THE ELEMENTAL MAN

"That isn't him." Blair's voice was flat, blunt, unwavering.

"Sandburg," Simon began cautiously.

"That isn't him. Look, just do the DNA tests like I asked; I've got the results from the one he did for me to use for comparison."

"Blair, there's no way you can tell who it is from the body." Simon carefully didn't look at the form on the table. After spending several days exposed to the elements and Nature's clean up crews, its condition was more than his stomach could stand - even with all his year's experience at looking at such things. "Jim's gun was found under it and his jacket not far away with his ID still in it."

Shaking his head stubbornly 'no', Blair stumbled out of the small room and outside. He leaned against the wall next to the door and fixed his eyes on the forest wilderness so close to the ranger's station. Mind racing, he didn't acknowledge when Simon came to lean beside him, at first, trying to use the tranquility of the view to calm himself enough to reason with him.

"Simon, aside from the fact that I've studied the man for three years and could probably identify him from his damned earlobes, let's use some logic here, all right? First, Jim might have run into some baddie out there, in which case there was a fight and Jim lost his gun, like that's the first time that's happened, right? and was hurt. Otherwise he would have checked in when he was supposed to. If the baddie had won, why leave Jim's corpse lying there, gun and all, when it would be so easy to put it in a shallow grave so it'd never be found? Don't try the old death by misadventure line, either, cause this is Jim we're talking about, and he's as likely to accidentally shoot himself as I am to misidentify a Polynesian culture as a African one."

Pausing for a breath, Blair jumped back in, glaring as fiercely at Simon as Simon ever had at him. "And I will *not* give the garbage running through the rumor mill at the station the dignity of consideration."

Taking one of his cigars out of its case, Simon twirled it between his fingers, addressing it instead of the man beside him. "No one who knows Jim is going to pay any attention to that speculation. If nothing else, he's too damned stubborn, never mind how strong his instinct for survival must be for him to have made it through the shit that's been thrown at him so far.

"But Sandburg, something has been going on with the man, and we both know it. For months he's been doing things that has both of us worried about him. Michele, that whole road rage thing...."

"The way he handled that undercover assignment in the prison...." Blair added softly, reluctantly.

"When the commissioner for the Turing Taskforce made him shut you out of the loop while he was working on it. Damn it, Blair, you know it went from bad to worse. He's been alternating between fire and ice ever since."

Turning his back on his friend, Blair shivered, suddenly cold in the sunshine. "No, I didn't know," he confessed. "Mom was in town, staying with friends, and for a while there things got pretty heavy with Lisa, not to mention the extra hours I've been putting in on the dissertation. The few times Jim wasn't putting in overtime for the taskforce and was home at the same time I was, he seemed, well, tired, but just Jim, you know?"

Banks sighed heavily and shifted restlessly, but made no move to touch him. "Shit. I was thinking he was at least talking to you." He began to cut the end of his cigar to smoke it, studying his hands as they worked. After a long silence, he said bluntly, "I'm not saying he'd do anything deliberately, Sandburg. But a tired, unhappy man can make mistakes."

"Will you at least talk them into keeping out the search teams until the DNA tests come back?" Blair couldn't keep the dullness out of his voice; he already knew the answer.

This time Banks did touch him, putting a comforting palm between his shoulder blades. "It's been a week already since he was missed, and who knows how long he had been lost before that. But I'll see what I can do." Straightening, Banks turned toward the door, then added gruffly. "No matter how this turns out, you did everything you could, Blair."

"Not yet, I haven't," Blair said, but the only man who could have heard his words was lost in the wilderness beyond them.

* * *

Unconsciously hitching his pack, Blair checked his compass and the map in his hands. According to the rangers, this was where the body had been found. He double-checked the coordinates one more time, and began folding the map, slowly turning in a circle to survey his surroundings as he did. No matter how many times he thought it over, only one thing made sense. Jim had to be hurt, and hurt to the point where he was working on instinct instead of reason or Ranger experience.

And Jim would have used the instincts of the Sentinel he was.

Behind him was the way back to the ranger's station, which had been thoroughly checked. To the left were the cliffs and bluff that fell off into the river valley, and straight ahead was civilization, of a sorts, the way a thinking, rational man might have gone.

Jamming his hat down against the mist that began to fall, Blair undid a section of the map. All that was left was the way that would lead into the heart of this preserve, away from the stink and noise of mankind. He checked for the nearest stream; food would be a consideration, and as far as he knew, the only weapon that his partner had with him now was a hunting knife. Fishing would be easier than hunting, and a ready supply of water important, even in this rainy, cold, gloom.... Clamping down on that line of thinking, he refolded the map, tried unsuccessfully to comfortably seat his pack again and started off.

The next day, a few hours into that morning's hike, Blair stopped for the third time to try to do something to either fix the strap that was slipping on his pack or relieve his raw, sore shoulders. There hadn't been any sign of Jim or anyone else since late yesterday, and he was beginning to doubt his guesswork. Refusing to let that add to his growing general misery, he decided to continue until lunch, then turn back and try another route if he found nothing.

Fifteen minutes later, he stopped again, lips pinched tightly shut and knelt to take the pack off again. Halfway through shrugging it off, he spotted disturbed dirt around a small flat rock a step away in the path. Working on some un-worded hunch, he picked up a twig to poke at it, only to have the rock tilt and slide, leaving behind a small hole filled with sharp sticks pointing straight up.

The booby trap made him smile; the sticks were still fresh. It could be the work of some crazy survivalist, but he was willing to bet it belonged to a cagey Sentinel. Absently trapping his hat under the wayward strap, Blair went on, thinking twice about where each step was placed, but grinning like a madman.

A short while later the grin had faded considerably. The traps had gotten more and more deadly and difficult, and he had avoided the latest by only the narrowest of margins. Either it wasn't Jim, or he wasn't expecting a rescue - only attack by enemies. Whichever it was, it wasn't good for him.

"Come on, Jim, man. Give me a sign here. Or open up those ears of yours and listen. That last trap was too fresh for you to be too far away, and I'm making enough noise blundering around here to alert a city slicker," he mumbled, nearly disconsolate, stopping once again to fuss with the fastening on the stupid strap.

Forever after, Blair would wonder if it was because he had become aware of his partner in ways he didn't understand, or if, even at his worst, Jim Ellison was simply incapable of hurting him. The only thing that could be said for sure is that Blair saw/felt/heard something that made him duck as a length of wood swung through where his head had been.

He kept moving downward, twisting to swing his heavy pack in a circle behind him. It connected solidly with the legs of his assailant, knocking him sideways, off his feet. Blair moved with the momentum of the pack, letting it pull him up and into a run at an angle away from the fallen man. Before he could take a step, a long leg swept at his feet. Dodging it, he kept moving, only to be taken down with a tackle a few feet away. Using his elbows and kicking madly, he tried to get free, but his much heavier and bigger attacker subdued him by the simple expedient of dropping on him.

Scrabbling at the decaying leaves and dirt, Blair gathered a hand full of it and threw it over his shoulder, hoping to blind the person holding him down. It must have missed, but his wrists were caught in big hands and forcefully pulled to his chest while he was rolled until he was face up, lying on top of one seriously broad chest. Sturdy legs were wrapped around his, effectively immobilizing him.

Unable to do anything else, Blair squirmed violently, hoping he'd be too slippery and difficult to hold. It worked to a certain extent; to keep his grip, the big man was forced to try to use his weight again. He twisted as Blair gave an especially effective shove, and they wound up lying face to face, one of Blair's arms pinned over his head and the other caught between them.

Trying to dig in with his feet to be able to buck, Blair arched as hard as he could, not really expecting to budge him, but hoping to distract him long enough to land a bite on the end of the bastard's nose. Needing to take aim, he focused his eyes and saw who was on top of him for the first time.

Though the man had the face and form of Jim Ellison, there was nothing familiar in the snarling animal eyes that stared down at Blair. Shocked, he went still, waiting to see recognition or understanding appear in the savage features. There was none, though the man-beast on him ceased his fight to secure Blair and waited warily. The two stared at each other until Blair finally found his voice long enough to squawk, "J... Jim? Man, what's...."

He shut up instantly when Jim's lips curled back from his teeth and he growled, tightening his hold on Blair. Feeling the tension begin to intensify between them, Blair started mentally scrambling for possible explanations. Head injury, drugged, senses out of whack - he'd seen Jim in every mood and condition possible to the man. Nothing in his experience pointed the way for his next move, which was going to have to be soon. Jim was growling again, face contorting.

Something about the expression was vaguely familiar, and from the back of Blair's mind rose the face of a warrior in an extinct tribe from a photo he had seen in a textbook. That man had been psyching himself up for ritual combat as part of a manhood ceremony, according to the caption under it.

The pieces fell into place for Blair. He had already decided Jim must have been working on Sentinel instincts; but it was more, much more than that. Jim had reverted completely to the primitive he carried in his genes.

From all he knew about pre-civilized males, he had only two choices here: to fight with the Sentinel until one of them was the victor, or to submit. Warily, he eyed the other man. Since he had no chance of winning, he had to decide whether it would be better for him to fight and be beaten or refuse to fight at all.

In the end, it wasn't a conscious choice. Tilting his head back, letting his body go loose and limp, he closed his eyes, blindly putting his faith in the person above him. Within seconds the growls faded off into silence and the weight on him lifted fractionally. With a hard swallow, he kept still and quiet, waiting for Sentinel's reaction.

Eyes flying open, he barely managed to keep from jumping out of his skin when Sentinel delicately nudged his nose into the soft skin behind his ear. Sniffing, he worked his way down to the open collar of Blair's coat, coming to rest just below the hollow of his throat. He inhaled deeply there, several times, and licked once, tentatively.

At the moist touch, Blair did jump, but Sentinel didn't seem to mind. Raising his head to look down on Blair, his eyes were warmer and more human, though with no hint of memory in them. Encouraged, nevertheless, Blair whispered, "Jim?"

Ignoring the sound, Sentinel stood and Blair got his first full look at him. In the jungles of Peru, he had seen Jim go native, changing his clothes and appearance to blend into the landscape there like the predator he could be. The only difference now was that the adaptations were for the colder, wetter climate of the Northwest. His face and arms were marked with paint in the pattern of claw marks; his head covered by an old knit cap Blair had never seen before. Gloves with the fingers cut off were on his hands, and as he swung away from where Blair still laid on the forest floor, he picked up an animal skin and draped it over his shoulders, covering his sleeveless t-shirt.

Without a backward glance, he walked away, catching up a bow and quiver of arrows as he went, pausing only a second at the edge of the trail to see if Blair was going to follow. Feeling more worried than confused, but by only millimeters, Blair scooped up his pack from where it had been knocked and took off after him at a loose trot.

Several hours later, he sat on a rock at the edge of a stream, pulled out his cell phone and dialed up Simon's number. As he did, he looked back at the small camp Sentinel had led him to, which was almost completely hidden from sight even as close as he was. Like everything else about the man, the entire place was a mixture of modern and primitive. Though he had his steel knife and a metal cooking pot, his bow & arrows were obviously hand made. Shelter was provided by a natural lean-to created by two huge boulders leaning on each other. The cave was barely big enough for a king sized mattress to fit in it, though the bedding was just some blankets and animal skins for padding. The only seat available was a rock that had obviously been transplanted to the sandy area immediately in front of the cave. When they had first arrived to the site, Sentinel's first action had been to check the carefully banked coals of his fire - an action Blair had seen a dozen times in remote locations where making a fire was a time consuming chore instead of a flick of a lighter.

At the sound of Simon's grump on the cell-phone, Blair looked over to where Sentinel was fishing in the stream and said shortly, "I found him."

"Yes and no," he said after listening for a moment. "I am not being evasive, Simon. Yes, he's okay physically, as far as I can tell." Better than okay, Blair thought as he watched the near-naked man move cautiously over the streambed. Lost a few pounds, but more buff than ever.

He forcibly pulled himself back to the words spilling from his phone. "No, we're not coming back just yet." Blair winced, but didn't pull the phone away from his ear. "That's the other part of the answer. Simon, he doesn't know me. In fact, I'm not sure he knows himself at the moment. I'm not talking in riddles. No. NO, look, I can't explain. All I know is he attacked me when I tracked him down, and he acts like he's never seen me before in his life. In fact, he actively tried to drive me away from his camp, twice."

"Ha, ha, funny, Banks. No, I haven't been chattering away at him. He growls at me when I do. As a matter of fact, he sounded a lot like you when he did." Against his will, Blair smiled and settled into his seat more comfortably. "How am I supposed to make him leave if he doesn't want to? It'd be easier for me to bring you a grizzly bear. I told you, he doesn't know me. How am I supposed to talk him into doing anything? Thanks for the vote of confidence but Simon... Simon...."

Blair listened, eyes rolled up, until Simon ran out of steam. "Look, he hasn't spoken one word since I've been with him, he's wearing skins, and right now he's fishing. With his bare hands. While he'd probably fit right in at Major Crimes the way he is, sooner or later someone is going to notice that he's skinning the suspects instead of interrogating them, and that could cause a few problems.

"I *will* bring him in; it's going to take me a while to earn his trust enough to be able to do it, that's all. No, if you call in a team, he'll vanish into the wilderness and the next time we see him will be when Sightings does a special on the Wildman of Washington.

"Simon, I want to stay in touch with you on this, and my battery isn't going to last forever. I'll call when I have news, about sundown if I'm going to, and let you know what's going on." There was another burst of comment from the phone, this time sounding gentler and more concerned. Blair softened at the words. "I will be careful, I will bring him home, and if I can't make progress with him in a couple of days, I promise we'll come up with another plan. Okay? Good. Don't worry. I will. Bye."

Shutting off the phone and folding it, Blair checked to make sure Sentinel was absorbed in his task, then determinedly entered his camp. He might be thrown out physically, but he was not ready to give up on this yet. Putting his pack near the fire, but not too close to either the cave or Sentinel's seat, he pulled out a few things and made himself at home.

When Sentinel came back a short time later, Blair had the fire built up for cooking and a cup of tea keeping warm on a flat rock near it. Writing in his journal, trying to clarify in his mind the events of the day, he didn't notice the big man's grunt of annoyance. The next one was louder, and he looked up before blandly going back to his notes. Stomping over to him, Sentinel prodded him none too gently with a bare foot and got in his face to snarl.

Since it was pointless to try to hide his natural reaction - accelerated heartbeat and breathing - Blair did the only thing he could. He snarled back and stubbornly went back to writing. There was no immediate reaction, and a second later he peeked from behind his curtain of hair. Sentinel was studying him, a faintly surprised look on his face.

With an all-over shake, he stood suddenly and went to the fire. Spitting his fish, he began to cook, pointedly ignoring Blair. Stifling his smile, Blair bent over his notes and worked until the last of the light faded from the sky.

Giving a huge sigh and stretch, he put the journal away, and took out a packet of the trail food he had brought with him. He opened it, gave a disdainful sniff, and glanced over to where Sentinel was eating his fish. That smelled great, and without thinking, he reached for the one near his tea, cooling.

Sentinel leaped to his feet, baring his teeth, and smacked his hand away.

Hastily, Blair backed off, putting his hands behind him to convey he had totally changed his mind about reaching for anything. Suspiciously, Sentinel watched him for a minute, then seated himself, almost reluctantly. Keeping an eye on his erstwhile partner, Blair sat back and dug into his dried fruit and nuts, trying to block out the wonderful scent of hot food.

When he had had as much as he needed, he sealed the bag and put it away, pausing in the act. A sweetly mean smile took root and began to grow, to become full blown as he took out one of his bars of chocolate and opened it. Again using his hair as a shield, he watched his companion.

Within minutes Sentinel was sniffing audibly, an intent look covering his face. Almost stalking, he followed the scent until he was hunkered down in front of Blair, staring intently at the confection sitting casually on his knee. Breaking off a tiny piece, Blair nibbled on it, all the while pretending vast interest in edge of the wrapper he was fiddling with.

Stealthily, Sentinel reached for the chocolate, only to have Blair snatch it away, twisting to put his body between it and him. To his surprise, Sentinel didn't try to take it by force or bullying. Obviously disappointed, he only sat back onto his haunches. When Blair was sure he wasn't going to try anything, he slowly turned back and put the candy where it had been. At the next half reach, he made as if to yank it away, and Sentinel instantly pulled his hand back. He waited to see if Blair would relent, then with the most Jim-like action Blair had seen that day, he shrugged and went back to his fish.

Breaking off a reasonable chunk of candy, Blair put the rest away, then went to kneel next to Sentinel. He watched him curiously, but made no effort to move. Holding out his offering, Blair said softly, but firmly, "Share."

Nose twitching, Sentinel regarded first him, then the chocolate, as if expecting a trick. To reassure him, Blair again took a nibble, licking his lips exaggeratedly at the taste. Again he held it out and said, "Share."

Keeping one eye on Blair, apparently expecting it to be taken back, Sentinel reached for the sweet and took it from him with a surprisingly even motion. Expecting him to grab and chew greedily, Blair watched in fascination as Sentinel licked at a corner of the candy, a smile breaking out as the flavor hit him. His companion took his time enjoying, no, savoring the chocolate, making it last as long as possible.

Of course, you idiot! When was the last time his taste buds had something worth paying attention to? Smiling himself, Blair went back to his side of the fire, wondering how long he could ration what he had.

Digging through his pack again, he missed Sentinel's approach. He looked up when his light from the fire was blocked, to see the big man looming over him. Bracing himself for another confrontation, he put on his stubborn face and refused to be intimidated.

Sentinel knelt, held out a piece of the fish on a leaf and waited patiently.

"Share," Blair said happily, and took the food.

***

Sighing deeply, Blair put away the cell phone and skinned his shirt over his head. Tonight's conversation with Simon had not gone well; mostly because he had nothing new to tell him. For the most part Sentinel had ignored or threatened him for the entire day, and communication was still only growls and simple gestures.

He took off his boots, sighing again, this time in pleasure. The late afternoon wind was warm, and the rocks he sat on radiated their accumulation of the day's sun. Wiggling his toes on the rough surface, he checked for blisters and tender spots. Following Sentinel on what had obviously been his normal routine had been harder than the hike in. Used as he was to being on his feet, Sentinel slogged over terrain Blair would have avoided.

Part of Jim must be using ranger memories, he decided, beginning to strip. The first thing he did this morning was a perimeter check, and it was the first thing he did when he got back. Without a tribe, a sentinel wouldn't have a reason to do that. That's paranoid cop/soldier thinking. Hoping the tiny pool of still water he had found on the edge of the stream had absorbed at least some warmth, Blair dipped in a toe and tried not to shiver out of his skin.

Even when he was checking his snares and traps, he was running a pattern. Probably has a territory marked in his... shit! that's cold!... mind... brrrrrrrrr! Quickly he waded out, sat to dip himself, then plowed through the water to get to his things. Grabbing his soap and cloth, he sat with a towel padded under him and did a fast bird bath to get the worst of the dirt off, being careful of the abrasions on his shoulders from his ill-fitting pack.

At least he isn't trying to chase me out of it anymore. Sitting in the sun to dry, he took out his pick and began to work on his hair. In fact, when he noticed I was digging up those wild carrots, he stopped to help. I guess, provisionally at least, he does have a tribe now. Of one - me. Guess I'll find out tonight how accepted I am.

Looking over to where Sentinel was cleaning the day's catch from his snares, Blair shook his head slowly. He had no doubt in his mind that he was going to have to keep pushing at his partner. The placid contentment on the other man's face as he, too, sat in the sun to enjoy its blessings, made that plain. How do you persuade someone to give up a life where all you need is enough food to eat and a sunny spot? How do I get him to trust me enough to even try?

After washing and hanging out his undershirt, boxers, and socks, Blair dressed in clean replacements and went back to the camp to began what he hoped would be his share of the cooking. As the vegetables he'd gathered began to bubble in their stew, Sentinel came to stand by the fire, the butchered meat in one hand. He had taken a swim, but hadn't bothered to dress or put his paint back on.

For a second, Blair couldn't help but admire the nude man. Though Blair loved everything about women - sight, sound, smell, taste, feel - and thought that they were the most fascinating subculture he'd ever find, he'd noticed a man a few times in his life. He'd never gone beyond adolescent making out and hand jobs, mostly because women usually kept him too distracted for more.

From the first he'd been up-front with his new roomie about his bisexuality, and Jim had handled it like he'd told him the color of his hair or his blood type: a shrug and "Whatever, Chief." His off-hand response to Blair's seemingly casual confession on the way to work one day had only had one effect on their friendship. Blair had quit even pretending to look for a place to stay.

Kneeling at his partner's feet, looking up the length of that long, hard, perfectly formed body, Blair hoped that his totally heterosexual companion's past tolerance for his occasional slip into drool mode was more than 'putting up with Sandburg.' Otherwise, he was about to be pounded right into the dirt by one irate caveman. He swallowed hard, forced his eyes all the way up to Sentinel's face, and tried to keep his own neutral even while his body gave him away.

For a second, only long enough to wonder if it were a trick of the sunset and firelight, he thought he saw *Jim* smiling down at him. Then Sentinel held out the meat he was holding. Automatically reaching to take it, a sharp twinge of pain from his abused shoulders kicked away Blair's awareness of his partner, and he concentrated on getting the food into the pot without dropping it on the ground.

To his surprise, Sentinel bent over him, pulling at the collar of his shirt to peer under the fabric. With sound that was half concern and half aggravation, he left to go into his cave and came back out carrying a large army first-aid box. While Blair finished putting the meat into the stew, he pulled supplies from it, laying them out neatly beside the fire.

Finished with adding the meat, Blair checked out the medic’s kit curiously. This wasn't Jim's. He was sure of it. Though he might have bought it before taking this particular hiking trip, it was too large and well-stocked for the average hiking excursion. This looks more like what you'd have in a large, permanent camp or RV maybe. Or if you were traveling expecting to need medical supplies.

Come to think of it, curing hides takes time. He couldn't have hunted those, then tanned them himself. And I've never seen that camp lantern before. Was this someone else's spot first? Maybe the man who was shot? Forgetting for a second the man behind him, Blair looked over the camp again, trying to see it with a detective's eye.

During his distraction, Sentinel waited patiently for only a minute, then lifted up the hem of Blair's shirts, bunching the fabric high on his back. With gentle fingers he probed the flesh around the wounds on his shoulder blades, and Blair absently tugged his garments the rest of the way over his head to let Sentinel examine him thoroughly.

The only other thing about the site that didn't make sense was what *wasn't* there. Blair could see no sign of Jim's pack or any of his own belongings, with the exception of the knife he carried, even when naked. The clothes he wore were so ill-fitting to indicate they didn't belong to him, though his boots seemed to be the ones Blair remembered him owning.

He tried to look over his shoulder at Sentinel, but changed his mind as cool, soothing cream was lightly rubbed into his injuries. Putting away the puzzle for the moment, he let his head droop, and simply enjoyed the benign attention. Bringing his knees up, he leaned his crossed arms on them and let Sentinel finish treating him, practically humming from the sensation.

After the cream was done, Sentinel spidered a delicate touch over the rest of Blair's back and his neck. Finding a knot that he didn't like, he worked it out with strong fingers, then, with companionable pat in the middle of the back, began packing the kit back up.

"Thanks, man," Blair said as softly as possible, not wanting his voice to be overloud in the natural quiet.

Sentinel's only answer was another pat, this one to the arm. Standing, he went into his shelter, leaving Blair staring after him, feeling hope for the first time.

* * *

Over the course of the next few days, the routine didn't vary much from the basic hunter-gatherer lifestyle. They woke with the dawn each day, ate cold leftovers from dinner, walked the camp perimeter, then checked the snares or went hunting. Foraging as they ranged, they often ate what they found for lunch, saving some for later. By sunset they would be back at camp to wash and shave before starting dinner, have a companionable meal, then work at self appointed chores until fatigue drove them to seek their beds.

They slipped into sharing this primitive life-style as easily and comfortably as they had into sharing the loft. Silent always, Sentinel showed his acceptance of Blair in small ways: leaving a hide for a padded seat by the pool Sandburg habitually used for washing, checking the scrapes on his back, providing a strip of leather to tie back his hair when his own broke.

Bit by bit, he accepted words, too, as part of being with him, though Blair wasn't at all sure he understood their meaning. Mostly, in his opinion, it was because of the two zones he had pulled Sentinel from during their travels. The first time Sentinel had stopped, jerking his head back in a clearly 'listening' position, then had simply blanked out. Stepping to stand in front of him, Blair had followed instinct and rambled on in a steam-of-thought series of words, relying on the tone and intent rather than the meaning to pull him back.

As suddenly as he had left, Sentinel came back to himself, shaking his head once then continuing on as if nothing had happened. The second time Blair had looked up from the leaves he'd been picking and found Sentinel staring blankly at him. Not sure if it were a zone, or if Jim were trying to come back, Blair had treated it like the former, hoping the familiarity of it would be encouraging if it were the later.

If it had been a flash of Jim coming round, the only indication of it was that Sentinel began to respond to his guide's words. 'Thank you' was answered by a pat or nod, 'share' would bring a smile or an offer of whatever the other man was holding. 'Wait' and 'food' brought the appropriate action for the situation, but, most importantly, by the end of the third day, Sentinel would look into Blair's face whenever he heard his name.

Or, more accurately, Blair thought, closing his journal and putting it away tiredly, when I say 'Sentinel.' Dispiritedly, he glanced over at the man outlined in light of the seldom-used lantern, blinking away the raindrops that were beginning to fall. The entire day had been a typically wet one - to the point there had been no fire that evening. They had shared Blair's trail rations and a chunk of chocolate, then had hunkered down in their separate shelters to endure the weather.

Looking up into the pine branches that made his lean-to, Blair blinked as a fat drop fell into his eyes. If I take out my bag, I'm going to be soaked by morning. Not to mention, I'm freezing, here. With a considering eye, he checked out the rock cavern Sentinel was stretched out in. He's accepted me, but not enough, and we can't afford this pace. Simon can hold off the authorities only so long, and my time off from the U runs out in a week. Another drip hit his head, stirring him into decision. Time to push again. If nothing else, maybe I can find something to help me figure out what happened.

With a deep breath to fortify himself, Blair picked up his bedroll and went to Sentinel's inner sanctum. He was watched disinterestedly until he began to unroll his sleeping bag. That made Sentinel sit up, rumbling aggressively deep in his chest. The sound escalated as Blair sat on the material and started taking off his boots.

"Hey, I know they smell bad," Blair said quietly, face turned away. "Yours aren't exactly rosy, either!"

Not amused, Sentinel rose up to his knees, but Blair only bagged his boots & socks, then took off his outer-most shirts. Stripping off the undershirt and putting it with the other items, he sealed the bag tight to minimize the odor and set it outside in the rain. He put on a fresh thermal, and pulled off his pants.

Confused now, his companion subsided, growing silent again. Giving an all over shiver, Blair squirmed into his sleeping bag and fidgeted until he was comfortable. With only his nose and what was above it sticking out, he informed the other person in the cave sharply, "I'm wet, I'm cold, and I'm bored out of my gourd with your Neanderthal act. Lie down and go to sleep!"

To his utter amazement, Sentinel gave a snort of laughter; the first Blair had heard from him. Moving so that it was plain he had no violent intent, Sentinel stretched out a long arm and brushed the top of Blair's head, picking up traces of the rain there. He shook the drops free from his fingertips onto what was exposed of Blair's face.

Sitting up in his bed, Blair let his covering drop down some, then shook his head hard, sending a spray over everything - including Sentinel. Ducking down behind his crossed arms, Sentinel weathered the deluge, then put a hand out in the rain to catch some in his cupped palm.

It took a second or two, and Blair backed off into the rear of the chamber, still bundled in his sleeping bag. "Aw, come on, man, I came in here to get out of that! Don't...."

Grinning, Sentinel flung his handful, but high and wide, so that it would splash harmlessly. Not able to see that from his vantage, Blair tried to become part of the rock wall, hunching down ridiculously small. While tucked down, Sentinel pounced on him, pinning him deep in the fabric. Mock threateningly, he made as if to rub the dampness from his hands onto Blair's face.

Chortling, squirming to get loose, at least from the sleeping bag, Blair protested, "Hey, no... I don't need my face washed. Hey!" Trying to maneuver in the small space, Sentinel lost his balance slightly, enough for Blair to pick up on it and give a good push to send him tumbling to his side.

Seizing the advantage, Blair worked an arm free while simultaneously rolling on top of the hooting man. Before he could be pushed off, he leaned over so that his damp hair was in Sentinel's face, and shook his head again, vigorously, so that the strands lashed damply on the upturned face of his companion. Not trying to escape it, his friend instead gathered up what he could, and held it so that moving would pull at Blair's scalp.

"Cheat!" Blair laughed down at him, meeting Sentinel's eyes.

Then the world changed because what was shining up at him from those sky-brilliant orbs was not laughter any more. Desire, sweet and fresh, was there in its place: desire and something Blair was not sure he recognized. Inside him a feeling un-pleated itself, filling his chest past capacity, a unknown one that matched in some odd way what was in Jim's eyes.

Confused, Blair hovered over him while Sentinel ran his fingers through the curly mass he held, a quiet 'mmmm' of appreciation coming from him. He made as if to tighten his hold on its source, and the action kicked Blair into one of his own.

Retreating almost in slow motion, he sat back on his heels, grateful for the concealing presence of his sleeping bag, and lay down again, back to the other occupant of the cave. Heart pounding he waited - not sure if it was in fear or anticipation - until he heard the sounds of Sentinel undressing and wrapping himself in his own bedding. The lantern was put out, and a large body cuddled near, chastely, with only long fingers touching him on the curve of his neck and shoulder.

Soft snores stirred at his nape quickly, but Blair could only lie there, staring at the night rain, thinking fast and furiously. By the time he fell asleep, mentally exhausted from trying to find his way through all the permutations and possibilities, there was only two things he was sure of. Sentinel might follow a lover back to civilization easier than he would follow a friend, or even a guide. And Jim would never forgive him for taking advantage of him while his alter ego was in charge.

Considering those conclusions, he slid away into sleep, and despite them, slept well. Denying it was due to his bed partner, even as he woke pressed close enough for their morning arousals to make preliminary introductions to one another, he carefully rolled away and started the day.

In the morning's light, Blair was almost able to convince himself that he had misread Sentinel's intent. After the cup of hot bullion he'd decided he'd needed to wake himself, the pair of them went their accustomed way without the slightest deviation. It seemed Sentinel stayed a little closer, touched a little more, but Blair convinced himself it was paranoia - or wishful thinking.

With typical contrariness, the weather was hot and sunny. Long before time to return to camp, Blair felt himself wilt, and he had to struggle to keep up. It didn't help that Sentinel seemed to be determined to climb as high as possible, not paying the slightest attention to how steep the trail or how rocky.

Just about the time rebellion and weariness combined to make Blair mulish about taking another step, Sentinel led him clear of the woods and into an alpine meadow tucked into a tiny clearing. The lush green oasis sparkled with splashes of vivid color from flowers, butterflies and birds. A cool breeze ruffled the surface of the grasses and plants with a beckoning whoosh of welcome, and Sentinel answered the call un-hesitantly.

Wading through the green surf, he went to a postage sized flat spot that over looked the valleys and out onto the mountain range and sat, shedding clothes as he did. By the time Blair shook himself from his reverie at the unexpected beauty and went to join him, Sentinel was laying flat on his back, naked from the waist up, almost invisible from a distance.

Peeling off several layers himself, Blair threw himself down to sit by his friend and lifted his hair off the nape of his neck, puffing, in a vain attempt to cool himself off. Idly Sentinel plucked a blade of grass and began chewing on it, studying the clouds over head with indolent interest. Watching him out of the corner of his eye, Blair tried to decide if he was posing for him or if the sudden desire to take a break was as innocent as it seemed.

Fuck it! Blair thought suddenly, viciously. I may be just a convenient body to scratch an itch to him, but I want what he has to give me. God help me, I think I have for so long I couldn't even see it any more. I'm going to give him anything he wants, short of letting him screw me. That's too close to raping him for my taste. I'll make it right with Jim, somehow. Who knows: maybe he won't remember.

Defiantly, he lay down in the grass, pillowing his head on the hollow of Sentinel's shoulder, but laying at an angle to him so their bodies touched nowhere else. It was a meager balm to his conscience, but any move was going to come from Sentinel. At the very least, Jim would not be able to accuse him of seduction.

Tight from his own internal arguments, he lay there tensely until the heat from the sun and the buzz from the wind and insects melted him, pooling him languorously in the tiny hollow. Companionably they lay studying the clouds, motionless for the most part. Sometimes Sentinel used a finger to trace a shape in the clouds and Blair would drowsily identify what he thought it looked like. If his partner agreed with him, for some reason, he'd pick a wild flower and drop it on Blair's chest.

Blair had a veritable bouquet on his torso before it sunk into his heat-muffled brain that this was the first indication he'd had that Sentinel truly understood spoken language. He sat bolt upright, scattering the flowers, and met the startled eyes of his friend. "It's okay," he assured him hastily. "A thought just bit me, that's all."

Smiling, Sentinel dug fingers into Blair's scalp and scratched obligingly. Fighting a moan, Blair laid back down. "Wish they were that easy to take care of, man." The pillow under his head shrugged, and he followed suit. "Yeah, I know, what can you do?"

As if that had been the invitation he had been waiting for, Sentinel turned Blair under him, cushioning Blair's head on his arm. Blocking out the bright sky, Sentinel filled Blair's vision the way Jim filled so much of his life, and he couldn't stop the tremors of fear and pleasure from the thought. As if to calm him, Sentinel gently stroked stray wisps of hair from Blair's face and forehead, lingering on his jaw as if intrigued by the stubble there.

Boldly, Blair began his own caress, cupping Sentinel's chin in one palm while his fingertips skittered over the lines of his profile. His partner leaned into the touch, then bent down toward him. Thinking he was going to be kissed, Blair lifted his lips, opening them slightly, and closed his eyes.

He nearly whimpered from disappointment when Sentinel only nuzzled at the soft skin behind his ear, inhaling deeply. Wanting to turn his face and take his kiss, he was held still by one hand burrowed into his hair at one side and a bristly cheek at the other. Helplessly he clutched at the broad shoulders, trying to press upwards into the hard body that went with them.

A breathy tickle moved down his throat, heralding the arrival of tiny licks, until both reached their apparent goal of Blair's collarbone. Once there, Sentinel sucked at the tender flesh until Blair moaned Jim's name. He lifted his head then, and waited until Blair opened dazed eyes to stare at him.

Brushing a thumb over the moist mouth of the prone man, Sentinel returned the stare, as if waiting for a sign or word. Uncertain, Blair tried to read what his partner wanted from him, but could find no clue in the shadowed features. Unable to bear the suspense, Blair nervously wet his lips, and started to speak.

Before the words could form, Sentinel stole the breath from him by claiming a tender kiss. For all the passion behind it, it was the most delicate dance of softness Blair had ever felt. Every nerve in him suddenly seemed to be concentrated a few square inches, all of them yearning upwards into the moist warmth. Slowly Sentinel ended it, and laid his head down in the center of Blair's chest.

Head spinning, Blair petted the dark hair of his friend, and tried to make sense of what was happening between them. Sex to a pre-civilized man is like hunger or thirst; a need to be taken care of. Usually by the first willing - or not so willing - rump presented. But Sentinel is wooing me. With an extra hard thump, his heart hit his ribs and he murmured wordlessly to Sentinel at the sudden readiness in the big man's muscles. Relaxing again, he went back to his rest and Blair resumed his thoughts.

Because of the guide angle? That would be a more stable relationship and the instinct might be there for bonding. Or because he hasn't really reverted all the way and what I'm seeing here is the elemental James Ellison? Without memories or social restraints, what would be left is who Jim would have been without the forces in his life that bent and shaped him.

A warmth that didn't have a thing to do with the sunshine spread through Blair, leaving him languid and dreamy. No matter how horny he is, Jim would never push a lover who's bouncing between scared shitless and desperate. Smiling, almost asleep, Blair finished the chain of thought dimly. And he wouldn't screw anybody just because he's horny. He'd have to be attracted. He wants *me.*

An indeterminate time later he was awakened by kisses being feathered over his brow and eyelids. Stretching hugely into his partner, he yawned and blinked, trying to focus on the sky to guess the time of day. Already completely awake, Sentinel sat back on his heels, giving Blair a hand to haul himself up with.

With a final loving tap on Blair's stomach, Sentinel became all business again. Taking his knife from its sheath, he cut several swaths of long grass, close to the root, then took the blades and began working them. When Blair realized his partner was weaving a basket - wondering where he had learned the skill - he borrowed the knife and began cutting more of the vegetation. At Sentinel's nod of 'enough,' he sorted through his bundles, making them into smaller, more manageable piles, handing them off to Sentinel as needed.

Basket finished, Sentinel took on the look of concentration Blair associated with stretching one of his senses to the extreme. Challenged, Blair mentally ran over the signs and decided he was working with his sight. Looking for food most likely, something that had to be carried in a disposable container. Messy then, not veggies or nuts. Absorbed in his ruminations, he was startled when Sentinel stood, scooping up his clothes, and made a direct line to one side of the meadow.

Following, Blair agilely kept up with his intent partner, still trying to guess the reason behind his single-mindedness. As they stopped not too far away from a dead tree, the buzz of bees lined it all up in his head. Grinning, he thumped Sentinel on the back. "You were tracking a honey bee! And the basket is because you're going to rob the hive. Man, I do *not* believe you sometimes!"

With his own grin, Sentinel handed him the container.

"Uh, huh, man. No way. This is one tree I am not climbing for you!"

For the briefest second there was a hint of something - knowledge? - in Sentinel's eyes. Shaking his head hard, he shoved whatever it had been away and absently gave Blair his clothes. Encouraged despite the rejection, Blair let the moment pass and took the garments.

With the leftover grass and dried debris from the base of the tree, Sentinel made a small, smoky fire at the foot of it, using Blair's lighter to start it. While the heavy smoke rose up and around the crack where the bees had made their hive, Sentinel focused again to scan the immediate area. Finding what he was looking for, he motioned Blair to stay put and left.

Coming back a few minutes later, he wore his most threatening scowl and several layers of heavy mud. Keeping the guffaws tied down and shoved deep, Blair nodded, handing him back the basket. "They won't be able to sting you through that." With a sudden thought, he took out his glasses and gave them to the dirty man. "To keep the bees out of your eyes. Look past the lenses; you can do that."

Doing as Blair suggested as he went, Sentinel made for the tree, and Blair took advantage of his turned back to reinforce the restraints on his giggles. The wire-rims were the perfect crowning touch for obliterating what chance at dignity a mud-covered human could have. Sentinel had to be as aware of that as Blair was, guaranteeing that Blair would be the one wearing mud if so much as a smile escaped - if he didn't wind up eating it. Besides, he wanted his share of the wild honey and he wouldn't put it past Sentinel to refuse him a portion in retaliation for laughing. It had to taste better than mud.

* * *

Chewing on the last of his honeycomb, Blair looked around the site for Sentinel. Though Sentinel had dipped in the river long enough to get the worst of the mud off, both of them had been so tempted by the fragrant honey, they had skipped the usual drill and gone straight to an early dinner. Giving the warmed up stew only cursory attention, they had greedily dived into the basket, laughing and licking at their hands as they ate. The small amount Sentinel had taken disappeared quickly.

And just as effortlessly as his partner, apparently. Blair grimaced at the sticky condition of his hands and face, then grinned. Between the sweet and the mud, Sentinel had to be in the water getting clean. Deciding that was not a bad idea, Blair put together what he needed and headed for the stream himself.

With the setting sun blinding him, he picked his way carefully over the rocks toward the pool he liked to use. Seeing Sentinel there ahead of him, he nearly detoured, but a motion from the other man brought him close. He was working on something, and it took a moment for Blair to adjust to the glare to see the fire Sentinel had built on the rocks.

An animal skin was hung like a pouch on a tripod perched over it, filled with barely steaming water. From a pile to one side, Sentinel took a piece of wood and added it to the flames, then checked the temperature of the water with a tentative fingertip. Curious, Blair joined him, letting his questions show in his face.

For an answer, Sentinel stood him on a scrap of hide, took his soap and cloth, and began undressing him. Bemused, Blair let him, helping with the shoes and zip on his pants. When he was as naked as himself, Sentinel dipped into the improvised kettle with the cleaned cooking pot and, standing behind him, poured it over Blair's back.

"Oh, wow! That feels fantastic!" Blair twisted under the cascade of hot water, letting it wash away not just dirt, but some of the day's aches and pains. Sentinel kept up the stream while Blair soaped his cloth and ran it over himself, for once getting clean without chilling himself to the bone.

Somewhere along the line, Sentinel's free hand joined the flow of water, gliding along the contours of Blair's back and buttocks. At first it was to check the nearly healed abrasions, then it was a pure sensual exploration of the compact body. It blended so perfectly with the feel of the liquid, Blair could hardly tell one from the other. Both soaked into him, making *him* liquid and he stayed upright from sheer need not to lose Sentinel's touch.

At his gentle urging, Blair turned to face him, watching through slitted eyes as Sentinel caressed him with both hands, water and bath forgotten. The tawny light from the last rays of the setting sun gilded both of them, reminding Blair of the honey they had shared: golden & sweet. As if seeing that himself, Sentinel leaned forward and licked at one of the hard nubs peeking from Blair's chest hair.

Gasping, Blair stayed still, waiting hungrily. Wordlessly murmuring his approval, Sentinel sank to his knees, tasting as he went down. Breathless, pressure from inside causing it, Blair forced himself to remain motionless, though his erection bobbed eagerly. Before he reached it, Sentinel sat back on his heels, studying the hard flesh. It was plain that being so close to another's cock was new to him, and he didn't know exactly what to do next.

Blair did, and he shook with wanting for it. Reaching out to guide Jim, he was stopped when his partner looked up at him - curiosity, apprehension and desire mixing oddly in his features.

Tilting back his head to face a sky whose growing twilight color matched his own anguished eyes, Blair ran trembling hands over the solid shoulders in front of him, holding them in place. "I can't do this!" he told the sky in a shout. Dropping to his knees between Sentinel's spread thighs, he said more quietly, more gently, "I can't do this."

Seeing only confusion and the dawn of hurt in the other man, he cupped the dear face and let his fingertips touch what his lips were lusting for. "This doesn't mean anything to you - it's a simple pleasure like eating candy. *I* don't mean anything to you; I'm just a warm body, a companion you've learned to tolerate.

"It means everything to me. Everything. No more searching, no more loneliness, no more emptiness, no more always being the observer, never the insider." Seeing that Sentinel was listening to him intently, Blair rushed on, afraid he would say too much but needing to keep things right between them, if only in his own mind.

"If I share this with you, I'll lose what I do have - my home, my place as your friend and partner - when the Jim Ellison part of you wakes. Even if he forgave me for what he'd see as using Sentinel, for doing what I had to bring him back with me, he'd never let me taste him again. I couldn't live like that: craving what I could never have again when it's close enough to scent. I'd have to leave to survive."

Leaning in to touch their foreheads together, Blair whispered painfully, "Jim, man, I don't know how much of this is getting through to you, or how much you'll remember later, but please, please, please understand I'm doing the best I can, here. But I can't earn Sentinel's trust at the price of yours. I'll find another way to bring you home."

Deciding to dare one kiss, intending to make it a brief goodbye, Blair claimed the mouth close to his. But Sentinel's lips clung and his arms came around Blair, preventing any retreat. With a deep-chested moan, Sentinel's tongue traced the seam of flesh closed to it, pleading for admission.

From a source he didn't know he had, Blair found the strength to pull back enough to break the kiss before it could go any deeper. He took a shaky breath, and tried to stand.

"Blair." He froze. The voice, rusty and hoarse as it was, was clearly Jim's. And he had never given Sentinel his name.

Stunned, Blair was couldn't reply; could only stare, choked, as Sentinel gathered him close and lay them side by side on a fur by the fire. Eyes closed, throat moving spasmodically, the other man struggled to speak again. Finally, he shaped a single word. "Share?"

What shone from the blue eyes that opened to see Blair's response was stronger, more pure than what had been there that first playful time in the cave. In some indescribable way it was more *Jim* to Blair, and he whispered that name worshipfully. There was no reply, but the big man traced Blair's jaw line with an unsteady forefinger, never looking away, letting his heart speak for him in his expression.

Despite the consequences, Blair couldn't deny that wordless message. Flowing over Jim like water, skin so close to skin that not even time could fit between them, Blair whispered in affirmation. "Share."

Jim or Sentinel, he thought painfully, opening his mouth to his lover, For now, he's mine.

All thought ceased then as Jim's erection began a sensuous dance along side his, both of them moving by instinct into a building rhythm. Too hungry to last long, Blair groaned his completion over the matching thrust of their tongues, at almost the same time Jim cried out in satisfaction. Their seed spilled hotly between them as they tried press past their surfaces and into each other. Muscles protested, complained, then made both sink tiredly onto their sides. Despite that, Jim kept their kisses going, kept them close, using his large capable hands to cover as much of Blair's back as he could.

He relented in his attention only when the last of the fire burned out, and the wind cooled, causing Blair to shiver. Together they quickly cleaned up, then stumbled back to camp and into their bedchamber. By unspoken consent they combined bedding, then fell into each other's arms again, trying for nothing more than to be completely entwined before they fell deeply asleep.

* * *

Afraid of who would wake beside him, Blair dragged himself out of their warm covers and into the foggy morning as soon as it was light. With the excuse that they'd hardly eaten the night before, he took food from the cache to make hot cereal for breakfast. By the time his companion began his day, Blair had changed his mind a dozen times on who he wanted to share the meal with on this morning.

Sidelong glances as the other man joined him by the fire were less than informative. Though he was plainly ready for the day, he had not put on his customary paints but neither did he speak, even to grunt a reaction to the cooked meal. Resigning himself to the uncertainty, Blair banked the fire when they were done and followed him, like always.

It seemed as if Sentinel had more on the agenda for the day than just checking the traps and snares. He paused only briefly at each, not resetting them, Blair noticed hopefully, and shook his head 'no' when Blair stopped to gather some early berries. Interest up now, Blair forged on with him as they climbed a steep, narrow gorge that Sentinel seemed to view with a great deal of concern.

Opening up into a small valley at the other end, Blair was surprised to see a rough cabin hidden under the trees on the far side. He glanced at his friend and was more surprised to see a familiar expression on it; the intent, focused one that Blair associated with Jim-the-cop. If Sentinel saw his stare, he didn't react to it, but headed straight for the building.

Inside was as dirty and broken down as the outside, but well-ordered. There was a stack of skins and furs piled neatly on a crude bed, and cans of food lining handmade shelves. Attached to one wall was a brother to the first aid kit Blair had seen at their camp. One mystery solved, he decided. Sentinel has been getting supplies from here. Probably this all belongs to someone trying to get away from civilization. There's nothing here that isn't an absolute basic necessity for survival.

The exception was a large, tightly sealed trunk set in the back of the room; apparently the driest spot there. It looked new and carefully, even lovingly maintained. It was also apparently Sentinel's target. Though it took several tries, he broke the lock and opened it for Blair to check the contents.

It was filled with scrapbooks; dozens of them, with female first names and dates inscribed on the spine and front. Flipping one open at random, Blair found it held clippings on a missing girl with the same name as on the front. Unsure what it meant, he turned to ask his partner for explanations in time to see him pocketing a smaller diary style book as he walked out the door.

Shutting the trunk again and securing it as best he could despite the broken lock, Blair hurried after Sentinel. Waiting for him a few feet away from the cabin, face forbidding and closed, Sentinel started back for the gorge as soon as he saw Blair. Feeling that Sentinel was fully in control and would not appreciate questions he couldn't/wouldn't answer, Blair took the same path, watching his footing carefully in the rocky overgrown region.

Halfway down, Sentinel jerked to a stop, looked back the way they had just came and took Blair by one arm to hurry him down the trail. After they had both stumbled twice, he pushed Blair toward a tall sturdy tree, indicating Blair should climb. About to make a joke, he noticed the way Sentinel was nervously watching behind them and decided that if a cop/ranger/sentinel decided something was too dangerous to hang around waiting for, he really shouldn't argue.

It took a leap, but he got to the first branch and climbed, hearing Sentinel come up behind him. Twice he stopped, thinking they were high enough and both times he was goosed into climbing more. Finally, when the tree branches were swaying sickeningly from his weight and motion, he hugged the main trunk tightly and refused to go farther.

Seconds later strong arms came around him, pressing him lightly into the trunk, and he relaxed marginally, ridiculously feeling safer. Muttering his mantra under his breath, he controlled his breathing, letting a little of his fear escape with each exhale. Jim would know if the branches were going to break, or if the tree is going to fall. He's strong enough to hold me here so I won't slip. I'm not going to fall, I'm not going....

Making himself open his clenched eyes, he looked down at the forest floor and saw a trio of cub bears gamboling around the far side of the gorge with mamma bear guarding them a few feet away.

...cause if I do I'm lunch!

Unable to suppress a whimper of terror, he decided to admire the tree trunk in front of him, convincing himself that he was safe, he was too high for the bear to smell him, but not too high, the rocking was just the wind blowing the tree, a bear couldn't climb this high anyway, and whoa! Jim is feeling up my ass!

With the idea it might be some sort of a weird stress induced hallucination, Blair considered the sensation that had caught his attention. Okay, that's absolutely his hand, and there's no mistaking that it's rubbing up and down the back seam of my jeans, right over my... my god, that feels good. Wiggling back at the erotic pressure, he licked suddenly dry lips, and tried to spread his legs without losing his balance.

At a gentle nudge from behind him, he twisted sideways instead and gingerly lowered himself to sit straddled on the branch they stood on. On the way down, tempted by the barely covered wall of flesh in front of his nose, he paused to suck on the hard stomach, giving it a nip. Once seated, he found another branch at an angle to theirs, hooked a foot over it, and reached up to find a hand-hold.

It left him nose to hard-on with Jim and he sucked at it, too, delighting in the musky scent. Jim only permitted it for a few seconds, then sat himself, his longer arms and legs going over Blair's to find different grips. Feeling both secure and turned on, Blair kissed on whatever part of Jim was available and pushed against where their crotches touched.

Frantically wishing they could at least get their pants off, he bit at Jim's shirt as Jim undid the top of Blair's pants and reached inside to take out his arousal. Muffling his moans, only half remembering he didn't want to be heard and not remembering at all why, he thrust into the welcomed hand. Climax was rushing in on him. He could already feel his balls tighten and he tried to warn his lover.

Either he was too late or Jim didn't care. His mouth was devoured in a open-mouthed kiss and his cock was covered with Jim's cap so that his semen was caught in it, apparently to keep his clothes dry. Panting, he went with the spasms of pleasure, pressed by Jim's weight into the tree trunk as back up for his weak hold.

When his gasps steadied, he tilted back his head to see Jim watching him avidly. Bemused by the unexpected encounter and where they were, Blair could only smile at him with a silly grin. It faded when Jim tried to scoot closer and rub himself on him. "Blair... Blair...." he whispered roughly. "Touch me, touch me, please, oh god, touch me...."

Hurriedly Blair unzipped Jim's jeans and freed his need. On impulse, he hunched down, awkwardly taking it into his mouth. Jim tried to thrust in deeper, but neither could get the right position to allow more than the head to be capped. It was enough. One of Jim's hands threaded over the crown of Blair's head, feeling heavy and sweet to him, and Jim soundlessly filled Blair with his cream in long, hot spurts.

Swallowing the last drop, Blair leaned back and wrapped both arms around his shaking lover, confident that even in afterglow Jim would kept them steady. They drifted, not sleeping or even dozing, waiting for their strength to return enough for the climb back down. The bears were long gone.

The sound of his cell phone roused them, making Blair swear at himself for forgetting to turn it off the last time he used it. Reluctantly Jim moved back to give him room to get to the phone, taking the opportunity to toss the sex-stained cap into the topmost branches of a nearby tree as he did.

Mentally preparing himself, Blair answered. "Simon? Is something wrong? It's nowhere near sunset. No... no, of course not. I understand." Looking over at Jim, Blair saw that he was unashamedly listening to both sides of the conversation.

"As a matter of fact he's right here." One of Jim's eyebrows went up. "I don't think he'll talk to you. It's kinda hard on him to even try right now, but if you want to say something.... sure, hang on a sec." Face studiously neutral, Blair offered the phone to Jim.

Looking back and forth between the instrument and Blair's face several times, Jim hesitantly took it. "Simon," he said softly. Keeping his gaze locked with Blair's, he listened to his captain, then said, "Yes."

Giving the phone back to Blair, Jim began to maneuver away.

"Yes to what, Simon?" Blair demanded. "He did? Just like that? No... no... no. No! Simon, if he said he was coming back then he we're coming back. But you can't expect him to be one hundred percent, okay? I am not mother-henning him! We don't even know what started all this.

"It'll take us about two days to hike out of here; we'll leave first thing tomorrow morning and meet you at those bluffs where the body was discovered. I want you to see for yourself the shape he's in before we take him into civilization again. There's a good chance he's not going to handle it very well at first and I'd appreciate your help with him.

"I mean it, Simon. If I don't think he can cope, we're going to stay at the ranger's station for a while longer. Trust me, he will if I do. Screw the U and the department, too, his health is more important. Promise? Okay. Two days, at the bluff. And Simon - thank you, for both of us."

Closing the phone and putting it up, Blair joined Jim for the trip down the tree and to their camp. Neither spoke again that day, even through their shared wash-up and meal. Together they packed up the camp, erasing all signs of them ever being there. Placing a few things in Blair's pack, including the book he had taken from the cabin that morning, Jim indicated with gestures that everything else would be left behind.

Long before their usual time they crawled into bed, innocently holding each other almost too tightly to breathe, and waited for morning.

* * *

Two weary days later they stopped at the edge of the bluff where Blair had told Simon they would meet. As they had hiked, Jim had grown more and more grim, though his pace never slacked. In answer to some arcane knowledge or half-understood body language, Blair stayed as quiet as his partner, letting him have the time and space to deal with what was coming.

Simon was waiting for them, unlit cigar clamped between clenched teeth. He and Jim regarded each other warily, suspiciously for all of a breath, then Simon put tentative fingers in the center of Jim's chest and said his name. Blair doubted that Simon detected the wave of tension that was the sentinel's initial reaction; likely all he saw was the slight smile and searching eyes.

"Simon," Jim said quietly and patted him on the arm, once.

"You've been missed, detective," Simon answered roughly. "Ready to go home?"

"No," Jim replied shortly, much to the surprise of his companions. Without explanation he began to walk along the edge of the bluff, peering over the side. After sharing more surprise with a look, Blair and Simon trailed after him as he worked his way toward the bluff's far end. At some unseen maker, he began to climb down - pausing once to make it clear he expected them to do the same.

They found the smell before they found what it was Jim wanted them to see. Or more accurately, the smell found them. As they carefully climbed down the cliff face, it rose up from the rocks below, first in whiffs, then in a steady stench.

Gagging, coughing, Jim continued on grimly until Blair caught him by the elbow and ordered him to dial it down. He nodded shortly, and the sounds of distress stopped, though his grimace of distaste didn't fade. Before long Blair was frantically wishing he had dials of his own; the best he could do was breathe shallowly through his mouth. Banks paused and tied a handkerchief over his mouth, but the eyes above it said that it wasn't much help.

Finally they came to a wide shelf on the rock front that ran about a third of its length before crumbling away. It was broad enough that an accumulation of dirt and small rocks had allowed the growth of trees and other plants. Jim led them to a crack in the cliff face that was almost completely hidden from above by the vegetation. A few feet away from it, he leaned on a large boulder, pulling Blair to him, and motioned to Banks to continue.

Banks eyed the shadowed crevasse warily. He didn't need to be a sentinel to know that it was most likely the source of the odor assaulting them. He picked his way hesitantly toward it, then vanished through the crack.

"Oh, my God," echoed out of it and Blair automatically stood to go help the man who gave voice to such pain.

Jim shook his head adamantly, holding him back. A few seconds later Banks stumbled back into view, face as gray as the rock around him. Again Blair tried to go to him, and again his partner kept him back.

"Listen to the man, Sandburg," Simon muttered, jaw muscles jumping in imitation of his friend as he approached. "For once, listen to him."

"She looked like Blair," Jim said abruptly, startling both of them into staring at him. "From a distance, I mean. Saw her when I was over there." He gestured roughly to another cliff-face jutting out about half a mile away. "Thought for a second Sandburg had decided to camp with me for a few days; said he might." He fell silent, staring at where he'd been, both in time and space.

As if talking him from a zone, Blair wrapped his hands around Jim's biceps. "You thought she looked like me, so you focused in on her, right?"

"Yeah. Heard her saying, 'No, no, no' over and over again, like she didn't even hear it herself anymore. A man was behind her, making her walk toward the edge of the bluff.

"Took off, fast as I could, ditching my pack for speed, but I was too far away. Had to shift my vision to be able to keep going, but I didn't want to loose sight of her, either. Flipped back and forth 'til I was dizzy.

"He pushed her off. Just like that. No expression on his face. Just... shove, and over she went.

"I'd been listening, too." Jim looked over Blair's head at his friend. "The sound of a body hitting rocks sounds just like wet celery crunching." Eyes closing, he swallowed hard, and Blair slid both arms around his waist, hugging him painfully. Simon leaned next him on the other side, close enough for their hips to bump.

In a matter of fact voice that belied the expression on his face, Jim went on. "She didn't die right away. I think the trees cushioned her fall some. But her ribs must've been caved in; I could hear her breathing getting wet and raspy. Couldn't even cry out in pain. No air.

"I wasn't thinking about her attacker at all. Just wanted to get to where I could climb down and help. He charged into me like a bull while I was taking off my jacket for easier climbing before I was halfway to the cliff. Said over and over while he was fighting with me that I wasn't going to take his treasures, they were his. I hadn't had a chance to draw my gun; he took it while we were struggling. Tried to take it back and it went off. Died instantly, I think."

Jim's recitation began to fade in volume, and he sagged more onto the sturdy form keeping him upright.

"My head was ringing with the gunshot, but I was listening for her while I was climbing down. And looking. The taste of my blood in my mouth was making me sick, then the smell hit me... lost my balance and nearly fell. Got to the bottom, scraped raw in a couple of places, but not hurt too bad."

He fell completely silent, and Blair prodded him gingerly, afraid of sending Jim back into Sentinel's shadow. "What did you see when you found her, Jim?"

"So many of them," Jim whispered, "and she was practically face to face with one. Her face, terrified, hurting, dying. Saw me; must've thought I was the other. Screaming. Or trying to... all bubbly... heartbeat pounding, then skipping. Smelled fear, old death, pain...."

"Stop it, Jim!" Blair said firmly, putting one finger over Jim's lips to silence him. "Stop it, now! Pull your senses back to me and Simon. Can you hear his heartbeat? How many cigars is he carrying?"

At Blair's words and touch, Jim's eyes had popped open, and he automatically followed directions. "Three. It's too fast. And his stomach is about to go."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Banks contradicted, grimly. "Sandburg, what happened to him, then, I mean?"

Returning Jim's curious regard, Blair answered both of them. "Overload. You'd been out here a while when... when it happened?" At Jim's nod of agreement, he went on. "In the city there's a lot of stimuli for all his senses; he kinda channel surfs through it, you know? To get what he needs. Out here, there's not as much input. That's why being in the jungle, then later being on the Switchman stake-out, had the effect it did. Not as much as he's used to, so he opens up more. *Way* more, without ever thinking about it.

To his delight, Simon took up the explanation. "Then, boom, he's been in a fight and fallen and his skin is screaming, and his ears are blasted by a gun shot but he keeps listening for a heartbeat, and smell and taste and Christ, no wonder you checked out."

"Except it was more like the part of me that knew how to handle it checked in while I stood aside and let it," Jim admitted softly. Unselfconsciously he burrowed his nose into Blair's curls for a better scent to occupy it. Banks shot them both an odd look, but made no remark.

Probably knows he's masking the stink, Blair thought. And doesn't want to embarrass Jim. Aloud he asked neutrally, "You've been aware all this time?"

"Ever been really, really mad? Too mad to think? Like you're standing outside yourself watching from a distance? You know what's happening, but you're too far away to do anything. It was like that, but more... vague."

"Why didn't you step back in and come back, then, when the overload subsided?"

Uneasily Jim shifted against the rock. "It took a long, long time for the sentinel part of me to get a grip on reality past pure animal reactions - time which didn't really mean anything to me. Honestly, I can't tell you how long it's been since I bolted from here, running on gut impulse."

"Don't ask," Simon said, bluntly. "Let's just say you owe me big time over this."

That brought a promise of a smile to Jim's lips and he went on. "I... was so... so tired! So tired. Standing back, drifting along was restful... peaceful." With a final squeeze, he gently pushed Blair back and straightened up. "Leave it to Sandburg to rile the sentinel part enough to need the rest of me to deal with him."

Though the words saying one thing were directed to Banks, his eyes were on Blair and saying another. Back to Simon, Blair could be plainer in expressing his understanding of Jim's ambiguity. Pursing his lips in a soft moue, he air-kissed at his partner then grinned as he blushed slightly.

"Jim, are you okay?" Banks asked.

Disciplining himself, Blair turned to face the captain as Jim shook his head slowly. "He's still pulling it together, Simon, like I warned you. Can you take care of," he waved at the cliff vaguely, "and let me get him home? I think familiar surroundings will help."

"You'll need this." Jim fished out the book from Sandburg's stuff. "It's a journal from the cabin of the man who did this, I think. I don't know if I was following his old scent or what, but I found his place and took some things from it for survival. Later I can mark the location on a map for the authorities."

Paging through the diary, Simon blanched again. "Did either of you read this?"

"No," the partners said simultaneously in equally wooden tones.

"Good. Get him home, Sandburg. Now." Simon pulled out his cell and began dialing for the federal authorities.

"I am *not* going to argue," Blair said bluntly. "You going to be okay until someone gets here?"

None of them looked toward the crevasse, and Simon nodded shortly. Jim and Blair returned the nod, Blair adding a quick squeeze to his shoulder before beginning to make his way up the ledge. With his own quick touch on Simon's arm, Jim turned to follow his partner home.


finis