Author: Rentgirl 2

Title: Captive

Fandom: The Sentinel.

Pairing: Jim/Blair

Summary: A dark AU, A modern civil war brings a prisoner to Captain James Ellison

Rating: NC-17

Status: Captive is a complete story.

by Rentgirl 2

Prologue

The war began, as some do, with a single act. Terrorism hit the East Coast in the form of a hand held missile launcher aimed at the White House. The President was killed. The Vice President expired from heart failure within twenty-four hours of the attack.

Suddenly, a country that had been at peace for a generation was torn apart from within.

The terrorists were Americans.

The military stepped up and martial law was declared. The original terrorist, a group called the Sunrise Patriots, were caught, executed and forgotten. The military, however, refused to relinquish power. The enemy became the wealthy, members of the old political system, academia, and anyone else who dared to challenge the new regime.

On the Eastern Seaboard most of the major cities and highways lay in ruins. The Midwest, desperate to avoid becoming rubble, greeted the military with open arms. It still remained the army's stronghold.

The West, scantly populated in most areas, fell easily. There were still pockets of resisters in the isolated sections of the mountains but slowly, using satellite imaging and Special Forces troops, they were being eradicated.

The Pacific Coast remained to be conquered.

The large cities, LA, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, were already under military control. The farmlands, the ports, and the water supplies had been seized first. It wasn't difficult to obtain surrender from a city that was imploding due to hunger and thirst.

What remained was the capture of rebels and resisters. The country was, by far and large, physically broken. All the military had left to do was subdue its spirit.

Captive

Blair Sandburg didn't know the human body could hurt in so many places and in so many ways. The sharp white agony, the dull red throbbing, the yellow spots of intermittent suffering. He laid perfectly still having learned over the last two days that if they thought he had regained consciousness, the beatings would start again.

The Lord is my light and my salvation

Of whom shall I be afraid?

He almost laughed out loud before he remembered to stay still. Funny, he hadn't studied the Torah in twelve years and still the psalms came back to him.

He took short, shallow breaths out of deference to what he was sure were cracked ribs.

My God, my God, why have you

Abandoned me?

Yeah, that was much more appropriate.

When the army overran Rainier University, it was nothing more than empty buildings. Students had left a year ago. The faculty, himself included, fled into a sort of underground resistance a month ago. Everyone knew what happened to the members of academia. The few that were deemed useful to the new regime were taken prisoner, the rest executed.

He wasn't sure why he hadn't been gunned down immediately. Everyone else in the cabin had been. Instead, they'd tied his hands and marched him for a half day down the side of the mountain, put him in the trunk of car and driven him here to this military post. He hadn't been fed or questioned since his capture, just beaten periodically.

Could they know his name? Connected him, somehow, to his mother? He'd been proud of Naomi's contributions to the resistance but he hadn't heard from her in over two years. Being ratted out as her son would only get his ass deeper into trouble. If that were possible.

He was freezing. Washington state in winter was never warm but in this unheated building, huddled on the floor in ripped clothing, laying in a puddle of blood and other bodily fluids he didn't care to identify, he was cold into his bones.

His head was clear for the first time since the soldiers burst into the cabin. Someone must have betrayed them. The cabin had been well hidden, built into the side of the mountain. It should have been able to deflect satellite detection. Too late to worry about that now. Everyone was dead. Everyone except him.

How could that be true? How could they all be dead?

Everything he knew was gone. Naomi had sent him to Rainier when he was sixteen. Intellectually, he'd been ready. Emotionally, an immature kid raised in a nomadic single parent household, he'd had a hard time detaching from his mother. The university, with its diverse faculty and student population became his extended family. He'd been happy there.

Then the civil war started.

In the beginning, no one believed it would last long. There had been talk that the East Coast had been pretty much decimated but most dismissed it as rumors. There were limited TV images sent to the rest of the country and travel was restricted but it seemed logical at the time since domestic terrorism was a real risk. Most citizens were grateful to the military for keeping order.

Blair's throat and tongue were swollen from lack of water. He tried to open his eyes but they were glued shut with some dried secretion. Probably blood.

His left shoulder was burning with pain. Dislocated? He knew, along with fractured ribs, the first and second fingers of his right hand were broken. God, he might never play the guitar again. His suppressed hysterical laughter started a coughing jag. Fuck. The guards would know he was awake.

He needn't have worried. The pain in his ribs caused him to pass out again.

"Captain Ellison?" The sergeant knocked on the commanding officer's door.

"Come in, Sergeant Rafe." He looked up from the report he'd been reading.

"You asked to see me, sir?"

"Yes, sit down."

A flicker of apprehension teased the sergeant's stomach. His new commander, James Ellison, was a highly decorated soldier with a reputation for ruthless efficiency. He and his squads had sought out and destroyed more rebel nests in the Rockies then the rest of the teams put together. Most of Ellison's missions had been accomplished without the aid of satellite imaging.

Men who had served under him in the wilderness claimed he had supernatural powers. That at times he could smell the rebels out, see their camps from amazing distances.

Looking at his captain, Rafe could almost believe it. Ellison was big, good looking, muscular, with piercing blue eyes.

"You had orders to execute everyone in the rebel camp and yet, you chose to disobey that order and take a prisoner."

"Yes, sir."

"Before I have you court marshaled, would you like to tell me why?"

"Well, sir, we had to maintain radio silence."

"And?"

"And, well, you weren't in camp until this morning anyway, sir."

"I'm well aware of my own location, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir. The thing is, I thought you might want this one as a prisoner, sir."

"You thought that, did you?"

The sergeant cleared his throat. "Our informant told us his name is Blair Sandburg."

Ellison's immediate alertness reminded Rafe of a great cat coming awake.

"Sandburg, you said?"

"Yes, sir."

"Any relation to Naomi Sandburg?"

"Her son."

"A child?"

"No, sir. He's twenty-six."

"Sandburg," he smirked. "No doubt a scatter brained traitor like his mother."

"He's nothing like her, sir." Rafe said quickly.

Ellison lifted a brow. "Really?" He sounded amused. "What's he like, Sergeant?"

"Smart. Our source says he was a doctoral candidate."

"His field?"

"Anthropology."

"Useless to us."

"Yes, sir, I knew the anthropology was but I thought the family connection would interest you."

"I understand, Rafe. Has he been questioned yet?"

"No, sir. I thought you'd want to do that."

"Take me to him."

"Yes, sir."

"And Sergeant?"

"Sir?"

"Good work."

Sandburg was balled up, face down, in the middle of the cell. "Open the door," Ellison said to Rafe, "then leave. Take the guard with you."

"Yes, sir."

The cell was cold and filled with the scent of copper bright blood and sweaty terror. Good. Sandburg had plenty to be terrified about.

"Sandburg," Ellison said.

No reply. Jim placed his booted foot on Sandburg's left shoulder and pushed to roll him over. The prisoner came to long enough to shriek in pain then pass out again.

From the awkward angle of the arm, Ellison knew the shoulder was dislocated.

He wasn't very big, Jim decided. Maybe 5'7 or so. His hair was long, curly and caked in blood and dirt. His eyes were blackened and swollen shut. From the prisoner's olive complexion and dark hair those eyes were probably brown. His full lips were split in a couple of places and cracked from dehydration. It looked like two fingers on the right hand were broken. They would have to be set if the hand was going to be functional.

Unless he wasn't who they thought he was. There was no sense in wasting medical supplies on a dead man.

Ellison crouched down, careful to keep his pants out of the half-frozen fluid on the floor, and studied the prisoner's face. No structural damaged. For some odd reason that pleased the captain. Still, it was hard to make out what the kid really looked like under the bruising and swelling.

"Blair?" he said in a clear, unthreatening voice.

"Hmmm?" came the reply.

"Blair, is that you?"

"Yeah, 'ssme."

So, Naomi's boy was here and alive. Both mother and son would wish Blair had been killed in the cabin before Ellison was done with him. Jim would make sure of it.

He called in the guard. "Have the prisoner taken to the infirmary. I want him cleaned up and treated. Tell them they can give him IV fluids but nothing by mouth. I want his eyes covered at all times. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"I want him transferred to my quarters when medical releases him."

"Yes, sir."

"And Private? No more rough stuff for now. I think we might have a valuable captive here."

Blair wasn't sure how long he'd been here. Days? Weeks?

His ribs had only been bruised, not broken, a calm, feminine voice informed him. No, he wasn't blind, his eyes were bandaged to prevent any further damage. His fingers were healing nicely. His shoulder was fine. When he'd struggled to remove the Heparin lock in his arm, the voice told him had right lower lobe pneumonia so he needed the IV fluids and antibiotics. No, he couldn't eat or drink yet but the IV was enough. The voice, soft and clear, reassured him frequently.

He was clean, close to pain free and hungry as hell. He spent most of his time in a kind of limbo. In the perpetual darkness he lived in, sleep and wake bled into each other. He dreamt horrifying dreams of his colleagues' bodies grotesquely jerking and falling as they were ripped apart by machine gun fire. Why hadn't he died with them?

"Blair?" the voice said. Oh, yeah, they knew exactly who he was. "Blair, I'm going to get you ready. You're being moved today."

"To where?" he asked.

"I couldn't tell you even if I knew." Small, competent hands helped him bathe, wash his hair and slip into a light robe. A toothbrush was pressed into his hand. "Brush, Blair, but remember, don't swallow the rinse water."

"I'm really thirsty."

"I'm sure you are," the voice was sympathetic. "But nothing by mouth. Not yet."

"Why?" Blair said. "Is there something else wrong with me?"

"I, uh, am just following orders, okay? Now brush."

When they finished, he eased back, exhausted, onto cool sheets and fell asleep.

The raid Ellison had been on for the last three weeks had been a colossal waste of time. The soldiers had found a few scraggly old men holed up near a dam. Survivalists, they hadn't even known the government had been over thrown.

Their necks had given a satisfying pop as he'd broken them, though.

It was his last raid. The team serving under him was well trained now. He could settle into the Cascade post and send out his teams without him on the field supervising.

He'd been anxious to return. Sandburg should be healed enough for the games to begin. Jim had never forgiven or forgotten that whore Naomi Sandburg was responsible for his brother Steven's defection to the rebel forces.

His quarters had been modified according to his specifications. The windows were darkened so that no one could see in or out. The walls had been sound proofed. There were keyed locks on the drawers, cabinets, doors and windows. A metal cage stood in the living room. It was five by six but only two feet tall. Two large metal hooks had been mounted in the ceiling of the living room and spaced two feet apart. An identical set was in the ceiling of the bedroom. Just in case.

Ellison wasn't really sure what Sandburg looked like but he'd had more than one dream in the last three weeks about him. The smell of his blood and fear, the slur of his voice, the curve of his throat had inspired erotic fantasies. Today, he'd see if reality held a candle to fantasy.

In the bedroom closet was a large sea chest that Ellison had filled with his personal toys. He'd dabbled in this sort of thing before but never on this scale and never with the child of his enemy.

His cock stiffened in his black uniform slacks.

He placed a call to the infirmary and asked to speak to Sandburg's nurse. She came to the phone immediately and began to report on the prisoner's condition.

"The ribs are almost healed," she said. "His fingers will have to remain splinted for two more weeks. The pneumonia is clearing up well but he'll need to continue on oral antibiotics for another week. He's lost a lot of weight he didn't have to spare in the first place." Her disapproval was evident in her tone. "Per your order, he hasn't been given anything by mouth in three weeks."

"Good."

"Captain Ellison, with all due respect, sir, depriving a prisoner of food and keeping him blindfolded seems, well, extreme."

"Does it? That's your expert opinion on how to deal with prisoners?"

"I, uh, am only speaking medically, sir."

"I understand that, Lt. Connor, but I can't afford to have such a narrow scope. I'm responsible for the safety and welfare of the entire post and ultimately, of all the citizens of Cascade."

"I'm sorry, sir. I spoke out of turn."

Jim almost laughed out loud. From self-righteous to cowed in less than sixty seconds. "I can empathize with your compassion for your patient, Connor. That's part of what makes you a good nurse but we're not talking about any patient here. We're talking about a traitor and an enemy of the state."

"You're right, sir, and I apologize."

"No harm done, Connor. Have Sandburg and any supplies I'll need for his care brought to my quarters in an hour."

"Yes, sir."

That gave him an hour. The anticipation tingled from the pit of his gut to the base of his cock.

The soft voice woke him. "Blair? It's time to go."

He swung his feet to the floor and stood. "I don't know how much help I'll be. I'm kind of lightheaded."

"Don't worry. Here," she guided him with her hands, "sit down. You'll be going by wheelchair." She tucked blankets around him. "You won't be outside for long but I don't want you to get cold."

"Thanks, but I'm pretty sure that's the least of my problems."

She silently agreed. She had served in the army for nine years. The last five had been since the fall of the old government. Too many things had happened in those years that struck her as wrong. This was one of them. Connor tried to remind herself that a good soldier followed orders but it didn't take away from the dread she felt for Blair.

"Ready, Blair?"

"How can I be when I don't even know where you're taking me?" He bent his head. "I'm sorry. I know you're doing what you think you have to. I want to thank you for taking care of me. I appreciate it."

Connor only wished she could continue to protect and care for this man.

Ellison's quarters were set off from the main road, a small house with some privacy.

As she pushed the wheelchair up the sidewalk in Ellison's yard, she recalled some of the talk she'd heard about Captain Ellison. Bright, ambitious, single-minded. A sadistic killer.

She knocked at the door. Ellison opened it immediately, barring her entrance with his big body.

She held out a plastic bag. "Here are the medical supplies he needs, sir. Did you want me to stop by to check the splints and give him his medications?"

"Not necessary. I was a medic in the old regime."

"Ah. Well, if you do need anything..." She was reluctant to leave this pale, fragile boy with Ellison.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he dismissed her.

"Yes, sir." When she turned away, he grasped the handles of the wheelchair and rolled it into the house. He closed and locked the door behind him.

"Don't say a word, Sandburg. From here on out, you'll do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you, how I tell you. Nod if you understand."

Blair nodded. He couldn't have spoken if he tried. Fear had glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He wondered if his friends, rotting on the mountainside, weren't better off than him.

Ellison took a moment to marvel over his good fortune. The boy was beautiful. Rafe had done well. Even if the boy hadn't been Naomi's son, he was quite a prize. Or he would be when Jim was finished with him.

"Are you thirsty?"

Blair nodded.

"You are only to eat or drink when I permit it and only from my hand. Do you understand?" Blair nodded. Ellison said, "Open your mouth." Blair parted his lips eagerly, expecting a straw. "Wider." Blair obeyed. A blunt, wet finger entered his mouth. Startled, he pulled his head back.

"Don't ever pull away from me, Sandburg. Ever." Blair felt Ellison grab a fist full of his long hair and hold his head still. God, if he could only see what was happening. "Now, open."

Blair opened his mouth and two moistened fingers pushed in. He was so damn thirsty. To his shame, he suckled the fingers. In silence Ellison repeated the act a dozen times. Blair only obtained a few drops of liquid at a time but even that felt good against his dry mouth and throat.

"Open again and don't suck this time," Ellison said. Blair stayed still as the fingers probed his mouth, running over the sharp ridge of his teeth, stroking the delicate lining of his cheeks, and rubbing the firm gums. Finally, the fingers inched back slowly on his tongue. When Ellison brushed the back of Blair's throat, the younger man choked.

"Mmmmm. We'll work on that gag reflex, Sandburg. You can't take nearly enough length."

Oh, God, let this be another nightmare. Blair willed himself to wake up. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure Ellison could hear it. He was so fucking afraid.

"Are you frightened, Sandburg? You should be, you know. Your whore of a mother stole my brother from me. But I have you now, don't I? Get out of the wheelchair."

Blair stood, dizzy and disoriented. Ellison's hands slipped under Sandburg's robe and slid it off him. The air felt cold against his bare skin.

"Connor thought you were too thin." Blair held himself upright as Ellison's hands wandered over his chest and back. "I like the way you look, Blair." One hand cupped his ass, the other his flaccid penis. "I like it very much. In fact, I like it so much that whenever I'm here, I want you to keep it on display for me. Do you understand?"

When he did not immediately nod, Jim tightened his grip on Blair's genitalia. Blair drew in a sharp breath. "Don't make me ask you a question twice. Do you understand?"

Blair gave a quick nod and Ellison released him. "Good, you're a fast learner. They told me you were a smart boy, Sandburg. Are you a smart boy?"

Blair nodded.

"You just might be. Kneel down." Blair attempted to but his blindness and dizziness threw him off balance. He fell to the floor.

"Get up on your knees now, Sandburg." Blair struggled for a moment then got to his knees. "Good boy. Stay right here."

Blair swayed slightly as he waited. He wanted to cry, wanted to scream but he knew it would only bring more wrath down from his captor.

"This is to be worn at all times," Ellison said. "It's to remind you that you're no better than an animal." Blair felt some kind of collar being fastened around his neck. "You were born to wear a collar, Sandburg. I can see that in you. So, you need an owner, a master if you will. That's me, Chief. You belong to me." Ellison ran his finger under the collar, checking its fit before he clicked the lock on it. "From here on out, you have no identity except as my possession. You're here to serve me, to please me. Do you understand?"

Oh, too fucking well he understood. He would find a way out of this. Even if death was the only option.

Blair nodded. Jim had never been this excited. This beautifully made boy was naked and kneeling before him, collar fastened on his long neck. Jim reached out and stroked the silky curls that fell to Blair's shoulders. He wanted to fuck him right here and now. He was sorely tempted but that wasn't part of the plan. To truly defeat this man, he would have to be made to crawl to Jim. For the humiliation to be final, his will must be gone. He must be taught to crave that which he should hate--Jim.

The leather collar was new. There were matching wrist and ankle cuffs in the sea chest but that was for another day. He untaped the gauze that held the patches in place on Sandburg's eyes.

"I'm taking the covering off your eyes. Don't move and don't open your eyes until I tell you to." When the gauze was off, Ellison dipped the corner of it in some saline that Connor had sent. He wiped Blair's closed eyes. "Okay, open them."

Blair had long, almost feminine lashes that slowly fluttered open. Ellison knew it would be several minutes before Sandburg's eyes adjusted to the light.

Blue not brown. Wide, incredibly bright blue eyes. Those eyes transformed Sandburg from beautiful to exquisite and slightly altered Jim's plan. Breaking him wouldn't be enough. He wanted Sandburg's total devotion. And he'd get it. One trick at a time.

Those eyes burned with defiance. Time to crush that spark of rebellion.

"You're thinking you're going to escape me, aren't you, Chief?" Ellison walked around Sandburg, admiring the straight line of his back, the firm swell of his buttocks. "Aren't you?"

Blair gave a nod.

Ellison laughed. "Good. I like honesty. You're thinking you could probably provoke me into killing you if you have to. That's your ace in the hole. You've decided that when there is no hope left, no chance of freedom, you'll use death as your final escape plan."

Blair nodded.

"You're right, of course. It wouldn't take much to provoke me. I'll be the first to admit strangling you while I'm buried deep inside you would be immensely satisfying. But then, I'd be out a toy. A rather lovely toy at that.

"So, you know what I did to protect you from dying too soon, Sandburg? I had my men do a little checking on you while I was gone. It seems you have a very close relationship with a Joel Taggart and his family. Mr. Taggart has a clean record and no history of trouble with the new regime but I suppose if we dug deep enough we could find something on him. Or his wife. Or their two boys. What do you think, Chief? Do you think we might find something? I mean, after all, they have a long standing friendship with a university faculty member. And it turns out that man they let into their home is the son of none other than Naomi Sandburg. I'm almost certain we could find evidence of them being traitors."

Ellison smiled. He could see the devastation on Blair's face. Jesus, this was almost too easy.

"Do we understand each other, Chief?"

Blair nodded.

"Good. Don't worry about anyone coming to your rescue either, Blair. I'm not only in total control of you but I'm in charge of the whole Washington area. I'm James Ellison. Have you heard of me?"

Oh yeah, Blair had heard of him. This man was a murdering bastard. Since the fall of the government, people like Ellison had been given free reign to establish order and ferret out rebels. Joel, Michelle and the boys meant nothing to Ellison. Human life meant nothing to Ellison. He'd kill them without a second thought.

Blair couldn't let anything happen to them. They'd been too good to Blair for him to repay them with suffering or even death.

He made up his mind. He'd play whatever sick games Ellison wanted him to. It was only his body and his pride at stake, after all. Ellison would never be able to touch who Blair really was. He'd keep his true self, his soul, hidden and locked away from Ellison.

At least for as long as he was able.

"Let's get you something to eat while I explain the house rules to you, Chief." Jim clicked a short chain to the collar and tried to tug Blair to his feet. Blair stumbled and Jim pulled harder. "Get up, Sandburg." When Blair continued to struggle, Jim grabbed the collar with both hands and jerked the younger man upright.

"Rule number one. It doesn't matter how you feel or what you want, whatever I say, you do and you do immediately." He shook Blair hard by the collar. "You do whatever it takes to obey me. Understand?"

Blair frantically nodded, terrified that Ellison would lose control and kill him. What would happen to the Taggarts then? Blair knew Jim would carry out his threat to hurt them.

"Okay." Jim led Blair by the leash to the kitchen. In the corner was a small table with one chair. "Your place is at my feet. Sit by my chair." Blair sank down on the cold linoleum.

"It has been a long time since you've eaten so I think we should start slow. Don't you?"

Blair was ravenous. He wished he could refuse to eat out of principle but that would be foolish. He needed to eat, he needed to protect the Taggarts and he needed to convince Ellison that he would cooperate. He would figure a way out of this. For now, he had to bide his time.

Ellison took a plate out of the refrigerator and put it in the microwave. Blair salivated as the smell of warming chicken and potatoes filled the kitchen. Jim took the plate out of the microwave and put it on the table. He grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator then pointedly ignored Blair while he ate and drank in silence in front of his captive.

When Ellison had eaten everything on the plate, he put it in the sink.

"Normally, cooking and cleaning will be your duty, but since you're just out of the hospital, I had the mess send me something." Blair's stomach growled loudly. "Are you ready to eat now?"

Blair nodded his head, trying not to appear eager. Jim went back into the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of unflavored yogurt and a bottle of water. He sat down in the kitchen chair. He opened the yogurt and dipped in two fingers and bought them to Blair's lips. "Open."

Blair carefully closed his mouth around Ellison's yogurt coated fingers. God, so delicious. Cool and creamy, it reminded him of unsalted sour cream. And underneath it, he tasted Ellison, the slightly acidic tang of human flesh. Blair knew it should disgust him but, by the end of the carton of yogurt, he realized he found the flavor vaguely desirable.

"You've got to take your antibiotic now, Chief," Ellison said. Blair watched as the older man took out a large capsule from a vial. "It's only Zythromax. Of course, you'd take it no matter what it was if I told you to, wouldn't you, Sandburg?"

Blair nodded.

"Of course you would." Ellison unscrewed the top of the water bottle. "Open and tilt your head up." Ellison filled his own mouth with water then leaned over Blair and let the fluid trickle from his lips into Blair's mouth. He did it several more times until Blair was able to drink from Jim's mouth easily.

Jim placed the capsule at the back of Blair's tongue and again let Blair drink from his mouth.

"See? Not so hard." He tugged on the leather collar so Blair's head was on his lap. He massaged the smaller man's scalp as he spoke. "The most important rule to remember is, that for you, my word is law. Your entire reason for living is to please me. Should you cease to please me, you will cease to live. As will the Taggarts. An intelligent boy like you understands that, right?"

Blair attempted to nod but Ellison's fingers were too deeply imbedded in his thick hair.

"I know you understand, Chief. Just listen for now. Your every activity is under my control. When you eat, when you drink, when you sleep, when you talk." The casual, conversational tone of Ellison's voice chilled Blair. This man was a total sociopath. "Even when you take a piss. Everything about you is mine."

Jim used his hands in Blair's hair to turn his head so there was eye contact. "Ah, you're thinking again, aren't you? You've decided that your thoughts are your own. Well, Chief, maybe for now they are, but I've got time."

He bent down and pressed his mouth against Blair's closed lips. His hands still in the thick curls, Jim pulled Blair up to a kneeling position between his thighs.

"Open," he hissed.

Blair separated his lips a few millimeters. Jim yanked Blair's hair. "I said open."

The full pink lips formed an O and Jim plunged his tongue in. Blair stayed still, letting his captor explore him. For a moment, Blair thought he might gag. The image of him kneeling naked in front of a fully clothed Ellison, allowing this monster free access to his mouth was sickening. Terrifying. Exciting.

Blair touched the tip of his tongue to Jim's.

Ellison pushed deeper into the kiss, as though Blair's shy response inflamed him.

Blair felt a flicker of desire. Ellison's big, callused hands against his bare back, aggressive tongue fucking his tender mouth. Blair heard a breathy moan. His? Or Ellison's?

His head was suddenly snapped back, pain spreading across the left side of his face. He would have fallen to the floor but Ellison was holding him tight by the collar.

Ellison had backhanded him. For what? Before he could totally comprehend what had happen, Ellison hit him again. This time Blair tasted blood.

"Every action of yours is mine," Ellison spat. "Didn't I say that?" He hit Blair a third time. "Didn't I?" Blair nodded. "Did I tell you to respond? Did I tell you to kiss me back? Did I?" Blair shook his head. His nose and mouth stung, his eyes burned with unshed tears.

"When I want you to respond, I'll tell you. All I said was 'open.' Do what you're told, Chief." He grabbed the leash and led Sandburg into the living room. He opened the cage door. "Get in."

Blair dropped to all fours and crawled into the metal cage. God, how low was he going to have to go to protect the Taggarts?

Ellison picked up one of the green army blankets Connor had wrapped around Blair from the wheelchair and threw it into the cage with his captive. He watched as Blair blinked at the blanket, uncertain as to what Ellison wanted him to do. Good. Sandburg's confusion helped restore Jim's equilibrium.

"Wrap up in it," Ellison said. "I've got things to check on at the office. No talking. No trying to escape. Don't bother looking for help, Chief. There is no one who will go against me. Get some sleep."

Blair gathered the blanket around himself and laid down in the cage. He closed his eyes.

Ellison locked the cage door, put on his jacket and went outside. He double locked the front door and walked the few blocks to his office.

Sergeant Wells who worked as his assistant rose to greet him but he barely acknowledged her except to say, "No calls. No disturbances. Period."

She must have answered "Yes, sir," they all did, but he ignored her as he closed his office door. He sat at his desk and tried to figure out what had happened between him and Sandburg.

He took a deep breath. He was under control. He always had everything under control. If growing up with William Ellison as a father had taught Jim and Steven anything, it was to keep things under control. No tears, no softness. No mother. No freaks.

He and Steven had clung to each other in that ice palace they'd grown up in. They'd protected one another from their father's abuse, they'd comforted each other, they'd confided in each other. Steven had been more than Jim's brother. He had been his best and only friend.

To escape their father, the Ellison brothers each joined the army when they turned eighteen. He and Steven had been stationed together in Fort Benning, Georgia when the President had been killed.

When martial law was declared, their unit was deployed to the Washington DC/Virginia area. There, Jim Ellison rose rapidly in the ranks. Steven Ellison met Naomi Sandburg. Six months after the civil war erupted, Jim was well on his way to a position of power in the new regime and Steven had runaway to join the rebels.

Naomi Sandburg had somehow dazzled his brother, turning him from a decorated soldier into a deserter.

Jim wondered if the Sandburgs were like the mythical Lorelei, luring men from their duties with beautiful voices and whispered promises only to let them be crushed to death on the rocks.

When he had kissed Blair, when Blair's sweet tongue had hesitantly brushed against his own, Ellison had been thrilled. Tenderness shot through him. A moan had filled the air. His? Or Sandburg's? He wasn't sure.

But he was sure that the feeling, the gentleness that bubbled up from somewhere deep and forgotten inside him when Blair kissed him, was dangerous. Caring only led to hurt. Hadn't he cared about his father? About Steven?

The Sandburgs were a treacherous lot. Naomi destroyed Steven's life with promises of love. He wouldn't let Blair destroy him with promises of hope. Blair would learn his place in Jim's world.

With any luck, Blair would be the bait to draw Naomi and Steven out of hiding. What he'd do with that whoring bitch and his traitorous brother, he wasn't sure. He had time to worry about that later, He would never let Blair go. He knew that.

Starting tonight, Ellison had to make sure that Blair understood his part in all of this.

Blair wasn't some modern equivalent of the Lorelei or the Sirens.

He was the modern counterpart of the Sabine women.

Long after Ellison left, Blair lay awake. He was still weak, recovering not only from the beatings, pneumonia and broken bones but from the trauma of seeing his friends and collogues murdered. The trauma of being stripped, touched, and humiliated by Ellison.

And the trauma, a nasty little voice in his head whispered, of almost liking it.

No, he didn't like it. He hated it. Hated Ellison.

No sunlight came through the blackened windows and there were no visible clocks so he had no way of knowing how much time had passed.

The social scientist in Blair had a complete comprehension of what Ellison was doing to him. Isolate, confuse. The Stockholm Syndrome. The captive becomes totally dependent on the captor for survival, approval, and eventually, becomes enslaved emotionally as well as physically.

Blair knew that. Totally understood on an intellectual level but how, for God's sake, did he stop it from happening?

Already today he'd done things he could never have imagined himself doing. Feeling anxious and afraid was understandable. Feeling submissive and anxious to please that sadistic bastard was another. How long would it be until Ellison had totally twisted his head?

Think of Joel and Michelle and the boys, he reminded himself.

He hoped Naomi wouldn't hear about this. He knew she would come for him then. She'd tried to convince him three years ago to go underground with her. He'd refused. He hadn't wanted to leave Rainier, for one thing. He'd thought she was being an alarmist for another. Who could have believed things would have deteriorated like this?

Well, Naomi had. Now his short sightedness might cost her life. He vaguely recalled meeting her younger lover, Steven, five years ago. Blair hadn't paid much attention at the time. He'd found out as a child that it didn't pay to get attached to Naomi's men. She never kept them around long and Blair was the one who ended up with a broken heart.

Never get attached, Naomi had warned him. Don't love anyone too much. Love gives someone else power over you. He'd heard it a million times from her as they drove away from yet another place that Blair wanted to settle down in. Never love anyone more than they love you.

All big talk from Naomi. He'd believed her at the time. Now, he wondered. Apparently she'd kept Steven Ellison with her longer than any of the others.

Blair tried to bring a mental picture of Steven in focus. Tallish, dark, medium build, somewhere in age between Jim and himself. Steven hadn't looked much like Jim, not nearly as attractive. Fuck, don't think things like that!

Maybe, that nasty little voice warned, just maybe the Sandburgs find the Ellisons irresistible.

He rolled to his side. The cage gave him room to turn and crawl but not enough to sit up. The bars were thin but strong, like a dog cage. When he was eight years old, Naomi's boyfriend was a veterinarian, Joe Morgan.

Some of Blair's happiest memories were from that time. Doctor Joe had let the young boy help out feeding the smaller dogs and cats. Blair had thought he'd found heaven there. That particular version of heaven lasted less than a year. He'd cried for two hundred miles that time.

Blair had never imagined he'd be living in a dog cage. The bars poked into his thin frame, the army blanket not giving much padding. That Ellison had thrown the blanket in the cage at all had surprised Blair. Maybe there was a way to get to this guy, make him see Blair as a human not just a prisoner.

He turned again. This day had been too much. The last year had been too much.

He slept.

The house was dark by the time Ellison finally returned. He had stopped to eat on the way and brought a briefcase of work home with him. He turned on the small lamp by the door to find Blair sleeping quietly in the cage.

The boy was wrapped tight in the blanket, his hair haloed around his head. Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

Ellison sat on the floor next to the cage, watching Blair breathe in the dim light.

Jim knew what the men who served under him said. They whispered rumors about his ability to see in the dark, to hear beyond normal range. What those men didn't know, couldn't understand was that he had no control over his abilities. Sometimes he did see too far, hear too well. Sometimes he didn't. Sometimes the stimuli overwhelmed him, blinding, deafening, frightening him. He wanted control. Part of the reason he chose to limit his time on patrols and raids was he often felt that incredibly overwhelming stimuli spike while out in the wilderness.

He knew his success was, in part, due to his increased senses but it was terrifying to him. It made him a freak, his father had told him.

Hide it, William Ellison had warned him. It separated Jim from everyone else. If anyone found out, they would know Jim was a freak. Did he want that?

At ten years old, no he hadn't. So, he'd suppressed his abilities, hidden them even from himself.

While stationed in Washington DC, he'd been sent with his platoon, on recons in the forests of Virginia. His men, Steven included, had deserted. Jim spent six days alone in the wilderness, avoiding rebel forces. He'd thought he was losing his mind. Since then, his senses had gone in and out. Sometimes normal, sometimes helpful, sometimes too much but never really under his control.

Jim had an odd feeling of peace as he continued to watch Blair sleep. A deep inhalation followed by a soft expulsion of air. The sound, the movement was soothing, hypnotic.

Like ocean lapping against sandy shore. Like wispy pale clouds across a midnight blue sky. Like curtains fluttering in the late afternoon sun. In and out. In and out. In and out.

Blair woke with a start. Jim sat motionless staring at him. Staring, Blair realized, but not seeing.

Was he dead?

No. Blair could see the movement of Jim's chest.

A fit, perhaps? Some kind of seizure activity?

Possible, but not probable.

A trance.

Well, Jim there didn't exactly seem like the meditating type to Blair.

Blair watched in silence. How long would Ellison stay that way? Blair was pretty sure no one would have the nerve to enter the house without Jim's expressed permission so they might sit here a damn long time.

Did Ellison need medical attention? How many days could Jim sit there, maybe alive, maybe dead, before someone discovered Blair? If Ellison died, would Blair be blamed? Who would want to listen to his side of the story, let alone believe him? And what would they do to him? To the Taggarts?

Another half-hour passed. Ellison stared.

Blair had to do something.

"Ellison?" he whispered. He knew the rule about no talking but surely this was special circumstances. "Ellison?" He had to speak louder, had to bring Jim around. "Jim? Can you hear me? Are you okay? Jim, come on, man. Come back to reality if you're still in there."

A voice, musical and masculine, coaxed him back from his hiding place. It was simple to follow that sound, comforting to leave that stillness in his head.

"Jim, come back, man."

So often when he came to from these little head trips, there was searing pain in his body like his nerve endings were burning. This time, the journey back was pleasant. The voice beckoned and he floated toward it, unable to resist.

Lorelei. Siren. Sandburg.

Blair's pretty face, concern etched on it, was pressed at the bars of the cage. Big, blue eyes filled with worry. Perfect mouth moving, saying Jim's name. His hypnotic voice filling Jim's ears.

Ellison wanted to lean forward and put his tongue inside that mouth, to crawl inside Sandburg and wallow in the comfort that he offered.

Lorelei.

"Are you okay, man?"

"Are you talking without permission?" Jim hardened his voice and his heart.

"I'm sorry," Blair said. "I didn't mean to, uh, disobey you but I was worried. You were in a trance or something."

"You were trying to help me, Chief? Why do I find that hard to believe?" He unlocked the cage door. "Get out."

Blair crawled out of the cage, blanket wrapped around him. He crouched at Ellison's feet.

Jim reached down and ruffled Blair's curls. "I think you might be telling the truth. Maybe you were trying to help." He tilted Blair's face up. "You're covering yourself. I told you to show yourself to me."

Blair quickly threw off the blanket.

"Good, Chief. Do you have to take a leak?"

The younger man's face filled with heat as he nodded his head. Ellison smiled.

"Follow me." Blair stood and walked behind Ellison to the small bathroom at the back of the house. Jim waved Blair ahead of him. "Go," he said, indicating the toilet. Jim leaned against the door jam, arms folded across his chest.

Blair lifted the seat and aimed himself at the blue water.

He just couldn't.

Ellison's eyes never left Sandburg. "Go, Blair." Jim waited a moment more. "Are you trying?"

Blair nodded.

"Okay, let me help you." Ellison turned the water in the sink on full force. A few more minutes passed. Blair still couldn't urinate. "You're going to have to learn to do what I tell you, Blair."

Jim slipped his hand over Blair's abdomen and placed gentle pressure over his full bladder. "Relax and let go." He kissed Blair's cheek and continued to massage his abdomen. "Let go, Chief. You belong to me. Nothing about you or what you do is to be hidden from me. Nothing. You understand?"

Blair nodded and began to urinate.

Ellison chuckled softly. Control. Sandburg might think he was a Lorelei, might even be one, but he, Jim Ellison, was the one in control.

After Blair had finished, Jim allowed him to wash his hands and brush his teeth. "Are you hungry?" Blair nodded. "Then go into the kitchen and wait in your place."

When Ellison saw that Blair had settled himself on the floor next to Jim's chair, he smiled. Jim took an apple, a banana and a bottle of water out of the refrigerator.

He cut the fruit into bite sized pieces and sat in the chair. He let Blair nibble the fruit bits from his fingertips.

The fruit gone, Ellison filled his own mouth with water and pushed Blair's head up. The boy drank greedily and with ease from the older man. Ellison put two pills at the back of Blair's tongue and again filled Blair's mouth with water from his own.

Blair swallowed the pills.

Ellison kissed him and Blair allowed it without returning it.

"You're as smart as Rafe thinks you are, Chief. No questions, no response and all in one day. Since you didn't ask, the second capsule was a multivitamin. Connor sent some with your supplies. Let's go into the living room."

Jim sat at one end of the sofa, Blair stood before him, waiting. "Lay down here on your back and put your head on my lap."

Blair stretched out, face up. Ellison ran his fingertips over Blair's face, liking the smooth texture of his forehead and cheekbones, liking the stiff spikes of his dark lashes, liking the butter soft glide of his pink lips.

He let his right hand play with Blair's face and hair while the left carefully, slowly moved down Blair's throat, across his collar bone to his chest, carding the dark chest hair. He could feel the tension under Blair's skin, the struggling to remain still. Jim heard the rising heart rate, smelled the fear and something else coming off the boy's skin. Fear and arousal.

"You can speak now, Chief. I can be fair to you if you obey me without hesitation. You've done well today so I'm going to reward you. You can ask one question."

Ellison could see the intelligence in Blair's blue eyes as he searched for just one question to ask. No doubt he would want to know what Ellison's plans were for him or how long he'd be kept prisoner.

Blair's tongue flicked out to moisten his lips. Jim's cock stirred as he imagined that tongue flicking against him. Soon. Soon but not quite yet.

"Why do you call me Chief?" Blair asked.

He should have known Sandburg would surprise him. That both pleased and disturbed Jim. He'd answer, but he needed to keep Blair off balance when he did. He ran his hand down Blair's hair dusted abdomen to the prominence of his hips. He stroked the skin that covered the bones. Blair shuttered under his hand.

"When Steven and I were boys, I guess I was about ten or so, one of our neighbors got a puppy for Christmas. A cocker spaniel named Chief."

"Oh," Blair said.

"It's the hair, Chief," Ellison said, not unkindly.

Ellison moved his index finger back and forth between Blair's hip bones. He watched as the Blair's cock began to twitch. Ellison knew that Blair was young, that his physical responses to stimuli were quick and often detached from his brain. And, Ellison thought, as Blair's cock swelled to semi erect, this one could be trained.

"Now, I'll get to ask you one question, Chief."

"Okay."

"Why anthropology?" He could tell his question threw Blair. Good, it would be hard to keep this boy off center long enough to get total control.

"I never knew my father. I don't think he knew about me, either. So it was always just the two of us, my mom and me. We moved around a lot. We lived in the States, in Europe and in South America. Sometimes we were in modern cities, a couple of times on communes and sometimes even in primitive villages. After a while it struck me that even as totally diverse and different as these people and places were, there were many things that had common threads, that seemed to define what is human. And still, other factors that appeared to be givens in most cultures, like the taboos on incest and cannibalism, had no meaning or completely different meanings, in other cultures. It was so fascinating to me that I had to study it, try to understand it. So, anthropology."

"Did you find the answers?" Jim's curiosity was piqued, despite himself.

"Nah," Blair said. "All I got were more questions. Still, it was interesting and I loved it."

"A waste of time, then." Jim said.

"I suppose you could look at it that way but for me, it opened my eyes to new possibilities and opportunities, I guess."

"Like what?"

"I spent a lot of time studying the aborigine populations in Peru, Borneo and Chile. It was amazing to live among the native peoples and to share in their day to day struggle for survival. It was so different from our world."

"Is it?" Jim was amused. "How different is it than what you're living now? The day to day struggle for your survival?"

Blair was quiet so Jim continued. "I was told you were working on your doctorate. What was your study on?"

"Well, I guess it was frivolous, even for an anthropologist, but I was studying Sentinels."

"Which is?"

"Have you ever heard of Sir Richard Burton? The explorer, not the actor."

"No."

"Yeah, well, almost no one has but he had a theory that in all primitive cultures there was a Sentinel. This person was chosen for their genetic advantage of better than normal senses."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"They are genetically set up to see, smell, taste, hear and feel with greater ability and sensitivity than the average human. Burton's theory says the tribe's survival depended on the Sentinels. With time spent alone in the wild, these individuals could hone their abilities so they could protect and provide for their people."

"And you think these Sentinels actually exist?"

"Oh, yeah, man. I've got hundreds of documented cases of people with one or two hyperactive senses, like taste or smell. They might work in perfume factories or as coffee or wine tasters. But I've been searching for someone with all five senses activated."

"You think a freak like that is really out there?"

"I believe there are true Sentinels out in the world, yes, but I don't think they're freaks."

Jim shook his head. "If they did exist, how could they not be considered freaks? They'd be different from everyone else."

"I think it's an awesome gift, a special power that a very few people have."

"And how do these Sentinels control that special power?"

"According to Burton, they would have a Guide with them. Someone to watch their backs."

"You mean someone to control them. They have this great and special power but someone else is in the driver's seat."

"No, not exactly like that," Blair began but Jim didn't want to hear anymore.

Freak, William Ellison's voice shouted in Jim's head. Not a Sentinel, a freak.

And Sandburg, pretty boy Sandburg, Naomi Sandburg's son for Christ's sake, was looking for a Sentinel. A freak. It was this boy's life study, his life's work and, unknown to Blair, his lovely head was cradled in the lap of one.

Ellison felt vomit burn at the back of his throat. Control. He needed control.

Jim stood abruptly, rolling Sandburg sharply to the floor. "Stay there," he said, moving to the front closet. He pulled a few items from the sea chest and went back to where Blair laid on the carpet. "Stand up."

Blair eyed Ellison warily, then got to his feet. Whatever he'd said had sent Ellison into a cold rage. The gentleness he'd experienced as the older man stroked his face, the unwanted tingle he'd felt as Jim's hand traced against his torso, were gone in a flash of arctic blue eyes.

"Walk into the bedroom and stand under the hooks." Blair quickly complied. Jim's bedroom was small and immaculate. A queen-sized bed was positioned on one wall, a desk and armoire on another.

Bolted into the ceiling, above the foot of the bed, were two large metal hooks. Blair sucked in a deep, cleansing breath. He had to calm down, had to comply, had to make Ellison see him as a person.

Ellison locked leather cuffs to Blair's ankles. "Spread your legs apart," he said.

Jim attached a thin metal bar, about two feet long, between the cuffs. "It's called a spreader," he said to Blair. "It will help you to remember to keep your legs open to me."

Jim clasped leather wrist cuffs on Blair. Blair lost his balance and pressed against him. The stab of lust Blair felt from the contact shamed him. He'd never had a homosexual relationship before. Why was the touch of his tormentor such a turn on?

"Put your hands above your head, Sandburg." Blair stretched as high as his healing shoulder and ribs would allow. "Shit," Jim said and left the room. He returned a moment later with two lengths of heavy chain. He clipped the chains to the wrist cuffs and linked them to the hooks.

Blair stood before Ellison, feet apart, arms stretched above his head.

"Beautiful Blair," Ellison said, standing behind him. "My beautiful Blair." Sandburg felt the older man lift his long hair off his neck and begin to nuzzle his throat.

Blair tried to hide his excitement. He heard Ellison laugh against him, felt Ellison's hand reach around to caress his stiffening cock a split second before Ellison sunk his teeth into the tender flesh of Blair's nape.

He cried out, tried to pull away. Jim held on tight with both his hand and mouth. The harder Blair struggled, the harder Jim clamped on. Blair felt the skin at his nape burst and pop, felt the hot blood run down his shoulder.

I'm a fucking idiot, Blair thought. Ellison wanted compliance, not resistance. Blair forced his body to relax into the pain of the bite and the pleasure of the masturbation. As he allowed himself to slump against Jim's body, the hand gentled into even stroking and the mouth eased from biting to lapping then sucking. Blair realized Jim was tasting his blood, licking his wound.

It should have sickened Blair. Instead, he felt his orgasm was only moments away. With a moan of humiliation and heat, he felt the come begin to rise and burn in his balls.

Ellison stopping licking and hissed into Blair's ear, "You're mine."

When Blair remained silent, Jim changed the angle and pressure of his stroking, causing Blair to gasp at the increased stimulation. "Say it, Blair. Say you belong to me."

As his orgasm shook him, Blair cried out helplessly, "Yes, yes, I belong to you."

The last of Blair's come spent, Ellison released his hold on the boy and moved out of the room. Blair would have collapsed to the floor were it not for the chains that held him upright. His harsh breathing echoed in the room.

Oh God. He wanted to die. For just a moment, he had truly belonged to Ellison. He'd wanted to belong to Ellison. He was so fucking weak. It wouldn't be long before nothing of him was left, until he really did exist only as Jim's possession.

A few minutes later, Jim came back into the bedroom, carrying a briefcase. He sat at the desk and began to work. From the smug smile on the bastard's face, Blair was pretty sure Ellison knew how little it would take to emotionally enslave him.

Without looking up, Ellison said, "Be quiet. No talking, no noise."

Blair watched Jim work. He hated that he had orgasmed, hated that he wanted to come again, hated that he no longer felt whole and strong. And all in one day, all in one goddamn day.

He woke with a jerk, hot searing pain along his injured shoulder and ribs. He must have fallen asleep and lost his balance, putting his weight on his arms, chained above his head. He cried out.

Ellison's head snapped up from his work at the desk. "Damn it. I told you to be quiet."

"I'm sorry," Blair started, then shut his mouth. Fuck.

"Too late." Jim stormed out of the room.

Blair's heart leapt into his throat. Ellison had been furious. The man had such drastic mood swings. Pleasant, almost lover like on the sofa; demanding, possessive earlier; angry, unreasonable now.

"If you can't bear your weight on your arms, then fucking stand up straight. I'm trying to work," Ellison said as he came back into the bedroom. "I don't have time to baby-sit you, Sandburg. I don't want to be disturbed. Do you understand?"

He nodded his head.

"Open." Jim inserted a ball gag into Blair's mouth. The ball forced Blair's tongue to lay flat. Jim tied the gag tight against Blair's head. "No noise means no noise. Got it?"

Blair nodded. Jim returned to his desk.

Jim could feel those big blue eyes on him as he worked. Damn it. Sandburg had to learn obedience. He knew those eyes would be full of hate and accusation. Maybe seeing that would make it easier to leave Blair hanging there.

Jim glanced up, avoiding Blair's face. God, he was breathtaking. The compact, slender body held taunt, arms stretched straight over his head. Long hair spilling over his shoulders and upper back. Chest and belly dusted with dark curls. Come spread in a drying layer on the flat abdomen and tops of firm thighs. Large, flaccid penis against a thatch of pubic hair. Legs spread apart and braced. Jim felt warmth curl in his gut.

Blair's face was both lovely and masculine. And those eyes were not full of hate and accusation but of confusion and hurt.

That was too fucking much. He was not going to let some goddamn traitor make him feel guilty. Or make him feel anything. He reached into the armoire and pulled out a black silk scarf.

"I told you that I'm trying to work, Sandburg." Ellison placed the scarf over Blair's eyes and tied it at the back of the smaller man's head. Jim let his hand linger on the soft hair. He bend forward and savored the scents on Blair: the lingering shampoo, soap and fruit, the dried blood at the nape of his neck, the earthy, sticky semen.

"Shit. I don't need this." He shoved Blair forward, forcing the boy's weight against his arms and injured shoulder. Ellison could hear the shriek of pain behind the ball gag. Good.

He didn't feel guilty. He didn't feel guilty. He didn't feel guilty.

He stepped back to admire his handiwork. Blair was his and the sooner he accepted it, the better for both of them. Jim sat at the desk but left the work untouched. He tried to push away the memory of Blair's "Yes, yes, I belong to you," as the younger man's seed poured into Jim's waiting hand. Tried to push away the memory of his own excitement as he rubbed the come into Blair's thighs and abdomen. Tried to push away the thrill, the flash of overwhelming ecstasy he experienced as he simultaneously sucked Blair's blood and came in his uniform slacks.

That taste, Blair's blood, thick and salty, had almost brought Jim to his knees.

"He's mine," Ellison whispered to himself. That's why he felt some tenderness toward the kid. Blair belonged to him. It was natural to feel some kind of affection for a prized possession.

Caring only led to hurt.

So, he didn't really care about this pathetic boy. Look how weak he is. How quickly he'd succumbed to Jim's will.

He's injured and ill. He's frightened and alone.

No. He's a traitor. The son of Steven's corrupter.

Ellison recalled how Blair's face lit up while talking about his thesis. Could Blair be right and his father be wrong? Could Jim's sensory awareness be natural, a gift, a special power?

If he broke Blair to his will, could Blair help him? If he could obtain Blair's total devotion, would he be able to teach Jim to control his senses?

Caring only led to hurt.

He turned back to the stack of reports demanding his attention.

Blair's arms burned and his fingers were numb. The circulation had been hampered for hours. He felt a panic attack almost surface but was able to will it away. He had dozed off twice and awakened as his weight pulled against his upper body.

I will praise the Lord at all times

His name ever in my mouth

Yeah, like there was room for anything else in his mouth.

What frightened him the most was the persistent thought that if he could just see Jim then he would calm down. That one glimpse of Ellison would reassure him, give him the strength to deal with all this.

God, he was losing it already.

He heard the click of two locks and his legs were free. He shuffled his feet closer together to get better balanced. When his arms were released, he fell forward. Ellison caught him and laid him supine on the bed.

"You were a good boy, Chief," Ellison crooned into his ear. The gag and blindfold were left in place as Ellison gently rubbed the blood flow back into Blair's arms. The cramping muscles relaxed but the fire of returning circulation made him almost glad Jim had left the gag in place. There was no way he could have held back the shriek of agony.

Ellison turned him onto his belly. With lotion slicked hands, Jim massaged Blair's throbbing shoulders. He slowly moved down Blair's spine, rubbing each vertebrae, spreading his large, hot hands outward, kneading the muscles, turning Blair's whole body into warm pudding.

Just below that warm pudding was the heat of sexual excitement.

Jim's hands reached Blair's lower back. Blair laid still, fighting the urge to squirm, to rub his erection against the slippery material of the bedspread. He mustn't move, he understood that. He could move only if Ellison gave him permission. God, he wanted to move.

Ellison's hands brushed the cleft of his ass. His hips bucked involuntarily. He froze, waiting for Jim's reaction.

A sweet, almost boyish chuckle filled his ears. "Oh, Chief, you're a hot little piece, aren't you?"

Blair sighed and allowed himself to melt into the manipulation and caressing. So good.

Jim spread him wide and Blair felt the coolness of air hit his opening. An oiled finger circled, stoked, and stretched him. The ball gag preventing him from gulping in the air his body demanded. Blair tried unsuccessfully, desperately to draw enough breath in through his nose. Jim must have sensed his distress because the gag was removed. Air surged into Blair's lungs and was expelled as a groan.

"Like that, Chief?" Ellison dipped the tip of his finger just inside Blair's body. "You can say it if you do."

"Yes, I like it," he said as Jim teased him with a lingering brush of his fingers. "I like it," Blair repeated, wanting more.

Blair felt something wet and warm, smooth and rough graze against his opening. Ellison's tongue? Oh yeah, definitely Ellison's tongue. Blair gripped the bedspread with both hands and rocked his hips allowing Jim better access to his body and allowing more slippery friction against his erection.

Ellison's tongue laved, prodded. Blair felt helpless, out of control. Enthralled.

"Got to come," Blair gasped.

Jim pulled his tongue away and blew a warm stream of breath over Blair's hole.

"Not this time," Jim said. He turned Blair over and gathered the boy against his body.

Ellison was naked, Blair realized. Jim's erection pushed against Blair's thigh.

"You have to earn your orgasm this time, Chief."

"Okay," Blair panted. "Okay, what do you want me to do?"

"Jesus, Chief," Ellison said with a half laugh, "you're ready to go, aren't you?" He pushed two fingers into Blair's mouth. "I want this mouth on me. Have you ever sucked anyone off?"

Blair gave a slight shake of his head.

"But you know what to do, right?"

Blair nodded, licking the fingers that were lodged in his mouth. They tasted of fruit flavored lotion.

"Then suck me, Chief. Make me feel good. You want to do that, don't you?"

God forgive him, he did. Blair nodded.

"That's my Blair." Ellison removed the blindfold. "Kneel on the floor at the end of the bed." Blair scrambled down. Ellison swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up.

He positioned Blair between his open legs. "Take your time. Don't be afraid, Chief." He tugged sharply at one of Blair's curls. "No teeth."

Blair looked up at him, eyes glazed over with passion.

"No teeth, I swear," he whispered and licked up from the base of Jim's cock to the thick, bobbing head. He couldn't believe how much he wanted this, wanted this man inside him. It was as though they were two halves of a whole, as thought he'd been waiting all this time for Ellison to find him.

No, no, that wasn't right. He was doing this because he had no choice. He was doing this to survive. So that Joel and Michelle and the boys could survive.

He slid the head of Jim's cock into his mouth and let that tangy, acidic taste he'd learned so well in the last day to run across his tongue. So different and so right. Jim's cock was satiny, not callused like his fingers.

There was a musky sweetness.

There was the bitterness of his own impending defeat as he slowly pulled Jim into his mouth.

Then his only thought became that of Jim's pleasure.

The boy's mouth was heaven. Jim flipped back Blair's hair so that he could better view that succulent mouth's progress. Slowly down the shaft, carefully folding full lips around white teeth. Drawing back just a bit as Blair caught his breath, leaving the skin shiny with his saliva.

Oh, Blair. God, Blair.

The younger man laid his injured hand gently on Jim's left thigh. With his left hand, Blair hesitantly cupped Jim's balls.

"Touch me, Blair. Use your hands and your mouth and please me."

Blair groaned something affirmative, never stopping the perfect suction, never stopping the wonderful swirling of his tongue on the underside of Jim's sensitive cock.

Jim ran his fingers through Blair's hair. This was exactly how it should be. Blair with him. His body inside Blair's. The completion of some kind of circle. A piece of him that he hadn't known was askew clicked back into place. Contentment seeped into him even as the sharp edge of climax rippled in his belly.

No. Damn it, no. He would not feel this way.

He pulled his fingers out of Blair's curls and grasped the collar. Using the collar for leverage, he slammed his cock half way down Blair's throat and held.

But instead of frightening the kid, it appeared to inflame him. Jim could hear, could feel Blair's frantic attempt to relax his throat enough to accommodate the invading hard on.

Jesus, it wouldn't take long to make this boy his own. It couldn't.

Jim guided Blair's movements with the collar, up and down and up and down his shaft. He could hear the blood singing in his own veins, feel it course in Sandburg. Life rushed through both of them, pushing him higher, streaming closer, closer. Up and down and up and down. Blair never resisted and Jim couldn't. With a triumphant shout he came in Blair's hot, moist mouth. Jim continued holding tight to the collar, enjoying the sensation of Blair gulping and swallowing against his cock.

When he was finally drained, Jim placed his fingertips at Blair's jaw and brought Blair's face to his. "Kiss me, Chief." Blair nodded, leaned up and pressed his swollen, wet lips against the older man's. He rubbed his semen flavored tongue over Jim's.

Ellison put his hands under Blair's arms and pulled him up as Jim leaned back so they were both laying on the bed.

Jim broke off the kiss. "You've never done that before?" Blair shook his head. "You're a natural." Ellison liked the blush that colored Blair's cheeks, liked the press of Blair's hard on against his belly. Like it too damn much. Sandburg was to be ensnared, not him.

He pushed hard and Blair landed on the floor. "It's late. I have to sleep. Go get in your cage."

The younger man got to his feet and walked into the living room. As Jim watched, Blair dropped to his knees and crawled into the cage.

Ellison threw a small pillow from the sofa and the army blanket in after Blair. He closed and locked the cage.

Those big eyes were filled with hurt and confusion again. Ellison knew that was good, that was what he had been aiming for. Still, it tugged at him.

He crouched down by the cage. "You did well today, Sandburg. Really well. I'm proud of you." He turned of the living room light and went to bed.

The bedroom reeked of sex and arousal and Blair. It was disturbing and comforting. As he drifted off to sleep, Jim wondered again how long it would take until he could trust Blair enough to let the boy sleep next to him in the bed. Not long he hoped.

It had been ten days since Connor had left Blair Sandburg on Captain Ellison's doorstep. Her conscience had tormented her ever since.

A good soldier obeys orders. She'd repeated it to herself a thousand times but it wasn't helping.

As Connor walked up and down the aisles of the PX she thought about personal responsibility. What about doing the right thing? What about her obligations not only as a health care provider but as a human being?

From what little she'd been able to discover, Blair's worst crime against the state, other than being associated with the university, was being born to Naomi Sandburg.

No matter what his crimes had been though, he hadn't been treated as demanded by the Geneva Convention. He'd come to the infirmary sick and beaten half to death. He'd left the infirmary only starting to heal and half starved to death.

A good soldier obeys orders. She had. She'd taken care of him to the best of her abilities. Ellison would have taken Blair no matter what she had done to try to prevent it, so why was she second guessing her actions?

Because she knew what was happening to Sandburg right now was wrong. Morally, ethically, spiritually wrong.

Just like everything else that was part of the new regime.

The guilt was driving her insane.

She spotted Sergeant Rafe in the checkout line. She looked into her basket. She'd been wandering around in here for at least a half-hour and managed to select absolutely nothing. She grabbed a cake of hand soap from the nearest shelf and moved into line behind Rafe. In the new army, as in the old, there was no fraternization between officers and enlisted. Officially, of course. If she made it seem like a chance encounter, though, maybe she could find out more about Sandburg.

She nodded at Rafe as they waited in line. He smiled, interest evident in his eyes. They'd talked briefly a few times, a little flirting but nothing that had crossed the line. She ducked her head shyly, then smiled back.

Megan worried she might have blown it when Rafe hurried out the door after paying for his purchases. She bought the unwanted soap and followed, trying to seem as though she wasn't.

Rafe was leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette. "Afternoon, Lieutenant Connor."

"Sergeant Rafe," she said. "How are you?"

"Good, thanks."

"I'm walking back to my quarters now. Would you like to walk along?"

"Love to," he said, pushing off the wall and crushing the cigarette.

When she'd first come to Cascade, she'd been somewhat attracted to Rafe. He was a handsome man. Over the last few months, though, she'd heard disturbing things about him, a few rumors about trouble with town girls that had been quickly hushed up. Standing close to him now, no one really around them, made her uncomfortable. She was glad it was broad daylight.

"So, how have things been going for you, Sergeant?"

"Great. I've been promoted into Captain Ellison's primary raid team," he bragged.

"I heard about that. That's wonderful." He was slimy, she decided. "The Captain must think a great deal of you."

"Let's just say I did a smart thing in the field and this is a little reward."

Not just slimy. Repugnant. She batted her eyelashes and gave her best impression of a breathy idiot girl. "Really?" She made her eyes widen and said in a conspiratorial tone "I always knew there was something special about you. You know, more than just your good looks."

Rafe smirked, thinking he might get lucky with Connor. They'd have to be careful, mustn't get caught, but it was doable. "I noticed you too, Lieutenant."

Puffed up toad, she thought. "Megan," she said, placing her hand on his bare arm.

"Megan," he repeated. She dropped her hand and they continued walking.

"So," she said casually, "what did you do?"

"I'm the one who found Sandburg in that rebel camp."

"Really? How?"

"See, we were under orders to exterminate everyone in the camp but my source had informed me that Naomi Sandburg's kid might be in the group. He gave me a description so when we busted in, I grabbed the kid and brought him back to the base. The Captain said he was impressed with my ingenuity."

"That's amazing. I wonder what Ellison has planned for the boy."

"You took care of him at the infirmary, right?"

"I did. I'll tell you, it's funny, Rafe. He seemed like such a nice kid. He was so quiet and polite."

"Don't be naive, Megan. His mother is one of the biggest rebel leaders left. Don't think he isn't part of that. He was a teacher at the university, for God's sake."

Megan swallowed the desire to punch Rafe and smiled instead. "Oh, I know. I was just saying he could fool anyone. I hope Captain Ellison is safe with Sandburg living right there in his quarters."

"Nothing to worry about. The Captain knows what he's doing. He's got plenty of stuff to, er, restrain Sandburg with."

"Still, the Captain can't keep his guard up twenty-four hours a day. He has to sleep. It just seems so dangerous."

"He's safe, Megan. Old Sandburg wouldn't dare act up."

"Why?"

"Apparently there is a family in Cascade that the kid was close to. Ellison told Sandburg as long as he cooperates, the Taggarts won't be harmed."

"Oh, well, that's good then," Megan said. "It is possible that these people are rebels, too?"

"Not a chance. Joel Taggart is a librarian and his wife, Michelle, is a waitress. They both have clean records. They met Sandburg years ago. The kid washed dishes part-time at the restaurant the woman worked at and the man saw the kid at the library all the time. I guess they kind of took him under their wing."

Connor nodded while committing the names Joel and Michelle Taggart to memory. "Thanks for walking me home, Sergeant. Congratulations on your new job." She started up the steps. "I'll see you, Rafe."

"Bye, Megan."

She ran the rest of the way to her room.

A good soldier obeys orders. She accepted that but she hoped there was more to her than a good soldier. She hoped she was a good person, too.

Decision made, Connor picked up the telephone.

Blair glanced up at the clock. 5:45. Jim would be home in 15 minutes. The clock had been put up three days ago so that Blair could time meal preparations.

In the beginning, he had only been taken out of the cage to be fed, take a piss, and suck Ellison off. Now, eight weeks later, his day was a little more varied but still followed a predictable pattern.

Ellison locked him in the cage at bedtime. First thing in the morning they would shower together with Blair performing oral sex. Then into the kitchen where Ellison would feed him yogurt and fruit. He was returned to the cage when Ellison left for work.

Ellison came home at lunch every day. He always brought something from the mess hall for them to eat. Blair still ate from Ellison's hand and drank from his mouth. It didn't seem strange anymore. It seemed right. It seemed necessary.

When Jim would return to the office in the afternoon, Blair would be shut back in the cage. But, for the last three days he had been left out to clean house and cook the evening meal.

He understood what Ellison was doing, he was being systematically tamed like some kind of wild animal. Ellison made sure he was isolated from everyone and everything else. Blair had no access to TV, radio or newspapers. He had seen no one but Ellison for the last two months. Really, it had been longer than that since he had been blindfolded the entire time he was in the infirmary.

By doing this, Jim had insured he was the center of Blair's universe. There was Jim and nothing else.

Blair knew this but still couldn't suppress the shimmer of anticipation he felt knowing Jim would soon be home. He couldn't stop the urge to please Jim with obedience, with a clean house, and a well-turned out meal.

With a good blowjob, that nasty voice inside him said. He couldn't help the rush of desire he felt when Jim kissed his lips. Or when Jim praised him, petted him, fondled him, stroked him.

Shut up, Blair said to the voice, shut up. I'm doing what I have to do.

Yes, you are, the voice said. But should you be enjoying it so much?

As Blair set the table for one he wondered how long it would be before Jim fucked him. Since that first night they had not come close to penetration again.

He brought Jim to climax at least twice a day, usually with his mouth. Ellison seemed to adore his mouth. He spent an inordinate amount of time each day lavishing attention on it. Jim frequently stroked Blair's lips and let his fingers wander inside Blair's mouth while he fed him

Funny, he never really considered his mouth as being a sex organ before. Yeah, he had used it to arouse and please but never before had it been used to arouse and please him.

He'd come more than once while giving Jim head.

He looked up at the clock. 5:55. Five more minutes. He tried to quell his excitement but he couldn't. Jim would walk through that door in five minutes.

The evenings were the best. After they had eaten and Blair had cleaned the kitchen, Jim would sit on the sofa with Blair's head in his lap. They talked for hours about everything: Blair's life at the University, Jim's life in the army.

If he was in a good mood, and Blair didn't accidentally stumble over any of the thousand hidden minefields in Ellison's head, they would end up on the bed kissing, touching and coming.

If he did fuck up, Blair would spend hours gagged, blindfolded and hanging from the ceiling.

Blair was getting better and better at not fucking up.

Good dog, the voice said. You're a good dog, Sandburg.

Blair ignored the voice and turned off the oven. Everything was ready. He went to the foyer and knelt down, resting back against his heels. He had waited like this for Ellison yesterday and the Captain had seemed pleased. No reason to start this evening off on a bad foot.

Ruff, ruff, the voice taunted. Good dog.

I'm keeping us all alive, Blair insisted.

You're fascinated, you moron. You are half in love with that bastard.

No, not in love, Blair thought. But fascinated? Oh, most definitely. Unless he was way off the mark, Jim Ellison was a Sentinel. Blair had heard the superman rumors long ago. He had seen Ellison zone out that first day and at least two times since. Blair had brought him back with calm calling and touching-- things he had read about in the Burton monograph. He could be, he realized, on the brink of an amazing discovery. He could teach Ellison to control his senses. He could become Ellison's Guide.

Oh, perfect, the voice said. You can help increase the efficiency of a known sadist. You could make that hunting and killing machine just that much more proficient. Maybe his heightened senses could take him to the next rebel nest quicker than ever.

Shut the fuck up! Jim wasn't all bad. There was good in everyone. He just had to help Jim discover his own inner goodness.

Yeah, the voice continued, by cooking his supper, sucking his dick and begging to be fucked?

Blair felt simultaneous stabs of pain and desire. Maybe he really was betraying himself but he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop.

The sound of the key turning in the door made Blair's heart turn over in his chest.

Jim was home.

Home. For the first time in years, Jim was anxious for the day to be over. He didn't need work to fill his time, to distract him from the emptiness in his life.

Sandburg was waiting for him.

Tuesday was the first afternoon Blair had been left out of the cage while Jim was gone. Unknown to Sandburg, Ellison had spent most of that first afternoon a short distance away. He had been watching, listening, hoping against hope that he had been right, that Blair would not try to escape. He had not been sure what he would do if Blair had tried to run away. He only knew that the punishment would have to be swift and brutal and he didn't want to have to do it. He wasn't sure that he could.

Against his better judgement, against his will, he had started to care about the boy. He had his obedience. He wanted his love.

When he had opened the door last night, Blair had been waiting . He was half sitting, half kneeling a few feet from the entrance. He was nude, his head down, arms at his side. The perfect picture of submission.

Then Blair lifted his head. Ellison's heart slammed hard against his chest. That incredible face. His prize. It struck him that Blair was actually happy to see him.

Ellison's breath had gotten tangled up in his lungs for a moment. He had done it. Blair wanted him. He had wanted to shout for joy.

Instead, he had helped Blair stand, had pulled him close and had kissed him.

Tonight, he'd make Blair ask for it. And when he did, when he begged for it, when he admitted Jim owned him, confessed that Jim was everything to him, then he would fuck him.

First though, dinner.

"Smells good, Chief,"

Blair smiled up at him not speaking. Jim knew how tough it was for him. Blair was naturally talkative. A bright kid, he chattered when he was allowed to but he also knew how to listen. Jim felt that Sandburg heard and weighed each word that Jim said. It was as though Blair heard what wasn't spoken as clearly as what had been uttered.

Jim extended his hand and pulled Blair to his feet. He drew the smaller man against him, running his hands over the warm naked flesh, kissing the mouth he had thought of all day.

Although Jim could feel the boy's quickening heart rate, Blair stood perfectly still. Excited as he was, Blair waited for permission to respond.

"Kiss me back," Jim growled. The boy let out a sigh of relief and sucked Jim's tongue into his mouth.

Sweetness. Blair.

Lorelei.

Maybe not. Maybe this time caring about someone wouldn't end in heartbreak.

They went into the kitchen to eat.

Rafe had been sitting at the end of the bar in the NCO club for hours. Walking and talking with Megan Connor last week had left him feeling restless and itchy.

He'd considered going into town. There were always plenty of young girls there willing and ripe for the picking but he figured he'd better keep a low profile for a couple of weeks longer. That last little cunt had screamed rape and it had taken a good deal of pressure from Ellison to keep her and her family quiet. Lying bitch.

Ellison had warned him then that while it was okay to have fun, keep it discreet, keep it under control.

So, Rafe would wait. The last thing he wanted was to be on the outs with the Captain. It didn't make any sense to fuck up his golden opportunity. A year on Ellison's elite raiding squad would swing open plenty of doors. Probably even the one to Officers' Training School. As long as Ellison held on to Cascade and Rafe kept his nose clean, he could ride Ellison's coattails in to a damn near perfect career.

Pulled out of his musing by a burst of laughter from a near by table, Rafe signaled the bartender for another beer.

"I'm telling you, he's set up house in there," a woman's voice said. Rafe looked into the mirror behind the bar. He could see three soldiers at the table behind him. One was Cassie Wells, Ellison's assistant. He recognized the other two as Henry Brown and Lee Brackett, both men on the secondary raid squad. Rafe dipped his head down so he would not be noticed and listened to their conversation.

"What do you mean 'set up house'?" Brown said.

"What do you think I mean?" Wells replied. "I think he's made Blair Sandburg his own little whore."

"You better watch your mouth, Wells," Brackett warned. "Saying shit like that is going to get you court marshaled."

"Why? Do you think that I'm making it up?"

"I think," Brown interrupted, "that you've been trying to get in Ellison's pants for the last year and he has turned you down. Now you think you've got some kind of reason for it. He resisted you so he must be a queer." Brown and Brackett laughed.

"I'm not making it up. Ellison has been, I don't know, different since he put the prisoner in his quarters. He's running home at lunch. He's leaving early. He distracted."

"He's just keeping a close eye on the kid, that's all," Brown retorted. "That boy is important. He might be able to draw out that bitch Naomi Sandburg. Ellison is smart. He knows what he's doing."

"I'm sure," Cassie said impatiently. "That's not the point. Captain Ellison is different now."

"Okay, Cassie," Brackett said. "What do you mean?"

"I've been his assistant for a year now and in that time he has lived to work. He's the most focused man I've ever known. The cause, the new regime was everything. Ellison was totally driven. He's different now," she finished lamely.

"What are you saying, Cassie?" Brackett said.

"I don't know. I guess I'm not explaining it well."

"Try," Brown said. Yeah, Rafe thought, try.

"He's preoccupied with Sandburg," Wells said.

"That's not too hard to believe," Brackett replied. "If I had a piece that looked like Sandburg does at home, I'd be a little preoccupied myself."

"Shit, are you a fag?" Brown asked.

"No, I'm not a fag," Brackett insisted. "But, hey, Brown, you weren't on that raid. This kid is about the prettiest boy I've ever seen."

"Still," Brown interrupted, "I don't think Ellison is a queer even if you are."

"Someone that looks like that boy does, well, it wouldn't be much of stretch to want to get some. Besides, if he is sucking your dick or you're fucking him, that doesn't make you a fag."

"Sure it does," Wells said.

"No," Brackett continued, "if Sandburg was fucking Ellison or Ellison was giving him head, then Ellison would be a fag."

"That's a pretty messed up way of looking at it," Wells said.

"Realistic," Brackett said.

"It's disgusting," Brown interjected.

"Whatever," Brackett said. "The point is, if I had Sandburg at my beck and call, I'd be fucking him whenever I could."

"God," Wells said. "I'm not saying Ellison is or isn't fucking the kid, okay? I just don't want to see things fall apart here."

"Are things falling apart?" Brown asked.

"Not really," Wells said. "At least, not yet. That doesn't mean that they won't, though. I'd feel a whole lot better if he'd move Sandburg to a prison somewhere. There are plenty of other places he could be used as bait. Then the Captain's attention would be back on the job."

Rafe quit listening to them. He wondered if it was true. Was Ellison doing Sandburg? Not that he couldn't understand it if Ellison was. Fuck, he'd seen the kid. Pretty, smallish, probably snug as hell. Yeah, fucking Sandburg would definitely be a pleasure. Rafe wasn't gay or anything but he wasn't one to turn down an easy piece of ass when it was available either.

At the cabin, he hadn't really thought about it. His concern had been to please Ellison, to have a chance to show Ellison that he was a cut above the rest of the enlisted men.

Rafe had struggled for everything he had. Raised by a drunken father and an ineffectual mother, he'd grow up hard and hungry. He learned early to seize whatever opportunity came his way. Never wait. Take what you want.

The army had been his ride out of poverty. Ellison was his ticket to success. He couldn't let Ellison be distracted from his path. Right now, Ellison wielded tremendous power and prestige. Rafe could be a part of all that.

If Ellison fell, Rafe would be dragged down with him. There was only one solution. If Sandburg was a distraction, then the distraction had to be removed.

He was ready, so damn ready. Maybe if they could connect like this, he could win Jim over. He could reach him, make Jim see him as a person.

Or maybe, the voice said, you could just get laid.

Jim had been complementary at dinner. They'd broken their routine and showered after the had eaten. Instead of laying on the sofa and talking, Jim suggested they talk on the bed.

He was so damn ready. The towels that had been wrapped around their hips were in a damp, tangled heap on the bedroom floor. The kissing had become intoxicating, breath stealing, heart stopping.

Jim encouraged Blair to do more than react. Blair was given carte blanche to be the aggressor. Jim did not attempt to guide Blair's mouth's movement up and down on his cock. Blair had become not only proficient at giving Jim head but hungry for it. He adored the hard body that he was licking and nibbling. He needed to taste every inch, draw his tongue and lips over the smooth surface of Jim's skin. The tangy, acidic flavor that had, in the last two months, become part of every bite of food Blair had eaten, the backdrop of every orgasm he'd experienced, was filling Blair's mouth again as he moved over Jim.

Jim had become the essence of all things to Blair. And he wanted more. He wanted to taste the earthy wonder of Jim's semen again. He wanted Jim to take him, to have him, to join their bodies together. He wanted Jim to know that, despite why and how they were together, Jim could trust Blair. He could rest in Blair's arms; he could be safe with him.

"Jim?" Blair said, kneeling on the bed at the older man's feet.

At last, Jim thought. "What, Chief?"

"I want," he paused, dropping his eyes to the bed spread.

"What do you want?" Jim encouraged.

"I want for us to be...for you to," Blair shook his head, seemingly unable to continue.

Jim smiled inwardly. The moment had arrived. The boy would ask. Jim could make it easier for Blair, could just do what he knew Blair wanted but if he did, if he allowed Blair to escape this last hurdle, would Jim still be in control? Would these past two months of advance and retreat, of carrot and stick, of gentleness and terror, have been for nothing? Would the battle of slowly pulling Blair closer to forgetting why he had resisted Jim in the first place be lost?

Up till now, Jim had kept Blair confused, isolated, off balance. No, he had to make Blair ask. Had to. Only then would Blair understand how far he had fallen. Only then could Blair begin to comprehend that it was over, that he had been defeated. It was only left for him to admit it.

Say it, Blair, Jim silently urged. Say it. Jim kept quiet and still, giving the younger man a chance to come to terms with what had to be done. He could hear the erratic pounding of Blair's heart, the irregular breathing.

If Blair would just utter the words, Jim could make the rest easy. Let it happen, Blair. Say the fucking words.

Blair cleared his throat then raised his eyes to Jim's. His voice soft and sure. He said "I want to show you I'm yours. I want you inside me." Blair dropped his eyes again. "Please, Jim."

Jim leaned up on his elbow and searched Blair's face. Defeat, humiliation, and lust were all there for him to see.

"Blair," Jim said, "I want that, too."

Blair nodded his head then lifted his hands in question. "What do I do?"

Jim felt a rush of triumphant and a twinge of disappointment. He wanted this surrender but now that he had it, Jim wondered at the bitterness in his throat. Would it have been a more worthy, more satisfying surrender if Blair had come to give himself to Jim out of genuine affection rather than as a result of Jim's treachery and deceit?

Jim had to resolve himself to never knowing. He'd wanted to punish Naomi, break Blair and avenge himself for Steven's desertion. It was pointless to complain now because he had accomplished his goals. Even if his desires had changed.

Somewhere along the line, the Lorelei's song had enchanted Ellison and he had begun to dream again. He had begun to forget that there was reason to hide your heart, to keep yourself separate from everyone else.

He positioned Blair so that they were both on their sides, facing one another. He couldn't let Blair look away from him, didn't want Blair to be able to say later that he hadn't chosen this or hadn't known or hadn't understood what was happening.

"You're sure, Chief?"

Blair nodded.

"You need to say it," Jim said.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"You're choosing this?" Jim insisted. He knew Blair couldn't really make this choice of his own free will. He'd stolen Blair's freedom of choice weeks ago. Still, when Blair looked back on this moment, and Ellison knew that he would over and over in the years to come, it was imperative that Blair think he'd made this decision. It would trap him. It would bind him to Jim.

"I'm choosing this, yes, Jim."

"Good."

Jim pressed his mouth against Blair's. So warm and soft.

As a teenager, Jim had been conflicted about his own sexuality. William Ellison had set him straight in more ways then one. Jim had had occasional homosexual encounters during his years in college and then in the army. By necessity, those encounters had been brief and discreet. Each had left him empty and disappointed but still more fulfilled than his heterosexual relationships had. He knew he was gay not bisexual.

During the old regime, it had been "Don't ask, don't tell." In the new regime it was more "If I have enough clout, you'd better turn your fucking head."

Even so, he'd never pushed. He wasn't sure what anyone thought of him having Sandburg with him. Or if anyone even did. He just didn't care.

Having this right now made everything else seem unimportant.

Lorelei.

He ran his tongue around the inside of Blair's mouth, much as he had his fingers that first night. Perfect. Everything about Blair's mouth was perfect. Sugar sweet. Wet and willing.

Blair. Lorelei.

Jim felt something that might have been love sweep through him. Would he risk everything only to be crushed on the rocks? And how much of this wonderful creature now moaning against him, caressing his cock, was really Blair Sandburg and how much was a terrified innocent that Jim had molded into his own vision of a perfect concubine?

"Jim, come on," Blair begged.

Jesus, it just didn't matter. This was his for now. Happiness, or at least as close to happiness as he'd ever come, was within his arms.

"I'm here, Blair," Jim said. He ran his hands over the smooth flesh of Blair's back to the firm curve of his ass. Jim slowly ran two fingers up and down the separation of Blair's tight cheeks. Smooth, dry, silky.

"I want," Blair managed to whimper.

"I know," Jim soothed. "I know. Lay on your back." Blair nodded and turned to his back. "Do you trust me, Blair?"

"In this?" Blair smiled. "Yes, I trust you, Jim."

"Good." Jim reached into the night stand and took out a tube of lubricant. He coated his erection and the fingers of his right hand generously. "Bend your knees up and try to relax." He began to massage Blair's virginal opening. "You want this?"

"Yes, Jim."

"You choose this?" he said, slightly rotating his finger as he moved in slowly.

"I choose this, yes," Blair agreed, scooting forward.

"You're mine?" Jim asked, now a few inches deep, loosening the muscle ring with one hand and carefully stroking Blair's cock with the other.

"I'm yours," Blair said. He twisted his hips to get closer to Ellison. "Why are you making me wait?"

"I want to be sure you're sure," Jim said. The smell of Blair's heated skin and increasing arousal had Jim's cock weeping. This was probably harder on him than on the boy. Jim knew what incredible pleasure was about to take place. Blair could only guess.

"I'm sure. Please, I'm sure." Blair said.

Jim's control was slipping. He was afraid he'd come before he penetrated Blair.

He positioned himself at Blair's entrance and waited.

Blair pushed against Jim's erection, causing it to slip an inch into his hot body. Jim stilled Blair's progress by gripping the younger man's thighs tightly.

"Say it," Jim said.

"Say it?" Blair repeated. "Say what? I want this. I need this. I'm yours." He tried to impale himself further but Jim held him fast.

"Say it, Blair."

"Alright, damn it," Blair cried. "I love you, Jim. I love you." Jim pressed into Blair's snug warmth. He heard the younger man's soft grasp of surprise as Jim began to fill him. He felt Blair's internal muscles tense then relax as his body learned to receive instead of give. To be taken rather than to take. To accept, not to invade.

The gasp of surprise turned to a sigh of contentment as Jim pushed deeper, his full length now lodged within Blair.

Jim braced himself up on his elbows and kissed Blair's face. Blair smiled and his eyes began to drift shut.

"Don't close your eyes," Jim said. "I want you to know that's me."

Blair's blue eyes gleamed in the semi darkness of the bedroom. "I do know it's you, Jim. I wouldn't let it be anyone else." He wrapped his legs around Jim's hips, giving the other man better access to his body. "I promise I won't close my eyes."

"Good." Jim kissed Blair's mouth and began to move, slowly, carefully. After a few moments, feeling Blair's compliance, his rising excitement, Jim's thrusts became stronger, more purposeful.

Blair broke off their kissing to whisper "Just like that, Jim. Move just like that."

Jim leaned harder into each stroke as Blair moaned encouragement against his lips. "Better than I dreamed, man. It's better than I hoped."

Jim wanted to answer, wanted to tell Blair that it had never been like this for him before but his words were trapped behind a press of joy in his chest. This was it, he wished he could shout. This is that elusive something that a man searches for. Not power, not glory, not vengeance. This. Love.

He had to hear it again.

"Say it, Blair. Say it."

"I love you. I love you," Blair said over and over while he raised himself up to meet Jim, to increase the depth and power of each plunge.

Jim was close to completion. The combination of Blair's amazingly tight, enthusiastic body and his wonderful voice chanting "I love you" with the reverence of a man canting a litany of the saints, were driving Jim quickly toward orgasm.

Ellison reached between them, wrapped his hand around Blair's cock and began fisting it in a rhythm that matched the pistoning of his hips.

Blair's chanting turned into a breathy moan of "yes, yes, yes." He clung to Jim while pushing up to move beneath the older man. Jim's sense were almost overloaded by the smell of Blair, the contracting heat of him, the taste of his sweat moisten skin. But Blair's voice somehow kept him grounded even as it enticed him to fly higher.

With a groan of pleasure, Blair came, his hot seed splashing over Jim's belly. Too much, Jim thought. Too much stimulation, too much everything and yet, still not enough.

"Say it," he demanded.

"I love you," Blair said.

And then it was enough. Jim spurted his release deep within Blair, holding him close and licking at his throat and shoulders.

The room was flooded with sound of noisy kisses and ragged breathing. When Jim had recovered enough to move, he pulled out of Blair, turned on to his back and gathered Blair to him.

"Are you okay?" Jim said.

"Oh yeah," Blair answered. "Excellent in fact."

Jim nuzzled his face into the Blair's soft, shampoo scented hair. "Go to sleep, Chief."

Blair moved to get up.

"What are you doing?" Jim asked.

"Going to the cage to sleep," came the reply.

"No," Jim said, settling Blair back into his arms. "This is where you sleep."

"Oh."

"From now on, you sleep here with me."

"Okay." Blair kissed the smooth chest beneath his face. "I'm glad."

"Me, too."

That night Jim dreamt of the ocean and crashing waves against a rocky coast.

Steven woke up and realized he was alone on the bedroll. "Naomi?" he whispered in the dark tent.

"I'm right here, Steven," she replied. She moved back to their pallet and sat beside him. "I didn't mean to wake you, sweetheart, but I couldn't sleep."

"Nervous?" Steven said and urged her back into his arms.

"Terrified is more accurate. Am I being selfish? I'm putting so many lives at risk to get Blair back." She sniffed, trying to hold back tears. "Do you think I'm making a mistake?"

"Honestly? I don't know but I think you're doing what you have to. I know what my brother is capable of, Naomi, and he hates both of us. We've got to get Blair out of that camp." Steven kissed her hair and she relaxed against him.

"You think Blair is still alive, don't you, Steven?"

He thought of the boy he'd met briefly three years ago. Blair had been effervescent, intelligent and very attractive. No, he didn't think Jim had killed Naomi's son. He knew his brother.

Steven remembered vividly the night William Ellison had found 17 year old Jim in bed with a 20 year old college boy. As the shouting had escalated, Steven had hidden, horrified, in the upstairs bathroom.

He could hear the dull thud of flesh against flesh and a tearful Jimmy begging William to stop. Steven had curled up tighter on the tile floor, covering his ears, trying to block out William's cries of "Faggot, faggot, faggot."

Then there had been silence. Steven had crawled to the bathroom door, had opened it a scant inch and looked out. Jimmy lay on his side on the carpeted hallway, his face bloodied. William, trembling with anger, stood over him.

"No son of mine will ever be a fucking faggot. Do you hear me, Jimmy? I'd rather you be dead than a faggot. I'll kill you myself if it happens again."

Steven had closed the door.

Jimmy had joined the army a few months later. When Steven turned eighteen, he'd followed and the brothers had been stationed together. His big brother had been the most important person in his life until he met Naomi but Steven wasn't blind to Jim's faults or to the lifestyle he'd tried to keep secret.

No, Jim wouldn't have killed Blair. That would have been too easy. Not Machiavellian enough for Jim. Steven had a pretty good idea what his brother had done with Blair and he was sure Naomi wasn't ready to deal with that yet.

"Steven, do you think Blair is okay?" Naomi asked.

"I think he's alive," Steven hedged.

Naomi didn't notice the evasive answer. "It's too late to worry if we're doing the right thing anyway, Steven. Simon Banks and his men will be up on the foothills outside of Cascade by midnight."

"Babe, they understood what they were getting into. They know the risks."

"I know, I know." She shifted in his arms to rest her head against his chest. "It's just that this is personal. Too many people have followed me to their death since this whole mess started."

Steven realized how hard all of this was for her. His Naomi was, by nature, a dove. This revolution had forced her into a role she'd never sought.

While Naomi wasn't the actual leader or tactician of the resistance, that fell to Steven and Simon, she was the figurehead, the mother earth goddess that the rebels rallied around.

He had been a thirty-one year old soldier working covertly to infiltrate the resistance the first time he'd seen Naomi. Unlike his older brother, Steven had been restless and disturbed with the new regime. Jim had become more and more ruthless, less and less the boy Steven had grown up with. The changes he'd seen in Jim frightened him and he worried that he, too, was changing.

When Naomi, so passionate and beautiful, had talked about the loss of freedom, the destruction of the Republic, the violations of not only human but basic personal rights, Steven felt she'd been speaking directly to the confusion within him.

So he'd lied to Jim, sworn he'd been unable to find the rebel camp. Within a week Steven was a deserter from the army and a member of the resistance. Within two weeks he was Naomi's lover.

Steven had walked away from his brother, his career, his life and felt he'd left nothing of value behind. He'd been so crazy about Naomi nothing else seemed important. Now he wondered what his leaving might have done to Jim, what Jim might have become in the last three years.

He prayed whatever condition they found Blair in would be something that he and Naomi could handle.

Naomi was asleep in his arms. He eased them both down to the sleeping bags and cradled her against him. He still found it amazing that she was his. He knew she'd had hundreds of lovers before him. When they had first become intimate, she warned him she couldn't commit and she wouldn't be faithful.

She hadn't been faithful in the beginning. It was as if the concept of fidelity was beyond her. She could see no good reason to curb her appetite. She always came back to Steven but there had been so many others.

Naomi finally committed to Steve when she realized how much her infidelity hurt her younger lover. Steven had been overjoyed, of course, but he knew he would have stayed with her regardless.

Naomi sat up in her sleep and cried "Blair."

"Shh, babe," Steven whispered. "We'll get him." She quieted in his embrace.

A month ago Joel Taggart had sent a message to them that Blair was Jim's personal prisoner. Naomi had fallen apart.

Taggart and his wife had befriended Blair years ago. After martial law was declared, the Taggarts had became part of the underground resistance and had watched over Blair as best they could. When the university staff had gone into hiding, Taggart assumed Blair was safe. Then a woman had anonymously called Joel. Blair was a prisoner, she'd said. He was injured but alive and was the bait to bring Naomi out. The caller expressed her profound fear for the boy's wellbeing.

With Naomi inconsolable, Steven and Simon worked out a plan. Simple, of course, because simple worked. A series of small explosions, using C4, in the foothills. Enough to draw a good amount of soldiers from the post. A two-hour lag time then a series of charges set near the camp.

Thanks to the informant, they knew Blair was being held in Jim's quarters and they knew the post lay out.

God, Jimmy, don't have hurt him too much. Don't make me have to chose between you and Naomi's son.

Blair didn't open his eyes. During the minutes between sleep and wake, with his lover's body about him and the smell of sex and warm linens cocooning them, he could pretend that this was enough.

For two nights he'd slept in Jim's bed. For two days he'd been treated with affection and tenderness. He'd tried to convince himself that the overwhelming love he had for Jim was returned.

He knew it wasn't.

Jim had asked him to say I love you hundreds of times in the last forty-eight hours. Not once had Jim uttered the words to Blair.

Jim turned in his sleep, pulling Blair tighter to him. Blair heard Jim sigh, then he relaxed against him.

The older man rarely let Blair out of touching distance since he'd fucked him. Their sex was intense and satisfying.

It was so damn confusing. He understood with everything that had happened to him, he couldn't trust his own judgment. He knew that. Still, he wasn't sure he'd leave Jim even if he had the chance.

Jim murmured "Blair" and licked a path from behind Blair's right ear to his shoulder. Jim's erection pushed firmly against the small of Blair's back and his hand reached around to caress Blair's cock.

Blair shivered in anticipation.

"Say it, Blair," a ghost of a whisper commanded as it skated across his moistened neck.

As he gave into Jim's lovemaking, he sighed, "I love you, Jim."

No. Love returned or not, stupid move or not, they would have to drag him away from Jim.

He'd never leave him on his own.

Normally, by this time in the afternoon, Ellison would be working on his third pot of coffee. Having been on the receiving end of Blair's caffeine in moderation lecture this morning, Jim resisted and drank herbal tea instead. When Jim had pointed out that Blair seemed to enjoy coffee, Blair had laughed and said "Yeah, but I'm not in my late thirties, man." Instead of pissing Jim off, it had touched him.

Jim tried to concentrate on the never-ending mountain of paperwork that covered his desk. God and Cassie Wells knew there was a fucking ton of it, but Jim kept drifting back to this morning's lovemaking.

He was in love and he knew it was ridiculous. Thirty-eight years old and head over heels. He was slipping and sliding down a path that would eventually lead to heartbreak.

Wells stuck her head in the door. "Captain Ellison? Sergeant Rafe would like to speak to you. It's urgent."

"Send him in." Wells looked anxious again. She was a good assistant but he was going to transfer her as soon as possible. Something about her made him uneasy lately.

Rafe came in and sat in the chair Jim indicated. "Sir, there have been a series of explosions in the east foothills."

"When?"

"It was reported minutes ago."

"Rebels?"

"We're not sure right now, sir, but the communications tower has been knocked down so it looks like it."

"Damn it. The satellite feed?"

"Gone, sir."

"Any causalities?"

"We're not sure, Captain."

"Have the first and second raid teams ready to deploy in an hour, Rafe."

"Yes, sir. Since there is no satellite communication, who do you want in charge, sir?"

"I'll take point, Sergeant. I'm leaving you here to assist Lieutenant Finkleman. She hasn't had much combat experience and you've proven yourself."

"Yes, sir. I'll get started with the deployment." He saluted and left Ellison's office.

Naomi and Steven. It had to be. Jim felt nauseated. So much had happened in the past week he'd forgotten about them, forgotten about his plan to draw them out. Maybe he should let Naomi have Blair. Christ only knew what would happen to Blair if Jim kept him. Naomi and Steven would hide Blair away somewhere safe but could he bear letting him go?

On automatic pilot, Jim made the necessary calls and decisions for deployment. According to the meager information, the site was about two hours from the post.

For the first time in a long time, his decisions weighted him down. There was, at last, something worth losing. Blair.

He left last minute instructions with Wells and Finkleman and hurried to his quarters.

The post was humming with activity as the raid teams were made battle ready. Jim ran knowing his time was short.

Blair rushed forward to greet him as he opened the front door.

"Kiss me," Jim said and allowed himself the momentary pleasure of Blair's eager mouth.

Blair pulled back, concern in his eyes.

"It's okay to talk, Chief," Jim said.

"Are you alright, Jim?"

Jim walked toward the bedroom, holding Blair to his side. "Look, Sandburg," he kissed Blair again and released him. "Blair, sit on the bed. I've got some things to tell you and I don't have a lot of time."

"Okay."

"A little while ago there was an explosion up in the foothills."

"An explosion?"

"A series of them, actually. I'm leaving in a few minutes with a couple of the raid teams to investigate."

Blair knew the foothills were at least two hours away. It was stupid but the thought of being separated from Jim by such a distance panicked him. "Why do you have to go? It could be dangerous. It could be a rebel trap."

"Chief, calm down." Jim reached into the bedroom closet and brought out a cardboard carton Blair hadn't noticed before. Jim put the box on the bed next to Blair. "It could be a rebel trap. It probably is, but I have to go. You know that. It's my job."

"I know," Blair said.

"The communication tower is down. So there is no satellite imaging. I don't need it." He touched Blair's face gently. " But you knew that already, didn't you?"

"I've suspected that you are, well, have a special gift."

"You mean that you knew I was a Sentinel."

Blair nodded.

"Then you understand I have to lead them, Blair. I'm the only one who can."

"I understand," Blair said but his anxiety continued to grow.

"Listen, I can't predict what's going to go down out there and I won't be here to keep you safe." He pushed the box toward Blair. "You've got to be ready, just in case."

"Just in case what?"

"In case I don't come back."

"Fuck. Don't say that, man." Blair refused to look in the box. "Don't talk like that. Don't even think like that." What would he do if something happened to Jim?

"You've got to face reality here, Chief. I'm a soldier. Something could very easily happen to me." Jim could smell the fear on Blair. The guilt almost choked Jim. Of course Sandburg was afraid. When he had set out to make Blair totally dependent on him, unable to function without him, Jim hadn't thought he would ever come to care for the younger man. He'd made Blair helpless. He'd have to make other arrangements for Blair's welfare.

"I know that. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Chief. It's not your fault." Jim knew the fault lay with him. He shook the contents of the box out on the bedspread. A pair of jeans, a tee shirt, a blue flannel shirt, socks, boxers, belt, hiking boots and a jacket, all in Blair's size. "Get dressed and don't argue. I have things to explain and I'm running out of time."

Blair quickly slipped on the clothing, leaving the jacket on the bed. He sat on the floor in front of Jim to tug on his socks and boots. Jim reached out and fingered Blair's hair as he began to speak.

"I'm sorry for everything that's happened," Jim said.

"I'm not," Blair quickly interjected.

"What I meant was, I'm sorry how it happened, not that I've had you here with me."

"Oh." Blair sounded relieved.

Jim pulled a sheathed knife from the pocket of his uniform slacks and put it in Blair's hand. "This is another just in case thing," Jim said.

"In case you don't come back," Blair whispered.

Jim put his hand under Blair's chin and tilted his head up. "In case you have to run. In case you have to protect yourself. Whatever."

Blair nodded then unsheathed the knife. The blade was wicked. Razor sharp and six inches long. "You're not afraid I'll use it against you?"

Jim smiled. "No, Chief, I'm not. You said you love me and I believe you. You'd never hurt someone you love."

Blair shrugged. "No, I wouldn't hurt you." He returned the knife to its cover and slipped it into his jeans' pocket.

"I'm not really expecting any major trouble," Jim said, more to comfort Blair then because it was true. "I can't take the chance though of leaving you defenseless. I need you to promise me something."

"Okay."

"If it looks like things are falling apart or if you haven't heard from me in 36 hours, I want you to get out."

"How would I hear from you?"

"I should be back by then. Otherwise, if I'm alright, I'll send a message with someone to you."

"If I don't," Blair cleared his throat and began again. "If I don't hear from you, where do I go?"

"Find your way to the underground."

"What? Jim, you're telling me to go to the rebels? Is that what you want?"

"What I want is for you to be safe, damn it. I want you with me but that might not be possible."

"You think this is my mom, don't you?"

Jim went to the closet and began to change into combat fatigues. "Maybe."

"God, Jim, I'm not sure I can do this." The honest fear and confusion in Blair's voice ripped at Jim's heart. He had to get Blair to agree to run.

"Blair, do you remember the most important rule?"

Without hesitation Blair answered, "Your word is law. No matter what, I have to obey."

"That's right. And I'm telling you, you must go to the underground if I don't come back in 36 hours. Are you going to do what I say?"

"Yes, Jim." Blair watched in silence as Jim finished dressing and took his always ready backpack from the closet.

Jim held out his hand to Blair and they walked to the front door. "I'm not going to lock it from the outside. You can use the latch to lock it. I'll send someone to you, Blair. If you have to go, please go. I can't worry about what's happening here while I'm trying to figure out what's going on out there."

Blair nodded then flung his arms around Jim. "Please," he said, "be careful. No matter what, I love you, Jim."

"I know. I'll be careful. Do you promise to do what I said?"

"I promise."

Jim gave him a lingering kiss, then went out the door.

He stopped at the infirmary on the way off post. He talked with Connor for a moment. She agreed to watch over Blair. She seemed to understand what Jim was asking her to do without him having to say the words.

The raid teams deployed two minutes before their hour deadline.

The teams had deployed a half-hour ago. Now was his chance.

Rafe felt a momentary pang of conscience then quelled it.

In the end, it would be better for all of them. He was protecting their futures.

He went unnoticed to Ellison's quarters.

Megan took the rest of the afternoon off as a sick call. She returned to her quarters and took the backpack she'd put together a few weeks ago out of its hiding place under her bed.

The backpack contained a flashlight, MRE's, water purification tablets, matches and a thermal blanket. She'd found a map of the area and a compass and tucked them in as well. She had a set of fatigues in Blair's size that she'd requisitioned from the quartermaster a week ago, supposedly for one of her patients.

Ellison was afraid for Blair, she marveled. The Captain hadn't exactly come out and said anything but she understood what he wanted and couldn't say. Get Sandburg to safety if the situation went from bad to worse.

What he hadn't known of course, was that she had been planning for weeks to help Blair get to the underground. Since she'd telephoned Joel Taggart and anonymously given Blair's whereabouts, she had been looking for an opportunity to help him escape.

This was her chance. With the post on alert, the focus would be on personnel trying to enter the base, not leave it. She figured with her and Sandburg in uniform, they should be able to walk out one of the side gates unchallenged.

It was now or never.

She shoved the fatigues and a pair of black boots into the backpack.

She slipped out her front door and walked to Ellison's quarters.

Blair curled up on the floor next to the cage, the fingers of his left hand threaded through the bars.

After Jim had gone, he'd almost climbed into the cage and pulled the door shut. It was silly, he knew that, but he craved the safety, the familiarity of the cage.

Jesus, what was wrong with him? He should be making his escape right now. This might be his only chance. Yet, to leave before the allotted time was, well, somehow betraying Jim.

Are you crazy, the voice in Blair's head shouted.

Maybe. I think I might be, Blair decided.

You should run now, the voice said. It would be easy. Anyway, Ellison wants you to.

No, he wants me safe.

The voice was almost pitying. Does he? Or does he want you gone?

Jim gave me clothes and a knife. He gave me a way to protect myself.

Right, the voice retorted. A round of applause for the man who destroyed you.

He cares about me.

No, Blair, he likes to fuck you and you let him. You're a convenient piece of tail and a way to punish Naomi.

Shut up. I can't think with you nagging me.

Blair stood up and walked into the bedroom. He scooped Jim's uniform shirt from the hamper and laid down on the bed. He held the shirt to his face and inhaled deeply. It smelled wonderfully of Jim.

Blair calmed down as he continued to breathe into the fabric. Jim.

Blair loved him. Could he leave? Would he really be able to walk out the door knowing they'd be apart?

Jim was everything to him. His anchor. What was left of him if he wasn't with Jim? What was his purpose if there was no Jim in his life?

A knock at the front door brought him off the bed.

Maybe Jim had changed his mind.

Blair stood by the door, unsure what to do. The knocking started again, more insistent. He placed his fingers over the latch, afraid. He hadn't seen or talked to anyone but Jim for months. He hadn't so much as looked out a window or heard a snatch of the news on the radio.

A sharp knock vibrated the wood under his hand. He swallowed hard and called out "Who is it?"

"It's Sergeant Rafe. Captain Ellison sent me. Can I come in?"

It was too soon, Blair thought, unless something had gone wrong. "Is Jim, er, Captain Ellison okay?"

"Captain Ellison has been injured," Rafe lied. "He wants me to bring you to him."

The idea that Jim wanted him was the catalyst Blair needed. He flipped back the latch and opened the door. Rafe stepped in immediately and slammed the door behind him.

"Hello, Blair. Remember me?"

Blair knew he'd made a mistake opening the door to this man. He remembered Rafe. He'd watched in horror as Rafe had gleefully slit the throats of two of the women in the cabin.

And, the voice said, who do you suppose sent him to kill everyone that day? Why, your beloved, James Ellison, of course.

Blair ignored the voice and said to Rafe "Is he alright?"

"Now, how would I know, Blair?" Rafe drew Blair's name out as he said it. Blair's stomach clenched. "See, he just left forty-five minutes ago. I haven't heard from him yet."

Blair took a step back as Rafe advanced on him. "Why are you here?"

"You're a distraction for Ellison. He's walking around like some lovesick fool."

"Lovesick? I don't think so. What does that have to do with you anyway?"

"Well, I'm here to take care of his little distraction."

"Take care of?" Blair mentally checked the distance between them and the bedroom.

"You know, you seemed a lot smarter to me a couple of months ago. Maybe the captain has been fucking your brains right out," Rafe laughed.

"Ellison's not going to be very happy with you if you hurt me," Blair said, easing back toward the bedroom slowly.

"I'm going to kill you, actually. I'm pretty sure he won't be at all happy to lose his little fuck toy but, hey, how will he know it was me? He'll get over it and then things will go back to normal."

Blair froze. Kill him?

In his second of hesitation, Rafe leapt on him. Rafe was bigger, stronger and a trained fighter. He slammed Blair against the wall, striking him twice in the head and once in the chest. Blair swung his fist and caught Rafe in the face. Rafe stumbled back, hand over his bleeding nose. Blair fled into the bedroom and slammed the door.

Fuck. The door had no lock. He knew the windows were sealed from the outside.

Blair leaned heavily against the door.

"Open the damn door, Sandburg," Rafe shouted.

Adrenaline rushing through him, Blair laughed. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm going to fucking kill you." Rafe slammed against the door and it opened a few inches. Blair pushed it closed. "If you don't open up, I guarantee you'll be begging me to kill you before I'm done." He slammed the door again and it opened. Blair pushed it but couldn't make it close all the way.

Fuck. Blair felt the door moving, slowly but surely. A few years ago, when he'd spent his off-time playing ball or hiking, he might have been a physical match for Rafe. Now, it was only a matter of time, and probably a short time at that, before Rafe was in the bedroom.

Think, think, the voice said.

I have a knife. I'll wait till I'm sure his full weight is against the door. . .

Then step back and let him fall, the voice finished.

Yeah.

When Blair moved quickly from behind the door, Rafe's momentum sent him sprawling to the bedroom floor. Blair jumped over Rafe and sprinted to the front door. He didn't want to die. He wasn't sure about anything else right now but he knew he wanted to live.

He was six feet from the goal when Rafe tackled him from behind. Rafe threw Blair to the floor and straddled his chest. "You stupid little fuck. I think you broke my nose."

"Good," Blair spat at him, working his right hand free. If he could keep Rafe furious, maybe he could get to the knife in his jeans' pocket.

Rafe balled up his fist and hit Blair in the mouth. Blood spurted from the split bottom lip. "You are a pretty bitch," Rafe said and hit him again, catching his left eye this time.

"And you're a fucking moron," Blair said, his voice thick with pain. "Ellison is going to kill you when he finds out what you've done."

"He won't know. I'll dump your body so deep in the forest, he'll never be sure if you're dead or just ran away." He ran his finger under the leather collar on Blair's throat. "I just wish I had enough time to see what Ellison taught you before I kill you."

Rafe slipped his hands around Blair's neck and began to strangle him. He leaned forward and gave the bloody mouth a quick kiss. "Bye-bye, Blair."

A hot, sharp pain spread though Rafe's left shoulder. A burning pain he couldn't ignore. Unbearable. Shocked, he released Blair.

"You stabbed me, you prick. You fucking stabbed me." Blair pushed Rafe off him and scrambled to his feet. Rafe tried to pull the knife out of his shoulder but it was in too deep and the angle was wrong.

Blair watched, mesmerized. The sight of blood was usually repugnant to him. This time it thrilled him, empowered him. The rush of violence, the surge of adrenaline filled him, cleared his head for the moment.

Finish him off while you're able, the voice urged.

It made sense. Blair circled behind Rafe, grasped the knife hilt and pulled. It was harder to yank free than he would have thought.

Rafe screamed as the knife came out. He got to his feet and said, "You are going to be so damn sorry you did that."

Blair settled the knife in his palm, liking the feel of it. "I'm glad I did it."

Rafe watched him warily for a moment then his anger burned away his good sense. "I am going to kill you."

Blair laughed. "You can try."

"What in the world is going on?" Connor couldn't believe what she saw. There, in the middle of Ellison's living room, were Rafe and Sandburg, circling each other like pit bulls.

Sandburg's face was a mess, scraped and battered and bloodied about the mouth. He was tightly gripping a knife, its blade coated in blood.

Sandburg must have given as good as he had gotten because Rafe didn't look any better. Blood was oozing from his nose and a wound on his left shoulder.

The two men ignored her, ready to pounce on each other.

"Sergeant Rafe," she said in her best officer's tone. The soldier in him came to attention but his eyes never left Sandburg.

"Yes, Lieutenant Connor?"

"I asked what is going on. Why are you here?"

"Captain Ellison asked me to check on the prisoner, ma'am."

"Really? He came by the infirmary on his way off post to ask me to look after Sandburg."

Rafe met Connor's eyes. He knew he was fucked. "Listen, Meagan," he began.

"Report for sick call immediately, Sergeant. We'll discuss this later." When it was obvious Rafe was not going to back down she add with a smile "In my quarters."

He glanced back at Sandburg. The boy wiped his bleeding mouth on the sleeve of his blue shirt. The hand that held the knife was rock steady. It was time, Rafe decided, to cut his losses. He would be better off sweet talking Conner than fighting the kid.

"Sergeant Rafe," Connor said. This was it. She had toyed with the idea of accompanying Sandburg to the resistance. Now that Rafe had seen her and she'd intervened, there was no turning back. "Sergeant?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll report to sick call."

When the door closed behind him, Connor turned to Blair "Blair? I'm Meagan Connor. I know you don't remember me. You couldn't really. You didn't actually see me but..."

"You took care of me at the hospital," Blair interrupted. He swiped the knife clean on the leg of his jeans but kept it in his hand.

"That's right. I won't hurt you."

"I won't let you. Why are you here?"

"Ellison asked me to come."

"Right. That's what Rafe said."

"Captain Ellison said to remind you to keep your promise to him."

Blair nodded then sheathed the knife. "Okay, I believe you. Why are you here?"

"I'm here because Ellison asked me to watch over you."

"Yeah, I caught that," Blair said, still keeping far enough away that she couldn't touch him. "It's too soon for Jim to try to contact me. Why are you here?"

Connor quickly took in the scene before her. A large cage dominated the room. Hooks hung from the ceiling. A frightened yet defiant boy stood before her, a leather collar locked about his throat. And he called Ellison by his first name. What had Ellison done to him over the past few months?

"Blair, I've talked to Joel Taggart."

"The Taggarts are safe," Blair said with absolute certainty. "Jim promised me."

"Yes, they're safe. What I meant to tell you is that I've talked to Joel and let him know about your situation."

Blair sank to the floor. "Then my mom is behind the explosions up on the hills. I tried to warn Jim but he said he had to go." Blair sounded heartbroken. "Jesus, Jim, why did you go?"

"Blair, we've got to get you out of camp."

"No, I promised I'd wait thirty-six hours."

"You promised Captain Ellison?" Connor asked, trying to get this all straight in her mind.

"Yes, I promised him."

"Blair, he wanted your safety above all. There was no way he could have predicted that Rafe would do this to you. There could be others besides Rafe. We don't have much time." Blair continued to stubbornly sit on the floor. She had to find away to convince him. "Blair, please."

"I promised Jim. I can't betray him."

He thought he loved Ellison, Connor realized. What kind of sick games had Ellison played with this boy?

"You wouldn't be betraying him, Blair. The most important thing is your safety, right? He wouldn't have risked coming to me otherwise, right?"

Blair seemed to consider her words. "I guess."

She knew she was on the right track. "Think how he would feel if anything else happened to you. He'd hate that, wouldn't he? He'd probably blame himself."

"Probably."

"Please, Blair."

"Yeah, okay."

She held the backpack out to him. "There is a uniform. Change into it. We should be able to get out a side gate if we hurry."

Blair accepted the pack and went into the bedroom to change.

Connor wandered through the rest of the house in the few minutes it took Blair to change clothes. The windows were darkened. Locks, although popped open, were on every drawer, door and cabinet she could see. And that cage. God, why had Ellison needed that cage?

The bedroom door opened and Blair came out. He'd tucked his hair up under the cap. Except for the battered face, he looked like any other young soldier on the post.

"I want the other clothes to go with me," he said. "Jim gave them to me."

"Sure," Connor said. "There is plenty of room in the backpack." She shoved the clothes in and handed it to him. "We've go to go now, Blair."

"Yeah."

Walk out the door, the voice in his head commanded.

I can't, Blair thought.

Maybe you can't but we can, the voice said. We can do it, Blair. It has to be now.

Connor stood outside on the sidewalk in front of him, puzzled. "Blair?"

You can't separate yourself anymore, Blair. Put us back together.

I'm not sure what to do.

I am. Trust me, Blair. Trust us. Trust yourself.

I'll try.

Blair stepped into the sunshine behind Connor. He assured himself that the brightness was the reason for the blinding tears in his eyes.

They jogged to the side gate.

A wash of panic hit Jim. He nearly staggered under the immensity of it.

Blair was in danger. The taste of Blair's fear was fresh and strong in Jim's mouth. How, he wasn't sure, but he knew beyond reason Blair needed him.

Jim knew he had failed Blair. What the hell had he been thinking? He'd left Blair with a change of clothes, a knife and a nurse's promise to fulfill a vaguely worded request.

No money, no supplies, nothing to really help the boy.

And all because, in his heart of hearts, in his extreme arrogance, Jim had believed he could handle all this. Yeah, he'd been pretty sure this was Naomi's doings and it was probably a trap but he went charging off assuming his heightened senses and superior army would take down any rebel force without difficulty. Maybe it would before this was all over. But right now, he was miles outside of camp and miles away from the foothills and Blair needed him.

He was torn. He wanted to turn around right now, fuck the consequences. He needed to go forward, it was his duty. He needed to go back, it was Blair.

Before he made his decision, the ground shook beneath him as explosions ripped through the forest around him. His men scattered as trees and rocks, uprooted by the force of the charges, rained down on them. He put his arms up to protect his head a moment too late.

His last thought, as the darkness consumed him, was of Blair.

Epilogue

Blair and Connor had wandered for a day and a half in the forest before the rebels ran across them. As they were both dressed as soldiers of the new regime, the rebels had taken them prisoner and walked them at gunpoint to a well-hidden camp.

Naomi recognized Blair from across the clearing and ran squealing to him. Crying, she held him tight while Steven cut the cord that bound his wrists. Blair embraced his mother for a moment.

He pointed to the still tied Connor. "Mom, this is Meagan Connor. She helped me escape. She can be trusted." Steven cut her free as well. "She's a nurse," Blair added.

"We could use you in the infirmary if you're willing," Naomi said.

"I'd be glad to help," Connor said. A woman led Connor to the infirmary, leaving Blair, Naomi and Steven alone.

Naomi shook her head as she looked at Blair. "My poor baby, what did they do to you? Your eye and your mouth." She reached out to touch the leather collar. "What's this?"

"Did Jimmy do this to you, Blair?" Steve asked.

"Do what?" Blair wasn't ready to talk about what happened between him and Jim yet. He wasn't sure he ever would be. Already the time spent in that house seemed unreal to him, as though it had happened to someone else.

And along with the sense of unreality, were feelings of loneliness and desolation. Of emptiness. Of a love unrequited.

"Your face, that collar," Steven said. "Did Jimmy do that to you?"

"No," Blair answered.

"What happened?" Naomi asked.

"After Jim left, one of his men attacked me. Jim had nothing to do with it." Blair felt compelled to protect Jim, even now.

Steven nodded, obviously relieved.

"He's here," Naomi said.

"Who?" Blair asked.

"Jim Ellison. He's here. He was injured in one of the blasts and left behind. Our men found him unconscious and brought him to the camp."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"Yeah," Steven said. "Just some minor injuries."

Blair felt sucker-punched. "What are you going to do with him?" he asked.

Steven looked away from Blair and Naomi. His answer was stilted. "I suppose he'll be put in front of the council and tried for his war crimes. They'll probably execute him."

"No!" Blair burst out. "Absolutely not."

Naomi put her hand on Blair's shoulder. "Sweetie, he's committed atrocities that he has to pay for."

"No, I don't want him hurt." Blair searched his mind desperately for something that could save Jim. "Mom, he's a Sentinel."

Naomi had heard about Blair's dissertation and search for a true Sentinel for years. "Oh, please, honey."

"It's true. I swear. He's got abilities that could help our cause, Mom."

"Blair," Steven interjected, "Jimmy would never help us." Despite his words to Blair, Steven sounded hopeful. Blair only had to convince Naomi.

"Mom, I can turn him. I know I can. Let me try to train him."

"Honey, I just don't know," Naomi said.

"I do," Blair replied. "I can do this. Let me try, Naomi. I've never asked you for anything before. Give me this, Mom."

Steven looked into Naomi's eyes. She was undecided. He smiled at her and said "The council will listen to you, babe. Hell, you practically are the council. I know what Jim has done but he's my brother, Naomi."

"Please, Mom."

She couldn't deny either one of them. "I'll take care of it."

"Thanks, Mom. Where is he being held?"

"He's in the infirmary," Steven said. "I'll walk you over there."

Blair stood in the open flap of the tent that was being used as the infirmary. He could see Jim sleeping on a cot, Meagan Connor standing next to him. Blair motioned for her to join him outside.

"Connor, they're giving Jim to me."

"Why?"

"What does it matter? How long till he'll be well enough to travel?"

"A few days."

"We'll probably stay at this camp until then. He's to be released to me as soon as he's healed enough. In the meantime, I have a few things you need to do for me."

"Okay."

"No one is to give him anything by mouth."

"Blair," Connor protested.

"Connor, you're here on shaky ground. My good will is the only reason you're working in the infirmary instead of sitting with the other prisoners. My mom and her boyfriend run the show. Do you really want to find yourself abandoned in this forest? Or returned to the post? What do you think the new regime will do to a traitor and deserter like you? And I'll bet Rafe would be love to see you again."

"God, Blair." Connor visibly paled. "What do you want me to do?"

He was amused at how quickly she acquiesced. "I'll be here to feed him. No one, and I mean no one else but me, gives him anything by mouth. Not water not even medicine. You tell me when I need to be here and I will be."

"Yes, Blair."

"One more thing, Connor." He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a black silk scarf. "Keep his eyes covered at all times."

"Oh, Blair, no."

"Covered at all times, Connor. Got it?"

"Yes, Blair," she whispered in appalled tones.

He looked passed her at Ellison's sleeping form.

Mine, he thought, as he turned from the tent and went back to the center of the compound.

Mine.

End Captive by Rentgirl 2