"So Sentinel and Shaman went back to t'city and bringed people out of it and made them into t'tribe, and all t'other tribes comed from it and all t'cities got empty 'ceptn for Ravagers, an, an, an now *every body* lives in tribes." Test recited what he knew of history in one lung-sagging breath, then sucked in more air to keep going.

"Not everybody lives in tribes, Test, and it wasn't quite that easy," Sentinel interrupted gently. "Talking frightened children into leaving what little security they had, teaching them what they needed to know to survive as a tribe, how to *be* a tribe - not even the best shaman that ever lived could have done that by himself if things hadn't been so bad."

"Not even with t'best sentinel that ever lived helpin' 'im?" Test asked seriously, though there was a grin playing around the edge of his words.

"Not even then."

"How could they be so *stupid?" Test blurted. "Ev'body knows t'trust sentinel or shaman t'protect and take care of you." The child sounded absolutely indignant on their behalf.

"Ahh, but you forget the city people didn't know about them," Shaman pointed out gently.

"Not only that, but most had never spent more than few hours at a time in a forest; some actively hated being outside at all. None of them knew how to hunt, or what nuts and plants were safe to eat, or how to stay warm when it was cold. They'd never *needed* to learn those things. They were more ignorant than the tiniest baby about how to live the way we do now. Can you blame them for being scared of such a huge change?"

It was obvious that the boy was struggling with the concept of *not* knowing how to live as he did, but after a moment he nodded his head slowly. "Onced we was moving to a Next Camp, and it rained hard, harder than I ever 'membered seeing it rain. Scared me cause'n I didn't know how t'see or t'walk in it when it was all mean like that. To them *ev'thing," and he flung out his arms to encompass their world, "was new and mean."

"Exactly," Shaman confirmed. "And they had already lost so much that it was hard for them to risk what little they had left. It was hard, so very, very hard for those first few city people who ventured out."

CHANGING TENSES

Resolutely Jim kept his back to the balcony doors, though habit dug its claws into him repeatedly. He absolutely refused to stare into the city that he once seen as his, and somehow managed to keep his attention inside the loft, despite the fact that the view in there was almost as painful. It looked like a hurricane had hit the place.

More accurately, it looked as if someone had broken in, ransacked the rooms, then trashed the contents because they hadn't found what they were looking for. Which had been precisely what he and Blair had been aiming for when they'd begun. When they left the next morning, they would deliberately leave the door ajar so that a casual inspection would convince any potential looters that there was no reason to come inside. Only people who knew them, who had a purpose besides looking for food or random destruction would enter now, hopefully.

It was for them - for Naomi who they had lost track of even before the world had started going insane, for members of the Cascade police department who knew them personally, for friends from Rainier University - that they left clues so they could be found. Blair finished painting the last, 'I miss my mommy naomi berkstrom,' on one of the walls, and stepped back, tossing the paintbrush carelessly away when done.

"I hope she remembers that 'Berkstrom' was the name of the people who built that survivalist compound," he muttered, rubbing at the damp paint on his fingers. "Is there enough of a space between 'mommy' and 'naomi' that it's easy to think a 'Naomi Berkstrom' wrote the first part?"

"Yes, and it looks like a ten year old did it." Jim wrapped his arms around his lover and held him tightly, back to chest. "Don't worry. If she makes it this far, she won't be stopped by a little thing like us relocating. She'll know to look for more once she sees the graffiti. At the very least she'll find the week's worth of rations we left under your photo albums in your old room. That is, if she'll even go in there; all we had to do to make that room look trashed was break the door."

Blair didn't rise to Jim's attempt at humor, but he did lean back into the comfort offered, letting his head drop back onto Jim's shoulder. "I can't believe how much it bothers me to see the loft this messy," he muttered. "I thought it was going to be fun doing something I'd fantasized about for years, but I keep wanting to clean it up. You must be going nuts."

Despite it all, Jim chuckled, brushing a kiss over his partner's temple. "You never mentioned that fantasy to me. Been holding out on me, Chief?"

With an effort, Blair dug up a smile. "Yeah, well, I didn't want to use up all the best stuff right away. Wanted to save a few things for when the magic went out of the relationship, you know?"

"If you're waiting for me to get bored with you, you've got a long haul ahead," Jim said complacently.

Abruptly Blair broke, squirming around so that he could wind his arms around Jim's waist and hanging on with all he had, face pressed into the bigger man's breastbone. "Oh, God, I hope so. I hope so. It's killing me to leave the loft; I can't imagine what it would be like to lose you. You're what made this place home."

"No," Jim denied instantly, nuzzling into the top of his lover's head. "Remember what it was like when you first moved in? Cold, empty...it was just a roof over my head then. We changed it together, without ever meaning to maybe, but we did. I promise, I *promise* you, Blair, wherever we end up, we'll change that place into home, too." With his nose he nudged at his partner's forehead until Blair lifted his head and they could be eye to eye. "After all, we have the essential ingredient right here."

At Blair's quizzical look, he dipped down enough to steal a tiny kiss, then pulled back, relieved to see the understanding in his partner's face. Stretching up, Blair took a kiss of his own, the contact so sweet that Jim couldn't help a shiver of pleasure from it. "Definitely a long way from being bored," he muttered, and dove after his lover, claiming his mouth in a serious way.

Opening to him immediately, Blair drew his tongue into his own mouth with hungry intent, trying to burn away his sorrow in the promise of their passion. But Jim didn't want animal rutting, not this time. Some instinct told him that the farewell they both needed should be a loving one, a tribute to all the joy and laughter they had shared in this home.

So he gentled his lover with long, slow strokes of hands over back, of tongue over lips, until Blair relaxed into the deliberate rhythm Jim set, responding with drawn-out sighs of arousal. When they were undulating into each other with the same pattern, Jim broke away with a disappointed murmur to whisper, "Upstairs."

"Yes, yes." Blair pulled away, actually wincing at the loss, and took one of Jim's hands in his as he led the way to their bed. They had left that room untouched, hoping that vandals or thieves would just assume it would be as bad as the rest of the loft, and they fell thankfully onto their fresh sheets and warm quilt, savoring the simple comfort it added to their union.

They undressed each other unhurriedly, taking time to sample each bit of flesh as it was revealed, gradually building up their desire until it was the only thing that existed. Only then did Jim roll on top of his lover to cover him, aligning their erections so that silky hardness glided over silky hardness. Propping himself up on his elbows, Jim watched Blair's face, awed as always by the beauty and love there. They rocked together slowly, prolonging their loving both in anticipation of the forced abstinence tomorrow would bring, and to simply *enjoy* it as long as possible.

Eventually, though, Jim was overwhelmed by the multitude of sensory flashes hitting him and began thrusting powerfully. Riding the wave of hot, slick skin, musky, sexy scent, low, rumbling moans, and the answering urgency in Blair's incredible eyes, he unwillingly rushed toward his finish, trying to hold back even as he succumbed to the demands of his body. Then Blair reached up to cup the side of his face, thumb lightly tracing his lower lip, and whispered, "My Jim, always."

He shuddered, and with almost identical shouts at almost the same time, they both emptied their seed onto their bellies, clinging to each other with muscle aching intensity long after the last satisfied twitch in their bodies.

To his surprise, as good as it had been, making love with Blair didn't have its usual sleeping pill effect on Jim. Long after his lover had surrendered to the day's tension and exhaustion, he lay in their big bed, trying not to compare this silent, silent city to the noisy Cascade from not that long ago. The un-natural quiet unexpectedly got on his nerves, but not as much as the uneven, ruddy glow coming from the bedroom window and skylight. Try as he might, he couldn't hide from it, though he went so far as to put on the sleeping mask that Blair teased him endlessly about. Even through the dense fabric, the light shimmied on the lids of his eyes, refusing to be ignored.

Finally he stopped mentally running and eased from the bed, making sure Blair was well covered against the chill of the early spring night. Sweeping a curl away from the closed eyes, he pressed a kiss on the high forehead, then padded downstairs to his customary place by the balcony doors. Though he tried to brace himself for it, the sight of the changed Cascade still hit him hard, and he shuddered, sickened by the dull red smudging the horizon, the blood of a civilization in its death throes.

Most of the fires eroding the familiar skyline were accidental. People had died with ovens burning, a candle lit, or an curling iron left in the wrong place, still plugged in. With hardly any firemen left to fight them, the blazes were left unattended with the tiny hope that Cascade's practically daily rainfall would eventually be enough to put them out. Some of the fires, though, the ones where the precious few firemen worked carefully, were funeral pyres. Baleful and sullen, they stank up the air and spewed ashes everywhere, giving the smoldering bones of the city an eerie funeral shroud.

"The prophets were right," he mumbled to himself an indeterminate time later, tucking his hands into his armpits against a cold that came from within. "The world ended in fire, but we were too damned busy to notice."

"*A* world ended, Jim," Blair said quietly, coming up behind him. "Or more accurately, a civilization. People go on, build new lives, build new societies. They do it all the time. This," and he waved a hand at the horizon, "Is just the latest in the cycle. Birth and Death, Creation and Destruction, Alpha and Omega if you will."

"It's just so wrong, somehow," he argued without heat. "So many ways it could have happened: nuclear holocaust, major meteor strike, even aliens blowing it up to make way for an intergalactic expressway. There could have been a definite end that way, last acts of heroism or defiance that mattered to whatever survivors there was, giving them hope and making them proud of their species. This is just an ugly shambling toward an shattered future that we can't guess at."

"Every immigrant who ever came to this country," Blair disagreed, "arrived here without knowing what was ahead. They had the same things we do - hopes, dreams, ideas." Blair drew down the shades to the French doors firmly, his body language telling Jim clearly that he wouldn't listen to any objections from him. "And the ones who succeeded were the ones who accepted what they found when they got here, despite how different it was from their preconceived ideas. We can do the same."

It was Jim's turn to be offered support, and he closed his eyes in relief as his lover molded himself to his back, the wiry hairs on Blair's chest adding their own unique caress. The heat of his lover felt good; his presence felt better. He didn't offer any protest when Blair urged him back upstairs, more than willing to be distracted from his own grief with the same technique he'd used earlier.

This time when he came, emptying himself into Blair's throat even as he drank down his mate's essence, he drifted seamlessly from the reality of making love to dreams of it in a hot, vivid jungle.

***

Neither one of them looked back at 852 Prospect when they left the next morning. Defying Jim's common sense rule about staying in the seatbelt and on his side of the truck, Blair sat right beside him, hand on his thigh all the way to the station. He let it go without comment, driving all the way to work with his own hand similarly placed.

It was the only change they allowed themselves all day, and while Jim could sense his partner's growing nervousness as the time approached for them to make their first move, Blair never once bobbled. The closest he came was when Taggart left for his own duties, throwing a casual wave goodbye at them when he went through the door. Despite his best efforts, sapphire blue eyes followed the older officer for as far as he could see, sadness making them a darker color.

But only Jim noticed that, and when Simon told them to work escort duty a minute or two later, Blair snapped back into a facsimile of his normal self quickly, giving their friend a disgusted glare. It didn't take any acting on Jim's part for him to pinch his mouth shut in distaste at the assignment, either. He truly hated standing guard over the kids while they did the filthy work of going from house to house, apartment to apartment, bringing out any bodies they found for the disposal crews and emptying it of food. Obstensively it was to protect them from anyone who might try to take the supplies. In reality it was to keep them from eating any of it or running away.

"We've already had our tour at that this week, sir," he almost snapped. "Give it to the guys at the top of the list if whoever's scheduled for it is out sick or something."

Looking harried, worried and tired, Simon barked back, "List's been changed and you *are* at the top of it, *Detective.* One of the crews attacked their escorts yesterday, and the Mayor's ordered the number of armed guards doubled."

That was no news to the partners; Jim had overheard the Mayor's men report the incident, calmly saying they'd killed them all to be a lesson to future work crews. It had been both the final straw and the opportunity they'd been looking for; they'd contacted Daryl and set their plan in motion.

"Man, can you blame them?" Blair muttered, barely loud enough for Simon to hear. "They do all the work and barely get enough food to keep going, not to mention the way those thugs treat them like virtual slaves."

Bristling, Simon started to yell, then visibly took himself in hand and said flatly, "Understandable or not, if it happens again the Mayor will have an excuse to stop feeding them entirely. It's been hard enough to convince him and his people to keep supplies going to the Isolation Camp." He pinched at his nose, then said more softly, "Look, Jim, Blair, some kids got hurt yesterday. They trust the cops, but not the goons. If there are more of us than the goons, we can keep them safe and find ways to bend the rules."

It took all Jim had to keep his face in neutral when he realized that Simon's words meant he hadn't been told the truth about the attack. The lie was a dangerous sign of just how badly the captain's influence over the mayor was eroding, probably because he was beginning to see Banks as a threat to his own authority. Beside him, Blair had his best concerned look on, though from the racing of his heart, it was obvious that his partner understood the frightening implications of the deceit as well.

Woodenly Jim said, "If we're being put on guard duty for the work crews, it means the goons are the only ones at the warehouses."

"Which are locked up tight until time for distribution; the mayor and I are the only ones with the combinations. Then we'll be there in full force. The goons don't have any illusions about how nice the crowds will be if we're *not*" There was a trace of satisfaction in Simon's voice - satisfaction that he was entitled to.

For one heart-breaking minute his own words from last night came back to haunt Jim. Here were the heroics he'd been looking for; a good man doing the goddamn best he could to hold a dying world together. Desperately he wished he could tell Simon that, let him know the kind of respect he had for his friend and captain, but all he did was stand, head bent over his desk as if looking over a last note. "All right, all right, we're going. Just don't get on my case if I end up redecorating some thug's face for hassling the kids."

Despite his care, there must have been something in the way Jim spoke or refused to look at Simon; he could almost feel his friend's gaze burning the top of his head. But all Banks said was, "No witnesses if it happens, then. Sandburg, don't let him kill anybody."

"Does that mean I can?" Blair muttered, but he gathered up their jackets, handing one to Jim, keeping his own face carefully averted.

With a snort of disbelief, Simon waved them out of the room, mind already on his next item of business.

Taking their time, they left, the facade cracking as soon as they were in the stairwell away from prying eyes and the remaining functioning security cameras. Then Jim leaned on the nearest wall, head on his forearm, and made himself breathe slow and deep, the muscle in his jaw angrily throbbing. Blair fit himself along his side, and Jim draped his free arm over the trembling body, wishing he had more to give. He allowed the weakness for only a minute, then pulled himself together. "Is there a way we can get a message to Daryl so he can tell his dad the truth about the attack yesterday?"

Brushing at suspiciously damp eyes, Blair nodded. "He'll be at the pickup site at the Isolation Camp today. I'll find a way to have a private word with him."

Reluctantly, Jim turned to start down the steps. "Let me know if you need a distraction or something."

"Have you figured out what to do with the Mayor's men sharing duty with us?" Blair trotted alongside him, mind already racing ahead.

"Let's just say it's a good thing you didn't promise Simon to keep me from killing anyone," Jim said flatly. "I called in a favor; the ones who opened fire yesterday are going to be with us." Blair froze in place for all of heartbeat, then nodded. It was a rough justice, one they both would have to answer for in their own hearts and souls, but it was, at least, justice of a kind.

They met the other half of their team for the day in the basement, greeting Tom Baker and Serena Chang with a faked surprise at working with them. Baker was the desk sergeant for the uniforms, and had been teased for years that the one from Hill Street Blues had been based on him. Grinning, he'd always taken the fraternal abuse with a grin, and an up-thrust finger, saying he was more handsome.

He and Serena had been seeing each other for a while, ever since she had picked up a gun and asked to be assigned to the uniforms, pointing out acidly that a forensic scientist wasn't the most useful thing in the department right now. Originally he had taken her under his wing to train her in self-defense and whatever else she needed to survive on Cascade's changing streets. It hadn't taken long for their relationship to grow past that.

Like Jim and Blair, they kept it professional in public, however, and that stood them in good stead as the four of them chatted and bitched casually while they readied the big truck they would use for transport. Once out of the station, though, silence fell, and Serena crawled into Baker's lap, hiding her face in the curve of his shoulder all the way to the pick up point. Blair had used the crowded cab as an excuse to cuddle Jim, but didn't budge when that changed.

Just before they arrived, Jim whispered, "It's not too late to back out."

Baker shook his head firmly, and Serena murmured, "No, this is the right thing to do. It's just so hard, not being able to say good-bye or explain *why.* And it's going to be murder on the Captain and the others."

"The Mayor is going to go ballistic at having part of his slave labor escape," Blair told her unnecessarily, apparently hoping that going over their rationale one more time would be reassuring. "And he would love to make the Captain the target of it. Banks' best defense against accusations of a conspiracy or rebellion will be the fact that he genuinely knows nothing about what we're up to, and that he's going to be mad as hell himself. Our 'desertion' might even heal some of the breach between them, which is even worse than we thought."

Blair quickly briefed them on the lie their Captain had been told, not needing to point out how dangerous the omission was. "Whether he meant to or not," he finished, "the Mayor has set himself and his people up as the bad guys, and Banks and the Police Department up as the good guys. I don't think he understands yet that his choice of help is the big problem, but if he thinks the Captain can take over using popular support as a power base, he might do something stupid. We could be buying Banks a reprieve here."

"We could also be weakening the Captain's place in the department," Serena worried.

"No," Blair said instantly. "It'll all be on our heads for running out on him, and every one else will be that much more loyal and eager to prove it. We told enough key people what we were doing to be sure of support for Banks, or we *wouldn't* be leaving. It's risky, I admit, and I don't know if Simon will ever forgive us, but this was the only way to keep him safe and the department out of the Mayor's hands."

"If it helps any," Jim put in, "We left a letter with Daryl explaining everything, including why we didn't tell him. Simon will get it as soon as the timing's right."

Looking relieved, Baker admitted, "I'm glad. Leaving the Captain out of the loop has been bothering me, too."

"Thanks, Jim, Blair," Serena added.

Then there was no more time for conversation. The gates to the Isolation Camp were in front of them, along with three other trucks already loading their workers for the day. Though Daryl hadn't given out any names for the other teams involved in the exodus, Jim wasn't surprised to recognize all of them as friends and family of the department and Rainier, most of whom he wouldn't have minded having along on his own team. He nodded in satisfaction, but that was all. Donning a semi-belligerent attitude, he left the truck with the others, bracing himself for dealing with the goons.

Thankfully the arrogant, murderous bastards were about as observant as they were kind. They never noticed that all of the teens getting on the truck were barely holding in their excitement, or that many of them carried small packs. As the morning progressed, the mayor's men didn't catch on that the food brought down to the curb for pick up had the light, easily carried things sorted out, or that all those packages went into the truck Serena was driving, not the one they were in. Or that the kids exchanged whatever they were wearing for warmer, more durable clothing whenever they found something suitable.

When the reached the outer edge of the assigned salvage area, Jim walked up to the goons, holding up a dusty bottle of scotch. "Look what just turned up. Didn't the Mayor promise extra rations to anybody finding some of this for him?"

The taller of the two men, the one with a bad complexion and greasy hair, reached for it. "Damn straight. And don't worry; I'll be sure to let him know who gets the credit."

Yanking the scotch out of reach, Jim shook his head. "Stupid I'm not." He waited a heartbeat, then put it where it could be taken from him. "But I'm doing okay on rations right now. Maybe there's something else you could do for me."

"Yeah?"

Motioning with his head, Jim led the way to the back of the truck, where the others wouldn't see them. The goons exchanged a glance, not wanting to separate and even less willing not to have at least one of them watching out for trouble from the kids. Then the tall one followed, apparently spurred by the idea of brownie points with his boss. He came around the corner into Jim's waiting hands, and his neck was broken a split second later.

A heave put the body into the bed of the truck with the groceries, then Jim poked his head around the corner. "Hey! I think your buddy has a problem here! Did you guys eat something chancy this morning?"

That brought the other one on the run; food poisoning had been a persistent problem as desperate people started eating things with questionable expiration dates. A quick snap gave him the same death as his partner, corpse taken care of the same way.

A minute later Jim was behind the wheel, driving the goon's truck into a garage to hide it. Blair was lowering the door by the time he'd shut off the engine and gotten out, and he ducked under it with a grim nod to his partner to let him know what he'd done to the guards. The only reaction he got was a slight widening of eyes and an answering nod that still somehow conveyed sympathy.

Together they went to the back of their own truck where the teens were milling around uncertainly. Without thinking about it, Blair stood on the wide bumper step so that everyone could see him easily, Jim taking a guarding position to the right. "Okay," Blair started, loud enough to be heard by the small crowd. "You know what's going on here, even if you didn't believe it would really happen. My partner and I, along with Officers Chang and Baker, are leaving for Cascade National Wilderness Preserve, hoping to set up a new life for ourselves there. Ellison here is a survivalist expert; I'm not exactly ignorant myself.

"We're willing to take anyone with us who wants to go, and teach you what you need to make it out there. If you want to take off on your own instead, you're welcome to take as much food as you can carry and go with our best wishes. All we ask is that if the Mayor's men catch you, don't tell them who set this up. As far as they're concerned, you took advantage of a fight between Ellison and the other guards. No reason they shouldn't believe you.

"We're not the only ones leaving like this today, but we're all going in different directions, so we're not worried too much about being followed. But we're really hoping that we can bring out more people, later on, after we're established, and if you don't rat out the guy who helped you, he can give others the chance you're getting right now.

He paused a second, a hand going to his hair to push a wind blown lock away, looking for the moment as the same age as the young people he addressed. "That's why we're only taking those who've already SARa'd, who know what they're allergic to. That's why only older teens this time; you're already mostly grown and can take care of yourselves, be responsible for yourselves. What we hoping is that you'll become teachers in turn, which will let us help the younger kids escape from the city. If you don't want to do that, fine. We don't mind if you want to cut out on your own when you're able."

The small group was unnaturally quiet, not looking at Blair, or even each other, but staring at their feet or something far away. Holding down a sigh that only Jim could perceive, he waited a moment for any comments, then went on. "You're waiting for the catch, right?"

There was a nervous titter or two, but nobody denied it. "Smart people," Blair approved. "The catch is simple. You have to *listen* to us. Right now you're not in the mood to do that because of the way you've been treated, and I don't blame you a bit. But out there," he swung an arm out to the mountains that filled the horizon, "you can die a thousand different ways, most pretty painful, if you don't ask how high on the way up when told to jump. I could promise or swear or cross my heart and tell you that you will *never* be given an order without cause. Which is the truth, but you have no reason to believe me."

Taking a deep breath, he stepped down into the group. "If you can't trust us enough to listen to us, you should probably stay here where you know how things work. The chances are very good that you won't make it in the wilds, otherwise." Cautiously Blair put a hand on the nearest shoulder, waited until the young woman raised her eyes to his. "The choice is yours; I hope you'll come with us." For a few minutes he walked through them, sharing a smile here or a quick touch there, then went to the front of the truck to get in the cab.

Out of the 28 who left the Isolation camp with them, 23 climbed into the back of the truck to take their chances with Mother Nature.

****

Though they didn't think they would be missed for hours, they drove non-stop until nightfall, pulling over only then to gobble a few bites and answer nature's call. Conditions in the back were rough; too bouncy to really nap or rest, and too crowded with supplies to get comfortable. No one complained, though, and they good-naturedly tried to help each other as much as possible. That earned them high marks in Jim's opinion, giving him a shred of hope that taking green horns into the wild wasn't going to be a disaster.

Jim drove through the night, not bothering to use the headlights, which earned him strange looks from Serena and Baker. They didn't comment, however, and neither did he. After a lot of debate, he and Blair had decided the best way to deal with the sentinel thing was to simply let their new 'tribe' notice and deal with the questions as they arose. As a general rule, it was easier to let people convince themselves, they both believed, and would give everyone a chance to get to know Jim before they had to deal with his abilities.

After all the secrecy, it felt a little odd, Jim mused, pretending not to see Baker's third aborted attempt to say something. Blair saw, too, and muffled a snort of amusement in Jim's shirt. About the time he thought Serena and her lover would simply blurt out a question, he saw the abandoned state road worker's facility they had prepared as their jumping off point.

It took everyone a bit longer to gather their wits this stop, and it was nearly dawn by the time gear was distributed, backpacks were loaded, and everything was inspected. Jim could tell they were tired, but not yet exhausted, as he looked over straps and pack weights personally, ignoring the wary body language of most of the teens. To them, cop or not, he was another big man with a gun who was telling him what to do.

The girls were especially skittish, one in particular so nervous that he thought she might faint on him. Keeping his expression distant and his hands completely impersonal, he helped her balance her load, mentally noting to talk to Blair about her as soon as possible. A minute or two later, one of the younger boys had a similar reaction, and he kept his fury at the abuse that must have caused their reactions at bay only by promising himself that he would get the names of the people responsible.

By mid morning they were ready, and, after a fast meal of hot instant oatmeal, they started their long hike. He set a pace just short of brutal, wanting to take advantage of their comparative freshness. This time tomorrow every single one of them would feel as if they had gone twice the distance with twice the weight - while being beaten with rubber paddles. Mercifully, Baker was an experienced hiker; he ranged up and down the line with Blair as they moved, offering encouragement and advice.

That freed Jim to take point, and he double-backed frequently as well, re-checking that Blair had hidden their trail sign well enough. It meant he marched two miles for every one the rest of their troop traveled, but he was hardened to it. Each trip back he asked for a different volunteer to run point with him, taking time as they hiked ahead to explain what he was doing and why.

They didn't stop for lunch; by now the kids were used to making do with two meals a day, and no one even asked. Rest stops were short; they couldn't afford for over-worked muscles to stiffen. A half hour shy of sunset, they reached the site he and Blair had chosen for First Camp.

It was a small, relatively flat clearing just under the ridgeline that marked the beginning of what Jim thought of as their territory, and looked out over the mountains and valleys they would call their own from now on. Lush, fertile, and relatively unspoiled by man, there were enough square miles that it would take someone extremely familiar with the terrain to find them. Hopefully the land would provide them with more than refuge; with luck they would find all they needed to survive, and maybe even prosper.

The kids didn't care for the view; they didn't even notice it. Though from all appearances, all they wanted was to throw themselves on the ground and sleep, they managed to keep going until the tents were up and a fire was burning. Camp stew, hot and plentiful, revived them considerably, and the conversations that were whispered or muttered discretely held a very fragile optimism.

It wasn't until bedtime that the only sour note for the day was silently sounded, making itself known only with a few disguised grimaces and odd looks. After discussing the watch schedule with the other adults, Jim unrolled his blankets, casually working next to Blair who was doing the same. When they curled up side by side, tucked close to each other, more than one heartbeat around the fire accelerated.

Without being obvious about it, as only a sentinel could, Jim pinpointed each of them, grinning into Blair's curls when he realized excitement was the cause in a couple of cases. For the others, he noted one glare that seemed especially vicious, whispering Mark's name to his lover so that Blair was aware of the potential problem. Strangely, the one boy who had been extra afraid of Jim's nearness earlier, Evan, was smiling softly, clearly approving of what he saw. Wondering why, Jim effortlessly dropped off into sleep, trusting his internal sentry as much as Baker's ability to guard.

By prearranged agreement, he had the last watch before dawn, and he woke Blair so they would have plenty of time to prepare a good breakfast of dried fruit and oatmeal, and a special treat of hot chocolate that they had hoarded for just this occasion. Each young person was awakened with a gentle call and the offering of food, but the smell of the brew steaming at the edge of the fire was what made aching, complaining bodies move.

With careful timing, Blair served up the chocolate, complete with marshmallows, just as the sun cleared the horizon, slowly filling the valley below them with radiance. By the simple expedience of standing and staring into it himself, he soon had everyone watching the warm sunshine creep into their new range.

When it hit the main stream running through the middle, Blair said simply. "That's our tomorrow." Then he walked away, seemingly pulling everyone with him by force of will, to a small rise on the far side of the camp that allowed them to see over the ridge, and to the Cascade skyline in the distance. "That's our yesterday. *If* we want to, if we try hard enough, we can leave our sorrows, our losses, our grief there. You need to be thinking very, very carefully about what you do bring with you, what you want to create for yourselves in your new home."

Sipping at his hot chocolate, Blair meandered away, but didn't get more than foot or two away before a soft, girlish voice said plaintively, "I don't understand."

Sitting, Blair shrugged. "Well, for instance - dating is hard to do under the current circumstances, right? You're going to have to leave that behind I think. But that doesn't mean you're going want to give up the opposite sex. So what are you going to do instead?"

That made them murmur amongst themselves as they sat, too, absent-mindedly rubbing at sore legs. "If you're close enough to the camp to be safe, you're close enough for us to hear you, so privacy is going to be hard to come by, " Blair went on. "And sex is going to be a problem because the *only* sure way not to get pregnant is abstinence. Having a baby out here right now would be a disaster for both the mom and the baby. I don't think any of us would even know how to begin to deliver one."

By now the murmurs had grown into an uneasy, unhappy rumble, and Mark grumbled, swiping his black hair out of rich brown eyes, "Well, hell, we're supposed to do without?"

"I don't know," Blair said cheerfully. "That's entirely up to you to figure out. We're not your parents; we're your teachers for as long as you need us, then we're your equals if you choose to stay. I suggest you talk about it with each other until you hit on whatever you all feel comfortable with.

"For another thing, there are only 6 girls to 17 guys. Does this mean you guys pass the girls around? I don't *think* so!" His voice became unexpectedly hard and unforgiving. "And if you do, go back to the city, man. That kind of animal thinking is what you're trying to get away from; why bring it with you?" Relenting a little, Blair smiled ruefully. "At the very least you need to respect each other because you're going to be depending on *every* person in your new family for security, defense, food - everything."

At this point, Jim stood up, his height and size automatically drawing the group's attention to him. "The one thing we will insist on while you're with us is that each of you does every thing that needs to be done, at least often enough that you learn how to do it right. That means girls *and* guys hunt, cook, clean, tan hides, build shelters, dig latrines, track game, fight, stand guard. You've all learned the hard way what happens when only a few people have a particular skill, like how to make a medicine, and they die, leaving behind no one who can do it. When you've got the basics down pat, then you can trade around to do what suits you best. Just remember, everyone always takes their turn at the nasty stuff. There is no low man on the totem pole."

"Yeah right, like you're going to dig a latrine," Mark said derisively.

Pinning him with a look that made the young Hispanic flinch, Jim said calmly, "It's 100 feet down the trail, near a bush with leaves soft enough to use as toilet paper. First rule and most important - your latrine is always down wind and below your camp."

Mark had the grace to flush, but he didn't back down, and Jim nodded at him in mutual understanding of lines drawn. That surprised the young man enough that he had to hide his confusion in his cup, muttering to himself unhappily when he saw that it was empty.

"Why is it always below camp?"

The innocent question from an unknown source broke the tension, and Baker laughingly told everyone being flooded out of his tent in an unexpected downpour, clothing ruined by the wastes washed down with the rains. He started cleaning up as he spoke, causing the others to do the same, and by the time he had them all leaning on each other, laughing, with a description of what he looked like when he got home, the camp was packed up.

Painstakingly, Jim showed them how to cache food so animals wouldn't find it and elements wouldn't spoil it, explaining as he did that leaving most of it and the tents behind was for those who would come after, who perhaps would be much less well prepared than them. Or that it could also serve as an emergency stash, if they needed it. Blair had them study the location, pointing out to each other landmarks they could use to find their way back to it. Still talking about using landmarks for navigation, he led the way down the trail and into their territory, none of them even thinking of looking back as they did.

****

The early summer day was dawning with a frighteningly red sky some weeks later, as Jim looked into the current camp and the young people slowly, reluctantly moving through it. Snorting in irritation, he shifted on his perch in a tree where he'd stood his night's watch, a hundred yards or so distant. By now the kids should have breakfasted and packed, waiting only for him to show before beginning the day's trek.

With typical adolescent rebellion, they were anything but ready, and he reminded himself for the dozenth time in as many minutes that it *was* typical. Blair had told him repeatedly that having it rear its unruly head was a good sign; that the teens were feeling secure in their new lives, that they respected the adults working with them enough to test the limits.

Normal and healthy it might be; it was still a pain in the ass to live with.

He had no idea how much time they would have to teach this first troop before necessity would land another group of greenhorns in their midst. For the sake of everyone, the first members of their new tribe had to be able to make it with minimum supervision when newcomers arrived. At the moment, he wouldn't trust them with the care of a stuffed animal.

Below him he saw Blair move quietly through the group, smiling and giving a helping hand, both coaxing and shaming the kids into moving with something resembling efficiency. Taking that a clue to himself, mentally hearing his lover say, 'teach by example, man,' Jim climbed down from his perch and headed for the central fire for some coffee.

In a way he couldn't blame the kids. Deciding that keeping them on the move was the best way to teach them as much as possible as fast as possible, Jim had led them in a wide, jagged ellipse around that very first camp, stopping at a new site every night. It was his hope that their new tribe would be at least familiar with the terrain of their territory by the time the circle was complete. And that they would have the basic knowledge to make it if something should happen to the adults.

Good in theory, it was tiring in reality, and frustrating because of the need to hunt and gather food anew every day, only to leave any surplus behind the next morning. Even for him it was a pain, and keeping emergency caches was done at *his* insistence. Eyeing the threatening sky again, he hurried toward the camp, unease prickling the short hairs at the back of his neck.

As he passed Baker, who unobtrusively stood guard as he did up his own bedroll, the wind shifted, and a sniff told Jim what was nagging at him. Without breaking stride, he picked up speed, barking, "Break camp! Now!" Jim looked around, counting noses, then shouted to Blair, "We're two short."

"Latrine," Blair called back. "I'll get them!" With that he started down that path at a rough jog.

Serena set her pack by the fire, then put it out with the morning's coffee, not wincing at the loss of the irreplaceable brew. Eyes busily seeking out the source of the scent on the wind, Jim stopped to help Mark with a tangled strap, not really hearing the muttered curse from the teen. With a final tug to make sure it was sound, he loped to where he'd left his bedroll. "Move, people! Move, move!"

There were several unhappy mumbles, and one plaintive, "What's the hurry!" but the urgency of the older people was infectious. Everyone went faster, scrambling a bit as if afraid of being left behind if they weren't ready when the adults departed. They were pulling themselves together into their usual travel formation when Blair came back up the trail, leading their two strays.

Giving them a cursory glance to make sure they were cooperating with their teacher, Jim did a double take as a flash of movement behind them caught his eye. Taking out his gun, he shouted, "Down! Get Down!"

Blair, bless him, dropped immediately, but the boys looked over their shoulder to see what alarmed their guard. And panicked at the sight of the big, black bear lumbering after them leisurely. They broke into a run, coming straight up the sloping path, blocking a clear shot at the animal behind them. Sight, sound and scent narrowing down, Jim darted to one side, hoping to get a better aim on the beast. "Ian! Marcus! Hit The Dirt!"

Twisting to see from where he lay, Blair added, "Drop, drop!" When the kids simply tried to run faster, he popped up, shooting past them and yelling like a banshee. Startled, the bear hesitated at the sight of the loud apparition confronting it, dropping to its haunches and regarding Blair with something that looked very like puzzlement. It roared once, warningly, but Blair only roared back, waving his arms wildly.

With a snuffling grunt, it swung its great head from side to side, then sat all the way up to raise a paw threateningly. That put its head above the incline of the trail, giving Jim the perfect shot. A second later a bullet buried itself in one eye, and the bear toppled over, dead before the its last rumbled groan finished echoing in the preternatural quiet of the forest.

As soon as hearing told him the heart had stopped, Jim rushed toward his lover, ignoring the two frantic youngsters racing past him. Not sure if he was going to shake him or hug him, he swept Blair into his arms, not surprised to find the sturdy body quaking. Hiding his face by digging his nose into the curls so close to him, he allowed himself to shake for a minute, too.

It had all happened so quickly, most the camp had barely absorbed what the source of the danger was before it had been dealt with, and he could hear frightened exclamations and explanations bubble through the others. When a shocked silence began taking the place of the murmurs, he gave a last squeeze and let go, stepping back so that only Blair could see his eyes.

His lover nodded fractionally at the promise Jim knew was burning there, and then calmly asked loud enough for the kids to ear, "Should we worry about cubs?"

Slipping back into the role of protector, Jim shook his head and went on down the path to check out the carcass. "It's a male." Unbidden, a Chopec custom rose to the front of his mind, and without planning to, he lifted the bear's head by its snout. "Forgive me, Brother Bear. I couldn't risk you hurting my mate."

Unsheathing the hunting knife he wore strapped to his leg, he asked, "Who has butcher duty?" Silence answered him, and he looked back to the people slowly gathering and repeated conversationally, "Butcher duty?"

With a visible shudder, Serena asked, "It's edible?"

Everyone went back to normal as Blair instructed them on what they needed to know about a bear, including the many uses Native American's had for the fat. While he did, Jim struggled to break the bones of the ribs to get to the heart, pausing when Tom Baker asked, "Why did you apologize to it for killing it?"

Sensing that the others were listening as they helped cut the meat into thin strips for curing, Jim answered easily, "It was a waste. Bears are extremely unpredictable, but this one is fat and healthy. It was probably only curious about the people or maybe had learned from campers and hikers that humans meant easy food. Why should it die when all it was doing was what came naturally? It's not as if we need either the meat or the hide, and the local ecology might need a predator of this size to be healthy. We could be doing a damage to our home."

"You really believe that shit?" Mark asked insolently.

Not bothering to look at him, Jim hefted out the liver and heart, handing them to one of the other kids. "Good source of iron; Sandburg will show you how to fix it up if you don't like the taste."

Carving the tasty, tender rib meat, he added, "You're all old enough to remember what a mess the environment was in before the everything went to hell. You can still see it in places - like when we wouldn't let you drink from that polluted stream. Ecology's not belief; it's science. My respect for that, for the natural balance of nature, is based on common sense. I don't expect you to either emulate it or respect it. But if you don't, be prepared to starve when the local animal population gets hunted out."

"We could always be vegetarians," Ian said reasonably.

Too angry with him for not following orders, Jim ignored the comment, but answered indirectly. "It's all connected. You kill off the predators unnecessarily to protect yourself, and the small animals that breed quickly, like mice, have nothing to keep their numbers down. Soon you have a bumper crop of the little animals - who eat all the seeds and roots of the plants *you* eat. By the time they die off from starvation, having exhausted the local food supply, you're dead from starvation, too."

"Circle of life," one of the girls giggled, hands bloody from the roast she was inexpertly carving, and hummed the melody from a movie.

"We could farm," Mark suggested, his tone implying that was what they should have been doing all along.

"That's why farming and animal domestication was invented," Blair put in, grunting a bit at the effort of breaking a thighbone on the animal. "A human population out-grew the food supply when it was forced into too small a territory by enemies or whatever."

"If you want to," Jim said mildly, "be my guest. Think you'd be interested in trade occasionally? Say corn or tomatoes, which won't grow in the wild, for the occasional venison or hide maybe? Bound to be a farm community or two that made it."

Nonplused by the older man's lack of concern at his hint that he was thinking of taking off, Mark sat back on his heels and brushed a drop of water away from his nose. "Oh, hell. Here comes the daily shower," he groused, for lack of anything better to say.

"At least it won't be hard keeping the fire smoky for curing this," Blair said philosophically. "Going to take some time, though. Maybe stay here a few days?"

"Looks like bad weather's coming in," Jim agreed. "How're we fixed for supplies?"

"Pretty good," Baker said. "Set up a smoking tent here? That way anyone on their way down to the latrine can add wood to the fire. We could use the break, too."

"Need to keep an eye out for scavengers after the meat," Serena reminded them, "Though if the weather's bad enough, the blood smell won't carry too far, not to mention only a human would be dumb enough to be out in this." She uselessly wiped at her face, trying to keep the increasingly heavy rainfall out of her eyes.

That earned a few chuckles from the kids, and everyone added their voice to the discussion until it was pretty much settled they would stay until the meat was smoked. Jim earned a few curious or annoyed looks when he point-blank refused to acknowledge any comment from Ian or Marcus, but none of the other three adults called him on it. From the first they'd presented a united front to the teens, debating only among themselves, quietly, when they were in disagreement about the younger members of the tribe.

By the time a schedule had been set for watching over their bounty, and the other necessary chores had been taken of, it was midday, and he retired to his own lean-to at the edge of the camp. Tucked under a stand of pines, it was relatively dry despite the heavy downpour, and Jim snaked out of his wet jeans, socks and boots, debating drying them next to the central fire they had put under a canopy.

A look at the thick curtain of rain dissuaded him, and he curled into his blankets, already looking forward to Blair joining him for a much-needed nap. The rampant maleness poking at the fly of his boxers reminded him sleep hadn't been the only thing neglected, lately, and he suppressed a shudder at his need to at least hold his lover. Reaction from the near miss with the bear earlier kept him from dozing, and left his balls pulled up tight in frustration.

By the time Blair crept into the bedding with him, he was ready to climax from a kiss, but his partner laughingly perched over him, not allowing body contact until Jim calmed. "Tease," he murmured.

"Because I want more than a 30 second wham, bam? Then guilty as charged." Lightly kissing the end of his nose, then his forehead, Blair whispered, "And I am so hungry, Jim. It feels like it's been forever since I've had you."

Groaning, Jim wrapped both arms around his lover and hugged him tightly. "The lack of privacy is killing me, too. God, sometimes all I can think about is burying myself in that tight ass of yours."

Sighing in pleasure at their erections rubbing over each other through the fabric covering them, Blair said, "We'll take a break when we get the signal to go back to First Camp for another batch of kids. There'll be at least four more adults, and we can afford to slip away for a day or so to be alone."

"The glade?" Jim nuzzled at the cloth over Blair's chest, pulling at the buttons with his teeth.

"MMmm?" Clumsily opening his shirt, Blair cradled Jim's head in one palm, holding it to him in obvious suggestion. "Hard hike," he managed mutter, letting out a breath in a hiss when eager lips closed over the curve of his throat. "Be worth it, though."

"Yeah," Jim agreed distantly, giving the soft flesh a lick, and sliding down to a well-defined shoulder to bite.

A muffled, but distinct giggle stopped him, and he unwillingly opened his senses to their environment, reeling them in from his focus on his lover's body. Three heartbeats, about 5 yards away, hidden in a thicket of low hanging branches, sounded clearly, and a second later, scent told him it was Mark, Gina, and, surprisingly, Evan. A fast peek showed him that they were watching him and Blair make love, nudging and smothering laughter as they did.

Rolling to put his partner under him and shield him from curious eyes, Jim alerted Blair to trouble with a concealed grimace and light fingertip on his lips.

"I told you Sandburg was the girl," Mark whispered derisively.

"Naw. He started out on top," Gina argued. "The pornos always have people moving around a lot before they fuck. They're probably just, you know, working up to it."

"Since when are movies anything like what people really do?" Evan put in, softly, reasonably. "If it were, some scientist would have found the cure for the SAR virus *just* before everybody died from it."

Lips against Blair's ear in a parody of a lover whispering sweet nothings, Jim repeated what the youngsters were saying, not bothering to hide his aggravation. "Fuck," Blair muttered, clutching at Jim's upper arm. "I so do not want to deal with this right now."

"I still say Sandburg's the girl," Mark said sullenly, and at that, Jim had enough. He gently pulled away, drawing the gaping shirt closed over Blair's exposed flesh, and sat up.

Loudly enough for them to hear him, he called out, "What makes you think either of us is 'the girl,' Mark? And what concern of it is yours, Gina? Evan?"

The three gasped in concert, and scrambling noises told the lovers that their audience was making tracks. "Can't let this pass, Jim," Blair said tiredly, straightening his clothes. "There will never be a better time or opportunity to set them straight about sex - not just gay sex, either."

Bringing up his knees, hoping to relieve the ache in his groin a little, Jim nodded ruefully. "I know - and if we don't, next time we might be more, ah, involved when they sneak up on us. This is shaman's work, I think, Chief."

"Sure, leave the embarrassing stuff for me," Blair groused good-naturedly.

Waving at the huge hard-on peeking over the waist of his boxers, Jim said dryly, "If being interrupted hasn't made him go away, it's going to take some doing to calm down. We shouldn't wait, and I don't think they'd pay much attention to anything I'd have to say with this thing staring at them."

Laughing, Blair stood, pulling on his rain poncho. "Not to mention, I wouldn't be able to talk straight, either. Okay, okay, but you *owe* me for this one, oh sentinel of a new tribe."

Tossing a damp sock at his lover, Jim chuckled. "Since you're going over there anyway, oh shaman of a new tribe...."

With a rude noise, Blair ducked the thrown object, then ran for the main fire, weaving around the larger puddles. "Stinky socks are above and beyond, man. Way above and beyond."

Lying down, arm over his eyes, but smiling Jim tried to concentrate on cooling his need. Instead his hearing insisted on listened to his partner quietly confront the peeping trio, and begin setting them straight about his relationship with their guardian. Blair's voice carried effortlessly, even over the drone of the wind and rain, and, before long, he had the entire troop clustered around him, asking questions.

Though he'd always considered himself sophisticated and liberal about sex, Jim found his cheeks flaming at the frank way Blair talked about it. Using both proper terms and common slang, he satisfied everyone's curiosity, and gave them the information they needed. Once or twice there was some debate - Mark didn't make any bones about thinking gays were sick and perverted - but surprisingly it was the other teens that stomped on the majority of the misconceptions and prejudices.

Body at last beginning to give into fatigue, Jim started drifting off, telling himself he *shouldn't* be surprised. If the day was filled with the nuts and bolts of survival, the evening was devoted to the kind of wide-ranging discussion maturing minds thrived on in an open atmosphere. No matter how exhausted everyone was, the circle around the fire after dinner had always been lively with talk. With Blair to unobtrusively guide and channel, the kids had covered everything from capitalism to capital punishment to religion, slowly picking their way through all of the human condition. Bit by bit, probably without ever consciously realizing it, they were hammering out a code of conduct for themselves. A pretty reasonable one, he decided sleepily, with lots of room for flexibility.

A last question from Evan, spoken with sadness and worry, caught his attention, pulling him from sleep. "Is Ellison mad at us?"

"Some," Blair admitted. "You could have just *asked* you know? He feels like you don't trust him to be reasonable."

"Well, he sure cut Ian and Marcus cold," Gina said practically.