Author's webpage: http://www.skeeter63.org/~k9kennel/

Author's disclaimer: Okay, how about, "We disclaim any allegiance to Petfly, Paramount, UPN, or Sci-Fi; the boys are ours, and will remain that way!" ?? -- WoD :P

Author's Note: This story started out as a snippet on senad based on list mom Ann's challenge to write a snippet where Jim and Blair are in different professions - I wrote something called, "Jim and Blair, but Not" and then expanded it into this story, "Ordained".

Poster's Note: I was talking with Alyjude the other night (like I do anything else these days? lol) and she mentioned Ordained, so of course I had to go reread it. I searched the archive, using the search engine, and no matter what I did, could not find it. Weird, huh? It should be there. But I couldn't find it. Neither could Aly. So here I am, posting yet another story for Aly. This is really getting to be a habit. Anyone see the other copy of Ordained, do send it home. <g> -- WoD

Ordained
by alyjude

Simon Banks loved this time of day. He stood in front of his stables, enjoying the first rays of sun as it bathed his fields in early morning light, enjoyed the mists, swirling low to the ground, the flurry of activity in front of him, as his trainers and horses headed out for their morning excercises, enjoyed the sounds of hoofs hitting wet grass, the snorts of the magnificent animals, tails switching, the steam of their breaths hanging on the air....

He watched as his favorite and newest acquisition, Little Stogie, trotted past, but then his eyes widened in disbelief as he noted who rode atop the steed. Blair Sandburg.

His best jockey? Doing routine morning excercises? One of racing's youngest and "winningest" jockey's in the sport today, taking a horse out at five in the morning?

"SANDBURG!"

The jockey in question turned back and spotted his boss. He smiled, waved and guided the horse back to where Banks stood.

"Mind telling me why the number one jockey in the world is out taking Little Stogie through his AM paces?"

"You do want to win this Saturday, right?"

"Well, it would be nice, yeah."

Both men were smiling, their easy banter a testament to their respect for each other and their long friendship.

"So, stop asking questions and let me get to work. Stogie is chomping at the bit and raring to go. And by the way, isn't that movie crew due any minute?"

"Damn. I completely forgot. You will be available later? The producer wants the cast and crew to meet you."

"I'll be here, Simon", then the young man wiggled his eyebrows and let his body shake and added, "Gosh, Simon, I just caaaan't wait, ooooh....".

The sarcasm wasn't lost on the bigger man as he chuckled and gave Little Stogie a swat on the rump and waved both man and beast away, Blair's laughter floating back to him.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By eight o'clock, the movie crew had indeed appeared and were already set up down at the practise track and were in the middle of filming a crucial scene.

Simon was one of the wealthiest men in Cascade, Washington. In fact, one of the wealthiest men in the nation, and he certainly didn't need the money received from allowing his home, Banks Folly, to be used in filming. But one of the producers, David Tilson, was a good friend and Simon hadn't been able to turn his request down. Not to mention the charities that would benefit from his generosity. And truth be told? He found the process of movie making to be fascinating.

He stood now, next to David, watching the filming.

The scene called for a confrontation between the hero and the bad guy but just as things were really heating up and it looked as though the two men would be coming to blows, the director, Tom Van Parton, yelled out, "Cut!" The action ceased, the actors parted, smiling, and the director asked that everything be set up for the stuntmen.

David caught the attention of the film's star and waved him over.

"Jimmy! Join us, there's someone here I'd like you to meet."

James Ellison, academy award winning actor, and number one at the box office for the last five years, smiled his famous five thousand mega watt, ticket selling, popcorn buying smile and strolled over to the two men.

"Simon, I'd like you to meet Jim Ellison, our star, and Jim, this is my old friend, Simon Banks."

The two men shook hands as they appraised each other and recognized kindred spirits.

"Mr. Banks, I've been looking forward to meeting you, your ranch is spectacular."

"Thank you, but it's 'Simon,' please."

"And I'm Jim. How do you like filmaking so far?"

"I'm enjoying myself immensely. But I'd no idea how much waiting around you all do...."

Both Jim and David laughed heartily at that and David answered back.

"Simon, we have a saying in this business, 'Hurray up and wait.' And that pretty much describes what we do on a daily basis. But when those cameras do role, there is no one I'd rather have in front of them than Jim, here."

"That's what you say this week, but next week you'll be extolling the virtues of Leonardo."

Jim smiled with affection at his producer and turned his attention back to Simon.

"Simon, I'm not going to be needed for quite awhile, would it be possible to get a tour? And a glimpse of Little Stogie? I've heard a great deal about this new wonder horse of yours."

Even if Simon had wanted to refuse, and he most certainly did not, he wouldn't have. You don't refuse a personality like the legendary Jim Ellison. His magnetism on screen was famous, but off screen it was almost a living presence. If Simon wasn't already in a committed relationship... well, Jim Ellison would have been more than he could have resisted.

Simon gave his watch a quick glance, mentally reviewed his daily schedule, then nodded.

"I'd be honored to give you the grand tour myself. If we start up at the house, Little Stogie will be back and stabled by the time we're finished. I'll also be able to keep a promise."

"Promise?"

Banks had his own version of a megawatt smile and he flashed it now.

"Yes, I promised my partner, Joel, that I'd make sure he'd have the chance to meet you. He's one of your biggest fans."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't want you to break a promise, lead on."

It took the better part of thirty minutes for the two men to make their way up to the white, two story, Georgian house, what with Simon showing off his grounds, including his rose garden, the arbor and the vegetable and herb garden.

It was from the latter that Simon led the way to what he called his "play area."

Jim was wealthy in his own right, having parlayed his success into sound investments, but even he was impressed by all that he'd seen of Banks Folly.

And now, gazing at the Olympic sized swimming pool and the jacuzzi, which was the size of a regular swimming pool, taking in the massive brick BBQ, and the flagstone walk that meandered throughout the "play area" and again, the incredible landscaping that emphasized the natural beauty of the Cascade mountains that formed the backdrop for Simon's home he felt nothing short of complete awe and wonder.

"I'm truly impressed, Simon. Who is the landscape artist?"

Simon grinned at the compliment even as he was lifting a hand to wave at someone coming from the house.

"You're about to meet him, Jim."

Ellison followed his host's gaze to see a man, at least as tall as Banks, striding toward them. As he reached Simon, he was pulled in close for a hug and a kiss, then released with Simon's arm remaining around his waist.

"Jim, I'd like to introduce you to your biggest fan, the creator of Bank's Folly and my life partner, Joel Taggert. Joel, this is Jim Ellison."

Joel reminded Jim of a big, cuddly bear and as they shook hands he realized that he already liked this man.

"Mr. Ellison, it's a real pleasure to meet you in person. I'm not ashamed to admit that I've got to be your biggest follower."

"Please, it's Jim. And after what I've seen of this beautiful home, I'm now one of your most ardent fans."

'You like our home then?"

"Very much."

Simon gave Joel's waist another squeeze, his pride clearly evident.

"But of course, Joel, he hasn't actually seen our home yet, only the grounds. But we can remedy that now."

"Simon, we might want to put the tour of the house on hold a bit, the horses should be back by now and this is the perfect chance for Jim to see our real pride and joy."

"You're right. Jim? Do you mind a slight change of plan?"

Ellison shook his head, "Not at all. I understand Blair Sandburg will be riding Little Stogie in the Cascade Aspen Sweepstakes this weekend?"

"I wouldn't let anyone else ride him but Blair. In my humble opinion, he's the greatest jockey of our time."

Jim laughed and jokingly held up both hands in supplication.

"Hey, I believe you. I even agree with you. I was curious though as the rumors of Sandburg going free lance have been making the rounds."

The three men had been making their way back down to the stables as they talked and now Joel answered.

"That's just wishful thinking on the part of some very jealous owners. Blair is like a son to both of us."

Simon added, "Blair's mother, Naomi, died when he was only ten. She was the original flower child, free spritited, gifted, loving. But she always had to be on the move. And while she usually took Blair with her, there were a few summers when she left him with me and my sister, Joan. She and Joan were best friends and went to high school together. Even back then, Blair loved horses, loved riding. And I encouraged that love. When Naomi was diagnosed with cancer, she insisted that if anything happened to her, I was to raise Blair. He's been with us ever since. And a greater gift we could never have been given."

"I can see why the rumors are just that; rumors."

The sounds of hooves plopping down on soft dirt alerted the men to the arrival of the racing string.

Jim watched in fascination, as the parade of horse flesh moved away. He scanned each rider, looking for one face. A face he'd seen over two years ago, gracing the cover of People Magazine. He was disappointed when that face didn't appear.

Simon must have read his thoughts.

"Blair must have come back early, which means Little Stogie did well this morning. We'll find them over at the large stable."

Simon once again led the way, as they crossed over to the stable in question.

Inside, the smell of horse and hay permeated the cool air. Gentle snuffling noises and the occassional hoof pawing indicated several occupied stalls.

Simon came to a halt in front of the largest stall. And Jim got his first look at Little Stogie. And of Blair Sandburg.

The young rider had his back to the three men and was in the process of scrubbing down the great horse.

He was tall for a jockey and certainly taller than Jim expected. He appeared to be about 5'7. He wore riding boots, faded blue jeans that hugged his slender frame, and a blue pullover sweater with suede elbow patches. His unusually long, curly hair was tied back into a ponytail. Jim Ellison was used to being admired and sought after. He was propostioned on an almost daily basis and had even been the victim of a stalker early in his career. He was used to the beautiful people and worked in a business where beauty was the norm. And not once in fifteen years had he ever been touched by any of them... he'd never felt anything for anyone, other than friendship.

But now, in a stable in Cascade, Washington, he watched a young man groom a horse. And he felt a stirring in the pit of his stomach, a nervous excitement that seemed to grab hold of him, to shake him to his very foundation. And he was overwhelmed by the agonizing desire, the need, to touch this flesh....

Blair turned.

Eyes the color of the purest cornflower, widened as they connected with Ellison's own famous blues.

How many times had Ellison heard or read the phase, "Time stood still"? And never believed?

Time didn't stand still for anyone. At least that was what he'd believed. Until now.

For time really did freeze as the two men looked at each other. And if not for Simon, the world very well may have stayed frozen.

"Blair, this is Jim Ellison. Jim, Blair Sandburg."

Blair slowly rubbed his right hand down his leg, then, eyes still locked on the handsome man in front of him, he extended the hand and the Jim's grasped the younger man's and the electricity seemed to explode between them.

Without releasing Blair's hand, Jim Ellison said, "Blair."

And equally reluctant to release the larger, warm hand, Blair said, "Jim."

Chemistry. Sparks. Electricity.

Simon had seen them all, had them all with Joel. But what he'd witnessed just two hours ago between Blair and Jim Ellison transcended the normal and very human event called physical attraction. What he was certain he'd witnessed was even beyond the call of fate or destiny. He'd been eyewitness to one soul, that must have been split apart, but after centuries, after eons, the two pieces had, against all the odds, found their other half.

Simon had been standing only a few feet from the two men when they'd first touched via the simple gesture of a handshake, but he would swear to his dying day, with his last breath, that "something" had been created when Blair's fingers slipped into the larger hand of Jim Ellison. Banks had felt it, the energy, the pulsating waves that seemed to jump from one man to the other and back again. Energy so powerful, it had almost taken Simon's breath away. And all from one simple touch, two hands, flesh to flesh.

He'd watched as Jim's hand had tightened and held... and their eyes... never wavering, holding -- as they repeated each other's first names... breathed out actually, the way he'd heard Joel say "God" in church, with that whispered reverance. And trust -- And love. Simon realized he'd observed "love at first sight," but now he understood what that trite phrase really meant. Understood all that was encompassed in that one line. But someone shoud really rename it. To, "Love at Final Find."

And of course, what truly amazed Simon was that, until two hours ago, Blair had been straight. He may have spent the last fifteen years of his life being raised by two "loving" men, but he'd shown at an early age, a complete joy of, attraction for and dedication to, women. He'd even come close to marriage to an awful lady named Alexis Barnes. And artist that Simon was very glad was out of Blair's life.

Jim Ellison, on the other hand, was no stranger to same sex relationships -- Simon and Ellison had immediately recognized their common interests, their similar tastes.

And therein lay the problem that had been plaquing Simon for the last two hours.

He sat by the pool, nursing a beer and worrying. Of course, he'd gotten very used to worrying since becoming a "father" fifteen years ago, very good at it. Blair Sandburg, at ten years of age, had been a bundle of frenetic energy. His mind and body never at rest, and constantly tripping over each other in their never ending quest for fun, knowledge, exploration and action. But that boundless energy had Simon and Joel at their wits end at the conclusion of more than one day.

He smiled in the memory of what he and Joel had eventually come to call their "quiet time".

It came every evening at nine-thirty. The time when Blair's fuel would finally run out and they could get him to bed. And how did two young, loving, gay men enjoy their "quiet time"? How else? By sitting in Blair's bedroom and watching the miracle of a child sleeping.

But as Blair grew, so did their worries. Worries that graduated from running too fast, or eating too much popcorn, or jumping into the deep end of the pool before the kid even knew how to swim, to his first driver's license and driving, and then dating, and safe sex, and were they good fathers, and would Blair live past fifteen?

And in addition, they had the additional worry. Two men, two gay men, raising a boy. Two black gay men. Or how about one gay, black agnostic male and one gay, black born-again Christian male, raising a white, jewish boy?

Oh yeah, he was well acquainted with worrying about Blair... not to mention Blair's eventual choice of a career. A career that could disable him or kill him in a the blink of an eye.

No, neither he nor Joel were strangers to worry.

But the idea of a possible relationship with the world's biggest box office star, the world's biggest "male" box office star, worried him like no worry before. Jim Ellison was a man whose career hinged on his very macho, very male image. So where would Blair fit in? How could Blair fit in? His face was almost as well known as Ellison's. It wasn't as if these two men could ever enjoy anonymity. What future could Blair hope to have with Ellison? Even an openly gay couple today, had difficulty showing overt displays of affection in public. The simple, physical public acts such as hand holding, hugging or kissing, that heterosexual couples enjoyed, were routinely denied to same sex couples.

The truth about the love he and Joel shared for each other was not a secret. But even he and Joel, in spite of their wealth, which yes, did protect them to a certain degree, were hobbled by the public mores and were forced to curtail public signs of affection. What chance did Blair have with Jim?

"You're a million miles away, love."

Simon turned in the pool chair as two strong hands came from behind and began to massage his tense shoulders.

"And you're tense. What's wrong?"

"Just indulging in some fatherly worrying."

"Ah, I thought so. Blair and Jim, right?"

"You saw it too?"

"Saw it, felt it and heard it. And I'm still amazed by the miracle of it."

Simon reached up to still the massaging hands and brought them down to clasp in his own.

"You're not worried about our straight Blair entering into a relationship with a famous actor?"

"No. Not at all. It'll work. I'm sure of it."

Simon cocked his head back to smile up into his husband's face.

"God, you're such an optimist. But the odds are against them. You must see that? Ellison can't afford our Blair."

"That's a strange thing to say, but I think I understand. Our Blair is a very open, very affectionate man and trying to imagine all that love having to be stifled... hidden. But I believe you're underestimating Jim Ellison."

"You think he'd give up his career for Blair?"

"Honestly? Yes, in a New York minute."

Simon could only shake his head in wonder. His Joel was one of the sweetest, gentlest men he'd ever known, but sometimes his naivete was just too much.

"Joel, Joel, Joel. What am I going to do with you?"

The man in question looked down and gave his best imitation of a truly wicked look, a look at direct odds with the otherwise happy countenance but a look that never failed to excite Simon and pulling his husband up, he said in his best purr, "Why don't you put yourself in my hands and let's find out what you can do to me?"

"You're really not worried about this? In any way?" Simon asked as he stood.

Joel enfolded his love in his arms and laughing gently in his ear he whispered, "No, I'm not. Have faith in our son, Simon, and have faith in my ability to get you to forget all about Blair and Jim Ellison."

How could Simon argue with that? If Joel had seen all that Simon had and wasn't worried, how could Simon do less?

"Where are they now?"

"Blair is showing him his pride and joy, now come upstairs and let me show you mine."

<><><>^^<><><>

"This is incredible."

Jim stood in the middle of what Blair called his "reading room", but in any major city in the United States, it would qualify as a major City Library.

There were two levels and in one corner was an almost hidden spiral staircase leading up to the second level. On his right was a small fireplace with two deep couches on either side and two large wingchairs opposite the fireplace. Other chairs were strategically placed about the room for maximum reading comfort.

Ellison began to move along the largest wall, perusing the titles while Blair stood by the fireplace, arm resting on the mantle, face alight at the joy he saw on the actor's face as he read the many and varied titles. "Simon and Joel have always been voracious readers and they passed the habit onto me. I lean toward Archeology and Anthropology, like the book you're looking at now, whereas Simon devours gruesome murder mysteries and Joel lives for Science Fiction. We also have a wonderful collection of First Editions upstairs."

"Strange combination, jockey and scholar." Jim noted as he leafed through the anthropology book in his hands.

"Don't forget perpetual student."

"Let me guess -- Anthropology?"

The laugh that filled the room at Jim's correct guess, also filled every corner of Jim's body, warming him, soothing him as no other sound had. Jim Ellison could be very sensitive to sounds, smells, even some materials. His eyes could be easily injured by bright lights and sunlight, and he sometimes wondered how he existed in his business. But the sound of Blair's voice, and now his laughter, was like a soothing balm on an inflamed wound, crawling inside him, calming him,, warming him. It was an experience he never wanted to relinquish.

"You're right. I do lean more toward Anthropology. Not sure why. I recently acquired a monograph by Sir Richard Burton and I can't leave it alone."

"I assume you mean the explorer?" Jim asked, his eyes sparkling with humor as he looked over at the younger man.

Blair chuckled, "Yes, somehow I can't quite picture Richard Burton the actor, writing such a book."

"What's so special about this monograph?"

"Well, it explores a special tribal...."

At that moment a green phone mounted next to the library door buzzed insistantly.

"That's the stables, something must be wrong." Blair gave an apologetic grimace and hurried to the phone as Ellison slid the book back into it's place and joined the younger man.

"...you're right, that doesn't sound like him. I'm on my way. No, no, let me check him out first... right."

Jim could feel the worry even before Blair faced him.

"I'm sorry, Jim. I've got to get down there, it's Little Stogie."

"I understand. I should be getting back to the set."

"I have a cart, we use it to get around Simon's little home when we're in a hurry," and he smiled before adding, "Let me drop you, it's faster and on the way."

Jim nodded and followed the man out. They went through a large, airy foyer, crossed into an elegant, formal dining room and finally into a sunroom where they exited through a slider out onto a carport, where two blue golf carts were parked. Blair waved him over to the second one and he slid in beside the jockey and quickly learned that golf carts could go over five miles per hour as Blair "peeled" out of the car port.

He negotiated the twists and turns of the gravel path like a racecar pro, but that didn't stop Ellison from holding on for dear life. The path they were traveling down cut roughly through the center of Simon's property. The house was now on their left, the track on the right, below them and the stable above the track, the fields and pastures, behind that. Jim could see that the path continued on, to eventually meet the main highway as well as branching out in another direction, a direction away from the house, away from the stables. Jim found himself curious about its ultimate destination, as it disappeared into a huge stand of evergreens, but in the face of Blair's very evident worry, he refrained from asking and instead, filed the question in his own, personal, "ask later" file. A file that now held such questions as, "Would Blair go out with me if I asked?" or, "What would Blair's hair feel like, flowing through ultra-sensitive fingers?" or his current favorite question, "How would this incredible man taste? His skin? That beautiful neck? Those lips? And God, that mouth?" He desperately wanted to find out, to have this man beneath him, no clothes hampering his exploration, his hands and mouth free to caress, free to taste. And how would he sound? How would his low moans of pleasure sound to Jim's ears? That body, writhing below his, head moving from side to side, and finally thrown back as Jim brought him to the pinnacle time and again, only to bring him back down and start over... and the sound of his name, moaned in the agony of pleasure, how would that sound?

The cart had stopped.

Jim brought himself back with a jerk as he realized Blair was addressing him.

"...as I know anything, I mean, I'd like to...."

Jim slipped out of the cart and smiled at the embarrassed man, which was ridiculous. If any one should be embarrassed at the moment, it should be Jim. But he was nothing if not a great actor.

"Me too. Whichever of us finishes first?"

Blair smiled in relief. "Yes, whichever of us finishes first." He stuck out his hand and once again Jim grasped the hand, as two pairs of blue eyes locked once again, but this time, a question was asked, truth was acknowledged and a shy answer was given. Jim again held the hand longer than strictly necessary, but he was loathe to release, to break the connection. But eventually, he had to and as Blair's hand slipped out of his, Jim stepped back and reluctantly, the cart moved off.

Ellison stood, not moving, just looking down at his hand, feeling the energy that had passed through it, feeling the power moving up his body, a small piece of Blair's energy, warming and soothing as the man himself had done all afternoon.

Ellison moved toward the lights, the cameras and the action.

~!**?><?**!~

Even before he pulled the cart alongside the stall, Blair could hear Little Stogie. Shutting off the mobile wonder, he jumped out and hurried inside.

They'd segregated the horse when his fidgeting, neighing, pawing and kicking had begun to affect the other horses and now three men, Carl, Wil and GM were trying to soothe the horse, holding him taut with leads. GM was trying to get close, to check Little Stogie's eyes as all three talked and coo'ed softly, trying desperately to placate the animal, but nothing was working.

Blair stood just inside, watching. And he remained there for several minutes, not out of fear or because he didn't know what to do, but rather to observe.

Little Stogie's eyes weren't wild, no whites showing and fine tremors ran through the horse every few seconds. His coat was dark with moisture and every minute or so, he would shake his head and neck, as if shaking something bothersome. And the pitiful neighing wasn't a result of fear or panic, but rather pain.

"Okay, guys, back all the way to the end of your leads."

Anywhere else, any other stable, with anyone else, the men wouldn't have obeyed, would have thought the suggestion insane, suicidal even, knowing that if they loosened their leads, if they freed the horse enough, it would lash out, injuring itself and maybe injure or kill the young man now standing at Little Stogie's head, just a mere foot away. But they weren't anywhere else and this wasn't just anybody, this was Blair, so they did as instructed and did it with complete faith in the young man.

As each man slowly played out their lines, Blair began to talk, his eyes locked on the painfilled eyes of Little Stogie's.

"It's okay, listen to me, I'll fix it, ssh, it's okay, quiet now, watch me baby, watch me."

The words weren't unique, but the voice, the tone... even the three men had to be on their toes, or they'd find themselves relaxing too much... falling victim to the cadence, the honeycoated tone...

"That's it, baby... quiet down, let me touch you. I'll find it, I'll fix it, take the pain away, baby. Blair will take the pain away, let me hold you, let me touch you... sush, let me make it better...."

The quivering animal watched, ears up, listening. And slowly the legs stilled, the pawing stopped. Only the head and tail moved, the tail switching in anticipation, the head moving up and down, as if to say, "Yes, hurry, make it better."

Slowly, the beautiful head arched forward, muzzle straining toward the healing hand that was now being held out, and the three men watched, in amazement as always and as always, held their breaths.

Blair's hand finally rested on Little Stogie's muzzle, then he moved in slowly, to stand by the head, still talking, almost purring, his words quiet and soothing as his hands began a gentle exploration. They moved down each leg, then up and down the neck, the voice continuing, calming, the hands moved down each flank, searching... and finally up into the reddish, brown mane, fingers raking, probing and at a jerk from Little Stogie, finally finding.

"GM, you can drop your lead, I need the pinchers."

The man didn't hesitate. He slowly dropped the line, turned and reaching over the low stall, he plucked a pair of what looked like curved plyers off their peg and carefully handed them over the horse to Blair.

"Okay, baby, daddy's going to make it better, just a few more minutes, be still for me, almost there...." And as Blair worked, GM got a bottle from a nearby shelf, opened it and grabbed a couple of pads and stood ready.

Finally, "Got it! Okay, guys, you can all drop your lines and Carl, go ahead and carefully pull them off."

The men did their job and the lines were removed and rewound with Little Stogie still quivering at each move. Blair held out his hand to GM, "Trade you? And put this in a plastic bag for me?" GM nodded, took the pinchers and handed over the bottle and pads. Blair poured some of the liquid onto a pad and began to apply it gently to the site of the extraction.

The bottle contained a natural mixture of herbs that would both soothe and protect the puncture as well as act as an antiseptic and was one of many "Blairconcoctions" used at Bank's Folly.

He continued to gently pat and wipe and after a few moments the horse was completely still, head bent low with relieved exhaustion.

Blair handed the bottle and pads back to GM, gave Little Stogie some final, loving strokes, followed by a kiss on his jaw and let the others take over.

"Carl, you know the drill."

"Yeah, boss. Every thirty minutes for the next four hours. Don't worry, I'm on it."

"Never worried. Great job, guys. Thanks."

They nodded, pleased and promptly went about the task of cleaning up as Carl got more pads. It would be his job to continue to reapply the antiseptic for the next few hours.

GM followed Blair into the small workroom where the bag now lay, innocent of itself, on the worktable that took up most of the space. Blair lifted the bag to give the item a closer inspection. A thorn. A simple thorn. Large, true, but still... a thorn. A thorn from a bush you'd have to travel over fifty miles to find. A thorn Blair had found wedged under the skin, hidden by a thick mane, and in a particularily sensitive spot. A spot where normal movement would slowly aggravate the location until it escalated, driving the horse into a frenzy, driving the animal wild. If this had happened anywhere else, the fate of the horse would have been bleak indeed.

"Blair? You think'in what I am?" GM asked, as he watched the young man.

"No doubt. You know what to do."

"Yep. Me, Carl, Wil and Blade will take shifts. No one prepares his food, no one feeds him, or cares for him or sees him but us."

"I'll go back up to the house, let Simon know. Operation Lockdown. He'll love it."

"Blair, I see two problems here."

Blair had started to leave, but at GM's concerned tone, he turned back.

"What?"

"The movie crew, for starters."

"Fuck. Okay, we can handle this, I mean, they're scheduled for only the track and the main house, should be able to keep them away."

"Nuh, uh, Boss. Three were already here earlier, before the problem with Little Stogie. Said they would be shooting down here and were looking for 'angles.' ...leastwise, that's what they said."

A frown creased the handsome face as Blair wiped a hand over his jaw.

"Okay, I'll check into it. You said two problems?"

"Yeah, Boss. You. If Little Stogie can't be taken out of the race, if they can't get to him... they'll go after the rider. You. We both know Barnes is responsible for this. He's tired of losing to you and he's not real happy 'bout his daughter either. You've got a powerful enemy there."

"GM, I don't doubt for a minute that Alex Barnes would hurt or kill Little Stogie, or anything else he could come up with to turn the odds in his favor for Saturday, but even he would stop at hurting people."

"Just the same..."

"Just the same, you guys will be watching me. Right?"

GM scratched his head, fingers moving through short, greying bristles,

"Well, yeah, that about says it." And he grinned before adding, "Simon 'n Joel wouldn't have it any other way."

Blair shook his head and moved out, bag in hand. He didn't hear GM's parting words, "And neither would we."

<><>^^<><>

"...so there it is." Blair sat at the kitchen table, Joel and Simon on either side, the plastic bag on the table in front of them.

"You're sure that thing couldn't have made it's way under Little Stogie's skin by accident? Maybe while out this morning?" Joel queried.

"I'm sure. Besides the fact that this thorn is from a bush found over fifty miles from here, there's the fact that I did Little Stogie's rub down this morning and there was no thorn."

"So. Someone tried to hurt Little Stogie on purpose. We know it isn't any of our people..."

"Because our people know Blair and they know Blair would have figured it out, no problem." Joel finished for Simon.

"So. The movie crew." Simon added.

Joel shook his head, "Not necessarily. With the amount of strangers on the property, anyone could have slipped in and done this. Who would have known?"

"Don't think so, Joel. David has his own security. Seems Ellison was stalked by a dangerous fan a while back and it's in his contract. Security. Good security. Add that to our own and you've got a pretty good bet that it's one of the crew."

"Simon, didn't you tell me that the crew would only be shooting at the track and the house?" Blair asked.

"Yes. That's the agreement."

Blair quickly filled them both in on GM's information about the three crewmembers down at the stables earlier.

Simon was clearly surprised. "No! Track and house, that's it. There must be a mistake. David wouldn't make a change like that. No need. If he needed stables, he could use the ones at the track. Look, I have his schedule here, someplace." And he pushed back his chair, walked over to the side cabinet where he kept bills and mail, rummaged and finally pulled out a stapled sheaf of blue papers. He brought them over to the table and let them flutter down to the middle of the formica surface.

"NO stable shots. None."

Blair picked up the papers, folded them, stood and as he stuck them into his back pocket he told the two men, "So. I guess I'll just amble on down there and check it out."

"Blair, you could be...."

"Don't worry, Pops, the guys are taking good care of me." He grinned wickedly and patted the top of Simon's head as Joel laughed outright.

"Have I ever told you that I hate it when you finish my sentences?"

"Yep." And he was gone, the screen from the back door banging shut behind him.

Joel looked at his husband and grinned, "Little anxious there? To rush down and "check out" the crew? Like, maybe, check out Ellison?"

"Joel, so help me...."

<><>^^<><>

Blair stood unobtrusively on the sidelines, watching as Jim shot his scene. It was supposedly a crucial scene, where Jim's character was supposed to realize who the bad guy really was.

As Blair stood there, he marveled at what had happened just a few hours earlier. He was twenty-five and had been struck by lightening. And it hadn't hurt a bit. Love. Just like that. A snap of his fingers. Oh, yeah, he had it bad, and had every intention of keeping it. The moment he'd turned and gazed into those pale blue eyes, he'd known. And when they'd touched? He'd become whole. He couldn't explain it any other way. He hadn't even known he'd been missing a part of himself until the second their hands had touched and Jim Ellison had slipped into his heart.

But there'd been something else. Apart from the attraction, apart from the completion he'd felt. A different connection, seperate, unrelated, but there. He couldn't yet define it, but he knew that even if the love, the wholeness hadn't been there, this other connection would have. So? Two for the price of one?

Oddly enough, at no time in his ruminations did Blair give a single thought to the fact that he'd fallen in love with a man. It simply didn't occur to him that falling for a man was an issue, or weird or out of character for him. It just was.

His thoughts were interrupted by Jim's voice and the heat of the older man's hand, resting lightly on his shoulder.

"So, you finished first. Little Stogie okay?"

Blair looked up and saw the genuine concern in the cornflower blues. He nodded and smiled, "Yep. Everything is fine. We race on Saturday."

"Well, Tom just called today's shoot a closer. So, I'm free." There was a question in his voice, and Blair was hesitant to pursue it, given what he was about to ask of Jim.

"Is there somewhere private we could talk?"

Jim was puzzled, but nodded, "Sure, we can go over to my trailer, follow me."

He led them to row of RV's, one of which with his name on the door. He unlocked it and invited Blair in.

"God."

It was all the younger man could say. He was used to wealth, but it was confined to his life as a jockey. He didn't frequent fancy hotels when traveling for races, prefering instead to stay with his horses, in his own trailer. But while nice, it couldn't be compared to the opulence he was faced with now. It would be like comparing an outhouse to a mansion.

"I... you... this is not what I pictured, I mean, not you."

"It isn't. But it's expected." At the raised eyebrow, he continued, "This business is about power. The more power, the more freedom. I would never choose this, but I'm expected to have it. If I don't demand it, my bankability quotient goes down. Sounds weird, I know, but there it is. I actually have demands put into my contract, because it's expected of a big star. Here, look at this." He walked over to the refrigerator and opened the freezer to reveal carton after carton of Ben and Jerry's Ice cream.

"Because I once said I liked this product, I now have to demand it's delivery when I'm on a shoot." He gave a huge grin, "And of course, I do like it and the people in this business do tend to do things in a big way."

Blair could only shake his head, his own smile mirroring Ellison's.

"So, sit and tell me why you needed privacy on your own ranch."

They took seats in the comfortable wingchairs and Blair filled him in on the happenings and conclusions of the afternoon.

"So you see, it could be really helpful if I could talk to David or the individual responsible for these things."

Jim got up, went to the phone on the wall and dialed. A moment later, "Jake? Is Paul still around? Yeah, I need to see him, it's important. Thanks." He replaced the phone in the cradle and returned to Blair.

"It's all set. Paul will be here in a few. He's the man who sets up the shoots and prints out our schedules. If there's been a change, it would have to go through him."

"But you're not aware of any?"

"No, I've received no changes, but that isn't unusual. We can get them ten minutes ahead of time. We're at the mercy of weather, lighting, you name it. Not to mention the whimsy of directors."

A tentative knock forstalled any further discussion as Jim opened the door to admit a tall, rangy man of about forty.

"Paul, this is Blair Sandburg. Blair, Paul Sawyer."

The two men shook and Paul's eyes lit up in recognition.

"Mr. Sandburg, it's a real pleasure to meet you, I'm counting on you to win this weekend."

"It's Blair, and I plan to."

"Paul, were there any shooting schedule changes?" Jim asked.

"Well, I did receive a memo from David stating that we'd be shooting down at the stables tomorrow. That surprised me, but I sent Boothe and a couple of lighters down earlier to check it out."

"I haven't received the changes yet?"

"No, I don't have approval. The information is sitting on David's desk in his trailer. Is there a problem?"

"I don't know yet. Can you get the names of the two men Boothe took with him? It could be important."

"Will do. Anything else?"

"No, that should do it. And thanks."

"My pleasure and it was great meeting you, Blair. I've got money on you and Little Stogie, but no pressure, you understand?" He grinned as he headed out the door.

"Hey, no pressure. How much?"

"Five bucks." And as he closed the door he laughed uproariously.

The two men looked at each other and burst into unrestrained laughter themselves.

"Well." Jim said, as they finally controlled themselves.

"Yes. Well. Um, Jim? I've been meaning to ask, uh, there's a party tomorrow night, it's a tradition, for the Cascade Aspen Sweepstakes, kind of a ball, actually. Thought maybe you'd like to go?"

//Well, that took care of asking Blair on a date, I do believe he just asked me//

"As my guest?"

"I'd like that." But before anything else could be said, the phone rang.

"Yeah? You're sure? You talked with David? And this Tony guy is gone? No, I'll talk with David myself later. Do me a favor, find out everything you can on this Tony and do it quietly, okay? Yeah, and thanks Paul."

He turned to Blair, "Well you heard. But to fill in the blanks, David never did a memo to Paul about changing the shoot and one of the men who was down at the stables with Boothe has disappeared. And he was seperated from Boothe for several minutes."

"Can't say that I'm surprised."

"What happens now?"

"We have procedures in place to protect Little Stogie, this isn't new to racing."

"What about procedures in place to protect the rider?"

"Go to your window. You'll probably see tough old geezer standing a few feet away from the trailer."

Jim twisted his head and peered out the side window and sure enough, someone who looked like every western character actor ever to grace the screen stood nonchalantly against a fence, and damn if he was wittling too.

"Well, I'll be damned. He's your protection?"

"Yes, I won't be alone until the race is over." Then Blair walked over to the window, looked out, whistled and turned back to Jim.

"Uh, Jim? Just how did you see him from there?"

"What do you mean?"

Jim, no one could have seen as far you evidently did. I can see GM from this window, but certainly not from where you're standing."

"I just looked. That's all. No big deal."

It is a big deal. I have excellent eyesight, but no way could I have seen as far as you just did. What's your secret?"

"Blair, I'm serious, I don't know what to say. I looked."

Blair turned away from Jim and walked back to the window.

"Why don't you check for yourself?" Jim asked with a smile.

Blair whirled back to face the actor, his face ecstatic. "YOU HEARD ME!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I just whispered to you... I said only Superman could have seen that far and were you hiding an 'S' under that shirt... and -- you heard me.

"Jim, you heard me whisper where you couldn't possibly have and you saw GM from a spot you shouldn't have."

Blair walked over to the taller man, stopping just in front of him.

"Can you hear my heartbeat right now?"

"Don't be silly. No one could. Not without assistance."

"But you heard my whisper. Go on, try. Concentrate."

Jim stepped back, shaking his head. "I... don't need to... damn, yes. I can hear it, if I choose to."

Wonder suffused Blair's face. "My God. You're a Sentinel. A real Sentinel."

"What are you talking about? Sentinel?"

Blair reached out and grabbed Jim's arm excitedly, "That book I was telling you about, Sir Richard Burton's? It talked about a tribal guardian, a guardian with very powerful senses, heightened if you will. Jim, what about touch? Taste?"

"Touch? Taste? Blair, this is real interesting, but you're not talking about me.Yeah, I heard you, so? Yes, I can be bothered by lights, sounds even some materials used to drive me crazy...."

Blair interrupted, "Used to? You can control them now?"

"No, not exactly. I use... I take...."

"Aw, Jim. You take medication? To dull your senses, your nerves?"

"It's the only way, I'd go crazy otherwise."

"When. When was the last time you took anything?"

Jim thought back and was amazed to discover that he'd needed nothing since that morning.

"I took the last pill at about five am. I haven't -- needed anything since, in fact, I've never felt better."

"And this is unusual?"

Jim nodded, "Yeah. I usually have to take three or four a day. Especially when shooting."

"This is so cool, Jim. But maybe you do have control and you just didn't know it because of the meds?"

Jim looked down into the beautiful, animated face below him. No, it wasn't the meds.

"Blair, it's you. I don't have control, but somehow, since meeting you... I mean, when I first touched you, when we first shook hands... I felt everything about you and yet my senses didn't run wild. No pain, no headache, just -- you. But the feeling was... different, not part of the attraction."

Blair blinked several times as he processed what Jim had just told him. And what it boiled down to was that Jim had experienced the same connection Blair had. Both connections.

"Jim. I.... God, this is unbelievable. In Burton's book, he says that each guardian had a partner, someone who watched their back, protected them, helped."

Jim's hand came up and rested on top of the hand still clasping his arm.

"You."

"I don't know, Jim. I just don't know."

"I do. I know."

They looked at each other, eyes taking is so much, both feeling so much.

Finally, Jim spoke.

"Blair, I don't really understand this, but I do know that I trust you like no other. And that trust is not related to how I feel, I mean it's not connected to the...."

"Attraction?" Blair whispered.

"Yeah. The attraction. They're...."

"Separate?"

"Yes. Seperate. And do you always finish other people's sentences?"

"No. Except Simon. And Joel. And now...."

"Me?" Jim laughed and at Blair's happy nod, he added, "Well, at least I'm in good company."

"So, what does this mean? Where do we go next, Blair?"

"I don't know. But, well... I'd like to show you something. Do you have some time?"

"For you? All the time in the world. Not to sound trite or anything."

"Do you have swim trunks here?"

Puzzled, Jim nodded.

"Well, go get 'em. Where we're going, you'll want them."

Jim disappeared into what must be a bedroom and came back out a few minutes later with a small duffel bag. "Okay, I'm ready. Lead on McDuff."

<><>^^^<><>

Before Blair drove them off, he stopped to talk to the man he'd called "GM". Jim couldn't help but listen in, so attuned was he to Blair, and he couldn't help but smile as he heard him tell the older man, "No, you're not to follow." And "I'll be perfectly safe. Don't worry." He must have convinced him because GM shrugged his shoulders and Blair rejoined Jim, climbed into the cart and once again Jim found himself on the track at Le Mans and wondered vaguely if this was a trait of all jockeys.

Several minutes later Jim wasn't surprised to see Blair steer the cart in the direction of the path he'd wondered about earlier.

"I noticed this section of road this morning. Where exactly...."

"To the Pond. It's sort of a special place of mine. You've noticed our creek?" And at Jim's nod, "Well, the creek widens into a kind of pond. There's a small waterfall, it's cool and peaceful, the perfect spot to check out your senses."

If Jim was disappointed that his senses were all that Blair was interested in "checking out," he hid it well.

They entered the forest and with the foliage and resultant shade, the temperature cooled considerably. Blair dropped the speed of the cart, allowing Jim to take in all the splendor around him.

They rode quietly for several more minutes, Jim allowing the peace of his surroundings and the presence of the man next to him, to lull him into an almost hynotic state. But eventually, Blair brought the cart to a stop.

"We hoof it from here. But it's not far."

They climbed out and Jim followed Blair's lead. He heard the water long before they reached it, but reach it they did and Jim froze at the beauty before him. Paradise. The only possible word.

The stream widened as promised, the evergreens, rising tall around them. The small waterfall was on the other side, where the banks rose and jutted out, a part of the stream breaking off, running up and over the rocks, spilling back down into the pond. Sunlight streamed in, lighting the "glen" in streaks, playing across the water, and as he turned in a circle, taking it all in, his eyes lighted on Blair, standing in one of the golden streaks, looking at him, enjoying his response to this special place. And he found something even more beautiful than this spot. He found Blair.

"Swim first, senses last. Last one in?" Blair challenged.

"You're on." And he looked around for a place to change. The rustle of clothing brought his attention back to Blair who had already toed off his shoes and socks and was now pulling his sweater up and over his head. Jim froze. Blair tossed the sweater to the ground, unsnapped his jeans, pulled down the zipper then slipped them down over his hips and shucked them several feet away. As he grabbed the tie holding his hair back he turned to Jim.

"Uh, Jim? You're still dressed, man."

But Jim had lost the ability to verbalize. He could only continue to stare. Blair Sandburg with clothes on, was spectacular, but in nothing but navy blue briefs? And he was completely unaware of his effect.

That he was slender was a given. He was a jockey and weight had to be a constant consideration, not unlike Jim's field. But what Jim hadn't been expecting were the lean muscles, the powerful legs, the strong arms and hands. He should have been. After all, it took great mental and physical strength to control an animal weighing several hundred pounds.

His eyes were drawn to the younger man's neck, to the hair that had been tantalizing him all afternoon, and he followed it down to the mass of chest hair that spread out, soft and appealing, across the expanse of compact muscle, and he let his eyes move slowly down Blair's torso, but a glint stopped his travels and brought his eyes back up and he focused on the shiny object. A brown nub with a gold ring threaded through it, nestled in the brown curls. A nipple ring. A small moan escaped his lips as his hands began to tear at his shirt, and he gave not a single thought to the fact that the shirt belonged to the studio as he ripped it off....

Blair turned and made a dash for the water and as his feet hit the edge, he gave a graceful and practised dive, his body hitting the water, cutting it smoothly, almost without a splash. His body disappeared as Jim's fingers, now frantic and clumsy, tugged on his zipper, roughly pushing down the studio owned Armani slacks, and as Blair's head finally popped up, half way across the pond, Jim lost his balance and toppled over, slacks twisted around his ankles.

Blair pushed the hair back with both hands and and ran his right han over his face to wipe the water out his eyes. And as he found Jim, he couldn't hold back the delighted laughter.

Jim, was now red-faced and sweating, and he shot a disgusted look at Sandburg, but when he saw the affection in Blair's eyes, noted that the laughter was gentle, he sat back, resting on his hands and let his own mirth mingle with Blair's.

Finally Blair couldn't resist and in his best biker imitation, he asked,

"Hey gorgeous, need some help with that?"

Jim's eyes widened and he promptly fell back, his laughter uncontrollable.

"Gee, and I thought that was my sexiest voice. Damn, guess I'm going to have...." He stopped as Jim was now standing, sans Armani and boxers and with a very wicked leer, dove in and swam directly for Sandburg, who with an, "uh, oh," dove backward and swam for the waterfall and the rocks.

Blair was faster but Jim was taller. He caught him easily as one hand found a kicking foot and he grabbed hold and pulled. As the struggling, laughing body was reeled in, Jim's hand moved up, capturing a leg and his left hand found purchase with one hip and he pulled harder, bringing Blair up. Jim changed tactics by bringing his arms around Blair's waist and tugged him close. They were now back to chest, legs kicking slowly beneath the water, keeping them afloat.

Jim Ellison wanted this man like he'd never wanted anything or anyone before. As a major star, even one with his business savvy, judgement and knowledge of how fickle his business could be, he was still, first and foremost -- a star. A man used to getting what he wanted, on demand if he so chose. But the man in his arms was not some extra, looking to make a name by bedding Jim Ellison, and he certainly wasn't the best table at the best restaurant, or front row center seats or the Presidential Suite at the Pennisula Hotel. What he was, was everything Jim Ellison had ever wanted.

Ellison brought up his right hand and gently moved aside heavy, wet curls to expose the strong neck. He lowered his head and kissed Blair just below his ear. A mild shudder ran through the younger man's body, his eyes closed and his head tilted back and slightly to his left, giving Jim better access. Ellison used his considerable strength to keep Blair plastered to his chest and his own body reacted as Blair's ass came into contact with his hard cock. As his mouth moved up to nibble at Blair's right ear, he ducked his hand back underwater and starting at Blair's navel, he traveled up, fingers caressing and tweaking the silky curls until he reached his ultimate destination -- the nipple ring.

He fingered it gently as his tongue made quick darts in and out of Blair's ear, and he was rewarded by Blair's arched back and a low moan emanating from deep within Blair's chest.

Jim locked one leg around Blair's, forcing them to kick fast and hard with their other legs and this movement forced a natural thrusting of Jim's hips, so that his cock continually jabbed the lycra clad ass. Each thrust, each lick of Jim's tongue brought forth more moans, each deeper and more gutteral than the last. Jim began to kick even harder, while at the same time, giving the nipple ring a sharp tweak and was rewarded with Blair thrusting back so hard, he nearly came up and out of the water, Jim's name groaned out.

For a moment, Jim deserted the nipple ring to remove the last remaining barrier between them -- Blair's briefs. Fingers grappled with and finally pulled, legs momentarily untwined and the navy briefs were floating a few feet in front of them.

Jim rewrapped his leg, while his right hand went back to the nipple ring, deliberately brushing Blair's now straining and hard cock. They began to kick again, and now Jim could feel Blair's ass, and desire and his own body took over.

As Blair's moans increased, Jim tightened his hold around Blair's waist, pulling hard and his cock pressed against Blair's entrance, then began to slide in, not anticipating any resistance, and surprised when he encountered it, surprised when Blair tensed, but a quick tug on the nipple ring and Blair thrust back hard and Jim felt himself moving in now, and the kicking quickened, the natural thrusting moving him in... out... in... out... and when, after hefting Blair up a bit, his cock struck Blair's prostrate, Jim knew Blair was close.

Blair's head was thrown back, eyes closed, hands wrapped around Jim's hips. Ellison's eyes fastened on the vulnerable neck, on that one soft spot and his mouth closed down, his fingers rubbing and tugging sharply at the gold band and his teeth found soft flesh and as Blair's moans intensified, he bit down and Blair literally screamed out as his whole body shuddered and nearly jerked out of Jim's grasp, but he held fast and as Blair came hard, Jim gave one last, forceful kick that buried his cock at its deepest and with Blair's name springing forth... he came.

<><>^^^<><>

They floated, exhausted limbs barely moving under the water. Blair's head was resting on Jim's shoulder, as the older man's hand stroked absently down one slender thigh.

Jim roused himself and whispered, "We'd better head for shore, before we drown." A deep chuckle from Blair and then, "Drowning by post orgasmic lethargy -- cool."

Blair reluctantly pulled away and they swam lazily back to the grassy bank, walked out and collapsed on the grass.

After several minutes, Blair flipped over on his back and looked at the man next to him. Jim's eyes were closed and for the first time, Blair could get his fill of the man who'd just "taken him". And it was strange. On two levels. One -- he was looking at a living, breathing James Ellison, whose incredible looks were even more powerfully erotic than on screen, whose dark lashes were even darker and thicker in person, whose pale blue eyes held depths the screen could only hint at.

On the second level, was that his body, his very masculine body, excited Blair, in ways he'd never experienced. Jim Ellison was beautiful and for the first time in a long time, Blair Sandburg felt inadequate.

He felt his throat constrict and he tentatively reached out a hand to touch the half smiling lips.... God, they hadn't even kissed yet.

His fingers were about to touch, when those eyes opened and Jim's smile widened and Blair couldn't stop the words as he breathed out, "I love you, James."

The smile reached Jim's eyes then, but Blair didn see it, his own eyes were focused on those lips, waiting for the words to come back to him. But instead, Jim reached out and pulled Blair toward him and they finally did kiss, deep, aggresive, tongues entwining, then Jim gaining dominance as he rolled over to straddle Blair, but the kiss remained his focus as another question was answered -- how would Blair taste? And he discovered just how magical was the taste of Blair and for the first time in three years, he thanked the gods above for his senses.

They finally parted with Blair dropping his head so that his forehead rested against Jim's chin and he breathed out, low and quiet and almost reverantly, "God, you're incredible. I didn't know it could be like this, Jim. The feeling of you inside me.... I didn't know, couldn't know anything could feel so good, could feel like that.... God, I love you."

Jim stiffened, his breath catching at Blair's words and he remembered the resistance, the tensing and he lifted himself up, pulling away, avoiding Blair's eyes, afraid of what he'd find.

"Jim?" Blair asked, suddenly worried.

"You, you're, I mean, surely you've...." But he couldn't finish. He sat back on his heels as Blair now sat up, puzzled.

"Jim, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Shit. You've never, that was your first time, wasn't it? You're a virgin."

Blair couldn't help it -- he laughed.

"I'm hardly a virgin, Jim."

"Have you ever had anal sex before today?" He asked tersely.

"Okay, no, but come on...."

"That makes you a virgin. Jesus, Blair, I could have hurt you... you should have told me, Jesus Christ."

"Look, it didn't occur to me... I mean,"

Suddenly another thought struck Jim and lurched to his feet, interrupting Blair's words.

"You've never even been with a man, have you?"

The anger in Jim's voice drove Blair to his feet.

"Jim, what's going on here? Why...."

"Answer me. You've never been with a man before, right?"

"No, not before today, why is that...."

"FUCK!' Jim didn't let Blair finish again, instead he frantically searched for his clothes and moved hastily around Blair, and grabbing up shirt and slacks, he began to dress.

Blair could only stand there.

He'd said it too soon. That's what was really wrong. He'd said it.

Blair knelt down and picked up his clothes, slipped his sweater over his head, pulled on his jeans and for the first time, felt an unaccustomed soreness. Jim turned at his hiss of discomfort, so Blair stifled himself against the pain, put on his tennis shoes and violently stuffed his socks into a back pocket. eager now to be anywhere but here, feeling the connection between them waver and shatter and he bit down hard on his lip, to keep from crying out in pain, all because he'd said too much, too soon.

Silenly both men went back to the cart, slipped in and Blair drove them back to the trailers, never once looking at the angry man beside him.

When he finally pulled up alongside the trailer, Jim climbed out and without a backward glance, strode into his trailer.

Blair turned the cart around and headed for the stables, desperately needing to ride.

<><>^^^<><>

Jim stepped inside and as the door shut behind him, he leaned back and closing his eyes, he let the shaking he'd been so desperately controlling, take over.

God, he hadn't known. It had never occured to him that Blair had never.... Jesus. He could have hurt him, seriously hurt him... he hadn't even tried to control himself.... Thank God they'd been in the water. He never would have, never... but God, oh, dear God.

<><>^^^<><>

Blair saddled Incacha, mounted up, wincing again, and rode out. GM had come around a corner, having followed the two men and now stood next to Wil. They both saw something in Blair, something that they hadn't seen in a long time. Deep hurt and self directed anger.

"GM, you'd better mount up."

GM spit out a wad of tabacco and nodded. Ten minutes later he rode out after his boss.

<><>^^^<><>

Incacha was a huge, powerful horse, and when given his lead, he ran fast, with deep, long strides. It took all of Blair's strength, stamina and concentration to stay with this horse. Incacha was an Arabian, acquired two years ago by Blair when told the horse could not be broken. But the moment he'd gazed on the sleek, midnight black, heavily muscled and headstrong horse, he knew that Incacha represented all that Blair loved about riding.

Some believed that you had to break a horse to tame him, Blair wasn't among those. He didn't even believe in "taming" a horse, rather that riding was a union of sorts, man and beast, together, challenging each other's strength and spirit, and finally merging into one powerful, free, traveling entity.

Which was exactly what he needed now. No thoughts, no memories, just power between his legs, the sound of Incacha's breathing matching his own, his hands, strong and firm on the reins, knees dug in, head low as they raced across the expanse of Bank's Folly, charging through trees, leaping long and easily over any obstacle, galloping over open fields, the wind whipping his hair, burning his face, so that he couldn't feel the hot tears of shame and hurt and loss.

Blair didn't hear the shot. But GM did and so did Incacha. The bullet struck inches from the horse's head and Incacha reared up in panic.

Blair should have been able to control the animal, had his concentration been where it belonged, but it wasn't and Blair's hands had eased up and when the great beast reared, Blair was thrown. He hit the ground and lay still.

GM knew Blair. Knew what he would do, where he'd ride. He cut across the meadow in hopes of intercepting the young man. As he topped a small rise, he spotted horse and man, racing hard through a stand of oaks.

Just as GM started down there was the loud crack of a rifle, Incacha reared back and to GM's horror, Blair was thrown.

Even as he raced to Blair's side, his eyes were scanning the area and a whirl of dust to his right alerted him to a jeep, speeding away.

GM reached Blair, dismounted and ran to his side, heart in his throat, afraid of what he would find. As he dropped beside the prone man, Blair was already moaning, moving and trying to sit up. GM put out a restraining hand.

"Not so fast, Boss. You know the drill. Let me check you out first."

Hands began to carefully probe, checking for broken bones, all to a constant litany of, "I'm fine, stop that, nothing's broken, just got the breath knocked out of me, GM, I'm fine, just let me get up." But GM continued to probe, pushing at Blair's hands as they tried to swat his away. Eventually, Blair did what he always did -- he gave up and let the stubborn man do his job, but not without his usual expletive, this time choosing "Fuck".

"Nasty cut there on your arm and another one here," he gently touched Blair's temple, "Stay put while I get some water to clean these up a bit."

"Gee, may I sit up, oh great master?"

GM snorted, used to his charge's hate of being coddled. But he did help Blair sit and then scooted him over to a nearby tree where he propped him up. Coming back a few moments later, he began to rinse the cuts as Incacha, reins dragging on the ground, ambled over and began to nuzzle in Blair's hair.

"What spooked us, baby? Uh? What rattled our chain?" Blair coo'ed.

"No big deal, Boss. Just someone trying to shoot you."

Blair's head swiveled around, "WHAT!"

"Rifle shot. Best I could tell, just missed you and Incacha."

"I didn't... I didn't hear anything."

GM kept his head down, concentrating on the task at hand and kept his voice neutral as he answered, "S'pect your mind was elsewhere, which is why 'Cha got the best of you. Not the best way for you to be riding."

"It could have been an accident." Blair answered peevishly.

"Umph."

They were silent as GM finished up. Finally, "That'll hold you til we get you back. You feel up to riding?"

"Hell, yeah. I bounced, didn't I?"

"Why yes, I believe you bounced a good three times."

"What? Only three? I'm getting old."

"Well, I'd have to agree, you could get a good five or six bounces when you were maybe nineteen. But age has a way of slowing those bounces. Take it from me. I don't hardly bounce at all anymore. Just drop like a lead balloon."

As GM talked, he helped Blair up, but the world chose that moment to tilt on it's axis and the younger man swayed and fell heavily against GM.

"Okay, maybe not. Let's get you back down."

"Did you feel that? The world just tipped."

GM raised one bushy, expressive eyebrow, "Yeah, it was the world. All the world's fault." The ranch hand reached into his back pocket and pulled out a slim cell phone. Flipping it open he hit a number and seconds later,

"Wil? Yeah, I found him. No, he's not. Someone took a potshot at him and he went down. Send the wagon and call Doc James. Yeah, let 'em know. They'll want to come. And call the sheriff."

He tucked the phone back into his pocket and lowered the two of them back to the ground.

Blair's head went back, resting against the tree trunk and he closed his eyes, willing the dizziness to go away.

"You want to talk about it?" GM asked gently.

Blair's eyes flew open and matching pairs of blue orbs studied each other. One, sympathetic, the other, uncertain. Finally, Blair turned away.

"Nothing to talk about."

"Don't think so, Boss. I followed you two." At Blair's panic, he added,

"Now don't get yourself all in a dither. When I saw the way things were going, I hightailed it outta there, gave you some privacy, but when you drove out, like the devil hisself was chasing you... knew something went wrong 'tween you two. I'm willing to listen," he encouraged. He plucked a piece of grass, stuck it between his teeth and waited.

"Shit. I, oh, hell. He went crazy. Just because, because...." he looked away, feeling ridiculous. He was twenty-five, he'd been around the block and here he was, feeling like a idiot. A juvenile idiot.

"I... it was, you know... first time... with a, shit, Fuck!" He ended, now thoroughly embarrased.

"He didn't know." GM finished for him and Blair nodded miserably.

GM had to give this one some thought. The young man sitting next to him meant more to GM than any other living being, for reasons of his own, and he wanted, needed to make sure his words were right.

"Blair, he was scared. Did you... did he?"

"yes."

"Yep. Scared. Anyone with half a brain and good eyesight could see what was what with you two. He just assumed that you were gay. See? You gotta understand, it's different with men...."

"Oh, for God's sake. I know that.

"No, Blair. You don't. Anal sex is different, you gotta be careful, there's preparation needed, especially the first time. And well, a man like Ellison, he's not gonna go 'round, seducing young, straight men. You understand? You scared 'im. Pure and simple."

"Scary me."

"Now Boss, stop pouting. It doesn't become you."

Blair's lips twitched as he tried unsuccessfully to smother a grin.

"You mind telling me how you know all this?"

"Omniscient."

"Of course."

"You are, um, okay... right?"

"Apparently. We were in the water."

"Ah."

"Ah."

Neither man could do it, contain it. They both exploded in laughter.

A horn alerted them to the appearance of the ranch station wagon. It pulled up and Simon and Joel were out and running, Wil not far behind. Blair and GM looked at each other, smiling and GM warned, "Prepare to be smothered."

<><><>^^<><><>

The sheriff had come and gone, promising a full investigation and now Simon and Joel waited downstairs while the doctor checked over their son.

Blair lay in his bed, wearing a blue t-shirt and sweat pants. Standing next to him was a tall man, maybe about fifty, carefully putting items back into a black bag.

"So? Do I ride on Saturday?"

Doctor Marvin James smiled indulgently, "Well, that depends on you. You stay in this bed, til I say you can get up, and maybe I'll certify you for Saturday."

"Right. Bed."

Dr. James had been taking care of the Banks-Taggert-Sandburg family for the last fifteen years and he knew every single "Blairnuance". The current nuance said there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of keeping this young man down unless he did something now. He waggled a menacing finger at him, "Now you listen to me. You go to the bathroom and that's it. Otherwise, you don't set foot out of this bed. I'll be back at two tomorrow afternoon and if I'm satisfied, I'll certify, but if I even have a hint that you didn't follow my instructions...."

Blair raised a surrendering hand, "Got you. Bed. Til tomorrow."

"Good. I'll go down and break the news to Simon and Joel that you're going to live."

<><><>^^<><><>

"Marv?" Simon stood as Dr. James came down the stairs and Joel stopped pacing.

"He's fine. No concussion. Bruised, battered, but if he stays in bed until tomorrow, he can race."

"WHO THE HELL CARES ABOUT THE RACE?" Joel yelled. "SOMEONE TRIED TO KILL HIM." Joel turned to his husband, "Simon, I say we pull Little Stogie."

"Joel, calm down. And you know Blair will not pull Little Stogie. If he can ride -- he will."

"Damn. I hate this age of consent thing. Why couldn't he still be underage."

"Come on, let's go up and see him." Simon turned to Dr. James, holding out his hand, "Marv, thanks as usual and thanks for the housecall."

"No problem. You'll get my highly inflated bill in the mail. I'll be back tomorrow to certify him."

<><><>^^<><><>

Joel stood on his right, Simon on his left, with an exasperated Blair looking from one to the other.

"Look Mom, Pops, Bud promises not to take the Model T again without permission. Okay?"

"Blair, this is serious. We don't want to race Little Stogie."

Blair turned to Simon, "Is this how you feel?"

"If it means keeping you safe? Yes."

"So? What? I never race again? You never race a horse again? Because if we cave, that's what we're talking about."

"Blair, all we care about is you."

"Good. Then we race. 'Nuff said. Now shoo... I'm gonna actually do what the doc says and go to sleep."

Both men looked at each other, shrugged, Simon nodded and they walked to the door. Just as Blair slipped down under the covers and as the door was about to close behind his "fathers," he heard Joel mutter, "I want to know which of us is Mom and which is Pops."

<><><>^^<><><>

Jim Ellison sat in his now darkened trailer, a glass of Chivas Regal in his hand.

Damn. How had everything gone so bad, so fast? One minute, he had the world in his arms and the next, poof, gone.

He should have known. Should have known.

Blair. A virgin. Straight. Jim Ellison had never, not once... always, they were always experienced, always gay. You don't make those kind of errors. Not in his business. You don't.

He looked at his hand, saw the tremors. He could have hurt him... he'd let himself go as he'd never let go before in his life. Giving himself completely over to his emotions, his needs, the need to have Blair, to give to Blair, to be everything to Blair. He'd opened his senses, letting Blair fill them.

He moaned, a deep, painfilled sound.

Pounding. Someone pounding at the door. He staggered up and opened the door out to see Paul, standing, worried.

"Jim? I thought you'd like to know... David just got a call from the house. That kid, Blair? He fell, was thrown, I guess. They have the doctor up there now...."

He didn't get the chance to finish. Jim was out and running for his car.

<><><>^^<><><>

Simon and Joel were coming down the stairs, Simon patiently explaining that he, meaning Joel, was definitely the mom, while he, meaning Simon, was most definitely the pop and Joel was arguing that no, Joel was the pop because he was the taller, so Simon had to be the mom, when Sheila, Simon's secretary, let in Jim Ellison.

Simon was no fool. When he'd heard about the shooting, and that Blair was out on Incacha, he'd known something had gone wrong between his son and Ellison and that he'd been right all along. But now, seeing Ellison's panic, his absolute terror, he knew that whatever had gone wrong was now about to be fixed.

"He's fine, Jim."

Ellison looked up at the two men, but he didn't relax at Simon's words.

"Would you like to see him?"

"I... could I? For just a minute?"

"Go ahead. Just up these stairs, turn right at the top and his room will be the second door on your left."

"Thanks, Simon. Thanks."

Jim took the steps three at a time.

<><><>^^<><><>

//Okay, so sleeping might not be possible. Just how many lumps did this bed have anyway?//

Blair was trying, in vain, to find one comfortable spot, one place on his body where it didnt hurt, but so far no luck. His efforts were interrupted by someone knocking and quietly calling his name.

It was Jim.

"Come on in. It's unlocked."

The door opened and Jim peeked in, looking both worried and like a reclacitrant child.

"I just heard. Came right over. Are you...."

"I'm fine. Bumps, bruises, the usual. But doctors are so finicky before races. And you can come in, all the way in. It's safe." And he indicated a chair by the window.

Jim walked over and pushed the chair over to the bed, as Blair watched, wide-eyed.

"Uh, Jim? I only meant for you to take the chair, not take the chair." Ellison was halfway down, but did a marvelous job of catching himself and struggling upright. "God, sorry. I'll move it back."

"Jim? Sit."

Jim sat.

"Good dog."

Jim looked at Blair, frowning, Blair looked at Jim, smiling.

"I'm sorry", they said together and laughed nervously.

"Blair, you've got to help me make you understand."

"It's okay, I do. You were scared."

"Yes. Exactly."

"You could have hurt me."

"Yes. Exactly."

"You made love to a gay jockey, only to find out he was straight."

"Yes. Exactly." he breathed out, relieved.

"You're deeply in love with said gay/straight jockey. Can't live without him."

Jim nodded, "Yes, exactly."

Blair grinned, supremely happy with himself.

Jim caught on.

"God dammit, Blair. This is serious."

"Yes. Exactly."

Jim could only shake his head. And try again.

"Blair, everything is different now...."

"You love me less? Because up to this afternoon, I was straight? Isn't that some kind of reverse discrimination?"

"I'm not going to win this one, am I?"

"Nope."

"I should just surrender?"

"Lay down your arms. Fly the white flag."

"But we go slow this time. Slow."

"Slow? It's a little late for slow. The horse is gone and this stable door ain't ever closing again."

Man. This kid was tough. But Ellison was tougher.

"We could try. Start over. Go slow. A few quiet dates, a tasteful seduction. And it happens right."

"Man, you are fucking unbelievable. It could never happen more right than it did. And I thought my seduction of you was very tasteful."

"I'm losing again. I'm fucking losing again."

"Your lifestory from now on, my man. From now on."

"The fall. Because of what... happened?"

"Not unless you shot at me."

"WHAT!" Ellison yelled and he jumped up and started pacing and muttering, "I should have been there, this never would have happened if I'd been there... not leaving his side again... no way...."

"For God's sake, sit down. You're worse than Simon and Joel put together."

"Sorry." And he sat. But he reached for the hand lying still on the covers. And they sat, just getting their fill of each other, smiling like fools. Finally Jim let go and made to get up.

"I should be going. Let you rest."

"Why?"

"I... um, you need to sleep."

"So? Stay. With me."

"Stay? Here? With you?"

"Unless you prefer sleeping with Simon and Joel. Crowded, but whatever floats your boat."

"Jesus, Blair. I couldn't. Not in your house. What about Simon? And Joel?"

"God, you are going to be a handful. Strip, Ellison and get in here. It's late, I'm tired and I hurt and I bet you're way more comfortable than this lumpy bed."

Jim stripped, climbed in, and Blair was right. He was way more comfortable than the lumpy bed.

<><><>^^<><><>

"He's still up there."

"Yes, Simon, he is. And he will stay up there, I expect. Now, lets go to bed."

"But."

"No buts. Bed. And butts."

"Damn, I love it when you talk dirty."

And the Banks - Taggert - Sandburg - Ellison household slept. Among other things.

oOoOo

"Good God. You're an octopus. Just how many arms and legs do you have?"

The question came from a sleepy actor who'd awakened to find a short jockey wrapped around him like a pretzel. Everywhere he looked, he found arms, hands, legs.

"Idiot. You're counting your own. Mine are the dark brown ones. Count over," came the sleepy reply.

Jim focused and counted.

"Okay, two arms -- two legs." Jim, satisfied, felt not the slightest desire to move out of the Blaircocoon in which he currently found himself wrapped. In fact, after last night, he was thanking his lucky stars and wondering if all jockeys were as flexible as Blair. Not that he cared, after all, he had his jockey. He nuzzled the nest of curls under his chin and made another momentous decision; He loved long hair on a sexy guy. This sexy guy.

"mmm, so what do we do today? I'm not scheduled, they're doing exteriors and second unit work. We have all day."

A mouth began to give serious consideration to his right nipple, which like his cock, perked right up, but the mouth paused long enough to mumble out, "Bedridden. Think of something," then the mouth went back to the business of licking and nipping. Jim's fingers tightened convulsively around the mound of hair they were buried in as he tried to answer, somewhat intelligently, "um... oh, yeah, that's good, uh, well, I really like the... god, yes, the word bedridden, um, really love.... OW!, yes, good, god, yes... bedridden...."

Blair pulled up and grinned wickedly, "I prefer Jimridden."

"I'm in love with a sex slut."

"Poor you. You have my sympathy."

"Thank you." Jim promptly pushed the head back down, this time to his left nipple. Unfortunately, Blair had his own ideas and began to move down, licking and stroking every inch of skin, making little "mmm" noises deep in his throat, and Jim thought he'd come just from the sound, the vibration of it, tingling through his skin... it was fucking incredible. He felt Blair's voice, his sound, he felt it through every muscle, vein and nerve... and it traveled first to his brain, washing over him, then narrowed to a laser point and shot directly to his cock. Do not pass go -- Do not collect $200.

He arched up, hard, almost bucking Blair off, but instead of soothing him back down, Blair let his hand travel down low and grasping Jim's thickened cock, he began to fondle, stroke, using nails, fingertips, alternating -- sharp, soft, hard, slow, and the whole time, his mouth, that fucking incredible mouth was working his skin, his tongue swirling around his navel....

"oh god." And again Jim felt Blair's voice, and it seemed like he was humming now... humming against his skin... and Jim knew he was being driven insane and that Blair was making love to him within an inch of his life and no one had ever done that before and then Blair took him into his mouth, took his cock, and God Damn, he was still humming and sucking and his throat, he had him down his throat, and it was constricting and Jim couldn't stop, he had to thrust deep, hard, fast, his hands moving to capture that perfect head, hold it as he bucked, feeling those vibrations again, traveling in waves, moving up and down his body and his head was thrown back and he arched and thrust one last time, Blair's name coming as he spurted deep and long with the most intense orgasm of his life.

<><><>^^<><><>

He came to because a tongue was trying hard to move into his mouth and how much energy did that take anyway? So he let his lips part and the tongue slipped in, doing all the work and he could taste himself on Blair and the combination, god, what a cocktail... and he desperately wanted to touch Blair but he found that he was unable to move, to raise his arms, they weighed a ton, so he just lay there, letting Blair have his way with his mouth, which was just fine with him until....

"Blair? We're sending breakfast up. Would that be for two?"

It was Joel, knocking and speaking and Blair jerked up, pulling away, grinning and flopping over on his back as he quickly pulled up the covers just as the door opened and Joel peeked in, which caused Jim to dive for cover, his energy suddenly, completely restored.

"So? Breakfast in bed for two? And how does the lump on your left like his eggs?"

A muffled "overeasy" rumbled from deep undercover, causing both Blair and Joel to lose it, as both men cracked up. Finally, "Right. Overeasy."

<><><>^^<><><>

Blair was true to his word and stayed in bed as he and Jim worked on the actor's senses. Blair had him use the working sounds of the ranch, had him standing on the balcony, overlooking the property, even had him use Blair himself as they tested his range, his control, the depth of his abilities and variations. Blair's mind never seemed to stop, and in spite of being "bedridden", he led Jim through his paces.

At one point, Jim got frustrated as his sight and hearing slammed into each other and Blair got it into his head that Jim was some sort of transistor radio, with dials, and Jim should be able to just turn them up or down as needed, but of course, Jim couldn't and as he looked around for something to throw at his tormentor, Blair beat him to it and a pillow sailed through the air to whack the man smack in the middle of his face. "GOD DAMMIT! Will YOU listen to me? You've had these senses all your life! Subconsciously you've been controlling them, 'turning' them down as needed. They only controlled you when you suffered an overload of stimulation. Now sit down, shut the fuck up and do what I say."

Jim stood there, mouth open, pillow in hand.

"Was that supposed to put me in my place?"

"Sex later. Senses now. And that was my cheerleader speech. You don't want to see me mad, Jim."

Ellison pretended to shake in fear and went, "ooooh...." but he sat down and shut up.

And they started again.

After a frustrating hour, the most beautiful smile spread across Jim's face as he turned to Blair.

"It worked. Blair, it worked. I can choose what to hear!"

"You're welcome," Blair said, one eyebrow cocked.

Jim crossed the room, knelt on the bed, captured Blair's face between his hands and kissed him completely and thoroughly. When he finally pulled away, he whispered, "Thank you."

<><><>^^<><><>

Dr. James arrived as promised, promptly at two, and after finding his patient in bed and in excellent spirits, he pronounced him fit to ride and signed the required certification papers which would be hand delivered to the Jockey Club by GM later that afternoon. Just before the doctor left, he handed Jim a prescription pad and asked for his autograph, for his wife. Jim requested her first name and after some hemming and hawing, Dr. James finally said, "M-a-r-v-i-n". Jim wrote and signed, hiding his smile and as he handed it back he commented, "Marvin. Lovely name for a woman."

The first order of business for Blair was to head down and check on Little Stogie. After he was satisfied, he, GM and Wil sat down in GM's office, as Jim lounged against the door, and discussed the plans for the race.

Normally, they would have been taking Little Stogie that night, but Blair decided to limit their exposure and they would all travel together in the morning. He'd also talked with the Sheriff, who'd agreed to provide an armed escort. The important issues now were the trailer and equipment, ensuring that all vehicles were tamper proof and had limited access.

As Jim listened, he realized that this wasn't new, that the dangers in racing were more varied than just the possiblity of a fall. It was obvious that these people knew exactly what they were doing and that there wasn't a single contingency that either Blair or GM hadn't thought of. And more than once, the name Alex Barnes came up and Jim promised himself to ask Blair about it as soon as they had some privacy.

The meeting finally ended and as GM and Wil went out to begin making all the necessary arrangements, Blair asked Jim if he'd mind if they went back to Little Stogie. He shook his head and five mintues later they were in Stogie's stall, Blair rubbing the horse along his jawline, Jim, standing a few feet away, content to watch.

The stables were cool, dark and quiet, Little Stogie having been isolated to the far end. In effect, there was just the three of them.

"So, tell me about this Alex Barnes. Is he really suspect in all this?"

Blair had gotten one of the grooming brushes and was absently running it down Little Stogie's side when Jim spoke.

"Well, it's possible. Probable even. Barnes' is rich and wants to be richer. He and Simon have been serious business rivals for the last ten years. He's tough, doesn't much care how he gets something done, as long as it happens. So far, he's lost every battle with Simon and in the last four years, he's lost every race to me." Blair paused, and suddenly he stopped looking at Jim and began to brush in earnest.

"A little over four years ago, I started seeing his daughter, Alexis. She's an artist. Rich, spoiled, beautiful... and for awhile -- I thought I was in love, things were good. Simon and Alex even began working a project together. The papers stated discussing a possible merger, using Alex and I as the catalyst. Then it -- ended. The project they were working on fell through, Barnes lost a heap, we didn't. He declared war."

Jim moved up behind Blair, putting his arms around his chest. "Why do I get the feeling you just did some judicious editing?"

He felt Blair stiffen and then he gently disengaged himself from Jim and stepped out and away, still unable to meet Jim's gaze. He moved over to the other side of the horse and began another round of vigorous brushing.

"Blair? Come on. Tell me."

"I was in love, Jim. I thought the world began and ended with Alexis. I was twenty, almost twenty-one, she was twenty-six. I thought... I thought she felt the same."

"But she didn't?"

Blair's hand slowed, "Oh, I suppose she felt as much as she was capable of feeling, but you see, it wasn't about her and me."

"It was about business?"

"That was undoubtedly a part of it... but no, not all of it... it seemed that Alexis and... her father, they... had a strange relationship... I... what Alexis had, he wanted. And that was alright with her... she encouraged him, she -- shared."

A kind of coldness seeped into the stall, into Jim as Blair's words hung between them.

"Blair...."

"It ended one night. She invited me up, I didn't know he was there. They made their offer, I turned it down, it ended. It was a game to them. And I was supposed to be the prize." Blair looked up then, his eyes suddenly looking so young, so vulnerable and he was pleading.

"Jim, I never told Simon or Joel. They were both glad it ended. Simon never liked Alexis. They don't know any of what I just told you."

"Understood. And Blair? I'd really like to hold you right now."

"That could be arranged. But let me check with my agent first. Never make a move without his approval," and Blair brought his mouth up to Little Stogie's ear and whispered and the horse acutally bobbed it's head up and down.

"Looks like we have a deal."

But Blair hadn't told Jim all of it either.

<><><>^^<><><>

By six that evening, everyone was getting ready for the big ball at the clubhouse. There'd been lots of discussion about going versus not going, with Simon, Joel and Jim landing on the side of not going, for the sake of protecting Blair, and Blair landing on the side of going.

Now Jim stood in his tux, in front of Blair's full-length mirror, adjusting his tie and wondering how three men, ages thirty-five, forty-five and forty-three, ranging in heights of six foot two inches all the way up to six feet, five and half inches and with a combined weight of over seven hundred pounds could so badly lose a battle with a five foot, seven inch, twenty-five year old weighing in at about a hundred and seventy pounds.

Because they were pitiful.

On the other hand, Simon was ex-Covert Ops, which made him a handy guy to have around, Jim had grown up in the Bronx, had clawed his way up and out, and was no stranger to fists or weapons and it turned out that gentle Joel, landscape artist extraordinaire, was also a martial arts expert.

Blair would be safe. Period. And while Jim wasn't as comfortable with his senses as Blair seemed to be, the fact was, he did have them and according to Blair, he was a sentinel, a guardian. So be it. Tonight. Tomorrow, he'd be guarding Blair. No one would touch him, no one would hurt him. Not on this Sentinel's watch.

<><><>^^<><><>

The Aspen Ball was in full swing when the four men arrived. The elite, the cream of Cascade's crop, the powerplayers, dressed in all their glory, were dancing, eating, drinking and talking. They talked business, they talked politics, but mostly they talked about the race. Saturday's Sweepstakes would have an impressive field of horses and jockeys, the greatest in the world with the most powerful, most prestigious owners and consortiums in the world of racing backing them. It wasn't the Kentucky Derby, but it was close. And in someways, it was bigger. Bigger money. Simon was immediately pulled away by the Mayor, but not before Simon introduced him to the famous Jim Ellison. Joel was seduced by one of his colleagues to discuss the traits of certain ivy's and that left Jim and Blair at the buffet table. But even that didn't last long, as Joel reappeared, spiriting Jim away to meet several "fans" and Blair was soon surrounded by racing enthusiasts, all trying to get the inside track on tomorrows race.

<><><>^^<><><>

Blair was hot, he was tired and his jaw ached from the smile he'd kept plastered on all night. He'd looked for Jim, but hadn't had more than a few glimpses of him in the last two hours, now he couldn't find him at all. Blair needed air and he needed it now. But he knew the patio would be full of smokers so he quickly ducked out a side door that let him out onto a small balcony, overlooking the track's famous rose garden.

He let the cool night air and the scent of the roses soothe him. For all his apparent confidence and control, it was a night before a major race and with all that had happened in the last two days, Blair was feeling the heavy responsibilities, both old and new. He was also experiencing that small wave of excitement and fear that always accompanied a race.

Blair raced for the enjoyment, but he was no fool, he also raced to win. He was first and foremost an athlete, trained and conditioned, and winning for Simon and Joel was just one way of thanking them for all that they'd given him over the years. But winning was also a way to give himself something. Something that wasn't always easy to define. A purpose, maybe, or a reason to be?

The truth was, that until his breakup with Alexis, racing hadn't been a priority, school had. But in a single night, Alexis and her father had managed to take something from him. They'd managed to take his sense of self worth, of his being more than an object, more than a tool... a chess piece in their own sadistic game. For all that Simon and Joel had given him, for all that they tried to protect him, he still knew what he was -- a bastard.

But that night. The night Alexis had taken him home and her father had been there... Alex Barnes hadn't used bastard to describe Blair, oh no, not him. He'd called Blair a mongrel. Told him not even his mother had known who his father was... Blair was a mongrel, for his use, his and Alexis'.

Blair had never told anyone about that night, and earlier had given Jim only the barest facts. He'd told no one about the words, the words spit out, used like weapons. And he'd never told anyone what he'd vowed... what he'd hissed out at Alexis and her father, after refusing their advances, their offer... that he, Blair Sandburg, would personally see to it that Barnes never won another race as long as Blair was a part of that race... that he would do everything in his power to ensure that eventually, Banks Inc. woud crush Barnes and Company, and he'd left, the sound of their laughter ringing in his ears. But Alex Barnes wasn't laughing now. Blair had kept his vow, had won every race that included a horse from the Barnes Stables, and Simon stayed ahead of Barnes, fending off any and all take-over attempts, building his power base, all with the help and suggestions of his "son".

No, Alex Barnes wasn't laughing now. And when Blair had told GM that Alex would never hurt anyone, he'd been lying. A man like Alex Barnes would do anything and everything to get what he wanted -- to win.

The door behind him opened and the sounds of the ball intruded on Blair's thoughts, but thinking it was Jim, he turned, smiling.

But it wasn't. It was Alex Barnes.

"Blair."

oOo

For the last two hours, Jim had been introduced to every important member of Cascade society within arms reach. He'd shaken more hands and posed with more wives and daughters than a politician running for office. But through it all, he'd kept focused on Blair, picking his voice out in the crowd, honing in on it's velvety tones, clinging to it like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood, until several minutes ago, when he'd lost him. Jim looked around the Grand Ballroom, trying to spot Simon or Joel and finding them both, together and apparently just as worried. They're heads were scanning the room, matching frowns on their faces. Jim excused himself from the group currently fawning over him and began to make his way toward the two men.

<><><>^^<><><>

Blair had no intention of staying out on the balcony with Alex Barnes.

"Excuse me, Alex, I'm going back inside. Enjoy the night air."

But Alex Barnes' intentions were different. He was a big man, standing easily at 6'5 and outweighing both Simon and Joel. He was massive, thanks to a personal trainer and his love of pumping iron and was in superb shape for any man. He wore his blonde hair cropped short and his handsome face was hard and angular, made even harder by the pale, icy blue eyes. Eyes that showed nothing, hid everything. Just like his daughter. Those eyes were currently moving slowly and insolently up and down Blair's body.

"I just want a few minutes, Blair. Surely you can spare that?"

"Sorry." Blair made a move forward, to pass the large man, but Barnes had become an immoveable object. He put out a restraining hand, his fingers digging into Blair's right arm.

"The offer is still open, and I'm willing to sweeten the pot."

"Take - Your - Hand - Off - My - Arm. Now."

"I can make life very good or very bad, Blair. It's your choice."

Blair looked up at the man and laughed.

"The only thing you can do is lose. Over and over again, " then Blair leaned in and dropped his voice, "You should have learned by now -- I always keep my promises. Always."

Barnes eyes narrowed dangerously, his jaw clenched as fingers dug deeper, but Blair gave him no satisfaction, showed no discomfort.

"You listen to me, " Barnes spat out, "You're nothing. You're less than nothing. Why I'm willing to have you is a mystery, so understand this... you refuse me a second time and you will never know a moments peace again. You race tomorrow, and you will - never - cross - the - finishline."

"Is that all?"

"No." Barnes used his considerable weight and strength to swing Blair face first into the wall behind him, his body striking hard, the side of Blair's face slamming into the concrete with enough force to almost knock him out. As he struggled to clear his head, to fight back, Barnes blanketed his body with his own, grabbed his arms and wrenched them above his head. The older man pressed in hard, trapping Blair painfully against the flat surface.

One massive hand took over the task of holding Blair's wrists as the other hand ripped the tie from Blair's hair, then moved down until it reached Blair's genitals. He grasped hard and squeezed. Blair bit back his moan and tried to move back, to kick, to do anything, but Barnes was too big. They stood, Barnes squeezing ever harder, and he was thrusting now, using his mass to slam Blair into the wall, again and again and again.

Then he stopped.

"I could take you right now. Use you. Discard you... I could kill you right now. Snap your neck like a twig. Who has the power now, Blair? Tell me, " and he slammed him into the wall again, gritting out, "Tell me, Blair. Who - Has - The - Power?"

<><><>^^<><><>

Jim finally reached Joel and Simon and it was agreed that they would seperate to find Blair until Jim, who'd been trying desperately to filter out extraneous sounds, finally succeeded in locating Blair's voice. He grabbed both men, indicating they should wait as he tilted his head and closed is eyes.

There. Blair's voice.

<<Is that all?>>

And another voice.

<<No.>>

And a horrible thud... Jim's eyes flew open, his head whipped around... eyes searching, where? The direction... to his left, but... he was hearing all that was happening now and he moved, shouldering his way through the crowds, Simon and Joel on his heels.

<<I could take you now....>>

Jim began to shove, to push anyone who dared to get in his way....

<<I could kill you now....>>

Jim began to run, the door baring him from Blair far too far away... and he heard bones break....

<><><>^^<><><>

Blair surprised Barnes by thrusting back with his hips, which led the older man to believe Blair was reacting in pleasure and he relaxed, just enough... Blair used that moment to jerk his head back with enough force to break Barnes' nose as bone connected with bone.

It was more than enough as Barnes staggered back, clutching his bleeding face. Blair pushed painfully back from the wall and reached for the door, but one bloody, beefy hand grabbed now loosened hair and yanked back. Blair twisted, ignoring the pain, and kicked out, connecting with a knee. It was at that moment that the cavalry arrived.

Barnes fingers released hair and Blair stumbled back, then leaned forward, hands resting on his knees, head bent, breath coming in jerky pants.

Jim and Simon advanced on Barnes as Joel went to his son.

"Leave him alone," Blair rasped out as he slowly straightened and moved painfully toward Barnes, going between Jim and Simon.

"It's over. Tomorrow you go down. You think I don't know the trouble you're in? What the race means to you? What will happen to you if you lose? Tomorrow, I keep my final promise." He turned and walked back out into the Ballroom, leaving his guardians no choice but to follow.

They surrounded him, knowing he wouldn't want to be seen, wouldn't want to answer any questions. They left the Aspen Ball.

Alex Barnes remained on the balcony, unmoving, unseeing.

<><><>^^<><><>

"We need to call the police, Blair," Jim stated firmly.

"No."

Joel turned around in his seat, "Blair, he's...."

"No."

They were in Simon's Rolls, heading back to the ranch. Blair had an icepack pressed to the side of his face, and wishing he had another to use elsewhere, but that would mean telling them everything, and that was just not going to happen.

His whole body hurt, but they didn't need to know that either. Of course, he'd temporarily forgotten Jim's senses, so wasn't aware that Jim knew precisely where Blair hurt and why. But of greater concern to Jim at that moment was Blair's demeanor. He was holding himself in, holding on tight, not letting anyone into some kind of perceived space he'd formed around himself. Neither Joel nor Simon had been able to touch him and right now, he sat, stiff and unyielding, in the far corner of the backseat.

"Blair, it's important that the Cascade Police Department be informed. I know Captain Finkleman of Major Crimes and we need her on our side. The Sheriff escort tomorrow only gets us to the city limits. You know that."

"No, Simon. It was just a fight. Between Barnes and me. Nothing more. Tomorrow, it will end."

Simon glanced into the rearview mirror, saw his son's determination, the stubborness and something else. Something that scared the beejesus out of him, because something else had happened and it had damaged Blair, Simon could see that in his eyes. And a fear gripped the older man, lodging like a hard cube in the pit of his stomach. He reached for Joel's hand.

<><><>^^<><><>

Somehow Blair made it upstairs to his room, assuring his fathers that he was fine. He didn't seem to notice Jim, who followed him up.

Once inside the safety of his room, everything seemed to catch up at once and he was paralyzed. But then hands, gentle hands, began to carefully remove his tuxedo, and he let the hands work, let them guide him into the bathroom where he barely noticed as shoes, socks, dress shirt and shorts were removed, as the showerhead was turned on, water temperature adjusted and as Jim removed his own clothing and finally guided them both into the shower.

Jim let the warm water and steam do it's work, let the mist wrap around them both and when he sensed cramped muscles start to loosen, he took up the washcloth and soap and lovingly washed the so still young man who stood in front of him, head lowered, hair masking his face.

He lightly massaged with the soapy cloth, skimming carefully over the old and new bruises, controlling his own anger at the evidence of what had happened on that balcony.

He washed Blair's hair, and ever so gradually the lithe, slender body moved back, letting skin touch skin and truth penetrated the hurt, fogged brain, truth that the man washing him with such loving care, knew what happened, and it didn't matter, because to Jim, Blair was someone, because to Jim Ellison, Blair Sandburg mattered and he let his body rest against the smooth, strong chest and silently begged for arms to hold him and somehow Jim knew this and brought his arms around Blair and held him as he whispered, "I love you, Blair," and Blair whispered back, "Thank you."

<><><>^^<><><>

The morning of the race dawned clear and warm, but by that time, the racing contingency from Bank's Folly had been on the road for thirty minutes, their caravan bordered at both ends by two patrol cars. Jim, Blair and GM were in the huge horse transport with Little Stogie. GM sat in one chair, a rifle across his lap, Blair stood at the other end of the transport, in Little Stogie's stall, soothing the animal whose only weakness was his hatred of travel. Jim sat opposite, once again content to watch Blair.

After getting his first glimpse of Blair that morning, and doing a lot of reading between the lines, GM had headed back to his office and grabbed his hunting rifle off the wall. He was no fool.

<><><>^^<><><>

The one hour plus trip to the racetrack had been uneventful and Little Stogie now resided in his temporary stall, two guards ensuring that no one messed with him.

Little Stogie knew what the day was about. The smells, the activity... and his tail twitched in anticipation, legs edgy, nostrils flaring. Little Stogie was ready.

<><><>^^<><><>

Jim walked Blair over to the Jockey Room, but before they reached their destination, Blair pulled him aside.

"Jim, you've got to prepare yourself. For the sounds, the colors, the smells. You've got to use the dials, man."

"Blair, I'm fine."

Blair searched the now beloved face, looking for the telltale signs of pain, of stress... and when he found only calm, loving eyes looking back at him, he smiled.

"By george, I think he's got it."

"Brat."

"That's jockeybrat to you."

"So, what does someone say to wish a jockey good luck? I somehow don't think break a...." a hand clamped over his mouth, "Don't even think it, Jim," Blair whispered, smiling. Jim mumbled and Blair released his mouth.

"So? What do I say?"

"Kick ass?"

"Kick ass, Blair." Then without even checking to see if anyone was looking, he dropped a kiss on those laughing lips.

<><><>^^<><><>

Joel and Simon sat nervously in their private box, surrounded by their friends. They stayed close to each other, the normal state of affairs when Blair raced. But both were aware that today was different.

Jim stood outside, one level up, his senses alert, eyes on a constant search, like a beacon, looking for that one thing out of place, and he listened as well, filtering, straining, cataloging, and ignoring any sound that didn't qualify.

GM stood a few feet from Ellison, his rifle in his hand. He knew there was something special about Ellison, and that if there was going to be trouble, Ellison would find it. And GM would be there.

Alex Barnes sat alone, in his private box, his nose bandaged, his eyes, surrounded by massive bruising, watching, content, knowing that in less than one hour, Blair Sandburg would be lying out on the track -- dead. He would have liked it to have been another way, but last night, Blair had made his choice.

Three levels above Ellison, in a restricted area, a man sat in front of a railing, a black bag at his feet. He had a job to do and it was a job he was very good at doing. The best in the world. He was known simply as the "Ice Man". And it was his job to kill. Today his victim was a jockey. He would be in blue and white silks, riding number seven, Little Stogie. The assassin smiled. Number seven. Lucky for him, not so lucky for one young jockey. Not today anyway.

Blair sat on his bench, head bowed, hands holding his riding crop. He was dressed, he was ready. He'd been through the weigh-in, through all formalities, all the procedures. Now he and twelve other jockeys prepared to race.

Some paced, some read, some listened to music, some prayed. Blair retreated. He moved deep within himself, visualizing the race, the course, his horse. He planned every move, worked his strategy for each of the approximate four minutes he'd spend out on the track.. He thought about his competition, man and beast, about their strengths, their weaknesses. And it was ironic that in today's race, there was only one real threat to Blair's win -- The General's Legion. Alex Barnes' horse.

It was time. The jockeys were escorted out, taken to their horses, hiked up and settled in. It was time for the parade to the gates.

<><><>^^<><><>

The Ice Man reached down into his bag as the parade of horses began. He pulled out three items and began to assemble them into a highpowered rifle.

And below, Jim heard something. Heard that out of the ordinary sound, heard it in spite of the voice announcing each horse, each rider, in spite of the crowd, cheering, as the horses paraded past the stands, toward the gates.... In spite of the sound of the horses, some fidgeting, fighting even as they were forced into the gates.... And Jim smelled something, and as a calm Little Stogie and an equally calm Blair were gated, The Ice Man fitted the scope to his gun and took his position.

Jim moved and GM came away from the wall, knowing this was it. Simon left the box, working his way up to Jim.

And minutes later, Joel made his excuses and headed in the opposite direction, toward Alex Barnes' box.

Man and horse were ready. The sun was bright and unencumbered by any clouds. The track was fast, the jockeys practised. Horses pawed the ground, eager for their release. And the crowd held it's breath.

The beep sounded, the gates clanged open and thirteen horses charged the track.

The General's Legion took the early lead, followed closely by Nation's Pride and Silver Fox. As they came around the far turn, Little Stogie was on the rail, comfortable in eigth position, Blair in control, knees firm, head low, crop unused.

Jim heard the scope being fitted and began to run up several flights of stairs, GM close behind.

The Ice Man focused through the scope and sighted the man in the blue and white silks, and his finger readied. But he had his orders. He wasn't to fire until the straightaway, until Little Stogie closed in on the finish. Number seven was not to cross. Period. So he waited.

By the time the horses reached the Clubhorse turn, five of the thirteen were no longer in contention. The General's Legion was still in first, but Silver Fox had now moved into second and The GumDrop Kid had taken over third. Little Stogie moved away from the rail, dropping back a bit, but quickly making up the lost ground.

Jim was now one level below The Ice Man. He stopped to focus, to try to find a heartbeat... and found it. He knew where to go. He ran. GM ran. Blair made his move coming out of the Clubhouse turn. He inched his butt up and began talking to Little Stogie in earnest now, unaware of the rifle, trained on his head, following him every inch of the way.

Little Stogie's move was astounding and the crowd reacted, jumping to their feet, cheering wildly, as Little Stogie and Blair Sandburg appeared to be trying the impossible.

As they hit the straightaway, only five horses were in contention. Little Stogie's stride widened, his head went down and still Blair left the crop unused.

Little Stogie was fifth, then fourth... moving fast on the outside, passing the other horses now, moving up to third, then second... and a finger began to press down... and Little Stogie charged ahead of The General's Legion, leaving him in the dust, and The Ice Man started to squeeze and Jim reached the top level, turned, saw the assassin, saw the rifle, the finger, squeezing and he launched himself at the killer, and the rifle fired as the two men fell to the concrete floor.

And Little Stogie and Blair Sandburg charged across the finish line. In first place.

<><><>^^<><><>

Alex Barnes watched, numb, as Blair crossed the finish line. The GumDrop Kid in second and Silver Fox third. Barnes got up and went to his jacket, pulled out a .38 Glock, stuck it in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

Joel heard the shot and lunged into Barnes' box. One glance and he moved carefully to the phone and called security.

Jim and the assassin rolled on the floor, parted, came up, crouched, ready to charge again. But The Ice Man pulled a gun from his back waistband, leveled it, took aim and....

And GM fired.

The Ice Man toppled over, a bullet hole between his eyes.

Simon arrived just as GM fired.

Jim turned to the railing, fear gripping his heart, eyes searching.... GM and Simon both stepped over the body, both looking, hoping against hope that Jim had been in time.

"THERE!" Jim pointed excitedly.

And all three men watched as Blair and Little Stogie took the victory lap being demanded by wild crowd.

"Simon, you and Mr. Ellison better get Joel and head down to the Winner's Circle. I'll take care of everything up here."

<><><>^^<><><>

The traditional horseshoe of roses graced Little Stogie's neck, as he and Blair were led to the Winner's Circle. Blair's goggles were down around his neck, his racing cap in his hand. As they approached the Circle, his bright blue eyes, surrounded by grime, searched for his fathers and Jim. "BLAIR!" All three men yelled.

He turned and a huge, beautiful grin split his handsome face as several photographers, who'd been waiting for just such a moment, began shooting. That picture, and variations thereof, would soon grace the covers of Life, Time, People and Newsweek.

Epilogue

One week later:

The celebrations were over. So was the funeral.

Alex Barnes had been buried, few in attendance. Not even his beloved daughter showed.

Barnes & Company had seen their stock plummet at both the announcement of Barnes' suicide and the report of his planned murder of Blair Sandburg. Banks, Inc. purchased controlling interest and the merger that had been attempted four years ago finally happened. Banks, Inc. saw their stock rise dramatically.

As the full, well, almost full, story of Barnes' duplicity circulated around the world, three heroes emerged.

The world was stunned to find that their "Athlete of the Year," Blair Sandburg, had been saved by none other than their own People's Choice for Best Male Entertainer, James Ellison. That the action film star had stopped the assassin was miracle enough, but that in fact, said assassin was wanted by the FBI, CIA, Interpol, MI-5 and other law enforcement agencies around the world put the story on the front pages for several days. And of course, GM was hailed as the man who brought down the international assassin and in turn, saved James Ellison.

But the reporters also focused on the jockey. The young man who knew his life was in danger and rode to victory in spite of the very real threat.

The world ate it up.

And the world forgot it one week later when a new crisis hit the front pages.

<><><>^^<><><>

Two men lay in each other's arms. One still asleep, the other, watching.

It was four am.

Today Jim would leave. Go back to Malibu, to "Hollywood," to his home.

The film crew had wrapped filming on Friday and the ranch was back to normal. Only Jim had stayed, changing his flight reservation for Sunday. So far the two men had not talked about their future. And Blair had come to the conclusion that they didn't really have one. Jim was a star. Blair a jockey. Their worlds rarely met, and it was certainly safer for Jim that way. The world wasn't ready for its leading male star to be gay.

Blair had been working on this, on this saying "good-bye" thing, practising his words, his expressions. Words like, "Sure, Jim. We'll see each other, write, phone. Get together when we can." Or, "Need anything, any help with your senses, hey, I'm there man, no worries."

And he was sure the words would come. He'd be able to say them, to mean them. Until Jim actually left. Then he'd fall apart. He'd found the anchor he needed, and now someone, the world, was cutting the chain.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Blair smiled at his now awake soon to be ex-lover. "Nah, my thoughts are worth a fortune. Cough it up or lose out."

Jim lifted his hand and traced the strong jaw with one finger.

"Have I told you about my deal with the studio?"

"No." <Like it could matter now>

"I did this action flick for them on the guarantee that my next movie, I would direct."

"Direct? You're actually going to direct?"

The finger moved up to the eyes, tracing the brows, then up and across the forehead.

"Um. In fact, this next film will be my last in front of the cameras." A small kernel of hope began to flicker in Blair's heart.

"Direct, not act?"

"Um. The movie is very special to me. I bought the rights five years ago. Ever hear of a book called, 'The Front Runner'?"

"Are you kidding? It's a great book. I can't believe you're going to make it into a film. You'll play Harlan Brown, right?"

"That's my plan."

"And Billy?"

"Well, I've got my eye on this relatively unknown young man. I think he'd be perfect. He has a nautral talent, very photogenic, the camera will love him. But he may not be available."

Jim turned over on his side, pulling Blair into him.

"Are you available, Blair?"

Blair could only stare, eyes wide, mouth open.

"I'm serious. I've arranged everything. We have to be in Los Angeles by the fifteenth."

"You and me? In a movie. And you stopped taking your medications when?"

"Blair, this is us. Our chance. To be together, to work together."

Blair rolled away from Jim, onto his back, and stared straight ahead. This was not anywhere in his rehearsed speeches.

"Jim, I've got to think about this. This is a major life change, I mean, my riding, school, I can't just....".

He flopped back over on his side, smiled and said, "Okay, I've thought about it. Yes."

"Thank God."

"Yes."

<><><>^^<><><>

GM stood outside, on the side of the big Georgian house, looking up at Blair's room. He knew Ellison was up there now and he knew that Ellison had made reservations for two when he'd changed his flight to Sunday. Which meant Blair would be leaving. For good, unless he missed his guess. He was glad. They were good together and somehow special. It was as if their meeting had been ordained. And GM knew that Jim Ellison would keep Blair safe. And vice versa.

He wondered if they'd need a "man friday"?

As he turned to head back down to his room, he whispered, "Good night, son."

End Ordained. Watch for the further adventures of Jim and Blair as they begin filming The Front Runner and discover that someone doesn't want this movie made and Jim finds himself dealing with a dangerous fan.