Title: Angel on My Shoulder
Author: Natalie L
Author Email: nat1228@comcast.net
Rating: NC-17
Status: Complete
Archive: Yes to SXF, WWOMB, Fries
Author's website: https://www.squidge.org/~nat1228/TSslash.htm

Written: May-July 2000
Revised and expanded: January, 2002
Previously published by Agent With Style

Disclaimer: Pet Fly and Paramount own the copyright to The Sentinel 
and its characters. This piece of fan fiction was written solely 
for the love of the characters and to share freely with other fans. 
No profit is being made from the posting of this story.

Episode related: Warriors

Warnings: lyrics, m/m

Author's notes: Many thanks to Becky for the use of parts of her
episode transcripts for "Warriors." You made my job much easier.

Thanks also to my intrepid betas: Allison and Heather-Anne, for the
original version, and Heather-Anne and Kimberly for this revised and
expanded version. Couldn't do it without you!

Summary: Blair's seizures intensify.


ANGEL ON MY SHOULDER
by Natalie L
nat1228@comcast.net


//'Cause I'm not angry, I'm not crying,
I'm just in over my head.
And you could be the angel that stayed on my shoulder,
When all of the other angels left.//

=====||=====

"You look good. Gotta date?" Blair sized up his friend, who had put on
a suit and tie for the evening.

"Not exactly, but I *am* going out. Is that a problem?" Jim asked,
straightening his tie.

Blair shook his head, gesturing with his hands as well, eager to prove
he made no exclusive claims on Jim. "No. No. Not at all. Anybody I
know?"

"I doubt it. She's an old friend of Carolyn's, from college. She's
just in town for a couple days, and I promised I'd meet with her for
old-time's sake." Jim studied his friend and roommate closely. "You
sure you're okay with this?"

"I told you . . . no commitments. Go on. Have a good time." 

Jim turned to leave, but the feeling of foreboding that had crept into
his mind wouldn't let go. "You sure?"

"Good God, Jim. You'd think we were married! Go!" Blair made a shooing
motion with his hands. "Get out of here. I've got papers to grade and
a lesson plan to work up."

"Okay. All right. I'm going," Jim announced, closing the door gently
behind him as he exited.

Once he was alone, Blair sat heavily on the couch, dropping his head
into his hands. Ever since he had confessed his love for Jim, they had
been dancing around each other as though performing some obscure
mating ritual. Why hadn't he just kept his damn mouth shut? He could
have used his considerable talent to come up with another excuse for
his seizure. //Guess you weren't thinking straight, Sandburg,// he
berated himself.

Settling on the couch in front of his laptop computer, he opened the
file for the next day's lesson plan. Might as well get busy. . . .

~~oO0Oo~~

As Jim threaded his way through the evening traffic, he tried to sort
out his thoughts. It had only been five days since Blair had turned
his whole world upside down with a confession of love, and a kiss that
had darn near knocked his socks off. He hadn't been prepared for that
revelation, nor for the seizure that had preceded it. He couldn't
remember being more terrified. The problem was, he wasn't sure which
had frightened him more: the seizure or the confession.

Blair was an important part of his life. Ever since he had waltzed
into Jim's world, nothing had remained the same. The man who once had
been a loner now found himself with an indispensable partner--one who
could control his rampant senses when he, himself, could not. One that
had pulled his butt out of the fire more times than he could count.
One that got *himself* into more trouble than Jim had ever thought
possible. One that had made the world a little warmer and safer by his
presence. He remembered the times he'd nearly lost Blair to one psycho
or another, and relived the terror those near-misses had wrung from
his soul. But was that love? Was he so desensitized that he couldn't
recognize what was right in front of his face?

Pulling into a parking place in front of the hotel, he was met by a
beautiful, olive-skinned brunette. "Sandra?"

"Jim! It's so good to see you again!" The woman slipped into the
passenger seat of the truck, and Jim pulled out into the traffic once
more. "How long has it been? Six years. . . ? My goodness!"

"How's Paul?" Jim inquired. "Is he still in the contracting business?" 

"Oh. Well, Paul and I divorced three years ago. No kids. No strings,"
Sandra told him with a sigh. "I heard about you and Carolyn. I'm
really sorry."

"Don't be. We're still friends. My work just got in the way, I guess."
He turned to flash her a smile.

"So. How are things with you? Still with the Cascade PD?"

Jim nodded. "Yup, going on seven years now. I'm currently working in
Major Crime."

"How exciting! Still the loner, I suppose. 'Doesn't play well with
others'." She chuckled, blushing slightly as she turned to look at the
stern man sitting next to her.

Jim smiled. "No, actually. I've got myself a partner. Well,
technically, he's a civilian observer--an anthropology grad student at
Rainier U."

Sandra's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A college kid? For a partner?
Jim, that doesn't sound like you at all."

"Yeah, well, he has a way of working himself under your skin," Jim
confessed. "You'd like him."

"So, does this kid have a name?"

"Blair Sandburg." 

Sandra noticed the ice blue eyes of her companion softening at the
mention of the name. "He's special, isn't he? You care for him."

"It's not what you think," Jim answered, a little too quickly. "He's
helped me through some rough times, like any good partner would. I owe
him my life, several times over."

"Hmmm. . . ." Sandra answered, noncommittally.

Fortunately for Jim, they had arrived at the restaurant. He pulled
into a parking space near the doors, and escorted Sandra inside.

~~oO0Oo~~

Blair stared blankly at the flickering computer monitor. He'd been
entering grades and comments for what seemed like hours and was
struggling to concentrate. //Hope Jim's enjoying himself,// he
thought, //'cause I'm sure not.//

Reaching up, he rubbed at his aching temples with his fingers.
//Please, don't let me get one of those freaking migraines now!// He
stood and headed for the kitchen, intent on finding one of his herbal
cures. Rummaging through the cupboards, he finally settled on brewing
some chamomile tea. Nothing was going to touch this headache, but
perhaps the hot drink would help relax him.

He knew he ought to go to bed. Fighting this wasn't going to make it
any easier. He pulled off his glasses, digging knuckles into his
aching eyes. //Man, this really sucks!// He trailed back out to the
couch, mug of tea in hand. At the very least, he needed to save his
work and shut down the computer. Sitting on the couch, he sipped at
his tea before placing the mug on the table and turning to his laptop.

Flicking a finger over the glidepad, he stopped the screensaver, and
revealed the active document on the screen. As he opened the dropdown
menu to "save," he froze, unable to continue. Oblivious to what was
going on around him, Blair's eyes rolled up and he fell to the floor,
hitting his head on the coffee table as he went down. The laptop, and
a considerable number of papers, went with him. When the convulsions
stopped, he lay deathly still.

~~oO0Oo~~

"Jim?" Sandra looked up from her meal when her companion stopped
speaking in mid-sentence. "Is something wrong? Jim?" When her
questioning didn't rouse him, she reached across the table for his
hand, squeezing gently.

The soft touch pulled him back from the edge of a sensory zone-out.
"What? Oh, sorry. I don't know what got into me. Something just
doesn't feel right. Excuse me a minute." He pulled his hand free,
fishing his cell phone from a jacket pocket. Pushing the speed dial
for home, he waited until the answering machine picked up, then
snapped the phone shut. "I've got to go. Something's wrong."

Sandra reached out, laying a hand protectively over Jim's. "What is
it? Jim, talk to me."

"Blair isn't answering the phone," the detective growled, obviously
concerned.

"So? Maybe he's asleep. Or maybe he went out. He's a grown man, Jim.
I'm sure he's fine."

"No." Jim shook his head sharply and pulled his hand from beneath
Sandra's. "You don't understand. When he has school work, he slaves
over it. He wouldn't go out. He may have fallen asleep, but he would
have heard the phone and answered."

"Maybe not. . . ."

"You don't know Sandburg." He pushed his chair back and stood. "I've
gotta go." Digging his wallet from his pocket, he extracted a handful
of bills, tossing them on the table. "That should cover dinner. Can I
take you home?"

Sandra looked up at Jim's worried face. "No, thanks. If you're that
sure something is wrong, you'd better go. I'll call a cab." As Jim
turned to leave, she added, "Please call? Let me know if everything's
okay?"

"Yeah. Sure. Good-night, Sandra." Jim took off like the devil was on
his heels.

"Good-night," she called to his retreating back.

~~oO0Oo~~

Taking the stairs three at a time, Jim raced up to the loft. Nervous
hands fumbled with the key, taking precious extra seconds to open the
locked door. He entered the apartment like a charging bull. "Hey,
Sandburg! You home?" he shouted. "Answer me, dammit!" The utter
silence in the loft was unnerving.

Stopping to take a deep breath, he centered himself. He hadn't even
taken time to look around. The sound of a softly beating heart brought
his attention to living room area, and the clutter around one of the
couches. Running across the room, he knelt beside his fallen friend.
"Damn! It happened again, didn't it, Sandburg? Why didn't you say
something?"

A bleeding gash on Blair's forehead and blood on the table were mute
testimony to what had happened. Dialing "911" on his cell phone, Jim
called for an ambulance. "We're not playing around anymore. You're
going to the hospital," he told the unconscious man.

He lifted the computer from the anthropologist's chest and gathered up
the scattered papers. By the time the paramedics arrived, he had
already performed a cursory exam, convincing himself that Blair had
nothing more than a bad concussion. 

The medics performed their own exam, peppering Jim with questions as
they checked Blair's vital signs. They loaded the young man onto a
gurney and wheeled him down the hall to the elevator. 

Jim followed them out to the ambulance. 

"Let me ride along," he requested as they loaded the gurney.

"Sorry, sir, but there just isn't enough room," the driver told him,
swinging up into the cab.

"You don't understand," Jim argued, desperate. "He wakes up from these
episodes disoriented and frightened. I *need* to be there."

Despite the protests of the medics, Jim muscled his way inside and sat
on the narrow bench along one side of the ambulance's medical bay. At
this moment, he would have said or done anything to stay by Blair's
side. If he never left again, it would be too soon.

~~oO0Oo~~

"It's going to be all right." Sandra placed a reassuring hand on Jim's
forearm, stopping his incessant pacing. "How did you know something
was wrong?"

"We've got a . . . connection," Jim mumbled, distracted by his own
thoughts.

"Blair's a lucky young man to have you." She kissed him on the cheek.
"Look. I need to leave. I got a call after you left, and I have to
catch a flight back to Chicago." Jim nodded, but continued to search
the hallway for a doctor. "You take care of him, okay?"

"Yeah."

"Good-bye, Jim." With a parting pat to Jim's arm, Sandra walked off,
unnoticed by the distraught detective.

As she disappeared into the elevator, the doctor finally appeared.
"James Ellison?"

"Yes. How's Blair, Doctor. . . ?"

"Freeman." He shook Jim's hand in greeting. "Your friend is doing
fine. He has a concussion, but nothing too serious. You mentioned he's
had seizures recently?"

"Yeah," Jim replied. "He told me he was diagnosed with epilepsy as a
kid, but hadn't had any seizures for years. It came as quite a shock."

"I can imagine. I'd like to hold him overnight for observation and to
run some tests, but there's no reason he can't go home in the morning.
I'd like to put him on Klonopin for a trial period; see how he
responds. It's an anticonvulsant," he added by way of explanation.

"Yeah, I know," Jim answered distractedly. "Anything. . . . Just get
these damn seizures under control."

"That's what we're trying to do, Mr. Ellison," Dr. Freeman reassured
him. "Would you like to see Mr. Sandburg?"

"Yes. Please." He followed as the doctor led him to a room down the
hall.

"Don't stay too long. He's drowsy and needs his rest."

"Thanks, Doctor." Jim pushed the door open to the dim room, dialing up
his senses to hear the reassuring beat of Blair's heart, and the soft
susurration of his breath. Walking over to the bed, he brushed stray
strands of wild hair from the high forehead, carefully avoiding the
large bandage on the left side.

Blair opened his eyes at the touch. "Jim?"

"Yeah, Chief. I'm here. How're you feeling?"

"Head hurts."

"Why doesn't that surprise me? You whacked yourself a good one when
you fell."

"Did I. . . ?"

"Have another seizure?" Jim finished for him. "Yeah, I think so. You
knocked yourself unconscious when you fell off the couch."

"Ouch."

Jim chuckled. "I just can't leave you alone, can I?"

Blair turned his head away from Jim, grimacing. "Sorry. I spoiled your
evening, didn't I?"

"No, you didn't spoil anything. Sandra's a great woman, but she's just
a friend. If my meeting her for dinner bothered you, you should have
said something."

"We made a deal. I was just keeping up my end. You said you needed
your space. I was just trying to give that to you." Tears welling in
his eyes slid quietly down Blair's cheeks. "I'm sorry. I really
screwed up this time."

"You bet your sweet ass, you did! Dammit, Blair, if we're going to
have a relationship, you've got to be honest with me. If you don't
want me to go, say so!"

"Don't go." The words were so soft, even Jim had to strain to hear.

Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on the younger man's forehead.
"I'm not going anywhere." He settled into the chair next to the bed,
holding Blair's hand until the younger man's eyes finally fluttered
shut, and sleep took him once more. Like the Blessed Protector Blair
had once proclaimed him to be, Jim stood watch throughout the night,
despite several attempts by the hospital staff to send him home.

~~oO0Oo~~

Dr. Freeman pressed a bottle into Blair's hand. "This is the lowest
dosage available. Take one tablet, three times daily with food. I want
to see you in a week to run some tests, and see how you're doing on
the medication."

Blair screwed up his face, pushing the bottle back toward the doctor.
"I prefer not to take prescription medications. I like more natural
remedies. Thanks, anyway."

"This isn't negotiable," Jim stated, picking up the bottle and putting
it in his pocket. "I'll see to it that he takes them, Doctor."

"But, Jim. . . ."

"No 'buts', Blair. I'm tired of worrying about you. You're going to do
this for me, for *us*."

"He's a damned dictator, you know," Blair addressed the doctor,
tilting his head toward his partner. "Do this. Don't do that."

"Sounds like just what the doctor ordered." The physician chuckled.
"Take care, Blair. And take the medication. I'll see you in a week."

~~oO0Oo~~

Blair balanced the small pill in his hand, reluctant to swallow it.

Jim reached across the dinner table to rest a reassuring hand on the
younger man's arm. "Take it, Blair. You promised."

"But, Jim . . . they make me so tired," Blair sighed. "I *hate* taking
them!"

"Then I'll tuck you into bed, and you can rest." Jim patted the arm
under his hand and held Blair's defiant gaze.

"I don't *want* to rest, dammit! I want to spend some time with you!"

Jim stood, taking Blair's free hand and pulling him to his feet. "Take
it for me now, and I promise you won't regret it."

Looking up into the smoldering blue eyes of his partner, Blair quickly
popped the pill, following it with a swallow of water.

Jim led his charge over to the couch and sat, pulling Blair down
beside him. Cupping a cheek in the palm of his hand, he looked deeply
into the wide, trusting eyes of his friend. "You," he began. "You are
the most important person in my life. I must have been blind not to
see it before."

Blair leaned into the caress, his heart skipping a beat at the words
that accompanied it; but, for once, he remained silent.

"I couldn't believe what I'd heard, that night you told me you loved
me. I've been trying to forget it, to ignore it, but it won't go
away." Blair opened his mouth to speak, but Jim touched his lips with
a fingertip, silencing him. "I've been processing, Blair. It takes
time. I've never loved a man before. The idea takes some getting used
to."

Blair's mouth flew open a second time, but again, Jim silenced him.
"Just can't sit quietly, can you?" he chuckled. "Let me finish. In my
own roundabout way, I'm trying to tell you something important."

Blair pressed his lips together, making a zipping motion with his
hand.

"I've had a hard time admitting to my feelings, but I . . . I . . .
oh, hell. . . ." Words failing him, he pulled Blair onto his lap.
Tangling fingers in the long, silky hair, he leaned down to capture
the full lips with his own. Blair pressed his body close, opening
himself to whatever Jim was willing to give.

Finally, the embrace ended. "Whoa, man. That was *intense*!" Blair
smiled up at his best friend. "Does this mean. . . ?"

"That we're a couple? Yes." Jim caressed the slightly stubbled cheek
with his thumb and hesitated briefly. "But, Blair, I still have
issues. Some things are harder to overcome than others, you know? Up
until you came into my life, I'd always considered myself straight."

"I understand. Anything you want. We'll go at your pace." Blair's
words tumbled over each other in his excitement.

"One thing I want . . . I need  . . .  is for you to keep taking your
medication."

"Anything. Anything you want." Blair was willing to sell his soul, if
necessary, to make the man holding him happy.

"And you have to promise to tell me when something upsets you. We
can't have any secrets between us." Blair nodded his agreement. "And
this stays between us. It's nobody else's damn business."

"No problem. My lips are sealed."

Laughter erupted from deep within Jim's chest. "Now *that's* something
I'd love to see! My Blair, speechless." He smiled.

//My Blair. He'd said, "My Blair"!// The anthropologist could hardly
believe his own ears. Maybe this was for real after all. He held his
breath as Jim ran fingers through his hair, cupped his chin and looked
deeply into his eyes. He began to tremble, and felt strong arms
envelope him and pull him in close. He felt sheltered. Safe. Loved.

~~oO0Oo~~

Disorientation. The feeling enveloped him as he woke to the darkness
in the small hours of the morning. Rolling over, Blair realized what
was different. He was in Jim's bed. His roommate slept soundly beside
him, a slight smile of satisfaction still gracing his stern features. 

A rush of warmth washed over Blair as he remembered Jim carrying him
upstairs to the bedroom. There had been no sex, but Blair had never
felt more cherished and loved. Their tentative caresses and passionate
kisses were enough . . . for now. 

Just when Blair had felt everything in his life was going to hell, Jim
had let him in, making everything right again. Sighing contentedly,
Blair snuggled down, nestling against the man he loved, and knowing
that, finally, his love was returned.

~~oO0Oo~~

"It's about time you woke up! We're burning daylight here," Jim
greeted him as Blair came down the stairs later that morning. "Simon
called. He needs us in this morning. You feeling up to it?"

"Right as rain. Let's go!" Blair grabbed a bagel and chugged a cup of
coffee on his way to grab his coat and be out the front door.

"Not so fast. Come here." Jim patted the cushion on the couch next to
him. "We need to talk."

"'Bout what?" Blair did a one-eighty and walked across the room,
settling himself beside his friend.

"About telling Simon . . . about us."

"I thought you didn't want to tell anybody." Blair's voice reflected
his confusion.

"Well, no, but I think Simon deserves to know. We confided my sentinel
abilities to him," Jim reminded him.

"Yeah, but we had to do that. He suspected something was going on with
you. He doesn't have to know about this. Besides, there's barely an
'us' yet. We haven't *done* anything, if you know what I mean." Blair
felt an uncharacteristic reluctance to admit their fledgling
relationship to anyone.

"He can keep the secret, Blair," Jim argued. "Besides, he'll guess.
He's smart, and way too close to the two of us. If we don't tell him,
he *will* figure it out. Then he'll be piss-ass mad we didn't trust
him enough to say something."

"I suppose. . . ."

"You nervous?"

"Yeah, I guess. A little," Blair admitted.

Jim took his hand, cradling it in his own, larger one. "Would it help
you if I said I was nervous, too?" He paused briefly, but not long
enough to give the anthropologist time to reply. "I've got something
for you." He pulled a small gift box from his pocket.

"What's this? You didn't have to. . . ."

"I *wanted* to, Blair. It's not much. Just a token. I wanted you to
know I was serious."

"Serious?" Blair asked. "Serious about what?" He tore at the paper,
revealing a small velvet box.

"About us." Jim watched intently as the younger man slowly opened the
box to reveal a small diamond ear stud. 

Stunned didn't even begin to cover what Blair was feeling as he stared
at the sparkling bauble. He sat frozen in place as Jim fumbled to
unfasten the top hoop in his left ear, and replace it with the stud.

"When? I mean, well . . ." Blair stuttered as Jim's fingers worked at
his ear. "When did you have time to go shopping? We just . . . we've
barely . . ." His voice trailed off as Jim placed a quick kiss to his
ear as he finished fastening the diamond in place.

"While you were in the hospital," Jim responded, pulling Blair close.
"When I came home from that date with Sandra to find you unconscious
and bleeding, that's when I realized that you were the most important
person in my life, and that I loved you, too. I wanted you to have a
physical representation of that love, to carry with you always."

"People are going to notice, Jim," Blair pointed out, snuggling down
into the comfortable embrace.

"Not with that hair, they won't," Jim chuckled, fingering the silken
strands that hung loosely around Blair's face. "And if they do, you
can just say your mom sent it to you as a birthday gift, or
something."

"Whoa! Hold up a minute!" Blair sat up, pushing away from his partner
to look him in the eye. "I may obfuscate, but I don't *lie*!"

"Then obfuscate your heart out. I trust you to come up with
something." To stifle further protests, Jim leaned down and captured
Blair's lips with his own, effectively silencing the chatty
anthropologist.

~~oO0Oo~~

"This is going to be easy. You'll see," Jim assured his partner as
they walked through the door into Major Crime. 

They had no sooner entered the bullpen area, when a loud voice greeted
their arrival. "Ellison! Sandburg! My office, please." Simon waved to
them over the heads of some passing detectives.

Smiling, Jim placed a hand between Blair's shoulders and pushed him
ahead, into the Captain's office.

"Good to see you gentlemen again," Simon greeted the pair as they
entered. "Welcome back, Blair. We missed you around here. Everything
okay?"

"Yeah, just fine, actually." Blair shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm seeing to it he takes his meds," Jim added. 

Simon scowled at the stubborn police observer. "You got some ID on you
now, Sandburg?" he asked. "I don't like surprises, you know."

"Dog tag," the young man answered, pulling the medic alert tag from
his shirt. "Less noticeable than a bracelet." He turned to Jim, giving
him an "I'll get you for this" look. Jim grinned back at him,
unrepentant. 

"Good. Then you're ready to get back to work?" the Captain asked.

"Well, there *is* one more thing, Simon," Jim began.

"Yes?" the Captain prompted, when his lead detective seemed reluctant
to continue.

"It's personal, sir," Jim continued, glancing over at Blair who
continued to shift uncomfortably back and forth on his feet. "It's
gotta remain in this room, like the sentinel thing."

"All right," Simon agreed. "Shoot."

"Well, sir, you see, we . . . um. . . ." Words failed him momentarily.
Blair was shuffling his feet, looking down at his shoes, distracting
the detective. "Blair, give it rest, okay?" The shuffling stopped, but
his partner refused to look up.

"Okay. What's going on with you two?" Captain Banks was rapidly losing
patience with the tongue-tied duo.

"Well, sir, we thought you ought to know, because it could affect our
performance, or your own decisions concerning us working together."

"Tell me *WHAT*, for Chrissakes?"

"We're a couple, Simon."

"A couple of *what*? Nut cases?" Banks looked at the two men as if
they did, indeed, belong in a room with padded walls.

"No, Simon. A couple. You know . . . together."

"Together. . . ?" The Captain was beginning to understand, but wasn't
sure he liked the way his thoughts were turning. "As in . . . lovers?"

"Um, well . . . yeah. Sort of, yeah," Jim confirmed, hesitantly. "We,
um, we've committed to each other, but haven't, um, consummated the
union yet." He glanced over at Sandburg, who had turned beet red
during the conversation.

"You on board with this, Sandburg?" Banks turned to the younger man.

Blair swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yes." He choked on the word,
and had to clear his throat. "It was my idea, actually," he confessed.

"I should've known," the Captain groaned. "You do know that department
policy forbids couples from working together. That includes committed
same-sex couples."

"I realize that, Simon," Jim said. "But nobody has to know, do they?
We only told you because you know about the sentinel thing, about how
close we've become because of that. I figured you'd guess about us,
eventually."

"You're probably right," Simon sighed. "You know, you've put me in a
pretty tight spot."

"I know, and I'm sorry. Honestly, Simon, I didn't see this coming,
either." Jim looked over at his partner, who had remained uncommonly
quiet throughout the exchange.

"So what now? You two going to still be able to work together?" Simon
asked. "Because, you know, if the work suffers, I *will* give Sandburg
his marching orders."

"Nothing's going to change, Simon," Jim assured him. "You don't have
to worry about us."

"I sure as hell hope not." Sighing, the Captain shuffled through the
files on his desk. "Here," he said, handing Jim a folder. "Your next
case."

"Thanks, Captain." He turned to leave, Blair close on his heels.

"Hey, Sandburg!" Simon called, as Blair reached the door. "Nice
earring." The Captain chuckled as Blair's hand instinctively went for
his ear, fingering the new stud. The pair beat a hasty exit back to
Jim's desk.

"I told you he'd notice!" Blair hissed through clenched teeth.

"Hell, Blair, what did you expect? We *told* him! I think he took it
rather well, don't you?" 

Blair shook his head in resignation. "If you say so."

~~oO0Oo~~

"You *TOLD* him! God! I can't believe you told him!" Blair flew around
the loft, gesticulating wildly.

"We discussed it. You agreed," Jim said, perplexed by his partner's
behavior. "I thought you were okay with it."

"Telling Simon we were a couple, yes. Telling him we hadn't
*consummated* our relationship? Jim, what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't. I guess . . . I just wasn't. I'm sorry, Blair," Jim
apologized, feeling helpless as he watched the bundle of energy stride
back and forth across the room. "It just came out. I didn't mean to
embarrass you like that."

"Well, you did! Damn!" Blair continued pacing the room, blowing off
steam. When he stopped to grind fists into his temples, Jim was
immediately at his side.

"Calm down, Blair. You're working yourself up over nothing." He pulled
the fists down, replacing them with his own hands giving a gentle
massage. "Don't do this to yourself. Simon's not going to say
anything. Relax." He felt arms encircle his waist. Dropping his own
arms to embrace his partner, he smiled. "You know, we can do something
about that, if you're ready. . . ." He leaned down to plant a moist
kiss against Blair's temple.

Blair molded his body to Jim's, pressing the hard column of his
arousal against Jim's thigh. Tilting tear-stained cheeks upward, he
captured Jim's mouth, his tongue darting between open lips. 

Balanced on the razor's edge of sensory overload, the Sentinel pulled
back. "How about we move this upstairs?" 

Taking Blair's hand, he led the willing young man to the upper level
of the loft.

Blair stopped at the top of the stairs, watching as his partner moved
toward the bed. "What now?"

The shy question elicited a smile from the Sentinel. "You're the
guide. You tell me. . . ." He knelt on the bed and waited.

"I need to see you." Blair approached the bed slowly and knelt beside
Jim.

The unexpected reticence in the young man's voice aroused Jim. As
uncertain hands began to unbutton his shirt, he felt a long-denied
aching in his groin. He covered the shaking hands with his own. "Let
me help." He finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it off. Cool
hands lovingly caressed his chest, ghosting over nipples that hardened
to dusky-pink peaks beneath the touch.

Blair leaned in to first kiss, then suckle at one erect nub, as his
hands dropped lower to begin unbuckling Jim's belt.

A sigh of relief issued from Jim's lips as his erection was finally
freed from the tight denim prison. He gasped as cold fingers wrapped
around his heated length, squeezing gently before beginning a slow
slide up to the head, then back down to the base.

"Good God, Blair," Jim swore through clenched teeth. "Are you always
this cold?" He reached down to free Blair's hand from his cock,
weaving his fingers together with the other man's. 

"Sorry," Blair apologized. "I guess I'm just nervous. This is new to
me, too."

"Then let's slow down a little, and see if we can't get you warmed
up." Jim slid his free hand under Blair's shirt, dusting sensitive
fingertips across the coarse, springy chest hair.

Blair's head fell back and he gasped through parted lips at Jim's
touch. Some minor maneuvers freed him of the shirt, allowing him to
press skin against skin.

"Better?" Jim asked, wrapping his arms around the smaller body,
pulling Blair in even closer. As the young man nodded, Jim captured
his mouth, darting his tongue between parted lips. He could feel the
slow rise of his partner's body temperature, until Blair was panting
and straining against him. He quickly divested Blair of the remainder
of his clothing, and pulled him down onto the bed.

Blair suddenly came alive in a flurry of arms and legs. Jim found
himself captured and pulled against the rapidly heating body, his
mouth devoured by fiery lips. When Blair's cock aligned with his,
brushing against him, then pressing in close, Jim thought he would
lose it right there. The sensation was like nothing he'd ever
experienced before. The hard, flat planes of Blair's chest and hips
against his--so different from the women he'd held. The strong,
muscled legs that held him in an iron grip; the hard, hot column of
flesh pressed against him, leaking pre-come that felt like molten lava
as it dripped down sensitized thighs, drove him to near frenzy.

His hands found Blair's hair, and tangled themselves in the silken
mass. He peppered the precious face with kisses, murmuring, "I love
you. I love you," almost incoherently. Thrusting his hips, he rubbed
his cock against his mate's, feeling Blair's responsive bucking
beneath him. Almost before it had begun, it was over. Nearly
simultaneous orgasms shook the two men, leaving them weak and
breathless.

Jim closed his eyes, and continued to hold Blair close until their
ragged breathing began to even out. "I love you," he whispered,
kissing closed eyelids.

"I love you, too," Blair responded sleepily, squeezing Jim even closer
as he settled underneath the blankets Jim had pulled over their
cooling bodies.

"Good-night, Love." Jim kissed the top of the head that rested
serenely against his chest.

~~oO0Oo~~

"So, Blair, how are things going for you?" Doctor Freeman asked.

"Great."

"And you're still taking the Klonopin three times daily?"

"Jim sees to that." Blair laughed.

The doctor scribbled some notes on a pad. "Any problems?"

"Just the usual side effects you warned me about: drowsiness, a little
irritability. Nothing too bad. We're coping."

"And there have been no more seizures?"

"Nope. Everything's under control. Jim refuses to let me get upset
enough to trigger one, anyway. He's got an incredible way of calming
me down." Blair's face lit up with a wistful smile. Shaking himself
out of the memory of the night he and Jim had made love for the first
time, he grinned at the doctor. "Everything's better now. Thanks."

"Glad to hear it." Dr. Freeman set down his note pad and looked up at
his patient. "Well, I guess I won't need to see you again, then,
unless there are any more problems."

"Don't worry, there won't be." Blair slid off the exam table and
grabbed his coat.

"Remember, Blair, you have to keep taking the medication," the doctor
admonished. "This isn't something that gets better with time."

"I know, Doctor. I'll behave." He smiled, lifting a hand to wave
good-bye as he walked through the door.

Dr. Freeman watched as his patient joined his partner, who had been
waiting in the lounge. He grinned as the two wrapped arms around each
other's waists and walked out of the clinic together. Love is a
powerful motivator, he mused.


*To be continued in Mark of the Shaman...*