On the bluff over looking the river, a class sat tucked around their teacher, listening raptly as he read to them. The youngest sat in his lap, nodding drowsily, and two of the other small ones were curled into his side, equally sleepy and relaxed. Though the oldest pretended vast interest in their own books, their pages didn't turn as they absorbed the rich voice expressively recounting the trials and tribulations of a young orphan named Oliver. The rest showed no shame at their opened-mouthed attention and held as still as any child could, lest they miss something important.
Nearly half a mile away, Sheriff James Ellison sat in his truck and also listened with complete attention to the teacher's voice. For him, though, it was a food he ate up as hungrily as he did the sight of the slender, strong form. Captivated by the graceful movements of the teacher's hands as he turned the pages or punctuated a point with a precise gesture, he lost the thread of the story and was shocked when book was snapped shut.
Shaking himself, he also missed the content of the instructions the class received, but guessed it was some sort of scavenger hunt from the way they scattered over the bluff. Older children carefully herded younger away from the edge, but all searched the ground and foliage. Periodically they would bring an object back to the teacher, who was walking along, holding the youngest by the hand and keeping an eye on all of them. There would be a word of praise or explanation, and the child would run off to search again.
One brought back a wildflower, and the teacher bent to show it to his companion, tickling the end of her nose with it. "Thmellth nith," the child lisped, then giggled.
Without thinking, Ellison inhaled deeply to catch the scent as only he could from this distance. But instead of the fragrance of sun-warmed blossoms and innocent child, he breathed in a smell that should never be found on a child - or her clothes. He looked at the paper bag beside him, heartsick and disgusted at the mixture of little girl, blood, and semen coming from the garments inside.
His moment of peace lost, he turned the key in the ignition. If he was to get the results back from the lab in time to *do* something, he had to move. One last time he looked at Blair and his students, reaching out to pet the glass between them as if to touch his lover across the distance. The cold, hard window hurt him, but he determinedly reached no further.
Jaw tight, the beat of tension in the muscle showing clearly, he put the truck in gear and drove off, refusing to check the rear view as he did.
Thursday Evening, 8 Weeks Later
The sound of car tires on gravel pulled Jim from his studies and sent him reaching for his gun. Carefully sliding it into the waistband of his pants at the small of his back, he went to the door and listened intently. He wasn't really expecting a meet yet, but he couldn't think of anyone who would be coming up to his cabin at this hour of the night.
The unfamiliar sounding engine stopped a door opened and the footsteps of a single person trudged up the walkway and onto the porch. By the time he reached the door Jim knew as surely as he knew his home *who* was on the other side, but was too surprised to risk moving.
It was the sound of a bag hitting wood, and a soft curse that jerked him into yanking the door open. "Sandburg?" he couldn't help but question.
"JIM!" Blair's shout was joyous. Throwing himself over the threshold, he grabbed Jim up in a four-limbed hug, trying to climb him like he was a tree.
Laughing, Jim hugged him back, bumping the door shut with Blair's backside and pinning him up against it. Claiming his mouth despite the huge grins they were both wearing, Jim managed a kiss anyway, feeling foolish but unable to keep from tasting his lover. A little overwhelmed by Blairness - scent, taste, sound, feel - he dug both hands into Blair's mass of curls and tried to calm down.
Blair wasn't having any of it. Humping hard, he muttered incoherently about missing and needing in between licks, bites, and tiny pecking kisses. His excitement crashed over Jim, and all he could do was go along for the ride, giving into to his own starvation. He fastened onto Blair's mouth, sucking the tongue into his own just as Blair mumbled his name again, this time in completion. The scent of his semen drove Jim over the edge of control, and he slammed his groin into the firm body, trying to bring on his own orgasm.
Even insane with desire, he was totally aware of his partner. As Blair muttered, "Easy, babe, easy. Let me breathe!" Jim forced his hands to go palm flat on either side of Blair's head. Groaning in pain, he stepped back, taking on the traditional position for frisking. "Blair..." he pleaded.
Easily forcing another devouring kiss on him, Blair bit his way down his torso. He sat flat on the floor, back against the door and pulled at Jim's belt until he leaned in. Blair bit once at the erection under the zipper, then blew hard through the material.
Jim shivered at the moist, hot breeze, then silently spilled into his pants. Weak, he sagged onto his knees, planting them on either side of his lover's hips. Leaning his forehead onto Blair's lightly, he crouched over him, that the only point of contact they shared as they tried to pull themselves together.
Finally Jim muttered, "Interesting way to say hello."
Reaching up to hang onto the front of Jim's shirt, Blair said, "Man, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to attack you like that. But I've been thinking about you *every* mile of the way here, and I've been half hard because of it *almost* every mile, and it took so long because of the rain, and then there weren't any lights on and your unit wasn't outside, and I was *majorly* disappointed, then you were standing there, and it wasn't my idea to pounce on you like that, my legs took orders from my... oh, go on, laugh at me!"
Softly, Jim did just that, then kissed the brow under his lips. "I like the way you say hello, Chief. Almost as much as I like the way you apologize."
As if unable not to, Blair laughed. "Give me a chance to clean up and catch my breath, and I'll show you how I wanted to greet my love."
"Are we going to need special equipment or props for this, Sandburg? Cause if it's going to take some time, maybe we'd better eat first, to keep our strength up." Gingerly Jim stood, releasing Blair from his confinement and offered a hand to help him up.
Still laughing, Blair took it and levered himself upright. "No, just a nice, big bed. I ate on the way here, about halfway, at this really cool diner." His voice trailed after him as he crossed to the opposite side of the cabin and went into the bathroom.
Hurriedly, listening to make sure Blair was still facing away, Jim groped at the side of the door, found the cane and tucked it quickly under the couch. "Not that I'm complaining, but isn't this a long way to go for a quickie and cuddle? How long were you planning on staying before driving back for work tomorrow?"
Over the sound of running water, Blair called, "No school. Water main broke." Jim hastily put his gun away, shut down the laptop so Blair wouldn't see the program on it, and covered his writer with papers. "We dismissed early, and they won't be finished fixing it before tomorrow. I *had* planned on grading papers and working on lesson plans, but suddenly found myself throwing some things in a bag and jumping in the car."
His voice preceded him as he came out, and Jim sauntered around the couch bed, making it up as if that was what he had been doing all along. "The decision was probably made by the same part of you that decided to make like a squirrel the second you saw me."
"Hmm, could be," Blair quoted, and put his arms around Jim's waist from behind. "Actually, at the time I was thinking that I wished I knew someone I could show the kids' art work to who would appreciate it." With a noisy smooch to the middle of Jim's back, he turned him around and asked in an expectant voice. "Well, what do you think?"
Frantically Jim sorted through his sensory memories of holding Blair a few minutes ago searching for a clue that would let him bluff through the question. Finding nothing, he said neutrally but warmly, "Nice job. Their idea or yours?"
Either he took a second too long to respond or whatever it was needed a much more expressive comment. There was a draft of air over his face as Blair waved his hand in front of it, a horrified "Oh my god," and painful stutter of a heartbeat. "Oh, my god, you're blind!"
Blair spun and bolted for the door. Anticipating him, Jim raced behind him, reaching over him to crash into the door and hold it shut. Capturing him in a parody of their earlier embrace, Jim held him through his mindless struggle to escape, taking the random punches and shoves stoically.
Panting desperately, Blair stilled bit by bit, shrinking away from him. Feeling it, Jim smiled bitterly and told the top of Blair's head. "If you need to leave, I'm not going to stop you. But you are going to *decide* to do it, not just crash out of here with guilt and shame riding you. We both know that if you do that, you'll never have the heart to face me again.
"I'm not expecting you to stay; I know you need time and space to accept what I've been living with. But Blair, you don't have a lot of the first and there's too damn much of the other. I have decisions to make, necessary ones that can't wait. I want, I *need* to make them with and for you. But I don't have the luxury of time; I'm not some insect caught in amber, unchangeable and unchanging until you return. If you take too long, I'm going to have to go on without you.
"If you use those miles as an excuse to delay, to let things happen naturally, we could wind up needing fate or nature or whatever push us together again. And, Chief, this time that Blair-sized space inside of me might be too scarred over with pain and you might have changed too much. We might not ever fit again."
Breathing almost as harshly as Blair was, Jim backed away, though barely enough for the door to be cracked open. Wordlessly Blair did just that and slipped out. Head hanging down, fists clenched, Jim listened to discordance of the rapidly pounding heart and measured steps until Blair got into his car. He drew his hearing back as the engine started, and mentally kicked himself into moving.
Feeling every year of his life like shackles on his feet, he headed for the bathroom. He'd clean up, then call Ironhorse at the reservation and ask him to let him know when Blair got back safely. And to tell him if the new teacher suddenly decided he had to be somewhere else immediately. It had been a given in his own mind that Blair would run when he found out; it was just a case of how far.
Sighing, he felt for the light switches to see if any had been left on - no point in wasting the electricity now. No one to fool into thinking he was normal. There had never been any question that he would tell Blair he was blind, of course, and all the rest that went with it. He'd only wanted to have one more night with him; to have the memory of being filled and taken to help him get through this darkness and out to the other side.
Stripping, he began to wash, regretting the need as the last bit of the heat and scent that Blair had left clinging to him went down the drain. His skin, sensitized more by the memory of his lover's touch than his task, quivered almost imperceptibly under the washcloth. He was so damned hungry!
Shutting down as much as he safely could, he made it through the rest of his bedtime preparations, and climbed onto bed. Stubbornly he insisted to himself that he would *not* think about what he could have been doing. He only made it as far as his pillow when his hand hit something soft and unexpected. Dialing back up again, Jim lifted it, automatically identifying it as the sweater Blair had been wearing, and broke down.
Holding the garment to his cheek, inhaling the fragrance of Blair's arousal and completion, he curled on his side and groped for his erection. His sensory abilities supplied him with almost tangible memories: the feel of his lover's face cupped in his palm; sharp stubble of beard almost hiding the petal softness of skin; long curls sweeping heavy and warm over his fingertips; supple lips covering his own.
As he stroked himself heatedly, he let himself experience the wet pearl glide of Blair's penis over his tongue and the sharp, satisfying taste of it as it did. To tease himself, he imagined Blair pulling away, brushing the head tantalizingly over the outline of his mouth. Unthinkingly he cried out, "Oh, let me! Please!"
Strong hands grabbed his head almost brutally to pull it up as Blair thrust forward, demanding admittance. Willingly Jim accepted him, taking him down his throat. After a few strokes they came almost simultaneously, groaning and sighing, then Blair crumbled into a small ball that touched Jim only on the shoulder.
Surreptitiously, Jim inched that part of him over until the top of Blair's head was against it firmly. That small comfort was enough, and he began to slip away into sleep.
"Jim..." Blair started quietly.
"Shhh, rest."
"No, I can't. Not until I explain."
"Tomorrow." Jim ordered gently.
"Please, l..."
"Tomorrow," he repeated, hating the tinny note of pleading under the command in his voice.
Blair subsided, but he took one of Jim's hands in his own, and kissed it.
They settled down under the covers after tidying up, but neither really slept.
Friday
When the sounds of dawn began to fill the cabin, Jim waited until it seemed Blair was at least temporarily under and snuck out of bed. Lying there, feeling as if Blair might as well be someplace else entirely, was getting to be too much for him. With practiced moves he dressed and slipped outside.
By habit, he took a second to orient himself, but by now he knew the way to the woodpile. Self-preservation had had him learning all the terrain for about five hundred yards in any direction, though the painstaking memorization had been one of the most difficult things he had done in his life. More than once during the process he had nearly broken down and called Blair.
Only his mule-headed decision to keep what they had inviolate as long as possible had stopped him. Putting on his safety glasses and gloves, he picked up the ax and tapped the chopping block to fix it in his mind. As he moved, he admitted to himself pride had a large part in it, too. Was it so bad to want to Blair to come to him, first? To want Blair to need *him*, for a change?
He lined up the first piece, knocking it with the ax to locate it, and began to chop. The concentration necessary - swing and hit the wood squarely so it would split and not splinter dangerously, listen for the falling pieces, pick them up and place them, pick up the next piece and find the best place to hit it, repeat, repeat - and the rhythm of the work blanked his mind. It provided a partial peace and when Blair wordlessly inserted himself into the pattern by picking up the falling wood, he acknowledged him only with a grunt.
They worked side by side seamlessly until Blair said simply, "I want to stay."
"Why?" Jim bit out, suddenly furious. He crashed the ax into the chopping block, yanked off his gloves and glasses and threw them to the bench at one side of the wood stack. He spun and walked away, back pointedly to Blair. Unable to leave familiar territory, he stopped only a few yards away and lifted his face to the sky as if to feel the sun burning with his emotion.
"Jim?" Blair questioned, wisely not touching the rigid form.
"Why do you want to stay?" He repeated, more calmly. "Because of pity for the blind man? No thank you, Sandburg. I have to deal with that poison every day from damn near every person I meet. I don't need it in my home.
"Because you feel guilty? A sentinel is always a sentinel *if he chooses.*" Jim emphasized the quote, but hurried past that truth before his anger revealed more to Blair than he was ready to. "*You* are not responsible for my choices, or the consequences of them. I got here on my own, thank you, and I'm the one who has to deal with it.
"Because you love me? Do you even know the meaning of the word? In ten weeks I've talked to you three times and haven't seen you at all. You missed phone calls because you stayed late at work, you were with a parent and couldn't get away, you didn't like to call me at work because I couldn't talk freely, you were too tired to do more than fall into bed. You postponed two visits here for one damn thing or another, and asked me to cancel the one time I could get away.
"Do you always put 'love' at the bottom of your priority list? Something to do when you've taken care of everything else in your life? Are the calls going to get farther and father apart? Am I only going to see you when you get horny enough to let your hormones dictate a visit? A year down the road are you going to tell me, ashamed and apologetic, that you've met someone special, and whatever we had, it wasn't love because now you know what it's really like?" Panting harshly, Jim tried to rein in his caustic words, afraid of going too far.
"It works both ways, Jim!" Blair said tightly, holding back his own anger. "You could have come up to see me or made a special effort to call!"
Tiredly Jim let go of the argument. It was pointless until Blair was willing to tell him why he hadn't come back, not only this time, but three years ago, as well. At the moment, he wasn't sure if Blair knew *why* himself. "I did try to call. How many messages have I left on your machine?" he answered quietly. "And I've been blind for seven of those weeks. Before you ask - it's not exactly the sort of thing you tell your lover over the phone. Simon is coming up for a long visit in a few weeks; I was planning on asking him to drive me up to see you."
Behind him he could feel the slight change in pressure that told him Blair was moving. The touch on the small of his back went beyond timid; it spoke of apologies, shame, regret, remorse, promises, but, mostly, of love. "Maybe I should ask if *you* want me to stay." Blair offered.
"If I didn't," Jim told him honestly, "I would have just let you run last night."
"So what do we do?" Blair eased closer and hooked both hands into the Jim's belt at the back.
Against his will Jim felt the last of his anger drain, taking with it the unyielding line of his body. He relaxed, lowering his head and twisting it as if to look at the man behind him. "We drive into town," he said practically. "There's a ton of paper work I need to do for insurance and what-have-you. Not only can you read it to me, but you can help me deal with the bureaucratic bullshit that goes along with it. I'm still half nuts from trying to explain to the clerk that if I could read the disability forms, I wouldn't need them!"
"Awww, come on, man! Paperwork! Are you sure losing your sight isn't just a ploy to get me to do that for you again?" The bantering tone was stiff, but Blair seemed willing to let Jim set things aside, for now.
A touch of a smile graced Jim's lips, and he turned, caught Blair by the elbow and tucked his hand into the crook: the best position for him to lead Jim. "Busted. I'm also planning on using it as an excuse to have you install new programs on my laptop."
Automatically Blair started back for the cabin. "I'd do that anyway, to keep you from throwing a perfectly good computer through the wall."
"It was a window, last time."
"Hey, you're learning!"
Home again late that night, Jim knelt in front of the fire, stirred the embers and added more wood, all the while listening to Blair mutter under his breath at the papers he was shuffling through.
"I can not believe they're denying your claims," he said finally, throwing the papers contemptuously at Jim's desk.
Settling into his chair, Jim put up his feet and leaned his head back. "Not surprised. Won't see a shrink, won't take meds, MD can't find anything physically wrong with me.... From their point of view, I'm a fraud or nutcase."
"How long do you think the appeal will take?" Blair came to sit by the fire, poking at it restlessly.
Managing to convey a shrug without moving, Jim answered, "At least six months. Probably have to give in on seeing the shrink before I can win, though."
Giving a log more of a jab than it deserved, Blair muttered, "I don't understand how you can be so unconcerned."
Half dozing, Jim told him, "Right *now* I'm dry, I'm warm, and I'm full. That's enough."
"That's really all you need?"
Unable to decipher the odd tone in Blair's voice, Jim told him frankly. "No. For instance..." He reached out, finding Blair's hand half way and urged him up. Ignoring the hesitation he felt in him, he pulled Blair onto his lap, giving him plenty of leeway to make himself comfortable there. It didn't take much; Blair threw both legs over one arm of the chair, slid one arm down to circle Jim's waist, and curled the other onto the broad chest as he nestled into the shoulder.
Unexpectedly, Blair seemed content to simply sit there, being held. Jim had no complaints about it; holding him was better than some sex he'd had. It seemed as if tiny roots were spreading from Blair's skin, working their way into him, permanently attaching them to each other. Fancifully he started to count the individual tendrils, only to lose his place when Blair idly mumbled, "This should feel odd or awkward or something."
"Why?" Jim asked lazily.
"Dunno. I'm mean, I'm sitting in your lap like a kid or a girl. Shouldn't I at least be annoyed you'd hold me like that?"
"Mmm... you don't feel like a kid." Jim scrubbed two fingers over Blair's very obvious five o'clock shadow. "Or a girl." He stroked down the slender back, then burrowed under the shirts he wore. "Guess I shouldn't go by circumstantial evidence, though. Let's see..." Delicately he carded through the springy hair on Blair's stomach, working his way up to lightly pet one soft nipple. Ignoring Blair's gasp, he went on. "Definitely an adult male chest." He pinched the other one, which was erect and waiting for him. "An aroused male? Mmm, that's inconclusive, too." With circular motions, his touch drifted down to the burgeoning hardness hidden below the belt. "The evidence at hand is pretty convincing."
"A case could be made against the validity of evidence gathered from only one source," Blair said, tilting back his head.
"Then I'll have to widen the field of search," Jim murmured, dabbing the tip of his tongue to the upraised mouth before taking it completely.
Languidly they kissed, using every variation of that caress from sweetly tender to fiercely demanding. Clothes were pushed out of the way for hands to wander; somehow Blair's pants were rucked down over his thighs and Jim's erection was pulled from his opened jeans. Blair began raising his hips, thrusting into Jim's loosely held fist, then sitting back into his lap, the hard flesh waiting there brushing tantalizingly over his bottom. Soon, too soon, deep sighs of satisfaction bubbled from around sealed lips as fluid flowed from both of them. Still bestowing little licking kisses, holding his lover securely, Jim stepped almost unnoticed into sleep.
Saturday
Wondering how he managed to spend an entire night sleeping in a chair, Jim stretched cautiously the next morning, automatically scanning the room for Blair. Quietly he padded barefoot over to his desk, where Blair was pounding the computer keys, muttering figures under his breath.
"Did you sleep at all?" Jim found Blair's back and sent questing fingers over it, looking for knots.
Blair rotated his shoulders, angling back into the massage. "For a while. You were so far under you didn't even stop snoring when I tried to get you to move to the bed." He soaked up Jim's attention for a minute, then blurted abruptly. "Come and live with me."
Expecting this sooner or later, Jim was able to answer without a bobble. "I can't. It's too far away."
"Look, I didn't mean to pry, but I started on that paperwork and there were some questions on it I needed answers to, so I went through your personal stuff."
"And found the bills."
"And your checkbook. Jim, you can't last until an appeal gets through, even assuming it's going to go your way. Unless you've got assets I didn't see - did you use the money from the loft to buy this place?"
"I don't own the cabin. It belongs to the sheriff I replaced; he's been letting me stay here while it's on the market. Given where it is, we both figured it would take a while to sell it. Not even a prospective buyer right now."
"So you could lose your home without any warning. Do you have something to fall back on?"
Again skirting the edge of truths he didn't want to share yet, Jim told him, "Simon needed some cash, Sandburg. He had Daryl in college, wanted to go back himself, and though the insurance took care of most the rehab and medical bills, he was in trouble for a while. I loaned him what I had, figuring someday he'd be a rich lawyer and I could sponge off him if he owed me a favor."
"Are you planning on staying with him then?"
"Not unless I have to. Look, I know things are going to get a little tight, but I've been working on it, and I think I can make it. I'll be using wood to keep warm and to cook; all I need electricity for is for my computer and I've got a generator that I can run for that when I need it. My only real expense is gas for it and food. And my phone, but I think I can keep the cost down there."
"You sold your truck; how much of that is left?" Blair was hitting the keys again, working with the new information.
"You've got your hands on what I got for the truck. I need the computer for my rehab work. A bus comes for me twice a week for the physical stuff, like navigating skills, but most of it is done by telecommuting."
Blair's flying digits quieted, stopped. "This gadget next to me...."
"Is a Braille writer designed to take screen text and turn it into Braille, though I have a text-to-speech program installed. One of the ones I was hoping you'd put in for me will convert scanned text to a format those programs can read."
"Jim, if you lived with me, we could sell this laptop and you could use mine. And use my phone line for telecommuting. As for your rehab center," Blair's voice took on a slight tone of belligerence, "we did pretty well together that time you were gone on Golden."
"We did better than 'pretty well', Chief. But you can't drop everything to be my eyes now. You have kids depending on you; a new life that you're only beginning to fit into. Hell, most nights you're too tired or busy to *talk* with me. How are you supposed to squeeze in lessons on something we'd have to make up as we went along?
"Besides, I *know* this place: every corner, every potential hazard. I can relax here, not worry about obstacles or judge every move."
Feeling Blair's arguments literally rising from his back, Jim patted him, and awkwardly offered, "What if I promise that when I'm finished here, or if money gets too tight, that I'll move in then?"
Grudgingly, Blair asked, "Do you need the rehab that much?"
Jim took a minute to give the question thought. "It's mostly the little things, like folding your bills a certain way so you can tell twenties from fives." He smiled at the memory of making that mistake when under the golden, sure Blair was smiling, too. "The only problem I have is I don't *know* what a blind person is capable of, and I keep freaking out the teachers."
"Huh? Jim...."
"Got a ruler, there?"
Things were shuffled around, drawers opened and closed. "Yeah, one here."
Taking a cleansing breath, Jim 'saw' the dial for his tactile sense and tweaked it up. Kneeling, he put his hand flat in the center of Blair's chest for reference and held his other hand out, palm down. Fingers spread, he lowered it until it was over the desk top. "There's a stack of books less than three inches under my fingers." He kept still until he felt the ruler touch his hand and heard Blair's in-drawn breath. Carefully he traced over the items on the desk, changing the height of his hand as the outlines of the items changed. Several times he was able to identify what the item was from the shape he 'felt.'
Fairly bouncing in his chair, Blair started jotting down measurements and observations. "Man, oh man, this is unbelievable! Differential in air pressure right? You can do better with something alive, right, cause you add heat." Jim wasn't sure if Blair saw his nod or not because he kept blurbling on. "Are all your senses online? 'Cause, you know, people think that when you lose one sense the others get more acute, like to take the place of what's missing, but really they're only *noticing* that input more. But with a sentinel, man...."
Suddenly Blair trailed off, put his pen down with great deliberation. "Sorry," he said shortly, "Force of habit, I guess. Once an observer, huh?"
From his tone, Jim guessed that Blair was wearing an apologetic look. Gently, he said, "I've been thinking about that. Your dissertation, I mean. Is it too late? To go back and finish it?"
Blair leaned forward, putting his forehead on the center of Jim's chest. Hesitantly, he said, "We can't go back, man."
"No, no we can't. But maybe we can't go forward either, until we've tied a few loose ends from the past."
"My whole *life* from then is a loose end." Blair banged his head lightly on Jim. "I don't know, I don't know."
"No one says you have to decide tonight, this weekend or even this year. I just...." He slid his hand up to thread the fingers into the curls on the back of Blair's head. "I just, oh, hell, Chief."
"Want me to know that you'd work with me again. That you still think of me as your Guide."
Hearing it coming so bluntly from Blair, Jim had to admit that had been a part of what he'd been trying to say. That he had needed to say and hadn't had the words. "Yeah."
Both Blair's hands came up to tangle themselves in Jim's open shirt. "Then I should be with you, now. Damn it, we both know it could be the reason *why* you're blind. Before I dropped back into your life, you were losing all of your senses, bit-by-bit. Three weeks - three weeks! - after that you get four of them back completely, but lose your sight. It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to make the connection."
Bracing himself, Jim finally confessed, "I chose this, Blair." Wincing at the sudden tension in him, Jim went on. "I'd found the little girl whose father snatched her the last time you were here. He went into a very classy hotel with her, much better than he could afford, and I followed, hoping for something, anything I could use to force him to give her back. Or at least an opportunity to reason with the bastard.
"When they went into one of the suites, I tried to eavesdrop through the door." Agitatedly Jim began to work his fingers, the tactile sensation of soft hair under them easing the memory he was facing. "I was trying so damn hard to bring up my hearing, focus it, that when my sight began to gray out, I let it go completely. If I tried to control it, I'd lose the chance at hearing what I needed.
"I heard something I could use, stumbled away from the door, and had to use every technique we'd ever worked together on to control the 'flash' from my other senses. But it wasn't a flash; it was me being the way I should be. Except for being blind."
Unintentionally Jim brought up his other hand, clenched it beside its mate deep in the locks at the nape of Blair's neck. They were both shaking, and for the life of him, Jim couldn't tell if the source was him or Blair.
"What did you hear?" Blair's voice was gently persistent: guide as his most persuasive.
From behind locked teeth Jim whispered roughly, "I heard him sell her, his own child, sell her to the highest bidder." The shaking became full-fledged shudders, and Jim rested his cheek on top of Blair's head. "I can't talk about this anymore. I will, I promise, I'll tell you all of it before you leave and she's all right, but I can't talk about this anymore."
Nodding against him, Blair reassured him, "It's okay, I can wait until you're ready, there's lots of time, it's okay."
He stood, and Jim went with him, unwilling to release his hold. Jim was walked backwards, in the direction of the bed, but he didn't question his lover. Blair's mouth was already busy, kissing and licking Jim's throat, and he was more than willing to surrender to his attentions. Jim's shirt was removed somehow, then he was falling, and for once he didn't have to consciously think about relaxing. He knew he wouldn't be hurt, and he landed on the bed, reaching to help take off his pants as he did.
Blair began to randomly pepper his chest with hot licks, and Jim twisted to his side to wrap his hands around the steel of the couch bed's supports, preventing himself from grabbing Blair to direct him. Every lash of the moist tongue induced a small explosive grunt from Jim, the smallest hint of the most intense reaction he had ever had to any lover's touch.
He held still until Blair burrowed between his thighs, opening them with a steady push, tongue going unerringly for the hidden portal to his body. Shouting wordlessly, he bent one knee, bracing himself open. With each stab of the agile tool into him, he lost more of himself, more of the outside world, until there was only the torment of the maddening mouth and bolts of pleasure it was giving him.
Blair paused, and Jim begged harshly, "Please, please, more... lick me raw... babe, please... do it, doit,doit,doit...."
His answering moan was pure agony, but Blair shifted for better access, and returned to his loving. The next plunge of his tongue went wonderfully deep. Jim's breath in the form of his guide's name was driven out of him, along with his seed. He struggled to bring air into his lungs, only marginally aware of Blair pulling away and scrambling behind him.
Feeling his lover's need nudging where he'd so recently been ravaged, Jim drew up his knees to allow him easier access and tried to relax. Blair's erection pushed painfully at him, then skidded past his opening. Inhaling sharply, Jim scooped up the semen from his stomach and reached behind him. "Lube," he muttered and stroked it over the hot shaft.
"No!" Blair shouted, but shoved into Jim's hand anyway, unable to keep from responding to the feel of the slippery hold. He tried to stop, latching onto Jim's wrist to hold him still. But the head of his hard-on came to rest against the puckered bud he lusted for and that contact was apparently too much. He groaned his denial as his body emptied its load.
Limp and heavy, he fell against Jim's back, still feebly protesting the betrayal of his own hunger. Disappointed himself, Jim brought his captured limb back to his chest, and held Blair's fist tightly there. "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? Jim, I'm the one who lost control. Are you okay?" Blair probed with his free fingers, testing gingerly.
The sound Jim made was undeniably one of appreciation, and he could feel Blair's anxiety leave. "I liked it, that you got so primal on me," he assured him. "I use to wonder what kind of lover you were. You know... a fast food bandit, playful rogue, intent, considerate."
Against the skin of his spine, Jim could feel a wide smile. "I had trouble imagining you as a lover at all. You were always so contained, always keeping feelings restrained and hidden. Have you always so responsive or is it more intense now that you can't see?"
"No basis for comparison, lover. I never let anyone touch me like that before, and I told you that I didn't fuck men."
Oddly, Blair went still. "I took that to mean you only made love with them, Jim. You mean you've *never* taken someone inside you?" Not waiting for the answer, Blair rushed on. "You were going to let me use you when I was totally out of it, without even decent lubrication, for pete's sake?"
"Wanted it. Wanted *you,*" Jim said, plainly.
Mouth hard against Jim's skin, Blair moaned in both frustration and arousal. "Damn you, Ellison. You might not say the words, but you never stop showing that you love me, do you? I say it and never manage to show it."
"Go easy on yourself. This is new to you." The flash of warmth from Blair's face was unmistakable. "Or maybe, not so new...." Jim went on slowly.
"I've known since before mom... left... that I was in love with you," Blair mumbled, face still flushed. He shrank away, his words rushing out. "While I was taking care of her, I missed you so damn much, just talking with you was agony, but we were moving around all the time, and a cop, no matter who he was, wouldn't have been welcome most of the places we were. I kept pushing it away, and pushing it away, then she was gone, and I went numb.
"When I finally came out of it enough to go back to Cascade you weren't there! When it finally soaked through I wasn't going to see you again, I pulled over and shook for what must have been hours. Jim, it was too much for me. I locked it in corner of my mind and concentrated on surviving.
"That day at the crash... you took my hand in yours, and I thought for a second I'd died in the accident, and you were my angel coming for me. I was ready to reach up and kiss you, then reality kicked in, literally. I had to deal with the kids, and you, you just tuned me out. Do you have any idea how fucking remote and untouchable you were, like some ice-capped mountain?"
Bringing up their joined hands, Jim brushed a kiss over the smaller knuckles. "But you got in my unit anyway."
"I had to know if we could at least be friends again. Later, when you kissed me... Jim, there's something I have to know. It wasn't a pity fuck was it? I mean, you cared for me a little bit, even then?"
Stretching back until Blair was solidly against him again, Jim said softly. "I think I've always been in love with you, Blair. For the longest time, it was like my senses when they were latent. There, but I was unaware of it. It took the jungle to wake my abilities; it took the taste of your mouth to wake my heart."
"You didn't say anything," Blair was carefully not accusing.
"You were hurting too bad. My feelings were a burden I didn't think you were ready for. Or at least, that's what I thought. Do think. Why else did you stay away for so long?" Jim was as careful, but he couldn't prevent the shade of resignation in the words.
Blair was quiet, though he let himself flow heavily over Jim's back. "I don't know," he conceded. "Maybe."
"Right now, it doesn't matter." Jim sucked noisily at the tip of Blair's thumb, deliberately making the sound obscene and silly at the same time. "What matters is what I feel for you, and how much I want you to know that. As you've pointed out, showing, instead of saying, seems to be my strong point."
With a quiet laugh, Blair blew a raspberry onto Jim's shoulder blade. "You can give me pointers on it." Jim's stomach picked that minute to growl, loudly. "Though maybe we'd better feed you first."
"Good idea." Jim squirmed over, and groped at Blair's crotch. "I have the perfect thing in mind."
Laughing louder, Blair eeled away and off the bed. "Food, Jim. Food. And a shower."
In mock disgruntlement Jim sat up, tossing a pillow in the direction of his lover. "I'll clean up, then we'll get messy again, then I'll clean up *again,* then I have to chop more wood, which means I'll get all sweaty and have to take *another* shower. Makes more sense to stay here and wear you out first."
"If you do that, not only will you *not* get any more wood chopped, today, but I won't get those bills taken care of." Blair warned, lobbing the pillow back. He crowed in delight as Jim nimbly ducked it. "And, if you're serious about being my research subject again, there are some tests I want to do."
Falling back on the bed, Jim covered his face with the pillow. "Tests. I remember Sandburg's tests." He informed it in a mournful voice. "I didn't think this through far enough."
"Too late! Now get up and get cleaned up before I decide my prize test subject shouldn't get fed until *after* he performs."
Peering from behind the pillow, Jim told him archly, "I already did, thank you!" Blair chased him all the way to the bathroom, pelting him with a pillow and more laughter.
Somehow, they held onto the playful, teasing mood for the rest of the day. Jim felt the solid mass of all that needed to be said, needed to be dealt with, but hid from it in Blair's sunshine bright presence. It took most of the day for them to get the cord of wood Jim needed chopped done, and most of the evening to get the last of the paperwork, bills, and computer work done. Though they traded kisses, hugs and fondling freely, by unspoken agreement they went no further.
Though he was impatient, Jim wanted both of them to feel as if they had plenty of time and no distractions when they made love. What Blair's reason for delaying was, he didn't say, but he gave Jim a tonsil-tickling kiss when Jim hesitantly suggested just sleeping on Saturday night. In many ways, that turned out to be more intimate than making love.
They had shared a bed before, as partners, and as lovers, but it didn't prepare Jim for the comfort of crawling under the covers and snuggling in next to the world's furriest heat sink. Blair wiggled and fit himself into Jim's contours without a single poke or misjudged elbow. Blanketed by his scent, his textures, Jim had time for one contented sigh before falling asleep.
Sunday
Discipline had kept Jim to a regular schedule even after he no longer worked as sheriff. On Sunday morning he woke at his usual time, listened to the birds for a minute, then stretched, deciding for once to sleep until he *wanted* to wake up. Covering the hand Blair had resting possessively on his hip with his own, he slid back under.
Several hours later his bladder woke him, complaining about the change in routine. He tried to ignore it as long as possible, too snug and secure to contemplate moving. Once he did, he was going to have to start the day - one which would end with Blair leaving him again.
Eventually Mother Nature couldn't be silenced any longer and he crept out from under the covers, hoping not to disturb Blair on the chance he could slip back in and hold him until he woke. Confidently he walked toward the bathroom, only to feel his feet catch and stumble on something. In full stride, he couldn't maintain his balance and fell heavily, hitting the floor before he could dial down his touch.
Pain slammed into him, surrounding him more completely than his bedding had earlier. All his senses fled before it, leaving him in the quiet cocoon of black, with only the omni-directional pain as input. His throat worked convulsively, but he couldn't hear any sound he made, if indeed he made any. With no other choice available, he went with the pain, trying to flow through it.
Instead it was pushed away, a filament at a time, by a growing and opposing sensation. Pleasure. Reaching for it greedily, he identified it as Blair petting his back, using his nails to scratch wonderfully. Using it as an antidote, he contained his hurt, defining it only as a nasty sting on his front.
With a deep breath, he nuzzled into Blair's thigh, where his head was laying. "I'm back - s'okay; just stunned."
"For half an hour?" Blair asked woodenly.
"Not the longest I've zoned on a fall." Sitting with exaggerated care, Jim tested each joint and limb. "Don't go getting paranoid about it; tumbles come with the territory. If a black out is the price I pay for being able to move freely the rest of the time, I'll take the consequences."
"That could be deadly." Blair said flatly.
"So can eating solid food, taking a shower, or breathing. Finding the balance between independence and safety is a bitch, but I'm hardly the first person to have to deal with it. In a way, everyone does, constantly. In fact, I'm better off because I'm aware of it and most people don't want to even contemplate just how 'safe' they are." Jim tried to back off on his lecturing tone, sure Sandburg was making that yakking hand thing at him.
Half expecting a helping hand, he stood, feeling Blair physically retreat from him. Head tilted, Jim tracked him as he went to the kitchen and began pulling things out of the cabinets.
"Want me to make you some eggs before I take off?" Blair offered, casually. "Your cooking skills weren't so hot before; I'll bet you're no where near ready to make your own eggs over easy with hash browns."
Puzzled, Jim focused intently on him, but Blair's heartbeat was regular, his breathing even. Something was wrong, though, he was sure. "I'd forgotten you could do anything with an egg but boil it," he joked, making his way toward the bathroom.
"Scrambling is an option, as well," Blair answered in the same tone, but it rang so false to Jim he didn't continue the conversation. Taking care of business in the bathroom, he listened to Blair cook, packing in between cooking chores.
Realizing Blair intended to leave immediately, Jim sat on the edge of the tub, trying to head off a hurt worse than any his skin had ever given him. Swearing to himself he wasn't going to let Blair fade out of his life again, he contained it with plans to hold onto Blair, at least until his lover banned him from his life completely. Resignedly he finished up and joined him for an awkward meal.
Stubbornly carrying Blair's bag, afterwards, he walked him to his car, wondering if he was going to be given false promises and kisses. Thankfully, Blair didn't seem capable of carrying the charade that far. He stood at the trunk of the car, fidgeting with his keys, not daring to touch or speak.
Frustrated enough to not want to make it easy for him, Jim waited patiently for Blair to begin hiding again. Before he could start, though, Jim heard the heavy growl of powerful, expensive engines coming toward his drive. Automatically he donned his cop persona, assessing how long it would take them to get to the cabin and the best way to protect Blair.
A few fast steps took him to the side of the drive, where the muddy soil met gravel. A handful covered the car's license plate, several smears on Blair's startled face and clothes took care of the rest. Moving in close, he cupped his lover's chin in one palm and ordered him, urgently, "Fight me. I'm going to kiss you, hard, and I want you to fight like I'm trying to rape you. When I say now, you cover your face with your hands, huddle over some, and run for the woodshed. If anyone comes back there except me, I want you to bury the ax in their chest."
"Jim..."
"I don't have time to explain. Trouble's coming up the road, and I don't want them to even be able to guess what gender you are. For the sake of your kids, Blair, don't let these guys ID you!"
Swooping in, he put all the disappointment, hunger, frustration and anger he had into a punishing kiss, wanting to spur Blair to an honest struggle. Instead Blair met him anger for anger, hurt for hurt, wildly returning the explosive passion. Grappling with him, trying to hold him closer, tighter, as Blair fought to do the same, Jim thought distantly that they probably did look like adversaries. He didn't care; he bent Blair over the trunk of his car, pounding his groin into him, meeting Blair's own frantic thrusts.
The sound of a car horn jerked him back, and he groaned, "Run, please, run."
Blair ripped himself away, and Jim felt his hands going up to hide his face as he'd been told. Then he was gone, and Jim spun to confront his unwelcome guests.
* * *
Ironically, witnessing Jim's 'assault' and hearing his terse explanation that not all his clients paid in cash cemented his cover with the scum. It took almost no time for him to negotiate the deal he wanted and to get rid of them. They were ready for the next step now, and until he e-mailed his contacts in the federal marshal's office, he could and did dismiss them from his existence.
Wearily he followed the sounds of wood being obliterated, and sat on the bench next to the pile until Blair smashed down the ax one last time.
"You're undercover." Not a question, a flat statement.
"Yes. Part of what we were going to talk about today before you decided to leave early."
Apparently surprised that Jim wasn't going to back away this time, Blair sat on the chopping block. "What are you trying to prove?" he asked tiredly. "That you're a still a cop, even blind?"
Jim leaned his head back, brought one knee up and rested his forearm on it. "Of all people, you should understand I can't walk away when there's trouble; not if I'm in a position to help. Finding that little girl - it started there.
"Getting her away wasn't a problem. I went to a cop in the lobby and told him what I had heard, leaving out who I was and that other people were involved. Believing that a blind man could hear things others wouldn't, they acted on my report. Caught the bastard and his 'customer' red-handed. She's back with her mom now, recovering from the abuse, but she's lost the innocence she deserved to enjoy.
"She's only one kid, Sandburg. I heard names, places, hints of other auctions, other contacts: big names, big money. Getting the Feds to listen to me wasn't a problem. They had suspected this particular ring for a while, but hadn't been able to get anyone in, close enough to get solid evidence. They had one, *one* agent placed well enough to keep them going, and that's it.
"Being blind made it easy to get inside. A handicapped, bitter, broke ex-cop selling insider information garnered from old friends, old passwords, old contacts - I gave them the inside agent as a show of good faith, and they've been willing to deal with me ever since. It's stupid really. They take for granted I can hear things, can get people to talk to me thinking I'm harmless, then talk in front of me themselves like I'm not there, like being handicapped makes me invisible. We've got nearly their entire organization mapped out because of it. All we need is to get the location of the next auction.
"But you're literally working blind, here. No backup, no contacts. The great Jim Ellison, supercop." Blair's bitterness was surprising, and Jim began plucking at the edge of the bench, uneasily. "You don't need the feds, do you? You don't need anybody or anything."
Cautiously, Jim said, "What I need is to be who and what I am. Senses or no senses, broken body, even broken mind - you're right, I'm still a cop."
"And that's all you need. Everything else in your life is just window dressing, props for the image of a real person." The bitterness was gone, now, and Blair sounded infinitely empty.
"That's what this is really about isn't it?" Jim asked slowly, reflectively. "Need. You think I don't need you. Wanting you and loving you isn't enough; you want me to need you, too. And for some reason you can't believe that I already do." It was his turn for bitterness, but his came out in a laugh. "That I already did!"
"You *didn't* need me. Once you had a handle on your abilities, I was redundant. Someone convenient to hand the phone to call for backup. Or I was a risk. How many times did you have to pull my ass out of it, or stand between me and some nutcase because I was your partner? Or I was just pure trouble, like now."
"Now?"
"Jim, you fell because I stupidly left my pants where you could trip on them. You had to cover for me being here when your contacts came. I can't even help you with this case because I'm a teacher and I can't afford to let them near me in any way."
"Blair, did it ever occur to you that if I hadn't needed you around, I would have pushed you out of my life instead of trying to find ways to involve you in it? Shit, it was killing me to do it, but I was backing you when you wanted to go undercover, remember? Or do you think it was easy to dismiss my *need* to keep you safe and not interfere with you doing what felt you had to."
"I... you never said...."
"Neither did you. As far as I knew, I was only your research subject, your ticket to the roller coaster. Not someone you *needed* for himself." Jim put his head down on his arm for a second, then muttered under his breath, "Shit. Chief, look at my life since you left me. Tell me if I did better with or without you."
"You made it without me." Blair's voice had become very small, and Jim felt tears scrabbling behind his eyes at the pain in it.
"Maybe as a cop and as a Sentinel, I could have made it without you. But when you left, the *man* began to die, Blair. When he started going, the rest had to follow. Bang! One suspension for hitting another cop, and screwed up senses. Does that sound like I don't need you?"
Not wanting to spook him, Jim stood and with considered, soft movements began to undress. "Let me show you," he coaxed, as if gentling a wild thing. "You know I speak better with my body than with words." He put his shirt on the bench and toed off his shoes. "Let me show you," he repeated in a pleading whisper.
"It's just sex," Blair protested weakly, standing and moving a few steps closer anyway.
"Was it when I took you, lover? Did you open yourself to me because you were horny, because you were curious?" Surety in the answers colored questions, and the tone stayed loving and cajoling.
Blair didn't answer this time, but sidled forward a bit more.
Taking a minute to consider the strength of the late fall sunshine on his bare chest, and the coolness from the shadows dappled there as well, Jim undid his pants, stepped out of them and placed them over the end of the bench as padding.
Putting his heart and his courage in both hands, he reached out to the darkness, not thinking of hiding his naked arousal. "Please. Please."
The hands that took his were practically palsied in their shaking, and Jim guided them up to circle his neck loosely, pressing the fingertips into his pulse points. "You've known lust, passion, hunger, Blair. Does your pulse hammer like this, when you haven't so much as touched or been touched yet?"
"No." It was a breathy whisper and aimed toward his lips, as if Blair were watching them.
Turning so that he could step astride the bench, Jim pulled Blair to stand at the end of it. Sitting down, taking Blair with him, he drew Blair down to kneel in front of him, moving their hands to his chest as he did. "Can you feel how hard I'm breathing? Like there's a weight pushing on me from the inside...."
"...keeping all the air out." Blair finished for him, his fingertips petting the hard muscle under them.
Stifling a moan, Jim urged those restless digits over to the already hard buds on his chest. "They're aching, god, aching so bad. Do I really have to tell you no one else has ever done that to me? That no one else ever could?"
Blair didn't hide his moan. He bent forward, nudging their hands away and covered one painful point with his mouth. "You do need this," he muttered after a long, hard suck. Unable to even cry out in reply, Jim barely held on as Blair switched to the other nipple.
Panting harshly, Jim brought their joined hands down to his erection, pausing there only long enough for one thrust. "If it were lust or simply sex," he said thickly, drawing Blair's caress further down, "that'd be enough. That would be all I wanted. It was all I ever wanted before."
His lover's mouth was following the path of their hands, and Jim quickly brought the journey to an end. Capturing Blair's hands between his thighs, squeezing them gently to persuade him, Jim fumbled for the top button on his pants. As he reached inside to free Blair's hard-on, one finger slid into him, first-knuckle deep, and he nearly fell over from the pleasure.
Feeling it under his lips, against his skin, Blair yanked away, panting hard himself, now. "Wait."
Somehow Jim didn't whimper or complain, but it took all he had not to reach back out to recapture Blair's missing touch. He heard the brush of flesh over cloth, a vague plastic on plastic sound. A second later, he was rewarded by the return of the intimacy, but this time it was a smooth, slick probe of two fingers. "Oh. Oh, god." Wantonly he splayed his knees wide, and latched onto Blair's hips to bring him forward.
"Wait." The word was barely understandable. "Won't hurt you. Won't! Let me...." A third finger filled him and Jim nearly collapsed onto Blair. Throwing out one arm to brace himself on the woodpile, he put his head on Blair's shoulder, still gripping his hip tightly.
"Should I beg?" Jim groaned against the strong neck. "Will that show you that I *need* you?"
Feeling the almost imperceptible rocking of Jim's hips, Blair matched the tempo and pace with his fingers, echoed it in the sway of his body toward Jim's. "No. But this does. So hot, so tight, demanding, commanding..." Swiftly he took away his fingers and set his hardon in their place. "..me. this." He entered with slow, steady push, holding Jim's thighs apart.
Long used to dealing with pain, Jim didn't even tense as Blair filled him, not caring if that was all he felt. To be joined in this way was enough; Blair's little whimpers of pleasure and frustration as he fought for control were more than he had dreamed of. A deep-toned vibration of pleasure caught him by surprise as it radiated through him, making his entire body hum from it.
Another raced after it, deeper and harder, as Blair withdrew from him slightly, only to slide back in again. Mindlessly Jim met the next thrust as best he could, and the next, the vibrations building, making him voice his own whimpers with Blair's.
When the vibrations inside him grew to shattering force, Jim lifted his head heavily, and brought up his hands to cup either side of Blair's face. "Look at me," he ordered quietly. "Look at what's on my face, in my eyes. Then tell me honestly, can you be anything less to me than the heartbeat in my chest?"
His gaze like a touch on Jim's skin, Blair's undulations took on a ragged edge, but he answered clearly. "No. You can't love any other way, can you?"
"Remember that," Jim panted, the vibrations becoming tremors tearing at him. "R... remember... th... oh, oh!" Convulsively he rode down onto the presence inside him, taking it deeper and harder. As he became lost in the power shaking him, he fixed his mind and his eyes on where he knew Blair's should be, trying to *see* their sapphire depths in his mind's eye.
His customary darkness grayed, brightened, and then Blair's beauty was shining where it had been. Caught unprepared for it, for the emotions filling that expressive blue, Jim could only cling to his gaze as he shuddered into his climax.
Bruisingly, Blair shifted his grip to Jim's hips, his own moving faster and harder in answer to what he saw as Jim sent his heat flooding over him. "You can see me," he gasped, "oh, babe..."
"Needed to, needed to," Jim managed to blurt out, his head drooping back onto Blair's shoulder.
"Jim...JIM!" Blair shouted, and Jim's body tried to spasm again as Blair gave him his cream in hot, hard streams he could feel almost to his heart.
They clung drunkenly together, each supporting the other as best he could while they fought for strength to breathe. Finally, a chill chasing over the skin of his back, Jim shifted slightly in his lover's arms and murmured. "Feels like the weather's changing."
"Feels?" Blair answered quietly, still not quite hearing.
"Sun's warmth is gone, and the air feels wetter, heavier."
"Feels?" This time Blair inched away, taking Jim's face between his hands. "Your sight's gone again?"
Kissing each of the hands holding him, Jim answered, "Yes."
Putting his nose along side Jim's so that the motion could be felt, Blair smiled. "But you did see. You wanted to, needed to, badly enough and you did see. Jim, your damn dial as an off switch! You can control this; you just need to work at it like you did at turning the dials down when you first started living as a sentinel."
"*We* need to work on it, Chief." Jim said, firmly.
Laughing, Blair licked at the cheek next to his lips. "I wonder if *we* can turn the rest of them off."
Epilogue
Even through the headset, the sound of the chopper blades beat at his ears, and Jim considered briefly turning off his hearing. The thought made him smile. If he couldn't concentrate enough to get the dial *down,* the control and focus necessary to set it to 'off' was impossible. Though Blair had thrown every idea his hyper mind had been capable of conjuring up at it, they had never found a way make the process fast or easy.
Not that they had spent much of their precious few hours together running tests once they were able to restore Jim's sight at will. In the three months since Blair's last trip to the cabin, they had only been able to snatch an evening here or afternoon there when Jim had been certain it was safe - first from the slavers, then from the press who hounded him once the case was made.
Most of their communication had been online, through the special accounts the marshals had set up for them, and that had been less than either wished. Despite that, Blair had never failed to at least leave him a love note in the e-mail every night they had been apart. Jim's smile broadened; once or twice, with Simon's willing help, there had been more personal messages. The first time the big man had arrived with a huge bouquet of scented flowers, Jim hadn't been sure whether to die from embarrassment - or pleasure.
His smiled bled away a little. During the trial, when the defendants had mustered their not-inconsiderable forces to try to discredit or damage him, it had been those risky loving gestures that had kept him going. A stuffed teddy bear, heavily saturated with the natural scent of an aroused, happy Blair left on his car seat; a Blair-cooked meal sent to his hotel room; a tape of love-songs, with Blair singing along recorded under the original tracks, where only he could hear it - somehow his partner had always managed to *touch* him when he needed it most.
In the end, one of the big players had crumbled, turned state's evidence, and along with what they already had, the return of a guilty verdict became unavoidable. The governor, riding on a political high from the convictions (which included a potential opponent in the upcoming election) had recklessly promised Jim anything he wanted.
He was riding to the reservation in part of that kept promise now, hoping his surprise would please Blair, not make him angry for keeping secrets again. If it did, the long hours of study and work during the suspended time of the trial would be worth it. If not - Jim's grin grew impossibly wide - he'd just nail his lover to a mattress until he didn't have enough brain cells left to be mad!
At the crackle of contact in the radio, the chopper began its descent, all the occupants save one craning forward to look at their new home and place of business. Precisely, lightly, the craft set down amid the cheering and claps of the residents of the reservation where the governor had elected to set up the newest Search and Rescue team.
Automatically listening for one voice in particular, Jim lingered behind, having had more of the spotlight than he ever cared to have again. The team had been officially welcomed by the Tribal authorities and the festivities had begun by the time Jim stepped out.
Though his senses gave him a split-second warning, he was still nearly bowled over by the exuberant hug/leap/kiss of his lover. Stumbling back against the loading door, he returned the welcome as enthusiastically as he received it, breaking away finally to gasp, "As much as I like the way you say hello, Sandburg, we might want to save it for some place more private."
Blair's muttered answered made no sense, but the general impression Jim got from his actions was that privacy was optional and getting naked wasn't. Allowing one more assault on his tonsils by Blair's determined tongue, Jim reluctantly peeled him off - though only permitting a few inches to separate them. "Car," he huffed, wondering if he dared take his breath back from its thief. "Home. Now!?"
"Man, oh man," Blair panted, and drew himself up, tugging at the clothes that Jim didn't remember pushing aside. "Wait, wait, let me think." Unable to take his eyes off Jim, he restlessly ran his hands over his chest. "Okay. Pilot. I'm supposed to meet the pilot and take him to Ironheart's place. Said something about the guy not liking crowds much, but I don't see him here. Did he go in with the rest of the team?"
Jim slipped of the concealing jacket he wore to show the paramedic and pilot patches on his SAR uniform. "You're looking at him." He waited tensely for Blair's reaction.
He looked Jim up, then down, a leering smile slowly growing. Then, with a whoop, he threw himself back onto his lover, tumbling them both into the hold of the chopper. Mouth going for Blair's without conscious decision, Jim fumblingly closed the door. His last coherent thought for the next hour was that he was going to *love* the way Blair celebrated.
finis