go to Part I

"He was on the verge of waking - please - only five more minutes. He was so close..."

Just then the soft breathing on the sickbed changed into something more laboured, shallow gasps brought Blair back to Jim's side no matter what the nurse was going to say about it.

"Jim? Try now. I know it hurts. But you gotta stay with me here!"

"I'm here all right" the raspy voice, scratchy from the tube during surgery and then from too much oxygen, was small, whispery but demanding nevertheless. To Blair it was the most wonderful sound in the world.

"That's it!" he yelped, silenced from one sharp glance from nurse get-out-of-the-room, but stayed while the woman checked on his friend. Then, unobtrusively but forcible he settled down next to the bed: "Now - until all that shit they pumped into your body has left you one way or the other, we're gonna have some trouble with the pain-dials. So in order to gain the most effect you must relax. I know, I know, you hurt, but try - c'mon, do it for me. Listen to my voice..."

And the nurse watched - and didn't believe half of it though she saw the hard evidence - as this Detective's vitals improved steadily with every suggestion this young guy whispered to him.

He didn't improve as fast as he would have liked it. Despite of his dials finally working he couldn't quite control his body's violent reactions to the almost-overdose of the anesthetic he had been given. When his bowel-functions kicked in with a vengeance shortly after he was finally waking up for good, he was not able to get up and had to endure that frantic and totally embarrassing moment to ask for a chamber pot, for anything, just fast, please. And the only one to hand it to him was Sandburg, of all people, because the nurse, truly enervated by the developement this "case" was taking, had left - most likely for another cup of coffee, - after the student had paid no attention whatsoever to her orders, again. And Sandburg held himself together, did what had to be done, because Jim was not able to do anything himself, that much was sure. Even the effort of raising his hips to "get seated" properly drained him and left him panting and fumbling for his dials.

"I'm sorry; call the nurse."

"That's not necessary. I'll manage. You just do..." hands waving encouragingly .."you know. I'll do the rest."

Jim's embarrassement warmed his cheeks, hell, his whole body seemed to turn beet-red. And just when he thought that he wouldn't be able to relieve himself, he found he could, cause his body was strongly taking over. This incident was a very strong incitement to get better - and soon.

After two days of feeling weak like a little kitten Jim finally got his system working again by getting up and - slowly - pacing the room. The chemicals had left his body - and yes, he had literally felt them circling through his veins. When Simon paid his visit that day, they camped on the bed in Jim's privat room and with the assistance of Rafe and H Brown they rifled through his casefiles. Five frustrating hours later they finally had to admit they still had no leads on the mysterious shooter.

A week later the whole staff of the hospital was grateful that Detective Ellison was released and going home. The young nerd at his side had driven them all crazy with his "Det. Ellison does not eat red meat. He is not allowed to drink this. Let me make him some herbal tea. No , not chamomile and certainly no teabag...."

And the lengthy conferences between those two other detectives, and the tall african-american Captain and the student didn't improve the relationship between Ellison and the medical staff. Nobody knew exactly what had happened but the head physician had given strict orders: Whatever Ellison or his men needed was supposed to be handed over. And if one of the policemen wanted to see an Identification, it had to be shown. It took the nurses some time but after two days they realized that neither Ellison nor the student, Sandburg, were ever alone. And the shades were always drawn. And there was a grim-looking man standing guard at the main entrance of the clinic.

So everyone sighed and silently waved good bye when the tall man in his wheelchair, the young nuisance not leaving his side, with his two friends/bodyguards finally left for good.

Home

It felt good to be home again. The trembling pain in his shoulder was reduced to a dull, throbbing pounding that had the rhythm of his heartbeat. He was able to breathe freely again - his lung had only been grazed by the bullet. He sucked in a lungfull of air and was rewarded with a stab of whiteness through his shoulder - and with all the soothing scents that came with with being home again: The stale air held the smell of his and Sandburg's sweat and he even traced the faint odor of dust underlying something that said "my kitchen" - which made his stomach grumble. He yearned for real food - in comparison to hospital-food, an almost tasteless grey mass of I-don't-know-what-it-is, but-it's-supposed-to-be-good-for-you. The only drawback in his glee of being finally home again was that he had to endure at least one of his colleagues until all leads were cold - a bodyguard to sit in his living room, while he tried to sleep upstairs. He hated the thought but Simon had insisted.

He really felt observed like a specimen in a zoo - Rafe and Blair watched him, ready to rush at his side, while he dragged himself upstairs to change into something more comfortable.

"I'm OK, all right? I'm not dead already!" He knew he was grumpy and he hated to admit it to himself but the short trip from the hospital to his loft and the trip upstairs - thanks to a dead elevator - had drained what little strength he had gathered. He sat down on his large bed heavily, too frustrated about his slow recovery to even consider opening his pants.

"You OK with some soup - minestrone?" Blair's voice carried through the loft and Jim's stomach growled in appreciation.

"Oh, yeah, great! Rafe, you're in for a treat!"

"Hope so!"

Then Jim whinced, cause thinking about his first real meal in a week had made him forget that he was still incapable of certain movements. Suddenly Blair was standing on the last step to his bedroom - in the forbidden zone; the sacred place where Jim still felt safe from Blair's tests, where he was able to hide from his curious guide. Until now.

"What are you doing up here?" Jim's voice was low, hesitant and defensive all at once.

"You didn't come down for a quarter of an hour, Jim. I got worried. Do you want me to help you with the clothes?" Another step brought Blair closer, invading the private place that was Jim's and Jim's alone. Until now.

And then Blair suddenly crouched in front of the Sentinel, fumbling with slightly shaking fingers for the buttons on the shirt, accidentally - or maybe not so accidentally indeed - brushing ice-cold knuckles over heated pecs, causing the tall man's skin to ripple. It felt so good. To Jim it felt like heaven.

And then a small sound from downstairs - Rafe, humming terribly off-key under his breath while stirring the minestrone - caught the Sentinel's attention and brought him back from the edges of an all too welcome zoneout that would have exonerated him from responsibility once again and he couldn't possibly let that happen again, for the pain would be too much to deal with this time.

"Stop it Blair"

But the kid didn't, couldn't, was not going to stop anytime soon. Almost reverently the student slowly pushed back the fabric, reveiled broad shoulders with the nasty white bandage a reminder of the fact that a deadly sniper was still waiting for one of them or both.

"I said stop it Sandburg." though just a hiss, the Sentinel's voice was the commanding force of a seasoned cop used to intimidate with his sheer power of speech. It was then when the grad-student looked up for the first time, looking at his best friend - he still was his best friend, wasn't he? - at the whiteknuckled fists, the straining muscles around the powerful neck, the soft sheen of sweat on Jim's face. He also saw an erection that matched his own need and once again did not quite comprehend why he was rejected like that.

"What do you think you're doing? Initiating another roll in the hay and then dismissing it as the stress-induced release-mechanism that keeps us from blowing apart - quote Blair Sandburg, expert extraordinaire on Sentinel-behaviour? Well, newsflash, Darwin: This time I'll stay in control. This time you won't have to explain and interpret the facts until we both don't have to face the truth. It was bad enough to go on with my life without..." Abruptly Jim ended his violent outburst, terrified by what had slipped by his control-mechanisms, what had almost made it through the walls he had erected in front of his life. He ws breathing hard and pale - and he hoped to god that his Guide had not noticed the slip. - No such luck.

"Without what, Jim...?" suddenly very calm, almost shy, Blair sat back on his haunches, anger and hurt disappearing at the sight of Jim's emotions.

Saved by Rafe, who was humming an indecipherable tune again. "Rafe's downstairs - and he's waiting for the cook - go take a look at your minestrone. I'll join you in a few..."

And while Blair slowly stepped down the stairs and prepared himself to show a smiling face that would not betray the inner turmoil he was feeling right now, the student wondered for the very first time, if his bullshitting about one most wonderful magical night had cost him everything he'd ever wanted from life.

Five minutes later, when Blair was adding a little bit of this and a small bit of that to his prefixed soup that had survived weeks in the freezer with only a small loss of tastyness, Ellison came down from the loft, dressed in darkblue sweats and awkwardly rightened the sleeve of a matching sweatshirt. The Sentinel looked almost normal. Blair nearly missed the haunted look that would not leave the tall man's eyes. And he almost whinced at the Sentinel's first question.

"So, Rafe, how long you going to babysit on us?"

"As long as it takes, Ellison. Hey, I'm sorry, I know, you're not overly happy to have yet another roomie; " the brash young detective innocently winked at Blair "but you know procedure: We're waiting for all those pesky entry-permits and visas to arrive - maybe we find out just who the hell came to pay one of you a visit. Cause - none of our snitches had heard anything. And believe me, after chasing every criminal around town, they would have said anything to get rid of us...!" Rafe's usually charming and winning smile had a distinct evil note in it when he pondered over the last few days. "Oh, and Blair: Brown or myself will accompany you to the University. Just think of yourself as a VIP! You're gonna have a bodyguard. That should impress all those cute little co-eds. Come to think of it, guess *I'll* be the one who'll watch your back. You would introduce an old friend who's also protecting your life to one or so little co-ed; no?" Rafe's pleading look made Blair chuckle and even Jim couldn't resist a grin.

Jim hated his life. It was not even seven in the morning and his appartement - his space - was already cramped. He could hear the thump-thump of his guides heart - Blair would wake up every moment now, the rhythm of the beat had changed - and a second tha-dump plus the heavy snore that had woken the Sentinel two hours ago. Truth to be told, Jim appreciated that Simon had taken the "night-duty"; The two detectives had been reading files till midnight, Sandburg already fast asleep on the couch. Then the three men had gone to sleep knowing that Simon was only there to help out till Jim's mobility would reach 100 Percent again. The african-american Captain had offered to stay awake, but the Sentinel had dismissed it: "I'll hear anything unusual far earlier even during sleep than you while you're awake. But I won't be in for a gun fight or a fight. So if anything happens, I'll wake you up, daddy." He hated to be dependent. And so they slept, till Jim indeed was roused by something unusual: Simon's snoring.

Ellison sighed. They hadn't found anything in the files so far and he was anxious to take a look at the entry-permits today. If any name sounded even vaguely familiar that would be a big step to his and Blair's safety. And Blair was due to teaching classes again today. Oh, well, Rafe would take care of that.

Blair. While Jim was lying in his bed and listened to his roommate waking up right now he still could feel the not so involutary touch when Blair had tried to "help" him undress. It had felt good - the silk glide of flesh against flesh, like satin... like the sound coming from downstairs right now. Oh, God, please Blair; Where's your modesty? No, the little hippie has non at all. Jim sighed, tried to block out the sensations from the small downstairs bedroom - but it was already too late: Blair had obviously woken with a morning-stiffie and was determined to take care of business before facing the day. And though the Sentinel really tried to concentrate on something else - maybe the deep breaths of Simon still sleeping on the couch - his mind did not cooperate: With bright clarity he heard Sandburg's heart speed up; he heard the sound on the student's hard cock change, when the first drops of precome lubricated the glide, he heard the soft moans Blair tried to stifle and unbidden scent piggypacked hearing and brought a whiff of male musk that did some nice hot things to his lower body. Not that he got hard - his body was still recovering from massive bloodloss and the trauma of the shooting, but suddenly Jim realized that his cock felt heavy and warm, as if it was glowing in anticipation.

Blair's heart sped up a bit more. He was about to come - what would the scents of semen and satisfaction would do to him? But then Simon stirred, huffed, coughed and Blair - not yet ready to let loose - froze in midmove; A soft "shit" flowed up to the Sentinel's ears, too low for Simon to hear, and the rustle of clothing indicated that remembering Captain Banks' presence had had the effect of a cold shower - a very cold shower.

Simon, not knowing what he just had interrupted, went to the bathroom. Jim looked down at his large cock that had slowly lengthened thanks to the auditoral feast and shrugged, whincing when his still so sore shoulder protested fiercly. Blair cautiously opened the door of his room, peeked out and - when he didn't see Simon anywhere near - ventured to the kitchen island to start coffee. And with an almost evil grin Jim thought *has to cover his front for a while...*

It subsequently calmed down after that. No name on too many entry- and exit-permits to the US had sounded even vaguely familiar to Jim - who already thought it more likely that a sniper with a grudge against himself would have been sneaking into the country without passing official channels. And if the assassination was directed against Blair Sandburg - nah, c'mon, because of an F he gave a student - my students don't get Fs! - then it was almost a given that the wanna-be-killer was somemone Blair already knew. - Hey, I don't know no killers! You're the one with the filthy army-past! - First they sent Simon home during the nights. A police-car patrolling the neighbourhood infrequently but often seemed to be more adequate.

Then their "bodyguards" Rafe and Brown were called to investigate the brutal murder of a male prostitute. The young man had been a high-classed hooker with brilliant connections - working from an appartement that cost almost twice as much as Jim's loft; and that was just his "office". Simon would have gladly given a week of his life to assign Jim, the Sentinel, to this ugly case, but Ellison had been given permission for light workouts, had made it to the gym accompanied by Miller2 to watch his back and came home, shaking violently, pale as a sheet of paper and sweating buckets. Sandburg saw him enter the loft, dropped the pencil with which he had been grading papers and rushed to help his friend, who leaned heavily onto Miller2 to prevent keeling over.

"What did you let him do?"

The cop/bodyguard helped Jim to the couch, justifying "I warned him not to overdo. But you know him, don't you. Did he ever do what a doctor told him? No! He kept pushing himself and he did well, till we were in the shower. There he just sagged..."

Of course, Blair thought. As long as the adrenaline of working out held his body upright, he would function. But instead of a slow cool-down he had to assault his senses with a shower and an abrupt stop of his exercises. No wonder his system gave out.

"Well, it was your job to look out for him. You can't do much now, that he's safe at home. I suggest you leave while I decide if he's going to recover on his own or if I'm taking him to the hospital." And when Miller2 hesitated not sure if he should leave Ellison at this ... hippie-kid's mercy, Sandburg muttered: "and ,yes I know, you don't want to leave your brother in the policeforce alone, but believe me, you can't help him anyway - most likely he just needs to rest."

With that he shoved a still resisting tall cop that towered over him out of the door of the appartement, not in the least intimidated by the size or glowering glances he was bombarded with. After locking the door again, he turned and sighed, nervous fingers shoving errant curls out of his face:

"You can't take it easy, can you? Not even after saying hellooo to death, big, tough Ellison has to prove that he's still alpha male at the gym, hun?"

"I'd get up and prove something to you, Sandburg, but frankly I'm too exhausted to get up." The voice sounded so tired, and Blair's anger evaporated. He decided on a well hidden peace-offering:

"Yeah, you and whose army? I'll fix you some tea, then I'm gonna give you a new bandage. Howzthat, tough guy? Can you tell me how am I supposed to go to work tomorrow if you're not able to look after yourself? I'll worry and I won't be any good with my students. "

Jim had the decency to look contrite. "I hadn't had any problems till the shower. And I won't go to the gym tomorrow. Simon's gonna pay a visit - he'll bring the latest files. So no more problems, you don't need to worry, promise."

Did Jim's voice sound sarcastic all of a sudden? Why is he hiding behind a defense-wall again? "I care about you .- I hate it when you suffer. Dial hearing down, the tea-water will..." The pot beat him, steam giving birth to shrill whistling that would have grated on the Sentinel's hearing.

"Thanks I guess" Ellison tested his surroundings. Then he grabbed the cup of tea, steaming, hot, warming the pottery cup and his icy fingers and he clung to it like to a lifeline. And not for the first time the cop wondered at how dependent he had become to this young, free spirit that had decided to share some time with him. Not too much time, judging from the length of his female relationships. And he fiercly shut down the pictures that came unbidden to his mind when he thought about the time when Sandburg would decide that he had enough data for his damned thesis and would leave for greener pastures as he had already done once before.

Blair looked at the exhausted man hunched down on the couch. Jim almost cradled his cup between two large hands, the tea steaming, the draughts caressing his angled face and he longed to reach out, to ease the pain, to make it better. And with a not so small amount of fear Sandburg realized that to him all of a sudden it was more important what happened to Jim than what happened to him. And yet - after the last rejection he knew with deadly precision that he was not allowed to reach out, not allowed to touch,to make it better, because after one magical night his mouth - the one with the death wish, he marvelled with frustrated sarcasm, - had shut down all possibilities at once. had deprived him of everything than the most casual touches and now that he thought about it, those touches were the most treasured moments of his life.

*Gotta prove myself to Jim. Gotta get him to trust me again; whatever it takes, I'll pay any price. But for now...*

"So, it'll be ok if I go to work tomorrow. Rafe's already volonteered - I don't think that he's too happy with the gay--whore-killer. A brief pause for three hours will relieve some of his stress, I guess."

"Yeah, most likely when he sees all of your female students hanging on your every word (*like myself*) and he does not have the slightest chance."

"Aww, c'mon, Jim; You know I don't date students. I haven't even dated a co-ed in weeks. And I think, that his profession will even out edges. Haven't you sensed the way some of my verrry female students have tried to literally get in touch with you after I slipped that you were a cop? I can't believe that. Some of them are all but groupies for power." And it was the sad truth: Sandburg knew that there were some girls who came to his lessons just because of himself - no matter what he was going to teach, they'd come nevertheless. But some of them sort of converted to Ellison as soon as they saw the tall, strikingly handsome cop for the first time.

"Yup; and now you tell me, what I'm gonna do with some twentysomething girl in a short dress, giggling at the mentioning of , I don't know, peanut-farmer Carter - but not realizing what I was saying. C'mon, Chief, get real!"

"Don't tell me you didn't vote for him?" an irresistable chuckle broke loose and Ellison finally succumbed to the comforting sound and the accompanying emotion. He really felt better; had to be the tea. Hadn't even tasted it yet...

Rafe was having the time of his life, his irresistable smile irrevocable from the moment the first "twentysomething" with long blond hair looked at him and said:

"You are with the police force? Sooo, you have to wear a gun, too?", which lead to a quick exchange of names and telephone-numbers. At the end of the first hour of Blair's office-session Rafe sighed happily:

"My, my, now I know why you gave the precinct-number to your girl-friends. I mean, they are SO impressed; Despite the fact that they are intelligent. This beautiful redhead - the one who's writing a thesis on urban legends - she and I we even have a lot in common!" Before the young detective sounded even more like a boy at christmas, unwrapping one dream after the other, Blair interjected:

"You mean Bessy, don't you? It's not her thesis, it's just a paper and you'll have to be careful, she might just try to get an urban legend out of you."

Rafe stopped smiling, thought about it for - oh, ten seconds, then grinned mischievously: "Maybe, but think about the possibilities till she gets it out of me...."

Blair joined the happy chuckle and glanced at his watch: one more hour of counselling, then the roles would be reversed: He would be standing in front of at least three committee-members trying to report the progress of his own thesis. He squirmed in his chair uncomfortably; He did trust Rafe, of course, but he would have preferred to keep all of his thesis to himself - what, if anybody found out about Jim being his only full-fledged "specimen" - and what a horrible way to name The Sentinel - what if that meant endangering his friend. What if Rafe spread the news innocently enough and some other cop got all envious and backup was late? Why hadn't he thought about the consequences earlier? Hell, he was studying Ellison for months now and still he hadn't wasted a thought about the wellbeing of the man himself.

The best that could happen to his friend would be everyone wanting a piece of the cake. Only that this time the cake would be his friend. Each departement would want to claim him for "assistence and given Jim's nature to always right the wrong the man would cripple himself trying to fulfill all expectations.

The worst - well, what would be the worst? Given his background there was always the possibility that someone from his army-past would get suspicious. If they ever learned of Jim's gift it would rapidly turn into a curse. They'd have the perfect fighting machine - and they'd most likely want more of it - which would lead to ongoing tests in their attempts to somehow double and multiply Jim's condition. Why hadn't he thought of this earlier?!

*because you were gone and out on the thought to have a true genuine Sentinel in your hands, stupid." Well, his self-accusation was a little late in coming, he mused, feeling like he had to betray his friend or lose his job in covering for him.

"Blair, you ill?" Rafe's voice finally made it to his brain and he shook his head -

"No, just, you know, not feeling too well. Gotta talk to my doctor-fathers in a few and I hate this." It was not a total lie - and definitely obfuscation-time. "You have to go with me?"

"Does the room have windows?"

"Alright, I see..."

"Is this about your thesis? The one about closed societies?"

And suddenly everything just clicked into place. This was the opening to make a lie that kept him at the precinct come true. Parts of the puzzle rightened themselves and showed him a glorious picture with no flaws in it. "Rafe, you're a prince. That's it. I mean, no, that's not it. It's just about a paper about a myth; You know, tribes once believed in genetically predisposed warriors who were destined to be watchmen for the tribe. For a short period of time I thought I had found some of those people in modern society, too. But this seems to be a bit too much to hope for. You know, there are people like parfumeurs or chefs that seem to have enhanced senses - which was at least one sign of the genetically predisposed warrior. But then it could just be they were just very creative people and good cooks."

"Like yourself, hun?" Rafe remembered the weird but delicious dishes the student had served while under protection and then lost his interest in what to him was just another lecture hour about some anthropology stuff. Because there was this gorgeous longlegged shorthaired and even shorter-skirted girl sashaying into the office and distracted him completely, although this time he didn't have a chance.

"Are you Professor Sandburg?" She leaned closer to the grad-student and showed just a hint of her perfect breasts.

"Ah, mh, well, no." Even Blair had the grace to be a bit thrown by her enticing body. "I mean, I'm Blair Sandburg, not Professor - at least, not yet." He smiled and only someone who knew him very well would have seen the sadness in the smile *And if I can't pull that stunt, I don't think I'll ever be.*

"Oh, but you *do* teach anth 101 and 102?" Rafe found something interesting on Blair's desk as an excuse to come closer and bumped into the student while Sandburg tried to answer.

"Yes, you're right; but you aren't one of my students." *I would NOT have forgotten you*

"Ah, not yet!" She smiled: "That's why I'm here. You see, Daddy is not happy with my choice of studying; He thinks art is nothing to make money with. He wants me to pick something different; anything different to quote him. I know he thinks about something along the line of mercantilism, but he said *anything* and I've heard wonderful things about your way of teaching. So I'll make both daddy and me happy by joining your classes. That won't be a problem? I mean it's not that late into classes?"

Everything inside the teacher screamed *She's trouble* but he couldn't do a thing except waiting for her to fail. So Blair sighed and decided to play along. He handed over a list of books for her to read to catch up with the rest of the students and hoped, this particular redhed would flunk before she even once entered the class. When she swayed out of his office again, all that was left was a staring Rafe, a cloud of her perfume and her soft voice that said: "By the way, I'm Maria Herera; Professor." Was it just his imagination or did she really purr the R's in this innocent sentence? Obviously not only imagination judging by his bodyguard's comment:

"Can, you imagine how she'd say Rrrafe?!"

So Sandburg just sighed again and braced himself to face the brass waiting for him in one of the intimidating old offices on the first floor, panelled in heavy teak.

The meeting went better than he had feared - or worse than he had anticipated - dependent on the point of view one cared to have. First of all the three committee-members - unfortunately Dr Stoddard still was on sick-leave - were not happy that a.) he'd been involved in a shooting on campus " Yes, but I would like to remind you that I was the victim - or my friend was..." and that b.)he had some sort of bodyguard accompany him and that lead to c.) that he spent so much time at a police-station which had nothing to do with d.) his Sentinel-studies which were doomed from the start because everyone present believed that this was just a myth written down by a very creative Anthropologist decades ago who couldn't offer any proof - read Richard Burton - and now they demanded e.) to see at least one full-fledged Sentinel in person or find another topic and fast or else. Sandburg didn't need an explanation on what *or else* would be. So he took a deep breath and stood his ground - or so he hoped.

"As you very well know and kindly pointed out a minute ago I am experiencing minor troubles regarding the subject of my thesis. The trip to Peru would have helped my cause but unfortunately I was captured and held hostage while protecting my students. And we all hope that Dr. Stoddard, another victim of this unfortunate occurance, will be back at work soon. *Don't I wish; He's the only one with brains here.*" Blair started to address each of the members, establishing eye-contact and emphasizing his words with his expressive hands. "Despite all those disadvantages I was able to find 53 part-Sentinels in Washington DC and have been cataloguing their experiences with one, two and three heigthened senses. Their anamnesis indicates that at least one member of their respective families, sometimes skipping one generation, had been extremely sensitive, too, though not always the same sense or senses had been affected. So a genetic predisposition seems to be a given at this point."

Blair took another deep breath and silently sent a prayer to each and every deity he ever had heard of - and those were quite a lot. Then, without missing a beat, he continued: "Because of the fact that all 53 part-specimen had joined a profession of guarding in a broad sense - pardon the pun - as there are the police, firedepartment, army, forest ranger or MD's, I decided to join the police force of Cascade to maybe find another specimen with more than three senses affected. When I didn't succeed and even ads in the national newspapers were abortive I kind of foresaw your legitimate objections. *Now it comes, let them swallow that one, please!* I started collecting data on interaction of people working in closed societies and was about to present the change of the subject of my thesis as well as my first findings on that topic to Dr. Stoddard *try and find him, will ya?!* when he left for his rehabilitation-leave. Now that this committee presents me with the opportunity to give you full information I'll gladly hand over a rough draft soon. Thank you for your understanding and sympathy * you don't have any for me, do ya?* and thank you for taking the time to listen to me as well."

Inside he sagged, but noone saw him hold his breath. Rafe who had constantly looked out of the big window to keep an eye on outside threats, had heard everything and was more than just puzzled that the student had obviously been lying - well, obfuscating, - about his thesis - and what the hell was so interesting about someone who could hear a bit better than average or was constantly annoyed by overly spicey food? The three committee-members, solemn old men in grey suits and ties that must have been uncomfortable but seemed to be attached to their necks, started to whisper. Noone would acknowledge it, but they were a little intimidated: Not only by the incomprehensible fact that Dr. Stoddard of all people was supporting this young whiz-kid, but also by the indisputable fact, that this ... boy .. had published more than one paper - more than eight, to be correct. Finally they rightened themselves again. Dr Mirren fingered his tie and didn't even try to contain his displeasure, making it perfectly clear that it was only their benevolence that kept Sandburg at the University:

"Well, are you going to use the Sentinel-data anywhere?"

"I planned to write a paper - Dr. Stoddard already has a first draft in hands to add suggestions of his own. But otherwise - no."

Dr Mirren hurrumphed knowing that this would mean paper number nine published soon. Making it sound like an afterthought he added:

"That was all then. We will await your thesis draft in another four weeks from now on. You may leave - and take your *bodyguard* with you."

Blair waited until Rafe had closed the heavy wooden door to make sure nobody could hear him. Then he punched Rafe and hissed "YESSSSS!" His Sentinel would be safe and his excuse to join him on the streets was still intact. Good work Sandburg!

Loft

As promised Banks had brought the latest files - the hustler-killing Rafe and Brown had been assigned to. As promised Jim took a look at the statements taken and tried to compare those to his own experiences during his time in Vice.

"You know, of course that I will have to take a look at the evidence? I mean, I've got heigthened senses, I'm not psychic. And Rafe and Brown have collected lots of data. They were very thorough." He piled the stack of loose and attached papers and took a look at the pictures Simon had encluded. Not a pretty sight. Obviously the victim had not known that his last john would be his *last* john. They had found lots of fingerprints all over the place - apparently George Gregory aka Giorgio had had many clients who were willing to pay his price for his services. And his price had been high. There were only prints of surgical gloves and Jim assumed that the john had gotten away wearing them as an added kick; they *were* made of rubber after all. And they weren't left at the crime scene, so forensics couldn't start to look for prints inside them. They also hadn't found semen-traces and assumed the use of a condom. Because the john had consumed what he had paid for: Tissue-irritation indicated that much. And while "consuming" the killer had simply reached forward and slit Giorgio's throat with a sharp knife, possibly an army-knife. If he had also consummated what he had paid for was only an assumption - but quite a fair one, Ellison added.

"Allright - I'll need you on this one. Because if the killer is getting off while ripping the victim apart, he won't stop. We're already running a check on same-MO-cases but haven't gotten anything so far. And we're holding our collective breaths. When Rafe is back with Sandburg, it'll be just the right time to roam the streets again. Maybe one of the hookers knows anything."

"I'm afraid, I don't think so, Sir. Gregory worked alone; he was high-class and high-prize. He wasn't in touch with all those boys for hire on the streets. I'd be surprised if anybody knew him. But by now everybody should have heard about the murder. So they'll clam up."

"They already clammed up yesterday evening, when Rafe ..."

At that moment the door opened and the man in question entered the room, a very weary but bouncy Blair in his wake. He had heard the last words and grimaced, his ever present smile shining through: "Wasn't very successful, I'm afraid. But I got hit on three times. Vice offered me a job, Captain. So be nice to me, or I'll change departments."

"I am nice to you, Rafe. Ellison's going to take a look at the evidence and help you out a bit. Maybe a fresh point of view is going to get us somewhere."

Blair threw a startled look at his friend, started to say something, but caught himself, pressed his lips together and went to his room. *Not in front of his colleagues, but wait, till they're gone and I'll tell you something about being shot and recovery times.*

While Simon - with a last sad glance at the deserted kitchen - was reluctantly departing Rafe enthusiastically started to fill Ellison in to add color to all those terrible details that had it made into the files in black and white. Then Blair dropped something heavy onto his desk in his room and Rafe suddenly grinned: "Gotta tell you: I should have listened to my mom; She always wanted me to be a teacher. You can't imagine just how many beautiful girls dropped by today during his office-hours. Amazing. And the guy has almost no responsibilities, or so it seems. I mean, he had this meeting today, and those three old owls were scolding him like a little boy because of a paper on mythical warriors he hadn't finished because there was too little immediate evidence or something like that. And just when I thought, now they're going to flunk him, he talks them into accepting a whole 'nuther thesis-topic. One he had already done research for but never told his superiors. It was amazing - they just caved. Boy, I really hope he never changes sides. He's just too good at obfuscation."

Jim swallowed. Hard. Did that mean Sandburg would take off? Where would that leave him? He needed him as a guide, now more than ever. What would it take to hold him?

"Jim? Hey, Ellison, I know, you've heard all that at least once before, but we're all through with those files - and then I'll be off again - to work for vice a little more..." Rafe laughed and shook his head: "You won't believe the price one of the *clients* was willing to pay. Poor guy. Had to bust him. Spent the night with not so charming company in a holding cell."

A short time later Rafe left and Ellison locked the door behind the young man. *Make everything safe.* He fixed some tea while Blair was still in his room just being - quiet. With two cups of Sandburg's favorite herbal tea he gently knocked at the student's door with his foot. "C'min" *Uhoh, sounds angry...

He held out Blair's cup as if it were a white flag. Sandburg sat at his desk, computer shut down, no papers, no books and was just staring at Jim who sat the mug down on the desk within easy reach. Nursing his own mug Jim ventured cautiously: "Rafe told me about your day? Is that why you are angry?"

"What?" The face of total honesty and not-understanding looked up at Jim. "My day? I'm leaving this loft..."

Hurt raced through the Sentinel. He had to close his eyes and concentrate on taking a deep breath before he could trust his heart again. No, his heart was still beating, it just didn't mean a thing to him any more.

"...I'm letting this go, I'm calm..." Blair's expressive gestures accompanied the vain attempt at levity and all the while Jim had to think: *take a good look; maybe it's the last time you're gonna see this...*

"As I said, *Ellison*, I'm leaving this loft for three and a half fucking hours and you volonteer to join the task force to find that killer. Are you out of your mind? You're barely recovered, you still tire easily and I know that your shoulder hurts like a sonofabitch. Yet you volonteer! You're putting yourself in the line of fire. Noone will be able to protect you if you go to crime-scenes. But believe this, Jim: I'll be your backup and the first time I hear you say Wait Here I'll kill you myself to spare me the misery of worrying to death while you are out doing your thing!"

"What do you mean, you'll be my backup? I thought you skipped out of your Sentinel-thesis today. That's what Rafe told me just minutes ago."

"Hun? Oh, that. Yeah, well, it lacked hard evidence. But they let me do something about closed societies - so our lie becomes the truth. Funny, but that's a definite first time for me, too! An obfuscation turning into truth..." He grinned this irresistable grin and looked up at his Sentinel like a little puppy waiting for an appreciative tap on the shoulder.

"What do you mean, lacking hard evidence. I mean, I'm a living, breathing Sentinel. Wasn't that what this whole thing with you moving in and working with me was all about?" Suspicion colored Jim's voice and his eyes. He simply didn't understand. Blair sobered instantly. He hunched forward on his creaking chair and carded one hand through his curls. *Have to try and make him understand.*

"Jim, they wanted me to present them quote a specimen. unquote. Then they would have approved of my thesis. I would not have been able to hide your identity any longer. Anyone with half a brain would have been able to add one and one and come up with two. For a moment there I saw some army-dude with a syringe trying to I don't know, clone you or something like that. Man, you're the perfect warrior. That you are as peace-loving as you are is just the icing on my cake. But if anbody learns about your abilities, you'll be on your way to become lab-rat number one. Man, and you dislike my tests."

The tall detective just stood there and for a second Blair was afraid that his friend had zoned. But then he saw the twitching jaw - and the thumb of Jim's left hand that was constantly rubbing the warm mug he was still holding. "Jim?"

Ellison blinked once, then his blue eyes focused on his Guide's face. "So, what you wanted to say is you abandoned your whole life's work in favor of my safety." The one sentence fell into the silence of the small room like a stone that hit the surface of a calm lake. Blair swallowed - somehow he was afraid that his eyes spoke of what he felt right now. For this man, for his friend. Somehow he could not have cared less. Then he found his reality again - and his fear of rejection. His grin was not very convincing but hey, he tried: "Nah, tough guy; I've enough to do a perfectly good paper about it. It's going to be published, too. And I hope you don't mind, but you're going to be a female quote specimen unquote so noone gets suspicious."

A hoarse noise escaped Ellison's throat. Could have been an attempt at laughter. Could have been a sob, either. "So..." Ellison's voice seemed to have been affected from this laughter-sob and he coughed before trying again. "So, you want to go on with your life? No more Sentinel-stuff for you?"

And then something frightening happened. Blair got up, slowly took a step closer and invaded Jim's personal space. He grabbed the mug with the cooling tea and wrenched it free from Jim's clenching fingers. Deliberately he put it down next to his own untouched cup. He had to crane his head to get a good look at Jim's face and it was so very important that Jim *looked* at him right now. Finally he took a deep breath and said: "I want to go on with my life. I want to get my PhD. I think I deserve it - heck, twice! I want to go on teaching. I'm good at it. But what I want most is to help you with your senses. That was something I started to understand those last few days. I mean, noone else can possibly understand what's going on with you. It would not be safe for you to trust anyone else. So unless you want to get rid of me, I'll be here for you."

"Says Mr. I've-seen-the-world-but-still-am-curious. You haven't been in one place for more than a few months before. What guarantees do I have that you don't take off some day?"

"No guarantees. I'm frightened by this sort of - sounds funny - committment." Blair didn't back down, just shrugged a little helpless. "Only thing that speaks for me in this particular court-room: I've been doing Sentinel-research since I was twelve. That's a hell of a long time for any given person, let alone for me. And that was what the warrior of the peruvian temple said, wasn't it? The Guide rooting the Sentinel. That we were meant to be. That we had and have to prove ourselves. And that both our souls were demanded. I remember, you know." His voice was gentle and soothing and he could see the tall man relax. "The only difference will be that I won't publish any of this any more after this last paper I'm planning. But I'll go on with my research, so don't think you could get rid of my tests." A mischievous grin played on Blair's full lips and for the first time in ages Jim exhaled.

They both reached for their tea at the same time, almost bumping their hands together. As if it were sparkling champagne they saluted each other and took a sip at the same time. The intimacy of the simple non-sexual gesture struck them all of a sudden. Blair actually blushed and Jim harrumphed and looked into the mug. The Sentinel felt the heat coming off the student - and he felt the weight of the sacrifice the scholar had made for him. He'd never be able to pay that back. But then, maybe it was as simple as the warrior had said that magical night back then. That they were just meant to be. That both souls were demanded.

Yet he couldn't stop thinking about Blair's wasted chances "This sacrifice of a virtual part of your carreer - I'll never be able to make it up to you..." Jim's voice trailed off, and it seemed as if the tall detective hadn't even realized that he had spoken aloud.

"Jim..." Blair tried his best to do his guide-voice and be convincing and not letting his own insecurities show - no matter what he said and felt, this *had* been a major shift in his field of work, after all - "Jim, with Dr Stoddard on an extended sick-leave I have noone to back my thesis against a committee of old, envious and narrow-minded paper-brains who never approved of what Stoddard or I did. I mean, I could have waited till my mentor came back and he would have supported me gladly, but in the meantime they would have made my life unnecessarily unpleasant. Let's just say, that for once in my life I chose the easy way out." Then he grinned "And when Stoddard comes back, I'll publish them to hell and back, they won't know what hit them. They'll even probably retire of frustration..."

The student's smile was not something that could be ignored and Jim found himself smiling back. But Blair was not stopping now. As an afterthought he added: "And what do you mean by making something up to me? Jim, you don't owe me anything. You're not gonna have to pay for me to stay here, or something like that. You need me with your senses and I need you for some insight into the police-force for my new thesis - I still can't believe the lie came true... - and when I'm finally finished and getting the PhD, I'll hopefully have more time at my hands to help you. So don't worry..."

"I always had to pay for everything in my life." Jim's voice was so low and he had turned his head away, that Sandburg thought he had misunderstood his friend.

"Come again?"

"I had to pay for each friendly word from my father by getting perfect grades. When I finally wasn't able to make it up with my brother, he turned against me. In the army - well you don't NOT behave like you should. And Caroline: I had to marry her to make her smile, but again, I wasn't able to pay enough, even though I tried so hard, so she left. And Simon - I need to perform in perfect condition for him, too, or else it'll show in my files." Jim stopped, a trembling hand covering his mouth, shocked at what he just had revealed.

Blair laid his hand over those ice-cold fingers, and squeezed them gently, not even trying to remove them from Jim's mouth. His middle-finger accidentally touched the freezing skin of Jim's face. "I don't know about your family, or Caroline, I've only met her once or twice. But I think you underestimate Simon. He's a good friend. He's keeping your secret, isn't he? And Myself? You're giving me a home, Jim. Something I've never had before."

"But I'm not sure if I can perform for you..." muffled by his hand and Blair's hand and something more, it took the grad-student more than just a few moments before he caught up on the double entendre and the pain and the panic that laced the simple statement.

"You'll never have to *perform* for me. Just remember, I'll be here for you - always.- no matter, what's going to happen in the future. I don't want you to change, I don't want you to force yourself into something you don't want. And unlike many others who say the same but don't mean it, I'm an anthropologist who knows what he is talking himself into." Blair grinned again. "We'll work it out. You stay the grumpy anal super-cop and I'll stay the bitching science nerd. Deal?"

This time the hand lowered, did no longer cover the detective's pale face. Long elegant fingers squeezed Blair's and a reluctant smile lightened Jim's features. "Deal." He still sounded afraid, but no longer desperate, thank god. Then the phone rang.

Jim's hand jerked away as if burnt - and maybe his mind had recognized the fire that was glowing between them just right now - and Blair gave a hysteric little laugh when the shrill ring startled him. Ellison needed three rings to find the phone, grabbing it just in time to stop the answering machine:

"Ellison"

"Where've you been?" the Captain's gruff voice was so loud, even Sandburg who - not willing to abandon the closeness between himself and his Sentinel - had followed Jim into the living area could hear it. "There's been another one. Could you ... I mean I know you're still on sick leave, but..."

"I'm coming, Simon"

"You're gonna need Sandburg to keep you from - you know."

"I'll ask him, Simon"

After writing down an address Jim ended the call and turned around almost bumping into his Guide who was still standing close.

"There's been ..."

"I heard it, Jim. Simon's voice carries. I keep asking myself why it's so hard for him to acknowledge that I'm your Guide."

"Will you come with me?"

"Wasn't that what our heart-to-heart was all about? That I don't have to appreciate your motives to follow you nevertheless? I'm coming ... with you ... I mean."

When Blair blushed a little bit, Jim reached out with his good arm, grabbed the student's head into the crook of his arm and ruffled the unruly curls with the fingers of his still weak injured arm. After tensing up at the assault, Blair hugged him back for a second, then broke free and picked up his coat.

"Okay, tough guy; Let's go find a killer."

On the way down to the truck Blair's cellphone rang; while climbing into the cabin the grad-student answered it, half expecting it to be Simon trying to talk him into sidekicking Jim - as if he'd need a separate invitation.

"Sandburg"

"Oh, ah, Hi Professor Sandburg. It's me, ahm, Maria. You remember? Maria Herero?"

who the hell... oh, the cute female student ... my, that seemed to be a lifetime ago all of a sudden.

"Yes?" "Well, I was thinking. Now that I've changed subjects in the middle of a semester, if you'd be so kind to give me some advice at what to read first - I mean, I can't possibly wade through the whole list of books you handed to me at once. So I thought I'd ask you our to a quiet place to have something to eat and you explain...."

She seemed very sure of herself, confident to get through with this sort of scheme and Sandburg couldn't keep a grimace of distaste off his face.

"Look Miss Herero."

"It's Marrrria, Prrrrofessorrr..."

"Yes, whatever. I won't be able to go out with you today - I'm kinda busy right now. My advice nevertheless is: Start at the start. First book's the most important. "

The line was quiet for a few seconds, but she wasn't disappointed, yet: "So then maybe tomorrow?"

"No Miss Herero. I don't date students as a rule. And I'm in a stable relationship right now. So please lets keep this professional or I'll have to pass you on to Dr. Henson's class. Do you understand that, Miss Herero?"

Now she sounded a bit frustrated, at last. Henson's classes were the most-dreaded on campus. The man lived for unannounced tests and those grades somehow always found their way into the finals... "Oh, I see. Well, then I'll see you on campus. Take care. Professor..."

"What was that all about, Chief? Since when do you decline an offer to date?"

"Oh, c'mon, JIm. I really never dated students; it's unethical. And she's trouble, too. I don't know..."

"And what about the stable relationship, you're in? Obfuscating again?"

"Well, not at all: I mean, I'm working on a stable relationship - I wouldn't be with you right now, if I weren't, don't you think?" He kept the words light, so there was always the possibility to keep it all on a professional level, meaning, he won't desert his Sentinel at work. But somehow Ellison got the feeling, that Blair meant more with those simple words. And while taking another corner to get closer to another gruesome murder-site, he found himself squirming in his seat, not entirely sure if he'd like Sandburg's statement or not. Blair's voice startled him out of his reverie. Deeply worried, Blair mused:

"I wonder if you could check that woman out: Maria Herero? Could you run a computer-search on her?" Jim clenched his jaw - that had never happened before. Never before had Blair wanted to get a girl checked out. "As soon as we are at the office. Just remind me, if I forget, right?"

"Right; Thanks, tough Guy."

Cicely Lane; Upper south side

The truck swerved round a corner and Blair tried not to be too obvious in his attempt to lean into Jim. Now that he knew that his protective Sentinel would take care of his new student - in case she really was *foul* in some ways, - he felt very much better. Then the the truck turned again and suddenly was surrounded by flashing red and blue lights, people standing around, the faint sounds of police radios; some private cars parked in a very suspicious way and voices from everywhere. It was just getting dark and the fading daylight accentuated and intensified the chaos.

"Dial everything down, Jim; Slow the car down, SLOW DOWN!!" Blair'S hand gripped the thigh of one almost zoning Sentinel to keep him focused and that seemed to help: Jim shuddered and hit the breaks with a little more force than necessary. The truck sliddered to a stop in he middle of all that confusion and Jim didn't even try to find a vacant spot.

Rafe noticed them and waved. The hardened Detective seemed a bit pale but had a strong grip on himself. He scribbled something into his calender, then looked at Blair and patted the student's shoulder.

"I found the victim - and you might not want to see him."

"Than *might* be true" Blair swallowed hard, but continued determined "But I'll go nevertheless."

"How come you found him, Rafe?" stalling, so that maybe Blair could change his mind, Ellison addressed his younger colleague. But his co-worker was all professionalism again, though dressed to kill and looking stunningly handsome in a dark greay threepiece that somehow brought out the color of his hair and eyes, he led them to the impressive entrance-hall of one of the skyscrapers this part of the town, upper south side, had become famous for in the last ten years.

"I tried to come up with a lead in the Gregory-killing and, well, worked the street. A guy in a BMW asked me if I was free. You know how it's going Jim; He asked a price, I invented a figure, he was willing to pay - poor guy; so much money; And when he reached for his wallet he wanted to know if my appartement was as impressive as Giorgio's and I said you're under arrest. You know, I really feel sorry for the guy - has to pay for something that isn't even close to affection and choses a cop ...Well Mr. Allbusinessman is a high ranking exec and would have done anything not to spend a night in a holding cell. His alibi for the Gregory-murder is airtight and already checked: He was in Chicago at a meeting; But when he heard what had happened to his honey, his first question was: How's Sloane taking it?" They were passing the name board of the large building right now, heading for the stair-case and Blair's gaze fell upon a name on the board in the seventh floor: Sloane Richmond.

"Turns out" Rafe continued while starting on the stairs - "That Richmond and Gregory had sort of coordinated their appointments - as a safety measure because they were working without a pimp. So I drive over here to look for Sloane and what I find is another dead body, still warm, naked and enough blood to fill a splatter movie with. So the killer is still one step ahead."

They were in the fourth floor by now and the noises of a large crowd working on a common goal got louder. Sandburg spared a moment of his airtight concentration to look at his Sentinel to make sure that the tough guy had dialled everything down till the last possible moment, till the real search began and he had to turn on those senses to protect the tribe, to get this killer. Then Blair got back to consciously breathe in and out again, trying to picture the crime scene in his head so that he would not lose his cookies in front of the whole police squad - again.

It took him a while to register that his Sentinel, watching him with this soft look in his eyes, had a gentle finger running up and down Blair's neck - and that sure distracted him from whatever would be on display on the seventh floor.

And distraction Blair needed. There were lots of blood in the bedroom of the four-room-flat. The young man had been kneeling on the bed when the blade of a very sharp knife had slit his throat. The beautiful iceblue sheets were drenched in already curdling blood, red traces were on the furniture and even on the walls.

Jim cocked his head. He really tried. Then he sighed and shook his head: "Too many people in here" he wispered desperately. "I can't smell anything except the blood and the sweat of half a dozen cops... And one of them had donuts for lunch." He grimaced and let sight enhance.

Blair looked around cautiously. The body on the bed was already covered in another now bloody sheet. So much red everywhere. The color a mismatch to all the cool blueness of the room. Dark blue carpet, white furniture and even the curtains in front of the large window looked like a silvery breeze, transparent and reveiling the secrets of this particular worked over bedroom. Then Blair saw it and he tugged Jim's sleeve.

"You think, that was really necessary? I mean, investigation and all, but *tearing* the blinds down seems a little exaggerated to me."

"What, you bitching bout the interior decoration, Chief?" Jim grinned, then took a closer look. Again, his friend had been right. Why would the police rip the blinds out so that anyone from across the street could take a good look at the scene. Forensics was packing the body now and Blair had turned his face to the wall with a green shade on his white cheeks. When they left with the body-bag, the feeling of being crowded slowly subsided in Jim's mind. ....So that anyone from across the street could take a good look at the scene.

The killer waited patiently. He was happy with the way everything had turned out. He had found the empty apartement with sheer luck - and she had rented it for him without a question. The white powder - or should he say, the white power - he chuckled at his choice of words in a foreign language - had seen to that. He had prepared everything for this new attempt. He had cut out part of the large window. And now, as he crouched behind the exposed hole in the heavy double glass, he was protected by the walls. And yet he was able to look. He smiled. The weapon in his hand was warm and he trusted his abilities. He would not indulge in the white powder today. This - what he had planned for today - would give him even more of an incredible rush. He would not need drugs today. Only a steady hand and a keen eye. He caressed the long shaft of the rifle with the bulky silencer then pointed it towards the house. With no difficulty at all he found the window where all those policemen tried to find a killer.

Poor fag - but in the end he had deserved to die. Although he'd tried to replace the one man, he had failed miserably in the end. So his payment had been death. And now the Tall One and the Curly Haired arrived.

He smiled again. He smiled a lot this evening. Using the fag had been ... relaxing. He watched as the Tall One listened to something the Curly Haired said, then Tall One looked around while the fag was finally disposed of. He pressed the shaft of the rifle against his cheek and took aim through the rifle's scope with a care that bordered on tenderness.

Now that the body had been taken care of, - and thank god for that, Ellison thought - even more police men gathered back into the sleeping room, collecting bloody sheets, clothing, toiletteries in small or large bags. Forensics was having a field day. Rafe stepped towards Blair and patted the younger man on the shoulder. The two, not apart by many years, had gotten fast friends. And overlaying the constant mutter of this investigation there was this angry growl; first like nagging at the back of the Sentinel's head, growing suddenly to almost deafening - and Ellison wondered for a brief, dizzy second why noone else seemed to be disturbed by the sound. And then a large shadow whooshed through the room, too fast to be stopped and became a large black cat that in a split second leapt with utmost grace out of the closed window without breaking the glass and vanished into the night. Jim turned his head as he followed the elegant move and looked.

Soon now. He still smiled. The Tall One was still blocking the view for a clean shot. As he watched them through his rifle's telescope, he could feel his own blood sizzling; soon now, he promised himself. Then the Tall One cocked his head as if listening to something only he could hear, turning as if seeing something only he could see. And then the Tall One lifted his head and looked exactly at him. He couldn't possibly see him, of course, but it was quite unnerving. He took comfort from the cool metal that was pressed against his cheek and exhaled loudly.

But as he looked at the Tall One the man started to shimmer on the edges, jacket and pants and shirt just melting away from the body and all was left was a loin-cloth and a feathery necklace so brightly colored it hurt his eyes. The killer gasped, cold sweat breaking out, and closed his eyes in terror. A nightmare. This could not be happening. When he opened his eyes again, all hell had broken loose in the room across the street. So he aimed and shot.

Even Jim had to take a moment to adapt his magnificent eyesight to the dying light outside the room. He knew of course that there was no panther to be seen, but there had to be something that the panther wanted him to see. ... anyone from across the street could take a good look ...

The Sentinel saw the crouched figure, huddled behind a cracked window, pointing something long at the brightly lit room in which they all were working. For a second the Sentinel had eye-contact with the man watching them. For a second something inside the Sentinel roared with a fierce rage that would have frightened Sandburg - The Guide! It was all about the Guide.

Ellison whirled around, grabbed Blair, shoved the student against Rafe and yelled: "Get him into the bathroom, no windows! All out and lights out."

While Blair still was stunned by the sudden jerk and shove, Rafe lived up to his reputation of being one of the few fastwitted cops on the force. Using his own body as a shield, he janked the frozen observer in front of himself and shoved him into the direction of the door. None of the cops knew exactly why Ellison had shouted his warning, but everyone grabbed their guns and looked for the light switch. Finally Blair seemed to jerk awake and stumbled to the door, using the shove's forward momentum.

Jim heard the soft plop from across the street and tried to get his body between the bullet and the target again - Sandburg - Chief - but was too slow this time. The window shattered and the soft curtain made an ugly noise when ripped. Somebody cried out. Somebody found the light switch. All went dark.

The killer could see the bullet tear through the window, leaving shattered glass in its wake. He didn't know if he had been precise. The Warrior had made him shiver. He switched on a small device. *Lo siento mucho, mi corazón. Intentaré otra vez. Créame. (I am so sorry, my heart. I will try again. Believe me.)* Then he tore the scope and the silencer from the rifle and threw everything into the large gym-bag. He was already halfway out of the room when someone shut down the lights in the room across the street.

"Chief, Blair, is everything OK?!" Ellisons voice carried. And somewhere deep inside his heart, where he buried his rage and the liveshattering panic to lose what he treasured most, he made a promise, a solemn vow to anyone who would be willing to listen and the image that flashed in his mind was a tall Warrior dressed in warpaint and feathers. The Sentinel would do was demanded if the Guide would survive this attack. No matter how frightened Jim Ellison might be to take this ultimate step, to do what he had been forced to believe was wrong, the Sentinel would accept his faith, everything that was required, *just let him be alive*

There was another kind of blood in the air now.

"What happened, damnit?!" Simon's roar deafened the men who tried to get out of the darkened room. "Our radios are out. We heard the glass shatter."

Finally running out of the room, too and closing the door behind him, Jim leaned against the wall, pale features almost blending into the painting. He felt a light-switch and turned on the small lamp of the anteroom. "Someone shot - it was Blair - it had to be Blair - I saw him in a room across the street taking aim at Blair. You gotta get him! - where is Sandburg?"

"Over here, Jim, bathroom!"

Jim finally took an deep breath again. "Thank God"

While Simon already started to run down the stairs Jim just stared at the young man. "Man, I'm alright. Go after the killer. Run!"

And so he ran. He was two floors leading in front of Simon, when he dashed out of the skyscraper, his long legs eating the distance. He had to get the killer. But when he broke through the door of the building across the street, he heard the solid bang of a metal backdoor and the roar of a strong engine.

"He's taking off with a bike" he shouted over his shoulder and followed the confusing echoes of the metal door. Prying the heavy safety-door open with his bare hands he made it to the back street just in time to see a dark figure race away on a harley and to recognize the first two letters of the licence plate. Then the bike swerved away.

He ran back to the front entrance to organize persuit. With headsets and radios down he had to talk to one of the uniforms. At the entrance he almost bumped into Banks who managed to stop in time.

"He got away. Harley, look for licence plate HC .. couldn't see more." Jim rubbed his sweaty face to get rid of the feeling of something buzzing around inside his head. He got sidetracked by Simon bellowing orders, than he was able to focus on the sound.

"Simon! " He grabbed the sleeve of the expensive woolen coat his captain wore tonight. "Something's upstairs in the eighth floor - Can't say what .." he panted, then concentrated. "Damn, with Blair here I could probably... " He fought down the sudden panic that held his heart and his mind prisoner all of a sudden. "It's in the eighth floor and it emits kind of an electrical hum..."

Simon took a fast look around, then muttered :"Thank God it's an office-house!" The tall african-american, impressive in the sandcolored coat took a deep breath, suared his shoulders and urged his friend outside.

"Everyone - clear this site. There might be a bomb inside this building." While the uniforms started precise and often rehearsed actions to get bypassers to safety without creating a panic, the Captain sighed - "Now, where is a Taggart when you need one." And startled when an almost cheerful voice boomed from behind his back:

"You hollered?" Captain Taggart, Chief of bomb-squad, two medals of honor, was dressed for the opera or something the likes. Midnight blue suit, almost black, a crisp white shirt that only to a Sentinel reveiled its blue color and a silvery light blue tie - plus his wive dressed in an iceblue dream that softly caressed her ankles in the evening breeze gave it away - and Taggart almost blushed: "Well, you know my wife - Grace? She's a saint. When our babysitter was late because she couldn't drive through this street, Grace OFFERED to stop by and take a look." He smiled at his lady and his eyes betrayed the love the felt. "So I get it you are in trouble?"

"Yes, eighth floor, maybe a bomb. We just heard the buzz." Simon was already back inside the large building, Taggart close behind him. Ellison was torn. As much as he wanted to be a part of the team, he had to know what had happened to Blair. The urge to make sure his Guide was safe was almost overwhelming. Only his strong sense of duty - he almost choked on the thought - kept his mind on the job. With a last look to the now dark window of Richmond's appartement he sighed and joined the two Captains. Banks glanced at him, then muttered gruffly:

"Go look after Blair and fill Rafe in." Then he whispered while Taggart already started the stairs: "We'll have lights on as soon as it's safe. Watch me - that way we'll keep in touch. - You *can* see and hear me, Ellison?"

"Yes Captain; will do. Thank you!"

Elllison made it up the seven floors in no time.

The stench of fresh blood and sweat and fear and adrenaline hit the Sentinel like a living thing. *Sandburg - Chief - Blair ?* He shouldered his way through the crowd of policemen still gathered in the corridor, burst through the door of the once flashy appartement and tried to focuse on his Guide. *Heartbeat - there had to be a heartbeat - let there be a heartbeat. Please.*

There was. Reassuringly strong; a little accelerated. The Sentinel homed in on the comforting sound, followed the thu-dump into the bathroom, where he had last seen his Guide.

"Blair?" He didn't really care what other people, his colleagues thought of him right now. He just wanted to see with his own eyes, that the Guide was safe again. Where was he.

"In here Jim. We need an ambulance and no radios or cellphones are responding. Hurry, please."

*An ambulance? Oh, god don't let it be him.*

"Coming, Chief. What happened?" Finally finding the too small bathroom, the first thing he saw was his Guide, clear eyed, somber, but that was to be expected - and a large red stain of blood covered the young men's left shoulder. Jim held his breath, glaring at that stain, cautiously reaching out with his right hand. When his fingers touched the dark spot on Blair's shirt he thought he would get burnt by the sensation of curdled blood that had turned the smooth, soft button-down crisp and hard.

Sure fingers, strong yet caring, covered his on that bloodied shoulder and grounded him and brought him back from the dangers of an imminent zone out.

"I'm OK, tough Guy. Everything's OK." The assuring whisper of his Guide's voice washed over Jim and all of a sudden he realized what picture they might present. Himself standing close, oh, so close to this young man, his hand lingering on Blair's shoulder. Blair, whispering to him, while Sandburg's fingers still covered his hand. Almost melting together. Almost.

Ellison jerked away: "Whose blood?" he choked out.

"Rafe's. He's here in the bathroom." Blair pointed inside with his head. "He shielded me when the assassin shot - and caught the bullet that was meant for me." The grad student seemed so much younger as he stood there pale and haggard.

"Blair - you make it sound like I'm dying - what do you know that I don't?" Rafe's voice was strained but strong - if there could be such a thing. Jim crouched beside the younger detective: The fancy, expensive jacket vice had made available had been removed as well as the silk shirt, both now crumpled in the bathtub; exposing a smooth chest and a rather ugly, though not lifethreatening shoulder wound. Rafe pressed a bathtowel back onto the still bleeding wound. Ellison's training as a medic kicked in: Rafe was pale, cold sweat on his face, but alert. He had passed the stage of shock and now the pain came and made the young man's breathing labored.

"I'll try to get an ambulance - somehow." Ellison promised and got up again. Cautiously he ventured into the destroyed bedroom to look out for his Captain.

As soon as Taggart and Banks had made it up the eight floors to the appartement the assassin had most possibly used, it was clear that there were no booby traps: the doors stood open wide, despite the draught from the hole cut out of one window. Banks looked at Taggart and the portly man just shrugged then nodded. Banks found the lightswitch and turned it on. The empty room was instantly brightly lit. They saw the small device on the floor. As big as a laptop, maybe a little less elegant. A tiny red light blinking rapidly. A switch resting in the ON-position. Hurrumphing, Taggart knelt down:

"You should go now, Captain. I don't think it's a bomb but why taking more risks than necessary?"

"Cause I'm not brave enough to face Grace. Now go on." He hadn't meant to sound so gruff, but that was just his way of dealing with a potentially dangerous situation. He turned to the window, waving, hoping that Ellison would already watch out - and given that Sandburg was all right he most probably already would.

With horrid fascination he then watched as Taggart started to gently stroke the sides of the device, looking for wires. He jerked, when the bomb expert pressed softly against one corner of the box and a lid popped up. A display showed rapidly changing nine-digit-numbers. .... nine, ten, eleven, twelve. then started all over again. Taggart fumbled for his handkerchief and dabbed his forehead.

"wellll, so far, so good..." Banks decided it was safe to breathe again.

"It's even better, Simon. It's a scrambler - latest fashion, that's my first I've ever seen!" Taggart beamed brightly. "And as far as I can tell it's not rigged. So if it's OK with you I'll just switch it OFF. And let's see what happens."

This time Banks shrugged then nodded. The rapidly blinking red light died and a tiny green bulb came on. The display stuttered and stopped, showing nine zeros in a row.

Bank's radio burst into life on an emergency-frequency. "Dispatch, this is Ellison. We need an ambulance now to Cicely Lane. One officer down. Make them hurry. We were offline for a while."

"Ellison; Banks here, fill me in."

"Rafe took the bullet meant for Sandburg. Left shoulder, no bones, lots of blood. I get it, there was no bomb..."

*As if you don't know...* "It was the scrambler that blocked our frequences and the cellphones. A shame that noone uses *normal* phones with wires any more..."

"So Captain" Taggart scrambled into a standing position and smoothed his classy suit; "now that nothing threatens to blow up any more, I'd say I take Grace and treat her to the whoooole nine yaaards. Dinner, dance, romance... till we have to send the babysitter home..."

"Tell her thank you from me. I wish more women would be so great about the demands of our job." Briefly he thought back to that last argument that had finally killed his own marriage: She had said, take a desk job and he did. And when he was called into his office because of a murder case in the middle of the night, she had said, quit. He had chosen his responsibility to the community and she had taken Daryl and chosen her freedom. Ancient history.

They stepped into the cool evening air and heard the sirens of the ambulance.

When the lights of the ambulance faded in the night, a still pale-looking Blair drudged to the truck.

"I can't wait to get home..."

"Well, not tonight, Chief. Don't look at me like that. We'll drive the truck to the station, do a little bit of paperwork - I heard theat groan - , then take an unmarked car and head off for a safe-house. I'm sure, the assassin wanted us to be here. I'm also sure he knows where we are living. So I won't take a risk. At least not until we know a bit more about the Harley he used for the getaway. C'mon, Blair." Ellison gave the weary student a onearmed bearhug "I'm sure you'll survive one night away from the loft. It could be the price for being alive." He added in a low voice. Then he patted Blair's shoulder, almost throwing the young man off balance: "And now back to the wonderful world of keyboards and papers. And we're gonna take a look at that chick of yours; Don't look like that - what was her name? Maria something-in-spanish?"

Bullpen

The large, open office of Major Crimes seemed more empty than ever without Rafe's cheerful presence. Brown's desk was empty, too. He was already at the hospital to wait for the medics' verdict. Ellison's Computer hummed softly while searching for information on a licence plate with the letters HC and on a certain female student named Maria Herero.

What seemed like hours later Ellison shoved half a dozen sheats of paper into Sandburg's face.

"Don't tell me that's another file?"

"Don't panic, Chief; but you should look at those..." no smile lingered in this voice and Sandburg looked up startled. The live of Maria Herero unfolded itself six pieces of printout. At the age of 24 the pretty young woman had already been arrested - first because of driving drunk, then smoking pot, next time she'd gotten promoted to taking cocain. Then she was locked away for prostitution and from this moment on locked in a circle she could not possibly escape on her own any more.

"I wouldn't have thought she was taking something... I mean, she seemed clean to me. Maybe she wants my help to get out of that scene."

"Maybe she found someone who gives her money regularly now. Cause when a druggie is well-fed he or she will pass as clean for quite a long time. Sorry, Chief."

"Don't be - I'm glad we checked her out... wait a minute: Whatever she told me, it was just a smokescreen. She couldn't enter the University, even if she wanted to. Concluding from this information" he waved the file accusingly "she dropped out of college at the age of sixteen. And she didn't show me any permission to be a guest-student. Now that I think about it, she just said she wanted to change majors. Which she couldn't, cause she couldn't have a major, cause she ..."

"Yes, Chief, I get it allready. I'll put out an APB and a warrant for her. As soon as she shows up anywhere public, she's going to get arrested. Given her addiction that should be tomorrow evening at the latest. Now c'mon: I've got the keys to a place at the north side. It's quite small, but comfortable - And I have to know that, cause I was there for ten days keeping a witness from disappearing some years ago. Verrry quiet,too."

"That's good. I admit, I'm wiped. Won't you need some .. supplies?"

"What supplies? This hideout is stocked; at least it was last time."

"No, I meant.." he dropped his voice to a whisper: "the white noise generator or something."

Jim almost stopped cold in his tracks, then slowly shook his head. For some days now it seemed that he hadn't tought of his "supplies". No need for his gloves, or white-noise-generator or anything else that helped him cope with his senses. Nothing but his Guide who had convinced him that he would be there for him, whenever he needed him. And although the thought was quite frightening, being dependent on this young man to the extent of his entire wellbeing, it held some comfort, too. To know that the eager student who was right now looking at him with concern and affection was his beacon to hone his senses somehow settled him, oddly enough.

"No Chief, there's no need for them any more." there, he had said it and that was liberating, too. Now take the next step, even more unsettling, but necessary: "Seems, that you're going to be my white-noise-generator from now on..."

At first Blair looked puzzled, than smiled at him one of those blinding smiles, that won everyones heart at once. "Cool, man!" And that was that.

They got a red volvo from the carpark and made it to their parttime home only too soon, even though they stopped for a burger and salad.

Hideout

The appartement was small indeed: A cosy living-room with an attached kitchen, a bathroom and a seperate bedroom with a rather large, but in no ways enormous bed, the flat was in the top floor of a four-story-building that hosted a small police-station in the groundfloor. So they would be protected without the need to have someone actually staying with them in the appartement. Both men appreciated the privacy. After Jim had announced their arrival to the uniforms, they headed upstais, took a shower and ate their take-out.

"You take the actual bed, Jim. Your shoulder will appreciate it. I'll sleep on the couch. I've slept in rougher places." With the ease of a well-travelled man Blair had made himself comfortable in what little space they had.

"It's not that bad Chief; This couch can be turned into a bed, too. And if I remember correctly, this should be the drawer with sheets and linnen. Yup; I'll help you with that."

They went to sleep mere minutes after disguising the couch as a bed and this time it was Jim who closed a door behind himself.

Blair woke up what seemed only minutes later, but the shy light of dawn was already greying the sky, deepening the shadows in the small living room. He startled at a particular large black shadow that was hunched on a kitchen chair.

"Jim?" he nestled for the switch of his bedside lamp, until he realized that he hadn't been sleeping in his own bed.

"No lights, please, Chief. "

"You having trouble with your senses? Let me help you. Can you come over to my bed? Sit down here, that chair looks mighty uncomfortable."

"No, can't."

Now he was really alarmed:" What do you mean, you can't? Which sense is freaking out? You can hear me, so that's ok then..."

"No, it's nothing with my senses, they're doing fine. I can hear you fine, I can see you fine, I can even smell you fine. Everything's fine. Sorry, I woke you, I'll go back to bed."

"No, you don't. It finally hit you, didn't it? You just realized that the bullets were most probably meant for me after all. And now the Sentinel has to reassure himself that the Guide is all right. Well, I am. Get over here and sit down and we'll talk about it." The student stared at the still form he couldn't see clearly in the dim light, but he honored Jim's wish - and he didn'd know where the damn lightswitch wac aniway, so it didn't matter at all. He sat up finally, rubbed his face and stuffed one of the spare pillows they had thrown on his makeshift bed behind his back, snuggling into the woollen blanket do keep his body warm.

"I can't come over to you - it's too intense." Ellison's voice was so low Blair almost didn't understand the words. The student blushed furiously.

"Oh, God, should I take another shower? I'm sorry, really..."

"No, that's not the problem. I am the problem. I'm not sure if I can control myself. I've had flashes - intense - dreams..." The shadow seemed to squirm on the hard chair.

"Jim, to alter the quote of a famous man: Sometimes a dream is just a dream - it's your subconscious dealing with everyday life, sometimes - more often during periods of stress - finding rather disturbing pictures to describe events. Tell me about your dreams, Jim. Talking about them might help you."

"I don't think so - I think I'm finally losing it despite your help. And in the process of going mad I might hurt you. And that I am really afraid of."

"No" the statement was clear, determined and uttered without a doubt. The shadow on the chair moved a bit. "I am most thoroughly convinced that you could not hurt me, even if you think you might. Don't forget, I've studied Sentinels for years - hell, for more than a decade, now, if you also count all the books I've read as a boy. The Sentinel will never, under no circumstances hurt the Guide. I might get hurt through your job or mine but you'll always do your utmost to protect me. Now come over here and tell me about your flashes and dreams." This was not the Guide-voice, the honey-sweet, soothing rhythm that never failed to center Jim. This was the voice of a teacher, claiming the attention of a bunch of students against their will, commanding them to do things they didn't really want to do.

The shadow rose and slowly edged closer. For a moment Blair thought that Jim would just stand there in the middle of the room, four steps from the couch-bed forever. Then the shadow took those four steps tentatively and the couch dipped under the added weight. Now that he was this close, Blair could see that Jim's face was pale, his eyes redrimmed and the body, a constant heat-source even on a rainy day, was cold, so cold and only wearing boxers. Blair decided to share his blanket and rearranged it, so that it covered him and Jim's legs, at least.

"So, tell me about those flashes, Jim. Are they sensory spikes like the ones you had at the hospital or are they different or what?"

"Oh, they are different." Jim closed his eyes - in pain or to remember more detailed, Blair couldn't tell. "Last evening, when I spotted the sniper in the window across the street, - I didn't look there accidentally. There was the panther again, jumping out of the window. Only that this time noone else could see it. And I can't decide for the life of it, if that's good or bad." Jim's weak attempt at a laugh was almost a sob.

"That panther - I remember .... after we got back I checked references in the library and found more details to what I already knew: The jaguar was a mighty god. Peoples of that region had the strong believe that the spirits of the dead came back to help the chosen. Something very much alike to the religions of indian natives, who even believed that during a period of cleansing one was able to experience this spirit who came to help in the form of an animal. This panther - did it - at any time in your life - do something that would hurt you or ... someone else?"

"No, it lead me to you in Peru, then let us find the sanctuary. This time, when it jumped through the window, I saw the assassin. And I think I heard it before I was shot - but I can't remember that clearly." There was hope in that desperate voice now and Blair finally relaxed a little. He had found another vital part of the Sentinel-mystery just by accident. Again just by accident. How he hated this walk in the dark. He felt so inadequate. He never had been that ignorant in his whole life. And now, when it really was important to know how to be a Guide, he was unable to act like one because of a lack of education. How ironic.

Jim allowed himself to feel a little bit of hope. Assuming the panther was not a sign that he had to be put away in a neat white dress then maybe his dream was just a dream after all. Maybe that was true. Maybe Blair could talk that away, too. But then he would have to tell him. *NO* everything screamed inside him. Then a warm hand touched his fingers that were resting on top of his part of the blanket.

"Do you believe me, Tough Guy? That this panther/jaguar might be a device to help you find the truth? Cause I sure believe it."

The soft touch on his hand warmed Jim in a way he had not thought possible. Briefly he wondered if Blair was feeling the same when they sat close in the truck during a rainy stakeout with the engine out. Then the terrifying dream hit him again with full force and he jerked his hand away before it was too late.

"What is it now, Jim? I don't mind being close to you. I was feeling very close to you for some time now." *God, how to tell him without scaring him away?* "If ... if this is ... I mean, if being near me is what you need right now, I'm able to give it to you. Don't doubt that."

"I *did* hurt you. In my dream; I turned violent. I ... hurt you!" a desperate Sentinel whispered.

*O, God Jim, you can't even say it* "But you would not have to... hurt ... me. Or force me. I am offering to give whatever you need." he was never more sure of anything in his life.

"And you'll regret it again." he started to shiver and couldn't decide if it was the early morning cold, or him being tense or just plain fright.

"I'd never re... " then he remembered his almost frantic explanation at the sanctuary where he had shoved away The Issue eloquently and elegantly - been there, done that, don't want to deal with it. He had thought that his little speach was their way out of a dilemma - he had thought that Jim would be at least a little grateful for not having to deal with being gay or bi or whatever and he had been glad that The Issue had never come up again. Until now. Well, it picked a fine time to finally erupt.

"Took you a while to remember, Chief? Do you still want to give me whatever I want. Or is the memory of a certain morning enough to back away again? Not that I would take you on that offer anyway..."

"Give me some credit here, Tough Guy: I do remember now. I remember us making love; twice. I remember that there were words involved. And I remember that I was terrified of your reaction. When you woke up you looked like shit, man. And I admit it was then I first thought about where you came from. I mean, you joined the army at a heartbreakingly early age and then became a police-officer. Two power-oriented sub-cultures with strong notions against homosexuality, to voice it politely. From what I'd learned about you till then I knew you've been married. So even in case *something* had happened during your 18 months in Peru you've decided to choose female partners when back to the states. I figured that this one night at the sanctuary would frighten you as much as it frightened me." Sometimes the truth is a last resort and showing ones vulnerability is true strength.

"And now you are no longer frightened, Sandburg? How come?" Curiosity was mingled with the wearyness and desperation in Jim's low voice.

"I was frightened of how you would react the morning after. Don't laugh, it was and is really important to me that you respect me. Man, it's pathetic, I sound like an idiot. But only if I've got your respect I still can guide you. I need your trust to do so. And I was afraid of the finality of that step, the implication of forever. And that I would screw that up. Cause, you know, I'm not that good at commitment." He chuckled and beamed when he saw that even Jim had to smile a little. So he continued: "Until I realized that I've found my destination. I mean, for ages I've been doing research on Sentinels - and the topic still don't bore me. There's still so much to learn.... So I figure, being a Guide, or more precise, being your Guide maybe *is* somehow buried in my DNA as much as being a Sentinel is genetically imprinted in your double-helix. Coming to the point so that maybe we can get a little bit of sleep I guess this kind of finality still scares me. But I'm n longer scared witless."

"Oh, I hear *that*. So, Darwin, what about this ... dream." He shivered again, thinking about it was so hard. So very disgusting. "How are you going to explain that." So very important to get an answer.

"One question first, Jim. You were brought up in an environment that was basically hostile against homosexuality?"

*Why did he repeat that word over and over again? There must be another way to describe what they had done!* "I guess you could say that, Blair." And when the younger man kept his eyes trained on him, Jim felt obligated to volonteer another bit of information: "My father encouraged us to voice our - well, his - disgust. I remember that he once fired a very efficient vice-president who had been outed by accident. He called ... homosexuals... sick."

*No, sick was his fucking attitude* "Well, that is not true, you know that, don't you?" Blair asked calmly.

"That was a rhethorical question, wasn't it, Sandburg?" An irritated Sentinel was a very tense Sentinel...

"Good. Now back to your dream." "Finally!" "Shut up, Tough Guy, gotta concentrate here; Maybe your subconscious just showed you the disgust you were supposed to feel but wouldn't at the sanctuary. And to create the amount of disgust your father would have wanted you to feel, it had to come up with the most indescribeable pictures: You hurting me."

"Blair, stop it. I didn't just hurt you. I raped you. You begged me to stop and I raped you." So. Now he finally had admitted it. Jim felt empty, dirty and hopeless. He would never dare to reach out to Blair again. His friend would jerk away at every touch. This revelation had cost him the most treasured friendship - or even more - for sure.

Blair sighed. Finally - a breakthrough. Now come up with something vaguely intelligent and fast or you'll lose that man for sure. He reached out and grabbed Jim's cold hands again: "I need you to be honest to yourself now, Jim. I know it's hard. Please, say yes, cause I still can't see very much of you." Blair hoped that with creating the impression of still sitting in a dark sheltered place where noone could see him would make it easier for the Sentinel. "yes" just a whisper.

"Have you been disgusted by what we did in the sanctuary? Have you been repulsed by feeling my skin, or my cock or..." "No" another whisper. "You sure?" "Un hmmm!"

"Good." Blair squeezed the hands that slowly warmed within his grip. "Hey, it's subconscious-time again! Thanks to how you were raised I guess that was just the way you dealt with the fact that ... maybe... I mean, "

"Blair Sandburg at a loss of words? Hand me a pen, gotta make a note in my calendar."

"I am not! I may be like *so* off the road, but I think that you wanted to do it again and in the dream you acted on that urge. You thought I wouldn't want to cooperate - so it turned out to be a violent nightmare laced with the disgust that was a residue from your upbringing." Blair took a deep breath and waited. After this bomb he had deliberatedly dropped into his Sentinel's crotch that was all he could do, anyhow.

"That..." Jim harumphed a little embarrassed, "That is an interesting explanation, even more so cause you can't even say what we did."

"We made love then. I can say it .. if I have to," he added defensively and a bit ruefully.

"Yeah. So, what are we going to do now?"

"Depends on how right or wrong I am, Jim." The soft first light of the day crept into the room and started to enhance Blair's sight, too. He grinned when the Sentinel started to blush to his ears.

"Oh, I guess you are, well, right. At least I hope you are, cause the other option would be that I'm insane and a threat to everyone close to me. So, tell me - as usual, you seem to do all the talking tonight: What are we gonna do now?"

"Sleep another hour or so? C'mon, you're icecold. Slip under this blanket. It's not even five. We still have time. We'll warm up a bit and just, you know, enjoy being close. I do enjoy being close to you. Makes me feel very protected." When Jim moved and rearranged the blanket and slipped into the couch-bed to lie down next to his Guide, Blair sighed and got horizontal, too. They merely touched, but the sleep-warmth Blair still exuded started to warm the freezing Sentinel, too. Yet the student refrained from cuddling closer. He didn't want to frighten the man who had come to him in the middle of the night, he didn't want to seem demanding. He was surprised, though, when Jim suddenly muttered:

"I like the way you smell. Even when you're afraid or exhausted or need a shower. I just like the way you smell."

And that was most probably the most awesome statement Blair had ever heard from his stoic Sentinel. Sleep wouldn't come, when Blair watched as Jim turned to his side, facing his Guide, but still not consciously touching him. Then the big man's breath slowly evened out, exhaution finally taking its toll, and on the verge of sleep one hand reached out and long, elegant fingers just barely brushed the soft soft skin on Blair's hip, lingering there.

A brief nap later both men were startled out of their rest by the alarm-clock to a shared moment of awkwardness. Blair, not being hindered by senses that kept reporting in overwhelming data to an equally overwhelmed Sentinel, recovered first and discreetly tried to wiggle away. During their sleep both men had sought and found solace in getting close. One of Jim's legs had somehow trapped Blair whose bottom was happily pressed against the taller man's crotch in the process, and their snuggling had had some consequences. Jim's morning hard-on fitted perfectly between Blair's ass-cheeks and the response of Blair's body to this sort of stimulation was equally enthusiastic.

*Oh, man, I so don't need to be turned on by Jim. What if he realizes, that he makes me that hot?! He'll panic, he'll retreat - it'll be clam-up-time again. God, I would hate that. Gotta get away before ...*

But of course that was already too late. Even half asleep the Sentinel had tuned into his Guide - a sweet habit since Blair had moved in with him, born out of the need to know just exactly where in the loft the student was, now even easier accomplished that the object of his cataloguing was lying cuddled next to him. Yet the first conscious thought of the Sentinel, almost drowning in smells of arousal, hair, arousal, skin, arousal, sweat and - arousal was: *I don't believe I'm that turned on by a man! And he's turned on by me, if I read his scent right.*

Then the student tried to wiggle away and for a second Jim shrank back from the warm body in his arms. *He's offended. He's upset. Gotta make it all right again.* And so Jim started to calm his Guide with soothing touches and a whispered: "It's alright and good morning..." with a voice still sleep-thick and husky. Blair turned to his back to look up at Ellison who propped himself on an elbow to watch Sandburg's reaction.

"Hey man, I guess I should apologize - but as you know I don't have control over this sort of..."

"Sandburg, you hurt me - does this mean, you're not turned on by, well, me?"

"C'mon, Sentinel, I know you can smell that I am - I mean, I don't wanna scare ya, I don't mean to - I'm shoving my foot deep into my mouth, ain't I?"

"Yep! But that's cute." Ellison grinned, then tentatively reached out to skim over the hairy chest still half covered by the blanket, finally allowing himself to comb the dark, soft curls with his long elegant fingers. "CUTE?!" Blair's protest lost all impact when his blue eyes widened at the simple touch and his pupils dilated. Jim suddenly discovered the pleasures of observation. Not used to a male body under his hand when he wasn't both high on adrenaline and driven by some sort of ancient spell his fingertips brushed across a flat nipple and he almost missed it were it not for Blair's hiss of pleasure. So he touched it again. The little nub hardened and even changed its color, a mirror to further dilating pupils. So he kissed it. This earned him a groan.

Oh, yes! And he - who had never be turned on during foreplay with any woman and had believed that this was for her,anyway, so he didn't have to be aroused while at it - he was so turned on it hurt.

"Jim, Jim!" insistent hand tugged at him, so he looked into Blair's face with a sigh.

"Jim, I need you to look at me. You have to acknowledge what we are doing. There's no going back this time. I won't be able to talk it away - and I don't think I'd want to talk it away."

"That's what you've done in Peru? Talk it away?" Thinking and talking got harder by the minute and Jim suppressed the urge to grunt at this weak pun.

"Well, in a way. But this time we need to see what we are getting us into: You gotta admit it's me you're with and that you enjoy it, I gotta admit, that I'm in for the long haul, no matter what. Is that understood?"

Jim just kissed him. A tender brush of closed lips against closed lips that seemed to speak of love and committment and devotion. Or that was what Blair hoped. "Yes" Jim's soft answer a moist current of air caressing Blair's lips. Again Jim sought and found one of the flat, rockhard nipples - they even smelled differently now that they had been thoroughly moistened by his saliva - and suckled on it, gently biting and rolling it between his teeth. Blair arched up, then pressed himself further into his Sentinel. Dampened by the cotton boxers Blair wore for modesty's sake during the night Jim could feel the young man's hard dick rubbing against his side. Should'nt he be bothered by what he was feeling: The obvious arousal of another man? The thought floated through his mind and evaporated in lust. Every heartbeat made Blair's oh so hot length throb and sent a jolt of excitement into Jim's cock. And the fabric of those ridiculous boxers was no hindrance to Sentinel- senses at all. Yet: Jim's hand found the waistband of the boxers and shoved them down as far as he could reach. Dimly he registered Blair's hiss and stopped, afraid he had hurt the younger man. But his lover seemed to regroup and now started undulating in earnest, humping Jim's side.

The Sentinel was so distracted by the wonderful, shivering, panting body half-buried under him, that he was startled at first when cold hands found his own boxers, pulling and tugging at the fabric to free the price that was straining beneath.

"Get naked, Jim" there was an insistent urgency in the husked plea so Jim succumbed to the Guide-voice and helped to get rid of the offending clothing. Skin. Gawd, he could feel Blair's skin with his dick. Coarse hair, like a massage, hot throbbing and slick wetness where Blair's precum had already leaked.

"Oh, Blair", and it sounded like a prayer. Their cocks touched and ignited a fire deep inside the Sentinel that could'nt be denied any longer. Jim shivered when still cold hands grabbed his asscheeks and pulled his body down, even closer to the source of all delight, till everything Jim could feel and smell and hear and see was Blair's skin and Blair's sex and Blair's moans and Blair. *Have to - can't stop now!* The hands on Jim's ass grabbed him even harder and the Sentinel claimed the willing lips of his Guide in a bruising kiss, not leaving Blair a chance to escape and he pressed his tongue deep into Blair's mouth, thrusting in and out of the hot cavern with suddenly unleashed passion. He felt the younger man stiffen under him and for a second even was worried that he had frightened his lover, but the wave of ecstasy the Sentinel was riding left no place for going back. Another thrust as his tongue filled his Guide's mouth again and Blair growled deep in his throat and spasms racked the lithe body and hot cream spread between them. When the intense smell of semen - not his semen, different smell, Blair's semen - hit the Sentinel, everything was over: Jim broke the passionate kiss, roared and came hard all over Blair.

Still shaking in the aftermath his calloused hand, faint scars on the knuckles and edges from too many fights in his life, reached out for the long strands of hair, fanning over the pillows and with unexpected gentleness wove one strand through and over and under the long, elegant fingers of his hand. So soft, so silky, so Blair - "I'm going to want this again, Chief."

"Now?!" Blair's eyes popped up in exaggerated, comical fear but Jim refused to grin. Blair sobered. The tall detective concentrated on tracing the student's left brow with the tip of one index-finger.

"You know what I mean, Sandburg. I can't let this go..."

"No need to, Tough guy. no need." And a possessive hand squeezed Jim's asscheek and left a mark for sure.

One of their cell-phones on the table rang, four times, to be exact, until Ellison had untangled himself and scrambled for the source of the offending, much too loud noise.

"Ellison" He settled back into the couch-bed, one arm invitingly outstretched and pleased beyond believe that Blair coutiously moved closer, not quite cuddling but at least using his shoulder as a pillow. Soft strands of long hair tickled the Sentinel's side and Ellison had to concentrate hard to actually listen to the voice on the other side of the connection.

"Banks here. The Harley you saw yesterday has been rented two days ago by a woman who presented a contract of a TV-station, indicating the bike would be used for a show. Thus explaining why she didn't ride the bike but rather have it loaded onto a truck. She did have a drivers license and was willing to pay an increased insurance rate, so everything seemed to be OK. But we checked the production company and it's a fake. And the ladie's name was Anna-Nicole Smith and nobody got suspicious though she was graced with a gorgeous body and red hair. Are you still with me, Ellison?"

"Yes sir!" *not really - with an armful of Blair ...*

"Good. No news on Maria Herero, though. Well, she *has* to show up somewhere. Does Sandburg drive you nuts already?"

"Ummh, no Sir, not at all."

"Good. Cause I want you to stay put till we hear something from this Herero-woman. So if you need something, call the cops from downstairs. Don't. Go. Out. Did I make myself clear?"

"Yessir. We'll stay put. Just keep me informed, Sir. I don't like to be left out of the action."

"As if I didn't know that. Relax. I'll keep in touch." The line went dead.

"We're confined to this apartement, I'm afraid, Sandburg. Soooo, what are we gonna do with all that spare time?"

"Take a shower?" The drying cum on their bodies had already started to itch uncomfortably, Blair's penis, now quiescent, still dribbled liquid onto Jim's thigh and seemed to be glued to it. "That's a plan, Chief! But - not together - I remember the shower-stall from last time. It was almost too small for me alone. You go first - I know where the coffee used to be and fix breakfast instead."

The kitchen was surprisingly well stocked so Jim prepared scrambled eggs and put some frozen bread into the oven. No fresh milk but whitener for the coffee and everything was almost in place when Blair emerged from the bathroom, humming an unrecognizable tune under his breath, taking a cloud of steam into the living room.

"Hey, did you leave me some hot water?"

Blair strolled over to the couch-bed, wearing only his boxers and a towel that covered his hair: "Some. Of Course! I'll put the bed back." He grabbed the sheets, tangled and stained and smelly even to non-Sentinel-senses and he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. He straightened them with his hands then folded them - *maybe smuggle them out and take them to the loft as a reminder...* - then put the couch back up. When Ellison came back, already half dressed in his pants and white socks, rubbing his short hair dry, coffee was on the table, Blair had gotten dressed properly in the meantime and any evidence of their love-making had vanished. Well, almost, because that enticing smell of semen and sweat and semen and pheromones and semen still hung in the air, mixing with the flavors of fresh bread and hot coffee and Jim thought that he could easily become addicted to this wonderful scent. Jim traced the student's cheekbone with his indexfinger and grabbed his mug. Blair's skin was so warm, soft, slightly moist.

The cellphone rang again, but continued to chime though Jim opened a connection. "Seems to be yours, Chief!"

Blair sighed "I don't even have classes today! Sandburg" There was a brief moment of silence,then Blair's eyes widened and he started to gesticulate frantically. His lips formed a silent *Listen to this* and Jim cocked his head as he extended his sense of hearing.

"... I know, that you have no classes today, Professor" a raunchy voice purred into his Guide's ear "But I need your advice on some of the books you wrote on that list. Could you please meet me at your office - in , say, half an hour?"

"Well, Maria; I'm not sure if I can make it" Jim was vigorously shaking his head no, making 'cut it outf'-motions with his right hand, "But I'll try. Maybe you'll just have to wait a few, but you won't mind that, will ya?!"

"No, of course not, Professor. I'll be so verrrrry grateful. Thank you."

Blair put the phone back on the table : "That was Maria Herero."

"Yeah, I got that much. Are you out of your mind? You can't meet her there! It's too dangerous. You'll stay here where you are relatively safe and don't you dare move."

"Jim, chill." to sooth his upset Blessed Protector he reaffirmed their connection with a soft touch on Jim's arm. "I'd love to meet her there, but I know that it would be stupid. I mean, gimme some credit here. But: She offers to come. Even if it's a trap, the cops might catch her. I mean if she really shows up. And I'd like to talk to her. At the station. In a controlled environment" he grinned faintly. "How bout that?"

"Sounds like a plan." grudgingly the detective had to admit. "I'll call Simon, Then we'll get to the precinct."

They finished breakfast then headed off for Jim's office. When their unmarked car had to stop at a red light, Jim couldn't help himself. The presence of his Guide sitting next to him was comfort and torture all the same. The warmth of the young body rooted him - and made him want to reach out and touch the student. He felt for the pulsepoint right behind Blair's ear where the skin was almost unbelievably tender. Blair, again humming this time with the radio, was startled at first but smiled *this* smile that could light up ones life and leaned into the small touch. The traffic light turned green and Jim killed the engine. Both men grinned.

They arrived at Major Crime only minutes ahead of two units of uniforms, H Brown - who had said something along the line of: You think you bring in the bitch that almost killed Rafe without me, you're wrong - and Miller2. The beautiful young woman looked scared and tired. She sat down as far away from any window as possible. Jim watched her for a few moments, then closed the blinds. They had found a small Walther PPK - almost a ladie's weapon - in her handbag and assumed she would have shot Blair the moment he would have arrived at his office. She had put up no resistance when the police had surrounded her in front of Blair's small, cluttered office but she hadn't said a word since then.

"H, wanna join Blair and me in the interrogation room? Wanna take a closer look at this lady."

"With pleasure." It was the most unpleasant smile Brown flashed right now.

An hour later they were ready to put her in a cell in the basement to give her the chance to feel like being in prison. Maria Herero had refused to answer any questions. Twice during the interrogation she had made eye-contact with Sandburg who had not participated in asking questions. Most likely the only reason he was in this room was that Jim didn't want to let him out of his sight. While H started one last attempt to make their suspect talk, Jim motioned Blair into the far-off corner of the room. Standing close to the smaller man so that they could not be overheard by the woman in the suspect's chair, Jim pressed his thigh against Blair's body, causing the younger man to gasp and blush.

"Chief - I need you ..."he paused just long enough to revel in the innuendo "... to talk to her. She might open up to you. You were her target - and you are the only one she knows around here. Do you think you could do that?" Jim's hand unerringly found the pulspoint behind Blair's ear and lingered for a splitsecond.

Sandburg showed that he was just as good on subtext as Ellison if need be: "For you .... I'll try." He pushed himself away from the wall, not so accidentally brushing against the tall hard body of the Detective and took a vacant chair across the table to face Maria Herero. H turned to the door:

"I'll get some coffee. Anyone else?"

Jim and Blair nodded, then Jim winked at Maria Herero - time for nicer treatment now that Sandburg was taking over. The young man sighed deeply. Where Jim had touched him, his skin tingled.

"Why, Maria. That's my only question. I would like to understand why you wanted to kill me." When she didn't answer immediately, Blair continued: " You were very convincing as a student. You had me believe in your abilities. I don't know you - do I?"

Her eyes filled with tears. It was the first sign of emotion and Jim knew that they had won. Now if only Blair would go on talking, the puzzle would be solved soon.

"Here, take this tissue." She wiped her eyes with it, then murmured:

"You didn't know me. It's not ... I needed money." She looked up defensively: "Your life is just perfect, you wouldn't understand anyway. And he gave me the white stuff and all I had to do was to keep in touch with you at certain times. It was easy. You didn't have a clue."

"Who is he, Maria?" Jim's voice was gentle and almost hypnotic. She had a far away look in her eyes when she glanced up at him. Then, just as she took a deep breath, H. opened the door, balancing a trey with their styrofoam-cups full of coffee.

"Take care it's hot."

She grabbed the cup, started to pick at the styrofoam and inhaled the flavored steam. She looked haggard, tired and pale and for a brief moment Blair worried if she was going to be sick or something - then he remembered. Of course - she was a drug addict - the white stuff she had been talking about - she needed her next fix. Her voice startled him: "Is there sugar in it?"

"No - sorry. We're not a hotel, get used to it." H was still playing bad cop and it took Blair some time to recognise the man who ran through the rain just to buy a newspaper for his partner Rafe the other day in this hard, tough unyielding black menace. As planned, Maria jerked and tried to wrap her hands a little closer around the warming styrofoam-cup. Then she seemed to remember something and grabbed for her little handbag - till she remembered that it had been searched and confiscated because she had carried a handgun in it. Her shoulders slumped, her hands started shaking. Almost frantically she patted the bags of her jeans, then searched her jacket. Finally finding a small white package she tore it open and poured its contents into her coffee barely giving it the time to dissolve in the hot liquid. Gulping greedily she nearly burnt her lips.

Then she smiled, her shaking slowly subsiding and sighed. With a suddenly clear and strong voice she said. "He? Why, detective, you should know who *he* is. You know him both. I think you killed his lover." Jim took notice of the changes in her first. With Sentinel senses he tuned into her heartbeat, knowing that the frantic fluttery beating could not be right. He saw her pupils dilate and noticed cold sweat on her face.

"Get an ambulance, H. Fast - we missed the *sugar*. It's some kind of drug."

Blair was up and at her side in an instant, but it seemed to be too late: Maria Herero collapsed in slow motion, her breathing erratic, her face contorted in pain. When five minutes later the medics crashed into the interrogation room, the young woman was writhing in cramps. Blair was slumped in a chair and didn't even notice that Jim again had one hand touching the pulsepoint on his Guide's neck just behind the ear, using the rapid but strong beat as a beacon. Simon thundered in and Blair's heart fluttered a little more. Jim increased the pressure to the pulse point telling the young man: *I'm here with you*.

"What happened?" Banks sounded even more gruff than usual. While Jim filled him in, he kept his hand firmly in place on Blair's neck until his Captain finally noticed and looked at him sharply. Jim just looked back.

"So we don't know who she meant. I mean, Blair and I have a history of putting some nasty felons behind bars. But..."

Suddenly Blair interrupted - something he'd never done before when Jim had conferred with his boss - "Peru. It has to be Peru. Don't you get it? Ruez - he died, didn't he? And Raoul Gomes is still out there somewhere. He has access to almost pure Heroin and is able to fix any drug he wants. He might have given her the *sugar*..."

"Sandburg is right Sir - it must be Gomes. He's got the connections to arrive in Cascade without using official sources, too. Good thinking, Blair." Ellison's voice suddenly sounded like a caress and he added a little stroking motion to the one finger, that still kept the connection to his Guide's neck.

Blair turned his head to look into Jim's eyes, and Banks caught that one glance, a brief moment, where Sandburg was totally open and at the same time vulnerable and strong.

"Well, you could be right." The Captain's gruff voice brought both men back to reality. A little self-conscious Jim rested his hand on Blair's shoulder, no longer able to show off a contact that intimate but not willing to lose the closeness either. Banks observed the small scene, scrutinizing both men.

"I need you to write your statements on this whole incident while I get a warrant for Gomes to make sure he can't leave town. Make sure your files are complete - if necessary check with Brown." Jim was stunned - this was practically an advice to doctor their statements to make them airtight for the storm that was IA. Then the tall african-american was out of the interrogation-room without another look back.

Three hours later their files were complete - and carefully coordinated not to look identical - and yet they didn't know why two searches for weapons and devices with which one could commit suicide had not raised suspicion on the small envelope of *sugar*. The two policewomen who had conducted the search had been questioned but came up clean. Carrey Helms, member of the Cascade PD for twenty years, was devastated: "I do that all the time, you know: collect those small sugar-packs from every Cafe I'm in. Used to do it to remember the name of the restaurant. Nowadays they don't do them with advertisment-print any more, so I just - collect them. God, I'll never forgive myself, if the girl doesn't make it."

"So we're back at step one." Banks did not look happy when Jim dropped his and Blair's files on his Captain's desk.

"Guess so, Sir!"

"So , you're going back into the hideout, take a different car ... " "Simon, at least we need some clothes to change! Please!"

"I hate to take that risk. We'll send some Uniforms out shopping " "For UNDERWEAR!?" Jim's roar seemed to rattle the glass-door and windows.

"Yeah, well, you won't do it yourself. You'll go straight down to the garage and then drive to that apartement. It's safer than anything else I can think of. Although I don't like the thought that you and Sandburg are together in such close confines."

"Sir?" Ellison froze, his telltale muscle jumping in his jaw.

"You don't even notice it, do you? Now that the kid is practically sleeping at the foot of your bed, you keep touching him. Can't get your hands off him. I mean, it's non of my business" "That'S right Sir!"

"C'mon, don't Sir me; but if I see it, don't you think other people will notice, too? I happen to know that this is the Sentinel-thing that's driving you to do that. But others won't - they'll assume... "

Ellison sighed. Deep inside his heart he had been frightened to death by this moment. He had oh-so hoped that he and Blair would have a little more time to develope what was happening between them before anybody would notice. But it seemed that some jealous god with a sick sense of timing was keeping a close eye on them. *Please, let me not lose my job. Not now, that I finally have gained some sort of control over my senses. Not now that I've finally found someone who loves me without wanting to change me.* The thought of Blair suddenly made worries about job and life in general cheap and nonimportant. The silence between the two men grew heavy and was suddenly laced with foreboding. Jim sighed again.

"Then they'll assume right. Simon, I'm sorry - not about Blair and me - but that you are wrong. All this might have started out as some weird Sentinel-thing but somewhere along the line the feeling changed from needing Blair for sanity's sake to needing him, period." Still Jim stood military straight, eyes unseeing fixed on some point in the far distance, almost unable to contain his distaste at exposing himself so much, while he waited for Captain Banks to decide what to do with his further professional life.

"How long?"

For the first time - or so it seemed - Jim breathed. To give an answer he had to breathe. "It's very new, Simon." almost pleading for Banks' understanding he still didn't dare to look at his Captain.

"I see. I can't say that I like this. i mean, I always thought you were ... well, like me. But you really fooled me, Jim. Dating women, hell, you've even been married. Even if that's been a desaster - was it because of your .... orientation, that your marriage failed, Ellison?"

This was horrible. Words stinging like acid. No defenses. Jim watched himself and his Captain, his friend, drift apart in a matter of a few well-phrased sentences. "Sir, I didn't fool you." it was so hard for him to speak - his tongue being dry and immovable like a piece of wood. "I was dating women because it never occurred to me that I could be interested in men. And Caroline - we've had some good times, too, until we started to drift apart. There were no particular hard feelings between us, that is - until I started dating again." The small attempt on levity was obviously wasted on his Captain.

"You mean, until Sandburg moved in with you?"

"No, Sir." when he didn't volonteer more information, Simon finally prodded "What, No?"

"It wasn't Sandburg, Sir. He didn't come onto me - at least not more than I came onto him. It's really mutual. And we know what we're getting us into, Sir."

"You really think so, Jim? Well, I don't. Aside from the harrassment that will come up as soon as you're *out* at the station or at the University, I will have to cancel your partnership with Sandburg if you are any more blatant about your relationship. Do you understand this? This is not about me being hurt that you lied to me all the time I've known you, "

"Sir, I didn't lie ..." But Banks waved him silent,

"It's not about personal feelings anyway, Jim. I know that you need Sandburg as whatever you call it - I've seen you improve physically and mentally and as your friend I was glad about that. But regulations are very clear about dating on the job. So keep it down at the precinct. Hide it. This could ruin your carreer and as long as you don't want to completely drop out, watch out and be careful."

"Yessir"

"And for heaven's sake stop Sir-ing me."

"I wouldn't know what else to call you - now. " unspoken, the word Sir hung between them accusingly.

"What about *Simon*?"

"I didn't know if you would have approved; I mean, I ..."

Banks looked at the rigid man standing in front of him, avoiding to look at him, almost trembling from suppressed tension. He tried not to picture this man - with whom he had shared a tent when they had gone fishing in the past - in bed with another man. Then he *tried* to picture Ellison and Sandburg together and it was amazingly easy. Finally, the Captain said:

"Jim, I'm your friend - we go way back and that is not destroyed easily. I'm hurting because I still feel, I don't know, betrayed, left out but I'm trying to adapt. It's just, " he hesitated, then took a deep breath, "is it the way you felt with Caroline?"

For the first time since Ellison had entered the office his hard features softened and there was a tender glow mellowing his hard iceblue eyes: "No, Simon, it's not at all like my feelings for Caro. With her I always tried to hide away part of me. And I succeeded - she still doesn't know about my senses. With Blair that never was an option."

Gruffly Banks yanked out one of his cigars and bit down hard. That little punk had broken down his best Detective's defensive walls by simply ignoring them. Right now, he, Simon Banks, member of Cascade's finest, had to ask himself if he really had been as good a friend to Jim as he'd always liked to think himself of. Oh, well, enough of that.

"I see; I think.." he added as an afterthought. He saw a uniformed cop enter the bullpen, shopping bags in hand, and allowed himself to be relieved: "There comes your underwear, Jim. Now, go back into hiding. I mean it."

"Yes - Simon!" Jim heard the double meaning, turned and left. Now, that hadn't been so bad. He still had a job. And a lover. And when he joined Blair at his desk in the bullpen his hand squeezed Blair's shoulder and one finger went to his Guide's pulsepoint right behind the ear and there was nothing that Jim wanted to do about that.

And as it was a Guide's duty, Blair immediately realized that there had been something going on, something that had deeply upset his Sentinel. He leaned into the gentle touch on his neck, then asked quietly: "Trouble?" Half expecting to hear that Gomes had somehow managed to get into the precinct and was trying to take them out at this safe place. So the news caught him unaware, twisted his guts in fear and made him feel all sweaty and sick.

"Simon knows, Chief. He's a damn good detective, so he figured it out more or less. He's not happy about it, but he's trying. That's all; Don't worry."

"Don't worry?!" Blair hissed exasperately. "What if your friendship with him is at stake, what if the PD wants to get rid of you, what...?"

"Blair, Blair " he had to start again to interrupt the frantic flow of words. "Blair, that ain't gonna happen. Simon's still my friend. A little shaken, right now, but trying. And the PD won't know." he hesitated to continue. He wasn't ashamed of Blair or his love for this man, he assured himself, but maybe his lover would see it that way, if they didn't act like a couple in public. "I've been ordered - more or less - to keep a low profile. - I can't, you know, be out, not yet, I'm afraid. Is that OK with you?"

There was a little silence between them and Jim thought that this was most likely the least appealing place to have this particular heart-to-heart, the bullpen being neither quiet nor private - again that twisted sense of timing a malicious god was taunting them with. What if Blair had wanted to make it public... But before Jim could think himself into a panic, his Guide just said in a small, contrite voice:

"You know, actually I'm glad that we have to keep our relationship quiet. I'm not really looking forward to going into more trouble than ever when the news are spread at the University. I mean, at least I would want to wait to tell everybody till I've got my doctorate - so that the members of the counselling board can't harrass me. Man, I can't believe I'm saying that. Me, Mr Lets-bring-it-all-into-the-open trying to hide out. Your attitude's rubbing off, I guess." When Sandburg grinned, Ellison couldn't resist:

"Let's just get home and I'll show you some rubbing off..." The Sentinel could feel his Guide's blush even without Sentinel senses.

They entered their small apartment and were both still grinning - Blair carried the bags that had been brought by a rather pissed uniformed cop: two button-down shirts, plain white, socks, plain white, underwear, cheap briefs, not really their style, chinese takeout, salads and bagels for breakfast. They had already been halfway to their hideout when Jim suddenly remembered the reason why he was wearing boxers - preferrably made of silk - his sense of touch going haywire in this extra-sensitive area when he was wearing briefs. He had started to chuckle, "The briefs, as if I'd need them with you by my side..." and Blair had joined him, glad that some kind of normalcy was back in their lives, despite the fact that they were banned from their home, both their jobs threatened and being under attack from a mad assassin. Even if it was just their kind of normalcy, making fun of senses out of whack, something not one of their friends would ever truly understand.

They were standing in the small living-room of their hideout/home, feeling a little forlorn, and not for the first time since his senses had kicked in again Jim felt deeply grateful that there was at least one person who not only knew about this gift he was cursed with but understood it - and him - without instantly wanting to change it - and him. He turned to his Guide and startled the younger man with a hard hug which made Blair lose the grip on his bags. Instantly rearranging priorities in his mind, the student hugged back fiercly and pressed his body against his Sentinel in a vain attempt to just step inside the man he loved. Delighted Blair felt a hardening source of heat press into his lower belly and with a rumbling deep purr he clung even tighter, thrusting shallowly. His reward followed suit when Jim took Blair's lush lips in a bruising kiss, plunging his tongue into the hot mouth that opened willingly under the onslaught.

Breaking away with a small grunt, Blair panted: "Should go take a shower" , but Jim's embrace didn't loosen.

"Only place you should go now is this bedroom we didn't use last night, Sandburg and fast." Ellison turned them and started pushing the smaller man to the door and the bed behind it.

"Bossy Sentinel; make me..." so the Sentinel had to kiss the Guide again, thus shutting him up efficiently and, tightening his embrace a little further, he lifted his prey, dragged him to the bed and deposited him on the mattress.

"Glad there aren't any steps, tough guy?" the teasing did nothing to mask Blair's arousal. Jim grinned and knelt down on the bed, causing the mattress to jump.

"That's right, Chief, gotta save my strength for the main act..." Blair laughed out loud at the choice of words but the feral glint in his tall partner's eyes sobered him. With shaking fingers he started to undo the buttons of his shirt and janked it off, almost mesmerized by Jim's elegant fingers that opened buttons and zipper of his jeans and urged him into an arch to lower pants and underwear down. He was naked and more than half-hard before he noticed how cool the sheets of this bed were. And that Jim was still fully dressed.

"C'mon, man, get out of those..." By then the Detective unerringly found the one spot on Blair's neck that had a direct connection to the younger man's cock and all the student could do was moan, while the Sentinel explored that weak spot till it was red and hot and pulsing. Jim's next target were those dark, sweet, hidden nipples that peaked out between soft chest hair. He latched onto one, then let the tip of his tongue travel to the second - and back and back again - and stopped when Blair'S frantically tugging hands finally broke his concentration to pleasure his Guide.

"Shirt, get rid shirt" well, it was soiled anyhow; Blair's leaking cock had left stains of ecstatic precum on the fabric, so Jim just tore it over his head and tossed it somewhere. Back to his task of driving his Guide crazy he gently rolled one nipple between his fingers while he suckled on the other one, feeling waves of pleasure sweeping through his lover, ending in a hump that drove an eager cock against his hard abs. *Time to move on* for the thrusting became more urgent, more determined. *My,my, he's gonna come just from his nipples ...* A desperate wail brought Jim out of his reverie and he did move on, licking his way down to the belly-button and lower, where the most enticing smell waited for him. Sweat and musk and pheromones and arousal and a faint trace of semen lured the Sentinel to the large angry cock that swayed and begged for attention. Jim's own cock twitched in the confines of his pants and so he opened his fly to free his hard length before diving down to the dark curls that held the essence of Blair-aroused captured.

Sniffing, then licking the base of Blair's hard organ the Sentinel catalogued the scent, then taste of his Guide, finding it new and exciting and enjoyable. When he traced the large vein on the underside of Sandburg's penis from base to leaking head, Blair started to chant under his breath: "pleasepleaseplease" over and over again. The student's body was lying motionless, small shivers wracking him from time to time and it seemed to take all of Blair's concentration not to move, not to startle his lover, not to do anything that might end this ecstasy too soon. Each shiver sent a drop of precum to the glistening head. Two times Jim just licked the droplet away. It tasted sweet and promising. Then he took the full, red head of Blair's cock into his mouth and sucked. Blair's chant stopped like cut off. Blair's breathing stopped. Even Blair's shivers stopped. So Jim stopped, too, letting the iron rod slip out of his mouth. That sent Blair into action. Grunting,he took a deep breath and arched himself off the bed, thus slamming his cock back into the hot mouth of his lover who brought his arms around Blair's waist to restrain the almost violent thrusts that tried to choke Jim. Taking command again, Jim held Blair's ass in his large hands and bobbed his head up and down on the wonderful hard shaft that seemed to have a life of his own. Each engulfing was answered by a moan that could have been Jim's name.

Then the scents became more prominent, Blair was sweating heavily, the smaller man's body hard in the desperate attempt to hold back, to prolongue this unique pleasure. Jim slowed down until the beloved heartbeat of his Guide had calmed a bit, then resumed his licking and sucking, his elegant fingers kneeding Blair's ass-globes in counterrhythm. Then, almost by accident, one of Jim's fingers brushed across, then dove into the hidden puckered opening. Blair cried out, ramming his ass down on Jim's hand, trapping the finger inside his body then frantically thrust upwards to fill Jim's mouth with his cock again and then he came hard and spasming without so much as a warning and shot his load into the waiting mouth of his lover whom he startled with the sheer power of his climax so that the semen was smeared over the hard angles of the flushed face of his Sentinel and that was the fucking most beautiful sight of all.

Still breathing irregularly Blair hauled himself up and embraced Jim, kissing the semen-streaked face, licking and cleaning it in a vain attempt to express his elation and gratitude and love and ecstasy that had him pumped up and flying high. He was surprised and more than a little insecure when he pressed himself against Jim's muscled body - and found that his Sentinel not only hadn't come yet but also was only half hard, the large dick having escaped the pants pleasantly filled but nowhere near drooling. At Blair's questioning, unsure gaze Ellison tried a grin - and actually blushed a bit :

"I guess I was a bit distracted by giving you pleasure..."

"pleasure - that's the understatement of the year, Tough Guy. Now it's my turn - lie down..."

Pants and boxers seemed to melt away. Like practicing an ancient religious ritual Blair straddled Jim's legs, facing the tall man. And then maybe to him it was a ritual, performing a religion with their love to be worshipped.

What Jim saw was the eager, but somber face of this young man, whose eyes never left the refilling cock of the man he straddled. Then Blair lowered himself down, hairy chest subtly caressing Jim's thighs, hot breath softly stroking across the large length of Jim's excitement. Blair's mouth followed the length from the nest of lightbrown curls to the crown, just millimeters away from a kiss, a touch, and Jim's whole body quivered from the strain to hold back, not to arch upwards to get exactly what he wanted right now.

"Blair, please..." not ashamed to beg Jim refrained from doing something, anything. And then Blair took the crown of Jim's cock between his lush lips, engulfed it in hot wetness and slowly, so slowly sucked the cock that rapidly hardened into his mouth and down his throat.

Jim groaned. This was it. To feel the clever tongue massage his cock, to hear his lover pant and swallow his precum, all the time tasting his lover's semen on his lips, in his mouth, was almost too much for his endurance. With gentle fingers Jim cupped Blair's head, revelling in the feel of soft hair and an equally soft groan that answered the small caress. The movement on his cock stopped and for a second Jim thought he was going to explode from the torture. To encourage Blair into action again, Jim gently urged his young lover with his hand that was still entangled in silky strands of hair. Blair grunted and complied.

"Ogawd - Chief - " Grabbing Blair's head with both hands, Jim shoved his cock into the hot mouth that opened willingly to his frantic thrusts. "So good, so good, so good..." and then it was all over, without any finesse or raffinement - one second Jim felt his balls draw up and his cock expand and pleasure sizzling from his spine into the large rod that controlled everything he was right now and the next moment he exloded in a blast of colors and light and heat and noise and it took some time till he realized it was him roaring his completion and when he opened his eyes he saw his Guide, hanging on for dear life, face red but swallowing eagerly, suckling his deflating member, lapping up whatever fluid had escaped that clever mouth. The imp that had just killed him looked up, grinned and amazingly said something that - muffled by the roar of Jim's blood singing in his ears - sounded like:

"Thank you tough guy.... "

Oh gawd. He gathered Blair to his side, embraced and cuddled him close. He wanted to say something, anything that would express his gratitude,his love, his devotion. He felt Blair snuggle closer; Such a beautiful feeling.

"Chief, we stink..." oh, gawd - no good. But his Guide chuckled. "Yup. Let's go take a shower..."

"Nah, it's ... good. I like it that way."

Silence. Then that irrepressable chuckle again as it laced Blair's drowsy voice: "Ya know, man, that's a really beautiful thing to say." Soon after that they slept, though the Sentinel could hear the bustle of the small precinct downstairs even in his sleep.

Cascade Airport

Danny Rivers was tired. He was sitting at the information desk at Cascade Airport and counted the minutes till he could go home. It was late - and it was The Day of the week. The one day of hell when noone wanted to be on duty. The one day when, due to different schedules of different airports, half a dozen planes landed and took off again at an ungodly late hour and hundreds of people flooded the building and at least half of them wanted to know how to board, how to get a taxi, which hotel to take and which restaurant to choose. Sometimes he felt like a kindergarden-teacher and he didn't like the feeling - not at almost midnight and another three hours till everything would finally close down. The plane from Washington was coming down on One, "No, Sir, if you hurry, you should be able to make it to WE 143 in time, it's gate 7, please go left." Seattle down on Two and Chicago on Three. " Sir! Left, you have to go left!" And Santiago was due for takeoff in another fifteen minutes on Four. "Madam, I'd recommend the Cascade Hilton, we can make reservations for you, or you take a taxi - over there, see?" Time for a cup of coffee. "Yes Sir, how can I help you?"

"I have a small parcel that I do not want to entrust to the mail. I would like to leave it here at your desk."

"Sir, I am not allowed to ... Sir, please take the envelope .. Sir, you can't just leave, Sir! Sir! Madam, sorry,just a minute. SIR! - He's gone. Have you seen that, ma'am? Oh, Taxis are over there. Airport-Security? This is Information, Rivers speaking. There was a creep here a minute ago, who left an envelope on this desk. What? NO, I don't think it ticks! That can't be a bomb. I hope. What am I going to do with it? OK, just come and get it." Five minutes later a very grateful Danny Rivers handed over the envelope to a member of the Airport Security, the small parcel was x-rayed and sniffed at and finally opened very cautiously. Twenty minutes later Captain Banks stared at the handful of polaroids that had caused an overstrained Security man to phone in 911 immediately - Maria Herero, obviously sleeping off a shot of heroin, oblivious to her body's condition, George Gregory, viciously stabbed to death, Sloane Richmond, blood-covered on his big bed. And finally Blair Sandburg at the campus, walking, a red target-cross a drawing that aimed at his heart. And scribbled onto the white end of the picture were the words: "Missed you this time. Next visit - you dead."

And the man who had placed this poisonous gift into their lap had vanished completely. Three planes had already taken off in the last twenty minutes and they had no guarantee whatsoever that the guy had even boarded one of those planes. And their search came up empty.

Hideout

Sentinel senses had warned Ellison even in deep sleep - he heard someone approach the door to their hideout-appartement and was instantly alert, only to relax moments later when he sniffed Simon's unique perfume of lit and unlit cigars. He put his gun away, the movement finally dislodging Blair who had been burrowing his head into Jim's armpit in sleep. The student gave an annoyed "hurrmmmmpff" and hugged his Sentinel closer with one arm and one leg. He startled awake though, at Simon' knocks at the door.

"Sorry, Chief, it's Simon - and its three in the morning, so it has to be important. C'mon, let me get up."

"Humm? Simon? Shit. Your pants're ov'r th're s'mewhere. I'll join you 's soon as I'm dr'ssed." still mussed with sleep but valiantly trying to wake up Blair regrouped and watched as Jim - gloriously naked - bent down to get his pants. When the tall detective left the small bedroom, zipping his fly and grabbing his worn shirt, the moonlight painting gentle shadows on his beautiful body, the young man sighed and murmurred: "Nice, realllllly verrrry nice."

"Quit purring, Sandburg, I'm going to open that door now."

"oops!" But it didn't sound contrite at all. Sighing he collected jeans and tee and got dressed, combing his hair with his fingers to look presentable.

Simon was stunned - he had never seen Ellison looking - well, like *this*. Utterly calm, not sleepy at all, but with sleepmussed hair, as little as there was, shirt carelessly hanging open, the Detective presented himself *sated* - like the cat that got the cream. Banks felt himself blush at this particular thought. So he blustered:

"Is this the way you watch out for yourself? Where's your gun? I could have been a killer!"

"You would have knocked? If you were a killer, I mean? Actually, I smelled your cigars, so I left the gun in the bedroom." He pointed to the door in question with a nod of his head and as if on cue, Sandburg stumbled out of the room, still trying to stuff his tee into his jeans. Banks drew in a deep breath, then entered and shut the entrance-door with a little more force than necessary. Blair stopped and assessed the situation. Feeling the sudden tension between the two men, he volunteered:

"I'm gonna fix us some tea? I found peppermint-bags; it's not what I'm used to, but it'll do..." he would have gone on and on with his chatter, but Jim interrupted him gently:

"That'll be great, Chief. So, Simon," he put extra emphasis on the name "guess you didn't come to pay a social visit at this hour. What happened?"

While Jim took a good look at the polaroids - hissing at the sight of Blair and the target-symbol - Banks filled them in. "The pictures were dusted for prints - we found one half of a thumb and it could be Gomes. But he has vanished. We notified the crew of all the planes that were leaving Cascade in the time in question, but so far only three out of six have reported back. So we don't know if Gomes is still a danger or already in Chicago, Baltimore or Santiago. Personally, I'd think he's on his way home to South-America, but we don't have any proof, yet. What we have proof now is that Anna-Nicole Smith was in fact Maria Herero, renting the Harley and most likely the empty apartment, too."

The tea was ready and Blair brought the mugs. Despite the fact that the tealeaves were old, the hot tea smelled strong, barely covering a second scent, something elusive Simon couldn't identify right away. He wished for stronger senses, inwardly smiling at the thought that he craved something that gave a real Sentinel so much grief. Then it hit him. He knew where he had smelled that odor before. It had been in Daryl's room, shortly after the boy had finally hit puberty with all its disturbing sideeffects like infrequent wet dreams. It was male sex he was smelling here in this very room. To cover his embarrassement at discovering something he never would have wanted to know he took a gulp of his tea - and burnt his tongue on the hot liquid.

"Damn - too hot. ... Anyway: I want you to stay put till we hear from those last three planes. I'll keep in touch with you, gotta go back to the precinct." He was already at the door, when Jim's amused voice stopped him:

"You've forgotten the pictures, Simon. And - this apartement is not the bullpen. Noone but our friends sees us here."

Contrite and frustrated by himself and the way he was dealing with this new aspect of his friend's life, Simon could only mutter: "You're right, and I'm an ass. Just shoot me, OK?"

Jim grinned and handed Banks the polaroids: "Nah, as you know the gun's in the bedroom. So no such drastic measures. If we still can joke about it, there's hope."

After Simon had left, the Sentinel turned to his Guide and with desperate force and need he embraced the young man, almost crushing him in his fierce attempt to protect and to love him.

"It's all right Jim. I'm safe here. We are safe. There's nothing we have to fear right now. You even showed Simon the ropes. Let's go back to bed. C'mon, I want to feel you close to me."

"How close, Chief?" Jim's hot breath tickled Blair's earlobe.

"As close as you can get, Tough Guy." the soft whisper sent shivers of excitement through Ellison's body, his cock filling rapidly at the images his brain conjured up in mere moments. Images of Blair lying on moss, legs spread, of Blair coming hard, while the fat crown of his cock was penetrating Blair's ass. Images of himself shooting his load inside his lover, while Blair's orgasmic spasms worked the sensitive head of his cock.

"You sure, Chief?" "oohh, yeah, I'm sure. We'll need some lubricant, though. I want to have all of you tonight, Jim."

Jim shuddered at the impact of the words. All of him for Blair tonight. He almost was frightened by the lust he saw swimming in his Guide's eyes. His cock seemed to like the idea though. The large organ tented his pants, straining to get near Blair, who had left the embrace and now roamed the kitchen-board, till he held up a bottle containing yellow-greenish liquid: "Gotcha!"

"It's italian!" Sandburg crowed delightedly, "Extra Vergine, you won't believe it. Well, that's a little late, though." Jim shook his head, grinning - olive oil of all things.

"Don't look like that, Jim. It won't touch your private parts. You'll wear a condom." stated somberly, it startled Jim into thinking.

"Isn't it a bit late for such consideration, Chief? I mean, " he blushed a bit, then forced himself to actually say it "I swallowed your cum - most of it anyway - and so did you..."

And suddenly Sandburg was very close again, big eyes fixed on the Sentinel's face to catch his attention even more, if that was possible: "I remember that, Jim, very clearly, believe me. I know you're clean and so am I and we are going to be exclusive. Aids is not the point here. The point is catching some germs that would be less than pleasant."

Jim hadn't thought about that in the first place - hadn't thought about anything past the fact that he would make love to this young, vibrant man in a few minutes. Now he nodded, admitting: "You're right. It's good to know that one of us is that considerate, at least."

Now it was Blair's turn to blush furiously and Jim relaxed - for too long he had thought it always would be his turn to be embarrassed by himself. His reddened Guide mumbled: "I've been curious, so I asked around a bit. Not Dwayne, Jim, don't worry. And this guy gave some enlightening advice, so to speak..."

All that talking had taken the urgency off their need, so Jim went looking for a bottle of wine and some glasses in one of the drawers, then returned to the bedroom where Blair's clothes already lay scattered on the floor again and his Guide was wrapped into the sheets as if being cold or nervous or a little of both.

"Have some wine, Chief." And while Sandburg was distracted by sipping the Chardonnay, Jim efficiently undressed and joined him under the covers. All hesitation or awkwardness was forgotten, when Blair put his glass out of reach, dipping his fingers into the golden wine and started to wet Jim's nipples with the cold liquid. Like being struck by a bolt of icey heat the nubs reacted and contracted and grew hard and Jim moaned when Blair blew air over the darkening pebbles. No longer smiling, the young man bent his head and reverently flicked his tongue over the nipple that now all but vibrated with the strong pulse of the panther's heart.

"So close to your heart, Jim. Seems I can taste it beating." Another sucking kiss, finally that mischievous grin was back: "I like Chardonnay on you."

Not wanting to be left out of the game, Ellison manhandled his Guide until Blair was straddling his strong thighs, then grabbed the student's hand, briefly admiring the strong, yet elegant fingers that weren't calloused like his, and sucked the wine-soaked digits into his mouth. Sandburg shuddered and lightly bit the hard nub, causing Jim to groan again.

Shaking fingers borrowed in Blair's hair, cradling the young, vibrant face and gently turned it upwards.

"You're right Chief, I too like Chardonnay on you." And with that he kissed those lush lips that beckoned him to drown in taste and touch. Soft, hot,wet velvet, spiked with an afterthought of wine and Blair in every stroke of tongues, in every moan, in every stifled breath. They never broke apart and too soon had to take a breath and touched their sweaty foreheads together, looking a bit dazed at each other, surprised that despite their nervousness their passion was strong and demanding. Gently, as if caressing a unique piece of art - and then, maybe Jim felt exactly that - the hard Detective's hands feathered tickling touches over Blair's sides, his back, tracing the spine, painting the ribs, until the student shivered with every tickle that magically turned into a spark of heat that centered in his groin. He held on Jim's broad shoulders for dear life, the need to do something with his mouth suddenly almost overwhelming so he sucked on Jim's left ear, the closest part to his lips.

Ellison growled, when Sandburg's tongue found his inner ear, and grabbed Blair's ass with both hands. Blair moaned breathy and started to undulate, every forward movement brushing his cock against a large hot dick that shivered at each touch. Every backward movement pressing his ass into Jim's kneeding hands. Suddenly he froze. Only ripples of pleasure giving Blair away. Jim started to worry, but then the student took a deep breath, leaned back into Jim's hands and licked once over his lover's lips. His pupils were dilated, even the light of the small bedside lamp he had turned on when getting to bed hurt his eyes now. His cock was angry red and swollen and leaked precum and pointed straight to the ceiling now that the student reclined on his back and spread his legs.

"Do it now, Jim. Next time I might not be able to hold back, again." Even Blair's voice was different , deeper, husky, needy. For a few moments Jim just pressed his own hot body against his Guide, revelling in the feel of the hairy chest and thighs, so different to his own. The Sentinel in him was able to distinguish each different hair on his lover's body, but at this very moment the sensation felt like a thousand hands touching him, making him hot, so unbearably hot.

"Blair," he almost sobbed because simply taking a deep breath meant to dive into Blair-scented air and he never wanted to reach the surface again. "You have to be sure, now. Cause to be honest, I don't think I can stop in a few minutes."

"Take the oil, please, get it .... " the student shuddered - in pleasure or fear or a little of both "inside me."

So Jim did. With difficulty and after spilling some liquid on the floor in the process, Ellison slicked his shaking fingers and cautiously massaged Blair's already hard balls, following their seam down to the crack of Blair's behind, finally brushing over the small pucker. A groan and yet another shiver an invitation for Jim, so he pushed one finger inside - *inside*, breached the ring of muscles and probed deep.

The low voice almost not recognizable as Blair's, the young man breathed: " So good, more, Jim, now!" while his hips started a rhythm of their own. A second finger joined the first inside Blair - *inside*, this time forcing the clenching muscles apart. All movement stopped, Blair lay utterly still, panting heavily, then, tentatively, tightened his muscles around the intruders, then relaxed consciously. When the pressure on his fingers ceased, Jim started slow in-and-our motions, carefully scissoring his fingers to loosen the opening. Crouching over his Guide, Jim's face was close to the heavy, drooling cock of his lover. So when he pressed his third finger inside the opening that seemed too small for this exercise, he bent and licked the precum off his Guide's dick, effectively distracting the young man from whatever happened down below. Another kiss to the crown of the impressive erection and his Guide arched upwards to shove his cock into Jim's mouth, and the Sentinel let himself be fucked, for every downward move shoved his three fingers deeper and deeper into Blair's hot little hole.

Finally Jim couldn't take any more. He set up, knelt between his Guide's legs and handed Sandburg a condom: "I'm too slippery, put the rubber on me, C'mon" the urgency in Jim's voice made Blair open the foil and he was able to roll the condom over Jim's impressive length - he lost it again, though, when the Sentinel took his own erection in one lubed fist and smeared oil all over it - almost involuntarily Blair started to rock his hips again, panting harshly.

"Need you, Jim, please , inside me again." incoherently the student begged, pulling his knees up to his chest.

Jim lowered himself down, then pressed the fat head of his cock against the small pucker and shoved. Blair sighed. And moved. Jim shoved a bit more and Blair went rigid. Jim tried again and Blair grunted in pain.

"Gawd, Jim, that hurts like hell, gimme some time, PLEASE!" *It shouldn't hurt - hadn't hurt that much the first time that they had done that. oh, please, go away.*

So Jim waited, buried halfway inside an incredibly hot and tight passage that he felt moving with every laboured breath his aching Guide took, until his muscles started to cramp. He was desperate. This was not going anywhere. This was worse than his dream - forcing himself onto his lover who could not enjoy what he was doing. He made up his mind. This was not worth it. Very carefully he pulled out, holding onto the condom,anxiously settling next to his lover, who rolled over as soon as Jim had pulled away and curled into an almost fetal ball. Jim cuddled closer, desperatedly trying to calm his young and equally inexperienced lover with pets and strokes and caresses, cursing his own clumsiness. And all the time the Sentinel was very aware of his rock-hard erection that had not even receded when faced with Blair's obvious pain. Glistening with oil, the condomed monster of a cock nestled between equally oily asscheeks and pulsed every now and then.

"oh, Jim, I'm like, so sorry, man," muffled by a pillow, Blair murmured his broken apologies; "I didn't mean, but it really hurt so much and it was such a crampy position and I don't .. and I'm so sorry, and..."

"shh, shh, Blair, it's okay, really, don't worry. Just calm down and settle back into me; c'mon, relax, my love, just let me hold you, it's all right." crooning and petting finally helped Blair to control his breathing and he was able to lean back into Jim, to feel his lover's hard body, to feel his lover's iron dick that was gently rubbing between Blair's thighs with every breath the Sentinel took. The gentle but insistent pressure had something alluring, mesmerizing and Blair felt himself responding to the gliding touch. His own deflated penis filled again and unobtrusively he shifted and fisted his penis - Unobtrusively - well not when in bed with a Sentinel.

A gentle but insistent hand pushed his away and now it was Jim fisting his cock, stroking it, petting it and teasing it with varying pressure. This was sooo good; another shift parted Blair's ass a bit more and Jim's erection accidentally brushed across the pucker once more. Blair's cock jumped.

Jim decided to try this move again and Blair's whole body sagged and shook in pleasure.

"Blairlove, do yourself for me, let me watch you and I'll try something you'll like."

"Oh gawd, yes, that's sooo...."

Too far gone to protest or even question, Blair grabbed his cock and pumped himself, panting and grunting and humping back against Jim - who slipped two, and three still oilcovered fingers inside the beckoning opening of his Guide's body. The young man's moans only grew stronger, almost luring the Sentinel into zone-out on lust. The tall man shivered when he finally replaced his fingers once again with his large cock, gently pressing inside, careful to go with Blair's rocking, making no move at all, just waiting for Blair to shove himself onto his oily hard-on with every tug and pull of his masturbation. And then Jim really *was* buried deep inside his Guide, feeling the quivers and shivers of Blair's pleasure, revelling in the sensational *tightness* that gripped his pulsing penis, and he reached out and took Blair's manhood in his hand to set a rhythm of thrust and squeeze and pull and tug until Blair was literally reduced to a panting, sweating mass of grunts and quivers. Then was the moment when Jim had to let go of his own suppressed passion and rammed his needy cock deep inside the hot sheath and Blair bellowed and jerked and the cock in Jim's hand exploded and jumped and shot jets after jets of hot cream, bathing his Sentinel's hand and the sheets of their bed. And all the while Jim tried to cling to his sanity, cause the ass he was buried in started to squeeze and grab his aching hard rod in exquisite waves of impossible pleasure and he rammed into Blair once again, his helpless roar muffled by his Guide's hair because this was where the Sentinel had hidden his face when ecstasy had finally claimed his whole existence.

They stayed that way: Jim's fist still holding Blair's now rapidly shrinking cock, Jim's face still in Blair's hair, Jim's slowly relaxing cock still buried deeply in Blair's ass; for this was perfection; until their breathing calmed down and their heartbeats, beating in synch, had slowed. When Jim had to pull out to get rid of the condom finally, Blair winced at the loss, or in pain, or because a little bit of both and grabbed Jim's hand that was still wet with the remnants of his cum.

"Thank you, Jim" so sexy a voice, never heard it on Blair before.

"For what, Chief?" The endearment so gentle, never heard Jim like that before.

"For not stopping, man. This was the best ever." And then the imp startet to lick Jim's hand clean, till Jim turned his lover to claim that mobile mouth in a searing kiss.

"Love you, Blair - so much." "Love you too." And finally, nestled close to each other under their covers, oily and sticky and reeking of sex, they fell asleep again.

The next morning came too soon, with too much light and - contrary to common believe - even though they'd shared an incredible night, they didn't feel like floating on air. Jim dragged himself into the shower, promising himself that they never - ever, were going to sleep after lovemaking without at least a little bit of cleaning up. His skin itched everywhere, even more so on his most private part where it actually hurt now that the dried cum was starting to peel off. Lots of hot water helped but did nothing to wake him up. So, wrapping a towel around his waist, he turned on the coffeemachine and went into the bedroom to wake up that young man who had given him the most incredible sex, so powerful he couldn't think of anything else - and - even more embarrassing - his cock was remembering also.

Opening the small bedroom was like entering a cocoon of their combined smells, almost too prominent to be pleasant, yet a strong symbol of everything that meant being together to them. Jim knelt in front of a softly snoring Sandburg and traced the half open lips of his guide with his fingers. Blair wrinkled his nose, then smacked his lips and tried to get away from the intruders. Finally he turned his head only to receive a kiss that had been aimed at his mouth but found only part of his cheek instead.

"That's a first time, hu, Tough guy?" he smirked: "The inability of a sated Sentinel to stay on target after sex. And don't tell me, you *wanted* to kiss my chee.." The rest of the sentence wasn't even half as important any more as Jim's properly placed good-morning-kiss that stole his breath and kickstarted his system and made Blair feel really good. Till he decided to get up and take a shower.

"Oh, man, how can something that feels so great while at it, feel so fucking lousy in the harsh next morning's light?"

"Did I hurt you? I mean, after that wrong start and I'm sorry, Blair, I didn't..."

"Jim, shut up. You're babbling. It's supposed to be sorta felt. The morning after, I mean. No damage done. Nothing that a hot shower wouldn't cure." Then, already halfway to the bathroom and stark naked, he turned to ask: "You did leave me some hot water, didn't you??"

Jim chuckled :"Had to; You stink!"

"Says the man who sneaked out at daybreak to clean himself. Where did romance go?"

"I made coffee, too."

"Oh, Jim, you just fulfilled my most secret wish..." and then the bathroomdoor closed.

Breakfast was a quiet and companionable matter, both men very much aware of each other. They had found sweat pants in their purchases and had put them on - reluctant to dress properly - as if they would break some sort of spell by it. And every time they looked at each other they smiled. Jim, never much of a talker enjoyed the silence he was sharing with Blair, obviously not a morning-person. Finally Blair got up with a small sigh to put away their empty cups. Jim leaned back into his chair and stretched, his muscles rippling under his skin. He felt fantastic. Tired, yet almost overly alert and he could tell by his scent, that Blair was in the same condition. His young lover smelled like happiness, like he hadn't gotten enough sleep, like he didn't care about that fact. No, this was silly, Ellison berated himself. You can't possibly smell all those things. But you can touch them, see them, taste them... he grinned and turned to Blair who was standing at the sink. Felt good to be in love again.

Blair was just standing there, cups forgotten, staring at his Sentinel, watching those powerful muscles ripple and he simply couldn't help himself. Just looking at that tall man tightened his groin and while his cock filled with blood and hung heavily between his legs, his testicles twitched and shivered a little in anticipation. Then Jim turned and looked at him and his dick lifted and tented his sweats.

The Sentinel was treated to a spectacular sight. When he focussed on his Guide, he not only could see the bulge in the pants, he could also taste those pheromones washing over him in waves, smell the slight sheen of sweat that made his Guide's skin look like satin and feel the heat coming off Blair. Jim was out of his chair in no time, two large strides brought him close to his desire and almost reverently his hands carded through the masses of curly hair that was dusted over the studen'ts chest.

"You are so hot for me, Chief, aren't you?"

"Yeah, man, like, so..." A kiss silenced the younger man and they pressed against each other, trying to get close, trying to rub their erections against each other, trying to convey their love through touch alone.

"Blair" Jim had broken the kiss gasping and so hard it hurt, "This isn't only about sex?" half a question, half a reassurance, he looked into dazed blue eyes.

"No, Jim, it isn't. You're more important than anything to me - you know that, Tough Guy, don't you?! I wouldn't feel... that way, if it was only about sex. The couch, Jim, please. "

Moving over to the small living-room-area Jim almost stumbled because insistent hands tugged at his sweats. But when he sat down, he had already lost the garment. Blair pushed and pulled a little, shifting his Sentinel until Jim was lying down, head on the armrest, pillows under his back. Jim's cock was standing proudly, the beautiful crown already slick with precum, jerking when Blair carefully slipped out of his sweats, revealing his own purple dick. Suddenly Blair turned, ran into the small sleeping room for the bottle of olive oil and a foiled package and skidded back to all but jump his lover on the couch, straddling Jim's powerful thighs and rubbing his ass over the large, eager cock of his lover. The sudden assault on all his senses was almost too much for the Sentinel. Blair's heat, Blair's scent, Blair's heartbeat, rapid, eager, Blair's skin and - when the young man bent down for a kiss, bringing their erections together, Blair's taste. Jim closed his eyes and just let it happened, let himself being kissed thoroughly, the feel of his Guide's chesthair on his nipples overwhelming and he brought his hands up to bury his fingers in still damp locks of long, springy hair. Blair squirmed in his lap, a magical dance that made his cock throb and leak and suddenly Jim saw a way to explain, at least a little bit: "This is how I hear you, feel your pulse, lover." His caressing hands covered Blair's ears, thus multiplying the sound of the student's rapidly beating heart.

"I love you, Jim" not more than a moan, then he bent and claimed those elegant lips again thrusting his tongue inside the moist cavern in rhythm with his wiggling. Finally clever fingers, slick with oil - when had the imp oiled his fingers? - found Jim's large manhood, covered it with latex and pumped once, twice, three times, stopping when the Sentinel groaned loudly. The smaller body repositioned, a firm grip on Jim's cock, then the rod was guided to the small opening , already relaxed and wet and prepared and Blair simply sat down with a loud sigh, impaling himself on the proud sceptre. Jim opened his eyes in shock, gasping and gripping the back of the couch to keep from grabbing his Guide and hurting him with his suddenly unleashed passion. He looked into Blair's face, contorted with pain and passion and love and moaned: "Gawd, you're killing me, Blairrrr"

His lover grinned and undulated experimentally, then with more confidence and force until he rode the steelhard rod in perfect counter-rhythm to his tall lover's thrusts.

"Good, Blair, so good, so good..." Jim's hands found his Guide's pebbly hard nipples and rolled them gently, but the small stimulation caused his young lover to buck and scream and lean forward into Jim's touch. The next upwards thrust hit Blair's prostate and Jim could feel the thighs that straddled him start to tremble as his Guide's body tensed up and a grimace of passion froze Blair's face. The next thrust sent Blair over the edge, and the young man came hard, spurting his completion over Jim's body, and his muscles gave way and he sank into Jim's hands that still rubbed his nipples. Jim gasped when the lithe body went pliant and eagerly rammed home two more times, exploding deep inside the hot tight ass that still milked his spitting cock.

Finally his hands shook from Blair's weight and he lowered his exhausted young lover to rest on his muscled chest, carefully pulling out his spent cock and removing the rubber: "Blair? Blair, you Ok?"

"mmmhh; I thing I pull'd s'mething. " his Guide slurred then sighed contentedly, snuggling into his own cum that liberally coated Jim's upper body.

And then a cell phone rang. "Let it ring, Jim." And rang. "No can do, Chief. c'mon, you gotta move." And rang. "Don't want to - ooompf, heeeey!" And rang. It took even the Sentinel some time to locate the cell and answer it at last. "Ellison!"

"It's about time, Jim. Where've ya been? I tried ten minutes ago." Captain Simon Banks was truly pissed.

"Sorry, Sir. Didn't hear it."

"Your superhearing out of whack?" and when Jim didn't answer :"Oh, ... mm I see. We got news from the airport." The Captain sounded more confident now that he had to report something. "Someone who looked a lot like Raoul Gomes boarded the plane to South america and left in Santiago. None of our snitches claims to know anything about the assassinations or the three murders. So I'd say it's over for now. You might want to go home again. Oh, and as you seem to feel well again, you could come in and help out with the paperwork - Rafe is going to be released from hospital today, which means Brown is not at the office most of the day."

"Give us two hours to get home and change clothes, then we'll be in for pushing papers, Simon."

"Thank you, Jim - oh, and - I'm glad it's over..."

"Me, too, Simon. Later" He looked at Blair, still lying on the sofa, not really listening but padding his flagging cock absentmindedly with a tissue, "That was Simon. It's over, we can go home. No more problems."

"I hate to say this, Jim. But I don't believe that. I don't think it's over. But I'm looking forward to go home. After we've showered again." And he grinned his impish 1000-Watt-smile that always warmed Jim's heart.

Six hours later Jim splashed his face with cold water in one of the precinct's washrooms; His head was poundingeven though he had skipped whatever alcolhol was shoved under his nose for the last two hours. At first he had thought it to be a great idea, when the whole Major Crime's department had decided to celebrate Rafe's "freedom from the hospital of hell" after Brown had brought Rafe so that the wounded man could say hello, but somehow everyone present had produced bottles of wine, even one expensive decanter of champagne, a present from the mayor, and crackers and popcorn and after a while the boy from "Get-Your-Pizza-NOW" delivered a dozen hot quattro-staggiones and even Captain Banks agreed that there would be no more work done today. And it had been he who donated the champagne and the pizzas after all. They had cheered when Rafe had entered the bullpen. The brash young man for once silent, but smiling his dazzling smile didn't know how to respond and muttered something like: "You all only needed a reason to celebrate, hu?"

Then Blair had stepped forward and had said "Man, I'm so glad you're back again. You saved my life and I couldn't even say Thank you or visit you because of the safety-precautions. Man, whenever you want something, just tell me - I'll do whatever I can and more."

And Rafe had grinned and said: "Just, you know, don't throw me out of your office when I pay a visit during your office-hours. I still dream about those gorgeous girls..." And Blair had beamed: "Deal!"

And then Jim had interrupted and shocked every single man and woman in the whole bullpen when he, very carefully, drew Rafe into a onearmed bearhug and simply had stated: "Thank you for Sandburg's life. I owe you." And Rafe had found something glistening in those solemn blue eyes that had made him feel worth a million dollars and an equal to this hard, skilled man.

"Maybe some time you tell me how you knew that there was danger in the first place? You can trust me, you know." He had almost whispered it to keep it private and yet Ellison had heard without straining and answered: "I know I can trust you, Rafe. Yes, some time..." He had released the young detective, then, and gone back to his desk, joining them later for a slice of pizza.

But that had been hours ago and now his head was pounding, he felt tired and his skin looked pale in the bright light of the washroom. Suddenly Blair was beside him and the bright light didn't hurt that much any more and the sharp reeks of the room faded as he concentrated on the subtle scents of his Guide.

"C'mon Tough Guy - let's get home. You need some rest. Your sick leave is obviously over so we'll do paperwork tomorrow and Rafe - he's going home, too. He's kinda worn out from all the festivities."

The party really wound down and Simon sent them all home, leaving a note and a tip for the cleaning crew who definitely would earn their money this night.

Soon after Jim opened the door to his loft, finally able to actually enjoy his own home for a little bit longer than only a change of clothes. He turned and reached for Blair, hugging the younger man close and kicking the door shut with his elbow. With a soft purr, the student melted into the embrace and for long moments time stood still and their heartbeats seemed to be one. Then Jim squeezed once, hard, and mumbled: "Blair, I'm wiped. Let's go upstairs. Please." Blair shed his shoes and jacket in no time and managed to reach the stairs even before Jim who chuckled at this eagerness and shook his head. "Sandburg, I'm REALLY wiped. No roll in the hay. Just sleep. You don't need to hurry like that."

"I said it before and I mean it, Jim: This is not only bout sex. And I'm wiped too."

They snuggled under the comforter, both wearing only boxers and without much choreographing Jim spooned behind Blair and gathered the student close. He nuzzled the young man's hair, that still held the various scents from todays celebration, the faint aroma of shampoo - not Blair's usual, but the one the hideout was stocked with - and the perfume of body-oils and sweat that created the comforting space of Blair's presence. Jim sighed and gently stroked the amount of springy chesthair, feeling his lover's heartbeat and the regular breathing of true contentedness. Under the covers Blair's fingers snaked to Jim's thighs to draw lazy circles and geometric figures - no, wait, hearts, the imp painted hearts and wrote LOVE! Jim snickered and felt more than he cared to see Blair's broad smile. He pressed closer to his smaller lover and enjoyed getting warm and heavy and the feel of a tight butt that was the perfect pillow for his filling cock. Blair rubbed against the silk-covered length, his movements guiding the large penis into the cleft of his ass.

"You're gonna kill me, Chief, you know that of course."

"Nah, just a little quickie to get really relaxed really fast..." the smile in Blair's voice was palpable when he turned in Jim's embrace and lowered his and his lovers underwear. Jim found lush lips and ravaged the willing mouth till both men were panting. Lack of oxygen only increased the pleasure of their hot cocks gliding against each other. Blair's fingers found Jim's erect dick and for a moment he marvelled at how different the large organ was compared to his own. But when his fingers cupped the crown and teased the heartshaped head he was rewarded with a deep growl, while the penis lost its first drops of precum.

"Touch me Jim, need you" he murmurred while concentrating on his task to drive his large lover crazy. The Sentinel needed no further prompting: elegant fingers fisted the young man's cut cock and slowly pumped up and down. Blair shuddered and hissed and thrust his hips into the motion, never stopping his own ministrations. Just moments before reaching climax, Jim let go of the leaking cock and held the student bodily down. "Jiiiiiim"

"What do you want?"

Breathing erratically, Blair had to concentrate really hard : "Your hand, anything, just ... let me come, please" reduced to shivers and moans Blair couldn't move, didn't want to move, wanted to cum but couldn't though he tried to trigger his orgasm with clenching his muscles. "Jim, PLEASE"

"I love you" a hard kiss on Blair's mouth almost brutal in its force, then Jim fisted the angry swollen erection again, milking it and drowning the bellow with yet another kiss while Blair spilled cum in hot jerks. Smiling he finally asked his slowly recovering Guide: "And what about me?"

Smokey-blue eyes looked sated up into the beloved, flushed face: "Whatever you want. What do you want, Jim?"

"Wanna touch you with my cock."

Blair parted his legs, waiting for Jim to move between his thighs, but the tall man just reclined close to and over him and, holding his erection in one hand, stroked Blair's belly with his cock, smearing cum into the curly bodyhair. Leaning over the student, he then rubbed the still sensitive nipples which were hard from the recent orgasm, leaving glistening drops of precum on them.

"Gawd, that's .. incredible. You're mapping me with your dick." The large organ jerked. "Mmmmmhh, that's good. Jim, my face, touch my face with your cock." Again the hard rod shivered. Jim was panting heavily now and, crouching over his young lover, he brought his erection close to Blair's face, brushed it lightly over closed lips, then, holding the hard penis with only two shaking fingers, painted the whole face without actually touching the student's face, till Blair groaned and whispered: "Wanna feel that cock of yours on my lips again - gimme your cum, Jim, let me lick you!" And with triumph he knew that he had won, for Jim groaned as if he were in pain and bent the large erection till the fat crown poked at Blair's halfclosed lips and he shoved forward into Blair's mouth and it felt like heaven and paradise was right here in this bed with his eagerly sucking lover who reached up and squeezed his clenching ass-cheeks and made obscene slurping noises while taking another inch of cock into his hot wet mouth. One more thrust and Jim felt his balls draw up and he couldn't move any more even if his life depended on it, but Blair knew that, too, and squeezed and sucked and then the Sentinel's world exploded in colors and blackness and noise and silence and sweetness and salt and all he heard and tasted and smelled was his own cock and the wet hot mouth that sucked him dry.

He collapsed on top of his Guide, never knowing how close he came to be bitten in his most private part, currently deflating rapidly. He felt his cock slip out of the wonderful hot wet cavern and heard his Guide gasp for air and sat up again. "Sorry, Blair, didn't wanna suffocate you!"

"Hey, I find I love being strangled by cock. That was amazing - I've never felt anything the likes...."

"Well, you've never been with a man before..."

"I didn't mean that, stupid. Truly amazing - I never came that hard before - with a handjob!" Jim actually blushed.

"Mmmh, Blair; tell you something; You stay here, I'll get some washcloth to clean us up a bit."

"Great Tough Guy." But when Jim got back upstairs Blair was already fast asleep and never woke during the bed bath Jim gave him.

They had about three days of an impromptu honeymoon where they made love when they came home from the precinct, because they were starved for each other after a long day with only small touches and stolen glances. And in the morning, when they woke at the break of day, they made love again - and Jim didn't even have to set the alarm, because a few hours of sleep made him long for his Guide; and when - on hte second day - he would have slept in, it was Blair whose desire made him tease his Sentinel until they finally kissed and panted and shivered and came again. When night sheltered them Jim took the sweet ass of his young lover, marking Blair, claiming him gently. The mornings were for quickies, fingers learning each other's pleasure points till they spilled themselves accompanied with harsh gasps.

During the days Sandburg, never good at hiding his feelings and even more so an open book to a bunch of curious police-detectives, ran around with an almost dopey grin on his face, yawning from time to time and - from the second day on - no longer bursting with energy but glowing from within. Ellison, far more used in hiding his feelings, did manage to cover his own grin that popped into his face as soon as he looked at Blair, but was practically purring every time anyone talked to him, not even bitching about paperwork because that way Blair was able to sit close to him, sharing one computer. And from his observation-point in his office Simon sighed and ws not quite sure if he should be happy or angry at the display of unabashed happiness right in front of his eyes.

On the third day it was Brown who got suspicious: "Hairboy, the new woman in your life so demanding? You can't hold your eyes open and your damn grin reminds the rest of us that it's time to get laid again!" The whole bullpen laughed goodnaturedly and Sandburg had the grace to blush.

"Well, I didn't get too much sleep lately, what with the University and..."

"Oh yeah, the University of Susan or is it Grace or what..."

Blair started to squirm and Ellison started to frown.

"C'mon, hairboy, spill!"

The student sighed, then looked up and suddenly seemed more mature than he had in ages: "I was never one to kiss and tell, and now that I've finally found someone special I won't start on it."

"Oh, already picking out china? Ellison, hairboy's going to be out of your hair in no time..."

"Brown, don't you have something to do? Let go of this" Ellison sounded pissed and his colleagues who had noticed the change of mood ducked their heads and were eternally grateful when Captain Banks' voice boomed through the closed glass doors: "Ellison, Sandburg, in here!"

The tall african-american man sat at his desk, putting the receiver of his phone back onto the cradle after pushing the loud-speaker-button. Absentmindedly he motioned them to sit down:

"They are here now, Sil. Start over please."

The familiar but slightly distorted voice of Captain Silvero came through the speaker and Jim leaned closer. When he concentrated he could hear the elevated heartbeat of the man on the phone somewhere in Peru. "Good evening, Jim. Mister Sandburg. I am afraid I have bad news." Grief, Jim thought. That voice transported grief, and the feeling of failure, as Silvero continued:

"Three days ago my brother's oldest son disappeared from home. It had happened before, the boy was into drugs and in and out of a clinic for months now so nobody was really worried. This morning we found Jorge. He had been ... " the voice faltered then gathered strength again " he had been raped and then his throat had been cut. He bled to death. Next to him we found a picture of a young man at a place that looks like a campus of an american University. I recognised you, Mr Sandburg - although there was a red target-marking that blurred your face. I am sorry to be so blunt, but the writing on the bottom of the picture says "usted es siguiente" which means you are next. We found fingerprints, so we know that Raoul Gomes was the killer. We were not able to connect him with a flight out of south america so far, but, Jim, you know men like Gomes: He is coming to Cascade again. You have to take care! He is mad. He did not even try to cover his traces."

There was dead silence in the office. Ellison sat there, a white line circling his tight lips, the telltale muscle in his cheek jumping and even Blair would have been able to hear his teeth grind if he weren't trying hard to just keep breathing steadily to hold back on throwing up. Banks was the first to speak again:

"Sil, I'm very sorry about that. And give my condolences to your brother and his wife. I won't say that I understand what they are going through right now, but I can imagine how I would feel if anything would happen to Daryl. Thank you for the warning, we'll take precautions..."

Ellison cut in: "Sil, if you need anything, just ask. I'll do whatever I can. I owe you big time, you know that."

"Just get Gomes and don't wait for justice this time - because the moment you wait, he shall win again, one way or the other."

"You're right Sil, though we all pretend that we haven't heard a thing of what you just said. I'm sorry for your loss and so is Blair. As soon as this is over, we'll come for a visit. Everything will be OK."

"I believe you. Jim, Simon, I have to go now. My sister in law needs me. Good bye..." the connection broke and for long seconds the three men stared at the phone and heard the beeping of an empty line. Then Simon said: "I want full protection for you, Sandburg. When I spot you without kevlar, I'll personally throw you into one of our holding cells - which is maybe not a bad idea in the first place." But he didn't smile at the attempt of a joke and neither did Jim or Blair.

So they bunked at the loft again, Jim not sleeping at all, constantly monitoring their neighbourhood, just like he did at a stakeout only that it was Blair's life that was at stake this time - again. They had two patrolcars driving by every fifteen minutes and their phone had been rigged. Blair was pacing through the living-room, avoiding to sit down and actually do some work but worrying himself to his limits. Finally, just to calm his lover, Jim ordered the nervous student to cook - they had to eat and takeout was out of the question - who knew who would turn up at the door. When a delicious dinner made of surprisingly common ingredients was on the table, they ate and then snuggled together on the couch. Both men happy to be close to the other, none of them wanting more than a small caress or a light kiss. And Blair was almost able to forget that every once in a while Jim would pause and concentrate hard.

When the phone rang Blair sat up from where he had been leaning against Jim's chest and Ellison heard the beloved heartbeat speed up, although his lover stayed outwardly calm. His replys to the call were short, cut and deeply worried.

"I'll wait for H Brown. He'll be here in a few minutes. I'm sorry Blair, I have to leave."

"You have to WHAT? Are you nuts? You are as much of a target as I am! You can't go out like nothing had happened!"

"Blair, there has been another killing - Another gay hustler has been stabbed. Simon wants me to go over the evidence. You'll stay here, and I want you to wear kevlar. I swear, I'll take care - OK?"

"But this is not necessary. I mean, there's a whole departement, that could 'go over the evidence'. What did they do before they had a Sentinel. Hell, you shouldn't have told Simon - he was so reluctant to believe you anyway."

"Blair, Blair - stop it.- It's my job, remember?"

"Yeah, - yes, Jim, sorry - it's just that I'm frightened. By the thought that a killer's out there in the streets who's after me, by the fact, that I can't even go for a walk and by the sad occurence that I even snap at you - and you're my Blessed Protector. Fuck, I hate that."

"Yeah, well, not now, Sandburg - C'mon, wear that vest and I'll put on mine."

Shrugging into the stiff garment, Blair managed a crooked grin: "Man, you are a piece of work. I bare my soul and the one word you hear is..."

"What can I say, Sandburg, I only hear what I want to hear. - H. is coming already. Don't bug him too much. I'll be back in an hour or so."

"I'll behave, Jim. But I'll worry 'bout you."

While fixing the vest's velcro clips Ellison grabbed his Guide and kissed the smaller man hard on the mouth.- Then he opened the door. "Thank you for watching out for Blair. I'll try to be back soon. This time it's been quite close. And as soon as I'm back, we go into hiding again."

"That's fine with me, Ellison. Hurry, Captain Banks is already waiting."

Ellison took the stairs - the elevator had been taken down again during his brief exchange with H. It was a surprisingly warm evening so he opened the side window of his truck to cool down while driving to investigate yet another brutal slaughter. He hadn't told Blair the details of this murder. This time the killer had not been satisfied with just ending the life of the hustler - he had mutilated the body; and from the way the wounds had been bleeding the victim had still been alive while he had been tortured. No need for Blair to know that right now.

Jim stopped at a red light. The evening was quiet - and he was still fairly near to his home. If he concentrated he should be able to hear Blair talking - if he was talking. Yes, something about food - ah, Blair invited Brown to dinner and H was eager to accept. - No surprise there: Joel Taggart had praised Sandburg's chili for days. Jim smiled. The red light turned to green, he saw the surprisingly blue eyes of a black jaguar looking at him, but before he could concentrate on something else than Blair a shadow fell over him and a startling sharp pain broke his concentration, leaving him disoriented and dizzy and without a chance to move in the small confines of his truck's driver's cab. The sizzling heat of crippling, searing PAIN ricochetted from his neck to his spine, almost immobilizing his limbs, pressing tears out of his eyes. Then he heard the crackling of a taser and knew that this was not the end and he crumpled as another wave of stabbing pain forced the air out of his lungs and squeezed his heart. His vague chance to react was long gone. He didn't even raise a finger when a sharp needle was forced into his neck, with perverted precision finding the sore spot where the taser had burnt him.

Before his vision swam into blackness, he saw the streetlight turn red again and briefly wondered if anyone had seen anything. *At least it's me and not Blair - he's save* everything went dark.

The man wearing this expensive coat turned to the driver who had stopped his car behind the truck and smiled reassuringly: "I'll take him to the hospital. Do not worry. My friend has this attacks from time to time. I know what to do." And with that he opened the door to the truck, shoved an almost unconscious Ellison over and mounted the driver's seat. The truck moved on when the streetlight turned green again.

In the loft Blair watched - amazed - Brown erasing dinner with vigor. He was kind of relieved that he felt better now. A few minutes ago he had feared that, on top of everything else, he'd have a heartattack. A pain like a big fist had clutched his chest and made it nearly impossible to breathe; when H had worriedly looked at him the pain had slowly receeded and was totally gone now. Talk about psychosomatic sicknesses. Blair heard a low growl coming from the direction of his former room they hadn't turned into a mere office yet and his eyes widened in shock. While Brown was still digging into his food, behind the cop's back a large german shepard - no, a wolf was standing, motionless, stunning blue eyes staring at Sandburg. Then the animal turned to the small spare room only to look back as if he waited for Blair to follow.

Blair jerked back into reality. Obviously H had asked for seconds three times already. Absentmindedly the student complied. The wolf seemed to get restless, huffing loudly now, but Brown didn't react to the hoarse bellows. *Something's very wrong. O. My. God.* Suddenly Blair was more frightened than ever. With all of his willpower he suppressed the shivers that made his hands almost useless.

"Uhm, H? You don't mind, if I go to my room and lie down a bit - I guess I'm more tired than I thought."

"Oh, yeah, I mean, no, go on. You look like hell warmed over. Just - you know, don't run away like you did with Captain Taggart. Remember, this time it's you who's in danger, not Ellison."

"I know, Henri; And I couldn't escape. Jim blocked the fire-exit, so that noone can come in - which means, I can't get out, too. Hope noone sets fire on the house just right now. I'll try to meditate. Hope you don't mind some music."

"No, go on - that girl of yours seems to wear you out."

"Yeah, well, you could say so." And with that Sandburg was inside his room, closing the pretty doors, turning on his stereo. The wolf was halfway out the closed - and locked - fire-exit and turned to look at the student again. So when the rhythmic beats of some obscure new age band that used didgeridoos as a baseline filled the small room, Sandburg took one of the small wooden figurines he kept in his bookshelf and patiently but determinedly started to unscrew too many screws.

Half an hour later he was bathed in sweat, his fingers hurt, his shoulders were knotted and the feeling of dread was almost overwhelming. And he was working on the last of that darn screws while the wolf was sitting in front of the fire-exit, solemnly watching him. "Yeah, just keep watching me" a very frustrated Sandburg mumbled in the general direction of the animal. "I'm talking to a hallucination and try to escape from the one safe-place where Jim wants me to stay." But at the mention of Jim's name another jolt of foreboding made him concentrate real hard on the task at hand. Because suddenly he had the unnerving feeling that Jim was going to need him big time.

Finally the door opened enough to let the small man sneak out of the room and with a last look back - *no, don't think it that way* - he climbed down the clanking ladder and sent a prayer to whomever might listen when he tried to start the corvair. The machine purred at the first try. *Thank god*.

The wolf was already some blocks ahead. *Oh, hell, wer're incompatible - Jim's a cat and I'm a dog* the crazy thought crossed Blair's mind while he drove to the outskirts of the town and he started to laugh at the image it brought. Then he realized he was going into hysterics if he didn't watch out. Gripping the steering wheel hard, he concentrated on the dark street, the streetlights, other cars, pedestrians and the grey animal, that, with easy powerful strides, ran in front of him, always faster than his car, never fast enough to disappear out of sight.

A phone rang - and Sandburg janked the cell out of his jacket. "Sandburg, where the hell are you or Ellison? I've been waiting for hours. Are you nuts?"

"Captain Banks - whaddaya mean. Jim should be with you!!"

"Well, he isn't - getting fucking irresponsible all of a sudden. So - answer my question, Sandburg. Where are you?"

"On my way to help Jim, ... I guess. He never was irresponsible nor ever will be. What makes you think he is now? The fact that we..." The wolf took a sharp turn to the right and the corvair swerved to follow "Listen, I gotta drive. I'll keep in touch - and - I'm wearing kevlar, Simon."

Jim felt the earth move, jostle him around and his body bumped into smooth surfaces. He couldn't quite open his eyes yet but he knew with clear certainty that he had been drugged and was still swimming just beyond the surface of consciousness. A car - no, his car. They were driving in his car. Finally a small advantage - his strange reactions to medical treatment for once working for him, not against. Too deep under still to be able to put up a fight Ellison nevertheless tried to figure out where they were headed, who his abductor was, anything, without having to open his eyes or in any other way reveal that he wasn't as drugged as suspected. His concentration kept floating, unfortunately. Blackness kept creeping onto him again and he fought to stay barely conscious without giving himself away by focussing on the senses he could use.

Sight was out - he wouldn't open his eyes until it was really necessary. Touch too. He let his whole body bang against the door of his truck every time the vehicle bumped on the rough road - they had to be out of town. How long had he been totally out? Taste - his mouth felt like cotton and there was a faint metallic taste that told him that his abductor had used one of the newly designed anesthetics he had heard of during his last stay at the hospital. Smell - he noticed one unknown smell overlaying his own body-odor and the faint traces of Blair's scent that still hung in the air. He used this familiar and calming Sandburg-scent - like herbs and sweetness and love and home and wholeness - to root him and narrow the possibility of both a zone out and drifting into unconsciousness again. He concentrated on hearing next - it was unusually quiet outside of the car. There didn't seem many more vehicles on the road so they were no longer in town. By now Simon would have noticed that he wasn't coming - hopefully.

He knew his thoughts were straying but he couldn't help it. What if Simon didn't trust him any more? What if his Captain would not get suspicious if he didn't show up at the crime-scene? Who would tell Blair? What would happen to his Guide when there was no Sentinel...? So unfair - now, that we finally found each other....

The truck swerved again and Jim crashed into the door again. The street got worse and despite his closed eyes the Sentinel got the impression of growing darkness. No, not slipping again, please, gotta stay coherent... But he wasn't blanking out again. He felt more than he sensed that the truck was on a small road that seemed to lead into a forest. The rustling of leaves. He had been right. They seemed to be close to their destination. For the heartbeat of the man driving Jim's truck started to speed up in expectation.

Sandburg's eyes had trouble adapting to the darkness: He seemed to have been driving for hours - and was on the road for about forty minutes right now - and had left the lights of Cascade far behind. The wolf did not show signs of exhaustion which somehow convinced the student that he was doing the right thing - no animal could run at this pace for this long. No animal could run at this pace, period. And maybe, just maybe, he didn't make a total ass of himself by following an apparition, face it, Blair, your spirit guide, better get used to the thought soon, out of town into the woods. Suddenly the wolf stopped and looked back at the car. Blair hit the brakes and stopped just in time to see the narrow bumpy road that branched off into the woods a withered makeshift streetsign pointing to "arrow's head". Sandburg cringed and patted his car's dashboard encouragingly. *You'll make it, don't worry...* With the lights high on he turned his car and started into the woods, the wolf a steady presence, running and leading the way. Then the large animal stopped, turned and huffed. Blar stopped and sighed. What now? The wolf took a few steps deeper into the woods, then stopped, turned and huffed.

"Alright - I wanna follow you, lead on." But the wolf just stood there, huffing. Blair turned off the engine, that died with a small bellow and tried to adjust to complete and utter darkness, as his lights went out, too. The wolf almost radiated with a soft grey light - or was this just the moonlight reflecting? - which moonlight? there were dark clouds high in the sky obscuring whatever light might have been there - and turned to run again - okay, point taken.

Sandburg sighed, started the car, drove it off the street and parked it, carefully turning it to make an easy escape and grabbed his cellphone. Minutes later he followed the still softly glowing wolf into the night, trying not to fall and get hurt and think about all the dangers a quiet night in the wilds could hold in store for him.

Forest

The truck had stopped. The man who had abducted him got out of the vehicle, and Ellison could hear him move around the front of his truck, finally stopping and yanking the passenger-sided door open. Warned by Sentinel-hearing what would happen, Ellison was quite prepared and let himself slip out of the seat. Before he hit the ground, though, he was caught and dragged a few meters. He could smell fresh air, trees, bushes and the different scent of dead wood, old smoke, remnants of various foods and human waste. There had to be some kind of house. Then Jim was unceremoniously lowered and he heard the scratching of a key and a lock, then the soft whooshing sound of a door opened and smelled and felt stale air expel and wash over him. Very carefully he risked a glance under more than halfclosed eyes: His senses hadn't betrayed him *thanks for all the annoying tests, Blair*. A small hut in the middle of a clearing in the woods - but at the end of a street or his truck, though a four-wheel but not that sturdy in built, wouldn't have made it.

His abductor came back from inside the house. Gomes, of course, and from his hands dangled handcuffs, clinking with every step the druglord took. Jim tried to get up, but his body could not cooperate in time. He was rolled to his stomach and and had his hands cuffed at his back before he could react. Then Gomes dragged him inside the house and left him lying on the grimy dusty floor while he puttered around to get some gaslight on. Soon a small fire was burning in the primitive hearth to warm some water and a high-tech scanner crackled into life, tinny voices announcing small or big desasters a special background music. *At least he doesn't seem to know Major Crime's channel* Jim couldn't quite capture his fleeting thought but idly listened to some traffic announcements and burglar-warnings. His limbs got heavier again and desperately he concentrated on not blacking out again. On his way back to the hearth Gomes casually kicked Jim hard, leaving a bruise on Ellison's chest but the tall man lying crumpled and cuffed on the floor didn't move, didn't make a sound.

During the next twenty minutes, whenever Gomes moved around in the small hut, he kicked at the seemingly unconscious man lying on the floor not waiting for a reaction, not surprised when none came. Breathing came harder for Ellison. But the pain of the bruises helped him to stay awake and slowly he gained more control over his body, finally being able to block one of the blows with a subtle shift of his torso and by contracting powerful muscles to protect his ribcage.

"Ah, moving already?" another hard blow and this time Ellison did nothing to protect himself, being not ready for defending himself properly.

"Or not. Well, soon enough I'll be able to slice you to pieces. And then I'll go get this longhaired student you seem to know so well."

Blair followed the wolf trotting in front of him, still somehow lighting the path with an irridescent shimmer that made his fur glow softly. *Don't go there, Blair*. Without even so much as a stumble he made it through the thick forest with almost no light - except the wolf-lantern of course *Don't go there, Blair* - and hesitated when he reached a clearing. Just when he wanted to step forward to check out the hut - and the friendly gaslight inside - he saw Jim's truck and ducked behind a tree with exaggerated care. "Damn, that's so like a ghoststory!" *Don't go there, Blair*

Simon! Busily he grabbed his cellphone, hit the speed-dial and waited till moments later Simon's booming voice cut through the silence. Fighting the urge to whisper, - the hut being too far away for anyone to hear them talk - he nevertheless spoke lowly and sheltered the receiver with his second hand.

"Simon?! I think I've found Jim!"

"Sandburg, where are you, damn it? Brown's going to pay for letting you escape, you know that, of course. So does it feel to wreck another career?"

"I don't wreck noone's career. Captain Banks, please listen: I think Jim's been abducted. I'm in the middle of the woods, followed the narrow road to a place called "arrow's head" - or at least that's what the sign says."

"Sandburg, Sandburg - calm down. And speak up, I can't hardly hear you! Why do you think Jim's been abducted?"

"He didn't show up at the crime-scene and there is Jim-nobody-gets-to-drive-my-car-Ellison's truck here with both doors open - and Jim never leaves the door open. And there's this cabin and someone's in there and if Jim would be in there of his own free will, he would be outside by now, and talking to you - he's a Sentinel, for Christ's sake, he should hear me on the phone with you. Hell, he probably could hear you on the other side of the line, too."

"Right - I guess. Okay Sandburg - I'll send backup. Don't do anything to endanger yourself or Jim. Just wait - we'll all be there in about - well, soon. Hide, Sandburg!"

"I hear you, Simon."

He disconnected the line and shut the phone off. He didn't need the damn thing ringing, when he was trying to get closer to the cabin to take a peek inside.

'Simon!? I think I've found Jim!' Oh Fuck, why did you have to do this. Up till now it was him and me - now this... But the familiar voice that only Jim could hear gave him the strength to concentrate even more, to fight the drug on more than just a mental level. He could feel his nerve-endings respond to his fierce commands and he realized that his muscles started to react almost normal again - with spasms and shivers to ease the cramps that came with lying on the floor with his hands cuffed at the back.

*Now I've just to somehow get up, get rid of Gomes and get out and - who am I kidding...*

Sandburg had crouched closer, grateful for once for Cascade's bad weather - a slight rain had started, blotting out lights even more, thus making it easier for the student to take a look through one of the windows: Jim, down on the floor, cuffed, and Gomes at the hearth stirring something in a pot and a table on one of the walls of the hut with a with a really large selection of knives, starting with small blades and surgical instruments to some butcher's knives that could almost be used as a machete. They were assorted according to their size and the almost scientific care with which they had been placed on the table chilled Sandburg to the bones.

The student looked around - there had to be a way out - somehow they had to be able to escape. Gomes turned from the hearth and Sandburg merged himself with the wall of the cabin. He saw the killer walk to a cupboard to fetch something there and he saw him place another brutal kick to Jim's ribs on his way back to his cooking-project. Blair cringed. While Gomes concentrated on the contents of the pot again, the Guide saw cuffed fingers clench and unclench - the only indication that Jim was alive and actually feeling every blow.

"Okay, tough guy; I'll pull a McGyver - somehow..." Blair watched out for his wolf, but the animal had decided to vanish.

*Where's a lantern when you need one?* The drizzle morphed into something heavier now and Blair cautiously crept into Jim's truck - the only thing he could see in the pitchdark rain was the tow rope, used more than once to get his own car into safety again, so he grabbed it and ran off back into the woods.

A few minutes and two hard blows later Gomes heard it: soft rustling, followed by a cracking, crushing sound that was almost deafening over the rumble of rain pelting down. He muttered something, then cast a look at the still corpse on the floor. Another vicious blow, this time against the recently injured shoulder, but - with every thread of willpower he could muster - Jim kept unmoving, while Gomes readied a gun and stepped into the night. When Jim opened his eyes he could see the stream of light from a flashlight cut through the dark. He started to struggle against his cuffs, turning them to twist the chain while sitting up - gawd, that hurt - he almost doubled over, but he also knew that he had less than no time at all to get rid of his bonds. The chain started to give in - but so did his flesh - warmth streamed over his abused wrists - he had to get out till Sandburg came back - couldn't let his Guide get in danger again.

Too late: Sandburg was sneaking inside the hut, deliberately staying out of sight from outside, crouching at Jim's side - "It's OK, tough Guy. Can you hear me? He drugged you, didn't he? Cuffs off - oh boy what did you do to yourself. Wait, let me help!"

Urgently whispering Blair babbled on, nervous, frightened but determined to safe his Sentinel.

"Keep still, Jim, I take the Swiss army knife - there's this toothpick attached and in no time ... you don't hear him come back? you're so quiet Jim, talk to me!"

"I can't - you're doing all the talking." his voice still rusty from the drugs. Carefully pronouncing, he continued: "No, he's still out there - what the hell did you do? You should be home with Brown, safe!"

"uhm, and you should be with Simon - I was dragged out here, a wolf lead me to you!"

"A wolf? Heaven help." The lock clicked open and Jim inspected his arms - no permanent damage, just crampy. Then he took the first real look at his Guide: Wet hair, more springy than usual, blue lips from the cold, soaked and only one shoe. "Sandburg, what have you done?"

The student scrambled up from his position on the floor and dragged Ellison with him. The Sentinel leaned into the younger man to keep from staggering, took a deep breath at the sight of the collection of knives and weighed the largest blade in his hands. When Sandburg started to explain, Jim stopped him immediately, then janked him out of the cabin, almost pushing him into the sheltering forest.

A little breathless Blair summarized, nevertheless: "I rigged a small tree, and left a shoe pointing to my car - as if it hadn't started - and with your tow rope I cracked the tree and made it sound as if I was there but I already was here and he ran to the sound and I ..."

"I get the picture, Chief. Did you call Simon?"

"Course! Now we'll have just to stay alive till reinforcements come!" and with chattering teeth he whispered: "Talk about history repeats itself!"

Gomes stomped into the clearing, tore into the cabin and roared in fury. "You can't escape, Sandburg. Ellison is too weak to be of any use and your car is dead. Come out of your hiding and I'll make your death a fast one. Make me go after you and you'll live long enough to regret every minute."

Cautiously Jim tugged at Blair's arm, leading the young man deeper inside the forest. "Right now he doesn't know where we are, so let's try to keep it that...."

A shot rang and a bullet wheezed past them, too close for comfort and even Ellison was startled. Then he took the time to turn around and focus his Sentinel-sight on the killer. Gomes stood in the clearing, almost invisible in the rain, night-vision fixed on his nose and a small device pointing directly at his victims in his hand.

"Shit, he's got a heat detector!"

"I thought that was X-Files-props! What now?"

"Now we run!"

They took off deeper into the woods and although Blair had only one shoe left, he kept Ellison's pace - thank god for running barefoot on many an expedition - Jim always a halfstep in front, Sandburg holding onto the Sentinel by grabbing Ellison's belt. After some time Sandburg realized it: The Sentinel was hunting. Without prompting the tall man monitored Gomes' progress, always keeping the largest trees between themselves and the heat detector. Running a wide circle they tried to get back to the road where Banks should be showing up soon.

"Jim?" The small voice sounded apologetic and desperate at the same time. "I'm afraid, I can't go on any further - I think I stepped on something."

'Something' turned out to be a large thorn that had buried itself inches deep into the ball of the unprotected foot. Jim hoisted Blair onto his good shoulder and looked around: "Over there Chief - there's a cave - should be large enough. You'll stay there, I'll take out Gomes."

While he ran, Blair bounced on the heavily muscled shoulder and muttered unhappily: "Talk about history repeats itself..."

The cave indeed was very wide and leading deep into the heart of a small hill - Blair should be safe and dry - "Stay here, Chief, I'll not be far - the nutcase won't come near you. Just one thing." If it hadn't been so dark, Blair would have been able to see what he felt: His Sentinel, furiously blushing.

"Keep talking to me, Chief. I know it's weard, but the rain's almost like a white noise generator and I need to stay focussed."

"How...?" "Your touch, love. You held onto my belt and that..."

And so Sandburg kept talking - a steady stream of tales of past bad-weather-projects he had suffered through, - while Ellison stepped out into the rain again, on the hunt for the most vicious animal of all: A human being.

Blair jerked at a loud clap - but it was only thunder and he reminded Jim to filter out the rain-noises so that he would not be startled any more. At the next sharp clap Sandburg felt bile rising in his throat - that had been a gunshot - "I'm sure you're safe, Ellison, you wouldn't dare to sneak out of my life again. Please try to get that madman before he shoots again - and then come back fast, cause I'm terrified here."

A silhouette stood in the entrance of the cave but Sandburg knew it couldn't be Jim. He wanted to keep quiet, to slip further into the back of the cavern, but he knew that he had to keep talking or his Sentinel would zone out and Gomes would win again. Whispering under his breath he muttered: "He's in here now, don't know if he can hear me or see me - with his x-files-shit."

"I detect you - is it you, Sandburg? "

Hushed but determined Blair continued: "Well, that answers that question...!"

And then all hell broke loose when Gomes, at the end of his patience started to shoot without aim. Three sharp bursts followed by angry whistles and the highpitched wheeze of ricochetting bullets took Blair's breath away and he hunched into a niche too small to cover a bat let alone a grown man. The stench of sulfur and smoke filled the cave as Gomes took another step deeper into the cavern.

A growl echoed through the forest. A lightningfast shadow burst out between trees and leapt with elegant power towards the mad killer who had cornered Blair Sandburg. Gomes tried to shoot but the bullet disappeared harmlessly between the undergrowth. And then the shadow was barrelling into the gunman who kept kicking and fighting when going down, but the large Warrior had him pinned down in no time. Suddenly something flashed in the dark night and a triumphant cry rang. But again the Warrior was faster. Blocking the blow of the fist holding a scalpel, he used the force behind the blow to simply redirect the strike. The triumphant cry broke with a nasty gurgle. The killer jerked one last time. The Warrior got up and turned to look at the huddled man, crouching against a wall of the cave.

"You alright Chief? - I didn't mean to be late - it was just - the thunder got me distracted, my ears rang and it took me a while to concentrate on your voice again." The Warrior with Jim's voice and Jim's compassion and Jim's worry stepped closer. "And then you were merely whispering and I got terrified that I would be late again..."

And the Warrior turned into the gentle Lover in a heartbeat when he bent down to help his Guide stand up. "C'mon, talk to me, Blair!"

"I'm alright, I'm alright - but my ears ring, too. Guess I can emphasize now how you felt - man, those bullets in this small cavern - sensurround my ass. Let's get outta here, man - Gomes - he's...?"

"Somehow he killed himself - tried to stab me but hit himself."

"Well I won't cry a tear over him. And I guess, Lieutenant Silvero's going to be appreciative, too."

"Sandburg, you're a hardass!"

"You should know, Ellison, you should know!"

"Tight, not hard, Sandburg.."

"Oh, just shut up and help me walk."

They made it back to the cabin, where Ellison extracted the thorn - "Hey, Patroclus, that HURTS!" "Sandburg, I hate to break it to you, but even with that mane of yours you're not a lion!" - cleaned the deep wound and bandaged it with supplies from his truck. They phoned for Simon just moments before Jim actually could hear their backup arrive. The rain not actually helping the enthusiasm of the investigating police-men the case was wrapped up fast. Bright portable headlights illuminated the cavern, the dead body of Raoul Gomes and the bullets that had been fired. They found Ellison's gun - Gomes had it stuffed in his pants in the small of his back.

Finally Ellison very reluctantly handed the repossessed keys of his truck Simon - and the african-american man drove them back into town - to the hospital, again, to gather a blood-sample from a very weary Sentinel who had dark rings beneath his eyes and hands that only kept from shaking when he sat on them.

"So Detective: Care to tell me, what happened before you presented us with another dead body?"

"I was on my way to you, when I was abducted. It was my own fault, sir. I was still close to the loft and didn't think there would be danger. So I listened to something else and therefore didn't hear him sneaking onto me."

"Sandburg? How come you go chasing Jim?" and then he blushed a little but thankfully his dark skin protected him from further embarrassement.

"You won't believe it, Simon. A wolf told me where I would find Jim. He lead the way."

"Okay, you don't have to tell me - just do me one favor: Make the story believable, when you write your statement! A wolf! This is the police-force, not fairy-tale-hour..."

Grumbling the tall Captain brought them to the emergency room, where they were almost greeted like friends and - after a two-hour-wait - sent home with the good advice to not touch the foot and not drink alcohol nor drive a car.

Loft

Still grumbling but obviously relieved Banks brought them home and called a cab for himself. While waiting he took in the domestic peace that suddenly seemed to dominate the loft. Blair was carefully balancing onefooted in the kitchen, making some tea, while Jim filled the big bath-tub with hot water. There was nice music playing, harps and flutes and a good rhythm, and a scented candle had been lit. Then Jim emerged in a cloud of steam and ushered Blair into the bathroom "Got to warm up, Chief, you're frozen!"

Then he joined Banks who was sitting in the living room, absentmindedly staring into the flame of the candle. "It's for meditation-purposes. I find it easier to focus with one single light on," Jim volonteered, and Simon looked around.

"You know, Jim, I can't remember a time with Caroline that was so ... content. I mean, not even in the beginning; and I knew when you two got together... "

"Yeah, I guess, I have a home now, Simon. And I like it. Very much. Oh, and off the records: If Blair says there was a wolf, then there was." Banks' eyes seemed to pop out of his face.

"You don't believe that new-age-shit all of a sudden, do you?"

The Sentinel laughed, a cheerful, friendly laugh that came from knowledge: "Simon, that has nothing to do with new-age. In fact it's ancient - the embodiement of a spiritual power that is guiding us."

"I thought Blair is your Guide. And what do you mean, ...us?"

"Sandburg's my human Guide. But like every person who cares to find out, both of us have a spiritual force that offers guidance, too. Mine's a jaguar, black. Wonder, what's yours..."

The cab arrived and saved Banks from answering - which would have been difficult anyway, because his jaw seemed lifeless all of a sudden and slacked down.

"Tell Sandburg goodbye from me and, Jim, take care..."

"No problem, Simon, no problem at all."

Jim joined his lover in the bathroom, smiling at the sight of wet hair and one dirty leg hanging out of the tub to protect the wrapped foot and shed his damp and dirty clothes. Grabbing a washcloth he started to deftly clean Blair, flinching only a little when hot water and soap made contact with his bruised wrists.

"Simon was impressed by how you handled the case tonight, even if he didn't outright say so. And I am more than just proud. You were amazing today, Chief. I probably wouldn't have made it this time without your distraction. Pull a McGyver... I would have gotten into hysterics but I was to frightened for you to enjoy that line..."

"You're proud of me? Man, that's so cool. But you know, I was terrified. Nothing to be proud of there." The student sounded bereft, sad, contrite, as if he didn't deserve the praise.

"Chief, listen to me: I'd be afraid of a man who wouldn't admit that he is frightened sometimes. That'd be a sociopath. Everyone should feel fear - it's the way you overcome that fear that counts. You did great tonight. Best partner I've ever had."

"Yeah? Really? C'mon, help me get outta here; thanks. I'm glad you see it that way. Do you want me to help you with your shower?"

"Not this time; you hobble upstairs and get cosy. Would you like to take the candle with you? I'll join you in a few."

"Mmmmh, candle? I like that a looot." The student limped out of the steamy bathroom, waggling his ass a little less graceful as usual, leaving Jim to hot water and clean towels.

It took Jim a little longer than usual to finish the bathroom routine and climb the stairs to his bedroom after securing the loft - and his lover was getting worried; the bruises he had seen when Jim undressed had just started to color angrily. But then Jim padded upstairs, naked and sat down with a small sigh. The flame of the scented candle - sandalwood - a beacon in the otherwise dark room, Jim crawled under the covers and opened his arms to make room for Blair who tried to avoid each red or blue or black spot on the washboard stomach and the broad ribcage. Tentatively he settled for caressing the dark aureols of Jim's nipples while snuggling closer, grateful that this gorgeous body was alive and in bed with him.

"Blair, I won't break. Your touch can't hurt me, you know that, don't you?"

"I didn't know ... I mean, what if you're to exhausted or ... the drugs ... or..."

"Whatever it was he gave me wore off pretty fast - I can prove it - does this seem tired?" Jim gently grasped Blair's hand and brought it to his groin where his large, already heavy penis eagerly jumped and filled even more when Blair started to pump the organ slowly.

"Mmmmh, Jim - I love " a kiss interrupted an important but not vital sentence - and it wasn't that he hadn't said it yet, anyhow.

His own erection rubbed against Jim's thigh and he squirmed in pleasure. This was going to be sooo good.

"Blair, Blair? Listen to me; I' like to try something different tonight. You game?"

"Always" the young man was already panting, a soft sheen of sweat glistening in the candlelight.

"I want you in control tonight, Chief. You think you want to do that?" Jim's voice was thick with passion, an uncooperative tongue needing to lap, not to talk.

"Want me to ride your cock, tough guy - oooh, yeah, that'll be fun!"

"No, love; want you to ride me..."

O.My. "Oh. My. I mean, yes, yes, of course, yes..."

"Good; wanna take everything you can give me and more - I love you so much, Blair."

The student bent down and claimed the perfect lips of his lover, gently begging for entry, then thrusting deep, ravaging the mouth that opened to his onslaught. Blair's hands were everywhere at once, holding, petting, calming, rousing and the Sentinel tried to concentrate on each single touch but sank into the sensation of sizzling skin that sent wonderful information into his brain and into his hard cock. Every once in a while Blair's nimble fingers lingered on hardening nubs and Jim moaned into the mouth that still kissed him senseless, tasting his young lover, being tasted by him and his skin so sensitized that he could feel each touch even before it was executed.

Blair had not touched his cock again, but the large organ was achingly hard and leaking precum, small droplets of passion, the crystal clear love-tears smearing over Blair's belly. The younger man kissed a path down the bruised ribs of Jim, paying hommage not only to the gorgeous body but also to the soul of the Warrior and the gentle heart of the lover in his arms. When his lush lips finally closed around the hard, angry rod, Jim arched off the bed and bellowed. The sensation was too much for the Sentinel. Anticipation of the final step and the clever tongue of his young lover made waiting impossible.

"Blairrrrrr!" He spurted his completion deep into his lover's throat, almost zoning on the exquisitly erotic picture of Blair, sucking him off, giving him so much pleasure. He honestly didn't realize that one of Blair's lubed fingers was already moving deep inside his ass, soon joined by a second digit that started to stretch his opening, loose in postorgasmic bliss.

His softening penis slipped out of Blair's mouth, but the student continued to lap the flaccid organ clean, bestowing small kisses and broad swipes of his tongue to Jim's balls, paying special attention to the dividing line of the sac.

Jim grunted in pleasure. He wanted this tongue never to stop, tried to give it better access and spread his legs as far as possible in utter surrender.

Blair almost came on the spot. His fingers met no more resistance, so he added a third one, burying them to the hilt into the lubed little hole, scissoring them, till he realized that Jim did all the work here. His tall lover moved his hips gracefully, he pumped up and down and fucked himself on Blair's hand, his resting penis slowly waking up, the large vein on the underside pulsing. The student couldn't possibly resist. He dragged his soft, almost dry curls over the slowly filling organ, eliciting groan after groan from his pliant lover.

"You like the feel of my hair on your dick, don't you, Jim?"

With tightly closed lips Jim nodded - "Answer me, Jim! You like my hair?"

Another groan, then "So much; like a thousand caresses, tingles aaaaaaaaa all over. That's good, go on , that's so good"

"Maybe I'll let you fuck my hair sometime, hu? Would you like that too?"

"Oh, yeah, gawd, Blair, sooo hot!"

Jim was hard again and sweat and precum and remnants of semen left Blair's curls tangled and clingy.

"Jim, Please! Gotta have you - turn around to your side, please." Jim almost sobbed when his lover's fingers left him. Yet he obediently turned to his right side, one leg stretched, left leg bent for better access. He heard the frantic thudthud of Blair's heartbeat, the sharp arousal that blotted out the Sandalwood-scent of the candle filled his nose and Blair's soft lips felt like velvet when they nipped at his shoulders. But he shivered nevertheless when Blair positioned his thoroughly lubricated cock at the entrance to his body.

"At your pace, Jim. Whenever you're ready ..." Jim pushed back and Blair took it as the invitation it was and shoved. The cock gently but insistently slid a few inches into the hot hole and met the resistance of a strong and never before breached muscle. Jim waited for the inevitable pain to come, but Blair pulled out a bit and pushed back a bit and out again and in, always knocking against the portal that refused to open at first. The gentle rocking continued till Jim thought his whole ass was on fire, a pleasure almost too much to bear and he wanted more of this delicious fire, more of that heat and deeper yet and he sighed his need and utterly and completely relaxed. He caught Blair almost by surprise. The next gentle shove met no resistence at all and the hard length slid in to the hilt, a small tremor of that tight ass the only reaction.

"More, Sandburg, need it!"

So Blair snuggled closer, reached over to grab Jim's leaking cock and pumped in time with his mighty lounges that sent shivers of pure pleasure through his Sentinel.

"O, gawd, Blair, never knew it could be that way. Unnnhg, again, there again!"

Jim's movements grew frantic, jerky and Blair had to work to keep his rhythm. It seemed to last forever and he never wanted it to end but then Jim ruined it by starting to bellow and then by coming so hard, he almost dislocated Sandburg - almost. Because Blair rammed home into the spasming hole and hung on tight and howled and spurted his load again and again.

Minutes later the young man pulled out his still hard cock and got rid of the rubber. Then he slumped bonelessly against his lover's broad back - a lover who was too liquefied to move off the wet spot.

"That was like so ... "

"Yeah, it was, wasn't it?"

"You gonna want it again sometime?"

"I'm glad you said sometime, Chief. But oh, yeah, I want it again... soon. You wanna do it again?"

"Mmmhmmm.."

Jim finally turned. He gathered his sleeping Guide into his arms, close to his heart and covered them in blankets and a comforter. The feel of his Guide's body against his own his grounding he listened into the new morning that tried to conquer the rain that had lasted the whole night. The first rays of the morning sun brought wind, almost a storm that would blow away the clouds. It was going to be a nice day, cold, but sunny, crisp, and cleansed by the rain, like the promise of a new life.

The End

go to Part I