Archive of Our Own ^beta

Author's webpage: http://home.centernet.de/~silke/montfanfic.htm

Author's disclaimer: The Sentinel and wonderful characters belong to Pet Fly Productions, Paramount, and UPN. This story is pure fiction, intended to entertain (sort of) its readers.

Cascade International Airport was busy as always. Planes from all over the world poured into the city every few minutes; airline names like "Delta Airlines", "Lufthansa", "British Airways" or the more exotic ones "Malaysia Air" were announced through the speakers, directing passengers to the gates in question. Chaos dominated. Couples, families - stressed parents with bleating kids - whistling tourists, grim businessmen and bouncing anthropologists roamed through the long corridors.

Blair Sandburg was happy; eagerness and warm anticipation driving him forward to the US customs area.

"Ooops, excuse me, sir," he laughed as he bumped into an elderly gentleman. The man threw the young man with the long hair and the impossible clothes a bewildered glance and mumbeld something like "hippie freak" as Blair stormed by.

"Excuse me...thanks...ma'am? May I... thanks." Fiercely holding onto his small backpack, Sandburg weaved his way through the mass of passengers coming in on flight # 438 from Lima. He was not exactly pushing to the front of the queue, nope, that would be rude and not at all Sandburg-like. Blair was just making sure he was one of the first people to arrive at customs.

"Uhhhh, thank you so much," he flashed another smile quickly passing by an intoxicating blonde SUPERmodel. In another lifetime he would've looked - at least - or made sure he'd 'accidentally' bumped into her - just to apologize, of course. Blair grinned, glancing at his watch. How things could change, he mused, uttering another "I'm sorrryyyy, thanks!" He was romantically involved with someone and did not 'need' to survey the wide-ranging offers. Certainly, he could still look and sometimes he had to stop himself from staring at someone else's butt, however, he didn't play the field anymore.

'Someone else's butt?' Blair thought, adding another bounce to his step. Jim's butt is the one you love the most. His but... among other things. Oh, yeah, among other things. The young anthropologist stopped in his tracks as he reached the relatively short row at US customs. He had nothing to declare and, holding his passport in his right hand, he hoped to be doing more than just staring at Jim's ass soon.

Another look at his watch revealed he was early. Jet stream had quickened their flight, reducing the actual travelling time from thirteen to only eleven hours. There was not much difference, thirteen or eleven hours was still a long, exruciatingly boring time when you had to share a cramped airplane seat with a fat ol' lady who thought you needed a disgusting pat on the knee every half an hour. Blair shuddered and absent-mindly rubbed his stomach. The food on the plane had left a lot to be desired. Jim would've probably loved it, Blair grinned remembering the detective's addiction to junk food.

His lover would not be around for another two hours to pick him up, Blair concluded, frowning slightly at the suspicious looks he received from two officers at the customs booth. The young man smiled reassuringly.

Dancing from one foot to the other, Blair looked around. His gaze wandered over signs and blinking adverts - the usual airport stuff. His eyes met the two officers again who apparently were watching him now. The young police observer smiled again. //Be nice to people in a uniform.//

5.43 p.m.

Jim would most likely be bored to death in the office by now, awaiting his lover's return with the same hunger and passion as Blair did. Opening his backpack, Blair fumbled for his cell phone. //Surprise, Jim, I'm here//, he grinned broadly as he started punching in the numbers.

"Excuse me, sir?" A male voice suddenly grabbed his arm in a strong grip.

Startled, Blair's hand opened and the telephone dropped to the floor, the number not completely dialed.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" he exclaimed. Turning his head he stared into the determined eyes of one of the customs officers he'd seen before.

"Would you please follow me?" the man asked politely. However, his voice and face showed he wasn't game for anything jokes.

"Why?" Sandburg tried to bend down to pick up his cell phone but the grip on his arm was too strong, each finger digging deep furrows that would probably bruise.

"Please, come with me," the officer ordered.

A few passengers threw them curious looks as Blair sighed and reluctantly followed the man. ....was dragged along would've been a better term, he thought.

"Officer... Charles?" Blair deciphered the black name tag on the man's uniform. "Could you please tell me what this is about?" He waved with his passport. "My name's Blair Sandburg and..."

Officer Charles snatched the document out of his hands. "If I were you, punk, I'd shut up now or things get even worse," the man gritted out, his former politeness vanished like a snowflake in the sun.

"You have no right..." Blair protested, the anger at this treatment audible in his voice.

Charles steered him towards a door with the sign "US customs - authorized personnel only".

"We have every right, you little hippie freak," Charles cut him off. "Be glad that you're not in some Far East country where people like you easily lose their hand for drug smuggling."

The door opened and quickly closed behind them.

"Drug smuggling?" Blair shouted, his face showing utter disbelief and - shock. "What the hell are you talking about?" He tried to twist his arm away from the iron grip but no avail.

Without any explanation, Charles led him down another corridor.

It was certainly not the first time in his life that Blair Sandburg was scared. However, as he followed the officer into a large room he felt helpless like never before. He'd done nothing illegal.

But who would believe him?

Blair tried to exercise the breathing technique he'd taught Jim years ago. Concentrate, close your eyes, breathe in, hold it, exhale, relax. Several times the young man breathed audibly but the state of relaxation refused to set in. Opening his eyes again, he shuddered at the sight of the cold white ceiling that greeted him. Tiles covered it the high surface and the walls, giving the room the uncomfortable touch of a hospital. In a way, it was.

A voice spoke to him. "Since you refused to cooperate, I'm afraid we have to do it the hard way, as the movies describe it so perfectly."

Blair turned his head to one side with difficulty, feeling the motion tug slightly at the harsh leather holding his arms and upper body to the cold examination table. They'd asked him to remove his clothes, and he'd complied fearing 'worse' as Officer Charles had promised. A man who'd introduced himself as "Dr. Michael Spencer" had asked idiotic questions about his trip to Peru, his reasons 'why Peru', about his so-called contacts, and, finally, about the drugs he'd smuggled. The whole situation was screaming ridicule and Blair was positive he would soon wake up from his nightmare and find himself snuggled into Jim's loving arms.

However, as the doctor directed him to the table, asking him to lie down, Blair's hope had faded. John, a totally no-nonsense male nurse had strapped him down and Blair's heartrate had sped up considerably wondering what the FUCK was going on.

That was where he was now. He was scared.

Blair worked on his breathing. "Listen, doctor, I didn't smuggle drugs or anything else into the US or any other country," he tried again. "I'm an anthroplogist."

"Mr. Sandburg, I'm just doing my job here. I'm employed by US customs and when they say you used your body to smuggle illegal substances into the country, I have to provide the evidence," Dr. Spencer explained. He nodded towards the nurse.

"I'm not CONSENTING," Blair protested, as he felt John's hands touching his left leg.

"Would you please spread your legs and put them into the stirrups?" The order was soft but determined and Blair shuddered.

"No."

It was the most humiliating, vunerable position a human being, male or female, could be forced into. Blair let out a shaky breath as John roughly complied with the doctor's orders. When he refused the man forced his clenched legs apart and secured him into the stirrups, dragging more restraints over to hold them in place. His most private parts were exposed now. Sandburg flinched as a cold hand touched his ass.

"I advise you to relax, young man, otherwise this can be painful," Dr. Spencer said.

Directing his eyes towards the ceiling again, Blair didn't blink as a gloved finger probed his anus. His internal muscles involuntarily clenched against the digit. The finger was pushed inside, exploring the area, trying to find something that everyone should know wasn't there. Brushing against his prostate, Blair hissed. The pleasure such a movement would usually evoke in him didn't come.

The anthropologist sighed in relief as the finger was removed, his eyes still riveted on the ceiling.

"Try to think of something nice." Dr. Spencer's voice was lacking the enthusiasm such a statement should hold. "This might be uncomfortable now."

"You're gonna be in a lot of trouble," Blair tried a weak threat. He clenched his hands into fists as he helplessly forced his body to relax as much as possible. He smelled the unmistakable odor of KY lubrication. Lots of it. A hard, cold and now-slick-with-jelly instrument probed his opening again. His sphincter muscle fought the intruding object but with a steady pressure his anus was stretched and, then, gradually dilated.

Blair gasped as he tried to twist his body away from the white-hot, painful intrusion.. "You're not gonna find anything," he breathed out heavily, closing his eyes against the image he must present right now. Legs wide and spread, medical tools sticking out of his ass, visible for everyone. And he knew the humiliation wasn't over yet. He'd recently read a report about a Supreme Court bulletin regarding the legal issue of search stripping a suspect. Funny, how fate intervened. The police observer wondered briefly if he should mention it.

"Prepare the E-76." Dr. Spencer's next order sent goosebumps over Blair's naked body. The male nurse nodded and disappeared out of Blair's range of vision.

"What are you gonna do?" Blair demanded to know, as the prodding and probing at his rectum ceased. The instrument was removed but the uncomfortable sensation of being stretched remained. His internal muscles clenched and unclenched, and Blair felt like the cool air of the examination room was creeping inside him.

The relief was only short-lived as the sound of running water reached his ears.

"Mr. Sandburg, we're gonna flush you out and see if my manual exam missed anything," Dr. Spencer announced.

//'Jim, where are you?'// Blair thought miserably. He was truly not someone dwelling on self-pity but he'd never felt so helpless, so dependent on someone's non-existent mercy, before. He was going through this ordeal knowing he had nothing to hide. He was innocent, damnit!

The doctor gave another order. For the third time since this hoax had started, the most private orifice to Blair's body was penetrated against his will. The young man hadn't looked, had turned away his gaze in disgust and hidden beneath fear as the preparations for the enema he was about to receive proceeded.

//'Jim,'// Blair inhaled deeply, as a big nozzle was deftly inserted. //'I love you, Jim. I wish you were here. I really would grant you many, many stops at Wonderburger if you could hold my hand right now.'// The enema solution rushed into his body and spread its warmth through his bowels.

It was not like he was a total novice to this kind of treatment. He and Jim had done it a few time together, a sensual cleansing before making love. But now all erotic or possible passionate thought was literally drowned by humiliation. Closing his eyes, Blair let his thoughts flow, escaping from the impersonal examination room and travelling to a place where his good thoughts merged.

Jim was sitting beside him now. The Sentinel gently held his hand, smoothing back the hair that fell into his sweaty forehand. Warm, loving eyes glistered with compassion, and Jim moved the hand to his lips, kissing his fingers, each time Blair moaned.

"Try to relax, my love," the older man whispered, pressing Blair's hand against his cheek. "You gonna be alright."

The next moan became an outcry of pain, as the pressure in his intestines built up. The first cramp hit and Blair threw a desperate glance at his lover.

"It hurts, Jim," he groaned, his hand squeezing Jim's for support. The doctor didn't stop the flow. The water surged through his body, a violent, relentless wave of pain accompanying the stream.

Carefully, Jim placed his other hand on Blair troubled stomach. He could feel the strong contractions as the young man's muscles struggled against the invading water. The Sentinel started a gentle rubbing. "Try to breathe, Blair. I know, it hurts, but it'll be over soon."

"JIM!" Blair shouted clenching his hand into a fist. The spasms came faster now, as his rectum was filled beyond capacity.

"Easy, buddy, easy...." Tears shone in Jim's blue eyes as he suffered each cramp like a physical blow.

Suddenly, the tortured muscles weakened with the effort to accept the whole bag of water. Blair's rectum relaxed and he felt the liquid leaking out again, pouring onto the table, down to the floor. Like a helpless baby Blair sobbed in humiliation as water and trace of feces tickled down the table. "Please stop IT," he pleaded, tears running down his face. "Please, I cannot ...take anymore."

He turned his head to seek comfort and support from his lover's smiling face.

Jim was gone.

The image had faded, replaced by the cold tiles and the determined face of Dr. Spencer and the nurse. Blair whimpered at the loss of the mental straw he'd desperately grasped.

Jim Ellison's gaze shifted from the time-table of arrivals to the huge clock at the other end of the gate. To make sure his sight didn't play tricks on him, the Sentinel checked his watch. He shook his head. Blair's plane had touched down about 90 minutes ago.

Walking over to the information desk Jim smiled at a young female clerk. "Excuse me, Miss?"

She raised her head and flashed him a sweet smile in return. "How can I help you, sir?"

"I'm expecting a friend who was on the flight back from Lima," Jim explained. "It apparently landed long ago and I was wondering if there's a message for me? Jim Ellison."

"Just a moment, Mr. Ellison," the young woman replied. "I'll check the computer."

The man nodded, watching her typing an array of numbers, keys and words into the keyboard. After a minute she frowned and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ellison. Here's not message for you. Do you want me to check the passenger list?"

"No, that won't be necessary, thanks," Jim turned around and walked into the large open area of the terminal. He knew Blair had been on the plane. They'd talked on the phone before the student had boarded the aircraft in Lima.

Maybe he was in one of the restaurants waiting for Jim to locate him in the crowd? The Sentinel sighed deeply and looked around. The hope to catch of his lover with his enhanced vision shattered after several minutes of intense concentration in all directions.

//Okay, Chief//, Jim thought giving up the visual contact. //Only you can make me conduct one of your experiments in a building crowded with thousands of people.// With a few long strodes Ellison reached a sitting area. He sat down with his back to the crowd and closed his eyes. Extending his sense of sound was risky, yes, even dangerous, considering what a starting airplane engine could do to his sensitive hearing. Reaching the level of full concentration and complete relaxation, Jim searched for the one sound that matched his Guide's heartbeat.

The long plastic tube was forced through his nose, winding its way through his throat into his stomach. Blair's head tilted back forcibly for the procedure, adding to the feeling of absolute forced submission.

They were about to extract the contents of his stomach - darn airline food - and as Blair fought the reflex to swallow and gag at the same time, the moan he managed to squeeze out carried a name.

One syllable, three tiny letters.

"...jim..."

Big gluggy sounds as the contents of his stomach were forcibly removed by relentless suction, seemingly draggin all the air from his lungs... Surprisingly, the ordeal didn't last that long. After a few minutes, the suction was complete and the tube was withdrawn. Blair gagged as the urge to vomit threatened to overwhelm him. With is stomach empty though, there was nothing he could bring up. So, his already abused muscles spasmed with painful dry heaves.

Dr. Spencer covered the bowl with the ugly remains of his recent lunch. He nodded towards John. "I need a complete analaysis on the substances." Turning back to Blair, his face softened a bit at the sight of the hurting young man on the table.

"If you told us right from the beginning what you've swallowed this procedure would've been much easier." He tried a few comforting words. Changing gloves, the doctor stepped closer to the table again. Blair eyes widened in fear.

John, the nurse, left the room.

"I'm going to check your skin and muscles for any recent injuries," Dr. Spencer informed.

"Touch him again and I'll snap your neck with my bare hands!" A male voice growled from the door.

Blair let out a sob of relief as Dr. Spencer whirled around, giving him a good view at an outraged Jim Ellison standing at the entrance to the examination room. Nurse John stood beside him, his features totally miserable like he'd just lost his favourite toy.

"Excuse me? Who are you?" the physician exclaimed. "This is an examination to determine the abuse of drugs and smuggling said drugs from a foreign country...."

"I'm Detective James Ellison," the male voice growled dangerously. "This man is my partner. Take.Those.Straps.Off.Him/." Pulling his weapon from the holster at his back, Jim pointed it at the doctor. "NOW."

As the straps came free, Blair struggled to sit up. He just stared at his lover, grateful for the simple fact he knew that man.

Jim waved with his gun. "You." He pointed at John. "Join your buddy over there." Realizing the situation had suddenly become deadly serious, the two men obeyed Ellison's orders.

"We have reason to believe, Detective, that this man smuggled...." Dr. Spencer started but Jim cut him off.

"Chief?" He stepped over to the table where Blair was sitting, his eyes riveted on him, almost sparkling with relief. "You okay?" Jim asked gently. He grabbed Blair's clothes from a nearby chair. "Can you dress yourself?"

Blair nodded mutely. He slid from the table, fumbling for his underwear and pants, fighting the urge to retch in sudden blessed relief as the terrified adrenaline of the last few hours vanished.

Jim groped for his cell phone, his gun still pointing at the medical clerks. He punched in a number and waited. His attention wavered from his captives to his young lover. With trembling hands, Blair put on his underwear. The back of his legs were wet with moisture. Jim clenched his jaws.

"This is Jim Ellison," the detective spoke into the phone. "I need some backup at the airport." Listening to the voice on the other end of the line. "Thanks." He turned towards Blair who'd managed to pull a sweatshirt over his head. "We're out of here soon, Chief."

The anthropologist nodded again and moved closer. The haunted look in his eyes spoke volumes of the things that must have happened to him under the hideous cover of "law" and "justice". Jim reached out and pulled the young man against his side.

"Everything's gonna be alright," the older man promised and tenderly rubbed Blair's arm.

"I...," Blair's voice was hoarse, almost inaudible. "I-- knew you'd come." A tremor ran through his body. He tried a faint smile before his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed into Jim's arm.

The tea pot whistled softly. Preparing a cup of tea for his lover, Jim looked over at Blair who was huddled on the couch. The young man had curled himself into the warm quilt, but Jim could still see slight tremors running through the smaller man's frame. It probably wasn't the cold that made Blair shiver, Jim thought grimly as he poured the hot water into a cup.

Blair hadn't said much during the drive back to the loft. The short statement he'd given to Jim had only revealed the clinical facts of his ordeal at customs. As adrenaline was wearing off now, shock set in and Jim had considered briefly takeing him to a hospital. The thought was dismissed quickly though figuring the anthropologist wouldn't feel up to another session of probing and prodding.

Walking over to the living-room area, the Sentinel set down the steaming cup of tea.

"I made some tea," he announced smiling a bit embarrassed at the redundancy of the statement. "Guess that's pretty obvious, huh?"

As Blair slowly sat up and uncurled his body from his position, Jim handed him the cup. "It's chamomile. I thought it might have a soothing effect on your stomach."

The explanation was met with a comprehending nod. "Thanks," Blair croaked out. He blew on the tea and took a tiny sip. Wincing as the hot liquid ran down his sore throat, Blair set the cup back on the table. "I should let it cool at bit."

"Throat still hurts?" Jim asked sympathetically, sitting beside his partner on the couch. He gently placed an arm around Blair's shoulders and pulled him against his body. Blair willingly accepted the comfort, his arms encircling Jim's waist as he snuggled deep into the loving embrace.

Blair nodded again and mumbled something Jim couldn't make out.

"What was that, buddy?" The detective shifted his position so that Blair was comfortably lying against his chest. With one hand he groped for Blair's hand, while his other started a gentle rubbing of Blair's stomach.

"I said, 'like everything else'," Blair repeated sighing deeply at the soothing little circles Jim's hand drew.

"I know you probably don't wanna hear this, but don't you think we should go to the hospital to make sure...," Jim suggested carefully, immediately sensing the new-born shivers ravaging the smaller body he held. "Shhhh, it's okay. I'm sorry, I know..."

"You did the same thing back-back there," Blair whispered, covering Jim's hand on his stomach.

"What do you mean?" Jim questioned. He placed a short kiss on the mass of curls, never ceasing the tender massage.

"When... when....the doctor administered the.....," Blair bowed his head, the memories rushing back to him with a vengeance. "...my stomach was cramping and I imagined you were there to rub the pain away." He shuddered and Jim tightened his hold. "Like now."

Jim had already felt the slight muscle contractions, noticing the increase in Blair's breathing as well. "I'm so sorry, love, that you had to go through that," Jim spoke softly into Blair's ear. "I wish I'd been there earlier."

Blair looked up at him. "No. Don't go there, Jim. There was no way you could have known what was happening." He opened his mouth invitingly as the older man bent down and placed the gentlest kiss on his lips.

"Let me wish, okay?" Ellison smiled sweetly.

"How did you know what was going on?" Blair asked after a moment of silence.

"I heard you," Jim said, the sound of Blair's pained moan of his name still reverberating through his head. "I thougth you were trying to conduct one of the famous Sandburg experiments and make me search for you in the crowd of people." Jim swallowed. "I could hear your racing heartbeat and tuned in to the other sounds surrounding you. I heard-everything."

"I'm sorry, Jim," Blair apologized, stilling Jim's hand and squeezing it strongly. "I'm sorry you had to listen to... It must've been gross."

"Oh god, Chief, I just heard the sounds, but you....you...you...suffered through it." Jim closed his eyes momentarily. "You don't have to apologize. It wasn't your fault."

"I felt so helpless, Jim," Blair admitted, the hoarse voice coloured with starting tears. "They .... just grabbed me with no real reason to believe I was a drug smuggler. Maybe my clothes and my hair led them to suspicion but.... how could they do that to someone at all? I mean nobody deserves such humiliation."

Jim didn't say anything, just listened to Blair's pain-stricken recollections.

"It... they took control of my body, Jim, robbed me of the basic bodily functions a human being has. Somehow it felt like a mental..." A sob escaped Blair's throat, "...rape."

"They had no right, Chief," Jim murmured. "Not with you, not with any other person coming in from any foreign country. It's against the law and I swear they'll go down for that."

"You think so?" Blair shifted his body and took the cup of tea again. "That would be nice." He sipped the warm drink and leaned back to rest against Jim's strong body. He was safe now.

//I'll see to it.// Jim vowed.

The End.