Moira's Entropy
By Natalie L
nat1228@comcast.net

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.

Author's notes: This is an AU where sentinels and guides are known to
exist. I spoke with Susan Foster (author of the popular "GDP" series)
before writing the original story in this series, as I knew that some
of the conventions and concepts I wanted to use were very similar to
themes she has created for her series. She kindly consented to let me
use what I needed to tell this story. While there may be some
similarities, this series is *not* a spin-off of the GDP universe, but
is an AU of my own creation. This story is slash.

Summary: Five years after the events of "Moira's Destiny," it's the
dawn of a new age for Sentinels and Guides. Jim and Blair are asked to
speak before Congress in favor of an amendment to make Guides' rights
Constitutional, but before they can leave Cascade, Blair goes missing.
Threatened with the death of his guide, Jim must decide between the
lives of all guides and the life of *one*.

Acknowledgments: Many thanks to Annie for her invaluable medical
advice and beta for this story, and to Lyn and Mary for their fabulous
beta help.

Size: 162 KB

Warnings: Non-con/rape, abuse/torture, brief *mention* of underage
sex.


MOIRA'S ENTROPY
By Natalie L

He came back to consciousness slowly, his heart thudding with fear,
only to find his nightmare was not a dream, but reality. Secured to a
gurney by padded restraints, his feet in stirrups with his legs
spread, Blair struggled fruitlessly against the shadowy figure that
kept swabbing at his open wounds to keep them bleeding. His naked body
was covered with dozens of cuts; some scabbing over, some still
bleeding freely. A wet cloth was put to his mouth, and he sucked at
it, desperate for any bit of moisture he could get to soothe his
ravaged throat.

Chet Quigley came to stand between his legs and reached out to fondle
Blair's penis. "How's it going, Ted?"

Ted Sykes looked up from his work. "I'd say he's lost nearly a liter
and a half. At this rate, he's got another twenty-four to thirty-six
hours."

"Perfect." Quigley gave his partner a leering grin as he pulled down
the zipper on his pants. "I guess I've got time for another fuck,
then." Blair flinched as he felt Quigley's finger trace a line across
his perineum and over his anus. "His ass is every bit as sweet as I
imagined."

An agonized groan slipped past Blair's cracked lips as the large cock
entered him without the benefit of preparation or lube. He squeezed
his eyes shut, forcing a single tear to track down his cheek as he
prayed for blessed unconsciousness.


*Four days earlier: *

Jim and Blair sat in Jim's office at the Guide Training Facility going
over their quarterly reports. The number of empaths volunteering for
guide training was up markedly since the reforms had been instituted
almost five years ago. Sentinels and guides both seemed pleased with
the new arrangements, finding that matched pairs worked better
together, improving arrest and conviction rates for those involved in
law enforcement.

"We've had eight new empaths apply for training this week," Blair
informed his partner. "Seven of them test high enough to be accepted
into the program."

"Are you going to be able to handle the extra load?" asked Jim,
looking up from his paperwork.

"Linda's at her max, but I think I can take on another one or two.
Tenji is nearly ready to take over training duties on his own. I think
we can handle it," Blair replied.

"I just don't want you wearing yourself too thin," Jim admonished.
"You're still recovering from that bout of bronchitis you had three
weeks ago."

The mention of his illness triggered a residual coughing fit. Covering
his mouth with a handkerchief, Blair rode it out, smiling weakly at
his concerned sentinel. "It's okay, Jim, really. I'm taking it easy."

"I think you need to go home and rest. Do you still have the
antibiotics the doctor gave you?"

Blair fished the bottle out of his pocket. "Yeah, I have another five
days on this prescription. But honestly, I don't feel like I need to
go home. I'm doing okay."

"Sure you are, Chief," Jim said, grinning knowingly. "How about
humoring me, just this once? The trainees can take a day off, visit
their families. This isn't a prison, after all."

"Well..." Blair hesitated until another cough exploded from deep in
his chest. "Okay. Maybe I *was* overdoing it just a little," he
admitted. "Are you sure you can handle the paperwork alone?"

"It's just paperwork," Jim pointed out. "Go on, get some rest. I'll
cook dinner tonight."

"I'll go," Blair reluctantly agreed. "But on one condition." He caught
Jim's eye and held his gaze. "I want you to make it up to me tonight."
One eyebrow rose suggestively.

Jim chuckled. His guide had always been a bit of a horndog, and they
*hadn't* bonded since Blair's illness. This was one request he was
happy to fulfill. "All right," he agreed, "but I have a condition,
too." He stared his partner down, his tone mock serious. "You let me
do all the work."

Blair spread his arms, palms up questioningly. "Oh, so I'm supposed to
just lie there and take it?" His voice held a hint of amused sarcasm.
He paused for a beat before capitulating. "All right; I can do that.
See you tonight!" He turned toward the door, waving his farewell as he
went.

"You. Rest," Jim commanded as his guide exited the office. He was just
settling down to his paperwork when the phone rang. "Warden Ellison,
how may I help you?"

//"Hello. This is David Chaplain calling from Washington, D.C."//

"Senator Chaplain?" Jim asked, wondering why a US Senator would be
calling.

//"One and the same,"// Chaplain acknowledged. //"I have a favor I
would like to ask of you and your guide --"//

"Shoot, Senator, it's your dime."

//"You may have heard in the news recently, talk of a nationwide guide
reform bill...?"// Chaplain began.

"Yes, Senator," Jim replied, perking up. "Blair and I were overjoyed
to see something along the lines of our local reforms go national. We
wish you luck getting the bill through Congress."

//"As you know,"// Chaplain continued, //"your reform has taken hold
along the entire west coast, from the Canadian border to Tijuana. I,
and some of my fellow congressmen, would like to see these ideas taken
nationwide. It's time to end legalized slavery in this nation and show
the world that we do not sanction the subjugation of any class of
people."//

"I couldn't agree with you more," said Jim. "But what does that have
to do with Blair and me?"

//"The bill is headed to committee,"// Chaplain explained. //"And I'd
like to invite you and Guide Sandburg to Washington to speak in favor
of its passing. I can't think of any two men who could be more
influential to the process than the two who started the reform in the
first place."//

"I'm honored," Jim replied. "But Blair is still recovering from a
serious illness and I don't think he should be traveling quite yet."

//"Would you consider talking it over with him?"// Chaplain asked.
//"I have considerable backing for the bill, but the sentinels have a
strong lobby and are trying to block it. I really need two strong
voices that can speak up for the difference the reforms have made to
their lives and lives of the other guides. I need *you*, Warden
Ellison; you and Guide Sandburg. Please consider the offer? I'll send
plane tickets and see that you're put up in a comfortable suite upon
your arrival."//

"I have to talk it over with Blair," Jim hedged, "but knowing him,
he'll want to come."

//"Good, good! Can you give me a call within twenty-four hours to let
me know your decision?"//

"Yes, of course, Senator. Thank you for asking."

The two men said their good-byes and Jim hung up the phone. This was
big -- monumental. He knew what Blair's response would be. As
reluctant as he was to take his still-sick guide on a trip across the
continent, he knew with a certainty that they would be going.

+++++

Blair leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach. "That was
delicious." He stretched and yawned. "Sorry. A big meal makes me
sleepy."

Jim put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Then why
don't you go upstairs and get ready for bed? I'll clean up down here
and then join you."

"I can help." Blair pushed back his chair and stood, picking up his
plate and silverware.

Jim reached across the table and plucked the dirty dishes from Blair's
hands. "Go get ready for bed," he instructed softly. "I can take care
of this." When Blair looked like he was about to protest, Jim
interrupted. "No 'buts'. Go on, take care of yourself. I'll just be a
few minutes."

Blair shrugged, then walked around the table to kiss Jim's cheek. "All
right, but you'd better not take too long. I'll be waiting."

Jim could smell the beginnings of arousal in his mate and it fired a
similar response in his own body. He pressed his lips against Blair's
in a promise. "Be right up."

Blair took the stairs slowly, watching Jim clear the table with
military precision. Smiling, he reached the landing and pulled back
the heavy comforter and crisp sheets on the bed. He sat down and took
off his shoes and socks before stripping and stuffing all his clothes
into the laundry hamper. Crawling into bed, he awaited his sentinel's
arrival.

Jim appeared at the top of the stairs ten minutes later, his face
glowing with unrequited need. On the bed, Blair lay gently stroking
his weeping erection, smiling sweetly at his mate. Jim made short work
of stripping down and climbing onto the bed. He settled on his side
facing Blair and reached out, replacing Blair's hand with his own. His
voice was soft and filled with love when he spoke.

"I thought I told you that I was going to do all the work tonight.
You're supposed to relax and enjoy yourself."

"Unnngh..." Blair groaned in reply, as Jim's talented hand stroked and
teased his shaft. Mutely he nodded, his lips parted, welcoming Jim's
kiss.

Jim's free hand brushed over the furred chest, lightly pinching and
twisting the hard nubs of Blair's nipples. Releasing his lover's
mouth, he slipped lower, both hands caressing Blair's ribcage as he
suckled first on one nipple, then the other.

Blair gasped in a lungful of air, coughing slightly and dislodging Jim
from his chest. Jim looked up questioningly. "'m okay," Blair mumbled
through another cough. "Don't stop --"

With only a slight hesitation, Jim continued his journey down Blair's
body, his mouth finally connecting with the hot shaft of his lover's
penis. As his lips engulfed the flanged head, Blair arched his back,
raising his hips, and groaned loudly. He barely had time to take more
of the shaft into his mouth before he heard a soft "...coming, Jim;
I'm coming" from his mate. Jim cradled his lover's buttocks with his
palms as he swallowed the steady stream of semen, riding out Blair's
orgasm before lowering him back to the mattress.

"God, Babe, that was wonderful." Jim moved back up to take Blair's
mouth once more, letting his lover taste himself on Jim's tongue.

When they parted, Blair took Jim's face between his hands, holding him
still. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to come --" His apology was
interrupted by another coughing fit. Jim tried to interrupt, but Blair
silenced him with a finger over his lips. "I didn't mean to come so
fast. Forgive me?"

Jim ran a hand through the sweaty curls, looking down into a face
bright from exertion. "Not your fault. It's been three weeks since we
made love and you've been ill. I can't guarantee that I'll be able to
keep it in the holster very long myself."

Blair chuckled and then sighed. Covering Jim's hands with his, he
stole another kiss. "I love you."

"And I love *you*," Jim returned, capturing the parted lips for one
final kiss. "Why don't you roll onto your side and let me prepare
you?" Gentle hands helped to position his mate and Jim reached for the
lube. "We're going to take this slow and easy," he said, coating a
finger and slipping it into the tight pucker.

Blair moaned with pleasure, wriggling his butt to push the finger
deeper. "Think you can hold onto your load long enough, Cowboy?" he
teased.

"You mind your own business," Jim replied with a chuckle, slipping a
second finger inside the loosening hole. "And let me mind mine."

"Good idea. I think I will," Blair quipped back, reaching down to
stroke his sated penis back to life.

"Here, let me help." Jim pushed his fingers deep and rubbed the mound
of Blair's prostate, causing his mate to howl with pleasure and his
cock to grow in fullness.

Jim pulled his fingers out and lubed his cock, positioning himself
behind Blair. With consummate care, he entered his lover, cradling
Blair against the warm strength of his body.

"Mmmmm..." Blair moaned. "God, Jim, it feels so good. Bond with me, my
sentinel."

/ it's been hell without you / and you, my love, my sentinel; your
presence heals me / you make me whole; we're one soul in two bodies /
one life, together; make love to me / everything I do is making love
to you, my guide /

Jim began a gentle, rocking thrust, reaching around their joined
bodies to replace Blair's hand with his own on the newly erect cock.
He stroked the length in time with his internal movements, dragging
another groan of pleasure from his mate. As they approached climax
together a few minutes later, Jim felt another brief brush across his
mind.

/ jim...? /

The rush of their mutual orgasms washed the thought away in a flood of
pleasure, exploding in their minds like a thousand fireworks set off
at once.

"JIIIIIM...! Ah... God..."

Jim reached up to stroke the sweat-dampened locks of his lover's hair
as the two men lay, still joined together, on the bed. "Everything all
right, Babe?"

"Oh, God..." Blair moaned again. "More than all right. I didn't
realize how much I needed that." He paused a beat, speaking up again
before Jim could get started. "Jim? I felt... something... in our
bond. Is there something you're holding back?"

With regret, Jim pulled out of the warm tunnel of Blair's ass and
turned his lover over so that they were face to face. "I didn't want
to spoil the moment."

 "Spoil it? How?" Blair's eyes were wide with concern now. "Is
something wrong?"

"No, not wrong," Jim hedged. "Just something we don't really need
right now."

"And what would that be?"

"Senator Chaplain called this afternoon after you went home," said
Jim, stroking a hand over Blair's bare shoulder.

"The Washington Democratic Senator? Senator Chaplain?" At Jim's nod,
Blair persisted in his questioning. "What did he want with you?"

"With *us*, actually," Jim corrected. "He's authored a bill to take
guide reform to the national level."

Blair pushed up onto an elbow, the blankets falling to his waist. His
eyes bright with excitement, he began to babble. "Guide reform? You
mean we're finally going to see our model for guide's rights in the
entire country? What did he want? Why did he call?"

"If you'd just slow down a second," said Jim with a placating smile.
"He said the bill is going before the senate committee, and he wants
us to come to D.C. and speak in favor of its passage."

"Wow! That's wonderful! It's everything we ever hoped for!" Blair
enthused. "When does he want us there? When do we go?"

"Whoa there, Hotshot. There's still the matter of your illness. I'm
not sure you should be gallivanting across country right now," Jim
cautioned.

Blair shook his head. "But I'm much better. It's just a residual
cough, Jim. I'm fine. So, when do we go?"

"I need to call him back in the morning," Jim replied. "He said he'd
send the plane tickets and put us up in a hotel suite when we got
there. I think he wants us there in the next couple of days. The bill
is going to committee soon."

"I don't need much. It'll only take me a few minutes to pack," said
Blair.

"Don't forget, we have a business to run, too," Jim reminded him.
"I'll have to see if I can get Simon to let Joel come in and take over
while I'm gone. Do you think Linda can handle the training by
herself?"

"Tenji is nearly ready to teach independently. Between the two of
them, I think they can handle things for a few days," said Blair. He
ran his fingers through the tangles of his hair, brushing it back from
his face. "Wow, I can't believe it! Finally, an end to the legalized
slavery."

"Maybe," Jim cautioned. "It's still just a bill, and it's only at the
committee stage. There's a lot that could still derail the idea."

"No." Blair shook his head. "I have a feeling... I just know this is
going to go through. God, Jim, just think of the implications!"

"I have. They're enormous," Jim agreed. "But look, you're still
recovering and this was supposed to be a quiet lovemaking session. You
need to get some sleep. We can discuss it more in the morning."

"What's to discuss? Call the senator and tell him we're coming." Blair
stared at Jim until his partner finally backed down.

"Okay, I give up," Jim said with a chuckle. "I'll call Senator
Chaplain in the morning and tell him to send the tickets. Now, do you
think you can settle down and get some sleep?"

Blair sank back onto the bed, pulling up the covers to his chin. "I'll
try, but it won't be easy."

Jim snuggled in close, spooning against the slightly smaller body of
his guide. "That's all I can ask." He placed several quick kisses to
Blair's ear, neck, and shoulder before wrapping an arm around his
lover and attempting to sleep.

+++++

Jim put the phone down and looked up at Blair. "It's all set. The
Senator is going to FedEx the tickets overnight and we fly out
tomorrow. Think you can get everything here set before then?"

"No problem," Blair answered. "I'll go speak with Linda and Tenji
right now."

"Leaving me with calling Simon," Jim muttered with a good-natured
chuckle.

"Well, you *are* the Warden," Blair pointed out. "That's your job.
Mine is seeing that the guide program isn't set back by our absence."

"All right, then. Get going," said Jim, shooing his guide from the
office. "I don't like an audience when I tap dance." Blair laughed and
waved as he left, leaving Jim with the daunting task of convincing his
ex-boss to give one of his best detectives a leave of absence to come
run the Facility while he and Blair were gone.

+++++

"Hey, Linda!"

"Oh, Blair! Hi! I didn't know you were going to be back in today."
Linda held open the door to one of the private meeting rooms,
following her superior inside. "What's up?"

"Good news," said Blair. "Jim and I have been asked to speak before
Congress in favor of a bill to make guide reform national."

"That's *wonderful*!" the petite blonde replied. "It's what you've
been hoping for all along. When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow."

"Oh."

"That's what I need to talk with you about," said Blair, covering
Linda's hands with his. "I need for you to take over the training
while I'm gone. Think you can handle it?"

"All by myself?" Linda had always been a timid guide, shy and retiring
when meeting new people, but a talented and capable empath with an 'E'
rating of nine.

Blair shook his head. "No, but you'd be in charge. I'm planning on
certifying Tenji before I leave. He can take on most of your tasks so
that you can deal with my part of the job."

Linda sat up a little straighter, putting a determined look on her
face. "It's only for a few days. I can do it. Besides," she added,
"the new recruits are all very eager. It shouldn't be too hard to get
them started."

"Jim is working on getting Joel Taggart back to act as the Interim
Warden," Blair explained. "He'll back you up on anything you decide is
needed for the guides."

"Oh, I like Captain Taggart!" Linda beamed a huge smile at Blair. "Not
that I don't like Warden Ellison!" she quickly amended. "I do, of
course."

"Of course," Blair replied with an answering grin. "But Joel's a big
teddy bear and usually lets the rest of us run this place without too
much interference."

Linda nodded her agreement. "So, are you staying the rest of day?"

"Only long enough to give Tenji his certification test. Don't worry,
you'll do fine. I have complete faith in you." Blair stood and went
around to help Linda with her chair, then offered a hand. Linda took
it, smiling, and stood.

As she made her way to the door, she turned her head to look back.
"You won't be disappointed, sir."

+++++

"I know it's asking a lot, Simon," said Jim. "But it's only for a few
days -- two or three at the most."

//"You know you'll be leaving me shorthanded again,"// Simon growled
over the phone line. //"We've got a big smuggling case that has half
of Major Crime involved. Taggart is the lead investigator."//

Jim let a sigh escape before continuing. "I'm aware of what's going on
the in department, Simon, and I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important
--"

//"I realize that, Jim. So when do you need him?"//

"Tomorrow," Jim replied without hesitation. "I know it's short notice,
but I wasn't given any lead time, either. This is important, but it's
also a scramble to keep this place up and running while we're both
gone."

//"Understood."// Jim could hear the soft sounds of Simon chewing on
his unlit stogie as the Captain considered his options. //"All right.
It gives us most of the day to get Connor up to speed. You can have
Taggart in the morning."//

"Great! Thanks, Simon; I owe you one."

//"More than one,"// the captain muttered before hanging up.

+++++

Blair sat back and watched as Tenji put his class of new guides
through their paces. The E9 guide had been a quick study when he'd
first arrived at the Training Facility a mere six months ago, and
Blair knew that he had the potential to be a good trainer -- something
Blair knew he'd need in the months and years ahead.

After the guides had worked with the training sentinels, Blair
observed as Tenji sat in as the Bonding Channel, allowing guide and
sentinel to have the mind bond necessary to the sentinel's mental
stability but without the need for intercourse. Blair had pioneered
the technique five years ago, knowing how unpaired guides saw the
training bonding as rape. By the time the guides had finished the
program and had been mutually paired with a compatible sentinel, they
were usually more than ready for the special closeness provided by the
sexual union. Blair had seen many pairs marry -- even the same sex
couples such as himself and Jim.

Tenji completed the task quickly and efficiently, taking pair after
pair in rapid succession. When he was finished, he looked over to his
mentor.

"You've convinced me," Blair said with a smile. "I'll log your
certification this afternoon. As you may have heard, Jim and I are
leaving on a short trip. Linda is in charge of guide training while
I'm gone, and I would like for you to be her second."

"I am honored. I will endeavor to live up to your expectations." Tenji
stood and gave Blair a formal bow before turning to take his leave.

"You'll do fine," said Blair, following him out.

+++++

"It's all set," Jim told Blair as they prepared to go home and get
ready for the trip. "Tomorrow morning we meet with the mayor, and then
we're off."

Blair was bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement. "I can
hardly believe it! Jim, this is it, I can feel it."

Jim wrapped an arm around his guide's shoulders and turned him toward
the door. "I hope you're right, Chief. I hope you're right."

+++++

The following morning, Jim and Blair arrived at City Hall. After
greeting the receptionist, they were quickly ushered into the mayor's
office.

Meredith Whitaker stepped out from behind her desk with a smile. "Jim,
it's good to see you. Blair, how are things going?"

Blair reached out to shake the mayor's hand after Jim. "Just great.
The program is in full swing. I feel comfortable leaving the training
in Linda's capable hands while we're gone."

"And you, Jim?" the mayor asked. "Are you ready to go speak in front
of Congress?"

"I'm really not big on words," said Jim, clearing his throat. "That's
more Sandburg's area of expertise. But I'm ready to go and do what I
can to support the Guide Reform Bill."

"Well, good luck to you both," said Merri. "Keep in touch and let me
know how it's going. How long do you think you'll be gone?"

"Probably not more than a few days," Jim answered, shrugging slightly.

"It depends," Blair piped in. "If the Senate approves the bill, we may
have to speak again in front of the House Committee."

"God speed. I do hope your testimony will help get the legislation
passed." Mayor Whitaker grinned at the sentinel/guide pair.

"Thanks," said Jim, rolling his eyes heavenward. "We're going to need
all the help we can get."

After the sentinel and guide had left, Merri turned to her aide.
"Trevor, write up a release for the paper and set up a press
conference for me. I want Cascade to hear the good news."

"Yes, ma'am," the guide-cum-aide replied to his sentinel. Turning on
his heel, Trevor made his way out of the Mayor's office to his own
desk and began the task of informing the press.

+++++

*An hour later:*

"Hurry up, Sandburg!" Jim called from the front door. "We've only got
two hours before our plane leaves. We should already be at the
airport."

"Coming, Jim!" Blair replied from the loft bedroom. "I've just got a
couple more things I need to get into my suitcase --"

"Whatever it is, leave it. We can get more when we get to D.C.," said
Jim.

Blair came pounding down the stairs, skidding to a halt next to the
sentinel. Slightly out of breath and coughing from the exertion, he
grinned and saluted. "Ready, Captain Ellison!"

"It's about time," Jim grumbled with a good-natured grin. "Get your
butt in gear. Got your medicine?" Blair rattled the prescription
bottle in his pocket and grinned. Jim picked up his suitcase and led
the way out into the hall. "Don't forget to the lock the door."

+++++

The airport was a madhouse. By the time they'd checked their luggage
and stood in line to be screened for boarding, they barely had ten
minutes left before their boarding call.

Blair slipped his backpack off and set it at Jim's feet. "Gotta go,
Jim. I'll just be a minute," he said, heading for the nearby men's
room.

"Can't you hold it until we get on the plane?" Jim asked. "It's just a
few more minutes."

"Can't, man," Blair replied, dancing from foot to foot. "That double
mocha latte I had at the deli is banging on my bladder. Don't worry;
I'll be back in plenty of time."

"Famous last words," Jim grumbled, watching as his guide hurried off
to do his business.

+++++

Blair looked around the deserted men's room, surprised to find no one
else there. He unzipped his jeans and began to relieve himself,
jumping with surprise when a familiar voice whispered in his ear, the
warm air brushing across his skin.

"Long time no see, Guide 427."

Before he could call out or react, Blair felt a needle pierce his neck
and a fast-acting psi suppressing drug turned his knees to rubber. He
was lowered into a wheelchair and had a blanket draped over his
shoulders before he was taken back out into the airport lobby.
Paralyzed by the drug but still conscious, Blair's mind screamed to
Jim for help without success. He was psi-dead and mute from the
powerful narcotic flowing throughout his body. Terror gripped Blair's
heart as he imagined his fate.

+++++

Jim's cell phone rang and he cursed. He didn't need the interruption
now, and where was Sandburg? He'd have to go drag his guide from the
lavatory if he didn't show up soon. "Ellison," he answered curtly.

//"Good to hear your voice again, Warden."// Chet Quigley's voice
broke up slightly over their connection. //"We have your guide."//

"What the hell do you want?" Jim asked, looking around the airport,
stretching out his senses to find Blair before it was too late. "Bring
him back now, and I won't press charges." His heart rate rose as fear
settled into his gut. There was no sense of his guide anywhere within
Jim's considerable range.

Laughter answered Jim's proposal. //"You need to get on that plane,
Warden, and go speak to Congress... *against* the guide reforms. You
see, the majority of sentinels don't want things to change. If you
want your guide back alive, you have two days, three at most."//

"You'd better not hurt him or so help me God, I'll see that you rot in
hell!" Jim growled into the mobile phone.

//"Too late for that, Warden,"// Quigley answered. //"Two days or he
dies."//

The phone disconnected, and Jim stood looking at it for a long moment
before making a decision. He slipped the cell phone back into his
pocket and headed for the boarding gate. As he was making his way
through the gate, his phone rang again. Stopping just shy of boarding
the plane, he answered.

//"Jim, it's Simon. I've got some news I think you should know before
you leave."//

"What's that, Simon? I'm in a bit of a hurry here," Jim growled.

//"Chet Quigley, Al Pedersen, Dennis Mayhill, and Ted Sykes are out of
prison. They've been released on parole,"// Simon informed the
sentinel.

"I'm already aware of that; they have Blair," Jim replied tersely.
"They want me to speak in front of Congress against the guide reform
bill or else they'll kill him."

//"God, Jim! What are you going to do?"//

"I'm getting on this plane, Simon. I've got to go. I'll call you in a
few hours."

//"I'll notify Taggart and have Rafe and Connor get on the kidnapping
right away."//

"Thanks, Simon." Jim hung up and turned off the phone, pocketing it
once again as he turned to board the plane.

+++++

Blair felt himself being lifted and carried from the van. He was taken
into a building that smelled of dead things, and then his limp body
was dropped onto a thinly padded examination table. Two pairs of hands
quickly stripped him of his clothing, exposing his naked skin to the
cool, damp air. He shivered, his heart hammering in his chest as he
felt his right foot raised and placed in a metal stirrup. His left
foot followed before he felt his ankles strapped in and his legs
spread, exposing his genitals and anus. A restraint was fastened
across his abdomen and both wrists were bound in place.

"Well, well... It's been a long time -- five years, to be exact." Chet
Quigley stepped up to the head of the table where Blair could see him.
"I used that time to plan my revenge, and now, at last, I've put my
plan in motion." Quigley moved down the table and reached out to
fondle Blair's limp penis. "You'd better hope your sentinel knows how
to follow orders. The next couple of days are going to be a slow hell
for you... quite fitting considering you're the reason we lost those
five years in prison. If he doesn't do as instructed, you're going to
die. Aren't I right, Ted?" Quigley turned to his accomplice, who was
spreading out a set of scalpels, swabs, and drugs.

Ted Sykes had been an intern at the Guide Training Facility's
infirmary in the days before his incarceration for the torture and
attempted murder of James Ellison. He turned to his leader and smiled
grimly. "Definitely; slow and painful, but most certainly dead. You
see, I plan to bleed you over the course of the next few days until
your blood volume is too low to sustain your life, and your heart will
falter and stop beating." He swabbed the crook of Blair's elbow and
slipped a needle under the skin. "This is Heparin," he explained. "It
slows down the clotting of the blood. That way, when I cut you, you'll
continue to bleed."

"Don't start cutting yet." Al Pedersen stepped over to the table. "I'd
like to fuck him while he's still whole and can fully enjoy the
experience."

"Al's got a point," Quigley replied. "But I get first dibs at his ass,
and what a sweet ass it is." He slid his finger over Blair's testicles
and down the perineum to his anus, letting the digit circle the tight
pucker teasingly. Blair's muscles tensed at the unwanted touch, but he
was still held in the thrall of the powerful psi suppressor. "I'm
going to enjoy this."

"You won't get away with this," said Blair, struggling through the
strong drug to speak. "If I die, Jim will hunt you all down and
whatever you do to me will pale in comparison to what you'll suffer."

"Brave words, little guide. But enough... Dennis?" Quigley called to
the fourth member of their group. "See that we don't hear anymore
backtalk from this one."

"My pleasure." Dennis Mayhill selected a chinstrap from his collection
of torture devices and secured it in place, tightening the cinch so
that Blair couldn't open his mouth.

"That's better." Chet grinned at the helpless guide as he stood
between Blair's spread legs. "Now for some fun." He unzipped his
pants, withdrawing his hard cock. With one swift plunge, he entered
the captive's body, drawing a grunt of raw pain from Blair's throat.

Blair endured the short, brutal rape, closing his eyes and silently
pleading to his sentinel. //Jim! Come and find me, please. Take me
away from these crazy bastards.// A muffled sob escaped his throat as
Quigley pulled out, only to be replaced by Al Pedersen. //Promise me,
Jim... promise me that you'll make them pay for this. Promise me that
my suffering won't go unavenged.// A third, followed by a fourth cock
entered his body. Blair tried to shift his focus away from the painful
violation, tried hard to hold on to his vision of Jim bursting into
the room, rescuing him from any further abuse. As the rapes continued,
the edges of his vision began to turn gray, and he felt himself
slipping toward blessed unconsciousness.

The acrid fumes of smelling salts brought him back to wakefulness.
Unable to turn his head to watch his captors, Blair was reduced to
listening to their plans for him.

"Make sure to keep him conscious for as long as possible," Quigley
told his companions. "We want him to enjoy this as much as we do."

"Not a problem," Ted Sykes replied, setting the smelling salts back on
his instrument tray.

"Hey, Sykes... How long does that psi suppressor last?" Mayhill asked.
"This guide could take us out with one mind blast if it wears off too
fast."

"Should be good for another couple of hours, at least," Ted replied.
"I plan on giving him another dose well before this one wears off. I'm
not taking any chances. I spent five years in prison because of his
tricks." He turned to Quigley, seeking permission to begin. Lifting a
scalpel, he asked, "Now, Chet?"

"Any time you're ready, Ted," said Quigley. "Just make sure that he
lasts at least two days."

"We really going to keep him alive if Ellison comes through and speaks
against that bill?" Pedersen inquired.

Quigley laughed. "Are you kidding? I want Guide 427 to suffer for what
he did to us, but he'll be long dead before Ellison finds him."

All four men burst into laugher at the thought of Jim Ellison finding
the bloody remains of his beloved guide.

As the laughter died away, Sykes made the first cuts across the
antecubital vein in the crook of each elbow, swabbing the freely
bleeding wounds with Heparin to keep the blood from clotting too
quickly.

Blair jerked slightly in his restraints, trying to pull away but
hampered by the drug and the straps that held him down. He could feel
the warm blood flowing over his arm and felt a spike of panic as he
realized how painful and slow his death would be. His chest tightened
and his breathing labored as the anxiety attack grew. He knew he had
to shut it down, or he could die now from heart failure or
suffocation, before Jim had a chance to rescue him. He couldn't bear
the thought of Jim finding his lifeless body, knowing the depths of
grief the sentinel would feel at the discovery. No, he had to live,
had to fight for every minute he could hold onto for Jim's sake. The
one thing he knew with absolute certainty: Jim would come.

+++++

Simon Banks had already put his best team on the case. Connor and Rafe
were already tracking the movements of the newly released sentinels in
the hope of finding a clue that might lead them to the whereabouts of
Jim's missing guide. The phone only had a chance to ring once before
he nabbed the receiver and barked into it.

"Banks."

//"Simon? It's Jim --"//

"Where the hell are you? And why aren't you *here*?"

//"I'm in Denver and I'm preparing to board a plane back to
Cascade,"// Jim explained.

"What the hell are you doing in Denver?" Simon sputtered, surprised
his ex-detective would have even gotten on the plane to D.C. with his
guide kidnapped here in Cascade.

//"Quigley and his goons aren't dumb,"// Jim answered. //"They'll know
enough to check to the flight and make sure that I got on that plane.
If I hadn't, they might have killed Blair outright. This way, they'll
think I'm complying with their demands. I'll be back in Cascade in a
couple of hours. How is the search for Blair going?"//

"Rafe and Connor are looking for leads now. Hopefully, we'll have
something by the time you get back."

//"Simon, I don't have to tell you how important this is, do I? Blair
means everything to me..."//

"We've got it under control, Jim," Banks assured the distraught
sentinel. "You just get your ass back here ASAP."

//"On my way,"// Jim promised.

+++++

"What have you got?" Ellison asked as he barreled into Major Crime
less than three hours later.

Megan looked up from the folder she was studying. Inside were pictures
and descriptions of all four of the rogue sentinels. "We've already
checked out the Stanholm Prison where they held you," she explained.
"And now we've got uniforms checking out all their prior residences in
town. So far, no luck. Got any suggestions?"

"They wouldn't be so obvious," Jim replied. "Stanholm would have been
too easy. They'd expect us to look there first. Same thing for their
homes. Chances are they've taken Blair out of the city. They certainly
don't want to make it easy for us."

"Or into the warehouse district," Rafe said, hurrying over to Megan's
desk with a sheet of printer paper in his hand.

"What have you got, Rafe?" Jim demanded, making a grab for the paper.

"Looks like Chet Quigley's uncle owned some property down by the
docks," Rafe reported. "Unfortunately, so far we haven't been able to
dig up an address. There are a lot of old buildings down there;
thousands of square feet to search."

"Tens of thousands," Jim amended grimly. "But it's the only lead we
have. I'm going down there. Rafe, Megan, find me that address."

"Oh no, you don't," Megan said, standing and grabbing hold of Jim's
arm. "You're not going down there alone and leaving us here. You need
some backup."

"You're right, I do," Jim agreed. "These are dangerous men. They're
also sentinels. I'll enlist some of the sentinel/guide teams to help
the search. You two stay here and get me as much evidence as you can.
I need that address!" With his final words, Ellison turned away,
heading back out into the hall toward the elevator.

+++++

As the hours ticked slowly by, Blair felt himself weakening, found it
harder to stay alert, and found himself roused more and more often
with the smelling salts waved beneath his nose. Ted Sykes had made
several more cuts to his ankles, his wrists, his arms and legs; always
careful to cut only into the veins, making the process of bleeding out
slower and more painful.

Blair groaned and tried to thrash his head, but the chinstrap and a
head restraint bound him to the table. His mouth and throat were
parched, but there seemed to be no relief from his living hell.

Across the room, Ted Sykes wet a rag in the sink and wrung it so that
it wasn't dripping but still held a good amount of water. "Release the
chinstrap," he ordered, walking back to the table where their prisoner
was bound.

"What are you up to, Sykes?" Quigley asked. "I said no food or water
for Guide 427."

"Without *some* water, he'll pass out on us," Ted replied. "Sucking on
this rag will give him just barely enough to keep him going."

Quigley nodded his agreement. "All right. Mayhill, help him get that
strap loosened."

Dennis Mayhill frowned, but followed his leader's instructions.

When finally freed of the strap, Blair tried to speak, but could no
more than gurgle helplessly. As the damp rag was lowered to his mouth,
he sucked eagerly, desperate to get even a little respite from his
misery. With the water came renewed alertness, renewed awareness...
renewed pain. All too soon the morsel was withdrawn and the chinstrap
secured again. He saw the faces of Sykes and Mayhill standing over
him, swabbing the painful gashes on his limbs to keep the blood
flowing. He moaned his distress, drawing satisfied chuckles from his
torturers.

"How are we doing?" Quigley asked.

"He's a fighter," Sykes replied. "He's down at least a half liter
already, and he still struggles when we clean the wounds."

"Good, good. That means he'll suffer a nice long while before he
dies," Quigley said with satisfaction. "I would really love to hear
him scream, though. Seems to me that he's taking this a little too
quietly."

"He can't say much with that chinstrap on," Al Pedersen pointed out.
"Maybe we ought to take that off for a spell and see what happens."

"Sure, go ahead," said Quigley. "But I'd like to try a little
something for myself." He circled the table, coming around to the
instrument tray and picking up a scalpel. "It's been a long time since
I tried any carving."

Pedersen had removed the chinstrap and Blair was working his jaw,
trying to get the stiffness out. His eyes flashed at the sentinel
leader, daring him to try something.

"Well, I see our little guide still has some spark left," Quigley
drawled, stroking his hand across Blair's forehead. "Have something to
say, 427?"

Blair tried to spit at his tormenter, but his mouth was too dry.
"You'll pay for this," he ground out, his voice cracking.

"Ah, but I'll enjoy myself first," Quigley replied, laughing at the
bravado from the guide. He reached out to tweak a nipple, twisting it
to hardness. Flashing the scalpel's blade, he made a flourish before
making a diagonal slice across Blair's chest through the erect tit.

"*Ahhhhhh!*" Blair cried out at the sudden, intense pain. He tried to
struggle, but found he was too weak. His every vulnerable spot was
fully exposed; there was no hiding, no retreat from the pain or the
promise of more. //Jim, where are you? Come find me, take me away from
this place. I'm scared, Jim. I'm scared...// Blair trembled as he
realized the hopelessness of his situation. Drugs suppressed his
empathy, and Jim had no idea where he was. This time, he feared he
wouldn't get out of his predicament alive.

"That's better," Quigley crooned, watching the blood as it welled from
the cut, flowing in tiny rivulets down Blair's side to drip onto the
table. He rubbed a thumb across the damaged nipple, smearing the blood
and drawing a gasp of renewed pain from his captive. "You know, boys,
this could be very entertaining," Chet told his partners. "What do you
say we make a night of it?"

The sound of laugher chilled Blair to the bone. As the clinking of
knives rang in his ears, he knew it was going to be a long night.

+++++

Sentinel Stan Richards walked over to where Jim was working, vainly
looking for some sign or scent of his guide. "Why don't you go home,
Jim? You've covered acres of warehouse space on your own. You must be
exhausted."

"Blair's been missing for twenty hours," Jim ground out through
clenched teeth, his jaw twitching with the tension. "I'm not going to
stop until we find him."

"There are six teams working the docks. We'll find him," Stan
promised.

Jim shook his head. "Not good enough. Blair could be being tortured as
we speak. I can't let him suffer on my account. They're doing this to
get back at me."

"They have just as much stake in your guide." Wesley Johnson,
Richards' guide, walked up and rested a hand on Ellison's arm. Jim
immediately felt the release of tension as the empath channeled it
away. "After all, it was Blair who took them down and rescued you. You
know, you shouldn't be working your senses like this without your
guide, sentinel," Johnson scolded. "You'll overload. And if your guide
is injured, as you suspect, you may not be able to bond with him once
he's found. You should go home and try to get some rest. Stan is
right. You've already done more than your share. Leave the grunt work
to us. If we find Blair, you'll be the first to be notified."

Jim shook his head. "Can't. I can't abandon the search. Blair is
counting on me to find him."

"He may not even be here," Richards reminded his colleague. "You could
be wasting your energy on nothing."

"And we're wasting time standing here talking," Jim said angrily. "I
don't know about you two, but I'm going back to work."

Richards watched as Jim strode out of the building, heading next door
to begin the search in a new area. Turning to his guide, he shook his
head and frowned. "Wesley, I'm worried about Ellison. Maybe we should
call Captain Banks and let him in on what's going on here."

"I'll call," said Wesley. "You keep looking." He brought out his cell
phone and placed the call to Jim's superior.

+++++

"All right, where is he?" Simon Banks strode into the warehouse,
looking for his former detective.

Richards approached. "That was fast," he greeted the captain. "He went
next door -- on his own. I don't like this, Captain. He's using his
senses without a guide to stabilize and protect him. It worries me.
Not to mention, he's been on the job since Blair went missing. He's
going to drop if he doesn't get some rest."

"Or worse," Wesley added. "He could zone."

Banks nodded. "Understood. I'll take care of it." He headed out of the
warehouse to walk down the dock to the neighboring building.

"*Ellison*!" Banks bellowed into the vacant building. His voice echoed
from the vaulted ceiling and bounced around the huge, open room. "Get
your ass out here, *now*!"

"What is it, sir?" Jim asked, walking out from behind a stack of
crates. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to take you home," Banks replied in no uncertain terms.

"Can't, Simon. We're no closer to finding Blair than we were
yesterday. I can't stop now; Blair is counting on me."

"Blair needs you alive and well," Simon countered. "You'll be no good
to him if you're occupying a bed in the sentinel ward of the hospital.
Look, Jim... You need to rest. You shouldn't be overusing your senses
without a guide here and you know it."

Jim stared at his ex-captain with icy blue eyes. "I don't want to work
with another guide. I *won't* work with another guide."

"Then you're going home." Simon could be equally stubborn when the
circumstances warranted. "Come on." He hooked an arm around Jim's
elbow and began to lead the exhausted sentinel toward his car. "I'll
take you back to the loft. You can get some sleep and come back to
continue the work in the morning."

"I won't be able to sleep. I'm too wound up," said Jim.

"Meaning," Simon translated, "that you don't have your guide to
relieve the sexual tension you've built up using those damned senses
of yours." Jim shrugged in mute acknowledgment of the statement. "Then
we'll stop by the Training Facility on the way home." He led the way
out of the warehouse and helped Jim into his car.

+++++

"Jim! I didn't expect to see you here!" Joel greeted the sentinel.
"Any word on Blair?"

Simon shook his head. "Nothing yet. There are six teams still looking,
but Ellison needs a break."

"I do not need a break," Jim growled sullenly. "What I need is to get
back to looking for Blair!"

"He needs *release*," said Banks softly, leaning in close to Taggart's
ear.

"I need *fucking*!" Jim corrected crossly. "That's what he's trying to
say, Joel. I need fucking. I've been using my senses without my guide.
I'm trying to *find* my guide, dammit!"

Joel nodded and picked up the phone. "Linda? Could you come to my
office, please?" he requested calmly. Hanging up, he looked at his
friend. "You'll feel better, Jim, and you know it. You can wait in the
bedroom." He tilted his head toward the door behind him.

With a glare at both men, Jim made his way to the small bonding suite
to wait. Five minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in."

"Warden Ellison?" Linda stepped into the room and closed the door,
circling the bed to come sit opposite the sentinel. "How's the search
going for Blair?"

Jim shook his head. "Not well. The only clue we have is a possible
dock warehouse. But there are dozens of warehouses and at least a
million square feet to search. Without something more to go on, I
don't know if we'll find him in time."

"How much longer do you have?" Linda asked, concerned for Blair, her
friend and mentor.

"Another thirty hours, I'd guess." Jim looked up from his watch. "But
you can't know with these guys. They must have used a psi suppressor
on Blair, because I can't sense our bond at all. For all I know, he's
already dead."

Linda shook her head. "Don't think like that! Blair is going to
survive. He'll come through this, you'll see." She picked up Jim's
hands, cradling them and rubbing her thumbs across Jim's knuckles.
"So, how about we channel away some of that tension? Blair would want
this for you, you know."

Jim swallowed the lump that rose in his throat and nodded. Blair
wouldn't want him hurting, wouldn't want to see him on the razor's
edge of madness. Closing his eyes, he opened himself to the empath,
letting Linda siphon away the sexual tension that had been building in
him since Blair's abduction.

He opened his eyes minutes later to a soft hand stroking his cheek and
a feminine voice calling his name. "Jim? Jim...? Come on back. That's
it. Good. Good..."

"Linda?" Jim sat up, surprised to find himself lying on the bed with
the guide beside him.

"It's all right, Jim. You went into a light zone during the
channeling. It's not unexpected, considering how much your mind is
focused on Blair right now." She smiled at the sentinel, warmly
clasping his hand. "Feel better?"

"Almost like I've had a good night's sleep," Jim admitted, surprised
that another guide could make him feel so much better. But there was
still an edge to his emotions, a fear that wouldn't go away.

"I'm glad I could help, but you should really go home and get that
good night's sleep," Linda advised. "Blair is going to need you in
tip-top shape when you rescue him, and getting some rest is the best
thing for you. Don't forget to eat something, too," she added.

"Thanks." Jim stood up and went to the door, leaving the guide behind.
Coming out into his office, he caught Simon's eye. "Let's go."

"I'll be in contact with you tomorrow," Banks promised Taggart as he
turned to follow Ellison out of the Facility.

"Take me back to the warehouse," Jim ordered as they got into Simon's
car.

Simon started the engine and pulled out into the evening traffic,
headed for Prospect Avenue. "No way, Jim. I'm taking you home and
staying the night with you to make sure that you get some food and
sleep."

"I'm not a child you need to baby sit!" Jim growled.

"Then stop acting like one!" Simon shot back. "I'm taking you home,
and that's that. Get used to the idea."

Jim leaned back against his seat, folding his arms across his chest
and staring out the windshield. In his mind whirled all the
possibilities regarding the rescue of his guide. Despite this setback,
he *would* be the one to find Blair in time.

+++++

He came back to consciousness slowly, his heart thudding with fear,
only to find his nightmare was not a dream, but reality. Secured to a
gurney by padded restraints, his feet in stirrups with his legs
spread, Blair struggled fruitlessly against the shadowy figure that
kept swabbing at his open wounds to keep them bleeding. His naked body
was covered with dozens of cuts; some scabbing over, some still
bleeding freely. A wet cloth was put to his mouth, and he sucked at it
desperately for any bit of moisture he could get to soothe his ravaged
throat.

Chet Quigley came to stand between his legs and reached out to fondle
Blair's penis. "How's it going, Ted?"

Ted Sykes looked up from his work. "I'd say he's lost nearly a liter
and a half. At this rate, he's got another twenty-four to thirty-six
hours."

"Perfect." Quigley gave his partner a leering grin as he pulled down
the zipper on his pants. "I guess I've got time for another fuck,
then." Blair flinched as he felt Quigley's finger trace a line across
his perineum and over his anus. "His ass is every bit as sweet as I
imagined."

An agonized groan slipped past Blair's cracked lips as the large cock
entered him without the benefit of preparation or lube. He squeezed
his eyes shut, forcing a single tear to track down his cheek as he
prayed for blessed unconsciousness.

But there was no release for the battered guide. Weakened from blood
loss and lack of nourishment, given only enough water to keep him
conscious and his blood flowing, Blair no longer had the will to try
and fight off the overwhelming terror of his situation. As the cock
pounded deep into his body, Blair cried until his voice was gone.
"Stop! God, please stop! Jim, where are you? Ahhhh...! *Ahhhhhhhhhh!*
Please! Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease..."

"Ahhhhh!" Chet Quigley echoed as he emptied his seed in the guide's
body. "Damn, too bad he couldn't have been my guide," he said as he
wiped himself clean and tucked himself back into his pants. "I think I
could get very used to fucking that ass everyday. Too bad he's going
to die."

"I suggest we give him a large dose of aspirin," Sykes said, replacing
Quigley between Blair's spread legs. "He's getting dehydrated, and
it's hard to keep the blood flowing properly. The aspirin will help
thin his blood even more." He leaned over the crimson-stained body and
made a deep cut on the inner thigh, near the groin. The blood mingled
with the semen leaking from Blair's ass to drip with silent precision
onto the cement floor.

"Why not just give him more Heparin?" Dennis Mayhill asked. "The
aspirin would take water, and we don't want him drinking too much."

"It's safer," Sykes replied. "Besides, he's already so dehydrated that
a glass of water won't make a lot of difference." He turned to Quigley
and continued. "If you want him to bleed to death and not die of
exposure, then the aspirin is the way to go."

"Do it," Quigley said, nodding his agreement.

"Help me," Sykes said, turning to Mayhill. "I need to undo the
restraint across his chest, then have you lift his shoulders so that
he can swallow."

As Mayhill was unbuckling the restraint, Sykes used a mortar and
pestle to grind the aspirin tablets. He put the powder in a glass of
water, letting the drug dissolve before putting it to Blair's lips.
"Drink, 427."

Blair shook his head. "No." Clamping his mouth shut, he refused to
cooperate with his own torture.

"I'm not giving you a choice, 427." Sykes worked to pry Blair's mouth
open, dribbling the liquid between the guide's lips. For his trouble,
the water was sprayed back into his face. "Why you...!" He reached out
to backhand Blair across the cheek. "We'll see how stubborn you are,"
he threatened, putting down the glass and filling a syringe with a
golden serum. "This will make you more cooperative." He plunged the
needle into Blair's neck, emptying a massive dose of psi suppressor
into the guide's system.

When Sykes pried his mouth open a second time, Blair couldn't fight
back. Swallowing the bitter drug-laced water, he felt nothing but the
mind-numbing fear of the torture to come.

Once the guide was strapped down again, Quigley stepped between
Blair's legs with a scalpel in hand. He traced the instrument lightly
across the skin at the base of Blair's penis, watching the thin line
of blood well up. "I think I'd like to take his cock as a souvenir,"
he said.

"Just be careful, Chet," Sykes warned. "There are a lot of arteries in
the penis. If you nick one, 427 could bleed out in a matter of
minutes. You'll have to wait for your trophy until after he's dead."

Quigley shrugged. "I don't know that it matters so much. We're going
to kill him anyway, whether Ellison does what we want or not. Does it
really matter if he dies now or later?"

"It does to me," said Mayhill. "I want to see him suffer a while
longer. Besides, I'd like another fuck, and I don't get off on doing
corpses."

"Dennis has a point," Pedersen chimed in. "We all want another chance
at his ass."

"You're right, of course," Chet conceded. He teased the glans of the
penis with the tip of the sharp blade leaving several nicks and cuts
in the skin. "Our revenge will be all the more sweet if he suffers
longer." Taking Blair's scrotum in one hand, he crushed the testicles
with his fist making even the heavily drugged guide open his mouth in
a gurgling cry of pain. "Yes, that's more like it." Quigley joined his
fellow conspirators in a hearty laugh.

+++++

"Don't! Don't you touch him!" Jim thrashed in the bed, sitting up
tangled in the sheets with sweat beading his brow.

"You okay, Jim?" Simon called up from the living room below.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Jim answered. "Yeah, I'm fine,
Simon," he lied.

Appearing at the foot of the steps, Simon shook his head. "You don't
sound fine. Have a nightmare about Blair?"

"It feels as though someone kicked me in the rocks wearing a boot,"
Jim admitted, gingerly massaging his scrotum. "They're hurting him,
Simon."

"You're connecting with him again?" Simon asked, coming upstairs and
pulling a chair over next to Jim's bed. "Can you get an idea of where
he is?"

Jim shook his head. "No, not really connecting. Not on a conscious
level, that is. They're torturing him, though. I'm sure of that much."

"I could have guessed that, knowing these goons," said Simon with an
exaggerated sigh. "We'll find him, Jim."

"We're running out of time!" Jim threw off the covers and began to get
out of bed. "I've got to get back to the warehouses."

Simon stopped him by grabbing an arm and pulling Jim back to the bed.
"Oh no, you don't. You've barely had three hours' sleep. You're
staying in this bed until at least eight A.M."

"My fucking ass, I'm staying!" Jim got up again, making his way to the
chair where he put his clothes when he'd undressed just a few hours
ago.

Following the stubborn sentinel, Simon used his greater size to put a
halt to Jim's progress. "Look. There's nothing more you can do without
a guide at your side. You're risking a zone-out... or worse. I know
you want to be there. I know you want to be the one to find Blair and
rescue him, but a fat lot of good you can do if you're *dead*! Now get
your lily-white ass back over to that bed and get some sleep! I'm
staying right here to make sure that you do." He pressed Jim back onto
the bed, and then settled back in the chair.

"Simon?"

The voice was so tremulous that Banks took immediate notice. Men like
Ellison didn't cry, but Jim was as close as Simon had ever seen him.
"I know it doesn't do any good to tell you not to worry," he said
softly. "But we've got our very best people on the case. We'll find
him before the deadline," Simon promised. "Now, please, try to get
some sleep. I'll take you back to the warehouse district first thing
in the morning."

+++++

Blair trembled. He didn't know if he was shivering from the cold in
the room, from fear, or from the blood loss. Not that it mattered. He
had to face the dark fact that despite his earlier certainty, Jim
wasn't going to be coming to his rescue this time. He didn't know how
many hours had passed, or how many days. All he knew was the constant
agony of his wounds, the warmth of the blood flowing from them being
the only thing still warm in his world. He'd lost count of the number
of times he'd been raped, not that he'd cared to keep count. His ass
ached and he knew he was bleeding internally as well. It wouldn't be
much longer. He could barely maintain consciousness, and that only
with a regular dose of smelling salts under his nose.

The effects of the psi-suppressing drug had nearly worn off, but Blair
no longer had the strength to use that knowledge. He teetered on the
brink of death, using all the strength he had left to hang on just a
little bit longer... to give Jim a few more minutes to find him. He
felt the knife blade drawn down the shaft of his penis, felt the blood
from the wound dripping from the glans. He wanted to cry out, but his
throat was dry, his voice gone. Even fear began to lose its edge as he
started to fade...

+++++

"Bring him back," Quigley ordered. "Get the smelling salts."

"He's lost too much blood," Sykes informed his leader. "I'd say we've
collected over three liters. He isn't going to last much longer."

"Do you think Ellison actually did as we told him?" Pedersen wondered.
"Think he went to D.C. to speak against that guide bill?"

"He was on the plane. I checked," Mayhill answered.

Quigley shrugged. "That doesn't mean anything. He could have turned
around and come right back. I don't trust that bastard."

"His guide means more to him than his own life," Pedersen added. "I've
heard of several times when he took a bullet to save the little cur."

"So what do you think he'd do... go to D.C. in the hopes we'd keep 427
alive, or stay here and hunt for us himself?" asked Mayhill.

"I can't picture him being able to leave his guide behind like that,"
said Quigley. "I'd stake money that he's stayed in town and is looking
for us."

"If that's the case, he's bound to find us sooner or later," Sykes
said, his voice quaking with nervousness. "I say we get out of here
now, while there's still some chance of escape. Guide 427 is going to
die. He's already getting hard to rouse. There's no fun in torturing
him anymore. I think we should leave him here for Ellison to find, and
get our butts out of here."

"I'm with Ted," Pedersen chimed in. "I think it's time we hit the road
and put as much distance between here and us as we can."

"And where do you propose we go?" Quigley asked sarcastically,
twisting his face into a grimace of displeasure at the idea.

Mayhill tossed in his two cents. "I think we should make tracks out of
Cascade. Out of Washington, for that matter. I know some folks in
Idaho that would take us in."

"Not Idaho," Quigley said, shooting down that idea. "We shouldn't go
anywhere that can be traced to us."

"Then let's just get out and head south," Pedersen suggested. "We can
decide where once we're safely out of here."

Quigley nodded. "I'd like to stay and watch 427 die," he said
wistfully. "And it looks like my trophy has been too damaged to bother
with." He stroked his finger through the blood freely flowing down
Blair's penis. "Such a shame." Turning his back on the guide, he
crooked his arm in the direction of the exit. "Okay, boys, let's move
out."

+++++

Blair felt a draft of cool air as the men exited, leaving him alone to
die in this hellish place. As he drifted toward unconscious, he
thought he heard the howl of a wolf....

+++++

"Did you hear that?" Jim looked up from where he was squatting in the
warehouse to cast a questioning eye at Simon Banks.

Simon shook his head. "Hear what? I don't hear anything in this
godforsaken place other than the rats."

"It sounded like a wolf," said Jim, standing. "A wolf howling." He
turned and looked around, opening his hearing to the maximum. Suddenly
he turned, grabbing Simon's arm as he headed out the door and down the
dock. "This way!"

Simon pounded along behind the sentinel, hard pressed to keep up
despite his longer legs. "Where the heck are you going?" he panted,
finally pulling up alongside his friend.

"Here!" said Jim, turning into an abandoned meat packing plant. He
stopped inside the front door, senses wide open. A faint, faltering
heartbeat greeted his ears and he saw an apparition of a wolf trot
back toward the locker. "Call the ambulance and get the sentinel teams
on site. Blair's in the meat locker, and he's alone, but I can smell
the others... They were here until very recently." Not checking to see
if Simon was following orders, Jim ran to the back of the building,
swearing when a padlock barred his way into the locker.

Pulling his weapon, Jim shot the lock from the door and quickly
removed it, tossing the broken device to the floor. The heartbeat was
louder now, but slowly fading. Panic fueled his muscles and Jim
sprinted to the back of the room.

The sight that greeted his eyes stopped him dead in his tracks. Under
glaring fluorescent lights, Blair's naked body lay sprawled on the
exam table, his pale skin covered in gashes of scarlet. The amount of
blood in the collection trays, on the table, and on the floor made
Jim's head spin. The familiar scent was overwhelming. Blair coughed,
and ruby-stained spittle bubbled from between his lips.

Jim was immediately at his side, brushing sweat-soaked hair away from
Blair's face. Long, dark lashes lay against Blair's cheek, his eyes
closed; but a faint smile curved his cracked lips as Jim felt a
fleeting brush against his mind.

/ you came /

"Of course I came, Sweetheart. How could you ever doubt that I would?"

/ too late /

"Not too late; never too late," Jim crooned. "Hold on, Blair,
please... the paramedics are on their way. Just a little longer,
love." He took off his coat and used it to cover his guide, giving
Blair a bit of residual warmth and dignity. With deft fingers, he
began to unbuckle and remove the restraints, gently lowering Blair's
legs. He was just finishing a wrist restraint when the paramedics
arrived.

"You'll have to step out of the way," the man said, elbowing Jim
aside. He stripped off the coat covering the body and tossed it to the
floor, beginning his assessment of the patient.

Stooping, Jim picked up his coat, the lining now heavy with the scent
of Blair's blood. "He's my guide," he growled, steadfastly remaining
at the head of the table, stroking Blair's cheek and hair in a
comforting gesture.

"If you want him to live, you're going to have to stay out of the
way," the paramedic intoned. Looking up at his partner, he said,
"Looks like we need to start IV fluids, and fast, to bring up his
blood volume. Hand me a needle." He took the IV needle and began
searching for an undamaged vein. "Damn, they really did a number on
this guy," he cursed quietly, finally finding a vein and hanging the
bag of saline solution. Let's get him to the bus."

Jim had to step out of the way as the two paramedics lifted Blair onto
a gurney, covered him with a blanket, and began to push him toward the
waiting ambulance. "I'm coming with you."

"There's no room," the first paramedic said as they pushed the gurney
into the back of the ambulance. "You'll have to follow in your own
vehicle."

Defiantly, Jim climbed into the ambulance, finding a place at Blair's
side. "I'm coming with you." His low-throated growl left no room for
compromise. "My guide needs me."

In too much of a hurry to save the life of their patient, the two
paramedics didn't try to argue further. Slamming the doors shut and
turning on the sirens, they headed toward Cascade General Hospital at
breakneck speed.

The paramedic who had stayed in the back with Blair and Jim picked up
a microphone to radio the hospital. "Cascade General? This is EMT
Levy, in route with a patient. Massive blood loss and dehydration, BP
60 over 39, breathing shallow, heartbeat slow and erratic. Have
started intravenous fluids. Over."

//"This is Cascade General. Mark, start a second line. We need to get
fluids into the patient stat. What's your ETA?"//

"Eight minutes, General. This guy is pretty cut up. Finding a vein for
an IV is nearly impossible."

//"Do your best, Mark. See you in eight."//

"Damn." Mark Levy tore open the wrapping on a sterile IV needle and
began to search for another vein to start the second line. "What the
hell happened here?" he grumbled to Jim as he tried repeatedly to find
a vein he could use.

Jim's eyes flashed with blue fire. "Deliberate torture," he snapped.
"Some ex-cons with a grudge against me went after my guide." His gaze
softened and he looked down on the pale face of his mate. "Tell me
he's going to be all right."

Levy looked up with sympathy. "I can't make any promises at this
point. He's lost a lot of blood. It's anybody's game right now."

"You can't die on me, Blair," Jim whispered, concentrating on their
tenuous mind link. "Don't you leave me! I love you. God, how I love
you...."

They arrived at the hospital and the gurney was taken from the
ambulance. Jim was brushed aside as the doctors took over care of the
patient. Jim stood outside the emergency room doors in stunned
silence.

Simon arrived moments later, jogging over to where his ex-detective
stood, looking shell-shocked. "C'mon, Jim, let's get inside," he said,
taking Jim's shoulders and steering the man toward the doors. "How is
he?"

Jim turned bleak eyes on his ex-captain. "He's dying, Simon. Those
bastards tortured him! They cut him until he lost so much blood..." He
sank into a chair, his face in his hands. "How am I going to live
without him? How can I go on without my guide? He's my life, Simon."
Jim looked up at his friend.  "I can't do this without him."

Simon settled in the seat next to Jim and put an arm around his
shoulders. "Look, Jim, it's too early to start the funeral dirge. Give
the doctors a chance. They've pulled off miracles before."

"This is asking an awful lot," said Jim. "Did you see the blood in
that room? God, it was everywhere! I can still smell it, cloying,
sweet... It was Blair's blood, Simon. Blair's life!"

"Listen, Jim. You've got to pull yourself together. You have to
believe that everything is going to be all right, at least until
you're told otherwise. You need to stay strong for Blair. He's going
to need you." Simon rested a hand on Jim's knee and stared into the
haunted eyes. "You can do this, Jim." Standing, Simon rummaged in his
pocket for change. "Want a cup of coffee?"

Jim shook his head. "No, thanks, Simon. I don't want anything right
now." //Anything except Blair back in my arms, alive.//

Simon headed over to the vending machine to get a cup of the strong,
bitter brew. "Well, I need something to fortify myself. It's going to
be a long day."

"You don't have to stay here with me," Jim assured his ex-captain.
"I'm not going to be very good for conversation anyway."

"Me neither," Simon agreed. "But I want to be here. Blair is my
friend, too."

Jim looked over at the large, black man seated next to him and found
the strength to smile.

+++++

"Two units of O-neg, push!" the doctor ordered. "We've got to get his
blood volume up stat, or we'll lose this patient. Prep for the O-R.
He's going to need some internal suturing or all the blood in the
world isn't going to help."

+++++

Three hours later, Doctor Waterston ambled into the waiting area of
the ER. "Jim. Simon..." He nodded at the two men waiting for the news.

Jim stood and approached the doctor, followed closely by Simon. "How
is he, Doctor? Is he going to make it?" Hope shone in the blue eyes as
he waited for the answer.

"Blair is stable at the moment. He's been given eight units of blood,
but his blood pressure is still dangerously low. I think there's a
possibility that we've missed an internal bleeder. He was in surgery
nearly three hours getting all the damage sutured. There's been some
nerve damage in various parts of his body, including the bisected
nipple and possibly his penis. There is also heavy bruising on the
scrotum --"

"But he's going to be all right?" Jim interrupted, not caring, for the
moment, about possible complications.

"I'm reservedly optimistic," Waterston said. "He still has a long way
to go yet, including the possibility of more surgery. Also, it would
appear that his ordeal has caused the bronchitis to flare up again. He
spent many hours naked and cold, plus the blood loss weakened his
immune system. I've got him on intravenous antibiotics. That should
help clear up the problem before it gets any worse."

"May I see him now?"

"You'd better say yes," Simon muttered from behind Jim, catching the
doctor's eye.

"I don't see why not," Waterston agreed. "Just Jim, though," he said,
holding out a hand to stop Simon's advance. "He's unconscious at the
moment, but perhaps your presence will make a difference."

+++++

Jim entered the dimly lit room, taking in the IV poles with units of
blood dangling and slowly dripping into Blair's veins. His head rested
on a stack of pillows, dark hair fanning out around the pale face. Jim
picked up a cool hand, cradling it between his warm ones and spoke
softly.

"Hey there, Chief. I'm here. I'm not leaving you. Everything is going
to be all right, all you have to do is hang in there." He reached out
to stroke Blair's forehead, concerned by the coolness of his skin.

"He's sedated." Doctor Waterston spoke from the doorway. "The psi
suppressing drugs are out of his system, but he's too far under to
respond to you."

"He's so cold..."

"That's from the blood loss," said the doctor. "You're his sentinel.
If you wish, you may lie beside him; give him some of your warmth. I'm
sure that just having the contact with you would be beneficial. Guides
thrive on physical touch."

"I won't disturb him?" Jim asked, looking hopeful. The wide bed was
inviting and he wanted nothing more than to feel his guide pillowed
against his body. "What about the IVs?"

"Strip down and I'll help you," the doctor said, coming into the room
and closing the door.

Jim quickly complied, undressing and laying his clothes on a nearby
chair. Clad in only his boxers, he waited as the doctor pulled back
the blankets and held the IV lines out of the way. Climbing into the
bed felt like coming home. Even if his guide was too deeply asleep for
mindspeak, the physical closeness was enough... for now. He curled
around the inert body, wrapping one arm across Blair's chest, while
cradling his head with the other. Spooned together, Jim felt safe
enough for the first time in days to let down his guard and rest.
Closing his eyes, he soon joined his guide in slumber.

+++++

The wailing of alarms and flashing lights woke Jim from a deep sleep.
Doctors and nurses were surging into the room with a cart of supplies
and determined looks on their faces.

"Code Blue!" Jim heard a nurse shout before he was dragged off the bed
and left to stand and watch. He stretched out his hearing, desperately
listening for the familiar heartbeat and hearing nothing but a rapid
flutter that was quickly fading.

Blair was turned onto his back and the bed lowered until it was flat.
The flimsy gown, which was all that covered the wicked scars of his
torture, was stripped away and electric paddles positioned on his
chest to shock his heart back into a normal rhythm.

Once. Twice. Three times. Each surge of electricity through the body
of his guide made Jim tremble. Watching the precious body seize with
the shock tore at his mind. Finally, the blessed sound of his lover's
heart resumed its steady rhythm and the doctors and nurses stepped
back from the bed.

"We've got to get him back into surgery," Waterston ordered. "We
missed something."

As Jim stood watching, the bed was rolled out of the room, leaving him
alone once more.

+++++

Doctor Waterston came out of the operating room to find Jim dressed
and waiting for him. Grinning, he approached the sentinel with the
confidence of good news. "We found another bleeder and got that
repaired. Blair was losing blood internally, which is why he wasn't
recovering as we'd hoped. It was also the cause of his heart failure.
Now that that's fixed, he should recover fully."

"Fully?" Jim echoed, not certain he believed the doctor. "You said
there might be some nerve damage, and his testicles... will he be left
sterile or impotent? And how sure are you that there aren't any more
of these 'bleeders'?"

"We can't be one hundred percent positive on the bleeders, of course,"
Waterston admitted. "But I'm pretty certain we found the last of them.
We'll continue to give Blair blood to make up for his lost volume, and
we'll monitor him closely. By morning, we should see definite
improvement." He stopped and took a deep breath before addressing the
other half of Jim's concern. "He should retain full potency, although
his testicles will be extremely sore until the bruising heals. As for
the nerve damage... we just won't know for a while yet. Worst case
scenario would be that he wouldn't be able to have an erection without
artificial help."

"You mean like Viagra?" Jim asked skeptically.

Waterston shook his head. "No, I mean some type of a mechanical
implant."

 "No. No, I don't think Blair would like something like that --" Jim
said, shaking his head while staring at the toes of his shoes.

The doctor reached out to pat Jim's shoulder reassuringly. "Don't
worry about that now. It's an unlikely scenario, and there are more
important things to keep in mind for the time being. Blair is still
very weak. I anticipate needing to keep him here for at least another
four or five days, depending on how well he does overnight."

"I can stay with him?" asked Jim. "He's been through an awful lot."

Doctor Waterston smiled. "I've never been able to keep a determined
sentinel away from his guide, but I'll admit that I've never seen a
sentinel so devoted before. Of course you may stay with him. Your
presence should even help strengthen him, bolster his own recuperative
powers."

"Thanks, Doc." Jim let out a sigh of relief. He couldn't have left
Blair alone if his life depended on it, and now at least he had the
doctor's blessing. Once they were alone again, he stripped and climbed
into the bed, pulling Blair to his chest and resting his guide's head
over his heart. Burying his face in the long, fragrant hair, he
murmured, "Don't you ever leave; you hear me? I couldn't live without
you."

/ I'm here / The mindspeak was punctuated by soft, congested coughing.

"Oh, God..." Jim's eyes filled with unshed tears at the soft voice
filling his mind, his soul. "Yes, you are, my love. You're here, and
you're safe."

/ love you /

"I love you too, Sweetheart. Rest now. You need to regain your
strength."

/ stay; hold me /

"I'm not going anywhere, Blair. You can sleep. I'll be here holding
you all night."

/ safe /

"Yes, Babe, you're safe." Jim let his tears spill into the soft curls
and he tightened his hold on the precious body in his arms. Never
again, he vowed. Never again would anyone take Blair away from him.

+++++

Their sleep was interrupted several times during the night as the
nurse came in to hang new transfusion bags and to check on the
patient. Jim growled protectively, never letting go of his hold on
Blair. The nurse smiled warmly and worked around him. On the Guide
Ward, overprotective sentinels were not uncommon, and the staff was
trained to take them into account.

The following morning, Jim was awakened by a soft huff of air against
his chest and a raspy, hoarse voice. "'Morning, Jim."

Jim pulled back from his embrace and tilted Blair's chin up to meet
his face. Pain-filled blue eyes met his and full lips curved into a
semblance of a smile. "Hey there. How're you feeling?"

"Not so g-good," Blair grated out. With a sigh, he shifted to
mindspeak. / I hurt /

"I know you do, Sweetheart," Jim commiserated. "But the doctor says
that you're going to be all right. Everything's going to be fine."

/ they r-raped me, cut me, cut my c-cock, crushed m-my balls... / A
coughing fit shook the frail body that trembled with the fearful
memories.

Jim wrapped his arms around his guide, his eyes welling with tears at
the terrified tone of Blair's mind-voice. "They'll never hurt you
again, I promise."

/ they planned to kill me, no matter what you did /

"Those bastards...!" Jim's sympathy for his guide was temporarily
overshadowed by his anger and hatred of the men who had tortured him
so mercilessly.

/ did you catch them; are they in jail? /

Jim carded his fingers through the tangle of curls, cradling Blair's
head with his palm to take the strain off his guide. "They were nearby
when we found you, but I was concentrating on you more than them. We
had six sentinel/guide pairs working with us. I'm sure that Simon will
come by and let us know later this morning," he assured Blair.

/ so tired /

"You lost a lot of blood," Jim told him. "And you've had a relapse of
the bronchitis. You were just barely alive when we found you. They've
been giving you transfusions and antibiotics since you arrived at the
hospital. You should start feeling better soon. Rest now, Sweetheart,
okay?"

/ okay /

Blair's eyes slowly drifted shut and he rested his head against Jim's
chest. Jim stroked the silken curls and murmured soft reassurances as
he cradled his sleeping guide.

Their repose was interrupted less than twenty minutes later by the
arrival of Doctor Waterston on his morning rounds.

"How's the patient this morning?" the doctor asked, smiling at Jim.

"He woke up a half an hour ago," Jim reported. "He's hurting and he's
still scared. He can barely talk."

"Not surprising," Waterston observed. "There was some damage to his
vocal cords, most likely from repeated screaming."

"Why didn't you say something?" Jim asked, angered that the doctor had
held back that bit of information.

Waterston shook his head. "I'm sorry. There was so much else, more
important, to deal with. His vocal cords will heal, they just need
rest." He took out his stethoscope and listened to the steady rhythm
of Blair's heart, and monitored the congestion in his lungs. A quick
check of the monitors and the transfusion bags, and he nodded. "One
more unit of blood, and I think we can let Blair heal on his own. His
weakness is to be expected after such an ordeal. The added stress of
the surgery and the resuscitation haven't helped. We'll keep him here
another four to five days. If, in that time, he's acquired enough
strength to walk the length of the hall and back, we can send him
home. If not, he'll have to stay a while longer."

"How much blood have you given him?"

The doctor checked Blair's chart, then looked up at the sentinel.
"With the final unit that I'm ordering now, fifteen total."

"That's -- that's more than all the blood in his body!" Jim exclaimed,
surprised by the doctor's statement.

"Hmmm... yes. But you have to take into account the internal bleeding.
A lot of the first units we gave him leaked into his abdominal cavity
and had to be suctioned out. And before that, he'd lost nearly a
lethal amount. You're very lucky to still have your guide, Sentinel
Ellison. Be grateful for that."

"I'm very grateful, believe me!" Jim hugged Blair closer to him,
rocking gently. "I don't know what I'd do without him."

"He's just as lucky to have you," Waterston added with a smile. "Why
don't you both rest some more? Visiting hours don't start until ten
o'clock. You could get another two hours of sleep. I daresay,
Sentinel, that you need the rest nearly as much as your guide."

Jim nodded and watched as the doctor left the room, pulling the door
closed behind him. Opening his senses, he ran his own quick evaluation
of his guide's condition. Convinced that Blair was gaining strength
and resting comfortably, he closed his eyes to get some much needed
sleep.

+++++

An orderly arrived at eleven-thirty with a lunch tray for Jim.
Following close behind was Simon Banks, a satisfied smile playing
around the corners of his mouth.

Jim looked up from studying Blair's sleeping face to watch his
ex-captain with curiosity. "You're looking rather smug this morning,"
he said by way of greeting.

"I bring you good news, my friend," Simon replied with his deep,
hearty voice. "We caught the men who were torturing Blair."

"Oh my God, Simon! When? Where?" Jim's eyes had brightened at the
news, but his joy was soon waging war with his desire to slowly rend
the foursome with his bare hands.

"They apparently had an escape route through the neighboring
warehouses," Simon explained. "But they were no match for our teams.
Just goes to show you how much having a guide enhances a sentinel's
abilities. Those guys didn't stand a chance." He pulled up a chair to
sit next to the bed and lifted the lid off the plate of Jim's lunch,
sniffing appreciatively. "Benton and Howe were the ones that actually
cornered them," he went on. "They had those sentinels' asses in lockup
before Blair went into surgery."

"Save them for me, Simon," Jim requested, his voice low and menacing.
"I want them to suffer like they made Blair suffer."

"Now, now, Jim..." Simon cautioned. "Blair doesn't need you getting
into trouble over this. Don't worry; they'll get what's coming to
them. The judge has ordered no bail, and they're being remanded to the
state prison while awaiting trial. They'll be held in solitary
lockdown for weeks, if not months. You don't have anything to worry
about, Jim; I promise you that."

"S'mon?"

Two heads turned to stare at Blair as the guide opened his eyes and
turned his head toward their visitor.

"Yeah, Chief, Simon's here," said Jim softly, stroking tendrils of
hair away from Blair's face.

"Get 'em?" Blair had to know, despite his difficulty speaking.

"Yeah, kid, we got them," Simon confirmed. "Got them yesterday
afternoon, shortly after we got you to the hospital. They're safely
behind bars. You don't have anything to worry about."

"Good." Blair tried to grin, then lapsed back into silence.

"You shouldn't be speaking," Jim admonished gently. "Doc Waterston
says your vocal cords will heal, but they need to be rested."

/ tell simon thanks /

Jim looked up at Simon, his face softening with love for his guide.
"He says to tell you 'thanks'."

"You're welcome, Blair. There was no way we were letting those four
get away." Simon reached out to carefully squeeze the guide's
shoulder. "But you shouldn't even be thinking about them now. You need
to concentrate on healing and getting out of here. You know how much
Jim hates hospitals."

A chuckle rumbled from the injured throat. / that makes two of us /

"Blair's not very fond of hospitals either," Jim said, passing along
his guide's thoughts.

"How is he doing?" Simon asked.

"The doctor says he's doing pretty well, considering," said Jim. "He's
still weak and in a lot of pain though, not to mention the bronchitis
is back full force."

"Did the doctor give you any idea of when he might be able to go
home?"

"Four to five days, if we're lucky," Jim answered. "It's just that
right now, it doesn't seem that way." His voice caught in his throat
as he continued. "I almost lost him, Simon. His heart stopped last
night and they had to revive him. Then they took him in for more
surgery. I guess they missed a 'bleeder' or something."

"Oh, God, Jim! I'm so sorry. You must have been out of your mind. Why
didn't you call? I would have come and stayed with you."

"It was late, and there wasn't anything you could do," Jim said
wearily.

"But they fixed everything? He's all right now?"

Jim nodded. "So they tell me. But it was close. Too close."

"He's a fighter, Jim. Remember that. I've never seen anyone go through
what Blair has endured in his life and come out of it as well as he
has. He's strong, in ways we'll never fully comprehend."

"You've got that right," Jim agreed. "There's something inside that
just won't give up. He'll be all right. He'll recover. He has to."

"That's the spirit!" Simon said, standing and patting Jim's shoulder.
"I should really be going. There's still a lot of red tape to untangle
on this case and a couple dozen others that need attention. You take
care. I'll come by to visit when I can."

"Thanks, Simon, for bringing the good news and for... understanding."
Jim smiled at the police captain before pressing a kiss onto the top
of Blair's head. "I'll let you know if there are any other drastic
changes in our circumstances."

"You do that. Take care now. And take care of your guide!" Simon
lifted a hand to wave as he walked out the door.

"He doesn't need to tell *me* that," Jim whispered into Blair's ear.
"Taking care of you right now is the only thing on my mind."

+++++

Blair slept most of the rest of the day. Once the final unit of blood
had been transfused, he was switched to glucose solution and kept on
IVs for nutrition, hydration, and the antibiotics. By the following
morning, a modicum of strength had returned.

Shifting out of Jim's embrace, Blair braced himself on one elbow,
looking down onto the sleeping sentinel. His whole body throbbed with
pain, from his right nipple to the constant ache in his cock, balls,
and ass. But he was alive and back with Jim where he belonged.
Together they'd weather this setback and become stronger.

"Jim?" Blair knew he shouldn't be trying to speak, but he had to
connect with his sentinel, needed the reassurance of his physical and
mental presence.

"Hey, Sunshine! What are you doing up?" Jim opened his eyes and smiled
at his guide, warmed to see him awake and smiling back.

/ I'm feeling better this morning; just wanted to connect with you /

"Babe, we can't bond. Not for a while yet, anyway. You've got
stitches..."

/ this is enough / Blair thought, reaching out to cup Jim's cheek. /
for now /

Jim turned his head to plant a gentle kiss on Blair's palm.

/ how long? /

Jim paused, stopping to look into Blair's eyes. "How long until what,
Sweetheart?"

/ until we can properly bond; how badly did they hurt me? /

"We'll have to check with the doctor, but at least a week or two," Jim
said, brushing a stray lock of hair away from Blair's face. "You were
pretty torn up inside, and they had to do a lot of stitching."

Blair sank down on the pillow, resting his head so that he was facing
Jim. / no wonder it hurts so much; they took turns raping me... /

"I know, Sweetheart. But it's over. I swear no one will ever touch you
like that again. No one will ever violate you." Tears welled in his
eyes at the thought of his beautiful, vibrant guide being ruthlessly
fucked by uncaring sentinels. Anger flared at the four who had
perpetrated such vile acts. "Thank God for the wolf."

Blair reached out to cup Jim's cheek, brushing at a tear with his
thumb. / the wolf? /

"The one who led me to you," Jim explained, stroking his hand over
Blair's head. "It was you, wasn't it? Guiding me to you."

Trembling, the fear rolling back in waves, Blair tucked his head
against Jim's chest. / I needed you to find me; prayed you'd find me;
they gave me psi suppressing drugs so that I couldn't lash out,
couldn't defend myself or contact you; but toward the end... I was too
weak and they didn't care; they didn't care because they knew I
couldn't... I couldn't... as the drug wore off, I thought I saw you; I
called out to you /

"And I heard you, saw you in the form of a wolf, leading me to where
you were," Jim concluded. "It's all right now, Sweetheart. They'll
never hurt you again."

/ so scared / The mindspeak was accompanied by another bout of
coughing that shook the weakened guide.

Jim wrapped his arms tighter around Blair, cradling him against all
the evil and harm in the world, and wishing there was more that he
could do to comfort and assure him that everything would be all right.
For even Jim was not totally convinced. How many times did Blair have
to endure hell because of his gift? And how many millions of others
were out there, just like him, praying for an end to their miserable
lives?

+++++

Nighttime was the worst. For the second night in a row, Blair awoke in
a cold sweat, a scream of pure terror startling Jim from a deep sleep.

/ oh, god... / Blair shivered with the horror of the memories that
assaulted him as he slept. / they cut me, and they... they swabbed the
wounds so they'd keep bleeding; it hurt; oh, god, jim, it hurt! /

Jim gathered Blair close to him and murmured comforting sounds to
quiet his terrified guide, but to no avail.

Blair pushed himself out of the security of Jim arms, his hands
roaming over his torso, brushing across his injured nipple and feeling
the sea of suture thread that held his wounds together. / can't feel
it... jim...? / He frowned. / I can't feel it! /

Jim slipped a hand up under Blair's gown and lightly brushed the
uninjured tit. "Feel that?" When Blair nodded, he continued to gently
tease the nub. "The doctor said there might be some loss of sensation.
You have to give yourself time to heal, Blair."

/ what if I never heal? what if I can't love you? what if we can never
have sex, never bond again? /

"That's not going to happen. You'll heal and we'll go slow, but we
*will* bond again."

/ how can you be sure? they cut my penis; what if I can't... I mean,
you know... / Blair's mind-voice stuttered to an embarrassed halt and
a cough escaped his throat.

"Blair, no matter what happens, we'll always be together. You'll
always be my guide -- no other." Jim leaned forward to press a kiss
against the pouting lips of his mate. "You'll always be enough for me,
no matter what. We'll come through this together."

A nurse coming to check on Blair's status interrupted their
conversation. "Is everything all right here?" she asked, coming over
to check on Blair's IV lines. "If you're having trouble sleeping, I
can get you a sedative."

"It's all right," Jim assured her. "He just had a bad dream."

"Okay, but you just buzz if you need anything. Don't be shy, that's
why we're here." She tucked the ends of the sheets back under the
mattress where Blair had kicked them loose with his thrashing and
turned to leave.

"Think you can go back to sleep now?" Jim asked softly, cradling
Blair's head against his chest.

"Mmm-hmmm..." Blair murmured, closing his eyes and trying to block out
the monsters hiding in the shadows of his mind.

+++++

The morning of Blair's third day in the hospital dawned clear and
sunny. Jim was already out of bed, stretching and walking around the
room when Blair woke.

"Good morning, Sleepyhead. I was wondering if you were going to wake
up this morning."

"Are you kidding?" Blair asked with a gravelly voice. "After those
nightmares, I needed a little extra shut-eye."

"You're going to need more than that, I'm afraid," Dr. Waterston said,
walking into the room. "Good morning, Blair... Jim."

"What do you mean by that?" Jim asked suspiciously.

"Good morning," Blair replied at the same time as Jim's question.
"Yeah, what do you mean?" he echoed.

The doctor walked over and began his morning routine of checking on
Blair's vitals, and checking the numerous sutures for signs of healing
or infection. "I'm just thinking that perhaps Blair would do well to
schedule a few sessions with our in-house psychiatrist. He just
survived a very traumatic event involving torture and rape. That's not
the sort of thing you get over with a Band-Aid and prescription pain
killers."

Jim's countenance hardened as he walked up to Waterston and spoke
firmly. "He's been through hell before, Doctor, and hasn't needed a
shrink. Blair and I can get through this together."

"I dunno," Blair said softly. "Maybe he's right. Maybe I should talk
to a counselor -- about the dreams. I can't take any more of those
nightmares. They terrify me."

Walking over to the bed, Jim perched himself on the edge of the
mattress, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind Blair's ear.
"Whatever you want, Sweetheart," he promised. "I'll even come with
you, if you think it would help."

"Would you?" Blair's eyes grew round and hopeful. "I think that would
help a lot."

"I'll set up an appointment for you," Waterston said. "I think it
would be good if you had a session before you were discharged from the
hospital. But... you should still be limiting the use of your voice. I
know it's hard for you not to be able to speak, but the damage was
severe enough that you still need more time to heal."

Blair nodded. "Jim can be my voice," he agreed, looking to his
sentinel for confirmation.

Jim nodded. "Of course. Anything I can do to make this easier."

"I'll get back to you about the appointment this afternoon," said the
doctor. "In the meantime, if you feel up to a short walk, you seem to
be healing well enough to attempt it today."

"What do you think, Chief?" Jim asked, going to the closet for a robe
and slippers for Blair. "Think you're up to a little stroll?"

"There's a lovely solarium at the end of the hall," Waterston reminded
them. "If the walk is too strenuous, there are wheelchairs down there
for the trip back."

"Thanks, Doc," said Jim, helping Blair to swing his legs over the edge
of the bed and put on the robe and slippers.

Easing off the mattress and taking some time to get his balance, Blair
took his first shaky step away from the bed, leaning heavily against
Jim for support.

/ hurts / he complained.

"I know," Jim commiserated, "but we'll take it slow."

"Ow!" / I can't do this, jim /

"Yes, you can," urged Jim, wrapping an arm around Blair's waist and
holding onto his bicep with his free hand. He took another step
forward, bringing his reluctant guide with him. "See? We'll take it
one step at a time."

/ my ass hurts / Tears welled in Blair's eyes as the sutures pulled
and twisted inside. / it's too soon /

"The doctor doesn't seem to think so," Jim said, encouraging his mate.
"And just remember, you can't leave this place until you can walk to
the end of the hall and back."

"And negotiate a flight of stairs," Doctor Waterston added, packing up
his instruments to leave. "But remember, you don't have to do it all
in one day."

"What do you think, Chief? Can you do this?" Jim turned to study the
pained face of his lover and guide.

/ okay, I'll try /

Blair took one step and then another, slowly working his way out into
the hall. They turned toward the solarium, the sunny day and blue sky
beckoning them toward the Mecca of relaxation. Grunting with effort
and blocking Jim's mind so that his partner wouldn't sense his pain,
Blair leaned heavily against his lover and shuffled along.

They were barely halfway down the hall when Jim scented the familiar
tang of fresh blood. "Hold up a minute." He stopped their progress and
pulled away from Blair, giving his guide a full sensory sweep. It
didn't take long before a bright red rivulet began to snake its way
down the inside of Blair's left thigh.

"What's wrong?" Blair asked, narrowing his eyes as he watched Jim grow
pale.

"You're bleeding!" Jim growled, turning and shouting for a nurse.
"Bring a wheelchair! We need help here!"

A nurse soon arrived with the wheelchair and they quickly returned
Blair to his room.

"Why didn't you say something?" Jim asked, fussing over Blair as they
eased him out of the wheelchair and back into bed.

/ sorry; I -- I just wanted to make you proud of me; you wanted me to
walk so badly /

"God, Blair... You tried to tell me, and I wouldn't listen to you.
Damn me for always thinking I know what's best for you!" Jim perched
on the edge of the bed and took Blair's hand, rubbing his knuckles to
take his mind off the invasive exam the nurse was currently
performing.

"Well, it looks like he tore some of his stitches," the nurse
reported. "I'll get the doctor on call and we'll get those repaired
right away."

"It's my fault," Jim continued. "I shouldn't have rushed you. I just
want to take you home where I know you'll heal faster."

Blair coughed to clear his throat. "Shut up, Jim," he growled. / you
encouraged me, but I'm the one who went along with it; don't take on
more than your share of the guilt; I want to go home too / His last
statement was almost a whisper in Jim's mind, poignant with longing to
be alone with his sentinel.

"So, I hear you tore a few stitches trying to walk to the solarium.
Hi, I'm Doctor Stendal," the on-call doctor said, walking over and
extending a hand to Blair and then to Jim. "All right," he continued
briskly, turning his attention to Blair. "I want you to slide all the
way down to the end of the bed, so that your buttocks are right on the
edge."

Blair cooperated, scooting down until his legs dangled over the end of
the bed. The doctor pulled out the steel stirrups and proceeded to
lift one of Blair's legs, resting his foot in the metal device.
Blair's face went deathly white and his breathing began to hitch with
the beginnings of a panic attack. As the doctor lifted his other foot
to place it in the stirrup, Blair erupted.

"*NO*!" he shouted, the word tearing out of his already injured
throat. He began to thrash, fighting his way back up the bed and away
from the hateful contraptions. Curling into a tight ball at the head
of the bed, he wept, wrapping his arms around his knees to protect
himself. His breathing was ragged, his heartbeat irregular.

Doctor Stendal stood at the foot of the bed, in shock at his patient's
reaction. Jim glowered at him as he hurried over to where Blair lay.
"He was tortured and raped in stirrups like those," he growled.

"I-I didn't know," Stendal said, apologizing. "I'm sorry. But we need
to repair those stitches. I'll get a sedative."

"You do that," Jim snapped, turning his attention back to Blair. "It's
all right, Sweetheart. The doctor is just here to help you. I won't
let you be hurt again, love, you know that. Calm down, take deep
breaths. Yes... that's right. That's good. Good, Blair, good." He
watched and listened as his guide slowly overcame the panic attack to
peek out from his cocoon.

/ s-sorry; it's just... it reminded me... /

"Shhh... shhh.... You don't have to tell me," said Jim softly. "I
know. I'm the one who found you, remember? The doctor is coming back
with a sedative. You'll be asleep when he does the repairs."

/ o-okay /

"But you have to relax, Sweetheart. You have to let go." Jim gently
pried at the hands holding Blair's knees to his chin until his guide
finally relaxed and unwound. "There, that's good. Look, the doctor's
back."

Blair turned his head to see Doctor Stendal returning with a
hypodermic filled with a powerful sedative.

The doctor cleaned an area on Blair's upper arm and injected the
medicine. "There. That should begin to take effect in a few minutes,"
he said kindly. "I apologize for not reading your chart more closely,
Mr. Sandburg."

"*Doctor* Sandburg," Jim was quick to point out.

Stendal looked up at the guide with interest. "We don't get many
guides with doctorate degrees," he said. "What subject?"

"Sentinel Studies," Jim supplied so that Blair wouldn't have to speak.

"Appropriate," Stendal said briskly, watching as Blair's eyelids grew
heavy and began to droop. "I'll be back in ten minutes with a nurse
and we'll get those stitches taken care of."

"Thanks, Doctor." Jim watched the resident leave, glad to be left
alone with his guide, even if for just a short time. "It won't be long
now. Pretty soon you'll be sound asleep, and when you wake up,
everything will be fine again."

/ stay with me /

"You know I will," Jim promised.

Doctor Stendal returned in the promised ten minutes with a nurse.
Between the three of them, they shifted Blair's sleeping form back
down to the end of the bed and put his feet in the stirrups. It took
only five minutes for the doctor to dilate Blair's anus and go in to
repair the torn sutures. When he was done, Blair was shifted back to
the head end of the bed.

"Good as new," Stendal said, stripping off the latex gloves that had
covered his hands during the procedure. "I'd suggest no more attempts
at walking for at least a couple of days. I know you two are anxious
to blow this joint, but some things shouldn't be rushed."

Jim nodded. "Yeah, you're right," he reluctantly agreed. "Thanks for
being understanding about this."

"We deal with guide abuse daily, Sentinel Ellison. Blair is one of the
lucky ones. He has you."

The doctor and nurse left, leaving Jim to sit vigil at his guide's
bedside until the sedative wore off.

+++++

Late that afternoon, Doctor Waterston arrived on his rounds and took a
quick look at Blair's chart. "Oh, I'm so very sorry," he said, turning
to Blair who had awakened several hours earlier. "I'm afraid I may
have rushed to get you up and walking. I trust everything is okay
now?"

"Doctor Stendal told us Blair shouldn't get out of bed for another
couple of days," said Jim.

Waterston nodded. "I'd agree. I'm sorry, Blair, that you have to stay
longer, but I promise that we'll make that stay as comfortable as
possible." At Blair's nod, he continued. "What I really wanted to tell
you was that I managed to get you an appointment with Anna Mayer, our
psychiatric counselor. She was able to pencil you in for tomorrow
morning at ten o'clock."

Blair pursed his lips, but Jim nodded. "I'll see to it that he gets
there," he promised.

"Very well. I guess that pretty much covers things for now, then. Stay
in bed and get your rest," he instructed Blair. "If you have problems
with night terrors, have the nurse bring a sedative. Right now, your
ability to rest and recover is more important than your dislike of
drugs." He smiled warmly to take the sting from his words. "I know
you've had a set-back, but we still want to see you out of here as
soon as it's safe to do so."

/ I don't know that I want to go / Blair said after the doctor had
left.

"Huh?" Jim turned to his guide. "What do you mean you don't want to
go?"

/ I've changed my mind. I don't need a shrink; I need you /

"And I need you whole and functioning," Jim argued. "We're going
together, and that's final."

/ what happened to you not making my decisions for me? /

"This is different," Jim insisted. "This will help."

+++++

"Welcome, gentlemen," Anna Mayer greeted the guide and sentinel as the
two men entered her office.

Jim pushed the wheelchair into position in front of Anna's desk and
took a seat beside Blair. He reached out to shake the counselor's
hand. "I'm Jim Ellison, Blair's partner and sentinel. He's having some
trouble with his voice, so I'm here to speak for him if he needs
help."

"It's nice to have you here, Sentinel Ellison. Even in these days of
reform, many sentinels don't care enough to seek treatment with their
guides." Anna flipped through her notes on Blair's background. "What
happened to Blair has affected you as well, so welcome. And, Blair...
let's see, it says here that you're a doctor of Sentinel Studies?
That's quite a lofty calling for a guide."

Blair cleared his throat before responding, his voice still raspy. "I
got my degree before my Talent emerged. I endured major culture shock
making the change, but then Jim came along, and my life righted
itself."

"Yes, I see. You and Sentinel Ellison --"

"Jim... you can call me Jim," Jim interrupted.

"All right... Jim. I see you two were responsible for the reform
movement to give guides rights and liberties."

"That was Jim's idea," said Blair. "And I backed him up on it."

"You two have made quite a splash in the media. I heard you were about
to leave for D.C. to speak before Congress when this happened."

"Blair was kidnapped from the airport just as we were leaving," said
Jim. "The men responsible wanted me to speak against the bill. I would
have done anything to save my guide... but thank God I didn't have
to."

"Let's switch to Blair's plight," said Anna. "You were kidnapped. Can
you tell us what transpired from there?"

Blair hesitated, his face turning pale. With a cough to clear his
chest and cover his nervousness, he began. "I was drugged with a psi
suppressor and put in a wheelchair to be taken out of the airport," he
explained. "They attacked me in the men's room while I was taking a
break just before boarding the plane."

"And how did you feel?"

"Terrified. What would you expect? With the drug in my system, I
couldn't defend myself or call out for Jim. I knew these men and what
they were capable of, and I didn't want to go with them."

"But you couldn't fight? Did you struggle?"

"They took me by surprise," said Blair. "Once injected with the drug,
it acts quickly. They gave me such a large dose that I was nearly
unconscious. I couldn't fight back," he explained.

"What happened next?"

"They took me somewhere in the back of a windowless van. I think it
was down on the waterfront, because I could smell the sea. They took
me into a building, to a room near the back, and stripped me."

"The reason being, they wanted you to be an old-fashioned guide, one
who was always naked and obedient --" Anna observed.

"They wanted to humiliate and humble him," Jim interjected angrily.
"Blair was instrumental in giving guides back their lives and hope,
and they wanted to bring him down again."

Blair nodded. "These guys have always had it out for me. The story
goes back over five years, when the reforms first started," he
explained. "These guys kidnapped Jim, back then, and I came to his
rescue."

"It's because of Blair that they spent five long years in prison," Jim
added. "And their leader, Brad Abernathy, died there. They were out
for revenge, pure and simple."

"I see." Anna tapped a pencil on her desk, then turned to give Blair a
steady stare. "So, tell me how they exacted this revenge."

"D-Do I have to?" What little color remained had drained from Blair's
face. He knew this was why he was here, but he wished with all his
heart and soul that he didn't have to relive the terror of those days
in captivity.

"You want to be rid of the dreams, don't you?" Anna's voice was soft
and coaxing. "Bring them out into the light and watch them dissipate."

"Oh, God..." Blair mumbled softly, clearing his throat again. Speaking
softly, he began the story that even Jim hadn't yet heard. "They bound
me to a table and put my feet up in stirrups, I guess to make me more
vulnerable, to expose my ass. They started by raping me..."

A low rumble sounded from beside Blair and Jim growled, barely able to
contain his anger. "Who was it? Who hurt you first?"

"Chet Quigley," Blair replied. "But Pedersen did me next, then Mayhill
and Sykes. It was Ted Sykes who doped me up and started the cutting,"
he added. He watched as Jim steamed, slowly building to a murderous
frenzy. Reaching out, he laid a hand on Jim's arm, calming him. "Not
now, Jim. They're in prison, and we're supposed to be healing,
remember?"

"I'd heal a hell of a lot faster if those bastards were dead!" Jim
snapped. Looking into Blair's eyes, he forced himself to calm down.
His lover needed his support right now, not his righteous anger.
"Sorry."

"It's quite all right, Jim. We both understand how you're feeling,"
Anna said, smiling to relieve the tension that had grown in the room.
"What we need to do right now, is focus on Blair's story. Blair, can
you continue?"

Taking a deep breath, Blair stilled the growing trembling that
threatened to overwhelm him. "They gave me Heparin," he said. "I heard
Sykes talking about it. They gave me an injection, and then swabbed
the open wounds with it to keep them bleeding. They wanted to slowly
kill me through exsanguination. B-But Quigley... that wasn't enough
for him. Sykes was cutting the veins in my arms and legs -- the most
painful was one in my groin." Unconsciously, Blair reached down to rub
at the area. "But Quigley wanted to carve on my chest. H-He c-cut
through..." Blair's heart rate began to soar and his breathing
hitched. / can't do this, jim; I can't do this /

"Yes, you can, Sweetheart. They can't hurt you anymore, but the
memories, the memories *are* hurting you. Let them go..." He stood up
and reached down to help Blair up out of his wheelchair, then sat down
again, pulling Blair into his lap. "Maybe this will help. You tell me,
and I'll tell Anna here what you're saying." He pulled Blair's head
down to his shoulder and cradled it there.

/ he teased my nipple, and then cut through it / Blair mind-spoke,
while Jim echoed his thoughts out loud. / they all took turns, the
rest of the night, making shallow cuts on my chest and abdomen; they
carved symbols, their initials, whatever they thought might hurt me
the worst; and they fucked me again; god, jim, my ass... it hurts; it
felt like they were shoving red hot pokers into me /

"I know, Babe," Jim soothed, barely keeping his anger in check as the
horrible story slowly unfolded. "Just let it out. I promise I'll
protect you."

For the next hour, Blair relayed the days of his tribulation in
detail, stopping frequently to quell rising panic attacks at the
memories while Jim stewed, wishing with all his might that he could
get his hands on the vile bastards who had wreaked such havoc on his
guide. They would never find the bodies...

Blair finally lapsed into silence, exhausted by the ordeal. Jim
cuddled him close and looked up at the counselor. "That's all," he
said quietly.

Anna took a deep breath and caught Jim's eyes with her steady gaze.
"Now we both know what Blair went through and how he felt," she said,
"but how do *you* feel about what you just heard?"

"If I could get my hands on those men, the bodies would never be
found," Jim vowed.

Blair tilted his head up to look at Jim. "No... don't say that, Jim.
Don't think that. Not for me."

"If not for you, then who?" Jim snapped back, his voice almost a
snarl.

"Jim!" Anna's sharp call brought the sentinel back to reality. "Think
about what you're saying, and how it's affecting Blair. He doesn't
want to see you hurt. He's struggling to recover from a horrible
ordeal, and he needs you safe and whole. Talk of revenge doesn't do
either one of you any good right now."

Sorrow crossed Jim's face and he felt like a whipped puppy. He should
have known better. He should have known that his words would frighten
Blair all the more, make his suffering even more extreme. "I didn't
mean it... I *did* mean it," he amended, "but I wouldn't go through
with it. Not while I have Blair to love and care for."

"You need to remember that," said Anna. "You have a right to your
feelings, to your anger, but don't let it spill over and hurt the one
you love the most. The way to conquer is to let the little skirmishes
go and concentrate on winning the war. Remember your goal here: to
help *all* guides avoid the abuse that Blair has had to suffer. You
need to do what you do best -- go head on with the system and *change*
it for the better."

"I can't do it without Blair," Jim said with a sigh.

"I'm here," said Blair softly. "We can do it together."

"Perhaps that's the solution to your dilemma as well, Blair," Anna
suggested. "If it's not too late, you should both consider still
taking that trip to Washington, D.C., and speak before the House and
Senate. Make them pass this bill. Make them see the rightness of it."

"We can do that." Blair's voice was barely above a whisper, but his
tone was secure and unshakable.

Jim nodded. "If it's what Blair wants, we can do it," he agreed.

Anna took two business cards from a holder on her desk and handed them
to Jim. "I'm not going to reschedule Blair for more treatment at this
time," she said. "But if either of you have problems or need to talk,
please call. And, Jim, keep your eye on the prize," she nodded toward
Blair, "and you'll never go wrong."

Jim smiled and nodded back, accepting the cards and pocketing them for
future use. "Come on, Superguide, let's get you back up to your room."

+++++

It was another three days before Blair felt up to tackling the hall
walk. As they made their way slowly down to the solarium, Blair turned
to Jim and asked, "Did you ever contact Senator Chaplain to tell him
why we were a 'no show'?"

Jim pursed his lips and smiled grimly. "I had other things on my mind
at the time."

"I think you ought to give him a call," Blair insisted. "I know it's
too late to speak in favor of the bill now, but maybe there's
something else we could do to help it along."

"I'm more concerned with helping *you* along." Jim took Blair's elbow
and guided him into one of the comfortable chairs in the solarium with
a view of the bay. "I've only got so much energy, and right now I'd
rather expend it on you."

"And don't think I don't appreciate it," said Blair, smiling and
reaching out to clasp Jim's hand. "But there are bigger issues here.
Other guides are being mistreated and abused every day -- throughout
most of this country. The west coast is an anomaly. We're just a
fraction of the total population. Every day, more and more people are
taken from their homes, their families, their jobs -- stripped of all
they knew, and put into the Guide Service. That's just not right."

"And you, my little crusader, want to do something about it." Jim
chuckled. The return of Blair's enthusiasm and flare for helping the
cause was reason enough for celebration, but he knew there was still a
lot of healing to do before Blair would be up to fighting for the
rights of others.

Blair nodded. "Of course! I'll be well enough to leave the hospital
soon. I think you should call the Senator today."

"Being well enough to leave the hospital doesn't mean you're well
enough to travel. The Senator can wait a few more days. We missed our
chance to speak before the committee, so I don't really see the
point." Jim shrugged.

"Well, I sure do!" said Blair, becoming more animated, his hands
flying as he spoke. "You need to ask the Senator how the bill did. If
it made it through, it may have amendments that mean it has to go
through the whole committee process a second time. We may have another
chance, Jim! We can't pass this up. Men and women are suffering
everyday from abuse and neglect. We *have* to do whatever we can to
get that law passed and implemented."

"All right," Jim replied, laughing and holding up his hands in
surrender. "On one condition."

Blair cocked an eyebrow. "What condition is that?"

"That you haul your ass back to your room now and get some rest."

"I can do that." Blair nodded and braced himself, trying to lift out
of the deep cushion. "Ow. Damn. Okay, maybe I can't," he conceded.
"Help?"

With a chuckle, Jim stood and reached down for Blair's outstretched
hands, pulling him to his feet amid a shower of soft epithets. They
made their way slowly back to Blair's room, where he climbed
gratefully onto the bed with a sigh of relief.

"I don't know who is worse," said Blair, getting Jim's attention as he
picked up the phone to make the promised call, "you or Doctor
Waterston. Between you, you'll be the death of me yet."

"Not for a long time, Hotshot; not for a long, long time," Jim
promised, dialing. "Hello? Yes, this is Sentinel James Ellison. I'd
like to speak with Senator Chaplain, please." He covered the
mouthpiece with his hand and whispered to Blair, "They put me on
hold." Blair smiled and nodded, then grew intent on listening to Jim's
side of the conversation as the Senator quickly took the call. "Hello,
Senator."

//"Well, Jim! It's good to hear from you. I'm so sorry to hear about
your guide. How is Blair doing?"//

"Sir?" Jim glanced over at Blair, a confused look on his face. "He's,
uh, doing better, thank you. How did you know?"

//"Joel Taggart called to let me know that Guide Sandburg had been
abducted, and that you were staying in town to search for him. I
completely understand your concern,"// Chaplain commented with
sympathy. //"This is just the sort of treatment we're hoping to
eliminate with the passage of the Guide Reform Bill."//

"How is that going?" Jim asked. "We both really wanted to be a part of
the process, but I suppose it's too late now."

//"Oh no, not at all!"// the Senator replied. //"The bill made it out
of the Senate, but now must go before the House committee. It's facing
some tough opposition there, so if it's possible for you to come and
speak in favor, I think it would help a great deal. Would Blair be up
to the trip? I think if some of these Washington hotshots could see
for themselves the damage inflicted by abuse, it might just sway their
votes."//

"How soon, sir? Blair is still in the hospital."

//"It should be a few weeks, perhaps a month before the committee is
ready to hold public testimony. Would that give you enough time?"//

Jim pursed his lips and looked back over at Blair who was trying to
relax while looking intently eager about the conversation. "Possibly.
It all depends on Blair. But of course we'll try."

//"Very good! I'll contact you a little closer to the time we'll need
you, and see how your guide is doing then. Give Blair my regards and
tell him I hope he's feeling better soon."//

"Yes, I will. Thank you, Senator." Jim hung up and turned to Blair.
"Senator Chaplain sends his regards and hopes you're feeling better
soon," he relayed.

"Great!" Blair sat up, bouncing, then grimacing at the pain in his
ass. "Owwww..."

"That will teach you, Professor. Slow down!"

Blair rubbed his lower back to ease the pain deep inside. "What did he
say about the bill? Are we going to get to go to Washington?"

"Looks like a good possibility," said Jim. "The bill passed the
Senate, and now has to go before the House. You've got three to four
weeks to heal up. If you're feeling up to it, we can still go to D.C."

"You know I am!" said Blair. "I want to make sure that the bill not
only contains freedom and rights for guides, but punishment guidelines
for the sentinels who might still abuse them."

"Good point," Jim agreed. "Minimum sentencing guidelines *should* be
established for those who break the law."

"Still planning the trip, I see?" Doctor Waterston walked in with a
smile. "I hear you walked the hall, Blair."

"Down to the solarium," Blair concurred. "We stayed there for a bit
and talked before coming back here."

"Do you think you could make it all the way down and back without a
rest at the solarium?"

"Now?" Blair looked over at Jim. "We just got back, like, fifteen
minutes ago."

"I know we've had a few minor setbacks, but you've been here for a
week now," Waterston reminded his patient. "I'd like to be able to
sign your release forms soon, but I need to make sure that you can get
around well enough to be on your own."

"What'd'ya say, Jim? Help me up?" Blair swung his legs over the edge
of the bed and waited for Jim to come help him to stand.

"You're going to need to do this on your own," the doctor admonished.
"Jim can walk beside you, but you have to show me you can get around
without his help."

Jim paused and Blair looked at him and then the doctor. "Oooo-kay." He
slipped carefully off the bed with only a small grimace at the
discomfort it caused. Jim slipped the robe over his shoulders and
Blair slowly made his way back out into the hall. It took nearly
twenty minutes to slowly traverse the length of the hall and back.
When they finally arrived back at Blair's room, he collapsed onto the
bed. "That's enough for now, right?" His question was punctuated by a
soft cough.

Waterston nodded. "Yes, but you'll still need to navigate a flight of
stairs for me. Perhaps later this afternoon?"

"If I do that, can I go home?" Blair asked.

"Yes, I think you're doing well enough for me to sign your release
papers. Doctor Mayer said she released you. She says that despite what
you went through, you have a strong support system and seem capable of
handling the mental aspects of your torture." The doctor eyed Blair
appraisingly, then smiled. "I think she's right. It's rare to run
across a guide with your strength of personality. If anyone can
overcome this, it's you."

Blair's cheeks flushed lightly and he grinned. "Just give me a few
hours to rest up, then show me to the stairs." He flashed bright, blue
eyes at his partner. "I'm *so* ready to be out of here!"

+++++

"You be careful navigating the stairs at home," Doctor Waterston
instructed later that afternoon after Blair had successfully climbed a
flight of stairs and returned down to his floor. Signing the release
papers, he looked up at the guide and sentinel. "Make sure he takes
things slowly at first," he told Jim. "And if anything hurts more than
you think it should, or if you see blood, get him back to the
hospital."

Jim nodded. "Will do. Thanks, Doctor Waterston."

"You're most welcome. And good luck to you, Blair."

"Thanks." Blair grinned as the doctor turned to leave. "It's time to
get me out of this dress," he said to Jim, referring to the flimsy
gown he'd worn for a week, "and into some good old jeans and flannel."

"How about some good old sweats instead?" asked Jim, producing the
items from a bag that Joel had dropped off earlier. "I asked for these
because I thought they'd be more comfortable for you, and easier to
get on and off."

"Whoa, there, big fella." Blair held out his hands to stop Jim's
advance. "Off? I-I'm not quite ready for that, yet."

"So you can piss and take a crap," Jim said sternly, pushing past the
barrier of Blair's hands to help him into the clothes. "We'll deal
with the sex later."

"Oh. Okay." Blair allowed his partner to help dress him, then sat in
the chair by the bed while Jim put on his shoes and socks so that he
wouldn't have to bend over. "Thanks, man."

"Any time, Partner. You ready to go?"

"You bet! How are we getting home?" Blair wondered, realizing that Jim
must have ridden in the ambulance with him and wouldn't have his
truck.

"Simon is coming over to pick us up. I called him to let him know you
were being released. He should be waiting for us downstairs."

"Well, then, let's get this show on the road!"

A nurse came in with a wheelchair and Blair begrudgingly settled into
it. "I don't know what the big fuss is about," he complained. "First
Doctor Waterston makes sure that I can walk, then they make me ride
out in this thing."

"Hospital policy," Jim and the nurse said simultaneously, drawing a
chuckle from both the sentinel and his guide.

When they arrived down at the pick-up area, Simon was waiting in his
brown sedan. "It's about time you showed up. I thought they were going
to make me move if you didn't come out pretty soon," he complained,
opening the back passenger-side door.

Jim helped Blair ease up out of the wheelchair and squeeze into the
back seat of Simon's car, slipping in beside his guide. "We really
appreciate this, Simon," he said.

"Don't mention it," Simon replied, getting behind the wheel and
starting the engine. "It's the least I can do after all you've done
for the department over the years." He glanced over his shoulder
before pulling out onto the street. "I'm just glad that Sandburg is
still alive and kicking."

"You and me, both!" Jim concurred, pulling Blair into a one-armed hug.

+++++

"Home..." The word drifted from Blair's lips with reverence. "This
place has never looked so good," he said. "Well, I take that back --"
He tilted his head up to look at Jim who stood beside him in the
doorway. "The day you first brought me home from the Guide Market,
this place looked pretty damn good, too."

"Welcome back," Jim said warmly, ushering Blair inside and closing the
door. He took Blair's coat and hung it on the rack, and then guided
his partner over to the long couch. "You'd best take it easy. I'll fix
something for dinner. Anything in particular that you're hungry for?"

"Anything sounds appealing after all that hospital food," said Blair,
picking up the remote and turning on the TV.

"How about some of my famous Ellison spaghetti?"

"The secret recipe?" Blair asked, grinning. "Sure thing!"

"And garlic bread?"

"As long as you're having some, too. We're sleeping together tonight,
don't forget."

"Just sleeping," Jim reminded him.

"Uh-huh." Blair nodded and turned back to the program on the
television.

After dinner, the two men snuggled on the couch, Blair sinking down
into Jim's embrace and resting his head over Jim's heart. Jim stroked
his hand through Blair's thick hair and sighed contentedly. Soon, the
soft sound of Blair's snores drifted to the sentinel's ears, and he
smiled. Shifting his load so that he could stand, he bent over and
picked Blair up, carrying him up the stairs to bed. His guide was a
hefty load, but Jim couldn't see disturbing him. Blair's respirations
were even and slow, his heartbeat regular -- nothing terrifying was
disturbing Blair's rest, so Jim wouldn't either.

Laying Blair on the bed, he quickly stripped his partner down to his
boxers and undershirt, pulling the blankets up and over the
perpetually chilly guide. He watched Blair sleeping, with his hair
fanned out on the pillow and an angelic, childlike look on his face.
This incarnation of his partner was so different from his kick-ass
guide or his vibrant, creative lover. Innocence resided inside the man
that Jim had chosen as his mate -- an innocence that even the hatred
of the world at large couldn't extinguish.

He quickly stripped and crawled into bed beside his mate, gathering
Blair into his arms and thanking whatever Power watched over them for
delivering Blair back to him alive and whole.

+++++

The following morning, the light brush of fingers across his chest
awakened Jim, teasing at his nipples and drifting down to dip into his
navel. He opened his eyes to see Blair propped up on one elbow,
enjoying the view. "Good morning, Sunshine," he greeted his guide,
earning himself a grin and a slap against his chest. "You're looking
good this morning."

"So are you," Blair practically purred, letting his fingers drift
lower, to brush against the root of Jim's cock, making the organ
twitch at the attention. "It's been a long time."

"And it's going to be a longer time," Jim said regretfully, lifting
Blair's hand off his groin. "You're not ready for this yet. Just
because you think I need it doesn't mean we should."

"*You're* ready," Blair pointed out, nodding toward the slowly filling
cock. "You're a sentinel, Jim. You must have used your senses in
search of me. You *do* need this."

"Simon and Joel ganged up on me during the search," Jim admitted.
"They had Linda channel off the tension."

"Did it help?" Blair asked, curious as to his apprentice's ability.

Jim nodded. "Yeah, some. But it's not the same as bonding with your
chosen guide."

"Which you still need to do," Blair insisted.

"No." Jim shook his head. "You're still in too much discomfort, and
the stitches haven't dissolved yet."

"We could touch," Blair suggested. "I could give you a blow job. You
need an orgasm and you need a bond. Let me do this for you." Jim
started to push him away, but Blair persisted. "Please, Jim? I need
this too, our bonding, our closeness. I need it to heal."

"What you need, I can't give to you yet," Jim said sadly. "Another
week, maybe two..."

"What I need right now is to know that you're okay," said Blair. "I'm
your guide. It's my duty to care for you, to put your needs ahead of
my own."

"That's old school, Blair," Jim growled softly. "You're every bit as
important to this partnership as I am. Hell, you could live without
me, but I couldn't go two days without *you*."

"That's not true, not anymore," Blair said softly. "I could no more
live without you than stop breathing. You're my life, Jim. You kept me
going when Quigley and his goons had me. Thinking of you, knowing you
were looking for me, that you wouldn't stop until you found me, is
what gave me the strength to endure. Let me do this, for me, if not
for you."

Jim sighed, realizing that any argument would fall on deaf ears. "All
right, but take it easy, okay? I don't want you hurting yourself. I've
had enough of hospitals for one lifetime."

Blair nodded. "I hear you," he said softly, letting his hand drift
back down to Jim's cock, stroking it to fullness as he leaned forward
to claim Jim's mouth. Their tongues collided as both men sought to
control the kiss. Jim backed off, letting his guide take the lead.
Blair rolled him onto his back and straddled him, never losing contact
with his lips. As the kiss deepened, Jim felt the familiar tingle in
his mind and groin.

/ I'm here, my love, my sentinel / my guide! /

Jim's hips surged up, his cock bumping against the familiar
cotton-clad ass. Blair broke the kiss, throwing his head back and
keening loudly. Startled, Jim froze, waiting for his guide to make the
next move.

/ jim! oh, god... / I'm here, blair; are you all right? /... yes... /

Blair slipped down from his position atop Jim and settled back on the
mattress. "Sorry. Flashback." He was trembling, but fighting hard for
control. "I-It's all right. Not your fault."

"Yes..."

"*No*, it wasn't," Blair insisted, interrupting Jim's guilt trip. "I'm
the one in control here, or I should be," he said firmly. "We had the
bond. It was too much to expect you not to react. Fucking is primal,
necessary for the bond -- beyond your control, Jim." He reached out to
continue stroking the hard shaft of Jim's cock. "I should know how to
control you, but I'm needy right now, too. I want you to touch me, to
be inside me, to be one with me again."

"But we can't." Jim placed his hand over Blair's, stilling the
titillating touch. "Blair, Sweetheart, I know how much you want this,
but maybe now isn't the right time."

"Let me finish," Blair whispered, his eyes dark and cloudy with
sorrow. "You shouldn't have to suffer more because of me."

"Some other day, my love." Jim gathered Blair close, burying his face
in the fragrant curls and letting his arousal die slowly. A muffled
sob rose to his ears and he planted a kiss atop Blair's head. "Shhh...
It's all right; everything is going to be fine, you'll see."

+++++

"It's been a full, fucking week!" Blair complained, his arms spread
wide.

"And it'll be another one before you go in to see Doctor Waterston for
your follow-up," said Jim, trying to remain calm amidst the fury of
Blair's storming. "I just think we should wait until he says it's
okay."

"And you're willing to wait? Really?" Blair was wearing a trough in
the floor from pacing. "We haven't gone this goddamn long without sex
since you bought me! I'm feeling fine, man! The stitches have
dissolved, I'm getting my strength back, even the damn cough is nearly
gone..."

Jim shook his head, staving off the biting remark he was tempted to
make. "I don't like this any better than you do, Blair, but I'm not
sure that I see a choice here. You were *this* fucking close to
death!" he said, indicating a hairbreadth's distance with his thumb
and forefinger. "I damn near lost you forever and you can't wait
another week?"

"I just need to know!" Blair growled, striding across the distance
separating them to grab two fistfuls of Jim's shirt and push him back
toward the couch. "I need to know... if I can..." The last words came
out softly, almost frightened.

Jim allowed himself to be maneuvered to the couch where their momentum
spilled him onto the cushions with Blair on top. In a tangle of arms
and legs, they managed to divest themselves of their clothing. Jim's
cock was already hard and hot, longing for the tunnel of Blair's body.
He pressed his guide against him, trying not to see the ugly scars
that would take years to fade, and captured Blair's mouth with a
hungry kiss.

Blair broke away after a minute and began to slide down Jim's body,
his tongue laving a wet track as he went. His lips curled around one
tight nub and began to suckle, nipping lightly to elicit an aroused
growl from his mate.

/ take me, my sentinel; make me yours; claim me once again and let me
be your guide / mine, guide, mine! /

The feral thought from Jim fired Blair's arousal and he rose up,
prepared to lower himself onto the hard shaft of his mate. His ass
touched the flared head and began to part, slowly opening to take in
the cock, to claim his mate.

/ no! not like this! /

The thought caused Blair to pause. He opened eyes that had closed in
concentration and looked down on his sentinel's face. Jim's pale blue
eyes stared up at him in fear, not for himself, but for Blair. The
guide hesitated, and the sentinel sat up, pulling Blair to his chest.

"Not like that, not here," Jim whispered into the shell of Blair's
ear. "If we're going to do this, let's do it upstairs where we can do
it properly." He rose and lifted Blair off the couch. The two men made
their way to the stairs and up to the bedroom.

Jim pulled back the comforter and covers, then lowered Blair onto the
sheets. Opening the drawer of the nightstand on his side of the bed,
he pulled out a well-used tube of lubricant. "I'm not even going to
try without proper preparation," he intoned. "Are you sure you want to
go through with this?"

"Yes! I need you, Jim. My healing depends on it." Blair lay on his
back, his legs spread. "I need to see you," he explained.

Jim took two of the pillows and placed them under Blair's hips.
"Comfortable?"

"Mmm-hmmm." Blair grinned as he watched intently, monitoring Jim's
every move.

"Then let's get started." Jim lubed an index finger and began to
slowly insert it inside his lover's ass. As he slipped deeper into the
tight tunnel, he used his other hand to lightly stroke Blair's limp
penis. The ugly three-inch scar along the shaft, plus numerous smaller
nicks and cuts made Jim shudder, especially the horizontal scar across
the base of the cock. Blair had come very close to losing his manhood
and his balls. Jim didn't even want to consider the terror and anguish
his guide must have endured.

"Don't." Blair's hand came up to brush Jim's away from his cock.

"I want this to be good for you, too," Jim said softly as he lubed his
middle finger and slowly inserted it to join the first.

Blair smiled sadly, putting on a brave face for his lover. "It *is*
good for me. Really. Trust me, Jim, I'm aroused even if I can't... you
know." He waved one hand over his groin.

"Let's try this," Jim suggested, rubbing firmly across the mound of
Blair's prostate.

"Unghh...!" Blair groaned as arousal shot through him, making his
injured cock twitch.

"That's it," said Jim, smiling. "Just a little more..." He rubbed over
the pleasure point again, dragging another moan of frustrated pleasure
from his mate.

"Oh, God, Jim... just get on with it," Blair groaned.

Saddened by his inability to get a rise out of his partner, Jim
hovered over Blair, stroking his forehead and cheek. "Are you sure you
want to do it this way -- on your back?"

Blair nodded. "Yeah, I have to... I-I need to see you, Jim. I need to
know who's fucking me." He reached up to cup Jim's cheek. "I love you.
I know you'd never hurt me, but I have to *see*."

Jim lowered himself to capture the pouting lips in a gentle kiss as he
carefully aligned himself and began to slowly enter his guide. Blair's
arms came around his shoulders, his hands rubbing the soft, short hair
on Jim's head. A moan of pleasure escaped their kiss as Jim seated
himself fully within the warm chamber of Blair's body.

/ we're one again / always, my guide; we were always one / I needed
you, needed this; now I can heal / I love you, blair, with all my soul
/ and I you; we are soul mates /

Jim began a gentle thrusting, bracing his arms to either side of
Blair's shoulders to take his weight off his partner. He reveled in
the mind-touch, of bonding body and soul with his guide again. Blair
arched his back, raising his hips up to meet the inward strokes,
grunting with the effort and the arousal that never quite made it to
his cock.

As his arousal continued to grow, Jim's thrusts came faster and
harder. Throwing his head back, he felt a primal scream rise in his
throat as his climax built, spilling over him as his cock pulsed,
filling Blair's body with his seed.

/ I claim you, my guide / my sentinel, I am yours /

Jim rolled off his lover and pulled Blair against his chest, kissing
his guide's closed eyes, the tip of his nose, his chin, his mouth.
Blair moaned appreciatively, wrapping his arms around Jim's neck to
hold him close. When they finally parted, Blair studied the clear blue
eyes that watched him with such concern.

"It's all right. It was fine... wonderful. I love you, Jim. You just
banished all my nightmares and replaced them with love. A man couldn't
ask for more than that."

"I couldn't bring you with me," Jim said softly. "I couldn't stimulate
you enough..."

"Oh, but you did, my love." Blair reached up to stroke Jim's cheek,
brushing at a tear with his thumb. "Just because all the plumbing
isn't working yet doesn't mean I didn't feel anything. I could feel
how much you loved me, needed me, wanted me, and I loved you right
back, with all my being."

"It wasn't enough," Jim growled. "I want to do something just for you
now." He rolled Blair over onto his back and began leaving a trail of
wet kisses down his lover's throat and across his shoulder. He
captured the uninjured nipple between his teeth, teasing the nub to
hardness, suckling until he drew a groan of pleasure from his mate.
Shifting slightly, he moved to give the other nipple equal attention,
licking and sucking at the scarred tissue.

"Stop." His hands pushing Jim away from his tit accompanied Blair's
quiet voice. "It's no good, Jim. I can't feel anything there."

"That's okay, love. We'll try something else," said Jim, pressing a
quick kiss to the pouting lips before going back to his business. His
tongue left a wet trail down Blair's abdomen to his navel, dipping
into the tiny depression and eliciting a snort of laughter from his
ticklish mate. Ignoring the ugly scars that were still healing, Jim
approached the lax cock, drawing it into his mouth. His tongue played
over the uneven skin, teasing the flare of the glans, probing at the
tiny hole in the tip. As he continued to suckle, Blair's moans turned
to quiet sobs.

Releasing the unresponsive cock, Jim came back up the bed, settling
down parallel to Blair. He kissed the tears from his guide's eyes and
wrapped his arms around him, cradling him close. "What's the matter,
Sweetheart? Did I hurt you?"

Blair shook his head. "No... no, you were wonderful, Jim. The best."

"Then what's the problem?" Jim brushed back the hair that had fallen
to veil Blair's face.

"I-I'm broken, Jim. T-They broke me and you can't fix it."

Jim shook his head. "You're not broken. I think you're perfect."

"Not perfect," Blair argued, sniffing back the tears. "I've only got
one tit and I can't get hard for you anymore. What if I never can?"

"It wouldn't matter to me," Jim replied honestly. "All that's just
icing on the cake. I still have you, my guide, my soul mate... I don't
need anything else."

"But I want to... for you..."

"Blair, Sweetheart, you've always taken care of me, put my concerns
before your own. Now let me take care of you for a change. You don't
have to *do* anything, *be* anything for me. Just having you here with
me is enough. I almost lost you... Those were the most horrible,
terrifying days of my life. Nothing compares to just having you,
knowing you're still alive, still here to love me. I could get another
guide, but I could never get another *you*. I don't want any other man
in my life. You're all I need, just the way you are."

"God, I love you, Jim..." Blair buried his face in Jim's chest and
sobbed out the remainder of his tears, then set his doubts aside,
finally at peace.

+++++

"Everything looks good," Doctor Waterston pronounced at Blair's
checkup. "Any concerns, problems?"

Blair shook his head, but Jim spoke up. "We've resumed having sex," he
told the doctor, "but Blair hasn't been able to have an erection or
orgasm."

Waterston nodded. "There was extensive damage in the groin area," he
explained. "But nothing so severe that it should permanently prevent
Blair from having an erection." He turned to his patient. "You just
have to give it more time, be patient. If nothing happens in the next
six to eight weeks, and it's still a concern for you, we can talk
other options. There are several therapies, the most intrusive of
which is an implant. But that can all be discussed at a later date.
Just give it time; don't be in a hurry."

"Thank you, Doctor Waterston," said Blair, slipping off the exam table
and putting his clothes back on. "We'll be fine. Come on, Jim." He
took Jim's arm and steered the sentinel out of the exam room and
through the office to the door. "Now that we know everything is going
to be okay, we have plans to make."

+++++

The following week, Jim contacted Senator Chaplain again and made
arrangements for the two of them to fly to Washington, D.C. They were
to leave on Sunday, and address the House committee on Monday.

"You ready for this?" Jim asked over lunch at the Training Facility.

Blair nodded. "You bet I am. It's about time the people in charge hear
from someone who has had to go through all that crap."

"It won't be easy," Jim cautioned. "In the east, it's still common for
guides to go naked and leashed. Don't be surprised if any of the
congressmen ask you to strip."

"They can ask," Blair said, hardening his eyes, "but I won't do it.
I'm willing to take off my shirt to show them the scars, if it goes
that far, but nothing more. I'm nobody's whore."

"That you most certainly are not," Jim agreed, leaning across the
short distance separating them to plant a kiss on Blair's temple.
"You're my guide and no one else's."

"Have you contacted Simon yet, to let him know?" Blair asked. "We're
going to need Joel to come here and take over again for a few days."

"I don't suppose I could talk you into doing that for me?" Jim looked
sheepish as he made his excuse. "I've really got to get this budget
stuff done before we leave. I'd hate to saddle Joel with the number
crunching."

Blair playfully slapped Jim's arm and gave the sentinel a mock frown.
"You're just afraid of Simon, aren't you? You don't want to ask
another favor so soon."

"Well, he does get cranky," Jim offered in his defense. "Besides, he
likes you."

"Okay, I'll call," said Blair with a chuckle. "But you owe me one."

"Oh, more than one, I'm sure," Jim replied, waggling a brow
suggestively.

After lunch, Blair sat down in his office and picked up the phone.
"Hey, Simon. It's Blair. I've got a favor to ask..."

+++++

"Be sure to pee before we leave, Sandburg!" Jim called as he hauled
their suitcases downstairs and stacked them by the door.

Blair came out of the bathroom, zipping up his jeans. "Already done.
I'm not taking any chances with airport restrooms anymore!" He walked
over to the door and slung his backpack over his shoulder, then
stooped to pick up one of the heavy suitcases.

"I can handle those," said Jim, batting Blair's hand away. "You go on
ahead and hold the elevator for me."

Once the truck was packed, the trip to Cascade's International Airport
was only twenty minutes. They found a spot in the short-term parking
lot and took a shuttle into the main building. They had arrived early,
so despite heavy airport security, they were able to check in and
arrive at their departure gate with plenty of time to spare.

"The flight should be about five hours," said Jim, checking his watch.

"Then we'll arrive in D.C. around 7:15 p.m., eastern time," Blair
calculated. "Do you suppose the hotel has room service?"

"David said he'd put us up in a four star hotel, so yeah, probably,"
Jim replied.

"Good, because airplane food sucks, and I'm going to be too tired to
go looking for a restaurant at that time of night. What time will we
have to get up in the morning?"

Jim shrugged. "Probably about six. David said he'd like to take us out
to breakfast before the hearing."

"Then I'm going to want to get to bed early," said Blair. "You know
I'm not a morning person."

"Not without a pot of coffee in you, at least," Jim chuckled.

The loudspeakers squawked, announcing the boarding of their flight.
With a great amount of anticipation colored by a touch of trepidation,
they boarded the plane and took their seats.

Five hours and fifteen minutes later, they touched down at their
destination. Grabbing a cab, they proceeded to the hotel to check in.

"This is nice," said Blair, looking around. "I've got to hand it to
the Senator. He knows how to treat his guests."

"I found the room service menu," Jim announced, bringing it over to
the bed where Blair had perched himself. "Anything look good?"

"How about a chicken Caesar salad with a side of garlic bread?" Blair
suggested.

Jim looked up from studying the menu. "I was leaning more toward the
prime rib dinner," he said, grinning. "Perhaps with a bottle of wine
on the side."

"Trying to get me drunk the day before our big presentation?" Blair
asked, returning the smile. "All right, I'll share the wine, but I
think I'm sticking with the salad. I'm not as hungry as I thought I'd
be."

"Getting a little nervous?" Jim teased.

"Aren't you?" countered Blair. "We're going before a Congressional
committee to speak. And heck, here on the east coast, I have to carry
papers in order to legally wear clothes and walk unleashed. How's that
for irony?"

"I'm trying not to think about it too much," Jim admitted. "Let's
enjoy ourselves tonight and worry about the rest tomorrow. We know
what we need to say, what we need to show them. We do our best and
then don't worry about it."

Blair sighed. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Jim picked up the phone and called room service, ordering their
evening meal. After he hung up, he picked up the remote and turned on
the TV. "Let's see if we get free HBO here," he suggested.

Blair came to snuggle against Jim on the bed and they channel surfed
until the food arrived. After their meal, they sat sipping at the
remains of the wine until Blair fell asleep, straddled across Jim's
lap and resting against his chest. Wrapping his arms around the warm
bundle, Jim closed his eyes. It was after midnight before the two
roused enough to get undressed and crawl properly into bed.

The next morning, Jim awoke early and spent a few minutes just
watching Blair sleep. Finally, he leaned over and licked the delicate
shell of an ear, blowing on it softly until Blair reached up to bat
him away.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Jim greeted his mate. Blair just glowered at
him and pulled the covers back up over his head. Jim peeled the covers
back with a chuckle. "Time to think about getting up," he said.

"You owe me one," Blair grumbled. "Can't I sleep another half hour?"

Jim let his hand slide down the sleek contour of Blair's side to come
to rest on his hip. "I can think of better things to do with that half
hour," he suggested, leaning in to capture the full, warm lips.

Blair warmed to the attention, rolling onto his side and wrapping his
arms around Jim as they deepened the kiss. Their groins came together
and Blair could feel the hardness of Jim's morning erection pressing
into him. With a sigh of pleasure, he reached between their bodies and
began to massage the hot shaft, eliciting a groan from Jim.

"You packed the lube, right?" Blair asked, tugging on the shaft as he
stroked firmly.

Jim's eyes rolled back in his head and he flopped onto his back,
flinging out an arm to rummage blindly in the unfamiliar nightstand as
Blair straddled him, leaning over to rain kisses on Jim's face and
neck. As Jim produced the lube, Blair moved down to suckle a nipple,
teasing the erect tit with his teeth. Jim moaned, his cock already
full and throbbing for release. He rolled onto his side, dislodging
his persistent lover and began the process of stretching and preparing
Blair for their lovemaking.

Inarticulate, strangled cries of pleasure escaped Blair's lips as he
melted into Jim's hand, burying the invading fingers deeper into his
body. He rolled, presenting his ass to his lover and whimpered. "Get
on with it, Jim... pleeeease..." Arousal swept through him, carrying
him away on waves of sensation as Jim slowly entered him and began a
rhythmic thrusting. "Ohhhh... Godddd..." he moaned, humping back
against the cock impaling him. His breathing became heavy and he broke
out in a sweat. His groin ached, needing release. He reached down to
grab his throbbing cock and felt... hardness. "Oh, God! Jim!"

Startled, Jim stopped, still buried deep inside his lover. "What is
it? Blair, are you all right?"

"I-I... Oh, Goddd!" At a loss for words, he grabbed Jim's hand and
pulled it across his body, placing it on the erect, hard shaft of his
penis.

"Oh, God!" Jim replied, equally surprised. "Blair! When? How?"

"I-I don't know, man, but --" He was cut short as Jim began stroking
the rigid organ, coaxing Blair toward climax. As the internal massage
resumed, Blair was overcome with sensations, the like of which he
hadn't experienced in a very long time.

/ my sentinel! / come with me, my guide; come with me / I am; I'm
coming my soul, I'm coming! /

Jim felt the cock in his hand pulse, and a warm stream of semen coated
his hand and Blair's belly. The muscles in Blair's ass contracted
rhythmically, bringing Jim along with him only moments later.

Sated, the two men lay entwined on the bed, ready to doze off again in
the warmth of the afterglow of their union.

The jangle of the telephone broke the languor of the moment. Jim
reached toward the nightstand, snagging the offending noisemaker.
"Hello?"

//"This is the front desk. This is your morning courtesy wake-up
call."//

"Yeah, thanks. Good-bye." Jim hung up and turned to his guide. "Time
to get up and at 'em, Sunshine."

"I wish you'd stop calling me that," Blair protested, pulling the
sheet up over his cooling body.

"Now, now... Senator Chaplain will be expecting us down in the lobby
in about an hour to go to breakfast," Jim said, coaxing his guide out
from under the covers. "We need to get a shower, shaved, and dressed."

"Yeah, I suppose," Blair reluctantly agreed. "Jim...?" He turned to
his partner, his hand mopping through the mess on his belly. "I didn't
imagine it, did I?"

"No, Chief, you sure didn't," said Jim, smiling broadly. "Welcome
back!"

"Oh, yeah..." Blair purred, swinging his legs out of bed and standing.
"Want to share a shower? Conserve water?"

"Only if you promise to wash," Jim complained playfully. "We don't
have time for any more of your shenanigans."

"There'll be plenty of time for that later," Blair agreed. "Come on,
let's get cleaned up."

+++++

Senator Chaplain met the sentinel and guide in the lobby of the hotel
at seven o'clock. "Ready to go out and eat? We've got a big day ahead
of us."

"Just what all is involved in this, anyway?" Jim asked as they made
their way to the waiting town car. "Blair won't be expected to strip
down, will he? Because we're not doing that again, not for anybody."

"No, no... Nothing like that," the Senator assured them, following the
pair into the back seat and directing the chauffeur to the restaurant.
"You'll take your turn speaking before the committee. All you need to
do is state your case as convincingly as possible."

"Oh, that shouldn't be a problem," said Blair, pressing his lips
together. "I've got plenty to say on the subject."

"Is there a time limit?" Jim asked.

Chaplain shook his head. "Most presentations don't last more than ten
or fifteen minutes, but there's no set limit. The committee may have
questions for you afterward, however."

"We've got all the answers," Blair replied with conviction. "We've
lived them."

"That you have," said the Senator. "And that's the very reason I
requested you two to speak in favor of my bill."

+++++

Breakfast sat a bit uneasily in the pit of Blair's stomach. He
straightened his tie and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I hate
wearing suits," he whispered in an aside to Jim.

With a smile, the sentinel replied, "You're the one who insisted on
wearing clothes, Hotshot. Live with it." He paused a beat and then
turned serious. "Are you nervous?"

"Are you kidding?" Blair snapped back. "I'm a little out of my element
here. I'm an empath, a guide, in a country where that means no status
and no rights... and I'm speaking before some of the most powerful
people in the nation."

"You don't have anything to worry about, Chief," said Jim, patting his
guide's shoulders. "Speaking out in favor of the reform is something
you've had a lot of practice doing. Just square your shoulders and
speak to those men and women like they're your equals -- because
you're certainly *theirs*."

"Thanks, Jim, I needed that." Blair straightened and pushed his
shoulders back. With a brief glance to his right at Jim, he walked
through the doors into the chamber where they were to speak.
Approaching the bank of microphones, he cleared his throat.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the House, thank you for allowing us to be
here. My name is Blair Sandburg, and I'm an empath -- a guide to
Sentinel James Ellison." Jim nodded at the introduction and turned to
give Blair a brief grin. "We are here to ask you to strongly consider
passage of the Guide Reform Bill.

"Every month in this country, seven hundred fifty to one thousand new
empaths come into their Talent. Over three quarters of these new
empaths are pre-teens, just coming into puberty. The rest are young
adults in their twenties. These boys and girls, men and women, are
taken from their mothers and fathers, from their girlfriends and
boyfriends, from their schools or their jobs and stripped of their
rights. They are tormented and raped in the guise of 'training', and
*sold* in market places like cattle.

"Most of these new guides don't live more than one to two years after
their training. Sentinels keep them naked in all kinds of weather,
feed them scraps, and make them sleep in cages. Guides get little or
no medical care, as it's less expensive for the sentinel to replace a
guide than to care for one.

"Is this how we, as a country, want to treat fully a tenth of our
population? Is this any way to treat children? We have other laws
protecting our young from sexual predators, but sentinels are able to
take a thirteen-year-old and rape them for the sake of the 'bond' with
impunity. This has got to end.

"Just recently, as Sentinel Ellison and I were on our way here to
speak before the Senate Committee, I was kidnapped by a gang of rogue
sentinels and tortured so that Jim would come and speak against this
bill." Blair began to loosen his tie and pull it free. He slipped out
of his suit coat and began to pull his shirttails out of his slacks.

"Blair, what are you doing?" Jim whispered desperately to his guide.

"Proving my point," Blair replied, unbuttoning and shedding his shirt,
revealing the ugly scars on his arms and chest left by the cuttings.

"I was stripped and bound, then cut until I bled out. I was raped
numerous times during this ordeal, and all because I was nothing but a
guide. Jim was able to find me in time --"

"Just *barely* in time," Jim growled.

"And got me the medical help that I needed," Blair concluded. "He did
that because he has compassion, as I hope that you do. He did it
because he knows that working with a responsive guide, one who *wants*
to be at his sentinel's side is far more efficient than dragging a
weak, reluctant empath around by a leash. He's found the bond more
satisfying with a willing sexual partner than with a frightened,
cowering guide.

"The bill before you now will do for the country what we have
accomplished for the west coast -- it will eliminate legalized slavery
and make for stronger sentinel and guide pairs. It will require those
applying for guide status to be at least twenty-one years old, and
will allow for younger empaths to get the medication they need to
control their Talent until such time as they become guides and
consummate a bond with the sentinel of their choice.

"What is before you now is no different than the freeing of the slaves
a hundred and fifty years ago. Martin Luther King, Jr., said it best:
'I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the
true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident,
that all men are created equal."' And now that duty falls to you. I
ask you, please, to realize that dream for all men and women in this
country, no matter their race, creed, or Talent. Thank you."

Amid a flurry of applause and the snapping of cameras, Blair gathered
his things and turned to leave, followed by his sentinel.

Once they were back out into the hall, Jim gathered Blair into his
arms. "I've never been more proud of you."

Suddenly unsure of himself, Blair asked shyly, "Do you think I
convinced them?"

"You blew them away, Sweetheart," Jim assured him. Then, not caring
who saw, he leaned down to give his guide a passionate kiss.

+++++

His authority as a sentinel and Warden of the Training Facility was
enough to get Jim Ellison easy access to the prison block that held
the four men responsible for his guide's torture. Walking silently
down the long hall, he made his way to Isolation Cell 117, the
temporary home of Chet Quigley, leader of the rogue sentinels.

Quigley was asleep, but startled awake at the soft //snick// of the
lock.

Ellison slowly slid the door open and entered the cell, towering over
the man lying on the cot. Quigley's face screwed up in a rictus of
fear and he opened his mouth to cry out, but was quickly silenced. The
Army Special Forces and Covert Ops had taught Ellison numerous ways to
dispatch an enemy without leaving visible evidence. As the limp body
slipped from his hands, Jim turned to leave. One down, three more to
go....

+O+O+O+O+

*Postscript:*

In April, 2005, the Senate approved Bill S2573, also known as the
"Guide Reform Bill." Six weeks later, the bill passed the House with
an overwhelming majority, thanks to the testimony from Guide Blair
Sandburg and Sentinel James Ellison. The President signed the bill
into law, finally repealing the last legalized slavery in the United
States. Guide Sandburg and Sentinel Ellison returned to Cascade,
Washington, where they continue to run the Guide Training Facility and
assist the Cascade Police Department's Major Crime Unit in
apprehending the city's most dangerous criminals. Chet Quigley, Al
Pedersen, Dennis Mayhill, and Ted Sykes all died under mysterious
circumstances while in prison awaiting trial. The deaths were ruled
'accidental'.

~finis~