Title: Club Diamond

Author: Krisser

Author Email: BatsRGr8@aol.com

Rating: NC-17

Pairings: Jim/Blair

Status: Complete

Date: 07/26/02

Category: Alternate Universes, First Times

Author's website: http://www.geocities.com/batsrgr8/

Disclaimer: PetFly owns them, I just borrow them for short periods.

Author's Notes: Thanks to Elaine and Mary for the beta. And without Patt's encouragement I would never have attempted this. And I cannot forget Sihn, for without her demanding that I read TS I would have never been here in the first place.

Story Notes: This is an AU.

Summary: Simon's night club attracts a new act, can the club bouncer keep him safe?

Warnings: m/m, AU

Club Diamond
by Krisser

"Hey, that man grabbed my ass," the bartender/waitress yelled out.

The bouncer picked up the offending man by the collar of his shirt and dragged him toward the exit. "You keep your hands to yourself. Don't bother coming back. You're permanently out of here," the large man said as he dropped the miscreant outside.

"Thanks, Mate," the auburn Aussie called out before smiling at her defender.

The tall, muscular man flashed her a half smile as he headed to his balcony overlook. He did a quick once over as he climbed up the stairs.

Simon Banks joined his head of security and main bouncer. He watched as the exRanger put his heightened senses to work on his club floor. First the large man gripped the wire brush he always carried, firmly. The pain anchored him, otherwise, the bouncer would blank out for a while. Next, he would cock his head to the side and scan the area, section by section. Last, he would categorize each sound and odor, ignoring the known and concentrate on the unfamiliar or strange. Then he'd use his zoom vision to look for anything else out of place.

Club Diamond had a reputation of being a drug free establishment. Simon Banks owed that entirely to Jim Ellison, the bouncer of Club Diamond.

That man could smell a single speck of cocaine; a drop of Rohypnol; a gram of weed before it even passed completely through the entrance. He was a human drug dog.

When Simon lost his wife eight years ago he was left with the raising and caring of his young son alone. His career as a cop would not allow him enough time to spend with his son or the safe assurance that he would return each night. So Lieutenant Banks retired.

An uncle's passing left him the warehouse and creative friends thought up the nightclub.

His staff made sure that the intoxicated had sober ways home. He had two cabbies on retainer, no drunk drivers on his watch. Ellison made it possible for the ex-cop to enjoy the club.

Five years ago, when Banks was still trying to make a go of the venture, Jim Ellison had been released from military service. Having served together during two missions, Jim had looked Simon up upon returning to Cascade.

With no immediate prospects on the horizon, Simon had offered Ellison the job of Security Chief. He had known Jim was good, but he hadn't known why.

Jim had revealed that on his first night of employment as he apprehended two men in the middle of a drug deal. They never looked back.

Joel Taggert was Simon's business partner and best friend. They had served two terms in the service together and the club owner couldn't imagine the enterprise without him. Together they had managed to keep his son, Daryl, on the straight and narrow.

Henry Brown, better known as H, was the stage manager. He kept all the entertainers happy. Brian Rafe was the talent hunter. He was currently in search of a new act for the weekends as the one that had been employed until yesterday split up.

Simon's eyes then rested on the bartender and softened. Two years ago the Australian had come in seeking a job and ended up his wife. She managed the bar and it's staff with pride. Megan was a fair taskmaster, never asking of others what she wasn't willing to do herself. Her employees were hard working and loyal.

Simon stood a tad above shoulder to shoulder with his security man and realized that his core staff was now the best it had ever been. He was a lucky man. Now all he needed was a good act for the weekends.

------

Jim watched as Rafe entered the building in an excited manner. The talent scout headed straight for H. Jim focused his hearing.

"I did it," Rafe said excitedly.

"Who'd you get?" The black man paused in checking the stage lighting to wait for the answer.

"Blair Sandburg."

"Really?" He made it sound astounding then added, "Who?"

"Blockhead. Remember when we went to get tickets for the Jags game and the line that was wrapped around three blocks?"

"Yeah...."

"That was for Blair Sandburg!" His excitement radiated off him.

"No shit!"

"Simon's gonna be happy."

"Well, that's possible....if he knows who he is." H smiled as Rafe's expression fell a bit then tried to cheer him up again. "As long as he packs the house, Simon will be happy."

Rafe brightened again as he nodded his head, "Gotta go tell the boss." Rafe rushed in the direction of Simon's office.

Jim watched him go as he thought he didn't know who Blair Sandburg was, either.

-----

As it was each day, Jim was waiting outside as Simon pulled into the employee parking lot.

Simon grinned to himself. Jim had a key but he insisted on waiting for the boss man to show. "Hey, Jim, the new act will be in early this afternoon. H wanted to work out the lighting and sound with him."

Jim nodded. He'd already checked Blair Sandburg out. No criminal charges against him. His mother had a file, but Sandburg's was clean. He had traveled extensively as a child, seeming to have hit just about every continent. He had started college at sixteen and gained his BA and Masters in Anthropology in record time. A smart shit.

With a little digging, he'd discovered that he had been in the doctorate program at Rainier University, then nothing. One year later, he appeared on the club circuit and within a year had scored a major recording contract.

It seemed that for the next two years Sandburg had been totally committed to singing and performing. He'd had a heavy concert schedule along with studio recording. Then nothing again. He finally reappeared on the club circuit again. He continued to record but had made a firm contract that had negated the extensive concert appearances during these last two years.

Odd.

Jim shook himself out of his contemplation and grabbed his wire brush. He began his perimeter check of the building. Old habits die hard. The military had trained him well.

The Security Chief checked the outer boundaries prior to Simon's arrival each day and inside before most of the other staff began arriving.

Ellison came in every day. He didn't work all afternoons, but he was back each evening. He'd only missed two days that first year. The day he got married and the day he got divorced.

With everything as it should be, Ellison headed to the second story office for coffee and conversation, in that order. He entered the office in the middle of Simon's teasing of Joel. He made straight for the coffeepot, one sniff and he knew it was a Guatemalan brew.

"Simon, you'll be surprised, the kid is good," Joel defended himself.

"He's hardly a kid. He's thirty years old," Jim corrected them.

Joel smiled, "After you meet him you'll think he's a kid, too. It's something about him, new and innocent."

Simon and Jim both laughed at that.

"You'll see," Joel continued to defend the preformer.

Jim grinned slightly as he poured himself a large cup of coffee and headed out to his balcony bench. He could keep tabs without a lot of interaction and he had easier control of his senses away from the general crowds.

The security man cocked his head as he heard Rafe talking excitedly to a new arrival. He watched the talent hunter open the door and usher in their new singer. Long brown curls framed a youthful face. There were a few lines around the eyes, but it was the eyes themselves that caught you. There was an exuberant innocence within them.

How could that be? Jim had read his file. He had traveled extensively, seen remote and rural parts of the world. How could he still be innocent?

Jim's eyes followed the man's progress to the stage area. He practically bounced his way there. So much energy.

But nothing in his life previously had prepared Jim for the smile. It seemed to catch hold of one and not release them. And it wasn't even directed at him. Jim took a step back. He would need to keep his distance.

---------

Blair Sandburg was excited. He was getting to play Club Diamond. Blair realized it was silly to feel this thrill as he had played on some of the finest stages in the world, but Club Diamond was the kind of place he wanted to play.

Its reputation as a drug free hangout was well known. Also, its policy of having the under twenty-one crowd in three afternoons a week was a novelty that was catching on.

This is what Blair Sandburg wanted to be associated with.

He hoped he could stay here long enough to become involved with that youth project. He always had felt drawn here, he really hoped he could stay here permanently, but that was unlikely.

The singer let Rafe show him in, be the tour guide of the stage and dressing rooms area. Then Rafe introduced him to all the staff.

Blair recognized Joel Taggert from a hospital benefit in Seattle a year ago. The gentle man had helped calm down a lost child that day. "Nice to see you again." He shook the proffered hand. He looked to the man's right and took in the taller man at his side. "This must be Simon, your partner and friend."

Joel smiled and clasped the hand he shook, "So glad that we landed you."

Simon shook his hand next and introduced himself. "Simon Banks. I've heard good things about you, Mr. Sandburg."

"Blair, please. And would you tell me if you heard bad things?" Blair asked, teasing a bit about the standard openings.

"Depends," Simon said with a smile, "On just how bad it was."

"Fair enough," Blair returned the genuine smile.

The three men worked out a contract on a month-to-month basis, providing protection for both the club owner and the entertainer. Joel walked the singer back to the staging area.

Blair could feel eyes on him and searched for them. He found them on the second floor attached to an Adonis like body. He turned to Joel, "Who's that?" He pointed to the balcony.

"Head of Security, Jim Ellison." Joel watched as Blair continued to look at the balcony even after Jim disappeared from sight.

------

Word was out about Club Diamond's new act and the place was packed for the first show. A crowd was already forming for the late show.

Simon, H and Jim were surprised at the mix of songs that Sandburg sung. Oldies, rock, mellow, Blair did them all with flair. It was the quality of his voice, somehow you believed that he felt all he sang about.

Jim found himself wanting to stay away from the enigmatic, younger man, but duty demanded that he introduce himself. Between shows he approached the singer's dressing room. He knocked. The door opened and Blair stood dressed in torn jeans and a blue Henley.

The security man put out his hand, "Jim Ellison, security. Any special needs?"

Blair took the hand and smiled, thinking, yes, a need to know you. Then he shook his head, unsure of where that thought came from. "Well, Mr. Ellison...."

"It's Jim."

"Well, Jim, I have had, on occasion, overly enthusiastic fans."

Something in Blair's voice alerted the exRanger, "Trouble?"

"Some, in the past. I'm just hoping to keep the dressing room off limits."

"Consider it done."

They shook hands again and again the thought that he should get to know Jim stole through Blair.

Jim, on the other hand, was amazed at how calm and controlled his senses were acting. It was after both handshakes with the pop star. Odd.

Ellison didn't know what to make of it and decided to push it out of his conscious thoughts. He walked back to the main area.

----

H was setting up the following afternoon, fine-tuning the lighting. Blair came up behind him and said, "Boo."

H jumped, "Shit! Blair, make some noise."

Blair chuckled as he moved past. He stopped when H called him back.

"The lighting working okay for you, Hairboy?" H had taken to calling Blair that after he heard a fan call him that after a show.

"You do good work, H. Never hits me in the eyes, it's just the way I like it," Blair told him, once again ignoring the nickname.

"Acoustics need any tweaking?" Brown continued professionally.

"No feedback. It hummed some that first night, but clear sailing since."

H turned and looked back at the singer, "You really pack them in like Rafe said. Simon's loving it."

Blair smiled, hoping that Simon was pleased enough to renew his contract.

-------

Over the next few weeks, Simon remained happy as Blair packed them in. Jim worked hard at avoiding Blair without it looking that way. Blair tried equally hard to engage the man in conversation.

It was just before the end of his first month when Blair witnessed Jim's apprehension of a drug offender. The whole operation was over quickly.

He watched as Jim turned his head and seemed to follow a scent, reminding him of a bloodhound. His head followed the man, then he walked calmly over to the man and requested his vial of cocaine. He then quietly removed said man from the main floor without creating a scene. All of it happened between songs in his first set.

For the rest of the evening, Blair let what he saw play about his mind, a teasing memory dancing until he was ready to acknowledge it. As he sat in his dressing room at the end of the night, he looked in depth at the earlier witnessed scene. Combine that with the several different times that Jim commented on a conversation that he couldn't have heard from where he was standing and he had the glimmer of an answer. More than once, Jim had apprehended people that tried to sneak into the club. From his vantage point it should have been impossible to see them.

Information unused for a while refiled itself in Blair's memory. That would mean hearing, sight and smell. He wondered if taste and touch were heightened also. Shit, with just three he was a sentinel, he wondered who his guide was.

Blair then wondered how it was that he could meet up with two sentinels?

Well, if Jim Ellison was a sentinel, Blair didn't get the same feeling from Jim that he had gotten off of Alex Barnes.

He pushed all thoughts of the rogue sentinel aside and directed his muse to work on his next set.

------

Blair found himself digging out all his old notes and the monograph. Blair asked himself, 'Do I want to get involved again?' A small, protective part of his mind shouted, NO! You almost got killed. The rest of his mind opted to help. How could he let Jim continue without understanding all he was?

He compromised with himself, he could explain and teach him techniques without committing himself as the guide. He wasn't Alex's and he probably wasn't Jim's, either, but Jim deserved the knowledge at least. That decided he headed to work.

Blair found a note taped to his dressing room door asking him to see Simon in his office first thing. The singer found himself smiling as he headed up the stairs. He passed Jim on the way and gave him a genuine smile, too. He knocked on the office door and Simon bade him enter.

"Hey, Blair. Well, the month is up. Will you stay on? I'd like you to." Simon told the singer.

"It's a nice place you have here, I'd like to stay on." Blair revealed.

Simon beamed. They had been filled to capacity on each of his nights and it didn't appear to be slowing. The owner was hoping to get a much longer contract out of the singer.

"Actually, Simon, I was wondering if I could do one of your underage afternoons?" Blair asked.

Simon hadn't expected that, "Mondays and Wednesdays are usually reserved for the new bands, so that would only leave Friday. That would make for a very packed day." He really didn't want to change the afternoon schedules.

"Simon, I've worked far worse schedules. Three and four shows a day. I'd really like to do it," the singer told him.

Simon hesitated, "Well, I was kinda hoping to get you to work a Thursday night show. We turn away so many on the weekends."

Blair was pleased that Simon Banks wanted to keep him around. "Simon, I like the working atmosphere. I like the people. I especially like the drug-free reputation." Blair grinned at his boss, "You see, Simon, I like this gig."

"Deal."

Outside, on the second floor balcony, Jim sighed in relief. He didn't know why, but he was glad that Sandburg was staying.

-----

Blair came in on Wednesday to see the type of crowd the afternoons drew and so would adjust the songs played accordingly.

Jim was at the entrance preparing himself for opening. Blair watched as Jim held the wire brush in his hand, squeezing it every few seconds. He continued watching as Jim turned his head and seemed to freeze. Many seconds, then a minute passed and Jim hadn't moved at all.

Blair stepped close and touched the frozen man's arm as he said, "Jim? Hey there, Jim. You're at the club, come back from vacation."

"Vacation? I wouldn't call it that." Jim had heard Blair's voice and had immediately followed it. He looked at his watch, only a couple of minutes had passed. He looked again at Blair, who, oddly enough, wasn't freaking out.

"Zone-out. That's what I'd call it. Actually, that's what Burton called it, I'm just quoting," Blair replied.

"Zone-out? And who are you quoting?" Jim responded to the least expected comeback from Blair.

"Finish scenting, we'll talk later," Blair told him as the early arrivals started lining up.

Jim categorized all the known scents, nodded to Megan and prepared for the onslaught. He was startled to feel Blair take the brush out of his hand and then place his hand at the small of his back.

"Trust me," Blair whispered.

"Why do I think that those are two of the most dangerous words in the English language?" Jim muttered.

"Just try it," Blair didn't really want to explain more, he just knew it would work.

Jim acquiesced without saying a word. Blair kept one hand on his back as he extended his heightened sense of smell.

He caught four with weed, two with cigarettes and one with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

One teen was so belligerent that Jim banned him. The other six turned over the items without objection and Jim warned them that if they tried it again the cops would be called in.

Blair tried to keep the smile off his face at the looks worn by the intimidated teens.

Jim was surprised, for not only no blank-out, but he didn't have the usual headache. He needed to ask the singer what that was all about but then he had to put that off as Blair had just been dragged off to become a judge for the afternoon's battle of the bands.

As the bands played on, Blair, personally, was glad to see that the heavy metal and rap didn't do as well as the standard rock-like bands. He would alter his sets to reflect their tastes and end with a slow piece in case they actually got around to dancing.

Afterwards, while the staff was busy setting up for the evening, Blair slipped away. He wanted to do a little research and refresh his memory before he talked to Jim again.

--------

That night after closing, Blair was headed out when a voice hailed him.

"Hey, Hairboy," H said grinning, "Stay and have a cold one with us." H indicated Rafe, Megan and Joel.

Blair looked undecided until Jim added, "I'll join you."

Rafe and H exchanged dumfounded looks; Jim never stayed.

Megan watched Jim and smiled to herself.

Blair sat and Jim poured himself and the singer a draft. They talked of world events, morning plans and H's upcoming vacation. They left work alone, all needing a break from shoptalk.

It was an hour and a half later when Jim walked the singer to his car. "62 Corvair. Nice. How's she run?"

"Sometimes," the singer shrugged.

"I know a vintage mechanic if you're ever needing work done," Jim offered.

"Hey, thanks. I will. I always do." Blair waved as he drove away.

Jim watched until the car was just a speck eaten up by the lights. He got into his pick-up and drove away.

Inside, H and Megan were locking up. H commented, "Jim ever stay before?"

"No, Mate, he hasn't." Megan waited for H to connect the dots.

It didn't take long. H nodded knowingly, "He stayed because of Sandburg."

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking, too," Megan answered.

"Sandburg won Simon over, too." H knew he liked Hairboy.

"Yeah, Sandy has a way about him."

H waited for Megan to get into her car, "Rafe did good."

Megan smiled, "Yeah, H, Rafe did good."

------

Blair came in mid-morning and jaw-jacked with H and Rafe an hour before he headed to his dressing room. The singer knew there was something wrong even before he entered his dressing room. Inside he found a bouquet of roses with the buds cut off.

Shit! It was starting again.

------

Jim returned in the late afternoon. He felt the fear before he entered the building. It was coming from Blair's dressing room. As he got closer, he realized it was Blair, himself. The Sentinel zeroed in on the heart rate and found it off the scale.

He rushed in without knocking. "What's wrong?" was out of his mouth as Blair turned with fear at the volatile entrance.

Blair's eyes rested on the headless flowers and Jim's eyes traveled right along with his.

Jim looked at them without touching, then monitored the singer's vitals. As soon as Blair relaxed, the security chief questioned, "This has happened before?"

It was phrased as a question but it sounded like a statement. Blair nodded. He took a deep breath after he seated himself in the nearest chair. "For the last two years, every place I've played, this happened. It starts with the roses. It's his way of letting me know that he has access to me." Blair looked up at Jim.

Jim felt compelled to explain. "One Thursday a month I visit a family member. I'm sorry, it wouldn't have happened if I'd been here."

"Jim, you can't be here all the time. This isn't your fault. It's been two months, I thought that maybe I'd lost him." Blair didn't want the security man to feel guilty. The man was already here more than anyone else.

"You wanna tell me about it?" Again, it was phrased like a question but it was a command.

"It probably started in New York...but I didn't really catch on 'til Bangkok. There were emails, letters, then..."

"What did they say?" Jim interrupted.

Blair moved his hand through the air in little aborted gestures. "That I should sing for him alone. No one would appreciate me more," Blair looked up at the intent listener, "Then they changed tone. About two years ago, they became more threatening told me that I couldn't hide. Guess that's true." Blair ended his tale on a quiet note.

Jim replayed in his head what he knew of Blair then said aloud, "That's why you quit the concert circuit."

"Yeah, I put the whole crew in danger. We were in Sydney; I usually had a bottle of water on stage with me. He doctored the water with a mild knockout drug. One of my stage crew confused my bottle with his own; two guys fell off the stage. One broke his leg. They could have been killed." Blair raked his fingers through his hair, "I couldn't be the cause of any more accidents so I quit the circuit."

"There had to have been other alternatives?"

"Maybe, but I was tired of it. It was just for the record company, to promote sales. I just wanted to make a living; I wasn't looking to get rich."

Jim took the conversation back, "How long before he found you?"

"First place, LA. I was still news so there was plenty of coverage. Luckily, it's died down by now. Once the press realized I wasn't returning to that scene, they left me alone. Not exciting enough." Blair managed a small smile by this time.

"So how do you want to handle this?" Jim asked, all business on the outside, worried like hell on the inside.

"I usually cut and run. Don't want to drag others into this," Blair told him straight up.

Jim knew he didn't want that, Simon needed him here. A little voice told him that he, himself, wanted the energetic man to stay, but he brushed that voice aside. "If you stay, I'll catch him," Jim promised.

"What about the potential hazard to the others?" Blair found himself wanting to stay here. This was the most comfortable gig he'd had. The fact that Ellison was intriguing wasn't part of the equation.

"Let's talk to Simon." Jim picked up the roses with a towel and proceeded Blair out of his room. He led them up to the second floor office.

Simon's mood dimmed as he saw the serious faces on Jim and Blair. Jim explained all that Blair had shared with him. Simon liked the man and he knew that the staff did, too. He could see that Blair was really concerned for their safety.

"Let's call a staff meeting. Tell them what they could be up against. Let them decide." Simon responded.

"Okay," Blair said as he looked down. He prepared himself to cut his ties here and start over yet again.

Simon smiled at Jim. They both knew that the staff would want to keep Sandburg here.

----------

"Mate, you fit in here. I want you to stay," the Aussie woman stated firmly.

"I'm with her," Brown added with a smile, pointing at Megan.

With brows raised, "Well, I know I'd rather fight off baddies than have to go in search of a new act that could top you," Rafe said, knowing it was true.

Joel looked Blair in the eye and told him quietly, "Megan's right about fitting in. At some point, you need to stand and fight this. Why not here, with us?"

Blair was stunned. That they wanted him here, in spite of the potential trouble, was overwhelming. The wandering anthropologist, the nomadic singer, had found a home at Club Diamond. He would stay.

Voice husky with emotion, "Okay...and thanks."

Simon's eyes met his bouncer's; they weren't surprised at the staff's reaction. Simon also caught the naked relief and something else. The club owner wasn't sure what exactly, so he'd have to keep a closer watch.

--------

The staff didn't say anything to Jim, but when he was away from the club, one of the others took to hanging close by the lissome singer. They didn't hover but someone was always close by.

Jim returned early from his Thursday away to find Joel, Megan and H with Blair. The singer was regaling them with a story of his travels, an expedition in Africa.

The bouncer found that where Blair could talk a mile a minute and he was never at a loss for a story, he didn't share much of himself. Jim could recognize this and was curious why the seemingly gregarious man was reluctant to share himself. Jim laughed silently at himself, he too, was reluctant to share parts of himself.

He joined them, bringing the coffeepot with him. Jim acknowledged the greetings from each and the smile from Blair. The ex-military man watched the precise movement of Blair's facial muscles, detecting the hidden tension within. He continued watching, absorbed in the constant hand motion that punctuated the story he was telling.

Jim realized that he was more captivated by the nightclub singer than he should be. His promise of safeguarding the singer put him in multiple daily contacts. It was hard to remain distant with that much association.

Jim really cared about the younger man's well being and that scared him. He hadn't allowed newcomers in this way in a very long time.

Blair found himself relieved and delighted at Jim's return to the club. When he joined their group, Blair's enjoyment rose a notch. He told himself it was just the need to share his research results, but he knew he was hiding the truth from himself.

When Blair's tale finished Megan directed a query to the bouncer. "Jim, how was the lunch visit?"

"Pleasant," was the short reply.

Blair filed that reaction away for a future question.

Brown shared his current love-life woes, garnering much teasing from Rafe. The advance man fended off the return teasing on his lack of love life in good humor. He wasn't looking to get tied down any time soon.

The afternoon passed affably into early evening and the club workers scattered to their own responsibilities.

Blair needed to work with H, but caught Jim before he headed off. "Can I talk to you later?" Blair inquired.

Jim nodded as he looked at his watch, "How about after your first set?"

"Great!" Blair patted the arm not holding the coffee cup.

Jim didn't note any anxiety in conjunction with the request so he pushed his curiosity aside and went about his own duties.

-------

The first set catered to a predominantly female audience and Blair kept his music to the haunting melodies that he had recently created. They were well received and he was pleased that the new work had met with success.

Blair tried to channel his uncertain emotions into his music. Sometimes working and sometimes not, he continued to try out new sounds.

The singer was pleased to see the head of security waiting by his dressing room door. He motioned him in then closed the door behind him.

Jim looked expectant as he waited for Blair to speak.

"Jim, I know that your hearing, eyesight and sense of smell are enhanced. Are taste and touch as well?" The voice was gentle but the question was pointed.

Jim nodded. He knew on some level that Blair understood this more than most.

Blair's eyes danced, as he outwardly remained calm. He picked up a book and handed it to Jim. "Extensive research was done by Burton, Richard Burton, the explorer, not the actor. He studied the phenomena of enhanced senses; he called it the Sentinel."

Blair handed him another work, a published paper, "I did research as an undergrad, testing those with enhanced senses, usually just taste or smell. That's what I believe that you are, a modern day sentinel."

Jim was confused and feeling insulted, "Are you saying that I'm some sort of primitive man?"

"No, Jim, not at all."

Jim's eyes narrowed but he said nothing. He just continued to focus on Blair.

"You see, this Sentinel would watch for approaching enemies, change in the weather, movement of game. Tribe survival depended on it." Blair paced about as he talked.

With half closed eyes, "Yeah, what's this got to do with me?"

Excited, Blair continued explaining, "A Sentinel is chosen because of a genetic advantage, a sensory awareness that can be developed beyond normal humans like people who work for coffee and perfume companies. Oh, and in Vietnam, the Army long-range recon units that had to......"

"Change their diet to fish and rice because a Cong scout could smell a Westerner by his waste." Jim finished the thought, understanding this train of thought.

"Right, right, exactly. I'm saying that you are one of the unique few that have heightened senses. A rare, but natural condition." Blair bounced up and down on the balls of his feet.

Jim was trying to work out the impact of the man's words, "So, you're saying that this sense thing is normal? I'm not a freak?"

Blair knew that someone important had called Jim a freak and it stayed with him. "No, Jim, you, most definitely are not a freak. You have a gift and I think I can help you fine tune it."

"Fine tune?" Jim asked dubiously.

"The zone out. What you call blanking out. And the headaches, we can get rid of those, too."

"We, Sandburg?"

"Yeah, Jim, WE. It's all about concentration and being focused. I think you'll be pleased at how much control you'll get," Blair told him sincerely.

"What's with the we stuff, Sandburg?"

"I can teach you how to get control, if you let me." Blair stopped moving and stared at the sentinel.

"Teach me control?" Jim asked, dismayed at how much more time they could be spending together.

"Exactly." Blair was amazed at how different it felt. With Jim, he felt a humming. With Alex, it had been more like being zapped with a cattle prod. He had escaped Alex's clutches. The price was his doctorate and reputation. A small price in the long run.

"Okay, Sandburg. We'll try it your way," Jim told him, reluctance in his voice. These senses had plagued him all his life. Made keeping good jobs difficult. They'd been useful in Peru, but only off and on since he returned. The kid was also right about the headaches. And deep inside his head, Jim was pleased to have another reason to spend more time with the singer.

"Yes! Okay, Jim. This will help, you'll see." Blair tapped his lips with his index finger, "First, we'll need to run a few tests. Establish a baseline so we can judge what works and a way to track your control."

"Tests? What kind of tests?" Jim was more curious than concerned.

"How far you can see and hear. How small an amount you can smell, same with taste and touch."

"When do you want to start?" Jim was all for the control aspect that Sandburg talked about.

"Right now. Can you recognize Megan's perfume?" Blair asked excitedly.

"Yeah, I know it," Jim replied.

"I want you to find it."

"From here?"

"Jim, you can do it," Blair encouraged.

Jim shook his head, "I didn't bring my wire brush."

"You don't need it." Blair placed his hand on Jim's shoulder. "Go ahead. As long as you have more than one sense engaged you won't zone."

"If you say so, Sandburg."

"I do, now try it. You know what her scent is, so now block out any odor that isn't that one scent."

Jim nodded and sniffed, not sure where he was going with this. First, he blocked out the body odors, then the food and plant matter. As he focused on each odor, he was surprised that they disappeared so easily.

He found Megan's scent and one other. He liked the other one and traced it to its source, the man beside him, hand still on his shoulder. It was Blair's scent. He found he didn't want to block it out. So he didn't but he could separate them.

"I got it," amazement colored his voice.

"You isolated it from all the other smells?"

"Basically."

"What do you mean by that?" Blair asked, puzzled.

"I found it, but it was one of two. I didn't want to block out the other scent. It was familiar." Jim imparted reluctantly.

"What scent was that?" Blair tilted his head to the side.

Jim shrugged, "Just another odor, it didn't hinder the search for Megan's. What next?" Jim didn't want the singer to quiz him too deeply.

"Okay, man, with your hearing, find Simon and isolate his voice," Blair requested without a fight on the other.

Jim used the same technique that he always did with his nose. He peeled away the layers of extraneous sounds and found the one voice that Blair had requested. He also noted that he remained in contact with a lub-dub sound. At first he thought it was Simon's or his own heartbeat, but then realized that it was Blair's heart signature. A sound that he had subconsciously found before.

"Got that, too."

"Jim, that's great. We can continue after the set tomorrow." Blair was pleased that Jim had received the information so well. "And here," he handed the stack of notes and the book to Jim. "Read through this material. It will give a clearer picture of what you can expect." Blair further urged the Sentinel at the refusal he saw forming on the bouncer's face. "It will give you a clearer picture of who you are."

Jim nodded, taking the material with him. As he left the dressing room to let the singer get changed for his next set, he reflected idly on the fact that he now had knowledge of Blair in four senses. He couldn't help but wonder in that small corner of his mind, what the singer tasted like.

--------

The last set was over and equipment put away as Brown rested a beer in his palm. "Nice mix. Crowd loved it."

"Yeah, the ladies were asking about you. Wanting to know if you're married." Megan laughed as she came up behind them.

Blair knew in the past he might have sought out a lovely lady, but in this place, he found he didn't want to. An image of Jim sneaked into his thoughts, but he pushed it away.

Blair turned with a megawatt smile, "Megan, love, just tell them my heart is otherwise engaged."

"No worries." The Aussie smiled, she had her own suspicions just where that engagement lay.

--------

Monday was a free day for the bouncer. The club was closed for its quarterly inspection. It was a day off for all club employees.

A whole day, Jim figured it would probably be a good opportunity to practice sense control with Blair; get a real handle on it. He ignored the stray thought that tried to squeeze in, that he just wanted to spend more time with the singer. He pushed it aside as he picked up the phone.

As they were seated in the coffeeshop, Blair asked the Sentinel, "Jim, did you read through that material I gave you?"

"Most of it." The security man smiled at the waitress as she poured coffee and left menus. "Seems you were right, Sandburg. Where heightened senses are not common, they are normal and seem to occur in each generation," Jim shared before he looked over the menu.

They gave their order and got refills on the coffee before Blair delved deeper into the topic. "Did you get to the section on the aide, the sentinel's partner?"

"Yeah, skimmed it, but figured you'd know the ins and outs there, Chief."

"Do you understand the importance of the aide, the guide?" Blair fiddled with the jam.

"You teach me the stuff I need to know," Jim answered the query.

"Jim," Blair began, them waited as the waitress returned with their breakfasts. Jim was cutting into his omelet as Blair continued. "The guide is a companion to the sentinel as long as he is a sentinel."

Alert, "You mean I could shut them off?" Jim paused in the middle of buttering his toast.

"No, but there are instances that they become damaged."

Jim nodded, understanding what Blair was driving at.

"So, you're the guide."

"That's just it, Jim, I don't know that I am your guide," Blair explained.

Jim's gut tightened at the thought of Sandburg's absence.

"A guide is someone you trust. Someone that will be in your life on a daily basis. Someone that you will feel strongly connected to."

"Everyday? What? For the rest of my life?" Jim was aghast.

"A guide's function is to watch your back, bring you out of a zone, and hopefully, recognize the signs to prevent them when possible." Blair wanted Jim to understand it all.

"But you've been teaching me control," Jim stated.

"You need control. Control will enable you to better use them. Also, control so you can dictate when to use them. But Jim, even the most finely honed sentinel can still experience zone-outs. A zone-out is just too much focus on one sense." Blair explained, breakfast forgotten as he continued on in teacher mode. "A guide is the sentinel's anchor. The sentinel will imprint one or more of the guide's senses. That provides a base level for the anchor. Hopefully, they become so familiar that it provides the way out of the zone."

"So you are my guide," Jim stated, looking at the singer.

"We don't know that."

"You identified what I am, you helped me get control. You know all about the stuff. Only makes sense." Jim thought to himself, I know his heartbeat and scent.

"Yes, I do, but that still doesn't make me your guide. I've met with another sentinel before and I was definitely not their guide."

Jim could feel the pain and fear that accompanied the memory Blair referenced.

Jim experienced a wave of jealously at the thought of another sentinel. The further thought that this other sentinel could hurt the gentle man before him angered him. "What happened?" Jim needed to know.

Blair had figured Jim had probably run a background check on him and said as much aloud.

Jim's nod confirmed it.

"Then you probably know as much about me ...maybe even more than I do."

"I doubt that, Chief, you seem to be wired into most every one around you."

Blair shrugged. "My doctoral thesis was on sentinels........I truly believed that they existed. Previously, I had only worked with people with one or two heightened senses. Then my car had been broken into and I went to the police station. There, I overheard a woman telling why she had run into a tree. I recognized the symptoms so I gave her my card and told her I could help her. Then my life became a horror." Blair shuddered at the memory.

"She was indeed a sentinel, but a perverted form. She used her gifts for personal gain....she was a thief. Then, she became a terrorist. She stole nerve gas and threatened the lifes of an entire village in Mexico. I didn't know that when I first started working with her. She forced me to guide her, not everything worked. It never felt right or connected."

Jim could smell the fear and feel the shudders that the singer couldn't hide.

"What happened?"

"After initially getting her senses under control, I tried to work on the fine tuning. She suggested working in the field. Turns out she had me talk her through a major heist. I kept her from zoning. I tried to leave, I was gonna turn her in. She held me hostage for two months." His voice lowered with the clear remembrance, "Gave me just enough food and water so I wouldn't pass out. I stopped using aspects of my voice and that infuriated her. Her headaches increased. That only pissed her off and she would hit me. She wanted to force herself on me, to create a bond but her near starvation of me kept me from being able to help her out." The singer's voice dropped to a whisper, the memories still too vivid.

"She took me to Mexico with her.............the sun hit the gas canister and the glare messed with her senses....she zoned and I did nothing. I did nothing. I didn't tell the authorities, either. As far as I know....she's still in a zone." The last was whispered in a rough voice. The ex-anthropologist still carried the guilt of his actions and the fear that she would wake.

"It was only the black panther's growl in my dreams. It had dogged me for days prior, had kept me sane, alive." Blair's head was down so he missed Jim's shocked expression at the mention of the panther.

"Alex Barnes was the reason I lost my dissertation. Because she kidnapped me and forced me to work as her guide, that contact invalidated my dissertation notes. Made all that I went through for nothing." Depression filled his words; it was the only failure he regretted.

"Okay, why didn't you just change the topic so you could finish?"

"The university felt that all the time and money put out to said dissertation was lost. The events were so publicized that the University didn't want the negative publicity associated with them so they let me go. I lost my chance at the doctorate and lost my teaching position. Other universities knew about it, so it made a career change my only valid option for gainful employment." Blair hadn't realized how hurtful it still was.

"It was not tied to a rock singer...the publicity was within the academic world, not the outside one....no one put the two together. By the time I was famous, the facts only added color."

Jim looked thoughtfully at his friend, pleased that he trusted him enough to speak about all that. The singer had never shared so much about himself before.

--------

The next couple of weeks, Jim and Blair spent a lot of time together. Blair had established a baseline for the Sentinel and was currently occupied with the fine-tuning. They'd meet for breakfast and work together until it was time to head to the club.

Jim would have good days followed by days of pure frustration. He would feel like he mastered a technique and start on a new one. When Blair would test an old one, he'd goof and blowup at Blair for rehashing the same old stuff.

Each time, Blair would answer patiently that control was only achieved over a long time with repetitious practice. They would then start all over again.

Blair noted that his worst times would be on Thursdays. The observer remembered that Jim visited a family member each Thursday. It was fairly likely that the stress of that encounter affected Jim the most.

At a Thursday breakfast, Blair decided to broach the problem. "Is the person you'll visit today one of those that made you feel like an oddity growing up?"

"Sally? No." Jim answered automatically.

'A female, not his mom.' Blair thought to himself. 'Shit, maybe he's courting her.' Blair was disturbed by the thought of Jim involved with another. It was why that thought bothered him that was the most baffling.

Sandburg centered himself, 'Do I really care?' He paused his thoughts, examing them closely. 'I do. Why?' Blair was puzzled by his strong reaction to Jim. He felt protective and tender. He put it to Jim being a sentinel and he the guide.

He had never felt that way about Barnes, though. She had corrupted the guide-sentinel relationship. She had corrupted the work of the sentinel for money and he had nearly lost his life as well. Only the black panther's growl which had dogged him for days prior, had kept him alive. This was different.

He focused on the man in front of him, "Jim, you're always on edge on Thursdays. If you spike, it's usually on a Thursday. If it's not Sally, then who or what is it?"

The bouncer's jaw clenched in its telltale way, alerting those in the vicinity that a blow-up was eminent.

Blair stroked the arm closest in even movements as he spoke guilelessly, "Jim, I'm not trying to pry into your love life, I'm just trying to counter the sensory spikes."

Jim laughed, breaking the tension in his clenched jaw. "Love life? Sandburg, you are way off. Sally was the housekeeper when I was growing up. I stay in contact with her. ........ My father and I don't speak. Not for twenty years. Nor my brother and I. Sally is my only link. I see her once or twice a month."

"Your mother?" Blair dared to ask.

"Left when I was ten. Never heard from her since." The answer was short and bereft of emotion. Jim answered the question that none of the other staff had dared to ask, only Blair.

"That's shitty," Blair stated.

Jim shrugged.

Blair figured, in for a penny, in for a pound. "So, it was your father that made you feel ashamed of your enhanced senses." Blair stated it so Jim didn't have to answer. The anthropologist knew it without confirmation.

Jim surprised him, "Yup. Didn't want me embarrassing him. Said Ellisons weren't meant to be freaks." Again, it was said dispassionately.

Blair stilled his hand movement and gripped the muscular arm. "You are not now and never have been a freak." Blair spoke emphatically and with more passion than Jim had ever seen used in his defense.

"In the past, these senses were more trouble than help. With the training you've supplied, their value has increased." Jim spoke honestly, without intent to compliment.

Blair felt like blushing anyway. That was the most thanks he'd gotten from the gruff man since they started working together on his senses.

"So, it's the whole association by memory thing happening on Thursdays. Okay, we can deal with it." Blair tried to sound encouraging.

"Yeah? Ah...well, ah...thanks."

-------

Saturday night was always the largest crowd, usually standing room only. Simon was pleased. Rafe was ecstatic, this made him look good. H was humming, Sandburg made his job easy. And Joel, Joel was happy because Simon was happy.

Megan and Jim? They were working their asses off.

With such a large crowd, someone was always trying to pull a fast one and Jim was applying every trick that Blair had taught him.

Megan was down a waitress and was pulling a double duty while also working as the backup bartender.

The last set would finish at one, but most of the crowd would hang on until closing. No rest for the hard working.

Blair had added a couple of more songs to his sets this evening. He'd liked the way the music felt and knew it was good.

He headed over to help Brown. He joked with the mixer as they changed the stage for Sunday. The singer liked to keep his hand in on crew work. In the past, it would help when he needed to tweak the sound system. Here it was just a way to let Brown know he was appreciated.

Jim was busy talking with Simon so Blair finished with H and headed to his dressing room to change into his street clothes.

The singer was already mapping the following day's set as he opened his door.

Blair found himself thrust against the wall the second he released the doorknob. He was immobilized as a knee was pushed against his groin and an arm was pressed against his throat.

"You think you'll escape me this time? Not a chance. You're mine whenever I choose it." The voice was sinister and familiar.

The arm pressed harder across the windpipe and Blair found darkness descending.

-------

In the middle of a conversation with Simon, Jim froze. His conscious hearing became focused on what his subconscious was tracking: Blair. The now familiar heartbeat raced double time. A gasp, then respiration slowed and breaths became shallow.

The Sentinel was already on his way to the singer's dressing room. He tracked the slowing heartbeat in panic and raced across the club. One part of his mind acknowledged the footsteps running away, but his sole attention was focused on the crumpled form that was on the dressing room floor.

Jim dropped to his knees, checking the pulse point on Blair's neck. He was relieved beyond all reason that his finger could find a steadily increasing heartbeat. His hearing tracked the lung's movement as they drew in big gulps of air.

Blue eyes opened in fear, then instantly relaxed finding his head on Jim's lap and the big man's hand on his chest.

"Shit." The word was throaty and Jim was relieved to hear its utterance.

For a moment, Jim's fear showed on his face, "I scared him away. I didn't chase him, I thought...I had to check.... you. Shit, Sandburg." Jim tried to gather his thoughts, shield his emotions. Blair patted the hand that rested on his chest, giving comfort to the rescuer.

More composed, Jim continued, "Christ, Sandburg, there are bruises already forming on your neck. How hard did he grab you?" The Sentinel was scanning Blair's neck and face with his fingertips. He felt the radiating heat and the slow moving blood in the bruised areas. Jim could also feel pain heat radiating from the groin, but he hesitated placing his hand there. Instead, he asked, "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Yeah, he kneed me."

"Is it bad?"

"Not any worse than getting hit with a baseball."

"Ouch," Jim shook his hand back and forth in sympathetic pain memory.

"He's never been that rough before," Blair shared in a low voice.

"He say anything?" Jim squelched the fear for the singer down. He could not allow it out or he would steal the man and run away with him.

"He said I was his whenever he wanted," Blair answered calmly, fatalistically.

"Not on my watch, Sandburg." Jim was emphatic, "After each set, I'll be escorting you in. Nah, nah, no arguments." The last said as Blair tried to interrupt. "Sandburg, we all promised. As Megan would say, no worries."

"Her's is the better accent." Blair told him, grateful to Jim, but knowing that Jim would shut off if he displayed what he was really feeling.

"Her's is no accent, she's stuck talking like that all the time."

Both men grinned.

-------

Jim told the staff before Blair came in on Sunday. He asked that they keep on the look out for anyone showing extra interest in Blair.

With the added security, Blair felt safe and the week progressed smoothly.

Saturday morn at his apartment, he didn't feel safe any longer.

After returning from his morning run, the observer noticed the blinds askew and his things just slightly out of place. He picked up his rarely used cellphone and punched in a number.

"Ellison."

"Jim! He's been here."

"Where are you now?" Jim picked up his gun from the kitchen drawer and headed for the door.

"Outside my apartment."

"Don't go back in. Stay in sight of people. I'm on my way." Jim was already in his truck.

The line disconnected and Blair sat down on the curb and waited.

Jim broke several speed limits on his way to Sandburg's. Jim couldn't believe he didn't think of the stalker getting at the singer through his place.

He found Blair sitting on the curb, cell in hand. He stood up as Jim parked just next to him.

Jim got out of his truck and moved to Blair's side, "You okay, Buddy?"

"Yeah," Blair nodded, then added, "My stuff's been moved about. I didn't check to see if the place is empty. You check."

Jim moved as if to go in the building.

Blair stilled the bouncer, "Jim, with your hearing." He rested his hand on Jim's arm to anchor him.

Jim extended his range and searched for another heartbeat in Blair's place. "No, it's empty. Have you had anybody else in?" Not knowing why he hated the thought of the singer entertaining in his own home.

"No, been too busy to date."

"There's an odor that doesn't fit. Let's check it out." The two men made their way upstairs.

Jim located the smell in the bedroom. He remembered it from the dressing room. The stalker had lain on Sandburg's bed and Jim could detect that the intruder had rolled around in it.

"Pack your stuff. You're moving in with me."

"What? You're crazy."

"You feel safe here?" Jim questioned. "I sure as hell don't think you're safe here," he added to spur Blair into action.

"Are you sure?" Blair was hesitant, he didn't want Jim to suddenly feel invaded, even if he did issue the invitation.

"Yeah, Sandburg. It'll only be for a short time. We'll get your independence back." Jim didn't want Blair to feel like he was losing control of his life.

Jim found himself oddly looking forward to Blair's company. Funny that, he usually didn't want anyone invading his space. It was the main reason why his marriage didn't work.

Blair packed what he needed into a couple of boxes and his backpack. Jim carried one box, Blair the other and his pack down to Jim's truck.

In the next week, Jim and Blair ended up making two trips back to the singer's place. Each time Jim could detect that the same someone had been in there. The scent was strongest in the bedroom and it was fresh.

Blair was more than spooked, he was afraid. He was fearful that the stalker would hurt, really hurt, someone at the club and he thought that he should leave, ensuring their safety.

Joel's words stuck in his head though, haunting him and he knew he couldn't. He needed to face it. It? Him. He needed to face this stalker.

----

Blair found living with Jim both wonderful and different. They honed Jim's senses. Jim took to calling him Chief a lot when they were working and Blair loved the nickname. They shared breakfast. Blair loved sharing breakfast; Jim looked crumpled in the mornings, not quite so perfect. They read the paper in opposite order from each other so that worked out great. The difficult part for Blair was that he was falling for the club bouncer in a big way. A romantic way.

Blair could swing whatever way the mood would rule him. Jim, though, appeared a straight arrow, with a difficulty to trust on top of that. Blair didn't want to mess with the steadily growing friendship, so he kept those feelings to himself.

------

Jim was worried about the singer. The stalker had been silent for several weeks and that made Jim more concerned, not less. He had checked on the Barnes woman and she was still comatose in the hospital. That eliminated her, but didn't get him any closer to the bastard after Blair.

Blair was on his mind a lot. Jim knew it was because Blair was his helper, his guide, so to speak. So, it was only natural for his thoughts to be occupied with the singer.

So, when he heard him gasp sharply from his dressing room and his heart rate increased, Jim didn't think twice, he just ran to the singer's aid.

Blair turned off the shower water. It felt good getting rid of the body paint he had used for the last set. He stepped out of the shower, grabbing his towel. The corner of the towel hit his aftershave, pulling it to the ground. The glass bottle shattered, falling into the path of Blair's moving feet. He gasped in pain as his foot was cut by a broken shard.

He stood stunned as the door burst open and Jim rushed in. The door bounced closed from the force of its reaction.

Jim smelled the blood and rushed to Blair. "Chief, are you okay?" Jim ran his hands all over the singer, searching for what caused the blood.

He started at the head, then moved to the neck and shoulders. His hands spread across the bare, hairy chest then to the back before his brain registered that last fact.

The sudden knowledge that he was running his hands over a naked Blair sent liquid heat straight to his groin.

Blair's moan lent urgency to his hands, the need to explore consuming him. His hands ran down the smooth asschecks to the back of his thighs and legs. He then began a reverse pattern up the front of Blair's legs. It brought his face even with a fully erect cock. The drop of fluid at its tip assaulted his sentinel olfactory and the desire to taste took control of the man.

He cupped the round cheeks, pulling Blair closer still. He scented the distended shaft before he swallowed it. It felt natural and tasted good. The Sentinel became lost in the sensations.

Blair's knees buckled at the sensory onslaught. He would have fallen but for Jim's hands on his ass, holding him up. He could barely hang on as Jim's throat muscles molded to his cock. The tongue's swirling action pushed Blair to the edge.

"Jim," he called out in warning.

Jim only sucked harder, lost in the taste, scent and feel of Blair. The something missing from before was found and necessary now.

Blair came hard and Jim swallowed it all. That final taste sending Jim over his own edge without a touch.

Sated, both men lay stunned. Finally, Blair regained enough motion control to get up and fetch a damp cloth to clean Jim. He threw a towel on the floor before stepping to the sink, but as he stepped out of the bathroom, he saw the door close behind Jim.

Blair threw the cloth down as he grabbed his jeans and a tee shirt. "If he thinks we're ignoring this..." Blair muttered as he tied his shoes.

The sought after Ellison remained elusive as Blair watched the 69 pickup squeal out of the parking lot.

-----

Blair went straight home after his second set. He was relieved to see Jim's truck in its usual place. The singer entered the dark loft and could just make out Jim sitting at his desk.

"I owe you an apology, Chief. I let the senses take over. What I did was unforgivable." Jim's voice was full of the recriminations that sounded in the words.

"Jim, I think you've overlooked how much I enjoyed it," Blair told him as he drew closer to the unmoving man.

"That still doesn't excuse what I did."

Blair suddenly realized that Jim needed to first confront his own pleasure and why and he hadn't done that yet. Blair knew that he could give him an out. He cared enough about the gruff man to do just that. "It was a Sentinel/Guide thing. I think we can safely say that I am your guide. It's a basic sentinel need to have a sense map of one's guide. Simple, Jim. Don't worry on it." Blair smiled reassuringly at his friend. He headed for his bedroom.

-----

Jim might have spent more time agonizing over his transgression but for Blair's stalker.

On the following day, in the nightclub parking lot, Blair found all four tires of his Corvair slashed. Not a single slash per tire, but multiple stab marks. It wasn't random, it was personal.

Jim searched closely for any information he could glean with his senses. Simon called the police.

After an hour of the officials discerning less than Jim, the staff of Club Diamond watched the police leave.

Blair turned to his co-workers and friends, "I think it would be safer for you all if I were to leave. I don't want any of you affected by any backlash this crazed person may try." The singer was genuinely worried about these people.

"Bullshit, Mate," Megan stated.

"No way," Rafe seconded.

"You're stayin'," H commanded.

"You promised," Joel reminded.

"You have a contract," Simon made clear.

"Guess you're staying," Jim concluded after hearing all the statements.

The security chief smiled at how the others had truly taken Sandburg into their fold. He was hoping it wasn't himself that made Blair want to leave.

"You win, Simon, I don't break my contracts easily. I just don't want to get one of your people hurt because of me."

"We're watching out."

Blair wasn't sure who said it, Joel or H, but the meaning behind the words touched him deeply.

-----

Sandburg enjoyed the afternoon youth gigs as much as his regular ones. They'd challenge his repertoire by wanting oldies and equally wanting the most recent releases.

The singer had received several proposals of marriage from the twelve through eighteen year old age groups. He shared those at the staff meetings.

Megan and Rafe laughed. H chuckled as he joked, "They must recognize that you are on the same maturity level as they are."

"Ha,ha,ha. I'll be laughing all the way to the dressing room," Blair called as he left the office, hiding his grin.

Jim smiled tightly. He found he was jealous. How dare those kids try to claim what was his.

That thought brought him up short. His? He was thinking of Sandburg as his? NO! Sandburg was off limits. Especially after what he let happen two weeks ago.

Jim grabbed his coffee and left to check the singer's dressing room before he got there.

Blair waited for Jim to leave the office and followed close behind him. "Jim."

Jim stopped but sent his hearing out to the dressing room. Empty. He turned toward the singer, and said in a neutral voice, "Yeah?"

"We need to work on some control tests."

"Not now, Sandburg."

"Why not? I've got some down time. You've been avoiding the tests. Man, you really need them for gaining control."

Jim turned and started to walk away.

Blair followed, "Jim, you need to practice to gain maximum control."

"Look, Chief, I don't think I should be spending so much time with you. You know...after..."

Somewhat defeated, "Forget about that, Jim."

Both men thought independently of the other, 'Yeah, like I could.'

"Jim, look, if something happens to me, I want to believe that you have the kind of control you need. Hopefully, train you to recognize an upcoming zone and..." Blair stopped and addressed the look of horror on the bouncer's face. "You hear something?"

"Chief, what do you mean, if something happens to you? I said I'd watch your back. You said you'd stay."

Blair was touched, but continued on, "Jim, you need to hone these skills, make them do what you want them to, when you want."

"Okay, okay, we'll practice," Jim gave in just so he wouldn't have to hear any more about Blair not being here.

Then, at Blair's answering smile, Jim couldn't remember why he refused in the first place.

----------

Blair couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. His best defense was to get Jim's senses to the cutting edge.

Blair worked Jim in during most of their free time. They practiced out in the woods, in a shopping mall and in a museum. They went to the movies and squeezed in a Santana concert, all in the name of practice. Blair never had so much fun dating and Jim didn't even know.

What Jim did know was that Blair was becoming more important with each day. Also, with each day, Jim's desire for the singer grew.

Jim knew that Blair said he was his guide, but that didn't mean the singer would stay. His occupation, by its very nature, made him nomadic. If Jim let himself get too involved, well, he didn't think he could make it back through the pain.

How had Sandburg gotten so close?

--------

Megan watched the guy watching Sandy. The middle-aged man had kept his eyes glued to the charismatic singer the entire time he was performing. She hailed Jim over.

"Jim, see that guy at the end of the counter?" She waited for Jim's eyes to travel that way.

He nodded.

"He's like you, only has eyes for Sandy." The Aussie dared.

Jim bristled, "What the hell do you mean?"

Megan smiled at Jim, his hard-ass stares never bothered her. "Sandy," She pointed to the man with his back to her, "He's been watching him. Nursing that one drink. Hardly blinks when Sandy's singing."

Jim focused himself on the mousy looking man. The lust was pouring off him. That man wanted Blair. The bouncer's hackles went up. No one would touch what was his. Jim didn't think through his thoughts, didn't acknowledge his own primitive streak. He just went straight to Sandburg on full alert.

As soon as the singer took his last bow Jim intercepted him and led him to his dressing room. Jim was so busy ushering Blair into his room and getting his promise to lock the door he didn't sense check the place. He was focused on the man that followed him and he wanted to deal with him.

He closed the door behind him and checked the handle before moving away. He turned to find the man coming up to the dressing room door.

In a no-nonsense voice, "This is a restricted area. Employees only."

"But I must see him," the drab man sniveled.

Jim directed him back the way he came, "No admittance."

"But he'd want to see me," the man whined, "I'm his greatest fan."

The pheromones denoting his lust were almost overwhelming as Jim led him back to the bar. The plan was to have Megan keep an eye on him as they waited for the authorities.

Jim ensured that the man would wait by misleading him. "I will let Sandburg know you're waiting."

The man nodded and sat like a good boy at the bar counter.

-------

Blair smiled at Jim's protectiveness. He turned toward the shower and noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. Too late, a bag went over his head. Blair took a breath as he kicked out, only to fall unconscious on the floor.

-------

Jim forced himself to Simon's office to wait. He had been unprepared for the depth of jealousy he had experienced concerning Sandburg. He had wanted to squash the man for wanting his Blair. His Blair? Where in the hell had that come from?

Jim remembered Blair's touch on his arm. He focused on that small place on his arm and was able to pickup a bit of Blair's scent still clinging there. He wanted to fill his senses with that scent. Jim almost lost himself in the attempt. Only Joel's anxiety reached him.

Blair! The bouncer rushed to the singer's dressing room.

"I can't find him! He's not anywhere." Joel told the bouncer as he was nearly knocked over.

Jim entered the singer's dressing room and froze. He could smell the same scent that had broken into Sandburg's place. He could also smell Blair's panic and the chloroform used on his Guide.

On exiting the dressing room, Jim barked out, "Brown, Rafe, go look in the parking lot for an exiting vehicle, get a license plate if you can. Someone has taken Blair."

The Sentinel stopped and focused his senses, just like Blair had taught him. He blocked out everything but smell, he searched out the familiar scent of the singer.

He followed the path of the scent. He found himself at the back of the club. He opened full and was caught off guard by Brown's shout. The sound was a pain and it brought the bouncer to his knees. Joel was right there to help him up.

Brown was speaking and Jim forced himself to hear, Blair's life may depend on it.

"Jim, there's a van leaving. It hauled ass out of here. I got a plate. Rafe's getting the car. Let's go." Blair had really become a friend and he didn't want his friend hurt.

Rafe pulled up. Brown and Taggert jumped in back as Jim got in the passenger's seat. They followed in pursuit of the van that Brown and Rafe had spotted.

Jim dialed his sight and hearing up, working them together as Sandburg had suggested. He ignored the ringing as he found the steady heartbeat of the man that had become the center of his universe.

"He's alive and we're on the right track."

-------

The driver was unaware that he was being pursued. As no one had ever taken up Sandburg's welfare before, he was not expecting anyone to do so now. He never checked his rearview mirror.

Usually, after a first incident, Blair would flee the area and set up someplace new; the stalker loved the hunt. This time he was puzzled as to why Blair stayed even after the attack on his dressing room.

He needed to scare Blair more thoroughly so he would leave....Blair was his to play and taunt. No one else would be allowed to interfere. He figured it was probably the contract that kept Blair here....he would have to arrange an ...accident so that the manager would release his prey

He drove through the streets of Cascade, straight to his temporary quarters opposite of the warehouse district. Aloud, he said to his singer, "Why have you stayed? You are my singer. You will soon realize that you should only play for me. If it's the contract that keeps you here, I will change that." He brushed the sleeping face with his fingertips.

He parked in front of a brownstone-like building. He smiled to himself, bringing his singer here was a good idea. He dragged Blair's unconscious body out of his van.

Rafe pulled up right behind the Dodge and Jim jumped out of the vehicle before it had even come to a stop. Jim ran full out at the kidnapper.

Blair's stalker saw the large man running straight for him and threw the unconscious man roughly into the road. He turned and fled into the well-known neighborhood as the three men were successfully distracted by the bruised form on the roadway. The stalker disappeared into the night.

Jim checked for Blair's pulse with his fingers first before he remembered to do it with his senses. The heart was pumping and he was breathing. He then checked for any broken bones before he would allow the others to try and move him.

"Jim, an unconscious body usually sustains less injuries than a conscious one. Let's get him to the hospital," Joel told the worried man as Rafe went for the car.

Blair's unconscious form laid across Jim and Joel's laps as Rafe broke land speed laws getting to the hospital. The advance man pulled into an ambulance bay.

Jim refused all offers of help as he lifted and carried Blair inside by himself.

The attendant yelling at Rafe and Brown for their parking in the emergency vehicle bay was blocked from Jim's hearing. He was focused solely on a single heartbeat.

Joel took care of the admitting process and when asked next of kin, the gentle man supplied Jim's name.

Jim paced back and forth in front of the `medical personnel only' doors. He was fixated on the necessary heart sounds, so focused on his Guide that he didn't hear the doctor approach.

"Mr. Ellison?" the medic asked as he stepped through the doors, nearly smacking into Jim.

Jim just stared so Joel answered, "Yes, is he okay?"

"Mr. Sandburg breathed in a heavy dose of chloroform. He'll be fine, but will have one mighty bad headache." He grinned and saw that any attempt of humor would be lost on this serious looking group. "I don't want to give him any real painkillers. Two Tylenol every four hours would be better. He has a few abrasions but nothing serious. His being unconscious during the impact with the ground helped."

"He's suppose to work tomorrow?" Joel stated and asked at the same time.

"That will be completely up to him. He will be ready for release within twenty minutes," the doctor finished.

"Can I see him? Jim asked quietly.

"Sure, this way." The Doctor pushed the doors open and held them as Jim went through.

Joel called out, "Thank you, Doctor."

Jim followed silently as the doctor led him back to Sandburg's room. He went straight to the singer's bed.

"Hey, Chief. How ya doing?" He looked down at the singer.

"If you could stop the guy with the hammer, I'd be fine." Blair tried opening his eyes. He blinked several times before he could keep them open. He gaze settled on the Sentinel.

"Sorry, Chief, I let you down. I said I'd protect you and I didn't keep my promise," Jim told him dejectedly. Then he added, "If you want to call off the whole helping me thing, I'll understand."

Blair couldn't believe how conditional love must have been in this man's life. "Hey, Jim, I'm fine. I'm here, aren't I? I'm safe. You did keep your promise. And no matter what happens, I'll still be your guide. Can we go home now?"

To Jim it seemed that Sandburg said that all on one breath. "Breathe, Chief. And, yeah, let me sign the paperwork and we can go home." Jim turned to the door just before the nurse walked in with the release forms in hand.

In the waiting room, they found the group there had grown with the additions of Megan and Simon. Seeing Sandburg with Jim, Rafe headed to the parking lot to get his car.

Simon offered to take Brown and Taggert back to their cars. Rafe would drop off Jim and Blair at the loft. Simon told Jim before he closed the door, "The police will need a statement. Tomorrow afternoon is fine. Ask for Jamison. He took care of that other guy, too."

Jim nodded absently, his mind on Blair.

At the loft, Jim guided Blair straight to his bedroom. He helped him shed his clothes until he was clad only in his boxers. Jim quickly pushed him into the bed and pulled the covers up, the singer was too tempting, even after being roughed up.

The Sentinel knew he should leave the room, but he needed to indulge his senses. He'd almost lost his guide and friend. He whispered aloud, "I almost lost you, today."

Blair used his soothing voice, "But you didn't, Jim. You kept me safe." He stroked the muscular arm that still rested on his covered shoulder. He needed to divert Jim's thoughts, "How'd you do it? Track me?"

"First, it was the odor. Then we saw the vehicle, so Rafe followed it. I kept track of your heartbeat. I heard the kidnapper talking..." Jim remembered the conversation and the security man replaced the sentinel, "We need to warn Simon. Your stalker expected you to cut and run, but you stayed. He's puzzled by your behavior. He rationalized that it had to do with the club contract so he plans to create some sort of havoc there." Jim recalled the obsessive manner in which the man had acted with his guide. The Sentinel returned, "I won't let him have you." Jim told Blair fiercely.

Blair smiled up at his protector, knowing that Jim needed to reassure himself about his guide, he asked, "Can you hang close by until I fall asleep?"

"Can do," Jim relaxed knowing that he wouldn't be forced to leave Blair alone for what was left of the night.

Jim was asleep in the chair next to Sandburg's bed. A shrill cry awoke him. The scent of fear permeated the room. The Guide was afraid. Danger. The Sentinel opened his senses to full, searching for the threat to his guide. Protect the Guide.

The cry came again, the danger was with his guide in the bed. Jim pounced on the bed, ready to fight whatever he had to. Hi guide was alone, but thrashing. A nightmare. The Sentinel gathered his guide into his arms.

"Blair. Blair. You're safe." Jim called out to him.

Eyes opened in fear were accompanied with a gasp and an accelerated heart rate. Blair recognized instantly that the man holding him was Jim, his protector, and that he was safe.

The scent of fear changed to the scent of joy and the Sentinel was overwhelmed at the transition. The guide knew his protector. The need to mark his guide intensified to a fever pitch. Jim crushed Blair to his body. He nuzzled his neck, enveloping himself in the clear scent of his guide. Fear no longer tainted it, just the welcome scent of arousal.

Arousal, the guide wanted his mark. Jim sucked on the neck, enjoying the flavor, leaving his mark in the wake. He marked under each ear, the throat just below the Adam's apple, until he finally claimed the full, parted lips.

Breathy moans greeted each action. A writhing body pressed harder, closer to his. His body answered in kind and pressed back. Erections ground together, hardly aware of the brief cloth that separated them. The Sentinel claimed his guide's mouth as his body undulated in matching rhythms with his guide's. The climatic explosion took both men by surprise and one scream was undistinguishable from the other.

Sated and barely conscious, the Sentinel gathered his guide closer still to sleep the sleep of the exhausted.

------

Blair found himself alone when he woke to the smell of coffee. The evidence of his dream dried on his belly. He stumbled out of bed and headed straight to the bathroom. He glanced briefly into the mirror as he set to relieve himself. His eyes turned back sharply as he noted the red marks across his neck and shoulders.

It wasn't a dream.

Blair smiled at the passionate reminders of Jim's lovemaking. He brushed his teeth to rid himself of morning breath, hoping for a morning kiss. He bounced out of the bathroom and went directly to the kitchen. Where he found a note instead of Jim, a brief note. /Stay there, be back soon. \

Blair poured himself a cup of the coffee and seated himself at the table to wait. Less than ten minutes passed before he heard Jim's keys in the lock.

Jim's gaze briefly rested on the tousled-haired man before looking away.

"Morning, Jim," Blair tried brightly, hoping for some indication of his lover's mood.

"Chief." Jim returned. He moved closer to hand the box of muffins that he brought back from his escape run.

Blair took the box and said warmly, "Thanks, Jim."

Jim looked at Blair and sucked in his breath. The marks. Jim was ashamed of his uncontrolled actions.

Blair gauged the mood change from bad to worse. His heart fell, Jim once again regretted his actions. He knew that his declaration of enjoyment would be unwelcome and kept them to himself.

"Blair, I..."

"I understand," Blair told him and deflected the conversation and his own disappointment. "When do we have to go to the police station?"

"Sometime today. Simon says you don't need to work tonight."

"I'm fine, I can work. Let's hit the station soon."

Jim looked like he was about to argue, but kept his mouth closed. He was afraid that if they started talking, they'd talk about stuff he didn't want to. He headed upstairs to change.

Blair whispered for sentinel ears, "Thanks, it was great."

Other than a brief tightening of his hand on the stair rail, Jim gave no sign of hearing.

-----

Blair's statement of the event was useless Rafe, Taggert and Brown had supplied the only information that had helped

The van had been gone when the police had arrived, but the license plate number showed that it was registered to an Elliot Lipton. A search of the immediate area didn't find the perp, but it did turn up his residence. The place was filled with pictures of Blair Sandburg. There was an APB out, but Jim couldn't count on the police protecting his guide the way he could.

An inner voice chastised him, was sex considered that now, a protection? He squashed the voice and let his covert ops-training take over.

They would set a trap and only call the police after it had been set. The security man needed to be in control. Blair was his, he protected what was his.

While they were still at the station, Jim checked on the other man that had sought Blair. The singer was surprised to learn of him. John Brown, a CPA that was obsessed with the singer. Apparently, he believed that Blair's words were for him alone.

The singer quipped, "I guess only teenyboppers and obsessive men become my groupies."

Jim knew which category he fell into. He averted his gaze.

Blair could read Jim's body language and realized that Jim put a negative spin on his feelings. Once again, for sentinel hearing only, Blair said, "Sentinels, protectors and friends do not fall into those categories. Jim, you're all three."

---------

Simon was surprised when Jim walked in with Sandburg. He motioned them into his office. Joel was already there and Brown headed over at seeing the guys walk in.

Megan rushed the pair. "Sandy, how ya doing, Mate?" She grabbed him in a hug and Jim found himself wanting to growl at her.

The bouncer went straight to the coffeepot instead. He poured himself a large cup and a mug for Sandburg. He waited as Rafe and Megan ushered the singer in. All were genuinely delighted to see him at work today. Jim handed the mug to Blair as he sat down. He received a smile of thanks.

"You didn't have to work tonight, Blair," Simon told the younger man.

"I'm fine and I don't want this dirtbag to have any more power over my actions. I'm done with that." Blair announced what he promised himself.

Jim retold what he had heard Lipton say and explained his idea, "We set a trap in the club to catch the stalker. He is planning on causing problems of some sort or another. We prepare and make it easy for him to do so. He doesn't know we know."

"And the bait needs to be here with easy access," Blair affirmed.

Jim didn't like his guide being the bait but he knew it was the only way.

Courtesy of the Cascade Police Department, they had a picture of Lipton.They'd all be on high alert, they wouldn't let their guard down. The police would be called only after they were sure he was in the building.

All in agreement, Club Diamond was readied for the evening.

------

The panther's growl shattered the jungle tranquility. The sleek animal ran. At top speed the jet-black creature tore through the night. It's prey, a silver-gray and white wolf that was being forced off the edge of the waterfall. The panther ran straight at it, never slowing its pace. It head-butted the lupine just before it fell to its death. It then stood guard against the hunter.

------

Jim woke with a start. He looked for the jungle vines. They had seemed so real. The scent seemed to linger in the room. He remembered the cat from his stay in Peru. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. It was a warning. The ex-army ranger knew how to heed a warning.

Downstairs, Blair recognized the distinctive growl from the last time. He was in grave danger. The cat was back. The forbidding feeling that he couldn't shake last time, saved his life. This time, he accepted the warning for what it was and would heed its guidance.

-------

The hardest part was the waiting. They all knew that something would happen, they just didn't know when. They created a routine and they all stuck with it.

Blair still wanted to continue with the fine tune testing. Jim only agreed to the tests to keep the singer close. It was during one of these secessions that Blair brought up the panther growl.

"Jim, do you remember me talking about that other sentinel?" Blair seemed to ask out of the blue.

"Alex Barnes. Yes, Chief, I do." Jim paused as Blair showed surprise that he remembered the name. He went one step further, "She's still catatonic. I checked."

Blair couldn't help being relieved at that piece of news. "That wasn't why I mentioned her, but thanks for checking. I feel better knowing that."

Jim nodded, then asked, "So, why mention her, then?"

"A few days before the end, my dreams were plagued with a black panther. I would hear its growl even when I was awake that last day. It put me on edge and it saved my life. My body instinctively reacted to the sound and I dropped to the ground." Blair shuddered at the still clear memories. He pushed them aside to talk about it now. "I've been dreaming about the black panther again. So soon. Stuff will happen soon."

Jim couldn't keep the startlement off of his face.

"What is it, Jim?"

"About the panther, does it have blue eyes?" Jim inquired.

Blair froze, then nodded, "How did you know that?"

"When I was in Peru, the tribal shaman helped me survive. He said that he saw my animal spirit. That was how he knew where to find me. That animal was a blue-eyed, black panther."

Blair, the anthropologist, student of all things sentinel, knew with clarity that he was indeed this sentinel's guide. He could no longer deny that aspect to himself. His future, whatever it was, was intertwined with Jim Ellison.

"Even before you knew of me, you were protecting me. I am truly your guide," Blair whispered.

There was a different sound in Sandburg's voice. Instinctively, Jim liked the sound. "So what does that mean to you, now?"

"I'm your guide. I will be where you are. My nomadic days are over." Blair answered, then added to himself, 'I've got a home now.'

Jim wanted to question Blair further, but Brown hurried in as he called out, "Over here. I found something." He pointed back behind him to the speakers.

Jim could smell it before he saw it. "Explosives. That much would hurt people." Jim checked it carefully and then removed the yellow, then the blue wire. He put it in a box and took it outside. Simon locked it in the shed for the police to collect.

All through the evening the staff was on high alert. Trouble would happen soon. The Sentinel paced like his spirit animal. He was unable to stay still. He roamed all over the club, but never was out of eye contact with his guide.

The following morning found both the Sentinel and Guide restless. It was while Jim was in the shower that Blair heard the panther growl. Blair tensed and looked all about him. Danger was close and soon.

The Guide needed to be close to his protector and close he stayed until he had to change for his show.

Joel reported to Megan that Lipton had been spotted outside. They were unable to locate him inside. Joel got word to Rafe, who in turn spoke with Brown. Megan told her husband and Jim listened in and knew before Simon approached him.

The sets went well but it was as the last customer exited the club that a commotion started. From the rafters a man lowered himself to within feet of the singer. Jim dove across the set to knock Blair out of harm's way.

Lipton drew a gun and pointed it at the small crowd that blocked Blair from his sight. He drew a knife with his other hand as he spoke aloud, "Blair is mine. You all can go. Leave my singer alone and you all will remain safe."

"Give it up, Lipton. The cops are on the way." Jim separated from the group in hopes of distracting the man.

Lipton was angry. He shot the gun in a half circle causing the staff to dive for cover. Jim could see the flame the bullets made as they exited the barrel. He zoned.

Blair's eyes never left Jim's form and he could see the second that Jim became too focused. He sprinted across the stage to get to his side, "Jim, follow my voice. Your guide needs you," Blair uttered as he ran.

Just as Blair would have reached Jim's side, Lipton lunged out and rammed into Blair, tackling him and pinning him to the floor.

Blair 's voice had done the trick and Jim came out of the zone just as Sandburg was knocked away. Jim turned to see Lipton holding a knife to Blair, forcing him to stand. He gathered the singer's body close as he pressed the knife to his throat.

Blair felt the knife at his throat. He stayed still. He knew that on some level he was scared, but he didn't think he would die. Jim was here and that meant that he was okay. It wasn't logical, but it was true nonetheless.

Blair then realized in horror that he had not told Jim anything of real importance. Here he was at the moment where death was a real possibility and suddenly it was clear, he loved Jim. Now Jim may never know that he was loved, unconditionally loved. Should all go well, he would not make that mistake again. His eyes sought out his Sentinel.

As the knife was raised and pressed against his Guide's throat, Jim realized with sudden clarity, that his childhood didn't matter. Whether his father loved him was no longer important. If he stayed in this one locale for the rest of his life and never did anything of great importance, he could have a perfect life. All he needed was the man being threatened. So he must live, no matter the cost.

Every test he had been subjected to, every trick he had been taught just paid off. He focused his sight and hearing on the knife and the hand holding it. He listened to the blood flow and the tendons flex. He measured exactly where the bullet would have to enter so that Blair would remain unharmed.

He slipped the gun from the small of his back and held it expertly in his hand. He would give the ultimatum as he was trained to do, but he knew that in this case it would be ignored. Not only that but it would precipitate the next action. That was when he would strike. The Sentinel was ready, all heartbeats were being monitored.

He spared a glance at his guide. He moved his head to let his guide know that he was listening. He shifted his eye muscles so that he would know he was sighting. Blair would now know he could expect action.

Jim raised his weapon, "Unhand Sandburg, and you shall live." Jim focused on the one safe spot. He heard the muscles in Lipton's arm move, the fingers closed tighter on the knife.

"There is no life without Blair, for me or him." The knife was about to go into the hair-stubbled neck.

Instead, a single shot rang out and the stalker tipped back and fell to the floor like a dropped stone. Blair dipped to his left and did not see the body fall.

Jim was unconcerned on the condition of the man, he knew he was dead. He rushed instead to Blair's side and crushed the living man to his chest. Profound relief spread throughout his body. His guide was safe, his Blair was free at last.

Police and medical personnel showed up and took the body away. Medical attendants inquired after Blair but they were waved away. Blair was fine and right where he should be...in the arms of the man he loved. They held each other without saying a word, just basking in the fact that they were alive and together.

Jim and Blair made their way back to the singer's dressing room. Still connected with hands and arms, they squeezed through the small door.

Jim needed the reassurance that touch reinforced, but with the adrenaline rush subsiding, Jim couldn't help but notice that other scent on his guide. He pushed his guide slightly away and growled.

"What?"

"This is where I hate that instinctual thing."

"What are you talking about?"

"I just want to drag you in the shower and wash his scent off."

"And that's a bad idea because?"

Jim grinned, "I can hardly think of anything else, just the need to get that scent off you. He nearly killed you, I almost lost my Guide." Jim crushed the man in his arms closer. His fear of what he almost lost overriding the intruder's odor.

A hard question, that needed an answer, whether Blair really wanted to hear the answer or not. "Did you or the sentinel almost lose me?"

"The Sentinel did almost lose his Guide, but I almost lost you."

"How is that different?"

Jim gripped the man in his arms tighter, looked into the questioning eyes How is it different? Jim didn't want to be guided by primitive feelings, but Jim knew that he also almost lost Blair; the singer, the motor mouth, the brilliant man. Jim couldn't deal with what the loss of Sandburg would mean to him. He couldn't even entertain the thought, let alone discuss it out loud.

Sandburg. Blair, not his guide, he was thinking about Blair, the man.

"It is different, it is. I just can't explain it." Jim rested his head in Blair's neck, seeking comfort in the scent, only to be reminded of the intruder. He growled again.

"How about this, one action felt on different levels, and the only reason you saw it manifested in sentinel behavior first was because it was the least repressed behavior." Blair tried to explain, "Jim, you've dealt with the emotional traumas in your life by pushing them aside and continuing on. Pushed long enough, you forgot them, repressed them. The sentinel aspect of your personality doesn't repress, it just deals."

Jim looked at Blair intently, the information clicking, he was Jim and he was a sentinel. "So I don't feel like this because I am a Sentinel, it's just that the sentinel side picked it up first and recognized that you'd become important." Jim worked his thoughts aloud.

"Important how?" Blair prodded, for Jim and himself.

"That my emotional well being was somehow tied up with what I feel for you."

Blair's eyes asked the silent question.

Jim looked deep inside himself, he figured he owed his mate-to-be some real tenderness. Because, that is what Blair was to him, his life mate. "What I feel for you is MORE than what I've ever felt for any other. You feed all my senses...god, how corny is that? But hell, it's true." Jim shook his head at his own mushy words.

"Like how?" Blair found he wanted to hear this...corny or not.

Jim smiled, a softening of his features overtaking his face, "Your scent ...there is nothing I like to smell more and ... you're beautiful," he paused as he realized how very true that statement was. "The sound of your voice can call me back from anywhere." Jim ran his hands up and down the singer's back, "Touching you excites me and your taste...I'm afraid I'm already addicted." He nuzzled the neck again and this time when the stalker's scent assailed his olfactory he went with the instinct.

He growled and stood, taking his guide with him. He pushed Blair toward the shower. The laughing man went willingly.

"How about we shed some clothes along the way."

"Yes, whatever. Let's just get into the shower." This time Jim just went with the overriding feeling of getting his Guide's scent pure.

He turned on the shower water as Blair threw the rest of his clothes in the corner. He felt the button of his jeans pop open and his growl became a purr. He all but ripped his own pants off. His erection bobbed, hard and needy. His skin hummed as Blair grabbed it and pulled it, and him, into the shower.

First order was removing all trace of that nasty scent. Blair knew this was a ritual that needed to be played out and smiled, since he knew that he could take it.

Jim started with the hair. He poured a handful of shampoo into his cupped palm and lathered the brown curls. He noted that even wet and soapy they were never completely straight. He worked the shampoo into the scalp, fingers never ceasing their caressing action. He rinsed the soap out thoroughly and repeated the actions with the conditioner.

When that was free of his hair, Jim took the bar of soap and started at the hairline and worked his fingers about the neck, the shoulders and chest. The chest took a much more thorough exploration. On some level he tracked the sounds that Blair made. He tracked the increasing level of excitement as all scents were drowned out by the singer's arousal. Jim smiled... a feral and possessive smile. He washed the protruding nipples, gently tugging on the ring. Another wave of pheromones hit and Jim filed that information away for later.

He cleaned the stomach and back, his hands slipping to cup the firm round ass cheeks that twitched in welcome. He skirted the groin and continued down the firm and hairy legs. He cleaned between the toes and the feet bottoms before returning to the missed area.

Blair's groan signaled that his guide was close to the edge, so with the intruder's scent completely gone, the sentinel indulged himself in a taste test. He slurped up the turgid shaft, then sucked it inside his warm mouth. He held onto Blair's hips as they jumped. Jim never veered from his concentration on his task at hand, the taste test. He needed to taste of his guide again. Every part of his mouth rubbed on the hard flesh, imprinting the taste. He finally opened his throat fully and sucked his guide in further.

Blair had already thought he'd died and gone to heaven, but that final act sent him over and he exploded into his lover's mouth. He came and came and came. Boneless, he collapsed on top of the kneeling sentinel.

Jim didn't even feel the extra weight as the taste of Blair's semen exploded on his taste buds and he drank all the ambrosia that was offered.

The shower water hitting his back brought the singer back to awareness. He sat on Jim's lap and tugged his face up so he could kiss the lips. The kiss awoke their passion and both felt the fire burn. Blair wanted his turn at cleansing and beckoned the sentinel to stand.

Indulging his guide, Jim did as he was bid. Blair washed the shorter hair and made shampoo shapes until a growl had him rinse the lather away. He soaped his hands and let them glide on the angles and planes of the hard body that he had never been able to completely luxuriate in. Muscles rippled under his touch, and sucked in breaths told their own tale of delight. Blair didn't have the sentinel's patience, so he took the leaking cock into his mouth on the first trip downward.

He reveled in the texture, the taste, the sounds from above. The writhing hips were controlled as Blair gently rocked Jim's hips. That rhythm remained constant, but his mouth action did not. He used his tongue, his teeth and his throat muscles to draw out as much pleasure as Jim could take. Soon, the sensory overload had the sentinel bucking his orgasm as his shout echoed off the tile walls of the shower stall.

Blair hugged Jim close as he whispered words he had yet to say. "I love you, Jim."

Jim held on tight as the words washed over all the painful corners of his heart. Emotions flooded his system and his flaccid erection surged to new life. Blair bucked against the hardness he felt growing on his stomach.

Jim wanted Blair, all of Blair. Blair recognized the look and smiled, pointing to his renewed erection, "I want it, too." He turned and faced the tile wall.

Jim ran his hands all over his guide's body. He couldn't get enough. His fingers skimmed the crack and Blair spread his legs wantonly. Jim all but roared. His soaped fingers played and teased until they breached the hole. Panting and gurgles met his questing fingers and he continued on. He placed fingers and stretched until his guide was primed and would feel no pain.

Jim was hard, needy and ready. Blair was impatient and as soon as he felt the bulging head tap his entrance he pushed back hard. The shouts of sensory overload were almost enough to push both men over the edge. Jim gripped and stilled Blair to prevent this.

Blair begged, "Oh, please, oh please."

Jim knew satisfaction. This was his. He pulled out almost all the way and paused a second before he slammed in, growling out, "MINE."

The hitting of the prostate sent an explosion of sensation and Blair yelled in answer, "YOURS."

Jim needed to claim, mark his guide, his man, his mate, his love. He slammed in and out, pumping his guide's body hard, pumping the guide's cock hard. The burn spread and carried each man over the edge. As his fluids filled his guide, Jim cried out, "I love you, Blair."

The loss of warm water had both men stirring, each more concerned for the other's comfort. They towel dried the other and they slowly dressed.

Jim traced the beloved features with his fingertips, "Earlier, you said, "I'm your guide. I will be where you are. My nomadic days are over." You mean this?"

Blair caught the questing fingers and kissed each one. "Yes. Jim, you are home. I will be by your side from this point on."

Jim grabbed him fiercely and pressed him against his heart. "My mate." He could feel Blair nod. "I'm your mate." He could feel Blair's nod again.

"Yes."

The kiss was a promise to those words.

"Let's go home before I ravish you here again."

"And that would be a problem, why?" Blair retorted.

Jim just grinned as he pushed the singer along.

As the two men walked across the stage, Jim was hit again with all that he could have lost. Hell on earth would be a life without Blair. He pulled the man beside him into a fierce hug. Blair went with it, a smile on his face. He felt so loved that his face glowed with that knowledge. Jim caught his breath, his body reacted as though it hadn't come twice in the last half-hour.

He pushed Blair down on the very spot that he could have been lost and claimed the full lips that were only for him.

Blair gasped a breathy, "I love you," inside the open mouth and was rewarded with his tongue being sucked ruthlessly by his Sentinel.

Jim made new marks beside the fresh ones that were finally showing their color. He gripped the singer's ass and pulled him closer, pressing his hard and leaking erection against its match that Blair sported. The tongue sucking matched the age-old rhythm that their hips danced. Moans and mewls spoke of the fire that was flowing through their blood again.

Five people stood frozen, each one believed independently that they should be feeling awkward, but somehow they didn't. With these two, it just felt right. One by one they left quietly, wanting to stay, but knowing they should leave. The birth of a new relationship was private. They left in hope that they, too, would experience that much passion.

Joel smiled as he drove home. Megan went in search of Simon. Rafe and Brown just gave a knowing nod as they headed to their cars.

Inside, Jim knew on some level that they were finally alone. He hadn't cared when their friends were there. Blair was his and he was fine with the whole world knowing. Jim Ellison was happy ... didn't that just beat all.

fini