Swinging the duffel bag onto the kitchen table, Jim felt Blair's eyes on him, following every nuance of motion and mood as Jim double-checked the contents to make sure that he had everything he would need for the day. Blair had always watched him, and hadn't stopped just because the diss was history and Jim was no longer a test subject. Jim had long since gotten used to it, though lately he was willing to swear there was something new in the sapphire gaze traveling so thoughtfully over him. It wasn't the analytical, slightly aloof watching of the scientist and researcher he knew so well from early on; nor was it the wary weather-eye of one friend trying to gauge the other's mood that he had unwittingly and unwillingly taught Blair. It wasn't even the calculating, assessing study of a man waiting to see what was on his partner's mind that had always been a natural part of Blair's repertoire.
Whatever it was, Jim knew perfectly well that if his roomie wanted to talk about whatever it was he was observing, they would, and *only* if Blair wanted to. That rankled, like always, but he was too used to his partner's expert sidestepping, downplaying, or out-and-out bullshitting about anything he didn't want to discuss. Besides, the waiting game had always worked best when it came to coaxing confidences from his elusive friend, and he was willing to play along as long as necessary if the problem was so important to Blair that he literally couldn't keep his eyes off him.
So he shoved his awareness of the gaze below the level where he had to consciously pay attention to it, and concentrated on the task at hand. Retrieving a towel from the bathroom, Jim nodded to himself and said, "That should do it. Sweats for my stint at Rob's gym late this afternoon, and a change of clothes for dinner with my brother tonight." Not mentioning the files tucked in the bottom of the bag, which were the real reason for carrying it, he glanced up at Blair and added, "Are you sure you wouldn't like to join us? We're going to that new Thai place on Houston. His treat, and Steven included you in the invitation."
Finally looking away, eyeing his uneaten breakfast of whole-grain toast and preserves, Blair said, "Sounds good, and I'd take you up on it in a minute if I hadn't promised to take desk duty at the half-way house tonight. Fridays are a rough night for them; the 'weekend's beginning, time to party' mindset is hard to kick."
"Leftovers?" Jim offered, willing to order an entire extra meal and reimburse Steven for it if Sandburg would just eat some of it.
"I could get behind that," Blair murmured insincerely. Standing, he threw away his breakfast, as he had practically every morning since his abrupt return from the retreat with Naomi, and picked up his pack. "How's the chemo going for Rob's daughter?"
"Pretty good, all things considered. She's one of the lucky ones that responds well to the anti-nausea drugs, and he says her spirits are still up," Jim said absently. His mind was already reluctantly shifting to on-duty status, unhappily pushing aside his worry for his too-thin friend.
"Has to help that her dad is able to be with her so much because you're taking care of the gym for him," Blair murmured casually, almost too casually.
Not sure what to make of his tone, Jim shrugged with his expression and waved his roomie out the door. "He would have done that anyway, regardless. But this way, he doesn't have to worry about losing his health insurance because the business goes under. We both know that insurance companies look for any tiny excuse to drop coverage once you actually *need* it." He didn't mention to Sandburg that Rob had just opened the doors of the gym when he got the call from his ex about their daughter, and that he was doing a great deal more for the former cop than filling in as an officer manager for his business. That was part of the secret that went with the files in his bag.
Letting Blair lead the way down the hall, Jim did some watching of his own, suddenly worried that he'd slipped up somehow and Blair suspected that he was up to something. Damn it, he'd been so careful, even going so far as to co-op his brother into helping him with the legal aspects of the surprise he had planned so there wouldn't be any calls or paper trail to discover. The idea *had* been Blair's first, of course, though at the time he hadn't been serious at all. For him, checking out the loft next door to Jim's when it had come up for sale had been more in the realm of wishful thinking. There was no way that he could afford to make payments on the place, let alone come up with a down payment for the condo, not with his student loan bills to deal with. So they had both admired the comfortable rooms that were nearly a perfect mirror image of their loft, though only half the size, and talked about how easy it would be to do the few minor fix-ups the place needed.
Normally, it would have been out of Jim's reach, as well. But he had been looking for a way to seduce his partner into thinking of his loft as *their* loft, their home, so that Blair would never, ever try to leave it again, as he had secretly tried to a few months ago. Hard to do when all Jim had to offer was a miniature room under the stairs and an un-wanted, badly damaged heart. Rob's offer to give him ten percent as a finder's fee for whatever new business he could bring in while he was helping run the gym came at exactly the right time. More than willing to bust ass and his own personal mold if that's what it took to make his partner happy and comfortable, Jim took Rob up on it, unashamedly using every scrap of business sense he inherited from his old man.
That, along with a trust for his education that his mother had created for him when he had been born, made buying the condo possible. He supposed that meant that he would have to be grateful that his father had thrown the money his way as a peace offering just before Jim had become a scandal and freak in the press, but at least he had what he needed. Taxes and insurance on it could be a problem if he wanted to do renovations, but he quickly realized they weren't really. They were an excuse to ask Blair to be a co-owner. His partner would gain equity, security against future loans if he needed it, and all for much less than rent just about anywhere decent in Cascade. There was even a clause in the buyer's contract that guaranteed that Jim would buy him out with thirty days notice.
An escape clause, really, so Blair wouldn't feel trapped or burdened. Just, well, as if he were making his way on his own terms: an equal and a peer, not a dependent or freeloader. Jim had no idea if that really was part of whatever was shadowing his partner's eyes and disturbing his sleep nearly every night, but at the very least it would be a distraction. The problem was to sell it to Blair so that he'd see it as doing Jim a favor, and not the bribe it really was.
Stifling a growl because he was no closer to knowing if he could do that than when he'd first conceived of the idea a few weeks ago, Jim got in the truck, not surprised that Blair went back to watching him. At least there wasn't any suspicion in his regard. Whatever was going on with Blair, it didn't seem likely that he guessed Jim was plotting behind his back.
Instead, surprisingly, he went back to their original conversation. "I hope Rob appreciates how much time you're putting into *his* business. You're hardly home any more, and I don't remember the last time you went on a date."
Again there was a strange edge in Blair's voice, and wondering what landmines he was blindly stomping past, Jim said as blandly as possible, "It's not for much longer - another two months, ten weeks at the most. Considering the disaster that we fondly call my love-life, a longer break would be better, but then people might start thinking I'd given up."
That got a fraction of a smile, and Blair turned his attention to the road appearing in the windshield, finally letting Jim off the hook for a while. "Better they think you're a rotten date than a quitter, huh?"
"Ranger creed - never give up, never surrender," Jim quipped.
"I thought that was from a movie," Blair said, smile broadening.
"They stole it. Ask any Ranger. Hell, ask any Marine, but be prepared to explain the big words to him." Jim smiled a little himself, irrationally pleased that he'd diverted his partner, however momentarily, from the shadows that were such a part of him these days.
"Didn't the Rangers steal it from them to start with?" Blair volleyed back, and the rest of the ride was spent in the kind of banter and joking that used to be commonplace between them.
Thankfully the rest of their hectic day allowed them to keep that mood. By the time they went their different ways after shift, Jim had not only managed to get a substantial lunch into his partner, but some of the light was back in Blair's expression for the first time since Katie dumped him. It was a good sign, Jim decided as he thought back on the day when he locked up the gym for the evening. Maybe all Sandburg really needed was time to recover from the double damage of losing, first his chosen career, then Katie, in such short order.
He couldn't give him time, but he could give him space to make use of it. The thought cheered Jim enough that he thoroughly enjoyed dinner with Steven, effortlessly by-passing or shrugging off the occasional slip they both made into the old combative, competitive ways. Steven had the blue prints for the renovations that he'd asked for, all the paper work was taken care of, and the deposit was made. All he had to do was get Blair's signature on the deeds, and he'd finally decided to simply put all the cards on the table for his partner as straight forwardly as possible.
If Blair bought his reasoning that Jim was investing in the apartment next door to double the value of his own for a third of the cost, and if he believed that his share of the 'mortgage' was absolutely necessary to carry it off, *and* that he'd be doing a huge favor by being a co-owner, Jim's scheme could work. Maybe. Hopefully.
If it didn't, he'd start working on some other way to coax Blair closer to him and away from his private pain. Maybe ask for help with the paperwork Rob's gym. The new customers from the women's defense demonstrations that he had done at various clubs and organizations had allowed him to schedule a class for them every night of the week, and two on Saturday, though he had to teach some himself to cover that many. Similar demos in schools could be helpful, too, especially if he could quote rock-bottom prices to parents because of grants. Blair could help set that up, perhaps.
Happily pre-occupied with strategies for the gym and pleased with himself for having a line of attack for his plans for the loft, Jim let himself into his home and was halfway into the kitchen with the Blair's takeout before he realized he wasn't alone. Lying on the bare floor in front of the cold fireplace, Chief, the wolf that Jim believed was Blair's spirit animal, wearily lifted his head and chuffed a barely audible welcome. Alarmed, fingers automatically going to the center of his chest where the faint imprint of the beast's footprint was impressed into his skin, Jim rushed over, dropping to his knees by the wolf.
Chief looked as if he'd run for miles and days across rough terrain without pausing for rest or food. Skeletal thin, his coat was matted and rough, and his paw pads were raw and bleeding. Putting a cautious hand on the wolf's ribs, Jim could feel the frantic, too-fast beat of his heart, familiar with the steady, even beat that it should have. It didn't take a sentinel to see that the chest was rising and falling too quickly and shallowly. "What is it, boy?" he murmured. "What do you need?"
In answer Chief gave a huge shudder, and Jim scrambled to get an afghan from the couch to tuck around the huge beast, then quickly lit a fire. Seeing that the nose and tongue were too dry, he got a bowl of water from the kitchen, and patiently fed the wolf a palm full at a time until Chief sighed tiredly and turned his head away. Then he treated the sore paws with a aloe burn cream that Blair had found for him, hoping that if a sentinel could use it without reaction, there wouldn't be anything in it that could hurt a wolf. All the while Jim murmured worried reassurances and carded through Chief's ruff, worried that the soft, silky texture had been replaced by coarse dirtiness that was totally unlike the animal that he knew.
"Food?" Jim asked finally, wondering what else he could do to help. Chief gave the short, sharp bark that sounded like so much like laughter, and Jim smiled ruefully at himself. "Seems like I'm always trying to feed you up, one way or the other."
He cupped the sharp jaw, and held the great head steady while he met the Blair-colored eyes, and said, "The other two times I saw you, I desperately needed you beside me. But I'm fine, as close to happy as I can get. Which means you must need something equally desperately from me; so badly you've hurt yourself getting here. If comfort's all you need, I swear I'll pour out every ounce I can find in myself for you, but I have to think there's more."
With human resignation sitting oddly on his wolven features, Chief dipped his muzzle once in acknowledgement, then growled his frustration at not being able to communicate directly. With a careful head butt to make his intentions known, he crawled halfway onto Jim's lap, then sighed with exhaustion and closed his eyes, almost instantly asleep. Not at all put out by being turned into a pillow, Jim settled in for a long night, idly worrying about how to explain Chief to his roomie.
That brought up a new concern for him, and he spent nearly an hour talking himself out of calling Blair just make sure that *this* time, the wolf wasn't there as a warning that he was in trouble. Just about the time he was going to give up and call anyway, the phone rang, and he eased Chief off his lap to answer it. The animal gave a little pained cry at the change, then curled in on itself and dropped back into slumber. Leaving his side only long enough to get the phone, Jim knelt beside him again, fingers automatically caressing the furred ears, and said shortly, "Ellison."
**Hey, Jim,** Blair said, sounding every bit as exhausted as his counter-part. **Hope I didn't interrupt anything.**
"Just visiting with a friend," Jim said honestly, glancing down at the wolf. "Problem, Sandburg?"
**A friend?** Blair asked sharply. Before Jim could call him on his tone, he added more mildly, **Then this will probably work out for you, at least. One of the residents got a hold of some shit and overdosed. His mom just found him, and we're doing the whole police, ambulance, hospital thing. I've got the next person on-shift coming in to cover me here so I can go to the hospital with them; doing the victim advocacy gig, you know, making the mess easier on the mom. Her kid's one of those rare ones that really is a good guy who just met the wrong damned people, and she's totally bewildered and terrified and wanting to do the right thing for him.**
"And even if they were scum of the earth you'd be doing your best for them," Jim said quietly, approvingly. He could hear underneath the flood of explanations the plea for understanding Sandburg didn't want - and shouldn't have - to ask for out loud. "Want me to call the shift captain and have him make sure his boys behave themselves? We both know they can be too rough on 'junkies' sometimes."
**No, I think I can handle it; got a pretty good rapport with most of the uniforms by now. Just wanted you to know that I'm going to be way late getting in tonight, probably not until tomorrow morning, since I'm going to have to take over for the night person I called in so she can get some sleep before going into her job.** The relief was hidden in the bland words, but there in Blair's voice, and he sounded less like he was half-dead on his feet. Then he added in the same sharp way as before, **Unless you'd rather I find someplace else to crash, to give you some privacy?**
This time Jim thought he understood his roomie's tone; he wouldn't want to have to scrounge someplace to sleep after a long night, either. More sure than ever that buying the place next door was a good idea, he said, "Got anything you want me to get you up for, or are you going to sleep it out?"
Plainly not expecting that answer, Blair said distractedly, **Supposed to help Al with his house tomorrow - it's almost done - but I'll call him and let him know to expect me when I get there.** There was a scream of sirens in the background and a babble of frightened, confused voices, and he said, **Gotta go. I'll call if I run into any problems, okay?** Before Jim could answer he hung up, calling to someone in the room that the kid was in the room at the end of the hall.
Turning the phone off, Jim laid it beside Chief, then went upstairs and brought down bedding for himself. If he wasn't going to have to give any explanations, then he could afford to get comfortable down here. He put away the all-but-forgotten takeout from the restaurant, built up the fire, then banked it for the night and rolled into the comforter, keeping the wolf within easy reach but giving him plenty of room to move if he needed it. For a long time Jim simply stared into the flames and stroked along Chief's flanks and sides, using his fingers to comb and untangled the neglected coat. Eventually he drifted into a light doze, aware of his surroundings, but relaxed enough not to worry about them.
He heard Chief shift, but didn't stir himself, not even when the warm body pressed into him, one paw resting on his chest. Instead he slipped farther under, sighing as he adjusted to the weight against him, a rare peace filling his soul. The first tiny, licking kiss on his jaw didn't disturb him at all, but only added to the calm pervading his rest.
The following ones registered more fully on his mind, but they were pleasant, enjoyable, and his subconscious couldn't find any reason to object to them or to wake up enough to stop them. It was only after a long, dreamy time that he realized that the licks had become kisses bestowed by soft, human lips, and that they were slowly traveling to his mouth. Even that didn't truly wake him. Instead it woke a part of him that he hadn't much use for in recent months, and it filled with blood, lengthening in lazily rising desire.
The matching part of Chief, growing harder with each soft touch of lips to skin, dug into Jim's belly alongside his arousal, and that finally made enough of an impression that he groggily reached for his lover, mumbling something he didn't understand himself. Chief evaded his clumsy grab, but snuggled into him, whispering, "Shhh, shhhh. Let me do this; just lay there and let me do this."
"Share," Jim muttered, doing as he was told anyway.
"Not this time, please?" A tiny nip on one earlobe, then another on the curve of his shoulder, and odd-feeling hands tugged at the buttons on his shirt. "It has to be like this, this time. Please?"
The lassitude owning Jim was too sweet and heavy to shrug off without good reason, and he was being given a much better one to passively accept the loving being bestowed upon him. With a sleepy sigh he capitulated, letting his hands fall to his sides as he rolled to his back to make himself accessible. Familiar weight immediately covered him, subtly altering from time to time as his lover undid his shirt and pushed it out of the way, mouth busy on the skin he exposed. Long curls that sometimes was closer to shaggy fur swept ahead of the licking kisses, making Jim achingly aware of his own flesh, making each touch vibrantly *there* to his heightened senses.
Desire, heavy and liquid, flowed over him, and long before that clever mouth reached his belt line, he was moaning and eager for whatever his lover wanted of him. Teasingly Chief nuzzled against the mound distorting the front of Jim's pants, then took pity on the whimpering man and pulled down the zipper, freeing his erection to the fire-warmed air.
"God," Jim groaned. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, both wanting to see the vision bending over him, and yet afraid of exactly what he *would* see. "You're driving me crazy, Chief."
"Enjoy the trip," his lover murmured, then gave a single, broad lick from the crown of Jim's hard-on all the way to the downy sack tight against it.
Shouting, Jim tried to thrust, to grab his lover's head and pull it down to take what he needed, but his body didn't obey, too burdened with the spell of submission Chief had woven over him. It was, for a man acutely aware of the danger his size and strength could be to a bed partner, intensely exciting in and of itself. Between that and the clever tongue working him, Jim was quickly at the verge of climax, needing only some small something to finish him.
He would have begged if he had been capable of speech; since he wasn't, he endured, frantically wishing for Chief to grant him release. Instead his lover pulled away, tugging off Jim's pants before he could scream a denial at the loss of contact. Once he was naked, his knees were pushed up to his chest, his thighs splayed widely and held there by furred shoulders under his feet. Unashamed, he revealed the hidden, vulnerable part of his body, hoping only to please and thrill his partner.
"Need you," Chief whimpered. "Need you, need you, need to be in you, need to feel you hot and tight around me, going to do you, soon, soon, soon...." Shaking fingers entered Jim, jerkily thrusting in time to the chanted words, readying him as fast as possible.
The eager probing felt delicious, an intoxicating herald for what was next, and Jim opened easily to it, more than ready for his lover's pleasure. When Chief's thick, sturdy cock found its way into him, spreading and filling the tender channel with a sure, fast stroke, Jim came, helplessly spilling his seed onto his own body. As badly as he needed release, he howled in disappointment that their union was over so quickly, and he tightened as hard as he could around Chief to get the most of the quick, hard jabs pummeling him as his lover shuddered through his own climax.
Chief collapsed on him, breaking the lethargy holding Jim immobile, but some instinct warned him against moving. "You shouldn't have spent your strength that way," he murmured. "Much as I loved it."
"Had to," Chief panted. "Needed to."
"So we could speak?" Jim asked, remembering the other times they had been able to talk.
"That too." What felt like a wolfish grin spread over Jim's chest for a moment where Chief's head lay, then he said somberly, "Something's wrong, really wrong with my alter. Night after night, over and over, he dreams that he's looking for someone or something that he's lost. He's tired, always so tired and discouraged and despairing that he'd just sit down and never move again if what's missing weren't so important. Enquiri's with him, encouraging him to keep moving, helping him look."
"Enquiri?" Jim asked, keeping his eyes closed and hands at his sides in an unbelievable act of will.
"The black jaguar, your alter. He's trying as hard as he can, but...."
Interrupting tiredly, Jim said, "It's just not enough." Grief took up residence, hurtful and solid, in the middle of his heart. "He's looking for you, isn't he?"
"I...I think so," Chief said hesitantly. "I keep trying to go to him, but no matter how fast I run, the distance stays the same. I don't know what to do!"
With the calm of a man who knows he can't dodge the bullet and doesn't want to spend his last moments whining or acting like a coward, Jim said, "I do, Chief."
Dubiously, fear threaded through his voice, Chief said, "You do?"
"Yeah. Don't worry. Just rest and I'll take care of it as soon as Blair gets home."
"Jim." The word was worried, but Chief didn't add anything to it, as if he couldn't think of a way to express it better.
"Trust me; it'll be okay." Then Jim deliberately reached up to pet his lover, opening his eyes as thick fur met his fingertips. He and Chief exchanged one last, long look, the wolf's filled with alarm and longing, then he put his head back down in the middle of Jim's chest and instantly fell fast asleep.
Jim lay under him for a long, long time, staring at the ceiling and watching it change in the flickering light from the dying fire. he old skill of waiting without thinking, so necessary for the military, resurfaced unbidden, allowing him to keep his heartbeat and breathing steady, so that they wouldn't disturb his companion. When the light on the ceiling was as gray as the ashes on the hearth and the dawn's promise in the sky, he carefully slid from under the wolf and gathered him into his arms to carry him upstairs to his bed.
By the time Blair got home a few hours later, bleary-eyed and grim, there was no trace of the night's activities downstairs, and Jim had washed and changed his clothes to hide the bruises from Chief's nipping kisses. He all but force-fed his partner a cup of hot chicken broth, then put him to bed, ignoring Blair's attempts to ward him off. In the end all he could do to make him comfortable was to pull off his shoes when Blair tumbled backwards awkwardly trying to do it himself.
"Sleep," he ordered, pulling the blanket over the fully dressed body. "You can ream me out for being a mother hen when you've got your brain back online." It was a sign of how far gone Blair was that all he did to reply was wave the one-fingered salute before pulling the blanket up to his chin, starting to snore almost immediately.
Again Jim bided his time, waiting until his senses told him that Blair was deeply under, then he went upstairs and carried Chief back down, refusing to let himself linger, even for a moment, to pet and caress the wolf one more time. As he crossed the threshold into Blair's room, he could feel the change in the animal, feel the fey charge of energy creep up his arms and into his shoulders. Chief became lighter, less substantial in his arms, ghostly to his sight and vague to his sense of smell. Only the vitals held strong and steady, an identical match to Blair's, creating a slight echo that faded as Jim drew closer to his partner's bed.
Sketching the motion of laying the now vaporous wolf on top of Blair, he knelt beside the bed and watched with a sort of fatalistic detachment as Chief was absorbed into the man that he'd been created from, returning where he belonged. The faintly electric tingle from holding Chief gathered in the center of Jim's chest where his paw print lay imbedded in his skin. Then it, too, was gone, taking the wolf's mark with it, leaving a blistering hurt that quickly became a patch of numbness that would undoubtedly look unmarred even to Jim's eye.
This time he permitted himself one last touch, daringly smoothing stray curls away from the sleeping face. "You thought you were dead when you sent Chief to me," he whispered, hardly aware he was finally giving voice to the knowledge that had crystallized inside him when the wolf had confessed that Blair needed him back. "You didn't want me to be alone, to have to fight Alex Barnes without an ally who understood the battle, so you gave me what you thought you didn't need any more.
"I don't know what exactly it was; I just know that since then you haven't been yourself, really. The spark, the individuality and strength of character that let you get away with wearing multiple earrings and long hair in a cop's bullpen without being hassled to within an inch of your life, has been burning lower and lower. You used to be able to bounce back, grinning and still fighting, when life took a punch at you. Now you bruise before the blow even lands, and your eyes are shadowed with pain you can't get a handle on."
Uselessly tucking the blanket a little closer around the slumped shoulders, Jim shook his head at himself. "I should have understood it sooner, Blair. I should have realized that the reason you came back when you felt you had to leave was because you couldn't live without at least being close to the part of you that I carried. I'm sorry, as pointless as that is. I'm truly, truly sorry."
He stood and simply looked down at the sleeping man for a few long, long minutes, wishing there was something more he could do make up for his stupidity. Finally, admitting it was futile and always had been, he left the room, pausing at the door way long enough to brace himself for that final step away.
At a loss for anything better to do, Jim dug out the paper work that he'd brought home from the gym and started in on it, vaguely worried that he felt so removed from his own body as he worked. It was almost as if the numbness from the place where the imprint had been had spread, covering him in some thick, muffling wrap that was invisible even to himself. His senses were all on line, and as acute as ever as far as he could tell, but he had to reach for them, consciously make an effort to find and use them.
The same deadening was affecting his emotions, too, but he was thankful for that. It was something of a relief to be so far removed from the sorrow and grief raging through his soul that it was like watching a spectacular thunderstorm from a distant mountaintop. Deciding he could put up with the senses part as long as he was spared from dealing with the rest, he threw himself into the bookwork, hardly noticing the passage of time or the strain sitting so still for so long was putting on his body. When it was done, the figures far more into the black than he had expected, Jim shut the ledger, wondering why he didn't feel at least a little smug or triumphant that the totals had been so good. Rob would be relieved and excited; certainly he should at least be happy for his friend.
A rumble of noise from Blair's bedroom had him getting up, heading on automatic pilot for the coffee machine. A quick glance at the clock told him that his partner had gotten enough rest to be recharged; the caffeine would do to kick his brain back into gear. By the time Blair stumbled down the hall to the bathroom and showered, a mug was waiting for him, along with his usual breakfast. Jim was going over the scheduling for the gym's various activities, trying not to give too many classes to himself to teach.
Blair snagged the cup on the way back to his room to get dressed, came back in just his jeans to grab the toast, and was shrugging into his flannel as he came out again, swallowing the last bite. Instead of leaving as Jim expected, he went into the kitchen and popped more whole-grain bread into the toaster and got more coffee. Mildly surprised, Jim looked up from his paperwork in time to catch Blair's eye, who just shrugged and said, "Really hungry; must have skipped too many meals yesterday."
Jim didn't answer right away. The slight motion had caused light to flicker just under his partner's hair, calling attention to the earrings that were back where they belonged for the first time in longer than he cared to think about. It was a good thing to see; so good that for a moment the protective layers around him thinned. But the slightly irritated stare Blair shot at him for his silence made Jim grab for something intelligent to say, and the covering mercifully solidified in place before the pain it hid had time to do more than let him know that it was there.
"Kid okay?" he asked blandly.
Apparently startled by the question, Blair said, "Yeah, as a matter of fact. Got to him in time." He grinned, with more of the 'old' Blair shining through. "In fact, he was so impressed with the way the cops worked with me on the whole thing that he finally came clean to me and his mom about why he back-slid. Looks like I accidentally gave Vice a big break on the mobile drug factory that's been driving them crazy."
Truly interested and remotely grateful that they had something safe to talk about, Jim put down his pen and sat back in his chair. "Kid does business with them?"
"Kid built it for them," Blair said with a touch of smugness, catching the toast as it popped up and spreading jam over it. "Turns out he's a real genius for design and spatial placement, so one of his so-called friends took his time to recruit him, getting him hooked by lying his ass off about how easy it was to kick and what the drugs could do to his creativity. Bought it because he really trusted the guy and because of a 'don't trust anybody in authority' thing that his Mom has, big-time. When he finally realized what a crock of shit he'd gotten into, he decided to get out of it, completely, but the people he's gotten in with don't want to lose their brainpower. So yesterday when he was out looking for work, they snagged him and dosed him against his will so that he'd get kicked out of the program."
"Score one for the good guys, thanks to you," Jim said, mildly relieved that his pride in his partner was genuine and showing clearly.
"Things like this make me want to rethink the whole badge thing," Blair said seriously, sitting down at the other end of the table. "Maybe, you know, I'm the one buying too much into my mom's anti-cop thing."
"If I didn't think you'd be able to do the job, I wouldn't have suggested it to Simon in the first place. Hell, Sandburg, you've been a cop in everything but name almost since you started riding with me. Did a lot of good work."
"Cost me, too," Blair muttered, looking into his coffee as if to find answers there. Then he took a savage bite of his toast and chewed, retreating back into the dull silence that had been his norm for too long.
Unable on his worst day to bear that absence of spirit, Jim stood and fished out the folder that he'd been hiding in the gym's files, abandoning the blueprints for the renovations without a second thought. Suddenly positive that now was the time to bring up the place next door, he said, "While you're finishing that, got a minute to spare?"
"Sure," Blair said automatically, washing the toast down with more coffee. "Now?" he asked in surprise as Jim caught him by the elbow and urged him to rise.
"Now. Before the phone rings and one of us has to leave." Somewhat enjoying the mystified expression on his partner's face, Jim navigated him out of their loft and into the hallway, handing Blair the keys he held. "Go on in."
"Why, did Sass sell the place? Are we going to give him a hand with something?" Blair asked, doing as told with a bit of aggravation beginning to show.
"Yes and no." Jim followed him in, flicking on the lights as they stepped over the threshold, though there was enough light from the balcony doors at the end to be able to see. Leaning against the wall next to the door and leaving it open, he said easily, "I want to buy it."
"You?" Blair blurted.
"Me. Rob talked to his ex-wife and they're so pleased with how the gym is going since I took over that they're giving me a cut of the profits. It's enough for a good down payment, but I can't swing the monthly mortgage on just that, which would have the taxes and insurance escrowed into it, by myself." Dodging the whole truth with a skill that usually came with being under cover, Jim made a mental note to make Steven promise never to tell about the trust that really paid for the whole thing. "Nearly let it go, but since I can't see ever leaving the loft while the building's still standing, and it makes sense to invest in the property if that's the case, I did some re-thinking."
"Course you won't move," Blair said absently, looking around, eyes beginning to shine as he caught a clue to where Jim might be heading. "Part of the sentinel thing; territory, perfect lair for your needs, stability, all that."
"Steven says that adding this to my place would double the value of what both of them would be worth alone. No way I could do that right away," he out-and-out lied without a qualm for the first time since starting his argument. "But if I had a business partner to invest with me, I could at least own it. Your share, if you think you'd be interested, would be based on what I can't cover by myself." Naming a sum that he knew was just about what Blair could afford without hurting him too bad, he handed him the contract and waited a moment to let him think.
When it seemed clear that Blair liked what was going on in his head, Jim added, "The only hitch is that you can't sell your share to anybody but me. There's also a clause guaranteeing that I'll buy back at any time, given a thirty day notice, for half the current market value." Moving a few steps closer, he added on a false note of flippancy. "Just between us, I'd have to ask you not to do that for at least a year, okay? Give me a chance to kill myself with some overtime and rebuild my savings."
"How'd you be able to afford the mortgage if I did buy out?" Blair asked, an odd curiosity standing in front of the slowly growing glee Jim could see.
"Give me that year, and I'll have my sergeant detective's badge," Jim said with confidence. "Pay raise goes with that. I can also get some bills out of the way between now and then, which will give me some elbow room financially."
Slowly turning to survey the neat, spacious rooms, Blair said reflectively, "You've really thought this out, haven't you?"
"The papers are ready to sign if you're interested, but you can take your time thinking it over. Ours is the only offer on the table right now," Jim said. "No hard feelings if you turn it down, either. Just seemed like a good idea; lot of potential here."
"Yeah," Blair agreed, finally letting go of whatever had been holding him back. "First thing that hit me when we looked at it that time." With growing excitement he began pacing around the small apartment, waving at the wall that separated it from their home. "Take that out, if it's not load bearing, double the size of the kitchen, get some new appliances. And this floor, it's reinforced for manufacturing equipment from back when it was being used as a business. We could merge the two bathrooms, get a bigger hot water heater, oh, and man, we could put in a hot tub next to the balcony here. Babe, hot water, and a great view, especially when the snow's coming down. Instant romance. Man, I can't wait until we can do the renovations."
He spun on one heel and gestured toward the loft bedroom over their head. "Could I have that for my office? That would be so great! Always wanted to have one like that, it's the airiness, like I could be flying free even if I'm chained to the desk, if that makes any sense."
"It's your home," Jim broke in gently, letting go of Blair without so much as a twinge of regret. "You can do whatever you want to it."
"Wow." Blair ground to a stop, hands going to his hair as if to hold his head in place. "I'm going to be a home owner! Maybe panic is good response right now."
Despite it all, Jim laughed and carefully punched his partner in the upper arm. "Next thing you know you'll be cutting your hair and wearing a three piece suit, Mr. Oppressing the Masses Land Baron."
"I am *not* going to cut my hair," Blair shot back with a grin. "Maybe start a new trend among the middle-class bourgeois." Then he went back to panic. "Oh my god, what am I going to tell Mom?"
* * *
Signing one of the never-ending reports that came with the job, Jim absent-mindedly listened as Blair told yet another hapless victim about his plans for the loft, his enthusiasm as high as it had been when Jim had proposed the whole thing a week ago. The small part of him that was getting through the deadening layers suffocating his emotions was glad to see that his partner's natural exuberance was back in full force. Enough that when their friends made a point of congratulating him for finally finding a way to re-light the old Blair, he could accept their praise with a short nod. And *without* coldly reminding that it was his fault it was gone in the first place. They took the gruffness of his response for granted; one good thing about having a reputation for being an emotional zero, he supposed.
Maybe that was why Blair hadn't actually moved into the new place yet; he was waiting to make sure that Jim really was okay about him abandoning ship. Jim had half-expected him to sleep there the same day he'd signed the contract, which had been about three seconds after they'd gone back to the loft that morning. Saying off-hand that no, he wasn't going to run it past a lawyer first, if he couldn't trust that it said exactly what his partner said it did, then he had no business signing it in the first place - no way to start a business relationship with the man who watched your back on the job. That had been something of a relief; Jim was spared explaining the clause that would give Blair *both* lofts if something happened to him.
Of course, Blair had been busy as hell since then, too. Jumping back into dating with both feet, he was back to cheerfully juggling a schedule that would have worn out any body else, though cutting back on the volunteer work that had been too heavy on his mind for the good it did. When he was home, the loft hummed with his bustle and energy, to the point that Jim had dryly asked him just how far the nesting thing was going to go.
All in all things were back the way they were supposed to be, and if the price was spending the rest of his life muffled and dulled down, it was worth it. The only flaw that Jim could find to worry about - and even that was only an intellectual exercise - was that he'd lost the edge that he'd always had in dealing with criminals. Without his own emotional reactions to draw on - empathy for when he wanted to coax, gauging their weakness when he wanted to come down on them - he had to pick a logical path. That just didn't work too much of the time. Even he could appreciate the irony in it. After all those years of trying to wall off his emotions so they wouldn't interfere with the job, now that he *had* lost them, he wasn't any good at it.
Turning that problem over in his mind yet again, Jim started to reach for another report to work on, then blinked in confusion when his hand didn't obey the command. In fact, he couldn't move it or his arm at all, and as he silently struggled, his senses all grayed out, fading as if the dials were being turned all the way down. A lifetime of taking care of himself, no matter what, kept his mouth shut, and a moment later the dials slowly came back up. Relieved, he tried to pick up the report again, and this time his body did as it was told, moving as fluidly as if there had never been a problem.
A quick glance around the bullpen showed him that no one had noticed the glitch, not even Sandburg, and Jim slowly stood, testing his body's responses. There was a weakness, a hesitation so slight that if he hadn't been looking for it, he wouldn't have noticed. Going to the break room for more coffee to cover his real reason for getting up, he played with the notion of telling Blair about the problem, but quickly dismissed it. If setting his partner free was his goal, running to him with every little problem was counter-productive.
The possibility that maybe seeing a doctor was a good idea was dismissed even faster. A part of himself that Jim had learned never to question said 'no' so flatly that unless he went into full arrest in the middle of a medical convention, being treated by a physician was not in his future. That left letting nature take its course, whatever that might be, and that was an oddly satisfying decision that felt completely right. Putting the entire incident as far as out of his mind as he could, Jim went on with his day and by evening had practically forgotten it happen.
Two days it happened again, fortunately while he was in the gym alone setting up for a class. The gray-out lasted several minutes that time, and he was so weak before and after that he couldn't have gotten up from the mat if an armed intruder had broken in. It was harder to push it away once he'd regained his equilibrium, but he did so with a steely determination that wouldn't have made sense if he had allowed himself to dwell on it.
But when he had to pull over to the side of the road the next morning, the initial weakness alerting him just in time, Jim knew he couldn't safely ignore the problem any longer. The next one might happen in the middle of gunfight, endangering Blair; or, if nothing else, when his partner couldn't help but notice that something was wrong. A pre-emptive strike was clearly the best route to go to stay out of doctor's reach. He could down-play the whole thing as some sort of sentinel thing and Sandburg would try his best to fix it from that angle.
Jim had no intentions of telling him otherwise. He had enough training as a medic to know that whatever was wrong was serious, and probably cerebral in nature. Aneurysm or tumor, it didn't matter. The chances were extremely good that he was dying and that made perfect sense to him. After all, a life was owed, and Blair's was far more valuable than his had ever been. In the darkest hour of the night, he admitted to himself that he was relieved; apparently the part of Blair that he had carried had been all that had been keeping him human for a while. There wasn't even enough left any more to do the job, sentinel abilities or not.
Timing was with him for a change when he grayed out again. He was in the bullpen with his partner and they were practically alone, and when he slumped from his chair, Sandburg caught him and steadied him until his strength and senses returned. "Shit," he said, feigning tired frustration. "Not again."
"Again?" Blair asked sharply.
"Couple of times now the senses have just bled away, like, like they're being slowly drained or something," Jim snapped realistically, deliberately leaving out the weakness and paralysis that preceded and followed the loss. "No warning, just blam, fade to black, then back up again, like a damned movie effect or something."
Face showing his worry, Blair asked, "When did it start; anything new or different in your diet or routine?"
"I know the drill!" At the hurt that flashed through the blue eyes, Jim mentally kicked himself in the ass and promised that it really was the very last time. Then he gladly moderated his tone, putting a note of apology in it. "I haven't said anything hoping I'd be able to give you more to work with besides a description that probably doesn't make sense."
To his surprise, Blair said, "It's okay; I can't imagine what it's like to constantly have your body let you down the way yours does. The miracle is that you're sane at all, so grouchiness is more than understandable."
Truly ashamed of himself, Jim hung his head so Blair couldn't read it from his expression, and said truthfully, "That's no excuse to make you the brunt of it. Anyway," he added bluntly before Blair could try to make him feel better, "Nothing new in the diet, and I haven't been exposed to anything unusual that I can think of. None of the cases we're working on right now are particularly stressful or taxing. Hell, the only different thing is the place next door, and I've been in and out of it for a month getting the engineering inspections and the like done."
The phone rang, and Blair glared at it, then said quickly, "Let me think and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. In the meantime, if you fade again, try to pay close attention to what's going on around you, sense wise, just before it happens and just after. Might be clue in any changes you spot."
Nodding and mouthing, "Good thinking," Jim answered the phone, and that was the end of the discussion. Sandburg stuck as close as he could, but for once the chaotic pace that he'd been using as a buffer between him and Jim wasn't in his favor. Like he had been for a while now, Jim was mostly on his own, and he didn't tell his partner about the other gray-outs that happened when Blair was elsewhere. Nor did he tell him that they were steadily getting worse, taking longer and longer to recover from, often leaving his mind adrift in his own skull for long, dangerously defenseless minutes.
That Friday, positive that it was far too likely that he was going to blank out at the wrong time and place before much longer, Jim said casually as they were getting ready to go out, "Want to get out of Cascade for a day, get in some fishing?"
"Can't," Blair answered, mind clearly elsewhere. "Tomorrow's the big day at Al's; work is officially finished on his house and there's going to be a huge party to celebrate. Not only did I promise not to duck it, and to help him throw it, but it's payback time. He's going to help us get the wall down between the two lofts so I can start getting the other side ready for us. Going to hit him with it when he's half drunk and telling everybody how much help I was."
"Which you were," Jim said, inwardly nonplussed that his partner wasn't planning on living in the other loft by himself. Forcing himself back on track, he added, "Sunday then? I can cancel or shift my work at the gym."
Shaking his head, Blair did a quick pat down of pockets to make sure he was carrying whatever he thought he should have. "Traded with tonight for Sunday with Treat at the halfway house so I could go out with Sam. Friday night is the only shot I've got at getting her to take another chance at dating me." He looked closely at Jim. "Another gray-out? Want me to cancel the date?"
He had been counting on Blair being completely booked for the weekend, having heard both the groveling his partner had done to get the date and the negotiating to get the night free, and had only brought the whole thing up to set the stage for later. With that in mind, Jim mildly, with just the right shade of irritation, "I don't need a baby sitter." Scrubbing at the back of his head, he added, "Just feeling claustrophobic, I guess."
"There might be something important in that," Blair said seriously. "Maybe take Monday off and take a hike? Nothing there I can't reschedule."
"Court date. Look, it's just an impulse; nothing that can't wait. Next weekend?"
"We could do that," Blair said, eyes flitting away as if he didn't want to be pressed into making promises.
The tiny rejection didn't even sting; another point for being a walking corpse. "We'll talk about it later," Jim said noncommittally. He made as if to pick up his duffel, then said, "And Sandburg, there's no hurry with the renovations; no reason not to enjoy having the place to yourself for a while."
"Are you kidding?" Blair said, zooming up to total enthusiasm in nothing flat. "Think, Jim, think. Practically unlimited hot water; a bathroom big enough to stretch in without bumping into the walls with your shoulders. A shower with multiple heads so that one side isn't freezing while the other's in the spray. That alone is worth increasing indebtedness by a factor of ten, and I'm betting we can do it ourselves with what we can scrounge from the couch cushions, practically. It'll take a while, maybe, but the sooner we start, the sooner it's done."
Since that would have sounded good under normal circumstances, Jim nodded slowly. "I know where we can get a deal on fixtures...." He manufactured a grin. "Got time to stop by there to do some pricing before your date?"
"Yes!" Blair did a small victory dance, then spun for the door. "Do they have hot tubs, too?"
* * *
Jim made a point of being out when Blair got up on Saturday, not sure he would be able to resist saying goodbye properly and ruin his careful planning. So he called and made an appointment to see Rob to give him the accounting books back, along with the good news, then stayed to have breakfast with him and his wife, blandly pleased that they had gotten back together again. By the time he got back to the loft, it bore the usual traces from his roomie of a hasty 'scramble because I'm late' departure, and for once, all Jim could do was shake his head in amusement at the mess.
After taking a few minutes to set everything right, almost nostalgic in mood as he did so, he dug out his back pack, tossed a tarp, a tinder kit for making a fire, and rain gear into it, grabbed his sleeping bag almost as an after-thought, and left, not once looking back. He drove carefully, keeping the possibility of another gray-out in mind, but arrived safely, parking in almost the same spot he'd used the last time he'd gone camping. The ranger recognized him when he checked in, and Jim spent a useful few minutes spinning a tale of the city getting on his nerves, plumping up his story for when the time came for Blair to discover it.
Finally, finally he was on the trail to the place where Chief had first shown himself to him, and despite all the insulation around his mind and heart, the relief was enough to let him really smile for a change, making his feet light and quick on the path. It didn't hurt that it was a beautiful day to be out, though he knew few people would agree with him on that. But he'd always loved the gray, misty days where the air was just cool enough to be invigorating, and the light was silky in texture and glow. Rich scents were carried in the moisture heavy breezes, soothing and calming after the stench of the city, and the only sounds he could hear were ones that were meant to be. The soft susurrations of leaves and wind erased the tension from his neck that never left when he was anywhere else.
As much as he enjoyed the hike, Jim was eager to arrive at the tree that was his goal, but a few hundred yards away from it, his body gave out on him. He had just enough warning before his muscles stopped obeying him that he was able to grab a small tree and hang onto it, legs blessedly holding him up even as they refused to move. A split second later, his senses began to recede, and he began mentally counting very slowly by three's, concentrating on the holding the numbers in his head to ward off the primal part of his mind that was terrified of the sensory deprivation.
When the dials began to slide back up, he took a deep breath, then froze - a solid, masculine body was fitted along his own, helping to support him. Scent and sound clicked in place, and he said in shock, "Sandburg?"
"What in the *hell* are you doing out here?" Blair said angrily. "Are you completely out of your mind?"
"Apparently," Jim said ruefully. All the strength he had began to pour out of him, and he began to sag to the ground, despite Blair's help. "You're going to have to wait to tear me a new one, though. How fast do you think you can make it back to the ranger's station? I think I've got a real problem, here."
"What? God - you can't get back?" Looking in the direction of the Ranger's station, Blair said unrealistically, "It's not that far; take a minute to catch your breath and we'll give it a shot."
Feeling his own heart skip, falter, then pick up again, Jim said as sourly as he knew how, "Good chance we're working against the clock, here, partner, if I'm right about what's going on. Have the Ranger call a medvac chopper; there's a clearing not too far away that I'll make my way toward while you get help."
"Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god." Blair swallowed hard, and looked up the trail. "How far is it? I'll help you there first and start a fire so it'll be easier to spot you from the sky.
Resigned that he wasn't going to be able to get rid of him quickly, Jim said, "See the big tree rising above the ridge line? There." Summoning what resources he could, he struggled back to his feet, using the tree for a brace, and with Blair's help lurched to another close by, steadied himself, and repeated the process until a long, painfully tedious time later they reached their destination. Collapsing between the well-remembered high roots, he had time to swear once before the world went away again.
When he came out of it this time, Blair was holding both of his hands tightly, and had his ear pressed against Jim's chest, listening intently. "Ranger's Station, Sandburg," he said shortly, bones feeling like so much wet clay. "Ranger's Station."
Blair's head shot up, overwhelming relief on his face. "I can't leave you alone, not while you're like this! When will Rob be here?"
"Rob? Jim repeated, absolute bewilderment burning through the fog that had been obscuring his emotions. "I'm not meeting him here."
"Your lover then," Blair said impatiently. "Was he supposed to be waiting here for you?"
Even more confused and finally wondering why Sandburg happened to be so conveniently near when he faded, Jim said, "I don't have a lover."
"Friend, then, damnit. I don't care *what* you call him, just tell me when you're expecting him. If there's a chance I'll meet him on the way down, I can send him to the station and get back up here to look out for you until the chopper gets here. This is no place to be helpless, Jim." As if to punctuate his statement, a distant wolf howl drifted over the mountain, and Blair looked around anxiously, as if expecting the pack to materialize in the next few seconds.
"Listen to me closely, Sandburg," Jim said, irritation taking the place of his puzzlement. "I'm not meeting anyone today, least of all Rob Chu who is so insanely in love with his wife that he quit being a cop and opened a business that had almost no chance of succeeding to win her back. Did it, too, damn it.
"Cascade got too loud and smelly and crowded and I needed to get out, so I did. No clandestine lover's tryst, no secret club meeting, just a simple desire for some fresh air and nicer surroundings. Why the hell would you think anything else?"
"Why else not tell me you were going, especially when you were having trouble with your senses?" Blair said, his own anger rising.
"You weren't home to tell!" Jim tried to shout. It came out breathlessly, and he ruthlessly cut off the anger in favor of getting done what had to be done. "We don't have time for this," he muttered, head lolling back onto the tree trunk behind him.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Blair swore. The wolf's cry sounded again, noticeably closer, and he bit his lower lip, indecision warring with his fury.
"Look," Jim said urgently, the weariness bearing down on him saying in no uncertain terms that he had to make Blair leave, now. "If you're worried about them, don't. We've met before and negotiated a treaty - they don't consider this spot part of their territory, and won't come close as long as the fire is going. I'm in bad shape, but I can do that. And as long as they're prowling, nothing else dangerous is likely to come this way."
Blair didn't say anything, though his uncertainty visibly grew. Deciding to take another tact, Jim said gently as he could, "If I don't make it, don't you think you'd rather be able to tell yourself that you did everything possible? And to be truthful, Blair, I'd just as soon you not have to watch me die, either. You shouldn't have to go through that because I was pig-headed enough to think that there wasn't that much risk in spending a night on my own in a well-patrolled national park, sentinel problem or not. Don't add to my guilt by hanging around when you could be doing something that might pay off."
"All right, all right," Blair said heavily, reluctantly. "But I *am* going to get that fire going first."
Hiding a sigh of relief, Jim said, "Tinder kit in the pack."
After getting a good supply of firewood and starting the fire, Blair insisted on helping Jim get his bedroll laid out, tarp strung over the roots in position to be pulled down as a make-shift lean-to if needed. He checked three times to make sure the canteen was full and close by, then dithered for several more minutes, fidgeting with the placement of the tarp. Wanting to encourage him, Jim showed that he was doing all right for the moment, at least, by stirring up the flames and adding a substantial log.
It worked, and Blair turned to leave, pausing at the edge of the clearing, brow furrowed in thought. Afraid that clever mind had too many clues to work with, Jim cast about for some way to speed his partner on his way. Before he could formulate a plan, the wolves howled again, and Blair shivered, then listened to them, his expression intent and focused. There wasn't even time for Jim to open his mouth before his partner stomped back over to stand in front of him, rage in every line of his body.
Wishing for the convenience of another gray-out, he said to himself, Admit to nothing and don't give him anything more to use.
Good advice, but Blair apparently already had everything he needed. "You said you know that pack of wolves, that you've established a mini-territory here. Okay, I can buy you being so thick-headed that you decided you were okay to come out here on your own, problems with your senses not withstanding. But not even you're dense enough to deliberately put yourself in the way of dangerous predators when you're vulnerable, *especially* ones who's instinct is to take out the weak and sick."
"I didn't think about that," Jim interrupted shortly and untruthfully, hoping to derail him into a tirade about not thinking at all when it came to the sentinel thing.
Unperturbed, Blair went on as if Jim had never spoken. "There's no food in that pack, no first aid kit, none of the stuff I know that you normally carry just to be prepared, even for a day trip." He knelt down in front of Jim and sat back on his heels. "You've been trained as medic; between that and your senses you *had* to know before now that what's wrong with you is more than a glitch in your sentinel abilities." He took a deep breath, then accused, "You came up here to die."
Stubbornly Jim didn't say anything, but stared into the fire, jaw muscle jumping. He was busted, but that didn't mean he couldn't do what he could to keep his partner's pain and guilt to a minimum. All he had to do was wait until Blair spun down, then point out that his arguments for him to leave were still just as valid.
"What I don't understand," Blair said before the silence could stretch out too long, "Is why you're not even trying to fight it. You've survived so much, but you haven't even seen a doctor about this, have you?"
To his own surprise, Jim had an answer to that which was honest, if not the whole truth. "Because I *am* a medic and I *do* know what's going on. The weakness is general, not specific to one side of the body; I'm losing all my senses, not just one or two. Whether it's a tumor or an aneurysm, it means it's large, and it's centrally located; hard, if not impossible to treat.
"Worst case scenario if I live, it'll be as a vegetable, taking up a hospital bed that could be put to better use and being a drain on the people I'm sworn to protect and serve. Best case? I wind up paralyzed; if I'm really lucky at least some of my senses will be permanently gone. Otherwise I've got the lovely prospect of being able to smell every tiny smell in a place filled with death and disease, hear every groan or whimper or scream of pain, feel my bedsores grow molecule by molecule.
"Am I painting clear enough a picture here, Sandburg? I have no reason to endure a life like that; why shouldn't I chose my own time and place to die?" Jim snapped off his tirade, alarmed that Blair's expression was becoming one of pure determination.
"Let me give you a reason to endure, then," Blair murmured. He leaned in, palms flat against Jim's chest, and kissed him, lips already parted and inviting.
The brief taste of his heart's desire ripped away the protection that had layered itself over Jim's heart and mind, leaving him reeling from the agony of loss the shielding had spared him. But it also gave him strength to take Blair by the upper arms and carefully, so carefully set him away. "No, no," he said, voice inhumanly sad and pained even to his own ears.
He fumbled for an explanation, wanting to spare Blair the bite of rejection, especially for an offer with so much heart behind it. "It would be wrong, don't you see? That you would give so much to hold me to life would be pure hell because that's the one thing that I badly needed to be given freely, no price, no coercion. And that you should only give to the person who truly wins you, deserves you." Reaching to brush his fingers over Blair's cheek, barely enough for him to feel it and not enough for Blair to at all, he repeated, "It would be wrong."
Blair listened to him solemnly, but the moment Jim fell silent, he pushed against the light hold on him until he sat astride Jim's hips, hands resting on his shoulders. "Know why I was following you?" he said conversationally, knocking Jim off-kilter with the unexpected change of topic. "Because I had - have - every intention of beating the crap out of the so-called friend that's been amusing himself by hurting you. When I came back to the loft, intending to get you to go to Al's party with me, even if I had to do it at gunpoint, I saw you toss your back pack in the truck and drive off."
"I didn't... No one's...." Jim stuttered, startled that he could be followed so easily, but more startled by his normally pacifistic partner threatening bodily harm on anybody.
"No, you didn't," Blair said somberly. "Which was one reason I was so convinced that you were on your way to meet him. You looked so damn happy, weren't paying the slightest bit of attention to anything that wasn't necessary to get you where you were going safely. Do you realize that you got cut off twice on the way and didn't so much as scowl at the driver who did it? That's how close I was without you noticing."
Shrugging, Blair dismissed his digression and got back to the point. "I've been planning for a long time show him how it felt to be used for a punching bag. Then I was going to drag you home, but I didn't know what I was going to do with you after that, for a while anyway. Then I realized that I was getting hard thinking about hurting that s.o.b., which really panicked me that I would get off on doing violence like that. You wouldn't believe how much meditation it took for me to get it through my head that it wasn't because of fighting him, it was because of fighting *for* you. To the victor goes the spoils, right? And you were the spoils."
Open mouthed in astonishment, Jim made a small grunt just to keep him talking, abruptly becoming aware that the crotch over his was hot and growing hotter. If he tried, he could feel the beginnings of an erection growing for both of them.
Apparently oblivious to that, Blair said earnestly, "So I was going to take you home and throw you down on my bed and do things to you whether you wanted me to or not, and instead of getting excited over that, I got sick to my stomach."
At Jim's instinctive flinch, Blair kneaded the flesh under his hands, and sighed. "Not because of the sex, though I admit I'm rocky on that, but because I was going to use force to get it. Look, I've always been the little guy, the stranger with no allies or connections. Do you have *any* idea how many times some macho asshole has tried to prove what a big, powerful, man he was by sexually harassing me, accusing me of being gay, then trying to prove it? I've had more close calls with being raped than I care to think about, and it left me clinging to being straight, constantly showing it to myself and everybody else by dating like a Lothario. Yet, there I was, ready to use the same brutality on you and getting turned on by the idea."
"I don't believe that," Jim said firmly, candidly. "That's just not in you."
"No," Blair agreed. He pinned Jim with a discerning eye, "Any more than I believe a sentinel could get off on being hurt, so don't try to defend him by telling me that the abuse is for consensual pleasure, okay?" The fingers digging into Jim's shoulder's turned sensual, stroking and petting with erotic intent. "Which was really why I was getting turned on by taking you away from him. Because of what I was really going to do to you, once I got it through your thick head that he was no good for you. Because I was going to make it so good for you that you'd never go back to him."
Despite the desire slowly rising through him, Jim shook his head and tried again to push Blair away. "You're operating under false pretenses here. I'm *not* seeing anybody; I meant it when I said no more relationships. I've quit pretending to myself that anyone is ever going to be more than a distant second to the job and sentinel thing." Again, it was the truth, if not the whole truth, and that rang clearly in his words.
"But not me," Blair said with devastating surety, refusing to be moved. "Like you said about Katie and her daughter, you may have to put the job and sentinel thing first, but I *am* first with you." He smiled, though it was a sad, sickly thing. "Something I'm sure you would have proved to me more often and more obviously if I hadn't been trying so hard to keep you from crossing some invisible line that I wouldn't admit was there."
"Don't!" Jim said fiercely. "Don't take that on your shoulders; you don't own that guilt. I do. You didn't deserve any of the shit I dumped on you, just because you were there, because I was frustrated and looking for a reason to give you grief."
"No, I didn't, but I understood and forgave you. But you know, you don't deserve it either, certainly not to the point where you punish yourself by letting someone hurt you, and Jim, please don't try to convince me that it isn't happening. There's been too many bruises and too many days where you walk too stiffly and slowly for me to buy that." Deft fingers wafted over the side of Jim's neck where the faint traces of a bruise were fading from green to gray.
Ignoring the rigidity and rejection in Jim's body, Blair lay against him, chest-to-chest, head coming to rest on his shoulder. "There's been enough hurt, enough misery, enough misunderstandings. Let me mend both of us. Let me take you to the doctor, and even if you're right, there's no fighting what's wrong with you, we can at least get things right between us. Then it really will feel like I did everything I could to save you, or failing that, that I made your last days the best I could."
Tempted, more tempted than he ever had been by anything before his life, Jim restlessly ran his hands up and down the arms he still held, admiring the strength and shape of them. Nothing had ever felt quite so right as the way Blair fit into him, either, his weight no burden despite the failings of his own body. Heat reverberated between them, building sweetly and making every inch of skin under Blair beg to be bared, to be able to feel him with no barriers between them. There was a longing in his lips, in his mouth, for a longer, better taste that was deeper, more intimate.
All that kept Jim from capitulating was the pain in his heart that had not dissipated despite all Blair's arguments and revelations. All his partner was offering was sex, inspired by jealously of a non-existent abuser. As precious as the gift was to Jim, compassion – pity! – was the last reason he wanted behind the giving of it.
Stropping his cheek over the curls closest to him, Jim gave a last hug and prepared to lie straight-faced to his partner by promising that he would see the doctor, do his best to survive. Then hw would drive home the point that if that were going to happen, Blair had to go for help, and fast. Before he could betray their friendship, though, the weakness that warned him another gray-out was coming hit fast and hard, slamming his senses beyond his reach.
Instead of leaving him alone in nothingness as it always had before, he found himself standing face-to-face with Blair, hands linked, and the both of them were in the middle of their loft. The rooms had taken on the blue on blue edge that Jim associated with his sentinel visions and were eerily void of the normal sounds and smells that belonged in their home. Nor was that the only change. The man standing in front of him was the same one that he had met once upon a time behind the door of a janitor's closet with the name, "Sandburg" taped onto it.
It was so good to see that wildly patterned vest and the bouncing, lively spirit wearing again that Jim forgot to be disgruntled by having the strange dumped on him yet again. He glanced down at himself and saw that he was dressed for the jungle despite their location; fatigues, boots, bandana around his head, and painted claw marks. In a way, it was back to the beginning for both of them, and the symmetry of that pleased him, even as he struggled to keep his composure at the suddenness of the vision.
Blair didn't notice any of that. Eyes fixed on Jim's face as if it was the only thing in the world that mattered, he said intractably, "You're not going any where, not without me. Hear me? I'm not letting go of you any more than you let go of me when I was the one dying."
There was a soft growl of agreement from beside him, and they both glanced down at the same time to find Jim's spirit animal lying on the floor on Blair's right, tail twitching. Before either of them had time to absorb the panther's presence, a dissenting growl came from the other side; Blair's wolf was on his left, laying down as well but looking very much as if he wanted to be pacing. The animals exchanged a long, information filled look, then the panther rumbled deep in its chest, forlorn resignation filling its blue eyes.
"What are you doing with me?" Blair asked the panther in surprise. For an answer, the beast stood and crossed behind him, as did the wolf, the two of them exchanging head butts and licks before settling on opposite sides of Blair. He looked mystified for a moment, then said in dawning delight, "The vision; not just merging, but sharing, leaving a bit of yourselves in each of us."
Frowning, he addressed the wolf. "So why aren't you with Jim?"
"I sent him back to you," Jim said, intending to skim the thin line between truth and deception again. "I was afraid of what would happen if I died still carrying him within me."
To his dismay, the words sounded flat, odd, as if spoken from a long distance, and the panther grumbled an obvious warning. Blair's eyes narrowed, and he said, "What are you leaving out?"
Shooting the animal a glare of pure ire, Jim decided to simply keep his mouth shut again, but a vibration of anger brittle enough to cut shimmied over his skin from where Blair's hands were in his. Studying their entwined fingers, he finally said at the invisible prompting, "I'm fudging on the timeline. A little. Just a few weeks." Reluctantly he raised his eyes and admitted, "I gave him back because you weren't doing too well without him; hadn't been for a while."
Without releasing the grip he had on his partner, Jim brushed a knuckle over the earrings that were back where they belonged. "Don't bother denying it. I know about the dreams you've been having about searching for something missing. They ended a few weeks ago, didn't they?"
Blair looked positively mutinous, but before he could voice whatever denials he had in mind, his wolf growled deep in his chest, giving a warning of his own. Instead he changed tactics and said in a coaxing voice, "Don't you see? Giving him back could be why you're having trouble with the senses again, maybe even why you're having the seizures."
A peek from the corner of his eye told Jim that the panther wouldn't let him get away with anything but the complete truth on this either, no matter how much damage it did. Bracing himself as best as he could, he said tenderly, "We cheated death that day at the fountain, Blair. Maybe there was something else we needed to do to get away with it, or maybe it was only a delaying action to start with. Either way, we owe a life, and if it hadn't been for me, you would have never been there in the first place. Seems fair that I should be the one to pay the debt."
"You do *not* own all the responsibility for what happened there," Blair said forcefully. "I knew, I *knew* that there could be a problem with two sentinels in the same city, but when you started acting weird, I kept my mouth shut instead of trying harder to tell you what I knew. I was too wrapped up in being the scientist and researcher to be the friend."
"You made a very human mistake; it's not worth dying for." As Blair opened his mouth to argue, Jim over-rode him firmly. "And I couldn't just stand by and let that happen, anyway. It's not who and what I am. Of all people, you're the one I shouldn't have to tell that. Hell, Sandburg, I couldn't do it if it were someone who *did* deserve it."
Jim could practically feel the thoughts racing through his partner's mind as Blair sorted lightning quick through possible lines of attack, his expression saying without words that he wasn't going to give up. Around them the loft was beginning to fade into the gray, and he knew time was very quickly running out. Bringing Blair's hands up, he tenderly kissed the back of them, eyes sliding shut as he stole a taste of the strength and will in them, then he began to pull free, taking a step back as he did.
"No!" Blair tightened his grip painfully. "Okay, you think you have to do this to save me, and you're not willing to fight because of it, but, damn it, I am." He closed the distance between them until they were chest to chest. "Every argument I made earlier still holds. You take the wolf back, just to buy time, and we look for another solution. Keeping you alive is my job, and if you're going to screw me out of it, you owe me that much. Not to mention if you're going to drop survivor's guilt on my head like this!"
Shaking his head, Jim tried to free himself again, but then Blair stretched up and took his mouth in a fierce, demanding kiss. In the real world he'd barely been able to fight off the necessity of returning that caress; here, mind-to-mind and soul-to-soul, he didn't have a chance of denying his need. Moaning, he accepted the intruder at his lips, welcoming it by twining his own tongue around it warmly, savoring the rough velvet texture and fantastic taste. Strong fingers locked onto the curve of his neck, pulling him even closer, and a well-muscled leg hooked over his hip, bringing their groins into electric contact that had him instantly erect.
The loft blinked away, and they were back in the forest, the fire leaping high as if to tell him they'd only been gone for a moment. Blair didn't seem to notice one way or the other; he humped hard against Jim, his hard-on burning alongside its counterpart, his mouth busily ravishing every inch of Jim's. His scent, his heat, his breathing all proclaimed that he needed and wanted what he was trying to take, but Jim could hear the plaintive wailing of a wolf. Whether it was real or the one that lived in his companion, he couldn't tell and it didn't matter. He turned his head away and muttered, throat was thick with unwanted tears, "Not like this, please, not like this. It means more to me than it does to you!" With an unexpected surge of will he pushed Blair away from him with enough force to knock him to his backside.
Physically hurting, Jim drew his legs up so that he could hide his face on crossed arms over his knees. He struggled to control both his libido and the wild urge to do more violence, this time to himself, as an antidote to the maelstrom of loss and disappointment clogging his lungs. "I can't use you like that," he mumbled. "And I won't let you ruin what we do have by seducing me into it."
"Damn you, Jim Ellison!" Blair shouted, getting to his feet and absently dusting off his rear. "Love is just hormones working overtime to make sure that the species procreates and takes care of its young. It doesn't last, and causes more pain than it's worth for the short-lived euphoria you get out of it. I know. I've seen my mother fall in and out love with so many people, so many philosophies that she couldn't remember them all if her life depended on it.
"And I'm just like her. I'm never going to care about anything deeply enough and long enough to make it worth anybody's while. Katie knew that; why do you think she dumped me? Why do you think I keep chasing Sam? She knows the score and is working it to her advantage; I can respect that. Beats the hell out of pretending I give a damn about her after I get what I want. God, Jim the very fact that I finished the diss is proof. You think I didn't know after Bracket played his little games there was a chance that it could blow up in your face? I couldn't give it up, despite the risks."
An echo of the unrelenting honesty they had been forced to share rose inside of Jim, and he sat up straighter. "So offering your body to me is the equivalent of taking back the diss because the price of your selfishness got too high? My life's in danger again because of you, so you'll give up the only thing you *haven't* sacrificed to this whole sentinel thing? And *that's* supposed to convince me that I should live, that I deserve to? God, why don't you just get the fuck off this hill and leave me to hate myself in peace?"
Making a warding off gesture at Blair's abortive move toward him, he snapped, "Don't even think of convincing me the senses are worth it, okay? They're not. They never have been. The only good thing they ever...." He cut himself off short. Blair didn't need to hear his pathetic declarations of love; didn't *believe* in his pathetic love.
Not coming closer, acting very much as if he were dealing with an injured animal, Blair said softly, "The only good thing was me? Despite all the screw ups, you still believe that?"
Rubbing at his face in dismay, Jim admitted, "Yeah. Not a single regret in that department."
Sitting cross-legged where he stood, Blair tugged at his hair as if that would free his mind from the thoughts hurrying through it. "If anybody else said that, I'd think they were full of it, you know. But it's hard to doubt the word of a dying man." His teeth worried his lower lip for a moment. "Can I ask you a question and not get a half-answer, like apparently I've been getting for a while now? When you asked me to buy the loft next door with you, did you know you had a problem? Or were you just feathering the nest for me before leaving; taking care of me like you're always trying to do?"
"I'd been planning that almost since we looked at it the first time," Jim answered, bewildered by the questions. "And what's wrong with trying to take care of you? You do it for me all the time."
"No one's ever done something like that for me, before," Blair said quietly, as if to himself. "Not 'your' place, not 'my' place, but ours. Really and truly ours, built by both of us."
Compelled by the wonder in his voice and afraid it would strengthen his resolve, Jim said bluntly, "It's a bribe. To keep you from wanting to leave me again." Honesty forced the last word. He had never, ever intended to let it slip past his thoughts, but that kind of omission seemed to be beyond his control at the moment.
"Again?" Blair said sharply. "Again?" He lost every bit of color in his face, and he huddled over himself as if he'd been hit in the stomach. "You knew that I wasn't planning on coming back from the retreat I went to with Naomi?"
"Not until after you left," Jim said, worried by his reaction.
"And you took me back? Knowing that I didn't return your feelings, that I'd abandoned you like all the others, you took me back, and didn't Say A Fucking Word To Me About It?" Blair shouted the last words.
Uneasy, Jim shrugged. "You didn't want me to know. All that mattered to me was that you came back."
To Jim's complete and utter astonishment, Blair began to silently weep, his whole body quaking with the force of whatever emotion it was that owned him. He crossed the distance between them without ever consciously deciding he was going to and swept him into his arms, holding on even when Blair feebly struggled to get free. Sitting back against the tree again with him in his lap, he whispered comforting nonsense into Blair's curls, giving long, soothing strokes to the vibrating back as he did.
After a while a tiny, soft kiss was pressed into the bare skin just above the top button on his flannel shirt, and he reciprocated with one to the temple closest his mouth. Instinct told him that whatever fury was blowing through Blair's soul, the force of it was growing fainter, and the mindless impulse for the balm of a lover's touch was taking its place. Groaning silently, he kissed a beard-stubbled cheek, tongue flickering over the line of bone underneath flesh, desire razoring a brilliant line straight through him. Demands and seduction he could resist, if barely. True need was a siren's call he could not resist; not from Blair, ever.
A third kiss meant for the jaw landed instead on lips when Blair turned his head at the last moment, and he sighed into Jim's mouth with a bittersweet longing that undid every restraint Jim had left. Leisurely, lovingly, he explored Blair's mouth, tongue tracing every line and curve with no purpose behind it except to learn what his love liked best. When he sated them both temporarily of that, he moved onto the vulnerable throat, reading from the shivers and soft cries what spots needed licks, and which ones needed nips. Some needed only to be touched - lips, tongue or teeth - all sent a wave of reaction through Blair that soon had him rocking against the hard-on under his backside.
Jim nosed shirts out of the way and found a well-defined shoulder to sample as he slipped under them to carefully tease a nipple with thumb and forefinger. Blair froze as if afraid, and Jim started to ease away, concerned that he'd done something that disgusted him. A hand dropped over his to hold it in place, and Blair whispered, "Sensitive, too sensitive, but you did that perfectly. My god, my god, could you...."
Hiding a smug smile, Jim delicately rolled the little nub, then moved to its mate and did the same, devouring the trembling whimper Blair gave him in return. "Are you sensitive like that all over?" he whispered directly into an ear, punctuating the question with a tiny lick to the lobe.
"Uh, I, ahhhhhhh - s..sometimes."
"Let's check." Jim trailed two fingers down Blair's abdomen, so lightly that the wiry hairs covering it were barely disturbed. He dipped into the waistband of the jeans, finding the spongy head with the very tips. It throbbed urgently under touch, and his own answered, reminding him dangerously of how badly he needed relief. Despite that, he withdrew from the jungle-hot and moist haven and retraced his path back up to a hot bud, skimmed around it, then wandered back down again. "You said you dreamed about using me. How? What do you want?"
Eyelids drifted up to reveal drugged-looking blue eyes, and Blair licked his lips before confessing, "Everything. God, *everything.*" Shuddering, his lids slid back down and he restlessly kneaded at the chest under his hand. "I think I'm going to come from what you're doing."
"Sounds good," Jim agreed absently. He'd forced most of his hand down the front of Blair's jeans and filled it with very respectable cock. Letting his palm rest over the crown, he measured out the length of it, tracking along a prominent vein with a forefinger until he reached the downy spot where shaft and balls met. Experimentally he applied gentle pressure, felt a surge of blood into it as Blair arched and cried out in pleasure.
He did it again, and thick cream scalded his wrist as his lover shot, babbling incoherent pleas. As if Blair's hard-on were directly connected to his, Jim came too, blinded by the unexpected blast of ecstasy and helpless to do more than cradle the dear body against him while he shook with the force of his release. When his head cleared, Blair was limply draped onto him, lips lazily working their way from the hollow of his throat down a chest revealed by a magically unbuttoned shirt.
"See?" Blair murmured. "That's the way it's supposed to be. No pain, no force, no blood, no bruises. Just sweet relief and warm contentment."
"And I thought my sense of touch was off-scale," Jim said sleepily.
"Just during sex," Blair said. "For me, anyway. I'm surprised that you can respond to anything stronger, let alone get off on the brutality you put up with from your 'friend.' Or is the sex how you buy the punishment you seem to think you deserve?"
Tiredly, Jim went back to their argument, not at all surprised that sex hadn't been more than a detour on the way. "Would you please listen to me carefully? No lover, no abuse, no bdsm, no punishment that I didn't literally mete out to myself."
Blair sat up, changing position so that he was astride Jim's lap again to be face to face with him. "Last time you went camping, you came home with raw hand-cuff marks on your wrists and fingers that looked as if you'd been madly digging into something, the way a man will when he's in pain. And walking as if you'd had carnal knowledge of an elephant. Yeah, I was messed up by being dumped, but not so messed up I didn't notice that. But I didn't question your story because I couldn't see why you'd lie to me.
"Then I went away and when I came back you looked as if you'd spent the weekend entertaining particularly vicious rapists. It was a lot harder to buy your explanation, especially that you'd let a 'friend' get that violent with you.
"For weeks now you've been coming home with technicolor bruises and moving as if you were twice your age. What the hell else am I supposed to think except that you're being abused by someone close to you?"
"In case you've forgotten," Jim said shortly, "I've spent the past few months running a gym. That means being teacher, coach and, on occasion, volunteer punching bag. So yes, bruises and stiffness. God, how am I supposed to convince you...."
The shoe finally dropped, and he added up a lover who liked delicate, teasing love-making, who was *very* popular with women, and who had been sexually harassed, sometimes very violently, to the fear that he had been sensing underneath the passion Blair had been forcing on them both. On top of all that was the way he'd acted like a cavemen when the first met, and few times early on, when he still didn't quite know what to make of the person who'd invaded his life.
"You have got to be the bravest man I've ever known," Jim murmured, more to himself than Blair, admiration and something very close to reverence in his voice.
"Huh?" Blair said inelegantly.
Resting his forehead on Blair's shoulder, Jim said as evenly as he could with new understanding pricking at his conscience and heart, "We both know that the closer the senses are to the surface, the more my instincts control what I do, right? The day we met, I was operating on pure guts, aware that I was doing it, and sure I was going insane because I couldn't get a hold on myself and stop. So this dominant alpha-male soldier kind of guy meets a, what was it I called you? Neo-hippie witchdoctor? Anyway, so I did the intimidation thing that a cop and soldier uses when a suspect is jerking your chain, and you got back in my face without so much as taking a deep breath. From that point on I believed you understood that it was all facade and cop image, not me."
"I did," Blair said in confusion.
"Since then have you *ever* seen me use that kind of physical bullying on a woman or a child? Anyone other than a man that I had to get the better of, for whatever reason?"
"Course not! Look, I know you better than to think *you're* the one doing the abusing. That's not the issue," Blair said, irritation creeping into his tone.
"Yes it is," Jim said positively, reluctantly leaving his refuge. "You may know in your head that I won't be brutal as a lover; but in your heart I'm just like those macho dickheads who tried you hurt you. There's no way you can understand that strength doesn't have to mean pain when it comes to making love. I bet you feel guilty for every little bump and bruise you've ever inflicted on a woman in the bedroom."
"What has..." Blair tried to interrupt.
"The only thing I can do is prove it to you," Jim said calmly, and Blair didn't protest this time. His heart stuttered and his breath caught in his chest, though by some miracle he managed to stay where he was. Jim moved under him and Blair scrambled away as if terrified, plainly going into a defense mode. Painfully ignoring that, Jim stood and finished pulling off his shirt, folding it neatly and putting it in a crook under the tarp. The rest of his clothes, including his boots soon followed it, and he paused for a moment to scan the area with his senses to make sure they wouldn't be interrupted while vulnerable.
There was no sign of Man in any direction, even at the farthest limit of his sight and hearing, and the wolf pack had turned northward, away from this place. A weather-eye cast upwards told him that the rain the gray day threatened was still some hours away, and he nodded to himself in satisfaction. It was rare that he could enjoy the simple pleasure of natural breezes on bare flesh, free of the burden and distraction of clothes on skin that could discern every flaw in the weave of the fabric. That alone was enough to bring him to half-mast, his maleness lazily stretching in anticipation of what was to come.
Kneeling in the middle of the sleeping bag, he quickly searched through his pack for the sun screen that he kept in it, pretending he couldn't smell the stench of Blair's fear penetrating through the fire's smoke. It was harder to turn a blind eye to the wary, worried expression turned his way, but Jim managed as he did his best to make their nest as comfortable as possible, putting everything they might need within easy reach. He took his time at the task, wanting to give Blair a chance to get used to the sight of him, and to the reality of what they were going to do. No matter how prepared Blair thought he was for the intimacy he'd been trying to force, it was one thing to imagine facing another man's cock and another to actually do it.
When it seemed that Blair had calmed, Jim sat back on his heels, and said matter-of-factly, "I'd like to undress you, if that's okay. At least from the waist up; the more bare skin the better as far as I'm concerned, no surprise, right?"
"Uh, no," Blair said uncertainly, not moving an inch. "You, uh, want to do this *here?*"
"I don't think we can wait," Jim answered with devastating honesty.
Swallowing hard, eyes flickering around nervously, Blair said, "It's a little... short on privacy. Er, seclusion, I meant. Of course you'd know if we were private. But it is exposed, very exposed, as in no walls, which is something of a problem for me, though getting back to nature is something I highly endorse normally, and I can see where a sentinel might feel perfectly at ease having intercourse in a setting like this." With an obvious act of will Blair shut himself up, and it was his turn to pretend as he turned his face slightly to hide his blush. "There are other things," he added hastily.
"Then that's what we'll do if you want. Look, Blair, 'no' means 'no,' and 'stop' means 'stop.' Nothing's going to happen that you don't want. This isn't about who's on top or who's on bottom; isn't about submission or domination. It's about acceptance." Jim chose his last words carefully, hoping that the echo of Chief saying the same thing to him so long ago would reassure Blair.
Either it worked, or Blair found his courage again. He crossed the distance between them slowly, finding and holding Jim's gaze as if he could read what ever he needed there to make the short journey possible. Not knowing what he needed, Jim did the only thing he could and loved Blair with his eyes, taking his time to appreciate the broad, powerful body hidden by all the clothes. Another zing of arousal ripped through him, but he paid no heed to it; his new lover had all his attention.
When he was in front of him, Jim put his head in the middle of Blair's chest, hands neutrally at the trim waist and nuzzled briefly, giving him another chance to back out, if that's what he needed. But slightly trembling fingers made their way to the back of his head, combing through the short strands there, and Blair sighed in a mixture of resignation and genuine pleasure. For a while they just cuddled, tension gradually bleeding away, until the heart under Jim's ear wasn't racing and there were no more tremors in the muscular frame.
"Soft," Blair murmured. "Always wondered. I'm glad you let it grow past that military cut you had."
Angling his head for more of the luscious petting, Jim mmm'd, then gave himself a mental shake before he could get totally side-tracked. Being careful not to startle his lover, he undid buttons, pulling shirt-tails out of jeans, then tenderly pushed the garments off, dusting feather light kisses over shoulders as they were revealed. Folding them on top of his own clothes, he deliberately took his time before returning to the same position they'd started in, giving Blair a chance to compose himself.
It must have been a good idea; fear-scent was nearly completely gone and there was a faint rise of heat from where Blair's groin pressed against Jim's chest, and he welcomed Jim back by dropping a light kiss onto the top of his head. Cautiously Jim ran his hands up Blair's back, using the same teasing touch that had given his lover so much pleasure earlier, then back down, mapping out the contours of spine and muscle. Stopping short of the waistband of the jeans, he asked, "Shoes?"
"Barefoot would be good," Blair said, and much to Jim's relief, he could hear a smile in his voice.
He made quick work of the boots, setting them aside neatly after taking a moment to massage the arch and heel of each foot, noting in passing that Blair didn't seem ticklish there. That done, he went back into their hug, this time kissing the hairy chest before resting his cheek against it. There was definitely more sexual interest from Blair, to judge by the unhurried lengthening Jim could feel in his dick, then Blair tucked a finger under Jim's chin to lift his head so he could taste his mouth.
Thinking he could easily get obsessed with that pastime, Jim yielded to the control in the kiss, learning the tempo and rhythm Blair liked best. Matching the speed of his hands to it, he wandered over back, shoulders, hips, even ass cheeks, being careful to avoid the cleft dividing them, occasionally finding small knots of stress and smoothing them out. When they were both breathless and seriously interested in more than kisses, Jim unwillingly drew away, only to start a line of gentle nibbling licks down Blair's throat, and onto his breast bone.
Pausing midway, he whispered, "Are your tits sore? I'd like to taste them."
"I think I'll scream if you don't," Blair whispered back, sounding very near to doing just that.
"Can't have that; might scare the neighbors," Jim said whimsically, then placed an open-mouthed kiss over the nearest nipple. At first all he did was leave his lips around the tip, letting the anticipation build, then he gingerly laid his tongue on the taut bit, not even sucking. A hissed inhale told him it was good, so he moved away in slow motion, then did the same to other, unhurriedly left it, then started back down. A shaky tug to his hair brought his head back up, and he obeyed the silent command, repeating the caress, using just the tiniest bit of suction this time. He switched back and forth between the rosy buds, each time increasing the power of his suckling, until he and Blair were both dangerously close to losing control.
Leaving his hands at Blair's waist, he sat back on his heels again, taking in huge lungs full of air to calm himself. Mewling, Blair tried to pull him back to his task, but Jim resisted, then asked huskily, "Not too much?"
"Just short of enough!" Blair half-growled, then gave a shaky laugh. "Are you always such a damn tease?"
"You seem to like it," he answered easily, then allowed himself to be drawn back into Blair's arms. "Besides, you have something else I want to suck."
Moaning, Blair began to restlessly knead the back of Jim's neck, his fingers digging into the muscles there with more force than Jim thought he knew he was using. Since that kind of mindless response was exactly what he wanted, he didn't say anything or try to get away. Instead he resumed his journey downward, eagerly anticipating what he would find and hoping that he would have the self-control he needed to see his plan through to the end.
As Jim kissed his way down the line of wiry hairs that led the way to Blair's weeping hard-on, he removed Blair's jeans and underwear, not needing to coax him into being fully naked for him. Nor did he think Blair was going to need persuasion to allow Jim to love him with his mouth, judging by the steely fingers gripping his hair, but he asked anyway, pausing with his lips at the very apex of the impressive shaft. "Can I?"
For an answer, Blair urged his head down, pumping up a bit as he did, but Jim allowed only the head past his lips, dabbing with his tongue-tip at the seeping eye of Blair's cock. He pulled away, murmured, "You taste good," then went back down on it, letting it slip just a little farther in. Holding onto Blair's thighs to keep him from taking what he wanted, Jim slowly worked the whole thing into himself a half-inch at a time until his nose was finally resting in the tight curls at the base, and Blair was begging frantically to be allowed to thrust.
With an effort made possible only by the stakes he had in getting it *right,* Jim let Blair's hard-on gradually slip all the way out, then turned his head away, panting so harshly he couldn't have spoken if his life depended on it. Blair swore, opened lust-darkened eyes to glare at him, but before he could make any demands, Jim snagged the tube of sunscreen and squeezed a smear into his palm. The lust warred with worry - but not fear, thank god - then the lust won hands down when Jim reached behind himself to prepare his opening with a few hasty jabs from his fingers.
That done, Jim stretched out on his stomach on the sleeping bag, strategically placing one of Blair's outer shirts under himself, and rested his cheek on his crossed forearms to look expectantly at his lover. Hands clenching and un-clenching, Blair stared at him, the said in a voice so raw with hunger Jim could barely understand him, "I've done this with women - carefully, slowly, and with lots of preparation. Are you telling me that's all you need? Two seconds, some lube and you're ready?"
"How much more foreplay do you think we can stand?" Jim asked reasonably. "But if you don't believe me, check it out for yourself."
Hesitantly Blair moved to lay behind him, pillowing his head on the curve of Jim's back, and Jim had to clamp down on a whimper when a shaking finger probed at the loosened ring of muscle. "God," Blair muttered. "Hot, so fucking hot, and *soft.*" Twisting the invader to test the pucker, he added, "Tight. God. It always amazes me that you can fit something as big as a cock in a place that small, let alone give pleasure from doing it."
"Do that again and you'll see just how much I like it," Jim grumbled impatiently. "Convinced?"
"Yeah, oh, yeah!" Blair lay on top of him, his weight a precious burden that Jim didn't mind at all, and fit the head of his erection against the portal waiting for it, muttering under his breath as if that would help him control himself. If that was his intent, it didn't work. The moment he breached the tight circle, he plunged in full length, an incoherent shout bursting from him.
Jim didn't give him a chance to slow down; he reared back into the fast, hard pumping, lifting his hips higher and higher with each stroke until he was on all fours. Hands locked on Jim's hips, Blair slammed into him, thighs meeting ass with fleshy slaps that mixed with groans and guttural cries, creating an erotic cushion of sound for Jim that was every bit as good as the hard use he was taking. Each thrust sent a shock of pure sensation from ass to cock to nipples to brain that fried any rational thoughts and left him at the mercy of a pleasure too violent to last as long as he wanted it to.
Blair drove in full strength and held it, screaming Jim's name, and the jets of hot cream that spurted into the channel did indescribable, wonderful things to the friction from the ferocious thrumming of blood and semen through Blair's cock. As minor, as miniscule as that was, it was the tiny bit needed to push Jim over the edge, and he roared as his own seed surged out, tumbling him violently into obliterating ecstasy that allowed nothing but itself to exist.
When it finally receded, leaving Jim weak and breathless, he was back on his stomach, his lover's weight limply flowing over him. Habit made him check his surroundings to make sure they were still alone and safe, then he let himself drift in the rare bliss of being completely relaxed and happy. He kissed the knuckles of the hands that had snaked under his arms to grip his wrists, then stretched luxuriously, taking care to keep his lover's softened flesh inside.
Blair sighed happily, sounding utterly replete, but he said thoughtfully, "I left fingerprint bruises on your neck - didn't even know that I was hanging on that tight. Not going to bother to ask you if it hurts; right now a two by four over your head wouldn't make much of an impression."
"You'll find they're a good match for the ones I left on the front of your thighs," Jim said mildly.
There was a shifting of weight as Blair checked himself out, then he murmured, "I never even felt you do that."
"When they hurt tomorrow, are you going to care? Or be reminded how fantastic today was?" Holding his breath, Jim waited for his lover's verdict, not sure what he would do if Blair persisted in clinging to the belief that only the gentlest, most careful love-making was right between lovers.
"Like badges of honor, sorta," Blair said reflectively. Idly nibbling on Jim's shoulder blade, he finally asked, "Is it always like that - so intense and consuming?"
"No, it's never always anything. It can be sweet and slow, fast and dirty just to get relief - there's as many moods to it as there are to being human." Wanting to let the topic go to give his quick-minded lover a chance to think it all out for himself, Jim tightened around the maleness still inside him, testing to see if once had been enough to truly satisfy, thinking distantly that perhaps demonstrating was better than explaining.
With a tiny moan of pleasure, Blair reflexively pressed deeper into Jim, then he said dreamily, "This is so familiar; being with you just like this, in just this place. Even speaking against the skin of your back, as if the vibrations from my voice said as much as my words."
Jim made his decision instantly, changing his mind only a dozen times in the millisecond before he said blandly, "In a way you have."
"What do you mean?" Blair asked curiously, lifting up on his elbows as if to try to see his lover's expression.
"Remember the weekend you were going to propose to Katie? Well..." As dispassionately as he could manage, Jim told him about the visits from his alter, leaving out nothing but downplaying as much as possible the agony that had brought the animal spirit to him.
Blair listened silently, and at the end of the recitation, shivered from the cold, then gently withdrew from Jim, expression deeply thoughtful as he tidied up quickly. That done, he squirmed into the sleeping bag, tossing aside the soiled shirt that had been under Jim, and waited patiently until Jim built up the fire a little more and joined him in the makeshift bed. When they were wrapped in each other's arms, nose-to-nose, Blair finally spoke, his voice full of wonder.
"Chief was real to you? Completely substantial?"
"As real as the fire or this tree," Jim confirmed warily.
"And because he was *me* to you, you let him, uh, love you."
The embarrassment and humiliation that he had thought he'd rationalized away stung at Jim's sensibilities, and he looked away from Blair to study the forest beyond their small campsite. "You mean mount me," he said harshly. "No need to try to put a conservative spin on it, Sandburg."
A calloused palm cupped his cheek to make him turn back, and Blair said gently, "You love me so much that you'd accept even that because it was better than nothing; yet the entire time I've lived with you, you've never so much as tried to steal a kiss." He took a deep, shaky breath. "That's scary, so scary, as scary as taking me back when I left you without so much as a hint you knew I had."
Despite his words, there was a hint of arousal filtering through Jim's perceptions of his lover - scent, heat, heartbeat - and he pressed a thigh into Blair's groin, discovering a slowly re-awakening hard-on. "It also turns you on," he said blandly, heart sinking that his degradation would appeal so much to him.
"Of course it does," Blair said promptly without a trace of discomfiture. "God, think about it for a minute. You're a proud man with more than your fair share of self-respect and dignity. That you'd even consider turning over for me is seriously hot all by itself, but doing it with Chief was like, like, making your fantasies real because you needed me so badly. Nobody, but *nobody* has ever wanted me like that, Jim." Humping restlessly on the leg between his, Blair sighed and brushed a light kiss over Jim's lips. "I just hope the real thing was as good for you."
Knots and scars of fear and pain that Jim hadn't even known existed eased, then vanished without a trace at Blair's easy acceptance, and he pressed a kiss into the palm still holding his face. "Better, much, much better," he whispered shakily.
"Does this mean you'll take Chief back until we know for sure what's going on with you?" Blair asked, swiftly pouncing with the question, as Jim was sure he'd been waiting to do even while making love.
Fingers brushing lightly over the place where the wolf's mark had been, Jim reached for his awareness of the animal, and then said slowly, "He's not inside, but not gone either. It's like he's stretched between us, bridging the gap between my soul and yours." Searching his senses, trying to see them as the panther of his dreams, he added, "Enquiri, too."
"And the seizures?" Blair asked eagerly, already guessing the answer.
"I can't say for sure, but I haven't felt this good in months - years if I'm going to be honest." Jim lazily rolled until his lover was on top of him, tugging the sleeping bag into place to make sure that there were no cold drafts to bother him. "That's probably all your fault, though."
With a snort of laughter, Blair braced himself on his elbows so that he could look down into Jim's face. "For once I don't mind getting the blame." As if his words were a trigger, he expression turned serious, and he added, "One thing I have to come clean on, if we're going to be able to make this to work. You *do* want it to work, right?"
Wishing he had some way to reassure Blair not only that they could make it as lovers, but that it was right for both of them, Jim reached up and carded his fingers through the thick curls. "I love you," he said, because he had to say it out loud, at least this once. "Even if we wind up hating each other at the end, being able to hold you and tell you that right now is worth a life time of sorrow."
Blair bent his head so that Jim couldn't see into his eyes. "It's going to take me a long time to accept that love like that exists; it just doesn't seem possible, you know?" Finally looking up, a sheen of tears making the blue of his gaze deeper and clearer, he said, "But you make me want it to be true, you make me want to try to make it true. And I think." He paused, taking a deep breath, "I think that maybe, just maybe, because it's for you, I can."
"You don't have to make me any promises, Chief," Jim said hastily, not wanting his lover to feel that he had to give false reassurances.
"I'm not; I'm just telling you something you deserve to know. Jim, I wasn't looking for Chief in those endless, endless dreams. I was looking for you. Because of the lover I believed you had, I thought you'd finally given up on caring for me, finally fell out of love the way I always thought you would. And it was killing me."
"What?" Jim blurted, instinctively sliding his hands down to the back of Blair's neck and kneading the muscles there, as if to give comfort.
"That's why I left. Pre-emptive strike before you could ask me to leave."
Astonished, Jim asked, "Why come back then?" "For the same reason you let me stay after you realized how you felt," Blair said sadly. "Because it hurt less to be with you, unable to touch or hold you except as a friend, than to leave and never be able to do it at all."
Hearing guilt and regret for hurting him under Blair's words, Jim said carefully, "It's not the best way to live, for either of us." He lifted his head enough to touch their lips together gently, then added, "But it was a reason to survive. We can do better, now. Better than just endure."
Smiling, hope making it a breath-taking beauty to behold, Blair said, "I know we can."
finis