The Hired Man - gena fisher

"I hope to hear from you, Sir."

William Ellison quashed his smile only with great effort. The hulking ex-soldier had done everything but snap a salute and if the spasm in Gerald "G-Man" DeVier's right arm had been any indication, he'd almost done that. "I'll let you know my decision as soon as possible, Mr. DeVier," William offered. He did not stand, nor did he offer his hand. DeVier nodded, pivoted with crisp military precision and marched from the room as if it were the field of battle. Ellison sighed, slumped forward to rest his elbows on the massive oak desk, put his head in his hands and told himself he was fifty kinds of a fool. Why the hell was he putting himself through this? All these guys came from a cookie-cutter mold, military grunts with more balls than brains. He should just run his finger down the list, picking at random and let Jim crack heads with one of these muscle bound oafs.

If his son, James, wasn't such a stubborn fool he wouldn't be in the process of hiring him a bodyguard. But James J. Ellison was just as bullheaded as - as his father, William decided with a sigh and resigned himself to completing the task he'd set himself. "Any more candidates?" William asked over the intercom, praying there weren't and he could just choose. After a moment's hesitation, Barbara Hibler's voice broke the silence.

"Uh, yes, Mr. Ellison, one more."

"Send 'em in." William straightened his tie and his spine, determined to see the charade through to the bitter end. That resolute intention faltered when faced with the next applicant for the position of protecting his son from the world at large, the press in particular, and himself more than likely. Short, no more than five foot eight if the observer felt generous,- young, he had an air of enthusiasm few over thirty possessed, - and not a military man by any means if one took the long hair and double earrings as an indicator. No, this man did not fit the mold of "hired muscle".

"Mr. Ellison, I'm Blair Sandburg." William, blinked, somewhat taken aback by the uncomplicated grin which spread across the young man's face. "I take it I'm not what you were expecting."

Ellison, who had been thinking exactly that, reached for the file Sandburg carried. "I make no pre-judgments," he snapped, though he could tell his guest didn't believe it. "Have a seat." Sandburg, dropped a battered backpack at his feet, folded into the chair and waited. William, reading the information was soon distracted by his prospective employee; Sandburg fidgeted unceasingly, looking around, crossing his legs, tapping his feet, and creating an inordinate amount of noise for one young man. William's stern look stopped the jiggling but also gave him time to notice the jeans, frayed at the hem, the argyle socks peeking out over the tops of expensive hiking boots, the earrings in one ear and the beads he wore at neck and wrists. Ellison turned back to the printed report and would have goggled if he hadn't been one of the richest men in the Pacific Northwest. Sandburg's resume made George Plimpton look like a wallflower; he'd led an expedition into Peru, been captured by guerrillas, negotiated a peace treaty between the rebels and government, flown a supply helicopter in the Gulf War, worked in jobs as varied as truck driver to corporate trainer, done security work for several Hollywood types and he was just thirty one years old. Normally Ellison would have dismissed the resume as a work of fiction but Sandburg had included several references, people William knew well enough to call.

"Excuse me a moment, Mr. Sandburg," William said with cool politeness. "Miss Endicott, get me Cyrill Ashton, please." He leveled his best board room stare at the young man, the one which had been known to leave grown men stuttering with fear and little boys in tears. Sandburg, however, didn't even flinch. He sat patiently, his eyes flashing what looked like amused resignation as Ellison confirmed his claims. Sandburg's former clients and all gave resounding endorsements. "Well, Mr. Sandburg," William schooled his features, "is there a particular reason you'd like to work as my son's personal security officer?"

The grin, unrestrained and uncomplicated, beamed once again. "Mr. Ellison, as you can see by my file I'm damn good at protecting clients but I guess you've got a whole raft of people just as capable, maybe even taller," a flash of white teeth and he went on, "What you don't have is someone who knows what your son is going through. I'd like to help him with his senses, I understand exactly what's going on."

William surged to his feet, "you do?" To give him credit, Sandburg didn't even flinch, he rose as well, hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Yes, Sir, I do." He retrieved his own file, fished in it for a minute then handed over a set of papers. "This is an article I wrote several years ago when I was in Peru. The Chopec, a local tribe I'd been adopted by, told me legends of watchmen, guardians who protected their ancestors. When I had time I made a search through some of Sir Richard Burton's papers and found a bit more information."

"Burton's papers were destroyed, Mr. Sandburg," William said with a dismissive shake of his head, "everyone knows that."

"No, his wife destroyed most but not all his research. I read enough to lead me to this." Sandburg rummaged through his pack and brought out a leather bound journal. Across the front in bold black letters was the title THE SENTINELS OF PARAGUAY. Ellison stared at it, a frown gradually superseding the stunned look which had settled on his features.

"I don't understand -"

"Your son is a sentinel, Mr. Ellison," Blair insisted. "His abilities, his heightened senses are a result of genetics, a biological predisposition. I've read all the accounts and," he forestalled William's comment, forging ahead, "I have friends on all the major papers here in Cascade as well as Tacoma. I know the stories are true no matter how much you wish they weren't. You wouldn't be hiring someone like me if they weren't."

"I'm hiring someone like you to keep people just like you away from Jimmy!" William snapped. He snatched up a stack of papers, slapping the polished wood with them. "I haven't had a moment's peace since this shit hit the fan. Look at these letters, Sandburg." He sorted through them, picking at random, "this woman wants Jim to father her child, this man wants my son to locate the treasure on Oak Island for 30% of the gold. Here are pictures from some fruitcake wanting to sleep with Jim. And those are the harmless ones." He reached into a drawer and pulled out a thick sheaf of typed pages and shoved them at Blair. "Religious fanatics believe my son is the Anti-Christ and threaten to burn him alive. There are crackpots writing to tell me I should have Jim dissected for scientific study. This psycho sent dozens of letters begging Jim to spy on his girlfriend and see if she's faithful." Ellison wiped the whole mess off his desk. "He says if Jim doesn't help him, he'll cut off his ears and gouge out his eyes. These people are sick, sick and dangerous and I want my son protected! I'm a busy man and I don't have time for any of your hocus-pocus shit. Now, I believe this interview is over Mr. Sandburg."

"Mr. Ellison, I can help your son. Read my article," Blair insisted, and held the pages out once again. "Read it, then ask yourself who you would rather have near James - someone just there to protect him from nutcases. Or someone who can do that as well as help him control his gift." Sandburg's gaze did not waver, he held William's eyes with a power the older man could not match despite his wealth and influence. Ellison felt a shiver, not of fear, but of something he could only label awe, pass down his spine. The naked, raw power in Sandburg's eyes made it impossible to look away, seemed in fact, designed to draw him deeper. It was like standing on a cliff and looking over into some dark secret place, he felt dizzy and for just an instant his ears pounded with drumbeats and rang with the howl of a wolf. He felt a compulsion to believe this man, his very soul seemed to cry out in agreement with Sandburg and yet William Ellison, who's empire had been build on lightning action, hesitated.

To accept this young man's offer he would have to acknowledge the strange abilities Jim possessed. His eldest son was the legacy he'd planned to leave behind, a monument to his own skill and determination, but his edifice now rested on shaky ground. He wanted a son who commanded respect and loyalty not one at whom people stared and gossiped about. Thanks to his soon to be ex-daughter-in-law Jim's unique abilities were being splashed all over the papers and instead of respected his son was the butt of jokes. He'd done everything within his power to keep people from discovering what his son was, but it was too late now. William closed his eyes as the heaviness of guilt clamped around his heart. All those years spent driving the devil out of his eldest hadn't really worked, somehow he'd always known it wouldn't. Jimmy tried to hide it, but there had been times, times when the boy said or did something to betray himself and William turned a blind eye. It was his fault, he should have made certain that viperous quality disappeared but now, denied, it coiled around Jim, striking at odd times, overwhelming Jimmy with its sheer strength, and sending him closer and closer to the edge. William knew he had to do something because his son couldn't do it for himself. "I love my son," Ellison said as if the fact had been in doubt, "but this has been very hard on all of us."

He tried to keep the bitterness from his tone but one look at Sandburg's face told him he'd failed. Why did it have to be so complicated? Why couldn't Jimmy just be like everyone else? William avoided the younger man's gaze, scanning the sheets of paper in front of him. It looked as if Sandburg had spent years running down the most remote mention of sentinels; he listed half a dozen rare sources in the first footnote alone. A bubble of relief welled within William's heart, relieved not to find any reference to other Ellisons. Still, what the hell good was this? Why should he care that these other frea- sentinels had been guided from the moment their birth? What good were Jim's abilities if people laughed at him, if they thought he was some lunatic listening to voices inside his head? No, better to ignore it all and force it to go away - only it hadn't, not really, not anymore. William shook himself, forcing his mind away from the disaster of his daughter-in-law's disclosure.

"All he needs is information," Sandburg declared.

"What do you get out of this," William finally asked.

Sandburg met his gaze with a frankness which would have cost him millions in the world of high finance. "Redemption."

The black despair in that resonate voice sent a chill down William's spine. Whatever had brought Sandburg here obviously wasn't the money. William Ellison stared hard at the young man. If this kid could help Jim, there would be no stopping Ellison Enterprises. And if he couldn't.....He still had Stephen; his youngest son was just as smart and even more personable than Jim. It would be just like the old days, Jimmy and Stephen thrashing it out - let the better man win. William reached a decision "okay, do what you can." Shaking Sandburg's hand, he mentally calculated what it would take to cover up a failure.

##

"I don't need a keeper," Jim Ellison snapped. His disheveled state made a lie of his words; his elegant suit sported a torn sleeve, swollen knuckles shown above well manicured nails, and dark circles ringed his sky blue eyes - Ellison looked like a soldier on the losing side of the battle. "It's just those reporters, they're like a pack of hounds." He crossed to the window and stared down fifteen floors to the street. He barely noticed the vertigo shimmer as his eyesight sharpened and the ant-like figures so far below became recognizable faces.

"That's why I want someone with you," William explained, swiveling his leather chair to stare at his son's back. "Sandburg is - extraordinary. His credentials are impeccable and his references border on worship."

"Dad," Jim turned to face his father and the older man could see something flicker in his son's eyes. "I don't want some stranger shadowing me every second." William's heart lurched when he recognized panic as the elusive emotion within Jim's gaze. "You know I can't take that."

"Jimmy, I have a feeling about this guy." He rose and gripped his son's arm. "I think you're going......."

His words were cut off by a sharp rap on the door. It swung open a second later and Jim Ellison got his first look at his bodyguard. Impressions scuttled through his brain like a slide show on fast speed; dark hair curling wildly around a square face, a generous mouth split open in a friendly smile, and above those lips two fathomless blue eyes appraising him with calm assurance. The kid looked like a refugee from the sixties and Jim half expected to be flashed a peace sign as a greeting, but despite their differences, he could feel an attraction, immediate and compelling, spring up between them. It almost felt like something in his chest swayed forward, pressing against his ribs in an attempt to be nearer Sandburg. Ellison could tell that underneath the hippie camouflage Blair Sandburg was much more than he seemed. He didn't know if what he perceived came as a result of his whacked out senses, but Jim recognized an ancient wisdom within the big, deep blue gaze. Fear trickled into his belly like a cold drink on a hot day - he'd carried his secrets all his life and no one, not even a kid wily enough to fool William Ellison, was going to expose them. Rounding on his father with a recklessness he seldom showed, Jim's voice carried only contempt as he asked, "this is who you're paying to keep the vultures away - this - this child? You are kidding, right, pop?" He saw the annoyance darken his father's silver eyes and that little part of him still ten years old and afraid of what daddy would do to him when he got mad, cringed.

"Mr. Sandburg will begin today." The dismissal was unmistakable.

"Right." Shoving passed the silent young man, Jim stormed from his father's office. He'd been a fool to think his father trusted him, and the knowledge of that foolishness ignited a storm of anger so intense it sent his senses fleeing before it like terrified children. "What the...." Jim groaned throwing up an arm to shield his sensitive eyes. Light seared him, reflecting off the polished marble floors and smooth paneled walls as if they were mirrors. His pathetic attempt blocked nothing, florescent light hammered his retinas until everything shimmered like an open stretch of asphalt on a scorching summer's afternoon. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head to clear it but pain exploded through his skull in a white sheet. Light flared and dimmed in time to the bubbling and heaving the walls had begun. Contorting and twisting, Ms. Hibler's office seemed to pool on the floor in unrecognizable blobs. A wave of dizziness crashed over Jim, rocking him back on his heels just before cutting his legs out from under him completely. Ellison shook his head again but only succeeded in setting it spinning in an entirely different direction. He could feel the threads of reality snapping, disconnecting him from the world, he couldn't control the panic which swept through him, reaching his brain like a tidal wave wiping out a village. Sandburg's voice became a distant drone, all but lost in the firecracker click of high heels as William's secretary came towards him. Her faintly disapproving look quickly morphed into one of anger as Jim staggered, knocking a file from her hands. Her mouth moved, twisted with ugly words he could no longer hear. The air around him pressed down, his lungs struggled, feeling as though they might collapse under the pressure of continued breathing. A giant hand clamped around his chest, squeezed harder, making Ellison gasp open-mouthed just to keep from blacking out. "No," he whispered, clawing at his shirt, buttons ricocheting off the floor, sweat drenching his armpits as the very air superheated around him. Survival instinct kicked in, wiping everything else away. Jim fled towards the stairs never looking back.

"Mr. Ellison? Jim, hey man, wait," Sandburg called.

Moving quickly, seeing his surroundings as little more than a rain drenched chalk drawing, Jim pawed for the elevator buttons but found instead the stairwell door. An overwhelming need to escape gripped him, he had to get away from the lights, the noise, the sickly sweet scent of expensive perfume. The roof - the part of his brain still able to function under the assault screamed that he should head for the roof. He climbed, hands and feet flashing up the stairs, he pulled himself along and the echoing slap of his footsteps twisted knots in his guts. A heavy metal door barely slowed him down. and an instant later he burst into the dusk like a comet. Beyond the inky shadow of industrial air-conditioning units he could make out the murky blue of evening sky and this drew Ellison like a magnet. His heart thundered, beating against his ribs so forcefully he thought they might crack before he reached his goal but he stumbled forward, intent only on clearing his head. Just the thought of others seeing him like this, of people witnessing this humiliating loss of control, made Ellison wildly desperate. "Goddamnit," he roared and lurched on. Fresh air beckoned, it caressed his cheeks, cooling the fever in his blood, pulling him forward.

Two more steps, Jim caught sight of Cascade's skyline between the convulsive shimmer his eyesight had begun, clearing for a second then darkening to near blindness again. He lunged for that last glimpse of peaceful indigo and for an endless moment felt light and free, as if he'd broken clear of all the pain and fear and emerged on the other side. He wanted to stay like that, floating, but a heavy weight slammed into his shoulder and the impact sent a teeth-rattling jolt along Ellison's spine. His feet slipped, scrabbling helplessly on the loosely graveled roof. Off balance, Jim tried to catch himself, but the blunt force propelled him sideways, grinding rocks into his palms then the small of his back as he tumbled over.

Slowly and from far away, sounds filtered into Jim's awareness; distant traffic, gulls crying, and beneath all that, a terrible sound. He could hear Sandburg's heart thundering, and not the fact that he could hear it, but that it comforted him, plucking at his own heart, catching hold and forcing his to beat in unison, made it terrifying. Anger, newborn and growing flooded through Ellison. He rolled away, dislodging his companion with the effortless grace which had served him all his life. Sandburg rose as well, laboring to his feet to stand staring at Jim with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Ellison didn't give the kid a chance, he launched himself forward, immensely satisfied by the ringing crash the smaller body made against hard metal machinery. "I don't need a fucking baby-sitter," he said in a ruthless growl. Up close, snarling down into Sandburg's face, Jim took secret pleasure in his shock rounded eyes and the catch in his breathing. Ellison pressed harder, biceps bunching against the fabric of his shirt as if to prove his strength, knuckles digging into Sandburg's windpipe. He though how easy it would be to snap this boy's neck. Surely his father would make it all disappear, make him disappear, if he, in his confused state, killed the man hired to guard him. Ellison tightened his grip, close to allowing the rage to control him.

"No, man, you need a keeper." Sandburg wheezed.

Jim leaned in close, the predator within him needing to dominate, to breathe in the scent the fear streaming off his prey. That dark beast coiled deep inside his gut wanted to drink in the delicious odor and know he had caused it. He craved Sandburg's terror with a drunken lust so instinctive it seemed unstoppable, but his thirst went unquenched. Jim raised his eyes to meet Sandburg's and saw - saw volcanic fire laced with understanding. He froze, pinned beneath that knowing gaze like an insect being studied by a scientist. The little punk. Jim growled, rage flashing through him. Where the hell did this kid get off pretending to understand what was happening? He might have fooled the Great William Ellison but no way was he going to get away with it with his son. "What the hell do you know, Chief?"

"I know you can't control what's happening!" Blair's nasty tone had Ellison's shaking him like a rag.

"I don't need you!"

"Oh, no? Let me guess," Sandburg spit, "flying is one of your many Super Powers!" Despite the slightly sick expression gracing Sandburg's now pale face, he showed no fear. He stood toe to toe with Jim, angry red blotches replacing the bloodless hue of seconds earlier. He reached up and grabbed Jim by the shoulders, his fingers digging in with painful strength.

"What?" Incredulity loosened Jim's grip and Blair slipped free. Ellison stared at the empty space a second, then slowly turned, some lingering image in his brain, imprinted in the instant his sight had cleared, told him what he would see over his shoulder. Scuffed gravel barely a foot from the edge of the roof told him exactly where Sandburg had tackled him. If he'd taken that one more step it would have been to his death. Jim moved to the very edge and stood staring out over the darkening city. He replayed the last few moments in his mind and wanted to be angry with Blair Sandburg. It could have ended there. One step and he would have been free but even as he thought that, his heart rebelled. He let his mind fasten on the look of understanding in the kid's eyes, it had a weight to it. Sandburg knew something, he could feel it. Jim sighed, he couldn't go on another day like he had been, afraid that whatever it was inside him would take over, would push the real Jim Ellison aside and stand there in his place.

"Hey, man," Blair called, "come on. It's cold up here, we can go get something to eat and talk." It sounded reasonable but reason was one thing Jim no longer wanted to face. He felt the air stir at his back, then the warmth of a body moving closer. "I can help you," Blair told him in a voice so soft it seemed to be coming from inside his own head. All his life he'd pushed people away, the unbridled horror his father had instilled within him had made Jim create a space around himself that no one crossed, a mask no one looked beyond. He'd grown used to the solitude, even told himself being lonely was better than having people fear you, or call you a freak. He'd thought it was protection, camouflage. With the freak inside, safely hidden, no one could tell that he was different, he would be able to function - to do his job. What naivete on his part. Once Carolyn lifted the lid, his mask had been revealed. The few friends he'd made began to give him nervous looks, the smell of their fear sharp as they edged away from him, saying aloud "we'll see you when this all dies down" when he could see the alarm in their eyes and hear the sigh of relief when they left. No one wanted to expose themselves to that much scrutiny, every secret could be his if he wanted it and so they avoided him. They treated him like a monster, frightening themselves with the thought of what might come out of the dark of their own closet. Jim ran a hand down his face, he had created the gulf out of self preservation, but it had never seemed like the barbed-wire and mine strewn no-man's-land it did at that moment. He turned his face upwards, directing his words to the stars but reached out his hand to a more obtainable goal.

"Help me."

A hand found his, fitting perfectly into his grip and Jim Ellison marveled at the simplicity of it. All he'd had to do was reach out. Tugged away from the edge, he followed Sandburg to the door and into a realm he feared more than death.

They ate at a little joint near Rainier University some friends had told Sandburg about. He'd chosen the location, far away from Ellison Enterprises, in the hopes of loosening up his companion but Jim sat there like a soldier awaiting a court martial. The decor didn't do much to promote serenity and relaxation; the walls were covered with incongruous items; farm tools, record albums, sports equipment, and old toys. Blair surveyed his choice with wary eyes and couldn't hide the shiver which caught him unawares. Jim raised a questioning eyebrow and Sandburg shrugged, "sorry, I didn't know this was such a seriously scary place."

"Scary?"

"Yeah," Sandburg said and shuddered again, "it's like Carrie got tanked on margaritas and embedded a whole flea-market in the walls!"

Ellison eyed him a moment longer and said to the waiter who came over to take their order, "no margaritas for him." Blair, encouraged, smiled but Jim turned away, looking out the window even as their waiter placed pencil to paper in expectant silence. With Ellison showing no signs of ordering, Blair chose a simple meal he hoped would agree with Ellison's careening senses and let the silence ride. The food arrived, served on mismatched plates and smelling delicious, but Jim merely picked at his, shoving it from one side of his plate to the other while he stared at his hands. "You on a diet or don't you like the food?" Blair finally asked when it became apparent his companion wasn't going to eat more than a bite or two.

"What? Oh, sorry," Jim made another attempt but dropped the fork back to his plate. "Not hungry."

Sandburg eyed him a moment. "You don't smell, like, rat turds or something, do you?" he joked.

"I'd tell you," Jim assured him and the corners of his mouth quirked up for a fleeting grin before he went back to watching the world outside the window. That quick smile transformed Ellison's face, Blair decided. Gone was the hard loner, doggedly meeting his foe head-on, and in his place a man with no one he could turn to, no one who could answer his questions and reassure him. The change took Blair's breath away and he could feel his insides melting. He found himself wondering how long that smile had been locked inside the other man, where he kept it and how many people had been privileged to see it before. A smile of his own erupted, drawn from his desire to see Jim lose some of his wary veneer and become the man he suspected hid behind the stony facade.

"Sure you would." He carefully laid his fork down, and wiped his mouth, all while staring at Ellison. Though Jim would one day inherit the Ellison millions, he didn't have the air of a man who had been given much. In fact, he looked as if he had worked hard for everything he had. His body had the solid muscle real work imparted, not the plastic perfect one of hours at the gym. His hands were callused and roughened, strong looking, not those of a executive who's biggest challenge was using his Palm Pilot. Even the lines around his eyes and mouth seemed stamped into his face by hardship, worry and conflict much more serious than whether to drive the Bentley or the Mercedes. Ellison was handsome though, his strong features classic and manly, though his cool blue eyes and distant demeanor seemed calculated to keep all but the most casual interest at bay. He had all the advantages; money, good looks, intelligence, and yet here he sat uncertain and unable to ask for help. Blair smiled to himself, he loved a challenge and James Ellison appeared to be the Mt. Everest of clients. "Tell me about being in the Army, about Peru." Sandburg had the satisfaction of seeing Jim surprised. The big man's head snapped around, his eyes simmered with annoyance.

"Why?"

Blair shrugged. He knew Ellison had been in the army, a Captain in the Rangers, but even with his considerable resources, the records had been beyond investigation. "I was just wondering if your senses bothered you there?" He sipped his beer and watched Ellison do the same. For a few minutes they merely stared over their mugs at one another. The restaurant was nearly deserted, the dinner crowd having moved on, but for just an instant, Blair got the feeling they were being watched. He shifted, covertly scanning the restaurant but Ellison's answer distracted him before he found anything amiss.

"I - I think they were," he said so quietly Blair found himself leaning nearer. "I can't remember much. I was hurt - at the beginning." A kind of slow acting horror crept into Ellison's pale eyes and Blair realized he was reliving the tragic event in his mind. "Our helicopter went down and my," his voice faltered for an instant before he forged ahead, "my entire team was killed. I was injured but it was my duty to carry on. I buried my men and set out for a village we'd located. A local tribe found me days later, wandering and out of my mind from the pain and fever. But even before they got to me, there were times out in the bush when I thought I wasn't alone, that some - something was beside me, protecting me but I guess it was shock." He shrugged but that didn't convince Sandburg the feeling was of no importance. The way Jim sat there, his eyes narrowed as he thought, the puzzled and - disappointed expression he wore, told Blair the memory still troubled him. "Have you ever been in the jungle?"

"Yeah," Blair answered quietly, "for several months."

Jim gave him an appraising look and Blair could see he was filing that information away with the intention of finding out more later. "Then you know that while you're there just surviving takes your total attention. The heat, the bugs, the fighting just to stay alive makes you really feel - alive." Ellison sucked in a deep breath, his gaze turned inward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Everything there felt intense - immediate. I didn't know if I'd make it through the day at times but the feelings which were a part of me were so - so big, so rich, I felt like I belonged there." Jim blinked and a blush crept up his cheeks as he finally shrugged, "anyway, I accomplished my mission and when rescue came I was just so damn exhausted I couldn't even think straight."

"And when you got back your senses went dormant again?" Jim glanced up, nodding. "What about," he paused a little hesitant to bring up what had happened earlier, "what about when they come back on-line, were they unmanageable like - like just now? What's that like?"

"I don't know!" Jim's voice rose, causing the waiter to cast an annoyed frown in their direction.

"Calm down," Blair soothed. "I want to help. Just describe what it feels like."

"It feels like a fucking torture session, Sandburg," Jim snapped, "like a freight train coming straight for me and I'm tied to the tracks with no way to stop it and no chance to get out of the way. That's what it feels like!" He struggled for a claming breath, chest heaving as the nightmare replayed in his mind. "I don't understand what's happening to me."

"That's why I'm here," Blair said.

"Then fix it," Ellison hissed, "you have the answers; make this go away!"

Blair remained quite, just looking at the man across from him. Ellison had both hands flat on the table, pressing so hard Blair halfway expected the old wood to crack down the middle. There were shadows under the man's eyes and a feral wildness within the depths his business suit and gold watch couldn't disguise. Blair knew the look, he'd seen it on the yellowing pages of an old manuscript. Ellison's expression, the savage and untamed aura he exuded, were those of the tribal guardians, the watchmen, the protectors. "There are legends, Jim. Stories of guardians called sentinels ..."

"Hey! You're that guy!" The squeal erupted from a gaudily dressed woman who had entered the restaurant in a group of about ten tourists. Her delighted scream sent Jim bolting to his feet. "He's the one on TV, the guy who can hear through walls." Her companions swarmed like ants, creating a shrill circle around Jim's motionless form.

"Leave us alone," Blair growled as Ellison pressed against him. He placed an arm around Jim's waist and steered him towards the door. Jim moved along passively until one of the men raised a camera and snapped a photo, the flash so bright it lit the entire room. Jim flinched, eyes screwing shut with an audible moan. He stumbled and Blair had to struggle to keep them both on their feet. Sandburg reached out and snatched the camera before it could be used again. The man howled in outrage, but Blair snarled, "I can smash this across your skull right now or you can call Mr. Ellison's lawyer in the morning to get it back." For a second the creep seemed on the verge of taking a swing, but one well placed glare and the guy backed away. Sandburg had dealt with too many real threats to put much stock in the mumbled curses at his back and concentrated only on getting his charge out of the restaurant and into the waiting car.

He knew where Ellison lived and instinctively headed towards the loft apartment on Prospect. Jim didn't say a word, he closed his eyes and lay his head back as if his strength had deserted him. Only the trembling muscle in Ellison's cheek told Blair how much the episode had affected him. When they reached the apartment, Blair pulled into a space and waited, engine running. Jim stirred, opening his eyes then rolling his head to look at Blair. Some of the hope that had been in his eyes on that roof remained, but a mixture of fear and anger had diluted it. Ellison must have realized it showed in his gaze, he turned quickly away, hand reaching towards the latch but stopped before opening the door. "I have a spare room," he said flatly.

Sandburg waited until Jim looked over at him, then shut off the engine and climbed out. The trunk contained his duffel bag and two flat, metal cases. Jim gave these a hard, unreadable look but willingly carried them both. Blair followed in his wake, rather surprised that William Ellison's son lived in a middle class urban rehab district instead of fashionable Westminster Cove where his father and younger brother both resided. The apartment house hadn't changed much since its days as a warehouse; brick walls and exposed pipes, a cargo elevator which got them up to the third floor. Number 307 proved to be a large, fairly empty, converted loft. A small kitchen area was laid out just to the right of the front door, and on the left a huge living room with three floor to ceiling glass doors showed a spectacular view of Cascade harbor. There were a few splashes of color and some comfortable looking furniture but on the whole the place seemed pretty sparse. Above, the sleeping loft extended out over the dining area, right to the kitchen and, set off under the stairs, with a window which opened onto the living room, was a small room. Jim pushed open the curtain which served as a door to this room and waited for Blair to pass him. "It's not much," he apologized.

Use to budget hotels and friend's couches, Sandburg couldn't help but smile. "No, man, this is great." He tossed his bag onto the futon against the far wall and turned to face Ellison. Something passed between them, like a dream suddenly remembered and the Scare Crow, Tin Man and Cowardly Lion are really the people you have known all your life. Blair let the moment stretch, and just stood, soaking in the feeling of being there, of being someplace he thought he might really belong. The other man looked down at him and the expression on Ellison's face made him appear years younger, as if he was really looking forward to having a roommate. "This will make guarding you easier," Blair said, more to have something to say than anything. It was like a switch was thrown. Jim's face drained of expression. He backed away, turning towards the kitchen. "Hey, what? Come on, man" Blair cajoled, "what did I say?"

"Not a thing, Sandburg," Jim said quietly but an undertone of hurt colored his voice. "I forgot you're not a guest, just the hired man." Too late Blair realized Jim Ellison needed a friend almost more than he needed a bodyguard.

"Damn," he sighed. "Look, Jim, I take this job seriously," Blair explained, following Jim as he snatched up a glass, and filled it with water. He planted himself in Ellison's way but Jim ignored him, sidestepping nimbly and heading for the bathroom. "Jim, please. I don't want to see anything happen to you." His words echoed off the tiled walls, filling the silence as Ellison leaned over the sink, head hanging in defeat. "I mean it," Blair insisted firmly.

Jim slowly lifted his head, gazing unblinkingly for what seemed like an eternity. One part of Blair wondered if Ellison could hear his heartbeat, if he were using that as a gauge for sincerity and the other part of him just wanted to reach out and hug Jim until the sadness in those pale eyes disappeared. Jim finally nodded. "Sorry," he said tiredly, "I'm a little stressed."

"Yeah, I noticed," Blair joked. "You okay?" The near disaster on the roof, the crowd at the restaurant, the media microscope, were all taking their toll. Blair saw the tiny tremors coursing through Ellison's corded forearms, and the harsh lighting in the bathroom gave Jim's skin the hue of a ten day old corpse. Jim Ellison had reached the end of his rope and if he didn't get some rest and a little reprise from the madness he could very well end up swinging from it.

"Give me a minute," Jim said and wearily reached to open the medicine cabinet. Blair watched in appalled silence when that mirrored door swung open and he got a look at the way Jim coped with what was happening to him. Inside, scattered haphazardly throughout the three shelves, prescription bottles baring the name ELLISON, JAMES J. gave the impression of tiny amber madmen running in all directions. Jim met Sandburg's questioning gaze and shrugged, "the medical profession's answer to heightened senses."

"You're taking all these?" Blair took a bottle from the cabinet - sleeping pills. There were several other prescriptions for sleeping pills, as well as pain killers, muscle relaxers, something to quell nausea, even one anti-depressant. No two bottles seemed to have been prescribed by the same physician, and the dates stretched over the past year.

Ellison gave him a scathing look, "yes, I take them all. I take this one," he shook out a tranquilizer, "because when I'm stressed, as you may have noticed, everything goes haywire." He raked other bottles out, holding them up one by one, "I take these so I can sleep without hearing Old Man Jones in 205 fart, I take this because the first two make me sick, they gave me this one........"

"Jim, you don't need these and I don't want you taking any more of this shit, okay?" Blair's sharp tone bounced around the small space adding weight to his words. He picked up the remaining bottles, then held out his hand for the ones Jim clutched.

"Don't shout, Chief," Ellison said, pressing stiff fingers against his temple, "I need this just to survive." His expression turned stony with anger, "I can't stop the noise sometimes, it just goes on and on." Jim paused, took a deep breath and said with forced levity, "it's this or jump off the balcony and believe me some nights I would prefer the peace and quiet a good coma can bring." His flat gaze made Sandburg shiver as he whispered, "you don't know what it's like."

" No, I don't" Blair agreed, "but I said I was going to help you and I am - starting right now." Jim glared at him a moment longer, then quietly handed over the last bottle. Blair grinned and despite Ellison's objections, led him up the stairs to his bed. Once there he stood, waiting patiently as Jim just looked at him. "Go ahead, Champ, you ain't got anything I haven't seen before." Jim's withering look only made his grin widen but a moment later the sight of Ellison's lean, muscled body sent a jolt of hunger through him. Blair forced his thoughts away from the sculpted chest and narrow waist and back to the task he'd set himself. Once Jim had climbed under the covers he said, "now, take a deep breath and just listen to me. I want you to filter out all the extraneous noise. Picture something like a - a dial. You can dial the noise down until all you hear are the sounds in this room. That's it," he encouraged the struggling sentinel. He saw the tired man begin to relax, tense shoulders easing little by little as he continued to speak. "Focus on my voice, you need an anchor, something to block out the other sounds." After several minutes repeating the same thing, Blair had him to the point of sleep. "You can do this on your own, Jim," he maintained softly, "just filter out noises until you fall asleep." Ellison murmured something, snuggling down into the blankets with a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Sandburg," Blair whispered to himself and started to get to his feet. A drowsy, "don't go," stopped him.

Jim blinked sleepily, "stay for a little while." Blair couldn't resist the open need both in Jim's eyes and in his own heart. Kicking off his shoes, he sat down on the blanket beside Ellison. "Why are you helping me?" Jim whispered.

It all came down to this, Blair realized. "I met a woman once, a woman like you." He didn't need to be a sentinel to hear the startled breath Jim drew. "Her name was Alex Barnes and I wanted to help her."

"You couldn't?"

"She wouldn't let me," Blair said softly. "What you are, what you and she have, is a gift, Jim. Alex used her gift to rob and murder. I found out almost too late what she valued, what she would do to get what she wanted."

Jim rolled over to face him, "what happened?"

"One of the legends I've come across is about a lost temple, the Temple of the Sentinels," Blair explained. "I've only found scraps of information on it." Silvery light spilled down from the skylights, making the atmosphere almost unearthly, a perfect setting for the tale he must tell. "I told Alex what I knew, what the temple contained."

"What?" Jim asked in a breathless whisper.

"A treasure. A treasure beyond belief," Blair told him. "She took my research and - and tried to kill me." His hand drifted down to the scar he carried just above his belt. He could still feel the pain, not of the bullet which ripped through his body but of knowing he had been so terribly wrong. Not once in all his years of searching for a sentinel had it occurred to him that those precious gifts might be used for something as base as human greed. Alex had played him well, using her charm and beauty to bind him with a mixture of lust and worship. Too late he realized her goals and his were on the opposite end of the spectrum, he had been foolish, blinded by his own eagerness to be a part of something magical. The old empty despair rose, racing up from the jagged scar only to slow to a sluggish feeling of disappointment when Jim's hand nudged his away and settled over the spot with gentle care.

"It's smooth," Jim said. "It feels like a star-less night, like - a new beginning," he said, blushing hotly and looking away.

Blair closed his eyes, "maybe it is." He clasped the hand still resting on his belly, squeezing hard before rising. Blair didn't give himself a chance to think about what was happening as he fled down the stairs. He didn't want to think about how personally involved he was becoming, or about how much he liked Jim. He was here to do a job, so to that end he set about making the loft secure. Opening the pair of cases, Sandburg extracted a portable security system. He attached an alarm to the fire escape door, hooked up a flat plastic box to the telephone to block all calls save the ones he okayed, and mounted a micro camera above the front door. William Ellison feared crackpots and tabloid reporters, but Sandburg's expertise told him there were other, more sinister forces to fear if people came to believe the story of Jim's heightened senses. He finished his task and climbed into the narrow bed. Above him, Blair could imagine Ellison sleeping soundly for the first time in a month. A warmth filled him, one which had nothing to do with pride in a job well done, this feeling came only from the wonder he'd seen in Jim's eyes as he accomplished something he'd been born to do. With a satisfied sigh of his own, Blair slipped into sleep.

They settled into a routine, Blair found it surprisingly easy to live with Jim. On the surface they had nothing in common but beneath it all, they fit like pieces of a puzzle. Mornings they alternated cooking breakfast; Jim favoring cholesterol laden eggs and white toast while Blair retaliated with healthy algae shakes and scrambled tofu. Their evenings were filled with genuine bonhomie, Sandburg discovered that beneath Ellison's action-movie mentality and tough-guy act lurked a well read individual who seemed rather shy about the fact. Jim led a quiet life, he didn't seem to have a lot of friends, and most nights he either watched TV or read. His only hobbies, Blair surmised, were cleaning and, surprisingly, cooking, another skill which seemed to embarrass him, though the more Blair thought about it, the more he suspected Ellison liked the regimented formula of a recipe - if you followed the instructions exactly a bunch of unrelated items turned into a delicious accomplishment. That fit in with his obsession for order and control. Jim didn't like unpredictable elements, and as Blair found out over the course of their co-habitation, clutter upset him. He liked everything in its place and his well ordered existence extended to women, they sighed with longing when Ellison passed but he afforded them only courteous attention, seemingly convinced they would disrupt his systematic world.

Sandburg told himself he would never be able to live like that. He liked freedom, he liked never knowing how the day would end. At least he thought he did. In little more than a week Blair, always a gypsy, found Jim's spare room taking on a welcoming feel. He'd long grown used to waking up in strange surroundings and not sure where he'd sleep that night, but Ellison made him feel as if he'd found the place his wanderings might stop.

Days passed in relative peace, but not complete harmony. Blair discovered that though Jim possessed a bashful streak he was by no means backwards when confronted by something outside the scope of his experience. One of those things occurred only the second day he'd taken up residency with Ellison. Always used to working out, Blair tried to keep the noise to a minimum, doing his routine when he figured Jim was occupied with a TV show, but one evening he heard Ellison stop in his doorway on the way back from the bathroom. In the utter silence of focused movement, Blair could clearly hear Jim's breathing, the gentle rhythm almost as soothing as his own centered concentration, but Jim shattered the spell in his usual abrasive manner. "What the hell is that, Sandburg?"

Blair paused in mid-kick, glaring over his shoulder. "Savate, man."

"That like Rain-man?"

Uncomfortable under a glare which seemed designed to strip him down to bare bone, Sandburg took a deep breath, counted to twenty and produced his best shit-eating grin. "Saw it on Walker, Texas Ranger. Cool, huh?" Ellison cocked an eyebrow, mouth folded down as if he weren't entirely sure he was being had.

"Just don't destroy the furniture." After that first encounter, Blair grew used to the silence presence of his roommate while he worked out. At the end of a session, he would meet the penetrating gaze which raked his sweat streaked body. A slight frown drew Ellison's brows together almost as if he were working out some complicated puzzle. Neither man spoke and as the days passed layers of tension sizzled between them, a hunger burned in his client, a hunger so tightly leashed Sandburg thought he could hear the clink of chain links snapping. Blair let the imagery nestle in his brain, conjuring pictures of Jim lashed to his bed with thick silver chains, his broad back and ripe ass his to command and wondered if the other man ever pictured the same thing.

Blair knew how dangerous this kind of thinking was, so before it all blew up in their faces, he diverted the kinetic energy flowing between them into something useful. Determined to learn the scope of Jim's sentinel abilities, Blair came up with a few tests; simple things such as mixing minute amounts of flavors in water and having Jim identify them, or what sounds he could hear from the other room, or picking certain scents from the air Within a matter of days Sandburg discovered Jim's powers were phenomenal; he could not only identify the flavor Blair placed in water but also the mineral elements in the water itself, pretty much narrowing down from which reservoir it came. His sense of smell could filter out everything but the one scent he wanted to track and he could hear a whisper from across a busy street. But it was the combination, the whole package which proved the most amazing. Almost by accident they discovered Jim could piggyback two or more senses increasing their range and effectiveness and all without too much discomfort. He seemed to have developed a natural filtering system to keep most of it at bay without conscious effort and Blair theorized it was his body's way of keeping him sane. Ellison's wild-eyed cries of , "How do I get rid of it?" soon turned to "How can I control it?"

"How the hell can I fix it if you're not willing to help," Sandburg, at the end of his patients, demanded, "magic?"

"If that's what you've got, bring it on!" Ellison sneered.

"Oh, man." Blair turned, sweeping the kitchen counter with an angry gaze. He seized a canister, ripped off the top and dug in a hand. With a guttural growl, he flung the contents he'd scooped up at Ellison's chest. "There, happy? Is it all better now?"

Ellison stared in dumbfounded silence at the white grains of sugar clinging to his shirt and raining down onto the floor at his feet. He looked up, eyes mere slits of ice blue, jaw clenched so hard Blair could heard the sound of his teeth grinding together. "You little shit," he sputtered and grabbed Blair by the collar. "Are you nuts? I should kick your ass!"

"You wanted magic," Blair snapped, his own teeth bared and fire in his eye, "that was fairy dust." They stood almost nose to nose, rage sizzling like bacon grease in a frying pan, two animals ready to tear into one another - until the utter absurdity of the whole thing hit them. Jim cracked first, a twitch developed at the corner of his mouth and despite pressing his lips together he began to chuckle. Blair caved almost immediately after, his giggles giving way to breathless whoops of laughter. Reeling, leaning on each other as they wiped tears from their eyes Jim said, "I don't know whether I should knock you on your butt or kiss you."

"Well," Blair shrugged, "it was fairy dust." His words set them off again and that moment proved the turning point; the tension melted away and both began to realized - they needed each other. Each day their shared knowledge of Jim's sentinel abilities grew, Blair found he had an instinctive gift for figuring out what would help and what wouldn't. He couldn't say where this wellspring of wisdom came from but each problem Jim experienced, each question which arose, he found the right choice. Ellison accepted his guidance with grudging respect, not following blindly, but allowing Blair a more dominate role as he came to trust and understand they would partake in this weird phenomena together. Jim grew more confident, he resumed his normal duties at his father's company, usually visiting some Ellison holding to quell problems and, via a personal visit on behalf of the owners, establish friendly relations with the workers. Blair secretly thought it a bit like a small nation sending an Ambassador to the UN or something but wisely kept the view to himself. Blair tagged along, pleased to be introduced by Jim as "my associate" and watched in amazement as his reticent companion turned on the charm. Jim seemed to prefer talking to the employees, liking their straight-forward manner as much as he disliked the fawning of managers. He took note of complaints and set about righting wrongs. With him in that position, Blair could see how Ellison Enterprises continued to prosper while other conglomerates failed. The places they went varied from factories to small businesses, to charitable institutions so when Ellison informed his associate they were heading to the racetrack to check out a new investment, Blair didn't think anything of it.

It was a Friday which meant along with the diehard gamblers, hordes of excited tourists were milling around. Jim led the way down passed the exercise ring, the jockey's lounge and straight to the boxed stalls share holding owners kept at the track. Most were empty, their occupants out winning money for their owners, but the last one had a sleek head sticking out, ears high and forward as they approached. A brass plate announced they had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Little Stogie, a long legged sorrel with a white blaze.

Blair watched silently as Jim greeted the young horse, which poked an investigative nose against his chest, by rubbing its ears with uncomplicated affection. The horse sniffed at his neck, blowing loudly enough to make Jim grin and fish in his pockets for a cube of sugar and this he offered open palmed. Sandburg watched, enthralled by the subtle change which came over Jim's features. His boyish smirk folded in upon itself, transforming his expression to one of rapt wonderment. Ellison's eyelashes fluttered, slowly sinking like dark autumn leaves through a cloudless sky. Pure, undiluted pleasure spread across the sentinel's face as he stood, eyes closed, letting the velvety muzzle play over his palm. "It's like a thousand tiny feet racing across my skin," he confided in little more than a whisper. Blair could barely resist the urge to reach out and touch Jim's face; the lips, slightly parted as if he were about to say more, the spellbound expression, the utter delight he radiated, drew Sandburg. So engrossed in watching the sentinel, Blair started when Jim's hand settled on his and the older man lifted it, palm up, to the big horse's muzzle. Hot breath skimmed across Blair's skin as a disappointed snort broke from Stogie's quivering nostrils.

"Sorry, I don't have a treat for you," Sandburg told the animal but Jim continued to hold his hand there, his fingers lightly wrapped around Blair's, moving his hand slowly over the soft flesh.

"Feel that?" Jim said quietly, and ran their joined hands up over the knobby forelock and down its rounded cheek, back to the silken lips. Jim's pleasure sang along the line of their hands, and Blair closed his own eyes in an attempt to capture some of it for himself. All too soon Stogie decided no more treats were forthcoming and lifted his head away. For just a moment longer, the silvery threads of peaceful contentment joined them. Blair opened his eyes and watched Jim do the same, only this time a dreamy quality made his shine. Never, throughout the long hours of working on his senses, had Blair witnessed the sheen of wonder and amazement Jim shone with now. Such a simple thing, the gentle nuzzling and uncomplicated affection of an animal, brought him undeniable joy. The moment passed but the feeling lingered and only as they settled into the business at hand, did Blair come to recognize the tingle of warning he'd learned never to ignore.

He kept watch, knowing something was bound to happen, and hoping he'd covered all the bases. Jim had made it clear he didn't consider the revelation of his little secret a threat to his safety, but Blair knew better. Crossing the lobby, they stopped to watch one of the races on the large indoor screens. "Let's make a wager," Blair suggested, "twenty on the green and white one."

"You can't make a bet based on the owner's colors," Jim argued.

"Why not? Those colors are carefully selected. It's like the armor of a medieval knight, psychological shields and all that."

"Whatever." Jim remained unconvinced - until the twenty turned into two hundred. "Colors? Well, I guess it couldn't hurt to try it." He ignored Blair's knowing look and placed his own bet. "If this works, Chief, it could ruin......." Ellison slowly came to a stop, head canted. "You hear that, Sandburg?"

"What? The crowd?"

"No, like a crackling noise. It's really annoying." Blair watched his companion slowly pivot, Jim's frown deepening as he searched for the source of some noise only he could hear. "I've heard it since we came inside. It's like a paper sack rustling, but......." The blood drained from Jim's face and Blair felt an ice cold lump of dread form in his stomach. "Oh my god," Jim whispered in what sounded like a voice torn from the pit of his soul. Then he was running at break-neck speed across the lobby, shoving people aside as he hurtled across the floor like a Super Hero. It was only when Jim neared the opposite wall that Blair saw what the sentinel had - the dark shadow of a fissure inching up the concrete wall like a viper. The crack widened and an entire section wavered, the heavy concrete buckled under its own weight. Blair shouted a warning but the excited crowd rendered it useless. He could only stand helplessly by as part of the wall shuddered, crashing to the floor with a deafening BOOM. Three women, hurled to the side by Ellison's quick reactions screamed, adding their voices to the chaotic noise. Other's joined in, a hundred throats in a dozen languages took up the cry, people began running in all directions, looking up at walls and ceiling as if they, too, might come tumbling down at any second. The whole scene degenerated into mass hysteria in less than a minute.

Blair tried to move closer, some inner warning system clanging away, sending silent shouts of Danger! Danger! racing through his brain but the fleeing crowd made it almost impossible for him to move. Through the blur of running figures he saw a blond giant of a man bump into Jim and instinct, honed to a razor's edge by years of practice, set the hairs on the nape of his neck on end. "Jim, watch out!" Ellison turned towards him, his sensitive ears picking up the warning but as he did the blonde's hand shot out to grab Jim's wrist. With a savage twist he pinned Ellison's arm behind his back while a second man, his coat doing little to disguise the gun he jammed into Jim's ribs, urged him down a concrete passageway. "Jim!" Sandburg pushed against the human tide, beaten back by flailing arms, battered under the crush of frightened people.

Blair shouted again, his curses lost in the pandemonium, but with a desperate surge of fear providing the fuel, he began to make progress towards the tunnel where the three had disappeared. It was a narrow concrete passage leading directly to an underground parking lot. The heavy concrete facade seemed to be keeping people from venturing down its potentially dangerous exit, everyone but Jim and his two assailants that was. A group of Japanese tourists, gesturing wildly, blocked Blair's path, he ducked and slipped between them like an eel. He could see the dark haired man's coat disappearing down one of the side passages, and the figure of Jim walking calmly between the two as if they were all just heading home. Blair pressed forward, clearing the Asians and rushing over the debris and straight into the passage, his mind only on Jim's safety. By the time he cleared the mouth of the passage they were nearing the end. He passed a hotdog cart and briefly considered it as a distraction but the distance was too much. He crept closer, assessing the situation as he went.

"Jim," Sandburg whispered, "get them to stop." Almost immediately Ellison staggered, one hand catching the wall to hold himself upright.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" the gunman demanded. "Gordon, get him on his feet!"

The blond turned, seeing Blair. "Bernie," he said, "someone's comin'!"

"Whoa, hey," Blair called. He couldn't risk just jumping them so with a bewildered expression on his face he moved closer. "Wow, did you see that shit? BANG!! Like friggin' Beirut or something." He flashed his best stoner grin, one hand slipping into his jeans pocket. His fingers closed on the two inch length of wooden dowel he carried.

"Get outta here, kid!" the blond ordered.

"No problem," Blair pulled his hand free, raising both in front of him as he edged even closer to the man holding the gun on Ellison. "I was just gonna tell you I think that guy," he gave Jim a pointed look, saw understanding blossom, "dropped this." He extended the dowel.

"We don't need a fuckin' piece of wood, sonny," the gunman snapped. "Now get out of here and take your trash with you."

"It's not trash," Blair's smiled died, and with it went the cheery, airy persona. Eyes so cold they seemed made of blue ice stared at the two men, "it's the thing that's gonna take you down." Gripping the dowel so it rested along side his right thumb, about half an inch protruding, he lunged forward, jabbing the dowel hard up under the man's wrist. He heard the crack of bone and the gun sailed through the air. The man howled with pain and rage, clutching his injured arm to his chest as he rushed forward. Blair used his tiny weapon, catching the man in the solar plexus and ducking under his quickly tilting body. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ellison fire off a spinning back kick and the blond man toppled like a tree. A movement from the gunman brought his attention back and Blair quickly hammered him in the small of the back, hooked his leg and pulled. The dark haired man fell and lay still.

"Jim," he gasped, but Ellison's foe had grabbed the dropped gun and was just bringing it to bear. The muzzle swung up, aiming directly for Ellison's chest. A roar of anger tore itself free of his throat, Blair threw himself in front of the older man, his out flung arm knocking the barrel sideways and sending the bullet wide. He and Jim fell in a heap but the blond recovered, rushing at them. Sandburg lashed out with both legs, catching the giant in the gut, lifting him off his feet and sent him sailing up and over. The giant landed with a sickening crunch and lay very still. The pistol he'd held clanged to the concrete floor, and in the silence he heard Jim take a deep breath. When Blair turned he found his employer white faced and trembling.

"Jim? Jim, you okay?" He reached out and touched Ellison's shoulder but the man flinched as if he'd been hit. "Are you hurt? Did he hit you?" Blair could see no wound, no reason for the pallor Ellison showed. "Jim?"

"Are you - ," Ellison swallowed and tried again. "Are you fucking stupid!?" He lurched to his feet, holding the wall in earnest this time to stay on his feet. "You could have been killed! He had a fucking gun, Sandburg. Don't you get it? You do not throw yourself - "

"I wasn't about to let him kill you," Blair shouted. He could feel fatigue pulling at his body, the adrenaline high fading now that danger had passed. "I couldn't live with that."

"Maybe it would have been best," Jim said softly and Blair watched the same exhaustion he felt creep over Ellison but beneath it he sensed an even deeper lethargy. He stepped closer, staring up at the older man.

"Don't ever say that again."

"Why not?" A feeling of urgency passed between them, Blair felt it and knew Jim did too when the sentinel's blue gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips. A tingling grew in the pit of Blair's stomach and his pulse pounded like a drum. Jim's head jerked up, and the anticipation written across his features was all Sandburg needed. He leaned forward, stretching up the few inches it would take to kiss Ellison's mouth.

"You - drop the weapon and freeze right there!" A flinty, no nonsense voice barked breaking the connection between them instantly. Blair met Jim's glance and saw a spark of amusement within the blue depths.

"I think you've got some 'splainin' to do," he hissed.

####

Jim listened to the rapid fire delivery of Sandburg's speech, tuning out the words and enjoying just the cadence. He could feel the grin which threatened to break free of his hold any moment, and carefully shoved it back under a look of concerned interest. Sandburg could sell time shares in Bosnia if he set his mind to it. Captain Simon Banks didn't stand a chance. Jim took pity on the big police captain. "Captain Banks," he interject, taking advantage of Sandburg's occasional need for breath. "Can this wait until morning? I'm about to drop."

"Oh, hey, Jim, are you alright?" Sandburg immediately moved to his side, squeezing his arm in concern. Ellison smiled inwardly.

"Yeah, just tired, Chief," he said honestly. He recognized the leaden drag his body became after a harrowing experience, having felt it so many times in the Army. Added to it they had endured hours at the police station, the day suddenly a blur of paperwork, statements, line-ups and stale coffee. He could feel the tight bands of a migraine forming across his brow, the sounds of a busy police station serving to aggravate the dull ache and leave a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Jim wanted to avoid the embarrassment of throwing up in front of the cops if at all possible. "Could we finish up tomorrow?" he asked again with a plaintive look towards the big police captain.

"Mr. Ellison, how well do you know the mayor?" Jim hesitated but Banks went on. "Apparently your welfare is important to him because for the last week I have been bombarded by calls about this case."

"Captain Banks," Jim fought down the sick feeling, his headache intensified, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Banks said with a shrug. "I realize your father is worried, but no matter who it is we never take threats of this nature for granted. We can finish tomorrow," he admitted, "I'll personally phone Mayor Baker and let him know I think we've cracked this case." He clamped a big hand on Jim's shoulder, nearly sending Ellison to his knees. "With the evidence my team has gathered I feel confident in saying we've got the men in custody responsible for the threatening letters. Bernard Dyer has a record a mile long." He flipped closed the folder he'd been reading and offered his hand. "He's already confessed to attempted kidnapping, and with Gordon Falcone's testimony he should be locked away for a few years."

Jim looked over at Sandburg, frowning at the look on Blair's face. "Did they give an explanation?" Sandburg asked. "I mean, the letters mentioned a girlfriend."

"As far as we can tell getting her back was all he wanted," Banks admitted with a shrug. "I guess he just didn't want to lose something he'd come to love so much."

"Thanks, Captain," Jim said with gratitude and shook the man's hand, "I'm sure my father will sleep better at night and with the Mayor off your back, so will you." The police captain grinned and walked them to the door of his office. Blair gave an irreverent wave and followed Ellison from the room. Ellison's sensitive ears caught snatches of conversations around the Major Crime office and wondered if he should tell his bodyguard that their relationship was being interpreted in numerous ways, most of which involved Sandburg doing more than just guarding his body. Deciding it wasn't worth it, he caught Sandburg by the back of the neck, and steered him through the maze of desks and towards the elevator.

"You're something else, Chief," Jim said gently as they waited for the doors to open

"Yeah, like what?" Blair grinned up at him, brows dancing wildly and looking about five years old. Jim could read the real concern within those indigo depths and it shot through his heart like an arrow. He'd never had close friends, a lot of acquaintances, a few casual lovers, but never anyone he thought cared about his well being with single-minded devotion. The niggling little voice which ruled his life began whispering again, reminding him that Sandburg was merely a hired guard and taking care of him just a job, but for once Jim tuned it out and let himself believe in the impossible.

"I'll let you know when I figure it out," Jim told him in all honesty. Blair leaned into his touch, winding an arm around his waist as they left the station and climbed into the black and white waiting for them. Jim thought about that touch all the way home, wondering what those arms would feel like pressing him to the mattress. He couldn't deny his attraction to Sandburg and felt a reciprocal stirring in the younger man but male lovers had been rare in his life, and never anything more than a night or two of mutual pleasure. Hell, except for the eleven months of his marriage to Carolyn Plummer he'd never been able to maintain any kind of relationship. His family certainly hadn't provided a sterling example of commitment; a brother's betrayal, a mother's abandonment, and his father's contempt, had all marked James Ellison for a life of distrust. Few had breached his defenses and those who had only served to strengthen them when they walked away.

Jim learned not to reach out because when you reached out to that other person you left your heart wide open. Ellison couldn't count the number of times he'd been sucker punched. He contented himself with his own company, drawing a circle around himself for protection. His friendships were few and the women he went out with were merely distractions from boredom. Jim let his eyes drift across to the dervish who had entered his life. He watched the younger man move around his home and thought seriously about how he felt about this unpredictable man. Just the sight of Blair in his tattered jeans and layers of flannel, his sock feet making little muffled sounds on the floor brought a smile to Jim's face. It shouldn't, he told himself, having a virtual stranger underfoot should have sent him off the deep end by now. Ellison never let anyone stay with him, just the thought of it reminded him of all those years in the army when he'd been crowded and confined and he'd had to shut himself off just to survive. His marriage, too, had been a kind of forced confinement, Carolyn had packed his pristine environment with knickknacks, flowers, and antiques. After a while it all closed in on him, her things, her demands, even her voice.

"What're you thinking?" Blair quiet voice asked. He leaned on the counter, coffeepot behind him beginning to give off an enticing aroma.

Jim took a deep breath, "I was thinking about Carolyn." He could hear the question in the silence. "We knew each other three months before we got married," he confessed. "I wanted - I wanted to connect, you know?"

"Yes," Blair said and Jim really felt that he did understand.

"But she wanted everything, my body, my heart and my soul," Ellison shuddered with the memory of her constant pushing. Instead of opening up the world to him, Carolyn's demands to "share" had backed him into a mental corner. There were no boundaries, and the closer she tried to get the further he retreated until they were so far apart only their lawyers could communicate.

"Jim? You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Ellison snapped, still lost in the memory. Blair stared at him a moment, then padded over to hand him a cup of coffee. He didn't ask anything more, he didn't force the issue and yet his quiet presence acted as the catalyst Carolyn's constant demands had never been. He wanted to tell Blair things, he wanted Sandburg to understand him like no one else ever had. "Yeah, I'm okay," he repeated and sipped at his cup. He saw Sandburg's smile and knew his temper hadn't wrecked the mood between them. Blair settled down on the opposite end of the couch, his feet on the cushions, a book resting on his knees. Jim picked up the TV remote, flicking channels until he discovered Pat and Vanna putting the finishing touches on their scripted banter and that meant the local news was only minutes away. He muted the sound and scrunched down comfortably, casually letting his hand drift to a spot near Sandburg's foot, "you have your feet on my couch."

"I know what you're thinking," Blair said without looking up from the page he was reading, "I just want you to know that not only am I trained in unarmed combat - I'm a lot faster than you." Jim flexed his hand, fingers moving closer to the unprotected toes.

"Food fights, feet on the furniture, threats, what will I tell people when I take you out in public?" Jim asked with a sad shake of his head. He could feel Sandburg's smile and in a minute more he would have turned to the younger man, his own face filled with wicked delight and who knows where the evening would have ended. Instead, a flickering image caught his eyes, a well-known form flashed across the TV screen, and a familiar voice drilled through his happiness from the almost soundless speakers. Horror seized him, freezing his heart within his chest. Unable to move, Jim sat locked in his own private hell.

".....you can introduce me as your cousin or something," Blair teased. He'd expected some pithy comment, the kind Ellison had perfected over the last few days and when none was forthcoming, he glanced up at his charge. Jim sat staring at the TV screen, he'd been idly flicking channels with the sound so low all Sandburg could hear was the electronic hum, but something must have caught his attention. Blair followed his gaze and felt the blood rise in his cheeks; Carolyn Plummer's earnest features were mouthing silent, earnest words. Blair reached for the remote, alarmed by the icy fingers he encountered there.

"......an advantage in the business world. I mean, if you could hear what they were saying in the board room, or read the proposal half way across the room, you have the upper hand." The cameraman pushed in closer as Carolyn's expression changed, as if he knew the juicy stuff was just around the corner. He and the audience were not disappointed. "But in a private world, that between a man and his wife," she took a deep breath, averting her eyes for just long enough to give the impression of tears held in check, "it was a curse." The camera froze on her plastic grief and Blair wondered if Jim's heightened senses saw beyond that rehearsed performance. The scene shrank to a small rectangle behind the anchor's right shoulder. Her relentless smile effortlessly fell into a droop of sympathy as she intoned, "and you can hear the rest of our exclusive interview with Carolyn Plummer, ex-wife of Cascade millionaire James Ellison, the man with the Super Senses, tomorrow," she turned the mega-wattage smile on again, "right here on Channel 5's own Good Morning Cascade!"

"This story just keeps getting stranger," the male anchor added, "in a related incident a disturbance at the Woodlawns Racetrack is being linked to James Ellison. A source at the scene reported that Mr. Ellison detected a weak section of wall seconds before it collapsed, saving three bystanders from certain death. Details are sketchy at this time but we'll be following this story closely." His serious news face gave way to lighthearted banter with his co-anchor, "Super senses, what an amazing ability. How 'bout you, Sabrina, wouldn't you like a husband with heightened senses?"

"Of course, Jason. That way he could smell the garbage and I wouldn't have to badger him to take it out!" Both chortled with laughter.

Blair snapped the set off but too late, Carolyn had done her job and he hadn't. Jim sat there, still as a marble statue and just as likely to shatter if pushed too hard. Sandburg could almost see those innocently hurtful remarks playing over and over in Jim's eyes and for a fleeting second he considered contacting one of his sources and having the Channel 5 news team killed. Blair moved over in front of his client, crouching when Jim didn't acknowledge his intrusion. "Jim, hey man, they're assholes," he chided, "they haven't got a clue about any of this and Carolyn is a bitter crone who knows she lost the best thing in her life when she walked out on you."

"It wasn't her fault, Sandburg," Jim said, "it was mine. It's always my fault." There was no bitterness in his voice, just a tired acceptance. "She knew."

"Knew what?" Blair asked in confusion. "She knew about your senses?"

Jim shook his head, "she knew I wasn't - perfect."

"What? Jim, what the hell is going on in that mind of yours," Blair wondered. "No one is perfect and no one expects you to be."

"They find out," Ellison went on as if Blair hadn't spoken, his voice slipping into a ragged thread of sound, "they find out and then they leave." Jim looked up, meeting Blair's eyes but nothing showed within them. Blair struggled for something to say, some kernel of wisdom but Jim cut him off. "I'm going to lie down." He spoke with no nuance, like someone repeating by rote with no idea as to the meaning. His lean, haggard face betrayed nothing but the strain of very little sleep and when he rose he did so like a robot. Blair knew he couldn't condemn the man to such a lonely place as his own company right now. On impulse he snared Ellison's wrist, halting the older man's escape.

"Jim," he whispered. He had no idea how anyone could beat James Ellison down like that, how they could cause him to doubt his own self-worth. It must have taken years to batter him so completely. Blair stepped closer, feeling the heat of Jim's body like the warmth of the sun. Never having been prone to displays of affection, the longing to hold Ellison took him by surprise, making him pause and in that brief second of uncertainty Jim began to draw away. Sandburg stopped the needless retreat by sliding both arms around the other man's waist and hugging him hard. Ellison stood rigid in his arms for so long that Blair began to doubt the force which seemed to pull them together, but a moment later Jim crumpled into the embrace. He made no sound, not even the normal shuddering breaths of stoic grief, but Blair felt something change. Some wall teetered, and with the chin which found its way to rest onto his shoulder, it fell. Sandburg reached up, cupping Jim's head and stroking the velvety hair as if this vulnerable soul resided in the body of a child. He gave all he could, all he suspected had never been given before. Ellison, with his heightened senses, needed to touch, to immerse himself in the realm of his sensory perceptions but in an ironic twist of fate, the comfort and reassurance he'd craved all his life had been denied. Living up to William Ellison's standards, striving to be what his father wanted him to be, Jim had shut down the sentinel inside him and cut out half his soul. Blair hadn't known his charge long but he had seen Jim react to pain by sealing himself off, by denying it could touch him. And yet, holding him so closely, a flow of energy seemed to pass between them. Blair felt Jim relax, and then press a chaste kiss to his hair.

A thin tendril of desire curled through his belly, and Sandburg waited for the giddy rush, the fiery wash of lust which usually hit his groin about the same time another body fell into his arms, but it didn't come. It felt right to hold Jim - to protect him. For the first time since Alex Barnes had entered his life only to leave behind a man wounded both in spirit and flesh, Sandburg felt hope. Blair knew the emerging bond between himself and Ellison was something rare and precious, something even his body knew meant more than a night of pleasure. He wanted Jim, there at the racetrack they'd both been on the brink of making it happen, Jim's interest could be felt every time that intense gaze touched him. If either one of them pushed they would end up naked and sweaty in that big bed upstairs. But an astounding thought swept through Blair, one he'd never even suspected he could harbor - maybe this sweet feeling, this warmth which surged through him was not lust for the beautiful body he held, but a need for the soul within. He pulled back, looking into Ellison's clear eyes and found himself wanting only to wipe away the pain so many people had caused.

"Thanks, Chief," Jim murmured softly, and moved back a step.

"Anytime." Blair whispered.

"Really?" Jim stared down at him, the almost imperceptible light of hope in his eyes. "Come upstairs with me?" he asked with a shyness totally at odds with his usual confident demeanor. Blair grinned and placed his hand into Jim's. He pretended not to notice the grateful expression which flickered across Jim's face and offered a gentle squeeze to the fingers holding his. Together they climbed the stairs but once they reached the bed Ellison merely sat down, head hanging. Blair placed a hand on his cheek, swiping a crescent of silky skin with his thumb. He knelt and began tugging at Jim's shoes, then his socks. Ellison stirred, watching him with listless eyes. "I'm not a millionaire," he said quietly.

"I know."

"I never listened to anything like that," Jim maintained in a weak whisper.

"I know."

"I'm not a freak." Blair's hands, now working at the buttons on Ellison's shirt, stilled. He sat back on his heels, waiting for Jim to meet his gaze. It took longer than he expected and only occurred once the fine tremors running across Jim's arms and shoulders had stopped. Finally Ellison, in short jerky increments, looked up.

"No, you're not, Jim. You're everything I've always wanted to be." Blair bit at his lip a second, trying to frame the images in his mind with words this man might believe. "Since the first second I discovered what a sentinel was, it was all I wanted to be. My whole life, everything I've done, everything I've learned, everything I've become was an effort to be - you!" His passion burned bright in his eyes and Blair knew Jim would see the utter conviction that consumed his soul. "You are amazing, you're my hero."

Jim sighed, his own eyes shining as the ghost of a smile haunted them. Blair grinned and went back to undressing the older man. He tucked his charge under the covers with all the languid tenderness he remembered his own mother, Naomi, used whenever the other kids had picked on him. Blair knew it was all in the timing, he could still feel the gentle caress of someone taking time to care for him, of making him feel like the most treasured possession ever born. He smoothed the blankets over Jim, drawing them up over the muscled chest and turned them down so only the buttery sheets touched his skin. Blair copied the motion across Ellison's forehead, his fingers erasing the lines fear and anger had impressed. Jim sighed, "nice, don't stop."

"Okay." Blair sat beside him, lightly massaging Jim's temples, running his fingers up into the silky spike of hair. A vulnerable James Ellison came as a surprise and proved rather disquieting. From the beginning he'd forced himself to view Jim as a sentinel first and foremost, striving to keep his objectivity and not lose himself like he had with Alex and with Jim giving off the appearance of a superhuman specimen it was easy. The sentinel part of Jim radiated a savage, primal power that Blair tried to convince himself was the sum total of James Ellison. He had let the untamed and angry streak which lay below Ellison's normally placid surface serve as a buffer of sorts, keeping it all impersonal. Blair chided himself for his naiveté, deep down he'd known Ellison's hard veneer would eventually crack. Jim had erected massive mental walls to keep truths at bay, he'd cut away whole sections of his memory just to keep functioning, but Blair had known all along they would dissolve at some point, leaving him with a human being. He'd witnessed Ellison forcing himself to do what was right even when it hurt him, upholding Honor and Duty when it tore a hole in his heart and never once question the validity of his choice. As a major shareholder in Ellison Enterprises, Jim dealt with crushing responsibility but he did so with compassion and honesty. Blair had tagged along when deals were being struck, watching Jim sort out a hundred problems as fairly as he could and all while dealing with the media scrutiny of his senses. He was a man on the verge of a breakdown and yet he'd never once backed away from what he considered his job, he did what he had to do because it was who he was. A sense of pride swelled Blair's heart, how much could this man take? He prayed silently that no more would be asked.

Blair rose, but as before, was stopped by the man he'd pledged to protect. Eyes he'd once considered unfathomable were clear as a summer sky and pleading. He smiled, stripped off his own jeans and flannel shirt then climbed into the bed. Blair lay there, propped on one elbow, and watched Jim stare at the ceiling. It seemed hours before his companion dared to look at him and when he did, Blair saw the confusion in Jim's face. "You can ask," he whispered, "it won't change anything at all." His words sounded so cryptic even to himself, but after a heartbeat Jim's expression cleared and a small, tentative smile appeared. Blair opened his arms, slowly and with infinite care, drew the sentinel into his embrace. The spark of desire remained within him but the need Jim carried banked it down so that only tenderness betrayed his growing affection. Blair knew it could flare given the right kindling and if what he had glimpsed in Ellison eyes was what he thought it was, fire would soon consume them both. But not now. Blair snuggled his charge into his arms, touched when Jim's sleek head came to rest on his shoulder. It went against every rule he had set for himself, and probably wasn't what William had in mind when he'd hired Sandburg to keep an eye on his son, but it felt right.

####

The halls of Ellison Enterprise appeared even more daunting at 5:47 AM. Blair stepped off the elevator at the twenty third floor and made his way passed the empty receptionist desk. William Ellison's door was open and he could hear the older man's voice as he berated someone on the phone. Blair knocked on the door and walked in. Ellison greeted him with a cordial smile, raising his hand in a signal to wait a minute.

"We'll go ahead with the deal, Wilkerson, just the way I laid it out. Got that? My son is of no concern in this. Yes, it better be." He dropped the receiver back into place and said, "Mr. Sandburg. So good of you to come."

"Well," Blair said, "I figured anything important enough for you to call me at 5 AM must be urgent."

"I just want to say "well done"," he slid a check across the polished desk. "I hope this meets with you approval." Blair picked it up, whistling in astonishment.

"More than meets it, but," he laid it back down, pushing it back to William. "I prefer to wait until my assignment is over."

"It is."

"I don't think so," Blair said. "I've been in this business for a long time and I just get the feeling were not through yet."

Ellison regarded him with a cool gaze. His blue eyes were similar to Jim's, light and clear, but Jim's housed a capacity for gentleness that couldn't be disguised no matter how hard he tried while William's eyes were devoid of anything soft. "You won't be paid any more," William pointed out.

"I don't care. I didn't do this for money. I want to help Jim, Mr. Ellison. He needs my help."

"And he got it," William said with a sigh. "Mayor Baker assured me the men responsible for threatening my son were in custody. It's been weeks since any of the other crackpots made any noise." Ellison shrugged, "I'm grateful, Mr. Sandburg, really." His gaze hardened but Sandburg didn't flinch under the cold stare, just retreated behind a neutral expression. William Ellison didn't frighten him, he'd faced deadlier men that a wealthy businessman, but he had no wish to alienate Jim's father, not if he wanted to help Jim.

"Help with his senses." Blair saw William wince. "Mr. Ellison, Jim has made remarkable progress already."

"I'm aware of your success," William told him. Blair realized his expression must have given away his surprise. Ellison chuckled, "I do have my sources, Mr. Sandburg."

"Then you know what I'm saying is true!"

Ellison sighed and a moment later pushed the check back towards Blair. "Yes. Take the check, Sandburg. Work with Jim if he wants it, but as far as I'm concerned we're done." Blair reached down and let his fingers touch the expensive paper the check had been written on. He wondered what it would feel like to a sentinel, could Jim distinguish the various fibers making it up, what would the ink tell him, the handwriting? It all told Blair what he needed to know. Shaking his head, amazed by his own stupidity, Sandburg tore it straight down the middle. William watched the pieces flutter down over the pristine surface of his desk.

"Thank you, Mr. Ellison."

Sandburg made it back to the loft shortly before 6:30 to find Ellison still in a deep, exhausted sleep. He sat on the floor for a while, just staring up at Jim's slumbering form. Was it worth it? He'd turned down a small fortune, half a million would have allowed him to do a lot of things. "Blair?' Jim murmured.

"Sssh, go back to sleep." He got to his feet, toed off his shoes, shucked his jeans and shirt, then crawled into the bed. Jim snuggled close to him, inhaling his scent as if it were a drug. Blair smiled, knowing this was worth every penny. Sleep stole over him and with it dreams of never leaving Jim's side. He woke an hour later, alarmed to find the space beside him vacant. "Jim?" Blair whispered.

"I'll be right up." Came Ellison's shout from the kitchen. Blair allowed himself a smile which only grew when Jim appeared on the top step, a tray crowded with plates and cups in his arms.

"Thought you might be hungry."

"Starvin'," Sandburg admitted. Jim climbed back into bed, careful with the laden tray. "How long you been up?" He asked, eyeing the scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, cereal, coffee and cinnamon rolls. Jim just grinned around a mouthful of cornflakes. They lingered over their meal, taking comfort in the easy manner which existed between them. "I can't remember the last time I had breakfast in bed," Blair said with a sigh as he finished the last drop of rich, black coffee.

"With another man?" Jim wondered.

A blush ambushed Sandburg, sneaking up over his cheeks. "Uh, that's been a while," he finally managed to say. "You?"

"A while," Ellison admitted. He reached out to rescue the cup from Blair's hand and where their fingers touched, spreading rings of passion radiated like those of a stone tossed into a lake. There in gentle stillness, time slowed to a crawl leaving them an eternity to stare at each other. And then, like a man in a dream, Blair leaned forward, rising to his knees so that he could slip one hand behind Jim's neck and tug him gently closer. He drew a soft breath, gaze dropping to fasten on the mouth he wanted to plunder. "Must be the fairy dust," Jim whispered.

"Does it every time," Blair confided. A bestial need to conquer, devour, and possess raged through him and he claimed the older man's mouth by force. Coffee flavored, Jim met his kiss with a hard shove that tumbled them over onto the mattress. Ellison's file listed him as having been an army Ranger, one of the elite, and as far as Blair could tell the commando training hadn't faded since his leaving the service. Hard muscle pressed him down, and hands locked around his wrists while steel thighs clamped his together. Sandburg gave an experimental tug and a jolt of excitement speared through him. As a small, nerdy Jewish kid of fourteen he'd vowed never to let himself feel helpless again and that pledge had been fulfilled in years of dedicated study, honing a dozen skills. Blair Sandburg could get out of any situation, and though he abhorred violence, preferring to use his wits, he'd not been naïve enough to think his mouth or brain would be the only weapon he might need. But Jim's sensual restraint drew a moan of excitement from deep inside him and, shocked to find some part of his psyche longed for this, Blair allowed himself to be held.

"You're so beautiful," Ellison whispered and licked a path up across his Adam's apple. Blair tried to resist, but Ellison overpowered him, laying a trail of kisses along the exposed column of his throat, sucking on his Adam's apple like candy. Alex's face flashed across his memory but Jim's pale eyes sent it spinning away into fiery oblivion. Blair moaned, sweat popped out on his skin, sizzling on his temples until Jim licked it away in a mind numbing caress that took reason, resistance and inhibition along with it.

It was clumsy and earnest and all the more sweet because of it. The desperate hunger of their kisses spilled over as their bodies surged together. Blair moved against the other man, flexing like the blade of a rapier as Jim raised his hips and the molten pool of their groins parted for a brief second. Hands and mouths explored, writhing limbs tangled together until neither man knew what belonged to who. Sweat broke out over their entwined bodies so that skin slid across skin with delicious friction. Moans of pleasure filled the quiet room, counter point to the rustle of sheets and whispered pleas both men swore under their breath. Blair found himself freed from the paralyzing grip on his wrists, and rolled over so that he lay along Ellison's chest, holding Jim down and taking what he wanted. Jim pulled his knees up, spreading his thighs so that Blair's hard cock rode his own. He pumped his hips, grinding their bodies together in a sweet agony. Jim's legs convulsed, snapping closed around him, holding him prisoner with his heels. Blair opened his eyes, flicking damp hair away with a toss of his head and gazed down into his lover's face. Ellison wore an expression unlike anything Blair had seen before. It looked like pain, tears leaked from his closed eyelids but he whispered Blair's name over and over with such tenderness. They came together in an explosive shudder, tearing apart the world they inhabited, each flung skyward into pitch black oblivion.

Jim woke to the distorted sound of muffled voices. By concentrating he located the source as outside his own front door. Beside him Blair lay flat on his back, one arm flung across Jim's back the other hanging off the edge of the bed. The room smelled of sex and sweat and the damp places on his sheets were turning sticky but Jim drew in a blissful breath and thought about just gathering Blair into his arms and making love again. He would have too, but the indistinct murmur intruded once again and an inbred need to ensure Sandburg's safety spurred him to action. Ellison eased over onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow so he could see the front door. He focused his eyesight on the space beneath the door and saw shadows moving back and forth. Reaching out his right hand, Jim covered Blair's mouth. Blue eyes flew open, filled for an instant with genuine fear, but as soon as he recognized his attacker, Sandburg relaxed. Jim smiled and with his hand still over those lush lips, lowered his face to touch his raised finger to his own lips. Blair nodded and moving silently they crept down the stairs and through the living room. Sandburg jostled him, clearly intending to take point but Jim countered that move by simply snatching up a brass weight as he passed the end table and flinging open the door.

"Oh!" Raven haired, eyes a very startled brown, the woman took a step back. "Mr. Ellison, I see no need for violence." She arched a perfect eyebrow when she caught sight of Sandburg and Jim could feel a blush rushing up his cheeks; they were both wearing only boxers, and to make matters worse Blair's hair had the mussed look of a man who had spent several hours in bed. He resisted the urge to run a hand over his own short hair and glared at the woman.

"What do you want?"

"I'm Marjorie Fujiyama," she pulled a card from the briefcase she carried but neither man needed it to know she was a lawyer. Tailored suit, black hair swept back and held at her nape, she radiated legal vibes. "This is my associate, Carl Swartz. We're with Reeder, Calder, Fanshaw and Phillips." Swartz, blond and nondescript, nodded his agreement but his shrewd blue eyes seemed to be cataloging every detail. "Our client, Carolyn Aileen Plummer, would like a face to face meeting tomorrow morning, nine AM at the Ferguson building." She paused, raking them both with a sly look, "unless you'll be - indisposed."

Blair slammed the door and then leaned back against it. "I'm so sorry, Jim," he whispered. "She's going to bring this up at your divorce hearing. Damn, I wish -"

Jim kissed him. In that kiss existed every emotion he'd ever felt from heartbreak to joy, from loneliness to contentment. "Shut up," he murmured and kissed Blair again.

Sandburg pushed him back, "but -"

Jim placed both hands on Blair's shoulders, bending slightly to look in his eyes. "But we have a problem." Sandburg gave a glum nod, his solemn stare showing he was braced for anything. "Our problem is this," Jim shook his head. "Do we go back upstairs for another round of sex or do we go out and eat?"

Sandburg burst into laughter, dropping a little despite the hold Ellison had on him. "Oh man." His stomach growled. "I guess my vote is food."

"Good boy," Jim said and hugged him. "Have you got a suit?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Get it. No restaurant in Cascade will serve you like that."

Blair looked down at his bare legs and flannel boxers. "Why not?"

"Because when they see I've got something so delicious everyone's going to want one." He pressed another kiss to Sandburg's mouth, turned him around and swatted his butt to get him moving.

"Oh, spanking," Blair said, "I'm down with that!"

They enjoyed a wonderful dinner, marred only by several comments their fellow diners whispered to each other, ironically seeming unaware that the man with the super senses would be able to hear it. "It's okay, Jim. You're going to be old news any day and they'll leave you alone." Ellison didn't answer but part of the haunted look in his eyes faded. They ate until full, toasting each other with silent looks and sweet champagne. "How's it taste?" Blair asked when Jim bit into a succulent morsel of lobster.

"Amazing! I can't believe it, Sandburg. There have been weeks I lived on nothing but Malt-O Meal because everything I ate tasted like acid." He sipped the bubbly drink again, eyes closed in blissful contentment. "This is a gift, Chief. I can never repay this."

Blair opened his mouth, the words you already have poised on his tongue but some instinct told him not to say it aloud. Instead he smiled, reached out and laid his hand over Jim's. "I think there might be a way."

After that, dinner took on a more rapid pace, they ate but conversation dwindled to speculative looks and sly grins. Their eyes met often, speaking for them and by they time they were in the cab heading back to Ellison's loft apartment both men were half hard. "God, I want you," Blair said, as the door closed behind him and the lock clicked into place. He took several steps into the apartment and when he turned to ask Ellison whether he preferred the big bed upstairs or the closer futon in the spare room, he gasped in surprise. Jim had already tossed his suit jacket on the floor and was almost out of his shirt, his trousers were open, white boxers gleaming like a flag of surrender. "I want you," Blair repeated.

"You're going to get me." Ellison promised but instead of fulfilling his vow, continued to undress there in the foyer. Shoes were heeled off, socks peeled away, trousers shoved down and sent flying, boxers slipping to the floor and stepped out of. Naked, Jim spread his legs, and ran his hands over his chest, then down his stomach and cupped his heavy balls. "Come here," he ordered. Blair obeyed with pleasure but as he neared the other man, took control of the situation. He pressed his hand to Jim's chest, slowly guiding the older man back, until he was against the door. Ellison reached for him but Blair stepped back.

"No," he whispered. Jim made a needy sound deep in his throat, but remained pinned to the door where Blair's hand had left him. "No," Blair said again. His eyes, hooded like a hawk's, devoured Ellison, wringing a moan from him that made Blair shudder. A thin coating of sweat broke out over Jim's heaving sides. "Turn around," came Sandburg's husky order. Jim moved slowly, his shoulders flexing, back muscles rippling like flesh covered waves as he turned. Blair drank in the sight spread before him; broad shoulders, the elegant sweep of Jim's back and the swell of his pale ass. Long legs, muscled calves, strong feet set wide apart. He palmed one hip, rubbing his thumb over the shadowed cleft between the sweet buttocks as he leaned in close to kiss Jim's shoulder blade. The resulting gasp made him chuckle. "Just breathe," he advised and went back to his investigations. Beads of sweat intrigued him, begging for closer inspection so Blair swiped his tongue down the deep channel created by Jim's spine. He lingered on the knobby vertebrae savoring the salty flavor then, lowering himself to his knees, plunged deep into the dark region where they ended.

"Blair!" Jim cried and Sandburg calmed him with feather light kisses laid in a line over his flank. Using his hands, he rotated Jim's hips, turning him so that he faced the room again. He looked up but Ellison's eyes were closed, his mouth open as he panted for breath. Blair dipped his tongue into Jim's bellybutton, then blew across the wet flesh until his lover shivered. "Yessss," Jim hissed, his head rolled from side to side and his fingers found purchase on Blair's shoulders. Taking that as an invitation, Blair licked at the cock bobbing just below his chin, sucking the crown into his warm mouth. Jim bucked forward but Blair clamped his hands around the slim hips and held Ellison where he wanted him. It had been a long time since he'd done this, but like riding a bike, it came back to him in a flash. He took in as much of the hot column as he could, directing Jim's thrusts with his grip and when Jim came, he drank down the slightly bitter seed in noisy gulps that made his own cock ache.

"Jim?" he whispered as Ellison slid to the floor in a boneless heap. "Did you like that?" Jim, legs splayed and cock lying limp on his thigh, looked like a debauched god and all Blair wanted was to take him to bed and fuck him unconscious.

"Mmmmmhmmmm," Ellison hummed.

"Good, now I'm going to do something very, very good, but you have to get up."

"Can't," Jim whispered, "not so soon."

"No, Jim," Blair said gently. He pulled on Ellison, getting his feet under him and propping him once again against the door. "No, not get it up, just get up the stairs." Jim seemed to understand and with his arms around Blair's shoulders headed for the stairs to the bedroom above. They tumbled onto the mattress and Blair spent a long time letting Jim kiss him.

"Aren't you going to take all these clothes off?" Jim asked. He kissed Blair's throat, hands working at the buttons of his dress shirt until it was open and spread wide.

"No, I want to do it like this," Blair said. He unzipped his pants, parting the material so that his cock sprang free. Jim grasped it, squeezing gently. "Got anything we can use? Any lube?"

"Bedside table."

Blair found hand lotion and used it. He coated his engorged cock slicking it with vanilla scented lotion until it dripped and the room reeked like a candy store. "Making me kind of hungry," Blair said. He leaned forward, lifting Jim's legs so that he could nudge the small entrance to his body. Ellison moaned as he was breached, his legs instinctively curling around Blair, heels holding him in place. "Relax, Jim." Coaching him, using his voice to calm Ellison until the first wave of pain turned to pleasure, Blair eased inside. It burned, the heat of Jim's body, the fire of emotion he felt, seared him to his core. "Want you, want you," he murmured over and over as he thrust with careful movement. With a final groan he was completely sheathed and they lay, chest to chest, breathing together.

"Now, Blair," Jim urged. Sandburg kissed him, sealing their lips just as their bodies were joined. He pulled back, his cock sliding with glorious friction inside his lover then plowed forward. Jim moaned, and his hands clutched Blair, pulling him back. They seesawed, hips pumping, gasping out commands and pleas, each wanting more and more. Blair felt an overpowering urge to mark Ellison, to make everyone see this was his and no one was to touch. They made love like wild animals, teeth flashing as they kissed and bit, hands leaving bruising prints. They came at the same instant, Blair plunging deep into Jim, his hands pulling Jim up, Jim's catching him and pulling him down. Jerking as if thousands of volts of electricity sizzled between them, they clung to one another, shuddering, shaking and finally collapsing in a tangle of sticky limbs. Blair found the strength to drag a blanket over their moist bodies and fell asleep with Jim's head on his chest.

Sunlight warmed the room, bathing the two men with a golden glow. "Morning," Jim whispered and kissed Blair's sternum. His cock, already stirring to life, found refuge when Blair pulled his left leg up, foot flat on the bed. "Is that a banana in your pocket or are you happy to see me?"

"Let me check." Blair put his head under the blanket for a second then pulled it out. "I'm happy to see you," he announced. They kissed, slow, lingering kisses which held the same passion as the night before but also carried tenderness and a kind of steel devotion each man could feel.

"This is perfect," Sandburg purred after another, slower round of lovemaking had left them pulsating with contentment.

"Uhmmm," Jim hummed, "almost."

Tense silence filling the space beside him made Ellison add, "now buttermilk donuts could raise this merely exceptional moment to the status of absolute perfection." The silence remained but this time it had a decidedly menacing aspect.

"Are you implying," Blair asked, sitting up and managing to jab a bony elbow into his lover's unprotected side as he did, "that my getting out of this warm bed and freezing my ass off just to get you a sugar laden heart attack with a hole could improve on the mind numbing sex we just had?" Ellison smiled sweetly, eyes filled with approving encouragement. "You want me to get food - now?"

"Would you? You, my love, are a treasure." Jim sat up, pressed a kiss to Blair's nose and flopped back onto the mattress with his eyes closed.

"Am I -"

"Yes," Jim assured, "gold doubloons got nothing on you, Chief."

"Am I," Blair hesitated just long enough for Jim to pry open one eye, "your, uh, love?"

Jim froze, unable to move as those deep blue eyes finally ceased darting around the room and landed on him with all the presence of pachyderm. He'd said the words in jest but realized, with a pounding heart, just how true they were. Only with the greatest of effort could he sit up, meeting Blair's gaze as honestly as he could. "Y-yes," he managed to stutter in a hoarse whisper, "if - if you want to be, yes." He longed to say more, ached to couch what he felt in poetry. He'd read Tennyson, Keats, Auden, and all the greats, their words swarmed through his brain, filling it with images of moonlight and intimacy, grace and devotion but not a single sound escaped his lips. Mute in the face of such overpowering and unexpected emotion, he offered a kiss -a soft, pledging kiss which held the entire scope of every poet's dream within it as well as the depth of his own soul and - hoped it was enough. He pulled back, watching as Sandburg's eyes slowly opened, sparkling, and somehow conveying that he, too, had discovered this same truth during the night. "Yes," Jim repeated, shaking, trembling with excitement only partially held in check, "with all my heart." He lifted a hand, sweeping back the tumbled curls of the man he had come to love, and taking a deep breath, forced a devilish smile to hide his lapse of control, "but I'd love you more if you were holding a donut."

Sandburg blinked then howled, pouncing on him with determined fingers, tickling until the bed was a ruin of sheets and they were both breathless with laughter. "Don't go away," Blair sang and leapt from the bed. Jim delighted in the sight of his lover's naked butt flashing pale in the morning light as Sandburg trotted down the stairs.

"Put some clothes on," Jim shouted, "I don't want the woman at the donut shop ravishing you."

"I might get her to toss in a couple of bear claws by letting her have her wicked way with me," came Sandburg's taunt but Jim heard the slide of cloth over skin and grinned.

"Well, in that case...." Jim laughed despite the thunderous slam of the front door. The warmth of pure contentment suffused his body, making him light as a feather and drowsy as a cat. Ellison stretched until joints popped and tendons bunched, taking great pleasure in the body which had so pleased his lover only hours ago. He had no idea how this wonderful state had come about but the feelings which existed between himself and Sandburg were incredible. He'd raced through his life, chased by the fear of failure, of disappointing his father and the stand-ins who had followed. It kept him moving, striving to be perfect, because perfection insured, if not love, then at least attention. That constant pressure, the drive to accomplish it all had made him hard on the outside, but beneath the facade of flawless son Jim knew he could never live up to the standard. But Blair made him feel as if he'd set a different standard, as if being this sentinel was something special. He allowed himself to wallow in that, to believe, if only for a moment, that he had what it would take to keep Sandburg beside him. And that was what he wanted more than anything in the world. He'd known Blair barely a month and already he knew he would never truly be happy unless he could stay close to this amazing man. With Blair he felt whole, for the first time in his life he felt as if he had made the right choice and at everything would finally be perfect.

A scratching noise broke the spell of Ellison's gentle musings. He rolled over, scanning the downstairs with sentinel sharp eyes. It came again, near the front door. Thinking Sandburg might have forgotten his key, Jim grabbed a pair of khaki pants and his undershirt, pulling them on as he headed down. At the foot of the stairs an animalistic growl caused him to stumble, he knew that sound, it had haunted his dreams since Peru - a jaguar. "What the fuck...." Jim crept forward, alert for anything out of the ordinary. Blair's tutelage kept him focused and permitted him to isolate the sounds as being outside the door. He could definitely pick up what sounded like a growl. He stepped quickly to the thick door, took a deep breath and pulled it open.

She was beautiful. Blonde, blue-eyed, smile warm and welcoming. Jim stared at the woman, mesmerized by the shimmering outline of her body, an outline which seemed to flow from feminine to feline and back in defiance of reality. Dazed, Ellison shook his head, blinking as she shifted and changed - woman - cat - woman, right before his eyes. She cocked her head, a puzzled frown marring her lovely features as if she, too, saw something she couldn't grasp. The growl came again, nearby, but it the timber had changed now to Jim's ears it sounded an animal scream of warning. He knew the sound, some part of his brain recognized the jaguar's cry from long nights with the Chopec warriors. Once it would have galvanized him to action, set his heart thundering and his feet flying but at that instant her scent reached him, rich and smooth and warm as jungle rain. Jim felt himself drawn into it, powerless to resist. His heart quickened but not for the fight, this battle was for something older, a primal urge to take. Hunger burst forth in a groan of longing, he wanted to possess her, to claim her, to plant his seed in her. Jim reached out, his hand brushed silken hair but she stepped back like a frightened cat. He lurched forward, frustrated by a need so ancient no words could convey it. Consumed by instinct, Ellison went willingly to his Fate. He never heard the man who stood, pressed hard to the wall, and never felt the crashing weight against the back of his head which sent him hurtling towards pitch blackness. But in that last instant before his world went completely dark, Jim heard the jaguar's scream once again and thought he saw a sleek, spotted shape leaping straight at him.

He knew. Even before the doors popped open and the still warm donuts were spilling across the floor like tiny wheels, Blair knew he'd failed. Jim's door stood wide open and a smear of something red acted as a macabre welcome mat. "Jim!" he whispered in anguish knowing, if he was able, his lover would hear it as clearly as a shout.

His mouth felt as though a fine, powdery ash coated his tongue and the slightest movement sent streaks of red lightning flaring behind his closed eyelids. Jim Ellison lay still after one painful attempt at sitting up and concentrated on not being sick all over himself. He drifted in and out of consciousness, not entirely sure where reality began or ended or why he felt as if he should recognize the beautiful smiling face which appeared at odd intervals. "Who -," his voice cracked, and what felt like the dry shattered pieces tumbled down his throat until he gasped for breath. The beautiful face stared at him, her expression curiously blank, as if he were some alien species she'd been sent to study.

"Here," a rough voice cut across his hacking cough and an even rougher hand jerked his head up by the hair. A splash of lukewarm water hit Jim's mouth and trickled down his cheeks. It tasted of a dozen flavors, none of them pleasant, but Ellison lapped it up thirstily. "'bout time," came the coarse growl again, "I was beginning to think I might be saddled with a pair of brain-dead zombies - instead of just the one." He laughed as if he'd just told a joke. Ellison choked, wheezing breathlessly and looked up at the man who had spoken.

"I know you," Jim croaked. Carl Swartz grinned. "You were with that lawyer."

"Yeah, great job, that. Free parking, 401K, and access to "sensitive" information." Swartz shook his head, "I should have given them two week's notice but we are on a time table here. Now, let's get this show on the road"

"My father won't pay you a cent," Ellison maintained.

"Ransom? No, that's not the game, Jimmy-my-boy," Swartz beckoned to a figure lurking in the shadows and once again the haunting face of the blonde drifted into view. As before Jim felt the pull of some deep thread, it overrode rationality, touching some primal part that existed within him. A growling moan erupted from his throat and he struggled to move closer but found his arms tied behind his back, his ankles lashed together.

"Naughty, naughty," Swartz admonished. "This is Alex. Isn't she pretty?" He ran a proprietary hand over her hair. "You like her?" Jim tried to get his legs under him but Swartz's expensive hiking boot cracked against his collarbone, sending Jim over onto his back like a turtle. "Here's the deal, Ellison. This is a remote control," he held up a small black box, "and this is an explosive device," his hand slipped down Alex's body to her waist then tugged the hem of her shirt up. What looked like a Walkman was secured just above her navel by means of a mesh like belt. "Don't get any ideas," Swartz warned, "the belt is made of steel and there's a little sensor that will signal me if you try and tamper with it."

"Get your fucking hands off her," Jim growled.

"Why?" Swartz placed a sloppy kiss on Alex's mouth then turned to laugh at Ellison. "She's fried, buddy. Not a brain cell left in this pretty shell. That's why I need you. Now, like I said, we're on a schedule here. Let's get going." He shoved Alex away, produced a knife and slit the cord binding Jim's ankles. "Don't try anything, Ellison. I'd hate to see the lady go up like confetti." Jim got to his knees, pausing to let his head stop spinning, then climbed to his feet and stood swaying. A pounding ache spread from a point just behind his left ear and he could feel the sticky trail of blood which had trickled down his neck. His senses rebelled, magnifying the pain in his head until his vision blurred and the grimy floor beneath his bare feet felt like broken glass. "Outside," Swartz ordered and another brutal shove sent him stumbling on rubbery legs across broken cement. Jim heard a distant drone and for a moment confused it with the dull thud clamoring at his temples but it grew louder as they exited into dazzling sunlight. He looked up, squinting until his eyes, following his sensitive hearing, spotted the ancient cargo plane heading directly for them. "What are you looking at?" Swartz asked.

"A plane," Jim said. Sunlight gleamed on its wings, turning the aircraft into a silver spear sailing through a clear sky. "'bout five miles out." Swartz made a grunting noise and seated himself on a bench, gun carefully aimed at Ellison's chest. Jim lowered his gaze to watch Alex. She spent a moment trying to catch a butterfly but became distracted by her own shadow. When she passed close to him, Jim said softly, "Alex?" She stopped, her bewildered gaze lighting on his face. "Alex? What are you?" She reached out, eyes on his mouth and touched his lips, running her fingers over the contours with a rapt expression. "Are you like me? Are you a - a sentinel?"

Alex's head jerked up, her blue eyes growing round. "S-ssssen," she hissed. Far, far above them, the metallic crack of landing gear being lowered made her flinch and Jim had his answer.

"Good god," he whispered, "is this what's going to happen to me?" She cocked her head as if to consider the possibility then spun away in pursuit of another butterfly. Jim swallowed the dread welling in his chest. With distance between them, the pull she exerted on his mind and body abated. He drew in a breath, then another and for the first time since seeing her remembered the man he'd left behind. "Chief." Anguish made his throat ache, "oh, shit, Chief."

"Just what the hell are you telling me, Mr. Sandburg?" William Ellison loomed over him like a threat.

"They got him." Blair closed his eyes and banished the cold fear in the pit of his stomach. Instead of letting it rule him, he took the video cassette from his case and shoved it into the TV. Captain Simon Banks of the Major Crime unit glanced between them, but remained silent. His large frame, angled back in his chair, and the fragrant circle of cigar smoke made him appear rather demonic. Blair quashed the thought, William had insisted on involving the Cascade police despite Blair's best efforts to act quickly. From the looks of the captain, Banks was a by-the-book kind of cop and if they wanted to get Jim before he was whisked out of the country they had to move now. "This won't be of much help, Captain," he said. "The person on this tape will be heading for the jungle."

"I'd still like to see this," Banks insisted and gestured towards the VCR. Blair hit the power button and forced himself to sit immobile as the tiny black and white image played. It unfolded like an ancient melodrama; the waif-like damsel, the rugged hero, the dastardly villain but Blair had seen the ending and knew there was no happily ever after. He took a deep breath to quell the nausea seeing his lover being dragged away unconscious brought with it. He struggled to see anything he'd missed the first hundred times he'd watched the tape but all he saw was the beautiful woman, her face as blank as a doll's and in profile, Carl Swartz' feral smile. Blair went cold inside. Tthis man had come to their door. He worked for Carolyn Plummer. He had Jim.

"And you know her?" Banks demanded.

Blair nodded. "Alex Barnes. She - she was," he didn't know how to answer. Alex had been friend and lover, the Holy Grail he'd sought for years and the culminating failure of his life. "Alex is the woman who almost killed me." He explained it all to them, surprised when they both listened without interruption. He told them of finding Alex, curled in a fetal position, in a Californian hospital. And how he'd recognized her heightened state as what Sir Richard Burton had called a "sentinel". Together they had harnessed her abilities and discovered the history of this amazing phenomena. "Alex fooled me," he admitted softly, "she stole all my research and set out to look for this temple."

"And you didn't file a report?" Banks asked.

"No. At first I just had to survive," unconsciously Blair ran his hand along the scar. "Then, then I thought it was over. I just wanted to let it go and get on with my life. I'm a bodyguard, not a treasure hunter."

"But now this bitch has taken Jim?" Ellison snapped. "Jesus, Sandburg, I thought you were a professional. I thought you were going to help Jim." He rose to pace around the office. "If I'd known you'd failed with that - that woman I never would have hired you!"

"Helped?" Banks cut in. "I thought you were the bodyguard."

"Yes, I am," Blair agreed, "but Jim is also a sentinel."

"You really believe this television shit? You're going to tell me Ellison has these - hyper senses?" Banks frowned, clearly not believing.

"He does. And for some reason Alex and Carl Swartz need him to find a great treasure."

"In the jungles of Peru," Simon finished for him.

Blair shrugged. "I'm going after him." Banks started to protest but Blair leaned over his desk, palms flat on the surface. "You don't have authority, Banks, so telling me not to won't do any good. This has to be fast and I can move faster without the bureaucracy and red tape your way will cost us. I can't tell you how to do your job either but Carl Swartz was with Carolyn Plummer's lawyer. Maybe Carolyn is the place to start."

Sandburg turned and walked away, he could hear William Ellison ranting to Banks, but the police captain never said a word. Blair hailed a taxi and once at the airport caught the first flight to San Francisco and a connection to Lima, Peru.

Sunlight all but ignited the asphalt as Blair Sandburg made his way across the tarmac. He hefted the small bag he carried to his shoulder and adjusted his sunglasses but the glare still made his eyes hurt. When he'd landed in Lima, a local contact had steered him towards a small airport where unscheduled flights were the norm; that had gotten him to Pucallpa, a small city on the Ucayali river. The man had said finding a pilot who would fly him deep into the La Montaña region would be difficult, but he knew where he had to go and nothing would stop him if he had to highjack a plane and bail out over his destination. A group of men, their clothes and speech as rough as wood and all with the non-conformist being a small time pilot seemed to require, watched his approach from the shade of a hanger.

"Enrique?"

"Si." Grease stained clothes, and a pock marked face, Enrique did little to inspire confidence.

"Roberto Martinez arranged a little sight seeing tour, I'm Sandburg." The pilot's eyes raked him, hardening as they took in his apparent youth.

"Six hundred."

"Four."

"No for taking you to La Montaña," the man said. Behind him the other offered noisy agreement. "Es demasiado peligrose."

Sandburg prided himself on keeping the dangerous, battle tried part of his psyche well in hand, but at that moment he let his mask drop. Stepping nearer, he lowered his sunglasses with a single finger. Every image he carried of Jim, falling unconscious and lying so still, filled his mind. Anger swelled inside him, and pinning Enrique's gaze with his own he ground out, "Four hundred and you will take me where I want to go." The pilot gulped, bobbing his head as he turned to scatter the others with his hands.

"Vaymanos." In less than twenty minutes Blair and his bag were on board a helicopter heading inland towards the jungle. Sandburg stared down at the green canopy of trees, it looked just as he'd known it would. Those nights, lying in a San Francisco hospital, his body fighting the infection raging through it, he had seen the jungle. Dreams, visions, maybe just nightmares, but he wandered those jungle paths, his fevered brain showing him a temple and a great black cat crying out in - in pain. Blair shook himself, drawing his mind away from what he might find and focused on what he knew had set this all in motion. Alex had been the reason for all this. She had played him well and left him for dead and now she had come back to take the one thing he loved more than life - Jim.

Memories washed over him sending him back to that day three years before, the day Alex had shown exactly how much she cared for him. "Tell me again about the Temple," she whispered. Honey sweet and warm, her voice filled his ears and intoxicated his brain.

"I've told you a dozen times before," Blair said, laughing and catching hold of her hand to kiss it.

"But I want to know about the treasure." Alex traced her fingers over his lips as if she could coax the sounds from them.

"A great treasure," he recited, "more precious than gold."

"But a sentinel can find it," Alex prompted.

"Only a sentinel," Blair said. "Once the sentinel enters the Temple and the Chicata is performed," he lowered his voice, wagging his eyebrows to make her laugh again, "the treasure will be theirs."

"What is this Chicata?" Alex whispered. Her kisses burned him, she rose up, straddling his torso and looking down into his face. "Tell me, Blair."

"I don't know. I've told you, my sources don't explain it."

"Then how will I find it?" She leaned over him, whispering in his ear, her long blonde hair falling across his face. He remembered that still, the feel of her silky hair sliding across his cheek and wondered why he'd never forgotten that part of it. He'd forgotten the rest, made himself forget until he could stand to remember, but that one image had never, ever gone away.

"Burton's study was in Peru. That's the place to start, La Montaña. He said a sentinel can see the path, that the signs are clear to those who know how to look." Her hair had trailed over his chin, then lifted and when he opened his eyes it was to see the barrel of a gun aimed at his stomach.

"I'm sorry, baby," she said. The roar of a bullet being fired and the white hot spread of fire though his body made it all go away.

"Senor?" The pilot's voice shattered Alex's hold in his memory and let it crumble away like dust. Enrique pointed to a small clearing. "Muchos han muerto en ese lugar."

"Yeah? Well, one more won't matter, will it?" The pilot shrugged, obviously as long as he got paid he didn't care if his passenger came back or not. Blair grabbed his pack, shoved the roll of bills he carried into the man's big hand and scrambled out as the runners touched earth. The copter rose immediately, disappearing over the trees as if it had never been there. Once the whump whump of the blades had died away, the jungle remained silent. Something dark moved at the edge of the clearing. Blair whirled, but saw nothing. Still he could feel its pull, he turned in the direction it had been and walked into the jungle.

Heat. Jim plodded forward, forcing one foot before the other. His world seemed to consist only of heat and pain. The irony of such limited perception wasn't lost on him, and the thought of a blind and numb sentinel was a joke he wanted to share with Sandburg - if he ever saw him again. A merciless sun beat down on the three travelers, steaming the very air around them, making the foliage drip until they were soaked. Ellison concentrated on merely moving, he had no idea where they were, but he knew the way. He had always known it, been born knowing it. His feet moved, carrying him along by means of some inbred compass. He could feel it, like an invisible rope looped around his neck, something pulled him east. Beside him, Alex seemed to feel it as well, she would often pause in her childish endeavors and turn those strange flat eyes towards the distance. Jim shivered, "Alex, can you understand me?" She ignored him again, catching up rocks and studying their shape.

"It's no good, Ellison," Swartz called from the rear. "She can't understand anything."

"What did you do to her?" Jim demanded.

"Me? I didn't do a thing," Swartz said, "she did it all herself." His malicious smile made Jim's fists clench but the small black device he carried stopped any action before it began. They moved further into the jungle, Jim fighting to keep his eyes open. His head pounded, not just from the unrelenting heat but sharp pains radiated from the lump where he'd been hit. His vision, already swimming with sweat, blurred more and more, hinting at a concussion but Swartz didn't seem inclined to stop. They hadn't stopped moving since leaving Cascade. Jim could barely recall the nightmare plane down, stopping somewhere in a clearing not listed with any aviation organization. The overpowering smell of fuel had coupled with the engines constant roar to send him deep into unconsciousness. When he'd come to, it had been to rough hands seizing him, dragging him from the plane and into a battered truck. They'd driven for hours, darkness fell and with it the temperature. Jim had tried to hold Alex, wanting to protect her, but she pulled away, her animal growls unbearable. He had no idea when they'd left the truck, only that it had been dawn. Swartz tossed him a pair of rope sandals and pointed the way vaguely east. Now, footsore, hungry, exhausted and sick, he staggered onward, drawn to some spot he had never seen before but knew he had to reach.

"Stop here," Swartz called. He produced a canteen and after a long swig tossed it to Ellison. Jim drank, letting the liquid settle his knotted stomach. He knew they were near, maybe over the next ridge. He closed his eyes and the image of a temple came into his mind. Stones set so precise not even a blade of grass could be slid between them, rose from the undergrowth. Above a square door, the mark of the sentinels - the Great Eye, looked down on all those daring to enter. "Hungry, pet?" Swartz waved a piece of jerky at Alex and with a grunt of delight she fell on it. "How 'bout you, rich boy?" Jim ignored him, sinking to his knees to rest. He could feel it now and knew he had to be pure of body as well as heart and mind to survive what was to come.

"How are you going to get the treasure out?" Jim asked. Swartz eyed him a moment, then a grin broke across his face.

"That's what I have you two for." Jim didn't say anything more and after a few minutes they set off again. It appeared almost like a mirage; shimmering in the dappled light, the stones gray and white and dark green with moss. Jim stopped and Alex whimpered, moving close to him for the first time. "Come on, that's what we're here for, get moving!" A gun barrel prodded Jim into action. He clamored up over the tumbled rocks, skirting a jagged edge which ended in a sheer drop to a river below. The Eye stood out, carved so deeply into the rock it would take another thousand years for the rains to wash it away. A stone slab blocked the entrance but Jim reached to the center of the carving, pressing with a firm hand and it swung away. He expected dust and a blast of stale air to rush out at them, but only silence greeted them. "Inside," Swartz commanded. It felt cool, deep shadow such a relief from the blazing heat, Jim shivered. He could see clearly, his eyes adjusting to the near darkness with ease but Swartz clicked on his flashlight and it bounced over the empty chamber. "Okay, down that way." His beam led to the right, down a steep passage.

Alex clung to Jim, holding his arm but Swartz shoved her away. They moved along, their feet scraping on the stones so that little clouds of dust followed as they passed. Jim could hear nothing, no sound of rats, no animals, no insects, nothing. It was as if they were the only creatures on Earth. The passage ended in a small room. Set in the center, like a pair of giant weeping eyes, were two depressions filled with crystal water. Jim stepped forward, his hand trailing across the glassy surface. For an instant, he saw a face; deeply tanned, red stripes of power across the cheeks and brow, the man stared at him. "Get in!" Swartz ordered. Jim looked at him. "Do it or she dies!" He held up the remote and Jim could do nothing but obey.

The water cradled him, curling around his body like Blair's hands had done days before. Jim let go, let himself float in this soothing embrace. It had felt cool on his fingers but now, immersed within it, the waters were warm and inviting. He raised one hand, letting the droplets fall and the sound was like music. He could feel the earth turning, heard the clouds, smell the mountains which surrounded them. He was God. "What do you fear?" The question startled Ellison, he jerked in reaction but his stayed immobile, held fast by what only an instant before had seemed like heaven.

"Who- who are you?" Quiet laughter greeted his question. Jim searched the room, but found it empty. "Alex? Swartz?" His shouts echoed off the walls. A shadow moved, detaching itself from the wall. It was the face he had seen before, the Indian. Power radiated from him, making the air sizzle with it and the waters around him tremble.

"Do not fear, Enquiri," the man said. He stood over Jim, staring down at him. Ellison recognized the marks of a shaman. A sense of peace settle over Jim, one he had only felt as he lay in Sandburg's arms. "Fear is a snake, it will strike anything which moves. You must be the jaguar. A jaguar waits, selecting its prey with skill and patience."

"I don't understand," Jim whispered.

"You're heart understands, Enquiri. You must let it guide you." The shaman leaned nearer, his hand touching the surface of the water. Images burst into Jim's mind; his childhood passed in a blur of loneliness, his adolescence in shame. Whole decades flew by and for the first time Jim saw how little happiness he'd know. He saw only a misfit, a man without guidance, drifting towards a bleak future. But something shone ahead, a bright flicker caught his eyes. Sandburg stood there, his eyes the blazing spot of light. Jim smiled and would have called out but Blair began to change, his body shifted, became that of a wolf. "What do you fear?" the Indian repeated but a smile curled his mouth. Jim felt his own form melt, sinewy strength making his body elongate, pulling it forward onto all fours. He lost himself in the powerful thrust of muscle as he sprinted along, charged by a power he didn't understand to accomplish a goal he would die to finish. The wolf raised it muzzle to howl, then faced him with a wolfish grin, his own legs digging into the dirt as he raced headlong towards Jim.

The wolf leapt. Jim tensed his own legs, his powerful body obeying instantly and he flew high into the air. Weightless as thought, solid as love, the two animals came together. Silver and jet, azure and indigo, they exploded in a blinding flash of light. Jim could feel Blair's heart beating in his own chest, his blood flowing in his veins. "What do you fear?"

"Being alone." And even as he said it, Jim knew he would never have to fear it again.

"You are not. You have found the treasure all Sentinéls must seek." The mysterious shaman reached down, taking Jim's arm and pulling him from the waters.

"What is this place?"

"Chicata - the place of truth. You must never come here again, Enquiri. To do so would be a living death."

"But what about the treasure?" Jim blinked, his skull suddenly felt as if it had been cracked open and molten lead poured inside.

The shaman pointed and Jim saw two paths; one led through a verdant valley the other ended at the edge of a cliff. "Choose." Ellison looked at him but the man's expression revealed nothing. "Once you have chosen, you can not go back." Something moved near the cliff, a wolf trotted out to the rocky lip and sank to its haunches. Something in its expression looked like a dare. Jim shook his head, smiling and stepped towards the cliff. He reached the edge and the wolf nuzzled his hand. "What treasure could be more valuable that what I have shown you?" The shaman's voice asked from far away. Jim turned to look over his shoulder but as he did, the rock beneath his feet began to give way. He was falling, and the wind in his ears sounded like the howl of a wolf.

"Jim! Get down, damnit!"

Ellison landed, not at the bottom of a gorge but on the stone floor of the chamber. Water pooled around him, streaming off his clothes so that he landed with a smacking plop. A chip of stone tore his cheek, and the hot scent of blood filled his nostrils. It mingled with the water and washed away just as the sound of bullets ricocheting around the chamber faded. Jim drew a deeper breath and everything snapped into focus. Shadows held no mystery, the smallest sound reached his ear, currents of air told him a dozen things and he felt as it he'd been reborn in that pool -reborn as a sentinel. Jim found his lover by scent, cataloging his state of mind, and the caliber of his pistol in an instant. He found Alex near the second pool, gazing at the rippling waters as she smoothed a hand over the surface but it was Swartz who commanded his attention. The blond man was pulling out the detonation device.

"Don't do it, Swartz," Jim warned, "the whole fucking place will come down on us!" But Swartz continued his frantic scrabbling for the remote.

"Then tell me where the gold is!"

"It's here," Jim yelled, "It's in this chamber!" He saw the other man go still, only his eyes moved and they darted around the room like vipers. "Just - just put down the remote and I'll help you get it." Alex lay on the lip of the second pool, her dulled eyes intent on whatever it was she could see. Jim slowly stood, he could see Blair crouched at the door, a pistol in his fist, his mouth set in a hard line. Swartz's light bobbed as he moved, swinging over the place where Sandburg knelt.

"Tell whoever that is to get the fuck out where I can see him!"

"Sandburg, do as he says." Blair hesitated, his finger tightening on the trigger. "NO! Just drop the gun, Chief. He's got a bomb on Alex. He hits the switch and we all die. Blair stood, his gun falling with a ringing clatter to the ground.

"I should have known," Swartz snapped. Gesturing with the light, he ordered, "over with Ellison. Either of you make a move I don't like, I'll blow his head off." Blair moved to stand next to Jim.

"What's the plan?' Sandburg breathed.

"The Chicata showed me the treasure in a vision," Jim explained. "It's behind the altar." An intricate arrangement of stones created a small altar at the opposite end of the room. Jim led the way to it, his eyes finding the dark recess at the base.

"Get it out," Swartz told them, "and don't try anything funny."

"I need you to press right here, Chief," Jim instructed Sandburg and placed his lover's hands atop a crumbling figure of a bird. Blair pushed and with a deep groan, a crack appeared at the side of the altar. It widened slowly, air hissing out. Jim studied the space for a long moment then slowly reached into the dark niche, pebbles tumbled free as his fingers closed upon the shape he sought. Swartz shoved Blair aside, and crowded closer, one hand clutching the remote detonation device the other his gun.

"Can you feel it?"

"Yeah." Jim yanked his hand out. Swartz made a grab for the treasure only to pull back, screaming as he realized it wasn't a golden bracelet in Ellison's hand. A serpent, yellow body writhing and coiling, dangled from Jim's fingers, it struck like lightning. Swartz's scream grew louder, the remote dropped from nerveless fingers as he clutched his hand where tiny droplets of blood had appeared. Jim dropped the snake and caught the falling device as smoothly as if he'd known all along this would be the outcome.

"Jim, you okay?" Sandburg called. Jim nodded and hurriedly swung the stone covering back over the secret place, not even tempted by the golden box the snakes protected. He had his treasure, he needed nothing else.

"I hate snakes." When Jim looked, his lover was carefully prodding the snake out the door, sending it slithering into the jungle. He grinned at the image of his macho bodyguard shuddering like that until his glance fell on the dead man. It was an ugly death, the bulging eyes, the blackened wounds and yellowing skin made him sick.

"You just gonna sit there?" Blair demanded.

"I was thinking about it, Chief. I'm kinda tired."

"Well, get off your beautiful ass, Ellison and check on the girl." Jim's heart slammed into his ribs, he'd forgotten about Alex. He climbed to his feet and staggered over to the pool. Alex lay within it, and at first he didn't know what it was that was different. She stared up at him with a dreamy expression but as he looked into her eyes, he knew. He could see emotion within them. For the first time since he had laid eyes on her, something stirred within her.

"Alex? Alex?"

"It's so beautiful," she sobbed. "I can hear the colors and taste the sounds." She reached for him, trying to pull him down beside her in the water. "We're Gods, we can rule the world!" He took her hand, raising her from the pool. "No! I want more. I'm not afraid, I'm - I'm -" she shook her head, hair flying. "I can't remember......I'm something....important........" The spark flickered, growing bright for an instant before dying. Jim held her, his guts crying out that he had to do something but Alex gave a small sigh and went limp in his embrace.

"Alex?" But he knew she was gone. Jim gently closed her eyes, wondering why her treasure had been something which would have made him very unhappy. He imagined his father's world, because gold made William's eyes shine just as Alex's had.

"Jim?" A strong hand settled on his shoulder. "We should get going. How's Alex.........." He made a pained sound, dropping to his knees beside Jim. "I'm sorry," he whispered and brushed the wet strands of her hair back. "Alex, I'm so sorry."

"No," Jim said. "She did this, Blair. She caused it, not you." He took Blair's hand, pressing it to his chest, over his heart. "I saw the treasure, Blair. It's more vast than you can even imagine." He watched his lover's face but Blair didn't seem interested in his words.

"You're okay, Jim? You're not hurt?"

"Blair, the treasure. I found the treasure." Blair frowned and Jim laughed. "It's right here," he pulled Blair into his arms, kissing him, and knew what he held was the most valuable thing in the world.

".......and then I tore it to pieces and let them fall in his lap." Blair folded his arms, smiling as he lay back against the rails at the head of Ellison's big bed. He turned to Jim, one eyebrow raised. "I think he was thunderstruck."

"Much as I am now," Jim said. He shook his head, "$500,000, Chief?"

"I didn't want to be the hired man, Jim," Blair whispered. He leaned over his lover, clasping Jim's cheek in his hand. "There's no price on how much I love you." Ellison closed his eyes. "Jim? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Blair," Jim said softly. When he looked at Blair his eyes glimmered with emotion. "I - I don't know what to say."

"Say we can live off your money because I'm broke." Blair kissed him and when he drew back, Jim followed. They stared at each other, Jim wondering just what it was Blair saw. He could lose himself in Sandburg's eyes, in the flecks of green and brown and gold which clung to the blue of his iris. Jim traced a finger over the delicate eyelid, across the feathery lashes and down the button nose.

"Carolyn isn't getting a settlement," Jim whispered. He nibbled on Blair's ear as he spoke. "She's giving it up and in return my father won't make it public that the esteemed Plummer family was involved in a plot to extort money from us."

"Ex-extort?" Blair stuttered. He let his head fall back, throat exposed as Jim kissed his way down to the hollow at the base.

"Uh-huh. She hired Fujiyama to get something on me since the heightened senses were getting her the big bucks." He grinned when his lips made Blair moan.

"I don't think - I'm not following, Jim - Jim!!" Blair grasped Ellison's upper arms, pulling the larger man up and away from his nipples. "Tell me again."

Jim sighed, "Carolyn thought by - outting me as a sentinel she'd make a fortune with book rights, movie of the week, that kind of thing." Blair stared at him expectantly, "when nothing came of it - I mean, who's going to believe it, right? Carolyn heard that you'd moved in -"

"And decided to out you for real."

"Yeah, only she hired Fujiyama who hired Swartz -"

"And Swartz knew it was all true because of - "

"Alex."

"Alex."

Blair sank back against the pillows and ran his hand through Jim's short hair. "She wanted a treasure."

"She had one," Jim said softly. He took Blair's face between his hands, fingers buried within the curling locks. "She had one and let it slip through her fingers but I'm not going to make the same mistake." He kissed Blair, pulling their bodies close together and made love to the man who had once been hired to protect his body and who now owned his heart and soul.

The end.

Thank the author! Back to index!

Acknowledgments: Thank you to Mary for the beta.