moments for Blair
to join him. When the young man made no move to get out of the
truck, in fact didn't even seem to have noticed that they had
stopped, Jim walked over to the passenger side of the truck and
gently opened the door.
Blair automatically curled in on himself protectively, and
Jim's heart broke. It wasn't the first time since this began.
And he knew it wouldn't be the last.
With more gentleness than anyone who knew the big man would
have deemed possible, Jim undid Blair's seatbelt and extricated
him from his seat, gathering the smaller man into his arms,
cradling him to his chest, feeling a brief tactile memory of the
night before, on that cold rooftop.
As Jim approached the front doors, a figure stepped into his
path.
Brian Martins squared his shoulders and turned a stony face
to Jim.
"Is he going to be okay?"
Jim stopped, assaulted by angry scents and the feelings that
accompanied them.
"I hope so." answered Jim. "He hasn't spoken for days, I
think he's in shock."
"I mean is he going to be okay *with you*?" Martins was
angry...beyond angry, he was *livid.* "Let me take him, Ellison.
I can help him. I know people who will help him."
Martins was blocking Jim's path and the bigger man was
unsure of what to do.
He clutched Blair tighter to him, suddenly afraid that the
other cop would find a way to take him away again.
"I've got him. I'll take care of him." he tried to make the
words sincere, but all they were was frightened.
The tone must have reached some part of Blair deep inside
the younger man, some part that was still his guide because he
stirred slightly and spoke for the first time since his
monosyllabic answers at the courthouse.
"Jim?"
Jim's arms tightened around him.
The deep blue eyes were blurred with exhaustion and stress,
but they focused on his friend.
"I've got you."
Martins watched the scene with displeasure, crossing his
arms over his chest and scowling.
"Let me help you Blair," he said suddenly, reaching and
laying a hand on Blair's arm.
Blair shrank back into Jim's embrace, a small whimper
escaping his lips
"Jim." he repeated, tremulously
"Shhh, baby, I've got you. It's okay, you're safe, I
promise, you're safe here. I'll never let anyone hurt you ever
again, never. Not even me."
Pulling his hand away slowly, Martins glowered at Jim. But
Blair responded by nuzzling his head under Jim's chin and
clutching at his collar with desperate fingers.
"Don't let me go." he begged.
Jim looked pointedly from Martins to the door behind him,
but the man shook his head, waggling a long finger under Jim's
nose "I'm going to leave him with you, but if you so much as
think of looking at him wrong, I'm going to smash both your
kneecaps and leave you bleeding in the road."
Jim's grip on Blair tightened.
"If I so much as think of hurting him again, I'll give you
the bat myself."
Martins reluctantly moved aside, leaving enough room for
Jim to barely open the door and squeeze by him.
Jim could feel his eyes on his back all the way up the first
flight of stairs until they turned the corner to the next flight
With a whoosh he let out the breath he hadn't realised he's
been holding.
He had almost lost Blair, again.
Would there ever be a time when his actions of that night
not haunt him?
Blair just clung to him, apparently unaware of the entire
thing.
Once inside the loft, Jim paused. Blair's weight was a
pleasant challenge in his arms. He felt the slender hands that
gripped his collar so tightly, the knuckles pressing into the
tender skin of his neck and chest.
"blair." he whispered the name, letting the single syllable
fill his mouth and roll off his tongue. Hearing it, the smaller
man shivered and clutched him more tightly, pressing as much of
his body to Jim's as he could.
"What do we need to do now?" closing the door behind him
with a foot, Jim leaned back against it slightly, just resting.
Feeling he heartbeat of the man he held. Tracking the blood-flow
as Blair's body responded helplessly to his presence. Watching
the ocean-deep eyes that fluttered closed again after blinking
open briefly.
"You're tired." Shifting to stand again, Jim began to make
his way to the stairs, slowly, casually.
Blair began trembling. As they passed the couch the
trembling became shaking. Pausing, Jim slid the hand that was
beneath Blair's shoulders, angling it so he could brush his
fingertips across Blair's neck. Bending his head down, he
whispered into the ear he could reach.
"What is it? Everything is fine, Chief. Everything is good."
The shaking eased, but he was still aware of the stiffness,
he tension in the man he held, a tension that had nothing to do
with desire.
Memories and fear spawned this anxiety.
Murmuring soft words of comfort Jim resumed their progress.
He wasn't in any hurry here, just wanted to get Blair upstairs
and tucked into bed, where he could hold him until they could
both breathe again.
When his shoe hit the first step, Blair shivered. On the
second step he shuddered.
By the fourth he was whimpering.
Jim stopped on the fifth.
Gazing down at the beautiful face, twisted with fear, Jim's
remorse was devastating. He gripped Blair impossibly tighter,
and turned to walk right out of his home.
{If he can't be comfortable there, I'll sell it. Whatever it
takes to make him whole again.}
Leaving the loft was an extraordinary concept. Jim loved
his home.
{I love Blair more.} he thought, loading his friend back
into the truck, gently prying his fingers loose from his collar.
When he got in on the driver's side Blair slid over and cuddled
close, his head in Jim's lap, still trembling.
Jim wrapped an arm over his shoulders and drove them to a
hotel one-handed.
{Someplace nice. Quiet and private.} it didn't matter, as
long as it would give them neutral ground to get over this on.
***
Things got awkward at the front desk of the upscale Cascade
Inn. When Jim said they didn't have any bags, the snooty clerk
raised an eyebrow.
"Excuse me, sir, but that is *highly* unusual." his tone
made it clear he suspected Jim of being a criminal, a pervert,
and worse.
"This is police business." Jim didn't snap, he didn't want
to draw any more attention to them than they already had.
Casually he slipped out his badge and slid it across the counter.
The clerk studied it intently before reluctantly handing
over the electronic key.
"You can charge purchases to the room," he said, implying
that they needed to make some.
Jim knew what they were thinking.
While he was wearing normal everyday work clothes, all Blair
had was what he'd been in when arrested. Tight leather pants, a
cropped-off mesh shirt that showed the nipple ring clearly. His
curls were plastered with days of sweat and fear and his boots
reached his knees, all buckles and zippers. Standing forlornly
just inside the front door, he was staring at the floor, arms
wrapped to his chest, dirty hair hanging in his face.
Jim walked over, ignoring the stares, and took Blair's hand,
leading him toward the elevators.
By the time they reached the tenth floor and began searching
for the room, Blair was shivering in the fierce air-conditioning.
Jim slid an arm over his shoulders and held him close as they
walked, ignoring the shocked and hateful looks of people they
passed in the hall. He was becoming more aware of the sour smell
that emanated from his partner, and knew that Blair must hate it.
Reaching the door, he opened it and gave the younger man a
gentle squeeze before removing his arm from his shoulders, still
holding his hand.
"Let's get you in and cleaned up, Chief," he said gently.
Blair let himself be lead into the luxurious room, a far cry
from the hotel rooms he'd been frequenting of late. When Jim
kept walking, heading for the bathroom, Blair just stayed where
he was. Jim started the hot water in the big sunken tub and came
back in, took both of his hands and tugged gently.
"Come on, Blair." he was so relieved that he wouldn't have to
use that horrible name again. "Let me take care if you."
With a choked sound Blair stumbled after Jim, eyes widening as
he entered the bathroom. He couldn't remember the last time he'd
had a bath.
Jim had added some oil provided by the hotel and the soft
scent of roses filled the room, hung in the steam over the full
tub.
Blair couldn't remember the last time he'd felt comfortable
enough getting naked to enjoy the process of getting clean.
Standing in front of the smaller man, Jim turned down his
sense of smell, and reached for the hem of the revealing shirt.
His fingers brushed the skin beneath it and he paused, waiting
for any negative reaction on Blair's part.
Blair responded to the unasked question by raising his arms
to allow Jim to pull off the garment.
A quick toss landed it in the wastebasket beside the sink.
Worried that if he gave Blair a chance to think about this, he'd
back out, Jim moved right to the laces of the leather pants and
began untying them.
Blair felt his cock swell as the man he'd been hungering for
worked to remove his clothing
Feeling the movement beneath his touch, Jim stopped for a
second. His hands shook slightly when he resumed his task.
Blair felt his cock swell...faster and harder than he'd ever
been. Just from the lightest touch of *this* man's hands.
The touch he'd been seeking from strangers.
Mutely, he tensed his body and waited for Jim's response,
his mind returning reluctantly to the reality he'd fled when
arrested.
It was something Jim had never really thought about before
....the fact that he could know so much of his friend just by
listening to him, smelling him. Now Blair's heart and lungs and
scent were all telling him what he'd had such a terrible time
understanding; this man *wanted* him.
Wanted him enough to die if he couldn't have him.
The thought drove the air from Jim's lungs.
Suddenly, with shocking ferocity, he wrapped his arms around
Blair and jerked him close, the smaller man's feet coming off the
floor.
Arms going up Blair's back to grasp his shoulders, Jim
buried his face at the crook of neck and shoulder, the acrid
smell of unwashed hair unimportant.
"Oh *God*, Chief. *Blair*...I can't tell you..."
The words dissolved to gasps as he fought back the sobs that
threatened to overwhelm his defences.
Blair ran his arms around Jim's waist and clung to him, the
emotions he'd been struggling to suppress flooding out in a
torrent, overcoming his fears at last.
"Don't let me go Jim, please don't let me go."
His arms around Blair clutched tighter.
"never, never, nevernevernever..." the words ran on until he
was out of breath and then Jim was very still.
Neither man would know how long they stood that way.
Perhaps it was only a second, it may have been hours. It
didn't matter.
Blair stood in Jim's embrace, finally fully aware of where
he was and who he was with....and what they were doing.
What they were going to do.
He squeezed the older man tightly and rubbed his head
against his chest.
Suddenly he pulled back.
"Jim?"
Jim didn't react. His breathing was becoming noticeably
shallow.
But his grip on Blair hadn't relaxed at all.
Blair panicked for a moment, long painful weeks of
separation momentarily dulling his instinctive reaction
before the Guide took over.
"Jim. Follow my voice Jim. Come back to me."
The words were suddenly imbued with new meaning.
But those few words were all it took.
The chest under his cheek shuddered and Jim drew in air
deeply.
There was a harsh noise, and then Jim was releasing him,
slowly, making sure Blair was steady on his feet, before he
returned without a word to his task -- stripping the beautiful
young man before him.
His hands moved swiftly, surely, the lack of hesitation
merely a symptom of his overall acceptance of the situation.
Going to his knees, rolling the tight pants down like
spandex, Jim's face brushed Blair's furiously engorged cock.
Blair hissed and his hips jerked as he came, his
semen spraying over Jim's face. His hands grasped at Jim's
shoulders as he sank to the floor with a sob.
"Oh my god, Jim. Oh God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,
I just... It's just...wanting you for so long...I
Jim caught him and lowered him gently, astonished
and awed. All that from just a touch?
"It's okay, shhhh, it's okay, no big deal, we've got
all night..." Clumsily Jim tried to reassure his found-again
partner. His big hands stroked Blair's chest, not quite
comfortable there now. The scent of Blair's completion was
filling his senses.
"Let me just get you into the tub..." Jim finished
undressing the younger man, who now lay quiescent beneath his
touch, and turned to the tub, checking the water. "It was too hot
earlier. Just right now."
Blair slipped into the tub, finally turning to look
up at Jim.
Getting up to sit on the padded bench beside the tub, Jim
leaned over and grabbed for the hotel shampoo.
He held it up, offering.
Blair's breath caught as he realized that Jim still wore his
essence all over his face. He reached a trembling finger
up and wiped a line through the liquid, moving his hand to hold
the cum-soaked finger to Jim's lips.
Their eyes locked as Jim tentatively slipped his tongue out
to wrap it around the finger and sucked it into his mouth.
Blair moaned.
Jim took Blair's hand in his own and placed it into the tub,
on Blair's chest.
"That's for later, Chief. Don't be afraid. I understand now.
Just let me get you cleaned up...maybe feed you."
He opened the shampoo bottle and moved to kneel behind
Blair, pouring a generous amount into his hand. It was also
rose-scented.
Blair closed his eyes and sighed. It felt good to let
someone else take care of the details.
Jim worked his fingers through the tangled mass and
began scrubbing gently with a soothing motion. It felt really
nice. He'd washed Carolyn's hair a couple of times, but she
hadn't appreciated it too much.
Blair groaned and leaned into Jim's hands.
Silently, Jim washed Blair's hair. Then he rinsed it
carefully, making sure no soap oozed into the deep blue eyes, and
soaked it in conditioner.
"I'm gonna let that sit while I wash you, okay, Chief?"
"Mmmmmm" Blair felt too good to even try to talk.
Ignoring conventional wisdom that said you had to be
out of the water to be bathed, Jim just loaded a sponge with
shower gel and scrubbed Blair's body beneath the water. The air
around them grew heavy with moisture. Jim quickly noticed that
Blair was growing hard again. He washed the younger man's
genitals tenderly, wishing fruitlessly that he could remove every
bad memory associated with them.
{'Ill never make this up to him. It's just not possible.}
"Alright there, Chief, let's get you rinsed and out."
Blair was loath to leave the warm soothing confines
of the tub.
Jim was bothered by Blair's continued listlessness,
misunderstanding it. When the curly hair was rinsed he retrieved
a large hotel towel and held it out for him.
With a long sigh, Blair gathered his energy and climbed out
of the tub and into Jim's arms.
Jim dried him briskly, almost roughly, trying to encourage
his circulation.
Blair pulled back at the unexpected sensation, looking into
Jim's face for reassurance. The gentle smile he found there was
enough to tell him that everything was as it should be.
Grabbing for a hotel robe the big man eased Blair into it
and took a step back, his hands on Blair's shoulders, watching
his face.
"Jim?" Blair asked, suddenly unsure.
"Everything will be fine." Jim doesn't sound like he
believes himself.
Blair reached a hand to caress Jim's cheek.
"everything will be fine" the big man repeated with more
conviction. He nodded his head, as if agreeing with himself.
The smile is hesitant, but determined. With a sigh Jim swept
Blair into his arms and carried him to the bed, laying him gently
on it and stretching out beside him.
He leaves at least a foot of empty bed between them.
"I'm not going to be the only here who's naked, am
I?" asked Blair softly, trying to bridge the sudden gap between
them with humor.
"How can you be so calm?"
"Because, I'm here. With you." His hand reached out again
to Jim's cheek. "Because this is where I've been trying to be
for weeks." he paused and smiled tentatively. "Because this is
where I've *needed* to be."
Jim nods.
"Where you were before I ruined it with my anger. Where I
knew you should be. As soon as I dared think about it."
"I didn't know either Jim. Not until you kicked me out of
your bed and burned me with your hatred. Then I knew what I was
and who I belonged to, only I was discarded, rejected, branded
but alone. It would have been kinder if you had taken a knife,
carved out my insides, and left me dying on the side of the
road."
Rolling to his back, his hands behind his head, Jim watched
the ceiling, but he was listening to Blair's heart.
"I think that's what I *did*."
A pause, and then a deeper, raw voice.
"No. I *know* that's what I did."
Blair shuddered as their mutual pain flowed through him.
There was a longer pause, as if he was waiting for a
response.
"There are words I'm never going to use again, Blair." Jim
rolled to his side and one hand crept cautiously across the thick
comforter, stopping before it reached the younger man. "Words I
have no right to."
Blair leans down and softly placed his lips against the
hand.
Jim's eyes are dark and worried. He lays his free hand on
the top of Blair's head, a benediction.
"Never use those words, Blair. You know the ones I mean. I
don't deserve them."
"I forgive you, Jim. I think I could forgive you anything.
But please don't ask me to trust you. I don't know if I can do
that again and not loose my soul."
Jim gently pushes Blair back and rises over him. His hand
covers Blair's mouth softly.
"Not that word, Blair. Not that one, or the others. Never
let them cross your lips in reference to me."
"But I do forgive you, Jim." Blair repeated the words, as if
trying to burn them into Jim.
Jim lets him speak, but shakes his head.
"If you say it again I'll leave this bed." his voice is low
and serious.
"You can't control how I feel. I can't control how I feel,
so how can you presume to?"
Blair rose from the bed and began to pace across the small
room.
"If you do...feel that way. Don't tell me, Blair. I don't
ever want to know. Let me carry this close to my heart."
Jim sat and watched him pace, his hands on the bed, palms
up, his eyes begging for understanding.
Blair shook his head. He stopped pacing and knelt by the
bed in front of Jim.
Jim continued, his eyes widening as he felt his body
respond to the younger man.
"Don't tell me, don't show me, *don't* give me any hint,"
Jim said it insistently.
Blair took the older man's face in his hands and spoke, his
voice as low and serious as Jim's.
"If you want me to stay, if you want me to be with you. You
are going to have to do this for me. I forgive you and I need you
to forgive yourself." Blair lifted his head, letting Jim see his
eyes, letting Jim know that he knew what he was asking of the
older man. "If you can't do that you'd better tell me now and
I'll leave." Blair's tone made it clear what he meant by leave
Jim leaned forward. He grabbed Blair's face, not being
particularly gentle about it. The words rasped in his throat.
Blair's tone made it clear that he could not live if he had to
leave Jim.
"That's not fair, Blair. What if *I* need to hold that
hate?" he admitted what he was feeling.
"I can't let you do that. I can't let you do that because
that hate will kill me, will kill both of us as surely as if you
took out your gun right now and put two bullets in our heads"
Jim whispered brokenly.
"sometimes i think that's what i should do."
"I am your Guide. My imperative, above and beyond
everything else, is to keep you safe, even from yourself"
Blair's voice had dropped into his guide tone
"You *will* do this."
Jim throws himself back on the bed, his arms over his head
loosely. One of them hits the headboard with an angry *crack*
and he gasps.
"WHY?!" he shouted, ignoring the sudden pain.
Blair is by his side immediately, cradling the injured hand
in his.
"I *want* to be punished, Blair. Don't you see that? I
deserve it."
"Don't do this." Blair insisted. "Don't you see how it
hurts me when you're hurting?"
"I didn't hurt when you were hurting." Jim meets his eyes.
Anger has given him fresh strength. "I didn't *care* when you
were hurting."
"I know," said Blair, voice suddenly cold.
He lowered his head and took Jim's mouth in a punishing
kiss.
Pulling away, Jim sits again.
"Do you know how much that hurt me? that *my* Blessed
Protector could turn on me, that my Sentinel could throw away his
guide so easily?
Refusing to speak, Jim shakes his head.
"Don't throw me away again Jim. Make the choice now. Choose
me. Choose to be with me. Let what I need be more important just
this once."
"Choosing you means choosing redemption. Forgiveness for
things I should *never* be forgiven for." Jim states it simply,
without inflection.
"Just who the hell are you to decide that?!" Blair's
voice rose shrilly.
All the vitality seems to drain from Jim's body. He
slumps to the bed, like a broken marionette.
Blair turns away from the sight, biting back a sob. He
walks to the bathroom and begins collecting his clothes, the
costume of his hate.
The whisper spills from Jim's lips like a trickle from a
damn that threatens to burst.
"No one. I'm no one. I don't decide. You do."
Blair's head whips around, his heart begins to pound.
Dropping the clothes, he slowly begins to move back towards
the bed.
"If *you* forgive me then God himself can't object."
His naked body straddles Jim.
And he whispers into Jim's mouth.
"then I forgive you."
Eyes still closed, Jim catalogued the sensations that
stirred within him as Blair touched him.
Blair kissed Jim deeply, plunging his tongue hungrily into
the older man's mouth.
Opening his mouth wide, Jim offers Blair as much as
he wants.
His whisper is broken by the kisses;
"Take it all, Blair. Anything. Everything."
With surprising strength, Blair flipped them so that he lay
below the larger man.
"Show me how much you want me!" he demanded. "Take me and
make me yours, for now and for always."
Jim doesn't ask if he's sure. Doesn't hesitate or
suggest they wait.
He leans and brushed his lips over Blair's mouth tenderly,
his hands still stroking, soothing.
"Let me just get something. I don't ever want to hurt you
again."
He eases off the bed and pads to the bathroom, grabbing the
shower gel.
As he comes back out he begins to shed his clothes, swiftly,
efficiently.
Blair waits impatiently, hot eyes watching his lover.
Tossing the bottle to the side of the bed, Jim drops
the last piece of clothing, his boxers, and stands for a minute,
not really posing, just letting Blair drink his fill.
Blair's body arches on the bed.
Then Jim steps onto the bed, his hands on Blair's thighs,
pushing his legs gently apart. And he kneels between them.
Blair's breath hissed in his throat, his hands clutching at
Jim's shoulders.
"I want it like this." Jim says softly. "Touching...it feels
familiar, like remembering a dream. But I know I never watched
you while we did this."
His hands move up Blair's body, brush over hard nipples,
then burrow into damp hair.
Blair arches towards him, hips bucking convulsively.
"Take me!" he commands, sounding just a little desperate.
So-slowly, Jim leans and brushes his lips over that mouth
again.
"Can't I set the pace a little? Wouldn't it be nice
to do this slow and really feel it?"
He doesn't deepen the kiss, just continues to brush his lips
across Blair's, closed, chaste.
His thumbs caress Blair's temples. Heat rises from the
younger man's taut body, drawing him.
"Oh god Jim, do you love me that much?" Blair asked, unable
to believe that Jim could be gentle with him after what he'd just
made him do.
"You live, I live. You die, I die." Jim shrugged, more
eloquent than words. "That's what this is."
Then Jim sounds just a tiny bit fearful. "Isn't it?"
Blair's hands frame Jim's face. He looks deeply into the
older man's eyes, the answer written clearly in his own for Jim
to read. Gradually Jim relaxes slightly. And Blair smiles with
more confidence.
"Take me, please." he begs softly. "Do it hard, do it soft,
do it fast, do it slow. It doesn't matter. All that matters is
that we are here where we belong." He chuckles at himself.
"We've come full circle, love."
"How do you mean?" Distracted by the vibrations in
Blair's body, Jim lingers to ask.
"Isn't that how this conversation started?"
Blair arches against Jim again, a little distracted
himself.
"With me needing to be by your side?"
Blair's hands grasp at Jim's shoulders.
"Jim. Please."
"I can't remember with you moving like that." it was almost
a scold and Jim smiled the sweetest, softest smile Blair had ever
seen on his face.
"Yes," he said it calmly, bright blue eyes calm.
Then he leaned and kissed Blair again, his tongue teasing
the curves of Blair's lips.
Blair ran his hands convulsively over Jim's chest, unable to
control them, shaking with need
Jim's hands catch them and bring them to his mouth. His
eyes on Blair's, he kisses each finger, then licks them briefly
before pressing them to his own chest and going down for another
mind-numbing kiss.
"Easy. Easy. Guide, my Guide. Be easy."
Blair's body gentles slightly at Jim's words.
Nuzzling his way from Blair's mouth to his throat, Jim
suckles lightly on his adam's apple and then moves lower. His
groin is heavy now with blood and desire, he presses himself to
Blair's stomach gently.
Shaking visibly now, Blair pushes his hips up, thrusting
into Jim's body.
"Please." he asks of the older man. "Let me feel your
weight."
"Yes." Jim sighs, settling further onto him, sliding
down until their cocks rub together, which makes him gasp.
"There...."
"Oh my God!" Blair shouts out. None of his tricks had ever
touched him like that. *No* other man has ever touched him so
far inside. And he shuddered at the slick heat and glide of
Jim's dick on his, almost sobbing at the sensation
"Not yet." Jim warned, slowing his movements. "Wait. I need
to be inside you, Blair. To do this right."
Blair stiffened, trying to keep still, knowing the truth of
Jim's words, but doing battle with his too-eager body.
Jim lets go of one of Blair's hands and reaches for the
shower gel he threw to the bed. The flip-top cap is easy to
open one-handed.
Blair's breath is coming in short gasps.
"*Hurry*." he begs, panting.
Now Jim's hands are shaking as well. He fumbles with the
gel, squirting a puddle onto the comforter, uncaring. When his
hand is lathered, he reaches between them and probes gently
between Blair's legs.
"Put them around my waist." he urges in a panting whisper.
Blair's legs immediately surrounded Jim. He arches his hips
again, desperate to deepen the contact.
With a lunge Jim goes to one-hand-and-knees, carrying
Blair's lower body with him. His slippery hand slides between
his lover's asscheeks and he circles the entrance to Blair's body
with a his index finger, letting him know what's coming.
"*please*!" Blair begs helplessly.
Carefully Jim sinks the finger into Blair, groaning as the
muscles clench around it.
"Jim..." Blair's voice drops to a whisper.
Another finger is added quickly, and Jim stretches Blair
conscientiously.
Blair moves into the touch and whispers Jim's name again,
repeating it like a prayer
"Is that enough?" the big man can barely speak as he tries
to breathe. "Are you ready?"
"Yessss." the younger hisses. "*Yes*, Jim. *Jim*. Take me.
I'm yours."
"mine."
"yours" Blair repeats in a strangled whisper, head
whipping from side to side, hands clenching and releasing the
bedcovers.
Jim hisses as he pulls his fingers out and reaches again for
the gel. Unthinking, he upends it, grabbing a gooshy handful and
smearing his cock with it.
"I'm not going to hurt you." he feels a need to say the
words again.
"I know I know I know..." Blair intones impatiently.
"Touch me, Blair. Guide me into your body." Jim whispers.
His free hand strokes Blair's face, trying to sooth him. He
needs the other to maintain their position.
"Oh, God."
Reaching down between his legs, Blair grasps Jim's dick as
gently as he can manage. With trembling fingers he places the
head against his opening.
"it's <gasp> okay." Jim manages between gritted teeth.
"Don't worry about me."
Blair nods, caught in the sensations, undulating slowly
beneath him.
Feeling himself starting to lose control, Jim gasps again;
"Tell me when to go."
"GO!" shouts Blair immediately. He needs this so badly,
feeling if he has to wait another instant he'll shatter into some
infinite number of pieces.
Jim tries to move slowly, but his frustrated body has other
ideas. He felt the heat, Blair's hand tightens on his cock, and
he lunges, driving himself in to the hilt. He almost falls,
slamming the other hand down on the bed to catch himself.
He stops breathing, the sensation too strong, the emotion
too deep to allow anything else.
"*Your's*!" Blair shouts exultantly as he is filled with
his Sentinel.
""*mine.*" all Jim can manage is a whimper.
Blair lays impaled by his lover, frozen for a moment in
the exquisite knowledge of completion
Taking a deep breath at last, Jim feels the strain in his
back. But it didn't matter. Nothing matters but the glorious
body wrapped around his.
Slowly, wanting to draw it out, to really *feel* this, he
draws back, all the way to the head of his cock, and slid in
again smoothly.
Blair's hips move to meet him.
Jim felt the muscles of Blair's thighs work around his body.
It was almost too much.
"Turn it down." Blair gasped, the Guide needing his Sentinel
to make it last a little longer, aware of how close he is.
"Can't." Jim groaned. "I need it like this....burned into my
memory."
He drew back and slid in again. He didn't want to slam his
Guide, didn't want to fuck him. Just wanted to feel him.
"Oh fuck!" Exclaimed Blair at Jim's words. "Jim, I *love*
you!"
"There's nothing I can say, Blair." Jim gasped as he
repeated the motion, a little faster now. His forearms bulged
with the strain.
Blair writhed beneath him, panting. He snakes a hand down
to grasp his engorged dick.
"Those words aren't enough. But I'll give them to you if you
want them." Now Jim was settling into a rhythm. Out to the tip,
all the way back in, not too hard. Filling Blair with every
stroke.
"You. Don't. Have. To. Say. It." Blair's words were
punctuated by the thrusts. "I. Can. Feel. It."
Jim moans.
"Ohhhhh."
*mine.* he gasps breathlessly.
Jim feels his cock swelling. He's getting so close...but he
doesn't want to come until Blair does. He gasps words brokenly.
"always mine. my Guide, my beloved, mine..."
"yours. yours. yours. yours." Blair chants as he pumps his
erection, his hips rising and falling to meet Jim's.
And suddenly he is convulsing, his cum shooting over his
hand to coat their bellies.
Jim shudders with relief and lets go, letting his senses
follow his seed into Blair's body. His mind follows his senses
and he looses himself in that most wonderful of havens. His
balance is lost as well and he falls on top of Blair.
Blair lies pinned, gasping for breath and trying to
recover his equilibrium. The intensity of the experience has
left him trembling.
He shifts slightly, hoping that Jim will get the hint.
When the big man doesn't, Blair looks into his face in
concern.
He's brought up short as he realizes that Jim has zoned on
him. On *him*.
Muscles shifting, blood pulsing, heart pounding. Veins,
capillaries....little cells bumping.
With reverence Blair places his hands on Jim's face and
calls to him.
"Jim. Lover. Follow my voice. *Jim*. Come back to me now,
lover."
His grip on Jim's face tightens and his voice becomes just a
little more frantic. What if Jim didn't want to come out of this
zone? Blair knew that if he could loose himself so totally in
Jim he would.
The thick semen that he pumped into Blair is already being
broken down. Absorbed into him. Becoming a part of him,
forever. Jim wanted to feel that happen.
Jim wanted to *do* that. So badly that he was forgetting
ever wanting to do anything else...like breathe.
"Please lover. Please come back to me. I need you. I love
you. Please Jim. You need to *breathe*, Jim."
A new scent intrudes on Jim's concentration...Blair's body
has slowed in it's responses. His cock is still within him, but
Blair is tensing around and beneath him.
Blair moved his hands to grip Jim's shoulders, his legs
tightening around the muscled waist. His voice is losing it's
Guide tone and becoming desperate.
That realization slams Jim back into his body and he gags,
choking hoarsely, struggling to draw air into his lungs.
"Jim. Come on man, please. Please follow my voice. You have
to come out of it."
With a smooth movement Jim rolls himself over, keeping Blair
with him, keeping his cock inside his lover.
Blair smiles down at him, relief evident in his face.
"I'm sorry." he pants. "I was just trying to see...what it
would feel like.."
His hands rest on Blair's chest, caressing, fingers running
through soft crinkly hair.
Blair leaned down to kiss him quickly on the lips before
collapsing on his chest.
Jim enfolds the smaller man in his arms. He can feel
himself getting hard again and marvels at it.
There is no shame, no disgust. Nothing but warm desire and
complete contentment.
"Why couldn't I see this before?" Jim sounds very sad.
Blair feels Jim's cock filling to press against him and he
closes his eyes in wonder. His own cock responds.
"You needed the right catalyst," Blair said mildly. "You
*needed* me to self-destruct."
He begins to very gently rock his hips against Jim's.
He didn't want Jim to forget where that pain had brought
them.
Jim pushes himself up against the headboard a bit, still
cuddling Blair close.
"How can that be right? It doesn't make sense."
"Does it have to, love?"
Jim flushes at the endearment.
"Let's talk now, beloved." an endearment of his own slips
out so naturally that he knows it's the right one.
"Maybe we had to loose everything, even ourselves, in order
to appreciate what we have."
Blair moves his hips just a little faster.
Jim's hands close in those hips, slowing them, gentling.
"But you suffered." Jim protested, hands clenching the hips
tighter. "That's not the way it was supposed to be. I can feel
it."
Blair lifted his head to contemplate Jim's eyes. When he
spoke his voice was very quiet, very serious.
"Jim. If I could go back in time and change everything, I
would. Do you think I wanted to loose you, to loose myself? I
have destroyed everything that was important to me. I wish I
could change it. But if changing it meant I couldn't have this,
have you, I wouldn't do it." he stopped suddenly, he was babbling
and he wasn't sure his sentinel understood what he was trying to
say.
The big hands left his waist and rose to cradle his face, a
thumb brushing across his lower lip.
"It wasn't supposed to be that way Jim, but it was. And we
can't change the past."
Then they grip Blair's face, just enough to make him aware
of the strength behind them.
Blair stops speaking again, his breath catching in his
throat, a soft warning of tears.
Jim speaks so softly that Blair has to strain to hear the
words clearly.
"You haven't destroyed anything, beloved. You still have
your work. You still have your thesis. You still have your real
job."
"My real job?" he asks, needing to hear this.
"You're my Guide." That's your *real* job." A grin spreads
slowly over Jim's face.
It's answered by the one on Blair's.
"You may not always want it to be....but I *need* it to be."
Jim's sky-blue eyes seem to pour love and light into the room.
Blair beams down at *his* Sentinel, leaning to whisper in
his ear.
"I need it to be, too."
"And nothing is going to keep us apart." Jim says softly.
"Anywhere."
"Anywhere." Blair repeats the word, the conviction in Jim's
voice convincing him.
"The guys...our friends. They saw what happened. They may
not understand, Blair. But they will accept. And with them behind
us and our record, nobody is going to be able to budge you."
"Not even you." added Blair "So don't *even* think of
leaving me behind on dangerous cases."
"You know I'll try. Protecting you is *my* real job."
Jim raises his head to lick Blair's chin, hoping to lighten
the mood.
Blair laughs, really laughs for the first time in weeks
...maybe months.
Jim grins, and proceeds to wash Blair's face with his
tongue. The semen dried on his own face is dry now and itchy,
but he doesn't care. Not even.
All that matters is the joyful alive sound of Blair's
laughter...and the vibrations it sends through his body,
directly to Jim's cock.
"I've never felt anything so sweet." he begins to
pant, still grinning. " "As your laughter when I'm inside you."
Blair begins to bounce his hips again and whispers against
his lover's mouth.
"Unless it's me in you."
Together they set out to test that theory.
Epilogue; three months later
The small bottle was heavy lead crystal, cut in an intricate
pattern. Jim ran his fingers over it, enjoying the sensation of
cool, slick, almost perfect glass. There was only one tiny flaw,
a minescule chip, just at the bottom, where the leaf smoothed
out to become the base...
A hand stroked down his bare back lightly, drawing him away
from the antique perfume bottle and firmly to reality.
"Hey, babe. You still with me here?" Coming around in front
of him, Blair grinned into his eyes. Naked, damp from their
shower, he was waiting for Jim to mark him, as they did every
morning. One of the things they had realized, after their lives
crashed, was that Jim needed something to remind him of the
younger man, all the time, everywhere. The rose perfume had been
chosen in honor of that first exquisite time together. They wore
so little that no one else had ever noticed. But Blair knew in
his head and heart that it was there and Jim could always smell
it. It had become the scent that bound them together, more so
even than the remnants of sex each carried of the other.
Grinning back, his body still tingling from the love they'd
made before the alarm went off, Jim screwed off the pewter cap
and tipped a tiny bit of the bitter-rose scent onto his index
finger.
Blair closed his eyes.
The finger hovered in the air before him, then delicately
traced a circle of scent around Blair's left nipple, sliding
under the gold ring to do so. Blair sighed, and shivered. Opening
his eyes, he took the bottle from Jim's hand and copied his
movements, drawing a heart-shape of their scent over the big
man's heart.
Their eyes met. Every morning, when they performed this
private ritual, it reminded them of what they had lost and what
they had been so lucky to find again.
"Each other." Blair breathed, leaning in for an open-mouth
kiss that left him dizzy, Jim answering with his body and not
words.
"Go on, get dressed." Jim scolded when the kiss was
finished. All he needed was his shirts.
Turning away, Blair did. They talked quietly as they made
their way downstairs, got breakfast, and went out the door.
"It's my last appointment with Dr.Houng today."
"He's going to tell the judge you're ready to quit?"
"Uh-huh."
"You'll be at the station by noon?"
"Better make that one, I've got to go by the library."
"Then I'd better make it two..."
No more kisses. No touches. Nothing to indicate they were
more than the best of friends. Roommates.
Nothing but the enviable peace they projected, always
together, even when apart.
(the end.)
