Archive of Our Own ^beta

Not mine. No infringement intended.

This story was first published in Love and Guns 14, March 2001. My love to Laura and TACS for treating this author so well.

Everything I ever wanted to know about the Penan people of Borneo, I found in a Natl. Geo. article. All mistakes, however, are mine. And yes, there is a Holiday Inn in Kushing.

Talisman

Blair came by the fetish by accident. Geoff Tsala had shown it to him once in his office back at Rainier University. Geoff had a small collection of Zuni fetishes, many of them carved by his grandfather. This particular one had caught Blair's eye immediately. It was a small onyx mountain lion with tiny turquoise eyes, it's body poised in a crouch. It was caught in that moment before the spring, all coiled strength and deadly intent. It reminded Blair of Jim.

When he looked at it, which was often these days, he wondered what might have happened if he hadn't decided on going with Stoddard to Borneo. If, the second time his old professor had asked, Blair had told Jim it was about friendship and even more; it was about love. But how does one tell their very straight and narrow, by the book, hetero best friend that you want to jump his bones without pissing him off royally? Blair hadn't been able to find a way. And so it was that when, in the aftermath of the debacle caused by his mother, Naomi, and a certain publisher named Sid Graham, Dr. Stoddard himself had called and said to hell with Blair's doctorate, he could use a first class research assistant, Blair had accepted the position.

Several times during those last few days with Jim in Cascade, Blair had tried to find the right moment to speak up, but it never seemed to be the right time, the right place. Jim had been so calm and cool through the whole thing, had hardly reacted when Blair had explained that, in the end, he couldn't be a cop. It wouldn't work; it could never work. Somehow, it hadn't been the time to say "Oh god, I love you so much, you're my life, my only hope of happiness." And so they had departed in silence. Which was why Blair Sandburg hadn't seen Jim Ellison, sentinel and love of his life, in three months, three weeks, six days and three hours, not that anyone was counting.

Of course, that didn't explain how he'd gotten the fetish. Not for the first time, Blair found himself holding the talisman as he pondered how it had ended up mixed in with his clothing. He and Geoff had gone out drinking, and yes, he'd slept with Geoff, but that had been a couple of days before Blair had left Cascade. He'd spent those last two days with Jim and he had no recollection of finding the fetish in his clothes. Nearly everything had been washed and the fetish, while not exactly delicate, was a fragile little piece of sculpture and shouldn't have survived the clothes washer. How it had ended up in the pocket of his khaki cargo pants when he unpacked in Borneo, Blair had no idea. He liked to think Jim had put it there, and, while that didn't make much sense, it did explain why Blair wore the fetish of a black panther in a small pouch dangling from a thong around his neck.

He'd sent a note to Geoff about it and he'd gotten a reply from the man saying if the fetish had somehow come to be in Blair's possession, that was where it was meant to be. So maybe Borneo was where he was supposed to be, though the country was the one place he never intended to go after turning down Stoddard's initial offer two years ago.

Life was weird that way, Blair thought, looking at the turquoise eyes of the fetish. You found yourself in places you never expected to be: face down in a fountain at the university, standing before a television camera and throwing away the best years of your life, or lying in bed with your best friend and research project. Okay, it was true that the last one, no matter how much he had wished it, had never happened. Shrugging his shoulders at the injustices of life, Blair slipped the onyx sculpture back into its' pouch and tucked it protectively inside his shirt where it rested on near his heart. Then he resumed packing up his notes and equipment.

The first portion of their research completed, the team, which consisted of Stoddard, Miranda Kerr, who was both an anthropology student and an excellent photographer, and Blair, was leaving the remote reaches of the Gunung Mulu National Park. The Park served as the mountainous refuge for 300-odd Penan people who still lived by the grace of the forest and who were the subject of Stoddard's research.

Part of Blair hated to leave the Penan. They were only a cluster of families, this band of nomads who refused to bend to the will of the government and live in the lowland settlement. Early on, Blair had discovered the mountain tribe had one word for "he," "she," or "it," but they had six for "we." Sharing was a unbegrudged obligation and there was no Penan word for "thank you." It hadn't been hard to respect and admire such people.

During the next phase of their research, the team would be seeing the other side of the picture. It would take several days for them to get to Long Iman, the government settlement established for the Penan people to induce them to settle. First, the team would walk two days through the jungle until they reached the roads the logging trucks took. From there it was a day's ride to the Tutoh River where they would travel by long boat to the resettlement village.

Finally finished packing, Blair swung his duffel on his shoulder and ducked his head to exit the "lamin," the small shelter built in an hour that had housed him for a month. Upon looking up, he was delighted to see Asiik standing beside Eli and Melinda. Blair had spent many hours with the man, hunting the "babui," the bearded pig. He knew Asiik to be a man with a wicked sense of humor, as well as one who took his role as headman with great seriousness. That Asiik himself was to lead the team out of the forest to the roads, spoke of the success of their time spent with these people.

Two days later, the anthropological team parted company with the headman at the edge of the forest and made their way to the nearby logging base where they had left a truck nine weeks earlier. On the ride, wedged against the truck door due to Stoddard's solid bulk and Miranda Kerr's skinny frame, Blair found his homesickness had not abated, but had turned the corner, so to speak. As Stoddard navigated the switchbacks and curves, Blair day-dreamed of pizza and pasta a L'Ellison, anything other than sago and cassava (which was plain old tapioca and made him shudder) to eat. He fell asleep to dream that he was back at the loft and Jim was cooking supper. The air was redolent of spaghetti sauce and home.

Rain leaking in through the seam of the roof of the truck woke Blair. It was late October, but the monsoons, a bit delayed this year, had only recently started. Not to worry, Asiik had said, in this part of Borneo, the monsoons amounted to only short, strong bursts. Apparently, the team and its truck was smack dab in the middle of one such burst right now. Eli was swearing as he drove, the rain coming down so hard the road ahead was practically invisible.

"I thought it was supposed to be drier in the mountains," Miranda gasped out just before they took a curve and she and Blair grabbed frantically at the dash board. Stoddard fought the wheel as they rounded the hairpin turn. The back wheels of the truck skidded on the mud-slick mountain road and the vehicle began to fish-tail. In a matter of heartbeats, there was an impact and the sound of glass shattering. The door Blair was leaning against popped open. Suddenly, the world was dropping out from under him and the sickening feeling of falling made him cry out. Then he hit something solid and all was silent.

For the second time, water dripping in his face woke Blair. It took him a few moments to open his eyes to see it was no longer raining and that it was rain water falling from the foliage of a tree that was splatting on his face. He moved slightly, prelude to sitting up, and an excruciating pain lanced through his entire left side, shoulder and arm. It was an odd gut-wrenching feeling, nothing like when he had broken his arm when he was a kid. Trying not to sob, Blair used his right hand to feel his left shoulder and arm. The pain intensified and the world spun madly and he had to stop or he was going to vomit all over himself. He'd try again later, he thought muzzily, and, closing his eyes, floated away on a wave of pain...

...to awake again sometime later. It was pitch dark, and for a moment he thought he had lost his eyesight and terror raced through him, instinctively causing him to try to sit up. When he did, the horrible, grinding pain came back.

"Jim!" The cry was wrung out of him before he could call it back. Blair bit his lip and forced himself to be quiet. God, what was the matter with him? There was something terribly wrong with his left shoulder and it made him sick to move. He gritted his teeth and managed to get into a semi-sitting position. He peered into the darkness around him.

The moon took that moment to come out from behind a thick bank of clouds and show him he was only a few feet from the edge of a drop off. Blair turned his head to look all about. The road was behind him, the truck nowhere to be seen. He inched forward carefully until he was closer to the cliff's edge and then looked down. The moonlight glinted on the vehicle's underbelly, far below. Even if he wanted to, even if he thought Miranda and Eli might actually be alive in the wreckage, there was no way he would make it down the steep slope in his condition.

Sighing, Blair shifted back. Then slowly, gritting his teeth at the pain the movement caused him, he staggered to his feet. The world swam around him and he almost went to his knees, every move jolting pain through him and making spots dance before his eyes. But he needed to move, had to move if he was going to get help for his companions. If he remembered correctly, there was a cellular phone at the logging headquarters at the base of mountain. They had stopped there on the journey to the National Park. Stoddard had used the phone to call an old friend and colleague, who was a professor at the University Malaysia in Sabah, about the possibility of joining them. Blair had no idea how far down the mountain the logging camp might be, but it wasn't as if he had a lot of choices. Downhill was better than up. Clutching his left arm with his right hand, Blair started to walk.

Jim Ellison woke with his left arm and hand totally numb. It had happened two nights in a row now and if it had been his right hand, Jim would have thought it was the onset of carpal tunnel syndrome, because in the four months since Blair had left, he'd had to type all his own reports. Trying not to wince as his left hand and arm came back to life, Jim scrubbed at his forehead with his right.

//Stop this now,// he told himself. But he couldn't. Not a day went by that he didn't think of Blair Sandburg. Not a night went by that he didn't dream of Blair and kick himself for being such a fool and letting the other man go without telling him. //Without telling him what, asshole?//

Without telling his friend, roommate and guide that he was in love with him.

Last night's dream had been particularly weird. Jim had dreamed Blair was walking, all alone, on a road. Just walking, nothing else. For the last few months, Jim had been having reoccurring dreams of Blair making his way through what could only be described as rainforests, though in Jim's memory all Blair had spoken of as he prepared for the trip was mountains. So Jim had looked up Borneo on the Internet and found out Sarawak, the Malaysian state to which Blair had purportedly gone, did indeed have rainforests in its mountainous areas. Which had made Jim think maybe his dreams were real, maybe he was connecting to his guide in some weird way. And maybe that connection would bring Blair back to him. But Blair had said the team would be in a very remote area. So this road imagery, well, it had to be all wrong. So Jim's theory was shot to shit.

The phone rang and stabbed into the headache Jim hadn't realized he had.

"Ellison," Simon Banks barked. Damn, couldn't his boss use another tone of voice? He'd been barking at Jim for months now -- ever since Blair had left, to be exact.

Jim sighed. "Hello, Captain."

"Do you know somebody named Adam Ahmat?"

"No. Why?"

"Well, some guy by that name called from Malaysia this morning. Said he needed to get in touch with you as soon as possible. He left his number."

The captain sounded nonchalant, but his words made Jim's heart race. Simon might not equate Borneo with Malaysia, but Jim had done his homework when his guide had left Cascade and he knew in many cases the names were considered synonymous.

"This morning?" Jim said, working to keep his tone light. He checked the clock by the bed. "It's only seven fifteen now, what time did the guy call?"

"About five minutes ago. I came in to go over the Clemmon's files with Rafe and Brown one more time before they testify in court this morning. Look, they're here now, I have to go. Do you want this guy's number, or not?"

"Okay, okay. Let me find a pencil. Okay, let me have it." Jim took the number, wincing when Simon slammed down the phone. He stilled the tiny voice inside himself that was crying out that the phone call had to be about Blair. And that Sandburg was in some kind of trouble.

His left arm wasn't numb anymore, but it was still strangely achy when Jim picked up the phone again to dial the international number Simon had given him.

Another few feet, just another few feet, Blair thought as he trudged along. //Must have gone three miles by now. Or maybe it just feels that way, feels like a million miles. Step, step.//

Sweat burned in his eyes, or maybe those were tears, he couldn't be sure. He kept seeing a hint of sunlight on the horizon, but he couldn't be sure of that either. The only thing he was completely sure of was the pain. It rolled in waves, lapping at his ears, blurring his eyesight, fuzzing his brain. He wanted to stop. He wanted a drink of water. He wanted Jim to be holding him saying, "It's all right, Chief. I'll take you home and everything will be all right."

Jim's face swam before him. The sentinel looked just as he did when they said good-bye at the airport. He was wearing that brown flannel shirt, the ugly one that should have looked bad on him, but didn't. Nothing ever looked bad on Jim. Jim looked great with or without clothes on actually. Of that Blair was sure. But he wasn't sure of much else. Where was he? Where was Jim? What was he doing walking alone on this road in some god-forsaken country. Why did he hurt so bad pain jarring him with each step? It was getting dark again. He was tired and it was getting dark.

Exhausted, Blair sank to his knees. Bent at the waist, head nearly touching the road, he waited for the world to make sense again.

"What?" Jim bellowed into the phone. Oh god, no. Nightmares were not allowed to come true.

"I'm sorry, Mr Ellison, that is all I know." Anthropologist Adam Ahmat spoke calmly. "I can only relay what the authorities told me. Eli Stoddard and Miranda Kerr's bodies were found in the wreckage; Blair Sandburg's was not. They are still searching the area, but it is monsoon season now and the rains are coming down unusually hard this year and there have been mud slides in the region.

"Maybe Blair wasn't in the truck at all. Maybe he stayed behind for some reason." Jim heard the desperation in his own voice.

"I am assured Mr. Sandburg left the logging camp at Gulung Mulu in the company of Eli Stoddard and Ms.Kerr. I, myself, was supposed to join with up them in Long Iman tomorrow. I will be leaving today to escort the bodies back to Kuching, the capital of Sarawak. I will call you from there if you like."

"How far is the capital from the region where the truck was found?" Jim had to force himself to think logically, to not just panic and start yelling again.

"It depends on the weather and the roads, but not more than a day and a half."

Shit. This man was not going to go help look for Blair. It wasn't his job. It was Jim's job to look after his guide. He should have been there as his Blessed Protector. This never would have happened if he had stayed at Blair's side. He should have kept him close. Sentinel and Guide had to be together.

What in hell had he been thinking to let Blair go?

"How can I reach you in Kuching, Mr. Ahmat?" Jim asked, but his mind was racing far ahead of the question.

It took him four hours to procure tickets, make sure he would be issued a visa, and find his passport. Then he called Simon. His boss surprised him by not yelling "you're what?" when Jim told him what he had planned.

Instead Simon said, "Go get him, Jim. You never should have let him go in the first place."

The entire way to the airport Jim wondered why it had taken Simon so long to tell him what he had desperately needed to hear from somebody three months earlier. No, that wasn't fair, he couldn't pin it on Simon, but Jim couldn't help thinking if someone, anyone, had stopped him and told him what an ass he was being, he never would have let Blair go.

But that wasn't right either. He hadn't let Blair go. Blair Sandburg was a grown man with a mind of his own. Which didn't mean Jim hadn't spent way too much time wishing he'd said certain things to his friend before he had left. He'd tried, damn it, but the words had stuck in his mouth and rolled down the back of his throat like unshed tears.

He had spent three-plus years calling Blair every nickname in the book, but when push came to shove, he hadn't been able to say what he had really meant every time he called the other man "Chief."

"You're number one with me, Blair. Moreover, you are the other half of my soul. I need you like a plant needs sunlight and water you are vital to my life. I love you beyond imagining."

It made no difference that he'd meant to say the words, that he'd wanted to say them. In the end, he had not had the courage. Blair had gotten on the plane and not looked back. If he had, he would have seen big Jim Ellison with tears on his face mouthing the words "I love you.".

If only Blair had looked back, maybe he would have stayed.

The ground was a funny red-brown color that Blair has never seen on the Western Continents. It must be some element in the soil that was not found in the Americas, he mused. He'd seen it in Australia, too. But not this close-up. Not an inch from his nose.

Blair's vision blurred and for a minute he thought he was crying, but then he realized it was just the rain. He turned his head, opened his mouth and let some of it trickle down his throat. It tasted salty and cool and made Blair think of a cold beer passed from Jim's hand to his own. It made him think of veggie pizza on the couch in the loft watching a Jags game.

He wanted that now, home and hearth and Jim. Especially Jim. If he was writing this tale Jim would be breezing in about now the hero come to save the day. Jim would bark and scold, but his voice would be underlaid with concern for his friend. And everything would be all right. Jim would come and make the pain go away...

"Look!" An excited voice very close by made Blair startle and then cry out softly at the dull agony even such a tiny movement caused. "It is a man. I think he is hurt."

Blair wasn't sure in what language the speaker spoke. His brain would not cooperate enough to decipher that. The important thing was that it wasn't Jim Ellison. So Sandburg closed his eyes and drifted away until he couldn't hear the voice anymore.

The airport at Kuching was surprisingly modern and moderately air conditioned. However, the outside air was so thick with humidity you could cut it with a knife. Jim mopped his forehead with a handkerchief, thankful it wasn't raining at the moment. The Malaysian steward who had tried to make Jim's flight more comfortable had assured him that the monsoons were not as bad as most westerners imagined.

A man who had to be Ahmat, but looked awfully young (even by "Blair standards") to be a university professor, hovered by a green Volvo. The vehicle took Jim by surprise. It was the exact make and model as Blair's back home..

Not for the first time, a feeling of urgency shot through the sentinel. He had to find Blair. Time was of the essence. Oh god, was he scared of what he might find.

"Mr. Ellison?" The man said, giving a slight bow. "I am Lambert Leung, Professor Ahmat's assistant. He sent me to drive you to Long Iman."

Jim's heart gave a leap. "What? Was Blair found? Where? How is he? When can I see him? Take me to him, please." Jim could not keep from blurting the words out.

"No, no sir. Professor Sandburg has not been found. But I will take you to the area where he was lost."

"Okay, okay," Jim closed his eyes for a second in an effort to reign in his emotions. When he opened them, Ahmat's assistant was peering at him with a curious expression on his broad face. "When can we leave? Now?"

"Yes, we will drive into the national forest tonight, but it will take us several hours."

"Wait," After the long flight, Jim's brain wasn't firing on all pistons, but a thought did occur to him. "Wouldn't it take less time to fly?"

"The small airport near Long Iman is closed due to the unusually strong rains. It should be opened by morning, but if we drive we can be in there by dawn tomorrow."

"Then hurry," Jim said, settling into the front seat of the eerily familiar car. "By all means, hurry."

A big black cat was licking his face. No, that wasn't right, Blair thought as he swam up out of the darkness; someone was cleaning his face with a towel. The face of a young Malaysian woman peered down at Blair.

"I am sorry. We have no hospital here in the settlement and I do not think I can fix your arm." The woman said softly in Malaysian.

"Call Jim," Blair pleaded. Call Jim. Jim could be trusted to take care of things. He'd only let him down that once, not coming to the rescue. Okay, twice then, that morning at the university and the morning at the airport. Jim had told him good-bye and Blair had turned and walked away, hoping against hope Jim would save him from his own foolhardy decision by calling Blair back. Why hadn't he?

The black jaguar came close again. Blair could feel its hot breath on his cheek. He tried to open his eyes, but he couldn't. He drifted on waves of heat, the cool onyx of the fetish he clutched in his hand, the only thing between himself and oblivion.

"The resettlement camp at Long Iman has no school or hospital, though the government promised both to the Penan people who relocated there." Leung told Jim on the long night drive. "There are only menial jobs in the logging camps and not enough food to go around. The people live in poverty and despair. It is possible your friend might have been found and taken there and we have simply not heard because there are no phones."

Or he could be dead. Jim shook his head to negate the dark thought. No, no, he would know if Blair were dead. He was certain he would know.

"When we reach the Tutoh River, we will go by longboat to Long Iman. We will perhaps reach the settlement by mid afternoon," Leung added. The man had been more than kind, doing all the driving, and even sharing his provisions as they had driven on unpaved roads into the heart of Sarawakian rainforest. Jim scrubbed at his face, wishing he could scrub away the horrid sense of futility he was feeling.

When they reached the river, it was swollen and roaring from the rains and there was much head shaking and shouting as Leung negotiated with the longboat captain.

"You have American dollars, do you not?" The Asian man's face was haggard and strained as he asked.

Jim nodded. "Yes. How much do you need. I have quite a bit."

"Perhaps twenty-five dollars in small bills. It will enable the men to buy cigarettes more easily." Leung shrugged his shoulders apologetically. Jim fished the money out of his wallet, careful not to show how much he actually had with him. Seeing the money, the captain's eyes brightened and soon they were on their way down the river. Sitting on the flat deck, Jim dozed in the humid air. In the undercurrent of the rushing water, he could hear a heartbeat calling out to him, drawing him close. He knew it was insane, but he also knew he was getting nearer to Blair and that the man was very much alive.

"He's here!" Jim shouted from the door of the home of the head man of the village. He ducked into the dingy abode without even looking to see if Leung was following.

     The moment they had gotten off the boat, Jim had heard the heartbeat for real.  He could
not be mistaken as he knew it by heart     that siren song which had pulled at him and which he

had ignored for three years.

Inside the hut, Blair was sprawled on a makeshift and none-to-clean pallet. A pretty young woman hovered over him. When she saw Jim approach, she gave a relieved smile and moved to make room.

"He has fever," she said in accented English. Jim nodded, unable to respond in words, as his focus was entirely upon the man in front of him. He reached out a hand and touched Blair gently. The younger man's face was ashen and he had a large bruise on his forehead. But he was alive and he was there.

"He has hurt his... his..." The woman gestured to Blair's left shoulder. Jim saw immediately that it was dislocated.

"We can't fix that here, Mr. Ellison."

Jim gave a start as Leung spoke near his ear. He'd forgotten the anthropologist was with him. "It has been too long and there is too much swelling to put the shoulder back into the socket."

Jim nodded. "Did the longboat captain agree to wait?"

Leung shrugged. "For more dollars, he will agree to anything."

"Whatever he wants. Just get him to wait until we can rig something for Sandburg before he goes back down river." Jim said.

"I will see what I can do," Leung said quietly and left the tiny house.

"Blair?" Jim brushed a tendril of hair off Blair's cheek. "I'm here, babe. I'll take care of everything. You're going to be all right."

Blair groaned and his eyes flickered open, but he didn't seem to be able to make out who was sitting couched at his side. "The jaguar...," Blair whispered. "The jaguar will keep me safe until Jim comes."

"I'm here, Chief. It's Jim."

"Jim...,Sss Jim." Blair said in a sibilant hiss, closing his eyes tightly. He turned his head away from the wan light streaming in the doorway. "Where's Jim?"

"Shh, Chief. I'm here. It's going to be okay."

Leung stepped back into room, his body blocking the light from the door. "The captain said he will take us, but we must hurry. The rains will begin again soon. I have morphine in my med kit. It might make the trip easier for him."

Jim took the proffered box and began to assess its contents: a snake bite kit, aspirin, the morphine, and precious little else besides some linen bandages. Oh well, it would have to do for the time being. Jim pulled out the vial of morphine and the glass syringe and began to prepare the injection. Blair didn't even flinch when the needle bit into his skin, but when Jim began to strap his dislocated arm to his chest with the long bandages, he arched up off the pallet, crying out in pain.

"Shhh, Chief," Jim repeated, not even sure if Blair was at all aware. "I need to immobilize your arm for the journey."

"Journey?" Eyes still tightly closed, the man forced his words out with some effort. "Where are we going, Jim?"

"Home, " Jim whispered through a suddenly tight throat. "I'm taking you home, love."

"You love me?" Blair's eyes were wide open now, his voice as light and soft as a boy's.

"Yes," Jim got out. His guide's pain-wracked face was suddenly lit from inside, for an instant all trace of trauma gone.

"All right then." Blair breathed. "Let's go home."

They had been on the boat an hour or so when the rains descended. Jim sat propped against some sacks of grain, Blair cradled in his arms. It had been a trial getting Blair into the boat and Jim, for one, had been relieved when his friend had passed out. They had started with Blair lying flat, but he had come to in such pain, Jim had lifted him into a semi-reclining position, hoping that would ease his torment. It had, and so Jim has wedged himself against the sack of millet and become Blair's back support.

At first, the rain was a steady drizzle and the boat's tattered canvas tarp kept them dry. But then it began to come down harder and the wind came up, whipping the rain crosswise and throwing it into the faces of everyone on the boat. Fortunately, the rain was warm, for though Jim had draped his jacket over Blair, it wasn't long before they were both drenched.

Water ran down Blair's face and Jim watched as the other man licked at it. And something licked at him that was not simple concern for his injured friend. The sentinel had always known there was nothing simple about his feelings for his guide. Jim touched his lips to Blair's damp forehead. Or else it was the simplest thing in the world, this feeling he had railed against since he had first met the anthropology student that day at the hospital.

It was full dark when they reached the logging camp and Leung's car. Jim gave Blair another shot of morphine before he maneuvered him into the back of the green Volvo. Leung had slept on both the river journeys, so the Oriental man merely slipped behind the driver's seat and proceeded to drive them into the night. Jim, wedged in the back seat holding Blair, slept fitfully, ever aware that the man he held burned hotter by the minute, but unable to do much anything more for him than give him water.

Jim woke some time later to see a brightly lit Holiday Inn sign looming up ahead and he knew he was hallucinating.

"Mr. Ellison," Leung said calmly from the front seat of the car. "I know you wish to seek immediate treatment for your friend, but I thought perhaps we might stop and call to alert the authorities."

Jim shook his head and scrubbed at his eyes, but the Holiday Inn sign did not disappear. Blair moaned at Jim's slight movement.

"Also, I thought you and Mr. Sandburg would be more comfortable at an American hotel once he has received medical attention. You will find the staff extremely accommodating at this hotel."

"Oh, uh, yes, Mr. Leung. Yes." It was all beginning to make sense. They were back in Kuching, at a Holiday Inn no less. Jim gave a sigh of relief.

Leung parked the car in the front of the main entrance. "Give me a moment and I will secure a cell phone for you. Then we can proceed to whichever hospital you wish to go."

While he waited, Jim took the time to give thanks for competent professor's assistants. Leung's serious face soon peered in the back window. Jim rolled it down and took the proffered Nokia phone. But then he wasn't sure what to do next. Should he alert local authorities? Call the embassy? He had a crazy urge to dial up Simon and ask his boss for instructions.

Leung, standing patiently by the car, saw Jim's indecision.

"Call the embassy, " he directed. "They are aware of Mr Stoddard and Miss Kerr's deaths. They will direct you as to where to take Mr. Sandburg for treatment."

In the end, it was a Red Cross doctor who saw Blair. His Texas drawl and wide grin were as American as apple pie, but his obvious competence was most reassuring.

"Wide-spectrum antibiotics to nab that bug running through his urinary track and a little operation to set that arm and your little buddy will be as good as new." Dr. Derrick Dawes told Jim.

Jim winced over the ""little buddy" comment, but just nodded his assent. As a Red Cross nurse came to take Blair to surgery, the younger man was suddenly wide awake for the first time in many hours, panic lighting his muzzy blue gaze. "Jim? Jim, don't let them take me! I just found you, don't let them take me away."

The nurse was staring, but Jim didn't let that stop him from taking Blair's right hand and leaning close.

"It will be okay, Chief. They're going to fix you up and then bring you right back to me. It's going to be all right." For a moment more, Blair clung tightly to Jim's hand and then relaxed his grip.

"If you say so," he mumbled.

"I say so, babe." Jim reached out and patted Blair's pale face gently. To hell with the nurse or anybody else for that matter, he was going to say what he needed to say. "I love you, Chief."

"Yes," Blair said slowly as the nurse began to move him away. "Yeeessss."

It was less than an hour later when Dawes stepped out of the tiny surgery.

"Mr. Ellison, all went well for your friend. I was able to relocate his shoulder with no difficulty. He'll need to wear a harness for a while, but no muscles or ligaments were torn. He'll be good as new, if a little sore, in no time at all. A bit of physical therapy will be in order when you get back to the States, of course."

Jim just nodded as he took it all in, he was too exhausted and relieved to speak.

"Mr.... Sandburg can go in the morning. Heck, I'd say he could go tonight, but I'm afraid you'd fall over on the way out with him. There's an empty bed in the ward, why don't you make some use of it while you wait for morning to dawn, huh, cowboy?" The doctor pointed to double doors at the end of the hall. "The nurse will bring your friend in once he throws up the anesthesia." Dawes gave Jim the full wattage of his shit-eating grin and turned to go. "Oh, I forgot something. Your little buddy had this tucked down under his tee-shirt. Thought you better keep it for him."

Jim was handed a sweat-stained leather pouch. He pulled it open to find a small onyx carving of a panther.

"I hate rain." Sandburg stood at the window of the hotel room gazing out at the nearly torrential downpour. They'd missed their flight out the day before due to the unusually strong monsoons.

Jim was pleased that Blair was finally feeling good enough to be stir crazy. On the other hand, it wasn't exactly fun to cooped up in a hotel room with a crazy man. Jim, lying stretched out on the bed, tried to rein in his own irritation. He wanted to get up and stand behind his friend, wanted desperately to take him in his arms and hold him close. But he knew it would be a fruitless endeavor.

For when Blair had come out from under the anesthetic at the clinic, there had been a wary, unhappy look in his eye. It made Jim wonder if he'd imagined Blair cradled in his arms in the boat, his guide's trusting attitude as they waited for him to go into surgery. It also made Jim remember he'd been the only one to profess his love. His friend had merely expressed his wish to go home.

Jim turned his gaze from the man at the window. They were back where they started. No, he was back where he started, loving Blair and unable to say it. A coldness slipped round his heart and he shuddered.

"Jim? Jim? What's the matter?" Blair was suddenly standing beside the bed, his cobalt blue gaze slicing into the sentinel's heart.

"Jim?" Blair sat on the edge of the bed, the harness he wore holding his arm at an awkward angle.

"I love you," Jim whispered, the words slipping out of his mouth unbidden. "I wish I had begged you to stay."

"What?" Blair's eyes were round as the moon and full of tears.

"I told you before, don't you remember?"

"I waited and waited for you to come rescue me. I was so sure you would. And then you were there before my eyes and it all seemed so right. You told me you loved me and I believed you. But later, when I woke up after the operation and you weren't there, well...I thought I had dreamed you."

"I'm sorry I fell asleep." Sitting up on the bed, Jim ran a hand through his hair.

"It was hours before I realized you were the lump in the bed next to mine. I just thought someone else had found me and that I had dreamed all of it."

"No dream, Chief." Jim looked straight into the younger man's eyes.

"Jim," Blair stretched out his hand and it didn't shake a bit. Jim knew his own were a palsied mess, but he reached out too and they connected, fingers entwining in a powerful grasp.

Blair pulled Jim to him and they kissed, lips meeting tentatively at first and then strongly, fiercely.

They broke apart after a few moments and Jim stifled a gasp that threatened to be a sob.

"I love you. You should have begged me to stay." Blair whispered.

Jim drew him closer, taking care not to jostle his arm and held him tightly.

Blair laughed, a light quicksilver sound that caused Jim's cock to quicken. Then Blair pressed Jim down on the bed and kissed him long and hard and true.

"Ahhhh, Chief."

"Shhh, shhhh," They moved carefully, mindful of Blair's strained shoulder. Jim took care of all buttons and zippers and Blair took care of each exposed bit of Jim's body as it became available. But then Blair stopped.

"Jim..."

"Shhhh,"

"Why didn't you tell me before? Why didn't you just smack me up side the head one night to get my attention and tell me?"

"I was frightened."

"Fear-based reactions..."

"Yessss," Jim hissed as Blair bit at his nipples, first one and then the other. Even now, it was hard to admit, hard to fathom the argument that had started the downslide. But it fit, pleasure and pain, always together in his head when he thought of Blair.

"No."

"No, what, Chief?"

"Don't think of it. Don't think of the past. Think only of this, of the now." And Blair's hand wrapped round Jim's urgent flesh and stroked.

"Blair, Blair, I love you."

"Hush, I know. I've always known." Blair's eyes grew huge as he looked up at Jim. "No, no. Say it. Say it, Jim I've waited all my life for you to say it."

"Love you, love you, love you."

They moved together then, stroke for stroke, rising on the waves, the rain and the wind rising with them, until they reached the crest of the wave and the roar of the surf rushed through them and took them higher still.

Later, much later, as they slept together skin to skin, the rain stopped and the sun came out, making the watchful eyes of a small, onyx talisman glow.

End Talisman by J.M. Griffin: [email protected]

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