Archive of Our Own ^beta

Author's webpage: http://home.centernet.de/~silke/montfanfic.htm

Part I - The Accusation

It was nuts.
It was impossible.
It was unbelieveable.
Not Ellison.

Not the SENTINEL.

Not Jim.

Blair's thoughts whirled through his mind reliving the ridiculous accusations some asshole bad guy had made against Jim. Hoping for sleep to claim him, the anthropologist took a deep breath, trying to let the tension flow out of his body.

No way. Whoever said that was wrong, wrong BIG time. Jim lost his temper from time to time, yes, but...but...but he surely didn't use his greater strength to harm the people he arrested. No matter WHAT, Jim always came back to his senses. Jim would never hit an unarmed, handcuffed man with with his fist, or legs... And he truly would never even think of...

Blair remembered Kaplan, the slimy laywer from the Johnny Macado case. Simon had told him later Kaplan had questioned Jim. "What exactly is your relationship with my client, detective?" And: "Make sure he doesn't spend too much time alone with him." Those words were meant as a tease, a cheap way for a hit below the belt but Jim had just smiled and kept silent. Of course. Kaplan was not worth the breath to comment.

But...today. Simon's word echoed through Blair's head as he tried to shift his exhausted body into a more comfortable position.

"Jim, they say they have physical evidence that you sexually assaulted Kevin Myers when you vistited him in his cell the other day."

The sentence was said, the words out in the thick air of the captain's office, and no one could believe the devastation of that statemtent. It was ridiculous as much as it was deadly. Certainly, no one believed it but...

"...what does it mean, physical evidence, Simon?" Jim had asked in a calm voice as if he wanted to say 'it's not possible.'

Or like in 'I didn't leave any evidence to be found'?

Stop that thought, Sandburg! Blair scolded himself and bent his knees to curl up into a small ball.

He couldn't move!

Blair opened his eyes partly surprise and partly in shock but the darkness of the night didn't reveal any shapes or forms. The young man tried to move his legs again, then his arms, then his whole body. Whereas his muscles seem to obey the command his brain sent to his nerves, tied bonds around his wrists and ankles prevented any motion.

"What the hell is going on here?" He wanted to shout, but only a muffled sound escaped his mouth as the rag effectively silenced him.

His heart began to pound wildly against his ribs as he tried the strength of his bonds again. It felt like he was spread eagle-like on the bed - his bed? - the chills of the night caressing his skin like a feather.

Blair strained his eyes to cut throught the blackness in front of him but the dark hole enveloped him like a spider's web.

Where was the spider?

There was no sound, no rustling of clothes or squeaking of bed springs when suddenly a leather-gloved hand touched his bare chest. Blair gasped at the unexpected touch, twisting and turning his chained body away from that strange caress as best as he could. Needless to say, he didn't succeed and as a second hand joined the first, Blair held his breath. His brain couldn't provide any answers to the sudden assault and all the young guide could do was wait and...endure.

The leather-clad hands gently roamed over his chest, drawing little circles around each nipple, stroking them to rigid peaks with a simple touch. Blair breathed deeply again as the tickling sensation flooded through his body. A second later, he moaned into his gag as first the left and then the right nipple were pinched and brutally twisted. A warm mouth came down onto the hurting little peaks, blowing cool air against the sensitive flesh.

Blair's pleas disappeared unheard, his arms fighting the bonds as the mouth sucked and licked his nipples, pressumably making up for the pain caused before. Whirling around the tiny nubs, the stranger's tongue worked a miracle. The nipples grew hard again.

The anthropologist meant to see the shadow of a man in front of him but before the form could take shape, white pain seared through his chest as the man bit into the tender skin of his nipple. Blair moved his upper body, trying unsuccessfully to push the assailant away. The sharp teeth cut into his flesh and the tears trickled down his cheeks as the blood oozed down his chest.

"Plsssseee...uuuhdmm," Blair pleaded through the cloth in his mouth, as the fire of his abused nipple waved through his body.

'God...please..stopstopstop...please..whoever...Jim...Jim...help me...Jim. Where are you...??..It's the perfect time to come home now...please....be here...soon...Jim....' Reaching out with his mind to his Blessed Protector, Blair sighed in horror as the invisible figure in front of him let go of his nipples and moved down his body.

"Nnnnnmmm," Blair cried out.

The gloved hands gently massaged his stomach, tickled his navel, and finally reached his exposed genitals. The first touch on his cock was tender, almost loving, but the earlier experience made Blair tense with fear and dreadful anticipation. The leather hand engulfed his limp organ and started a rhythmic massage up and down the shaft. Blair quivered, fighting the arousal that threatened to come. His cock began to swell under the nimble fingers of his tormenter as it was carefully stroked and pumped.

'Please....please....no more...Jim...help..me. Please.' Blair sent out the mental message he hoped would somehow reach the Sentinel of the Great City.

The hands trailed down to his balls, releasing his cock at this painful state of arousal. A finger brushed over the soft skin of his testicles, and Blair held his breath again, dreading the pain that he knew would come.

Gently rolling them between the fingers of one hand, Blair tensed up as the grip became tight. His breath came in harsh gasps as the fingers started squeezing and pinching his most sensitive organs. Blair's teeth clamped down onto the gag, as the pain filled his entire being.

"Uhhhmmaaaaaaahhhhhh."

As abruptly as it had begun, his balls were released. Instead something slick and hard was shoved between his legs, parting his ass cheeks and finally touching his anus.

Blair screamed in pain as without any prepartion or stretching a long and hard object probed his anal muscles, demanding entry, denial impossible. With his arms and legs spread widely, Blair groaned. His asshole was dilated by a giant stick or WHATEVER, the pressure becoming unbearable as he willed his muscles to relax to at least accept the torturing thing. He felt it inching forward, stretching his rectum beyond capacity. Blair's muffled cries of agony, and silent pleas for help, remained unheard, and then his wails became whimpers.

His internal muscles clenched and unclenched against the thing that invaded his most private place and Blair begged the powers that be to let him pass out from the pain.

Fate didn't smile upon him.

'Jim....please...helpmehelpmehlepme...' Blair repeated the mantra over and over again, praying for his friend's return.

It was like the sweetest music when all of a sudden the voice of Jim Ellison penetrated the monologue of Blair's moans of pain. He must be near his ear and Blair sighed with relief.

"Let's wrap this up," was all Ellison said as the object was shoved inside the young man completely, tearing him open and make him bleed.

Blair's world exploded in pain and betrayal as realization set in. With that merciful oblivion darkened over him, bringing unconsciousness and peace.

For now.

Part 2 - Agony and Fear

The distinct scent of blood, sweat, and fear hit Jim Ellison as soon as he opened the front door that led into his apartment. He stood for a moment, frozen in place, concentrating on his sense of smell.

Upstairs.

The smell came from upstairs.

A moan, followed by a small, muffled whimper, made the Sentinal draw his gun from the holster at his back.

"Sandburg?!" he shouted, dialing up his hearing to locate his partner, friend and lover. The whimper of pain faded as the thundering increase of a heartbeat pounded through Jim's head.

Upstairs.

The sounds came from upstairs.

"Chief?" Scanning the loft with the range of his senses, the Sentinel didn't notice any intruders. The earthquake of Blair's heartbeat was the only sign of life. Focusing on the heart rate, Jim noticed the new acceleration as he shouted the name. With his gun still pointed out in front of him, moving from one side to the other, turning around in an elegant movement to check behind his back, Jim climbed the stairs to their bedroom.

"Blair? You okay?" The question was answered by a sharp intake of breath, a quivering sound silenced by something Jim couldn't quite make out.

"It's me, buddy," he reassured as he one more time twisted his body to make sure there was no felon waiting for him. The sensual surveillance of the loft was interrupted as the detective reached the upper floor.

It was dark. Only a few lights from outside street lights dimly lit up the bedroom but the hyper-active vision of the Sentinel cursed Jim with the sight he would never forget in a lifetime.

The hammering heartbeat threatened to deafen Jim, the odor of blood made him tremble with nausea as the blue eyes took in the terrifying scene in front of him. Blair was lying on the bed - their bed -, gagged and chained to the bedposts, wrists and ankles tied up painfully. Traces of blood trickled down the young man's lower arms where the skin had been broken as he'd tried to get free. He was naked, his middle and thighs covered only by a cloth Jim recognized as his own pyjamas jacket.

Moving towards the bed, Jim spoke softly. "Blair?"

The anthropologist's eyes were closed, but they weren't the closed eyes of a sleeping or unconscious man. They were shut tight against something that could be called pain...or fear. His chest rose and fell in a much too fast rhythm proving Jim's assumption Blair was awake.

Blood.

Jim reached the bed and dropped onto his knees beside it. Blind rage brought tears to his eyes as he took in the bloody wounds on his lover's chest. Bite marks had mutilated his left nipple, a puddle of blood gathering on the white bed sheet.

"Take it easy, Blair. I'm here, " Jim soothed, reaching out and gently touching the gag in Blair's mouth.

Once removed, the screams erupting from his friend's throat knifed through the still of the night like sirens of unbearbable agony. The bound arms tore at their bonds, yanking violently and ripping open more skin on his wrists. Shocked by the unexpected outburst Jim backed off for just a second as the piercing sound cut through his tender eardrums.

"Blair. Blair! Listen to me... It's okay, it's okay, nobody's gonna hurt you," Jim spoke calmly, but firmly as he crawled onto the bed and took his lover's face in both hands. "Shhhh.... Calm down, take it easy, Blair. I'm here with you. I won't let anybody hurt you."

The wails didn't subside, but finally the big eyes popped open staring helplessly into the deep blue eyes of the Sentinel, pleading for mercy, praying for death. Blair screamed.

He screamed until his throat was sore and his lungs didn't provide enough air anymore to accomplish the pitching sounds. All the time Jim had hold of the curly head in his hands, trying to calm the young man by gently stroking his cheeks. The soft words were drowned in the wails, but nevertheless Jim kept talking, soothing and pleading.

"Okay...it's okay, my love. It's okay. Shhh....."

Finally, Blair's voice cracked and he went silent. Tears spilled down his face, wetting Jim's fingers as he continued the stroking rhythm.

"Calm down, Blair." Jim caught the tears with his fingers, smiling reassuringly with a broken heart at the pain his friend suffered. "I'm here," he promised again.

A whisper. A tiny release of breath reached the Sentinel's ears as the sobs eventually faded with the exhaustion that ravaged Blair's body.

"Jim...."

Ellison swallowed at the pain he could hear in the younger man's voice. Tenderly he brushed over the curls, feeling his friend's body shake with shock. "Don't try to talk, Blair, let me call an ambulance." Jim released Blair's face and fumbled for his cell phone. Murmuring reassurances of comfort he didn't feel himself, Jim dialed 911 and demanded a paramedic unit at 852 Prospect.

He dropped his phone onto the bed and examined Blair's wrists more closely. Jim sighed. Handcuffs. He gently stroked Blair's face again, noticing the startled flinch as his partner tried to jerk away from the touch.

"It's okay, Blair. They're handcuffs." He could go downstairs to get a bolt cutter - anything to snap the silver bracelets - but Ellison didn't want to leave his friend alone. Jim reached out to switch on the lights. "Take it easy now, I'm gonna turn on the light."

Squinting against the sudden brightness, both men closed their eyes for a moment. Jim viewed their surroundings, recognizing nothing out of place except for the pityful sight of his young friend.

"W...h...," Blair croaked again and Jim hushed his attempts at speaking with a gentle finger on his lips.

"Don't try to talk, Chief, help is on its way."

Fearing and knowing what he would probably discover Jim tentatively touched the pyjamas jacket. Followed by impressive blue eyes, Jim tugged at the cloth. "I...I... need to...," Jim started. "Take it easy...."

Both men gasped - one in shock, one in fear - as the extend of Blair's other injuries came into view. It was only a small puddle of blood that had soaked into the bed sheet beneath Blair.

Only a few red spots...

"I'm not going to hurt you, Chief," Jim promised as he carefully checked Blair's genital area for injuries. Jim closed his eyes as he suddenly realized what must have caused the bleeding.

"Ohmygod....," Ellison whispered, tears rolling down his own face. His hands shook slightly as he tenderly roamed over the exposed organs, touching the quivering testicles. "God...Blair," Jim sighed in shock. His sensitive fingertips slid down to Blair's ass, connecting with something hard.

Blair moaned at the light touch and Jim withdrew his hand quickly. "It's gonna be alright, Chief," Jim chanted for the umpteenth time, raising his head to look up into the agonized eyes of the young man he loved. "Relax..., I'm just trying to help you."

With his throat raw from screaming, Blair moved his lips but no sound came out. Jim moved closer and brought his ears up to Blair's mouth. One of his own tears mingled with Blair's as the one and only question was barely voiced.

"W...hy did you do this..., Jim?"

Through the cobwebs of fear, humiliation and pain, Blair spat the question with all the strength he could muster. Coloured with what he hoped would sound like disgust, anger and simple disbelief, his voice gave out on the last word, and the young man turned his head away. It was the only motion he could perform without inflicting more pain on his battered body.

His wrists ached and he could feel the thick substance running down his arms. The fire on his chest was reduced to a throbbing pain now, but with each intake of breath Blair could feel the torn tissue of his nipple. A breeze caressed his bare skin and the anthropologist shuddered involuntarily. Shivering, the slight movement was enough to increase the burning pressure in his ass where the thing was still buried in his rectum. The muscles fought against the intruder, pushing, clenching and spasming around the object. It had already been unbearable when it had been shoved so violently against the barriers and resistance of his sphincter muscle, but now as Blair was lying motionless on his bed, his nerves entirely focused on the bulk inside of him.

Blair didn't notice the indescribable shock on Ellison's features as the young man threw the whispered question into his face. Turning his head away from the sight of the detective, Blair let out a sob, a breath of pain as his throat failed to give sound to his anguish.

Words of denial, promising comfort and relief, lied to him with the sweet assurances of a skilled traitor and Blair wished for the blessed darkness again he'd dived into before.

As if he had not caused enough pain, Jim's large hand moved between his spread legs again and touched his violated opening. Blair bit down hard on his lips, not wanting to give Jim another satisfcation of hearing him cry out from the agony. Tasting his own blood Blair couldn't help but graon in pain as Jim's finger probed the object inside of him.

"Easy does it...", a gentle voice spoke softly to him. "Relax, my love, I'm taking the....it..out."

Where did that gentleness come from? The hands hadn't been gentle and tender before, right? So, why now? Blair gritted his teeth as the rigid object was slowly and excruciatingly removed from his aching hole. An awful sucking sound was accompanied by a loud hiss as the torturous instrument came free.

"It's okay, Blair," Jim tried to calm him. "It's...out. Keep breathing, buddy, you hear me?" The hands affectionately stroked over the clammy flesh of Blair's thighs. "It's gonna be alright," the soothing promise continued.

A moment of silence passed, disturbed only by occasional pained sighs as the raw throat refused any verbal sounds. The clattering of Blair's teeth echoed through the bedroom as the shock reaction finally took over.

"I can hear the ambulance, Chief," Jim announced as his hearing picked up the sirens of the approaching paramedics. "Help's on the way." The older man shrugged out of his jacket and covered the shivering body of his young lover. Jim reached out and caressed Blair's outstretched arm which was still bound and immobile against the bedpost.

Blair flinched.

Part 3 - Cold

Cold.

Trembling with shock and cold, Blair closed his eyes as he was lying on the examining table. The ride to the hospital had been nothing short of another round of torture with Jim being there with him, touching him with those gentle hands that could be so brutal. Blair had tried to shrink away from the touches but then the evil lies of comfort assaulted his hearing, whispering sweet words of betrayal. The mere remembrance of Jim's voice sent shivers down his spine and the tears started leaking from beneath his closed eyelids again.

Cold.

Blair was cold. The hospital gown didn't provide enough protection from the chilling air in the ER. Cold hands touched him, making him shiver even more. His surpressed sobs echoed from the cold tiles and another cold hand rushed to comfort.

"Shhhh, sweetie, it'll be over soon." The passionate voice of a nurse washed over him, but Blair's mind was numb and as cold as the sterile instruments prodding at his hurting body.

Cold.

"Mr. Sandburg, try to relax," the voice of the attending doctor urged him and Blair tried to bury his head into his arms when cold latex-gloved fingers probed his ass.

Like before.

Humiliating.

Threatening.

"Uhhhh...," Blair gasped hoarsely as the examination continued.

Hurting.

The nurse placed her hand on his forehead and brushed away a few stray curls. Blair didn't look at her, didn't confirm the comfort. He kept his eyes closed, his trembling increasing. The hand continued the stroking rhythm as the cold spread through his body, reaching his heart, entering his soul.

It hurt, but Blair didn't make a sound as yet another cold instrument entered his body, sending waves of ice-like pain to his brain. Someone was talking, probably urging him to relax and let the tension flow, but the effort was just too much to comply. He couldn't let it go, he couldn't relax, and surely he could not and would not forget. So, let it hurt. Whatever.

As confused as he was, Blair's thoughts flashed through his head asking questions, searching for answers, begging for a reason to make him understand. Distracting himself from the uncomfortable procedures the doctor and nurses applied to him, Blair's mind whirled around the events of the last hour.

An hour? Had it really just be one single, simple hour that shattered his trust and love for the only person he thought he would die for? 60 minutes? 3600 seconds? Blair couldn't tell. Some lives were shattered in a millisecond. His ordeal took a whole hour to work its co-called miracle. This was not fair. Hell, life in general was not fair, but...

Where was the logic? Where was the scientific reason, the only possible explanation for Jim's violent reaction?

"Ow....," Blair bit his lower lip as something or someone tended the torn tissue of his ... he didn't know where the pain was. He was hurting all over. Like the cold before, the mental and physical pain dominated his being.

Back to Jim.

Jim.

The name of the man he had loved - he...still loved. A name associated with trust, gentleness and safety. Now the name was accompanied with feelings of pain, fear and betrayal.

Why?

While suffering and dreading Jim's return, Blair had asked himself these simple questions over and over again.

Why?

What had driven his lover, his friend, and Sentinel to hurt his Guide so badly, physically and emotionally? Was it his senses? Playing tricks on those hyper-active senses had not happened very often lately, but the danger of over-stimulation was still present.

Why, Jim? Did he need that kind of satisfaction? Did he have to rape Blair to get enjoyable sex? If so....if those accusations were correct, why... tonight? Why...?

The little three-letter word drove his train of thoughts forward, moving to the next suggestion, dismissing it quickly, and returning to the beginning.

WHY?

Jim Ellison was staring at his feet. Sitting motionless on one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs in the waiting area of Cascade Memorial, he wondered why he had bought those shoes he wore. Black with brown leather, trs chic, and definitely nothing Sneaks would prefer. Where the hell had he seen those? What had him make to go inside the shop and purchase them? Colour? The brand? Hell, where they at all comfortable?

Dirt covered the soles and he zoomed in onto the little pieces of filth. He could see the texture, the different crumbs, attached to his shoes. Straining his sense of sight, Jim wondered if it would be possible for him to detect any germs or bacteria in the dirt. Could be interesting to watch the mircoscopic-tiny beasts.

A shadow fell over his objects of interest and Jim looked up to meet the dark eyes of his captain.

"Hi, Simon. Can you tell me why I bought these shoes?" Jim greeted, frowning and returning his gaze to his footwear.

"What?" Simon Banks' sounded confused and Jim was wondering if he had to explain it to him like talking to a three-year old.

"They're disgusting." Jim shuddered.

"Jim? You okay? What's wrong? I got a call that something had happened to Sandburg." The tall figure sat down beside Jim and watched him carefully. "What's going on, detective?"

"I don't know," Jim replied, his gaze still concentrated on his dirty shoes. "They are in there, doing an exam or something."

Before Simon could place another question, Ellison rose to his feet, startling the captain by the sudden movement. "Oh, hell, what kind of crap did I get here?" In one fierce motion, Jim grabbed at his foot and took off one of his shoes. Simon watched in horror as the other man threw it against the nearest white-tinted wall. "DAMNIT!"

As sudden as his outburst had come Jim quickly deflated and slumped back into the chair, covering his eyes with his hands. "God...," he whispered barely audible. "Why...?"

Placing a comforting hand on his detective's arm, Simon spoke softly. "Jim, calm down, okay? Can you tell me what happened?"

The voice didn't belong to Jim Ellison, Simon thought as the man began to speak. There was no anger, no rage. Whatever had happened, everyone would expect a vocal reaction, an outburst of emotions, but Ellison just buried his head deeper into his hands. His voice was toneless, rushing out the words, afraid to relive the ordeal again by telling the story.

"I came home about one hour ago I had met with one of my informants who had called me earlier the moment I opened the door I knew something was wrong the smell of blood reached me immediately and I noticed it came from upstairs I could make out a sound like a moan or whimper and I went to the bedroom ohmygod Simon Blair was Blair was I didn't need to switch on the lights you know I could see clear enough and Blair was lying on the bed He was gagged bound naked I loosened his gag he screamed he screamed screamed screamed I I I I I checked for injuries I could not cut him loose so I tried to give him first aid there was blood on the sheet someone there my fingers touched him Blair flinched fighting me there was this thing I tried to sooth him to calm him and I took it out I didn't know what else to do I called the ambulance..."

Suddenly, Jim raised his head and much to Simon's horror his blue eyes were filled with tears.

"He was afraid of me."

Before Simon had a chance to ask further questions or ease his friend's pain, a doctor came out of the emergency room. Numbly, Jim stared into his direction, trying to focus on the partly opened door behind the doctor.

"Are you here waiting for word on Blair Sandburg?" The ER physician asked and as Simon nodded, they shook hands. "I'm Dr. Evans."

"Captain Simon Banks, Cascade PD," Simon introduced himself and then indicated towards Jim. "Detective James Ellison, he and Mr. Sandburg are partners."

Dr. Evans nodded. "You are the one who found him?" He directed the question to Jim who still hadn't moved from the chair.

The detective moved his head in a confirming nod, his gaze fixed on the door.

"How is he?" Simon inquired, still confused about Jim's rambling words before. "What happened?" he added with another look at Ellison who had laid his head into his hands again. However, Simon knew Jim was listening. He probably already had heard more than he wanted to.

"As far as we know Mr. Sandburg was attacked this evening. His injuries are minor compared to what could have happened which makes me assume the assailant wanted to show his greater strength by inflicting pain. It was an act of pure humiliation," the doctor began, his voice neutral as he cited the facts.

"There are bite wounds on Mr. Sandburg's chest, one of his nipples was pretty much torn up. There are some shallow bruise marks on his testicles and penis, but they will only account for some discomfort in the next days. There's is no permant damage." Dr. Evans went silent for a moment and he watched Simon's face. The police captain stared at him in shock whereas Detective Ellison didn't react at all.

He continued, "There's some severe damage done to his anal area. He needed stitches, and there is internal bruising which will cause him considerable pain for some time. Apparently, the attacker used a hard object to penetrate..."

The emotionless voice of Jim startled both men.

"....it was a broken nightstick. I t--took it out....it must still be at the loft." Two sentences and the face disappeared behind strong hands again.

Simon swallowed. "Can we see him?"

Dr. Evans hesitated. "He's sedated right now, but I think it's okay for you to see him, Captain Banks." He stressed the word 'you' and Simon gently touched Jim's arm to induce him to get up.

"Let's go and see Blair, Jim. Come on...."

Dr. Evans cleared his throat. "I don't know how to say this, gentlemen, but Mr. Sandburg practically begged me to...exclude you from his list of visitors, Detective Ellison."

Simon whirled around, throwing an unbelieving look over his shoulder. "What?" The doctor's face was serious, and Banks returned his gaze to Jim.

The Sentinel's shoulders quivered as the sobs shook his body.

Part IV - Dreams and Reality

A new day. The early morning sun whirled through the half-closed shades, painting funny shadowplays on the walls of the hospital room. The brightness didn't affect the small figure lying on the hospital bed who numbly stared at the ceiling, thinking, disbelieving, hurting.

A new day that didn't bring relief.

Blair flinched violently, jerking away from his depressing thoughts as the door to his room opened and - Blair held his breath fearing it would be him - sighed gratefully recognizing the tall figure of Simon Banks. The visit wasn't welcomed because the young police observer knew what was coming, what was expected of him. At least it wasn't his tormentor. Blair couldn't stand those smiling eyes and soothing words.

And he also knew he couldn't tell anybody.

Why not, Sandburg? A little voice inside his head asked. He hurt you, he humiliated you, he raped you. So let them know! Don't let him get away with that! It was Jim.

Another tiny voice, driven by love and the whispers of his heart, told him it was impossible. It wasn't Jim.

It couldn't be Jim.

"Hey, Sandburg," Simon greeted him with a wary smile on his face, unsure how to proceed, afraid of saying something wrong. He approached the hospital bed, his dark features soft and concerned.

"Simon." The tiredness in Blair's voice startled the captain.

"How are you feeling?" he asked carefully, still standing in front of the bed and looking down at the small figure.

Blair shrugged. "I'm tired." He didn't meet Simon's gaze as the older man spotted a chair and drew it closer. Banks sat down beside the bed, mindful of maintaining a certain distance as to not infringe Blair's personal space.

"I can imagine," Simom tried another smile and went silent for a moment.

Then, "Sandburg..., Blair...," he began, uncertain of his next words. "I know this must be hard, but can you tell me what happened?"

Blair shook his head.

Simon swallowed. "Look, I...I...imagine that you don't want to talk about it, but we need your statement to find the person who did this to you. You know that."

Blair nodded.

Sighing, Simon decided to change the subject. "Jim and I were here yesterday night, but you were already asleep when we were allowed to see you."

Blair didn't react.

"This...hit Jim pretty hard, too, Blair," Simon continued his monologue. "Why did you refuse to see him?"

The answer came quickly. "I don't want him to see me like this." His eyes filled with tears. "It hurts too much to..." He shook his head again and a dark curl fell onto his forehead. Blair didn't brush it away, but remained still until the dark man spoke again.

"Listen, Blair, Jim loves you. There's nothing you would have to be....embarrassed about." Damn words, Simon cursed. "He's worried sick, he doesn't know what happened and...." Receiving no response from the anthropologist, Simon stressed again, "He loves you."

Blair shifted in his bed and winced as he rolled onto his back. Sore muscles made each movement known, protesting and reminding him of the ordeal last night.

"I cannot help you, captain," he said finally. "It was dark, I didn't see or hear anything, there was just..." He stopped mid-sentence and turned his head in Simon's direction.

"Is he here?" Blair asked abruptly.

Simon sighed with relief. "Yeah, he's in the car waiting for my signal to come up." The captain smiled reassuringly. "Should I go get him?" He moved to stand up, but Blair interrupted him.

"No!" He moved himself into a sitting position. Ignoring the pain, he suddenly shouted, inducing Simon to wince at his loud voice.

"CAN YOU HEAR ME? I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR BECAUSE I KNOW YOU'RE LISTENING. GO AWAY, ELLISON! AND NEVER EVER COME BACK!" Blair's throat, still tender from last night, gave out and he coughed a few times as he spat the last words.

Shocked by the unexpected vocal outburst, Simon jumped off of his chair, and sat on the edge of the bed. He put a gentle hand on the student's shoulder, intending to soothe away his anguish.

"Easy, Blair....you're upset. It's perfectly normal, just take it easy... Jim won't come here..."

As if to punish him for his lie, the door burst open and Jim Ellison entered the small hospital. Hurt and confusion distorted his handsome features, his eyes shining with unshed tears. The Sentinel didn't move forward, just stood in the door frame, looking at his young lover who now tried to crawl deeper into the safety of his bedcovers.

"Jim...", Simon began, but as he saw the detective wince at his voice, he lowered his volume. "You okay?"

Jim didn't reply. He stepped into the room, but Blair hoarse voice stopped him.

"GET OUT OF HERE!"

"GET OUT OF HERE!"

"Just get out....GET OUT...please."

"...please."

When Jim still didn't react in any way, Simon left Blair's side. He pushed at Jim, steering him out of the room. "Go...Jim, go, it's hard I know... let him calm down...". Banks spoke softly and he firmly manvouvered the other man into the corridor.

"Just tell him....tell him...I love him," Jim muttered as he leaned against the wall, closing his eyes to hide his pain. Little tremors shook through his body, as his mind didn't find an answer to the question that tortured him since the horrors of the night had captured him.

WHY?

~+~+~

Later.

The telephone on Detective Ellison's desk rang several times before Jim answered the call. He had been staring at his computer screen without seeing the words of the forensics report he had requested. The letters blurred in front of his vision, his thoughts miles away in a hospital where he wasn't welcome.

"Ellison," he spoke into the receiver frowning as the display showed him it was his captain on the other end of the line. The dark voice was calm, but determined as Banks said,

"I need you in my office now, Detective."

A short knock announced his arrival and again Simon's voice answered him calmly.

"Come in."

Closing the door behind him, Ellison stepped into the office of his superior and stood in front of the desk. "Sir?"

Simon motioned him to sit down and sorted through his papers. "Jim..." he began, wondering how he would ever be able to make it through this conversation. He looked at Jim, locked his gaze with the other man's eyes as if seeking confirming or denial without voicing the question.

Truth or lies, reality or dreams - it was impossible to read Jim Ellison's emotions, his face stoic, the jaw muscles twisting as always.

"What is it, captain?" Jim jumped in. "Whatever you have to say you'd better say it than beating around the bush."

"IA ordered an investigation regarding the Kevin Myers case," Simon explained, as he read through the paper again which requested his "unlimited co-operation".

Jim shook his head. "Oh, come on, Simon. They cannot be serious," he exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air to punctuate the ridicule. "This is totally insane. I've never touched that boy... God, I would never even think of touching anyone like ...like that."

Simon nodded, "Jim, I know. Believe me, I know. Someone is trying to color your reputation. All we can do is to work with them and prove you're innocent."

"I am innocent," Jim stated, fixing his glance onto the fishing images behind Simon's desk. "I have nothing to prove."

None of them spoke for a moment and when Simon penetrated the silence, Jim instantly knew there was more than the captain had told him yet.

"They say that have reasons to believe you...," he started, but Jim interrupted him.

"Geez, Simon, I don't give a damn what so-called reasons they manufacture! It is not true, I did not, I do not and I never will treat anybody like that. I didn't touch that boy!" His words were spoken with such calmness that Simon almost mistrusted the report he had just read.

"Jim...," Simon paused, swallowing, fighting an inner battle and then he continued, "Forensics finished their report on the attack on Blair last night." Watching Jim's features growing anguished at the mention of his lover, Simon fixed his eyes on the cigar in his hands for a second.

"What has that to do with the Myers case?" Jim snapped. "Are they saying I did that to Blair, too?"

The words hung in the smoke-filled office as Simon sighed and realization dawned. Jim stared at his captain, disbelief and hurt mixed with anger coloring his face. It took another few moments before the words sunk in and as his mind digested what he had just heard, Ellison jumped to his feet.

"Do you believe them?"

Simon didn't expect that question - he had feared an emotional, furious erruption - but he replied, "They found your fingerprints on the handcuffs and on the... nightstick and..."

"Of course, they did!" Jim roared. "I... tried to help him, Simon! I tried to free his bleeding wrists that's why I touched the FUCKIN' handcuffs!" His voice dropped. "A-and the nightstick," He swallowed almost painfully, his voice taking on a desperate quality. "Can you only in the least imagine how devastating it was to stick my fingers into his ass to get the damn thing out of him? Can you IMAGINE the PAIN I had to inflict on him in order to help him? Can you IMAGINE that it broke my heart to listen to his whimpers, his pleas to STOP? CAN YOU?"

When Simon didn't answer, Jim screamed into his face: "CAN YOU, DAMNIT?!!"

Captain Banks rose from his seat. Rounding his desk he stopped in front of Jim, placing a hand on the other man's shoulders. "Jim, I'm sorry. Surely, this is hard for you, it's hard for Blair, hell, for everyone involved. You'll have to see their side of the story. If it was the opposite situation you would want to look into the matter, too."

Jim didn't listen, but simply shook his head. "No. How can you believe that?" Another moment of silence passed. "I'm out of here," Jim announced and turned his back on Simon.

"Look, Jim..."

The captain's word were spoken into thin air as the door closed behind Jim.

~+~+~+

The dexterous tongue latched onto his nipples, licking and sucking in a sensual rhythm. The erotic samba left its moist marks on his body, as the hot mouth moved downwards, kissing there and here, stopping only momentarily as it reached his waiting cock.

Blair moaned deep in his throat, pleasure beyond imagination flooding his body as Jim's lips engulfed his erection in one swift movement. The mouth of his lover made him shiver, he jerked with his hips to drive his cock deeper. Jim managed a smile, a twitch of his lips and the look he gave the young anthropologist was passionate. He swirled his tongue up and down the shaft, pausing as he felt Blair's arousal increasing, and almost reaching its peak.

"Don'tstop,don'tstop...Jiiiim," Blair sighed, his hands grabbing at the older man's head, pushing downwards as the gentle ministrations threatend to cease. A lustful whimper escaped his lips as Jim gently scratched his teeth over the sensitive skin, stimulating the organ even further.

Delicious tension ravaged Blair's body and he panted heavily. Little puffs of air and the moaned 'ohohhhhoohhh' were composed to a symphony of love as the young man rode towards his climax by the simple touch of his Sentinel's mouth.

"Let me....come with....y-you inside of me," Blair pleaded, throwing his head back into the pillow.

Carefully, Jim released the hard cock causing Blair to almost cry out at the lost sensation. Coating his fingers with a generous amount of lube, Jim placed a string of short kiss onto his lover's thighs as he tenderly prepared the smaller man. The tunnel was tight, too smug to fit at first, but Jim's fingers worked the miracle.

"Do you know how beautiful you are, my love?" he asked rhetorically as he scissored his fingers and relaxed Blair's internal muscles completely. Blair pushed against the digits signaling his readiness, his eagerness to be filled with the magnificent strength of Ellison's cock.

"Please, Jim..., I think I can't wait...any longer." Blair gasped and released his breath noisily as his anus was opened widely and Jim slowly slid inside of him until his balls connected with Blair's cheeks. "Ohhhh, Jim...", the young man exclaimed, ecstacy racing through his body like little flames of love.

Completely seated, the bigger man didn't move. Blair wiggled his ass to implement their sexual rhythm as his erection grew stronger, painfully waiting for release. "Jim....please...." he murmured his hands reaching down to embrace his waiting arousal.

"Jim...," he moaned again as the expected stimulation didn't set in. Longing for a touch, a single movement, Blair began to stroke his penis, moving his hand up and down the length as Jim's mouth had pleasured him before.

Bending his legs, Blair suddenly winced in pain as the abused muscles of his rectum remembered their ordeal from last night. With a start, Blair opened his eyes, finding himself lying in his hospital bed, breathing hard as his erection reached a painful state.

"Oh my Gooood," Blair groaned, tears welling up in his eyes and gently trickling down his face. "Ohmygod," he whispered again as the dream vanished into the daylight leaving behind an emotional turmoil of love and hate.

"Jim...., whywhywhywhy....?" he questioned and engulfed his arousal with one hand, pulling violently at the shaft. "I..love you so much...," Blair sobbed into the pillow as his frantic strokes made his body spasm quickly in the thunder of orgasm. The semen splashed over his hand burning his soul with its acid poison.

Part IV - Interrogation

The room was cold, the furniture serving necessity not comfort. The chair was hard, hurting the violated muscles he had felt constantly during the last 48 hours. Grey walls, grey floor - no carpet -, the table plastered with folders, tape recorder, and a telephone. Blair had sometimes witnessed an interrogation in this room, but the inhumanity of this place had never been so obvious to him. It was a place without emotions, without compassion, without light or hope. Bad guys sat on the same chair before, lying, trying to save their sorry butts by accusing their best friends or companions, pleading for understanding and finally being convicted.

Today Blair felt like such a prisoner. He had been released from the hospital this morning and for some reason IA had immediately requested his statement. Traumatized or not, they didn't seem to care, but firmly asked for his appearence at the station ASAP. Assholes, Blair thought as Megan Connar escorted him into the interrogation room. Murmuring comforting reassurances she probably didn't believe herself, she left him alone with - another heartfelt sigh of relief - Captain Simon Banks and an annonymous person behind the mirrored wall.

"Blair." Simon Banks stood beside his chair and extended his hand smiling a genuine smile of concern and, also, of regret. "I'm sorry you have to do this so soon," he apologized as the two men shook hands.

"It's okay, Simon," Blair replied, his face signaling that it was everything but "okay". He gingerly sat down opposite Simon, his eyes glued to the glass wall.

"Who's behind there?" he asked, nodding towards the mirror.

Simon looked up from his notes. "I'm sorry, Sandburg, I am not to tell you." He went silent for a moment. "Don't be afraid," he added searching Blair's eyes and communicateing mutely,"Jim's not here".

"No probelm," Blair replied.

"Would you like something to drink? To eat?" Simon put his hand on the telephone, as Blair nodded slowly, considering the question.

"Coffee would be good."

A cup and coffee pot were brought in and when they were alone again Banks started the tape recorder. Blair watched him with an uneasiness in his glance, following his movements, his hands were suddenly sweaty as he was forced to remember. A rape of his mind.

"I know you already said in the hopital that you didn't see and cannot give us any hint on the person who attacked you," Simon began and Blair nodded his head yes. "Please tell us what you do remember."

"I was exhausted. Went to bed early. Jim wasn't at home. He wanted to meet an informant. I think something woke me. It was dark. I couldn't move. Cuffed to the bed I guess. A gag. I mean...I was gagged."

The sentences were short, precise, and to the point. A monologue of atrocities. Blair's words replayed the eerie events of the night, cold facts, stated with only a slight tremble in his voice. However, Captain Banks noticed the interlaced fingers and the tight clasp of his hands as Blair continued.

"Someone touched me....kissed...me. He... I mean the person tried to arouse me. Can I say 'he'? Okay, he bit me. I tried to get away. But couldn't move."

Blair took a sip of his coffee before he continued, his gaze rivited to the table and the folders.

"It went on."

The anthropologist flinched as Simon's voice cut through the room.

"What did the person do?" Banks hated himself for asking those intimate questions, but if he wanted to help Blair....and Jim ...he new it was necessary.

Details were essential. Details were cruel.

Blair stared at him for a second, the big blue eyes begging for release, but like last night, fate didn't show him any mercy. Simon smiled at him apologetically, his own eyes showing his deep emotions.

"Don't know."

"Blair... please," Simon began, trying to help the young man, but Blair had already started talking again.

"All I know is it hurt. He manipulated m-my...me."

Blair took a deep breath.

"Squeezed my cock, my balls. Penis and testicles, if that's better for your records."

Simon smiled again. "It's okay Blair, say it your way."

Nodding absent-mindedly, Blair placed his hands on the table, scratching, pulling at his joints, his fingertips playing with a small piece of paper.

"Then...his fingers... No idea what he used. Just felt long and hard. Probed my ass. Too long, too thick."

Blair raised his head staring at the one-way mirror, then locked his gaze with Simon. "What was it?"

Simon swallowed. He hadn't expect that question. "The doctor didn't tell you?" At Blair's shake of the head, Simon hesitated. He looked into his report, pretending to scearch for the requested information. "Uhm..., it was...a-a nightstick".

Not acknowledging his words, Blair spoke up again.

"I probably screamed. It felt funny. No, not funny. Burnt. A pressure, you know? Tried to relax. It hurt...so much."

Blair shifted in his chair and grimaced as the soreness in his muscles made itself known again.

"It became too much. I passed out. Jim came home later. I came too. A nightstick, you say? Yeah, that would fit. Sorry about the pun. Jim called an ambulance. That's it."

A female voice penetrated the silence that followed Blair's statement. Blair stared at the mirror, as the woman asked, "Mr. Sandburg, do you have any idea who attacked you?"

"No." A flat lie - good, no one would notice.

The voice from behind the wall continued. "Would you call what happened to you last night 'rape'?"

"Yes." Truth. Pain he was SO not into.

Simon watched Blair's face, the anguish in his eyes as the listened to the impersonal questions.

"Have you ever enjoyed what is commonly known as 'kinky' foreplay?"

"What?" Disbelief.

"That's enough!" Simon jumped to his feet. "Be right back, Blair." He stormed out of the room and Blair was left alone. The young police observer smiled sadly at his friend's support. He could hear voices behind the mirror - definitely Simon who barked, roared and shouted.

Blair waited a few minutes. When Simon didn't return immediately, Sandburg spoke into the air.

"Uh..., Simon? I need to go to the bathroom.... Is that okay? I'll be right back."

Jim Ellison stopped in his tracks as his hyperactive sense of hearing picked up the familiar heartbeat of his Guide. A steady rhythm, the sweet sound that could calm him, or bring him out of a zone-out. A melody he would recognize in a crowd of thousands.

The detective hesitated, looking around carefully, as he concentrated to locate his partner's whereabouts. It must be coming from the men's room, Jim concluded as he slowly approached the door. Again, he hesitated. For whatever reason, Blair had made clear he didn't want to see him, needing time to come to terms with the attack. Jim respected his wishes, as agonizing it was for him, and violating the faith put upon him was the last thing he wanted to do. Their love was strong enough to get them through the hard times.

Wasn't it?

Jim stood perfectly still, focussing on the soothing pattern of his lover's heart beat. He enjoyed it. Separated by the distance of the walls and the ugliness of the rape, Jim's soul bathed in the familiar sound. Smiling, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

'Thank you', he thought, addressing his words to whatever powers had intervened this time, placing him in the right spot, at the right time. 'I love you, Blair,' Jim sent the message out to the young man. 'I love you more than anything,' he swore and suddenly clenched his hands into fists as his heart tightened painfully.

It was then that his ears picked up the moan. At the same instant, Blair's heartbeat sped up a bit, echoeing through Jim's head like gun fire. Another short gasp of pain followed, accompanied by a suppressed curse.

"Damn it!"

The words had barely left Blair's lips when Jim opened the door to the men's room, stepping inside the bathroom he surveyed the area. Four of the five stalls were empty, the fifth door was closed, the red sign signalling 'occupied'.

"Blair?" Jim called out to his friend.

His question was answered by another painfilled sigh and a terse, "What do you want?"

Jim stopped in front of the closed door. "Are you okay?"

"Guess what, I'm fine." There was a catch in Blair's breath and Jim knocked at the door.

"Chief.... what's wrong?" He listened again. Sandburg's heartrate had increased even more. "Let me help you."

"I'm.....ooohh-kay," Blair gasped.

"Blair? Open the door, come on!" Jim demanded, his voice sharp and leaving no rooms for discussion.

"Go!" The word was squeezed out, acknowleding the fact Blair was hurting in there. When he moaned again, Jim didn't hesitate any longer. In one swift motion he slammed his broad shoulder against the locked door, the frame and hinges giving way under his greater strength. Jim managed to balance his momentum and immediately dropped to his knees.

Sitting on the toilet Blair flinched, startled by the unexpected action. He grabbed his jeans that were down to his ankles and pulled them up to cover his modesty.

"God, Jim, what do you think you're doing?!" he shouted, straightening his back, as he tried to get as much space between him and the Sentinel as possible.

"I'm sorry, Chief," Jim murmured, as he groped for Blair's hands. "I know you're in pain....what...I want to help."

Blair wanted to escape his touch but when another wave of pain hit him, he instictively squeezed Jim's large hands. "Aaaahhhhhhh," he sighed and without breaking the contact he bent over, his head almost touching his knees, the long curls forming a thick, brown curtain.

"What's going on, Blair?" Jim asked gently, aware of the embarrassment this situation must carry for Blair.

"W-what do you think is wrong?" Blair murmured, his words muffled as he spoke them into the fabric of his jeans. He didn't want the comfort, but his heart screamed for the tender caress of Jim's squeezing fingers.

"Blair?" Jim's voice was coloured with concern.

Blair's back moved, a contradiction of muscles, and the young anthropologist almost sobbed from the sensations caused by this simple action.

"I cannot SHIT, man!" Blair exclaimed bluntly, and gasped again. "E---verything's sore b-ba-ck there...it-h-urts."

Jim closed his eyes momentarily as he realized what Blair was talking about. "God, love, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." While still holding onto Blair's hands with one of his own, Jim reached out and gently massaged Blair's shoulder. The young man shuddered, but this time Jim didn't cease his ministrations. "Easy. Do you need a doctor?" he asked.

The mop of curls shook. "No."

"I think you're bleeding, Chief," Jim said, voice hushed to an anguished whisper.

"So did I last night," came the cryptic answer and Ellison was startled by the hatered he could hear in his lover's voice. He touched Blair's head carefully, the softness of Blair's long hair feeling like velvet on his fingers as he started a gentle rubbing.

"Blair, what....?" It hurt to ask, but Jim was willing to back off if he was asked to. "Do you want me to go?"

"Yes." The curly head didn't move. Just the one trembling word that threatened to cut their fragile bond permantely.

Jim flinched. Sighing, he started to get up as Blair suddenly increased his grip on Jim's hand.

"Jim?" The anthropologist's voice was tear-stricken. With his face still buried on his knees Blair pulled at the hand.

"What is it, Chief?" Jim crouched down again waiting for Blair's next move.

"Hold me?"

The unexpected request was met with a warm embrace, Jim's strong arms enfolding Blair's shaking body. Blair encircled the older man's waist, his hands meeting on Jim's back, fingers interlaced and squeezed tightly. Sobs erupted from the depths of his soul moistening the Sentinel's shirt. The silent crying, interrupted by occasional hiccups, was the only audible sound.

"I'm sorry," Blair mumbled when he regained his composure.

"Sshhhhh," Jim whispered stroking Blair's scalp. "It's okay, don't be sorry. There's no need for you to be sorry."

Neither man said anything.

"I thought it was you," Blair suddenly admitted frankly. For a millisecond Blair could feel Jim's body stiffen at his words, but then Jim just hugged him tighter.

"I know you're scared, Chief," Jim spoke up finally. "But I hope you know I'd never hurt you."

Blair nodded against his chest. His heart knew. His mind wasn't sure, his memory told him otherwise and his body remembered the pain, but his heart was positive.

"Look at me," Jim demanded gently and Blair raised his head. With his curls obscuring his view and his eyes still swimming in tears, the young man blinked several times.

"I love you," Jim stressed, those incredibly blue eyes shining with warmth and ...

...the piercing green emeralds of a spotted jaguar.

Blair blinked again. The eerie colour play vanished, and Blair wasn't even sure if it had happened.

Part VI - Hope and Denial

Everything would be fine. Okay. Like before. The first steps were taken and the light at the end of the tunnel shone brightly. Everything would be settled, the explanation satisfactory and, most importantly, plausible. The cobwebs would be cleared, the spider dead.

A feeling of new hope flashed through Blair's heart as he and Jim approached Captain Banks' office side by side.

Like before. Everything was fine. Fine. Yeah, no problem.

"You okay, Chief?" Jim asked as he knocked at the glass door.

"Come in!" Banks barked from inside, as Blair nodded tentatively.

"I think so."

"Okay." They entered the office.

Okay. Everything was cool.

Simon raised his eyebrows as the two men stepped into his office.

"Blair?...Jim..." he began.

"Sir? You said you wanted to talk to me?" Jim stood in front of the desk whereas Blair remained at the door.

Simon's gaze roamed from Jim to Blair and back, confusion evident on his face. "Yes, Jim.... " He made a vague gesture including both men. "What's with....?" he trailed off.

"Everything's cool, Simon," Blair replied simply.

Jim smiled warmly and turned his head to look at Blair for a moment. They exchanged a knowing glance, and their silent conversation didn't escape the captain's attention.

Simon sighed. "I'm glad to hear that." He hesitated, leafing through the notes on his desk. "Sandburg, would you wait outside, please?"

"Why?!" The question came in unison and Simon raised his hand to pacify any outbursts.

"I need to talk to Jim alone," he explained, gaining puzzled looks from both of them. "Please," Simon added.

Jim nodded, Blair shook his head.

"Blair -"

"No, Jim!" The anthropologist's voice was determined, leaving no room for negotiation. "Does it concern the...case?" Blair swallowed, avoiding the dreadful 'r-word'.

"Yes," Simon admitted.

"I'm staying."

"Chief, I think I know what Simon wants to talk about and it's not necessary for you to hear it," Jim reasoned.

"Jim, I wanna hear it. I'm part of this as much as you are" Blair insisted, crossing his arms over his chest, seeming a bit like a stubborn child.

Simon watched the young man, wondering what this "as much as you are" was supposed to mean but the police captain didn't press the issue. What he had to say was hard enough.

"Jim, IA has requested that you be taken off duty for the time being," Banks informed calmly.

"WHAT?" The outburst came from Sandburg who crossed the short distance between the door and Simon's desk in a few quick strides. "Simon, they can't do that!" the anthropologist exclaimed.

"I guess they do what they have to do, huh?" Jim replied and placed his badge and gun on Simon's desk. That was all he said, his voice showing no emotion, no rage, no denial.

"NO!" Blair took Jim's badge. "They can't do that!" Grabbing Jim's hand, he put the shield back into Jim's palm.

"Sandburg!" Banks interrupted his litany sharply.

The long curls whirled through the air as Blair's head snapped around. "Damnit, Captain! This is wrong!" His voice was loud and shrill on the last words.

"Chief...," Jim began, putting a hand on the younger man's shoulder to sooth him, placing the badge back on the desk.

Blair tensed up at the touch, but at the same moment he shrugged off Jim's hand, annoyance and anger visible on his face. "Come on, Jim! Open your eyes, man!"

"...calm down, Blair," Jim said, knowing all too well his words wouldn't be heard. "IA has to consider the evidence and at this time..."

Blair exploded.

"Don't you see it? Someone's trying to frame you. Someone's blaming you for those terrible things the Jim Ellison I know would never do. It started with this Kevin Myers guy, right? Then..then..then....then...." Blair stuttered suddenly, unable to form a sentence that would describe the insidious deed done to him. "T-t-then...", his voice suddenly cracked, tears pooled in his eyes and he turned his head. "You're the only one...," he trailed off.

"Sandburg, do you think I'm blind?" Simon cut in, his voice firm, his eyes sparkling with something resembling rage. "I know as well as you that someone is playing a nasty game here but to prove Jim's innocence, we have to go by the book. Do you understand?"

Blair still hid his face from the two older men. Wiping away the moisture in his eyes, he nodded. "Sure."

"What do want me to do, Simon?" Jim asked, listening to Blair's thundering heartbeat as the police observer tried to get his emotions under control.

"Go to IA and answer their questions. Stay cool, don't provoke them," Simon warned. A thought came to mind. "Jim, did you use your senses at the loft to find anything that could give us a lead?"

As Jim shook his head, Blair's turned around. "Why not?" he asked, his voice suddenly gaining a sharp underlying threat.

Jim shrugged, a helpless gesture. "I tried but it was too overwhelming. My sense of smell couldn't let go of your scent."

Blair nodded, understanding. "Simon, would it make sense to let forensics check out the place again after such a long time?"

This time, Jim raised his eyebrows. "Why? I mean...if you help me through it, I could probably filter through the different smells and find a lead." He caught Simon's approving glance. "Do you feel up to it, Chief?" Jim asked gently.

The impressive blue eyes met his, as Blair swallowed hard and said: "This might sound very strange but I would feel more comfortable with a forensics team out there than you." When he saw disblief, then hurt, then anger crossing the Sentinel's face, Blair whispered, "I'm sorry."

'What did you hear, Sandburg?' The question emerged from his subconscious. 'Remember what you heard!'

"How many times did you tell me my senses are better than any lab analysis?" Jim replied. "And all of a sudden I'm not good enough anymore? What are you suggesting, Sandburg? That I would destroy or overlook evidence?"

"Yes."

The word hung in the air, silence enveloping the three men as the voiced accusation hit its target. Blair stared at Jim. Jim's gaze rested on Blair's face before he turned his head away and locked his eyes with Simon's dark pools of total confusion and puzzlement.

"What is that supposed to mean, Blair?" Simon asked.

Before Sandburg could answer, Jim jumped in for him, his voice barely controlled and quivering with rage. "It means Sandburg thinks what everybody else seems to think at this moment. That I did it, right?"

Blair shook his head and opened his mouth to take the sting out of his statement, but Jim suddenly lurched forward and grabbed the younger man's upper arms.

"Come on, Sandburg, spit it out! You think it was me, don't you? That I raped you, I fucked you senseless with that stick until you screamed and your asshole oozed with blood. It was fun, wasn't it, Chief? Oh, yeah, you think I enjoyed it. You know I've always wanted to have you that way. My dark side, you know?" He pulled his lover closer into an odd embrace, his large hand cupping Blair's butt. Jim squeezed the jeans-clad muscles, and Blair let out a short gasp of pain.

"I love to hear you scream, buddy!" Abruptly, Jim released Blair's arms and shoved him away. The young man stumbled against Simon's desk, his mouth open in a mute protest.

"Ellison!" Simon stood behind his desk, reaching out to put a hand on Blair's shoulder. The young man had gone pale at Jim's bluntness, his heart pounding fiercely, and the blood rushed in his ears.

"You're as sick as that bastard who raped you, Sandburg," Jim shot his last dart but tears sparkled in his eyes. "How could you ever think that of me?"

Simon rounded his desk and touched Jim's arm, turning him towards the door. "We're all stressed out, Jim. I want you to wait outside and don't..." He raised a finger to punctuate his statement, "....don't listen in!"

"Chief..., I don't know why I said that," Jim started, stepping forward towards Blair who hadn't moved and still leaned against Simon's desk, his body trembling, his hands clutching the edge of the table.

"I told you I would never hurt you, remember?" Jim almost shouted as Simon reached out to open the door and lead him outside.

The telephone rang.

"Stay put!" The captain ordered and with his eyes still rivited on Jim he returned to his desk and answered the call.

"You okay, Sandburg?" he asked, before he spoke into the receiver, "BANKS!"

Blair nodded mutely. His mouth was slightly open, as he tried to take some deep breaths to calm his heartbeat. The hope he'd felt before had been replaced by the same old fear he'd felt for the last 48 hours. The fear, the betrayal and, what was most painful, the love he still had for Jim threatened to tear his heart into pieces, eating him up from the inside, skinning him alive.

Please, Jim. I love you.

Simon Banks ended the call with a tired "thanks", and hung up the phone. He stared at his desk for a long time, saying nothing, as if he braced himself for what he had to say.

"What is it, Simon?" Jim broke the silence, taking a step forward - and Blair moved sidewards in a matching motion. Away from his tormenter.

Again. Last time he hadn't been able to perform this simple movement.

Simon raised his head. "That was forensics. They just finished with the samples taken from Blair at the emerency room."

The shivering increased, and Blair hugged himself as Simon's words brought back the memory. NO! No...

"I'm sorry, Blair, this must be painful, " Simon apologized, noticing Blair's struggles to keep his posture. "They analyzed the tissue samples from the bite wounds around Blair's..., uhm,..on the chest. They compared it with your medical file and your dental records, Jim." The dark man looked from Jim to Blair. "The samples do NOT match."

Blair Sandburg took a deep shuddering breath. Then, his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed bonelessly to the floor.

Part VII - Sentinel and Guide

A hand touched his face, patting his cheek lightly. "Hey, Sandburg! Come on, wake up, kid!" The voice sound vaguely familiar but Blair couldn't associate a name with the voice. A damp washcloth was placed on his forehead and the anthropologist shivered at the coolness. He was cold again.

Weakly he reached up, groping for the cloth, as the same voice said, "Captain Banks? I think he's coming to."

Footsteps.

Dumping the cloth somewhere beside him, Blair slowly opened his eyes. He squinted as his world came back into focus. Dr. Dan Wolfe and Simon Banks were in front of him.

"Am I dead?" Blair tried a joke at the sight of the medical examiner.

The two men chuckled. "Not quite, Sandburg," Simon growled smilingly. "You just checked out on us for a few minutes."

Dan Wolfe gently touched Blair's wrist to check his pulse again. "How are you feeling?" he inquired.

Blair asked his body the same question, as he struggled to remember what had happened. "I'm fine. Just dizzy." He tried to sit up slowly and the ME supported his body with strong hands. As he sat up, the room spun in front of his eyes again and Blair covered his eyes, groaning. "Oh, man." He rested his head in his hands, taking deep breaths. After a few moments he looked up.

"When was the last time you ate?" Wolfe wanted to know.

Blair shrugged and the doctor turned around. "Captain, could you organize something to eat?" His attention went back to the police observer, as Simon picked up the phone. "Listen, Sandburg, I can imagine you don't feel like eating but you have to. You collapsed because your body decided it was time to issue a warning. The stress caused by the trauma you suffered added to it."

Blair nodded mutely and his hand moved to his stomach as it growled loudly. He grimaced. "I don't think I can eat."

Dan smiled reassuringly and patted Blair's leg. "Even if most of my patients are dead, you can trust me on this. Eat and you'll feel better in no time."

Simon replaced the receiver. "Rhonda'll bring something for you, Blair," he promised.

Now that Blair was awake and coherent, the ME figured his assistance was no longer needed. He squeezed Blair's shoulder lightly.

"Take it easy, kid." He turned around facing Banks. "I gotta go, sir. Make sure he eats and he'll be okay."

"I sure will," the captain reassured him as Dr. Wolfe left the office.

Would things ever be okay? Blair shuddered.

"Where's Jim?" Blair suddenly remembered the last minutes before he'd passed out.

"It's not important right now, " the captain answered. A knock at the door annouced Rhonda, and seconds later, the young woman stepped into the office. She placed a tray on the conference table.

"I've got some juice for you, Blair. Also coffee, a tuna sandwich, some apples and chicken soup," she recited and smiled. "Sorry, that's all I could get at such short notice. Would you like me to go to the store and pick up something else?"

"No, thanks, Rhonda," Blair murmured and she left the office.

"Where's Jim?" Blair repeated.

Simon sighed. "Listen, Sandburg..."

The young man stood up, wobbly legs carrying him towards the taller man. "Simon, I have to talk to him. I need to .... I said things I shouldn't have said. I hurt him. I have talk to him."

Simon picked up the glass of juice and offered it Blair. "Come on, Blair, you have to get something in your stomach."

Blair ignored it. "Damnit, captain! I accused him of raping me! And he's innocent for God's Sake! Can you imagine how he must feel right now? Where is he?" The conference table came within reach and Blair grabbed the edge of as another wave of dizziness overtook him.

Banks moved quickly to support the young man, steering him to a nearby chair. Blair allowed Simon to maneuver him, suddenly too tired to fight about something as silly as food. He sat down and Simon pushed the tray in front of him.

"Listen to me, Sandburg. Geez, you're as stubborn as Ellison. Here's the deal: You , you get something in your stomach and I get Jim," Simon ordered. "I wasn't sure if... never mind. He's in the break room." Watching Blair's lifeless eyes, he took the student's hand and once again placed the juice into his hand. "Drink this."

"How could this have happened, Simon?" Blair's hand shook as he brought the glass to his lips and sipped the juice. "Why would someone....?" he trailed off.

Simon shook his head. "I ... I don't know, kid. I really don't know."

When Blair finally started to eat the soup, Banks patted his shoulder.

"I'll get Jim," he promised and left the room.

Sentinel.

Blessed protector.

Friend.

Lover.

Blair scribbled the words on the edge of the "Cascade Herald" that was lying on the conference table. He circled the words 'Sentinel' and 'blessed protector' wondering what secrets the myth still carried for him. What did Burton's theory hide? Crossing out those two words, he stared at the remaining two, 'friend' and 'lover'. What had made him doubt Jim? Why suddenly has his head taken over while his heart screamed 'Jim loves you'? The answer lay in the sentence that had tormented Blair's mind constantly during the last days. A sentence as cold as the voice that had said it.

"Let's wrap this up."

Blair flinched as the memory overwhelmed him.

He tore off the edge of the newspaper and shoved the piece into his pants' pocket. Standing up, he looked out of the window, taking in the gray clouds looming over Cascade. Rain drops spattered against the window.

Behind him, the door opened.

Without turning around, Blair spoke to the rain.

"I was thinking about what Simon had told us that morning. You know, about Kevin Myers and the modesting charges. I remembered Kaplan and what you had told me about him. Why would someone ever even think you might be capable of doing something as cruel as raping another person? I thought about it, a lot. I was struggling to find an explanation while I waited for you to come home from that meeting with your informant. My heart knew it was all a lie. It was a clear someone was trying to destroy your reputation. I didn't hear anything but when I tried to move... I couldn't. My arms and legs were bound, chained to the bedposts ... I couldn't move one bit. I was scared. I tried to speak, to scream, to fight .. but the gag muffled everything. That was probably a smart idea, the gag I mean. My screaming would certainly have ruptured his eardrums. The guy started working on me. He wore gloves. He tried to turn me on, squeezed and caressed... certain spots,... you know, ... like pressing buttons on a machine. Funny, I still remember the disgusting feeling when my nipples grew hard. I didn't want that to happen... but I couldn't stop it. I hated it. Then,... like he had just decided it would be cool to draw some blood,... he bit me. I know I screamed... but it was useless. No one could hear me. His hands trailed down my body, reaching my cock and balls. I knew what was coming. While he pumped me, ...I grew hard,... In my mind I reached out for you. I tried to send you a message over the distance, with my power of will. That must sound silly, I know, but when I thought of you it hurt less. I called out for you over and over again knowing it was no use. I was kinda surprised when he didn't use himself. Simon said it was a nightstick. It hurt like nothing I've ever felt. The thing wasn't bigger than your cock, ...god, how does that sound? It was hard. He probed gently at first...like he was trying to make me feel good but it hurt anyway. The last thing I remember was suddenly hearing your voice ... I was so relieved you were home. My hero. You had come for me. "Let's wrap this up," you said. I expected to hear a fight... or a gun shot. Instead -...," Blair broke his monologue and shook his head. He turned around to face his Sentinel, Blessed Protector, friend and lover.

The rain had left tracks on both their faces, as Blair finished, " -... he made me think it was you. And I believed it." His voice cracked. "I'm sorry, Jim!" He turned around again, covering his face with one hand. "I knew he would rape me. But, it wasn't so frightening because I knew you would help me through it. I sought the strength to deal with what was happening to me by thinking of you." His shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Strong arms enfolded him from behind and gently pulled him closer. His head came back to rest against Jim's chest, as the two men stood, watching the rain.

"You don't have to apologize, Blair," Jim spoke up finally, his voice strained with emotion. "I'm so sorry that I wasn't there in time to prevent it." He was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry acted like a jerk earlier. I don't know what came over me." He bowed his head and placed a short kiss on the mountain of curls. "Did I hurt you?"

"You had every right to be pissed, Jim," Blair replied, shaking his head and covered Jim's hand with is own. "I should've never said that. What... Why... Why did I ever believe you did that to me?" The hug tightened. "Forgive me?"

Jim clenched his jaws at the pain in his Guide's voice. "There's nothing to forgive, my love."

After another round of silence while both men enjoyed the comfort of the other ones presence, Jim squeezed Blair's hands, emphasizing his words with this actions. "We'll get this guy, Blair, I promise you, we'll catch him and then I'll make him pay for what he did to you... to us...."

"Jim?" Blair's voice was steady again. He turned around in his lover's arms and looked up into his face. "Do you think, uhm, do you think you'd be able to ... with my help ... check out the loft?"

The detective watched him calmly. The blue eyes surveying his lover to determine if he could stand the sight of the crime scene. Then Ellison nodded. "We'll beat him," he said. "You and me."

Blair wrapped his arms around Jim. "I believe you," he whispered. It was a vow of love.

How many times had they made love in the big, comfortable, cozy king-size bed? How many times had they cuddled closely together enjoying the aftermath of their loving?

How many times...?

As they climbed the stairs leading to their bedroom, Jim suddenly felt Blair's sweaty hand taking his. Tuning in to his mate's vitals, Ellison found the heart racing again, the breathing pattern irregular, the scent of fear pouring from Sandburg's body.

"You don't have to come up there, sweetheart," Jim whispered and stopped short before they reached the upper floor. "As long as I can hear your voice to concentrate on, I'll be fine," he explained, but the young man shook his head slowly.

"No, I want to be there," he said firmly.

Be there to prevent the destruction of evidence...

STOP IT! Sandburg shook his head again, more fierce this time. Why did these thoughts keep tormenting him? A feeling of uncertainty and the cold fist of fear knotted his stomach, as Blair followed Jim.

They reached the bedroom.

The covers were crumpled, partly thrown to the floor as were the pillows, displaying the remains of the attack in cold blue and yellow. According to Simon, the forensics team had examined the bedroom, taking fibres from the bedcloth and sheets. But what could they have found that would escape the skilled hands of a Major Crimes detec--

"Oh man," Blair groaned as the distasteful thought invaded his head again. He turned around from the sight of the bed and took a few deep breaths.

Jim's hand came down on his shoulder. "You okay, Chief?"

"Yeah, it's just...the memory, you know?" Blair replied, shaking a bit. "You haven't been here since...?" The anthropologist trailed off as Jim nodded. "Okay, go ahead," he motioned for Jim. "I'll be here."

Scanning the room with his enhanced vision, the Sentinel zeroed in to the bed sheets and pillows, searching the carpet, the nightstand, the nearby chair, the table, returning to the bed. Focussing on the red spot in the middle of the sheets, Jim could see the blood that had dried on the cloth.

"Come on, come on," he murmured encouragingly as he switched from sight to smell.

"Take it easy, Jim," Blair's soothing voice was behind him. "Don't force it. Let the sensations come to you."

So many different odors came down on Jim's nostrils, sending his brain spinning as he tried to identify the scents. He smelled Blair; His shampoo and aftershave, a composition of herbs, musk but also sweet.

Blood.

He remembered the smell. Just like the other night. Was it real, or just a sense memory? Jim frowned as he extended his senses deeper into. There was something else.

Identify the foreign matter. A long forgotten memory came to mind. An experiment of sugar, salt, vanilla extract - and bad milk. The remembrance of Blair's voice eoched throught his head. Identify...

"I smell...leather," Jim murmured. "Could be..."

"Gloves," Blair supplied. "He was wearing leather gloves." He stepped forward and touched Jim's back. "Try to go deeper. Try to detect anything that leads from the smell of the leather."

Focussing again, Jim inhaled deeply.

"You," Jim said. "I can smell you. The one scent is faint and then there's you...standing beside me." He smiled a bit.

"This is good, Jim," Blair praised. "Go on."

"There's...," Jim's brows creased. "...there's the gloves again. But... I cannot pinpoint any distinguished scent. Everything's...normal. Like, like, every night. The only other smell in here is..." Jim opened his eyes. "...mine." He turned around staring at his lover. "I can't...," he broke off, his voice coloured with frustration.

"It's okay, Jim," Blair said. "It's only natural you pick up our scents. We spend so much time up here it must have soaked into the bed like water."

Neither of them was satisfied with the explanation but Blair patted Jim's back in a comforting gesture. The Sentinel groped for his hand, clasping it tightly acknowledging Blair's silent support and returning it.

The scent of leather hung in the air, as the two men walked down the stairs.

Sentinel and Guide.

Part VIII - Nightmare

They ate. They talked little and finally they did the dishes in a deafening silence. Jim cleaned their plates and cups, and Blair dried them off, placing them into the cupboard. The soft clicking of the china was the only sound.

Surprisingly, it was Blair who broke the silence first. "I can't sleep upstairs, Jim," he confessed, his hand trembling slightly as put the dish towel away.

Jim drained the sink, his jaw clenched at Blair's words, but the detective nodded. "I understand." Turning to face his lover, he smiled sadly. "I don't look forward to sleeping upstairs either. But who knows? Sleeping in your old room might be quite cozy."

Blair stepped back. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be alone tonight, Jim." He shook his head and traced the edge of the counter with his fingertips. "I want to be with you so badly, Jim, I want to hug you, and I want to be hugged, but..." he trailed off and shrugged. "I don't know what's wrong with me." His voice cracked. "I hate this!"

The pain he saw in his lover's eyes made Jim swear another death wish against the man who had invaded their lives and done harm to both of their souls. Tentatively, Jim moved forward, relief rushed through his body as Blair did not flinch away.

"It's gonna be okay, Chief. There's nothing wrong with you. We'll manage this. There's nothing and nobody that can tear us apart. I promise."

Blair returned his gaze. "I wish I could believe you," he mumbled. Moisture pooled in his eyes and he wiped at them furiously. "What if... what if he's never found? What if this shadow will always be between us? What if.... what if we ... I can never..." He moved forward again and stood directly in front of the Sentinel. He reached out and gently touched the older man's arm.

"I love you, Chief," Jim vowed, cherishing the subtle touch of Blair's hand on his arm. "And I'll do everything in my power to gain your trust again."

Blair's hand brushed over Jim's lower arms, feeling the soft texture of hair and the iron-like strength of muscles hovering under the surface. "I trust you." He caressed the skin with light touches and tenderly took Jim's hand.

The Sentinel held his breath watching silently as Blair moved his hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on his fingers. Jim's heart pounded. Joy filled his heart at the sight of this simple gesture of love.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsly, turning his hand carefully to stroke Blair's cheek. The anthropologist leaned into the touch and smiled as a few tears leaked from his eyes.

The night came, settling its dark curtain over Cascade. Lying on his bed, Jim Ellison stared out the window at thick rain clouds moving across the sky like couriers of doom. Watching the spooky scenario Jim listened to the sounds Blair made downstairs.

The young man roamed around the loft for a long time after Jim went to bed. As silent as was possible with a Sentinel around, Blair made some tea, then took another shower.

The gentle spray of water hitting Blair's skin made Jim long for him. Closing his eyes, Jim's ears followed Blair's movements, enjoying the little noises he made. Blair at the sink, brushing his teeth, splashing water into his face, drying off with a towel, accidentally brushing over the shaving equipment, rattling of glass.

Jim smiled. Blair was alive, breathing, under his roof. His smile faltered.

...and yet miles away.

Focussing on the activities in the bathroom again, Jim listened in as Blair opened the lid of the toilet, disrobing...

Jim shut down his hearing, suddenly aware of the fact he was invading Blair's privacy, something Blair needed most at this time. Sighing, the detective curled up on his side, beating on the pillow to make himself more comfortable. It didn't feel right. He had slept alone for a long time before they had become lovers but he hadn't felt alone ever since. He missed his lover. Suffering a painful loss, Jim's heart mourned.

Blair left the bathroom and finally retreated to his old room. He closed the door and turned the lock.

Jim froze, closing his eyes at the sound of the locking door, and he took a deep breath. His nostrils moved as the scents lingering in the air tormented him.

Love.

Sweat. Blood. Pain. Fear.

Semen.

Jim tossed himself onto his stomach, burying his face deeper into the pillow, the blanket tightly wrapped around him.

Blair was afraid to close his eyes. The lamp on the bedside table dimly lit his old room, casting eerie shadows on the walls, forming demons of his imagination. Like a little child, Blair tugged at his blanket, curling up into a tight ball, his blue eyes never leaving the locked door.

Suddenly, the room went dark as the little lamp died. The numbers on his electric alarm clock faded in front of his eyes. The door burst open and a dark figure crashed into his room.

"NO!" Blair screamed and tried to escape, jumping off his bed. Tangled in his bedcovers, Blair fought to scramble away but the dark figure threw himself at the young man, pinning him down on the small bed.

"NO!!!! Go away....!!!" Blair fought the intruder, hitting the tall man with his fist, and kicking out fiercely. In the darkness of the room, Blair could only see a shadow, but his breath caught in his throat as the man pressed his weight onto his body, efficiently imobilizing him.

"JIM!!" The name left his mouth before a fleshy hand was pressed into his face. Blair tried to bite down onto the hand but the pressure was too much, preventing any defensive action.

A second hand grabbed at his crotch. Through the cloth of his sweatpants, his genitals were squeezed roughly.

Through the fog of his restless sleep, Jim heard the scream. Bolting upright, the Sentinel scanned his surroundings.

Grabbing his gun, Jim jumped out of his bed. Later he would have no memory of how he got downstairs. Crossing the living-room, he crashed against the locked door of Blair's room. Under the power of his weight, it snapped off its hinges. Stumbling into the small room, Jim adjusted his vision. To the Sentinel's enhanced sight the room was as bright as daylight.

"Freeze! Police!" he shouted, pointing his gun at the scene in front of him.

He stopped in his tracks.

He stared.

He stopped breathing.

Despite his sensitive eyes, the person hovering over Blair's smaller body remained in darkness, only the vague shape of a man came into focus. Jim blinked, concentrating on his senses trying to see the intruder. However, all the detective could make out was Blair's struggling form, legs kicking viciously, trying to fight off the man; his arms and upper body were pressed into the matress, his cries of pain and horror were muffled by a strong hand.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!"

Jim's vision suddenly clouded and the intruder transformed into the elegant, dangerous shape of a jaguar! The spotted fur shone in the moonlight, changing to an all-black coat for an instant before returning to its orginal markings. The animal snarled, white carnassial teeth flashing.

Beneath the large cat, the human form of Blair had vanished, leaving the writhing body of a wolf. It bled profusely where the sharp claws of the jaguar had torn the light fur. The animal's stomach and legs oozed dark blood. Whimpering but still trying to defend itself from the jaguar's attack, the wolf howled. At the anguished sound the spotted cat turned its majestic head back towards the wolf. The cat seemed almost affectionate as it morphed from spotted to black to spotted again in the blink of an eye. Then the spotted jaguar raised its head to deliver the death stroke.

Cocking his gun Jim fired at the jaguar. The bullets bounced off the spotted fur, inflicting no harm.

The Sentinel shot again. And again.

The wolf howled one last time as the jaguar's teeth came down on its throat.

After that...silence. Silence that was only interrupted by the heart-wrenching scream of a Sentinel. Jim dropped to his knees, paralyized. The wolf was dead. The jaguar disappeared.

Somebody shook him roughly. Strong hands had grabbed his shoulders, while a voice shouted his name over and over again.

"JIM!!"

Numbly, Jim recognized the familiar voice of his Guide. Blair called out to him. Again the young man shouted his name. The echo reveberated through Jim's skull and he could feel each syllable like the crack of a whip. The wolf was dead. Blair was....

"JIM!" The voice again. Anguished.

No. Not anguished. He... Blair sounded scared. He was close. If he concentrated Jim could feel the anthropologist's breath on his face. How come? The wolf, Blair...

"Come on, Jim! Wake up! Don't do this to me!" Blair sounded almost angry now, far away from the painful screams he'd uttered before. Far away... from a distance...

"Open your eyes, man!" The order was sharp, the hand on his shoulders digging into his flesh.

"Blair," Jim croaked. The image of the jaguar and wolf still vivid in his mind, Ellison shook his head. "Blair....," he whispered again. "Nonono, god no...please...I....love you....don't....go...stay...with mestaywithmestaywithme... please. I...need you...Blairblairlblair..." His words came fast, a waterfall of pleas and whimpers, a rambling born of fear and the vicious nightmare that still gripped him.

"I'm here, Jim, I'm here," Blair's voice promised.

"Nononono....go away...The jaguar...I can't I can't protect....the wolf....blood. god no, no, no, why...please...."

Unable to stop the flow of words, Blair briefly considered slapping Jim's face but held back as he considered possibility of a violent reaction. Jim was still caught in the claws of his nightmare, words making no sense, his body shaking with the terror of what he had seen.

"Jim, please. Everything's okay. Nobody's gonna hurt you...or me," the young man added, realizing the Sentinel must have dreamt of him, or of something terrible happening to him. Something like the other night...

Blair swallowed. Oh no....

"Come on, love, please...come back to me...," Blair pleaded, his hand touching Jim's face.

"NO!!!!" Jim flinched away from the touch. "Don't....BLA--IR!!!"

Tasting the sound of his own name, Blair rushed forward and pressed his lips to Jim's. Capturing the breath voicing his name, the student silenced the fearful pleas of his lover with the sweetest gag. This kiss was gentle, but firm. At first, Jim's lips were cold against the soft flesh of Blair's mouth. Tenderly probing with his tongue Blair deepened the one-way kiss as best as he could. Sliding through the half-open lips, his hot tongue trying to explore the once familiar territory, sucking gently, and enjoying the warm caress of Jim's breath.

Jim's nose was filled with the scent of Blair. His hands rose, touching a silky mane of curls. Curls belonging to Blair. His mouth enjoyed the taste of Blair. His ears captured the rhythmic melody of a heartbeat that was Blair's.

Awakening from his nightmare, the Sentinel blinked.

Blair.

Part IX - Relief

"Morning, Jim," Blair greeted his partner. Standing at the kitchen counter and preparing breakfast, the young man's smile faded from his face as he watched Jim.

Buttoning up his shirt, the detective slowly, ghost-like, decended the stairs, his eyes staring at nothing in particular. He reached the living-room, rounded couch and table and finally joined his lover in the kitchen. With his thoughts a lifetime away, Jim opened the cupboard to retrieve a cup.

"What?" he suddenly said. Turning to Blair, he asked, "Did you say something?"

Blair poured some coffee into the cup Jim offered. "I just said 'good morning'," the anthropologist repeated, his worries growing as Jim slowly walked over to the dining-room table. Sitting down, Ellison shoved the cup out of reach and rested his head in his hands.

"You okay Jim?" Blair asked, joining him at the table.

Jim didn't reply right away. Rubbing his face he sighed deeply and scratched his scalp. His hand shook as he reached out and took a sip from his coffee. "What happened last night?" he asked, ignoring Blair's concern.

Blair shrugged. "I don't know, man, you tell me."

As Jim's hand began to shake violently, threatening to spill the coffee, the young man took it and squeezed it gently. "Tell me about the nightmare."

Returning the light pressure, Jim closed his eyes briefly. "I dreamt. Pictures. Terrible pictures in my head. About that night." He shook his head and stared out of baloncy windows, focussing on something out there only a Sentinel's eye could see. When he didn't continue, Blair spoke softly.

"Jim? Hey, man, come back to me... There's nothing important out there," he joked, stroking the older man's arm to bring him back from his concentrated state.

Jim blinked. "What...?" Realizing he had been on the verge of a zone-out, Jim smiled gratefully. "Thanks." His fingers wiggled in Blair's hand as if he was checking for its reality.

"I heard you scream," he started again. "I grabbed my gun, and ran downstairs." He frowned. "Thinking about it, I didn't dream about the other night. I ran downstairs meaning......meaning it... I ...probably.. my subconscious tried to deal with....", he trailed off.

Patting his hand lovingly, Blair nodded in understanding. "It's okay, Jim. I know, I know."

"Your room was locked and I crashed through the door. Someone was .......was...was on... was hurting you. I aimed my gun, but he didn't move. You fought him, but he was stronger. I shouted a warning but he didn't react at all. I fired at him but the bullet bounced off."

A shudder went through his body, tensing his muscles. "I shot him but it didn't affect him." Anguished eyes locked with Blair's. "You were dead." Jim paused a second. "The next thing I knew you were kissing me."

Blair smiled sadly. "I couldn't wake you up and didn't know what to do." He laced his fingers with Jim. "It was just a dream," he soothed.

However, Jim shook his head. "It was so real. I felt so helpless." He looked into Blair's expressive eyes again. "There was something else," he continued.

"What do you mean?"

The detective grimaced, unsure, trying to remember the nightmare. "I can't say. It's a feeling, a bad feeling, something like butterflies in the stomach. I get it when I try to remember the dream. I mean, what I told you happened, but still - there's more." Jim sighed and reached for his coffee. "Maybe I'm losing my mind."

His lover smiled affectionately. "I'm sure it'll come back to you when your mind feels it's time to remember."

Nodding mutely, Jim studied the surface of the table, his fingers tracing the patterns in the wood. There was something in the back of his mind that set off alarm bells, alerting him to an invisible danger. Yet, as much as he concentrated to clear the cobwebs, that particular part of his memory remained in darkness. Whereas the pictures of the night faded in the bright daylight, the forebodings made his heart clench.

"Jim, I know it's probably none of my business, but where did you go last night?" Blair asked. At Jim's puzzled expression, the young man explained, "I heard you come downstairs and leave the loft."

Not recalling such an event, Jim played along. "I needed some fresh air and went for a long walk." He went outside? Not wanting to worry Blair he smiled reassuringly. "I couldn't sleep at first so I jogged around the block a few times."

Returning to the kitchen , the two men started their breakfast. Strangely, the atmosphere was much more relaxed than the evening before. Maybe it was due to the nightmare they now somehow both shared. Blair prepared some scrambled eggs while Jim rushed downstairs to the bakery around the corner. Minutes later, the scent of fresh waffles and donuts wafted through their home.

"Do you think you would feel up to coming to the station today?" Jim asked carefully as he and Blair settled down at the table again to eat breakfast.

Stopping his munching, Blair slowly shook his head. "Uhm, sorry, big guy... I can't." The disappointment on Jim's face made him add an explanation, "I-- I have an appointment with the doctor this morning."

Startled, Jim raised his head and stared at his partner. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" he asked, his voice and eyes showing the concern and love Blair had longed for a few days ago while lying on an cold examination table being proked and probbed.

For some reason Blair blushed as the words left his mouth. "Well, they need to ckeck, uhm, my...., they need to..the stitches and all, you know?" Abandoning the waffle he had just picked up on his fork, Blair bowed his head in embarrassment.

Jim reached out to tenderly pat the other man's hand. "I'm sorry, Blair, that was an insensitive question."

"It's okay," Blair mumbled, turning his hand so that their fingers, once again this morning, laced forming a human bond.

The Sentinel's incredible blue eyes shone warmly. "Does it still hurt much?" he asked sympathetically, although he already knew the answer. Despite the fact he had sworn to respect Blair's need for privacy, Jim could not have prevented hearing the low, anguished moans coming from the bathroom everytime Blair had to go. And he always noticed the almost imperceptible wince when Sandburg sat down.

"Enough to forever ban the thought of ever having sex with you again," Blair said bitterly. Shocked by his own choice of words, the young teacher looked up into Jim's pained eyes. Their hands broke the connection as if severed by a guillotine.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it to come out like that," the anthropologist apologized quickly reaching out for Jim's hand again. "I'm sorry, Jim."

"It's okay. I understand." Ellison withdrew his hand.

The door to Simon Banks' office burst open, connecting forcefully with the glass wall. Everyone in the bullpen flinched at the loud rattling noise and turned their heads towards the tall, dark figure of their superior officer. Banks stood in the frame of the door, one hand holding a cigar, the other on his hip.

"Ellison! My office! Now!" he barked, leaving no room for discussion. His voice was unbearbly loud to the Sentinel's ear, as always, but unlike other times, it didn't sound angry, dismayed or like he had just hung up the phone with the mayor. It just sounded urgent.

"Sir?" Ellison stepped into the office and the captain closed the door behind him.

"Don't 'sir' me, Jim!" Simon scolded. "Not now." He gestured towards the chairs in front of his desk. "Sit down."

Jim complied. "What's up, Simon? Is it IA again? What do they want this time? To dismember me?" He chuckled but his heart ached again. "Sandburg'd probably go for it." The same bitterness Blair had felt earlier that morning now spilled involuntarily from Jim's mouth.

Simon stared at him for a moment before he sat down behind his large desk. Ignoring the detective's mockery, he asked, "Where's Blair?"

Wrong question Banks thought, as he noticed Jim's features growing dark.

"He needed another check-up at the hospital," Jim informed, his voice emotionless for a second. Then he added, "He's still in pain." This time, his voice shook and Jim clenched his jaws to keep his feelings in check.

"That's understandable, I guess," Simon replied.

"Yes."

"When will he be back? He probably needs to hear this, too," Simon said gently.

Ellison shrugged. "I don't know. I don't even know if he'll come to the station today." He indicated towards the file on Simon's desk. "What's this?"

Simon smiled. "You'll see." Without saying another word, he opened his desk drawer and produced Jim's badge and service weapon. He placed them on the desk and shoved them over to Jim. "Kevin Myers revised his statement." he explained.

Not quite understanding, Jim quizzically looked at his captain. "So? What story did he tell you this time?" His gaze fell on his shield and gun. "What's with...?" He waved at his things.

"You're back on active duty," Simon stated the obvious. He smiled at Jim's uncomprehending face. "Rafe and Brown questioned Myers again this morning. They confronted him with basically he same questions like when and where you assaulted him..."

Jim flinched at the word, and Simon rushed to continue, "...and as they poked for more details he suddenly broke down." The dark police captain opened the file in front of him. "He said he had made things up because someone had paid him for telling this ridiculous story." Banks nodded as he could sense Jim's protest. "Yeah, I know, the big stranger. Anyway, he claimed you never ever touched him or threatened him in any way. Oh sure," Simon chuckled. "You scared the hell out of him at times, but other than that you behaved. His...contact or employer whatever you want to call him, had simply asked him to throw the accusations against you into the air and let fate, or better yet the papers, do the rest. Myers certainly didn't mention a name but he was pretty convincing."

Jim shook his head in disbelief. "I don't get it, Simon. Why now? What...what has happened to the so-called 'physical evidence' they'd mentioned? What....?" As desperately as he wanted to believe his reputation was restored, Ellison was too much of a cop to believe in such a simple alibi like "the unknown man in the background".

Simon sighed. "Maybe Myers couldn't withstand the pressure to maintain his story without making a mistake someday. His lawyer probably talked him into spilling his guts now before it's too late. I don't know, Jim. All I do know is that he cleared you from all charges IA had collected against you. You never touched him. As for the physical evidence....," Simon trailed off and looked sharply at his detective. "Why didn't you tell me he tried to hit you?"

Jim raised his eyebrows and absent-mindeldy brushed over his shirt sleeve of his left arm. "I didn't think it was important, sir."

Simon shook his head. "You fought him off and he scratched you real bad, didn't he." Rolling his eyes at Jim's nod, Simon said, "Oh, man, Ellison, since when have you worked here? That SOB deliberately provoked you to be able to produce the evidence. They had found torn skin tissue and blood from you under his fingernails that he pressumable had gotten when he tried to fight you off during the alledged assault -- So much for the 'physical evidence'."

"Who paid him?" Jim questioned, his mind racing, disbelieving the words he'd just heard.

"We don't know yet," Simon admitted calmly.

Jim stood as he noticed, through the windows of Simon's office, his Guide entering the bullpen. The young man walked slowly, cautiously, as if unsure what to do.

"Then it's not over," Jim growled.

Simon sighed heavily. "Ellison, you can't have everything at once. First of all, it's imporant he cleared you. Whowever's behind that, whoever paid or threatened him to harm you, it's secondary right now."

"Did this 'stranger' also arrange Blair's rape?" Jim snapped angrily. He forced himself to take a deep shuddering breath and released it slowly.

"Jim....," Simon started but Jim opened the door to the bullpen.

The Sentinel waved Blair over. Leaving his backpack at Jim's desk, Sandburg walked over and stepped into Simon's office after making a "knock-knock" gesture in the air.

"Hi, Jim. - Hey, Simon," he greeted.

"Sandburg, how are you feeling?" Simon inquired carefully.

Blair made a dismissive gesture as Jim closed the door behind him. "It's getting better," he assured. Looking at the two men, he noticed the tension quivering through the air like gentle waves of electricity. "What's up?"

Locking his eyes with Jim's, Blair's heart stopped a beat. His lover smiled at him. Genuinely and warmly.

His lover....

Part X - Love and Betrayal

It had been almost three months. Their lives had changed dramatically in one dreadful night.

Rape.

One of the ugliest crimes imaginable had nearly driven them apart, distrust and fear ruling both of their lives.

Rape.

The violation of body and spirit could never be healed in such a short period of time, and climbing the stairs to the loft, Jim wondered if the scars on Blair's soul would ever fade. Time had helped to ease the young man's pain, his fears, his nightmares - both their nightmares - but the suffering wasn't over. Knowing that Blair's tormentor had not been caught, or even identified yet, added to his ever-present fear that it wasn't over... that it couldn't be over.

Rape. Three months ago.

In a night like this their world had been shattered by a brutal act of destruction, intending to harm the detective and almost destroying both of them. However, their love was stronger. Despite the distrust, the anger and pain both men had experience, their love had never faltered. Love without doubt. Blair loved Jim and Jim loved Blair. It was as simple as that.

The door to the loft swung open and Ellison stopped in his tracks.

For a time that seemed like hours but was in fact only seconds, he didn't move, his body rigid with tension from the unexpected sight in front of him. His senses sent waves of scents, sounds and pictures to his brain, demanding a reaction but his muscles were paralyized with surprise, disblief and joy.

"There you are!" Blair's cheerful voice reached him from the kitchen. "It's about time, man. Dinner'll be served in a mo!"

Candles. Exotic spices. Piano music.

Romantic.

"Chief...," Jim began lamely as he finally stepped into the apartment and closed the door. Keys in the basket, jacket on the hooks. His legs carried him into the kitchen, slow movements, as his senses provided the signals his heart longed for, and his brain didn't dare to believe.

"You cooked?" Jim placed his arm around the smaller man's waist and pulled him closer. A gentle kiss was exchanged, lips brushing briefly, eyes shining warmly.

"Brilliant observation, detective," Blair praised, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he grinned broadly. Noticing Jim's raised eyebrows, he asked, "You haven't already eaten with Simon or Joel, have you?" Begging.

Jim shook his head. "No, but..." He looked from Blair to the steaming pots and pans, then to the beautifully set dining-table. "This looks like a romantic candle-light dinner," he whispered, afraid if he spoke out the words aloud the moment would shatter.

Blair nodded enthusiastically and turned off the oven. "It doesn't just look like a romantic candle-light dinner, it sure as hell's gonna become one in just a moment..." He threw a glance the clock on the wall. "You're late."

No accusation, just a statement. If Jim didn't know any better, he would've shrugged it off, but the Sentinel knew of Blair's panic-like state when Jim didn't come home on time without calling him. Three months ago Jim had been late. Too late.

Jim bent forward and kissed Blair again. "I'm sorry, sweatheart. Simon is climbing the walls because he has to sign and check thousands of reports. The Chief is like an accountant, you know, always nitpricking, and requesting crisp-clear reports at the end of the quarter."

Blair laughed. "Oh man, yes, I know! I remember I had to play Q & A once in Simon's office because I had misspelled some unimportant numbers. Poor Simon."

"So, what's all this?" Jim gestured vaguely.

"Preparations," Blair spoke in riddles and winked.

They sat down at the table and Blair started filling their plates with rice and chicken strips.

Jim smiled. "Preparations for what?" he teased.

Reaching for the sweet-sour sauce, Blair rolled his eyes. "Steamy-hot love-making, what else?"

This wasn't the first time. After the rape they had carefully started enjoying each other again by simply sitting together on the couch, watching TV, or warm cuddling in front of the fire place. Exploring their bodies again, gentle massages or a shared bath had re-built the physical love they shared. The process had been slow and often interrupted by tears of frustration and, understandably, fear. But finally the precious moment had come and they had slept together again.

"Maybe you should change jobs," Jim murmured, his fingers tickling up and down Blair's arm as they snuggled deeper into the soft layers of their bed.

"What?!" Startled, Blair raised his head and looked into Jim's smiling eyes. "What do you mean?"

Kissing the tip of Blair's nose, Jim pulled him closer. "I'd hire you as my personal cook," he joked, placing subtle kisses on the adorable face.

"Jim...., I'm an anthropologist," Blair protested laughingly, eagerly parting his lips as Jim's mouth came within reach. They kissed, their tongues tasting the flavour of each other, tenderly probing, and softly duelling. Weaving Blair's long hair through his fingers, Jim gently pressed against the back of his head, intensifying the sweet contact.

When the lack of oxygen became an issue, they broke their kiss, smiling at each other.

"I love you," Jim whispered. "I look at you and know I'm happy."

Blair gently pushed against his lover's broad chest and as Jim followed his urge, the Sentinel rolled onto his back, taking the young man with him.

"I love you, too, Jim," Blair mumbled and his hand followed the well-defined muscles, squeezing the flesh with a loving caress. "Let me show you how much I love you." Sitting on Jim's lap, the young man smiled knowingly when he felt the stirring in Jim's groin at the lusty promises his words bore. The waterfall of curls came down on Jim's chest as Blair sucked and licked his way downwards. His tongue flickered around hard nipples, teasing gently, before the hot mouth massaged the little peaks. The Sentinel's passionate moans encouraged Blair to continue his journey down Jim's magnificent body, kissing and stroking.

Blair shifted his weight off Jim and spooned up beside him, still facing his lover. The two men exchanged loving glances. Groping for the tube of lube on the nightstand, Blair didn't change his position. Squeezing the jelly on his fingers he reached around Jim to prepare the older man. For a moment Jim took the initiative. As Blair's nimble fingers stroked his ass, generously distributing the lube, Jim nibbled at Blair's chest.

Feeling Blair's fingers entering him, Jim groaned deep in his throat and latched onto Blair's nipples buried in silky, dark hair. Whirling his tongue around the little rosy nubs, Jim's tender ministrations suddenly ceased. Uneven scar tissue inflicted by the bite wounds on Blair's nipple brought back painful memories and Jim swallowed hard against the lump forming in his throat. The dexterous fingers in his ass though never stopped and pushing against Jim's mouth, Blair breathed deeply. He sensed Jim's discomfort, he felt the sudden tension racing through the strong body, muscles clenching around his fingers.

"Shhh, don't...don't let it get to you, big guy," Blair whispered. "It's okay now. I'm okay."

Jim relaxed and placed the gentlest kiss on the scarred nipple. "I love you..."

Changing his position again, Blair coated himself with the lubricant and gently nudged Jim's waiting orfice. With utmost tenderness, directed by love and passion, the anthropologist pushed forward, his cock sliding inside Jim's body. Enjoying their complete connection for a long moment without moving, Blair reached around and found Jim's cock. Lacing both of their hands around the organ, Blair began to gently rock back and forth inside Jim.

Their moans of pleasure penetrated the peaceful silence of the loft as the two men sealed their love.

The department of Major Crimes was almost deserted at this late hour of the day. It was 10:43 p.m. and except for the few detectives and lab people sharing the nightshift, Simon Banks was alone. A pot of freshly brewed coffee and two pieces of pinapple cake served as a late dinner and the captain sighed deeply after signing another report and placing it into the outbox labled "Chief". He grinned broadly at the memory of Ellison comment on the label.

"What is Sandburg gonna do with all the reports, Captain?" he inquired innocently and it had taken Simon a few minutes to understand the joke. Chief and Chief. Simon chuckled.

"Chief Sandburg," he mumbled and reached for another report.

Banks flinched inwardly at the sight of the case. The report was about the sexual assault on Blair. Since no new evidence had be discovered, the case was partly closed now and it was upon Simon to decide what to do with the file. Of course, the Chief still needed his formal signature on the report. Sighing again, Simon opened the folder and began to read.

A hand-written remark in the forencics report made him frown: "Evidence bag #1284B-13, tissue and blood samples Blair Sandburg/unknown assaillant, had been misplaced. Found again. Initial analysis could not be proved. No match/Det. Ellison. Serena Chang."

Captain Banks picked up the phone and dialed the number of the forensics lab.

"This is Banks. Can I talk to Serena? - Thanks." He waited. Then, "Serena? Simon Banks here. I'm working on the Sandburg attack and just discovered your note. - Yeah...right, the hand-written one. What do you mean by 'initial analysis could not be proved'? - What? I know... Okay, check your records or wake up whoever made the first analysis. Get back to me ASAP." He hung up the phone and marked the page of the report.

A sharp knock at his office door.

"Come in!" Simon barked, grateful for the interruption.

Detective Brown rushed inside the office and without a greeting or even closing the door behind him, the dark-skinned man announced, "Kevin Myers killed himself tonight, sir!"

Dismayed at the rushed entry, Simon shook his head. "So what, Brown? It's a tragedy to his family, but if you ask me I won't lose any tears over this death."

Brown took a deep breath. "There's more, Captain." He held up a plastic evidence bag containing a sheet of paper. His face was serious, as he explained, "I think you should read this, sir."

Simon rolled his eyes but grabbed the plasic bag. "What's that? His famous last words?"

"Something like that," was Brown's enigmatic answer. "Can you believe that?" he asked as Simon scanned the text.

Finishing with the letter, Banks tried a pained smile. "What kind of joke did that bastard try to play here?" He read through the last few lines again. "Ellison threatened his life to revise..." Simon looked a Brown again. "Why would Myers write something like that if... "

"....if it's not the truth?" Brown finished in a whisper. The two men stared at each other.

It was nuts.
It was impossible.
It was unbelieveable.
Not Ellison.

Not the SENTINEL.

Not Jim.

The phone on Banks' desk interrupted their horrid thoughts and Simon snatched the receiver off its hook.

"I don't need any interruptions now!" he shouted into the phone. He cleared his throat. "Oh, yeah, Serena, what's up?" He listened mutely to the forensics expert. Then he closed his eyes.

Without another word, he disconnected the call.

"Sir?" Brown's voice inquired.

Blankly, Simon stared at the letter in front of him, then his dark eyes met Brown. Reality set in.

"Oh my god, ....the kid...," Simon exclaimed and reached for the phone again.

The two lovers panted heavily as they rode towards their orgasm, the rhythmic dance of their bodies accompanied by the sounds of love. In an explosive heat, Jim came all over Blair's hands. Seconds later the young man once more thrust into Jim's tight passage as his seed erupted. The echo of their names reverbrated through the loft.

"Oh....my...god....," Blair sighed happily as he carefully withdrew his cock from the warmth of Jim's now quivering body. "Oh...my.....god."

"Same here, Chief," Jim replied smiling. He gently stroked Blair's hand which still engulfed his now flaccid penis. "That was incredible, my love. Thanks...," he murmured.

"No..., thank you," Blair said and placed a short kiss on the broad shoulder blades in front of him. He let go off Jim's cock and clasped his lover's hand. "They should've made it less sticky," he complained grinning as the drying semen stuck to his fingers.

Jim laughed. "Why don't you write a letter of complaint? My lover's sperm is too sticky - what can I do about it?" Behind him Blair giggled. "I know something," Jim said and gently pried himself away from the cozy nest of curls and limbs.

"Where are you going?" Blair asked, his voice a bit slurred with sleep. Taking advantage of the sudden emptiness of the big bed, he strechted decliously, one eye watching the detective who turned towards the stairs. Naked as he was - what a sight!

"I'm getting your majesty a washcloth," he winked and padded downstairs.

"Good dog," Blair mumbled and closed his eyes.

In the bathroom Jim smiled as he ran the soft washcloth under warm water. Extending his sense of touch he estimated the right temperature and a wave of arousal rushed through him as he imagined roaming over his partner's body in gentle circles. A sensual massage after their wonderful love-making would certainly be welcomed, he mused. Pictures of the slender body sprawled all over the bed, writhing with pleasure under his strong but tender hands, woke his cock to new life.

Searching the cabinets for the honey-scented massage oil he knew Blair had bought once, Jim heard the ringing of the telephone. He shook his head in frustration. Who would call at such a late hour? Assholes, he thought and flipped open another cabinet.

The distinct odor of leather assaulted his nose.

Inside the cabinet, hidden behind sponges, towels and cleaning tools, Jim spotted the black leather gloves. Leather...

"What the hell....?" Reaching inside and retrieving the gloves made him suddenly shiver with something other than cold. Experimentally, he tried one on, the fabric sheathed his right hand like a second layer of skin. A perfect fit.

"This is..not ...possbile...," Jim whispered, staring at his gloved hand.

Raising his head, his image was reflected by the bathroom mirror. His eyes sparkled, changing colour from compassionate blue to deadly emeralds. The man in the mirror morphed into the jaguar, spotted and evil.

The unnerving ringing of the phone woke Blair. Not quite realizing that he had fallen asleep after their passionate hours of love, the young man slowly rolled onto his side. What asshole was calling them in the middle of the night? The thought invaded his sleepy mind, and without opening his eyes, Blair groped for the phone on the bedside table.

He never reached it.

He would never know why.

He did not get a chance to scream out his horror, as the handcuffs closed around his wrist.

His heart stopped as Blair stared into the eyes of his tormentor. It was Jim.

The End