Archive of Our Own ^beta

Disclaimer: The Sentinel and it's characters belong to UPN and Pet Fly Productions. No money is being made from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

Dedication: This story really belongs to N'Wanda aka Amy my fanpartner. Well, actually all she asked for was a little revision of one of my scenes from Driven By Instinct and instead I gave her a whole new story that went from a simple PWP to a full fledged book. Thanks to Amy for the many suggestions and directions and for her encouragement throughout. I couldn't have finished the story without her help. To Aim - AJSB.

Thanks: Thanks go to Kim Gasper for posting this sucker for me. Y'all should thank her too because otherwise you'd be getting it one piece at a time over a two month period.

The darkness slowly eased, leaving behind a damp cold seeping into Blair's face. He tried to move, moaning with the sudden explosion of pain in his head. Slowly, he rolled, leaving behind the rough texture of concrete against his cheek.

He tried to open his eyes, tried to remember where he was or what had happened to make him forget. And the pain continued like a hammer repeatedly slamming into the back of his skull.

A shiver slid down Blair's spine as memories, faint and disconnected worked at becoming a mosaic of current events.

Class...standing on the corner talking to Molly...what had they been talking about...? He remembered her leaving and standing alone waiting for Jim at the corner of....

Blair sat straight up and instantly regretted it. He clutched at his head, holding on in case it might fall off. His fingers ran back through his long dark mass of hair searching for injury.

A flash of white hot memory shot across his inner sight. A van...big men with guns and strong grips dragging him into the vehicle...the nauseating odor of something that stole his sight and hearing and senses and finally his consciousness.

Blair let out a panicked gasp and fought to calm down, look around. Darkness still prevailed in the room, only a sliver of light seeping from under a door. He reached out and knew before he touched that the walls were close.

A closet? No, something a bit bigger, yet he couldn't quite tell what. Perhaps a storage room, yet nothing but floor and wall met his finger tips.

The cold penetrated Blair's arms and made him realize his jacket was missing. He wore only a long sleeve button down shirt with a tee shirt beneath, jeans, socks and hiking boots...and a fear of who was behind this like a sheen of sweat over his cold body.

Outside, multiple footsteps, heavy and deliberate stopped. Blair tried to think through the fog still lacing his brain and moved back against the far wall wrapped tight within himself.

Light sprang to life, blinding him with a beam aimed and strong. Hands gripped his arms dragging him with brutal force from his prison. Two men shove him against the wall face first and held him there with a fist wound in his hair and the cold end of a gun barrel touching the tender spot of skin at his temple.

"You struggle you get hurt real bad, hear me, pretty boy?" Blair gave a little nod and felt like fainting when a length of strong rope wrapped expertly around his wrists and tighten mercilessly up against the small of his back then looped around his neck making him gasp for breath and give an involuntary jerk. Instantly, the rope choked off his air supply and he quickly restrained his movement.

"See what I mean, sweetheart?" a voice whispered in his ear far too familiarly.

They whirled him around and half dragged, half pushed him down a dingy corridor painted in old industrial green. Nothing in this dirty place seemed familiar, nothing rang of recognition.

What the hell was going on? Who the hell were these guys? Into another room filled with indiscriminate boxes they shoved him. Blair stumbled forward only to be jerked to a halt and held in place by the two men, both bigger than he by at least six inches and possibly a hundred pounds each.

A man he didn't recognize moved forward, towering over him, gazing down into his eyes, upturned by force of a fist in his hair. He hated that the man saw the raw potency of his fear, but his fear was difficult to hide at a time like this.

The man reached out to his face, gently caressing his cheek with the back of the hand. Blair felt a roll of nausea rumble through his stomach and he closed his eyes to block out the ruddy face, the piercing brown eyes of a man he'd never seen before in his entire young life.

"So here we have Jimmy's partner. His pretty little lover boy. Never thought Ellison would fall for a guy, but then looking at you, I can see why. You are about as pretty as any boy I've seen. Yeah, Jimmy has good taste. But then he always did."

Blair's eyes popped open and he tried to find something coherent to say, something that made sense or progress or lead to freedom.

"Who are you?" he croaked. "What do you want?" Simple questions - nothing to muddle their little brains. The hand gripped his chin hard, forcing his head back further.

"I'm your worst nightmare, boy," the man sneered into his face.

Wasn't that line from some movie? Blair thought. Yet the words did as intended...terrified him.

The man laughed at his wide-eyed gaze, while the other two holding him laughed as well. Blair swallowed hard, his lips pressing together to contain a scream.

Oh man, I'm in trouble here. Jim, you have got to get me out of this.

The man's hand left his chin and moved down his neck, pressing against his adam's apple then continued down his chest. The piercing brown eyes locked with his. The hard mouth pulled into a leering grin.

Blair fought the urge to struggle against the hands holding him, against the rope tightening against his throat with the tension in his back and shoulders.

The man's other hand joined the first and gripped his shirt on either side. With a quick jerking movement, the buttons gave way, popping off and baring his tee shirt. The man's eyes rose to meet Blair's wary gaze and a knife appeared from what seemed like nowhere. The blade moved, the tip touching his chin. A hand gripped the tee shirt and with one quick downward stroke sliced the garment to Blair waist.

Blair gasped and struggled then, blind terror consuming reason regardless of the rope choking him and the brutal hold dragging at his hair. Two hard punches in the kidneys would have sent him to his knees, but his captors held him up and wouldn't allow him the courtesy of collapsing.

He gasped again for breath as the hand in his hair jerked him up and held him while a fist crashed into the side of his face with the momentum of a seven car pileup. Blair's vision darkened then tiny points of light streaked across his inner vision promising quite an array of fireworks if only he would stay conscious. And the fist came again, a back-handed blow across the mouth that sent a spill of blood down his chin from his busted lower lip.

"Sit him down in that chair there while I get the phone," Blair heard the one in charge say through a roaring in his ears.

The two big brutes complied, dragging him over to a straight back chair and shoving him down into it.

The man stood before him again and Blair was forced again to look up. Everything tilted uncomfortably, the angle exaggerated with shock and pain...and fear. The fear was eating a hole in his stomach right now.

"Listen to me, boy. Listen very carefully." The cellular phone poked suddenly under Blair's chin, the cool plastic digging into the tender skin of his throat. "We're going to make a little call to Detective Ellison. We're going to let Jimmy boy know you are my guest and that he'd better do exactly what I tell him if he doesn't want his partner to disappear forever."

"Why?" Blair whispered before he could stop himself. The man smiled, just one corner of mouth coming up. "Ellison and I go way back...way, way back. Further than you'd remember, little boy. Now, I make the call and when I say so you'll tell him you're all right and that this is very serious. Very, very serious. Do you understand?"

Blair nodded weakly feeling that faintness sliding over him again. He swallowed with difficulty and tasted blood. He watched the man punch in the numbers, watched the man's face, the teeth clench momentarily then the muscles around the mouth relax with what appeared to be satisfaction.

"No, it's not your pretty little bed mate, Ellison." Blair felt maddened by hearing only this man's voice and not knowing exactly what Jim was saying. Jim must have thought it was him on the phone just now.

"He's safe...for the moment. Hurt him? We'll see. Don't you know who this is, Jimmy boy? Don't you remember an old buddy, one you thought safely tucked away in a military prison? Don't make excuses, Ellison. I'm not listening. You just do as I say or Blair baby will never be seen again and if you call your cop friends I promise you this boy will die one long horrible death. You know me, Jimmy. I know all the tricks. You know I can make the agony last for days. I was the best there was. The best there is. You should have never turned your back on me, buddy. You should have never thought I'd ever forget or forgive. Yeah, I'll let you talk to him."

Suddenly the phone was in Blair's face, pushing against his cheek and pressing into his battered lip.

"Jim?" he said breathlessly, flinching from the pain in his mouth.

"Blair, are you all right?"

"Ye...yeah...mostly."

"This is real serious, Chief."

"Yeah. It's real serious, man. But you should know better than me. I don't have a clue what this is all about."

"I know. I'm sorry, babe. Try some of you relaxation techniques and hang in there. I'll get you out. I swear it."

"Jim, this is way beyond techniques. These guys are crazy--" The phone jerked away from Blair's face and crashed down hard into his cheekbone.

"You listen to me, Ellison," the man hissed into the receiver. "You walk out the door right now, turn right and keep walking down the street until a van picks you up. No time for making plans. No time for second guessing. You want your little babe alive and in one piece you walk out that door NOW."

Blair watched through a haze of pain, the man shut down the cellular phone and stare off into space with an ugly expression. With a sinking feeling in his chest, he watched the man turn the expression on him.

"Crazy are we?" The man smiled, wide and wicked and full of malice. With a sharp turn of his hand, the man motioned his men to drag Blair up from the chair and hold him there, immobile and helpless. "When Ellison gets here, I have something very special in mind for you, little one. Very, very special indeed."

The man moved close to him, hand moving to catch his hair in a fist and grip his face with the other.

"What Ellison has, I've taken away from him. What he loves, I will hurt. And he'll watch while I do it. And I might as well enjoy while I'm at it, eh little pretty one?"

The man's mouth came down hard on his, brutal and sickening, tongue licking at the blood on his lips. Blair gave a muffled cry and struggled again, his breath choked out of him, smothered out of him and this narrowed world turned black and empty and cold, soon lost in airless unconsciousness.

Blair woke to the sound of footsteps outside his dark cell. Blood pounded in his temples, his heart about to burst with the terror of it.

No, oh man no...please!

He didn't want to face this, didn't want this to be real, yet the key rattled and the door swung open and there they were, the brutes who had thrown him back inside this black hellhole to wait for something horrible to happen to him.

His wrists bled from trying to free himself and his neck was raw from the sawing of the rope across his throat. A beam of light came on, blinding him. But Blair could hear them come in, reach for him and he tried without reason or rational thought to avoid their grips.

Futile. One kicked him hard in the ribs and rolled him over onto his stomach, tightening the bindings of his wrists and neck. He remembered too vividly the last time they had come for him, the phone call and the threats and that man's mouth on his. Someone had pulled the rope and tightened it around his throat until he had blacked out in the end.

Blair's captors pulled him to his feet, holding him still with his hair again. A wadded up cloth was stuffed into his mouth then another went between his lips and teeth, binding his hair back away from his face and cutting off any verbal discussion or retaliation. He almost hyperventilated through his nose.

"Come on, pretty boy. The party is about to start and you're the entertainment. Your lover boy is waiting for you."

Again they dragged him down the hall and he might as well have been going to his own execution, that dread no worse than the thought of what these madmen had in store for him.

Into the same room they shoved him and he fell, hitting his hip on the hard concrete floor. One man caught him by his hair and hauled him to his feet again.

"Blair!"

He heard Jim's voice and didn't have to wait to find him as he was whirled around to face his friend, his lover, his Sentinel. Blair's heart sank again. Jim stood bound against a wall, arms and legs spread out, ropes pulled through strategically placed rings that he hadn't noticed before.

The Man took control of him, forcing him forward to stand only a few feet from Jim.

Oh Jim. Now we're both in big trouble. Yet he knew Jim'd had little choice. Obey the crazy man's demands or know his partner and lover would die before he could possibly find him. Not an enviable position to be in. But then again neither was his.

"Let him go, Baker. You wanted me. You got me. Sandburg doesn't know anything about anything. He's not responsible for anything you are blaming me for."

"You'd like that wouldn't you, Jimmy? There you are all tied up and still you think you can bully me into doing what you say. Giving orders like you're in charge here."

"I was never the bully, Baker. That's what you were good at and I let you have your way plenty of times. You're the one who went bad, Baker. I was doing my job just like you did till you turned into a murderer."

"Excuses, Ellison. You thought I'd rot in prison while you went about your little life here with your little boyfriend. You thought I'd forget that your testimony got me court martialed and thrown into prison. You thought I'd forget you are to blame for almost ten long years of hell...that you were the one to ruin my life."

"No Baker, you ruined your own life." Jim strained against the ropes binding his wrists and ankles, jerking feverishly, violently and Blair saw blood trickle down Jim's arms in long sickening trails. "You killed that man...a father just trying to protect his kid. You tried to use the military as your excuse for brutal murder. You know I couldn't do anything less than testify against you."

"You thought I wouldn't come looking for you, Jimmy," Baker said as if Jim had never spoken. "But now I'm back for my revenge. I'd hurt you if I thought that would be enough punishment, but I've been watching you for a long time now and this one means something to you, doesn't he?" He grabbed Blair by a handful of hair and jerked him forward. Blair's eyes locked onto Jim's and they stared for that one brief moment of comfort and mutual fear. "There's something real special about this one. I never figured you for a boy fucker, Ellison. But then not all boys are as pretty as this one. Am I right, Jimmy?"

"You seem to have all the answers, Baker. You figure it out. But don't drag an innocent man into this old wound of yours. He doesn't deserve it. Let Blair go, Baker. Let the kid walk."

"Oh no, Jimmy boy. Blair baby is a big part of my revenge on you. He's your partner...right? And not even a cop. Your best friend, I think and so much more. You know I always had a thing for pretty boys." The man let his hand run over Blair's bared chest while two of the brutes held him still.

God! Stop this!

Blair tensed against the hand, trying to maneuver away, but the hands held him as if they were manacles and chains.

"Leave him alone, Baker. Leave him the hell alone!" Baker ignored Jim's demand, ignored the rising panic that Blair heard in Jim's usually cool voice.

"There's just something about this sweet bit of flesh, something about the slim hips and tight stomach and ass."

"Stop it!"

Blair could scarcely breath, scarcely keep from fighting the hold of his captor's.

Somebody do something!! Blair's mind screamed for some action, but nothing came to him, no brilliant inspirations, no flash of perfect insight, nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"No Jim, what will hurt you most is for me to hurt him. And I might as well have fun while I'm getting my revenge. I bet he's got a tight little ass."

"Stop it, Baker! I swear to God you will pay for any pain you put him through." Blair managed to glance up to see a look of cold fury mar Jim's usually handsome face, a terror and panic overcoming his rational thought. "I'll kill you." Jim's tone might have frozen the steaming jungle.

But Baker wasn't listening, attention now turned wholly on Blair. He decided to struggle again, hoping against hope to pass out before the worst could be realized. But it was as though all six of them now had a hold of him somewhere, immobilizing his entire body, legs and arms and head and body. He couldn't even scream his terror or rage at what they intended to do to him. But he did scream, muffled and inadequate and useless, terror his only companion now in this manic insanity.

"No, no, no," Baker said, pushing his men back away from Blair. "Cool it, you bunch of morons. You'll all get your chance at our little boy here."

Blair shook in Baker's grip, shivering violently. Jim's voice had been cut off and he stole a glance, a frantic beseeching begging glance at his lover. Duct tape covered Jim's mouth and the wrists worked at freeing themselves, but the ropes held Jim to the wall, helpless and he was helpless to stop Baker from taking his face in big hands. Fingers went to the back of his head, loosening the gag, pulling it apart and extracting the damp wad from his mouth. He gasped and a sob worked its way passed his defenses.

The man's hands caressed his face. Fingers ran back through his hair, stroking it until tears squeezed passed Blair's tightly closed eyelids and ran down his cheeks. The rope around his throat sawed at his neck, making his breath nothing more than shallow draws.

Baker pulled Blair closer, breath hot against his skin. "What pretty eyes," Baker said. "Dreamy blue eyes." A laugh slid out of the man, oily slick and slimy. "But all your dreams are about to become nightmares, beautiful boy."

The man's mouth came down hard on his, tongue pushing at his lips and his clenched teeth. Fingers dug into the sides of his face, found pressure points and forced his mouth to open. He struggled again, but hands caught at him from behind, holding his head still with a fist in his hair. Another had the rope and twisted it until stars shot across his inner vision. The hold released just as he felt his knees starting to buckle. Baker let him fall, slamming his knees into the hard concrete. The hold remained in his hair, twisting and tugging, jerking him so that he had to kneel up.

"Now, Blair," Baker said, his hand going under Blair's chin. "I've got an idea. You see Ron over there?" He dragged Blair's head around to see one of Baker's men move to place a knife at Jim's throat. "I bet you don't want Ron to cut Ellison's throat. Am I right?"

"Oh god, don't cut him," Blair cried. "Don't...don't hurt...him."

"Well, we won't hurt him if you're cooperative, darlin'. You just give us some pleasure and I'll make sure Jimmy stays in one piece."

Jim was shaking his head wildly, his restrained movement violent again in spite of the knife poised to slice flesh and artery. The movement distracted Blair momentarily, a vision of Jim bleeding, Jim's throat cut made him sick, made him feel as if he'd throw up or faint. He wished he would so he wouldn't have to face this torment, this horror. He couldn't let them kill Jim. And they would do it. They'd cut his Sentinel's throat and let the life's blood drain out. And then Jim would be dead and then there would be nothing, a world empty and silent and void of meaning.

"How about it, boy? Do we slice your lover or do you give it up for us?"

Blair swallowed down the solid lump in his throat, passed the tight rope and his own revulsion and fear. It was still rape he told himself. Coercion of any sort was still considered rape.

"Don't hu-- hurt him, please, don't."

Baker smiled in smug satisfaction.

"You're a good little boy, Blair baby. Just the way I pegged you. Self sacrificing for your Jimmy boy. All right. Let's get on with this then. Baker pulled Blair up to his feet, dragging him over to a chair where he forced Blair down on his knees again while the man sat, positioning Blair between his legs. Baker reached and undid his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled out his long cock already hardening with anticipation.

Blair closed his eyes and suppressed a wash of tears. He lost the battle and the tears ran like rain down his face.

"Oh baby," Baker crooned to him. "Just pretend it's Jimmy boy's cock stroking the back of your throat. Come on, baby. Put your mouth around it and suck."

Blair fought down the urge to scream and slowly leaned forward, feeling as though he was approaching a poisonous snake. Baker's hand in his hair guided him forward until his lips rested against the tip and he doubted for one impossibly long moment if he was capable of doing this.

"Don't you dare be sick on me, boy. You do that and Ron starts cutting Ellison. And he'll do it real slow."

Blair opened his mouth and let the long length slide in. Baker forced the cock deep into his throat and he gagged. It slid back a bit then thrust forward again, raping his throat as surely as they would rape his ass when they'd had enough of this. At least he wasn't a virgin. At least he'd experienced anal intercourse before with a man big enough to have stretched him well. Small thanks for little favors came to mind and Blair thought perhaps he was going crazy at this very moment.

He tried not to think of Jim being forced to watch this abomination, sickened already by the stroking motion and Baker's moans and murmurs of his name. It went on until Blair felt Baker tensing and the thrusts into his mouth more frantic. He gagged over and over again, certain he wouldn't manage to keep the contents of his stomach down. Hot cum spewed into his mouth and Baker's hands in his hair kept him from drawing back.

"Swallow it, boy. Swallow all of it."

Baker pushed Blair back when he'd finished, sending him to the floor on his side. Blair lay in a heap while Baker tucked himself back in and zipped up his pants.

"He's got quite a sweet mouth, Ellison. Yeah, bet you never thought your sweet little squeeze would suck off another man. But he ought to be a professional. He will be by the time we finish with him."

Blair tried to ignore the monologue, ignore everything around him, but one of the others reached down and hauled him back up to his knees, dragging him forward to kneel before the man. More tears streaked his face. He was turned towards Jim now, but he kept his eyes down or closed. He couldn't face his partner now...maybe never could again. All he kept running through his mind was the terrible picture of Jim dead, Jim with his throat cut, Jim lying in a pool of his own blood, dying...dead...forever.

The man pulled him forward, fingers digging into his jaw. Blair didn't even realize how clenched his teeth were until the ache in them became shooting pain with the brutal grip on his face. He opened his mouth and let the cock slide in, already tasting of semen as if the man was excited by the earlier display.

The rope around Blair's neck tangled in his hair, dragging at it. He choked from the angle and the terrible throbbing pain in his shoulders and arms. His hands were mostly numb now, void of feeling. But the cock kept driving at him and the hands forced his head forward.

Blair felt someone at his back, kneeling behind him. Hands fumbled for his belt and zipper, pulled his damaged shirt down to hang loose around his bound hands. He felt the hands tugging at his jeans, pulling them down, moving his hips until cold air surrounded him, caressing his bare skin.

He was sobbing now and sucking, trying to live through this horror. Fingers probed his hole, pushed in and made him jerk forward to rid himself of this unwanted intrusion. A firm grip pulled him back and the hands moved around to his own cock. It tried to arouse him, tried to make him want what he would never want from any of them.

How could they think he could be aroused by this...this...? The hands left his cock after squeezing his balls hard. With a hard shove, the one behind him entered him. He moaned with the pain, all he could do with his mouth surrounding the other man's engorged erection. He felt the one coming, hardening then pumping into his mouth much the way Baker had. The man pulled out, but the pounding from behind went on leaving him able to sob and cry out with the pain of anal entry.

This hurt so much! With Jim it had never hurt like this. Not even when they were rough and Jim did it hard to him. But this was agony, like being skewered on a stake, like being impaled.

"Oh god! Please!!! Please!!! Stop!"

But all Blair heard was Baker's laugh and a couple of the others who found his pain and humiliation something humorous, a joke between them.

Suddenly, he was pulled back by his hair, the rope tightening brutally around his throat.

"Are you suffocating yet, baby?" a voice rasped out with lust and sadism. "Come on, baby, come close to death while I fuck your ass. Can't breath? Poor...little...thinggggg!"

The stars returned, sparking out across Blair's narrowed universe. He gasped and nothing came into his lungs.

Air!! Oh dear gods...please...air.

But the room darkened around him, lights dimming except for the tiny pinpoints of light then there was nothing at all, but the black backdrop of emptiness. And he fell.

Oh god, Jim thought. Oh god, please don't let them do this to Blair. He'd never believe in a god again if this injustice, this cruel brutality was allowed to happen to Blair. His Blair who had done nothing terrible to anyone in his tender young life and didn't deserve to suffer a fate so terrible or so irreconcilable as rape.

The knife at Jim's throat turned, drew a little blood. He twisted and cared nothing for the additional cut that slid across his neck like a fine line.

"Careful Ellison, or you'll slit your own throat and I won't have to do it for you," the man...Ron was his name, said. "Man I can't wait for my turn at your little boyfriend. He's a cute one, eh Ellison?"

Jim could say nothing, the tape tight across his mouth. He watched in horror, in sickening terror what Baker and the others were doing to Blair. Then one, the blond one had Blair by the hair, pulling back, pulling the rope tight across his lover's throat. He watched Blair gasping for breath and pain etched on that beautiful face, then fear. Jim watched and heard Blair gasp for another breath and knew the task was impossible at that moment. Blair collapsed, went limp with unconsciousness and the man who had a hold of him finished with his ugly deed before he pulled out and slapped Blair's ass hard.

Blair didn't stir. Perhaps there was a god after all. A damned sadistic son-of-a-bitch though. But then Baker was there grabbing Blair's hair again, sticking something under his partner's nose and Blair came awake with a cry and gasp.

Oh no, please, not again.

Jim watched Baker slip a blade under the rope at Blair's neck, carelessly. The tip left a trail of blood as Blair flinched away. The rope slipped off leaving a bloody burn behind. Jim's hearing took in the great draws of breath, the gasping lung-filling draws that eased some of his partner's pain. With a jerk, Blair was on his knees again, swallowing hard and staring up at Baker who stared down and ran fingers over Blair's cheeks, through the tears streaming down that anguished face.

"You're doing real good, darlin'. Real good. But if you think we're finished here, you are very wrong."

Sobs consumed Blair's meager composure, wracking sobs that tore out Jim's heart, ripped it to pieces. Every promise he'd made was a lie, every pledge to keep Blair safe, to keep danger away from him had been a lie.

Blessed Protector, my ass.

Jim watched helplessly while their captors stripped Blair of his clothing, left him kneeling on the floor, naked, head bent and hair hanging down to obscure his features.

What next? What would they do to Blair next? Jim didn't have to wait long to find out. They bent Blair over some boxes and Baker was ready again, shoving into the young man with brutal force. Blair cried out, but for only a moment as another cock pushed into his mouth and demanded satisfaction.

Jim closed his eyes, determined not to watch, but the knife pricked his throat, moved up over his chin to caress his cheek.

"Open your eyes, Ellison. Baker wants you to watch it all. Watch them fuck your sweetheart."

Jim ignored him and the knife sliced his face, deep and painful. His eyes went wide open and a muffled snarl rumbled in his throat with no place to go.

"That's better, cop," Ron said then turned his attention back to watching. "God damn, I want some of that boy."

Jim felt his sanity leaving him, a red haze streaking across his vision, rage so blinding, so consuming that it roared in his ears. Blair's pain battered him, pummeled his psyche with agony.

One of the other men came up to him, distracting him from his madness. The blond one took the blade from Ron and pressed the edge to Jim's other cheek.

"Go on, Ron. Have some fun. The kid's got a tight little ass, but we're loosening it up real good. You haven't been doing you duty very well, Jimmy boy if little Blair's ass is still so tight."

The man turned the blade and it sank into Jim's face with a slow pressure. Jim gritted his teeth and welcomed the distraction. The pain pulled his mind away from Blair, away from the constant pounding Blair was taking from his newest assailant. Ron had opened his pants as he sat in a chair, forced the young man to face him, straddle him, forcing Blair onto the man's erection. Ron had Blair's face in his hands, pushing his tongue down Blair's throat or viciously biting Blair's neck and shoulder. Blair tried to hold back the cries, Jim could see and hear the effort, feel Blair's strength and courage waning with every brutality inflicted.

Blood ran from Jim's cheek, down to drip onto his shirt, but he didn't care. He deserved it. He couldn't save Blair and certainly couldn't save himself now. Not now, but he would wait. And he would have his revenge. All of them would pay for this and he would hunt them to the ends of the earth to destroy these creatures of hatred and sadism.

After a while, Ron finished with Blair, shoving him to the floor where he lay unmoving.

Jim listened, trying to determine if his partner was unconscious. He watched Baker walk over to Blair's still form, watched Baker rear back and kick his partner hard in the stomach.

Blair curled up with a gasping breathless cry, wrists still pulled behind him by rope around his wrists.

Baker kicked again, the blow landing solidly in the ribs. Another cry escaped Blair's mouth and Baker motioned two others to haul Blair up to his feet and hold him there.

Baker's hands cupped Blair's face, moving the hair from those anguished features. With an almost tender touch Baker stroked the anthropologist's cheek, ran a hand down under the dark curls, sliding down the curve of Blair's neck.

But the hand became a fist and drove into Blair's kidney. The young man's knees gave out, but the two holding him kept him from falling, held him up while Baker swung again, bashing the Blair's cheekbone, splitting the skin with a sharp-edged ring.

The red haze of rage took hold of Jim again, stripping him of any caution for his own safety. He struggled against the ropes binding him, uncaring of the knife that played at his throat, played along his jawline and already cut cheeks. The knife dipped and pricked his chest, sliced his shirt down the front till it hung open, gaping and his chest was bloody from a criss cross of cuts.

The blond guy was yelling in his face, pale face going red with anger that he couldn't make Jim stop.

"It's okay, Johnny. Jimmy boy isn't going anywhere. Let him get himself all worked up if he wants," Baker told the man and hit Blair again, low in the stomach.

Blair's knees collapsed and not even the two could hold him up for another blow. They let Blair fall to the floor, kicking him once more for good measure.

Jim watched now as Baker took a new length of rope and attached it to the rope around Blair's wrists. It pulled tight, drawing Blair's wrists up high against his back. The rope went around his partner's neck then was tied off as it had been before. Baker cut the rope and attached the rest of the rope again to the length wrapped around Blair's wrists. They pulled Blair's ankles up tight against his thighs and bound them drawing the rope tight again.

Oh god, oh god. Dear god, don't let them do this to him. They'd tied Blair up like a sacrificial animal, like some lamb to the slaughter.

Again the gag was stuffed into Blair's mouth, another cloth bound tight around the younger man's mouth.

Baker stood up straight and smiled at his handiwork. Then his eyes moved to meet Jim's and the smile widened to smug satisfaction. With a slow saunter, Baker came to stand before Jim, eye to eye, brown and blue staring with malice and hatred.

"I hope I've made my point, Ellison. My first point anyway. Don't think we're finished here. I'm having too much fun for this to end too soon. Your little lover has quite a mouth and ass. I'm not finished enjoying him quite yet. In fact, I might consider taking him with me when I'm finished here in Cascade. As I understand it, he likes South America. He'd make me a fine little slave. And I'm certain I can break him, make him mine. A good drug, some torture, repeated rape and you can break the strongest man. You know, Jimmy, I just might do that. Yeah, take little Blair with me and make him my sex slave."

Jim stared, no way to retaliate, no way to wipe the smirk from Baker's face just now. Baker's threat was too real, too possible. His heart lurched and pain shot through his head like a bullet in the brain.

Baker's smiled widened, obviously amused by the effect of his words. Jim struggled uselessly against the ropes, ignoring the blade still so close to his throat. But Baker waved off the man and leaned in close, hands placed on either side of Jim palms against the wall.

"Now, James. I'm going to leave you and Blair alone for awhile. I want you to watch him. See what's been done to him. What will be done to him again in a while. Think about it Ellison and remember why your little lover is suffering so. Remember you're the cause of his agony, his humiliation. You caused this by betraying me, one of your own men. You betrayed me and you betrayed Blair. Simple as that." Baker leaned back, let his fingers reach out as if trying to smooth the rage from Jim's face. "Sorry Jimmy. Couldn't let you just go about your nice little life after you ruined mine so completely." Baker patted Jim's bloody cheek and turned, motioning his men out before him.

Jim stared, thinking deadly thoughts.

Baker turned one last time and gave him a mock salute. "Be back soon."

Jim stood alone now, left bound to the wall like some Prometheus figure, waiting for a vulture to come to try to peck his eyes out.

He stare at Blair's prone body, bound naked and bloody now, even more than before and still as death.

If only he could wake him, make him understand the urgency of escaping this place. No, it wasn't the urgency that Blair needed convincing of, it was hope that they could escape considering the situation. He could say nothing anyway, his mouth taped shut with duct tape. They had caught him off guard, screaming at them, but still he had managed to keep his mouth open a little, enough to wet the tape and try to pry it off with his tongue.

He tried not to think too much of what they had forced him to watch. It hurt too much and Jim knew if they escaped this that they'd both have to face the horror of it...he and Blair together. This young man had become so much to him...partner, friend, guide and lover. Shaman to his Sentinel. His love for Blair was deeper than any he'd ever known and the pain of watching those animals assault his Blair was like fire in his chest, acid in his stomach. Jim felt a stabbing in his throat that nearly cut off his breath.

Blair had become his life, food and drink, his sunshine and full moon at night, lighting his way in the darkness. He had needed Blair once to help him control his abilities and now he found he still needed him...wanted him there, that Blair's presence in his life was necessary to life itself. They were two halves to a whole. Not complete without the other and oh how right Baker had been about hurting him. Nothing they could have done to him would have been as agonizing as seeing the terror and the ravaging pain on Blair's so expressive face, pretty yes, downright beautiful and so reassuring to him in his need for understanding and direction.

God damn!

He worked at the tape and watched Blair move a little, give a muffled moan.

Come on, Chief. Wake up. We've got to figure something out. We can have an emotional breakdown later.

And he feared Baker and his henchmen would return to continue torturing Blair just to get to him sooner rather than later.

The tape began to give way under his constant digging, finally falling from his face. He worked at his wrists also hoping to slip free of the bindings, but they stayed tight around his wrists, cutting at the flesh.

"Blair," he croaked. "Sandburg, wake up. Come on babe, I need you with me here."

Blair moaned again and rolled a little, stopped short by his position. His breath came shallow and wheezing through his nose. Jim could now see the extent of the damage Baker had inflicted. Blood ran from a cut above his guide's eye and the gag was soaked in the red substance. Bruises had already formed across both cheek bones and around both eyes.

Jim heard noise, focusing briefly on the sounds outside this hell they were in with his breath caught in his throat. But the footsteps moved the other way down the hall until they disappeared completely.

Jim forced himself to relax, to think through his near panic. He had to find a way out of these ropes. One wrist was all he needed to loosen so to free himself, but how? The rope bound each wrist tightly to each metal ring, cutting into his flesh.

"Blair," he said again in a loud whisper. "Wake up. Look at me, Chief. I need you to try to get loose. We've got to get out of here."

Blair opened his eyes and Jim could see the agony in that puppy dog gaze, begging to be released from the pain. His partner had known too much pain because of him and now the worst had been done. How would he ever be able to make this up to Blair? Nothing could ever remove these memories, dampened the remembered pain of...rape. But most of all just now, he had to get Blair away from Baker. The threat to take Blair out of the country, to make him Baker's drugged, beaten sex slave was too possible not to take seriously. Baker was capable of absolutely anything.

"Chief, listen to me." Then a thought struck him like a vision from some angel. No words just an image of his sentinel abilities focusing on the ropes of one wrist. Feeling the texture and the way it wrapped around the flesh and bone and muscle tissue. He felt the weakness of one rope loop as it scratched against the skin and then heard the voice of his guide in his head, Blair's voice distant and echoing like a dream leading him through the path that would remove his wrist from the binding.

With a jerk he realized his wrist had come free and Jim quickly moved to untie the other and his ankles. He was beside Blair in a moment, working at the knots of rope around the young man's wrists and ankles, the loop around his neck. He eased Blair's shivering body up against him, removing the gag and rubbing gently at his lover's hands to bring life back into them.

Blair's face was a mask of agony and his breath came in shallow gasps.

"We've got to get out of here now, babe. We can't wait for Baker to come back. Can you walk?"

"I...have...to..." the young man whispered, the tears pushing at the corners of his eyes.

"Okay, let me help you get dressed."

Jim gathered Blair's clothing, thrown aside in a pile except for his shirts which Jim pulled up around Blair's shoulders. He helped Blair on with his briefs and jeans, the struggle enough to make Jim want to scream and imagine Baker's death in many ways all by his hands. Last came the socks and shoes. Jim put them on Blair while his partner leaned back on the floor, breathing shallowly.

Jim's arm went around his partner's waist, putting the smaller man on his feet and holding him there while Blair steadied himself. He watched Blair nearly double over with pain, knees threatening to give out.

"I'll hold on and you hold on, Chief. Don't let go." Blair nodded and obeyed.

At the door, Jim stopped, listening intently. Reassured, he tried the door and actually found it unlocked.

You're so sure of yourself, Baker. I'll hunt you down like the monster you are. After Blair is safe from your grasp.

Agony burst through the first moments of Blair's consciousness, giving way to need and Jim's insistent measured voice. But behind the even contained tone was the panic, controlled, yet there and terror he'd never heard in his partner's voice. Was it for him? For them? God, it hurt so bad!

He knew somehow he'd connected with Jim for a brief moment, a thought so fleeting he scarcely remembered the advice given without a word. The image of the rope and Jim's wrist just came to him and the pattern formed of how Jim could escape the binding.

Jim held onto him, a pillar of strength and Blair clung like a child, so afraid, so fearing to see Baker and the others at the next turn of the corridor. He tried to hold his breath and listen when Jim did, but the roaring of a storm raged in his head. And breathing itself proved a chore with the forced movement. He could feel bone grating against bone and guessed the ribs weren't just cracked but broken and threatening to do internal damage. Blair bit down on the pain and kept moving, bit off a cry as Jim gently pushed him back against a wall and motioned for him to stay there. Blair shivered with what he could identify as shock creeping over his ravaged body. He felt wetness soaking the back of his jeans and wanted to weep from the horror of it.

I've been...raped. Oh god, oh god, oh god. I'm going to scream. I'm going to vomit. I'm going to die if they catch us. I can't live through that again.

But Blair bit down on the cry working its way up his throat and closed his eyes tightly. With hands balled into fists he forced a cleansing breath, shallow yet calming to his nerves. Jim's hand on his arm almost sent him over the edge into insanity.

"Hang on, sweetheart."

Blair nodded and let Jim lead him further down a long hall. He felt vulnerable here with no doors, no hallway intersecting and then he heard the yell, almost a scream of rage echo down the empty institution green halls, reverberating and sending the icy hand of terror down his spine.

"Jim...."

"Damnit," Jim hissed. "Baker. Come on."

"Oh god, Jim." Blair bit down on the sob and Jim's arm went around him, holding him up. Jim's strength was all that kept him going, all that kept his sanity clinging precariously with bloody fingers to the edge of his mind.

"Okay, Blair. I want you to wait here while I go just a little ways that way to see if there's a way out. I'll be real fast. I promise."

"No Jim, please," Blair said, hands grasping at his lover's shirt. Panic seized him, wrapped around his throat like the rope that had been there only a short while ago. "Please...don't leave me."

"Baby, you can barely walk. You're hurt bad. I've got to find the fastest way to get you out of here. Oh god, Blair, I can't let them catch up to us."

"I'll be...all right. Just don't leave me." He began to cry, unable to control his terror any longer. Blair had used up all his courage and strength, all his endurance and determination dealing with Baker and his men and the things they had made him do. "Please. I'm so...scared."

"It's okay, baby. I won't let them touch you again." "Let's...just go, Jim. I'll make it. Come on...before they catch us."

"Okay, Chief, but all this movement is causing more damage. I can hear your broken ribs grating against each other. You with a punctured lung won't help us get out of here."

Blair gritted his teeth. "Let's...go."

Jim nodded and pulled Blair close to him, supporting him. Blair tried to support his own weight as much as possible, but what he couldn't deny was that he needed Jim's arm around him, needed to lean. The pain tore at his insides, stabbing from his chest and back to his groin. His face felt swollen. His throat hurt as if someone had poured acid down it. The thoughts in his head whirled, images so ugly and cruel he knew he would soon break down and didn't want to do it here.

They came to an intersecting corridor and stopped. Jim listened then put a finger to his lips. Blair leaned against the wall while Jim moved slowly forward, listening as he went. Blair watched Jim stand up close to the wall, the corner inches from him. Blair heard the slightest movement from around the corner, someone trying hard not to make noise. He held his breath and watched Jim ready himself then whirl out and around, striking with fist and foot. Jim disappeared around the corner for one long eternal moment, the sound of a skull being bashed into a wall echoing in the corridor. Then Jim reappeared with a gun in hand and a grim expression on his face.

"One down. And he won't be getting back up anytime soon." Blair nodded and let Jim help him once again. A stabbing pain, worse than all the rest skewered him through the gut, sending Blair to his knees. He gasped and doubled over clutching his left side. He couldn't breath, couldn't speak, couldn't think. All he wanted was for the pain to stop, to ease, anything but go on like this, making him helpless and Jim vulnerable to Baker's attack.

Jim was beside him, holding him.

"Oh god, baby. I'm so sorry. So sorry, sweetheart." Jim punctuated his words with gentle strokes of his hair and a voice on the verge of tears.

"Don't...Jim....Please," Blair gasped. "Just find a way...to get...us out of...here."

Jim nodded, controlling his emotions.

Blair took another gasping breath and pushed against the wall. He was on his feet again with Jim's help and half carrying him.

They moved more slowly, the dim light obscuring the corridors, but Blair knew Jim had no trouble seeing and that reassured him. He let his Sentinel guide him this time, Jim trying desperately to take him out of danger.

A bullet ricocheted off the wall near them. They glanced back as they struggled to run, seeing Baker and one of the others aiming for another shot each.

"Hold it, Ellison," Baker shouted.

But Jim refused, pushing Blair before him around the next turn. Two closed doors were on the left wall, the next turn of the hallway only twenty feet ahead. The last two of Baker's accomplices rounded the corner, trapping them between. Jim took a quick shot at one of the men, sending both back out of sight for a brief moment.

Blair fought to stay standing and get a door open. The first was locked, but the second opened and he fell into the room with Jim right behind him, picking him up and pushing him in further. The door slammed closed and Jim found a lock, latching it.

"That won't hold long with Baker out there." Blair lay on the floor, watching Jim shove a desk and two chairs up against the door. The room had been an office once, dusty and moldy and stinking of mice dung now after a few years of abandonment.

Blair pulled himself up from the floor, drawn to the light cascading down from a window. They must be in a basement with the window above. He climbed up in a chair, ignoring his pain, driven by desperation. Then Jim was beside him, holding onto him.

"Can...we get...out?"

"I think so," Jim said. "Here sit down and let me work on that window."

"Jim." Blair's voice was little more than a whisper, but the urgency was evident and made Jim turn a concerned loving gaze on him. Blair twitched and turned as Baker and the others pounded on the door and Baker's voice, harsh with rage stormed at them, threatening a terrible retribution if they didn't give themselves up now.

"Babe, don't say it."

"I have to, Jim. Please...promise me, you won't let him take me. You won't let them do that to me again. Please promise you'll use that gun...please say...you'll save a bullet for me."

"God Blair, don't make me do that. I can't, sweetheart. I couldn't do that."

"If...you...love...me. You can." He was sobbing now, unable to contain his pain and horror and complete despair. "I heard what Baker said. He'll do it. He'll take me away and he'll...he'll break me. I can't...I can't live...like that. I'd rather die. Promise me, Jim." His fingers clutched at Jim's ripped shirt, fingers trembling.

"Sweetheart, my god...." But Jim nodded and the tears came. Jim bit down on his lower lip then reached for Blair, kissing him gently. The Sentinel's hand caressed his Guide's hair, pushing it back from the bruises on Blair's face. "I love you more than life. I can't live without you. I'll save two bullets."

Blair nodded and they both turned their attention back to the window.

It was tightly sealed, painted shut and a fine wire mesh criss crossed the glass. Jim stripped off his shirt, wrapped it around his hand and punched the glass. The window cracked, but held. Jim hit it again and the glass shattered, the mesh falling out with the shards. Jim shook his hand then picked out the pieces of glass still sticking out. Blair watched him take a quick look out.

"Looks like an alley. I'll put you through then I'll follow. If I don't make it, babe, you run like hell and get help. Do you hear me?"

"Jim."

"Don't argue now. You are in no shape to help me. The best help you can be is to figure out where we are and call Simon. If I have to I can hold them off for a while."

"Okay, I'll go but only so I can get help."

"All right, Chief---"

Both glanced behind them with panicked looks. The door moved a bit, the desk shoved forward.

"Go," Jim said and pushed Blair up through the window. Safely out, Blair turned, heard Jim fire the gun then scramble up through the window just as the door burst open. Blair grabbed Jim's arm and pulled using strength he thought he'd lost hours ago. "Come on."

Jim dragged him down the alley, stumbling and nearly falling. The pain sliced at his insides, but his terror drove him on, fear lightening his feet. He felt dizzy, as if he were drugged and realized it was adrenalin the only drug that could keep him on his feet just now. He ran and felt blood trickling down from his mouth, and something ran down his thighs, making his jeans stick to him.

Jim stopped abruptly and Blair fell. Before he hit the ground, Jim caught him by the elbow, dragging him up into an embrace.

"Oh man...Jim...it hurts...so bad."

"I know, baby. I know."

Blair leaned into Jim's embrace and looked up to see Jim listening intently, scanning in each direction.

"They're not far behind, Chief. But I hear traffic not far off that way. We can flag someone down and get you to a hospital."

Blair said nothing, his breath getting harder to draw, clogging up in his chest.

They came out to a street lined with warehouses, not heavily traveled this time of morning. It felt like morning anyway, damp and cold and gray with the light of dawn. Maybe five A.M., Blair guessed and wondered why he cared.

A truck passed them despite Jim trying to get the driver's attention. Blair almost smiled at how ridiculous they must look to someone who had no idea what they had just gone through. There was Jim without a shirt, bloody chest criss crossed with cuts, face bloody also. And he must look as though he'd been run over by a car a couple of dozen times. An hysterical laugh pushed at his terror, but he swallowed it down and knew he was about to break down, wouldn't last much longer physically, mentally or emotionally. He wondered at being able to think about that fact, analyze it as if this was happening to someone else. It must be the survival factor. His mind and body was keeping him sane long enough to survive this ordeal. He could go crazy later.

A van turned the corner down the street and came towards them. Jim stepped out then back with a frantic grab at Blair.

"It's Baker!"

Blair ran, with Jim's hand wrapped around his arm, pulling him along. His adrenalin rush was waning. His feet felt like lead, as if someone had encased his legs in metal and was about to throw him into the river.

They wove in and out of buildings, but somehow Baker and his men always managed to find them. Finally, they stumbled out into another street, this one lively with early morning warehouse workers just coming in for the day.

Jim dragged Blair in among them, the looks they received questioning and leery.

"I'm a detective with the Cascade Police Department. We need to use your telephone," Jim said in what appeared to be relief, exhaustion and pain seeping into the lines of his features.

Blair leaned against a wall and prayed he could keep from crying as several workers gathered round to find out what the whole things was about. He watched the van pass by slowly, dark and ominous.

Baker's not that crazy. Please, don't let him be so crazy as to come after them with fifteen big, strong guys surrounding them.

The van drove on passed and Blair gave a wheezing sigh and slid down the wall, head back and body screaming in agony.

"This man is hurt badly," he heard Jim saying. "Call an ambulance and call the central precinct and ask for Capt. Simon Banks. Tell him Jim Ellison needs him and where we are.

"Blair, helps coming." Jim sat down beside him and he heard murmurs of concern from the workers.

Blair nodded and wondered what these men would say if they knew he'd been raped. Soon, his energy slipped away from him, easing out like his blood from his wounds. The pain wrapped around him, his vision darkening, fading into blessed night.

Jim felt Blair relax into unconsciousness and pulled the young man into an embrace. He ignored the men around him, controlling the tears that wanted to break free of his iron will holding them back. He had to be strong for Blair, not let his guard down just yet. He kept all his senses on alert until he heard the sirens and Simon's voice shouting and directing his officers.

Simon strode towards them. Jim saw the paramedics and waved them over.

"Jim, what the hell is going on? Where have you and Sandburg been and where is your shirt?"

"It's a long, ugly...horrible story, Simon. We've got to get Blair to the hospital now."

Simon leaned down close to them. "Okay, Jim. Here come the meds. They'll take care of him. What happened? Who did this?"

Jim felt his control slip away and the tears came in a wash of horror. He saw the shock in Simon's eyes and the complete concern.

"Jim. You need to let go of Blair so the paramedics can help him."

He let Simon move Blair from his embrace, but stayed close just in case his partner came around and needed assurance.

"You need to put out an APB on a dark blue Ford van," Jim said in a less than steady voice. "Washington plates. I can't remember the number right now...." Jim put his hands to his face and took a deep breath, his eyes moving back to watch the paramedics checking Blair's vital signs and hooking up an IV.

"Jim, who did this?"

"His name is Baker, Matt Baker. We served together, but he murdered a man and I testified against him. He was put away. I thought for good. I was wrong...so wrong. And now Blair's suffered because of it. Oh god, Simon. He's suffered something terrible."

"Jim, hey." Simon pulled off his coat and made Jim put it on.

"Detective Ellison," one of the paramedics said. "How was this man injured?"

Jim stared at the man. Not a young man, but not old either, close to his own age. The other man looked on with a startled glance, younger more inexperienced.

"He was beaten...and raped."

"What?!" Simon said. "Sandburg?"

One of the medics looked at the other with an unreadable expression.

"Don't just sit there and stare at each other!" Jim snarled. "Get him to the hospital."

"Right away, Detective."

"And I'm riding with you."

"Of course, whatever you want."

Jim stood, watching the men place Blair on a stretcher. "Jim. He'll be okay."

Jim shook his head. "No Simon. Blair's not okay. He may not be okay for a long time. And neither will I."

Simon sighed heavily. "How many men are we looking for?" "Six. One I left unconscious in an warehouse. I think it was the old Peterson place. Simon, I'll give you more information after Blair is taken care of. Right now I just have to go with him."

The Captain nodded silently and let him go.

Simon followed the ambulance in his car, lights flashing and mind racing to figure out how something this horrible could happen. Just yesterday morning Jim and Blair had been in his office talking about the case they had just wrapped up neat as a Christmas present. Sandburg had been instrumental in breaking the case and Simon'd had to compliment him. Hadn't minded at all having to do so really. Jim was an entirely different person since Blair had come into his life. The man was down right human again and all because of Blair Sandburg. He'd been so surprised when he had found out Jim and Blair had become lovers. That was so unlike the James Ellison he knew and defied everything he had come to know about Sandburg as well. But they had made it work, were happy together, but now this...this horror. Rape. Oh god. Poor Blair. What a terrible thing to go through. And where had Jim been when this was happening? The thought struck Simon of the haunted, despairing look on Jim's face...that Jim had been made to watch it. He didn't know how he knew it, but he knew this was so.

He pulled in behind the ambulance and rushed to be beside Jim as he escorted the stretcher in with Blair still unconscious.

"How is he?" Simon asked.

"He's stable. But they think he has some severe lacerations of the lung and spleen. Doesn't look punctured though. He's bleeding, Simon. Those perverts tore him up pretty bad."

Jim rubbed his face and made to enter into the emergency room with Blair.

A woman in white blocked his way. "Please wait out here, sir. Is there someone, a next of kin?"

"I'm it. I'm his partner and roommate."

"I know you're concerned...Mr?"

"Ellison. Detective Ellison."

"Detective." She tried to smile reassuringly. "If you could fill out the proper papers and give the information to registration it would be most helpful. I'll come and get you when we've finished examining Mr?"

"Sandburg. Blair Sandburg. He's hurt..." Simon saw tears come to Jim's eyes again and the man wipe at them distractedly.

The woman touched Jim's arm gently, an empathic touch that seemed to calm the detective more than words possibly could.

"I know, Detective. And he means a lot to you, doesn't he?" "Yes," Jim whispered desperately.

"My name is Jamie Sawyer, I'm head nurse in emergency. I'll come and get you when you can see him."

Jim nodded and let Simon take him over to registration. Simon answered as many questions as Jim all the while he knew Jim was listening, saw Jim stiffen and lurch forward towards the door through which they had taken Blair.

"He's awake, Simon. He needs me. He's scared...Oh god!" Jim forced his way through the door and Simon was right behind him. Even he could hear Blair's screams now, screams of terror and incoherence.

"Please no!! Oh, god!!! Please, no! Jim help me! Oh god, Jim!"

Jim burst into the examining room. Simon pushed in behind him. Three orderlies held Blair down on the table while a doctor and two nurses tried to sedate him. The young man was struggling desperately, reliving his ordeal, Simon imagined. Jim snarled like an enraged animal and the orderlies backed away, letting go of their patient. Blair nearly fell off the table, a hospital gown all he worn now. Jim rushed forward, gathering Blair into his arms.

"It's okay, baby. I'm here. I'm with you. It's all right, sweetheart."

"Oh god, Jim. Don't let them take me again. Please. Oh, god. Don't...leave...me."

Simon stared in horror. He'd never seen anything like this, not Blair so completely devastated, not even when Lash had nearly murdered him. Blair had bounced back faster than anyone would have expected. But this...this was a devastation of spirit as well as body, emotional upheaval that rivaled any type of physical damage. And the damage was to two men not just one. This would be a dual breakdown of two very strong men. When the strong fall.... Simon couldn't even finish his own thought. He felt tears on his face and turned away.

Doctor Libby Marshall fell back a few paces as two big men shoved their way into the examining room. She watched in absolute disbelief as one snarled like an animal, driving back three large orderlies and swept up her patient into an embrace that was as gentle and loving as his earlier behavior was primal and dangerous.

She had realized within moments of starting her examine that there was much more she needed to know about this case, but they had only managed to pull the bloody clothing off the young man and get him into a gown when he started coming around. She tried to be reassuring, gentle as she looked over his facial wounds and listened to his wheezing shallow breath with her stethoscope. But then he became hysterical, incoherent. This young man was terrified and screaming for someone named Jim. She imagined that this man holding her patient now was Jim.

"Excuse me...sir. Please, are you Jim?"

"Yes." Jim looked up and stared at her for a moment, but his attention refocused on the man in his arms, who was sobbing, but slowly calming. "Let me talk to him. I'll get him to relax, but I'm not leaving him again."

Dr. Marshall nodded. "All right...Jim. Why don't we start with...."

Jamie Sawyer, the head nurse came in with papers and started with the sight of Jim holding the patient and the other man, a tall black man with tears he was trying to hide on his face. Libby saw him brush at his cheek and sniff, face smoothing back to its professional demeanor.

"It's all right, Jamie."

"I...I'm sorry I'm late with the paperwork on this patient, I was interrupted on my way here. There was an eight car pileup on I-26 and the injured are being dispersed among the three area hospitals. We've got four coming in."

"We have this under control, Jamie. Go ahead and get Dr. Sanders and Dr. Minor to take care of the accident victims. I'll take care of this."

The nurse nodded and went, but looked back at Jim then nodded at Simon.

Libby went over the papers and nodded to herself. No wonder the man is so hysterical. Sexual assault. She looked up again and she could see that letting these men into the examining room would benefit Mr. Sandburg. She watched the man named Jim, big, strong, a police detective the papers stated and Mr. Sandburg's roommate. She figured that was meant in the most literal sense of the word by the way the detective was talking, soothing the young man with endearments such as "sweetheart" and "babe."

Blair, she preferred first names if the patient didn't mind, had calmed down considerably and she moved forward to look down at him from the other side of the table.

"Blair, my name is Doctor Libby Marshall. I'm the emergency room doctor who is going to take care of you. You're hurt and you've suffered a very traumatic ordeal. We want to help you through this as best we can. Jim is going to stay with you here. I won't make him leave."

As if I could, she mused.

The young man opened his eyes and she thought she'd never seen such beautiful eyes, even bruised and filled with pain and despair. Even her fifty year old eyes could appreciate a handsome young man, but all her empathy reached out to the emotional damage this child had suffered and she fought to control the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes. She sniffed and pulled her professional demeanor around her. With a deep breath she returned her attention to Blair who gazed up at her with keen intelligence that fought back against the overwhelming desire to simply break down into an emotional heap.

"Now, Blair. I need to do an examine and we need to get xrays. I'm going to give you something for the pain and to help you relax."

A nurse came forward with a hypodermic, but the doctor took the needle and the alcohol soaked cotton ball. She wiped the cotton over Blair's exposed thigh and injected the drug. He didn't even flinch, eyes focused on the man holding his hand in one large hand. Jim's other hand rested on Blair's forehead, stroking back the curls from the young man's face.

Good, she thought. He didn't fight that and this Jim guy is a gem if this will help the rest of this ordeal. And an ordeal it would be before it was all over.

Libby turned to one of the nurses. "Get me a rape kit." The woman nodded and went to obey.

Libby took her time listening to his breathing, noting the shallow breath, broken, probably two or three ribs, but no sign of actual puncture of the lung. She needed xrays and to determine if Blair needed surgery, and she needed to do a rectal exam. She needed to gather the evidence that might convict the pervert or perverts who did this to this man.

"Blair," she said softly. "You understand what needs to be done, don't you?"

She watched his gaze turn anguished, tears slipping down his face and he swallowed hard. His gaze moved to Jim's and the big man nodded.

"Yes," he whispered and closed his eyes. Libby pulled on gloves and blocked out her personal feelings, being as professional as possible considering this man was suffering so for no good reason. She did what she had to do, gentle and thorough, quick and efficient. She tried to block out the quiet weeping, the soul wrenching expression on his companion's face and the face of the man that stood back against the wall and tried not to watch. But this experience would be with her for some time to come, she knew. And something about this man and his pain made her angry, made her enraged that such horrors could happen in 20th century America. Wasn't the world suppose to be civilized, gentler, educated and compassionate? Shouldn't that be the way this world was evolving? Instead, every day she saw tragedies such as this, horrors that made the skin crawl, children being abused and teenagers shot, brutalities that civilization should have outgrown. And this...this...abomination. Rape...sexual assault. God, what an outrage!

She turned away, discarding her gloves. The rest of her exam seemed simple in comparison. She pulled one of the nurses aside and spoke quietly.

"We need a full set of xrays, blood tests and total cooperation with the police which is what I suspect that man over there is. I'll talk to him, but I want Mr. Sandburg ready for surgery. Looks like we've got some internal bleeding. Just let the detective stay with him as much as possible. He's calm now with the sedative working on him, but no need to agitate him any further if we can avoid it."

The nurse nodded and led the way out of the room, heading for xray.

Libby touched Jim's arm, gaining his attention for a moment. "I'm so sorry, Jim. We'll take care of him. I promise. He'll have the best care possible."

The man looked about to cry and she thought it must take a lot to make this man break down this way.

"Thank you, Doctor." He followed quickly and she thought she'd best make sure he received some medical care as well once they had taken care of Blair.

She glanced up at the man still leaning against the wall, looking as though he wasn't certain what to do or where to go.

With a reassuring sympathetic smile she moved towards him. "I'm Doctor Marshall and you are..."

"Capt. Simon Banks of the Cascade Police Dept. Jim Ellison is a Detective in my division. And Blair is a Police Consultant also with my division."

"I see. They are more than just subordinates to you though."

"Yes, far more. They're both good friends." Simon nodded absently. "Thank you, Doctor. You did a great job there with Sandburg. And Jim. You made the right decision letting him stay. They're pretty much inseparable."

"I understand they are roommates."

"Partners...actually."

"In what way?"

The captain gave her a look, studying how she would react, she thought.

"They work together. And..."

"And they are lovers?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I see."

"I hope so. And I hope that makes no difference in how Blair will be treated. He and Jim are lifemates. Exclusive. Blair didn't deserve this. He's one of the finest young men I've ever had the privilege of working with. And he didn't deserve this, damnit!"

The man turned away, yanked off his glasses and wiped at his eyes again. She watched him take a deep breath then turn back to her.

"As soon as the evidence is ready, please see that it's sent down to Central Precinct, Doctor Marshall. We have a kidnapping, assault and rape case to get working on and these perps made it personal."

Jim sat beside Blair's hospital bed, freshly washed, wounds attended to and cleanly clothed once again. Simon had led him through most of it, Doctor Marshall doing the wound tending.

Everything seemed so distant, so empty. He felt empty just now except for the pain in his heart each time he looked over at his mate lying there, quiet and small. Blair looked like a child, face turned into the pillow, knees drawn up, curled in on himself. An IV ran into his arm. Luckily Blair had come through surgery without any complications, but the lacerations to his spleen bleeding enough to warrant repair. And the doctor had insisted on complete bed rest for the next few days because of the lacerations to Blair's lung as well from three broken ribs. With all the forced movement, Blair was indeed lucky that he hadn't punctured that lung. The multiple bruises the young man had suffered were apparent everywhere on his body, deep bruising also to the kidneys.

Baker had done quite a job on Blair's psyche as well, tearing down years of self-esteem, of self-worth that was bound to leave Blair holding an arm load of self-doubt. And Jim knew this to be so for he had all the same doubts himself.

He reached over and gently brushed hair from Blair's cheek, lightly placing his fingers on the bruises marring that beautiful complexion.

Where do we go from here, my darling Blair? What do we do now with this horror hanging over us? I'm so sorry, babe. I don't know how to make this right. I don't know how to make this up to you. I failed you so miserably, so utterly. God, you deserve so much better than this.

But Jim loved this man with all his heart and soul and breath. And his failure to protect Blair when he needed it most ate at his essence, tore at his bowels and heart.

"How's he doing?"

Jim turned, surprised that Simon had caught him off guard like that. What if it had been Baker?

"You didn't hear me, did you?"

Jim turned back to gaze at Blair's still form. "I guess I was too deep in thought. Not a smart thing to do when the psycho who tortured your partner right before your eyes is still out there wanting revenge for something he did to himself."

"It's all right, Jim. No one will get passed our guard. Brown's out there now. He volunteered to do the night shift."

Jim almost felt a smile pull at his lips, but it slid away quickly. "I'll be sure to thank him."

"For what, Jim? The guys love Blair. He's one of us. You should know that by now. They aren't doing this for you really. They're doing it for Blair."

"You think so?"

"I know so." Simon moved into the room, glanced over at the patient then pulled up a chair beside Jim. "Has he woke up at all?"

"No. They're sedating him right now, keeping him pumped full of painkillers. So far he's hardly stirred except to move a little bit. He moans once in a while." A sudden flash of memory tore through his brain, Blair on his knees, wrists pulled behind him, bent over with some pig of a brute banging away at him. Jim jerked away from the horrid vision as if he'd been scalded. "God!"

"Jim." Simon's hand was on his arm, almost restraining him. "Jim, are you all right?"

He nodded and took a deep breath. He rose, rubbing at his face in spite of the bandages covering three sets of stitches. The bandages on his chest made him itch, but he left them alone and strode to the window to look out on the lights of Cascade.

"Jim," Simon stood beside him now. "You know we need information. More description, details...anything you can give me. We can't find these guys if you don't tell us what happened and what you know about them."

"Him, Matthew Wayne Baker. Lieutenant and he used his position of authority to feed his sickness, one I should have realized he had sooner. He murdered a man down in Columbia. We were stationed down there to help train the troops in how to fight the drug lords. Baker had a thing for some young kid in a nearby village. Tried to seduce him. The boy's father got angry and busted Baker in the chops flat on his ass in the street. Baker came back a few hours later shot the man dead. A man murdered because of Matt Baker's lusts and pride. Then he tried to use his military status as an excuse for his crime. Tried to say it was self-defense. I testified against him. So did some others. Some refused...didn't want to get involved, whatever excuse eased their conscience for not doing their duty."

"How could he think I wouldn't testify?" He ran his hands back through his hair and shook his head. "I didn't know he was out of prison. He shouldn't be. But I intend to find out how and why."

Jim leaned on the window and looked at Simon. "I don't know how they took Blair, just that I was suppose to pick him up at the university and he wasn't where he was suppose to be. After a while I went home. Was going to give it a little while to see if he showed and had forgotten. I got this call. I was hoping it was Blair. It wasn't. It was Baker. I had no choice, Simon. I obeyed them. Did what they said and Blair suffered for my decision. I should have called for backup. I should have done so many other things, but I couldn't think of them at the time. I had no time to think and I knew Baker wouldn't budge an inch. Baker said he would kill Blair if I didn't follow his instructions and Baker would have and it would have been a long painful death."

He grew quiet, staring back at what he should have known to do and knowing it was too late for hindsight. The pain in his chest deepened, seeping into the marrow of his bones. Why hadn't he been able to do something to keep this from happening?

"Baker made you watch, didn't he?" Simon's question came very soft, sympathetic yet brooking no argument with the plain truth of it.

Jim swallowed hard and nodded, eyes going closed and tears pushing passed his defenses. All his walls had come tumbling down, the walls that had been chipped away, melted away by Blair's love. Now, he wished for those walls again to protect himself from the depth of this pain.

No, he would never go back to that cold, empty man he had been, unable to show his love to his wife or to anyone else who tried to get close to him. Only Blair had gotten passed that high castle fortress of a wall and had made his life worth living again, worth the time to breath and think and hope and dream again. Only Blair could help him forget the guilt, help him forgive himself for losing his men in Peru.

"Simon...what are we going...to do? How are we going...to...live with this?"

Simon moved a step closer, hand going to Jim's shoulder to squeeze gently.

"Blair needs you to be strong right now, Jim? He's going to need that Ellison strength."

"But I failed him. I couldn't save him from this." "I know, but you can help him through the rest. Be at his bedside, hold him if he needs it. Give him plenty of space if he needs that. Be patient. Be whatever he needs you to be."

"Simon...."

"Jim, you can do it. He needs you now more than ever." "He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me," Jim hissed and turned his back to the room to stare again at the lights. Why was Simon being so easy on him? Shouldn't someone scream at him and tell him how he had failed Blair, himself and the PD?

"You should try to get some rest, Jim." Simon's voice cut through his self-recriminations, but not before one last thought.

'Jim Ellison is guilty, your honor, of failure to protect his mate or himself.'

Jim imagined a prosecutor, twelve jurors and a judge all with his own face pointing a finger. 'Guilty.'

"I'm staying here tonight, Simon," Jim finally replied as he faced his captain. "One of the nurses had a fairly comfortable chair brought in. I'm not leaving him for any length of time."

"I suspected as much, Ellison. But do try to rest. You won't do Sandburg any good exhausted. I'll be by in the morning to check on both of you."

Jim nodded and watched Simon leave. Brown stuck his head in and gave a wave then settled outside the door to watch over them for the night.

Blair couldn't breath. Fingers, strong; hands, large and smothering, squeezed, wrapped around his windpipe, crushing the air from his throat. He tried to scream, but no sound could pass that iron grip. And his body felt cold, stripped of clothing. Pain drove into his bowels, up his back, down his legs. A dozen hands held him down and ripped out his gut.

"No! God! Help me, no!!"

"Blair! Baby, calm down. You're going to hurt yourself. Sweetheart, please. Oh god please, babe!"

Jim's voice cut through Blair's pain, cut through the terror and the hands around his throat faded, allowing him to breath again. He gulped in great draws of air, sucking in and crying still, but calming.

The hands on him grew less restraining, allowed him to lie back, caressed gently his hair, brushing it away from his face.

"Blair, sweetheart. I'm here. No one will hurt you. I promise."

Oh, but Jim you promised that before.

Blair pushed back that accusing thought and fought to stop crying, but the tears wouldn't stop and he turned his face into the pillow to abandon himself to the sobs.

He didn't fight the nurse who came to reattach his IV or check his stitches. She listened to his chest, felt of his sides and stomach. Now that he'd calmed, pain filled his body, ached to the depths of his soul. Everything hurt. No place on his body didn't scream with the agony of the assault.

The nurse spoke softly to him, patronizing, he would have thought if he'd cared. He felt the cold of alcohol on his thigh and the sting of a needle then the burning of the medicine as it went straight into his body. She rubbed the spot again and pulled the blankets over him, patting his arm and saying something about being good, behaving and not pulling out his IV. He thought he heard comfort in her voice, but couldn't find the strength to care about that either or even acknowledge her words. Blair let the drug seep into his thoughts, dissolve his pain and send him back to dark, dreamless slumber.

Jim sat staring, his pain of a different sort. The agony had settled deep in his chest, lodged there and nothing, he was certain at that moment, would ever be able to extract it from his heart.

Blair had come up out of a nightmare like a cornered animal, frightened but fighting madly to save himself. Survival still sang in the young man's blood...fight to survive and hope enough of him had survived to live with the ordeal.

God oh god, why had this been allowed to happen to them? What had they done to deserve this? And Baker was still out there somewhere eluding the authorities. The man had the same skills that he had, jungle tactics, guerrilla warfare. Covert Ops. Baker could evade almost anyone, except for maybe Jim Ellison.

But Jim couldn't leave Blair now, not when his partner needed him most. He had to wait for Blair to regain some semblance of control, coherence.

When will that be, Ellison? When hell freezes over? It might be days before Blair would be coherent enough to be left with someone other than Jim. And what of the weeks and months of recovery? Blair would need counseling to heal the emotional trauma, the mental anguish, the physical abuse.

Jim sat back, pulling his gaze away from Blair's still form. He felt impotent, unable to do anything useful, but sit there and be there when Blair woke up again. And Blair would, driven from slumber by the wails of his own nightmares.

Daylight came, dull and dreary, rain coming down like Noah ought to be building an arc right there in Cascade.

The last three days and nights had been as fitful for Jim as Blair's sleeping. Nightmares came over and over, beating at his young partner's psyche in spite of the drugs that had been pumped into Blair. He had rescued his lover from every horror imaginable, Jim was certain...beatings, suffocation...rape. And Jim fell further, deeper into the abyss of his own guilt that this horror had happened to Blair...his Blair...his lover...his responsibility, because of him.

Jim reached, unable to keep from touching his partner, trying to smooth away some of the pain from Blair's face. Pain that was there even in sleep. Blair flinched and moaned and Jim feared another nightmare would take hold and the nightmare would be made manifest right there in that room.

They couldn't drug Blair anymore than he was already drugged. The nightmares were simply stronger than the medicines and Blair didn't yet distinguish the difference between the waking world and his dreams.

"How's Blair this morning, Jim?" Dr. Marshall stood in the doorway, dark hair pulled back attractively, glasses sitting on her nose. Her white coat covered a blouse and skirt and her stethoscope hung around her neck like some shaman's charm.

You have been around Blair a long time when you start thinking that way, Ellison.

"He's still having nightmares, Doctor."

Her lips pressed together as she moved into the room. She glanced at Blair's chart, studying it then writing something on the first sheet with a pen she pulled from behind her ear.

"Why are you still on this case, Doctor? Aren't you an emergency room physician?"

She turned to Jim and smiled. "Considering the delicacy of Blair's situation we thought it best if the same doctor continued as his attending physician while he's in the hospital. I've handled more than one sexual assault case. In fact, the other ER doctor's often stick me with them. Their words not mine. I'm a caretaker of people, Detective Ellison. That's my job and one I believe in thoroughly. I care, thus I'm here."

Jim nodded and watched her turn to her patient. Gently, she moved Blair's hair back from his face, examining the bruises that were turning purple, blue and green now. She checked Blair's pulse, heartbeat and blood pressure, her probing minimal and undisturbing. Jim thought she had a very light touch, yet Blair stirred and Jim's heart pounded in fear of another nightmare.

Dr. Marshall backed off a step and observed her patient for a long moment.

"How often is he having the nightmares?" "Every couple of hours, about the time the painkillers are wearing off. They keep doping him up and he goes back to sleeping." Jim stood, reached out and touched the doctor's arm. "Shouldn't he be waking up some, Doc. It's like a vicious cycle. We've been going at this for three days and nights now."

"I've ordered a reduction in medication. We need to get him awake. We need to get him coherent. And we need to get him counseling as quickly as possible. I'd like to have someone come in and talk with Blair before he leaves the hospital. I know someone. She'd be good for him. She specializes in rape crisis counseling."

Jim stared off into space, another vision blinding the here and now, dragging him back four terrible days to the then of helplessness...of Blair being stripped of his clothing, naked and bent over boxes in a dirty old warehouse, being fucked by those dirty bastards, being forced to suck their cocks just to keep Jim's throat from being cut.

'I'll kill you,' he remembered saying to Baker and he meant it. If he could get two minutes alone with any or all of them, they were dead right there. No trial, no regrets, just their entrails wrapped around his fingers as he drove his hands into their bowels and ripped out their guts.

"Detective Ellison...Jim?" A small hand shook him vigorously, shaking him from his own nightmare.

Jim gasped and heard Blair gasp simultaneously. "Oh god, no," Jim whispered and moved to Blair's side.

"Please...no...god...please...." Then the cries began, agonizing, almost wordless pleading for non-existent mercy. And the gasping for breath, the choking that wrenched Jim's heart.

"Oh baby, please. You're safe now," Jim whispered, pulling Blair close. Blair fought him for a brief moment then overcome by pain and exhaustion, collapsed into Jim's embrace, sobbing hysterically.

Jim heard Rafe standing in the doorway, their morning protection. Joel had watched over them last night and was still there, also looking in. Jim caught a glimpse of their concerned faces, caring and worried.

'Blair is one of us,' Simon had said and that meant the world to Jim and would to Blair as well. He remembered a time when Simon had said that Blair wasn't one of them, an outsider. 'Shouldn't you cut him loose, Jim?' But now, this young man in his arms had broken through that barrier also, the brotherhood of the PD. Blair hadn't been accepted by everyone, but had been by those who mattered and that's all that mattered to either of them.

"Oh baby. Oh god, Blair. Please, sweetheart. It's all right now. You're safe."

How many times had he said those words to his partner, all the time, Blair would sob and the nightmare lived on inside of him.

"He needs to wake up, Doctor."

"Yes," she said, watching over them. "The emotional trauma is extensive though. He's going to continue to have vivid nightmares."

Jim couldn't quite read her, accepting that she was caring. But he didn't know what to ask her. Didn't know if she had done everything she could for Blair.

"It's going to take time," she said as if reading his mind. "Please don't rush the healing process. Somehow it never helps. Give him time for his nightmares. And don't forget to give yourself time."

He stared up at her, Blair quiet in his arms now, clinging like life depended on it.

"I don't deserve that luxury, Doctor."

"You obviously think you have much to blame yourself for, Jim. You won't do Blair any good with recriminations against yourself."

"This is no time for some philosophical discussion on my guilt complex, doc."

She shook her head and moved closer.

"Blair, do you remember me? I'm Dr. Marshall." Blair's eyes opened with caution. The young man's body lay tense against Jim's, still clinging with white fingers and held there by Jim's arms around Blair's smaller body.

Jim felt Blair's heart pounding still, blood surging through the veins and arteries at a high rate of speed.

"Relax, babe. The doctor is here to help you. Relax." He felt Blair relax a fraction, but still clung to him and as long as Blair clung, Jim would hold on.

"Blair," the doctor said soothingly.

"I...remember you," Blair whispered in a dull, drugged voice.

"Good," she said with a comforting smile. "I'll be back in a few hours to check on you."

Blair just turned his face into Jim's shoulder as if he could hide from the world there.

Blair lay, half dozing, still drowsy from medication, but not the mind-numbing, near-coma inducing unconsciousness of before. The IV was gone from his arm, yet no one had yet to convince him to eat anything of real substance. He sipped water if Jim persisted on the subject. He did it to please Jim and to get his partner to back off from the constant hovering.

He wanted to take a shower, wanted to wash his hair and his face, his body over and over again until he'd scrubbed the stain, the filth, the memory of Baker and those others from his body and from his brain. He knew it wouldn't be that easy, but also knew from his minor in psychology that it was a normal reaction for someone who had been----

His mind came fully awake with the thought this wasn't just some study in behavior due to someone else's personal trauma. This was no hypothetical textbook scenario...no work study analysis. This was him, Blair Sandburg who had been...raped. Who didn't know really what he was suppose to do; how he was suppose to act. What was he suppose to say, to feel, to want now when his life had been turned upside down, inside out in the most painful manner imaginable? Was he suppose to be angry? Sad? Hysterical? The hysteria he had accomplished. Now despair simply hung over him and a lethargic numbness that could be the drugs, but he didn't really care either way.

He let the drugs ease him into another doze. Bad idea said he subconscious.

He was choking, suffocating. He couldn't pull any air into his lungs and the rope around his neck sawed at his throat, an acid burn setting his lungs on fire. Then Baker's face swam up to meet his, pressed lips to his. The tongue became a cock being forced down his throat huge and distorted. Then the pain of anal entry made him cry out, gagging and retching through it all.

"Sandburg!! Blair! Wake up!! It's a dream!" Simon's voice came to him from far away, pulling him up out of the nightmare like a lifeline to a drowning man. "Come on, Blair. Wake up."

Blair felt hands shaking his body, then help him sit up, held him as he slumped over the side of the bed while he wretched. Dry heaves tore at his bruised muscles and broken ribs and the pain in his chest and side.

He opened his eyes enough to see Simon's hand holding a small pan under his face, the man's other hand holding onto his shoulder, keeping him from falling out of the bed. Blair felt the sobs erupt out of him, making him wretch and gag all the more.

"Oh...god..." he sobbed weakly. "Oh...dear...god." "It's okay, Blair. Calm down. Relax. Try to breath." Blair hadn't heard such caring in Simon's voice since he'd been shot in the leg. He almost laughed and thought that incident seemed like a carefree romp in the woods compared to this. The desire to laugh fell away with the reality of the situation.

Simon laid him back after he calmed and stopped gagging. He stared up at the ceiling then closed his eyes, blocking out Simon's concerned expression.

He heard Simon move, go into the bathroom and run some water then return with a warm, damp cloth that actually felt good to his face.

With stiff fingers he took the cloth from Simon's hand and ran it over his face and neck, back over his hair. The captain took it from his shaking hand, careful not to touch his bandaged wrist. Blair stared at them a moment, white bandages wrapped neatly around each wrist as if he'd tried to slit the veins there.

Then he remembered the ropes cutting into his flesh, drawing his bound hands up high against his back. With a tentative touch he let his fingers fall to his neck where another bandage circled like the rope around his throat. He fingered it lightly then trailed over to where he felt, but couldn't see the bite marks on his shoulder. They ached a little like that man had bitten into the muscle and left some disease to eat at the tissue.

Disease, he thought and his breath caught in his throat. Aids.

His eyes went wide with sudden fear then closed in anguish, wishing the numbness would come back. He was filling up with agony and anguish as memories flooded his vulnerable mind.

"Blair," Simon said. "Is there anything I can get you? Anything I can do?"

Blair slowly shook his head without opening his eyes. "Where's Jim?" he asked in a whisper.

"Joel took him down to the cafeteria to eat something decent. He's not taken very good care of himself the last few days, kid. He's too worried about you."

Blair said nothing, just nodded his head slightly. "Should I go get him?"

"No," Blair whispered again.

"Okay. He'll be back soon. He hasn't left your side for more than five minutes since you were brought in."

I know, he thought, but didn't say it. He always knew when Jim was near.

Blair lay there determined not to fall back asleep in spite of the drowsiness pulling at him. Sleep set the nightmares on him, sent his mind spiraling down into horrors that would be unimaginable if he hadn't lived through them. His body ached all over, bruised in muscles he hadn't known he had until Baker had found them and punched till he couldn't stand anymore.

He jerked out of a half-doze that threatened to become another nightmare, visions of Baker and the others whose names he didn't want to remember even if he had heard them. His gasp had Jim beside him and he realized he had slept after all and he hadn't heard Jim come back into the room.

"It's okay, babe," Jim crooned to him.

He nodded and settled back. Then with deliberate care he moved to raise the bed. If he didn't move more the doctor and nurses would never let him get a shower, never let him wash the filth from his hair and body and mouth. It took such a great effort to roll to his side, shove his feet out from under the warmth and security of the blanket. He pushed up with both arms, his hair falling into his face. His bare feet dangled over the side and he sat there trying to breath passed his tightly wrapped ribs.

Jim's hand slipped under his elbow and he slowly raised a dull, pain-filled gaze on his partner. Blair watched the effect his gaze had on Jim. Guilt spread like a virus over his lover's features, sunk into those blue eyes and that handsome, haggard face. They stared at each other and somewhere in the distance Blair heard Simon's phone ring. The captain answered quietly, leaving the room to stand just outside the door. Only a murmur could be heard and his own heartbeat still pumping blood through his body. Didn't it know the world had ended? Didn't it know that all was despair and doubt and fear now?

But then Blair continued to gaze into those loving eyes that begged...yes, begged for his forgiveness for there was no way Jim would ever forgive himself. His aching, despairing heart found a thread of hope and Blair snatched at it, held tight to the thought that somehow they might yet get through this...he might survive it after all...that in itself, a triumph over Baker and what the man had done to him.

He reached down with an effort born of strength he dug up out of the depths of his soul and took Jim's hand in his. Jim's wrists were bandaged also and that handsome face would bear scars for Jim's defiance of Baker. The hand was big in his and nicely shaped. Blair brought the hand up to his face, held it against his cheek, rough with four days growth of beard.

The fingers turned in his hand, caressed oh so gently a bruise left there by brutal hands, yet Jim's touch was like magic, a healing potion that drove away Blair's demons, at least, for the moment.

Jim felt as though he was in a dream. Was this gesture, sweet and loving even when Blair was obviously still in great pain, a gesture of forgiveness? He wondered if Blair knew how much he needed to be forgiven...forgiven for failing...for not being strong enough to stop Baker's desecration of Blair's body and mind and spirit. If this was forgiveness, Jim intended to grasp it and cling as if life itself lay at the end of that thread.

"Jim," Simon said and made a motion for him to come outside. "In a minute, Simon. I need to help Blair. Where you going, Chief? The bathroom?"

"Yes," Blair said just above a whisper. "I need to walk. I...I...need to do this."

"I know, sweetheart."

Blair offered him a shadow of a smile, nothing like the carefree, eager smiles of a week ago when their lives hadn't been destroyed by a maniacal madman.

"But let me help you."

Blair nodded and let Jim support him the ten steps or so to the bathroom. Jim stood at the door, back turned and allowed Blair some semblance of privacy then helped the young man back to bed. Blair looked exhausted from this simple traipse and lay back, breathing shallowly.

"I need to see what Simon wants, babe. You need anything?" Blair shook his head and let his fingers untwine from Jim's. "Be right back."

Jim glanced behind him at his lover. Blair's eyes closed then opened suddenly and Jim knew that the images Blair saw when he closed his eyes were too potent and vicious, too vivid to watch for long.

He sighed and stepped out into the hall. "What is it, Simon?"

Jim watched Simon look down then back up at him. "We may have one of the suspects, Jim. We need you to come down to the station to see if you can ID him."

Jim felt the blood drain from his face, felt a shiver race down his spine, cold and numbing.

"Baker?" he asked breathlessly.

"I don't think so. But he fits the description of one of them. Blond shoulder length hair, 6'2"ish, 230 lbs. He was picked up trying to score some coke. Resisted arrest. Threatened he had friends that would retaliate. Other things he said made the arresting officers suspicious. I can drive you down to the precinct. You can be back in less than two hours."

Jim nodded, wondering if it was the blond...another flash of memory jumped out at him and he shoved it away.

"I hate to leave him."

"I know, Jim. It won't be for long. There's a police guard on Blair's door. Surely Baker isn't crazy enough to try to do anything in a hospital."

"Don't underestimate that man, Simon. Look what he is crazy enough to do. The man has no morals, no conscience, no empathy for another human being. He made some very dangerous threats and I'll not let my guard down so that he can carry them out."

"What threats? I thought you told me everything, Jim. I thought this guard was strictly precautionary until we had Baker in custody."

Jim looked away uncomfortable with telling this. Maybe he hadn't elaborated because he didn't want to believe it could happen, that Baker would get passed the guard and him to take Blair away from him forever.

"Jim," Simon said, grabbing his arm and forcing Jim to look at his captain. "What threats?"

Jim stared for a long moment, jaw clenching in tension and a fear born of his certainty that Baker would do it.

"Baker threatened to take Blair to South America with him. Threatened to torture him and drug him and rape him until Blair was broken."

"Good god, man. You really know how to pick enemies, Jim." Jim just shook his head. He went back into the room and found Blair staring off out the window, one hand fingering the bandage on the opposite wrist absently. With care, Jim settled onto the edge of the bed. Blair didn't turn to look, just kept staring out at the clearing sky and Jim knew none of the sunlight was reaching his partner's heart.

"Blair?"

Slowly, Blair turned his head giving Jim a full display of facial injuries. The extent of damage rocked Jim to his soul. Most of the cuts and bruises would heal and never leave an outer scar. Perhaps the one over Blair's eye might leave a scar or the cut along the cheekbone caused by Baker's sharp ring, but most of the scars would be internal and Jim prayed those wounds would not fester and grow deeper, unable to heal.

"I've got to go down to the station for a little while. Not long, I promise."

"Okay," Blair whispered dully.

No argument. No pleading. Just acquiescence. "You be all right?"

Blair nodded, his eyes straying away to the window again. Jim sat a moment longer and just as he was about to get up, Blair said, "do you think they'd let me take a shower?"

Jim almost cried in relief. This was one of the few questions Blair had asked. Some of the few words spoken without prompting. More than two words and a complete sentence. He considered it progress.

"They just might, Chief. Why don't you wait till I get back and I can help you."

Blair gave a little shrug, noncommittal. Jim reached out a hand, caressing Blair's hair. He watched those beautiful bruised eyes close and breath draw in shallow and sharp.

"If you don't want me to touch you just say so, sweetheart. I don't want to cause you anymore pain."

"I know." But Blair said nothing more, noncommittal to that also.

Gail Winters stood looking at the chart of her next client. A knot wound up in her stomach just as it always did just before meeting a new client. She took a deep breath and remembered why she had chosen this line of work, why she had made it her life's calling, her profession.

A brief flash of pain struck her in the chest and she took another deep breath, dispelling the memories of her own assault some eight years ago, the rape that had set her on her course to help others overcome the horror and humiliation, the fear and self-loathing.

Blair Sandburg, twenty-eight years old. Anthropologist, teacher, graduate student working on his doctorate. Police consultant. An intelligent young man, she thought. Dark brown hair, blue eyes, 5'8" tall, 147 lbs. Severely beaten, broken ribs, lacerations to the spleen requiring surgery and to a lung as well, rectal damage, bleeding. Bruises to the larynx. Suffocation. She grimaced at the thought.

Gail cleared her throat and continued to read the chart. She leaned against the wall and noted that down the hall in front of his room was a policeman, obviously a guard. Did they expect another attack? Who would be crazy enough to attack their victim in a hospital? Well, there were a lot of mentally ill people in this world.

She pushed back her blond curls from her face and read further. Next of kin, mother, Naomi Sandburg, unable to contact. Admission papers signed by James Ellison, roommate. No father given. A note written by Dr. Libby Marshall gave full access of information and privileges to this man, Ellison, a police detective.

With a moments hesitation that she knew would die when she had settled in and started talking with her client, Gail pushed away from the wall and went to stand before the room. The policeman was polite, but insistent she show identification and state her business. He smiled at her and allowed her entrance finally.

"Excuse me. I'm Gail Winters. Dr. Marshall asked me to see you...Mr. Sandburg?"

She watched the young man push up to a half-sitting position and look up at her with a slightly clouded, drug induced glance. He winced in pain, but fought down a gasp and rearranged himself till he was as comfortable as he was going to be. He nodded to her and Gail took that as a sign to come into the room and settle into the chair next to the bed.

"Dr. Marshall wanted me to talk with you. I hope this isn't a bad time for me to come. I know there's no good time for something like this, but well, I'd like to help if I can."

She thought he almost smiled at her admission, yet it faded quickly. He closed his eyes and drew in a few breaths. She watched him lick his bruised lips and reach for the cup of water on the table next to his bed. He sipped through the straw and settled back a bit.

"I...I...really don't want...to talk about it...right...now."

"I know it's hard, Mr. Sandburg. I'm just here now to offer my help. I'd like for you to consider me a friend, a counselor to help you through this ordeal."

"I appreciate that, really...I do," he whispered as if his throat still hurt him.

Every word seemed an effort of sheer will. His gaze unable to meet hers for long, strayed to the blanket or anywhere.

What a handsome man, she thought. And to have something like this happen, so devastating, potentially crippling emotionally.

"Maybe we can just talk about something else, get to know each other a bit. I find it easier for both myself and my clients if we know something about each other, get comfortable talking before going on to the difficult discussions."

He shrugged and glanced towards the door as if looking for someone to enter.

"Have they contacted your mother yet?"

"No. Naomi...isn't always...easy to find." "You call your mother Naomi?" She smiled. "Sometimes. We're friends. Mostly, she's mom though. She's a great woman."

"Sounds like someone I'd like to know."

Blair stared off into space, deep in thought or fighting thoughts for all Gail knew, fighting back memories. She saw pain cross his expressive face and he swallowed hard, sipping again from the cup of water. She couldn't help but see the bandage around his neck or those around his wrists. He had been brutally restrained, enough to warrant medical care of this extent.

"Your roommate is a police detective," she said conversationally.

He nodded and glanced at the door again. "You're waiting for him to come back?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"He's a good friend then?"

A smile did light on his lips then, ironic almost. "My best friend. My partner. My lifemate." Gail knew the expression on her face had gone blank, surprised more than she would have thought for an open-minded woman of the nineties.

"I'd like to meet him. Perhaps we could consider joint counseling."

The smile fell away again and Blair's expression turned anguished. Tears came to his eyes and he blinked causing them to run down over his cheeks. He suppressed sobs, biting his lip. Blood ran from a cut that opened up from the action, but he didn't seem to notice or care. Gail pulled out a tissue and reached, gently dabbing at the wound. He took the tissue from her and held it to his mouth.

"I'm sorry," he began.

"Don't be, Blair. It's all right to show your pain. It's all right to cry. You have a right to your anguish."

He nodded and licked his lips again.

"Jim...Jim needs help too," he said and squeezed his eyes closed, letting more tears slide down his face. "He needs to forgive himself."

"What for, Blair?"

"For not being able...to stop this...from happening." "How could he have?"

"He couldn't. I know that. But...he blames himself. It was an old enemy, someone he thought...was in prison."

"So this attack was for revenge?"

Blair bowed his head and nodded. "Yes and...they forced him...to watch."

"Oh dear god."

The young man's head came up, dark hair framing an exquisitely sculptured face, bruises unable to hide the exotic beauty of his features. His frame shook with suppressed emotion and grief almost beyond bearing.

"Please Ms Winters...Gail...help him. He needs...your help as much...as I do."

"He's in interrogation room 3, sir," a young uniformed officer said. "We have a name, John Payton. About 6 priors. Three convictions ranging from armed robbery to assault with a deadly weapon. Skipped parole over a year ago in upstate New York. He hasn't talked. We've just kept him in here waiting to see if Detective Ellison could ID him on the kidnapping and...well, you know, sir." The man wouldn't look at Jim, kept his eyes turned away or focused solely on Simon.

"Yes, we know, Ferguson," Simon said with strained patience. "Let's go take a look."

Jim stood frozen in place.

"Jim?"

With a deep breath, he moved forward down the hall to a room with a two way mirror. He felt the young officer's eyes on him now, watching him and waiting for a reaction. And Jim wondered what he was just now, victim and victim's lover or still a cop who was expected to maintain a strict professional attitude regardless.

He let his eyes move up from the floor, focus on the man sitting in a chair, leaning back, seeming relaxed and overly confident or, at the very least, uncaring of his predicament. A cigarette hung from thin lips, lips that had touched his partner's lips. He stared at the hands that had so brutally stripped Blair of clothing and dignity, had held his Blair, raped him and nearly murdered him by twisting a rope around the young man's throat until he passed out from suffocation.

Jim stood staring, feeling a numbness roll down from his head to his feet, then a white hot rage engulf him, setting him on fire for revenge.

"Give me two minutes in there alone with him, Simon. Let me have just two short minutes."

"Jim, you know I can't do that."

"I can resign. I can go on leave."

"You are on leave indefinitely."

"Then let me have him, Simon."

"I can't do that, Jim. You know I can't." Jim turned an enraged gaze on Simon, watched the young uniformed officer step back. But Simon stood his ground.

"If I gave you two minutes, Jim. The man would be dead and you'd be up for murder."

"I don't care, Simon. He raped Blair. He almost murdered him. He twisted a rope around Blair's neck and suffocated him while he raped him."

"I understand that, Jim. I'm horrified by it, but you won't be doing Blair any good if you're in jail for murder. He needs you, Jim. I can't let you throw away your life for the brief satisfaction of ending that man's life."

"At least let me talk to him."

"What good will that do, Jim?"

"I don't know. Maybe we can find out where Baker is." "You want to make a deal with him?"

"No! No deals, Simon. I want Johnny Payton to go down as hard as Baker is going to."

"Jim, don't worry about it. I'll take care of this. You are not on this case. You are on leave. And your only job right now is to take care of Blair. That's it."

Jim stared again, about to protest, but Simon was right. He had to think of Blair first, revenge second.

He nodded.

"I'll talk to Payton. You stay here."

Jim watched Simon leave the room and in a moment enter the room where Johnny Payton sat, puffing away on another cigarette. Simon had Brown and Rafe with him, not the usual uniformed officers that would have normally stood guard. Jim understood and appreciated Simon's desire to keep the circle tight around Blair and what had been done to him.

"All right, Payton," Jim heard Simon say. "We already have you on the cocaine charge, but that's small stuff considering what we now have on you."

The smirk died just a little on Payton's face, but reaffirmed itself with another uncaring puff on his cigarette.

"And just what do you think you have on me, cop?" "Kidnapping, assault, assault on a police officer, coercion...rape."

Jim watched the man's eyes, cold blue and piercing with malice rise to stare at Simon's triumphant gaze. Yet, Jim could tell that the triumph was false, a terrible sadness behind Simon's tough exterior.

"I don't know what you're talking about---cop." "You're going down, Payton. Ellison's already ID'd you. If I didn't care about Ellison's future as a detective, I'd let him have some time with you, then we'd see who'd scream for mercy wouldn't we, Payton? Mercy you didn't give Ellison or Blair Sandburg."

A low chuckle came from the man, a sneering smile pulling at one corner of lip. "Oh man. I want a lawyer now."

"Tell us where Baker's hold up, Payton and maybe the district attorney will go light on you. Maybe it wasn't you that planned the kidnapping, maybe you didn't have a hand in that part of it."

The man pursed his lips and looked up to one corner of the ceiling. He sniffed and pulled out another cigarette, not so confident now.

"We've search the Peterson factory. Everyone's gone, Payton. You're in custody and if we get no one but you, you will go down so hard, you'll never come back up. I'll promise you that."

"I want immunity in exchange."

"No, damnit," Jim said to the mirror.

"Can't do that, Payton. Ellison won't have anything less than you paying for the assault and rape."

"His little lover boy took it like a man, cop." Payton leaned forward and sneered then abruptly turned to the mirror. "You there, Ellison? Blair baby was a fine fuck. Loved that tight little ass. I'll fuck it again if you give me half a chance."

Jim roared in rage and anguish. He went out the door, pushed passed two cops standing outside the interrogation room and slammed open the door.

"I'll kill you, you stinking punk bastard!" Brown and Rafe moved to block the way, trying to talk to Jim, but Jim saw only Payton standing now, taunting him.

"Come on, Jimmy boy. Go ahead. Police brutality. Wouldn't that look good for the newspapers? And wouldn't it be great telling the world that one of Cascade's finest is a boy fucker. A fucking fairy."

Jim lunged forward with murder on his mind. Just get your hands around his throat or your fingers in his gut and pull out his intestines, wrap them around his throat and choke him to death with them. Let him feel what it's like to have the breath choked out of him.

"Jim, step back or I'll have you dragged out of here. He's trying to provoke you. Don't let him succeed. He'll pay for his crimes."

"He will never pay enough for what he did to Blair. He'll never hurt enough or serve long enough or suffer enough to make up for what he has done!"

"I know, Jim. But he'll pay. And since he can't seem to do anything but cause more trouble, I want him booked for kidnapping, assault, sexual assault and attempted murder. We'll see if that gets his attention. If we don't get Baker, Payton, you're going down for all of it. You won't see the light of day for a very long time."

Payton spat at Simon. "That's what I think of your threats, cop."

Jim struggled against Brown's and Rafe's hold on his arms and two more sets of hands moved to restrain him. They pulled him back against the wall and let two more officers handcuff Payton and pull him from the room.

The man threw a grin back at Jim. "Give Blair baby my love, Jimmy boy. Tell him Baker's coming for him real soon."

"Detective Ellison."

Jim turned away from his conversation with the police officer outside Blair's hospital room. He glanced up sharply and reined in his still flaring temper. He still seethed from Payton's words and attitude and threats, but slowly let it go just the way Blair had taught him. A pretty blond woman about his own age came towards him with an inquiring look.

"Detective Ellison?" she said again as she stopped before him. She nodded briefly to the officer as if she had already spoke to him.

"Yes?"

"I'm Gail Winters. Dr. Marshall asked me to speak with Blair."

"You're the counselor."

"Yes. Blair and I talked for a little while." "You mean you talked."

She smiled, seeming to know what he meant. "Actually, I was surprised that Blair articulated as well as he did."

"More than two words at a time?"

"Yes. He's normally a very outgoing person, isn't he?" "Normally he is, Ms. Winters, but under the circumstances he's not been too anxious for conversation."

She glanced at the door then back up at him. "Could we go someplace for a few minutes to talk, Detective?"

Jim looked behind him, wanting to check on Blair, wanting to see him and touch him and try to find the Blair Sandburg that was there before this horror had happened to them. But he also knew this woman might be able to help Blair and maybe even him too.

"For a few minutes. I've been gone for almost two hours and I haven't left him for much more than five minutes in the last five days."

"I won't keep you long. Promise."

She offered a little smile and he couldn't help but give one back.

They found a quiet corner in the lounge. Got coffee from the machine and sat down.

Gail stole a long look at Detective James Ellison while they settled in.

Tall, handsome, almost military in his bearing though she did detect a small hole in his left earlobe that indicated he had worn an earring at one time. In many ways though he seemed so different than Blair yet they had developed a relationship. She was certain he had to be easily ten years Blair's senior.

He sat across from her, looking off as if listening intently to something then sipped his coffee and turned his blue-eyed gaze back to her.

"Well, Ms. Winters..."

"Please call me Gail."

Jim nodded. "Gail."

"May I call you Jim?"

A grim smile pulled at his lips then fell away. "Might as well. I have a feeling we're going to be seeing a lot of each other."

She reached out a hand to his arm.

"I know this is difficult, Jim. I do understand, truly. I've been where Blair is now."

"I'm sorry you suffered that."

"Thank you. But because of that I'm able to assist others. My goal is to help my clients regain their normal lives. Help them enjoy life again."

"Is that possible?"

She felt her heart quicken at his sincere question, a part of her going out to his pain and doubt.

"It is possible. In fact, its very probable." "And how many men have you counseled for sexual assault, Gail?"

She heard his challenge, gentle yet desperate to be assured that she could indeed help them.

"Exactly four, Jim. Blair will be my fifth male client in six years and you will be my sixth."

Jim glanced up sharply. "I wasn't raped." "Not physically, but in a sense you were mentally and emotionally."

"Blair told you, didn't he?"

"That you were forced to watch?"

Jim's gaze fell to his hand holding the cup of coffee. "It was the single most terrible thing I've witnessed in my entire life," he said very quietly. "To watch..." He squeezed his eyes closed, fighting tears, she imagined. "To watch the person I love more than life being treated like some street corner whore, to watch helpless to do anything." Putting down his cup, Jim ran his hands over his face and looked up at the ceiling. "To hear his screams and pleading...begging," Jim whispered the last. "Begging for my life. Not his life...mine." He glanced back to her, eyes misty and deep, deep blue. "Did Blair tell you that we're lovers?"

"Yes," she said with a slight smile. "He called you best friend, partner and lifemate."

Tears did come to Jim's eyes this time, hands moving to cover his face.

"Why doesn't he hate me?" Jim said finally through gritted teeth. She watched his jaw clench, muscle popping around the joint.

"He has no reason to hate you, Jim. He loves you. He needs you and you need him."

"But it was my fault, my enemy, my fight and Baker dragged Blair into this to punish me."

"Blair doesn't blame you, Jim. So don't blame yourself. The men who did this to you and Blair are to blame. No one else."

She saw skepticism in the set of his face and the slight frown. It wouldn't be easy convincing James Ellison that this ordeal they had been put through was not his fault. She thought he must be one of those people who took on more responsibility than he should.

"Jim." Gail leaned in close and touched his arm again. "Blair asked me to help you, asked me to help you forgive yourself. That alone would mean so much to him. Will you come to counseling? I'd like to start off with three sessions a week. One with Blair alone. One with you alone and one with you two together. Please say you'll come."

She watched him glance around then back to his hands clasped tightly together before him. Finally, he looked up at her.

"I'll do anything that will help Blair recover, Gail. Anything. I'd go to the ends of the earth for him. Or I'll even try to stop blaming myself if that's what he wants. I love him so very much."

Gail smiled again, thinking what wonderful people these two were and how they belong together.

"Then we've already begun the healing process."

Blair pushed up and sat on the edge of the bed waiting for the dizziness to subside. His breath still wheezed through his lungs and his throat still ached, but this was something he had to do. He had to take a shower. The filth was simply too much now, too much to stand any longer. Waiting for Jim had become agony, the thought of water and soap washing away some of his pain and the dirt of his assault too much to bear for one more minute.

He took as deep a breath as he was able and pushed off, holding onto the chair next to the bed for support. With slow progress he made the bathroom in less than five minutes. Every move was an effort of will, every action taking Blair to the limits of his strength. He sat on the edge of the shower, thinking how thoughtful it was for the hospital to supply a seat built into the stall.

What a good idea, his muddled mind thought and he breathed in shallow gasps of air, gathering this aching persistence around him to do what was necessary. He would go insane if he didn't get a shower right now.

Blair pulled a bag up to his lap, one that Jim had brought filled with pajamas and shampoo, his electric razor and toothbrush. He pulled out a tube of toothpaste and thought about using the entire contents to scrub Them from his mouth.

That thought sent a wash of tears to sting his eyes, pain filling his chest, making his heart pound and his head ache.

He'd had no choice. They would have killed Jim, slit Jim's throat. Oh, god, he couldn't bear the thought of Jim dead. What would there be to live for? He held onto that, knowing he loved Jim and Jim loved him and that they could conquer even this.

Blair closed his eyes, the tears sliding down over his cheeks. He wiped them away and forced his body to a standing position. He turned on the water and let it get warm almost too hot for the human body, but Blair stepped in and let the water scald his skin, not so hot that the water would do damage, but hot enough that he might feel as though the heat could help cleanse him of some of the filth left on him, invisible but there nevertheless, left by dirty hands and ugly minds and violence born of a malicious sickness.

He shampooed first, washing and scrubbing and rinsing then doing it all again then once more. He gathered the bar of soap into his shaking hands and worked the lather over his body again and again, still feeling dirty, still feeling a sheen of something slimy covering him. He scraped at it until his skin was red, almost raw from the scrubbing.

The tears came again, tears that washed his soul and his thoughts, trying desperately to blot out the images, the faces, the hands and bodies, the words. But his mind was like a photo album of his agony and he was being forced to peer at the pictures of his own rape through a magnifying glass. Sobs racked his frame, forced him down to his knees.

Blair fell over with the water still streaming down and he leaned against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest uncaring of his ribs or his spleen or any other pained part of his body. He sat in the shower wrapped in this horrible world of his photographic memories, feeling Baker's hands on his face, the man's cock being forced down his throat. He felt the pain of the first one who had taken him and choked him and he'd thought he would die at that moment and wondered why he hadn't.

And there had been Jim, helpless to help him. And why blame Jim? Blair was an adult. He should be able to take care of himself, not depend of his lover to protect him from every crazy in the world. And if he expected that, he had expected too much. Unfair of him...so unfair. He could never blame Jim for this.

And the thought came that Baker was to blame, no one else but Baker and those that chose to follow him. Baker must have done something terrible for Jim to have gone up against him. Jim was a good man who did the right thing, of that Blair was certain.

So, the blame was now properly placed, but that didn't stop his pain, didn't stop this agony of spirit that was ripping out his heart, tearing it to shreds, working at destroying his mind.

A shadow fell over him, the curtain pulled back just a little. Blair knew without looking up that it was Jim. He should always know.

"Sweetheart, why didn't you wait for me? Oh, baby." Jim climbed into the shower, clothing and all, and sat down next to him. Blair couldn't stop crying, the sobs all consuming, washing out a bit of the pain...just a bit.

Jim's arms went around him, positioned himself with Blair between his legs, wrapped around him like a protective blanket of strength. They sat rocking together, Jim murmuring into his ear, smoothing back his wet hair from his face while he sobbed out as much of the horror as he could and let Jim's strength keep him sane for a little while longer.

Home. Jim had thought they'd never get back here to the loft. He dreamed that some miracle would occur, that somehow the last week would disappear and they would wake up to find it all a nightmare...his nightmare, not Blair's. Even that he'd take on if only to save Blair from living that horror even once let alone again every time sleep came and the nightmares took over.

Jim carried the bag holding Blair's things and with a hand under the young man's elbow, helped him into the elevator and into their apartment.

Blair was quiet the whole way home, still dopey from painkillers, still dulled by the ordeal.

"Where do you want to go, Blair? Upstairs, downstairs, the couch?"

Blair turned a wide, blue-eyed gaze on Jim as if these questions were an oral examine for his doctorate. "Whatever, Jim. I don't...care. I'm tired."

"I know, babe. I tell you what, let's put you on the couch for now. We can decide about other things later."

Blair nodded and sat on the couch, head back and eyes closed. Jim came and sat beside Blair, hand reaching out then hesitating, fearing his touch may be unwanted. A little sad smile pulled at Blair's mouth.

"Don't be afraid, my love," Blair said, eyes opening and face turning to look at Jim then fall to his lap. "I know...I flinch, but it's mostly when you catch me off guard. I'm trying...really I am. Just let...just let me see you coming. Okay?"

"I can do that."

"I know you can. I don't fear your touch. I...I...wonder sometimes...." Blair shook his head.

"What?"

"Nothing, really." Blair closed his eyes again and started to turn away.

Jim gently touched Blair's cheek, drawing him back. "It's obviously something. What, sweetheart, please...let's have nothing between us, no thoughts left unspoken."

Blair tilted his face to rub against Jim's hand and Jim let his fingers pull in the sensation of Blair's skin, the newly shaven face, and the cheekbone so soft. The bruises were an ugly violent color now, purple and green, turning a dull red around the edges and slowly fading.

"I wonder why..." Blair said and looked down again, obviously still having trouble maintaining eye contact. "How you can touch me after what they did to me. I still feel so dirty. I know it's in my mind and not real, but it still feels real."

"What they did, Blair. You were not a willing participant. You were forced. Baby, you're the bravest man I've ever known."

Blair looked up and stared at him like he'd grown horns and a tail and had started mooing. Glancing down again, Blair slowly shook his head, denying Jim's words.

"Yes, sweetheart, you are so brave, were so brave. You gave up so much for me. You saved my life. Gave of your own dignity and pride and self...for me...to save me. My god, if I didn't already love you with all my heart and soul and breath I'd have given all that to you then and there. All I ask now is for your forgiveness."

"Jim, there's nothing to forgive. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known what...what...he...would do."

"He's going to pay. I swear it, babe."

"I know you'll do everything you can."

"Sweetheart, look at me."

Blair shied away a little. "Jim, I'm so tired. Can I just lay down on the couch for a while? Please."

Jim wanted to reach out and touch Blair, but he felt the resistance right then, the desire of his lover to be left alone.

Don't go too fast, Ellison. One step at a time. "I'm sorry, Jim."

"Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. I'll make us some tea, some of that herbal stuff you like so much. Lie down and I'll get you a blanket and a bed pillow."

Blair gave him a little smile and Jim cherished it with all his heart. Every smile from Blair was a step forward. And he missed his partner's easy laugh and bright expression when something amused him.

Blair sat up when Jim brought the tea, settling in beside his partner. Blair leaned against him, slumping a bit and yawning.

"Pain pills still making you sleepy?"

"Yeah. Some. I'm trying to back off of them though. I have trouble thinking when I take them."

"Don't worry about thinking right now. You just need to rest and get your strength back."

They sat quietly for a few minutes and Jim felt as though Blair was working himself up to ask something.

"Jim?"

"Yeah, babe."

"What did...did...he...do? Why does he hate you so much that he'd...he'd do this to me to punish you?"

Jim sat there a moment, knowing Blair needed to understand why he'd been hurt so badly. That made good sense.

"I served in special forces with Baker just before I got my own command. We were stationed in Columbia, training some troops there. Baker set his sights on a local boy, no more than sixteen. The boy's father took offense and beat the crap out of Baker. Baker went back a few hours later and killed the man, shot him in cold blood. He went crazy. Thought he had the right as if he had been wronged. He has no morals, no conscience, no empathy for anyone else. I testified against him and he was sent to military prison. I thought for life. I intend to get some answers though. The son-of-a-bitch should have still been rotting in jail. But he's an expert in interrogation, things I turned a blind-eye to, I suppose. I refused to be a part of that and pretended Baker wasn't the amoral torturer that he was, what ever name you put to it. No matter who you're working for when you play on a man's pain and terror, even our own government. But Baker thrived on it and I feel like I should have realized what kind of man he really was.

"I'm afraid the military did some kind of trade or deal to get him to work for them again unofficially or the CIA, maybe."

"There's nothing you could have done, Jim. Whatever he was doing it was with the government's blessing. But then he overstep even the government's bounds and you did the right thing. And if he's working for them again, it's not your fault that he's out of prison."

Jim turned to look at Blair then, seeing such intelligence and wisdom, such empathy for others and an understanding of what was within their control and what was not.

"I love you, Blair Sandburg. My Shaman." That faint smile lighted again on Blair's still bruised lips. "I love you, James Ellison. My Sentinel."

"Then we're going to make it, aren't we?" "We're damn well going to try."

"No!" Blair screamed, but his mouth was gagged and his wrists were bound behind him. "No! Oh god please!! Someone help me! Jimmmmmm!"

Baker loomed out of the shadows like a demon from hell, hands reaching out to grab him and drag him by his hair, fling him to the floor. He was naked, stripped completely and hands gripped him, brutal grips that twisted his arms and forced him to his knees. And the midnight rape began again, the pain and the terror and his screams that must have woke the neighbors three buildings over.

Jim's arms were around him, holding him close. And he shivered uncontrollably wishing his mind would stop torturing him so horribly. Wasn't one long endless night of being beaten and raped enough for him? Why did his mind need to replay it over and over again until he feared the very thought of sleep unless he was so drugged not even an off the scale earthquake could wake him?

"Oh, baby, it's all right. You're okay. No one's going to hurt you, sweetheart."

Jim stroked his hair and murmured softly to him and Blair clung as if he was about to be physically wrenched from Jim's embrace by a force far beyond their control. He sobbed while Jim rocked him and this had become a ritual over the last two weeks. Almost every night he had a nightmare this bad and they were starting to take a toll on him.

"We're going to see Gail tomorrow, Blair. You be sure to tell her about the frequency of these dreams or I will. Okay?"

Blair nodded against Jim's chest. He wanted the dreams to end. He wanted to have a normal life. So why was his subconscious insisting he relive this horror every night? Did he hate himself? Did he think he deserved what happen?

No. He didn't believe that, but if he didn't get some answers and some relief, Blair felt he would go insane.

"Oh, baby. Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. Oh, god, I'm so sorry."

Jim fell back easily into self-recrimination after every one of Blair's dreams.

"Don't Jim...please...don't."

Blair took a deep breath and gathered his wits about him. He eased up from Jim's embrace and wiped at his face. His stomach did a queasy roll, like he could throw up, but he took another breath and fought down the nausea. Jim gave him a tissue and he blew his nose and wiped the tears from his face.

"Why don't you take a couple of those pills the doc gave you. You usually sleep pretty good when you take those."

"And I'm totally incoherent the entire next day. You know I'm sensitive to drugs. A half dose of Sudefed and I'm flying like a kite. I hate taking those drugs."

Jim gave a heavy sigh. "What about some of those natural herbs. Maybe there's something...."

Blair nodded. "Yeah. I can make so Valerian tea." He made to get out of bed, pulling on a robe. He turned to see Jim getting up also. "You don't have to stay up because of me, Jim. Really. I know you have to go to work in the morning."

"It is morning, Sandburg. Precisely 2:13 in the morning and both of us need sleep. So you can show me how to make this val...valer...whatever tea. It might come in handy for me to know."

"Valerian. Like the Conan the Barbarian character, Valeria."

"Oh yeah, right."

Blair showed Jim the root from which the tea was made and boiled water then set the teapot on the table to steep. He leaned his chin on his hands, elbows on the table and acted like Jim wasn't staring at him, nearly zoning out on him.

"Jim?"

"Hmmm, Chief." But Jim's voice was distant and came after a few long moments of silence.

"What are you thinking?"

Jim shrugged and shook himself a little. "I'm thinking I wish I could help you get passed these nightmares, babe."

Blair lowered his gaze and fiddled with the teapot. With shaking hands, he poured the water, the steam rising to greet him.

"Are they a replay of what happened or something else?" Blair said nothing for a long time while he put honey in his tea and swirled it around with a spoon.

"Mostly a replay of some sort, but concentrated," he said finally without looking up. He stared into the depths of his teacup as if he'd find the answers there. "They usually focus on something specific. Sometimes, not as often, its more surreal. Like a foreign film with no subtitles and you don't know the language. But the choking one happens the most. It's actually the worst cause I feel like I'm dying. It seems...so...real, Jim. Like I'm living it all again."

Blair realized his hand was at his throat, rubbing the barely visible place on his neck where the rope cut and sawed at his flesh. Blair could look in a mirror now and only see the new scar over his left eyebrow and another faint scar under the same eye along the cheekbone. The bruises had vanished over the last couple of weeks, slowly fading while very little else faded except his knowledge of what a normal life felt like.

"I just don't understand why I have to keep reliving it." Jim sipped his tea, never having taken his eyes from Blair. Blair knew that, could feel Jim's gaze on him, worrying about him, caring about him, loving him when all he could do in Jim's arms was cry like a baby.

"I know, sweetheart. I don't understand either. The mind does weird things when we've been traumatized. And nothing's more traumatic than what you were put through."

Jim reached out a hand, slowly, making certain Blair could see him and Blair didn't flinch away. Jim's fingers felt warm against Blair's cheek, brushing back the curls from his face. He felt the velvet touch of Jim's thumb run across his chin, grip it gently and bring Blair's face up.

"Blair, look at me."

"Jim...."

"We need to be able to look at each other, baby. We need that, I need it for communication. To know you hear me and understand me. And I don't want you feeling ashamed to look me in the eye. I know what you're thinking. Don't think I don't."

"So what am I thinking, Kreskin?"

"You're thinking that when I look at you I see a rape victim." Blair flinched a little at the word, but Jim's grip on his chin didn't ease and Blair didn't pull away. "You're thinking that's the first thing I think about when I look at you. Well, you are wrong, Professor. I see a brave, intelligent, beautiful man trying to cope with a tragedy in his life. I see unacknowledged strength of spirit and character. I see brilliance that can't be dampened no matter what. But most of all, Blair Sandburg, I see the man I love more than anything or anyone on this earth, in this galaxy or this universe."

Blair's eyes rose to meet Jim's gaze, fascinated by his lover's expression of feelings. He felt a glow of warmth, soft in his belly, the first of this feeling since before the assault.

"Oh, Jim, do I really deserve someone as wonderful as you?" Jim gave him a big smile and ran a hand down his cheek. "Yeah, babe, you do deserve someone as wonderful as me. And you are stuck with me for life. Now, let's get to bed and get some sleep. I'll wrap my arms around you and keep you safe all night long. So no more nightmares. Okay?"

Blair offered Jim a little laugh. "Okay, big guy. Anything for the man I love."

"Have you been doing all right with Jim going back to work last Wednesday, Blair?"

Blair shrugged. "I'm fine. I'm...getting along...okay." She gave him a long searching look, one that seemed to dig deep into his soul and ask another question without speaking a word.

"I wish he were home, but I know...I know he can only take so much time off to be with me. And...I need to get used to being separated from him...again. It's hard on him too."

"I know it is. He expressed similar feelings. I understand his captain has put him on light desk duty for a few more weeks."

Blair nodded. "Simon's been very understanding. Sometimes...." Blair glanced away then back. Gail tilted her head waiting for him to continue. "Sometimes though, I think people forget how much Jim suffered through this. They forget he's a victim too."

"That's very perceptive of you, Blair. Considering the situation, most victims of sexual assault are quite preoccupied until they've worked their way through their own ordeal. You have, on more than one occasion, expressed your concern for Jim's well being and his status as a victim as well as yourself. Not many people could or would have that perspective or that much empathy."

"I love him and I know he hurts. Everyone expects Jim to be strong and take care of me. I just want to make sure he's taken care of too. He needs someone to be strong for him and I'm not capable of doing that right now."

"I'm not so certain of that, Blair. You've shown remarkable strength. You've shown a willingness to work towards recovery much better and faster than many of my previous clients."

Blair looked away again and shrugged noncommittally. "So, Blair are you still having nightmares?" Gail asked in a conversational tone.

Blair shifted in his chair, but didn't looked up from his lap. "Yeah, some. Maybe a few less since we talked last week."

"Could you tell me about them? The most frequent ones. You did say that they were basically recurring."

"Ummmm. I can try, I suppose. The one I have the most is of being...choked."

"Just of being choked?"

"Like it was...the rope around my neck or sometimes it's someone's hands, but mostly the rope. I can feel it twisting and it feels like I really can't breath. In the dream I can't get any breath. And I can feel the rope, the coarseness of the fibers and the thickness of the coils." Blair swallowed hard and rubbed his throat.

"Blair, did you think you were going to die?" "Oh yes," he whispered. "I thought, at that moment, when that guy was...was..."

"Relax, Blair. Take a deep breath. It's all right." "He...was raping me and he grabbed the rope and started twisting it." Tears slipped down Blair's cheeks and the pain of remembering lodged in his chest, growing larger till he thought his chest would burst. "I thought I was going to die. And that would be such a...terrible way to die. But I didn't die and I'm here trying to stop these dreams."

"Yes and by talking about the dreams you take power over them, Blair. You are a strong person and you can overcome the ordeal and the dreams. But it doesn't happen all at once. Step by step and I already see progress. Last week you wouldn't have been able to tell me about this. Do you agree?"

"I guess. It's hard to be objective."

Gail smiled at him. "It's impossible to be objective. You have to see from your perspective and that's fine. Do you want to talk some more about the dreams?"

Blair shrugged.

"I know it's hard, Blair, but we should deal with the things that bother you most."

He nodded and said nothing.

"Well, tell me about some of the other recurring dreams. Are they realistic or surreal?"

"Mostly realistic. Mostly it's...him...." "Him, as in....?"

"Baker," Blair whispered in fear of conjuring the man out of the air. "He's the one that instigated it, that was punishing Jim. Mostly I see him in my dreams, his face then him....ah....oh, god...." Blair glanced away, knowing he had a sick look on his face. The image of Baker dragging him up between the man's legs and Baker's cock, long and hard, waiting for him to take it into his mouth, sent nausea rolling through his stomach, trying to work its way up his throat. "Oh, man."

He had a flash of memory assault him right there in Gail's office of the cock pushing at his mouth and him prying his own teeth apart to let it ram down his throat and him sucking and sobbing and being so sick he wanted to die. He felt the hands on him, opening his jeans and the one behind him, using little lubrication, shoving into him and the pain shot through his stomach and groin like lightning, as if he'd been skewered on a spit like some ancient martyr.

He heard Gail's panicked voice, but it sounded far away and he heard his own sobbing, unable to stop it, unable to stop the assault on his memory. Then the rope twisted, choking him again and he gasped for breath, gasped for life, clawing at his throat to get the rope from around his neck.

"Blair, baby. Stop it. Baby, don't relive this. Sweetheart, come on, Sandburg. Snap out of it!"

Jim's voice, full of authority, full of grief and pain and frustration, cut through the rope to the memories that had wrapped around him, had caught him in its terrible embrace.

"Breath, baby, breath! Damnit, Sandburg!!!" A stinging slap knocked Blair's head sideways then another back the other way. He took a gasping breath, deep and shuddering. A sob escaped with it and a cry.

"Oh god! Oh god, Jim!"

Jim pulled him into a tight embrace, so tight yet comforting and protective and possessive as well. He clung to Jim, a child bereft of some protective part of himself that had been damaged by the rape.

"What the hell happened, Gail?!" Blair heard Jim say. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Jim, please," Gail said, pleadingly. "I know you're upset. So am I. I've never had one of my clients react like that, just go into a...a...convulsion over memories. It was as if he went into his nightmare while he was awake. I swear to you, we were just talking about his dreams. One of them took over right in front of my eyes."

Blair worked at calming down. He didn't want Jim angry with Gail. This wasn't her fault. There was nothing wrong with her therapy. It was him. Something was broken within him and he had to find it to get it fixed.

"I'm...I...I'm okay, Jim. Let me...sit up." Jim looked down at him, eyes filled with some hurt, so deep and full of rage, Blair couldn't see the depth of it. Blair pushed to sit up and he realized he was on the floor. He had fallen out of his chair in the midst of his waking dream.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry. I don't...know what happened." "It's all right, Blair," Gail said. "Unfortunately, I don't know what happened either."

Jim flung her a glare and Blair reached up, touched Jim's chin and turned the man's face to him.

"It's not her fault, babe. Please...really. It's me, not her. The memories just overwhelmed me and knocked me for a loop. Please don't blame Gail."

Jim struggled with his unvented anger, struggled not to take it out on Blair or Gail or anyone else who didn't deserve it, but Blair knew that the person Jim wanted to strike out at was nowhere to be found and Jim's frustration was building and Jim needed to release some of his hostilities.

"We're going home," Jim said and stood up, drawing Blair up with him, holding onto him as if he'd run away.

Gail nodded. "Blair, may I call you later this evening to check on you?"

Jim started to answer, but Blair got there first. "Yes, please do. Thank you, Gail. We'll see you on Wednesday. And I am sorry."

"Don't be, Blair. I'm here to help you with this ordeal. Different people react differently. We'll be more careful."

Jim turned Blair then and lead him out the door.

Jim saw the light flashing on the answering machine as soon as they were in the door to the loft. He helped Blair off with his coat and hung up his own then went to see who had left a message.

"Jim, it's Naomi. Is Blair okay? Is everything all right? I just got back from Australia today and found your message. Please call me as soon as you hear this. I'll be here."

Jim exchanged weary glances with Blair who looked like death warmed over after the afternoon session with Gail.

What in the world happened? Why had Blair reacted like that? He zoned out on the memories...or his dreams, Jim thought. My god, it felt like he was reliving the ordeal all over again and if he felt that way, Blair must have been in hell.

Blair sighed and made to pick up the phone. Jim reached out, covering Blair's hand with his own.

"Let me call her, babe. I'll explain."

"Thanks," Blair said with a grateful expression. "I'm going to go wash my face. I feel really grungy. Then I'll start us some dinner."

Jim nodded and let his hand slide up Blair's arm then touch the young man's face. Blair leaned into him a moment, turning his face up to Jim. Jim couldn't resist bending down to gently kiss Blair's lips, a tingle of sensation running through him, reminding him of what they had together if only they could find it again, let it happen again. Blair's lips were soft against his, yielding to him briefly, but the kiss was over almost instantly and Blair was pulling out of his embrace with a lingering touch.

Their first kiss since the assault. Oh, they had snuggled and Blair had let him wrap his arms around him. Jim had kissed Blair's face, his temple, but that was the first lip to lip kiss and Jim ached with it's brief touch and his longing to make love to Blair almost sent tears spilling.

Oh baby, I want to touch you so much. I want to remind you that sex isn't a bad thing, that what we do is loving and passionate and never hurtful. I want to put those dirtbags out of your mind forever, out of your dreams and memories.

Jim sighed and picked up the phone. He listened to the ringing, almost wishing she wouldn't answer, that he might put off telling Naomi Sandburg that her son had been gang raped.

"Jim? Blair?" Naomi's voice sounded urgent, a mother's intuition working oh so well.

"Naomi," Jim said in return. "It's Jim. How was your trip?"

"You didn't call me to ask me that, Jim Ellison. What's happen to my son? Is he all right?"

"Naomi, please...calm down."

"He's been shot again, hasn't he? You promised you'd watch out for him, Jim. I trusted you."

"Naomi...please."

She must have heard the plaintiveness of his tone, the sheer desperation and desire that she listen and not judge.

"I'm listening, Jim. I'm sorry if I jumped to conclusions." You didn't come anywhere close to jumping to the right conclusion, Naomi and you're going to wish Blair had just been shot.

"Blair wasn't shot, but he was hurt. We tried to get a hold of you and they told us you were in the Australian outback on a walkabout."

"Yes, Blair knew I was going. Jim, I hear your pain. Tell me, should I come?"

"Yes, Naomi, I think Blair would like for you to come." "Now, please don't make me wait till I get there to tell me what happened. It must be bad enough that he didn't call himself."

"He hasn't been up for talking much. God, Naomi, this is so hard."

"Just tell me, Jim. I won't blame you." Her voice had become quiet and gentle as if she sensed Jim needed her understanding.

"Blair was...sexually assaulted."

The silence at the end of the line was tangible, a solid object threatening to break the call.

"I'll be there as soon as I can get a flight. I'll take a cab to your place."

"Thank you, Naomi. I think we both need you."

Naomi stood at the door to Jim's and Blair's apartment, staring at it and knowing her son, her baby, her only child was in there, hurting. She took a deep breath and fought down the urge to cry again. She had cried when she had hung up the phone from talking to Jim. She had cried as she hurriedly packed her suitcase, the same one she had just unpacked from a wonderful trip to the outback of Australia. She had cried in the cab and on the airplane and in the cab again. And now she needed to pull herself together because Blair needed her strong, needed her to be there for him, not be a sobbing mess. That would not help him...or Jim.

She had no details, just that her son had been sexually assault...raped. Jim hadn't used that word and she understood. It was a hurtful word, a terrible word and its very use was an assault of its on kind.

With a clearing of her throat, Naomi knocked and Jim was there even before she had moved her hand away, as if he had been standing there waiting for her knock and had heard her breathing out here in the corridor.

"Naomi, it's always good to see you. Just not for this reason."

"Jim," she replied and gave him a hug. For a moment, Naomi thought Jim would break down right there, his clinging desperate. But he managed to gather himself and she reached up and patted his cheek, seeing unshed tears gleaming in his pale blue eyes.

This is the man my son loves, she thought. He's a good man. A decent man. And one so laden with guilt it seeped from his pores.

"Where's Blair?"

"He's taking a nap upstairs. We didn't know when you'd get here. He's taken a sleeping pill. It might be a little while before he wakes up. Do you want some coffee, tea? Are you hungry?"

"No...Jim."

She watched him take her bag into the back room then return with his hearing obviously attuned to listen for Blair. She saw his pain, felt his pain so acutely it was tangible to the touch. This place desperately needed a cleansing. First chance when Jim was out she would use the white sage she had brought with her to burn and hoped it would burn out some of the demons lurking about in this otherwise loving home.

Naomi sat down on the couch and looked up at the man fidgeting and pacing, trying not to look at her or at the stairs.

"Jim, come sit down. Talk to me. Tell me what happened. Tell me how my son is."

Jim came and sat, staring despondently into space. Naomi waited, giving Jim time to collect his thoughts. She placed a gentle hand on his arm and he turned his head to look at her with such guilt.

"Jim, I won't blame you for whatever happened. I see only love in your eyes for my son. You wouldn't hurt him and he wouldn't still be here with you if you had. Who hurt my son so terribly? Why did this happen?"

Jim gave a heaving sigh. "Naomi, it had nothing to do with my police work or Blair working with me. It has to do with my time in the Army and the fact that I love Blair so very much. A man named Matt Baker committed a terrible atrocity. He murdered a man and I testified against him. He was put in prison and I thought he'd be there for life. But somehow he's free and he came looking for revenge. He found it. He kidnapped Blair. Threatened to kill him if I didn't let myself be taken. Then when he had us both...he...he...and five others...oh god, Naomi."

He put his hands to his face and began to sob quietly. She thought he must be trying to keep his tears silent for Blair's sake. Without a qualm, Naomi gathered the big man into her arms, surrounding him with her special brand of caring and love.

"They raped my son," she whispered. "And they forced you to watch it."

He nodded, but didn't look up, his head cradled against her shoulder, his sobs consuming him and becoming heart wrenching, uncontainable any longer.

"It wasn't your fault, Jim. It wasn't your fault. It's all right, baby. It's all right, sweetheart."

She rocked him and held him. Then Naomi felt rather than heard another presence behind her. She reached out a hand and Blair took it. Naomi drew him into her embrace as well, feeling the shivering of his tears. He leaned his head on her other shoulder, his fingers reaching out for Jim and the big man took Blair's smaller hand into his own larger one, holding on like it was his only lifeline.

"Are you sure you're ready to go back to work, babe?" Blair glanced over his shoulder at his lover, not sure of anything especially about going back to work.

"No, Jim. I'm not sure, but I'm going anyway. Then I'm going to drive myself completely crazy and come into the station before they pull my consultant's status."

"Simon wouldn't do that to you."

"I know. I'm just bitching. I can't find my pack----" Jim held it up by two fingers. "Sandburg, don't push yourself too hard...please, sweetheart."

Blair stopped before Jim, took a deep breath and calmed himself.

"I won't Jim. I'm not teaching again till intersession in two weeks. I'm going to my office, catch up on what and where my classes will be, get a rundown on my students from the instructors that filled in. Get oriented again. I'll be all right...really."

I hope --- gods, help me.

He ran his hands back through his hair and went looking for something to hold his curls back with. Blair pulled his hair back, brushing it into a ponytail. He stared into the bathroom mirror with his reflection staring back at him.

Eight weeks had passed since that day. Seven weeks of his life had gone by since they had let him out of the hospital. He had missed the rest of the semester of classes, shoving his life backwards two full months.

The attack had been reported in the newspaper, his name plastered there and Jim's as well. He had hidden from it all for eight weeks and now it was time to face the world again...the looks, the speculation...the accusations and innuendos.

Gail was supportive and Jim was...well...wonderful. Simon had been a rock during everything. Then there was Joel and Brian and Rafe and so many others that had made him feel accepted among them. Many from the university and other friends had called, a few had come by, but he just hadn't been ready to see anyone or to face them. He still had trouble facing himself.

He continued to stare, tracing with his vision the narrow red scar across his left cheekbone and the wider scar above his right eyebrow. The other cuts and bruises had faded from sight, but lingered still in his heart and in his spirit. Ever so often his side ached with a tightness in his ribs. The doctor had promised that would fade as well.

Nightmares still plagued him and he didn't know what he would do if Jim wasn't there each time to hold him and assure him it was indeed a dream and not reality. Baker's face would not fade from his memory or the one named Ron who had....

Stop it!

Or the blond they now had in custody who Jim said had been the one that nearly choked him to death with the rope around his neck all the time the man was----

Stop it, damnit!

He leaned over the sink and felt sick to his stomach, breakfast threatening to not stay down. Blair took a deep breath and looked up at Jim's reflection. His partner stood close behind him, hand coming to rest on his shoulder, caressing his neck comfortingly.

"Blair, you don't have to come to the station today if you don't feel up to it."

"I know, Jim. I'll see how I feel after...okay?" "Okay. Call me before you leave the university. Call me whatever you decide to do."

Blair let his hands fall to his sides and turned to face his lover.

"I'll call, but I'm okay."

"You didn't look okay a moment ago. You looked like you were going to throw up."

"Yeah, well, I thought maybe I was, but I'm all right now. Thank you."

"Blair---"

"Jim," Blair cut in. "I have to start somewhere. I have to try to start living a normal life again. It's time I tried anyway. Maybe it will be too much for me. If it is I'll call you and come home."

Blair let Jim pull him gently into an embrace. He knew the hug was coming and he didn't flinch from it. He willed his body to relax against his lover, an effort worth making if they were ever going to have a sex life again."

"I love you, baby. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Jim. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You wouldn't be----"

"Don't say it!" Blair pulled back and looked up at his partner. "No self blame. That's what we agreed to. Not your fault. Not my fault. We know who's to blame."

Jim stared a moment then nodded.

"Yeah, we know and when I find that perverted son-of-a-bitch I'm going to strangle him with my own hands."

"Jim."

"I know. No murdering the bastard. So I won't strangle him to death."

Blair let a little smile slip out onto his lips. "You're wonderful, babe."

Jim's fingers slowly rose and slid down Blair's face, gentle, loving, adoring.

"May I kiss you?" Jim asked.

Blair's smile widened.

"Such a gentleman, my Jim."

He closed his eyes and let Jim's mouth take his, gentle still yet possessive, eager yet restrained. Jim's hands moved down his neck to his shoulder, an arm going around him, pulling him closer to press against Jim's strong chest.

For a moment Blair almost panicked, visions striking at him, but he pushed them away, remembering who was holding him, kissing him and how much he had craved this touch, this intimacy not so long ago and wanted to want it again. He worked at remembering the pleasure, worked at remembering the burning desire of passion again.

The kiss lingered for a few moments longer then Jim loosened his grip, allowing Blair to step back if he wanted to. But Blair resisted the momentary urge and stayed there, letting Jim hold him and the man's hand roamed up to his cheek again. Blair turned his face and kissed his lover's palm.

Tears sparkled in Jim's eyes and Blair felt the rush of emotion push tears from his own eyes. Once more he leaned against Jim's tall frame and let those strong arms enfold him in an embrace of protection.

Blair pulled into his parking space and sat staring at the building, Hargrove Hall. His mind whirled with images and he grasped at the ones that had to do with the university. He felt confused still and out of sorts, hoping those feelings would settle down as he resubmerged into a routine he knew. Blair gathered his pack and climbed out of the car. With a conscious effort, he closed the door and headed for his office.

His name was still on the door and Blair sighed in relief. What are you afraid of? You've already spoken with the dean. He knows what happened. He knows why you haven't been able to teach. He's been sympathetic...understanding even. Everyone expected you to come back.

Everyone but me?

There's no other way. It's the only way you can go on living and breathing, remembering where your life left off before He stole a part of you away.

Blair opened the door and found nearly everything just as he'd left it that day. That day that should have been so simple. Jim was going to pick him up. They were going to go have dinner....

Blair slammed his pack down on his desk and stabbed the on button to his computer.

"It doesn't help to think of the what if's or the should have been's," he mumbled. "How many times does Gail have to tell you that?"

"Talking to yourself, Blair?"

Blair whirled, breath gone out of him. He fought down the panicked pain in his chest and stomach, seeing Randall Sharp, another research fellow who had taken over two of his classes.

The man smiled at him rather predatorial and entered the office.

"How are you feeling, Sandburg? I heard what happened. Who hasn't? It must have been terrible."

"I'm...okay."

Blair didn't really like this guy. Sharp had hit on him a half dozen times before he finally had to use extremely plain English to get Sharp to go away. When they had to speak at a faculty meeting it was always with strained politeness. And once Sharp found out Blair had a permanent love relationship with a man, that just seemed to piss Sharp off even more.

The man moved towards him and Blair fought down the hysterical urge to run away.

Relax, this is your office.

"Thanks for taking two of my classes while I was out, Randy. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome. I asked Dean Wilcox if I could have the Intro class permanently since we weren't certain if you'd be coming back...anytime soon. But he assured me you would be. He just thinks you're the perfect teacher for Intro. Someone the kids can relate to, he said."

"Well...."

"So what happened, Sandburg?"

Sharp leaned in close and Blair took a step back, bumping into his desk.

"I hear it was a real gang bang. Five or six of them. Was it kind of a thrill? I bet you enjoyed some of it, didn't you, Blair?"

"No!" Blair hissed, his breath so shallow he couldn't have screamed if he'd tried. "I don't have to listen to this. I spent a week in the hospital because of what they did to me. You can't even begin to understand what I've been through."

"Oh come on, Sandburg. Don't be so melodramatic. It's not like you haven't had your ass fucked before or a long hard cock in your mouth. I've seen your boyfriend. He's got to have a big one."

"Stop it!" Blair yelled. "Leave me alone. God damn you, Sharp. You insensitive bastard! Get out of my office!"

"What's going on in here?" Dean Wilcox stuck his head in the door and Blair took it as an opportunity to put several feet of space between him and Randall Sharp.

"Nothing, Dean Wilcox. Blair's just overly emotional right now, what with the rape and everything that's happened to him."

Dean Wilcox stood in the doorway, salt and pepper hair the only give away that he had passed the age of fifty. He glared at Sharp's wide-eyed innocence and seeming care and saw right through it.

"Mr. Sandburg said to get out of his office, Sharp. Blair doesn't need your nasty comments or your attitude right now. Drop off his class notes and anything else pertaining to those classes to my office and I'll see he gets them. Otherwise, stay clear of Mr. Sandburg. He has enough on his mind right now without your lip."

Sharp stared, mouth open. The man threw a quick glare at Blair who turned away from it and rubbed his face wishing he felt more relieved.

"Go, Sharp. Or you won't enjoy the consequences." Blair watched Sharp leave then he glanced up at the administrator.

"I know you didn't need that as soon as you got back on campus, Blair. I'm sorry. I should have headed him off. I know you two don't get along."

Blair just nodded and went to push another button on his computer.

"Was he too obnoxious?"

Blair heard only sympathy in the dean's voice and maybe a bit of pity.

Fine. Pity me. I don't care. Just don't let that SOB near me again.

"Sharp was his usual self. Maybe a little worse." Blair stopped in mid motion, not even certain any longer of what he was about to do. "No, Sharp was a lot worse." He turned and fixed his gaze on the dean, his anger rising. "You tell that...that...you tell him that if he speaks to me like he did today ever again, I'll sue him for sexual harassment."

"That bad?"

"Yes," Blair whispered, eyes going closed and hands clenching into fists.

"I'll speak to him."

Blair nodded and wished the world would simply go away.

"I'm suppose to pick up a new consultant's badge --- Blair Sandburg."

The officer at the window nodded. "Yeah, got it right here. Still with Ellison, of course."

Blair gave him a wane smile. "Who else?" The man laughed and shoved the badge through. "Uh." The man's laugh died and his face grew serious. "Take care of yourself, kid."

"Thanks." Blair clipped on the badge. "Thanks a lot," he said, looking up to acknowledge the officer's implied apology for what had happened to him.

Blair sighed and headed for the elevator, feeling eyes following him. He could imagine the comments even if he couldn't hear them. He and Jim'd had enough flack over their relationship. Now those that had never accepted him were bound to have plenty to say about him being....

Blair closed his eyes as a flash of memory assaulted him. He drew in a ragged breath, the remembering overwhelming. He felt the hard cold concrete floor beneath his bare knees, felt hands clutching at his naked hips, hold him and shove in, the pain almost physical even after eight weeks.

He stumbled into the elevator and jabbed a button, hoping he had the right floor. The memories blinded him and the tears that caught him off guard. He wiped at them furiously.

All Jim needs is me bawling all over his desk with everyone watching me finally have a complete breakdown. Okay, Sandburg, get a hold of yourself. Everything is fine. You can do this.

Blair rubbed his face as the door opened and he stepped out into the busy hallway.

He received lots of double takes, several sincere greetings, a few smirking glances and a resounding hug from Joel Taggert who just happened to be passing.

"Hey, Blair. It's great to see you back. We've really missed you."

Blair gave him a genuine appreciative smile. "Thanks Joel. Jim at his desk?"

"Last time I looked in. He's been driving himself half crazy trying to come up with something on Baker. The creep's crawled under a rock somewhere and pulled his accomplices in with him." Taggert glanced over sharply. "Sorry, Blair. I shouldn't have mentioned.... And Jim is trying hard to find those guys and Rafe and Brian."

"Joel, it's okay. I know. I don't want everyone tiptoeing around me. I'm working on this thing...really."

Joel patted him on the back as they stopped outside Major Crimes.

"I really admire you, Blair. You're very strong." Blair felt his face muscles contract with surprise. "What?" He shook his head in denial, hands going up to ward off the compliment he didn't feel he deserved.

"I mean it, Sandburg. You're incredibly strong." Blair shook his head again, but smiled as he did it. "Thanks, Joel. You're crazy, but thanks."

Jim stood talking with Simon, pointing out two or three possibilities as to Baker's whereabouts.

"Jim, he hasn't been seen for two months. Not since the incident in fact."

"This was far more than an incident, Simon." "What do you want me to call it? Relax a little, Jim. We all know what it was, but Blair doesn't need us going around referring to this anymore graphically than we have to."

Jim forced his jaw to unclench. He felt useless, like he was getting nowhere. And he had another case he was working on. Actually, he wasn't even on the Baker case, but he couldn't help it. It was so personal. All of it happened because of him. And Blair wouldn't be hurting so much right now if it wasn't for him.

His mind reached out, thinking, circling around his lover. Beautiful Blair. Intelligent, vivacious, beautiful Blair.

God, what a precious gift he'd been given and he'd let the likes of Matt Baker, certified pervert, amoral crazy lay hands on his partner and do damage to the fey, magical, wonderful person that was Blair.

Even before he turned, Jim knew Blair had come through the door. He heard the familiar beat of his partner's heart, smelled the aroma of Blair's subtle spice. Jim even felt Blair's anxiety.

He tried not to make a show of it, but that Blair had managed to come into the station was an effort Jim wasn't certain he would have managed himself.

When he turned, Blair was staring across the busy room at him then dropped his gaze and walked towards him. Work stopped all around them, eyes following Blair's progress across the room. Jim felt Blair's uneasiness, heard the increase in his partner's heartbeat. Then Blair was standing before him, eyes still cast down. But when those eyes rose to meet his, Jim knew nothing else.

"Hi," Jim said and felt stupid all of a sudden. "How was the university?"

Blair shrugged and sighed. "Fine, I suppose. It will get better."

Jim frowned. There was something Blair wasn't telling him. "I'm fine, Jim. Really. I'm here."

"Yeah...." He suddenly realized how quiet the room had become. Quiet as a tomb. He glanced up with a sharp gaze and all the eyes that were turned that way looked anywhere else and found something else to stare at.

"Hey, Sandburg." Both men looked up and Jim saw Blair smile. Brian Brown came towards them and grasped Blair's hand, shaking the smaller man with his enthusiastic greeting. "It's great to see you back, kid. We really missed you."

"Thanks, man. I'm not going to be doing much right away, but I thought I'd better get back here before Jim got into any trouble." Blair grinned as he said it and the room gave off a collective sigh, some sort of relief issued into the air.

Others in Major Crimes came to greet Blair then, kind words and nervous sidestepping dancing with each other.

Blair took both well enough, Jim thought and he slid a possessive hand onto Blair's shoulder to let everyone know things were getting back to normal.

After a few minutes, Jim lead Blair over to the desk and sat him down. Jim settled into his own chair and leaned forward.

"What happened at the university?"

Blair's gaze fell again, this time to stare at the corner of the desk.

"Nothing...."

"Something happened," Jim said and reached out to Blair's face, making the younger man look up at him.

"Okay, something. This guy, one of the instructors was a real asshole. But everyone else was nice, Jim. Molly came by and we talked for a long time and some of my students brought me stuff, candy, flowers, cards. They were great."

"But this guy, what he said or did, overshadowed everything else or you wouldn't be this upset over it."

Blair shrugged. "He was an asshole. That's all. Said some things. The dean told him to back off and leave me alone."

Jim leaned back and let his hand slide off of Blair's face. "You should have told him that I would see to it personally if he bothers you again."

Blair grinned and Jim knew the young man had to work at it. "Yeah, he knows who you are. He's too stupid to know he ought to be very afraid."

Jim laughed and slapped the desk, effectively changing the subject.

"How about typing up some reports for me, Chief?" "Reports? That's what I'm good for, typing your reports." "It's those great fingers of yours."

"Are you implying that I know all the right buttons to push?"

Jim almost stared at Blair's mild flirting, but covered it, afraid Blair would realize and abruptly cut off the playfulness or feel uncomfortable.

"You know you do, Chief. You push all my buttons." Blair's grin turned genuine, not forced in any way and Jim smiled in relief and pleasure at the prospect of what that grin might lead to.

"My god, Blair, what are you doing?" Jim asked as he came in the door and took a deep breath of the fragrant aroma, something baking in the oven and something else cooking in a pot on the stove. The wok had a load of fresh vegetables in it and Blair was stirring to beat the band.

"Cooking, Jim. I do know how to cook."

"Yes, you do, baby. And you do it very well." Blair smiled up at him briefly, but went back to stirring the contents of the wok almost instantly.

"Stir that pot over there, please."

"Sure, no problem."

"And take the pan out of the oven."

Jim grinned like a Cheshire cat and obeyed. "Fresh baked noodles? You made these yourself?" "Yeah. The stir fry is finished. There's Teriaki steak on that plate, under the foil keeping warm."

"Wow, Blair. You went all out tonight. You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did. I wanted to."

Jim watched Blair wipe his hands on a towel and stir the pot once again then mixed the sauce with the vegetables. Together they placed the items on the table and Blair lit a candle and poured plum wine and hot tea.

Blair didn't flinch away when Jim reached for him, didn't even look as though he had to try not to.

They were making progress, Jim thought. Blair smiled so much more lately and touched him more familiarly. The young man let Jim put an arm around him and hold him in public and while they were sitting on the couch they snuggled like old times. And they didn't have to work at it like they had been doing for nearly three months. Blair was letting the walls down again, the healing beginning to mend some of the damage done.

Blair slid into Jim's arms and that bright, beautiful face turned up to him, smiled up at him and asked to be kissed without a word. Jim complied readily, mouth so hungry for contact, he had to be careful not to devour, to be gentle and loving, not possessive and taking.

But Blair seemed hungry for him, almost expecting something deeper and more passionate. Once again, Jim complied and their tongues met. Electricity had nothing on them, the current of power surging through them with the bonding nature of true soulmates, lovers for eternity. Blair held on to him, shaking. He felt Blair's body shaking, perhaps in fear or anxiety...or need. He hoped it was need anyway.

Slowly, they parted, Jim's hands cupping Blair's face, caressing with a gentle touch and fingers feeling the softness of that gorgeous flow of hair.

"Oh baby," Jim whispered. "I love you so much. I need you so much."

"I know, I love you too. I just wanted to celebrate tonight. Nothing special, just you and me together and how happy you make me. How loved I feel. You've been so patient with me, always there for me and I cherish that."

"Sweetheart, I still feel responsible...." Blair put a finger to Jim's lips and drew Jim's face down to his, kissing him with the most sensual lips he had ever known.

"Don't start that nonsense, Ellison," Blair told him with eyes wide and blue and full of love. "This night is for us to get to know each other again. For us to be lovers again. Don't scar it with doubts and blame. I love you with all of my heart, James Ellison. I find no fault in you, only love."

Jim nodded and kissed Blair again. Jim led Blair to his chair then sat in his own seat. Together they raised their glasses, clinking with a ringing joy.

"To the love of my life. To the joy of my heart. To the food of my soul," Jim said. "I love you Blair Sandburg."

"Well put, babe. Let's eat."

The evening light faded and the candle alone lit the darkness like their love holding back the black of night. They laughed and talked of future plans, places they wanted to go together, places they wanted to see. They talked of tomorrow and all the tomorrows they would have. They touched hands, clasping fingers after a wonderful meal and a bottle of wine between them.

Jim watched the light sparkling in Blair's eyes and that animated face telling him about some silly thing that had gone on in class that day. Jim told Blair how boring it had been at work with nothing but paperwork to do and Blair not there to do it.

Blair laughed at that and they leaned in a little closer, lips finally touching again. Jim felt Blair still shaking a little, his fingers moving to massage the tight muscles of Blair's shoulder, stroke the dark curls. His lips moved along Blair's cheek and down the neck, kissing with gentle care not to go too fast, not to do anything that might remind Blair of that night and rough cruel hands.

Blair pulled away, holding Jim's hand, but he smiled and led the way upstairs. Jim followed silently, his arm going around Blair's waist and together they climbed the steps.

"I'm kind of scared," Blair said when they stood next to the bed looking at each other.

"I know, sweetheart. But I love you and you love me. I won't hurt you. And anytime you wish to stop, we'll stop. We have plenty of time. We'll do this together when you're ready in the time you are ready."

"I want to be ready. I miss the closeness. I miss feeling you inside of me. I miss...us."

"I miss us too. But I don't want to rush anything if it's too soon."

"No. I want you. I want us to at least touch each other. Maybe I'm not ready for intercourse, but I'm ready for touching and loving."

"Okay. Let's start with that."

Jim pulled his shirt over his head and stood there a moment, shirtless while Blair stared at him, came towards him with outstretched hands. The fingers were warm and soft against Jim's skin and he let Blair run hands over his muscled chest, up to his shoulders and back down his arms.

Blair unbuttoned his own shirt and Jim didn't touch the young man while it was being done, allowing Blair control. Jim would not take that control away from his lover. This was what Blair needed right now. Blair pressed against him, naked chest to naked chest and Jim couldn't help but run his fingers into Blair's hair. God he loved this man's hair, so soft and the texture was almost maddening to his senses, the curls sliding through his fingers like lacings of velvet and satin. No woman he had ever touched had stood up to the beauty of Blair.

The kisses deepened to passionate, beyond care or exploration. They knew each other well and had only needed a brief reminder of each other's bodies to bring them together again.

Jim felt Blair's fingers tracing the lines of his body, holding onto his biceps. He felt Blair press against him with need and desire.

"Oh baby, oh baby, I love you so much," Jim whispered in Blair's ear. He kissed the earring-laced lobe and sucked gently on the special place just behind the ear like Blair loved. Jim heard Blair moan with desire, a reward of immense proportion to his aching soul.

Blair pulled back and licked his lips, hands going to his belt to open the buckle then unzip his jeans, sliding them down his legs and stepping out of them. The briefs followed and Blair stood naked before him, a Renaissance angel's divine loveliness in earthly form.

Jim hurried to match his lover's desire, his cock so hard he thought he'd explode before they even touched each other naked. Blair was only about half erect and Jim could see Blair working to hide his nervousness, the young man's heart pounding with anxiety and that bit of fear, not of Jim, but of his own conjured nightmares, Jim imagined.

I won't let them come between us, Blair. This love is ours and no one has the right to destroy it, to block us from each other. No one will. I won't let it happen.

Then they were standing before each other, nothing but air between them and an ordeal they had to find a way to dispel in their bedroom.

Jim let Blair make the first move, coming to him, pressing against him once again then Blair was climbing into bed, pulling Jim in with him, on top of him.

Jim let his mouth roam over Blair's neck and shoulders, tongue licking and kissing the hollow of the throat, behind the ear again and Blair writhed beneath him, clinging to him. Jim felt Blair's erection harden and soften in turn.

He's going through one hell of a struggle to keep Them out of this bed and wasn't entirely succeeding, Jim thought.

"Relax, love," Jim said. "Slowly. Everything is fine." "Jim...oh god," Blair sobbed and the tears came. "I'm...sorry."

"No...nothing to be sorry about." He rolled and pulled Blair into his arms, dark curls falling around his shoulder. "Take it easy. We don't have to hurry."

Jim stroked Blair's hair and kissed the tears from his lover's face. Blair's mouth sought his and they kissed gently for a long time, remembering how wonderful it was to just do this together.

Blair's hand moved down Jim's chest, caressing the muscles. With a finger tip, Blair stroked one of Jim's nipples, teasing it and pinching very lightly. Fingers danced over Jim's chest and landed on the other nipple, treating it with the same delicious touch. Their kisses deepened again and Blair's hand moved down to stroke Jim's hard cock, massage the balls until Jim groaned and moaned with the exquisite touch of Blair's hand.

This was too much and Jim had waited too long for this. With a cry, he came with Blair's stroking, hips rising to push against his lover's hand. He crashed downward with ragged breaths and he could feel Blair smiling at him, snuggling into his shoulder like a kitten.

"What are you smiling about, Cat?"

"I'm just glad to make you happy."

"You do that everyday. You going to let me reciprocate?" He felt Blair shrug and the smile disappear. "Please let me try, Blair. Let me make you happy now." A long silence followed then Blair said, "okay. I want you to touch me. It's all right for you to touch me."

Jim heard the emphasis on the word you, reaching out again to play with Blair's hair, run his fingers through it again and marvel at its beauty and sweet smell. His kisses brought Blair's erection up again and he gently squeezed one nipple, playing with it with his thumb.

He moved up over Blair, mouth coming down on the other nipple to suck and nibble and lick till Blair's body vibrated and the young man's cock was hard when Jim touched it. Blair jerked once then let Jim get a firm grip, stroking from root to head over and over again. Jim's mouth trailed down over Blair's tight stomach, kissing and licking until he was positioned between Blair's legs. He licked the sack, kissed the inside of the thighs, tongue darting down between the cheeks to test Blair's resistance. Jim found some and concentrated on letting the hard cock slide into his mouth, tasting what he had missed for so very long, Blair's basic, most primal essence. How he loved this part and the feel of Blair's solid erection inside his mouth, smooth as satin against the back of his throat and against his tongue.

Blair stiffened and moaned, but didn't come yet. Jim let his hands roam over Blair's balls, over the soft skin of the thighs front and back as he raised up Blair's legs, feet on his shoulders so he could feel the skin of the ass cheeks. He cupped the cheeks and drove Blair further down his throat, sucking and sliding in and out.

Blair almost shot off the bed when he came, a cry somewhere between ecstacy and pain escaping from the young man. He held Jim's head with his fingers and sobbed out his relief. That's what it sounded like, as if Blair had feared he was broken and could never come again.

The hips moved slowly, sucking up the last of the feeling then settled down on the bed, letting Jim release him and move up to lay again. Jim pulled Blair into an embrace and felt Blair still crying.

"It's okay, baby. You're fine. We're fine. I love you." Blair nodded, but continued to cry, sobbing just short of hysterical. "I thought...I wasn't...I wouldn't...be able to...god, Jim. I was so scared."

"You were wonderful, babe. We gave each other pleasure. We don't owe anyone anything. There are no standards to meet. No rules to follow. There's no one keeping score here, Chief. We both won. It was a good start. It'll get easier, I promise."

Blair sat on the couch, hair back, glasses on and a pile of papers scattered around him. He looked up as Jim came in the door and he smiled up at his lover.

"Hey, babe, how was work?" Blair asked.

"Boring without you. When are you going to catch up with that workload so you can spend more time doing my paperwork?"

"Funny, Jim. Did you bring dinner home or are you cooking tonight?"

"Cooking. Spaghetti okay?"

"Anytime, but first...." Blair pulled off his glasses and pushed books and papers aside, bouncing off the couch to wrap his arms around Jim's neck. The kiss that followed he made sure promised to make the evening interesting and enjoyable.

"Woah, sweetheart," Jim moaned into Blair's ear. "You are so sexy and so adorable."

"Yeah, well...just for you."

"All for me. I like that."

Blair let a grin play on his mouth and he hoped he had the courage to go as far as he wanted to tonight.

Again they kissed, Blair opening his mouth to Jim's and their tongues tasted all the day's events, their appetites more interested in each other than in food. Blair felt a wash of desire he was afraid to let go of, afraid it would fade if he didn't take the chance now.

"Let's have dinner later, big guy...okay? I'll be your appetizer."

"More like my dessert. Isn't there a saying about eating dessert first just in case...."

"Yeah, I'll be your cupcake."

"You'll be my cherry's jubilee and chocolate cake and every flavor of ice cream imaginable. You are everything to me."

"I love you, Jim. Please, let's go to bed. I want you so much."

"You don't have to beg. I'm at your command, lover." They raced up the stairs, laughing and joking all the way and Blair kept at bay all the old horrid images, pushing to keep them out of his mind. He thought of only Jim and how much he loved this man. He thought of all the times they had made love and how wonderful it had been, how wonderful it had felt to have Jim inside of him, pumping into him with that possessing quality that made him feel so loved and cherished and owned by his lover.

They had been intimate a half-dozen times, but Blair had not been able to let Jim enter him. He froze up each time they tried and each time the lovemaking ended without intercourse. It was satisfying enough, but Blair feared Jim was in need of something more and Blair desperately wanted to give that to him. Of course, Jim would never admit to being less than happy with Blair's performance in bed, said he was happy with them simply being naked in the same bed at the same time. But Blair knew they had to get passed this obstacle in their sex life and it was his problem not Jim's.

"Jim...."

"Blair...sweetheart. Let's not talk about it. Let's not analysis it. Let's just make love and let whatever comes come. Relax. Remember there are no rules. We do things whatever way works for both of us. I don't want to hurt you."

"You would never do that. I know that, Jim. I want you to make love to me tonight. Don't stop even if I...I..."

"I can't do that, Blair. I won't. I'm not going to force you. If you struggle I'll let up. If you forget who you're with, I'll remind you gently. Don't ask me to make you have intercourse. I think we'd do damage to our relationship if we do that. When you're ready, it will happen."

Blair stared at his wise lover and nodded his agreement. "I just want it so badly. I want to make you happy."

"You make me happy every day of my life." They came together in passion, mouths seeking each other and hands roaming, groping each other's bodies. Blair pulled off Jim's shirt and pushed him down on the bed to finish undressing his lover. Then without waiting for Jim to ask, Blair began to undress, doing it slowly, letting his mind remind him that his body was beautiful, at least Jim thought so, and that it was okay to be beautiful if it made his lifemate happy. He let his sensuality loose for the first time in so very long. It had stayed contained mostly in fear and doubt, smeared with dirt from dirty minds. Now, Blair felt a refreshing outlook beaming through the long months of darkness. His lover adored him, worshiped him and he slipped out of his clothing, piece by piece, dancing a little for the man he loved more than life itself. Last, he pulled the tie from his hair and let the curls fall around his neck and shoulders.

"Oh Blair, you are magnificent. God, you turn me on, baby." Blair smiled seductively and crawled onto the bed, slowly moving up towards Jim who gawked at him with mouth open and eyes wide. He moved up Jim's body, hands caressing from ankle to knee, up the thighs to the hips, letting his chest and stomach make contact with Jim's groin until their hard shafts met. Blair slithered further up till he captured first one nipple then the other with teeth and tongue, pelvis still grinding into Jim's.

Blair's mouth moved up Jim's neck, sucking at the throat and behind the ear, tongue lavishing the pulse point with flicking touches that seemed to drive the bigger man half crazy with the contact.

Blair listened to Jim's moans, the caressing of his name sounding so very loving and needing coming from Jim's mouth. Then Jim's arms wrapped around him, rolling him over onto his back, fingers winding into his hair, stroking softly then possessing him with a gentle grip that brought his mouth to Jim's for a long session of kissing.

Jim began working his way down Blair's body, those ultra sensitive hands perceptive in their deliverance of pleasure. Jim always seemed to know just the right places to touch and stroke, the perfect places to nibble and suck, the ecstasy building till Blair felt he would explode with Jim's mouth sucking his cock, tongue reaching down to lick his balls or lips kissing the insides of his thighs.

He felt Jim wetting a finger and Blair forced himself to relax, ready to let Jim prepare him for entry. Jim's finger slid into his hole and he gasped, breath a little ragged, but the mouth surrounded his cock again and all thought slipped away with the pure sensation of it all. Two fingers slid into him and he moaned and tensed then convinced his body everything was fine. He had done this before and had enjoyed it.

The mouth sucked hard and Blair's hips came off the bed, the orgasm a wondrous release of his pent-up energy and tension. He cried out as three fingers spread him wide and the borderline of pain and pleasure sent him into orbit. He pushed back at the fingers and found pleasure in the feeling of being filled up.

"Fuck me, Jim. Please hurry up and fuck me." "You're sure, Chief? You're certain?"

Blair rolled over onto his stomach and looked over at his partner.

"I've never been so sure of anything in my life, man. Screw me now."

He watched a smile light Jim's face and took a deep breath. No going back now. He watched Jim fumble for the lube in his haste, smearing it on and sliding his fingers into Blair again. Blair rose up to meet him and Jim hurried even faster to apply the ointment to his cock.

"On your knees, baby? Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Blair replied. "I'm sure." He willed his body to relax, feeling Jim snuggling up close behind him. Blair almost panicked, breath shallow and rapid until Jim slowly slid into him and he cried out. It was like being a virgin again. He'd had to do so much healing from the damage Baker and his men had done that the time he and Jim had been having intercourse almost didn't exist as far as his body remembered.

"Oh god, Blair. I'm sorry. Should I pull out?" Jim's arms wound around his waist, holding him up as he moaned in pain.

"No," he gasped. "Got to get...used to it again. Don't you dare pull out...now. Just...give me a...minute."

"Oh baby, I love you. I never want to hurt you." "I'm okay, Jim. Just needed to get used to it. It's getting better. All that matters is that you are inside of me."

"Yeah, sweetheart, I am. And it feels so good. You feel so good."

"Do it, babe. Make love to me. I want to feel you possessing me."

Jim began to move, sliding in and out very gently and Blair bit down on the rush of pain each impact created. Little by little the pain subsided, replaced with a swirl of pleasure, a knot of ecstasy lacing through his insides. Blair let his mind grasp at the feeling, get into the sensation that saturated him, Jim's hard cock moving inside of him and the hands gripping his hips, pulling him to smack just a bit harder against Jim's groin.

He felt Jim's cock harden even more, swelling inside of him and instead of hurting, the pleasure swelled as well. He felt Jim's thrust become insistent, demanding, and Blair rode the wave of Jim's orgasm until they both were spent of energy.

They slipped down to lay, gasping together, hearts pounding in tandem rhythm. Jim's hands wandered over Blair's shoulders and arms, the touch feeling like satin on his bare skin. When Jim moved against him, readying to pull out, Blair whimpered with the soon to be lost contact.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I'm just going to roll over and you can sprawl your entire body over mine."

"Okay."

They lay quietly together. Blair reached up ever so often to kiss Jim's neck or the lips that reached for his. Jim's hands still roamed over his shoulder and side, holding him possessively the way he always liked, protected from all terrible things in the world.

"Are you all right, Blair? Did I hurt you much?" Blair was quiet for a while thinking exactly how to answer. "Blair?" He heard Jim's anxious question. "I'm more than all right, Jim. I'm delighted. It hurt at first, but it got much better. Promise. I needed it. I wanted it."

"I'm glad," Jim said. "Cause damn I needed it too."

Eight more tests to grade and he was out of there. Blair pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He glanced around the dimming office and reached to turn on his desk lamp.

Normally, he would have taken the tests home and graded them there, but the electricians had been there all day trying to correct a building problem. The electricity was to be off until six and he'd probably be done by seven or eight. Jim wouldn't be home till late anyway what with him helping Simon with planning a fishing trip.

Blair smiled and thought about the two men sitting on the floor of Simon's apartment scanning maps that would be strewn all over, picking out the perfect fishing spot for the trip planned for next month. Blair was looking forward to getting out into the woods again...fresh air, the peace and quiet.... He took a deep breath, put his glasses back on and dug into the next test.

He felt a strange chill run down his back, a foreboding that made him look up from the last test and stare at the door to his office.

Nothing happened. He heard nothing. Saw nothing. Yet the foreboding didn't leave him. The irrational fear of two month ago had been fading. He'd gotten better about being alone and he'd even started feeling comfortable again in his office and at the university, secure...safe. How quickly that feeling of security left him when the foreboding came over him. How easily four months faded away and felt as if only yesterday he had faced Baker and the others and what they had done to him.

Carefully, he picked up his telephone and punched in Jim's cell phone number.

"Ellison."

"Jim."

"You okay, babe? What's wrong?"

"I don't know. I just started getting weird feelings and wanted to hear your voice. Are you still at Simon's?"

"Yeah, but I was about to head home. You want me to come get you?"

"No, Jim. I'm just being silly...really." "You aren't being silly. I'm coming over. Stay in your office and I'll be there in a little while."

"Jim, you don't have to do that. I'm an adult. I can get home on my own."

"Babe. Don't make me say it."

"Then don't say it."

"He's still out there somewhere."

"I told you not to say it, Ellison."

"Sandburg, I love you."

"I love you too, Jim. So much. Come then." Blair hung up, but the feeling wouldn't leave him, like a slime on his skin. Like a presence of evil near him, not yet upon him, but very near. And the fear lodged squarely in his throat, choking him and he had to mentally block the image and the feel of rope around his neck and the pounding pain of rape.

Four months, nearly four months since the assault and he was still afraid Baker would come for him and take him away to South America just as the man had threatened. And that fear he had pushed back so that he could stay sane, so that he could get on with his life with Jim and the university and----

A noise in the hallway, not far from his door alerted him that someone was out there. He grabbed up the phone then put it back down, feeling foolish. It was probably night security making the rounds. Darkness had fallen fast and it was later than he had realized, nearly nine. But Jim would be there soon and everything would be fine. He was safe here.

Blair almost laughed at how easily he was spooked. He rose and stretched then went to file some papers, straighten some shelves, empty the coffee pot and get it ready for tomorrow. He busied himself to keep his fear at bay while he waited for Jim.

Blair stopped in mid-motion, his back to the door. He had heard something, faint and a brush of air from the open doorway, the door that had been closed only a moment before. And somehow Blair knew Jim wasn't standing behind him, knew the aura of his lover, the feel of his lover's essence. Blair heard the door close and a negative energy, dark and oppressive, saturated the room.

"Go away," Blair said in a shaking voice. "Please just go away far from here. You've had your revenge. You've had your payment."

Tears came unbidden to Blair's eyes and he swallowed hard to contain his terror.

"Can't do that, darlin'," the familiar voice said quietly. "We've got a plane to catch leaving for Buenos Aires in one hour. We're going to be on it."

"No. Don't do this to me." He turned and swung the coffee pot, glass shattering against Baker's upraised arm. And the man's fist lashed out, knocking Blair backwards with a blow to his jaw.

Blair scrambled and kept his footing, knocking a chair over as he ran around behind his desk, shoving objects behind him, turning over shelves filled with files and pottery. Baker smiled the predator's smile and came after him, easily avoiding the obstacles.

Blair got to the door, jerking it open, but fell back as Ron stood there grinning at him and another one just behind him.

"No!" he screamed. "Leave me alone!! Go away! Oh god, haven't you done enough damage?!! Help me! Someone help me!!!"

Then Baker grabbed him across the mouth and from behind, holding him with the other man's help while Ron pulled a syringe from a little case and jabbed the needle into Blair's arm.

In only a moment Blair could feel the drug starting to work, but he struggled anyway, hoping against hope that Jim would arrive, would hear the struggle and get help or shoot the bastards dead. But the light turned gray, the darkness slipping over him and he fell into black empty night.

Jim pulled his truck into the parking spot next to Blair's car, noticing the light still on in his partner's second floor office window. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh of relief.

Okay, everything is okay. Blair is all right. He had to be.

But Jim hurried anyway, nearly running to Blair's office and as he neared it he listened for his lover's heartbeat, tried to smell his lover's distinctive aroma, but the heartbeat wasn't there and the aroma was faint, fading as if Blair had been there not long ago, but wasn't there now. And there were other fading aroma's, faintly familiar that struck terror in his heart.

He ran to the office door that was standing open and saw the mess, the shattered glass of the coffee pot and the overturned chair, the scattered papers and shelves laying turned over on the floor, like a struggle had taken place here.

"Blair! Blair, where are you?!"

In a panic he searched the office crevices, behind the back stacks and shelves, knowing Blair couldn't be there. No heartbeat, no essence. Gone. He's gone.

Jim shook with a reaction he hadn't yet put words to, terror an understatement, fear a ridiculously shallow word.

Then he saw it, a piece of paper with his name on it, James Ellison in big letters. His hands still shook when he reached for it, his terror reaching a strange plateau as he opened the folded paper.

HE'S MINE NOW, ELLISON AND YOU CAN JUST IMAGINE WHAT I HAVE PLANNED FOR
DARLING BLAIR. HE'LL MAKE THE SWEETEST LITTLE SEX SLAVE.

COME AND TAKE HIM BACK IF YOU THINK YOU CAN. WHAT EVER IS LEFT OF HIM
BY THE TIME YOU FIND HIM.

Jim stared at the piece of paper, stared at the images conjured in the darkness of his mind, of Blair's suffering at this man's hands, at the horror of what was to come and what had already been done.

"No," he whispered, his hand crushing the fold of paper. He ran out of the office, down and out of the building, using his senses, full open and searching for some sign, some way of telling where they had gone, where to begin to find his lost love and save Blair from the nightmare that had come again into their lives and neither of them would wake from this horrid dream to hold each other in comfort and love. But no trail lead him in any direction and he was utterly lost, bereft of his guide, his friend, the love of his life and heart and soul.

"NO!! he sobbed out a scream into the night and the darkness mocked his despair and silently ignored his plea.

"God damnit!" Simon spat out. He drove as quickly as he could, a little reckless with his impotent anger and the fear that constricted his heart. The light on his car flashed and the siren was a wailing, a screaming of his rage that he had not taken Matthew Baker more seriously, that Jim had tried to warn him. Now Blair had been taken again and he was about to lose two men, not one.

He should have known. He'd dealt with men like this before, single-minded and never satisfied with whatever revenge they managed no matter how horrible the revenge had been. What more could Baker do to Blair?

Then Simon pushed the thought away, remembering Blair screaming hysterically, remembering the bruised and bleeding young man who had become a friend to him...to the whole department. He knew what Baker was capable of doing and what the man meant to do.

Simon pulled up into the university parking lot where lights flashed and campus cops held back a crowd gathered around the main entrance to Hargrove Hall. He saw Blair's car and Jim's truck, saw Forensics going over the Volvo looking for prints or other evidence. Jim was nowhere in sight.

Rafe came running towards him, a white-faced grim expression that cops reserved for when one of their own had been killed or seriously injured. And Simon knew that was how Rafe felt, for Blair was one of them, had been for a long time now.

"Where's Jim?"

"Upstairs in Blair's office. He's catatonic, Sir. He doesn't hear anything, see anything. Forensics wanders around him and he stares into space as if they aren't there. I'm really worried, Simon. Jim almost went over the edge when Blair was assaulted. Now we have no idea where this perverted maniac has taken Sandburg and Jim's a zombie."

"I know, Rafe. I know," Simon sighed. "Show me where he is. Maybe I can snap him out of it."

Rafe led the way up to Blair's office. Jim was exactly as Rafe described, eyes glassy, pupil's pinpoints surrounded by pale blue. Brown sat near Jim, trying to talk him out of his zone out, but obviously had been having no luck.

Brian glanced up as Simon and Rafe entered and he shrugged, that same worried and drained look coming over him as it had Rafe.

"Jim," Simon said, dragging up a chair and sitting across from his friend. "Come on, Jim. This isn't doing Blair any good. We can't find him if you're a zombie. Come on, buddy. Snap out of it."

Simon shook the man hard with a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Ellison," Simon hissed through clenched teeth, feeling that impotent rage rising again. "Come on, Jim. Blair needs you. I need you to help me find him, to help me track down Baker. I can't do it without you."

The Forensics team had stopped and were staring at them. Simon looked up into Samantha's face and saw her sadness. He saw tears touch her eyes and without a word, she sent her team out the door, hushing them with a motion.

She did have feelings for Blair after all. Everyone had thought she was toying with the kid when they were dating. It seemed like a lifetime ago since then.

Rafe and Brown stood guard at the door, leaving Simon some privacy.

"Jim Ellison." Simon grabbed Jim by both shoulders and shook the man hard then slapped him across the face twice. "Jim, help me," Simon begged. "I can't find Blair alone. Blair needs you now. Don't let Baker take him away from you. Don't let Baker win this war, cause Blair will be the casualty. JIM!"

Jim let out a gasp and jerked back from Simon's hold. He came up out of the chair, glancing around wildly.

"Blair!! Blair!!"

Simon stood and took hold of Jim, pushing him back down into the chair. He watched James Ellison crumple in on himself, big hands going to cover the anguished features of a man who had lost his best friend, his partner and the love of his life all in one blow. Sobs spilled out from Jim, rising out of the deep chest like the bellows of a wild animal.

"Jim, calm down. Try to get a hold of yourself. Come on, buddy. Take a deep breath. That's it. All right."

"He took Blair, Simon. Baker took him. I should have known. I should have been here to protect him. What was I thinking that Blair could be left unprotected from that perverted son-of-a-bitch?"

Simon watched Jim's jaw clench and unclench, the teeth grinding together, barely controlling the rage and the tears, barely controlling the primal desire to kill something.

"Jim, we couldn't have known that Baker was still in the area. We've been searching for months and hadn't found any trace of him. We couldn't have known he'd try something so risky."

"I let my guard down, Simon. I let Blair think he was safe, that everything was fine. I wanted my lover back to normal. I wanted to believe that Baker was gone so I could be happy again and we could forget this ever happened. Instead, I played right into Baker's trap. He waited just long enough that he knew we would have our guards down. And now Blair will pay the price for my folly. Baker will destroy him. You know what he intends to do to my Blair, my partner, my life!"

Jim rose, shoving the chair away, hands clenching into fists.

"He's taken Blair to South America."

"We don't know that. They could just as well still be here in Cascade."

"No, Simon," Jim said turning on him with lightning speed. "Baker wouldn't have said it if he hadn't meant it. Blair is already far away. I can feel it. They're already on a plane and on the way to South America."

Simon felt Brown's and Rafe's gazes on him, knew they were listening intently to the conversation. He felt them anxious for action, to do something to help.

"Then we're going after them," Simon said matter-of-factly. His determination seemed to startle the others, Jim staring at him, judging his intentions. "Blair cared enough to come after me and Darryl. How can I possibly do any less for a friend of that caliber. I don't just owe him this, I owe him for all the times he's pulled your butt out of trouble. The kid doesn't deserve this kind of treatment and I'll be goddamned if I'm going to let Baker get away with kidnapping a friend of mine."

Jim almost smiled, but the pain seemed to catch in Jim's chest. Simon could see it there, that same constriction in the chest and the nausea in the stomach that just made men like him and James Ellison, angry as hell.

"Then God help Matt Baker when I get my hands on him," Jim said in a harsh low voice, full of malice and hatred and driving determination. "God help him to a quick death."

"And god help Blair until we get there," Simon murmured, but hoped Jim hadn't hear.



End of RAVAGED I