Archive of Our Own ^beta

NOTES
Originally published around 1999 (I think). Thanks to Hephaistos for Beta Reading.

Spoilers for Sentinel Too parts 1 and 2. I'm new to sentinel slash, so I'm not on a lot of slash lists. Please feel free to announce this story to any sentinel slash-related lists you're on if doing so is within the list rules. Thank you!

Blair Sandburg glanced at the temple. He felt strangely shaky inside, and his chest and ribs hurt. He'd obviously overdone it the past few days. He didn't look forward to having his follow-up with Doctor Hatford next week, assuming he made it back in time. The older doctor's bedside manner made Attila the Hun look like Gandhi in comparison.

His eyes seemed drawn to the temple, and he tried to process what he'd witnessed inside. He hoped Jim was doing okay. There was no telling what the pool and the drug had done to the sentinel.

Walking up to the sentinel in question, Blair took a shaky breath. "Hey, man. Are you okay?" Even as he said the words, Blair choked on them. His mouth went suddenly dry, and he became keenly aware of the tremors hijacking his body. He only hoped Jim was too preoccupied to notice.

"You know, when I got out of that grotto, I realized I had it all laid out right in front of me," Jim answered, "all the answers to it all. But in one way, you know, I just wanted to go back in there so bad. I mean, just...."

Blair studied Jim and had the nearly overwhelming urge to move closer, to touch him, but Jim had been acting so strange lately, Blair wasn't sure doing so would be a good idea. He opted to keep a slight distance, swallowing hard at the surprising effort the decision required. "But you didn't."

"No."

Blair moved his tongue around inside his mouth, trying to get enough saliva to form a coherent response. "See, that's the difference between you two. She lost her way."

He had to take another deep breath after talking. His chest felt tight, and the humidity wasn't helping his lungs any. That had to be it. Almost without realizing it, and totally in contradiction to his decision only moments ago, he moved closer to Jim and leaned on the stone, his arm brushing against the older man's. Suddenly, the air seemed lighter, and Blair took another breath, this one deep and refreshing. He sighed with the sheer relief of it.

Jim turned to him. "You okay, Chief?"

Blair shrugged and tried for what he hoped was a casual smile, but suddenly, with Jim's eyes on him, he couldn't think. He could barely breathe, and his groin stirred. He swallowed hard, heat rushing to his face, horrified at his body's reaction. It had to be the stress.

Yeah, sure, stress always makes me horny. God, he only hoped Jim didn't notice. Blair focused everything he had on forming a convincing lie. "Yeah, man, don't worry about me. All I need is a bed and a shower."

A very cold shower, he amended silently.

Jim fidgeted. His skin seemed to itch from the inside out. The humidity was wearing him down, making it hard to breathe, and a headache pounded behind his eyes. He hadn't been completely honest with Blair. Even now, the temple seemed to call to him, and he physically ached to go back inside. Then, suddenly, Blair was next to him, his arm brushing against Jim's, and everything got better, as if a switch had been flipped.

He turned to look at Blair and frowned at the paleness of the kid's face and the thick perspiration dotting his forehead and neck. "You okay, Chief?" He really shouldn't have dragged Blair through the jungle. The physical exertion combined with the heat and humidity had to be taking its toll on him.

Blair shrugged and smiled, but his cheeks flushed alarmingly and a brief, passing moment of panic seemed to flitter across his face, vanishing as quickly as it had risen. "Yeah, man, don't worry about me. All I need is a bed and a shower."

Jim's nostrils twitched as he noticed a change in Blair's scent, though he couldn't pinpoint the precise difference. He suddenly felt energized, and he had the almost overwhelming urge to grab Blair and drag him back into the temple, and...and....

God, it was getting hard to breathe. Jim found his eyes riveted to Blair, drawn to the damp, winding curls and expansive blue eyes.

Before he knew what was happening, he was inches from Blair's face, and he had no idea which of them had moved, but it felt right, and the headache that had been plaguing him disappeared completely. His cock jumped in his pants, and his unexpected erection brought him back to himself with cruel, vicious suddenness.

What the hell was he doing? He reeled back, pushing away from Sandburg, and the moment his hands touched Blair's chest, an electric current seemed to sizzle up his arms and shoot straight to his groin. The surprise of the sensation added strength to his reaction, and he was barely aware of Blair falling backward. Jim's ears only distantly heard the surprised yelp, followed immediately by a pained gasp as Blair hit the ground.

"WHAT THE HELL'S WRONG WITH YOU, ELLISON?" Simon's booming voice hit Jim like a truck, and he staggered away, shaking his head, feeling a rough hand clamp around his arm. Then there was a female voice, heavy with a familiar Australian accent, yelling, pounding into his skull like a jackhammer.

He yanked himself away, falling against stone, and saw Blair curled on his side, clutching his ribs, with Megan leaning over him, asking him if he was all right and what hurt.

"God." What had he done? What was wrong with him? "I'm sorry." He looked up at his captain, realizing only then that the man was towering over him, and Jim looked down to find himself kneeling on the ground, shaking like a newborn colt. "It was...an accident." It had to be. He struggled to his feet, and Simon's hand again wrapped around his arm, but this time to help him rise. The moment he took a step toward Blair, however, he found himself stopped by a firm hand on his chest.

"Why don't you just sit here?" Simon pointed to the stone in front of the temple.

Jim nodded, going numb inside, shocked by his own actions. He'd pushed Blair. Hard. Sent him crashing to the ground. After the fountain. After the bruised ribs from the CPR and the congested lungs and the days of traipsing through Sierra Verde and suffering through searing heat.

And, not so long ago, he'd let Alex hold a gun on Blair. What the hell was wrong with him? If he didn't get a grip soon, he'd trash everything, his friendship with Blair, his career, everything. He'd thought, for a second, that it had all been solved after Alex fried her senses in the pool, but something inside him seemed to be bubbling to the surface even now, and he didn't know what it was or if he'd be able to resist its influence.

Blair's ribs and chest erupted into pain as he hit the rocky ground, and for a few terrifying seconds, he couldn't get air into his lungs. Then, he gasped, sucking in what felt like molasses, and curled into the pain.

He wasn't sure what had happened, but whatever it was felt like rejection -- brutal, agonizing rejection that tore into him like a knife. He'd done something wrong. He wasn't good enough. Wasn't wanted. He'd failed. Jim had left him. Left him behind earlier to go alone to the temple, pushed him away now, rejected him.

He didn't even know what he'd failed or why he felt like trash tossed out on the curb. He just knew it hurt. He hurt. Physically. All over. Inside and out. It felt like dying. Even the air moving sluggishly in and out of his lungs stung, ripping into his chest like shards of ice despite the wet, dripping heat surrounding him.

He heard voices and felt hands on him, but they only added fire to pain. Hot touches seemed to brand marks into his skin, and the voices were wrong, pounding against him, mocking his failure, berating and accusing.

Jim stared, blinking, as Blair gasped like a fish out of water, desperate for air. Sandburg fought Simon and Megan, flinching and mewling whenever one of them touched him. Jim stood silently, shocked beyond rational thought, with the overwhelming feeling that if he didn't do something soon, Blair would die, right there on the ground in front of him.

Go to him, Enqueri.

Incacha's voice seemed to fill Jim's head, breaking through his stupor and moving him to action. He lunged forward, vaguely aware of pulling Simon and Megan away. He dropped to the ground, some part of his brain conscious of what he was doing but unable to control his body's movements. He felt like he had back on the beach with Alex. Something was driving him, controlling him, and it scared the hell out of him even while a part of him screamed at the rightness of it as his arms scooped Blair up and held him close, rocking him gently.

"It's okay. I'm sorry. You're okay. Just breathe. Breathe for me. Breathe." He spoke the words like a mantra. They bubbled from his throat, rising automatically, unbidden by conscious thought.

He thought he heard Simon and Megan. He was vaguely aware of them in the background, but a part of his brain catalogued their presence and dismissed them as not being a threat.

Jim listened to Blair's breathing, holding him securely as the young man's harsh gasps gradually melted to steady, smooth breaths.

"There you go." Jim sighed, relief flooding his body as Blair relaxed against him.

The voices and the hands changed, all of a sudden giving him a sense of rightness, alleviating his pain and even seeming to change the air. He could breathe again, and as he became more aware, he identified the voice and the arms holding him as belonging to Jim. The sense of rejection vanished, blasted away by Jim's touch and the soothing words that washed over him, cleansing his sins and offering absolution.

He rose to an even greater awareness and realized he was on the ground, wrapped in Jim's arms, with Megan and Simon hovering nearby. He saw their stunned faces with slack jaws and wide eyes, and Blair, suddenly self-conscious, forced himself to pull away.

His cheeks burned, and he cleared his throat. He wasn't sure what was happening between Jim and himself, but whatever it was...it was weird, and he had no idea how to even begin to explain it to Simon and Megan, whatever it was.

"Uh....I'm okay." He glanced furtively at Jim, embarrassed, not sure what he'd see in the older man's eyes, but at least there was no reproach there. Jim looked about as stunned as Blair felt, and his gaze conveyed a silent apology, his brow creased with worry.

"I'm fine, really." Blair yanked his eyes away from Jim and looked to Megan and Simon. "It was just...an attack. The air's really humid. I couldn't breathe for a second."

It wasn't exactly a lie. He really did feel better. Much better, in fact. Like some invisible medicine was coursing through his veins, alleviating his symptoms and clearing his lungs.

"What's going on here?" Simon asked, his voice rough and strangely subdued.

Jim shook his head. "I...I don't....It was...."

Blair interrupted Jim's stuttering. "It was nothing. I said I'm okay."

"He pushed you, Sandy."

"I don't know what's up with you, Ellison," Simon continued. He flung a hand out, gesturing to a group of trees. "You and I are having a talk right now." He glanced at Megan. "Connor, stay here, keep an eye on Sandburg."

"I don't need any more eyes on me, thank you very much," Blair muttered.

Jim rose, heading to the cluster of trees with Simon. Blair watched him go. Each step Jim took seemed to make the air heavier, and by the time Jim reached the trees and stopped, turning to face Simon, Blair was almost wheezing with the effort to breathe.

"Are you okay, Sandy? Bugger! We need to get you to a clinic."

Blair waved a dismissive hand at her. "I'll be okay," he gasped.

"Jim, what's going on with you?"

Jim turned to face Simon, and as he did, he found his eyes again going to the temple. The structure still tempted him, and it would be so easy for him to give himself over to whatever force called to him.

"I don't know, sir." Jim forced the words from his mouth and ripped his gaze away from the temple. His ears tuned automatically to Sandburg, and what he found sent his heart pounding. Blair's lungs were rattling, and he seemed to be once again having difficulty breathing.

Shit.. "Excuse me, sir." Jim took a few steps closer to Blair, an impossible idea churning in his head. Five steps, and he stopped, and the change in Blair's breathing was noticeable. The rattling eased, and although he was still having trouble drawing air into his lungs, his respiration did sound easier.

"Ellison, I'm not finished with this conversation. You'd better give me a good explanation or...."

Jim twisted his head to look at his captain. "Blair's having trouble again. I can't explain it, sir, but I think it has something to do with the temple. We need to leave. Now."

Jim didn't wait for a reply. He continued toward Blair, his hearing acutely focused on the young man's lungs. Each step Jim took seemed to signal a change in Blair's condition. By the time Jim stopped and crouched next to his partner, Blair was once again breathing normally.

"Come on, Chief." Jim gently grabbed Blair's arm, and he felt a surge of energy travel from his palm, up his own arm, down his spine, and once again, his groin tingled.

He clenched his jaw, angry and ashamed at his body's reactions and his total lack of control.

"I'm up," Blair said, rising to his feet. "Let's get out of here. I really want a bed...and a shower."

"Oh, God." Blair was going to die. Sitting in the back of the cab, next to Jim, was killing him.

He shifted, crossed his legs, threw his forearm over his lap, and tilted to face the window, hoping desperately that Jim didn't see the large bulge in the front of his pants.

His erection was painful. He didn't know it was possible for any man to stay hard so long. If he didn't find some relief soon, he was afraid he'd explode, and that would be really embarrassing.

Some indefinable time later, the cab pulled up to their hotel, and Blair thanked every deity he could think of as he hurtled himself out of the cab and into the hotel, practically running as he flew up the stairs, his breath coming in hard gasps, not even realizing he didn't have a key until he stopped in front of the door to Jim's room and remembered that Megan had picked the lock last time.

"Geez, Sandburg, are you training for a marathon?"

Blair jumped, hopping as if he had to go to the bathroom while keeping his front half toward the wall He knew he probably looked ridiculous, but he didn't care. At least he was breathing more easily now. "I have to go, man. Dibs on the bathroom. Just get the door open."

Jim cocked his head, a sly smile lifting the corners of his mouth, and slid his key into the door, pushing it open.

"Thank God." Blair hurried past Jim and made a bee line for the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind him and desperately turning the lock as his other hand unzipped his pants. He hopped out of his jeans and boxers, freeing his cock, which stood straight out, and then flung off his shirt as he stumbled over the rim of the tub, yanked the curtain closed, and turned on the water.

The lukewarm spray hit him, almost refreshing, but he barely noticed it as his hand went to his penis and pumped vigorously. He fell backward, stopped by the wall, and turned, bracing himself with his free hand on the tile as his body spasmed violently until, at last, he found blessed, explosive relief.

He sighed, his whole body sagging, and slid down the wall, melting into the tub.

Jim stood frozen near the bed, listening to the sounds coming from the bathroom. Blair's groans. Running water. Flesh slapping against flesh.

He felt like a pervert, but he couldn't stop listening, the dials wouldn't work, and his cock hardened. He wanted to move his feet, to push his way into the bathroom and....

Whoa! He snapped back, staggered toward the bed, and shook his head. He needed to get past whatever this was. He was not, not, NOT attracted to Blair. Absolutely not. It was just some...thing caused by the temple. Some mumbo jumbo thing, like with Alex. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was sexually frustrated over Alex since he'd never gotten to indulge in his body's urges, and his penis was making its needs known.

But when Blair came and Jim heard that long, sensuous sigh, his cock spasmed, spewing semen inside his boxers and filling Jim's nostrils with the scent of sex.

"Shit!" In a second, he was out of his pants and boxers and had them rolled in a tight ball and shoved hastily into the outer flap of his duffel bag. He heard the shower turn off, so he hurried to his suitcase, grabbing the first pair of boxers he could find, and practically jumped into them.

The squeak of the shower curtain sliding caused his heart to flutter, and he hesitated, deciding between how to explain a change in pants versus explaining why he was standing in the middle of the room in his boxers.

The bathroom door opened, and Blair emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist and a bundle of clothes in his arms. He stopped when he saw Jim, his cheeks flushing red.

"I'll just, uh..."

"My turn to hit the shower, Chief," Jim said gruffly, pushing past Blair. "Hope you left me some hot water." He slammed the door closed, and as he did, his nostrils flared, soaking up the residual scent of Blair's semen.

It sent jolts straight to his groin again.

Stop it! He growled mentally and stormed to the shower, hopping in and turning on the spray, letting the hard water pound at him. He wished the water was colder, but it was so damn hot in Sierra Verde, the pipes seemed incapable of spewing out anything colder than lukewarm.

Blair was exhausted. He and Jim hadn't discussed their sleeping arrangements, but there was only one bed in the room. A hint of guilt gnawed at him, and he considered going down to the lobby to check for a room. Finding his duffel bag on the floor near one of the chairs, he tossed his dirty clothes next to it and withdrew a T-shirt and a clean pair of jeans. He dressed quickly and grabbed a hair tie from the front flap of the bag, then quickly pulled his curls back into a low pony tail. He searched through the pockets of his dirty pants and pulled out his wallet, which basically had his driver's license and a wad of cash. All his credit cards had gotten soaked in the fountain. Even his license was questionable. He'd had to walk physically into a bank and show his slightly worse-for-wear ID to withdraw enough cash for the trip. The clerk balked when he showed her his ruined ATM card. Fortunately, he had all the right plastic on him, even if most of it wasn't good, and Megan was at his side, flashing her badge and explaining what happened. The bank clerk was most helpful, promising to send him out a new bank card immediately. He'd get it in 14 to 21 business days.

Could red tape move any slower?

He rose and walked to the front door, opening it, but as soon as he stepped into the hallway, his chest tightened, and the air seemed to grow heavy once again. He sagged against the door frame, clutching it to keep upright, and struggled to breathe.

Then, as quickly as the attack hit him, it faded.

"Come inside, Chief."

Blair jumped and spun around. Jim was right behind him, touching him and guiding him back inside. The sentinel had a towel wrapped precariously around his hips, and he was dripping wet. Blair found himself staring at Jim's broad, muscular chest as he somehow managed to move his feet. Then, Jim's hands were on his shoulders, pushing him on to the bed, and although he wouldn't have thought it possible, Blair's cock once again grew hard.

"Where were you going?"

It took Blair's brain a second to realize Jim had spoken and another few seconds to process the question and formulate a response. "Uh, to check on a room."

Jim gave a soft, lop-sided smile. "Where were you when you started having trouble breathing?"

"Barely through the doorway. Why?"

"Just...wondering." Jim stared into the distance, looking much like he did when he was on a case and mentally putting clues together in his head to solve some crime. "You can sleep on the bed. I'll stay up for a while, crash on the floor or in the chair when I'm ready."

Blair shook his head. "No, no. That's not fair, man. You--" His throat cut off his protest when he felt Jim's palm on his chest, pushing him gently back to the mattress.

"Go to sleep."

Blair realized he was tired, and even as he opened his mouth to form another protest, his eyelids drooped. Without thinking about it, he scooted higher on the mattress and curled on to his side.

Jim's lips twitched as he watched Blair succumb to sleep. The kid was oblivious to the proximity thing, and apparently, the phenomenon wasn't dependent on the temple. For once, Jim had figured out a sentinel-related issue before Blair. He should mark the occasion on his calendar.

His amusement lasted only a moment, though, before his mind once again turned to the more troubling aspects of this latest development. He moved away from the bed and walked up to the window, stopping at the glass to peer out over the city. This thing between him and Sandburg didn't make sense. Jim couldn't possibly be attracted to the kid. He'd never had a thing for men. Not once. Leggy redhead women, however, were another matter entirely. As for Blair, he was as woman-oriented as they came. If it had breasts and two X chromosomes, Blair would flirt with it.

Jim smiled briefly at that thought before turning to look at Blair, who was snoring softly. Jim focused his hearing on the kid's lungs, pleased that they sounded clear. There was no hint of bronchitis or pneumonia. It was, in fact, remarkable, considering the rattling Jim had heard in Blair's lungs back at the temple.

Come on in, man. The water's nice.

The words Blair had spoken not-so-long ago at the hospital rang in Jim's head. At the time, Jim had told Blair he wasn't ready to take that trip, but he now suspected he was already on it. He just wished he knew where the hell he and Sandburg were heading.

He turned back to the window and watched the city.

Some time later, Jim snapped back to awareness. He blinked. The day was almost gone, the sun fading. Twilight filtered into the hotel room.

Damn. He'd zoned.

The yawn took him by surprise, and he glanced at the bed, pleased to find Sandburg sleeping soundly, now curled on his other side. At some point, Blair had made his way to the side of the mattress closest to Jim, and he now lay with one hand dangling over the edge. Any further, and he'd fall.

Taking a breath, Jim walked to the bathroom, retrieved his clean pair of boxers, and headed back to the bed. He snagged one of the unused pillows and lowered himself to the floor, positioned just beneath Blair, then with a sigh, gave into sleep.

"Enqueri."

Jim found himself in the jungle. Incacha stood in front of him, a spear in his left hand.

"Why am I here?"

"You must complete the joining."

"What are you talking about?"

"You chose this path when you called his spirit back to his body. You must now continue on together. As one. If you do not, his spirit will not remain in your world."

Jim tensed. "Are you saying Sandburg could still die?"

Suddenly, the jungle disappeared, and Jim opened his eyes to find himself in a dark hotel room. Blair was snoring peacefully on the bed above him.

Sitting up, Jim ran a shaky hand over his face. His eyesight penetrated the darkness, and he stared at Blair. The kid's color was better, his cheeks showing a touch of pink, and his breathing was still steady and clear.

Rising to his feet, Jim paced the room, his eyes continually straying to Blair. He'd ignored a warning last time, and Sandburg had died. Did he dare ignore this last one?

But it couldn't mean what he thought it meant. It couldn't mean that if he didn't have sex with Blair, Blair would...die? The universe just couldn't be that...that...hokey.

His feet moved him toward the bed, and he stopped when his knees bumped the edge of the mattress.

Something tugged at Blair, niggling at his subconscious and banishing the last images of the dream. He rose toward consciousness, but didn't quite surface, as he shifted and rolled over. The Something poked at him, nagging him in his sleep, until he opened his eyes, surprised to find a dark room and the large silhouette of a man near the bed.

Fear jump-started his heart, and his breath caught in his throat.

"It's just me, Sandburg."

Blair exhaled in relief. "Man, don't do that. My eyes aren't as good as yours, you know. I can't see in the dark."

The silhouette moved, leaning to the left, and something clicked. The table lamp next to the bed flared to life, filling the room with soft light.

Jim straightened, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "That better?"

"Yeah." Blair gulped as he once again found himself staring at Jim's impressive chest. It wasn't too muscular, just well-defined. He'd noticed it before, but from a slightly different perspective...his competition. He really couldn't hold a candle to Jim's physique when it came to impressing members of the opposite sex, so he had to sparkle them with his smile and personality.

And, he'd been told, he had very lush lips.

Now, he sat staring up at Jim, feeling himself blushing, and yes... there it went, straight to his penis.

What was the matter with him?

"Blair." Jim eased down next to him, and the mattress dipped with the sentinel's weight.

Blair almost fell against Jim, but pulled back and grabbed the solitary pillow remaining on the bed to quickly cover his lap. "Yes, Jim?" he asked, trying to give his best 'what the hell did you wake me up for?' look, hoping it didn't come off as 'I want you now.'

Jim dropped his gaze briefly to the pillow, then raised his eyes to meet Blair's. He barely smiled, but his face seemed to light up.

Blair swallowed hard and scooted a few inches away. "What is it, man?" Good cover, he told himself, Go for annoyance. Take the offensive. Divert his attention away from the pillow. Far, far away. "I was sleeping, you know. L-Long, uh, overdue in the sleep department here. Jet lag, and all that. Damn," he tugged at the collar of his T-shirt, "it's hot in here."

As Blair glanced down at his covered lap, his eyes caught the front of Jim's boxers and froze at the sight. He realized he was staring, but he couldn't help it. That was one big...tent. Boy Scouts could camp under there.

"You know that trip, Chief?"

Blair blinked, swallowed, and worked on ordering his eyes upward.

Up. Up. Up.

Finally, they obeyed, and he met Jim's gaze. "W-What trip?"

"The water? What you said back at the hospital."

"Oh, yeah." Blair tried to get his chaotic thoughts in order so he could focus on the conversation and not on the front of Jim's boxers.

"Look," Jim fidgeted, the amusement fading from his face, "I think... Well, let's just say, I have a feeling we're on that trip, both of us, in the water, if you know what I mean?"

Blair frowned. "Uh, no."

"I had a dream a few minutes ago. Incacha came to me. Told me we had to complete the, uh, joining."

Blair stopped breathing. Talk about déjà vu. "I had the same dream."

Surprise flickered in Jim's eyes. "When?"

"Just now."

"Did he tell you...you could die?"

Blair frowned. Uh, no. He hadn't gotten that little detail, not that he remembered. "No. I guess it wasn't the same dream, then. I was in the jungle, and Incacha appeared before me. He said we must complete the joining and continue on the path as one."

Jim nodded. "He told me the same thing."

"What do you think that means?" And whatever it was, he hoped it had nothing to do with him dying again.

Been there. Done that. Don't want to do it again any time soon.

Jim gave another faint smile, then reached out with one hand and touched Blair's arm.

Blair jumped, surprised by the contact and the almost electric sensation that shot through him and made his cock jump to attention.

Oh, God. Not again.

He was hard. Very hard. Painfully hard.

And as his eyes strayed again to the front of Jim's boxers, he realized his penis wasn't the only one standing at attention. Jim was still very erect.

He felt himself leaning in to Jim, then some part of his brain yelled Stop! and he leapt off the bed and backed into the door. "What's going on here, Jim? I'm not... I mean, I'm sorry." He didn't even bother trying to hide the fact that he was hard. He realized it was a foolish pretense, and he was probably making an idiot of himself. "I'm not into guys, really I'm not. I don't want you to think I've had some thing for you, because really, it's not like that. It's just, ever since the temple, I...I don't know what's gotten into the little guy...Not so little, I mean. Not at all little. But, well..."

Jim rose from the bed. "Let's cut the crap, Sandburg. I know. You're not into guys. I'm not into guys. But lately, whenever we get close to one another physically, we both get...aroused."

Blair swallowed. Jim was being awfully matter-of-fact about the situation.

Jim took a few steps closer. "Does this feel right to you?" He slid his palm along Blair's jaw. "We can do it this once, and no one has to be the wiser, but I need to know.... Do you want it?"

Blair closed his eyes, arching his hips toward Jim. The front of his denim jeans brushed against the hardness beneath Jim's cotton boxers, and Blair groaned, thrusting forward harder.

"God, yes."

"That's all I need to hear."

Jim fell forward, pressing against Blair, his hands pushing upward beneath Blair's shirt, leaving a trail of warmth where his fingers traveled along Blair's stomach.

"Jim..." Blair pushed, moving his feet and sending Jim staggering back 'til they both fell on the bed, with Blair on top. "Are you..." he unzipped his pants, and Jim's hands did the rest, sliding Blair's jeans off, then moving to the shirt, yanking it off until Blair was laying naked against Jim, separated only by a pair of boxers.

"Yeah, Chief?" Jim breathed.

"Are you really okay with this?"

Jim chuckled as he slithered out of his boxers and rose up, flipping Blair over and pinning him to the mattress. "Oh, yeah."

Part of Jim couldn't believe he was doing this, much less really, really enjoying it, but as his eyes raked along Blair's furry chest and traveled down to the large, swollen penis, he felt better than he had in a long, long time. Maybe better than he'd ever felt in his life. He knew what he needed to do, felt that Something pushing him, driving him forward, guiding his actions, and he allowed himself to trust it.

He closed his eyes and inhaled Blair's scent, pushing his nose to Blair's chest, feeling the hair tickle his skin. Blair arched against him, and Jim lost himself to the soft groaning coming from the man beneath him. He allowed that Something to take over, and he roamed downward, sniffing, licking, marking, tasting, cataloguing, until he got to the patch of fur at Blair's crotch, and he found the hardness, and licked, delighted when his partner gasped, almost mewling, and arched toward him. Jim took the hardness into his mouth, licking and tasting. Suckling. One hand worked his own cock, bringing it almost to the point of climax.

Then he pulled back slightly and muttered, "Not yet."

Not yet?! Blair could barely understand the words. He was on fire, and Jim... Jim's tongue was driving him crazy. He couldn't stand it. He thrust, pushing, seeking, begging, going deeper into Jim's mouth, feeling the hot wetness surrounding his cock, suckling, teasing, teeth scraping against his tender, sensitive skin, making him tremble, convulse, and he was about to come, and Jim was telling him NOT FUCKING YET?

"Oh, God, Jim...." He gripped the blanket in his fists, clenched his eyes tight, and tried to breathe as he thrust harder and harder, desperate for release, and then the moist warmth of Jim's mouth left his cock, and he almost cried out from the shock of the loss.

Jim pumped his own cock and went rigid as he came, his whole body jerking with the release as semen squirted over his hand. He quickly brought his dripping hand up and rubbed the fluid over Blair's cock, gaining an obscene pleasure from watching Blair writhe beneath his touch. Then Jim turned, positioning himself, guided by some instinct he didn't quite understand, and slowly lowered his body, gently impaling himself onto Blair's erection. It was uncomfortable at first, and he heard Blair groaning and making noises Jim had never heard a man make before. Then, Jim relaxed into it, taking Blair completely into himself.

"Oh, God, Jim!" Blair began thrusting hard, gasping desperately, and Jim found himself bodily lifted, then shoved front-first on the mattress.

Blair pumped, taking a mad rhythm, and Jim pushed back to meet his partner's thrusts, feeling Blair's heartbeat pounding inside him, its rhythm drumming in Blair's penis and vibrating through Jim's body. When Blair's cock hit his prostrate, Jim arched, clenching the covers in his fists and accidentally biting down on his tongue. He tasted blood and felt the hot flood inside him as Blair released and, with a shaky sigh, sagged against him.

Jim lay there, panting, feeling the limp cock in his ass and Blair's warm weight on his back.

"God, Chief." He closed his eyes, exhausted. "That was the best sex I've ever had."

Soft snoring answered him, and his eyes sprang open. He didn't know whether to feel amused or insulted, but since he was damn near positive Blair had just had the time of his life, Jim figured he should take it as a compliment that he'd worn his partner out.

He just didn't know whether to move or stay as he was, and after a moment's consideration, he decided it wasn't so bad having Blair pressed on top of him and a warm, soft cock filling his tender region.

He closed his eyes and listened to Blair breathe. He knew they were only half done, and he found himself looking forward to taking his turn. Strangely, the realization that he'd just thoroughly enjoyed himself and wanted more didn't bother him in the least.

Blair woke to a firm, warm mass shifting beneath him. He opened his eyes and blinked. Why was the bed sideways? And....

"Sorry, Chief. Uh, duty calls. I gotta drain the tank." Jim said, his voice slightly muffled. The rumbling beneath Blair clued him into the fact that he was lying on top of Jim, and they were both kind of...sticky.

Whoa! He pulled back, felt his limp penis slide out of Jim, and blushed furiously, his face hot. "Oh, uh, sorry." Blair slid beneath the covers and focused on the tiny floral pattern sewn into the blanket. He didn't dare look at Jim. Although they had both been very willing participants, things had seemed much different in the heat of passion then they did right now, the Morning After.

Despite Jim's earlier reassurance, Blair couldn't imagine things wouldn't change between them.

"I'll be right back."

Blair listened to Jim's bare feet pad along the floor to the bathroom. There was a tinkling, then the shower turned on. Jim must have cleaned himself in record time, because the water turned off after only a minute.

"Hey." Jim returned, sitting on the mattress. He fidgeted a bit, then asked. "How do you feel?"

Blair kept his head down. "Uh, I guess I should be asking YOU that."

Jim chuckled. "Very, very relaxed. Sore, but relaxed."

Blair winced. "Oh, man, I'm really sorry."

"Hey, don't be. It was, uh...good. Very good. Actually, best I've ever had."

Blair looked up reluctantly and saw that Jim had wrapped himself in one of the hotel's robes, his hair still damp, and was just staring at him with those calm, blue eyes. "You, uh.... This isn't, uh, going to change things between us, is it? I mean, after we get back to Cascade, I..."

Jim chuckled again, and suddenly Blair found himself with Jim's lips over his, Jim's tongue in his mouth, and -- goddamnit! -- his cock was growing hard again.

Finally, Jim pulled back, his deep blue eyes studying Blair. "You never answered my question. How do you feel?"

Blair cleared the sizable lump that had formed in the back of his throat. "A little embarrassed," he gave a smile, and as he thought more about it, added, "and good. Actually, really good." His chest and ribs no longer hurt, and he felt like he was on top of a mountain, breathing clean, crisp spring air rather than the heavy, hot, humid air he knew was a hallmark of Sierra Verde.

"There's something I want to find out. I think we've got a bit more to do, but since this is new to me, and I'm not entirely sure what the vision meant, I.... Well, I want to test something. I need you to tell me, truthfully, how you feel -- physically that is -- when I ask you."

Blair creased his brow, not sure he understood what Jim was talking about, but he could tell from the older man's expression that it was important. He nodded. "Okay."

Jim rose from the bed, headed to the door, unlocked it, peeked outside, then opened it all the way and stepped into the hallway. "Okay, how do you feel?"

Blair shrugged. "Okay."

Slowly, Jim moved further down the hallway and, after only a few steps, Blair began to notice his breathing had changed. The air seemed heavier, and the tight pressure that had gripped his chest back when he had been traipsing through the jungle started to return.

Jim stopped. "Now?"

Blair sucked in a deep breath, wincing at the effort it caused. "Uh, a little.... It's kind of hard to breathe now. My chest's tight." His chin shot up as realization slammed into him.

Jim trotted back to the hotel room and locked the door behind him. Blair felt instantly better.

"Wow." Blair blinked at Jim. "When did you figure this out?"

"I began to suspect it back at the temple, after I, uh.... pushed you away. I'm sorry, Chief, I--"

Blair bolted from the bed, suddenly not caring that he was totally nude and completely exposed before Jim. "You're just NOW telling me?"

"I wasn't sure I had it completely figured out, and I was too busy trying to fight my urge to.... you know.... with you. Then Incacha came to me in that vision, and I realized just how serious this could be."

Blair deflated and fell back to the mattress, leaning forward to rub his hands over his face. "You mean, I could die? You said that earlier?"

Blair felt the mattress dip as Jim sat next to him. "I think we started something back at the fountain. That vision we had...."

Blair looked up, staring at a far point on the wall. The pieces were beginning to click. "I was a wolf. You were the jaguar. We joined."

"Right."

"But that was just the beginning. There's something we need to do to complete whatever we started?" Blair turned to look at Jim and saw him nod. "And this....thing between us," he gestured to Jim and himself, "it's some kind of primal instinct guiding us? Pushing us to, what? Complete the bonding?"

Jim nodded. "I think so."

"You're the sentinel, and Incacha told me I was the shaman. I'm your guide." Blair took a deep breath. He'd used that term loosely the first time to convince Jim to let him tag along. He'd also used the term in his master thesis, but now he realized he'd never fully understood what it meant. He'd thought a guide was just someone to help the sentinel and watch his back. That function could be performed by just about anyone. He'd never read anything about any kind of spiritual bonding between a sentinel and guide that physically affected them.

But, then again, he'd died, and he had read a lot about various death rituals involved with shamanism. In many cultures, it was believed that, to truly become a shaman, one had to die, or go into a very, very deep trance that often slowed the body's functions to near death, and then experience a vision and awaken, reborn.

God....

He'd died. He'd had a vision. He'd come back.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Blair once again catapulted himself off the bed and spun to face Jim. "Are you telling me I'm.... I'm different? I'm changed? You and I are now linked? I can't get more than twenty or so feet from you without keeling over?"

Blair suddenly couldn't breathe, but since he was only about five feet away from Jim, he figured he was beginning to have a good, old-fashioned, perfectly normal and not at all mystical panic attack.

Shit!

"Easy. Just take it easy." Jim rose, grabbed Blair's shoulders, and guided him back to the bed.

Just the physical contact, the feel of Jim's solid, warm hands on his skin, calmed Blair, and he took a slow, deep breath.

"It's going to be okay. I think all we need to do is finish what we started. Then you'll be okay, and you won't have to put up with me being in your space twenty-four-seven. So don't worry about it now. Don't even think about." Jim smiled and patted Blair's knee. "Why don't you go hit the shower?"

Blair nodded. Yeah, a shower sounded really good. Though, if he understood Jim correctly, he was just going to get messy again very soon.

Blair rose from the bed and headed to the bathroom, which was, blessedly, not that far away. He could apparently go anywhere in the hotel room without leaving his proximity 'comfort zone' to Jim.

He didn't bother to even try to wrap his mind completely around that concept. He decided to just take it at face value for the time being. Any other time, he imagined he'd be jumping with anthropological excitement, but now that it was his life on the line, and he'd already died once, and he really didn't know how things would be between him and Jim now....

He just didn't have the energy to think about it. So, he headed to the shower.

Jim listened to the spray of the shower for a moment, then pushed himself off the bed and headed to his duffel bag. He rifled through the outer pockets, sure he'd brought something he could use, but after a few moments of searching, he realized he had nothing.

He eyed Blair's smaller duffel bag a few feet away and went to it, then stopped. Maybe he should ask first. Heading to the bathroom, he tapped on the door, then, getting no response, tried the knob. It turned, and he cracked the door open.

"Chief," he yelled over the spray, "I need to find some lubricant. You have anything in your bag?"

It was a long moment before Blair answered. "Uh.... Maybe, Vaseline lip stuff? Front pocket."

"Perfect." Jim closed the door, tuning to Blair's heartbeat and finding it pounding like a mad drummer.

He smiled. The kid was nervous, and for some reason, that really turned Jim on.

Kneeling by the duffel bag, Jim opened the front pocket and immediately found the container of Vaseline. Just the sight of the small, yellow tube made him hard.

He went to the sink in the tiny kitchen area and found a butter knife. He worked the lid of the tube until he managed to slice completely through it.

The background noise of the shower ceased, and Jim looked up, swallowing, his breathing growing quicker in anticipation. He realized he hadn't discussed the details with Blair, but this wasn't exactly an easy thing to talk about openly, though he thought he'd done a pretty good job so far.

Surprisingly, Blair seemed more nervous than he did. With the kid's rather alternative lifestyle, Jim didn't quite expect this kind of a reaction from Sandburg. He found it...endearing.

Blair stepped out of the shower, one towel wrapped around his waist while he leaned forward, walking as he scrubbed at his hair. Finally, he looked up, holding the wet towel in front of his chest, and eyed the tube clutched in Jim's hand. His whole face turned red, and he dropped his eyes and audibly swallowed.

"O-Okay. So, uh...." Blair's grip on the towel obviously tightened as his knuckles went white. "You want... How do you want to do this?" He swallowed again and raised his head, this time meeting Jim's eyes firmly as he squared his shoulders. "I've never been with a guy before." A flicker of a smile crossed his face. "Not counting a few hours ago."

"We can go as slow as you want. You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable doing, and if you want to stop at any time, just say the word."

Blair's shoulders relaxed slightly. "I've experimented a few times, only with women, though, but just so you know, I have used anal toys. I'm not a complete virgin in that area, but it's been a while."

Jim nodded. That would help, at least. He'd go slow and do his best to make sure he didn't do any damage.

"I see you're more than ready." Blair jerked his chin low.

Jim felt his cheeks grow hot as he looked down and saw the front of his robe protruding out. He smiled. "Yes, I am." He looked back up, dropping the smile and hoping he looked serious. "Don't worry about me, though. Are you ready for this?"

Blair nodded. "Y-Yeah. Just, uh.... You know. I'm a bit nervous."

"That's okay." Jim walked up to Blair and, gently, reached out and pulled the towel from Blair's grip, then tossed it over the back of one of the wood chairs in the small kitchen.

"Relax." Jim put his hands on Blair's shoulders, and felt the tension instantly drain from the young man.

His eyes traveled to Blair's chest, noting the dark bruises. He slid one hand down and let his fingers brush lightly over the injured flesh. A surge of anger hit him, and he suddenly wondered how he could have ever felt even a flicker of pity for Alex Barnes as she'd been carried out of the temple on a stretcher.

As soon as Jim touched him and told him to relax, Blair relaxed, relishing the glide of the other man's fingers over his chest. Jim's voice was hypnotic, soothing and very, very persuasive, filled with strength and confidence and an implied promise that everything would be all right.

Blair leaned into Jim, tilting his head up, and Jim took the invitation, coming down to meet Blair's lips. Blair felt much more aware of himself this time around. Things were moving slower. He reveled at the unusual feeling of the strong lips against his, the probing tongue, the hard chest pressed against him.

Blair's hands slid beneath Jim's robe, caressing the warm, firm flesh. Jim quivered at his touch, then gasped, his breath filling Blair's mouth and tickling his tongue. Blair's fingers withdrew, searching for and finding the belt of the robe, then deftly unfastening it. The robe fell open, and Blair slid his hands up Jim's torso, feeling the trembling beneath his touch, and pushed the robe off Jim's shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

Jim returned the favor, his fingers going to the towel around Blair's waist and, with a flick, sending it to the floor. Then Jim pressed forward, thrusting his hard cock against Blair's, and that touch sent a jolt through Blair, and his penis sprang to life.

Blair took a deep, shuddering breath. His heart thundered in his chest. His blood roared in his ears.

Jim leaned down and whispered, his breath tickling Blair's ear. "Are you ready?"

Blair nodded, his mouth too dry to form words. Jim shifted, sliding behind him, and guided him forward, toward the bed, his hard, warm cock already pressing between Blair's butt cheeks, and something inside Blair jumped in anticipation.

Gently, Jim pushed, and Blair lowered himself face-down on the mattress, turning his head to the side, his legs dangling over the edge.

"You tell me if anything hurts," Jim said, his voice close to Blair's ear.

Again, Blair simply nodded. Jim's hands slid over Blair's shoulders, his fingers probing, kneading the tension from Blair's tight muscles. Jim's skilled touch sent a tingling all the way down Blair's spine, along his arms, and straight to his groin. He reveled in the massage, feeling himself relax even further as Jim's hands moved downward, rubbing the muscles along Blair's spine, working their way even lower, to Blair's ass, massaging his butt, then the inside of his thighs.

Blair sighed, melting, his whole body loose. Any longer, and he might not make it to the finale. His eyelids drooped, and warmth flooded him, comforting, safe, inviting.

Blair hovered in the twilight of consciousness, vaguely aware when Jim stopped touching him. He heard a faint noise, wasn't sure what it was, then Jim's fingers returned, slick, and pushed between Blair's butt cheeks.

Blair's eyes sprang open, and he tensed again, but Jim's free hand once again rose and began massaging his lower back, soothing. Soft words floated above him, telling him to relax, and he found himself obeying, the tension once again draining from his body.

One finger probed his opening, pushing, while Jim's soft voice continued to wash over him. Then Jim was inside, and a second finger penetrated him. To Blair's surprise, he remained relaxed, except for his cock, which was still hard, but everything was moving slow, and he felt gooey and warm and remarkably at ease considering this was his first time having any part of a man inside him.

Then Jim withdrew his fingers and Blair felt the man's warm weight on him, lips brushed against his neck, and a jolt rushed through Blair.

Jim's fingers returned, first one, then the second, and finally, a third, only this time they moved in and out, slowly, pushing, probing, thrusting. Blair's cock jumped, and he thrust his hips, pushing his hardness against the side of the mattress, groaning at the warm slithers of need that ripped through him.

Jim's fingers twisted slightly, and pushed hard inside, hitting something that sent a surge of tingling energy through Blair, and he arched, nearly convulsing, a surprised scream erupting from his throat, and Jim continued to pump him, driving him toward the edge of ecstasy. Blair pressed his face into the mattress to muffle the noises erupting from his throat and pushed against the bed with his hands, thrusting backward, meeting Jim's rhythm, wanting more and more of Jim inside him.

And then Jim withdrew, and Blair groaned, but the loss was momentary. In the next breath, a slick, hard cock slid into him, slowly, so slowly it almost drove him mad, and he pushed himself back to meet Jim, his eyes going wide when he felt the large mass stretch his opening and realized the size of it as it filled him.

Jim thrust, pressing Blair into the mattress with the force of his body, and Blair gasped when Jim's cock slammed into the spot his fingers had touched only moments before, and fire erupted inside Blair, and this time he buried his face in the covers and growled from the sheer pleasure of the sensations coursing through him, feeling like every nerve he had in his body was alive.

Jim hammered him, rocking Blair and the bed so hard that Blair's stiff cock kept slamming into the edge of the mattress. Then, Jim went stiff, and Blair felt warm liquid shooting inside him at the same time he spewed his own cum all over the blanket beneath him.

Blair found himself pinned beneath Jim's full weight when the sentinel sighed and collapsed on top of him. Blair closed his eyes and gave into his own exhaustion, just lying there and breathing for a long time, relishing the warmth of Jim pressed against him.

"How are you doing, Chief?" Jim whispered, his breath tickling the back of Blair's neck.

Blair smiled. He was feeling very, very nice. "I'm good." He could feel the beat of Jim's heart against his back, almost as if it were pounding inside his own body. A warm, tingly feeling flowed through him, filling his veins and tickling his fingers and toes.

He became aware of things around him, like the brush of subtle air currents over his skin, though there wasn't much of him not covered by Jim's body. There was also the soft sound of Jim's steady breathing and the smell of semen and sweat.

And emotions. Joy. Contentment. Peace.

And then anger. Worry. Confusion.

He stiffened.

"What's wrong, Chief?" Jim's weight left Blair. "Wait...Someone's coming.... Megan."

"Shit!" Blair bolted off the bed, eyed the conspicuous milky mess all over the blankets, and yanked the covers off the bed, rolling them into a huge ball and running into the bathroom.

He tossed them on the floor, closed the door, and went back into the living room, glancing at Jim. "We're a mess, man." Blair gestured down at himself. He was covered with semen.

"Shower." Jim pointed to the bathroom, then hurried forward, wrapping an arm around Blair's shoulder and steering him inside.

Jim turned on the spray, and they both stepped into the tub. "We've got maybe ten seconds before she knocks," Jim said, grabbing the shampoo and body gel. He handed Blair the gel and kept the shampoo.

Quickly, both men scrubbed down and rinsed off.

Then Jim tilted his head. "She's knocking."

"She's still mad about yesterday. You go." Blair gestured to the blanket getting soaked on the bathroom floor. They hadn't even bothered to close the curtain. "I'll stay, in case she needs to use the bathroom here. She can't see that."

Jim nodded and hopped out, locking and closing the door behind him.

Jim trotted out of the bathroom, and grabbed the robe lying on the floor. If Sandburg hadn't tensed in bed, Jim might never have tuned in to Megan's arrival in time. That had been an odd coincidence, and he'd never found out why Sandburg had stiffened. If he didn't know better, he'd think Blair had heard her coming.

Heels clicked loudly on the floor just outside the room. He did a quick visual scan of the room and -- shit! The towels! Stooping, he grabbed the one from the floor and then yanked the other one from the back of the chair. He balled them up and, looking desperately around, decided the best and safest bet for the moment was to stuff them in the bottom drawer of the bureau.

"Jim!" Megan knocked again on the door. "Sandy. You guys in there?"

"Uh, yeah. Hold your horses, Connor. It's still early, you know." Jim went to the door and, taking a breath, opened it.

Megan stood there, her arms folded across her chest, and glared at him. "Our plane leaves in three and a half hours. The captain thought you two might want to get breakfast with us." She leaned forward and peered inside. "Where's Sandy?"

Jim tilted his head to the bathroom as he took in her posture. Sandburg had called it. She was still pissed. He wondered briefly how Sandburg had known. He'd sounded far too certain for it to have been a guess.

"He's in the shower."

She pushed past him, and he cocked an eyebrow as he closed the door. "Why don't you come in?"

Turning to him, she stood rigid, anger in her eyes. "How is he? And just what the hell got into you yesterday? Jesus, Ellison, he died, he's got bruises all over his chest from the CPR, and you push him?"

Jim sighed. "Honestly, Megan, I wish I could tell you what happened. It had something to do with the temple. It affected Alex and it affected me, just differently. I wasn't one hundred percent. I've apologized to him. He's accepted my apology, and," he put forth what he hoped was his most charming smile, "I promise not to do anymore pushing in the near future."

She raised her eyebrows, then eyed the single bed. "He stayed here last night, I take it?"

Jim nodded matter-of-factly and turned from her, hoping he looked casual. He flung a hand out and pointed to the pillow on the floor.

Thank God for the pillow.

"Yeah, I slept on the floor and gave him the bed." Jim flashed her another smile. "See? I know how to be cordial."

She sighed, her face softening. "Well, it's a surprise to me." Then she uncrossed her arms and went to sit on the bed. "So, you two up for breakfast?"

Jim nodded. "I could eat. I'll ask Sandburg when he's done in the shower. What hotel are you staying in?"

"This one." She smiled sweetly at him. "One floor above. Room 342."

"I'll ring you when we're ready." He gestured to the door.

"Don't make it longer than fifteen minutes, Ellison. I'm starving."

Jim opened the door and bid her goodbye, then closed and locked the door behind her.

"So, she's gone. That wasn't too bad."

Jim turned to see Blair standing just outside the bathroom, the blanket balled in his arms and covering the lower half of his torso. He was dripping wet all over the floor.

"Sandburg!"

"There are no towels, man! In case you forgot, they're all out here."

Jim smirked and went to the bureau, retrieving the two towels. "Here you go." He dangled them both in front of Blair. "But, you'll have to drop that blanket to get them."

Blair sighed. "Okay." He dropped the blanket and gave Jim a smile.

Wow. Jim was taken aback by the sudden acquiescence. He'd expected a flippant reply, instead, he'd won. Easily. Not that he was complaining.

"Now, give me the towels."

Jim nodded and walked up to Blair, obediently handing him the two damp towels. It was then that he noticed Blair's chest. The bruises had faded to ghost-like shadows.

"Unbelievable," Jim muttered, running his fingers over the almost-healed flesh.

"What?" Blair looked down. "Oh. Wow."

Jim shook his head. This was...incredible. Blair was virtually healed. It was like the fountain was physically becoming a distant memory.

A sudden image of Blair's pale, slack face exploded in Jim's mind, stealing his breath, but when he blinked, the image was replaced with the one right before his eyes -- Blair's slightly flushed cheeks and bright, blue eyes. Jim's ears tuned into the younger man's steady heartbeat.

Sandburg was so very much alive. On impulse, Jim leaned in and covered Blair's mouth with his own, giving his partner a long, deep kiss.

After a moment, Blair pulled back. He cleared his throat, wrapped one towel around his waist and the other around his hair, then looked up at Jim. "About what you said. This was a one-time thing, right?"

Jim frowned. Had he said that? "Is that what you want?"

"Come on, man. You and me? In a relationship? What about the guys at the station? There are enough rumors as is."

Jim pursed his lips and studied Sandburg. He looked quite adorable wet and wrapped in towels. "No one but us has to know."

"Oh, man." Blair closed his eyes and turned away. "I don't know, Jim. I'm not sure I'm up to a secret relationship. I want an open relationship that neither I nor my partner are ashamed of."

"Okay." Jim blinked, surprised at himself. Had he just agreed to come out of the closet? Until yesterday, he hadn't even been aware that he'd been inside the closet.

"What?" Blair turned to face him. "Are you serious?"

Jim frowned. "I, uh... I think so. I just... I want to make you happy." And, remarkably, he realized that was exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to make Blair happy.

"Who are you and what have you done with... Wait." Blair stiffened, his expression growing dark.

"What?" Jim swallowed at the sudden change. He really didn't like it when Sandburg got that look. It was rarely good news.

Blair tilted his head and looked hard at Jim. "You did a little test last night, right?"

Jim nodded.

"Well, let's try it again," Blair suggested. "Go out into the hallway. I'll tell you how I feel physically. Let's see if this worked."

Jim hopped into action, going to the door and peering outside to make sure it was safe. He didn't want to risk bumping in to anyone or having the front of his robe drift open and give any bystanders a view. The hallway was empty. Quickly, he trotted outside, making his way all the way to the end of the hall. He stopped and waited a few moments, tuning his ears to Blair. The young man seemed to be breathing fine.

Jim hurried back inside and closed the door. "So? It worked, didn't it?"

Blair grinned and nodded. "Yes. I think it did." He took a slow, deep breath. "Now, one more thing. A test of my own."

Jim eyed him. "What?"

"Uh...close your eyes."

"Okay." Jim complied.

"Now, spin around in a slow circle."

"Okay." Again, Jim did as he was told, but he had to at least voice a protest. He felt ridiculous. "I don't see what this has to do with anything," he said as he spun slowly, "but can I stop now?"

"Yeah, stop."

Jim complied with a sigh and opened his eyes. "And that was a test of?"

Blair pursed his lips and seemed to study Jim. "Now, tell me to do something."

"What?" This was getting weird, even for Sandburg.

"Just tell me to do something."

"Like what?"

Blair shrugged. "Anything."

Jim glanced at the ceiling, thinking. "Okay...." He looked back at his partner and grinned. "Give me a blow job."

Blair's eyes went wide and he blushed furiously. "Man, what are you? The Energizer Bunny?"

Jim chuckled. "You said anything."

"And I just proved my point."

"Which is?"

"I actually want to give you a blow job, and you know what? The image isn't inherently attractive to me. Not that your dick isn't impressive, but considering where it's been, the idea of my mouth on it really shouldn't be appealing."

Jim frowned, not sure whether he should be insulted. "So? This proves what?"

"Look." Blair stepped closer to him. "We performed some kind of bonding ritual, right?"

"With you so far, Chief."

"A little bit ago, we were physically tied together somehow, with some unseen force. You got too far away, and I got sick."

"Right."

"So, we did this thing," he swallowed hard, blushing again, and gestured to the bed, "and completed the joining we started at the fountain -- and now, I'm cured and, well..."

"Well, what?"

"I feel... I don't know.... I guess you could say I have this desire to please you. It's weird. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I didn't want to please you before, but it's different now. Before, half the time, I didn't want to do what you told me..."

"Tell me about it."

"....if I thought it wasn't the best course of action," Blair amended with a glare. "Now, it's like, I don't know... If you tell me to do something, it's like there's something pushing me to do it."

Jim frowned. He didn't like the sound of that. In fact, he really, really didn't like the sound of that. His heart began to pound in his chest, and his mouth went dry. "What are you saying? If I tell you to do something, you can't resist?"

Oh, dear God. Jim took a deep, steadying breath. If that was true, then when Jim had suggested they have sex last night....

"No, man, not exactly. I mean, you're not getting a blow job right now, are you?"

Jim's heart calmed. "Uh, no."

"So, I think it's more like a suggestion. When I told you to close your eyes and turn around, I knew it would make you feel foolish. You always balk at doing things like that. I always have to push you. This time, you just gave in. You grumbled a bit, but you gave in the first time I asked."

"So?" Jim was confused. "What does this mean?"

Blair shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think.... Well, I guess it makes sense. A bonded sentinel and guide pair would need to work in harmony with one another. They'd have to each want to make sacrifices for the other. I guess this is part of the deal. I want to make you happy, and you want to make me happy. But, it doesn't seem to go so far as to override our will, and I think now that we're conscious of it, it won't be quite as influential."

Jim thought about that a minute and figured it sounded as good as any other theory he could conjure up, which at the moment, was nothing.

"Now," Blair continued, "close your eyes."

Jim closed his eyes.

"Spin around."

Jim frowned and opened his eyes, glaring at Sandburg. "Okay, okay. I see your point. I'm not spinning around."

Blair grinned. "See, hypothesis tested and proven. Damn, I'm good."

"About that blow job?"

Blair's smile faded and he took a deep breath. He dropped his head and fidgeted on the balls of his feet. "Uh, look, Jim... I know you... Well, last night was, um.... I mean, you gave me one hell of a blow job, and I really want to return the favor. Believe me, I do, especially with you asking me to, but..."

"Hey." Jim moved forward and placed his hands on Blair. Jesus, the kid looked like he'd just been kicked in the gut. "It's okay. I was just teasing. What I said earlier still goes. We don't have to do anything you don't feel comfortable doing."

Blair took a breath and looked up, giving a shy smile. "I just... This is new to me, Jim. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed myself a LOT. Way more than I thought would be possible. It's just...I haven't done THAT before. I need to..." He swallowed hard, "work up to it. Maybe, uh.... Wait." He frowned. "So, are we, like, together?"

Jim smiled softly. "Do you want to be?"

"I'm not going to say until you tell me if you want to be. Don't want to influence you, man."

"Hell, Sandburg, you just said we both want to make the other happy and we both enjoyed the hell out of fucking one another," he grinned when he saw Blair blush again, "so... that sounds like a relationship to me."

Blair dropped his head again. "It's just that...." His voice trailed off.

"What?" Jim prodded.

"Do you love me?" Blair looked up. "If I'm going to be in a long-term, monogamous relationship, I need it to be out of love. I'm not like Naomi, despite my, uh, many girlfriends. I date a lot, and yes, I like sex, but I learned a thing or two from Naomi's past. I do want to eventually find that right someone and spend my life with... uh... him or her."

"Of course, I love you, Blair." Jim leaned in and plastered another soft kiss on Blair's lips, then pulled back. "What kind of question is that?"

"It's a legitimate one, man. Maybe you feel attracted to me because of this sentinel thing. I mean, think about it. If I was somebody else who went through this bonding ritual with you, you'd probably feel exactly the same way." Blair stepped back and shook his head. "I don't want to have a forever-kind of relationship with someone who doesn't really love me."

Jim stepped forward and again placed his hands on Blair's shoulders. He knew how he'd felt about Blair even before their shared vision. He remembered having his heart ripped from his chest the moment he'd turned around in front of Hargrove and saw Blair's jacket floating in the fountain. He remembered, in agonizing and vivid detail, the feeling of Blair's cold skin against his fingers. The frigid, limp lips beneath his as Jim had tried to breathe life into Blair. The denial. The brutal, unrelenting denial that Blair was dead, that Jim's last words to him had been...harsh. That Blair had died thinking....

God. Jim shook his head, surprised to find his vision blurring.

"Jim? Hey, man," Blair placed a palm on Jim's chest and looked up at him, a touch of fear in his eyes. "Are you okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean that I don't want a relationship with you. This wasn't a rejection, it was..."

"I love you," Jim croaked, his voice barely a whisper. "I love you, Blair. There's a part of me that can't believe I'm even saying this, but I've always felt it. I can't exactly say when it happened, but at some point, I realized I couldn't live without you. I just never told you before. I guess this bond we have now makes it easier, but I want you to know.... I need you to know. I love you, and I've loved you for a long time, even before we shared that vision. Even before last night and yesterday and the day before and last week or last month. When I thought I'd lost you, I..." He cleared his throat and took a steadying breath. "I don't exactly have the words, here, Chief. It was...I was...ripped open. Torn apart from the inside out. It was too much. I went numb at first. Then...then I couldn't handle it. I couldn't process it. I couldn't even let myself believe it because it couldn't happen. You couldn't be dead. I couldn't go on without you. The goddamn world couldn't go on without you, and I know that sounds stupid and melodramatic and outright absurd, but that's how I felt, and no matter what you think about me being controlled by some primitive forces, I'm not a salmon or a Neanderthal. I'm me. Jim Ellison, and yeah, maybe the past few days I haven't exactly given you cause to believe I'm totally in control," he mentally winced at the memory of holding Alex on the beach, "but, believe me, I love you, Blair. For you." He gave a faint smile. "Can you imagine me putting up with anyone else for three years? Letting them play jungle music in the loft and store green, smelly stuff in the fridge? Leave hair in the bathtub drain? Burn toast? Bring a monkey into my home?"

A slow grin spread on Blair's face. "Ape, Jim. He was a Barbary Ape." His eyes grew wet, and he blinked. "You really want this." It was a statement, uttered with conviction and a whisper of amazement. "You and me? An item?"

"I want it, Chief. Do you? And I want the truth, no holding back. Don't worry about my feelings. I'll be better off in the long run knowing now, up front."

Blair nodded, and his Adam's apple bobbed. "I want this. I, uh...I love you, too, Jim. I gotta admit I wasn't physically attracted to you before yesterday, but I've always loved you. Now," he shook his head, "maybe something is influencing me, but now that I'm aware of it, and I really think about how I feel, I believe this...thing...whatever it is, just awakened something inside me. Something that was always there, but I guess it stayed hidden. Maybe I was denying it because I didn't want to get hurt, didn't want to risk our friendship. But, now I understand things so much better. Why you always seem to touch me, put your hand on my back or my cheek, and why I always craved those touches, though, of course, I never told you that. Why I stayed so long, even though there were times I wanted to run for the hills, man, believe me. Hell, if you think about it, I haven't had a single, serious relationship since I hooked up with you. Granted, I've always played the field," he flashed a self-conscious smile, "but I have had serious girlfriends before. Once or twice." His smile turned into a grin. "And the thought of you and me together, living together, being together exclusively makes me...." His grin widened, "very happy. I like that image."

"So." Jim wrapped his arms around Blair and pulled him close, smiling at the touch of Blair's cheek on his shoulder. "You love me, and I love you."

"We're a hap-py fa-mi-ly," Blair sang.

Jim chuckled. "Smartass."

"So, uh, now for the other issue." Blair straightened and looked up at him. "Hush-hush, or out in the open?"

"Whatever you want, I'll deal with it."

Blair cocked an eyebrow. "That doesn't exactly sound like you." His eyes narrowed. "You sure you're not... you know... feeling influenced?"

Jim carefully examined his feelings for a moment and nodded. "I'm sure."

"Any preferences, no matter how slight?"

Sighing, Jim unwrapped his arms from Blair and cupped the younger man's face in his hands. "I would rather keep it secret, but we don't have to. It would just be...easier for me. I'm not sure if I'd be able to stay on the force if I came out, so to speak. Even though I doubt they'd risk firing me, there are always fellow officers...."

Blair nodded. "Backup that never comes." He gulped, pulling out of Jim's touch and dropping his gaze to the floor.

"And, probably, you and I wouldn't be allowed together in the field, anymore."

Blair's eyes widened and he looked back up. "Right. I hadn't thought about that." He nodded vigorously. "Okay, okay. We keep it a secret. I'm not going to risk your life. I can deal with this. We'll just have to be careful in public. All the time. One slip-up, and...."

Jim leaned down and kissed Blair again, effectively shutting him up. He smiled even as his tongue probed Blair's warm, moist mouth. It's a shame he hadn't learned this technique of shutting Sandburg up earlier.

"So," Jim pulled back. "You hungry, Chief?"

Blair licked his lips and nodded. "Mmmm. Yeah. I could definitely eat."

"Good, well, then we're already late. I told Megan we'd meet her and Simon for breakfast. We gotta stop by her room."

The plane ride was hell. Blair fidgeted in his seat. His ass hurt. His tango with Jim had really taken its toll on him, and spending hours on his rear end in a crappy airplane seat wasn't helping.

He noticed Jim wasn't faring much better, either. The sentinel had continually shifted his weight from one butt cheek to the other and crossed and uncrossed his legs several times in the past hour since take-off. He cast a sidelong glance at Jim and realized he and Jim had just fidgeted in sync. He caught the faint smirk on the detective's lips, and felt his own mouth twitching.

Jim stared straight ahead for several long seconds, then finally glanced at Blair, which ended up being Blair's undoing. He managed to narrowly avoid breaking out into full-fledged laughter by covering his mouth with a fist and chuckling almost uncontrollably, which also seemed to snap Jim's control. They spent a good thirty seconds trying to stop laughing. Blair hoped Simon and Megan, who were two rows back, didn't hear them. He had no wish to explain why they'd burst into near hysterics.

"Miss!" An irate male voice called from some place behind Blair. "Hello? My light's been on for a while. I've got a killer headache, and all I'd like is a pillow, if you don't mind." Sarcasm ripped from the irate passenger, and Blair frowned as he looked up to see a Stewardess paste on a fake smile and nod.

"Great," Blair muttered, his momentary good mood wiped away by the sudden flood of irritation that washed over him. "I hate this stupid plane. I hate these stupid passengers. I really want to go home." A throbbing began behind his eyes, and he rubbed at his temples.

Jim leaned over, his arm brushing against Blair's. "You're cranky. Why don't you try to get some sleep?"

Blair nodded. He was tired. He relaxed against the chair and closed his eyes. Thankfully, his headache seemed to be fading.

Wait a minute.

"Hey!" Blair jolted to full wakefulness and turned in his seat to glare at his partner. "Don't DO that!"

"Do what?" Jim's brow creased.

Blair pursed his lips, meeting Jim's eyes and knowing the sentinel's confusion was genuine. He leaned close to Jim and whispered, "You know. That SUGGESTION thing?"

"Oh." Jim winced and flashed a weak, apologetic smile. "Sorry."

Somewhere, several rows ahead, a baby started screaming.

Blair grimaced. "And if you DO do it again, I'll strongly SUGGEST you shave off what little hair remains on your head." He fidgeted again. "Goddamnit! I hate these seats."

The air felt heavy, and Blair took a deep breath, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. Even his gums were beginning to ache, and he had the sudden urge to suck on something cold.

"What's gotten into you, Chief?"

Blair felt instantly contrite, and a pang twisted in his chest, stealing his breath. He'd hurt Jim's feelings. His mouth went dry, and a lump formed in his throat. He swallowed. "Awww, man. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. You're right. I'm just being cranky."

He tried to give a convincing smile, but suspected it fell flat. He couldn't wait until they landed and he could get off, away, out of the tin can housing way too many people, all around, crowding him, he could barely breathe, much less think, and his headache was returning, and that baby wouldn't stop screaming, and in a moment, Blair just might join the kid and ball his lungs out.

What was wrong with him? The plane ride to Sierra Verde hadn't bothered him, and he'd been feeling even crappier then. Though, come to think of it, he did sleep through most of that trip.

"Try to sleep." Jim patted Blair's leg, and suddenly, Blair's headache receded, and the baby's screaming didn't bother him so much.

"And that's not a SUGGESTION, Blair." Jim smiled softly. "It's a...request."

Blair nodded. "I know. I'm sorry." He leaned into Jim slightly, just enough so that his arm was touching Jim's, and that seemed to help. He pondered that fact for a moment. Maybe he and Jim still had some kind of physical link...or maybe it was all just psychosomatic. Either way, he decided he'd go with it. Anything to get through the flight.

"Let's start over." Blair cleared his throat. "Could you, uh, give me some suggestions?"

Jim cocked an eyebrow at him. "I thought you said...?"

"I know. I know. But I was being stupid. I want to go to sleep and not wake up until we've landed. If you can help me with that, I'll buy you something from Wonderburger when we get back to Cascade."

"Deal."

Blair smiled and closed his eyes, keeping his arm just barely touching Jim's.

"Okay, Chief. Relax," Jim dropped his voice to a near whisper. "Your headache's fading, going away...."

Blair opened his eyes and looked at Jim. "How'd you know...?"

"You were rubbing your temples."

"Oh."

"Now, close your eyes."

Blair grinned and obeyed. "All right. No more questions from my end. I promise."

"Good. No more questions. Relax. Breathe slow and deeply. Steady. Your headache's going away, fading into the background. You're tired. Very tired. Sleepy. So, go to sleep. Stay asleep, and when you...."

The sound of Jim's voice faded as Blair fell into oblivion.

A jolt shook the plane as its wheels touched the runway. Jim looked over at his partner, surprised that Blair had managed to sleep through the entire flight, including the landing announcement, and touchdown. Muted sunlight filtered into the cabin, and Jim stifled a yawn. It might still be daylight outside, but his body was telling him otherwise.

Blair was turned toward Jim, his long curls covering part of his face, his mouth hanging slightly open, a small trickle of drool on his chin. Jim smiled, and his chest welled with a cocktail of emotions. Love. Pride. But, most of all, overwhelming gratitude.

He'd gotten a second chance. He could hardly believe that, just a few days ago, he'd pulled Blair's wet, limp body from Rainier's fountain. Now, Blair was alive and sleeping quietly next to him, no longer just a friend, guide, and partner. Now, he was also a lover.

Jim felt almost giddy.

"Hey, Chief." Jim leaned over and placed a hand on Blair's arm, then gave a gentle shake. "Wake up."

Blair made a noise that sounded like something between a snort and a snore and fell against Jim's shoulder. Jim shook his arm, jarring Blair until the young man sucked in a breath and opened his eyes, straightening instantly and blinking at Jim.

"Huh?" Blair rubbed at his eyes and glanced around. "We land?"

"Yep," Jim answered just as the seatbelt sign flicked off with an audible ding and the passengers around them rose from their seats, towering over Jim and Blair like trees in a crowded nursery.

Jim pushed the door open, obscenely happy to be back in his own home. He could smell the aromas from the bakery on the street below, and if he hadn't scarfed down that slice of pizza at the airport, he'd go down and get himself one of the bakery's gigantic bear claws.

Putting thoughts of fresh pastries out of his mind, Jim glanced at his partner. He knew Blair had to be equally happy to be home. The kid had practically staggered through the airport. The crowds hadn't seemed to help, and by the time they reached the cab, Blair was sweating and panting like he'd run a marathon. Apparently, he wasn't as recovered as he otherwise appeared.

"Oh, man." Sandburg stumbled into the loft and dropped his bag beneath the rack. He slid out of his coat and hung it on the hook next to Jim's jacket, then headed straight for his room. "I'm beat."

He turned, then stopped.

"You slept for hours on the...." Jim halted mid-sentence when he saw Blair standing motionless in the center of an empty living room, his expression very much like that of a child lost in a department store.

Shit. "I'm sorry, Chief." Jim moved quickly to his partner and draped an arm across his shoulders. "Things happened so fast. I didn't have time to put anything back."

Blair swallowed and shook his head, seemingly snapping out of his thoughts. "It's okay. I just, uh, forgot. All my stuff is in a motel room." He swiveled his head to look at Jim. "The futon's still in the room?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah."

"Mind if a crash?"

"Go right ahead," Jim said softly, then turned and leaned down to brush a gentle kiss over Blair's lips, "but you can sleep upstairs in my bed." Jim felt the heat rise to Blair's face, making his lips several degrees warmer. With a smile, he pulled back and tried not to smirk at Blair's obvious discomfort. "You're blushing."

Blair cleared his throat and flashed a nervous, self-deprecating grin. "I'm still not used to you kissing me." His grin widened. "Don't get me wrong. I like it, but it's all new, you know."

"I know. I guess we'll just have to keep doing it until you are used to it." Jim leaned down again and pressed his lips harder over Blair's. He pushed outward with his tongue, a sliver running through him when Blair's mouth opened slightly. Jim let himself enjoy the taste of his partner for several long seconds, then finally pulled away again. "I like kissing you."

"No kidding, man." Blair grinned up at him, his cheeks still flushed. "But, tonight, I think I'll crash in the futon. I'm too beat to take the stairs."

Jim gently swatted the back of Blair's head and took a step away. "Go on, Junior. Get some sleep."

Blair woke hungry and with a full bladder. Stretching, he gave into a yawn and opened his eyes. Soft, morning sunlight filtered into his room, and he rolled over and glanced at the clock on his bureau.

8:02 a.m.

He lay there and listened for a moment, but the loft was silent. Jim had either left, or more likely, was still asleep.

Throwing off the covers, Blair got to his feet and shuffled to the French doors. Pushing them open, he stretched his arms over his head and gave into another yawn. He tried to remember when he'd gotten to sleep and how many hours he'd been out, but yesterday was a blur. He remembered falling asleep on the plane and then navigating the hellish airport that seemed to hammer at his sanity with a chaotic sea of people and noises. He wondered how Jim had handled the sensory assault so well considering the sentinel must have been just as exhausted from the trip as Blair had been.

Blair did a quick visual scan of the living room as he made his way to the bathroom. The apartment was still virtually empty, but a few boxes and kitchen chairs, sans a table, were clustered around the island. Apparently, sometime yesterday, Jim had started on the monumental task of moving the furniture and boxes back inside.

Quickly emptying his bladder and brushing his teeth, Blair hurried to the kitchen. He looked up and saw the top of Jim's head through the railing of the upstairs bedroom. With a smile, Blair decided he'd take advantage of the fact Jim was still dead to the world and get dressed and head downstairs to the bakery. He'd surprise Jim with a completely unhealthy breakfast and maybe pick up a couple of those huge bear claws.

Trotting barefoot to his room, he dressed quickly, slipping into his old, worn sneakers that fit his feet like a second skin, and walked quietly to the front door. He grabbed his jacket and keys and slipped into the hallway.

Opting for the stairs, he jogged down the two flights and hurried through the front doors, emerging into the surprisingly pleasant Cascade morning. The sky was unusually blue and the air comfortably warm. He could have left his jacket upstairs.

Breaking into a brisk walk, he headed for the bakery. Traffic was light on the street next to him. A car whizzed by, and he got a glimpse of arms gesturing wildly in the front seat. His steps faltered, and he felt suddenly and inexplicably angry.

Shaking his head, he picked up his pace again, determined not to let his good mood fade. It was a beautiful morning and--

Fear. The emotion slammed into him like a runaway truck, an icy fist in his gut. His heart pounded fiercely, and he staggered, falling against the window of a storefront.

Then there was anger. A brief, blinding shot of anger, but the fear rose again, swallowing him, and the buildings seemed to tilt and spin around him. And then there was grief and hatred and excitement and rage and guilt and....

And then there was a voice, and he blinked up into a woman's face. Her mouth was moving, and sound was coming from her, but Blair couldn't focus on the words. A hand touched him, and more fear crashed into him, laced with a touch of worry, and he pushed away from her, crashing hard to the cold sidewalk.

He scampered away, not sure what was happening but needing to put some distance between himself and the woman and the people and the light and the noise of the city. He launched to his feet, careening wildly, and hit his shoulder on something, then bounced off and managed to stumble a few more steps into a darkened alley before falling to his hands and knees. He gasped for breath, his heart pounding and his head swimming, the fear rumbling inside him, making him tremble, turning his limbs to useless, quivering masses of flesh, too heavy for him to even move. Then, he collapsed, the side of his face hitting the hard blacktop. Rough pebbles dug into his cheek, and he curled into a ball, vaguely aware of yelling and footsteps running past him.

Jim opened his eyes to soft morning sunlight and blinked, rolling on to his side and giving in to a yawn. He took the white noise plugs out of his ears and set them carefully on the nightstand, then automatically extended his hearing to the loft below.

He frowned at the unusual silence. He didn't hear the soft, familiar beating of Blair's heart. Sitting up, Jim tossed off the covers and pushed to his feet. The back of his neck tingled. He resisted the temptation to scratch and went to his bureau, retrieving a pair of jeans and quickly slipping into them. Then, he grabbed a T-shirt and pulled it over his head. It wasn't until he turned and trotted down the stairs, reaching the bottom, that he stopped and wondered why he'd even gotten dressed. Just because Sandburg wasn't in the loft didn't mean anything was wrong. The kid could've gone to get the paper, get some breakfast, do his laundry, or run any number of errands.

Jim scanned the bare living room, spattered with a few boxes he'd managed to bring up last night, and the kitchen, looking for a note, but he saw nothing, and the tingling in the back of his neck grew more insistent. He reached a hand up and tried to scratch away the sensation, but it seemed to expand, and soon he was itching all over.

He tilted his head and turned his hearing to his surroundings, not sure what he was looking for. If Blair had left the building, Jim had no idea how he'd hone into him with hearing alone, unless Sandburg talked to someone.

A myriad of heartbeats filled his ears, pounding into his skull, and he shook his head and nudged down the mental dial on his hearing. His ears wouldn't help him. Taking a breath of frustration, he grabbed his shoes from beneath the coat rack and slid his bare feet into them, then grabbed his jacket and keys and hurried out of the loft.

His head snapped up. He caught a familiar scent, his mind screaming Sandburg! and broke into a run for the stairs. He didn't know how he could so easily identify Blair's scent, but he didn't stop to question the ability as he fled down the stairs and pounded through the lobby doors to the sidewalk outside.

Flashing red and blue lights danced against his retinas, and he blinked, his vision zooming in to the two squad cars parked at an alley. A woman sat in the back of one of the vehicles, her long hair hung wildly around her face and mascara streaked down her cheeks.

A crowd had gathered, standing a few feet from the end of the alley, and Jim's heart went to his throat. He stood there a moment, a heaviness in his gut, and tried again to focus his hearing on the commotion ahead.

"Don't touch me! Please, just don't touch me."

Blair.

Jim broke into a run, already yanking out his badge as he pushed his way through the onlookers to the two uniformed officers standing on alert at the head of the alley.

"I'm Detective Ellison." Jim flashed his badge at the two cops as his eyes focused on the two additional officers crouched inside the alley. "What's going on here?" He saw a sneaker on the blacktop and recognized it instantly as Sandburg's. That was the kid's favorite pair of shoes, so old Jim had tried to convince Blair to throw them out, but Sandburg had refused.

"There was an attempted mugging in this alley. Apparently, some kid high on drugs stumbled onto the scene and scared the guy off."

"Officers, I'm Detective James Ellison," Jim announced himself more loudly, not wanting to startle the officers. They turned toward him, and he held his badge out. As they turned, he got a better view of Blair, who was curled on the blacktop, nudged in the corner between the wall and a large dumpster, shaking like a new foal.

Jim straightened to his full height and pulled his eyes away from Blair to face the two uniforms. "That man you're cornering is with Major Crimes. Back off."

The two cops shifted uncertainly. One was young with large, dark eyes who looked barely old enough to be out of the academy. The other officer was obviously more seasoned, with a calm but wary glint in his brown eyes and an air of experience highlighted by his graying hair. Jim read the two men's nametags. The young one was Russel, the older one, Mowen.

"He on something?" Mowen asked, his hand resting on his gun.

Jim sucked in a breath, anger filling his chest. "No. Ever turn on the television? He was drowned at Rainier while involved in assisting the Cascade PD in the capture of a wanted felon, Alex Barnes. Ring a bell?"

The young officer stepped forward, his eyes going wide. "That's right." He glanced down at Sandburg. "I remember seeing that story. That's him."

Jim nodded. "He was pronounced dead." He practically choked on that last word, but he made an effort to keep calm. "He's just having some...health issues, okay? Now, back off, clear these people out of here, and let me deal with this."

"All right, Detective Ellison." Mowen nodded, glancing at his younger partner. "Let's clear these people out."

Jim gave a grateful sigh and finally gave into his urge, darting forward and crouching in front of Blair. He listened with half an ear as the officers set to work dispersing the crowd, but the remainder of his attention was focused on the young man in front of him. Blair was still curled on the ground, trembling, his face turned toward the wall, one shoulder pressed against the side of the dumpster.

"Chief?" Jim kept his voice low. He had no idea what was wrong, but seeing Blair so obviously afraid and vulnerable tore at something deep inside him and brought all his protective instincts to the forefront. "Can you tell me what's going on?"

Blair curled into a tighter ball and shook his head. Jim's ears picked up the young man's thundering heartbeat and shallow breathing. His nose twitched at the scent of perspiration wafting off his partner.

"Okay, shhh. Just take it easy." Jim reached forward and laid a gentle hand on Blair's leg. "Are you--"

Blair gasped, then sucked in a deep, greedy breath. He uncurled himself and looked up at Jim, blinking, confusion etched in his brow. "J-Jim?"

"Yeah," Jim choked, taking the invitation and moving forward. "I'm right here." He slid an arm behind Blair and pulled the smaller man against his side. "What happened?"

Blair turned into him, burying his face against Jim's chest.

"Hey." Jim tightened his hold, surprised by Blair's gesture. Sandburg had always put up a strong front, even in the most terrifying situations. Jim's mind whirled trying to conjure up scenarios that would leave Blair a trembling huddled mess in an alley and strip him of his usual fortitude. "You're okay," Jim whispered, his chin resting on top of Blair's head. Curls tickled his jaw. "What's the matter? Tell me what happened."

Blair swallowed, breathing heavily against Jim. He seemed to be struggling to catch his breath, but after a moment, his breathing steadied and his heartbeat calmed. Then, he cleared his throat and pulled away from Jim to lean against the wall. His face was several shades whiter, contrasting sharply with his bewildered, dark blue eyes.

"I-I'm not sure." Blair swallowed hard and wrapped his arms around himself. "I was heading to the bakery, and...and...it just hit me."

"What?"

"Everything. I don't know. Fear. Anger. All these emotions just slammed into me. I have no idea what happened." His cheeks flushed, chasing away some of the chalkiness. "I'm sorry." His gaze darted past Jim. "I feel like an idiot."

Jim glanced at the single, remaining squad car at the head of the alley. Fortunately, most of the onlookers had gone, leaving only a few stragglers who were even now beginning to tire of the spectacle and wander off.

"Are you okay now?" Jim asked, turning back to his partner. He wasn't sure what Blair was talking about, but his first priority was getting the young man off the blacktop and back to the safety of the loft.

Blair nodded, squinting slightly. "Yeah, I think so. When you touched my leg, it was, like, everything muted, but now I've got a killer headache."

"Come on." Jim glanced back at the head of the alley, relieved to see that the last few spectators had left, though the two officers sitting in the single patrol car remained. Jim waved them away. Seconds later, the black and white vehicle backed up and made a lazy U-turn, leaving Jim and Blair alone.

"Okay." Jim wrapped a hand firmly around Blair's arm and slowly pushed to his feet, bringing the young man up with him. "You think you can make it home?"

Blair nodded, running a shaky hand over his face. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me." He rubbed a hand at his temples, his brow creased with obvious pain.

"All right. Let's get you home, then we can work on figuring this out."

Blair sank onto the edge of his futon mattress, placed his elbows on his thighs, and buried his face in his hands. He didn't know what was wrong with him, why he had freaked out on the sidewalk below, but he was beginning to conjure up a frightening hypothesis.

Just a few days ago, he'd drowned, and his body had been clinically dead for several minutes. The doctor had stressed how lucky Blair was that he'd made a full recovery and how vulnerable the brain was to lack of oxygen. The physician had told him that even though all the scans and tests they performed put his brain in the clear, neural science was far from perfect. There were so many things about the human brain doctors didn't even know they didn't know.

Blair took a deep, shaky breath. Maybe he wasn't so lucky. Maybe he was damaged. Irreparably.

"Hey, Chief."

Blair scrubbed his hands over his face and looked up to see Jim standing in front of him, a steaming mug in his hands.

"Sorry." Jim held out the offering. "It's all I could find in the refrigerator." He jerked his head toward the French doors. "I'm also sorry about the lack of furniture out there. I'll get the couch up here now."

Blair forced a smile and took the mug. "Thanks. Give me a little bit to finish this," he raised the cup, "and I'll help."

"No, it's okay."

Blair raised his eyebrows. "Jim, it's a sofa. You can't do it by yourself."

"I got it down by myself. With the elevator, it wasn't that hard."

Blair frowned and took a cautious sip of the hot tea, tasting peach, lemon, and honey. "Don't argue with me, Jim." Blair sighed, too tired to put up with Jim's nonsense. "Let me help you."

Jim sat on the edge of the futon next to Blair. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Blair stared down at the dark liquid in his mug, his eyes tracking the wisps of steam rising from the surface. "No," he answered softly, then looked up at Jim. He hoped the icy fear rushing through his veins didn't show on his face. "I think there's something wrong with me."

Jim placed a hand on Blair's shoulder. "Whatever happened down there, Chief, it's just a fluke. You've been under a lot of stress, both physically and emotionally. Cut yourself some slack."

Blair swallowed and shook his head. He tried to suck in another deep, calming breath, but his chest felt much too tight. He opted for a quick, shallow breath. "I think I need to push up my appointment with Doctor Hatford." Blair took another slow sip of the soothing tea before continuing. He dropped his gaze to the mug again, not wanting to see Jim's expression. "The doctor said there was a slim possibility that symptoms would surface." He closed his eyes. "My brain was without oxygen for a long time, Jim."

"Hey."

Blair felt a hand slide over his, pulling the mug from his grip. He loosened his hold, allowing Jim to take it from him. Then an arm slid around him, and he yielded to the gentle pull and leaned against Jim.

He felt a sudden warmth flow through him, and his chest swelled with emotions that surprised him.

Concern. Gratitude. Love.

He looked up, pulling back a fraction, and studied Jim's face. The sentinel looked at him, a slight crease in his brow and a question in his eyes.

"What is it, Chief?"

Hope fluttered inside him, mixed with fear and awe. An idea formed. He'd freaked out near the alley just a few moments before, and coincidentally, had stumbled onto a mugging in progress.

Another memory hit him. Back at the hotel room. He'd somehow known that someone was coming, someone angry. At the time, he'd been too...overwhelmed by other developments to even notice that he'd sensed something he shouldn't have.

His brain ran through the myriad bits of information he'd collected on shamanism over the years. Visions. Ritual rebirths, often marked by "death" or comatose state.

And, of course, unusual abilities ranging from out-of-body experiences to communicating with animals to...empathic extrasensory perception.

Maybe he wasn't brain damaged. Well, not exactly, anyway.

Blair straightened his shoulders. "What are you feeling right now?"

Jim frowned. "What?"

"Be honest with me. No bullshit, Jim. I need to know. Right now...well, technically a moment ago, what were you feeling?"

Jim shifted back on the mattress, his forehead creased. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just trust me, please. I need to know, and it has to be the truth."

Jim sighed. "All right. A moment ago, I was feeling," he fidgeted, his eyes darting to the far wall, "well, a bit of fear, I guess. Anxiety. Concern for you. And, uh...I realized that, if you...if it turned out you were...different, I...." His shoulders slumped. "Hell, Chief, I don't know how to say this. I love you, okay? I love you, and I'm just so damn grateful you're still alive and still you. Even if you do have some...damage...you're still you, Sandburg." Jim rubbed at the back of his neck. "I sound like an idiot, I know. Happy now?"

Blair grinned. "Deliriously." He shot off the bed. "I have a theory. Well, actually, it's more of a hypothesis right now." He looked down at the older man. "We need to do some tests, but," he began pacing, his mind whirling with possibilities, "I'm not exactly sure what kind of tests to do or how to set them up. This is incredible, if it is what I think it is, and I hope it is, because although the idea sort of freaks me out, it's so much better than, well, what I was thinking, you know, about," his voice faltered momentarily, "brain damage." He spun to face Jim, who was still seated on the edge of the futon. "Ideally, I'd need many different volunteers, but I can't exactly tell them what's going on. Maybe we can rope Simon and Megan into helping out, but not tell them the details, or maybe that's not such a good idea." He sighed, continuing his pacing. "I don't know. What do you think?" he asked finally, turning again to Jim.

Jim blinked up at him. "What?"

Blair dropped back to the mattress, realizing he hadn't actually explained his hypothesis. "Empathy! Many shamanistic cultures believe that shamans have certain special abilities. Some can travel out of their body, slow their physiological functions, or withstand extreme temperatures, others have certain extrasensory abilities. Empathy is one of those abilities frequently mentioned in the texts dealing with shamans in primitive cultures."

Jim frowned. "Empathy? You mean you feel for other people? That's not news, Sandburg."

"No, no, no. Not exactly. I mean, not what you're thinking. I don't just feel for other people. I think, maybe, if this is what I think it is, that I actually feel what other people are feeling. Like, back at the hotel room, I was able to sense Megan coming because I suddenly felt her anger. I just didn't realize what was happening at the time. And downstairs, in the alley, I suddenly felt afraid. Very afraid. And then we find out that a woman was being mugged. I was probably picking up on her fear. And when people were touching me, everything got worse. I think there's a proximity thing, too, and physical contact amplifies things."

Jim tilted his head, looking skeptical. "Sandburg, don't take this the wrong way, but maybe we should go ahead and move up your doctor's appointment. Just to be safe."

Blair's shoulders sagged. "You don't believe me." He dropped his gaze. Okay, so maybe his theory was a bit outrageous. Maybe he was grasping at straws because he didn't want to face the possibility that he had some kind of brain damage. Or maybe his brain damage was influencing his reasoning abilities. Or maybe....

"It's not that. It's just, well, I think we should try our best to rule out any physical causes for your behavior before we start entertaining the idea that you've got some kind of special powers."

Blair raised his head and straightened. "Okay. I guess that makes sense. But, you know, Jim. This isn't so far-fetched." He hoped. "I mean, we both shared two different visions. You brought me back from the dead. You've got a spirit animal. You saw Incacha multiple times over the past week, and he's no longer alive. Now, compared to all that, is my theory so hard to believe? You said it yourself. In the last vision, Incacha said we had to complete our journey. You even figured out the proximity thing with my health. So, why can't you believe this? Is it just because it's coming out of my mouth instead of yours?" He suddenly realized he was breathing heavily, and his tone had taken on a hard edge. He watched an indefinable emotion cross Jim's face, and suddenly, Blair felt like a complete ass. He frowned, considering that, if his hypothesis was correct, maybe Jim was the one really feeling like the ass and it was just rubbing off on him.

"No, Chief." Jim slid his hand to cup the back of Blair's neck, and with the contact, the emotions Blair felt solidified and shifted, as if changing direction, and he realized it was Jim who was feeling guilty. "I'm sorry if I came off a bit too skeptical," Jim continued. "You're right. Considering everything that's happened recently, this is perfectly reasonable. I guess I'm still having problems adjusting to this mystical stuff."

Blair dropped his head, releasing a breath, and managed a shallow smile. "No, you're right. I'll move up my appointment. We should first do the best we can to rule out any physical problems. Besides," he shrugged a shoulder, "if I get the all clear, it'll make me feel better."

Jim patted him on the shoulder. "I think that's a good idea."

Jim couldn't stay still. He'd given up trying to sit in the hard plastic chairs and took to pacing the waiting room. Every so often, he'd give in to the temptation to eavesdrop in on Sandburg's conversation with the doctor. He'd caught a few fragments of sentences, heard the doctor talk about ordering an MRI, but as soon as Jim caught himself in the act and realized what he was doing, he'd force himself to stop listening.

So far, he'd been pacing the waiting room for about an hour, and if he was forced to stay there much longer, he'd have his work-out done for the next couple of days.

He caught a familiar scent, and his chin snapped up as he turned to face the double doors leading to the examining area. They swung outward, and Blair hurried through, his hair pulled back in a pony tail and his hands in his jacket pockets. His eyes found Jim's, and he flashed a weak smile, but he was squinting slightly, and the creases in his brow indicated a headache. Jim wondered if Blair was being affected by the people in the hospital. If there was one place where pain and misery abounded, it was in a hospital, and Cascade General seemed to get the worst of the worst. If Blair really had empathic abilities, being in the hospital had to be hell for him.

"Hey." Blair stopped in front of Jim. "Sorry it took so long."

"Don't be." Jim placed his hand on Blair's shoulders, noting the nearly instantaneous smoothing of the lines in Blair's brow. "I wouldn't want the doc to rush through anything."

Blair pulled his hand out of his pocket and grimaced. "I got a prescription for an anti-anxiety medication, can you believe that?" He slipped away from Jim's touch and moved to the trash bin, then tore the paper in half and tossed it into the garbage. "Come on. I'm starved." He glanced over his shoulder at Jim. "Wanna get lunch?"

Jim nodded, eyeing the trashcan. "You sure tossing that was a good idea?"

Blair pivoted on his heels to face him. "Definitely. Don't get me wrong, I like Doctor Hatford well enough, but medical doctors these days are quick to whip out the pad and pen. I don't need drugs, man. I don't have any unusual anxiety...well, except for those episodes, but if that's caused by," he dropped his voice to a near-whisper and took a step closer to Jim, "you know, the shaman stuff, well, then the medications might just get in the way of the natural process."

Jim cocked an eyebrow. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Sandburg, but don't shamans commonly use narcotics?"

Blair straightened, his eyes narrowing to slits. "They use natural substances to aid in the induction of trances and visions. You should know, man. You spent how many months with the Chopec?"

Jim put up his hands and chuckled. "I'm just yankin' your chain, Sandburg." He swatted the top of Blair's head and draped an arm across the young man's shoulders. Until they figured out what was going on with Sandburg and how to control it, Jim decided to play it safe. If physical contact helped, he'd be more than happy to oblige. "Come on, lunch is on me."

"Oh, man." Blair wiped at his brow and sat down on the newly-relocated sofa. It had been hell getting the thing up from the basement into the loft, and Blair had trouble imagining Jim moving the thing the first time around all by himself. He tilted his head back and sighed. Jim must have been really driven to accomplish such a feat.

"Want a beer?"

Blair eyed his partner standing in front of him. "Maybe in a bit. Right now, my arms are too tired to lift anything else, man, even a bottle."

Jim smiled and sat down next to Blair. "Thanks again for helping me move this stuff back in. You didn't have to. I got it out, I could've brought it back in."

Blair managed to lift his tired arm long enough to give a dismissive wave, then let the limb drop back to the sofa. "Don't mention it...again. I mean it." He flashed a quick grin to soften his words.

"Okay." Jim tilted his head, his eyes sweeping slowly around the living room.

"What?" Blair looked around. They weren't finished, but at least they were close. They had the television, the armchairs, the coffee table, and the rest of the furnishings, but the pictures still needed hanging, and some of the boxes they'd relocated from the motel still had to be unpacked.

"Oh, I just realized, we haven't christened the loft yet."

Blair choked on a wad of saliva in his throat. It took him a moment to catch his breath. "What?" He shifted to look at Jim, noting the wicked gleam in the older man's eyes and the subtle smirk on his lips.

The smirk grew to a mischievous grin, and Jim leaned forward, pressing against Blair. Blair found himself pushed to his back on the sofa, and suddenly Jim's lips covered his, and a warm, moist tongue invaded his mouth. He pushed back, returning the kiss, his cock growing hard, feeling Jim's erection pressed against his own.

"Oh, man," Blair mumbled into Jim's mouth. "How can you have the energy for this right now?"

Jim pulled back and looked down at Blair, smiling unabashedly. "Remember this the next time you call me old. I may have some years on you, Junior, but I can still run laps around you."

Blair cocked an eyebrow and grinned. "Oh, yeah?" He rotated his body quickly, throwing off Jim's balance and sending him teetering off the couch, but Blair grabbed the front of Jim's shirt, guiding him down, careful to avoid a collision with the coffee table, and wound up on the floor, on top of Jim. He grinned down at his partner. "You were saying?"

Blair was almost painfully aware of his hard cock pushing against the front of his jeans, and Jim's own erection pressed into Blair's hips. He leaned down, covering Jim with his body, and gave a quick thrust with his pelvis, pushing roughly into Jim's hardness, smiling when Jim gasped and shuddered beneath him.

"You like that?" Blair lifted his body just enough to slide his hands down to Jim's jeans. He surprised himself -- again -- by his initiative. Now that he'd been with Jim before, he no longer felt self conscious. In fact, he figured it was time to show Jim some of the patent-pending Sandburg moves.

Blair's fingers found the button of Jim's jeans and, with a quick flick, popped it open. Then, he moved his body lower to undo Jim's zipper, freeing the older man's erection, which pushed out through the front flap of the boxers.

"Sandburg..." Jim muttered through obviously clenched teeth.

"Yes?" Blair rolled off Jim and worked off the older man's jeans, then slid off his boxers.

Jim lifted his head and looked at Blair. "Uh, how do you want to play this, Chief? We're going to need some lube."

Blair simply grinned, eyeing Jim's rock-hard shaft, which was straining toward the ceiling. "Not for this part," he said, then took a breath and once again surprised himself by taking the head of Jim's cock into his mouth.

"Oh, God!" Jim's hips bucked the moment Blair's warm, wet mouth slid over his cock. Blair's tongue probed at the soft skin at the tip of Jim's penis, then Blair's lips closed firmly and slid forward, covering half of the penis, his teeth scraping softly against the folded skin, his tongue probing the soft folds.

Shit. Jim arched, thrusting his hips upward desperately as Blair sucked him, his tongue probing, pushing, stroking. He hadn't expected this from Blair, at least not so soon after their conversation at the hotel room, but he wasn't complaining. God, no, definitely he wasn't complaining. The tip of Jim's cock hit the back of Blair's throat.

+-+ Jim heard a soft gag, and Blair pulled back slightly.

Jim lifted his head to ask if Blair was all right, but his throat seized tight when Blair's mouth returned, closing hard on Jim's penis, and Blair's teeth bit down hard enough to send pangs through Jim's hips but soft enough not to cause any real pain.

"Christ!" Jim bucked upward, and Blair's hands came down on his hips, pressing Jim to the floor as his mouth worked Jim's penis.

Blair rumbled something at the back of his throat, and Jim felt the vibrations all the way from his penis to his chest. One of Blair's hands slid away from Jim's hip to close around the base of Jim's penis and began pumping shallowly to the rhythm of Blair's mouth. Jim arched, bucking, straining against the one hand holding him down, and then Blair's mouth closed again firmly, and his fingers slid to the tender skin at the back of Jim's scrotum and squeezed slightly.

"God, oh God." Jim gave another hard thrust, his fingers digging into the wood floor, and his cock spasmed once, then twice, his hips straining upward even as Blair's hands held him down, and he emptied himself into Blair's mouth.

Blair had a hard time concentrating on pleasuring Jim while his own cock was throbbing mercilessly. Pangs sliced through his groin, and he jammed his pelvis against the floor, desperate for release, as he worked Jim's penis. When Jim came, spewing juice into Blair's mouth, Blair's whole body jerked, an almost electric tingling shooting through him as he came inside his jeans.

He swallowed hard twice, unprepared for the onslaught but surprised as hell that, even as semen dribbled down his chin, it didn't bother him. He thought it would, but at the moment, his whole body was tingling, and the front of his jeans were warm, and he didn't have a lot of energy for rational thought. He collapsed, laying his head on Jim's firm stomach, and took a moment to catch his breath. Jim's hand came to rest on the side of his head, stroking him gently, and he closed his eyes.

"That was...really nice, Chief."

Blair smiled. "I aim to please." He took a slow, content breath, the gears in his brain beginning to turn sluggishly as he regained his senses. He'd never experienced anything like what he'd just felt. His climax had been unexpected and incredibly powerful. He'd felt it in every nerve of his body. It was like...

He lifted his head, seeing Jim's eyes snap to his own.

"What is it?" Jim asked, his brow creasing curiously.

"I came."

Jim's lips twitched. "I'm happy for you."

Blair rolled off, swatting the older man's thigh, then shifted to lay on his back. "Wise ass. I'm working on a theory here. I came when you came. I've never felt anything like this. We've already established we've got some kind of connection. I think I just discovered a whole new level to it."

Jim sat up and leaned against the couch. "Wait a minute, Chief. Are you telling me you...felt my climax?"

Blair slid a hand beneath his head and smiled, gazing up at the ceiling. His jeans were sticky with semen, his lips were sticky, and even his chin and neck were sticky. Parts of Jim were all over him.

He couldn't remember a moment in his life when he'd felt happier.

"Sandburg?"

"Oh." Blair lifted his head to look at Jim, grinning. "Sorry. Yes. The answer, my friend, is yes." He let his head drop back down and resumed his study of the ceiling, his gaze tracing the pattern of yellow pipes.

"You seem to be relatively...at ease with the idea," Jim observed.

Blair cocked an eyebrow. "Hey, man, wouldn't YOU be? The sex was GREAT."

Jim chuckled, and Blair blinked when he found himself once again covered by Jim's large frame and staring directly into a pair of blue eyes.

"Okay." Jim smiled. "So, why don't I go get the lube and we test out this theory?"

Blair raised his eyebrows, his cock growing hard again in anticipation. "I'm down with that, and to make this a legitimate study, we'll need to perform several trials."

He awoke slowly to the feeling of warmth. It covered his torso like a blanket and draped over his shoulders and thighs. He felt the strong, steady rhythm of a heart just over the right side of his breast, and it beat in sync with his own.

Opening his eyes, Jim saw a dark mass of curls at the edge of his vision and lifted his head, looking down to see Blair draped over him, his cheek pillowed on Jim's left shoulder.

He smiled and let his head sink back into the pillow. Raising one arm, he wrapped it around his partner, relishing in the feel of Blair's warm, firm body against his. His mouth twitched as he slid his hand down Blair's back, all the way to the young man's butt, then gave a squeeze.

"Whu--?" Blair jerked awake.

Jim grinned at Sandburg. "Mornin', Chief."

Blair blinked, seemingly confused for a moment, then his eyes roamed downward, taking in his and Jim's positions, and he stiffened. "Oh. Wow."

"Yeah, that about sums it up."

Blair's lips quirked as he rolled off Jim, coming to rest on his back and letting one arm flop over the side of the mattress. "You know, the prostate is one of the most underrated parts of the male anatomy."

Jim gave a burst of laughter at that comment, then patted Blair's butt cheek. "I'd say your theory was correct. The data you collected last night ought to make for THE most interesting chapter in your thesis."

"Funny, man. I haven't even thought about what I'm going to do about the thesis, now. Obviously, this isn't going in."

"You sure? You could include authentic, original photographs, and--"

Blair lightly kicked Jim's ankle. "You have a filthy mind."

"It's gotten dirtier since I met you," Jim retorted, then sat up and slapped Blair's thigh. "Come on, Junior, it is, unfortunately, a work day, and," he glanced quickly at the clock on the nightstand, "we've got ten minutes before the alarm we forgot to set last night is suppose to go off." He pushed off the bed and headed to the stairs.

"You know," Blair said, making no move to rise, "now that we're doing it, you can probably stop calling me Junior and referring to me as 'kid.'"

Jim turned and grinned at him, raising his eyebrows. "Oh, I don't know. You're such a sweet young thing, Sandburg, I can't resist." He launched down the stairs just as the pillow sailed toward him.

"Here it is." Blair looked up from the paper that held the address and directions and pointed to an old, unkept blue house on the left.

Jim pulled the car to the curb and shut off the engine. He took a moment to study the house, tilting his head as he focused his hearing. A television rambled with a woman's voice yelling something about someone being a bleep, bleep worthless, lazy, lying bum. There was a roar of an audience. Then, a somewhat calmer but familiar male voice interrupted the yelling, and Jim cocked an eyebrow to look at Blair.

"He's home, and he's watching Jerry Springer."

Blair smiled and shook his head. "That's a great, anthropologically-significant show, man. Trust me, years from now, and by years, I mean, years, scholars are going to look back on that show and consider it an icon of the twentieth century, representative of society's problems. You've got teenage pregnancies, drug abuse, unemployment, infidelity, disobedient children, and transsexuals who are ostracized by their families."

Jim rolled his eyes and opened his door, sliding out of the truck. "Yeah, well, give the show a call. From what you've told me about Naomi and how you grew up, I'm sure they'd love to have both of you on."

There was a moment of silence from Sandburg, then the passenger door opened and the anthropologist slid out. Jim closed his own door and walked around to the other side of the truck. When he looked at Sandburg's face, he saw a shadow of pain, but Blair was obviously doing his best to put on a show of nonchalance as he turned to Jim and, with an obviously fake smile said, "Hey, man, lay off my mother or I'll have to hurt you."

Jim swallowed and nodded, clapping a hand on Blair's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Chief," he said softly. "I didn't mean anything by it."

Blair cocked an eyebrow and chuckled, but it sounded almost nervous. "Man, you've changed. I think I've gotten a total of two, maybe three, apologies from you in the three years prior to our trip to Sierra Verde. Now, it's like you're trying to make some apologizing quota. How many do you have left before you meet it?"

Jim cracked a smile and shook his head. "Believe me, I'm done now, smartass."

Blair smiled and, as Jim moved forward, he heard Blair mutter, "And, uh, thank you, by the way."

Glancing over his shoulder, Jim said, very distinctly, "You're welcome, Chief." He paused a moment and turned toward Blair, cocking his head. "How're you doing, by the way? Any... you know?"

Blair shook his head. "Maybe, off and on, it's hard to tell. Last time, the emotions felt as real as my own, but so far, there's been nothing bad like before. Having you so close might be helping."

Jim nodded, satisfied. Despite Blair's theory about empathic shaman abilities, they still didn't know exactly what was going on with Blair, and Jim wanted to play it safe. "Okay, good enough for now, let's go. We've got a potential witness to interview."

Together, they moved toward the small, blue house. Jim kept his senses on alert. Although the man who supposedly lived in the house, a Mr. Anthony, was only a possible witness in a narcotics case, Jim knew too well how quickly a witness could turn into a prime suspect, and even the most routine stop could turn deadly for an officer.

A small porch led up to the front door of the house, and Jim trotted up the stairs in front of Blair. He gestured for the young man to move behind him, then reached into his jacket and withdrew his badge as he knocked on the door.

"Police! Is anyone home?" Jim's senses told him someone was indeed home. He detected two heartbeats beneath the chaotic noise of the television. Then, he heard a muffled curse, and one of the heart rates spiked. Frantic shuffling noises followed. Then footsteps pounded on the floor. Finally, someone yelled, "Hold on! I'll be right there."

Jim stiffened, one hand going to his gun. He heard the jangle of a chain, then the click of a deadbolt, and the door swung inward.

"Git 'em, Mox!"

Jim's hand closed around his gun, and he barely managed to get the weapon out of the holster before being tackled by a gigantic, white canine. The beast slammed into him, and he went sailing backward, his gun clattering off the porch as he rolled down the steps. In the second or two it took him to land, he heard the quick patter of footsteps as Anthony ran out the back of the house. Blair shouted his name, his voice tinged with panic. As Jim rolled, he got a quick, blurred glimpse of Blair's face, then his head smacked against the sidewalk and his ears rang and his vision grayed.

He heard snarling and, dizzily thought he'd managed to stumble to his feet, but when the darkness receded, he realized he was sitting down, and the dog, somehow, wasn't on top of him. In fact, it was still by the porch. Jim was on the grass; his head hurt like hell, and the world was spinning ever so lazily. Things seemed to move in slow motion. The beast leapt off the porch toward him, all teeth, its jowls flapping almost sluggishly, as though time itself had dropped to a crawl.

Blair lunged forward, and Jim watched in horror as his partner flung himself into the path of the monstrous, enraged canine. The creature had to outweigh Sandburg by at least 40 or 50 pounds. Jim tried to get to his feet, but his head swam, and darkness threatened again. He felt himself falling to the side and watched, his heart in his throat, as Blair turned to face the creature and, with the courage of the foolhardy, raised his hands to shield himself and yelled, "NO!"

Jim's slow fall came to an abrupt halt when he hit the grass, his head bouncing gently off the soft terrain, bile rising in his throat, and he was sure he was hallucinating, because his off-kilter view of the world showed the white dog sliding into a sit. Its snarl turned to a grinning pant, and it looked up at Sandburg as though expecting a treat. Then, it dropped down and whined, slithering subserviently toward Blair.

Blair stood, seemingly stunned for a couple of seconds, then he obviously snapped out of his shock and turned to crouch next to Jim. When Blair touched Jim's arm, everything went to normal time again, and Jim saw the wind ruffling Blair's hair and heard the soft panting of the dog, which lay calmly only a few feet away, and Blair was asking what hurt as he whipped out his cell phone and dialed. He tried to sit up, but Blair firmly commanded him to lie still, and he obeyed, dropping back to the cool grass and giving in to the darkness tempting him.

Blair stood anxiously a few feet away, fidgeting, watching helplessly as the paramedics loaded Jim into the ambulance. Simon had arrived moments ago and now stood just inches away, a silent presence behind Blair, watching as the emergency sirens screamed to life, flashing red, and the ambulance sped away.

A hand came down on Blair's shoulder, and Simon's deep but soft voice intruded on the silence. "Are you okay to drive Jim's truck to the hospital?"

Blair turned toward the captain and nodded, his eyes drifting over the officers combing the house and the yard. "Yeah, but I SHOULD be with Jim in that ambulance. He--"

"He'll be fine, Sandburg. I need you to tell me what happened here, and then we'll head to the hospital. And what the HELL is with that dog?"

Blair looked down at the dog lying quietly at his feet. It stared up at him with dark, sorrowful eyes. "I don't know, Simon."

Staring into the canine's sad eyes, Blair felt a pang of sympathy twist in his chest, woven with threads of fear and a sense of loss. He focused on the emotions, and crouched down close to the dog. The animal lowered its head to the grass, and Blair placed one hand on top the canine's skull. He closed his eyes and took a breath.

"Sandburg, what the hell are you doing?"

Blair ignored the captain and focused on the emotions pulsing through him and the feel of the dog's soft fur against his palm. He sifted through the sympathy, fear, and sense of loss and, after a moment, sucked in a breath and opened his eyes, shocked realization slashing through him.

He was picking up on the dog's emotions, and more importantly, he could now clearly separate them from his own. He looked back down at the canine and realized the poor creature was feeling the loss of its master, and it was afraid of the strangers swarming around the property.

"Sandburg?" Simon's voice was strained with frustration. "Are you here on Earth with us, or has someone beamed up your brain?"

Blair blinked and looked at the captain. "Sorry, sir. What?"

Simon took a deep breath, leaned a fraction closer to Blair, and spoke in an agonizingly slow voice. "I need you to tell me what happened here."

"Oh." Blair cleared his throat. "Jim and I came to interview Mr. Anthony as a potential witness. Jim knocked on the door. I was right behind him. The guy opened the door and said something like 'Get 'em, Mox,' then took off running as the dog charged Jim. It knocked Jim off the porch, then kind of stood on the steps growling and barking. Jim tried to get up, and the dog leapt off the porch toward him. I ran in front of the dog and yelled at it. It stopped and laid down. It's been a teddy bear ever since."

Simon just stared at Blair for several long seconds, then his eyes drifted to the large, white canine still resting quietly on the grass. "Did it bite Jim?"

Blair shook his head. "No. It body-slammed Jim, but its teeth never touched him."

"How 'bout you?"

"No, I'm fine."

Simon nodded, apparently satisfied, then turned and yelled at a passing officer, "Get Animal Control over here and tell them to take this dog into custody as evidence!"

The officer, a young man who couldn't be over twenty-four, jumped slightly in surprise, then nodded quickly. "Yes, Captain."

Blair frowned, looking back down at the dog. It inched closer to him, rolling onto its side to press against his leg. "Uh, Captain," Blair pulled his eyes away from the animal. "what'll happen to the dog?"

Simon pulled a cigar from his inside jacket pocket and chewed on it. "He'll be held as evidence as long as he's needed, then probably euthanized."

Blair's heart pounded. "What? Why?"

The look Simon gave Blair made him feel all of three years old. "How long have you been working with us, Sandburg? The guy used the dog as a weapon, a potentially lethal weapon. We'd take any weapon into evidence."

Blair frowned. The dog whined. "Look, Simon, it's not really the dog's fault. He was just doing what his owner told him to, what he'd been trained to do. He doesn't deserve a death sentence."

"He's a danger, Sandburg."

Blair raised his eyebrows. "Does he look like he's a danger?"

Simon glanced down at the dog and puffed a frustrated breath around the cigar in his mouth. "You just said he attacked Jim."

"Well, he sort of body-slammed Jim. If you recall, I also said the dog stayed on the porch until Jim tried to get up, and the dog never actually bit anyone, AND the dog only went for Jim in the first place because its owner gave it a command."

"Sandburg, are you seriously--"

"It's afraid, Simon. It's just a dog. You can't kill it."

"I'M not going to kill it. Animal control will humanely euthanize the dog when it's no longer needed as evidence."

"No, Simon."

The captain yanked the cigar from his mouth, his eyebrows rising almost to his hairline. "No? Did you tell me 'no?' You couldn't have told me that because you're just a civilian observer, right, and I'm Captain of Major Crime, or am I delusional?"

Blair ignored the sarcasm. "Please, Simon, you can't let them kill the dog for no reason."

"It's not for no reason, Sandburg. This animal attacked Jim. It's a danger. It can't be adopted out, and it'll need to be kept as evidence. Now, if we find Mr. Anthony, and if he's not convicted of anything, then he can reclaim the dog."

"But, Simon--"

"It's out of my hands, Sandburg! I don't make the rules, you know."

Blair deflated, his shoulders sagging. He dropped his head to look at the animal. The owner had called the dog Mox. The name fit. The canine looked up at him, its dark eyes almost human.

"Jesus, Sandburg," Simon sighed, "do you PRACTICE that sad little boy look at home in the mirror?"

Blair raised his head, his cheeks growing hot as he felt a familiar wetness rise to his eyes, and he struggled to hold it back. No way was he going to start bawling like a baby in front of the captain.

Simon's face softened, and he took a deep breath, dropping his eyes to the dog and giving into a long sigh. "All right. I'll see what I can do."

Blair blinked in surprise. "You will? You promise?"

The gentleness on Simon's face was replaced by a deep scowl. He looked up and jabbed the cigar back in his mouth. "Yes, I promise. Happy now?"

Blair forced a smile. At least there was now some hope for the dog. "Thanks, Simon."

An Animal Control truck pulled up to the curb, and a man dressed in a brown uniform hopped out, carrying a restraining noose, and approached Simon and Blair. He eyed the canine. "This is the dog, I take it?"

Simon nodded. "Yeah. He's to be held as evidence. Under no circumstances is he to be euthanized without someone contacting me first, understood?"

The man nodded. "All right. Do we know who's footing the storage bill?"

"Hopefully, the owner." Simon gestured to the dog. "I don't even want to imagine what the dog food bills alone are going to be."

"All right, here we go, boy." The Animal Control officer approached the dog, slipping the noose casually over its head.

Mox looked up at Blair and, at the officer's prodding, rose to its feet, but when the officer tried to walk the dog toward the truck, the animal backed up and moved closer to Blair, whining.

"Come on." The Animal Control officer pulled, and the dog lunged forward, a growl rumbling from its throat.

The dog's immense size and obvious strength threw the officer off balance, and he stumbled back, loosing his grip on the restraint, and before Blair could do anything, the dog had a hold of the officer's ankle, and the man cried out, trying to yank his foot away from the beast.

Everything erupted into chaos. Uniformed officers descended on the scene, and Blair saw one of them draw a gun. He rushed into the middle of the chaos and grabbed the noose, then yelled, "Don't shoot!"

Instantly, the dog released its hold on the Animal Control officer and sat obediently next to Blair, leaning against his leg and peering up at him with those sad eyes.

"Damnit, Sandburg, are you happy NOW!" Simon glared at Blair, then crouched next to the officer, whose pantleg was torn and bloodied.

"Does anyone know if that dog's had its shots?" the Animal Control officer asked through gritted teeth, propping himself on his elbows.

Simon shook his head. "No, and the owner's nowhere to be found right now."

"Great." The Animal Control man sank to the grass and laid his head back, staring at the sky. "I hate this job. Can someone call another officer to take the animal away? And unless any of you can find a way to confirm whether this dog has had its shot, we'll have to destroy it and test it for rabies."

Blair sucked in a breath, his stomach twisting, and looked down at the dog. His head ached. The emotions of the people around him pounded into him. He could feel fear, which he thought was from the dog, and anger, which he figured was probably Simon or the Animal Control guy, or maybe both, and frustration, disdain, and...hatred.

That last emotion sliced through Blair like a knife, stealing his breath. He stiffened and opened his eyes, searching the men around him until he found a pair of dark brown eyes glaring at him. They belonged to an officer standing just a few feet away with a group of other officers, all mingling around the fallen Animal Control guy. Blair's eyes dropped briefly to the man's nametag. He read it quickly -- BAKER-- and looked back up to meet the officer's icy stare.

Officer Baker held Blair's gaze for a second, then blew out a breath and shook his head. He stormed off, passing Blair, and muttered, "You goddamn animal rights freaks disgust me, holding a dog's life above an officer's."

Blair inhaled roughly and tried to ignore the comment, feeling oddly shaky inside, and listened to the officer's receding footsteps. He stood there, waiting, while another ambulance came for the downed officer and a second Animal Control truck pulled up.

As the new guy approached, Blair tightened his grip on the dog and met the man's eyes. He sensed only wariness from the other man. "Let me put him in. He'll go quietly."

The guy studied Blair for a moment, then his eyes darted to his colleague, who was being loaded into an ambulance, and finally, to the dog. He looked back up and nodded. "Okay, fine." He jerked his head toward the street. "This way."

Blair dutifully followed the officer to the truck and watched him open the back, revealing a dark cage with only a few holes at the top for ventilation. Swallowing, Blair turned and crouched in front of the animal, gently petting its head, and said, "Okay, Mox, you've got to behave yourself." He felt a flood of fear and confusion from the animal, and astonishingly, a clear sense of trust. Feeling like a traitor, Blair blinked back tears as he straightened and gestured to the truck. "Inside."

The dog tilted its head at him.

"Come on." Blair patted the metal bottom of the cage. "Up here."

The dog crouched and leapt into the back of the truck, then turned to face Blair as Blair slipped the noose from Mox's head. He didn't even get a chance to say goodbye before the Animal Control officer slammed the door closed and took the noose from him.

"Thanks, Mr--?"

"Sandburg," Blair replied automatically, his throat dry.

"Thanks, Mr. Sandburg." Then the guy turned and hopped behind the wheel, and the truck pulled away. Blair watched until it turned a corner, then he sighed and turned, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing Jim's keys, which Simon had liberated from the detective before the EMTs had loaded him into the ambulance, and headed for the truck.

Simon appeared before Blair, stopping him with a hand on his chest. "Sandburg, you look like hell. Are you okay?"

Blair felt confusion, irritation, and concern wafting off Simon, and he took a few steps back, slipping away from the older man's touch. "I'm fine," he croaked. "If we're done here, I'd like to go to the hospital to see Jim."

"You don't look like you're in any shape to drive. We'll leave Jim's truck here, and you can ride with me."

Blair straightened. He didn't feel like company at the moment, and he couldn't explain to Simon about the empathy thing. Blair had no idea if he'd be able to handle being stuck in a cramped car inches from Simon, soaking up the man's emotions, which seemed to fluctuate between anger and concern.

"I'm fine." He tried for a strong voice and thought he succeeded. "There's no point leaving Jim's truck here. I'm okay to drive. The dog never touched me, remember."

"Yeah, but you're white as hell. You look like you just lost your best friend, and Jim didn't seem THAT seriously injured."

"I'm fine, just a bit tired."

"You're upset about that dog?"

Blair thought he felt disdain from Simon, but he couldn't be sure. He stiffened and turned away. "His name is Mox," he muttered, tightening his grip on the keys as he walked rigidly toward the blue and white truck parked at the curb.

Jim woke to a pounding in his head and an annoying beeping. He cracked his eyelids open, wincing and giving into a groan as fluorescent light slammed into his retinas. The smell of antiseptic immediately told him he was in a hospital.

"Jim?"

Jim turned his head to the sound of Blair's voice and saw the young man sitting nearby. The kid looked like hell. His face was pasty white, he had dark circles beneath his eyes, and a shadow of stubble darkened his chin.

"Hey," Jim croaked, his mouth painfully dry. "What happened?"

"You got hit by Mr. Anthony's dog. They think it's a Dogo, or something. You cracked your head on the sidewalk when you fell. Concussion. The usual. Doc says you'll be okay."

Jim shifted higher on the bed so he was propped up higher on the pillow. "You okay? You don't look so good. Is the hospital getting to you?"

Blair dropped his gaze to the floor. "Off and on, but I've been inches from you almost the whole time, which really does seem to help. So, I'm okay."

Jim didn't buy it. "I'm the human lie detector, remember?"

With a sigh, Blair looked back up. "There was just... Well, the dog...."

"Yeah?" Jim prodded when Blair didn't finish the statement.

"I sort of...connected with it empathically."

Jim raised an eyebrow. That was unexpected news. Blair could tune into both people and animals? "And? What? Did you get an urging for a dog biscuit or something?" He knew immediately he'd said the wrong thing when Blair's expression darkened, and he looked away. "Sorry, bad joke. Can I blame it on the head injury?"

A smile flickered over Blair's mouth. "Okay this time, but what's your excuse for all your other bad jokes?"

"Ha. Ha. So spill it. About the dog?"

Blair leaned back in the chair and inhaled a deep breath. "It was just scared and confused. Simon brought in Animal Control to hold the dog as evidence. He told me it would then probably be euthanized. I managed to convince him to at least try to save Mox, but when the Animal Control officer arrived and tried to take him away, Mox went for him. Bit his ankle. Simon and the officers searched the house, but they couldn't find any information about the dog or who its vet might be, if it even has one. The dog had no tags, so..."

"They have to euthanize it to test it for rabies," Jim finished.

Blair swallowed, nodding.

"It's just a dog, Sandburg," Jim said, but his voice was infinitely gentle.

Blair inhaled sharply, pulling back the surprising swell of guilt and grief that rose inside him. "Mox trusted me. He was just scared and confused and did what animals do, fight or flight, but he trusted me, and he hopped into the truck, and I FELT his emotions, all of them, Jim. The fear. The confusion. Even his trust in me. They were all very simple emotions, not quite the same as those I seem to pick up from people, but Mox is a living creature that's capable of feeling emotions, Jim, and he trusted me, and I told him to get into the truck knowing he'd be going to his death, and I feel...I feel..."

Jim sat up and reached over to grab Blair's arm. The kid was starting to hyperventilate, his face losing even more color, making the dark circles beneath his eyes appear even blacker. "Easy, Chief," he said, tightening his hold on Blair's forearm. "Just take it easy."

Blair closed his eyes and sucked in a gasping breath. Immediately, he calmed. Jim listened to Blair's heartbeat, pleased when it dropped to an almost-normal rhythm. "This really has you worked up."

Blair opened his eyes again and nodded. "I know it shouldn't affect me like this, but you don't understand, Jim. You don't understand what it's like to really FEEL another living creature."

Jim nodded. He didn't quite understand, but he knew just by looking at Blair that what had happened left him physically drained. "How long have I been here?"

"About twelve hours."

Twelve hours? "I've been out that long?"

"No, you've been sort of in and out. They've been waking you up, but you kept going right back to sleep."

Jim didn't remember any of that. "And have you been here that whole time?"

"Most of it."

Jim glanced at the clock on the wall. It was a little past four, which made it four a.m. since he and Blair had knocked on Anthony's door at about four in the afternoon yesterday. "Let me guess. You haven't slept at all in that time, right?"

Blair shrugged. "No, but I'm--"

"--okay," Jim finished. "Sure. Go home. Get some sleep."

Blair shook his head. "I'm fine, Jim."

"Go home," Jim said more forcefully. "Please. Get some sleep."

Blair nodded slowly and rose from his chair. "Okay."

"And don't worry about picking me up. When the doc releases me, I'll bum a ride from Simon or someone."

"'Kay." Blair walked toward the door, then stopped and went stiff. He turned back to Jim, his eyes narrow and his jaw tight. "Damnit, Jim! I told you not to do that to me."

"Do what--? Oh." Jim sank back to the mattress. "I didn't mean to do it, Sandburg. You're tired. Maybe you're just particularly susceptible."

Blair's shoulders sagged. "Yeah, okay. I'm sorry I snapped."

Jim raised his head. "Are you really, or are you just being influenced again?"

Blair's head snapped up, his eyes flashing.

Jim smiled. "Just making sure."

"I hate this," Blair muttered, his anger fading.

"Well, if it's any consolation, remember, it works both ways."

"Yeah, well, it seems to be working more in my direction."

"Please, go home, Blair," Jim said gently, "and not because you're being influenced, or whatever you want to call this thing between us, but because you need to sleep, and I need to not be worrying about you."

Blair practically fell into the chair and dropped his head forward. "I don't.... I just don't want to be far away from you right now. All this shaman stuff is new to me, and I've got a lot to learn, but all I know is, right now, being in physical proximity to you helps."

"How'd you convince the staff to let you stay past visiting hours?"

Blair shrugged. "Simon was instrumental, actually."

With a sigh, Jim let his gaze sweep the room. He spotted the empty bed on the far wall and pointed to it. "Okay. How 'bout you crash there?"

"What if they need it?"

"I'm sure they'll wake you up and kick you out."

Blair nodded, giving a tiny smile. "Okay. I can use some sleep." With a tired groan, Blair pushed himself out of the chair and moved like a zombie toward the empty bed. Its rails were down, so he simply crawled on top of the covers, curled up, and closed his eyes. A moment later, he was snoring.

Jim chuckled softly and closed his own eyes, letting the soothing sounds of Blair's steady breathing and soft snoring lull him to sleep.

Jim hung up the phone and turned to Blair, who was waiting expectantly by the kitchen table. "Okay." He watched as Blair's shoulders sagged with relief. "Simon swung it, so they'll hold off until we get there. You sure you want to do this?"

Blair swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I have to. I can't explain it, but I have to."

"All right," Jim said, grabbing his and Blair's jacket from the coat rack and holding Blair's out. "Let's go."

Blair walked into the lobby of the shelter, happy to find it relatively empty. Jim was right behind him as he hurried to the counter. A young woman with dark hair and round, brown eyes looked up at him.

"Uh, I'm Blair Sandburg. I'm here for the white Dogo that's scheduled for euthanization."

"Oh, right." She rose from her chair and moved around the counter. "Follow me." Her eyes darted to Jim. "Are you with him?"

Jim nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Detective Ellison."

"You'll have to wait here. This is irregular as it is."

Jim frowned, but Blair waved a placating hand at him. "It's okay, Jim. Wait here. I don't imagine I'll be too long," he said, his throat suddenly tight.

Jim nodded, sinking into one of the empty chairs, and Blair wondered briefly if Jim's easy acquiescence was a result of Blair's inadvertent 'influence.' He didn't ponder that thought too long and, instead, followed the woman through a door and down a long, white hallway to a back room.

Mox was already there, lying on the floor, trembling slightly. His head rested on the linoleum, but he raised it when Blair entered, and his ears perked up. His tail thumped gently against the floor.

An older woman with graying hair was crouched over the dog, a stethoscope draped around her neck. She looked up when Blair entered. "You're Mr. Sandburg?"

Blair nodded and sank to the floor next to Mox, folding his legs. "Yeah."

"I'm Doctor Narrina, the vet here. We're ready to go. I'm going to give him a sedative, then the final shot. He won't feel a thing."

Blair patted his lap, and the dog crawled forward, setting its head on Blair's legs and looking up at him with those dark, soulful eyes.

Blair gently stroked the dog's skull, instantly feeling the connection snap into place. There was fear mixed with pleasure, which Blair attributed to the dog being happy to see him.

"Just a prick now," the doctor said.

Blair looked up to see the woman plunge a needle into the part of the dog's front leg Blair likened to the human forearm, and he could swear he felt the pain in his own arm. He dropped his gaze to Mox, seeing the dog's body relax. Suddenly, a warm, heaviness enveloped Blair, and he felt his head nodding forward.

He straightened, snapping his chin up, and shook his head.

"Are you okay, Mr. Sandburg?" Dr. Narrina asked.

"Yes. Thanks." Blair fought the temptation to sleep and made a mental note to update his journal to include his observation of this aspect of his empathic abilities. Apparently, he was feeling how the sedative affected Mox.

The doctor grabbed the stethoscope and placed the ends in her ears, then listened to the dog's heart. Apparently satisfied, she draped the scope around her neck again and retrieved a different syringe from the counter.

Blair focused on staying awake and keeping his breathing steady. "It's okay, Mox," he told the sleeping dog. "You won't feel a thing."

Out of the corner of his eye, Blair saw the doctor plunge the pinkish liquid into the dog. He continued gently petting Mox. Blair's head lulled forward, and his heart fluttered. The room swirled, and he felt Mox shudder ever-so-slightly as the last breath left his body, and the shudder seemed to reach all the way into Blair's core. He expelled his own breath, his eyes closing, feeling the dog's life force fade, feeling himself being washed away with it, and strange images flashed through his head, as though in a dream, and he could feel the firing of millions of neurons as they sang their final symphony, and it was all terrifyingly familiar -- the sensation of dying, the body's last, frantic struggle for survival -- and his head hit something hard, then everything went dark.

Jim's ears picked up a woman's voice, yelling for an ambulance, and his heart jumped in his throat. He extended his hearing, but couldn't find a hint of Sandburg. He charged through the doorway Blair had gone through earlier, ignoring the clerk's protests, and followed the frantic yelling to the back room. Bursting through the door, he saw an older woman and a man crouched over Blair, who was lying on his back next to the dog. The woman was obviously just beginning CPR.

Jim crouched next to Blair, extending his hearing, going cold when he didn't find a heartbeat. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know, " the woman answered, never breaking her life-saving efforts. Jim tilted Blair's head back, counting the compressions, then placed his mouth over Blair's, his chest twisting at the painful familiarity of it all, and breathed air into his partner's lungs.

Blair arched, sucking in a deep, scorching gasp of air, and the woman pulled back.

"Blair!" Jim cupped Blair's head in his hands, willing Blair to keep breathing, extending his hearing to focus on the young man's trip-hammer heartbeat. "That's it."

Blair sucked in a few more greedy breaths, and finally, his eyes opened. He looked at Jim, his face chalk white, and rolled to his side, his chest heaving.

"That's it. You're okay." Jim stroked Blair's head, keeping one hand on Blair's arm. "Easy. Take it easy. Everything's okay."

After a few seconds, Blair seemed to get a grip on his breathing, and the color returned to his face. He sat up, resisting the restraining arm Jim placed on his chest, and looked to the dog's still body.

"Lay down, Chief. The ambulance is on its way."

Blair shook his head, his eyes filling with tears. "I don't need them," he choked.

"Mr. Sandburg, your heart just stopped," the woman interrupted.

Blair yanked his gaze away from the dog and grabbed Jim's arm, turning pleading eyes to Jim. "Please. Just...get me out of here."

Jim wanted nothing more than to take hold of Blair and haul him out of the cold, sterile room, and he almost did, but stopped himself in time. "I don't think--"

Blair pushed himself to his feet, lurching away from Jim and careening through the door.

"Sandburg!" Jim shot to his feet, ignoring the shelter staff, and ran after his partner.

Blair had made it through the front doors of the shelter and was staggering toward the truck like a drunk. He almost fell face-first into the blacktop before Jim caught him and dragged him toward the truck, propping him gently against the passenger door.

"What's going on, Blair? You--"

Blair shook his head, trembling, tears streaming down his cheeks, but he wasn't making a sound. That scared Jim almost more than finding Blair on the floor with no heartbeat. He didn't know what to say, had no idea what had happened back there, so he did what instinct told him to. He pulled Blair into his arms and held him.

He stood there for several minutes, feeling the pounding of Blair's heart and listening to the young man's shuddered breaths. Then, gradually, Blair's heartbeat slowed, matching Jim's rhythm, and his breathing steadied.

"Are you okay?" Jim asked quietly, his chin resting on top of Blair's skull. He felt the shake of Blair's head against his chest. "What happened back there?"

There were several moments of silence, then Blair answered, whisper-soft. "I felt him die. It was like I was dragged down with him, just like before, at the fountain, all over again." Blair's voice trembled, and he shuddered.

Jim closed his eyes and squeezed Blair tighter. "Jesus," he croaked, suddenly angry at himself for letting Blair go into that room, and even if he'd tried to stop Sandburg and hadn't been able to, he should have at least flashed his badge and insisted on going in with him.

"Take me home, Jim."

Jim nodded and reached for his keys. He'd get Blair home, put him to bed, monitor his vitals like a hawk, and tomorrow they'd start on the long road of trying to figure out how to keep Blair's new abilities from killing him.

The End.

Disclaimer: The Sentinel is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount.