Note: This was previously zined, you can order it at AMC press ; This is a just barely betaed version of the story in the zine; Also the zine has lots of beautiful artwork! Grin

go to Part II

Hospital

The pain was searing. In a red blaze of fire it consumed his whole body, couldn't be located in one special point. Each individual cell in his body screamed at him, radiating scorching heat - it took him an eternity of enduring stabs and cramps till he found out that each time he took a breath the pain spiked, each time he exhaled it exploded. He tried valiantly to stop breathing. For a few seconds the pain became bearable. He knew he'd been in the middle of an explosion, the bomb being inside a kidnapped bus - hurt in the line of duty, was now in a hospital bed. Then his abused lungs sucked in another breath and he almost sobbed under the onslaught.

There was a voice he knew - Simon? Simon, his not quite believing friend. He desperately concentrated on this voice in order to not concentrate on the excrutiating pain.

"... the only thing I can tell you, Doctor, is that he was under a large amount of stress lately. He was almost killed by a garbage-truck a few days ago. I don't know if he ever had problems with any kind of sedation or pain-med before. But he's former military. What happened then, I can't tell."

A cellphone beeped. The hardly breathing man in the hospital bed heard it as if it was his own, lying by the bedside at his loft. But then, he was not at his loft. He could not see anything, some sort of fabric covered his face.

"Banks here ... a yes ... thanks." The phone was shut again. "This is interesting, Doctor. It might answer some of your questions. The bomb he could not quite disarm, was laced with some sort of nervegas. "

A second voice chimed in, he could barely make out what it was saying.

"We guessed that much, it wath taken care of. There mutht be more to hith condition. Well, we'll run another round of tethtth..."

The man in the bed quietly went into shock again, started to shake violently. Oblivion took over again - he reached out for the darkness that offered numbing comfort. He didn't hear the nurse who burst into the room when his readings started to go crazy, he didn't feel the sting of yet another injection and he didn't react to the insistent "Detective Ellison, Jim, JIM, wake up..."

Two floors below the doctor who had been questioning a willing but not very helpful Captain Banks started when his beeper went off.

"Gotta go to the emergenthy ward. Pleathe wait for me here, I want to know more about Ellithon'th time in the military..."

At any other moment Simon would have smiled at the funny way the words hesitated and stumbled over the tongue of that brilliant young MD. But right now Banks just put out one of his cigars and started chewing on its end. Noone dared to say anything despite the fact that a hospital was a strict non-smoking area. And that scared him more than anything else...

Then the dreams started. He didn't know what it was that he tried to work through. He was sure - as sure he thought he could be with his senses out of whack and almost delirious from pain and nonfunctional painkillers - that he had no idea who the starring person in his dreams was. He surely had never seen the curly haired hippie - or if he had seen him somewhere, he definitely had paid no attention to him. The guy was not normally someone he would want to make friends with. Yet there was something about him. Every time he dreamed about the guy with the long dark locks and the big blue eyes, his pain became more bearable. Just glimpses - he caught mere glimpses of the guy during his rem-phases, but although the small young man seemed to be in constant motion, he always exuded soothing calmness. Once - when the pain penetrated his dreams again - the young man reached out and touched him with his hand. The kid's fingers barely brushed his biceps and for the first time he heard the soft low voice - too adult for this youth, it seemed:

"I'll help you - you need me - concentrate..."

When Detective Ellison woke up this time, it was his fifth day in hospital, the nurse wanted to change the bandages of his face: "You won't need them any more. I didn't think you'd heal so fast..."

Now the light assaulted his sensitive eyes. At first the doctors blamed the bomb, then they simply refused to believe him any longer. He put down the blinds as soon as the last nurse left his room.

Loft

A week later they saw him fit to go home. Simon came to drive him to the loft. The tall black man avoided the name Caroline until not-mentioning it screemed louder than saying it bluntly.

"So, Simon, Caro could not make it to bring me home, could she?"

"She was at the hospital once or twice, but you've been out at the time. She talked to your Doctor about your treatment. She agreed, you know."

"What about those ... experiences I still have? Did she agree, that I make that up? That it was just stress?"

As that was exactly what the authoritative woman had done, Banks could not quite help squirming in the seat of his car. "Well, in a way... it's hard to believe, you know. I mean, just wait until you feel better again. I mean I was wrong not letting you take some days off when you asked me for it. Now, you're on medical leave for two weeks, then we'll talk again. I promise, - you need more time, you'll get it."

"Sure..." Slight unease grabbed at him again. He was still so weak, couldn't do much before he exhausted his strength. What if those ... episodes ... stayed with him. He most probably would not be able to stay at his job. He could not go back to the military. If any of those episodes happened during an assignment, he and - even worse - his men would most likely die. He remembered vividly the day when his vision had grayed out and left him suspended in time. The blasting horn of a garbage truck had startled him into action. He had jumped but the truck still had grazed him. For days the bruises had slowly changed colors, reminding him of his accident with every movement he made.

He suddenly caught the glimpse of a small curly-haired man ten blocks away. No, that was not possible. When Simon's car finally made it to the place where he had seemed to see the man that had accompanied him in his dreams, the kid was gone - of course. It would have been impossible to see someone from that far away, wouldn't it? They passed a bookshop a the corner.

"Hey, Jim, you'll be better soon. Caroline believes that, too"

"Sure..." the telltale muscle in his jaw worked overtime. The sunlight hurt his eyes, the smell of cigar-smoke lingering in the car assaulted his nose and his skin still felt tingly and hot. There were so many cuts and even a few gashes on his body he had lost count the last time the nurse had applied salve. After this ministrations it had taken almost four hours for the pain to subside enough so that he was able to submit to exhaustion and fall asleep. In his dream the Kid had stood in front of him, bouncing a little, then placing a soothing hand on his hot forehead. It had seemed as if the burning was flowing out of his body at this magical touch. The Kid had smiled radiantly. Stupid dream...

They finally arrived at the loft. Jim was almost at the end of his strength. Simon tried to wrap his strong arms around him to help him to the elevator, but the helpful touch rubbed his skin raw, made Jim gasp and hiss in pain. Then Ellison was in control again. Couldn't afford to lose it in front of his only friend. He patted Simons hand.

"It's Ok, I'll manage, don't worry. Luckily I don't have any luggage. Caro only brought this set of sweats, and the clothes I wore were too torn to be kept. I think, they burnt them."

And not for the first time Simon asked himself what kind of a woman Jim's Ex-wife had to be: To bring *one* sweatshirt, *one* pair of sweatpants and to leave her recently divorced husband to those ridiculous hospital gowns that left everything open .... at least during his last week at the hospital he would have been able to wear his private clothes. But then, she hadn't shown up during his last week and Jim had not called for her.

Rather awkwardly the Captain finally made good-buy-noises and left. Jim closed the blinds, checked no messages on his answering machine and with a reliefed sigh tore the sweats down - where the material had clung to his skin the burning pain was back. The large bathroom mirror showed him the damage that his body had taken for the first time. Even in blissful darkness Jim was able to see every bloody streak, every angry red spot, every purple bruise. He started to put salve on his wounds, being extra careful how he touched himself. There were wounds on his back as well, but they would have to heal by themselves. He couldn't reach there. His fingers were shaking when he screwed the ointment-receptacle and reached for his darkblue silk robe - Caro had never liked it but he had always loved the soft glide of the fabric over his skin. Now the silk cooled him, caressed him, like the hand of the Kid in his dreams. Suddenly his cheeks started to itch and burn like hell. It was then that he realised he was standing in the middle of his empty loft, crying like a lost child.

Bullpen

Two weeks later

Cheers greeted Jim Ellison when the Detective went through the doors into the bullpen.

"Ellison, good to see you Jim, great to have you back, didn't want to do paperwork, did ya, we kept your files for you, ..."

Bless them. They didn't care that he still wore his shades, even in the semi-darkness of another rainy day in Cascade and noone saw the cotton wads he had crammed into his ears. They smelled as if none of them had used soap - or even water - for at least a week and the smoke of Simon's cigars clung to the room, too. He forced a smile and was polite. None of his co-workers expected him to be cordially, anyhow. He knocked at Simon's door. And was sure even before he entered the office, that Caroline was in there - Why did he know this?

His Captain and his ex-wife were hovering over an amount of pictures spread out on the large desk. Caroline looked up, then frowned, finally decided to smile politely:

"It's good to see you again. Why didn't you tell me you'd come in today when I called you yesterday?"

*because you didn't seem to be interested* "Hi, Caroline, you look - tired?"

"Why thank you, always straightforward, are you?"

"Jim! Great to see you." His Captain at least seemed to be genuinely pleased to see him. "We are finally drowning in work, but that's not the only reason I'm glad you're here."

The tall black man frowned at the shades but said nothing. He pointed at the pictures: "A drug-lab blew up yesterday evening. Two of the dealers died, one guy and - you wouldn't believe it - his ape ! survived, but he claims he didn't know anything about the drug-lab. I tend to believe him. He's just a student at Rainier..."

"C'mon Simon, don't be naive" Caroline's cold voice cut like ice "to live next door to a bunch of drug-dealers and not realising that something was wrong? I don't believe so.."

Jim couldn't help himself, he just had to break this woman's self confidence : "By the way, Caro, remember the Simmon's. Your favourite neighbours living next to your mom? He's coming out of jail next month." And, turning to his suddenly grinning Captain: "They were both busted for fencing stolen goods. How many cups of coffee were you drinking there, Caroline?"

The forensics expert had the grace to blush, then muttered something and rushed out.

"Ooops..." Ellison didn't even sound contrite. "So, what's this with this apeman? Sounds almost like fun?"

"Yeah, but it aint, if you have to do all the paperwork. I guess he's innocent. I mean, he really did live at this warehouse. He didn't look for a more decent place, cause he is about to go on an expedition to Peru in about a month or so. And this ape has something to do with a study this kid does or so the dean of the U told us. But what's more important, those two killed - we still don't have an ID on them."

"Badly burnt?"

"No, more like *visitors* from Vancouver"

"You got pics of their corpses? Maybe I know them. I *have* been working for vice, as you well know."

"Of course; I'm glad, that you're back."

"Yeah, well. I'm glad that I wasn't in the middle of that explosion, too"

Ellison did recognise one of the dead dealers. With a name the computer provided information about the second victim - another drug-dealer and known accomplice of Dead-Body-1. While Banks read the files Jim skimmed over the pictures of desaster, taken by the police-fotografer for further evidence: Bits and pieces of a laboratory, a covered corpse, a burnt couch, dragged out of the second warehouse. A TV-set that looked really dead. An ape in a cage, obviously not happy. A side-shot of a young guy with long curly hair and desperation written clearly on his expressive face. Another photo, showing a piece of warehous-wall and - blurry in the back - the young guy, a backpack and a large sack - the remnants of his life. It. Was. The. Kid.

Simon's voice penetrated slowly through the pounding of his own heart that had filled even his vision for agonizing long moments: "Jim, JIM; C'mon, say something, you're white as a sheet..."

"I'm fine, Simon, I'm fine. Look, this guy - what's his name?"

"You think you know him? He's the reason Caroline called me naive. His name is Sand..."shuffling through papers on the desk, finding what he was looking for "Sandburg, Blair Sandburg, age 26, student and teacher at Rainier, good reputation so far."

"A student, hum?"

"So you don't know him?"

"No, I've just seen him a few times - " *in fever-dreams, just tell him that, it'll come across just great* "at the hospital, I think" he ended lamely. *got to meet him...* it was the only thought in his mind. It was the only thing that kept him going. The person of his halluzinatory dreams was real. He had a name, an identity. He must be important to him. Now the only thing he had to do was to convince that hippie to believe this load of bullshit too.

"Ellison, you sure you're up to working again? You're still not looking to good... Why don't you go home, take another week of off-time?" The captain was really concerned now, trying to console his detective, to talk him into relaxing again, recupering from the wounds and bruises the explosion had inflicted and from the chemical burns the man had suffered thanks to the poisonous gas that had been released in the wake of the big bang. And seeing the stoic man suffer as obviously started the guilt to rise inside him. Banks had not listened to his subordinate. When Ellison had demanded some time off to get whatever it was out of his system, he had said no, had thought it to be stress-related and hoped, that a little pushing Ellison to his limits would make the man even stronger. Well, he had been terrribly wrong. Ellison had known exactly what he needed, had asked for it and had been denied the privilege to be trusted. Now he, Banks, had not only to live with the guilt but also with the knowledge that a growing friendship between him and Jim had most likely been blown to death in that horrible explosion. "You know something, Ellison? Why don't you take two weeks off? I'll talk to the powers that be, Take a trip to somewhere peaceful, why don't you. " And with a helpless little smile, that should have been jovial, the captain added with forced cheerfulness:" I don't want to see you before those two weeks are over. Have a nice time. And - please - relax for me, too, will ya?"

He totally missed the telltale muscle in Jim's face.

For to the Detective this sentiment sent him back into a cold, empty loft with nothing to do but listen to magnified sounds, hide from too-bright light, smell the sharp scent of two dogs living two floors down and relive the agony of his stay at the hospital each night when he tried to sleep with stinky salve on every part of his body he could possibly reach with his hands. And all the time he knew, that he was a freak - a soon-to-be-jobless freak - because he should not be able to hear, see, smell or feel all those things. A nutcase, ready to grab the last straw and to go looking for a hippie-student his subconscius had sent into delirious dreams, because he hoped... What did he hope for?

He was already driving home in his truck, when the crazyness of his plan - to stakeout the U till he found that Sandburg-guy and talk to him, ask him, if he had met him somewhere and just lost the incident during that explosion, just like he had lost other minor details on the switchman-case - hit him full force. No, he would not do this. He would grab a pizza somewhere and then get home to the loft, watch some TV and relax - just like Simon had told him. Besides, Simon still was his friend, wasn't he?

When he settled in front of the tube half an hour later, pizza on a clean plate before him, - although he normally did not eat in the living room - life seemed to become gradually better: There was a Jags-game on TV that had just started. He took a bite of his pizza - and almost spilled the disgusting thing onto the couch. Too much oregano, too much salt, too much tomato, too much of everything. He barely made it into the kitchen area, grabbing a glass, turning on the tab-water. Three gulps and the glass was empty and the spices didn't kill him any more. But the water had a stale taste of copper and faint traces of chloride tickled even his nose. Until now he had never paid much attention to it. Now it grossed him out to the point of retching. With a small, desperate sigh he wasn't even aware of making, he decided to skip lunch, turn off the annoyingly loud TV-set and go to bed early. It hand been an exhausting day, after all.

In his dreams a set of blue, blue eyes looked at him, centered him and brought him calm.

Rainier

Four days in a row. *I really must get crazy. Get? You are crazy, Ellison.* For four days in a row Ellison was sitting in his truck, parked near the main entrance of Rainier University, waiting that one man would show up. And the longer he waited, the more important the Kid became to him. He *had* to be important - he was waiting for him for, two, three, now four days. This has to be of some significance. Please, whoever was listening, let it be of some significance.

Four days in a row and still Blair Sandburg was a no-show. He just could not bring himself to give up what seemed to be his last hope on sanity. And then the Kid trudged along, happily chatting to a tall, well-built young man with a brush-cut that matched his own.

Jim broke into sweat. What now? His suddenly numb fingers slipped the doorhandle in his first attempt to get out of the truck, then he almost tripped over the sidewalk. He staggered in front of the two young men like he had had one drink too many and the tall guy at the kid's side took one large protective step that brought him in front of Blair.

"I'm sorry..." Although Ellison had rehearsed what he wanted to say, should he ever meet Blair Sandburg, he could not remember one damn word right now. Finally, before the two men could pass him, the older man resorted the one thing that had helped him through many a desperate situation. Control. Don't show any emotions. Deal with them later.

His face almost expressionless he flashed his badge: "I'm with the Cascade PD: Your name is Blair Sandburg." Not a question, a statement, meant to intimidate. "I'd like to ask you a few questions..."

"Aw , c'mon, man, that's like, so old. I mean, I'm the one with the trashed place, Larry has caught a cold, and I have lost practically everything, plus my insurance-company sent me this ugly laugh over the phone which obviously means, I'm not getting any money. Does that answer your questions?"

Most surprisingly the curly haired hippie wearing a multicolored vest and a pearl-bracelet seemed to be more upset by the demands made on his time by yet another police officer than by the fact that he had literally lost everything he owned.

"No, Mr Sandburg, I .. *this should not be so hard* .. I wanted to know, if .. if we have met before...?"

Now the muscled 'bodyguard' stepped in: "What is this, Mr - I-didn't-get-your-name? Some kind of trick-question? I Don't think that you have to answer this, Blair."

"Wayne, calm down, maybe it's important. Hey, man, I don't have much time right now..."

"So did we meet before?" Jim's desperation showed clearly in his voice, even when his face did not betray his true feelings. "At a hospital maybe? Or during that bus-explosion four weeks ago?"

"Well, *my* explosion had been the only one I had to survive lately. And I haven't been to a hospital, since I broke up with ..."

"Yes Blair, I remember her vividly, that bitch"

"Wayne, I know you don't like her, but you don't have to be that illustrative..."

"She was no good"

And Ellison had the distinct feeling, that Wayne swallowed a part of his sentence; the part, that said: I'd be better for you than her.

Blair was quiet now. He cocked his head, started to bounce a little on his feet, regarded the question. Suddenly he seemed to swallow a gasp, then blushed a little, finally said: "No, sorry, I don't think I've ever met you. You weren't one of the investigators at my warehouse, I would remember you."

Ellison's shoulders did not sag - he pulled them back proudly. But the look in his eyes betrayed the let-down he felt right now. But he could not give up right now.

"But I have seen you." He talked faster now, spilling all the information he could muster in one rush to capture the interest of that kid, "I've seen you from a distance of seven blocks away, when you went to a bookstore, some weeks ago. And I know, that you have had car-problems today, cause I can see a greasy spot on your jeans." There was nothing to be seen to normal eyes, but that didn't prevent him lately, did it? "You ate something made with curry for dinner" The smell was almost overpowering.

"You have been following me?" Blair sounded incredulous.

Wayne took a deep breath: "That's enough now, fella. Don't come near him again, cause I give a damn, if you're a cop or not."

"Wayne..."

"I didn't follow you, Mr Sandburg. I SEE that oil and I SMELL curry..."

Something like recognision seemed to pass over the mobile features of Blair's face. The small man put a calming hand on Wayne's biceps and patted the man till he calmed down.

"You have trouble with the light, therefore the shades?" a hesitating question; then, more sure with the subject: "Noises are too loud, therefore the cotton wads. You can smell what I ate three hours ago for lunch and I bet, curry isn't on your list of favourites right now."

Jim hadn't been able to hide his astonishment, his relief, even gratefulness at those statements. He had been right, after all. There was someone who seemed to understand what was going on with him. Who could save him from the funny-farm, from losing his job, from losing his mind. He nodded.

"Yeah, I bet... Listen, I'm very interested, I'd love to talk to you, but I have to go be a teacher for two hours. Maybe we could meet somewhere afterwards?" Sandburg hadn't even finished the sentence when Ellison blurted out, not caring how desperate he must be sounding.

"I'll wait. Here."

"'Kaayy. Till, later, then. Bye"

The teacher strolled off to a large building in front of them, Wayne following closely, muttering: "You must be nuts to meet with that lunatic. I bet he isn't even a cop. What if he stabs you, shoots you or what?"

"Wayne, please. I'm like, so grateful that you let me crash on your couch.."

"You could use the bed, you know?"

"the couch! but you don't have to protect me like a damsel in distress. I can take care of myself. And I don't have much time, as you quite well know. So let me meet that guy and stay away. This could be interesting for my..."

The door closed behind them entering the building. Ellison settled against the hood of his truck while he still listened to the voice of that stranger, that had just accepted to talk to him....

" ... Detective Ellison, man, you got me worried here, come back to me, look at me, gimme some reaction .."

A voice penetrated the calm, grey surroundings that had embraced him for he did not know how long. The second thing he felt was drizzling rain, soaking his clothes, wet drops slipping in between his neck and shirt-collar and he was cold, so cold, inside and out, the sole exception being where the deepest gashes had not yet healed on his back. They were on fire, where wet cloth interfered with his sensitive skin.

It was the kid again, long curly hair freshly drenched in rain, looking a little like a lost puppy, big blue eyes wide with concern.

"Hey, man, have you been waiting for me right here on the spot, no matter it rained? C'mon now, you're shivering" A hand briefly touched the tall man's face. "God, you're cold as ice, come with me to my office, I'll get you some hot tea to warm you up again. You were absolutely - away...?"

It was half a question half confirmation of an elusive thought that seemed to escape the younger man's thinking.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... you don't have to drag me to your office, .. we can meet any other time ..."

But the younger man just grabbed a hold on Jim's wet jacket and dragged the tall man, still clumsy as much from cold as from the aftereffects of a prolonged mental absence, with him and inside another big building.

"Tell me, Detective Ellison, this ... absence of mind ... does it happen often?"

What an embarrassment. Too exhausted to come up with a smooth white lie to safe his sorry - and wet - butt - all that Jim could do was mutter "Yes" and it sounded like a major defeat.

"That's great!" Enthusiasm radiated off the student and the police-officer had to hold onto himself not to strangle that little hippie because he seemed so inordinately *happy* that he was going crazy in public.

"I mean, sorry, I know, that this came out like, totally wrong, but next to my trip to Peru, you are IT, you know?"

He didn't know. While they went down almost to the basement and then stopped in front of a door where only a handwritten sheaf of paper showed, that a Blair Sandburg was living there along with artefacts that had been stored there forever, Jim didn't even know if he wanted enlightenment.

An hour later - and after he had shoved that annoying ... Kid ... against a wall because he did not like to be called a caveman - the ex-military police officer was finally convinced. An old book featuring an equally old painting had helped him to understand. He was a Sentinel. A thousand years ago every village would have been proud to have him. Hell, two hundred years ago he still would have been a blessing. And now, when he thought closely about it, he understood that while he had been in Peru five years ago, only half alive at first, then feeling oddly dislocated later, he must have been a prize for the tribespeople there, because they had welcomed him immediately, letting him watch their borders and the pass - which then had luckily corresponded with his original military orders that had brought him and his crew to that godforsaken country in the first place.

"So, Chief, whats the verdict. What do I have to do to control those goddam senses? I can't risk passing out like I did today when I am at a stakeout or - even worse - in the middle of a fire-fight."

"Burton called it zone-outs. First I'd like to do some testing to evaluate the range of your senses. My, oh my, a fullfledged Sentinel... you are a gift of the gods. Just for me..."

"Listen, I don't think you're getting this" Ellison started to get angry again and he wasn't a pretty sight when he went down that special road. "It's a matter of life and death to me, so please stop your bouncing and get a grip here. I am not one of your labrats, like that ape you had when your place blew up. I'm not a science project. I would not be even near you if I would not need to control those crazyness. Cause if I don't get control real fast, I won't just get hurt again. I could die - or at least lose my job.."

Ellison was still hovering over a very silent, very still, very stunned grad-student when he ralized that in his desperate anger he had conveyed more of his feelings to this practically stranger than to his Ex-wife while she still had been his wife. Now he wanted to take back his words, but it was too late. He sat back in that old, shaky chair that literally sighed at the impact and brushed his face with one hand. And then the exuberant student surprised him. For the only thing that seemed to matter to Blair Sandburg, the only thing important enough to question it further, was:

"O god, you got hurt? How can I help you?" And then the kid, that had just lost his entire belongings in a blast, blushed furiously.

This was the very moment for Wayne to show up again. The tall captain of the wrestling team of the U saw the two men stand close, faces flushed, breathing hard and drew the wrong conclusions.

"Get away from Blair; don't you dare touch him!" He pushed at Jim to separate him bodily from his roommate, whom he thought to be in danger, or worse - short of an embrace.

"Wayne", Blair tried to sound calming but did not succeed. "Wayne, don't manhandle him. I can take care of myself. I've told you that before."

"What, get turned on by that cop?" Now Wayne's color was matching the shades of red the other two men were sporting.

"Wayne; Once and for all: I. Do. Not. Get. Turned. On. By. Men. Sorry for you, if it's a problem now, that I crash at your place, OK, I'll get my things and be..."

"No, it ain't a problem, Blair. Hell, I knew you weren't into guys. It was just .. I'm really sorry. Hey, Detective, take my apologies, please. I.." his voice trailed off.

Ellison suddenly felt a little bit of pity for the tall guy. Having the object of one's desire in the same appartement meant being in reach of the forbidden fruit yet not able to touch it. Must be pretty frustrating.

"If it's OK with Mr Sandburg, it'll be OK with me, too. "

"Yeah, it's OK with me. Listen, Wayne, I'm going to go with Detective Ellison now. There are some open questions."

"Oh - it's because of the fire, Blair?" Wayne tried hard to be supportive.

"It's about policebusiness, Wayne. But I won't need your keys, I'll be at your place before you're off to bed. " Sandburg's voice held an almost hypnotic quality while he patted Wayne's arm.

When Ellison and Sandburg were sitting in Jim's truck, heading for the loft, the Detective couldn't help asking: "policebusiness, Chief?"

"Nothing but the truth, man: You're, like, a policeman, it's your business - policebusiness..." The mischievous grin that lit up the grad-student's face was addictive. Jim felt himself grinning for the first time in forever.

Loft

"Man, this is clean. Do you never leave anything lying around?"

Jim raised an eyebrow, when disgusting mental pictures raising their ugly heads showed him, how the warehouse and now Wayne's place most likely looked like after Blair had been there.

"I mean, have you always been that ---neat" it sounded like it being something nasty, avoidable "or did ---this --- start after your senses came back?"

Then Jim started to shrug out of his still damp jacket and whinced.

"Wait, Big Guy; I'll help." The smaller man eased him out of the clammy fabric, made a move as if to just throw it over a chair and - after one glance around the perfect loft, decided not to. He hung the jacket next to the door, then prodded: "C'mon, get off that shirt. You must feel icy. You said, you were hurt. Where ..."

Whatever the question might have been, it was no longer important. Ellison had carefully stripped out of the wet button-down, grimaced, when it clung to his body on his back and just thrown it into the kitchen-sink, sighing in relief when the burning pain from wet cloth slowly subsided. A gasp reminded him that he was not alone.

That body that seemed so much like borrowed from a greek statue looked horrible. Angry red blotches of heavily irritated skin warred with cuts - stitched and not stitched - and a multitude of bruises shining in all colors, some of them already fading to an unhealthy yellow.

"Gods, what happened to you?"

"Haven't you heard it on the news?" Jim's voice was gentle, though laced with a little sarcasm. "No, guess not- it's been almost five weeks now and everyone forgets so fast."

Blair stepped closer to the abused body, reached out with his right hand, not quite touching the skin, yet trying to provide some kind of comfort by the helpless little gesture. Jim's voice was low, rumbling, when the big man once again relived what had happened.

"I found the Switchman - you remember the bombings, don't you" at Blair's nod he continued. "She was the mentally deranged daughter of an ex-army-buddy who had died under my command in Peru. The girl held a busload of sightseers captive, threatened to blow up them all, but I made it into the bus climbing through the roof through a window and somehow disarmed her. She tried to run , so I decided she at least hadn't trapped the front exit of the bus. I got her, before she could entirely leave the bus. She was already on the way to a nice, safe cell of a mental ward, screaming like a banshee, when I shooed the hostages out. Then I looked for the bomb that had to be stashed somewhere. I'm missing some time here. But when I came to again to the sound of my cellphone chirping, I think I ... heard the timer and found the explosive under one of the seats. I could not disarm it - I just got seconds to get rid of it, so I threw it out of the window. But the explosion pressed all the glass back inside the bus, along with gushs of nerve-gas - I took the first load with my chest, then turned to cover my face and got the rest of it into my back. You know, funny, how hard it is, to reach back there..."

The ghost of a smile flickered over the pale face of the detective. He looked spent, mentally and bodily exhausted. Even his proud stance, hammered into him by years and years of military training, seemed to have left him.

Blair's expressive eyes could not hide the admiration he felt for the older man who had just waited for two hours in the cold just to talk to him, nor the shiny curtain of unshed tears he valiantly tried to push back. Could not let this tough big Guy see him cry. His voice was raw and gruff when he finally asked:

"With what have you treated these blistery burns ? They still seem to be very irritated. What did they give you "

"Just the usual, I guess, wait, I'll show you." Blair heard Ellison rummage through a board in the bathroom then Jim came back again, holding a bottle in his hand:

"I've been a medic back when I was in the military. It's just an ordinary tincture - you don't even need a prescription to get it."

Blair opened the bottle, smelled at the acrid liquid and made a face: "How much did you dilute this stuff before you put it on your body?"

"It's not meant to be thinned out, Sandburg"

"Yeah - and that's why you still look like hell warmed over. You have overly sensitive senses" and in answer of Jim's blank look the student continued "Extra touchy feely lately? Never known that the horizontal tango could be that great." Jim thought at the one absolutely incredible kiss he had shared with his Ex-wife, for god's sake, and had the grace to blush. Blair took it as confirmation and nodded sagely. "You see, mankind's most extended organ is the skin - therefore, when your senses kicked back in your largest organ - I'm still talking about your skin here, man - developed a sense of touch that went into XXL all of a sudden. And - what's really great - it shows us, that you are not imagining your heightened senses. 'Cause your skin revolts against a medicine every other person would easily tolerate."

The young man was already standing in the kitchen-area, looking into drawers, finding a pot, turning on the hearth, heating water, when Ellison asked carefully "And what do you think you are doing here?"

"Well, Big Guy: I'll thin out your tincture with boiled water - thus sterilized. And while we wait for the water to cool down, so that I can fill it into that half-empty bottle, I'll take care of those nasty cuts and scratches you couldn't reach on your back. Where's the salve?" Jim surrendered.

The strong muscles on this marvellous back in front of Blair flexed when the young man carefully applied salve, rubbing it gently around and over the hurting bruises. It did not hurt any more. Jim felt himself relax, tension and pain draining away from him. The kid had a magical touch.

Suddenly it occured to Jim that this was a gesture so much closer bordering to care, affection, even love, than any .. experience .. he had shared with Caroline. Had they even shared..?

Which led him to another thought.

""Will Dwayne get angry if you spend your afternoon with me?"

"Hung? Oh, Wayne! Nah, he's just a bit protective. His lover died last year in a carcrash. He looked a lot like me. Now I know, Wayne has a little crush on me. But he knows that I won't be available and in time he'll get over it. - Anyhow, I'm leaving the country in ten days for Peru. Imagine that: Professor Stoddard, me and twelve students. It's such an opportunity. I could not afford to travel on my own, but everythings covered by Rainier U and the University of Lima."

"You leave?!" Jim hoped, that the panic in his voice he heard clearly was less obvious to that young man who didn't know him well.

"Hey, calm down, Detective. It's only six months. I'll be examining a culture that knew exactly, what a Sentinel is. They knew, Jim.. um, sorry Detective. As soon as I'm back , I'll be able to help you even better. "

And so Detective James Ellison found himself making appropriate noises distinctly sounding like "big chance, how lucky, congrats" while he watched the kid bounce.

Six months. He'll come back. What a disaster.

Each day Blair came over to Jim's loft. At first the gruff Detective had not thought that the student's enthusiasm would last. But on the first of ten days the curly haired kid stood at his loft-door and rapped, then fisted to get into Jim's privacy. He brought vegetables, fruits and fresh bread and started to cook before Jim could start to protest.

"You must be fed up with all this bland stuff - cause my guess is, spices are not an option lately? And I'm a good cook Let me show you. O, by the way: can you smell the ingredients I throw into this casserole?"

And so the testing started.

The second day Blair brought unscented soap and detergent.

On the third day finally the angry red blotches still covering Jim's skin stopped burning and started itching. The healing had set in. Blair brought a remedy from a nature shop and the itching stopped.

On the fourth day Blair brought a tome - descriptions of the place where he would spend the next six months and they discovered that he would live close to the place where Jim's helicopter had crashed. For the next three days they tried to find as much information they could on the subject.

On the eighth day Blair dropped off to sleep in the middle of a conversation and Jim realized that the kid had spent his entire off time with him, testing and coming up with ways of control for his senses. Jim covered the slightly snoring form huddled on his couch with a throw-rug and watched TV with the volume way down.

The ninth day found the exuberant grad-student subdued. When Jim finally decided at two in the morning that Blair could no longer hold his eyes open, he offered to drive the student home.

"You are exhausted; I don't want you to end in a carcrash."

"Like Waynes boyfriend? Look, could I just sleep on the couch? I won't bother you, I promise. Please?" Blair knew: Even to his own ears he sounded desperate, but the big man just nodded.

"When do you need to get up in the morning?"

And then everything was over. Jim brought Blair to Wayne's place, where his sea-bag was already packed and waiting. They stood there awkwardly, until Jim reached into the back of his truck, bringing forth raingear and a small package.

"It's something practical. I thought maybe you'd need it. So that you won't forget civilisation." He already felt bad about giving presents to a man he'd known for less than two weeks. But his reward was a million-dollar-watt-smile slightly diminished and at the same time brightened by tears that were bitten back.

"I won't forget, Jim. Not one of those last ten days. You should not have - a swiss army knife!! That's great!" And then, most probably for the first time in his entire adult life, big butch Detective Ellison was hugged by a man and hugging back fiercely.

From the window of his flat Wayne watched the scene and Jim heard a voice grim with sadness: "Well, you won't get him either..."

And the loft was going to be damn cold again...

Bullpen

Deskduty. He hated deskduty. He was born to be out on the streets, if anything Sandburg had told him was only marginally the truth. And funny: He didn't even question anything Sandburg had told him any longer. He sighed. It's going to be a loooong, long time till the kid came back in about five months.

And paperwork didn't seem to make time go by faster. Blair had written to him. The letter had arrived a week ago after having been on the way for almost three weeks. Sandburg had posted it the day they went into the jungle. Every sentence spoke of enthusiasm and a never-ending happiness to be able to learn so much so fast. The second part was full of concern. Did he wear the white noise generators Blair had found with a little help from a fellow student? Did he eat enough fresh fruit and fish instead of meat and donuts? The diet seemed at first to heighten his senses even further, but then on the other hand seemed to make his body more alert, seemed to give him some measure of control over his wayward sense of taste. Oh, and yes, he silently answered the next question in his letter: He did wear his gloves when he went to work. At first he had felt silly wearing thin black silk gloves ficticiously to protect his irritated skin recovering from the aftereffects of the nervegas. Noone had questioned it. They all were just glad to see him again, so they coped with some new peculiarities of James Ellison. At least he didn't wear his shades any longer. Cascade's weather had been as good as Cascade's weather got: It was raining for three weeks now and noone expected it to stop any time soon. Thank god for small favours.

His sense of smell did bother him still. He had completely changed his routine in washing and cleaning the loft so he could stand to stay there, but at the station, where colleages, suspects and visitors were practically sitting on one another, it sometimes was hard. Blair had just started to teach him how to identify certain smells and he went on with his exercises. They helped him to manage the multitude of odors, sweat, deodorants, aftershaves, perfumes and - even thinking about it made him blush - blood. Buried deep in his heart where a little nagging voice could not help but say the truth he admitted hoping to impress the kid with more results as soon as the student would come back. Funny, he never doubted that the kid would come back to him.

He touched the crisp paper of Blair's letter stashed away in his inner pocket of his jacket then grabbed another case-file. The cuts and bruises were completely gone now. And - much to his surprise - there wasn't even a scar left. Now that he thought about it he had always healed fast. Blair had uttered the suspicion it might connect to his being a Sentinel. Jim had consciously made his face a blank mask and had solemnly said: "no tests, Darwin." The kid had gone white as if in shock and had stammered "Don't even joke about it, Big Guy." The kid had called him Big Guy a lot.

And he was starting to get his big muscles back for sure. Every day since he was back on duty, Jim went to the gym and worked out. He might not yet be able to control his senses but he could control his body's reaction. And so he primed himself like an olympic athlete to make up for his stay at the hospital and the extra-boring deskjob he was bound to.

Next file; He was skimming through information, underlining a word or two, adjoining a footnote all the time being distracted by a jags-game Rafe and Brown were watching on a small private tv-set. Though they had the volume down to almost nothing - so that Captain Banks would not notice - as if he didn't know already - Jim still could clearly follow the game despite the small devices he had placed behind his ears. Jim was about to say something when the newsbreak started, so he just sighed and headed for the breakroom himself to get yet another cup of coffee. Simon joined him there, grinning. They had come closer to each other during the last few weeks.

The Captain had been convinced by a bouncing student that one of his detectives had developed a special gift that could be trouble. And when Jim had reluctantly demonstrated his skills, his Captain had been more than impressed. First Banks had wanted to alert the media, at least tell his superiors, but was instantly convinced to keep it a secret when Jim, cringing at the thought of being on the display like some sort of caged animal, had gone completely motionless, focussing solely on his rather panicky heartbeat thrumming in his ears. It had taken Blair Sandburg a minute to bring Jim out of his zone-out and they had agreed afterwards to keep this - whatever this was - a secret.

Now the tall black man waved with the half-empty coffee-pot: "How's the game going?"

"You are not supposed to know that they were watching the game, Sir. "

"I'm the Captain - I have to know what's going on. It's in the job-discription. But you have those ears. You're supposed to know who wins."

Jim smiled a little grimly then filled his cup "So far the jags are winning. But it's newsbreak right now."

"Any news from Sandburg? He's been gone, what, five weeks?"

"Almost four weeks, Sir. No, I guess they are deep in the jungle right now. And I know from experience that there's no postoffice in there."

"Yeah, well, ... he'll stay in touch." They both smiled at that, encouragingly. Yes, somehow - neither of them doubted that, - the Kid would stay in touch with James Ellison.

Jim carried his coffee back to his desk when Rafe called out to him: "Hey, Jim, isn't that hairboy? That student you brought to talk to Simon?"

Jim turned and looked over to the small TV-screen. His superior eyesight zoomed in onto the small picture while he grabbed the white-noise generators and janked them down. The picture of the frizzy haired anthropology student had most likely been taken for a yearbook and was now titled with name and age. Then the anchorwoman came back and her crisp voice filled Jim even from the distance of half of the bullpen: "Professor Stoddard and his students had been reported missing when they had not made it to their last meeting point one week ago. While authorities still hesitated to launch a search party to the area in question druglord Raoul Gomes sent a few personal items to police headquarters in Lima together with the demand to free his second in command Paco Ruez, who had been captured two months ago. Where the exchange is going to take place or even if it is going to take place at all, is still unknown. Despite the news black-out Lieutenant Silvero of Special Operations Lima PD has imposed it has seeped out that one of the hostages had been injured."

Jim felt the voice glide away, the vision fading and his whole being falling into a grey nothingness that continued to scare him shitless even though now he knew what it was called. No; This time he would not zone out. He could not. He had to stay alert to somehow help Blair. Because he knew with almost deadly certainty that most likely noone would free a convicted druglord in exchange of some hostages.

Simon's voice penetrated through the fog of shock, helped him assemble himself again. "I know Lieutenant Silvero. Met him some years ago at a drug conference in L.A.. He's straightforward, honest and has no political links. That's why he still is lieutenant. Two of his colleagues I met then have already a *career*" The last word he sneered and it was clear what kind of career the police-captain was referring to. "Silvero, he's a good man. He'll do everything that's possible."

Jim was already on the phone and at the same time searching for phone numbers on his computer. "I know that, Captain. But I also know the policy towards hostage situations and I happen to know the area there. If one of the hostages really is injured it's just a matter of time till he dies. And time seems to be the only thing they don't have. Yes, peruvian consulate? That's great. Is Lieutenant Alvero still with the department? Captain? Head of the Office of Cultural Exchange?"

Jim watched everyone in the room cringe at the mention of the OCE. Funny, that every government installing any kind of secretive police in a foreign country called it Cultural Exchange - everybody knew it was a fake name, why not stick to the truth?

Ellison forced cheerfulness into his voice "Jaye, old pal - finally made it to Captains stripes yourself? And don't just say ya don't remember my voice. It's been five years but we've spent some reeeally rough nights together. .... Yeah, right it's me. No, I left the army soon after we met. I'm with the PD right now. ... No, nothing official. That'll be great. Now I'll owe you..."

He hung up and the last bit of cheefulness left him. "If anyone knows anything, it'll be Juan Alvero. After I came back from Peru he was a consultant at my debriefing." Looking briefly up at Simon Jim added: "He almost asked the right questions. I just didn't realize it then."

Simon nodded. "I'll pull some strings with Silvero. Although this will take some time."

"Doesn't matter. I'm going to meet Jaye at Cascade Parks. He always liked open space..."

Captain Juan 'Jaye' Alvero hadn't changed much in the past five years. Only his hair had greyed . He still liked open space, where he had a good lookout. And he still was very well informed. At first he'd been a bit puzzled by Jim's request. But then he seemed to understand the personal involvement that had nothing to do with Ellisons profession. He decided that the Detective had indeed personal reasons for wanting to be informed and Jim, seeing the glint of knowledge in the hard man's eyes, didn't deny it. Anything to get any information he could.

Yet he didn't get much. The person injured seemed to be Professor Stoddard himself who was said to have suffered heart problems during the initial attack of the mercenaries. So far the hostages were treaten fairly well; Lima PD had gotten pictures to confirm that. And they knew roughly where the mercenaries' camp was - Satellite pictures of the whole area had seen to that, although the photos were not precise enough to form a plan around them. And they made clear that the troops were unable to get there with enough men to ensure the safety of all hostages.

Absentmindedly Jim said his good-byes. His brain was already packing.

At the station Banks shoved a form under Ellison's nose: " I need your signature under a request for holidays. I want you to come back to a job. Call Silvero as soon as you arrive at the airport. He knows that you're coming." And so he left.

Jungle

A very intimidated looking young officer had met Jim Ellison at the airport in Lima and brought him to a helicopter. The rookie was very polite dealing with that non-verbal tough tall man who wore shades all the time and had strange applications behind his ears. When he once touched the arm of the American to attract his attention over the noises of the helicopter, Jim pulled down the shades, and iceblue eyes - hard and inquiring - glared at him. The rookie flinched. The shades went back. The rookie didn't try to say any more until the helicopter landed in the middle of the jungle on a clearing that all but buzzed with activity.

"Where can I change?" Jim folded his sunglasses and put them away carefully. Actually that tall American with the brush cut had a nice voice, the rookie decided while he pointed to a small container obviously used as a restroom. What emerged only minutes later did not resemble the silent but civilized stranger wearing a grey business-suite who had sat next to him in the helicopter. Military fatigues hugged steely muscles; heavy leather boots made for stomping through the undergrowth clung to his feet; a shortsleeved t-shirt compensated for the humid temperatures, a broad leather belt was equipped with a large knife just short of the size of a machete and a Glock handgun with two spare magazines. That meant 51 bullets - the farewell-gift from Jaye. Simon Banks had pulled a lot of strings but then both weapons had made it into the plane despite the law.

A kevlar vest hung open over a broad chest and Jim was tying his bandanna while he made his way to a tent where a sign said HQ. He instantly liked Lieutenant Silvera. The small, wiry police officer obviously had military background and handled the operation without trying to be a hero. Thirty men of his special ops unit were waiting to make a run for the druglord's camp. But first they were waiting for the exchange to be made. Which was the biggest surprise to Jim. For Paco Ruez was going to get free after all.

At Ellison's questioning glance Silvero only shrugged and let his exhaustion show. "What can I say. To the shame of my country Mr. Gomes has influential friends. And I have not. Which is, why I allow you to participate in this operation. Because I doubt that all of your friends will be released during this exchange. It is not in Mr. Gomes' making, as you say. He will hold at least one of his hostages back - as an ultimate ace up in his sleeve. You see, *that* is in his making."

Ellison just nodded, pulled off the weird applications from behind his ears, then concentrated on maps and strategical questions till the night set in.

The next morning Paco Ruez, grinning all the time, was dragged into the jungle for four hours. On a small clearing seven female and five male students, looking very young, very frightened and very desperate huddled around a makeshift stretcher where the bulky form of their professor, Dr Stoddard, rested. The small group was guarded by a dozen mercenaries with heavy machine guns. Ruez was delivered by two men wearing no guns at all.

"We still have one hostage. Ask them. So you better just - vanish before Mr Gomes starts to think that anything had gone wrong and kills the kid."

And with that the mercenaries and Paco Ruez literally disappeared into the green depths of the jungle.

An hour later Paco Ruez stopped panting heavily. "Where are my clothes?"

Without another word one of the mercenaries handed a seasack to his superior officer who was already stripping. "I didn't get where they did hide the bug, but it has to be somewhere. So after I'm dressed again, we can change directions and finally head home."

Again, the group was almost instantly consumed by the jungle. Eager to get to their camp and sure that they had outrun possible pursuers who would have to take care of a very ill professor and a group of panicky students they did not leave a guardian. So it eluded their attention that a man, features obscured by black greasepaint, tall but yet moving with the efficient grace of a large cat, bent down only minutes later, picking up the shirt Paco Ruez had been wearing, tore off the collar and stuffed the fabric into the back of his belt, tying it there. Then he straightened, looked around with his head cocked and his nostrils flaring. He saw a black panther in the undergrowth on the edge of the clearing but noted sort of detached that he could not smell the beast. The cat growled at him, then turned - and suddenly he sensed the sweat and the sour tang of human waste coming from the direction the panther had taken moments before. When he followed his nose into the jungle again, he moved with such precision and caution that none of the jungle noises changed. It felt as if he was coming home. As if he was embraced by his surroundings, even by the spirits of wild animals. He was not tired. His energy was recharged by the emerald immensity that carried him to reach his goal. Blair.

The trail the mercenaries left was like a concrete road to his eyes.

Ruez and his men reached the camp just before sunset. Gunshots greeted the 'long lost son' and soon fires were blazing. They felt safe there. The camp had been set on top of a twin hill, overlooking all possible access-roads, yet sheltered by age-old trees. But the undergrowth had been cut and even to a non-ecological observer it was clear that drug-traffic, poisonous waste and human behaviour hat already killed large parts of the surrounding jungle. Not that it mattered much to the mercenaries. They would just move on to another place and yet another place until finally they would come out of this jungle being so rich it hurt.

Bottles with some sort of homemade liquor were passed on. Soon the jokes were becoming rougher. They used three languages and dialects to discuss the physical differences between the seven student girls that had been their hostages and once again voiced their disappointment that they hadn't been allowed to touch the girls. One of the dogs roaming the camp came closer to the fire in search of something to devour. What the poor half starved animal got was a stone, thrown with evil precision, hitting his flank, startling it to yelp and hobble away under the laughter of the men.

The pitcher grabbed another stone, looking out for his next victim. The dogs crept back into the darkness of the night. The one man still held hostage had no such luck.

Hands bound in the back, he was sitting in a large cage made of wooden poles held together by a hempen rope. The makeshift prison had easily hosted all the hostages. Now the young grad-student was alone, crouched as far away from the firelight as he could get, almost immovable from exhaustion, his once-braided hair hanging down loose and matted. He still wore the rain-gear Jim Ellison had presented him with, baggy pants made of robust fabric, a jacket with pockets and pouches of various size. He had been searched thoroughly, of course, but he prided himself that they hadn't found Ellisons second present: the swiss army knife. When the attack began he had stuffed it into his right sock, let it slip into his boot. So it seemed he would die with all his most treasured belongings on him. All this sucked. And he didn't even know if his friends had made it to safety.

Blair saw the one mercenary, that had aimed the stone at the poor dog look out for him now. He crawled back into the farthest corner of the cage, fervently hoping that something, anything would shift the cruel man's focus off him. The first stone hit one of the wooden poles and ricochetted with a small thumping noise. Pressed against the wooden frame of his cage, Blair could feel the vibrations the hit had caused. The second stone was aimed more carefully and came so fast, the small man couldn't even start to move away. He cried out when the stone hit his left knee. The stinging pain grew to a burning fire of agony when Blair shifted his position to at least protect the already hurt leg.

From his vantage point the lone warrior stood motionless. *You have to hold on, kid; only a few more hours. Hold on and as soon as they are out cold I'll come and get you. I'm here. Can't you feel it. Hold on.* The first stone hit the cage and the Sentinel could hear the loud thud of the impact. He could hear the young student panting and he thought for a brief moment, that he even heard the panic in the frantic heartbeat of Blair Sandburg. The second stone hit the small man and the Sentinel heard the startled then painful cry. The Sentinel sought frantically for any form of distraction that would not uncover his presence. Help would come but most likely not before noon the next day.

The warrior saw the panther that had followed him - or had he followed the beast? Iceblue eyes met glowing gold orbs. The panther moved. The warrior took a deep breath, then growled deep in his throat, putting every ounce of frustrated helplessness into the sound. The distraction worked. The mercenaries were instantly on alert, looking in his direction, leaving Blair Sandburg alone. He could hear them, exclaiming, speculating about the roar. then a second growl, farther away this time, calmed them again. The beast was obviously on the hunt and moving away from the camp.

The warrior sent a silent prayer to whoever was in charge wherever. *Hold on Blair; Not very long now. I'm coming, I promise.* The small man in his large cage was still looking at where the first roar had come from. And although he knew that was impossible he almost believed that the kid was looking directly at him, was actually seeing him standing there motionless, waiting for the party to end.

They did not turn back to their hostage again. They just kept on drinking and drinking. Paco Ruez and Raoul Gomes had made it to their sleeping tent. The Sentinel observed that they discussed breaking down the camp the next week and moving to the second of the twin hills. Same advantages, clean surroundings. But Ruez argued against it. The ruins of an ancient temple were scattered on top of the second hill, a place where the natives did not go often and when they did they came with offerings. Ruez used the native word for sacred place, taboo and Gomes laughed and accused him of being a pantsy after just some weeks of imprisonment. Ruez almost hit his superior who laughed even more. Then Gomes shrugged. When an educated man like Ruez had trouble with that place, the uncivilized men who helped keeping up the drug traffic would no longer be available, that much he was certain of. The two men finally went to bed still talking about their next camp and the tent went dark.

After that the drinking outside got real heavy. By midnight the warrior observed that only three people were still awake. Two only mildly drunk mercenaries patrolled the boundaries of the camp. And Blair Sandburg was fidgeting in his cage.

The warrior slipped into the darkness and into the camp. The first mercenary lit himself a cigarette. The small, but bright flame of the match blinded him for a second. He never knew what hit him. When his feet buckled he was caught by the warrior and carefully settled on the ground. The metal of the automatic gun felt reassuring in the warrior's hand. Within moments the unconscious man was gagged with the retrieved, bugged collarcloth and bound to stay out of the way. The Sentinel heard rustling from the cage. The kid tried to get a hold on something despite his hands that were still tied on his back and slowly getting numb.

*Hold on, Chief. I'll be there in a moment. Promise*

The second mercenary was a little more cautious than the first one. He strolled by and though the warrior had hidden the unconscious body, the patrolling man caught a glimpse of something that did not belong to the darkness. He came closer. It was the pitcher. He was not as drunk as he had seemed to be from a distance. The pitcher smiled a cruel smile while cocking his gun. Then he bent down to examine the body lying on the ground. The warrior took one step out of the darkness. The pitcher jerked up, jumped and in one fluid motion kicked out with his right leg. The warrior bent backwards to avoid the impact, crossed the small distance with a stride and landed on top of the pitcher the moment the mercenary felt ground under his feet again. Before the pitcher could yell the warrior had his throat in a restrictive armlock. After a splitsecond of shock the pitcher started to kick and flail. He almost managed to wrestle himself out of the warriors tight grip. But then the Sentinel remembered what had happened a few hours ago and suddenly he saw the necessity of what he was forced to do. He twisted his grip. A muscle in the warrior's jaw twitched when an ugly loud snap ended the struggling.

The warrior waited a full minute monitoring with Sentinel senses the quiet camp. Panther was back, standing by his side, watching him, a surprisingly rosy tongue licking up to his nose.

Sandburg knew it. He was alone. They did no longer need him. He was just a casualty. That he survived till now was just dumb luck. Maybe one of his ancestors was irish after all. He almost laughed out loud at the thought. Good God, he didn't even know his own father. He stifled another laugh. *Don't get hysteric now. What would tough cop Ellison do? He'd try to get rid of the hempen ropes that still held his hands. C'mon Sandburg; the girls were all enthused about you being so flexible. Now prove it.* He bent and flexed himself despite the throbbing pain that was once his knee, finally managed to get a grip on his right boot. He felt a cramp starting in his underused leg that was suddenly bent at a very unusual angle. But with closed eyes he let his fingers roam around until they found the price. Panting and sweating as if he had just had a thorough workout he held his swiss army knife in trembling fingers. It cost him a few moments to search blindly for a blade, then open it and - luck of the irish my ass - cut his own hand instead of the ropes that bound him. With his second try he had better luck. The ropes were hard, seemed unresisting at first but then he felt them weaken and that gave him the strength to continue.

When the ropes finally fell, the student fell back against the cage, massaging his abused hands, kissing the knife in almost comical relief before putting it into one of his pockets. Then he noticed that the two patrolling mercenaries had not come by for quite some time. Not that he missed them, but shouldn't ...

A hand came out of the dark and gently closed over his face, pressing Blair's body against the wooden poles of the cage. The student almost had a heart attack. Then a soft voice that should be in Cascade with its owner actually whispered "It's me. I'm here, Chief. Don't say a word."

Blair nodded, was instantly released and turned around to take a good look at his Blessed Protector,. He saw the warrior, dangerous, efficient and fully in control and with a small sigh he rested his forehead against the wood to catch his breath.

Something glinted in the moonlight. The large knife the Sentinel had plucked from his belt had only one cutting blade and sharp sawteeth on the back of it. In no time the hempen ropes that held two of the poles in place were cut and the poles removed. Jim helped Blair out of the cage. The kid was shaking badly, could not stand without support because of the pain in his left knee and was not able to grab at anything, now that the adrenaline worked off and the circulation of blood into his hands had started.

"We have to leave, Blair. We have to buy ourselves twelve hours before help is going to come. Can you walk?"

The student still remembered the first order and just nodded. His curiosity would have to wait. Anyway he wouldn't have been able to say much because his knee hurt like a sunofabitch and he needed to concentrate on breathing. So he followed the warrior and he really tried to be as silent as possible in doing so. The dogs didn't move. A panther was leading the way. *Oboy, Big Guy, are you gonna have to answer a few questions.*

Exactly fiftythree hurtful paces later they had left the camp behind them without an alarm. The warrior turned, secured the guard's gun on his back and held out his arm. Blair Sandburg sank into the tall man with a reliefed sigh. The young student's face was white as a sheet and streaked with sweat. When he tried to steady himself again, and accidentally put too much of his weight on his injured leg, he couldn't hide the pain that jolted through him. Without a word, the warrior slipped his arm around the smaller man's waist and almost lifted him off the ground. The Sentinel was on the run again, taking long, sure strides, supporting the bundle clinging to his side before the student could even make an attempt to protest.

They were going downhill. The Sentinel seemed to know where they were heading - at least Blair hoped he did, because he did not want to think that they really were following a large black cat into safety. Half an hour later none of his fears mattered any longer. Blair was almost unconscious. He was no longer able to help the warrior who carried most of his weight . He did not want to slow the Big Guy down but at his one attempt to speak he had been shushed down immediately. Now Blair felt the powerful muscles of the arm that held him up start to cramp. They stopped.

"I don't think it's far now. I think it's leading us to a shelter of sorts." The warrior sounded absolutely sure and no doubt whatsoever tinged his low voice.

Blair wanted to wake up from this nightmare out of the Twilight Zone. Then the warrior lifted the student into a firemen's carry and started to run again.

"Say, did you get anything to eat out there? You're a lightweight right now, not that I complain."

Blair only harrumphed. They were going uphill now.

An eternity later the warrior stopped, let his burden gently down to earth. Blair was dripping with sweat and it was not his. But every time he had tried to urge the Sentinel to a stop, the tall man's grip had just tightened and his stride had become faster. Now the warrior bent forward, braced his shaking arms against his thighs and panted hard, his face contorted from exertion while slowly sinking into a crouch.

"Seems we are done running." The Sentinel pointed with his head towards the large panther that had settled down near the broken entrance stones of an ancient temple.

"It's a sanctuary. I would not normally use it as a hiding place - we could get trapped inside the ruins in case the mercenaries find out where we are. But quite frankly, Blair, I don't think I'll be able to carry you any further and you are in no shape to run - I want to bandage that knee of yours, too." His exhausted voice trailed off, then the warrior stood again, holding out a hand to help Sandburg get up.

The warrior didn't see it coming. The student rose to his feet, didn't release the grip on Jim's hand and threw himself into the bulk that was his Blessed Protector, hugging dirt, sweat, greasepaint and an assortement of grasses and leaves, burying his nose into hard kevlar and muttering constantly.

Ellison had to strain his hearing. Finally he could make out words:

From the depths of his chest a small voice, straining not to sob, mumbled" ThankyouThankyou..."

The Detective just rode out the storm. Actually not a bad feeling; he padded the too thin back reassuringly, then couldn't resist and massaged the scalp of the head that was still pressed against his bullett-proof vest until the muttering subsided and a very embarrassed young man emerged out of folds of kevlar. Redrimmed blue eyes met fatigued iceblue ones.

Blair took a deep breath: "Today I thought for the first time, that there was a distinct possibility that I would not make it home. To Cascade, I mean. I thought, what a laugh. Now that I have not only found a real Sentinel but also proof about those Guardians in a burial site nearby - now that I really could try and be of real help to you, if you wanted me to, you know. I knew that they were only using me as a shield against the military and that I would be dead the moment the troops were coming. I hadn't had anything to eat for the last two days and almost nothing to drink and when they started to throw stones I thought I was had. And then suddenly you arrived. Man, you'll never know how ... happy I was to just see you there. Thank you for coming. Thank you for freeing me. Thank you for everything- and how did you do it?"

Ellison chuckled. It was the first real laugh in more than a month and it felt good. He tugged at the smaller man and led him into the ruins, still supporting most of the kid's weight in favor of the still hurting knee. They passed the large panther and could hear the low rumble of the cat's purr. Both were drawn to the back of the sanctuary, where parts of ancient walls still stood their ground against the emerald tide of the jungle, building a shelter almost hidden by rank growth. If anything they would be able to face an attack covered by this walls. And maybe, just maybe, they weren't even noticed if their followers were able to catch up with them.

Ellison helped Blair to sit down - with no Sentinel sight the kid was blind as a bat in this darkness - then shoved up the baggy pants - his present, he realized - and started to examine the injured knee. To distract the student while he was rubbing balm from his med-supply into the swollen joint and get a bandage tightly around it, he summarized his story, ending with:

"Now Sil, Lieutenant Silvero, knows the location of the camp, 'cause I left the bugged collar there. They had to take care of the hostages first, so I volunteered to get whoever had been kept at the camp back. I had this nagging feeling, that it had to be you. You were the one responsible for your students and - 'cause of his heartattack- for Dr Stoddard. Figured you'd volunteer, too. I was right, obviously. Now you gotta drink something; careful, not too much. Eat this. It's a ration-pack; well - even if you don't believe me, it's food, I promise." The watery chuckle answering him sounded like everything he had ever wanted to hear.

For some time only content munching and an occasional sip out of Jim's canteen was to be heard. Then Blair turned to the general direction where he thought his Sentinel should be: "How do you feel? I mean, any zone-outs, lately? What about Captain Banks?"

"Blair - you just escaped certain death, you are not safe yet and you want to know what I feel?" There was way too much emotion shining through his voice, but Ellison could not help it. This small man, happily munching down yet another energy-bar, kept surprising him.

"Of course I want to know. I care. " The heat that suddenly radiated off the student had to be an enormous blush. "I mean, in a way I saw you in your natural surroundings - tonight I mean. You were so focussed, it was amazing. What happened?"

"The panther helped." Jim squirmed at the inadequacy of that sentence. "I don't know how, but every time it showed up I was able to hear and smell the enemy. And it helped me to distract the mercenaries when they started to throw stones at you."

Blair did not even smile. "Makes sense. The panther was a sacred beast - I found out at the burial ground - just before we were attacked - that the souls of great shamans sometimes chose beasts to watch over their loved ones. You know: eagle, condor, jag or bear and deer further up north. Maybe this spirit decided that you needed guidance during your rescue-mission."

"Well, now the beast is gone - I can't hear ..." Jim cocked his head and although Blair still could not see a thing, he felt something going on. The student reached out with his hand, found the solid bulge of a wellmuscled arm and squeezed gently.

"Focus, Jim. Have faith in your ability. You can do this." The kid's voice was low, almost purring. And the Sentinel heard. They had sent some mercenaries after him and the student. They had their dogs with them and they were about one hour away from their safe place, that was not so safe any more.

"I'm sorry Blair - They're coming after us with dogs. Unless they are blind, they should be able to find us."

"We knew that something like that would happen. Don't worry. I have a better chance of surviving here with you than on that other hill inside that cage. If it's really meant for me to die, I'd rather be with you."The quiet conviction in Blair's voice made Jim shiver with suppressed emotion.

"We are not out of options. I have the automatic and a handgun and " he focussed again, anchored in the here and now by Blair's hand rubbing circles into his arms "they only sent seven men after us."

"Boy, did they underestimate us." Sarcasm dripped out of Sandburg's voice.

"C'mon over to me, Chief. Now comes the hardest part. Waiting. It's too dark so I guess they got torches and they are too far away yet, to take them out silently. I'll try that later. But if they find us, I might have to kill them. You know that, don't you?"

"You already did, didn't you?" Bair felt the nod more than he saw it. "I felt the tension in you. I'm sure you tried every other option. It's them or us. Hell, they are drug-dealers and killers themselves." The student stopped, flustered. "I never thought I'd ever say such a thing."

"And I thank you for it. I ... appreciate you defending me. I just feel like I failed you. I mean, I wasn't able to get you to safety."

Blair snuggled closer to the tall shadow that had to be his Sentinel and tentatively brought his arms around the waist of the big man. He felt the tension slowly drain away.

"We're not dead yet, Jim. Anyway, I don't think that this is an end. I mean, we are just dicovering your abilities. What you can do with your heightened senses. I intend this to be a beginning. I intend to help you - if, if yyou let me, of ccourse. So now lets wait."

Forty minutes later even Sandburg was able to hear the dogs barking. He tried to control his breathing to keep the panic down and unashamedly leaned into Ellison for comfort.

"Blair, I need your help. You'll have to keep me grounded. I want to monitor each step from now on."

And so, for the second time that evening Blair talked the Sentinel into reality while the warrior listened to the ememie's progress.

"They are arguing now. Obviously they don't want to go further, 'cause they are afraid of the sanctuary."

"Afraid, the mercenaries??"

"One of them is telling a terribly nasty story about a sacrifice and two butchered bodies."

"Yeah? Tell me more."

"You don't wanna know."

The dogs barked again, with more vigour.

"The dogs are cut loose. I'll position the automatic gun." But the Sentinel stayed motionless. Listening, head cocked. Then:

"A wildcat - the dogs have disturbed a large cat on the hunt. The beast is REALLY angry." Blair had his hands up at Ellison's ears the splitsecond before the first gunshot ripped through the night. Even with his ears covered, the Sentinel jerked and moaned in pain.

The random shooting stopped and Jim listened in again. "The dogs are on the trail again. But, - no " stunned " seems we didn't run out of luck altogether. The dogs seem to lead the mercenaries away from our hiding place - much to the relief of the men .They say that if we were stupid enough to go up here, we'd be lunch to any beast of prey by now. They are - god, if they'd be my men back in the military they'd be court martialled."

"Hey, don't be ungrateful, Big Guy. Most likely their stupidity and cowardness was the reason no army would want them."

"Yeah, or their greed. Drug-trafficking is easy money, Chief."

Half an hour later Jim finally put the gun down and relaxed. The dogs had let the men back to the camp in a wide circle, never coming near the sacred temple on top of the hill. Thanks to Blair's guiding Jim was able to track the movements of the search-party till they met "reinforcement troops" and decided to call it a night. The last he heard was someone saying: "That stupid kid is most probably dead by now. And if he had help with his escape, it must've been a tribal warrior. Remember the problems we've had last week? We'll double the guards. In 36 hours we move anyway, so what." Then the voice grew too thin even for Sentinel ears.

Blair sounded awed: "So an ancient sanctuary and a wild beast saved both our lives. Man, that's like, so incredible. I'll find out what kind of temple this is in the morning. " And at Jim's questioning look: "To bring the proper sacrifice. I don't think that mutilated bodies are required but I intend to find out how to please the spirit hosting us here."

The determined honesty of the statement made Jim smile and shake his head slightly. Blair felt the movement;

"What Big Guy?"

"Nothing, Chief. We'll find out which offerings are required, I promise."

"You'll help me?"

"Don't sound so incredulous. You think I don't have to say a proper Thank you to whoever helped me save you?"

"Oh" Blair shifted even closer. "You need to wear this .. thing?"

"What, need a pillow? I can take the kevlar off now, I guess" Fresh night air caressed his sweaty chest when he put down the protective gear. He leaned back onto the mosscovered stones and shifted the young man till the bandaged knee rested safely on his own thighs. Sandburg was asleep as soon as he was horizontal.

Finally jetlag, two days without any rest and a number of adrenaline highs plus heavy jungle workout caught up even with the warrior. Jim Ellison fought brave but the steady thump thump of his sleeping Guide's heartbeat forced him into sleep, too.

Something had woken the Sentinel. When he lifted his head, careful not to dislodge the sleeping kid - a heavy weight to his chest - he saw a tribal warrior with a spear standing where once maybe a door had been. With a soft muffled curse Jim tried to get to his Glock, still trapped in his belt, the just now wakening Sandburg a dead weight that refused to be shifted.

The warrior was adorned with a feather collar and wearing his hair cut short. He just stood there for long moments. Then the man leaned his spear against the broken stonewall and reached out with both hands, palms up. Peace.

Blair's gasp shattered the quiet - the utter darkness of night slowly gave way to a softer grey. In a couple of hours it would be morning. A soft drizzle was falling, matting the student's hair even further.

Sandburg sat up, still staring at the stranger, Jim - as soon as he got untangled - rose to his feet and stood in front of the kid; upright, protective, intimidating. To his utter surprise the warrior smiled.

"You do the right thing already, Enqueri. The Sentinel protecting the Guide."

At the first words of the stranger, Blair had gotten up, too, was standing behind and slightly to the right of the protective mass that was James Ellison, touching the taut muscles of Jim's back with his left hand, hoping that his pulsebeat would anchor his friend.

"And you do well, too. The Guide rooting the Sentinel. Even though you had no teacher. You were meant to be. Now you have to prove your inborn rights with your offerings. Both your souls are demanded to gain trust. Do not hesitate." The warrior smiled warmly one last time, turned around to pick up his spear and left. The edges of his image softly blurred when the old night swallowed him whole. There was the soft purr of a large cat echoing through teir hideout, the low rumble sending shivers through their spine.

Afterwards, neither of them could say which language the strange warrior had used. But they did understand him quite clearly.

Afterwards they could not even tell for sure if the warrior's lips had moved at all.

Jim exhaled softly and turned to face Blair.

"You alright, Chief? How's the leg?"

The student tore his eyes away from the darkness and looked at Ellison, answering a little distracted:"Could use another dose of your salve. You know what he meant with this 'souls are demanded'-phrase? Do you remember anything like that from your former experiences? And what's Enqueary?" He sat down on a stone with a sigh.

"Enqueri. It was my Chopec-name. But I didn't know this warrior. And then I didn't have a Guide - that's what he called you, didn't he? Most of the time I patrolled with the tribe's shaman, Incacha. It was ... different with him. I honored him." Jim shrugged, uncupped the salve and put the jar down on one of the stones.

"Would you like to pull your pants down this time or shall I push up the cloth again?"

"I'll put it down, if you don't mind."

Ellison, already kneeling in front of Blair, sat back on his heels and waited for the student to wriggle out of his raingear. The kid wore briefs and they hadn't survived more than a weeks imprisonment and the escape by a long shot. They were dirty, stainy and sweaty and the sight alone had Blair cringing and blushing furiously with embarrassement.

"Uhm, sorry, Big Guy " he did not quite succeed to cover the offending garment. "I must be reeking - maybe you want to back off. Your nose has to be ..."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm no rosegarden either, with all the greasepaint and sweat and dirt." He started to loosen the bandage, put it away carefully, then globbed salve onto the left knee. "And you don't reek. You smell like a wild force. Like you belong into the jungle. All this raw power, free spirit, sleek grace collected in every single drop of sweat. I bet it's sweet." Now it was Jim's turn to blush, while he rubbed the ointment into the injured leg. "Sorry; I didn't want to offend you."

"You didn't. I just never expected you to be a poet." Jim snorted and Blair bent to capture the still flushed face between his hands. He held Jim's eyes with his own, swallowed hard. "Jim. You just captured everything I feel for you in one clear sentence. I want to taste your sweat, too."

He hadn't even finished his sentence and certainly hadn't had the time to get frightened by his own courage, when Jim closed the small distance between the two of them and brushed his lips against Blair's mouth. He swallowed the last sound of word and took advantage of the slightly open lips. The hands that still held his face, started to tremble while he gently rubbed circles and abstract patterns into Blair's thighs. When Jim's massaging thumbs brushed against Blair's briefs, no Sentinel-senses were needed to feel the evidence of arousal.

Blair's hands had been shaking so badly he had to anchor them on Ellison's shoulders for leverage, where he clasped them now, surely leaving bruises. He was kissed again - if this was a kiss - and floating back to lie down on mosscovered stone and came up for air and moaned when Jim's tongue found it's way into his ear, blocking out every sound but the heavy panting of the man above him, the only thing left to feel for him the jolts of electricity that devillish tongue was sending straight into his cock, making him quiver in delight.

When had Jim gotten rid of his pants? When had his own briefs disappeared? Then this finely carved lips found his mouth again and he sucked on Jim's tongue feeling more than hearing the moans that reverberated through both of their bodies.

This was what the warrior had said. Souls demanded. Offerings made. No hesitation. Blair opened his eyes he hadn't realized he had closed. Jim was hovering above him, panting, eyes half closed in extasy, with his right hand skimming restlessly over Blair's furry chest, tickling hard aching nubs in the process. When his widespread fingers found the nipple ring Jim tugged gently. Blair arched upwards with a silent cry, rubbing his leaking cock against hard abdominal muscles wet with sweat.

This was the warrior's demand. Souls offered. No hesitation. Blair opened his legs. The movement startled Jim out of his bliss.

"Chief, oh god. You feel like a dream."

"Please Jim, more, gimme more, I need more." The desperate pleading trailed off. Jim shifted. Blair's sweat really tasted sweet. He knew now. He had licked it off this enticing neck. His whole skin was receiving erotic signals from Blair's chesthair that tickled him whenever he rubbed over it. He touched the younger man's cock for the first time. Blair gave out a strangled, surprised moan. The hard leaking member in Jim's hand jerked at the touch, precum oozing from the small slit making the shaft slick and silken. The feel was incredible. Jim let the pulsing organ go, cupped the hard balls that were already drawn up. The kid had to be so close.

"Look at me, Blair" Eyes that had been squeezed shut in exquisite pleasure-pain opened hesitantly just to observe that the Sentinel licked his fingers, sticky and shiny with precum, tasting Blair, wetting the fingers thoroughly. A shiver went through the young man that ended exactly at the tip of the kid's angry cock, releasing another glistening drop of liquid. It smelled incredible.

And then Jim brought his long, surprisingly slender fingers down and teased Blair's anus. He rubbed across the tight puckered opening over and over again, each movement answered by a sigh and a quiver. Finally Blair pushed against the one digit that tickled him *there*, at his most private part where he had never let anybody touch him. The digit sunk in.

"Stop Jim." Afraid he'd hurt Blair, Jim started to pull his finger out. The response was almost hysterical. "Don't move. Too much. Don't move at all". After long minutes the desperate panting slowed down a bit and the imminent danger of embarrassing himself was over. Blair decided he'd be eternally grateful to whichever deity was watching over him - in fact he had just named two dozens of them to distract himself. So he moved a bit.

And was rewarded with a slow sensual push in - pull out rhythm that lured him back into a spiral of sexual sensations that soon held his body captive. A second finger filled him and took him higher and higher.

"Please. Blair, let me in. Just a little bit. Please. I need you." Dimly it registered in Blair's lust-fogged brain that Jim was begging him for something. At this point he'd given him anything. Why is he asking anyway?

"Yes, whatever, just - I've never ... be ..." A third finger stretched his opening and Blair grunted appreciatingly.

"I won't go in far, I promise. Just Oh god , Chief." The name was a caress, loving, gentle, caring.

The fingers were removed "Nooo,"

"Patience, Chief"

It was slick and hot and much bigger than those three fingers. And it was hard and unyielding. It felt great - and big. And it penetrated him forcefully and slid in a few inches. He clenched his ass in anticipation of the pain that had to come for sure - but it didn't hurt. 'Cause Jim stopped his movement and just waited. The tall man shivered, flanks heaving, panted heavily and did not move. Then he grabbed Blair's angry erection and started to pump. That was when the young man started to wail. Slick with sweat and precum, head bent back body taut and arched upwards the Guide strained towards completion.

"You are mine, Chief."

"Yes YES" Blair was swept away by his orgasm, wrenched out of him by the statement as much as by the insistent pumping, spurting creamy cum all over Jim. The Sentinel jerked when the first warm jets of semen hit his chest thus burying his cock another inch into that clenching ass that milked the head of his large manhood. He looked down at the connection point, where his angry red cockhead penetrated his Guide, was inside his Guide's body, joined. The sight made holding back impossible. The next spasm sent him over the edge while he watched as his cock lengthened and broadened, stretched the puckered opening even further, then felt the tidal wave boil over and fill the man beneath him with his cum.

Jim's roar reverberated through their hideout echoed by the softer moan of his mate, who sagged back totally sated. Very carefully Jim lowered himself down, sighed, when the still halfhard penis popped out of Blair's opening. Another shudder racked the smaller body beneath him.

"You OK, Chief?"

"Way beyond OK. Are we awake? Was this a dream?" He opened dazed blue eyes, showing an expression of awed wonder :"Did just happen what I think happened?"

"I don't know if this was a dream, Chief. But if it was, it's been a helluva hot dream, don't you think so? And we both had this dream..." Jim grabbed his still sensitive cock between thumb and forefinger and squeezed once, pressing the last of his spent cum out and cleaned his sticky hand on the moss. Gathering one lump of the tiny green leaves he rubbed his own chest and Blair's belly to get rid of the kid's semen.

He was still cleaning them when he heard Blair's breath catch and his heartbeat accelerate. At Jim's raised eyebrow the student blushed:

"I'm only now able to see you; now, that the day's breaking. You are beautiful. The way you half kneel, half lie between my spread legs. The way your semen kind of moves inside me." Another shudder.

"Oh, my. Again?" With a gentle gesture the older man brushed along the hardening length of his eager mate using just the tips of his fingers.

"Blair? This time we won't be dreaming. Whatever that first time might have been, this'll be for real. Look at me, baby. Do you understand me?"

"I'm awake now. I can see you clearly. Do something, Jim. NOW." He arched against the maddeningly light touch of Jim's fingertips. The sight of Blair trembling was everything Jim's cock needed as encouragement. The kid's eyes grew big while they locked on the filling organ till it reached its full lenghth at a little more than ten inches. Almost mesmerized by the throbbing vein that ran along the underside of this rod - and he could see it clearly 'cause that piece of meat curved elegantly upwards - Blair swallowed and mumbled:

"That fit into me?"

"Just the head, little one. Let me touch you; please?"

No more anxiety: Blair closed his eyes in bliss when Jim's slender fingers wrapped themselves around his eager cock and almost missed the tall man's chuckle:

"Now look who's talking - it's growing..."

The fingers danced on and on, up and down his shaft, while hot wet lips started to suck and lave a trail from his earlobe to his neck, to that special spot on his neck - "YES" - to his collarbone. When those fingers were capturing just the crown of his cock, circling it, pumping it gently, Jim's tongue found his right nipple and he bucked so hard he almost lost contact with the Big Guy.

"No, you don't" it was uttered as a threat but Blair refused to be intimidated, for those fingers continued moving on his cock, unfurling hot curls of fire in his stomach, radiating to his balls, pushing small drops of glistening, clear precum out of his slit. To efficiently keeping Blair from bucking again, Jim wove the fingers of his unoccupied hand through long locks of dark hair while his chest trapped Blair's upper body. Then Jim's mouth found the left nipple. The one adorned with a small golden ring. The one extra sensitive. Blair yelled. For one moment Jim stopped, afraid he had hurt the kid.

"Don't stop, goongoongoon, pleasepleaseplease." Shivers came in waves now and Blair had his eyes squeezed shut in extasy. Everything that existed in his hot little world was just his cock and Jim playing him like an instrument. Not that he was coherent enough to see that.

Time for the next step. Never stopping his ministrations, Ellison shifted until he straddled the student, pressing Blair's still spread legs together till they were resting closed. The small valley where thighs met groin was already slick with sweat and Jim's trembling cock was shining with precum. For a moment the fingers abandoned their task of driving Blair crazy. Jim grabbed his own manhood and bent it forcefully until he could shove the thick long rod between Blair's closed legs, slicking the valley further and brushing along Blair's already flushed, hard balls. Once more he guided his cock, then started thrusting in earnest, while his fingers resumed pumping up and down Blair's jerking rod. The student, always a fast learner, thrust in counterrhythm, moaning his appreciation. Then Jim ruined it all. The Sentinel's lips covered the kid's left nipple again, sucked at it till his tongue found the small ring and tugged gently. A surprised gasp the only reaction, Jim found Blair's semen coating his hand while the body beneath him cramped and shuddered in delight.

Jim gathered the limp exhausted student in a tight embrace, turned them both sideways and pressed that sweet body even closer with one of his strong legs. The rhythm of his strong thrusts increased, the only thing he could hear was the blood thrumming in his ears, what he felt was the soft skin his cock touched with every thrust, he could only smell Blair's semen mingled with his own musk, the taste of Blair's sweat was on his tongue and when he dared to look he saw the dazed halfclosed eyes of his lover. And came. His balls pumped rushes of semen onto the pliant young man who suddenly clung to him with an iron grip. Finally sated, he collapsed at his mate's side.

"I love you" it was whispered so low Blair could have decided not to hear it. But he shifted and snuggled impossibly closer into the Big Guy.

"you, too" it was a breathy whisper and almost inaudible for Blair didn't have the strength to do anything more than a whisper.

When the sun started to set the sky on fire, they both fell asleep.

Jim woke up one hour later. Precisely one hour later - military training had seen to that. He had to get both of them dressed before the sun could burn them to exhaustion. Because they were naked - because they had made love - because they had shared - It hit him hard. He had been with another man *For Christ's sake at least name it properly - you had sex with another man...* but there had been nothing casual about this experience *yes, experience is a good word for it...* and not only once, in the throes of a dream, half driven, half out of his mind - but twice - and the second time there had been nothing mystical in their *lovemaking, come on, think it..* The ferocious hunger had been quelched and it had been sweet and satisfying - *how are ya gonna live with that, Jimmie? Always into women, even through your time in vice - and now you think about another man's cock and get hard again* The tall man groaned desperately - pushing himself to sit up.

Blair was nowhere to be seen. *Damn. His clothes are gone, too.* Jim scrambled into his fatigues, stomped into boots and grabbed for his weapon. *Have to look for him* - then it occurred to him: Use your senses to search for him. He can't be gone for long - He extended his smell and got hit by the heavy scent of their lovemaking, lingering proof of their passion, as was the itching blotches of dried semen on his skin, irritating him. Absentmindedly he scratched himself, scrubbed off white remnants that clung under his fingernails.

The heartbeat. There it was - funny, now that he knew that Blair was standing somewhere near he realized he hadn't been afraid that the kid *have to stop to diminish him, he's got a name, he's a grown-up* that Blair had taken off into the jungle. No, unconsciously he had used this one heartbeat as a beacon - now remembering that even in his sleep the soft thump-thump had relaxed him further. *of course he wouldn't just off and go, stupid* Jim's faint smile did not hold much cheerfulness. Cause now he thought, he had just to find out the true reason for Blair to stay: Was he just afraid to be alone in the jungle, was it him, being a Sentinel .. being a friend .. a lover. Or was it him being the perfect lab-rat for this research. And suddenly could not decide which option terrified him most.

With a defeated sigh he went over to that alluring heartbeat that seemed to center him, to complete him in an oddly comforting yet disturbing way.

The young anthropologist was standing in front of one of the more upright walls of the sanctuary frantically rubbing dirt over a sheet of paper he pressed against the ancient carved stone. Next to him on a flat stone was an assortment of previously white papers scattered - he seemed to have been doing whatever he was doing for quite some time now.

With no more than a flickered glance over his shoulder, excitment and lots of - relief? - showing in his voice, Blair exclaimed when he became aware of Jim's presence:

"It's Sentinel and Guide. It's all carved in stone, here - this sign, it's you - this one, me - if you want to picture me as Guide. I'll have to copy all of those carvings here. C'mon Big Guy, time's awasting - don't stand just there, contribute to science. Tear some pages out of my notebook - try to find blank ones, thank you - and copy this."

"Good morning to you, too."

"Yeah, morning. Over there, see, that's important, too - I think - I hope...." Blair's voice trailed off a little hesitantly, then he shrugged imperceptible and muttered "Just , you know, copy that..."

"Where did you get this much paper?" It was not the most important issue that crossed Jim's mind, but the safest by far.

"I didn't 'find' it. I stored it in those plenty pockets of the raingear you gave me. Best present along with the knife. Although that was pretty edgy in my boots."

"Do I want to know what that means?" Jim took a sheet of paper and some moss and started to copy the motions of Blair, surprised that the carvings really 'did' show on the paper surface.

"That's where I hid the knife when we were attacked. My boot. They didn't find it when they searched us. And then, when they herded us to their camp it stayed there. Felt kinda reassuring, you know." Blair's voice had lost some of it's lightness, grew softer "Like, you know, reminded me of you" Then - with more force "Anyway - that's great what you're doing there. It really is important, you know."

And with not one single word the talkative student had so much as brushed the subject that burnt in front of Jim's eyes. *Bite the bullet, Jimmie - it won't do to let him walk around like a time-bomb, blurting out the news of last night when it's least apropriate. Talk to him. It's like a nasty assignment. Close your eyes and get over with it fast - then you can go on with your life and never think about it again - who'm I kidding...*

"Blair, about tonight ..." jim stood there, shoulders squared, eyes on the dirty sheet of paper he still pressed against the stonewall, *like facing a shooting squad* the thought flashed through Blair's mind and his heartbeat started to get hectic.

"Jim, I'm - I don't know what to say. I think - it's been sort of a Sentinel-Guide-thing. I mean - you didn't exactly rape me - and I think I didn't either. But I never even thought about a man that way. And I don't think I can deal with what we did last night right now. I mean - I'm not fighting the concept here..." The student struggled for words and seemed frustrated about his inability to talk eloquently.

"See, we became friends and I'm supposed to help you with your senses. I mean, I'm seldom friends-first with my girlfriends, if you know what I mean." Tehn he blushed furiously: "That came out all wrong, didn't it? And - and it's really not what I mean at all." he sighed.

"So what did you mean?" Jim's voice, gentle but firm, seemed to anchor Blair's tumbling thoughts.

"I mean that I want you to trust me - but you realize that my thesis is about sentinels and I can't just have a relationship with one - even if you 'were' a woman. Is that making any sense at all?" A wiry smile graced lush lips.

"Ahh, so it's let's pretend it never happened, then." The Sentinel was almost shocked at his relief and even more so at the faint brush of disappointment that clamped down on his heart.

"No; " - It came a little too fast, too desperate to be just another attempt at clarification.

"No, it happened. And I think it was important in terms of the Sentinel-Guide relationship. I think that was what the Warrior meant. Now I know that this probably sounds like supernatural bullshit to you but let me tell you one thing. I truly believe that a place where an ancient believe has been practiced through maybe hundreds of years holds the essence of that believe." He saw Jim's raised eyebrow and hastily added:

"That's why, for instance, most people just whisper in churches. I don't think that they are just intimidated by their surroundings - I think, that even if they don't practice catholicism or even don't believe in God, they feel what others felt before. And I think, that that was what happened to us. Add that to the burst of adrenaline, the relief when the mercenaries decided to turn away - It was sort of a release-mechanism that kept us from blowing apart - literally speaking so." The student chuckled ruefully.

"But in terms of getting back into our real lives, so to speak, I don't think it will happen again. I can even see the physical part of our relationship as a manifestation of the spiritual bond that we are going to share as Sentinel and Guide but I cannot see it happen again once we are back in Cascade."

"You sound like holding a lecture, Chief" a faint trace of humor laced the rumbling voice. With this he could live - it happened, it was a one-time-thing based on extraordinary events going on, get on with your life. In the far distance a predator roared - in pain, in victory?

"Actually, it is kind of a lecture, part of it is even carved in this stone - I think....I'm no archeologist, I'll have to show these ..." The anthropologist was already engrossed again in copying various signs and figures his voice fading off.

And with a sigh Jim admitted that he didn't like the thought of being reduced to a lecture one tiny bit.

So for the next hour the two men worked quietly side by side, smearing dirt on paper, carefully folding the sheets afterwards so that not one piece of valuable information would get lost in their attempt to go on fast. And the whole time there grew this strange feeling inside Jim that he was participating in some sort of x-rated Indiana-Jones-Movie, Blair Sandburg starring as the professor - without hat or whip but definitely with extra enthusiasm and a Swiss Army Knife.

Nevertheless, Jim's voice sounded almost normal when he finally asked:" So, Chief, how's the knee?" "Better, Big Guy, thanks - the salve helped - although I'm not sure if I can go back all on my own. I mean, maybe you'll have to support me again, when we are going back." A blush, a sigh "will that be a problem?"

"No, not at all..."

"Good,... good; say - you got another one of those ration-packs?"

"Yeah; Sandburg - you'll be the first person on earth who actually likes that stuff, you know that?!"

"Well, you don't know what they fed us..."

"No, you're right - how were you treated till your fellow-students left?"

"Quite ... decent, I guess" Blair answered solemnly after some moment's hesitation.

"As long as we were all together, they put some food, mostly fruit, into the cage. They even allowed us some - privacy - you know - to go pee and stuff. I never thought it would be that hard to take a leak knowing a gun was pointed at my back..." Blair's laughter did not hold much cheerfulness.

"Then they took pictures, though I could not think of what they would do with them."

"Chief, they are in the drug-business. Money is no issue for them. They used satellite phones and internet to negotiate.."

"Oh, yeah, right. Well, for the pictures, they let us shave and clean up a bit. They wanted us presentable. When the others were gone - it got - rougher for me." Blair's face had paled. He grabbed for the canteen and took a drink of clear, though sunwarmed water.

"They decided I didn't need to eat; So for the last two days I was lucky to get something to drink while it rained. Then they made me shave and clean up - so I knew I had to represent again. I .. you know, by that time I was quite desparate. So when they handed me a shaver, I threatened I'd cut my own face if I didn't get something to eat - I mean, I wasn't able to fight them any other way. Got some fruits after that stunt. That's why anything more substantial tastes like haute cuisine to me right now." The young man forced a small smile onto his lips, then brought himself visibly out of his misery. He frowned at one of the carvings on the stone-wall, then asked:

"Whaddaya think - how much time do we have till this Lieutenant Sil -whatever is going to bust the camp? Guess we should be nearby, cause they won't wait for us if we can't catch up with them."

"Well, Silvero has to wait at least an hour for the signal to come from one spot, just to make sure that it wasn't just a delay. Then he has to move his men - not one single person, but a whole platoon, which will slow him down considerably. I followed Ruez for about twelve hours but he tried to mislead any followers so I believe that their camp is much nearer to Sil's base than we first thought. And I don't want to be too close when the mercenaries get busted - I have no desire whatsoever to bump into a desperate fugitive." Jim shrugged fatalistically. "Guess we'll give it another hour or so, then slowly start downhill again. So - you want a general layout of that heap of stones?"

Blair made a show of looking heavenwards and sighing dramatically.

"This SANCTUARY is a blessing. Of course I'd want a general layout painted. But they didn't leave me any pens."

"What, nothing hidden in your boots anymore."

"No, funny, I only thought to hide yu.. the knife" The student cleared his throat.

"See that plant over there? You break the stem close to the ground, it'll sweat out a glutinous, dark liquid. Now, I don't know how it'll react to paper, but I saw the Chopec using it to draw on leather and on bark. You want me to give it a try?"

Ellison grinned at the sudden enthusiastic hunger that flared through smokey-blue eyes. "I take that as a yes."

The tall man took the makeshift pencil, grabbed some paper and trolled away to a nearby tree. With catlike grace he hauled himself onto the first branches, then climbed upwards until he almost vanished in the rich crown of the tree.

"Whow .. amazing" Blair had whispered it to himself, admiration clearly visible in his hushed voice - then blushed a little - damn - he's a Sentinel. And as he strained his hearing, he thought he picked up a small chuckle. Grinning, he turned to copy the rest of the wall.

An hour later Ellison came back to his busy student, brushing the last of the trees leaves from his fatigues, holding detailed, precise maps of the sanctuary in his hands.

"It took me a while - hadn't had to do this foro years. Not since military training."

Sandburg grabbed the paper as if it were his lifeline. But maybe it was.

"C'mon, Chief, we gotta go. Sil is coming."

"How'dya know? I'm not finished..."

"Sorry, can't help it. The jungle is quiet right now. And I saw a flock of birds making their escape. Believe me - that indicates something large is approaching the campsite."

"Oh. Uh, I see. Just - let me finish this here." Sandburg rubbed frantically to beat their schedule, while Ellison started to pick up the scattered papers, trying to put them into some order. Finally the student sighed.

"Well, I guess, I can always come back later. Let's go."

"I hate to burst that bubble, Chief, but I think, they'll close down the whole area. It'll be years till anyone'll get permission to come back again. Now, c'mon, lean on me, I'll support you."

It took them an eternity to get down their hill and up the twin hill. By the time they were an hour away from the mercenaries'camp Blair was no longer able to put his weight on his left leg. With a suppressed sob the young exhausted student sank heavily to the ground.

"I need a break - sorry. can't"

Jim passed the waterbottle, then cocked his head. At first Blair didn't notice the change, then he cursed fluently. His Sentinel had zoned int he attempt to listen in to Sil's progress. Mindful of his injured knee that hurt as if a thousand needles were prodding at it, Blair scrambled over to the motionless figure and started talking. He was frightened by the unseeing glare of those blue eyes, pupils small as needlepins and by the pale complexion that turned greyer by the second. The distant roar of a large animal caught his attention and sent his heartbeat into overdrive. Just what he needed now: Captured between a jungle-predator and running mercenaries and his Sentinel unaware of the world. Damn.

"Come back to me now, Jim. You don't need to listen so closely, just hear my voice." *No wonder he isn't able to come back. First I tell him not to listen, then I tell him yes to listen. Stupid, stupid, stupid, Blair. Think, don't panic!* He reached out tentatively, his hand brushing over a taut biceps, feeling the cramped muscles there. Almost without conscious thought he started rubbing soothing circles, massaging the bulging power until the strained muscles quivered and began to relax. A deep sigh heaved the broad kevlar-covered chest and Ellison shook his head in an attempt to clear it.

"What..." his voice sounded rusty and Blair realized that the Sentinel had been out for quite a while.

"You zoned, man..."

But a hand clamped over his mouth and stopped him cold. Suddenly Ellison was very alert, clear eyes focussed on the green lush undergrowth to his right. The tall man moved with deathly grace, fast and swift and in one fluid motion he got up from his halfcrouch, sidestepped without making any noise and jumped. Halfway up in the air , suspended in the middle of the perfect arch, Ellison lashed out with his right foot, connecting with something still hidden behind a bush, which made a rather loud 'thunk' and landed left foot first on the ground in a ready-for-fight crouch. Blair, who had blinked in surprise, had missed the better part of the action.

Ellison lunged with both hands into thick leaves and dragged the unconscious form of Paco Ruez into the small clearing.

"Well, that means two things: First: Sil has already arrived and second: He was not as successful as intended." And Ellison actually grinned.

When Ruez came to again he could no longer move his arms. They were already bound with the remnants of his shirt to two long, crude poles of wood cut off from a near tree,tied together with thick vines as a makeshift stretcher, that were now dragging after him when he tried to get up. Two strong arms helped him up and he looked back. A frighteningly pissed looking soldier in fatigues and a kevlar vest with greasepaint smeared over his face stared at him with piercing blue eyes.

"You'll make a nice horsey, pal" and somehow this soft statement, uttered with conviction, made Ruez shiver more than months of imprisonment.

Sandburg and Ellison made quite an appearance when they finally came to the campsite. True, Lieutenant Silvero had taken the mercenaries in stride, two of the gunmen had gotten killed during the first minutes of the fight, but both Raoul Gomes and Ruez had managed to escape. Now Ruez came back, sweating and panting, dragging the makeshift stretcher with Blair sitting on top of it, who tried not to irritate his swollen knee any further, followed by the reason for this obedience: A still very pissed Jim Ellison who held him at gunpoint. Finally Ellison put his gun away and very gently helped his Guide down the stretcher, supporting most of the young man's weight. Then he turned his head to Ruez who stood trembling and numb while a crowd of cheering soldiers formed a circle around the three men.

"At ease" Jim said in his best I'm-your-captain-and-you-better-do-as-I-say-voice and the drugdealer crumpled down in a heap. Then Silvero bellowed an order and the soldiers quieted. Two of them freed 'horsey'-Ruez only to handcuff him and dragged him away. One led Jim and Blair to the former drugdealer's tent that was now used as HQ.

"Good to see both of you alive." Intelligent eyes sized both men up and Blair shifted under the close scrutiny then grimaced when another sharp pain stabbed at his knee. The gaze of the wiry man in charge stayed a moment longer. Then he said:

"Jim, I will give you three men - I cannot spare more - to bring you back to my headquarter. Then you and Mister Sandburg can take the chopper to fly you out. The sooner you can go, the better. We will have a lot of cleaning up to do here."

"Oh, but - the sanctuary..."Blair was silenced by two sets of piercing eyes. He tried to slip away but with his injured leg didn't seem to be able to move as fast as usual.

"You stay close to me." A large hand steadied the smaller man - and at the same time captured him. "We are very grateful, Sil. I know, that you need each of your men right now and appreciate that you're gonna give us an escort. We'll be out of your hair in now time at all." With that the two soldiers shared a handshake and a pat on the shoulder then Jim turned and and helped Blair out of the tent.

"*Captain* Ellison."

The sound of Sil's voice froze Jim. He carefully leaned Sandburg against a tree, then turned back into the tent.

"Yes, Lieutenant Silvero?"

"Jim - Here is your friend's passport." The emphasis on the word friend was only obvious to a man with sentinel senses. Jim held his breath. But the wiry officer just handed over the document. "One of my boys found it in the big tent. This will make your departure a lot easier, eh? It is going to get messy here. Take care - Raoul Gomes is still somewhere out there. I - how do you say it - I owe you big time for bringing back Ruez but I have to be sure that not a thing about what happened here is going to leak to the press or even your CIA or DEA. Do I make myself clear?"

*couldn't be clearer* "Of course Sil. We'll be out here as soon as the chopper starts. Sandburg won't say a thing." Then, as an afterthought, the tall detective added with slight amusement in his voice: "But I admit I want to ask you a favor..."

Half an hour later Ellison and Sandburg were back in the jungle, the student lying on a real stretcher this time, carried by two determined young soldiers. Blair wondered how long they would manage to actually run with the stretcher and who would be the first to claim a break, them or Jim who had slept about an hour during the last exhausting 48 hours or longer.

Turned out that noone took a break. A little more than four hours later, all the time easily following the precleared pathway the soldiers had hacked free when they had been following the beacon Jim had been placing, they broke free on a clearing that buzzed with activity now that the bust had been successfull. Jim looked at Blair, then at himself. They both stank - and it was not only the scent of sex that offended his sensitive nostrils. When The American - as he had been silently labelled by the soldiers - demanded cleaning and extra clothing for his companion, they all but carried them to a creatively rigged shower that was hidden behind a heavy military cloth. Twenty minutes later both men felt like reborn. When the chopper was started, Ellison had transformed into a business-suit, nevertheless moving with deathly grace and Blair wore non-too-tight fitting jeans and a shirt, limped heavily and ferociously clung to a package containing clothing that reeked. He didn't let go of it when he fell asleep as soon as he sat down in the chopper. Jim on the other hand gave in to his exhaustion when the stewardess finally led her only two first-class-passengers to the front department of the airplane. When she came back to ask for their dinner-suggestions, both men were fast asleep. Somehow she didn't have the heart to wake them up. They looked kind of cute with their heads resting so close.

Cascade

"Blair... Chief .." The insistent voice nagged at the edge of his consciousness and with a final grunt-sigh the oyung student decided to wake up.

"Sandburg, we're almost here."

"Yeah - I'm awake, I'm awake - is there any coffee in this flying hotel?"

A smiling stewardess chose that precise moment to place a tray with coffee, muffins and a wet-hot cotton-wipe into his lap. After refreshing his face with the wipe and his system with coffee Blair buckled himself into his seat again and took a first clear look at Jim. The big detective seemed to be worried, frowning at him.

"Blair - are you listening now?"

"Yeah, man, chill, I'm fine"

"This is important, Sandburg: Don't tell anybody I rescued you. The official version will be that you were released shortly after your colleagues, brought to a hospital because of your knee-injury and - because I just happened to be in the same country and going back from a *holiday* you chose to accompany me. You don't know what happened to any of the merc's and you certainly don't remember the names of the soldiers that came for you. The only thing important to you is to get to your students to make sure, they and Prof. - Stoddard was his name? - are doing well. You're glad to be home. OK? Is that OK with you?"

"Yeah, man. I don't want to be on every news-reel for the next two weeks. Though the headlines would be great: Athro-student rescued by police-hero...." Blair grinned, then sobered and shivered a little. "You know, it's odd." He gave a small, not very cheerful laugh when he saw Jim's curious glance.

"Home; you know. Don't look so puzzled. I don't have a home. For the second time in just a few months I lost everything I ever owned - and that was not much. But this time I come to a place, where I don't know where to live or what to live off. I mean, the U won't have anything to do for me till next semester, I mean, I was supposed to be in the jungle. That means: no money for the next six months, no place to stay and nothing to wear but your raingear and this slightly oversized version of grunge" He tugged at his baggy jeans. "Oh well, I can always try to get a job as a cook.." he snorted. The plane slowly descended, broke through the clouds and showed the first small houses of Cascade. It was raining again. Home, indeed.

"You ... You could always stay at my place " As soon as he said it, Jim knew he had a problem. He surely hadn't thought about it and wondered, why - maybe for the first time in his life - he had talked first and thought later. *Could you really live with him? Knowing he's in your appartement, a reminder of undeniable but at the same time unrepeatable passion. Letting him get even closer* Jim's jaw started to twich. Then he saw Blair staring at him. Frightened, censorious, even a little speculative. And he let his hurt show when he answered an unspoken plea: " I've got a spare room - it's used as a storage place right now but ..."

Blair had the grace to blush and the Sentinel heard the frantic heartbeat lapse into a more peaceful rhythm. "That's really nice of you, Jim, but I don't know..."

The stewardess breezed by to take their trays. "You really are VIP?!" It was more than a question and she provided the answer: "There are lots of people waiting for you at the airport. If you don't want to run into the press, I can lead you to the VIP-center. You'll be out of reach and home in no time." She smiled encouragingly.

"Yeah, fine, thank you..."

Then real-time seemed to accelerate: The VIP-center was a separate building with lots of safety-glass windows safely out of reach of journalists and other, less important travellers. The visistors allowed had to pass various check-points and the members of airport-security did more than just look dangerous. A tall, darkskinned man with glasses and the nervous habit of chewing an unlit cigar and a petit greyhaired woman dressed in a warm green sweater and matching yet illfitting trousers were the only two people waiting.

"Simon.."

"Mrs Stoddard"

"It's so good to see you alive, The Professor is already waiting for you..."

"Glad you made it in one piece"

They were all talking at the same time, neither of them listening, everyone admitting for the first time during this ordeal that the nightmare was finally over. Then they stopped abruptly, the female voice carrying along:" The Professor wants you to stay at our house. He's so grateful. And knowing that you don't have a place to stay right now he insists that you come with me." The anthropologist looked even younger as he stood there clutching his raingear, not given a chance to answer while the determined lady talked on. Jim caught parts of "Professor wants you to rest ... will fix something with the University ... some sort of small financial compensation ... taxi waiting in front of the gates ... say goodbye to your friends ..." and the young man was hauled out of the door and just managed one look back into the steel-blue eyes of the man who rescued him. And though he just caught a glimpse of his friend and one-time-lover he knew that this image was carved into the core of his entire being for the rest of his life. The Sentinel stood there, tall, unmoving, the chiselled face inscrutable, following him with haunted eyes. And Sandburg knew that this man was watching the cab that brought him to Stoddard's house until -after long miles- it had to take a left turn and vanished between the first houses of the city. Blair sighed - and concentrated on being polite to his hostess.

"So, Jim, did you hear the good news yet?" Captain Banks tried to be cheerful to distract his obviously exhausted friend. In the far distance the cab turned left and vanished between suburban structures - hadn't Blair cast one last look out the back window - he wasn't quite sure... - Jim shook himself.

"What news?" he bent to gather his belongings and finally started towards the exit.

"Hell, you've been there! Don't tell me noone told you that Paco Ruez died while trying to escape. CNN had it in their newsflash. Seems that Silvero himself made sure that the sun of a bitch was taken care of."

"I bet Sil made sure of that."

"Hung?"

"Nothing, Sir. Could you bring me home, please? I'm rather tired right now."

The loft was cold and had a stale smell of unuse and ventilation that choked him after the clear and rich scents of the jungle. When Jim opened his balcony doors car-fumes, human waste and the sounds of too many people living too close almost overwhelmed him. *Well, everything turned out for the best, didn't it. You don't have to wait for him. He's back sooner than you thought, ready to help you again* so then: Why was he so desperate? Detective Ellison turned back into his appartement, took in bare walls, pristine surfaces and furniture that served his needs not his aesthetics and found that he never had felt at home at this place. He shuddered, remembering Blair's statement and - suddenly feeling trapped inside this walls - grabbed his shades and earplugs and left the house. Three hours later and ignoring the grandfather of all headaches he carefully ordered a large package being delivered ASAP to a house near the University. And when he unlocked the loft-door this time, he at least vaguely felt like coming home.

The next morning, at seven thirty, there was a soft knock on Jim's door. The tall Detective was already dressed and ready for his drive to his office, earplugs and shades in place, when he janked open the door. Whichever neighbour who wanted to borrow sugar or milk would not have any luck right now.

But it was Blair Sandburg, dressed in shiny new fitting jeans, nike sneakers, tee-shirt, button-down shirt and sweater and wearing an endearingly shy smile on his face.

"Let's go to work, Big Guy - and Thank you for this " the student spread his arms and made a half turn to his left "And for all the other things that were delivered to the Stoddard's yesterday. I mean - the shaving cream I used to use and a razor, and my favorite shower-gel. You smelled that on me, didn't you?" Blair's eyes were suspiciously shiny and his voice quivered a little and sounded choked.

"What makes you think that was me?"

"Because noone ever cared that much for me. Only you," he whispered, then added, more confident "C'mon, let's go. You don't want to be late. Captain Banks is going to be grumpy if you don't share his first cup of coffee."

"Heck, that clothes were meant to be worn one at a time..."

"It's cold outside at that time of the day - and I get cold."

"How the hell did you get here that early? You don't have a car all of a sudden?"

"No, that's still in storage and has some serious engine trouble. I walked - and boy, was it hard to get up that early."

And so they started to work together again. At first the student watched out for any signs that could be interpreted as sexual. But although Jim kept touching him this seemed to be no more than the tall, tough detective's way of communicating. Ellison did pat Rafe, too, he grabbed at Taggert he even touched Simon once a while. After some time Blair let his guard drop and started to feel comfortable in the presece of the bigger man again. Twice a week they managed to get into the "neutral settings of a lab" and the student conducted tests somehow managing not to gt killed by his grumpy sentinel. Jim kept bitching about lowering his shields of awareness, dialing up and down scales he had to picture in his mind and enduring lights, sounds and smells until he was half blind, almost deaf and retching. But on some deep, almost unconscious level of his being the Sentinel actually enjoyed the time he had to spend with his Guide.

On a more conscious level, though, each time his friend lowered his guard and trusted him a bit more, the detective built another wall of constraint around his heart. Never slip, never lose control. Surrender to your Guide - but never give it up for Blair.

Then one day a beautiful young woman sat on a bench just in front of the lab-building where Blair had just tested Jim's eyesight - or tormented the hell out of him, as Jim had put it mere moments before. When she got up and strolled closer, her short brown hair seemed to turn reddish in the setting sun. Her smile was quite stunning and the color of her eyes changed with the light: One moment they were grey like a rich rainfall, the next they glinted green like the sea. Ellison really appreciated the sight - till she said:

"Blair; thought I'd save you the drive. I'm starved and you owe me lunch." Her laugh grated on the Sentinel's nerves.

"Diana! What a great surprise." Blair kissed her cheek and his lips lingered a little longer than appropriate on her soft skin. She didn't seem to mind too much.

"Oh, Jim, this is Diana - Diana, Jim. I was about to ask you if you'd mind me coming to Pender street after two o clock. I'd like to work on my notes with Dr. Stoddard for a while."

The detective noticed that Blair had not introduced them with their family names. And the student had also deliberately avoided to mention the police station. So this was The Other Life that Blair was living. The academic world of Dr. Stoddard, research and beautiful female students that hung on the kid's lips to catch every word.

Numbly, Ellison muttered something that sounded like "won't matter at all, have a nice evening" and turned to get to his truck . When he sat behind the steering wheel he caught a glimps of Blair in the rear-view mirror: Sandburg kissing the green-eyed beauty then leading her round the corner with his arm around her waist. It was then that Ellison realized that he felt cold as ice and was shaking.

For Blair this was more than just a date. He had pursued this particular quest with a determination that would have been worth lots of better causes. He really liked Diana. She was beautiful, she was easy company and from what she'd told him she wasn't looking for "something serious" either. She would be perfect for him - to have nice, hot, relaxing sex - cause that was what she wanted, too, and to simply enjoy her presence. Not to mention the relief that had enveloped him when he found himself turned on by just the look she gave him. Blair hugged her closer and happily shifted his growing cock so that his pants would not emasculate him while they were having a nice dinner at the restaurant. Everything was all right again.

The loft ws spotless when Ellison finally fell into his big lonely bed at three in the morning. The cold shower had left him clean and breathless and now he just wanted to catch some sleep so that he could function at the station.

And he did. When Blair, dreamy smile on his face and utter contedness in his eyes, joined him after lunch to help with boring paperwork, he didn't notice any changes.

"We have to talk, Blair."

"Yeah, man, certainly. Sorry that I was a little late, but The Professor couldn't stop talking... "

"Not here, Sandburg. The interrogation room."

Shrugging the student followed his Sentinel. - And was shoved into the small room, door door closed and locked with one smooth movement. Then Blair found himself trapped between a wall of bricks and a wall of Ellison.

"Don't you dare go out with her again, Sandburg. You are mine, do you hear me? Mine alone. I claimed you." The kiss was rough and spoke of possession. Blair tried to wriggle away, to free himself but only managed to brush Ellisons hard hot length that he could feel through all those layers of clothes. The tall man moaned and thrust against his captive. With one big arm across Sandburg's chest he held the young man immobile against the wall, the other hand busily opened the flies of their pants. When his fingers found Blair's already half hard cock the younger man sobbed - the sound was muffled with another hard kiss, almost brutal with passion. Jim's dick was large and leaking.

Superior height and strength gave Jim the advantage he needed: roughly he turned his prey, pressed the smaller man into a bow and filled the hot hot mouth with three of his fingers. Blair tried to fight - he wanted to bite the invaders. But Jim held the student in an iron grip - one hand now grabbing the chin of his victim giving him no chance to put the least pressure on his teeth. Slowly he shoved his fingers in and out of the moist cavern, not caring if the student gagged.

Then the pressure on Blair's mouth was gone leaving the student panting and embarrassingly erect and anxiously waiting. A half groan filled the small room, when Jim shoved two fingers deep inside Blair's ass and started to scissor the tight sheath. Soon he added a third finger to loosen the puckered opening even more.

"No ... "

"Shut up. You won't even think of her any more when I'm through with you!" Jim pulled his hand back, and the sight of the reddened hole that waited for him made his aching cock jerk. He spit into his hands, then covered his long rod with spit and precum and took aim. A forceful push and he shoved himself into that tight hot sheath. He ignored Blair's painful cry and revelled in the sensation of being truly totally enclosed - he could feel every breath the other man took, every heartbeat made that ass throb and massaged his cock - he didn't even have to move. When the sensations had him bordering on an overload Jim started to pull out and push back in.

"I'll make you come while I'm fucking you. I want you to explode while you are filled with my cock." He grabbed Blair's raging erection.

"Boy, that has to hurt, Blair-babe." Their sobbing breaths the only sound, Jim rammed his cock deep into Blair's ass, milked the cock in his hand while he still held the student more or less immobile.

"Jim, stop it, I ... "

"I said, shut up. You want it - I can feel it. Give into it, let go"

And with a last sob Blair surrendered to the pumping fist and the pounding force inside his ass and came violently against the wall of the interrogation room.

Suddenly Jim's voice sounded very controlled and calm: "You know of course that this is forcing me to come?" And with a last hard shove Jim bit down on Sandburgs neck and climaxed, filling the body with waves of his seed.

With a gasp Ellison sat up in his bed, heart racing, bathed in cold sweat, tangled in cum-soaked sheets. *I raped him*

The thought made him retch. He almost fell down the stairs of his loft in his desperate attempt to get to the bathroom in time. By the time he was dryheaving, having emptied his stomach twice bent over the toilet, his bloodpressure was nearly non-existent. He decided to stay on the cold bathroom floor for at least a few more minutes.

He gagged again, when he discarded the stainy sheets into the hamper, then decided he could not stand them in his appartement - so he sneaked down to the ground floor to get the sheets and the smell and the memory of that hideous dream out of his otherwise pristine loft and out of his not-so-pristine mind.

The morning sun found him and his senses close to overload. His eyes stung, he was still able to smell the thick odor of his own semen and cold sweat and his skin tickled from standing under the shower once too often, a little too long and from the use of an incredible amount of soap. And still he felt dirty...

At the PD he spotted Blair's heartbeat when the student pulled the corvair into the parking lot. He detected the kid's progress until the overwhelming scent of a woman that still clung to his guide blocked everything else out. And the kid was still in the elevator, slowly ascending. When the doors pinged and opened, it got almost unbearable.

"Couldn't you at least get a shower, Sandburg? Or did you forget with whom you are supposed to work this afternoon?"

Blair's smile was genuine. A little dreamily he said "I did get a shower - somewhere along the line...But I guess, well, that was a while ago...."

"Yeah, well, now you're reeking."

Sandburg raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? Hell, you could dial it down - for privacy's sake" he hissed. "And I remember one time you didn't object the smell."

"Fuck you, Sandburg " it was stated utterly calm, noone but the student could hear it. Then Ellison stormed out of the office leaving a furious Sandburg at his desk.

When the student left the PD only half an hour and one awkward washing-session in the john later (you never know how exposed you could feel until you listened without sentinel hearing for anyone to join you while you're washing your dick with foamy handsoap...) he spotted Ellison instantly. The tall Detective was obviously waiting for him, sitting on a small concrete wall in front of the building across the street, facing the glassy front of the Police Department. Blair's first thought was to leave that nosy son-of-a-bitch alone, turn the other way and get the hell away. But that would have meant to leave the corvair in the parking lot. So he summoned what was left of his rage and defiantly crossed the street. Halfway on the other side he realized that something was wrong for the first time. He started to run. Jim didn't even flinch when the kid stopped dead in his tracks in front of him. Zone out. And judging by the coldness of Jim's clammy hands and the paleness of his face this hadn't happened just right now. He knelt down in front of the man who was caught in a grey abyss.

As if on cue one of the homeless people from the near shelter who was sitting around the corner slurred: "We are put behind bars when we do that - getting drunk in broad daylight. But he comes out of the police and he is drunk and he is sitting where he should not and noone puts 'im away."

He seemed intent to ramble on but Sandburgs angry glare stopped his mumblings and finally he turned away to light another cigarette.

"Jim, Jim, listen to my voice. Let me guide you back, come on, join me here; Turn down smell, just listen to my voice; let it be your beacon. Jim..." the dark voice cooed, beckoned the unresponsive man, carressed and gentled him at the same time. It was so easy to follow those instructions. Almost unconsciously he turned down smell, anchored himself to the vibrations of the voice until he was able to distinguish words, to string sentences together. And then a cacophony of sounds, bellowing cars, people talking, children crying, the total madness of your normal city sounds enveloped the sentinel and almost blinded him, deafened him and made him numb. With a soft groan he tried to shield his face with his hands and sagged forward against his guide only to be surrounded by the sickeningly sweet scent of Blair's last long-legged date now overpowered by the chemical smell of cheap soap. With a tremendous effort he turned away.

"Oh, God, sorry Jim - I really didn't think - I'm so stupid ... listen, I'll get Simon, he'll drive you home in your truck - or wait - that's Rafe over there - I'll follow your truck and - promise - I'll take a shower at the loft, if you let me. Then we figure something out."

The kid was already yelling for the young detective.

"Hairboy! Nice to see you - care to join me for lunch?" Then he caught a glimps of the hunched body of Jim Ellison. His ready smile disappeared, his eyes turned observant, clinical, the shift in his behaviour almost palpable. "Does he need a hospital?"

"NO!"

"Alright, alright; You wouldn't have called my name if you'd be able to get him home on your own. Where's his truck? I'll do it . You'll follow?"

Brilliant man. Quick to grasp the situation and eager to help without fussing. Blair felt relief wash over him. They had Jim in the truck and home in no time. And Rafe was not only taller than Blair, strong muscles were effectively hidden by his classy outfit. The brash detective had no problems at all when he had to more or less carry a suffering colleague up the stairs to the loft.

"You sure you can handle this alone, Blair? I mean, he doesn't look as if he's feeling too good." Sandburg made reassuring noises in the general direction of Rafe. while still watching the hunched body of Jim Ellison sagged down on one of the couches. "Listen Blair: If there are any problems I don't have too know about it. Jim's a friend. But if you need me - even during the night - call me. You've got my cell-phone number. Don't hesitate. Don't try to transport him alone. Right?" Getting not more of an answer than a short nod, Rafe sighed and left the appartement while Sandburg was pushing Ellison down on the couch, getting rid of the detective's shoes and running upstairs for blanket. When Rafe closed the door behind him, the kid was covering the tall man with a blue sheet, keeping a soothing monologue running. Something seemed to be very wrong with Ellison. And although Rafe didn't want to be prodding, he was worried.

While boiling tea - chamomile; that man had only chamomile tea in his cupboard - cooled down a bit, Sandburg took the liberty and found some sweatpants and one heavily oversized cascade-PD-sweater in one of the drawers upstairs. Upstairs - he forced himself not to look at that large bed, covered in crisp fresh blue sheets. *Match to his eyes - wonder if Caroline ever noticed - wonder, if they were already there when Caroline was still a factor - Stop rambling, Sandburg*

Then with another look at Jim, who had sunk into a more comfortable position and seemed a bit more relaxed, Blair dashed into the bathroom. It took no more than ten minutes till he was showered down aggressively, shaved and dressed in clean clothes to face the delicate nose of his Sentinel again.

Jim - he had fallen asleep in the meantime. Three hours into his silent vigil Blair decided he had to call Prof. Stoddard or he would no longer have a place to sleep the following night. He took the phone into the spare junk-room hoping he would not wake the Sentinel with his explanations. No such hope. Ellison was wide awake by the time he disconnected the line.

Soft eyes followed him, sparkling with a faint trace of humor: "You're drowning in that sweater, Chief. and you don't have to stay - I'm fine again. You can go back to the Stoddard's place"

"No, Big Guy, it's OK. I just wanted to be polite, you know, let them know where I am - " than a thought, totally unwelcome, moved into consciousness "I mean, if you want me out, just say so, but - actually - I'd feel better, if I'm around tonight - and I guess, Rafe would kill me if anything happens to you and I'm not here to take care of you." He tried to smile, but he wanted so desperately to stay, so it came a little crooked.

"No, no - stay - I mean - if you're comfortable to be here. I don't mind..."

"Great, Big Guy. Now, let's see: You're not that tired, are you? Good; So, Let's find out what triggered that mega-zoneout of yours."

Three cups of tea each and a couple of hours later, Blair sent Jim to bed. Although all his questioning of the mostly silent detective hadn't gotten him that much information, there was a line of thought that should be pursued. While he heard Jim rummaging on that enormous bed to get his blanket back in place, he started his laptop and crouched in a comfortable position on the couch.

The next morning, Jim found his Guide in exactly the same position. The young man had finally succumbed to sleep and slipped farther into the couch, but he still wore his glasses and the computer, precariously perched in his lap, hummed steadily. He was softly snoring and didn't wake up when Jim rescued the laptop. But he opened his eyes the moment the coffee got started. Blair looked even younger with disheveled hair and the largely oversized sweater he still wore. The half-snort and quarter-smile he threw in the general direction of Ellison could be interpreted as 'good morning' while the student ducked into the bathroom. With painful accuracy Jim had to witness morning business - somehow he couldn't dial his hearing down enough to block out liquids of different kinds. *Well, no need to tell the kid those embarrassing details. Bad enough that you told him you could smell his girlfriend on him.*

Blair emerged out of the bathroom again, toilet-flush still running as soothing background noise. The young man smiled, side, grabbed a mug, filled it with coffee and downed it with three big gulps. Then he sighed, bright eyes watching his sentinel:

"That just saved my life. Good morning Jim. I think I found something. But I have to ask you a few more questions" The tall detectives groan told stories of denial.

"C'mon, Big Guy, don't do this to me. I know - but it won't hurt - and it's no test, I swear..." He took his second cup of coffee to the kitchen-table and snatched a bagle. They were still warm - so Jim had obviously been busy before starting the coffeemachine.

"You were pissed at me yesterday." It was no question, more a statement of a fact. So Jim gave in.

"Well, I guess..."

"Man, don't flinch - it doesn't matter - at least not this time. You know what happens when you get pissed?"

This time a more eloquent answer was demanded. "I snap at you? I don't talk at all?" Ellison had no idea what answer was appropriate.

"Yes, that too. But what happens with you?" When no more suggestions were forthcoming, Blair supplied: "Your body produces adrenaline. Every time you're angry - or terrified - your body automatically provides adrenaline - which is supposed to make you more alert, to give you more input, so that you can decide faster what to do."

"And how does that fit into my being totally zoned for half an hour?"

"More than half an hour, Big Guy; You scared me out there." Then the guide took a big bite of his bagle, chewing cheerfully, swallowing it with more coffee, before continuing "See, for a short time adrenaline does to all of us what you have permanently: It turns us into beings with heightened senses. Well, sort of. I mean, we don't see or hear better, but it seems as if we do, though. So When you get pissed and start to produce adrenaline, it enhances your already enhanced senses. You get the granddaddy of an overload. We could recreate that in the controlled surroundings of a lab, injecting you with adrenaline, then... " He was gesturing now with his hands and arms regardless of the fact that he still was holding a half-full coffeemug in one of his hands. Before he could spill the dark liquid and wreak havoc on Jim's furniture the Sentinel intercepted and gently pried the mug from possessive fingers, set it on the table. "I don't think so, Chief."

"Yeah, well, maybe some time later..." his voice trailed off, and he turned big puppy-dog eyes at the detective who looked weary and frustrated all of a sudden.

"So , you mean, no more getting pissed or I zone big time? Oh, Sandburg, that's too easy. That would mean I give you carte blanche for all your schemes..." Jim tried a laugh and was very proud when it didn't fail altogether. Another piece of his personality snatched away. Not that he liked being angry at anybody. But never again being allowed to get angry at anyone...?

"Don't cry, tough guy" A chuckle took away the sting: "You're allowed to throw a tantrum now and then. But you'll have to watch out so that you don't concentrate on just one of your senses while you're losing it."

"I'm not losing it..." said with a lot of dignity and a lot less conviction.

"Yeah, man, whatever. Which of your senses did cause that zone yesterday, anyway..?"

*The smell of her on you - and then I tried to follow your scent into the bathroom...* Out came: "I don't have the slightest idea, Chief. Smell? All those car-fumes, maybe?"

"Yeah, well " thoughtful "It is possible. I'll have to think about it more." Then the student glanced at his watch - and had to shove back those oversized sweater-sleaves to get a good look.

"Oh,, shit, I've got to hurry."

"What, your lady awaiting"

"Yeah, I'd like that.... No, it's The Professor. We were analyzing those copies of ancient carvings we brought back from Peru. Well, it's no compensation for living some months with a tribe, but I guess we won't have the chance to do so for a looong time. So The Professor and I tried to translate and bring to life a long dead culture by their version of a diary." He stopped short, knowing that when he got started on that topic he would not be able to stop any time soon.

"Isn't that archeology again, Chief?"

"What it is, Big Guy, is a paper with my name on it, too. A paper, that will not only help to defend my dissertation, but will also make me .. known. It could earn me a job at Rainier again." There was such longing in his voice, that Jim wanted to reach out and smooth one of those all-time-unruly curls out of the kid's face.

"What about your job, your money..." *do you need my help?*

"It's all right, don't worry. Your present - well, I like wearing those clothes, so no need to replace them." Blair ducked his head to cover the blush he couldn't keep from his cheeks. "And imagine that - all of the students involved in this drug-raid" he emphasized his point with waving arms and fluttering hands again "received sort of compensation from the peruvian government. They masked it, of course. On the check is the name of University of Lima. But it's Governmental money. I mean - why would the U pay for a group of foreign students who had a clash with their army and police? No, no - Naomi, my mom, she would love that sort of governmental scheme. So we all got a little cash - not enough to bring me through to next semester, but The Professor doesn't take rent and he says, as soon as we've published our paper, I will get an offer from Rainier again. I can wait for that."

Blair took the last sip of coffee, then retreated to the junk room where he had left his clothes and hurriedly dressed. When he bounced out of the room he almost ran into Ellison. "Gotta go, Big Guy. Meet you at the station at about two, I think. Where's the laptop?" Grabbing his meager belongings he was out of the loft leaving only a faint Blair-scent in his wake that grew stronger in the junk room, where sweats and a sweater were lying on the floor where they had fallen when Blair had dressed. sighing, Jim picked them up to throw them in the hamper. Then he felt the residual warmth that still clung to the fabric, the personal perfume of sweat and body-oils that was more prominent at the crotch of the sweatpants and with a frustrated sigh he gave in. He took the damn garments up to his sleeping room and burrowed them under the sheets of his big bed.

At a quarter past two Blair bounced into the bullpen, greeting everyone in sight, smiling that blinding smile at Rafe and perching himself on Jim's desk. Recalling their early morning conversation, Jim got up, grabbed his green suede jacket and a large orange envelope, decorated with an assortement of colorful stamps and said with cheer that was only a little bit forced:

"Don't get too comfortable on my desk. I'm starved. Let's have lunch. My treat."

Jim had balked at the idea of going to a strictly-vegetarian restaurant, but - as often lately, when he dealt with this joung sprite in front of him - had finally caved and was now staring at something that looked like meat but was supposed to be made of wheat and rice and decorated with entirely too much salad. And he did not want to know what he was supposed to drink. To distract himself from that irritating sight he handed Blair - who was all too happily dugging into bean-sprout-salad and the vegetarian version of steak - the envelope he had brought from the station.

"Hey, what's that? Peruvian?" Then large fotos fell on the table covering every space not already occupied with porcellain.

"Sil owed us a favor or two. I knew they had D-guys there, so I asked. Didn't know if he could do it, so I stayed quiet."

"D-guys?"

"Yes. Soldiers - they do documentary stuff, like filming and taking pics. The operation was pretty blurred with all that special police and special ops..."

"You thought about asking him to do that for me?"

Now it was Jim's turn to blush and to cover for this emotional outburst he dug into his food - found it rather tasty, even good. Blair grinned. The smile this kid was capable of seemed to split his whole face.

"Jim that is great! That's exactly what was missing. We can publish weeks earlier. You need me today? No? Great. I'm off to The Professor. That'S like, so great. Man, you are a wonder. My best friend." And with that whirlwind took off, breezing out of the restaurant, clasping the precious pictures to his chest while he ran for the nearest bus-stop. Jim had thought that they could spend the afternoon together , with Blair lecturing about the fotos. Oh, well...

The next days he didn't see too much of Blair. The student tried to call at least twice a day, but was with Professor Stoddard every time. He seemed to work hard. On the second day Jim realized that Rafe was looking at him from time to time in the bullpen. At lunchtime the brash young detective strolled over and asked a favor.

"This case I'm working on. I could need some advice. Could we discuss this over lunch?" The two men ended in the park, munching hotdogs, talking about a man beating up his wife and the possibilities to get said wife to talk in front of a courtroom. The hotdog tasted chemical to sentinel-senses. God, he had liked that kind of food, not too long ago.

When Rafe stepped into the elevator after lunchbreak, detective Ellison had puzzled it out. He measured the young cop, dressed in one of his classy three-pieces that made him look more like a welldressed banker than a police-officer, then said matter of factly:

"By the way, when Blair calls you, tell him, I'm out for a questioning."

Rafe unconsciously checked his watch. Deep in thought he answered:"Of course, he's due in twenty min..." He stopped midsentence, then grinned sheepishly: "Was it that obvious?"

"No, you did good. What gave you away was the case we were discussing. I mean, that's nothing a trained officer should need help with. And you are a good cop. But, Rafe, so am I. Did you really think you could fool me?"

"Actually I told him no. But you're my friend. I had to try find out how you were. Being your friend, I worry about you."

The soft stopping of the elevator and the pling of opening doors put an end to their conversation.

When the PAPER - and Jim had started referring the paper in big letters almost two weeks ago - so when the PAPER was finally published the impact was bigger than Jim had anticipated. He saw the PAPER after it was printed. Twenty pages, small characters, almost no paragraphs, a lot of complicated words and Sandburg's name wayyy down at the end of a disclaimer while Professor Stoddard's name was all on top. Ellison had no problems reading the stuff, thanks to his education and college degree, but it was nothing he would choose to read. Yet he waded through the PAPER just to be able to discuss the subject with Blair, should the student decide to have the time to discuss anything at all.

And as soon as the PAPER was finally available in print, Ellison's phone started to ring. No matter if he was at home or at his desk at the bullpen, four out of five callers wanted to talk to Blair Sandburg, Police Consultant, thank you very much and would you please take down a note for him. When he and Blair met for lunch the second day he learned that at the Stoddard's home they had hired a secretary to get all those callers satisfied. Blair was practically glowing. After just being proud for about half an hour, the Guide took over and janked the Sentinel into a lab to conduct a dozen or so tests. "We can't have you get rusty on your sentinel business, can we?"

On day three after the PAPER had been published, Ellison took down a note for Diana Carteris, urgent, terrific news, please don't forget to mention it to Blair Sandburg, thank you so much and there's my phone number. Diana, the name rang a bell, but with the multitude of callers, Jim honestly could not remember. He passed the notes and missed the smile that graced Blair's mouth.

What Ellison did recognise was the voice of Wayne, the Dwayne, the guy who had hopelessly lusted after Blair before the illfated trip to Peru. It was an awkward phonecall, because Jim did not feel the need to be polite with that creep. Yet the message seemed to be reasonably important so he wrote it down. The last one of your girlies is going to put you under, watch out for her and Call Me ASAP; thank you. *And my God, I don't even know what you're talking about - talk about generations-gap. this is humiliating...*

"Big Guy, let's go celebrating, I treat you to a steak! I'm a teaching fellow again. Rainier decided they need me badly!" *Took them long enough to recognise, Chief* But Jim didn't say so.

The whole bullpen rattled when Blair stormed in on day five after the PAPER had been published. Sandburg was so happy; Rafe hugged him - and Jim felt a stab of jealousy - Brown slapped him on the back and even Simon emerged from his office and muttered something about hoping that the kid still would have the time to work for the department.

And a steak-dinner they had. The sentinel could smell the raw meat when they entered the Steak-House and had trouble to focus on something else. Then he heard the Chef ordering vergin olive oil for a certain T-bone. He could almost taste the smell of this special piece of meat as it was primed medium rare. When it was finally on a plate in front of him, Jim was ready to marry the Chef. Even more so when he looked at Blair who with genuine joy munched on his well-done steak.

"And I thought you despised red meat..." Jim shook his head. Blair swallowed and licked his lips in an unconsciously sensuos gesture.

"From time to time this " an all encompassing gesture enveloped Jim, the restaurant and the steak on his plate "Is exactly what I need."

"So, this urgent call from - what's her name? Diana Carteris brought you back to teaching mode?" Jim was not prepared to see Blair flinch and all the good spirits drown out of the younger man.

"Well, I would not say so." The student had lost all interest in his steak.

"Tell me, Blair. Maybe I can help; after all I am older than you..."

"Nothing much to tell you, Big Guy, nothing much to help." Blair shoved his curls out of his face and took a deep breath.

"Just time to grow up fast, I guess. Diana, the girl you smelled on me, is pregnant. Something must have gone wrong with the condoms I used. Responsibility-time at last for Blair Sandburg..."

Jim's heart sank. His guide married, children running around, that were his children, taking his wife to bed every night. And all that with Diana, a girl Blair had known for what, four weeks ... Four weeks? Could it be possible?

"Now, c'mon, that's not so bad. I always wanted children. And I think Diana is really sweet. So I'm gonna have my first child with her. Hey that's something to look forward to." The grad student started to get more and more animated. "Diana and I - we have so much in common. And the first years we can take the kid with us on assignments. I've seen it done before..."

*And I ?* Jim wanted to ask. *What about me needing a guide?* But say he did:

"What about Wayne's call?"

"Huhnn? Oh that. He was only partly right: Diana was pregnant - she didn't want to put the blame on me. I was the one who offered you know..." *Oh, Blair, she really did read you well...* But Ellison did not say that. He focused on breathing and keeping his heartrate under control. *Can't let our adrenaline mess with our senses again, now, can we?*

Then he stabbed at a piece of steak and gestured with the partly raw meat: "How about you introduce me to her? I mean, I'm going to see a lot of her from now on? Why don't you bring her to a nice little restaurant, say, the day after tomorrow?"

Blair actually managed a smile. There was something in the kid's eyes he could not name clearly but it strung a chord inside Jim's chest. "That would be nice, Jim. You know that I'll always be your Guide, don't you?" The rest of the evening passed quietly, disturbed only by the brief arguing over the bill, which Jim won because he covered Blair's mouth with his hand while the waiter asked for the credit card.

*I shouldn't have suggested it. It was doomed from the start...* Ellison sat across the table facing the 'happy couple', looking at Blair, who tried to be supportive, and at Diana who managed not to say a word about her pregnancy yet let it never rest in the way she swallowed vitamin-pills, excused her to go to the bathroom or refused a glass of wine and instead insisted on plain water, but the special brnad, pleas, thank you so much. and I don't know why I'm so picky lately....

There was a gleam in her green eyes and Ellison did not like what he saw there. Blair seemed to be all right, though. Cheerfully he commented on the different flavours of water and on the differences on the chemical level and which kind of water is used best for making coffee or tea - you know of course that the queen of England always travels with her own water, so that her afternoon-tea never changes its flavour? Awsome, isn't it, man?

And all the while the blurry shadow of a large black feline hovered behind the green-eyed woman who sometimes lovingly patted Blair's arm and smiled at Jim. Jim thought her smile was victorious. When the sentinel picked up his glass to smell the rich, fruity, somewhat soothing scent of the honey-colored white wine he had ordered the panther's contours grew sharper and one dangerous paw whipped through the air and sliced through Diana. The woman shifted in her seat.

"Anything wrong, Diana?" Blair smiled at her.

"No, I'm fine, I'm fine, really. It's nothing. Just a cold draft. And no, thank you, I don't want my jacket."

*Her smell, that's what's wrong with her - she doesn't smell right.* Again the sentinel concentrated on smell, dialled up this one sense until he was almost overwhelmed by all those tempting - and not so tempting - odors of a restaurant and too many people surrounding him. Slowly he let his mind sort out all interfering scents until he honed in on a woman sitting across the room in front of one of the large windows of the restaurant. She was obviously pregnant, five months maybe, and happily chatting to what seemed to be her husband - or at least the father of the child she was carrying. The sentinel took hold of her scent, a strong, sweet odor created by hormones and the changes a female body had to endure during pregnancy, and realized that he would do practically everything to protect this woman regardless of the fact he had never seen her before.

Then he redirected his focus on Diana. The unobtrusive traces of a flowery perfume mixed nicely with her sweat and bodily odors - he decided he liked her smell - but there was not even the slightest hint of additional hormones coursing through her body. His face went slack with shock. It took him more than two minutes to respond to his Guide's voice that grew more and more frantic in the process.

When he came to again, Blair was leaning over the table, trying to shake him while Diana looked distinctly pained by the fact that she was sitting at the same table with a man who appeared to experience a catatonic episode.

"I'm allright, Blair, sorry." Jim took a deep breath: "My apologies to you, Diana. I'm afraid this is sort of a congenital defect. Oh, sorry again - I guess this is the last thing you would want to discuss right now." He tried to smile a little apologetically and succeeded - at least to a stranger. Blair just gaped.

"Which reminds me, Diana, " Jim continued in the same conversational way "I take it that - as Blair's colleague - you don't earn too much money. I know for sure, that Blair doesn't. So I want to help the both of you. Please don't deny this to me."

Diana looked pleased and mumbled an affermative. With Jim's next sentence she paled significantly.

"You know, one of my best friends is a gynecologist. He's the best in town. I'd like you to make an appointment with him, let's say, tomorrow. I'll cover all the expenses. But I'd like to make sure that a child of yours and Blair's does not have to suffer from any of those defects, I am cursed to experience. Please, do it for me - and if not for me - then for the child you are going to have..."

Diana got up and made a beeline to the women's restrooms.

"Are you nuts, Jim? How could you do this? I mean, I appreciate your generosity but you all but implied that the child would be, I don't know, sick or something..."

"Which child, Blair? She's definitely not pregnant. Although she does not take the pill either. I - I'm sorry, that woman over there ?" With a nod of his head he pointed to the smiling pregnant lady in front of the window and waited until Blair turned and acknowledged her condition. "She smells like maternity. I can identify different smells closely connected to childbirth - must be hormones, cause I also can smell them on women who are practicing birth-control. But there's no such smell on Diana. She has not conceived. I don't know why she would say such a thing - other than get you to marry her, "

"That was never an option. I just told her I would take my responsibilities..."

"Yeah, whatever. But you would stay close to her. And it wasn't planned to be something serious in the first place, was it?"

That silenced his guide, though not for long. "Listen, when she comes back - I'll deal with her. I mean, I'll talk to her. I'd rather you go home - won't be a good idea if you'd still be here... See you at the station tomorrow."

And so - after leaving his credit-card-account to pay for a dinner he hadn't had the time or the nerve to enjoy - Jim found himself back at his cold and draughty loft half an hour later, assaulted by all kinds of obnoxious smells he couldn't seem to block out.

Blair seemed to have more time at hand after the Diana-incident as Jim had dubbed the whole drama. The young woman had instantly backed down and had never called Blair again. Almost four months later she married one of the grad students over at english literature and Sandburg invited Jim to dinner at a steak house. "It's time for a little break with your diet - You ARE trying to forget that there is such a thing as red meat, aren't you, Jim? Jim? JIM!"

For the first time in weeks Ellison really enjoyed an evening out. After the great dinner and a little friendly banter they made it into a nice bar with a little music and Jim's favorite brand of beer and a beautiful redhead that kept hitting on the tall detective. Jim found himself drawn to that woman without so much as a wish to escape. She seemed to be everything he ever wanted. And all the while Blair kept teasing him and all but shoved him into her arms.

When he met her again the next day while investigating a jewellery-theft he surrendered to the urges of his body. Her mouth was full of promises and her body was hot and yielding in the right places. Somewhere on the edges of his consciousness he thought he heard Sandburg talking to him. But that was impossible, wasn't it. He was alone with her in a small cabinet just making out - no, make that - making love to a gorgeous woman, his hands kneeded her breasts and she straddled his thighs in blatant invitation. Blair would never be a voyeur. The kid had just scored again last night - he surely would not mind if Jim got his own now. Her tongue was mobile and danced around his left earlobe - the very sensitive one. He slipped one hand between their bodies where her crotch rubbed against his pants-clad hard-on. He just didn't want to wait any longer. The sound of his zipper was overly loud in his ears and she sighed when in the process his fingers brushed against her clit. Her pantsies were in the way and he tore at the soft fabric. It gave way and all of a sudden the center of his mind was hot shivering wetness. His cock jerked.l

"Condom, please" her pleading reached his sense of self-preservation and he tore his mouth away from her neck and took a deep breath. Lefthanded he fumbled for his wallet, while the fingers of his right hand were still occupied with massaging the hot lips of her crotch. When he finally located the rubber, the wallet, credit cards and money sailed to the floor. He was covered in seconds then impaled her on his dick. Hot, wet, slick, soft and she presented the hardened nubs of her shapely breasts to his questing mouth. He started to suckle on them in turns when she started to rock on his rod. Suddenly her fingers covered his and directed them to her little pleasure-point. In seconds she came, her spasms finally clenching his aching length tightly, massaging him and allowing him to come, too. She sagged against him panting, and he almost frantically tried to get out of her to discard the condom from his shrinking member.

She still looked beautiful, flushed, her lips red despite the fact that their kisses had eliminated whatever makeup had been used. Her dress was slightly rumpled and all of a sudden Ellison wanted to cover her in something nice and cosy and warm and protective and bring her to her home and maybe really make love to her this time.

Turned out Sandburg indeed had yelled at him in that small room, when he was too occupied to realize it. Turned out that he hadn't heard the end of it. Not by a long shot.

"How come, Sandburg, that it's true love whenever you're humping a table leg and pheromones when a woman appeals to me? Don't you think that's highly unfair. I mean I'm as good a judge of character than you are - check that - thinking about your experiences lately I guess I'm the better judge."

"Right, Jim, whatever you say. But be honest to yourself - I've never seen you that unfocused; You don't care about your current investigation and you don't let me test you on that scent you picked up at the crime-scenes. You've never done that before."

And the calm with which Blair stated the obvious because the kid was fucking right about his attitude.

Not long after that it turned out the kid was right with everything after all. It left Jim with a sour feeling in his stomach and the urge to shower every ten minutes. The beautiful lady had been using him after all. Now she was doing time convicted of murder and theft and a lot of other things and at the time the prison doors would open again, even her pheromones wouldn't budge him any longer. Twenty years behind bars do gruesome things to a face and body and there was nothing to be loved in her character to resort to.

Worst of all had been his first day at the office after handing his - very honest - report to Simon Banks. Jim had briefly thought about denying the fact that he had been involved with the main suspect, but for one he felt like he owned his friend Simon that much honesty and, second he had speculated that the woman would use this - episode - in court. How Caroline had gotten a hold on this report he didn't know. But she knew when she more or less cornered him in one of the corridors of the police station. As always she ignored Sandburg when she hissed, her eyes glittering with supressed rage:

"Well, you got yourself into deep shit this time. I don't get it. You were never that ... passionate while we were married. And now you can't keep your pants on with a suspect?" He was taken aback by her anger and before he could come up with a reasonable answer that would shield his pride Blair stepped in front of him, protecting him bodily:

"Well," he mimicked her approach " you don't know much about police-business, but then you are in forensics, aren't you. Of course he did it with the knowledge of his colleagues. In fact, being undercover requires drastic measures sometimes."

"You ... schoolkid tell me? I've been in the force ... " Her mouth snapped shut when she realized that her anger had almost revealed her age, one of her most treasured secrets.

"You sure didn't act like that a few moments ago." Blair stopped when a large hand gently squeezed his shoulders. He turned immediately : "Sorry, Big Guy - I .. I'll go to the restroom."

"Blair, you don't have to leave me alone. You're my partner on the force. And I'm sure Caroline has nothing more to say." An inquisitive glance measured the still raging woman in front of him.

"You are right Jim, I don't have much to tell. In fact I just wanted to say Good Bye. I'm leaving town tomorrow. Got a new job in San Fran. I *had* hoped for a somewhat nicer last evening, but that was of course before I heard about your last tryst... Just, take care Jim. And don't let this kid get on your nerves."

With that she turned and whisked down to the elevater then, when it was occupied somewhere between the third and the fourth floor, took the stairs instead.

"Talk about pissed off. Did you promise to remarry her, Jim or was this just her common attitude against men?"

And Jim found himself reluctantly grinning.

In the end it was Simon who found out that Blair had been sleeping in his cramped little office at the U - Blair had been so proud in getting it back when the University brass finally decided that he was allowed to teach again in fall. Prof. Stoddard had left town soon after publishing the famous article for an extended vacation and rehabilitation after his heart attack, taking his wife with him of course. Blair's sleeping arrangement was no longer existent.

And Simon had been the one to call Blair at the Stoddard's home, because the Captain had come to 852 Prospect with breakfast to talk Jim into attending an unwanted but necessary hour of target practicing. Yet when Simon arrived at the loft, Ellison had not answered the door - in fact, the neighbours had been alerted by Simon's pounding. So Banks had unlocked the door with his spare set of keys only to find Jim sitting dressed but motionless on the couch. Two neighbours, glad to finally grab a glimps of the til-then-forbidden loft, offered their help or at least to call an ambulance - preferrably from a phone inside the loft, until Banks ushered them out with reassurances.

Then he started to talk to Jim. To shake his shoulder, finally to slap his face. Non too gently. Nothing helped. So he called the Stoddard's. Only to hear "We have left for a vacation. The house is observed by a security company. Call again ..."

Seven o'clock in the morning. Could Sandburg be at the University? Again Simon had to consult his phonebook. The kid answered the phone on the third ring. His mumble was discernable as his name - barely.

"Sandburg - I'm at Jim's place - and I don't know what to do - He's catatonic. Do I need to get him to a hospital or is that some Sentinel-mumbo-jumbo?"

"Cata...? No, no hospital. I'll be there in ten." Nine minutes later Blair rapped at the door, whooshed in when Simon opened and skidded to a halt in front of the unmoving detective. The young man looked like death warmed over, his clothes wrinkled but clean, his hair matted but kept in a ponytail. He took a deep breath.

"Sandburg - what is this all..."

But the anthropologist didn't acknowledge the intimidating form of Captain Banks. He put his hands on Jim's thighs and started to rub soothing circles into cramped muscles. "Jim, Jim - time to wake up now. Come back to me. Follow my voice - you can do it, just follow my voice"

Simon started to get drowsy from the calm monologue Blair kept going with this honeysweet-darkened voice.

Jim had set there on his couch for about an hour - not that he could actually measure the time. He was caught in a cage he could not escape on his own, suspended in greyness. He could actually feel himself slip away but could do nothing to stop it. And obviously nobody else could do anything about it either. But then suddenly The Voice urged him into consciousness again and he let himself follow that guideline and very undramatically took a deep breath and stared into the large blue eyes of Blair Sandburg who was kneeling in front of him and whose hands did some interesting and very nice things to his thighs.

Relief was palpable in the student's eyes as was his unkempt apearance and the fact that he hadn't had access to a bathroom and a shaving kit before leaving whereever he had slept. Almost without conscious thought Ellison extended his sense of smell. Nope, only Sandburg; sweaty, his body-oils richer than usual and without his usual pleasantly herbal smell of his shower gel; and with clothes definitely clean if not ironed.

"What happened..." And why did his voice sound so rusty?

"Zone out, man. You had me worried here, took me awfully long to get you back!"

"I called him half an hour ago and for twenty minutes he did nothing but talk to you" His Captains booming voice startled the Sentinel and made him realise that Sandburg's hands were still rubbing soothing circles on his thighs.

"And I was really glad it took him only a couple of minutes to arrive here."

"C'mon Simon, the Stoddard's place is in the outskirts of Cascade, he couldn't have made it in a couple of min..."

"*He* is in the same room and hates to be treated as nonexistent."

Both men turned and looked at a frowning grad-student, still hunched down in front of his Sentinel, but startingly angry and abandoning his soothing guide-voice in favor of a low grumble.

At the stunned looks Sandburg shrugged "I slept in my office, okay" and emphasized his point with fluttering movements of his hands. "I mean, the Stoddard's closed the place down and I wanted to look for a place of my own. In fact Wayne offered his place to crash again, but I wasn't too hot in taking him on that offer, ya know..."

"So Dwayne knows that you don't know where to sleep, but I don't?" Anger and hurt and exhaustion mingled and gave Ellison's voice an almost desperate qualitiy. And he really didn't like to sound desperate. "Why didn't you say something? I mean, you already slept here once or twice - " Jim, who'd sounded more gruff than he had intended, faltered, then started again, very quietly, trying to emphasize his point without being too obvious in front of his suddenly very interested Captain. "It would be no different."

Blair gazed up into steelblue eyes, cautiously looking for something, suddenly finding the truth with the help of his cramping legs and his itching early-morning beard. "I guess; till I find a place to stay... and I'd be around if something like that - " an all encompassing gesture enveloped the Sentinel on the couch, the curious black man and himself - "happened again." Then with a cautious glance at a suddenly very alert Police-Captain "Not that I think that something like that would ever happen again. I mean, I know the signs, and living here I could do more relaxation techniques, so he won't zone any more. Don't worry, he'll be in peak condition in no time..."

"You think you got this under control?" suspicion poured off the tall black man. "You can control his catatonic episodes?"

"There won't be any, Simon. He'll be all right."

"Allright, allright, now I know why you complained; So you can stop it now, Darwin; *He*" and with that Ellison gestured towards his own broad chest "is in the same room, too..."

Simon decided to ignore his best detective. "Oh, yes?" he addressed the young student. "We'll see. Now, do I get a cup of coffee or what."

"Just a minute, Simon" Jim sighed, then - using Sandburg as support to hide his still weak knees and shaky legs - he worked himself out of the couch and made it to the kitchen island to put the coffeemachine to work.

What had happened just right now? He didn't seem to be capable of doing a simple thing like coming home. He zoned big time and without the help of Blair Sandburg he would have stayed forever in that cold, grey part of his being where nothing could reach him. And he was afraid, hell, frightened that he had alienated the only man who could help him by more or less raping him on ancient stones in a hidden recess in the jungle during an adrenaline-rush. For the first time since his senses had emerged he admitted that he needed another person to survive and stay sane.

And yet he still wasn't able to tell the whole truth. At least not while his best friend Simon was there. My God, when did it happen that he could't confide in Simon Banks - a man who had supported him through some rough times. Had helped him getting his life back on track - first after his time in vice and then after his divorce. And now all he wanted was for Simon to leave, so that he finally could muster enough courage to tell the only one who might help him that he had sat there on that damn couch for more than six hours slipping away from conscious life and knowing that. And not being able to do anything about it...

The coffeemachine made soft gurgling noises that startled Jim out of his reverie. Blair stood next to him - he hadn't been paying attention and now jumped a bit. Then Ellison took a deep breath and reached for three coffee-mugs, poured the bitter liquid, while Sandburg grabbed the milk from the fridge and prepared his and Jim's cup.

"Sweet and black for me, in case you don't remember, Ellison"

"It's OK , I got it covered." Did he really? Was it three or four lumps of sugar? He should know this about a friend. He decided on four, then brought the mug over to the living-room-table.

Settling down again on the couch, his abused limbs aching from sitting too long in the same position, he took comfort from the fact that Sandburg, by some miracle had not forgotten how he liked his coffee. Even though he had prepared it for him only a couple of times. Blair had always said that tea was better for him - herbs to help control the Sentinel's abilities. Maybe he should stop drinking so much coffee after all.

"So, when will you be able to move in here? Should I help you with your things and stuff?" Then Jim remembered: The student had almost nothing. Everything that hadn't been blown up in the fire caused by the drug-lords, had been left somewhere in the jungle when he had rescued the student from yet another drug-lord.

And so the short laugh Blair gave at that comment did sound a little bitter: "No, my things are stuffed away in two boxes right now. Mostly scripts and some clothes." His voice trailed off . *And I wouldn't even possess those if it weren't for your consideration and generousity...*

"Well, good, I mean, that's Ok, just , you know, bring them when you're through with lectures today. I'll give you my spare keys, so you don't have to wait til I'm home." Ellison started to pat his pant-pockets as if expecting a set of keys to emerge. Then he shrugged somewhat defeated, got up again slowly and headed back into the kitchen. Rifling through the contents of a drawer his questing hand reappeared with three keys on a small silver ring. Handing the softly chiming keys over to Blair both men totally missed the stunned look on Simon Banks' face: It had taken almost two years - and the desperation coming with disappearance of Jack Prendergrast, Jim's late partner, before the tough cop had trusted him enough to hand over what in Jim's mindset was the ultimate intrusion of his privacy...

Two weeks into their new living arrangement Jim woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and bagels. He knew that this was his breakfast waiting for him. More often than not Sandburg managed to get up a short time before Jim even opened his eyes and started the day. But what amazed the Sentinel most was that he didn't wake up because the student was puttering around in the kitchen. He woke exactly two minutes before his alarm-clock would ring. - As always. Nothing unusual there. Only that - even without his senses kicking in - he never had been able to get some rest, while Caroline was still up and around. And when their relationship was breaking up and she was the one sleeping in his spare room as a punishment for his refusal to see her point, the little noises the bed made when she turned in sleep drove him crazy upstairs. And then after a fortnight she found a place to stay and nothing disturbed his sleep except his dreams.

And now there was something oddly comforting in the fact that Blair Sandburg was cluttering the small room downstairs. The bed already smelled like the kid - cut it out, he's a grown man. He had never met anyone so - clean in his whole life: The student changed sheets every two days and got them washed downstairs. He showered at least twice. His hair never smelled like smoke or sweat, no matter which pub at the University grounds the teacher frequented. How the student had survived weeks in the jungle escaped him. Jim snuggled back into his pillow to recapture the last warmth of his night's sleep. He heard the fridge door open and close again. Time to start a new day, then.

"Morning, Jim" Thankfully Sandburg waited with further comments till his roomie emerged from the bathroom again. Detective Ellison was not a morning person. His senses always needed a short period of adaption in the mornings - everything seemed too loud, too bright, too spicey during those first minutes of each day. Ellison grabbed his cup of coffee. And realized the dark liquid had been adapted to his morning needs: More milk, less sugar, just the way he liked it. He sighed contently, then grinned ruefully and muttered: "Good morning Chief."

The student beamed and handed him a bagle with cream cheese. "Eggs are ready in five. Hey, I do my laundry today - I could take your things, too." Blair walked back to the kitchen island and started fixing scrambled eggs. "Jim? Dial your hearing down - I'm gonna mix the poison now." With that the electric shaker started to whirr - and some ugly looking, funny smelling algaeshake was born - every morning Jim waited for the creamy juice to start moving and attacking. He shuddered.

"You sure that doesn't kill you, Chief?"

"No; you should try it, too. Makes you alert!" He chuckled at the cops shudder "By the way, speaking of alertness Jim, you haven't been at campus during the last few days, have you?"

"No, you came to the station each afternoon, remember? What's up?"

"I don't know. Have you ever had the feeling someone's watching you? I mean, I haven't seen anything unusual, just had the feeling someone's observing me... I don't know, most likely I'm making up those things. Forget I mentioned it"

"Well, maybe another one of you cute little co-eds waiting for the right moment to approach you. I mean, that has happened before, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, probably" Blair didn't sound all convinced but a little relieved. "I'm sure it's nothing. Sooo, what about a little testing this afternoon? In a controlled environment? So that I can work something out, maybe on your subconscious level, that your senses get online from the moment you wake up in the morning and the time you need to adapt decreases?"

Jim just looked at his young Guide, who handed him his second cup of coffee this morning: less milk, more sugar, just perfect. "Is it that obvious?"

"For someone who's living with you? Course!" Sandburg shrugged. "Took me one day to realize that." *And half a night of thinking, but your puzzled look right now sure was worth it.*

The day turned out to be one of the warm, sunny ones that people in Cascade were looking forward to, so Sandburg decided to spend his lunchbreak outdoors, in front of the anthro-building of Rainier-U. Sitting on the lawn he rummaged through his backpack to retrieve a tupperware-box - red, according to the color-coding, Ellison had insisted on after finding beansprouts while expecting leftover noodles in the fridge. It had been almost a culture-shock. While chewing on his sandwich, Sandburg closed his eyes, enjoyed the warm sun, some birds chirping in a nearby tree and the voices of some students that washed over him. And not for the first time he pondered what it must be like for a Sentinel to sit in the afternoon-sun. What would he experience with the help of his enhanced senses? Would he be able to identify the dog by the sound of its hoarse barking even he could hear right now - almost like howling...

"Hi Blair! Asleep already?"

"No longer. Hi Wayne!"

"May I sit down" not waiting for Blair's inviting gesture, the sturdy wrestler settled down at Sandburgs side. "Sooo, how's it going with your boyfriend?"

"What do you mean, boyfriend?"

"You're living with that guy. So waddaya think I assume?"

"Yeah, well, you know the say about that particular word? You make an ass out of you and me...."

"You mean,you're not..."

"He offered me a place to crash after Dr Stoddard left the country. A place where I don't have to fight for a quiet night's sleep" he added with emphasis, vividly remembering hours and hours of discussions with Wayne all revolving around the same topic: How to convince Blair to at least try a relationship with Wayne. And Blair hadn't been able to escape - all his money had been trapped in the trip to the jungle that turned out not to be the chance of a lifetime.

"Blair, look I'm sorry. It's just, I watched you those last few days and you seem inordinately happy, so I thought, you finally found someone - and now that the two of you are living together ..."

"What do you mean, you watched me?"

"I - well..."

"Do you know that I almost freaked because I had the feeling that someone followed me? I thought I was going crazy! Why didn' you approach me?"

"I did - just right now; I mean first I wanted to know for sure - "

The babbling of the jealous man did not soothe Blair. "This is 'SO' not funny, Wayne - did you spread rumors on campus?" The thought of his best friend dragged through the rumor-mill because of Wayne's stupidity and Jim most likely unable to deny any of those things, because during one magical night at one magical place all those things had actually happened made Blair cringe and finally lash out. Though he saw Wayne shake his head in denial, muttering no he yelled: "Well, stop that and get a life, will you?" grabbing his backpack, the tupperware - how domestic can you get in a fortnight anyway? - and his sandwich and headed for the main entrance of Rainier's park, leaving a stunned, slightly contrite Wayne sitting in the grass. The ground had been damp anyway. Blair snorted. He had frightened away the birds in the nearby tree with his shouting. Only that dog with its cold still growled. *well, wherever you are, doggie, you seem to be as pissed as I am right now. Welcome to the club.*

He stuffed away the remains of his lunch when he saw Ellison getting out of his truck. *Thank God he must have been too far away to hear anything - I hope.* The tall detective waved a hand and Blair mock-saluted watching the big guy come closer. *Moving with such grace - and the blue sweater'll bring out the color of his eyes - wonder if he does that on purpose - probably not* Then Ellison was close enough to ruffle a hand through Blair's unruly mane only to catch the almost discarded leather band that was supposed to hold the wild locks back.

"Here, Blair, that's yours. So where do you drag me for those tests." A shiver of apprehension accompagnied the statement.

Blair unknotted the leather-strap then tamed his hair back with it and put on his glasses before answering: "No physical distress - I promise, tough Guy. And: good news." Ellison actually looked interested and cast a questioning glance at the grad student.

"Man, I'm not going nuts, you know?"

"No, I don't, but then sometimes I think you already are; Nuts, that is, Chief" But the deep voice rumbled with a distinct notion of amusement. And Blair suddenly found he didn't mind the teasing. He harrumphed and cuffed the bigger man on the arm.

"No, I mean it, Jim. I told you I suspected being watched? This morning? After you had your first cup of I-need-caffein-before-I-react-to-anything coffee?" When Jim nodded encouragingly he continued: "Well it was *Dwayne*. The moron followed me those last few days. Tried to find out if he could convince me to move in with him. What a hoot..." It was then when it occured to Blair, that maybe Jim Ellison didn't find the idea of Blair Sandburg moving out of his loft as ridiculous as he himself did. Blushing furiously the student tried to maintain his position at the one place he wanted to stay right now. "I mean, he's so jealous, he would want to do ..." realizing that he talked himself deeper and deeper in Blair finally stopped.

A few moments went by - and Blair's heart was running a mile a minute and his Sentinel would be able to hear that, too, for sure. Then Jim cleared his throat and said calmly: "I hope you told him, that you don't need another place to crash, cause you found yourself a home to stay." The detective's face was motionless, only the telltale muscle jumped a story inside his right cheek. Blair experienced his relief literally physically - he needed to find a restroom - and soon. When he remembered how to talk again, he said with a calm he didn't know he possessed: "I told him to get a life. He won't bother us again I think."

"Good, - But I think his name was Wayne, wasn't it? " Was there really a big cat growling somewhere in the bushes of that park?

The session in the lab turned out to be horrible: Sandburg tested the Sentinel's reaction-time to multiple stimuli, changing senses without warning. What at first had looked like a simple test like one you might endure to get a drivers licence, was only the first step into torture. With sinking hope Jim's acute sight picked up the sheat of endless computer-paper Blair was filling out with column after column.

Ellison had lost every sense of time - *now that's ironic, Ellison, hu?* when Blair suddenly switched from Guide voice to his normal range of modulation:

"Last round of tests, Jim, then you can order pizza - as long as you pay!" He grinned mischievously at Jims relieved sigh - The tough detective hadn't even realized that Blair had wriggled himself out of cooking. Jim was so tired: Nothing mattered anymore. The torture would end. Was it just him or were the lights suddenly brighter? His head seemed to burst and dialling down didn't seem to work any more. Half an hour later and truly exhausted now he watched Blair as he put away pens and papers. Thank God. He scrambled up and went to use the restrooms. Cold water on his face. If only the stench of acid cleaner wouldn't be that ... prominent.

"So, tough guy, you pay for pizza?"

"Okay, as long as we can eat at home - I don't think I can stand any more noises, lights or smells tonight. I'm really wiped."

"Tell you something, Jim: While you call for dinner, I'll fix you some tea, it'll help you. And if you want to, we could try something my mom told me a while ago."

Ellison's eyebrows rose in an almost comical motion.

"Yeah, don't look so suspicious. She was at one of her retreats and learned about post-hypnotic suggestions. She told me, I got interested and there was this psychologist and she knew practically everything about it. And she finally taought me how to do it and when to use it. If you like, we could try it tonight - maybe it'll elp your senses adapt."

"You wanna make me bark like a dog or pretend to swim on dry ground, Chief? I don't think so."

"It's nothing like that, man; I mean it's science. You aren't in front of a TV-camera doing stupid things." he paused, thoughfully - "though that's not a bad idea. I mean, I could tape all that and then show it to you, so you will know what happened during the session.... " his voice trailed off "yo, just have to find Becky, she'll have to give me her vidcam."

"Why did I know there was a girl somewhere in that equation..." A long- suffering sigh escaped one weary Detective.

"Cause Becky's the head of the filming-class and you probably know her name. The vidcam I had to tape Larry - you know, the ape"

"the ape..." Jim nodded with a shudder.

"it survived the the explosion of my place and I was able to return it unharmed. As a matter of fact it got trashed when another student tried to tape women at a shopping mall." At Jim's questioning look Blair continued with a grin that was entirely evil "Poor guy was at the wrong place at the wrong time: He stood at the entrance of the shopping mall when the doors first opened for summer sale. Soo, I'm on Becky's bonus-side. Her office is over there. I'll check."

The young man swayed his backpack and strolled over to another part of the U where the lights were already on to fight the fading lights of the day. Jim still chuckled at the thought of the guy standing in the line of fire while wild hordes of women tried to be first at whatever cheap sales were offered. Only minutes later a cheerful Sandburg jogged out of the building a nifty camera dangling from his fingers.

"Told you I'll get it. Now lets get dinner!"

They strolled back to where the truck was parked, enjoying the relative quiet of the campus-grounds while the sun was setting in eery red colors. A low growl caught the Sentinel's attention; in the corner of his eye he saw the flicker of a large cat's tail.

"Did ya hear that dog, Jim? That raucous hound dog seems to follow me around all day today. Wonder what it looks like." Blair's voice distracted the Sentinel. The sun was in the sky at a perfect angle. The Sentinel saw the glint of reflecting sunlight in the distance and tried to zoom in - recognized the metal barrel and the glass of a telescope; idly he wondered if the sniper saw him as well as he saw the shooter. Then he burst into action. And when the sound of one gunshot finally frightened the birds on the nearby trees, the Sentinel shoved the Guide to the ground and covered the smaller body with his own.

"Jim, JIM?!" Still covering the younger man, the Sentinel tried to listen to the assassin's takeoff. Somehow breathing started to get really hard. And all he could hear was his own blood pounding in his ears. Had to concentrate to protect the Guide. He heard the squeal of tires and a car that raced away in high-speed. Good, so he won't shoot again. So tired. Suddenly his limbs were getting heavy. Funny, his headache was gone.

"JIM; man, you're BLEEDING!" Sandburg wriggled under the heavy weight of Ellison's body, wrestled himself free and grabbed his overshirt. Too dirty from the fall. He tore it from his body, pushed his T-shirt over his head and made a makeshift pressure-pad. The hole in Jim's right shoulder was so big, so terrifyingly big. Ramming his shirt - his white shirt that turned rapidly red - against the gaping wound, he scrambled for his backpack and searched for his cellphone. While he punched Simon Banks' number on the speed dial he slowly realized that the few students that had still been on campus grounds were coming closer now.

"Simon! He's shot - we're on campus. An assassination - he's bleeding so much...!" That was when Blair saw that the wound he so desperately tried to close had a nasty, though smaller brother on Jim's back. The cellphone fell down, as Blair grabbed the overshirt - so dirty, can't help it - and tried to apply equal pressure to the bleeding backwound.

"Don't go, don't do this to me, don't go. You have to come back to me, you hear me?" Unconsciously slipping into guide-voice Blair kept up an ongoing stream of words, meaningless, but desperate, till he heard the sirens of police-cars and ambulances coming closer. And Simon's voice, tinny and small and distant, yet yelling.

"Where on campus are you? Damnit! TALK TO ME SANDBURG!"

A student who saw that he couldn't help the two huddled men with simple first-aid-knowledge picked up the discarded cellphone and supplied the information. The sirens came closer. Jim coughed. But he didn't regain consciousness. Blair kept talking.

He kept talking while the medics started to work on his friend. He still talked when they dragged him away from the gaping wounds to apply proper pressure. His constant stream of words flowed while the medics started to look at him, obviously trying to decide if the second victim of this assault needed some sort of medication too. Then Simon dragged him off to talk to him, but all Blair could manage to say was:

"Idon't know what happened. I heard a dog. Then Jim tackled me down. The vidcam broke. There was a shot. So much blood...." the desperate voice of the grad student trailed away while his eyes kept fixed on the team of medics bent over Jim's body. Such a great body. Chest bared - so much blood.

When they loaded Ellison into the ambulance, Blair crept into the car before anyone could stop him.

"We'll be at the hospital in no time, you're gonna be better soon, just try to stay with me..."

He had no real hope that the unconscious man could actually hear him - but he had to continue nevertheless. He saw the body on the stretcher jostle when the ambulance took a sharp turn to the right. And with a desperate attempt at humor Blair mumbled:

"Man, you can be glad that you're out of it. That siren would kill you for sure. But - just - you know - don't sleep too long..."

He swayed in a sirupy black sea and something cold was wrapped around his back - no - only on the right side of his back. And on his chest, too. he tried to raise his hand to push the offending cold ... thing away, but large black clouds suddenly clung to him. Some pained animal howled nearby - could anyone please put that poor creature out of its misery? High pitched, then low again, high, low, like waves - he tried to open his eyes but found it too exhausting. Mentally he shrugged; he swayed a bit, and it was not that bad a feeling, like being cradled, somehow. And The Voice crept slowly through his mind, telling him not to sleep, to wake up, to come buck. That's ridiculous - I'm here all right. Just tired and so dark - must be a hell of a darkness, not even his supersenses could make anything out. And yet that Voice talked to him, held the dark clouds at bay and let him see the jungle behind those clouds. He knew he could reach that lush green. As soon as the sirupy black would yield to the power of The Voice he would be able to reach that lush green.

Hospital

The moment they reached the hospital routine took over. The young man that seemed to be constantly in the way of someone dressed in white, was pushed aside, swept away by a nurse who shoved forms and a pen into his hands. The stretcher was raced straight to an elevator and Sandburg followed the small blinks of light until they stopped on the third floor.

"Fill out those forms, please. Mister..." A soft hand touched Blair's arm, jerked the young man back to the presence.

"Sandburg" He absently smiled at the nurse, quite pretty; "Where did they bring Jim?"

"The surgery team already waited for Mister Ellison. He's a cop, isn't he? He'll have the best care possible, don't worry. Are you a relative?"

"No; But I think I'm able to fill this out, though." Research pays off...

When he handed back the paperwork - so much paperwork, so like when he worked with Jim - he realized that he was freezing, barechested, and clogged blood drying on his skin. He fled into a restroom and scrubbed first scalding his hands with hot water, then chilling them under an icecold stream. The nurse , who had monitored the pale young guy that seemed not to notice what was going on, knocked at the door of the restroom.

"You OK Mr Sandburg?"

"Yeah, I'm coming"

She looked at his bare chest: "There's a gift shop round the corner on this floor. You could get a sweater there; with the hospital-logo, you know?"

He looked at himself, then padded his pants-pockets, already knowing that his money was in his backpack that was still on the campus, lying somewhere, no longer important. She smiled reassuringly:

"Tell them I sent you - I'm Rennie Milnes. They'll give you credit, then. Go; Milnes, OK?" She gave him a little push to direct him on and he purchased a sweater on her name, Milnes, OK, and finally made it to the third floor to start to wait.

Later he sat in one of those highly uncomfortable plastic chairs that seemed to be designed to make the wait the single most annoying experience in life, a cup of coffee in his hand that smelled like hospital and not like coffee at all.

Simon stopped by and brought his backpack and the sad remnants of the vidcam and Blair went and paid for the sweatshirt that had somehow managed to smell like hospital, too. The tall, darkskinned Captain had tried to figure out what had happened on the University-compound but Blair was no help at all, though he really tried to remember something. But other than the memory of the dog with the sore throat - maybe its owner has seen something? No dogs there, Sandburg. Oh... - and then Jim's body covering his, tackling him down, and THEN the gunshot he could recall nothing else.

"Think, Sandburg, cause we have absolutely nothing to start with. We didn't even find the bullet in the parking space you pointed us to. Did Jim jump at you before or after you heard the shot?" As intimidating the police-captain might have been, now his voice sounded gentle and prodding and he didn't show impatience or gruffness. Sandburg really tried to help.

"First - he jumped first, then I heard the shot. ... That means, Jim has seen something that had him alerted. He has seen the sniper! That means as soon as he is out of surgery he can help you find that asshole!"

"If he has seen something - maybe his hearing just picked up sooner than yours?"

"No, don't think so. We just have to wait a little longer." And he didn't add that this wait was what almost killed him. Every time anyone in a white coat passed by he jumped up and craned his head, but not one of the white-coats stopped. Simon started to pace, chewing on an unlit cigar while a nurse gave him a dirty look. After a while Rafe and Brown joined them. Unobtrusively they controlled the pulled shades on the large windows, then urged Blair to sit down in a corner as far away from the blinds as possible. The young man almost didn't notice that they tried to shield him in every way possible from another attack from the unknown sniper... Almost.

So it was not over.

The air in the jungle seemed different this time: Warm,yet with an acrid note underlying. The usual sounds that never failed to calm his senses were missing this time. One rhythmic drum, too high-pitched to be soothing, claiming his attention. He tried to relax but an unseen enemy had bound his arms to his body and strapped his feet to the ground. And someone was groping at his shoulder and it hurt. Waves of black clouds threatened to suffocate him, the drum growing faster and more frantic with every assault in black. Bits of - music? scratched at the edge of his consciousness and the pain in his shoulder spread to his chest and made him gasp and strain against the invisible ropes that held him immovable. Then he was back in the jungle, the drum, though still too high-pitched, getting fevered and finally slowing down.

"Mister Sandburg?" The doctor wearily rubbed his face with one hand, the beginnings of a five-o'clock-shadow evident on his cheeks, his black hair sweaty and clinging to his head, then fastened something small to the breast pocket of his fresh white coat. When Blair slowly got up from his plastic torture seat in the waiting room, surprisingly sharp eyes in a tired face measured the young man.

"You are Detective Ellison's emergency contact?" Those inquisitive eyes roamed over Captain Banks who now stood right behind Blair, took notice of Rafe and Brown and dismissed them.

"I am? I mean, yeah, yes Doctor " a quick glance to the name-tag that still hung half fastened from one coat pocket "Chan-Sen; I am his roommate, therefore his contact.." Simon pressed a large, dark hand reassuringly on Blair's shoulder, effectively stopping his rambling.

"Well, alright. You want to talk privately, or...?" This time the eyes encompassed all four anxious men.

"Tell us already!"

"He gave us some grief, we couldn't keep him under. The fatbased emulsion that should ensure to block transmitting information from nerve-endings to brain didn't work as expected. He half-woke at least twice during surgery but we couldn't risk to up the dosage in order not to affect his heart. You didn't write anything about this ... condition of his when you filled out his forms."

"What do you mean, he woke twice? He felt what you did to him? Wasn't it enough that he was shot by a sniper?" Sandburg was yelling now, and knew that he should have known that such a thing might happen, and it was his guilt that made him lash out. Both Banks and Rafe tried to calm him, and he noticed belatedly that his hands were shaking, so he hugged himself, trying to come up with a logical explanation that would not leave his best friend open to an endless stream of medical tests and reports that would finally end up *somewhere*. Rafe saved the day, though. His kind eyes and boyish features suddenly turned icey cold and determined and then that well-dressed, always polite young man hissed:

"How about you try stress, Doctor: A few months ago this man was released from this hospital after a bombing - as you could have found in your own files if you would have taken the time to look them up. And now he was shot by an assassin. He probably ran solely on adrenaline the whole time."

Thus thrown the responsibility back at the good doctor, Chan-Sen nodded once, then resumed: "He's in ICU right now. One of you may visit him for five minutes per hour. He came through surgery fine, though. Now he just has to wake up." He turned and walked away.

"What did he mean, wake up? I thought you had trouble keeping him under? Is he in a coma?" But the doctor had already left. Sandburg was out of the room and on his way to ICU-ward before either Rafe or Brown could cover him.

The nervewracking sound of that damned drum still rasped at his nerves, now in a steady beat; and it would have been soothing if it weren't for the beats' high-pitchend sound. Other drums, equally shrill, joined to torture him even more and there was still that acrid, pungent smell that did not belong to the jungle. Only his eyes were relieved: Finally the black clouds had vanished altogether, leaving only lush green leaves and trees and a blue blue sky that almost made him forget about scent and hearing. Where the clearing met the depths of the dark green mysteries of jungle, a large black cat loomed in the shadows, barely to be seen, blue eyes glinting with an unreal light. Dimly he registered the Voice again, telling him something, maybe even something important, but he couldn't decipher words and when he tried to hard, something was prodding against his shoulder, back and chest again and the sudden pain was almost agonizing and definitely incapacitating. So he concentrated on the sleek grace of the beautiful large cat that paced just out of reach and growled angrily.

"I have to stay with him longer. Don't you see: Every time you let me slip in and talk to him, his vitals go up. You have to realize that, too..." Blair was shocked at how pleading, weary and strained his voice sounded. For five hours now he had only lived for those precious five minutes when he was allowed in the ward where Jim was propped on a bed like some ancient human sacrifice. Sandburg had outwitted Banks the first two times by simply getting dressed into those ghastly green hospital-gowns faster than the tall police-captain, shedding sweater and jeans without false modesty and already fastening his hair back when Simon still had looked for a privat place to change. Then Banks had to leave for the station and he did no longer have to fight, when Rafe and Brown were replaced by Demoran and Miller2. And it was not his feverish imagination, nursed by a night without sleep and too much coffee. He had seen the vitals improve every time he had been able to sit and talk to the pale figure that was his best friend, his one-time-lover and the one man he trusted more than anyone else. The night-nurse had seen it,too but rules were rules and so he was now pleading with the day-nurse having made the big mistake of not realizing that she was in charge in the first place and now paying for her wounded self-esteem.

"I promise, only five more minutes. Please. There's no harm done. He should have come out of narcosis hours ago and didn't. If he's comatose I can't harm him if I stay. And there's proof that coma-patients do hear what's going on around them - so maybe he can hear me, though" he launched into another lecture making sure this time that he got her name and title right and to charm her - and didn't really succeed with dark circles under his eyes, a growing beard and greasy hair, that didn't make him look like a model out of a sexy beer-commercial but like the exhausted desperate grad-student that he was.

Maybe that convinced her. She nodded eventually. "Five more. I'll watch the clock."

He didn't even pause to say appropriate polite things but turned and almost slammed into Demoran who had been standing behind him, already scrambling out of the sweater with that silly logo again and left his jeans and put on those green garments that made him look almost as sick as Jim. Only that what would cure him was one good night's sleep.

Quietly he took his seat next to the bed with the alarmingly unruffled sheets - the man locked onto million-dollar-equipment that did nothing but confirm his state of being obviously had not moved since he had been brought to this bed. He didn't dare to touch the still hand that was lying next to him.

"Uhmm, Jim? I'm .. I mean I wanted to say - I'm back - this time they're gonna let me stay a bit longer. Hope you don't mind. Simon left a couple hours ago. I didn't let him in to see you, though. Hope you don't mind either. Uhmm, Seems as if he thinks I'm in danger, too. Got two guys watching over us. Whatever he thinks, I know, you saved my life out there today. If I hadn't distracted you, you'd have seen the sniper even earlier and you wouldn't have been wounded at all. Again it's all my fault. Not only you rescue my sorry ass from Peru's dangers, as if I'd ever thought there was something like that, now you take a bullet that was most likely meant to nil me. I want you to come back now, Jim. You have to come back to me so that I can tell you how sorry I am. Do you hear me? Please - I need you. You're practically the only friend I've ever had. I mean, I know, I'm not your only friend. You have Simon and Rafe and all the other guys from the precinct and that strange fella who helped you track me down in Peru and all those people. But I've got only you. I don't know Simon so well, though I think he sorta likes me. And Rafe's been really nice to me, too. And Wayne - he really tries to be friends only , but every time I meet him, he has this hunger in his eyes and I can't respond to him like he would want me to. You're the only one who always understood me. On a strange, subconscious level, guess. It's weird. Maybe the Guide-thing again. And as your Guide, I demand that you come back to me now..."

His ten minutes were long over, but nurse I'll-watch-the-clock was distracted by yet another emergency and then had to report to a doctor. When she came back to check again, almost an hour had passed and the student who looked so pale in those hospital greens was still sitting next to the wounded policeman whispering reassurances with a voice hoarse from strain. Her first impuls was to force him out of the room. But then she saw how desperate he was watching the quiet face of the still more or less comatose man on the bed and she simply didn't have the heart to throw him out. Before one of the two guards could detect her weakness, she gruffly turned and decided to get another cup of coffee - and maybe bagels from downstairs for Rosy, the second nurse. That would buy the whispering man who seemed to be so young and vulnerable that he reminded her of her own forteen-year old son at least another quarter of an hour.

The voice was back - and it smoothed over the shrill drum that still kept grating on his nerves and sent stabs through his shoulder and back. He could not quite understand the words that came with the voice but he recognised the sound - like a beacon he held to that sound, let it reverberate through his body and sighed when the vibrations built a cushion against the stabbing pain that ruled his whole being. There was a new scent added to the acrid stench so unlike every jungle he had travelled. The large cat still looming in the shadows of those many greens smelled it, too. The glittering blue eyes travelled from where he lied to a place behind him, where he could not see and turning around would be too much right now. But the smell, sweat and herbs and ... warmth, enveloped him and took away the constant need to hack because of all those acids he had had to endure. He still could not move or talk and his hearing - he still could not process what the Voice tried to tell him - but the frightening place on that clearing where he was lying deprived of his strength and with no control at all over what was happening, suddenly was so much less scary then before.

There was the soft rustle of leaves where the jungle met the grass of the small bower. The large black cat abandoned its standing sentry to move away and make room for another animal - a dog - how the hell would a dog survive in the jungle? A wolf - not a dog - a wolf - and how the hell had a wolf ended up in the jungle? - stepped tentatively out of the undergrowth and sat down mere meters from him. The animal looked at him, then checked on the surroundings, all senses on alert. The large cat, still mostly hidden between green leaves, eased down resting and closed its eyes with a satisfied rumbling purr.

He reached out to touch the wolf and all of a sudden felt no restrictions at all.

His first gasp sent jolts of whitehot pain through his body and almost crippled him. He moaned but what he heard was only a soft nearly inaudible sigh. Followed by an instant rustle and the scraping of a chair.

"Jim?!? Can you hear me?!" The voice was hoarse - has everyone including stupid dogs a sore throat? - He tried to calm the frantic movement at his side but didn't seem to be able to do so. He didn't want to breathe in - the fear that the scorching pain would come back too strong - and therefore couldn't speak. And if given the choice he opted for closed eyes because even in his half-unconscious state he could see that the room was far too bright for his comfort. My god, it felt like his last stay at a hospital all over again. Panic grabbed at his sanity. Finally he had to take a deep breath and with a painful grimace slipped back into unconsciousness.

"C'mon Jim,- hey, you know, you made it to the paper again. And now you have to wake up - then we can do something to quell this incredible pain. But first - wake up to the pain! And don't be afraid: I'm here to help you - I won't let anyone hurt you any more, Jim!"

The nurse shook her head when she heard the tired litany the worn-out young man kept on mumbling.

"Get out now, you've been in here much too long." She tried to shoo him out of the room, but her voice was gentle and she seemed more approachable than before. Blair looked up into her face, not realizing that his big, redrimmed eyes not only showed much of his desperation but also reminded her of her own son again.

go to Part II