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The Rules Of Attraction Part One

The Rules of Attraction

Part 1

Disclaimer: Characters from "The Sentinel" series belong to Pet Fly. My imagination belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended; passion is its own reward.

Notes: 1) This story takes place at some undetermined time in the third season, after "Warriors" but before "Sentinel Too". It is part 1 of an ongoing work. 2) My apologies to any Quechua speakers for mangling such a beautifully expressive language. I'm trying my best. 3) It's all Nikolaia's fault.

"Sandburg, wake up."

The room was dark and Jim was shaking his shoulder. "What, what is it, do we have a case?"

"No, someone was on the balcony."

Sandburg woke up, or sat up at least. "Someone tried to rob the place?"

"No, it was a message. Get up, Sleeping Beauty. I want to show you something."

"What time is it? Oh man, three fucking thirty?" In the kitchen, a blinking, drowsy, bitching Sandburg put on water for tea. Jim put a lumpy bundle about the size of his two fists on the table.

Sandburg snapped on the light over the table and made them both wince.

"The wrapping fabric looks Peruvian," he said, to be saying something.

"It's a Chopec message bundle," Jim explained. "It's an invitation, or a summons."

"You're going to Peru?"

"Chief, it's for you."

"What? That's so cool!" Sandburg was awake immediately. " How do you know?"

Jim unwrapped the bundle and spread the contents on the fabric. He picked up a wolf's canine tooth. "See? That's you. And it's valuable, because the Chopec don't hunt wolves, so someone went to the trouble of obtaining this tooth from a dead wolf. That means the message is important." He put the canine tooth on the table and lined a feather up next to it. He pointed. "The feather that's for traveling. This particular type of feather is an invitation, but a pretty urgent one."

"This is so cool! And what's that one?" Sandburg asked, peering over the table and tucking his hair behind his ears.

Next to the feather, Jim lined up a large, iridescent beetle carapace. "That's the elders of the tribe. This is an official invitation, Chief."

The final object was a narrow, delicate tube made from a bird's hollow bone, about as long as Jim's hand, carved and dyed with symbols. From one end hung an arrangement of beads and feathers. Jim picked it up and held it open in his palm. "This was Incacha's," he said quietly.

"Incacha? He was..."

"My spiritual guide when I was with the Chopec."

Incacha and several Chopec warriors had come to Cascade for justice against the Cyclops Company which was beginning to bulldoze their forest. Although, with the Sentinel's help, the journey had been successful, it had cost the lives of Incacha and two of his companions.

Sandburg put his hand into Ellison's open palm, covering the bone fetish. "Jim..."

Jim pulled his hand away and carefully placed the bone in line with the other objects on the spread-out fabric. He didn't look at Sandburg. "Before Incacha died he passed the way of the shaman to you. Now the Chopec have decided that you need to undergo the trials of a shaman so you can truly become Incacha's successor."

Sandburg squinted at the fetish, and realized his glasses were still in his bedroom. Sprinting back to grab them, he called out, "How do you know that? Is that what the symbols on the bone fetish mean?" He ran out of his bedroom with his glasses on and leaned over the kitchen table, pushing them farther up his nose and scrutinizing the fetish closely.

Jim smirked. "No, genius, that's what Aqilu said when he dropped off the bundle." Sandburg looked up from the fetish, and Ellison enjoyed seeing the expression of happily stunned Sandburg.

"Wow! That's so cool! Wow! We're going to Peru!" Sandburg bubbled, and bounced to his feet. As if responding to his mood, the teapot burst noiselessly into steam -- whistling teapots didn't go over well with Sentinel hearing. He bustled about happily with cups and tea.

Ellison said, "Well, the invitation's for you really, but if you want me to come..."

"Dude!" Sandburg said, banging a mug down with a clunk and a splash.

Jim growled, "Watch the table!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Sandburg replied, fumbling with paper towels. "But shit, Jim, of course you're coming with me. These are your people! Your friends! And besides, how else would I get there? How would I talk to them?" He handed Ellison a steaming mug of tea and started pacing. "Wow, I don't even know what to pack. And what about getting time off?" He stopped pacing and looked worriedly at Jim. "And what kind of trials of a shaman are we talking about here, anyway?"

"I don't know," Jim shrugged. "I'm no shaman. The elders will probably have a lot of questions for you to answer about what you know and what you think, and there'll probably be some kind of ordeal. You know about this stuff, you probably have a better idea than I do what it is."

"Yeah," Sandburg laughed. "It sounds just like defending a dissertation." He couldn't contain himself and bounced over to the balcony, gripping his elbows against the chill night air. "Wow," he wondered, gazing over Cascade. "Wow," he grinned. "I'm gonna get my witch doctorate."

Sandburg was still "Wow!"ing a week later as he followed Ellison along the trail he was breaking through the depths of the La Montaa rainforest.

He'd "Wow!"ed as Jim almost ashamedly revealed just how much vacation time he'd let pile up with the PD, and again as Captain Banks begrudgingly authorized Ellison a full four weeks off, clamping a dead cigar between his teeth and grumbling something about supposing it would keep "you two wackos from going fully off the deep end for the next year or so." He'd barely quit "Wow!"ing long enough to convince the Anthro department that the value of this opportunity was worth letting him off his teaching assignment for the duration, contingent of course on a paper and seminar on his experience when he returned. He'd "Wow!"ed and "This is so cool!"ed as Jim patiently explained exactly how little luggage they'd actually need and Sandburg realized this was going to be a full-bore gone-native encounter. He'd "Wow!"ed all the way to the airport, but spent the entire flight dead asleep, pretzled into a coach class window seat though Ellison did pick up the occasional sub-vocalized "wow" or "... so cool..." from his unconscious companion.

And now he was "Wow!"ing his way through the Peruvian jungle, and Ellison was glad that the dense underbrush gave him something legitimate to swing his machete at, because despite how much he understood Sandburg's giddiness, after a week of it he was almost ready to take his head off. Almost.

"Shit!"

Well, Ellison thought, at least it's different. He turned back to his companion. "What's up, Chief?" Sandburg was pulling his weight remarkably well on their trek after all, he'd been on field studies before. But he was still Sandburg. Both men were working hard, but the forest had taken it out of Sandburg. His t-shirt and cutoffs were filthy and stinking, there were twigs and leaves and the occasional insect tangled into his ponytail, and his pack always looked like it was about to explode. Walking chaos, pure and simple, but never anything but exhilarated for the sheer adventure of it all.

Sandburg had pulled his pack off and was clawing at his shoulder. "Something bit me," he griped. "These insects are murder." He tried to scratch the unscratchable spot on his own back.

Jim pulled the water bottle off his belt. "Let's see." Sandburg pulled his shirt up his back and Jim wrinkled his nose. "Just take that fucking thing off and burn it, Chief." He took a look at the bite.

From under the t-shirt Sandburg mumbled, "I'm not burning anything in a rainforest." He pulled the shirt over his head and stuffed it in an already stuffed pocket of his pack. Then, "oh, wow" (again) as Ellison poured water over his itching back.

"The bite's nothing," Ellison said, and took a drink from the bottle before passing it over to Sandburg.

"I didn't say it wasn't," he replied, "I just said it itched like murder." He took a drink. "Thanks," handing it back.

Ellison pulled off his Jags cap and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Sandburg could see how much he was enjoying himself. Ellison would never do something as simple as smile, of course, but it was obvious that he was in his element, full of energy and more relaxed than Sandburg could remember him ever being. It wasn't fair; the same sweat and dirt that made Sandburg look like he had fallen into a gully (he'd only done that once!) merely made Jim look more a part of his environment. He'd gone shirtless almost from the moment they'd left the road, and a day and a half later, now, was breathing deeply, speaking rarely and totally focused on their surroundings. When he dropped his pack, the places where his shoulder straps had been showed up clean and red against the grime on the rest of his upper body, looking like ritual body painting. It was like trekking through the jungle with Doc goddamn Savage, Sandburg thought; he made you want to die from venom rather than look like a wuss by complaining about a bug bite.

Jim was scoping around their immediate area. "What's the matter?" Sandburg asked. "Is there something wrong? Do you sense something?"

"I sense everything," Ellison countered absently, "but nothing's wrong. I was just looking for..." he stepped a few feet off the trail and hacked at something. Coming back with a small handful of leaves, he allowed himself a small grin. "Turn around, Chief," he said, and stuffed the leaves into his mouth and started chewing.

"Huh? What are you doing?" Sandburg asked as Ellison, still chewing, turned him around. Then something wet and stinging was slapped on his back. "What are you doing?"

Jim spat the rest of the chewed leaves into the palm of his hand and spread the pulp over Sandburg's back. "Bug repellent," he explained. "Takes the sting away, too." He rubbed the astringent leaves deep into Sandburg's skin. Sandburg rolled his aching shoulders and groaned. "Oh"

"Sandburg, if you say wow again I'm going to put a snake down your shorts."

"Promises, promises," Sandburg groaned. He rolled his head to loosen his neck. Ellison worked his thumbs into Blair's muscles and rolled his palms over his shoulders and the back of his neck. Sandburg kept groaning. At least it was better than wowing, Jim thought. Blair hadn't really been that much of a pain on this trip and it was Blair's trip, after all.

"You're not a bad trekking companion," Jim said over Sandburg's shoulder.

"Thanks, man," Sandburg groaned. "You're not so bad yourself."

Three Chopec hunters dropped from the trees in front of them. Sandburg startled, but immediately settled under the easy pressure of Ellison's hands on his shoulders.

Ellison stepped out from behind Sandburg. "Intapu," he said, and spoke in Quechua to the three men, gesturing at himself and Blair. One of the men laughed and grinned and hugged Jim heartily, slapping him on the back. Sandburg was surprised to see Jim smile and hug and slap in return.

He turned to look at Sandburg, still smiling easily. "Chief, this is Intapu. I haven't seen him since he was still a kid. These are Qisa and Aqilu, who was your messenger." Sandburg waved and smiled and said, "thanks. Great to meet you." Oh wow, he thought, this is so cool.

The entire village was gathered under the palm-leaf roof of the chief's shelter, nudging and giggling and whispering and pushing for a better view of Blair of the Jungle, who stood front and center before them all and felt like a total fool. Jim was no help; he'd immediately gone native. In fact, Sandburg was almost a little envious of how easily Ellison had made himself at home. Almost.

The two of them had been escorted through the village and into the mens' house before Sandburg had gotten a good look around. Then there had been the local version of the Barbie makeover as he and Jim were given Chopec loincloths and body paint. Jim accepted it casually, greeting old friends and chatting over fingers full of cassava while broad swaths of red and black were striped across his face and beads and feathers were strung into Sandburg's hair. The Chopec loved Sandburg's nipple ring and made him hang the wolf's tooth from the message bundle from it. None of the shelters had walls, and women and children would often "casually" stroll by and try to catch a glimpse of them. Sandburg smiled at two young girls and they shrieked and giggled and ran.

Ellison walked over to him. "Ignore them, Chief," he said in English, putting his hand on Sandburg's shoulder. "You shouldn't be smiling at the unmarried girls."

Sandburg nodded. "Right, of course, social tabus. There's no physical privacy so you need social privacy. Jim," he babbled, "thank you so much for doing this. This is all " He stopped short as Jim held up his hand and rolled his eyes.

The men laughed and one of them pointed at him and said something that made the others laugh again. Blair thought he could catch at least one word, the word for "shaman." Well, he thought, at least it's not "moron." Though what the Quechua word for moron was, he wouldn't be able to tell.

Whatever the word was, that was what he felt like. He didn't know how he was supposed to avoid looking at inappropriate people when everyone in the entire village was nudging and giggling and whispering and pushing for a better view of Blair of the Jungle. He decided to ignore everyone and keep looking at Jungle Jim, who was having some sort of discussion with the chief. One of the tribesmen stood up and spoke for a minute. Jim replied something, the chief said something, and Sandburg said, "What do they say? What are they talking about?"

"We're deciding who's going to adopt you," Jim explained briefly, then turned back to his conversation. After some more minutes of negotiation and comment by various people, it seemed some kind of consensus was reached and then he was surrounded by people, hugging him and slapping him on the back. He smiled and nodded and hugged back and said, "Thanks. Hi! Thank you. Jim!" he called. "What am I thanking them for?"

Ellison came over to him and laughed and introduced an older man and woman. "Sandburg, meet your mother and father. This is Pato and Iaqu." He gave him a pointed look. "It's a big honor for them, and a big honor for you. Their family has high status."

Sandburg nodded, he got it. He greeted his adoptive parents with a nod and a big grin. The woman, Iaqu, smiled back (Sandburg mentally noted that the social restrictions didn't seem to include relatives), nudged her husband Pato and handed him something. Pato threw his arms around Sandburg in a big hug, then released him and hung around Sandburg's neck the feathered claw necklace his wife had handed him.

"Thank you!" Sandburg said. "Jim, how do I say thank you?"

"Yusulpayki," Jim told him quietly, smiling.

"Yusulpayki, yusulpayki," Everybody smiled at everybody.

"Blair," Jim continued quietly, " you should give him something back."

"Oh wow, what do I have?" He rummaged through what he had with him and came up with... his Swiss Army knife. He glanced a question at Ellison and received a nod. He put the knife into his father's hand (thinking, father! Wow, this is so cool!) and showed him the different blades and accessories. Pato grinned and hugged him again and Sandburg said "yusulpayki" again and again and glanced another question at Ellison and, receiving a shrug in reply, hugged his adoptive mother, too. She laughed.

Then everybody started drinking. Cassava beer, thin, watery, not too tasty and not too potent, so you had to drink gallons of it, which nobody seemed to mind. There was dancing too, mostly by the men, including Sandburg and even Ellison and Sandburg wasn't even surprised at that anymore. One of the dances was a kicking chain dance and Sandburg found himself dancing around the village singing "Hava Negilah" and when a couple of Chopec caught the words and joined in, he thought that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

Finally, Sandburg stumbled off in search of a likely looking tree. Intent on his goal, he kind of forgot that he'd have to find his way back when he was done. Then he realized that it was drunk, he was dark, and though he could hear the people and even see a flicker of fire, the forest between him and the village was one big drunk trap waiting to happen.

"Having fun, Chief?" A pair of clear blue eyes glittered through the darkness. That's funny, Sandburg thought, I thought only animals' eyes did that. Ellison took a step towards him; his gaze looked so piercing because he was masked with a broad stripe of black paint across both his eyes, with slashes of red across both cheekbones. It's the Lone Fucking Ranger, thought Sandburg, just call me Tonto, and giggled. And hiccupped.

Ellison tried to hide a smile (that's the Jim I know, thought Sandburg) and put his arm around Sandburg's shoulders. "Let's get you home, I think you've had enough," he said.

"Where's home? The world is my home. You followed me, didn't you?" Sandburg babbled up at him, throwing his arm around the taller man's waist. "Yusulpayki, yusulpayki."

"I saw you stagger away," Jim shrugged casually. "You were either going to piss or puke and either way who knows what you were going to step on or walk into." He steered them around the outskirts of the small village -- Sandburg occasionally breaking into a chain dance step -- and toward a small palm shelter out of sight of the village, but still within hearing.

"What's this?" Sandburg asked.

"Home," answered Jim simply. "Your home. I can sleep in the men's house." He pointed his thumb back over his shoulder.

"Why can't I?" Sandburg wandered under the roof of the shelter and peered at the interior, which he really couldn't see much of. He picked up a basket and sniffed at the contents. "What is all this stuff?"

Ellison hung around, not joining Sandburg under the shelter. "These are all Incacha's things. The tribe kept his belongings and when they sent you the message, they rebuilt his house for you. You're the shaman."

Blair finally stood still. "Wow. Oh my god. Wow, this is all real." He saw Ellison's shadow outlined against the greater shadow of the forest. "Oh wow, Jim I mean not wow. This must be awful for you. I'm so sorry," and Sandburg went out to him and touched his arm. "I've been so floored by all of this, I should have remembered how you must be feeling."

Jim's eyes met his, blue blazing out from the depths of black paint. "I feel good. I feel better than I have in years." He took a deep breath and exhaled. "Incacha nothing can bring him back. But it would be worse if his life's work and what he meant to the Chopec die with him. I can't think of anyone better to be his successor than you."

"I'm not Chopec."

"Neither am I," Ellison said. "And Incacha was my guide. And you're my guide."

"And he lived here... on the periphery of the tribe... With the Sentinel! Incacha lived here with you!" Jim shrugged, nodded. Sandburg continued, "Then you have to stay here with me!" He took hold of Jim's arm and pulled him under the shelter's roof. "Why not? What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit!"

"You're drunk."

"Oooh, you must have Sentinel senses," Blair teased. "Come on, Jim, sit down." He plunked himself on the ground.

"Enqueri."

"What?"

"That's my Chopec name. Enqueri." He sat down next to Sandburg. "Listen, Chief..."

"What's my Chopec name?"

"Asikatuq."

"So, Enqueri, what's the matter?" Sandburg urged.

Slowly, Ellison said, "When we were deciding who was going to adopt you, they first asked if I wanted you to be my brother. I said no." Ellison looked closely at him. "You're my guide, it wouldn't be ... appropriate if you were my brother. Understand?"

Sandburg nodded. "Another tabu too close a relationship. It would be like incest or something ... oh." He looked away into the shadows. "Oh. wow." It was dark, he was drunk, he knew Jim could sense the heat in his face that was a blush under the paint. Sandburg could only see the shadowy profile of Ellison's face, studiously avoiding his eyes, but somehow, even with Sandburg- not-Sentinel senses he could tell that Jim was almost blushing too. Almost.

Ellison cleared his throat and continued. "They asked if you wanted a wife. I told them I didn't know."

"Oh." Oh was good. Better than wow.

Jim turned to face him again. "It's a completely appropriate relationship."

Sandburg quickly nodded and shook his head and waved his arms and nodded again. "I understand completely, of course I do completely culturally determined -- it's totally cool with me, I had no idea you and Incacha..." he waved his arms again, looking for words, "... were together like that."

"The Chopec don't draw that kind of line the way we do."

"What's with the we, white man?" Sandburg blurted.

"You're a shaman," Jim cut him off and totally, typically missed the joke, which in a way was a hell of a relief for Sandburg, who was beginning to wonder when the aliens had secretly switched Sentinels on him. "The rules are different for you," continued Ellison. "You're expected to do things differently from other people to wander between rules..."

His turn to cut Jim off: "Ritual transgression, absolutely. I understand," Sandburg babbled, and started counting off on his fingers. "Like the Backwards Society of the Sioux, the Trickster cults, Loki, the Hanged Man. Wisdom and magic from living on the opposite perspective of society hell, even Merlin in T.H. White lived backwards, he remembered things that were going to happen before they happened" He flung up his hands. "Oh, fuck it," he said, and threw his arms around Jim Ellison and kissed him sloppily on the mouth, with tongue and everything. And Jim Ellison kissed him back. Oh. Wow.

Coming up for air, Sandburg gasped, "... a perfectly appropriate relationship. Yusulpayki, yusulpayki..."

Jim nodded, nuzzling into his neck. "Asikatuq..." he whispered.

Sandburg took Ellison's face between his two hands and forced their eyes to meet. "Enqueri," he said softly, "how do I say I love you?"

Jim caught his breath and closed his eyes. He whispered, "Munakuyki."

"How do I say I've been waiting for you?"

Whispered, "Qanpaq suyasqa'y." Took his Guide in his arms and crushed him, kissed him breathless, heard his heart beating and felt it beat in his own chest. Smelled his sweat and paint and good rich dirt on his body and the beetle crawling across his scalp. Caressed his Guide's tongue with his own, stroking the agile muscle, tasting salty saliva and metallic fillings and a bit of blood (should get more Vitamin C) and then he broke the kiss.

His Guide clutched him and stared at him, a tangled mass of hair framing wild eyes masked by red lightning bolts, black paint smeared across his grinning, shocked mouth. "Who are you," croaked the Guide, "and what have you done with James Ellison?"

"Enquerimi sutiy," the Sentinel said, stroking his guide's chest as they lay back together on the ground. "Asikatuq sutiyki. Me Tarzan," he continued in English, laughing quietly, "you Chief. When was the last time you slept two in a hammock?"

Asikatuq rolled Enqueri onto his back and crawled on top of him, snuggling into his chest. "Who's going to sleep?" he inquired, lips murmuring a breath away from his Sentinel's nipple.

Enqueri groaned and sat them both up, twisting the smaller man above him so Asikatuq was sitting in his lap and attempting stoically to ignore the effect such a maneuver had on his hardening dick under the thin loincloth. "Asikatuq, tomorrow you're undergoing a serious mystical ordeal..." he said as they both stood up the Sentinel a little stiffly and the Guide a bit unsteadily.

Asikatuq, exhausted, intoxicated but no fool, caught on immediately. "You mean abstinence? You can't after Oh, you're shitting me!"

Enqueri nodded glumly. "It would be..."

"Inappropriate," Asikatuq moaned. "You bastard."

Enqueri picked his Guide up and tossed him into the wide hammock, which immediately started swinging in a way that made the drunken shaman feel like he was going to do something dangerously inappropriate himself and not in a good way. He moaned, "You bastard."

Enqueri caught the hammock. "Sorry." He knelt beside his Guide. "Sorry," he whispered again. "I wasn't going to mention any of this until after." He reached out and stroked Asikatuq's hair out of his eyes.

" 'S'okay," Asikatuq mumbled sleepily. "Where are you going? Get over here." He grabbed the back of Enqueri's neck.

"You sure? I could leave you alone, sleep in the men's house, I didn't mean to "

"What, be a cocktease?" the shaman laughed. "You're my Sentinel. You're going to leave me alone all night in the middle of the jungle? Talk about inappropriate!"

Defeated by that kind of logic, pretty damn tired and a bit drunk himself, Enqueri slipped into the hammock behind his Guide so sweetly that the hammock hardly stirred. He curled around Asikatuq's back and the hammock curled around both of them, tucking the two men together.

On the edge of sleep, the Sentinel heard a barely voiced whisper: "How do I say I love you?"

He whispered, "Munakuyki."

Heard whispered, "Yusulpayki, yusulpayki, Enqueri."

"No problem, Chief," Jim Ellison mumbled into Blair Sandburg's hair. "Besides, what if you need to take another piss?" And smiling, pillowed on his Guide's matted hair, fell asleep.

• to be continued --------