FAULT
LINES
By
Mason-Dixon
Authors’ disclaimer: The Sentinel and all related characters are the property of Paramount Pictures and Pet Fly Productions. No copyright infringement intended.
WARNING: This story contains
non-sexual, disciplinary spanking; it is slash and adult in nature.
We, Mason-Dixon, would like to
dedicate this story to T & B. To
thank them for the lightness of their being, the variegations of their souls,
and the joy they bring us in the knowing.
I do more than walk
the line I sometimes cross it. The lines are not barriers. They do not contain
me, they are merely boundaries that help define me and keep me true to form. I
rise within the lines, safe and secure---for there are no limits to what I can
be---only guides to get me there. I
have never reached so far beyond my limits…than when love drew lines for
me. (From the Lines of Demarcation)
The morning light spun the loft in a golden haze, languorous and warm. Blair hugged the pillow next to him still lingering with the scent of his beloved. He stretched his compact form to cover the imprints of heat that had moments ago come from James Ellison’s body. Still wishing to push back morning’s daunting reality, he allowed his mind to drift back to the night. They had not made love, but that was fine with him. Sometimes it was just as nice to curl his body around his lover's and drift to sleep, feeling safe and warm. Trying to catch the fleeting memory, he curled more tightly around the pillow.
“Sandburg, get a move
on it. Breakfast is almost ready and I
am not waiting for you.” The first
warning burst forth upon his pleasant memories of a night in Jim’s arms. Well, so much for the lover in Jim. Gone
were the lazy mornings at the beginning of their relationship when Jim would
wake him up with small kisses, leading to tender lovemaking. Cop Jim was in full force this morning just
as surely as he had made his appearance at dinner yesterday. Blair grimaced into the pillow at the
memory.
They had just sat
down to dinner, one of Blair’s culinary creations. Spinach-Cheese pie and cornbread graced the table as Jim lowered
himself into the chair opposite his lover and roommate.
“What
is it?” Jim asked in a peculiarly curt tone, staring at the food in front of
him.
“What’s what, Jim?”
Blair questioned the inquisitor, a bit perturbed, himself. “It’s vegetarian,
full of nutrients and flavor and you can at least give it a try.”
“Well, I don’t feel
like experimenting,” he said as he took a whiff of the pungent cheeses, their
odors still strongly abrasive to his senses. He sat there, glaring at the food.
“You know, if you
just tasted it, you’d find it quite delicious. Can’t you just try something
first before you make one of your faces.”
Blair took a large slice of the pie for himself.
“I just expect a
little more effort on your part, Sandburg, that’s all. I haven’t seen hide nor
hair of you at the station for the past several weeks.” Jim reached over and spooned a small helping
of the questionable meal onto his plate.
Putting a huge spatter of butter on his cornbread, he pointed his knife
in the direction of the living room.
“You haven’t been
keeping things clean around here, either, and I’m beginning to wonder if the
rules of communal living have slipped your mind.”
“Man, you are so
anal. I can see why Carolyn had a hard
time living with you," Blair retorted, yanking the butter away from Jim,
"Don't use so much, it is not healthy,” he griped, still smarting from the
lack of appreciation for his dinner and Jim's attitude.
True, he had
originally entered Jim Ellison’s life as a Guide. The true meaning of the word slowly became evident to him as
their partnership deepened. The eager
student blessed with a discovery he could only dream of, never imagining it to
be true. A real live Sentinel crossing his path, becoming a willing topic for
his dissertation…well... almost willing...semi-cooperative at best, but still
within his realm to monitor and assess.
"SANDBURG!"
The call came louder, more threatening.
Dragging himself out
of the bed, clad in pajama bottoms and a tee shirt, he grabbed his robe from a
chair? Stumbling down the stairs, he spotted the object of his affections
cracking eggs into a bowl.
"I'm
up already, no need to yell. You better
have saved me some hot water, Jim. It's freezing in here."
"The
days are getting warmer, Chief. No sense in wasting heat."
"Well, I'm
cold," a pouting voice came back at him from behind the bathroom door.
Then more quietly, knowing full well that Jim could hear him, "Seems it's
always the temperature you're comfortable with. I live here, too, you
know."
Jim shot a frustrated
look toward the bathroom and shook his head as he beat the eggs more fervently
than necessary. They were both getting on each other's nerves lately. For two years Blair had pretty much fit into
the loft, tucked into the corners, quietly leaking out into his daily
routine. It was an unexpected surprise
to the hard-ass cop that this antithesis to all the discipline and control he
had practiced most of his life could have charmed and bewitched him so subtly.
In a matter of
months, he recognized stirrings beneath his hard shell. First, friendship
quietly prodded the sealed chambers of his heart, opening them wide to the need
and comfort of someone to share space with and toss around ideas like a
football into the early morning hours. Then, desire had lit a flame beneath the
cold exterior of macho self-control. At
first he denied the passion and attraction the blue eyes evoked when they
turned to him with sadness or fear or concern. However, when the spark lit in
the kid's eyes and he realized it was indeed a two way street, the detective,
like a primal animal bidding for the attentions of his mate, took charge in a
proprietary and decisive fashion. The
futon was immediately relegated to the basement and Blair Sandburg, friend,
Guide, and doctoral candidate was safely ensconced beneath the constant
protection of Jim Ellison. Once they
shared a bed, he put an even tighter rein on his young lover.
Now, one year later,
the fibers of that nest were beginning to prickle and tease. He loved the damn kid, there was nothing he
could do to deny it or change it and he didn't want to if he could, but the
little things were beginning to chafe.
The last few weeks
alone were a sore spot. Blair had
practically spent all his time at the University. There were piles of reports
that needed to be filed, sitting patiently on Detective Ellison's desk. If Blair didn't get his butt down to the
station soon, he would just have to tackle them himself… a chore that would
surely press and crease his sharp edges to an even finer point.
The kid works long hours; he has a life at the University, Jim reasoned as he scraped the last of the eggs onto a
plate, I can't always expect him to give
me all his spare time. Then the
little child in him, afraid of being forgotten and unloved, surfaced and took
over his reasoning. I just wish he would make the effort to cut
back a bit on his teaching assignments. This guide thing can't work very well when
he's never with me anymore.
"Man, I froze my
butt off in there." His thoughts were interrupted by his lover's
appearance. Jim set the pan on the table, then turned quickly to the
curly-headed young man. Blair's head was down as he tightened the belt of his
robe against the chill. Jim grabbed him by his shoulders and passionately
kissed the lips that were still pouting.
The peppermint taste of toothpaste mingled with the sweet warmth of
Blair's lips. Jim pulled playfully at
the lower petal, tempting the soft flesh, while making a low, primal growl out
of, "Good morning, love."
Blue eyes met blue
eyes in a fiery glance of recognition.
For all their differences, all their polar views and contrary opinions,
when they met on that plane of pure passion and emotion, all the colors and
hues that shaded their personalities melted into one burning rainbow.
Blair's eyes were
smoky, like they were wont to get when Jim ignited the flame of passion. The
smaller man leaned into the larger man’s embrace and tightly gripped Jim's
shirt. Torn between his desires and the
responsibilities of the day, he seemed to be contemplating how far to take this
kiss.
"I thought that
would warm you up," Jim said teasingly, "not to mention, shutting you
up."
"Damn it, Jim, I
wish you wouldn't do that." Blair laughed. "Not when I have to get to
the University." He pushed off and backed away from Ellison. Lowering
himself into the chair, he reached for a slice of the freshly toasted bread. "You are such a tease sometimes. You leave me in bed without even a good
morning kiss and then you tempt me in the kitchen only to say 'no’ just when I
was starting to enjoy it."
They both lapped into
a comfortable silence enjoying their food and paper for a few minutes.
“I’m going to be late
tonight, so I was thinking maybe we could do carry out,” Blair said, as he
forked a large portion of the fluffy eggs into his mouth. Following the eggs,
he bit into the toast and immediately grabbed his mug. The look on Ellison’s face already began to
mold with frustration and anger.
“Hey, man, I know I
haven’t been spending a lot of time with you.
I know I promised you at least one night this week to shuffle the paper
trail up and away from your desk; but, Jim, I’ve got some students I’m counseling
and I have an appointment this evening with one of them.”
“I think you need to
settle down, Chief. You’ve been operating at full throttle for the past two
months and not holding your end of this relationship up. I’ve done the shopping, cooked the meals,
washed the clothes, and basically tried to keep your end up, but you still
haven’t organized your life. I’m always
willing to help you, but I expect you to see the problem and start working on a
fix.” Jim eyed him, trying to see if he
was making his point. He didn’t want to sound like a fishwife, complaining all
the time, but Sandburg’s life style was out of control.
“Next week is spring
break, right?” Jim asked, stabbing his utensil in the air, aiming the tongs
towards Blair trying to keep the petulant tone out of his voice.
“Yeah, we talked
about this, Jim, quality time, just you and me. You cleared it with Simon, some
time off, right?” Blair asked, using his own slice of toast as a weapon to
punctuate his question.
“Don’t worry about me
keeping promises, Chief. Just make sure you have some time for me. Of course, after some time in bed, I might
have to put you through obedience training one more time. I admit you haven’t spotted the carpet in
awhile, but you haven’t hit the hamper in weeks and I’m tired of picking up the
wet towels off the floor.” Jim finished
off his eggs and immediately took his plate to the sink. Downing his coffee, he rinsed his cup and
left it in the sink.
“Well, I’m off,
Sandburg,” he said as he came up behind his lover and planted a firm kiss on
the upturned lips. “I want your butt
back here no later than midnight tonight. Got it?”
“Yeah,
got it.”
“Have
a nice day.”
“Yeah, you, too, Jim. Love ya.”
As soon as the door
closed, Blair leaned back and shook his head at his lover's behavior. Jim was definitely feeling neglected. Taking
several deep breaths, trying to get rid of the tension of the past several
weeks, he smiled eagerly at the golden sun rising beyond the city. One week in the mountains, just the two of
them, it was just what they needed.
What good fortune that Professor White’s wife needed that emergency
hysterectomy. Well, not good fortune for
Mrs. White, Blair admitted wryly, but
definitely good fortune for Jim and me.
Professor White
needed someone to cover his advanced Anthro class for three weeks so he could
be with his ailing wife. Their 35th wedding anniversary was in a
week and he had planned to take his wife up to a secluded mountain cabin. Since
she was in no shape to travel, the professor had eagerly given the keys to
Blair in payment for taking his class load.
It would be a surprise for Jim. One year together and they needed the
time alone.
They needed some
quiet, stress-free time to reconnect and just enjoy their love. Blair's
schedule had been especially hectic this term and the strain was beginning to
show on them both. Jim had come to
expect Blair's help around the station, but when he was busy at the university,
the detective had a tendency to become possessive and pensive.
When he entered into
a sexual relationship with Detective Ellison, he knew what he was getting into.
There were no blinders on his eyes. Naomi Sandburg had long ago opened her
son’s eyes to the ways of the world.
Men like Ellison didn’t shed skins when they loved someone, they still
chiseled out lives to degrees and specifications, bending themselves to no
one’s will, they sometimes seemed cruel and uncaring. Blair knew differently. The cold, hard casing housed a tender
man. The loving nature that crept out in the shadows of their bedroom, the
prying mind that pulled and teased information from his sometimes, troubled
Guide, the soft whispers in the night of tender feelings and promises of
forever showed Blair the secret man.
He loved Jim. He
loved his tight-ass ways, for they were merely pillars to lean on. He loved the
strong, silent moods that often pulled him back to safety---the watcher in Jim,
gauging the situation at all times.
With eager, careless steps Blair rushed in head on to meet the
situation, while Jim assessed and waited and calculated, oftentimes to Blair’s
quiet thanks. The Blessed Protector
name only seemed to broaden his shoulders.
From then on, the simple things, flu, sleep-robbing finals, suggestions
of tattooing, all brought out the defender ready to kick ass to ensure Blair’s
safety…even if the ass in need of kicking was Blair’s.
Blair thought back to
finals last term. He had graded 175
final papers and approximately 200 essay finals in four straight marathon
days. He had slept less then 2 hours a
day and ate almost nothing, save vending machine cheese crackers. Knowing that he was behind on his grading
and knowing that Jim would not allow him to pull the grading marathon he needed
to do, Blair lied to him. Saying that
he was busy grading, talking to students and posting grades, he swore it would
be easier for him to stay with a fellow professor on campus. Jim had not been happy about the
situation. It was only when Simon
pulled Jim onto a temporary witness protection case that Sandburg's plan fell
into place. He avoided the loft and
Jim's calls, leaving messages for the detective when he knew the other man
would not be around to answer the phone.
His plan had worked. He got
through with his grading and posting in time and was beyond exhausted.
He was also in deep
trouble with Jim. After stumbling home,
his lover had immediately tucked him in bed, saying nothing except they would
talk about his behavior later.
The next morning,
after sleeping almost 20 hours, Blair woke feeling refreshed and somewhat
guilty. Sitting up in bed for a few
minutes, trying to decide if he was getting up or going back to sleep, he heard
Jim walk up the stairs to the bedroom.
Jim stopped for a
moment just inside the bedroom area, looking at Blair with a mixture of anger,
concern and disappointment.
The younger man did
not move or say anything. He looked
down at the quilt, not wanting to see the disappointment or anger that he read
in the detective’s face. He was startled
when he felt the mattress shift and strong arms wrap around him from
behind. He allowed himself to be pulled
in a quick hug and settled in a warm embrace on the other man's lap. Grasping the hands that held him, Blair
whispered, "I'm sorry."
"I know you
are. But we need to talk about
it."
"Not now."
"Okay, but
soon."
"Are you going
to spank me?"
"Did you
deliberately lie to me? Did you act
irresponsibly when it came to taking care of yourself by not eating or
sleeping? We talked about it. We made an agreement when this sort of thing
happened at the end of Summer Term, that if it ever happened again you would be
spanked. It is something we both agreed
we needed and wanted to do.
Right?"
"Yeah, I
know. I don't like it."
"You're not
supposed to. That's why it is called a
punishment."
"I love you,
Jim," he whispered, snuggling deeper and closing his eyes.
"I love you too,
love," the other man whispered back, feeling the most important person in
the world to him relax back into a light sleep.
Blair shook his head
at the memory of the discussion they had later that morning, and the spanking
that had followed. It had been his
second disciplinary spanking from his lover and although Jim had threatened
several times since then, his behavior had not called for one. I think
that's going to change soon if I don't get my act together. We have been snapping at each other lately.
I've been rude and not keeping up my end of this relationship. The stress, the hours and we're taking it
out on each other. We need to get
away. Yes, indeed, he thought to
himself, as he collected his own breakfast dishes and washed then in the sink, a week in the mountains is just what we need
right now. We've got a great thing
going here. It's time I saw a relationship through for the distance.
Blair's life under
the guidance of Naomi Sandburg had been ethereal and enlightening. The free
spirit of counter-culture pulled both mother and son into corners of the world
other children only dreamed about. Adaptability was a cloak Blair wore well,
but always with the thought that it was only an overcoat, soon to be discarded
as they moved on to brighter and newer things, when a coat of different colors
was needed.
Now, for the first
time in his restless life, Blair wanted roots. Looking up from the chore of
wiping the counter, he gazed with pleasure on the place that he had come to
think of as home. Home, what a simple
word to most people, not one reflected on much, but taken for granted in the
busy scheme of life. To the uprooted, socially mobile Sandburg, it had come to
mean much, much more. Jim Ellison embodied the rock solid frame on which
structures were built. He was the quiet
security of reason, trust, and commitment. The military efficiency that ran his
household operations like an army camp was soon downshifted into a more relaxed
hum. True, rules, lists, chores, and everyday little 'no-no's' still peppered
their day, but communal living had taught both men to compromise.
On cold, bitter
nights, warm lamps now glowed brightly; a fireplace tempered the chill with
crackling insistence. Often while he and Jim sat side-by-side on the sofa… one
channel surfing for worthwhile viewing, the other deeply buried in a book
braced against his knees as he leaned back into the other's strong arms…their
world looked picture perfect. In fact,
even before they had admitted the mutual attraction, they were developing a
close relationship in which they were learning to overlook the small annoyances
that each one had. Their love simply
enforced this commitment. One man, so
totally antithetical, had pulled the young man off course and settled him
snugly into a warm and loving routine.
However, over time
tiny flaws can threaten the most solid of structures. Earthquakes topple trees,
bring buildings crashing down, and fracture the earth. Small fissures become large and obtrusive
when they are not addressed and filled and watched. Blair valued the relationship too much to lose what he treasured
above life itself.
Yes, he thought, a week away is just what we need. The fact
that Jim has no idea about the cabin, well, it'll make the treat all that much
sweeter. Shaking his head
vigorously, smiling smugly to himself, he went upstairs to get dressed. As he picked up his backpack and jacket on
the way out of the loft, he gave his home a quick glance and found himself
smiling with the simple joy of it all.
The phones were a
heckling crowd in the background, pestering Major Crimes with their insistent
ringing. Although the crime rate had
been down in the city the past several weeks, the paper trail had stopped its
slow progression and settled contentedly on Ellison's desk. Grimacing at the pile of forms in his
in-box, Ellison looked up to see his Captain and friend, Simon Banks glaring
down at him, disapprovingly.
"Jim, why is
this pile of forms the same size it was yesterday? I thought you said Sandburg would be in this week to help you
process all the paperwork." The
tall, black man placed his hands on his hips, daring his best detective to tell
him more lies.
"Sir, he's busy
today, and, he has some meeting late this evening. I'm sure he'll make it in
tomorrow. He gave me his word, Simon," Jim said as he stood, eyeing his
friend hopefully.
"Captain, I was
wondering, things have been slow around here, today, could I maybe hit the
streets and do some leg work on that skin head group that's been harassing the
local businesses?" Jim looked hopefully at the formidable man who hadn't
budged from his spot in front of the mountain of forms.
"No, Jim, you
cannot leave the department. You have more than enough work right here, mister,
to keep you busy until quitting time and probably long after," Simon said
authoritatively. Then pointing a finger at Ellison's vacant chair he said,
"Sit. I'd suggest you get busy."
Then turning towards
his office, he paused briefly, "How about lunch today, Jim? I have a
craving for Thai if it's okay with you?"
"Sure,"
Ellison said as he held his head in his hands and grudgingly pulled the next
offending form in front of him. "Sandburg, you owe me big time,
buddy."
________
The late morning sun
sparkled through the trees, dancing brightly in patterns along the walk towards
Hargrove Hall. Blair Sandburg hefted his backpack high on his shoulders, a
smile playing along his lips. Thoughts of the week ahead, the surprise treat
for Jim and their one year anniversary together, the spring break that would
take him away from the political and social problems that were raising their
ugly heads on campus lately all made him feel lighthearted.
"I told you to
stay out of my way, Shrimpboat," an angry voice broke out of the shadows
that sprung around the corner of the building.
Blair stopped and
watched as a figure tumbled back from behind some shrubs. Staggering, regaining
his balance, Blair watched Ben Cutler, push his long hair behind his ear. "I'm tired of you telling me what I can
and can't do, Bailey."
Gus Bailey's tall,
lanky form pulled from the shadows, neatly groomed, golden hair, short and
wavy, falling in soft wisps over his brow.
Blair knew for a fact many co-ed hearts were stopped by that innocent
boyish face. If only Gus' grades were as important to him as being top man on
campus, the charm could have been put to better use. "You'll mind what I
tell you, punk."
Gus walked off never
having spotted Blair. Ben Cutler's face
hardened as he watched his persecutor walk off into the shadows. Blair stood
his ground as Ben turned slowly and spotted him. A flash of embarrassment added
heat to the small man's features. Blair had been counseling the young student
for the past few months. Ben Cutler's sharp mind and high-level of achievement
had allowed him to enter college at sixteen. Since Blair had experienced all
the anxieties and problems younger students are beset with, Dean Evers had
clearly thought Sandburg could help out Cutler more than any other advisor.
Although Cutler was
not in any of Blair's classes, the seventeen-year-old was constantly bringing
him essays and papers that other professors had graded too harshly or critiqued
with a biased eye. Nothing Blair could say or do could convince Cutler that the
rest of the campus held nothing against him. Recalling his own feelings of
exclusion and rejection, Blair gave the boy as much time and encouragement as
he could.
However, last week,
one of Cutler's professors had left an irate voice mail for Sandburg telling
him that the student was his problem now and he needed to talk to 'that boy
about his attitude problem.’
Apparently, Ben had done a presentation on subcultures that are
detrimental to the campus social life.
Jocks, Greeks, and all social bonding systems within the world of
academia had fallen under his sharp, bright, rapier wit. Professor Dane's message had said it took
all his best efforts to keep the class from rioting and tar and feathering the
obnoxiously bright, younger student. No doubt, Gus Bailey had gotten wind of
the offending paper and poor Ben was going to be the object of much abuse.
Why does he do this to himself? Blair asked as he waited for the boy to approach him. However,
Ben turned abruptly and headed off in the opposite direction Gus had
taken. Okay, Ben, you better keep your appointment...I've got all evening
set-aside for you and we need to have a talk.
Blair climbed the
stairs cautiously. Bypassing the
elevator, lest his Sentinel hear the chains and pulleys of the lift, he
carefully placed his key in the lock and turned it. Moonlit patches speckled the interior with warm welcome. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he quietly
set down his backpack and slowly stripped off his jacket. He tiptoed across the floor, passing the
couch along his route to the stairs.
Stopping at the foot of the stairs, he paused to give his plight full
consideration.
If I wake Jim up, he'll probably start in on a long lecture
about my hours again. I must admit three a.m. is pushing his patience, when he
insists I get my butt home by midnight. He
started slowly backing up with each page of the argument flipping across his
mind. He'll probably start in again about
my absence from the station and all the forms that I've been promising him
daily I'll get to. Inching further back towards the couch, where logic told
him, he would find rest from the long and trying day.
"Didn’t I tell
you to be home by midnight. Where the hell have you been?" a voice barked
out from the upstairs bedroom.
Blair yelped in
surprised, "Damn it, Jim, you
almost gave me a heart attack, man," his indignation quickly becoming the
forerunner to all other emotions.
He
slowly climbed the stairs, not wanting to deal with his annoyed lover any
sooner then he had to. Jim was sitting
up in bed and clearly had not been asleep.
Undressing quickly, he got into bed, snuggling up to the older man.
Jim easily rolled
Blair on top of him, settling him against his chest, securing him there with
his arms.
“Do you want to talk
about it?” Jim asked, trying hard to be patient and understanding. His plans for an early evening shattered
when he realized most of the time he focused his hearing on the sound of his
lover’s heartbeat. Not hearing that sound for several hours eventually led him
to give up and just wait for the younger man to get home.
“Jim, you remember me
telling you how I started college at sixteen.
College is a change for any eighteen year-old leaving High School and
all his friends behind. Academia can be a little daunting when you still
haven’t reached an emotional and maturity level equal to your classmates,”
Blair began, gently nudging Jim's chest with his head, his normal indication he
wanted his hair stroked.
Jim brought one large
hand up and began to slowly massage the hair that was tickling his chin.
“Well, one of the
kids I counsel, Ben Cutler, he’s so like me at that age. A real smart ass, know it all, who thinks
he’s in college to enlighten everyone else, the profs included.”
“Yeah, I can imagine
what a pain in the ass you were, Chief. Simon can vouch for first impressions
where you’re concerned,” Jim laughed, remembering Simon’s incessant doubts and
objections to Blair’s tag along status.
The know-it-all attitude had proved true and after a few insightful
angles presented on cases, Captain Banks had developed a quiet, respectful awe
of the younger man.
“Why don’t you just
set him up with a hard ass cop and let him set him straight,” Jim suggested,
giving Blair a firm swat on his bottom, "not that I am doing that good of
a job right now with you."
“Come on, Jim, be
serious. I feel for this kid. He means well. His approach is all off. We sat in
my office for several hours going over his assignments and his attitude. He
just doesn’t get it. This kid is brilliant, Jim, a real thinker, but his
delivery of his ideas sucks big time.”
“Don’t
worry about. He’ll come around, you did.”
“It’s not that
simple, Jim. He’s antagonized some campus heavyweights. I’m just afraid that if
he doesn’t do a quick turn around or at least soften his views, he’s in for
some rough times. I just don’t want blood, man. You know how I hate blood.”
"Want to invite
him to go to the gym with me and I can teach him how to defend himself?"
Jim asked with a laugh.
"Seriously,
though, I know what this kid is going through and it’s bringing back all the
fears and frustrations. I just want to help the boy. Is that so wrong?”
"No of course
not, you want to help him. You
understand what he is going through.
But there is only so much help you can give someone who is not asking
for it. Sometimes people just need to
learn their own lessons, telling them doesn't work; they need to learn for
themselves. What is wrong is you letting this kid take advantage of you and
getting you into trouble. What time were you supposed to be home?"
"He is not
taking advantage of me, love. It was my
fault we were out so late, he left around midnight and I just got caught up
working and…" Blair's voice was interrupted by a huge yawn.
Smiling down at his
lover, Jim said, "Let's finish this tomorrow. You are about to fall asleep and we both have to get up early.
"
Blair just nodded
sleepily, allowing himself to be rolled on his side and spooned.
Within a matter of
minutes, the even breathing of his sleeping lover sent the Sentinel into a deep
and restful slumber.
Morning warmed the
loft in a golden film, casting her glow on the cozy dwelling. The smells of breakfast teased the air and
the morning routine was under way.
Jim exited the shower
when his senses were assaulted with burnt toast and the crackling sounds of
sparks. Rounding the corner he zoned in
immediately to the electrical plug where the toaster unit was still connected,
then focusing out, as his instincts led the search, he saw his Guide ready to
stick a fork into the toaster.
Racing forward, Jim
slammed into Blair, knocking him back against the counter, the fork flying to
the floor.
"Damn it, Jim!
What the hell is wrong with you?" Blair yelled, anger heating his facial
expressions.
Pushing his hair out
of his eyes, the rough treatment shaking more than his equilibrium, he angrily
shoved Jim back and away from him.
Ellison stood his
ground and pointed at the plug.
"Did it ever occur to you to disconnect it?"
Blair blushed, his
face turning a deep crimson, heat warming his flesh, a droplet of sweat tipping
his hairline. "Oh, man! God, Jim, I swear I thought I unplugged it."
Jim reached over and
unplugged the unit from the wall socket. He picked it up and shook the burnt
toast out into the sink.
Blair shook his long
locks as though shaking off some fugue state that threatened him. "I
swear, Jim, I really thought I did."
"Well,
you didn't, Chief." Jim growled out angrily. Then turning his back, he headed for the bathroom, leaving a
frightened and confused young man standing alone staring at the fork now lying
on the floor.
The afternoon sun
rested casually on the horizon, silently sneaking beyond the day. Blair looked
at his watch. Four o’clock, time to meet
Jim at the station or my lover is not going to be into any romance next
week. Collecting his papers and
stuffing them as neatly as possible into his backpack, he paused briefly at the
sound of running feet in the hall. Suddenly his door was pushed open wide; a
frantic figure, long hair whipping wildly, burst into the room. Turning quickly the figure closed the door
and positioning himself securely against any intrusion, he exhaled a sigh of
relief.
“Ben? What’s happened?”
Blair came around his desk and caught the young man by his upper arm, half the
intent of securing him from further flight and half to grab the attention of
the fugitive.
“Mr. Sandburg, they
think I did it. I didn’t. I know I said I would, I know I wanted to, God, did I
ever want to, but I didn’t.”
“Ben,
do what? What do they think you did?”
Suddenly, a loud
raucous could be heard in the hall. The young man’s eyes turned desperately to
Blair, an agonizing plea for help.
Blair didn’t think.
This kid was frightened and he needed help.
Pulling the dazed student with him, he opened the metal cabinet that
housed camera equipment, overhead screens and miscellaneous larger
equipment. Pointing to the bottom of
the cabinet, he whispered, “Get in there and keep quiet.”
Once Ben situated
himself in the cabinet, Blair handed him his backpack and pressing his index
finger to his lips, signaled silence.
Returning to his
desk, he quickly bent his head and got into the act. As a knock sounded on the door, he inhaled deeply, calming
himself for his performance, “Come in,” he called, wiping his face of all
emotions.
“Sorry, to bother
you, umm ... Mr. Sandburg,” the tall, muscular man wearing a campus security
uniform said, glancing quickly at the lettering on the door, “but there’s been an incident and I was
questioning one of the students. We have every reason to believe he’s our
perp. He ran out on us during
questioning and we have reason to believe he entered this building.”
“If he did,” Blair
said, evenly, “he’s not here," casually shrugging his shoulders. The tall man scanned the area, and entering
quickly, looked behind the door. Blair
looked amused.
The large man grinned
sheepishly. “Sorry, not doubting you, Mr. Sandburg, but he could have had a gun
on you or something.”
“You new here?” Blair
asked, not recalling having ever seen this mountain of a man on campus
before. “Where’s Will Temple?”
“Oh, he took early
retirement. It was sudden. His wife’s mother became ill and they just decided
to move to Florida.” Then as though
suddenly remembering his purpose, he straightened to his full height.
“Kid’s name is Ben
Cutler, long-haired, neo-hippie type.
Typical troublemaker, dresses like a freak.”
Hearing the
stereotypical tags that had long attached themselves to his own life, Blair
bristled. “Mr. Err?”
”Ed
Tarrington, Chief of Campus Security.”
“What
did Ben Cutler supposedly do?”
“Just beat the living
crap out of Gus Bailey. Poor kid. He’s
a real jock and chances are he’ll never play again…after the beating he
took. Baseball bat. This Cutler’s
dangerous. Hippie radical types always are,” he said with a slight smirk on his
face as he deliberately stared at Blair’s long curls. Then he turned to leave. Pulling the door closed behind him he
peered back at Blair, “you be sure and lock this door after I leave and call
security if you see anyone strange around here.”
“Only one strange
around here is you,” Blair mumbled to himself as he got up and turned the lock
on his office door. Waiting several minutes,
he went to the metal cabinet and opened the door. Motioning for Ben to come out of hiding, he grabbed his backpack
and helped the visibly shaken refugee to his feet.
“Mr. Sandburg, I
didn’t do it. I swear. This Tarrington, he’s got it in for me, always has.”
“Ben, just stop
it. Not everyone on campus is out to
get you. This paranoia is getting out of hand,” he said, rubbing a hand across
his face.
“No, it’s true,” Ben
pleaded, grabbing Blair by the arm. “He hates the way I dress; everything about
me. He’s called me a faggot, a Mama’s boy.
I saw him talking to Bailey the other day, they were laughing at me.”
“What do you know
about this assault on Gus Bailey?” Blair perched one leg on his desk as Ben sat
in the chair in front of his desk. “And don’t lie to me, Ben, I saw you arguing
with him yesterday in front of Hargrove.”
Just then the door
burst open and Ed Tarrington, accompanied by two other security guards, pressed
into the room. Grabbing Ben by the arm, Tarrington twisted it behind his back. Blair reached out a protective arm, “Hey,
there’s no need for this.”
“Stay out of this,
Professor,” Tarrington ground out.
“Your kind always sticks together.”
Years of repressed
resentment in Blair overcame all reasoning. Years of being the object of
derision, the smaller, weaker man, harshly and cruelly labeled by his
trappings, had finally boiled over. He
pushed Tarrington away from Ben.
“Grab him,”
Tarrington yelled to the other guards, and before Blair knew what was happening
he was being cuffed and marched out of Hargrove Hall alongside Ben Cutler.
“Where the hell is
he?” Jim mumbled to himself as he checked his watch for the hundredth
time. What the hell was Sandburg’s
problem lately? He kept making promises
he seemed to have no intention of keeping, putting Jim off like a bothersome
chore. The kid was making no effort to
make this relationship work. Sandburg,
it’s time you and I sat down and discussed this whole commitment business. I think you’re missing the whole point.
Lately Blair had been
so preoccupied with school and counseling that he was endangering himself.
Running himself ragged with commitments beyond his ability to meet and an
erratic eating schedule. He was
constantly putting himself in danger as he had only this morning with the
toaster. Jim had absolutely no patience
with the offhanded attitude he sometimes took regarding his own health.
The morning’s episode
was only one of many in the past few weeks.
Just last week a similar incident confirmed Jim’s growing suspicions
that his guide needed guidance.
Jim came out of the
bathroom in a burst of energy. The squealing of brakes had not gotten his
attention, the horns blaring had not done it, no, it was the loud, anxiety
ridden voice of the one he knew like no other. "I'm sorry. Jeez, mister,
I'm sorry. I never saw you."
The response,
"Damn it, I blew my horn at you. What the hell is the matter with you?
Where the hell is your head, you idiot?"
Jim tensed monitoring
the situation from above in the loft; he had a pretty good visual idea in his
head of what was taking place down below on the street in front of the loft.
His reckless guide had no doubt done something stupid again, something totally
dangerous and life threatening.
Another, new voice,
added to the assault, "Young man, I saw you. You totally ignored the horns
and you never even bothered to look before crossing. You are a nuisance. If you
never learned how to cross the street, you should stay indoors," the
elderly, maternal voice chastised.
"Yes, ma'am,
sorry," the penitent replied.
Jim focused on the
heart rate---the increased rhythm that showed the scare his guide had indeed
suffered.
Then the heartbeat
began its ascent up the elevator. Jim leaned back against the counter, the
towel wrapped around his waist, his arms crossed high on his bare chest. He
looked like a Viking Lord not quite happy with the peasantry at the moment.
The door opened
slowly, Sandburg's downcast eyes lost in some perusal of floor tiles. Looking
up he saw an angry and impatient Sentinel awaiting his return.
"What's up,
man?" Blair questioned, hoping the scene below was not monitored by the
mother ship.
"What the hell
just happened out there, Chief? Or maybe I don't really have to ask. Maybe I
can write the scenario line for line now. It's the same one last week with the
broken light bulb and wet hands, or the short fall down the stairs not watching
where you were going, ...or,"
"Okay, man,
okay. I get the picture. I've been a little pre-occupied lately, so what? You
have things on your mind and I have things on mine...it works both ways. No big deal." Attitude had clearly surfaced and Jim maneuvered the arms now
onto his hips...clearly not happy with the change in temperature.
"Saannndbuuuurrrg!"
Jim growled out in a low and even rumble.
"No, really,
man. What is the big deal? Like you don't drive like a lunatic and risk our
lives every day?"
"You are NOT
putting this off on me right now. Let's deal with the issues here, Chief.
You've been a walking trouble magnet since the day I met you, but this total
lack of interest in your own welfare is getting me just a bit pissed. I want
your butt in bed tonight before Midnight." With that he turned to go back
into the bathroom and finish his morning's sartorial.
"Jim, I'm not
tired and I'm not..."
The cold look in the
blue eyes that turned his way, cut his explanations and excuses short. Then the
simple phrase cut the air in a clear, crisp, no-prisoner's- taken tone,
"We will NOT have this
conversation again."
“JIM!” Simon’s voice cut through his thoughts. Captain Banks was a man who bellowed, usually startling his men into instantaneous compliance. Rising quickly, Jim walked into his boss’ office.
“Close the door,
Jim,” Simon said, lighting his cigar.
“There’s been some trouble on campus.”
“What kind of
trouble?”
“Sit down,” Simon
said, pointing to the chair with his freshly lit cigar, “it’s under control, or
at least it better be. It seems Sandburg ran interference during a routine
campus arrest and harbored a suspected felon. I thought he was on our side,
Jim? What the hell’s the matter with the kid?”
“Where is he?” Jim
asked, rubbing his chin, trying to contain the anger and frustration that
twitched along his jaw line. The tense muscle indicating how tightly strung
Ellison really was.
“Some uniforms have
him downstairs. Campus security called them in. Jim, it’s Ed Tarrington. He’s
Chief of Security at Rainier now.”
“Tarrington? I’ve heard the guy's a straight shooter. I
can’t believe Sandburg didn’t charm the pants off of him. Who’s the suspect?”
“Ben Cutler, a
seventeen-year-old trouble maker from what I’ve gathered from the reports the
University faxed over. He’s against
everyone and everything. One of the students was worked over pretty good with a
baseball bat. Another student pointed the finger at Cutler. The kid’s been
writing reactionary, anti-establishment, anti-conformist, anti-everything you
can think of papers and raising a few voices all over the place. It was a known fact, Bailey and Cutler were
having differences of opinion.”
A burst of noise
broke through the glass barriers that separated Simon’s office from the
bullpen. “What the hell…” Simon’s voice trailed off as he and Jim rose in
unison. Blair was marching towards
Simon’s office, sandwiched between a tall security guard and Joel Taggart. The smaller man kept pulling indignantly out
of both men’s grasp.
“Jim!” Blair said, finally managing to pull free,
rushing into the office and immediately positioning himself behind his taller
friend. “Jim, this goon has been manhandling me for the past hour.”
“Jim, I don’t know
what’s got into him,” Joel Taggart’s soft voice tried to push reason back into
the room.
“Me?” Blair cried
out, “Me? This military reject started pushing one of my students around.” Then seeing the stern look Captain Bank’s
threw his way, the apologetic look that passed from Joel to Tarrington, he came
forward to stand next to Jim and look up to his best friend and lover for
understanding and acceptance.
“Jim, he’s arresting
Cutler because of the way he looks, the long hair and earring, he’s making
judgments based on how someone looks not on any tangible evidence.”
Jim reached forward
and grabbed Blair by both shoulders, “ Okay, calm down; what happened?”
“Cutler came into my
office, scared, real scared, Jim,” he emphasized, throwing a scowl at
Tarrington, who stood silently by never saying one word. “He just needed to talk to me, tell me the
whole story. I would have talked him
into turning himself in, but no, Jim. No! Campus security broke into my office,
the door was locked, they just took it for granted that I was harboring him,
because of the way I dress, Jim.”
“SANDBURG!” Simon
bellowed, “I won’t have my office and a member of my department, making
accusations of wrongdoing to another officer.
Especially upon finding a suspected felon hiding out in your office
moments after you were told to be on the look out for the suspect.”
“Tarrington, what do
you have to say for yourself?” Simon asked the man who at one time wore a
uniform in the same precinct.
“Sir, he shoved me
during the arrest. However, we were only going to take him in to the office and
find out what was going on. We were advised the student in question wrote
several papers whereby he suggested certain ways to eliminate campus
dissension. Apparently all these papers
were in Mr. Sandburg’s possession and we found out the night before, Mr.
Sandburg and Cutler burned the papers in back of Hargrove Hall. It just looked
awfully suspicious that maybe Mr. Sandburg and Cutler were aware of how
compromising these papers would prove when Cutler finally whacked Bailey.”
“I was counseling the
kid…Jim, tell him,” Blair’s voice cracking with frustration, “tell him I was
trying to get the kid to use a different approach to expressing his ideas.”
Tarrington snorted
his disbelief, derision clear in the note.
“You’ve prejudged him
and me, haven’t you? Where do you get off just taking over from Will Temple and
making character evaluations based on other student’s likes and dislikes. It’s a
common fact you’ve been friendly with Gus Bailey.” Blair's voice rising in
anger and frustration.
“I’m just doing my
job, Mr. Sandburg.” Then turning to
Simon, he added, “which I think I’ll get back to. I didn’t know Mr. Sandburg
was a friend of yours, Simon. I’ll let you handle the situation now.”
"Thanks, Ed, I
will," Simon said, briefly replacing the glare he was aiming at Blair with
a smile for Tarrington.
As soon as the campus
security chief left, Blair turned his frustration toward Jim. "Thanks so
much, Ellison. Way to support your
partner!" the hurt and anger being evident in his voice. With that remark, he stormed out of the
office, through the bullpen toward the elevator.
"I thought you
had that kid on a tighter rein, Jim?" Simon said with a mixture of humor
and disbelief.
"I am trying,
Sir. I am trying," he replied
wearily, heading toward the elevator where his partner waited.
Why do these stupid elevators always take so long, Blair thought to himself.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw a frustrated Jim coming toward him.
Not wishing to continue the discussion from Simon's office, he turned and
bolted toward the stairs.
"SANDBURG! Stop
right there! Do not make me chase
you!" Jim shouted after him.
Pausing briefly,
Blair seemed to consider stopping, then turned and raced down the stairs.
"Shit," Jim
muttered to himself. Grabbing the
arriving elevator, he hoped to get to the parking garage before Blair did. The fates were with him and he made it to the
ground floor with no stops in between.
Extending his hearing, he could make out Blair running down the steps,
breathing hard. Stepping into the
stairwell quietly, he waited for his runaway Guide to come to him.
Blair was running at
full speed, certain that he could hear Jim behind him. He was mad and upset and did not want to
talk to anyone; especially his so called partner who refused to support and
defend him in front of his attackers.
He skidded to a stop at the bottom landing when he saw Jim waiting for
him.
"What do you
want, man? I don't want to talk to you
right now,” Blair said, crossing his arms and glaring down at the
detective.
"That is fine, I
don't want you to talk. You did enough
of that upstairs; you are going to listen.
Sit. Don't talk," Jim said, pointing to the stairs, scowling at the
younger man.
Sitting down with a
pouting expression on his face, Blair crossed his arms, “Fine! Talk."
"Be quiet,
Sandburg, what part of 'don't talk' is confusing to you?" When Blair did not say anything, Jim
continued, "You made some pretty harsh accusations up there, of me and of
another officer. You accused me of not
supporting you against him. But, how
could I, when you storm in after resisting arrest, harboring a fugitive, and
accusing someone of false arrest? You want
me to jump to your defense but you made it almost impossible for me. I am a police officer, what you did was
against the law. This other officer
might have been wrong in assuming you were protecting this kid because of the
way you look, but," Jim emphasized, pointing his finger at Blair,
"his hunch was correct. You were
hiding him."
"But, Jim, it
isn't fair, Ben is being accused because he has a different opinion than the
majority, because he dresses a little different! That is the ONLY reason!
You know it!"
"Blair,"
Jim said, a little more softly, coming up the stair, "you don't know that
is the only reason. It may have been a
reason, but there has to be something else." He sat down on the stairs, next to his lover. Picking up one of his guide's hands, softly
stroking the palm of it with his fingers, he continued, "You cannot take
this personally, this isn't about you.
Me not jumping to your defense in Simon's office was not about you and
me; it was about a detective not automatically distrusting a fellow
officer. This kid has problems that you
don't need to be taking on; you have enough going on. You have to understand that."
"No, I
don't!" he said, jerking his hand away from Jim. "By you not sticking
up for me in front of everybody, you basically told them that you don't believe
me; that you think I am some sort of radical, who is against the establishment
just for the hell of it! You don't
trust me!"
"What? Where in God's name are you getting this
from?" Jim said, trying to control
his anger, but failing. "I never
said I don't trust you. I never said
you were against the establishment.
What I said was you broke the law several times and by doing so and
acting irrationally upstairs, you made it impossible for me to defend you up
there."
"Same thing
man. You don't like me; you want to
change who I am! You are always doing
that with all of your house rules and your 'do's and don'ts ' and your superior
attitude that you are the only one who knows anything!" he said standing
up, his voice rising in anger and hurt.
"I know what I am talking about!
I know this student and he would never, could never, do this to
someone. He is lost and confused and
just trying to prove to people that look down on him just because of his age or
how he dresses or what he believes that he is smart and is not lesser then he
is! Don't you understand? I was him; he is me at that age; just trying
to prove to everyone that he belongs somewhere!" Blair finished in a half sob, choked with anger and emotion too powerful
to contain any longer. Spinning around,
he fled down the stairs and out into the parking garage.
"Blair!"
Jim cried, trying to snag his lover before he escaped, but missing. Jumping up to follow him, he ran into the
parking garage in time to see his truck drive out onto the street. Cursing the fact that he had given Blair a
spare key to the truck in case of emergencies, Jim headed back to Major Crimes.
"So where is the
kid?" asked Simon, when he saw Jim coming in alone.
"Driving off in
my truck," was the curt reply. Jim
sighed, "I don't know what’s gotten into him,” following Simon into his
office, he settled down in a chair while the police captain poured two cups of
coffee.
"Thanks,"
Ellison said, accepting the coffee. "I cornered him in the stairwell near
the parking garage and he went off on me about how I was trying to change him,
how I didn't accept him for who he was and how I showed that by not immediately
jumping to his defense this afternoon."
"Jim, there was
nothing you could do about this afternoon.
Sandburg came in here ranting and raving, accusing a former officer of
discrimination without evidence one way or the other, it would have been
inappropriate for you to take sides. I
thought you handled the whole situation well; you stayed pretty neutral and let
me handle it."
"I don't know,
Captain, he was upset. He is taking
this whole case very personally.
Speaking of which, what is happening with Cutler?"
"Brown and Rafe
are interviewing him now. But there is
no direct evidence to link him to the beating and until Bailey regains
consciousness and can hopefully identify his attacker, there is not much to go
on. The baseball bat used was wiped
clean of prints. Forensic is over at
the kid's dorm room looking for blood traces, but I haven't heard yet if
they’ve found anything." Simon
sipped his coffee. "Why is Sandburg taking this case so personally? You two having problems on top of this?"
"I don't know.
No, we are not having any major problems.
He has been testy lately and I have gotten on his case about not being
around here more. In the stairs he
mentioned that Cutler was the same as he was when he was that age. You know that Blair started college at
sixteen, don’t you?"
"Yeah, I
remember that now."
"I think he just
can relate to how difficult it is to be accepted by your peers; you know,
younger, shorter and probably more intelligent than they are. He mentioned something about
overcompensating to be noticed, equating 'being noticed' to 'fitting in.’ Blair
has always thought he didn’t fit in anywhere, moving around so much I guess can
do that to you." Jim trailed off
thinking of his lover and the insecurities the young man brought to their
relationship.
"So what are you
going to do about this. Tarrington told
me that the University is not going to press charges against Sandburg for
harboring that student; they caught him and that is all that matters to
them. Brown and Rafe seem to have it
under control. You made a noticeable
dent in that pile of paperwork on your desk, why don't you go home and see
about Sandburg?"
Jim flashed him a
smile, "Thanks, Sir, I think I will. I appreciate it.“
Jim stood and walked
out of the office, gathering his stuff, he paused. "Shit," he said, remembering that his truck had driven
away an hour ago with his guide.
Walking back into Simon's office, he smiled. Simon was putting on his
coat and gathering his stuff.
"Forget that
your truck went AWOL this afternoon, Detective?" Simon asked, with a laugh, "Come on, I'll drive."
City lights sparkled
brightly in the panoramic view. A soft
fire glowed in the hearth. Earth music filtered the air in soft tinkles of
zither, cello and flute. One lonely
anthropologist sat cross-legged in the middle of the patterned carpet, thumbs
pressed into palms, eyes closed, breathing in and out as though the exercise
gave life and eased his troubled soul.
Jim will be home soon. Man, I don’t want to deal with this. I just don’t feel like hashing this out again. He’s like so into not seeing my side of things lately.
A deeper breath
filled his lungs. Clear your
thoughts…that’s it...easy…no Jim, no Simon, no Ed Tarringtons and Gus
Baileys…relax.
So into the exercise of concentration and acceptance, he never heard the door open nor saw the large figure looming over him.
Catching the shadow
in his peripheral, he jumped. “God, Jim, I don’t have your hearing, man. Can’t
you make your presence known before you give me a heart attack.”
Jim glared down on
him, hands on hips, dour countenance showing full displeasure.
“Do you want to
explain the truck-jacking, Chief? I had to have Simon drop me off.”
“Well, you and he are
cops…don’t you think you owe each other a lift now and then,” Blair mumbled
sarcastically. Trying to rise from his
cross-legged position, he felt his arms grasped above the elbow as he was
unceremoniously hauled to his feet.
“You want to can the
attitude, Chief. You never did stay to
hear out my little talk.”
Blue eyes challenged
bluer eyes; both ignited by anger and the passion of the self-righteous. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. I listen; you talk. You
make rules; I obey. You set guidelines
I follow. You outline the parameters of this relationship and I stay within the
lines. Well, I never mastered coloring
and you can ask Naomi, I always went outside the lines.”
Still holding the
arms of his lover, Jim gave the captive a slight shake. “Will you just stop it.
Put the poor me attitude away and let’s talk about this, Chief. We’re drifting here and if we don’t make the
effort to connect, we could be in serious trouble.”
“And whose fault
would that be, Jim? Mine, because I have a life outside your little boys in
blue setup? Well, I do. I’ve never stopped being me, Jim, just
because I happened to fall in love with a hard ass cop.” Tears began to well in the blue pools,
threatening to overflow. All the
protective instincts that monitored the emotional and physical well being of
Blair Sandburg came bursting forth. The
large man pulled the smaller one into his arms. Turning the petulant mouth up, he firmly kissed the quivering
lips, silencing all protest, rebellion, and doubts.
"Fuck you,
Jim!" Blair said, pushing back angrily from his lover. "Don't do that! Don't pretend a kiss can make everything all
better because it can't!" The last part almost screamed out as Blair
turned quickly and fled into his office.
Slamming the door behind him, Blair collapsed in the soft recliner in
the corner. Drawing himself into a small
ball, he tried to ignore the feelings of hurt and disappointment at Jim's actions,
and, Blair admitted with hesitation, his own.
Oh God, he thought
to himself, I have so messed this
up. I had a wonderful relationship
going with him and now I have gone and totally fucked it up. It's over and it’s all my fault, me and my
stupid, stupid problems. Blair
sighed and curled up deep into himself.
The little voice in his head, the one that told him he did not fit in,
that told him that nothing he would do would ever be good enough, was going
full tilt. Tears ran down his face and
his breath came in short gasps that he did not have the energy to try to
control.
A few minutes later,
a knock on the office door startled the younger man from his latest round of
why he was such a bad person. Looking
toward the door, he said wearily, "Come in, Jim."
The door opened and
the detective came in carrying a cold, wet washcloth. Walking gently towards his lover, he said, “Blair, I am
sorry. I never, ever meant to say that
the small problems we are going through are your entire fault. When I saw you upset and I couldn't think of
the words to say to make it all better, I did the only thing I could think of
doing to comfort you and to let you know how much I love you. I am sorry, I never meant to hurt you even
more." The older man suddenly looked
uncomfortable with his admission.
Leaning forward to place the washcloth on the small table next to the
chair, he said softly, "Here, I thought this might make your eyes feel
better." Laughing almost to himself, he continued "You know how your
eyes get all red and puffy when you cry.”
Blair grabbed his arm
before its retreat. Pulling the other
man closer to him, he said simply, "Please stay with me. I don't want to be alone."
Jim sank to his knees
in front of his partner, gathering Blair’s hands together; he drew them to his
lips. He kissed them softly and
whispered, " I swear to you, Blair Sandburg, as long as I am alive, you
will never be alone." Tears ran down his face, thinking back to the cold
loneliness that was his life before the bright, life-filled imp came to
him. "There is no problem in this
world, that you and I cannot face and overcome together. You have to believe me." The Sentinel bowed his head and rested it in
his Guide's lap.
Blair curled
protectively over him, whispering in a sentinel-soft voice, "I'm sorry I
ran from you. I am sorry I didn't trust
you. I am letting old insecurities hurt
us, I have to get past them somehow."
They stayed that way,
holding each other closely, using each other to help banish the fears temporarily
from their minds. Jim shifted slightly
and Blair lifted his head up and smiled down.
Laughing he said,
"Is your pride starting to have problems kneeling before me?"
Jim kissed him as he
stood up and said with equal humor, "No, not my pride, my knees."
Sharing the laugh,
Blair allowed himself to be drawn up and nestled close to Jim.
"I love you,” he
said as he burrowed himself deeper.
"I hate it when we fight."
"Me too, love,
me too."
"But," Jim
said a moment later, "making up can be fun," as the hands that were
wrapped tightly around the younger man's waist dropped lower and began to
gently knead the jeans-covered butt.
Blair shifted back
into his lover's hands, welcoming the feel of the gentle, but insistent, hands
on his body. Briefly taking his hands
from around Jim's chest, he unbuttoned the detective's shirt and freed it from
his pants. Slowly running his tongue
around a sensitive nipple, he heard Jim groan.
"I don't think
this is fair, Chief," he murmured, lifting Blair's face upward. "You always keep this beautiful,
perfect body hidden. I think we need to
take care of that. "
Quickly stripping
Blair of his clothes, Jim stepped back and smiled. "You know, I take that back, you need to wear more clothes
when you go out. I don't want anyone to
get a hint of how amazing you are."
Laughing he continued, " I think it might put a damper on our
relationship if I have to kill someone defending my property.”
Blair laughed,
"Property? I am your
property? Well, I guess that means you
belong to me, too. And, I for one,
never buy anything sight unseen. I
think I need to inspect the merchandise."
After hungrily
peeling Jim's clothes off, Blair stepped back and eyed him appreciatively. "Oh yeah, I think you'll do. In a pinch."
"In a 'pinch,'
Sandburg?" Jim said laughing, "I'll give you a pinch." Grabbing the younger man gently and pulling
him closer, the detective silenced the laughter with a kiss. Weaving his hands into the thick curls, he
held the object of his desire in place while he drank his fill of what his soul
knew only as "lover.”
Turning up his sense
of smell and taste, the Sentinel allowed himself to almost zone on the essence
of Blair Sandburg. The combination of
herbal shampoo and conditioner mixed with the slight tang from the coffee he
had drunk earlier and the unmistakable scent of arousal and sweat all combined
to form a solid image in his mind. Jim
briefly thought that he could locate Blair in a crowd by scent alone. The rational part of his mind was quickly
replaced with the more primal one as Blair plunged his tongue into Jim's
mouth.
Untangling one hand
from Blair's hair, he slowly trailed an outstretched finger down the sweaty
back, bringing the hand to rest cupping a cheek, fingers curved into the cleft.
Blair shifted,
spreading his legs farther apart, never breaking the kiss, allowing Jim better
access.
Reaching down, Jim
teasingly tickled Blair's opening, briefly plunging a finger in, never going in
too deeply, never quite giving the younger man what his body was screaming for.
After a few moments
of such teasing, Blair broke the kiss laughing. "Let's take this upstairs where you can finish what you've
started."
Looking down at his
lover, the detective smiled, never taking his hand from between Blair's
cheeks. "I don't know, love, I am
a little tired, I may be done for the night."
He laughed as Blair
swatted him across the butt.
"Okay, okay, no need to threaten me." Leaning down as if for another kiss, he
scooped the smaller man up and settled him in his arms.
Blair gasped and
laughed, wrapping an arm around the broad shoulders. Rubbing a hand on the hard chest that was cradling him, he said,
"I love it when you do your caveman impression."
Laughter echoed their
progress up the stairs.
Later that night as
Blair lay snuggled against Jim’s chest. Face down, cheek pressed against the
furry expanse, he silently listened to the heartbeat of the one he loved more
than life itself. Jim brought his hand
down in even, soothing strokes, settling the troubled young man into a nest of
contentment.
“Want to talk about
it now?” Jim asked, quietly.
At first only silence
met the question, then a deep, soul-wrenching sigh, expelling fears and secrets
in one tired effort, and Blair nodded, further burying his cheek against Jim’s
chest. Tightening his arm around the
smaller man, Jim offered reassurance.
“It was hard for me,
Jim. Hard to move around and change my persona from day to day, trying to fit
in but not. Do you know what that’s
like?” Lifting his head slightly he
peered up at Jim, the tousled hair giving him an innocent look.
Brushing the hair
back from his face, Jim nodded his head slowly. “It’s hard for all kids.
Finding peer group acceptance is tough, Chief. We all have horror stories of our own ineptness, tales of
embarrassment and rejection.”
“I know that, man. I
know I’m not the only one. Ben Cutler
is living proof that history does repeat itself and most people get through
it. But it’s still with me, Jim. It’s with
me every day when I stand next to you during an interrogation and I get the
looks from them. People who just can’t
place the hair and clothes and my size with the image they have of cops, and
authority, and protection.” He rolled
off the chest, laying his head next to Jim's.
“I can look that doubt in the eyes, Jim. I can stare it down and never
back off. I can meet it head on and reach out and show them that I am still a
strong and formidable force in my own right.
But, love, I can only do that because you’re there for me. You’ve always
been there for me. Just knowing that you believe in me…that’s kept me true to
myself. But now…”
“Whoa…” Jim said,
pushing himself up on one elbow, balancing close to his mate’s side. Schooling his face into stern lines, he
said, “Just stop right there.
If you’re back on
that scene in Simon’s office, you’re out of line, Chief, way out of line. I was trying to get the facts, while you
were jumping head over heels around all reason and reacting with your gut,
instead of your head.”
“Jim, I really think
this Tarrington is prejudiced against Cutler,” Blair stated firmly.
The hard, cold
reasoning that ran Jim Ellison’s world with facts and deductions softened into
a stream of compassion. All the
reasoning in the world sometimes couldn’t chase away nightmares and memories.
He, too, knew the impressions left on souls on frigid, lonely nights. Sometimes all anyone really needed was a
companion in the dark to keep the fears at bay, an anchor to keep you from
drifting beyond the limits of your sanity.
“Okay, Chief. I’ll check into it. I’ll do a background check on Tarrington and
maybe do some follow up work on campus.
I’ll make sure he’s cutting Cutler a fair deal.”
He found himself
being gently pushed backwards as his Guide and lover laid his body over his,
kissing him passionately. “Whoa, Chief,
enough. I’m an old man. I think it’s time we got some sleep.”
"Maybe,"
said a laughing voice.
“Stop for a
second," Jim said, putting a hand on Blair's chest, holding him still,
"Chief, one thing I’m asking of you…no, I take that back. One thing I’m
demanding of you as part of our relationship. I want you to trust me, and I
want you to come to me with any questions you have. Just ask me and I’ll
explain why I’m handling a matter a certain way. No more running off
half-cocked, leaving me running after you. Got it?”
“Got it, Jim. I
promise I will come to you first, before doing anything foolish. I rather like
when you take charge,” Blair said impishly.
Wrapping both arms around the one love of his life, he concentrated on
the rhythm of that other heart, soothing, constant, and the one true purpose to
his life.
Within moments, both
men were slumbering towards the dawn.
Friday dawned with
promise, bright and hopeful like the spring.
Jim had risen early. Planning his day with the exuberance and fortitude
found in the last eight hours before a week’s vacation, he playfully swatted
his sleepy lover’s bottom.
“Rise and shine,
Chief. I’m off to the station. I
promised Simon I’d have the last of those forms clearing my desk by noon. Then I’ll stop by and have a word or two
with Tarrington. You have a nice day,
and keep your cool, you hear me?” Jim said.
A low mumble was his
only reply, as Blair grabbed Jim’s now vacant pillow and pushed his face deep
within the folds, reluctant to forsake the pleasures of the night.
Jim stood watching
his lover’s half-hearted efforts to meet the day. Putting his badge in his pocket and holstering his gun, he smiled
down at the disheveled form.
“Okay, Chief, suit yourself. It’s only nine, you should have plenty of
time to make your nine-thirty class.”
He stepped back
quickly as one frantic anthropologist jumped out of bed, and raced down the
stairs, swinging off the railing he sprinted towards the bathroom door, angrily
looking up at the laughing face of his friend and lover.
“Damn it, Jim, this
is so not funny. I told you, man, never let me sleep past eight.”
Jim continued a low,
pleasant laugh as he came down the stairs. He heard the shower turn on and
wondered at the reaction his partner would give when he finally looked at the
clock and realized it was only seven-thirty.
The morning passed
with grace and rhythm. The paperwork
seemed to be filling in itself with little of the resistance that usually met
Jim’s efforts to put fact into form and substance. Surprised by the empty in-basket, by late morning, he stood up
and stretched with a smile on his face.
Walking spryly into
Simon Bank’s office, he grinned, widening the voltage with a charm and ease
that had Bank’s looking skeptical.
“You look like the
cat that swallowed someone’s pet bird? What’s up, Jim? Or maybe I shouldn’t be
asking,” Simon said as he turned to refuel, adding more of the thick, black
liquid to his half-full mug.
“Vacation next week,
remember, Simon?”
“Yeah, I remember. I
won’t say I’ll be happy not having you here for a full week, but you need the
time off, Jim. Besides, I think you and Sandburg need the time together,
anyway.”
“Yeah, and I think
we’ll be using the time wisely.” He grinned even more broadly and Simon shook
his head at the implied activities.
“I assume that
paperwork is finished, mister?” Simon said, in a fully authoritarian voice.
“Yes, sir. Just put
my John Hancock to the last one. If you don’t mind, I’d like to head out to
Rainier. I thought I’d check with Tarrington and see if he has any other leads
on the Bailey case.”
Simon reached for a
folder on his desk. He stretched his arm out offering the folder, eyeing his
best friend and best detective with a steely gaze.
Jim raised his
eyebrows in bewilderment, but took the folder.
In bold letters ED TARRINGTON spread across the top.
Simon looked amused,
“I figured you’d want to check the guy’s files yourself. Go ahead, Jim, it’s relevant to the case and
I know you promised a certain anthropologist. I think this will set your mind
at ease. Tarrington may be old regime,
but he’s honest and he was a good cop.
I’ll vouch for him myself. Trust
him, Jim, you won’t be disappointed.”
“Simon, I appreciate this.” Jim sat at the conference table and began reading. Simon stood up, poured a mug of coffee and set it down in front of Ellison. “I’m off to meet with the mayor about the budget. Take all the time you need and make sure that file stays in my office.” With that Simon grabbed his coat and headed out the door.
Jim knocked sharply
on Tarrington's door. Pausing briefly to catch the sound of one heart beating,
he knocked again.
The
door was opened by the tall, powerfully built man whom Jim had seen in Simon's
office yesterday. "Mr. Tarrington, may I have a word with you?"
Tarrington paused,
looked out into the hall, and then sighed heavily. He reached an arm back into
the room and snatched his jacket from a coat hanger off to the side, out of
Jim's view.
"Actually,
Detective, let's take a walk. I could use some fresh air."
As they rounded the
outer corner of the building, the long stretch of walkway was covered in
shadows. The early spring air was still crisply damp, but the sunlight of late
afternoon, still burnished the perimeter with warm, inviting patches.
"Detective, I
was on the force for twenty years before I took this job. Simon and I go back a
ways and I know if he thinks as highly of you as I'm judging he does, then I
can trust you. What you saw yesterday
was a staged performance for the benefit of all parties concerned."
"What the hell
is that supposed to mean?" Jim asked, pausing along the walkway.
"Easy, Ellison,
take it easy." Tarrington once
again looked around, checking out the shadows.
He reached out a
tentative hand and hooked Jim's upper arm.
"Come on, let's
keep walking."
Pausing for a moment,
he continued, " I've had my suspicions when I took over security here at
Rainier that the security team was on the take. I've noticed some students
never get hassled or checked, blatantly disobeying school policies and seem
quite chummy with my staff. Crimes of
harassment and theft are up considerably in the last year. Will Temple was a
good guy, but he was just too old and too inexperienced to realize what was
going on behind his back. Gus Bailey's girlfriend, well, ex-girlfriend came to
me about a month ago. They'd had a major blowup and she told me he was bragging
about how he and some of his Frat Brothers had broken into some membership data
base of The United Order of Brotherhood or something like that; a local group
of idiot skinheads. They had made a copy and were blackmailing some of the more
visible members. According to the girlfriend,
several members of my force are listed as members. He was proud about the fact
and it was becoming common knowledge around Greek Row. I was on the job for
about a week before Bailey came to see me.
He actually had the gall to come to me about his little scam. Told me about it and suggested that if I
didn't want it to get out, how Security was on the take, it would be worth my
while to overlook certain activities he and his Frat House were involved
in. I took the bait, wanting to see how
deep this kid was in it, if you get my drift.
I told one of my guys, Jason Page, what was going on. I've known him for years and know he is not
involved. He has gotten in close with
my two main suspects and is keeping an eye on them for me."
Jim only nodded,
slowly seeing where Tarrington was going with this.
"Well, Bailey
then started harassing Cutler, probably for no other reason then just
kicks. I've seen it myself. The kid's
begging for trouble, if you ask me, but he's young and I've been keeping an eye
on him. Cutler's feisty and when one of
the students said he was the one most likely to beat Bailey, I jumped at the
chance to pull the kid out of the fray.
However, he's out and his attitude is still too cocky. Bailey's girlfriend thinks the skinheads
beat the crap out of him looking for the disk.
Now, I don't know if it was some of my guys who did it or just some of
their associates. My problem now is I
want that disk. I want to clear the campus of these guards. “
"So, bringing
Cutler and Sandburg to the station yesterday, that was all a show?" Jim
asked, deciding that Simon was right about Tarrington, he was a straight
shooter.
"Yeah, Ellison.
Let my guys think it's a clear-cut case against Cutler, take the suspicions off
of them. Page told me they suspect a
disk instead of a hard copy of the membership list. I heard Bailey's Frat room was trashed. I know I would have heard about it by now if a disk had been
found. Plus, Bailey's Fraternity threw
a rather loud party last night and not a word was said to them by
Security. He must have stashed the
disk somewhere or given it to someone.”
"Do you know who
he would have given the disk to?" Jim said, watching the facial expression
of the man who stood a couple of inches over his head. The man was one of the
few men who matched Simon Banks foot for foot.
"Not a
clue. But that is not going to stop me
from pretending I do. Page told some of
my guys that I think Bailey hid it with Culter, trying to take the heat off of
himself. Think about it. If you hated
someone, and you wanted them to take the fall for you, wouldn't it be
relatively simple to slip something in a kid's backpack. He'd never even know
he had it."
"That might
work." Jim said, rubbing his jaw.
"I
want to force the guilty parties' hand.
I want them to go after Cutler trying to get the disk. Jason told me he would know before anything
happened and he would make sure nothing happened to Cutler," Tarrington
said, as they reached the end of the walk that now wrapped around the library
parking lot.
Blair had just
returned the last of his library books. Kris Barrett poked her head out of the
back room.
"Blair, how
convenient. Could you give me a hand with the paper cutter? The thing is just
too heavy for me and it's in the back room. I need it up at the front desk for
a couple of days. Will you be a sweaty, please," she said, fluttering her
soft, golden lashes his way.
Laughing out loud at
her obvious antics and feminine wiles, Blair headed off in the direction of the
back storage area. Having worked many hours as an under-grad in the library, he
knew the layout well.
Passing the many
shelves of labels and binding equipment, tapes and boxes, he reached the back
work area, under the windows. The cool breeze that wafted through the open windows
excited him with the promise of his week off.
Dreaming of some time
with his lover, wrapped in his arms, he suddenly heard Jim’s voice, and that
other guy, Tarrington.
Blair peered out over
the high ledge of the window. There they were: Jim and Tarrington. He froze,
listening.
“Is your friend,
Sandburg, going to give me a hassle? I
have to make sure it looks like Cutler is guilty. I want it to seem real. I
admit, I’ve never gotten along with the hippie radical types,” Tarrington said,
quietly.
Jim laughed, then
stopped. His hearing picked up a familiar heartbeat. Smiling to himself, he
said, “I’ll handle Sandburg, don’t worry. He knows to do what I tell him,” Jim
said smugly, knowing that full well his Guide was within hearing distance.
“I’ll explain things to him when the time is right.” Jim looked up at the window, and could see Blair duck down below
the sill. You’d better be paying attention, lover, because I mean it. This trust
thing is being put to the test right now.
Focusing back to Tarrington,
he said, "Just make sure Cutler is safe.
I don't want anything happening to him."
"Don’t
worry. I have it covered."
Blair grabbed the
paper cutter and raced forward.
Dropping it quickly on the front desk counter, not waiting for Kris’ thanks,
he ran out the side door and headed for his office.
He’ll do what I tell him.
Blair thought. What the hell is that supposed to mean, Ellison? What the hell are you going to stand by and
let Tarrington do?
Calming himself with
deep breaths once his door was closed, he sat down, trying to call forth the
voice of reason. Take it easy, here. Jim’s got to be playing along with Tarrington.
Maybe it’s just a trap. That’s all. He’s going to bust Tarrington at his own
game.
Just then a knock
sounded on his door, so faint that Blair at first thought he was mistaken.
Again, the soft pounding broke through his thoughts. Rising from his chair he opened the door to see a very frazzled,
frightened Ben Cutler, backpack stuffed with clothes and books and a small
duffel bag brimming with what looked like all the kid’s possessions.
“Ben, what’s the
matter now?” Blair asked, stepping aside and allowing the boy to enter.
“Mr. Sandburg,
they’re after me.” His bright blue eyes
alive with excitement and fear.
“Who’s after you?”
“Everyone! No one.
Oh, hell, Mr. Sandburg, I don’t know. I just know some security guards
have been following me. I heard them talking about pointing me out to the
skinheads, letting the Aryan race rid the campus of my kind. I’m scared, Mr.
Sandburg. Tarrington’s got it in for me and no one seems like they want to
believe me anymore. I didn’t do anything. It’s true I disliked Bailey, but I
never did anything to him. He started by hassling me over that presentation I
did and ever since then, he’s made a point of showing up wherever I am. It wasn’t me who beat him up. You’ve got to
believe me, Mr. Sandburg.”
Blair saw the long
hair, curling around the young face. The youthful features still holding the
memories of tears and warm cocoa and scraped knees touched his heart. So like
the little boy he lost but a few years back. How many times was he pushed and
shoved and played with simply because of his clothes. Many times in his childhood all people needed to do was see Naomi
with her free-spirited garments of gossamer wings that matched her even freer
mind. Soon Blair was labeled in the same box, put away on a shelf only to be
taken down when someone needed to be blamed or made an example of. Now he was
the authority figure here, the one who could make a difference in any memories
Ben Cutler pulled along with him into maturity.
Going to the metal
cabinet where Ben had hidden the previous day, Blair pulled out a small gym
bag. One change of clothes was always on the ready for quick trips out of town
with Jim or long nights pulled at the office grading papers and keeping up with
two jobs. Having cashed his check just
this morning, planning on springing the surprise trip up to the mountains on
Jim this evening, Blair knew he had enough money for food and supplies along
the way.
“Ben, I don’t know
what’s going on, but I think you and I need to get away for awhile."
Grabbing his
backpack, laptop and duffel bag, he pulled the confused student along with him,
turning only long enough to lock his office door. Well, big guy, all plans are off. This trust thing is a two way street
and I won’t be party to running this kid into the ground…whatever your reasons
are.
Jim left Tarrington
near the library, he thought briefly of finding his lover and setting the
record straight, but just then his cell phone rang.
“Ellison here.”
“Jim, I just finished
with the mayor. If you’re free, I’ll buy lunch. I assume you’re at the
University?”
“Yes, sir, I just got
done having an interesting talk with Tarrington. You were right about him, sir,
he is sharp and I think he may have a lead on those skinheads we’ve been trying
to nail. How about meeting me at the Spice and Shaker, I’ll fill you in on what
he told me. I think it might be all
over by the time I get back from vacation."
A low chuckle came
across the airwaves. “It’s a deal, this
is one lunch I won’t mind buying.”
Blair drove quickly,
using his map and the directions Professor White left him, and made good time.
Beating rush hour traffic out of the city, he was also lucky to avoid the
weekend rush to the mountains and the even more frantic passage of college kids
towards airports and bus depots. Before five o’clock, the Volvo was well out of
Cascade and nearing the town closest to the cabin hideaway. A quick stop provided them with provisions
for enough meals to last several days.
At the start of the
ride, Ben had been a basket case, rambling on and on about sub-cultures and
conspiracies within the campus political structure. Finally, having heard
enough of the paranoid kid’s rants, Blair burst out, “Ben, please, just give it
a rest. I believe you about Tarrington dealing with you from the bottom of the
deck, but this persecution complex has got to stop. You’re hurting your own credibility when it comes time to present
our case to the hierarchy.”
What hierarchy? Blair thought, Simon? I can’t trust him when he’s the president of Tarrington’s fan
club. Jim? Hardly---the man’s a control freak and right now he’s got me pegged
for being right under his thumb. Well,
think again, big guy. I gave you my heart and soul, not my mind.
A bump in the road
brought him back to the present.
Turning, he saw the hurt in Ben’s posture. Slumping forward, hair
covering his face, the kid was studying his hands, now folded neatly in his
lap.
“Look, Ben, life
isn’t always fair, but I’ll do everything I can to help you clear this mess up.
Just trust me, okay?” The young blue
eyes turned towards him, a small smile played upon the lips and Blair returned
a full voltage one of his own. Immediately, all forgiven, Ben re-adjusted
himself in the seat and began to tell Blair some amusing stories about life on
campus.
In a short while they
were pulling off the road and into a large wooded area. Driving back off the road, along a two-lane
rutted road, they found a rather large, one-floor cabin. For an agonizing moment, Blair felt a hitch
in his throat at the painful realization that his planned week of romance was
not the only thing ruined. He realized the foundation of trust and commitment
was fast crumbling around him. Biting his lip, he bit back the repressed
emotions that threatened to overcome him and smiled wanly at Ben. “Home sweet home,” was all he could manage.
At lunch earlier in
the day, Jim had filled Simon in on Tarrington's plan to use Cutler as bait for
the corrupt guards.
"I don't know
Jim," Simon started, "it sounds like it could be dangerous to the
student."
"I know. I am not saying that it is the smartest plan
I have ever heard, but Tarrington swears that his inside man will know before
anything happens. Who knows, if they
find out who beat up Bailey, they could put a stop to it before Cutler gets
hurt."
"Well, Brown and
Rafe are stilling working on the case, they may be able to find out who did the
beating before Tarrington's guys go after the student. They are supposed to go interview Bailey
this afternoon. He regained
consciousness briefly this morning."
"Well, if you
find out something before Saturday morning, give us a call. Blair and I are leaving around 9."
"Where are you
two going? I hope someplace warm,"
Simon said with a laugh.
"I honestly
don't know. He didn’t tell me. All I was told, last night, was to not make
any plans, pack casual and be ready to go on Saturday."
The afternoon seemed
to crawl by. All the paperwork
completed, Jim spent his remaining hours organizing his cases for his return in
a week. Typing up some notes for
Rhonda, Brown and Rafe to keep them up to date on his caseload, he stopped
every half-hour to call Blair at the loft. Where
the hell is he? He said he would be home after noon. The university was his next target, but the
voice mail was his only answer.
Rising irritably, he
decided a snack from the machine might brighten his mood and save one very,
irritating anthropologist’s life.
Simon’s voice pierced
his concentration, “Jim! Get in here.”
Turning to join his
superior in his office, he saw Tarrington coming down the hall, accompanied by
Rafe and Brown. Now what? he thought.
“Jim, Bailey talked
this afternoon. Seems Tarrington was
right, Gus hid the disk in Cutler’s backpack.
Then he sent an e-mail to security and The United Order of
Brotherhood. Cutler is one very sought
after boy right now.” Simon started the ball rolling.
“However, Jim, my
man, Jason Page has been keeping an eye on the kid. He said the two security
guards I suspect have been following Cutler all morning. He kept a close tail on them. Seems your friend, Sandburg, and the kid
left the University in a green Volvo around one. Page called me immediately and I radioed Drew and Brad in. Bailey said there were two men who beat him
up and he said Drew and Brad were on the disk. All suspicion points to them at
this point. If we get our hands on that disk, we’ll have all the probable cause
we need to arrest them for attempted murder.”
Tarrington watched Ellison’s face.
“Where the hell did
Sandburg go?” Jim asked to no one in particular.
“That’s what we were
hoping you would tell us, Jim,” Rafe said softly.
“He’s probably not in
any immediate danger, but Cutler needs to be put under protective custody until
we can find that disk. Too many people
would like to get their hands on it, Jim,” Simon said as he took a cigar out of
his pocket.
The cool night air
surrounded him with the sounds of the forest. Standing on the porch of the
large, rustic cabin, he ached with misery. Jim should be here with him,
standing beside him right now, holding him.
All the plans for making things right, talking them out and finding the
easy grooves of their earlier relationship were scattered back in Cascade.
Now he shared a cabin
with a hyperactive, paranoid teenager, too bright for his own good. Turning his
head slightly, he heard the click of keys from inside the modernly appointed
cabin. The façade of rustic charm did
not sacrifice the conveniences of modern man.
Ben was surfing the Internet with the passion of his obsession.
Sighing heavily,
Blair turned and entered the cabin. The lodging was tastefully appointed in
earth tones, Apache artwork and Indian prints lined the Knotty Pine
interior. As one entered, a large room
was divided into three rooms by furniture only. To the right a living room was
well appointed with a round wooden coffee table in the middle, a large sofa on
one side and two comfortable armchairs on the other. A large stone fireplace covered the outside wall. Two doors
opened on the adjacent wall each leading off into the bedrooms. The left
portion contained bookshelves and a dining room table that was used far more
conveniently as a desk. In back of this area was a well-appointed kitchen with
a small bay window. A bathroom lay off the kitchen.
Now, Ben sat typing
away, totally absorbed in some quest in Cyberspace.
“How about some
dinner?” Blair asked as he made his way into the kitchen.
“Yeah, I could eat
something,” the young man said, not bothering to stop or look up.
A simple meal of soup
and sandwiches left them in much better spirits. After quickly tending to the dishes and cleaning the kitchen,
Blair drifted out onto the porch.
Romance decorated the
night in soft, twinkling stars and an intimacy that demanded to be shared. There is no time like the night to become
yourself, to go into the unguarded areas of your psyche. However, there is also
no more tender a time when two people in the shadow of the moon can merge their
souls. No more welcome could ever be extended than the soft darkness and the
quiet at close of day. Blair ached for Jim and the sharing they were in need
of. All was lost. Damn
it, he thought, I had to get Ben out
of there. I owed it to him. He’s my responsibility as his counselor. Jim
screwed this up, not me. The freshness of the morning’s conversation he had
overheard between Jim and Tarrington allowed the self-righteous insistence. Yeah, he thought, maybe if I keep insisting I’ll actually believe it myself.
Turning
to re-enter the cabin, he saw a very exhausted, very young looking Ben Cutler
curled up on the couch, fast asleep.
Not bothering to wake the tired fugitive, Blair slowly entered the first
bedroom to find his own peace at the end of the day.
Jim Ellison sat on
the sofa. How long, he didn’t know. The
night brooded with him through the large glass windows, easing his stress and
strain and offering understanding. Where the hell are you, Sandburg? he
asked himself for the hundredth time. Is this what our relationship boils down to,
this fine thread of trust that can be so easily snapped.
Sandburg had fought
the relationship from the very first. Oh, sure he came willingly to Jim as
friend and guide and student. Always willing to learn and take part, always a
major factor in solving the cases and assisting Jim when needed, but always
resistant as well. Sandburg was not a cop, and as many times as Simon and Jim
repeated the litany themselves, they did not believe it. No matter what excuses they could give to
exclude the young anthropologist, he made them better at their jobs, and for
that they needed him.
When the first bright
sparks of mutual attraction could no longer be ignored, Jim moved in like a man
who always knows what he wants and how to get it. Blair opened to him, like a well-read book, allowing himself to
be turned and situated for comfort and ease.
It was the Blair Jim was always used to, the mediator, the conciliatory
agent, the peripatetic student learning how to make a home everywhere.
Then time steamed the
starchiness out of the relationship, and all became relaxed. There was a comfort in their duo; a pairing
that truly joined them, as some would say ‘at the hip.’
However in time, the
new creases of their domestic bliss chafed the young man as he fought the
stiffness that Jim needed to function. The rigidity of a place for everything
and everything in its place soon left his Guide frustrated and moody. Blair
slouched into the days while Jim stood stock-still and uncompromising, knowing
the course he had planned and insistent that all passengers stay seated. Mutiny was on the horizon and Jim just chose
to ignore it.
The sunlight tickled
his eyes, he turned away, groaning, burying his face in the soft folds of the
sweater he had slept on bearing the strong scent of the one who was gone. Ellison fought the dawn as weary spirits
usually do. Gone was the energetic man in control, now he needed escape and
sleep offered a dark and empty world.
“Boy, I knew it,” Ben
said suddenly. Reaching down he pulled his backpack up off the floor and threw
the heavily loaded pack on the table.
Riffling through each compartment, he frantically sought some missing
object. “Hey, where the hell did this come from?” he asked no one in
particular.
Blair walked bleary
eyed and bleakly from the bathroom. The
night had given him comfort only in his weariness, but the sleep offered no
renewal of spirit. Without Jim, with the
simple thought that their relationship could be over, Blair found little energy
to move through the morning. The thick
sludge of his resistance made all acts a Herculean effort.
“Coffee?” Blair asked
as he noticed the fresh pot on the burner. The kid was thoughtful he noted,
plus an early riser.
“Yeah, please.”
Blair poured two cups
and trudged over to the table that Ben had almost completely covered with books
and notes. Sitting next to the overly
energetic student, Blair sat moodily staring deeply into the thick brew.
“Oh, Mr. Sandburg,
I’ve been researching the history of revolution for my class, I want to do a
paper on insurrection among the intellectually gifted,” Cutler said, pausing
only briefly to sip the hot liquid, then quickly returning his fingers to
position over the keyboard.
“No?” Blair asked,
sarcastically, “who would have guessed?”
The irritation was
lost on the fireball burning brightly next to him. Blair glanced quickly at the eager face, young and alive, full of
promise and possibilities. Shaking his
head, disgusted with his own treatment of the student, he quickly added, “I’m
sure you’ll get a good grade. You’re a good student, Ben, if you would just try
to stay away from inciting a riot with every paper and presentation you do.”
Blair started looking
at the books and papers Cutler had strewn over the table. A diskette lay on top
of one book. The only writing on the
label was a small green swastika.
Seeing the familiar
symbol of hate, Blair picked up the disk.
“Where did you get
this from?”
“Hey, I don’t know,”
eyeing Sandburg with the suspicious look Blair recognized as trademark Cutler.
“I never saw that thing before.”
“Do you think you can
read what’s on here?” Blair asked.
Cutler smiled, “Piece
of cake,” and he eagerly loaded the diskette into the drive.
Simon Banks stood
irritably outside the loft door.
Knocking the third time, juggling the large pizza box in one hand, he
yelled, “Jim! Open up.”
The door opened
quickly presenting a haggard face, unshaven and unhappy. Damn,
just what I thought, he hasn’t been
to bed and probably didn’t even eat dinner.
“I suggest you take a
shower, shave and get dressed, Jim.
You’re on vacation, not dead.”
Jim grunted, “I’m on
vacation, so I don’t have to.”
“Jim, it’s almost
noon. If we get a call about Sandburg’s whereabouts, don’t you think you should
be ready to move.”
Placing the large box
on the table, Simon looked sternly at the mess before him.
Embarrassed
by the warranted inspection, Jim shrugged, “Yeah, I guess I could use a
shower.”
Simon sat at the
table, a very irritated Sentinel across from him. Both men hugged beers in
their hands, a box of pizza lay open on the other end of the table. Seeing the frustration that plastered
Ellison's face, he threw in what reason he could muster himself.
"You know, Jim,
Sandburg was pretty upset about that scene in my office. I admit I should have
given him more consideration. He's a teacher. Of course, he's going to go out
of his way to protect one of his students. You said so yourself he's counseling
this kid. I know how protective he is of you. Sandburg's just being
Sandburg."
The blue eyes pulled
back into the room, leaving their intense viewing of the city landscape through
the large window. "I know,
Simon," Jim sighed. Then a smile
played quietly in the corners of his mouth, "I guess that's why I love him
so much, but he's so damn frustrating at times."
"He should be
okay. I have an APB on the car. Highway Patrol should notify us immediately and
they have orders to detain for protective purposes."
"I just want to
know where he is right now. Then I want
to get Cutler and the diskette safely back here. After that I have some
adjustments to make." Ellison
gritted his teeth in some silent promise to himself.
Simon's dark eyes
caught the fervor and promise to the last statement. "Jim, don't go doing
anything foolish and ruining your relationship with Sandburg. You two are perfect together and you know
how pigheaded and high-handed you can be at times. Sandburg won't tolerate any megalomaniac controlling his every
move. He's a spirited individual with a sharp mind and free soul."
"I would never
want to change that, but he's always willing to go off without thinking of the
consequences, putting his life in danger to help me or someone else and worrying
about the repercussions afterwards.
This could have all been avoided if he had just talked to me, asked me
about the things he heard and what my plans were. Matter of fact, he swore to me he would trust me from now
on. Fact of the matter is, he lied."
Simon nodded, "I
agree, but I can't say I blame Sandburg completely. Tarrington needs to adjust
his own attitudes and opinions."
Simon chuckled, then took a long pull on his beer. "I remember my
own biased opinions of the kid, just because of his hair, his constant
chattering, and that habit he has," Simon used his fingers to express a
flighty gesture of bouncing a basketball, "like the Energizer Bunny."
Both men caught the
image in the hollows of their mind's eye.
Laughter filled the loft and some of the tension eased its way out the
door.
Just then the phone
broke in, like a long-awaited guest to the party. Jim reached a long arm back to the counter and picked up the
cordless unit.
"Ellison,
here."
"Jim?" the
unnecessary question came out quietly.
Jim closed his eyes,
looked into the worried face of Simon, nodded his head and pulled in a deep and
calming breath.
"Sandburg,"
he said patiently. "Thank God. Are
you all right?"
"Yeah, Jim, I'm
fine. I have Ben with me."
"I know. My next
question is the obvious WHERE THE HELL
ARE YOU?"
Simon threw up his
hands in disgust. James Ellison's tact
and finesse were comparable to most mob boss' hit men.
Jim saw the look on
Simon's eyes, and tried to calm himself.
"Jim, I'm up in
the mountains. That's not important right now. Ben found a diskette in his
backpack. He swears he doesn't know how it got there. I believe him. Jim, it's
evidence. I mean this disk lists names, security guards at Rainier, businessmen
who support the skinheads. Hell, Jim, there's even some city councilmen's names
on here. They were obviously
blackmailing people into cooperating with them…they…" Sandburg hardly took
a breath.
"Chief, settle
down," Jim tried to bring the turbo in for a landing.
"We know all
that. Bailey talked. We have the two suspected security guards, Drew and Brad,
under surveillance. We need that disk back here to have hard evidence. Bailey
didn't see the men who beat him up, but he said there were two of them and we
strongly suspect this pair. Tell me where you are."
"I'll bring him
back, Jim, we'll leave right now."
"NO! You stay put, you hear me? Bailey sent a notice on e-mail, not only to
the security office, but also to the United Order of Brotherhood. We don't want you riding around, visible. We
have reason to believe they saw you leave with Cutler and know your car and
plates. Tell me where you are and Simon and I will come and get you."
"I'm sorry,
Jim," came the penitent voice, "I screwed up again. I have this cabin for the week. It was to
have been a surprise for our one year anniversary."
"Blair, baby,
you did indeed, but we'll get it right. I'm asking you to trust me."
Blair gave him quick
directions to the cabin. The three-hour
drive would get them there by late afternoon.
Jim hurriedly packed
his duffel putting in enough clothes for a week. Then he packed another bag for Sandburg. The mountain cabin would be a great place to
talk with no distractions, no demands on their time. The week was theirs and he
damn well planned to work on his relationship once Cutler was safe and the
diskette marked as evidence.
Simon saw the two
bags and smiled. "I'm glad you're not going to let the cabin or the week
go to waste."
"Sandburg might
have reason to regret the location, when I get through with him, but the quiet
will be good for the both of us. I am
still officially on vacation, right?"
"Yeah, Jim, as a
matter of fact, I insist. We'll drive
up in my car. I'll bring Cutler back. You can stay up there with the kid, by
that time the Volvo won't be a highly sought after item. All the shit will have hit the fan while you
and Blair are safely tucked up there."
Then in the rhythm of
friendship, the long easy strides of routine, the two cops went to collect some
valued things.
Blair set the phone down
and looked across the room at Ben. They had positioned themselves in the living
room, Ben slouching with certain arrogance in one of the armchairs, Blair on
the sofa. Steaming cups of hot cocoa sat on the huge coffee table before them.
Neither one had much of an appetite; the discovery taking all their energy with
the possibilities of the outcome, the criminal jurisdiction that could clamp
down on the skinheads at least in the Cascade area.
"I guess this
Ellison is going to be pretty upset with you," Ben said, then added,
"and me, too."
Looking up Blair saw
the faint glimmer of fear in the blue eyes, so like his own even now, unsure of
his own worth, concerned about his actions, and doubting all fairness in the
world.
"I guess I'm in
trouble. They'll think I stole this disk. It's going to look bad for me, no one
ever believes me."
Reaching down, Blair
picked up his mug and sat back. There
was nothing now for them to do but wait and the silence would only enhance the
fears already fogging both their imaginations.
"You know, Ben,
you and I are a lot alike. We've
already discussed my early years in college and the fool I pretty much made of
myself. I was quite the know-it-all and I can tell you I really made more
enemies than I was able to realize." He took a long sip on the thick, sweet drink, then setting his cup
back down, he continued, "I screwed up pretty badly, probably was even a
bigger pain in the ass than you are."
Cutler let out a
small laugh, then shyly looked at Blair, "Yeah, I guess I am at
that."
Blair laughed along
with him, "Not as big as I was.
Even when Jim and I became friends, I let a lot of my insecurities get
the better of me. This whole thing
never should have happened. I realize that now. All I had to do was tell Jim
about security hassling you, even go to Simon with my doubts, but no, I had to
take matters into my own hands."
"What do you
think they'll do to us?" Cutler asked, looking young and very much the
little boy. Pushing his long hair behind his ear, more so to occupy his hands
than out of any need, he pulled both legs up on the chair and sat Indian-style.
For a moment he looked like a Boy Scout at a camp out.
"You'll be
placed in protective custody until all the guilty parties can be round up.
Then, I don't think you have to worry. You didn't do anything, except leave the
city, and I'll have to take responsibility for that."
"Do you have any
pull with the cops?"
"I'm not sure I
have much influence on them one way or the other right now, but Simon and Jim
are both professionals. They know who's guilty in this little fugitive drama
and I'm afraid it's me."
Both men shivered at
once, then laughing at the synchronization of the gesture, Blair got up.
"I think I'll
make a fire. I doubt either one of us feels like enjoying the majestic splendor
outdoors right now.”
Simon pulled the
burgundy Chrysler down the narrow, rutted road. The setting sun pierced the treetops easing the chill out of the
dark forest. The cool, crisp, mountain
air chafed the skin.
"Remember, Jim,
I expect you to conduct yourself professionally in there. Cutler's safety is our first priority and
the disk. Once Cutler is in my custody,
you're officially on your vacation."
Then turning in his seat as he cut the engine, he pointed a threatening finger
at his best detective. "I'd better not get any calls about any murders in
the mountains, and in one weeks time I expect to have all parties accounted
for, alive and well."
Jim reached for the
door handle and smiled wearily, not eager himself to deal with his wayward
guide.
Simon looked at the
two men before him. He could see the
anger, but more importantly the hurt in Jim's eyes. He knew Blair could see it, too.
The kid had a hard time meeting Simon's eyes and quickly gave up,
dropping his own to the floor of the cabin.
Playing it
straight-faced and totally professionally Simon acted indifferent and
unaware. He wanted the anthropologist
to realize how much his actions hurt Jim, but they also snubbed his authority
as well. The damn kid could have and
should have brought his doubts to him.
"I'm going to
bring this runaway back to Cascade," Simon said, tugging none too gently
on Cutler's arm. "What about that
one?" he asked, nodding in the general direction of the self-conscious anthropologist,
playing the stern commander. Knowing
full well Jim’s intentions, he wanted Blair to know Jim could play the hand in
a manner totally unfavorable, if he so chose.
"Don’t worry
about him, sir. Blair and I were
planning to spend the week up here and that is exactly what we are going to
do. We have some things to work out
between us."
Blair looked up
eagerly, proving that hope did indeed spring eternal.
“Did you want to stay
for supper?” Jim offered.
“No, I think I’d
rather leave you two alone. Billy the
Kid and I can grab some burgers on the road.”
Simon winked at Jim.
Simon patted Blair on
the back as he walked Cutler out the door, "Don't be too hard on the kid,
Jim. He was just protecting his
student."
Blair returned to his
intense scrutiny of the floor.
Not answering,
offering no reasonable leniency Jim simply said, "Good night, Simon. Drive carefully. We'll give you a call when we get back to town next
weekend."
Blair did not stop
studying the carpet at his feet as Simon walked the student outside and to the
car and drove away.
Jim stood watching
the car as it drove down the rutted lane.
The large picture window allowed him to see the vehicle as it turned
onto the main highway. Swallowing his
annoyance at Blair, he turned away and walked into the small kitchen. Blair stayed frozen in place, still not
looking up.
"I'm hungry, I
haven't had dinner. Have you?"
asked Jim, peering into the cupboards.
"Umm,"
Blair stammered, "no, I haven't eaten, but I'm not really hungry."
"No. You need to eat. Now, what do you want?"
Jim said, trying not to be annoyed.
"I SAID 'I'm NOT
HUNGRY!" Blair shouted, his anger and worry at the situation venting. Looking at Jim for a moment, he turned
around quickly and raced into the bedroom he had slept in last night. Slamming the door, he threw himself on the
bed.
Jim stared at his
lover's vanishing back and winced, as the bedroom door slammed shut. Shaking his head and sighing, he shut the
cupboard and went into the living room.
Sitting down on the couch, he leaned his head back and focused his
hearing in on the bedroom and his partner.
He could hear his
lover lying on the bed, muttering to himself, fluctuating between anger at 'his
pig-headed lover' and himself. Jim
smiled as the anger turned toward a bootlace that had become tangled into a
knot, listening to Blair try to slide it off his foot. His smile turned to concern as he heard the
hitch in his voice and the muttering stop.
With the sounds of that hitching filling his ears, he stood from the
couch and walked towards the bedroom.
Pausing for a second
outside the door, he debated about knocking.
Thinking better of it, he quietly opened the door and slipped into the
darkened room. He could see Blair laying
face down on the bed, one boot on, the other off. The younger man did not move with the opening of the door. Jim walked over and carefully sat on the
bed, at his lover's feet. Gently
picking up the boot-clad foot he slowly undid the lace and slid it off. Putting the foot back on the bed, he looked
down at his partner's face. Eyes
closed, a few tracks from frustrated tears marking his face, he looked
lost. Jim scooted back on the bed and
stretched out, lying next to Blair, facing him. Reaching out, he stroked the long curls, brushing them back from
his face.
"Blair," he
began softly, "look at me, love."
Blair seemed to curl
up into himself at this lover's voice, his eyes not opening.
Jim waited a few
minutes, still stroking the curls, before speaking again.
"Blair, come on,
let's talk. We have to talk; we have to
trust each other. Please…" Jim
said, his voice trailing off.
Blair, eyes still
closed, relaxed some. Slowly inching
his way toward Jim, he sought the safety and comfort he was hoping to find
there.
Scooping his lover up
in his arms, Jim cradled him closely to his chest. He felt strong hands grab the front of his shirt and hang on
tightly. Leaning close, his lips almost
touching the tangle of curls, he whispered, "Love, you can't keep shutting
me out, you have to trust me; we have to be honest with each other."
Smiling he added, "I'm going to keep repeating that until I think it is
sinking into that brain of yours. I
care too much about our relationship, about you, about us, to see it
self-destruct."
Jim heard Blair mumble
something, but even with his hearing, he was unable to understand.
"What did you
say, baby?" he asked, slightly pulling away from the younger man.
Blair sighed, "I
said, we won't self-destruct, I'll destroy us, all by myself."
"Don't say
that," Jim admonished. "What makes you think I am going to allow you
to destroy us? You think I let go of
something I care this much about, let it go so quickly because you are
afraid?"
"I'm not going
to give you the choice. I'm going to
drive you away; I'm going to do something so bad that you won't be able to
stand the sight of me. You are going
to hate me." A few tears began leaking from his closed eyes.
"No, love, I
swear to you. I couldn't hate you; I
can't imagine anything that you could do that would make me feel that way. I want this, us, to work out. I can't imagine not spending the rest of my
life with you."
Blair just shook his
head, unable or unwilling to believe what his lover was saying. Doubt clouded his judgment and a shell was
forming around his soul.
"Blair, why
don't you believe me?" Jim pushed, before the casing became hard and
unyielding.
Blair didn't answer.
Gripping more tightly to Jim's shirt he wiggled, trying to move closer to his
lover.
Tightening his
embrace around the shaking shoulders, Jim brought a quiet surety into the
room. "It's okay. We have all week to talk about this. We are going to discuss it and we are going
to get our relationship back in line."
He paused for a moment, as if waiting for Blair to say something. When no response was forthcoming, he
continued the soft litany of reassurance, "We are going to be okay,
love. We're going to be able to work
this out and get on track. Trust me,
all right?"
He could feel Blair
nod against his chest and he heard the low mumble, "'Okay."
They lay together for
almost an hour. Jim’s strong arms
wrapped tightly around the smaller man, giving strength and assurance to the
distressed figure. Gradually, Blair's
breathing slowed, as the grip on Jim’s shirt relaxed. The arms now wrapped around him in a normal embrace, not the
eager desperation of the lost. Jim simply lay there, holding him, occasionally
stroking his hair back. The large hands
gave stability. Each methodical stroke was sending a calming rhythm to
Blair. The outward control was all
façade, for inside he gnawed at his own insecurities and failures.
His mind drifted over
the years of their friendship and the last year as lovers. When he first met the younger man, he had
seemed so confident and sure of himself, and, on the subject of Sentinels, he
was. In the academic world, he was safe
and felt comfortable spreading his wings; he knew what was expected of him, he
knew he could excel and he did.
However, as they spent more and more time together, Jim could see that
some of the confidence was a façade. It
was amazing to Jim to watch the transformation of his partner. One moment he would be joking and making
smart alec comments with Simon and the other detectives, but then on the car
ride home or during quiet moments in the loft, Blair's insecurities would
surface. He would turn quiet and
thoughtful or question and apologize for whatever he had done. Many of these fears had diminished over time
and with his support, but they were never totally gone. If they had a fight about something, the
insecurities would jump to the surface; if a case didn't go right, Blair would
blame himself. Now, with these
incidents with school, the anxieties were going full force. Thinking about it and what had gone on over
the last few days, Jim could see the connection. As much as Blair might deny it or not believe him, he could
understand where his guide was coming from and sympathize with him. Kissing the top of the curls in front of
him, Jim knew it was this compassion and the ability to accept others that
endeared him to Blair so much. It was a
rare and precious gift, but it could be harmful if not handled correctly.
A slight rumbling
from Blair’s stomach interrupted his musings.
Laughing, Jim shook the figure slightly, “So, you hungry now?”
Pulling back
slightly, the blue eyes sought his, “No, not really. You go ahead. I don’t want
to eat anything right now.”
Jim glared at him and
sat up on the bed. "Nope, wrong
answer, love,” he said, giving Blair's butt a hard swat. "I think we have had other discussions
about your eating habits. Do we need to
go over it again?"
Blair glanced at his
lover's raised hand and sat up, "No, it's okay. Fine, I'll eat. I'm not
happy about it and I'll probably be sick and it’s going to be your fault."
Standing up with him,
Jim smiled, "That's okay. You
won't be sick. And even if you were,
I'd still love you."
Blair laughed---a
pleasant sound to the Sentinel’s ears.
They shared a simple
and light meal of hamburgers and chips.
After helping with the dishes, Blair wandered into the living room and
stood by the window, looking out into the night.
After a moment, he
saw Jim come up behind him in the reflection of the room. Smiling slightly, he welcomed Jim joining
him at the window. "I'm sorry I've
messed everything up," he said quietly.
Wrapping his arms
around the younger man, Jim rested his head on top of the curls. "Baby, you've not messed anything
up. We're together and we can get us
back on track."
Encompassing his
lover with strong, sure arms, Jim nodded appreciatively as he saw their images
merging into the glass. The opaque
silhouettes seemed like one figure---enhancing the reality of the
other---reflecting off the darkness. To him, he was looking at life itself,
without Blair, his life would be empty, barren and not worth living. He wondered if Blair felt the same way about
him. Reaching up he stroked the soft
curls bringing his hand to rest gently on Blair’s shoulder.
Leaning back, the
younger man pressed his head into the large hand. Sighing softly, contentedly,
he eased his body back molding it against the hard, rock solid form. In a soft duet of warm caresses, Jim felt
the body relax into his. Hands meeting hands, wrapping and unwrapping, seeking
that perfect embrace.
Jim whispered,
"I love you."
"I know. I love you, too," Blair whispered
back. "I'm scared,” he added after
a moment.
"Of what? Of us?
Of me?" Jim asked,
concerned that Blair was maybe having doubts about their relationship.
"No, not of you. I love you.
I love 'us.’ I'm scared I'm going to mess this up. I am going to do something and drive you
away and you are going to hate me and you are going to leave and I'm never
going to see you again and I'm going to be alone and it's all going to be my
fault. Again."
"Blair, love,
didn’t we just have this conversation.
I told you, YOU are not going to ruin this relationship. You can't, I won't let you."
"I know, you
said that. But, I've done it in the
past. I've driven people away, people
have gotten sick of me or I've done something and they didn't tell me and
they've just left and....."
“Blair, hush. That is not going to happen this time. Other people may have left your
relationships at the first sign of trouble, but I’m not them. I am not going to do that. If we split apart it’s not going to be
because of something you did---something bad you did. I’m not like that. You
have to trust me, love. You have to,
otherwise….” He trailed off, "otherwise, our relationship can never be as
wonderful as I know it can be."
Twisting around in
Jim’s arms, Blair hugged him. "I
know, I'm trying, I really am."
Jim said simply,
"I love you,” as he pulled the doubting Thomas in closer.
"Me, too."
"Come on, let's
go to bed. It's been a long day for
both of us."
"Let me make
love to you,” Blair said, earnestly, his eyes looking up pleadingly.
"Your wish is my
command, love,” Jim answered with a smile.
Bending down he kissed his lover, holding the sides of Blair's face,
plunging his tongue deep into the waiting mouth. He could feel Blair's eager hands quickly unbuttoning his shirt,
sliding it off his shoulders.
"I want you
tonight, I want to be in you," Blair whispered, momentarily breaking from
the kiss, as his hands further helped Jim undress.
"Anything you
want, love, I am at your disposal."
"Ah, and I would
have to forget to bring my handcuffs with me," Blair laughed, as he
initiated the next kiss. Hungrily
attacking Jim's mouth, he grabbed the taller man's head and held it in place.
Bringing one leg up and wrapping it around Jim's, Blair ensured that his lover
was not going anywhere.
Reaching one large
hand down, Jim cupped Blair's now naked butt, softly kneading it, almost in
rhythm to Blair's leg movements on his hip.
Stopping his kneading for a moment, he brought his hand up to the
swollen lips. Almost instinctually,
without a word, Blair took the offered finger in his mouth and slowly sucked on
it.
Smiling slightly at
the sounds his partner was making, the need and yearning so obvious in the
passionate moment, Blair took his time sucking and nibbling the offered finger.
"No, no,
no," Jim said, withdrawing his finger from Blair's mouth with a smile,
"I have plans for this, I don't need you eating it."
"Oh," Blair
said, pretending to pout, "I guess I will just have to make due with
something else," he said, attacking Jim's lips again with a renewed
fervor.
Bringing the wetted
finger down to Blair's butt again, Jim lightly teased his partner's opening,
quickly darting in and out.
Moaning, the
curly-haired young man hiked his leg up more, opening himself further to Jim's
fingers.
"Do you want to
continue this in the bedroom or should I let you ravish me right here on the
living room floor?" Jim asked minutes later.
"Bedroom,"
Blair answered breathlessly, "Lube?"
"My bag on the
nightstand."
"Always the Boy
Scott, huh?"
"Hey, one of us
needs to be."
Stepping back from
Jim, Blair smiled wickedly, "Come on," he said, "I don't want to
be kept waiting."
"Yes, sir,"
the other man replied, laughing, "your chariot awaits." With that, he stepped closer to Blair,
sweeping him up into his arms, cupping his seat.
Blair gasped and
quickly wrapped his legs around Jim's waist.
With his hands
supporting Blair's butt, his fingers were allowed to resume the exploration of
his guide’s body, finishing the journey of promise they had begun.
"Let's go,
Chief. You may be a little smaller then me, but you are not that light."
Laughing, Blair
nuzzled into Jim’s neck and allowed himself to be carried into the bedroom and
deposited on the bed. Bouncing up he
hungrily sought the tube of lubricant in Jim’s toilet case. Laying down, laughter still evident in the
bright eyes, he waited while Jim joined him.
"Ready? Sure I can top?" Blair asked, waiting
for final approval.
"I am more then
ready and I love it when you top."
Smiling at the older
man's answer, he swiftly oiled his cock with one hand while he gently stroked
Jim's with his other. Lifting his lover's knees to his shoulders, he quickly
plunged into the now relaxed, lubricated orifice with one smooth motion.
Jim opened his mouth
to moan, but was stopped by Blair's questing tongue filling the enclosure with
his sweet taste.
The younger man lay
on top of him for a brief moment, allowing Jim to adjust to the penetration,
before pulling up to begin thrusting into the waiting body.
There is almost nothing as good as this. Jim beneath
me---open and willing---his blue eyes wide and dilated with arousal, Blair thought as he increased his thrust.
When Jim gave a small
moan, Blair reached down to stroke the now erect cock. "Come for me, Jim.
Come with me, love."
The younger man's
breathing increased as he began to vary his thrusting---quick, short spurts and
then the long slide out before shoving back in again as hard as he could. For a
brief moment, he considered whether he was hurting Jim, but one look at the
almost heavenly pleasure that lit Jim's sweaty face and the thought quickly
disappeared.
Wrapping his legs
around Blair's waist in an effort to take even more of his guide into him, Jim
strained with the effort.
Shaking his head
“no,” sweat droplets fell to mingle with the streaks of moisture on Jim's
chest. God, I love this man, Blair swore.
It was the trust his lover placed in him. He knew some men considered it unmanly to ever bottom, but Jim
had no problem giving up that control; even though he topped most of the time,
it was never actually a given with them.
"Jim, I'm going
to come, baby," Blair gasped.
"I love you,
Blair!" Jim screamed as he contracted his inner muscles at the peak of the
thrust and felt Blair's shutter as he came.
Frozen and trembling,
he squeezed Jim's cock and was rewarded with copious, milky fluid splattering
them both, as their orgasms seemed to go on forever.
Slumping heavily over
Jim's heaving chest, his hair damp with exertion, Blair sighed.
They lay like that
for several minutes before the younger man made a move to slide off.
"No, stay inside
me just a little longer. Please?"
Jim asked rather tentatively. "I love the feel of you in me."
"Of course love,
anything."
Jim gave a tired,
contented sigh and drifted off to sleep.
Still inside his lover, Blair joined him in tandem, riding the smooth
surf of fulfilled desire.
Jim awoke with a start,
momentarily confused, not seeing the familiar warmth piercing through the
skylight in his bedroom, but Blair was curled up next to him, peacefully
sleeping, so it didn’t really matter where he was. Settling down into his pillow and snuggling back up to the
smaller body sharing his bed, he did not fall back asleep immediately. His mind wandered back to Friday night and
sitting alone in the loft. Fluctuating
between worry and anger at his guide, he debated about what to do. The loneliness of the night allowed him to
ponder their relationship, it's problems and what viable solutions were at
hand.
After much
deliberation and a long, emotionally engaging phone call to old friends in
London, Jim had reached his decision.
He only hoped that Blair would accept it.
The next morning,
Blair awoke slowly. Stretching and
yawning, he looked around, trying to figure out where he was. Falling back into the softness of his
pillow he remembered his flight from the University with Ben, Jim and Simon
tracking him down. Jim had said they
would talk about it today. Lying
quietly, contemplating pretending to be asleep, he thought about
yesterday. He knew Jim was not mad at
him, disappointed, maybe---probably---but as he said several times, they would
get through this relationship crisis.
He heard Jim walk
down the hall and pause outside the bedroom door. Listening, Blair
thought.
"Come in, Big
Guy, I'm awake," he called out.
"Come on, Chief,
up and at 'em, it's 9:30 already, I've got breakfast cooking and I don't want
it to get burnt or cold waiting for you."
Blair sat up, giving
Jim his best puppy dog look, "No good morning kiss? No 'thank you for
fucking me until I saw stars;’ all I get is a 'up and at 'em?’"
Jim laughed. Walking over to the bed, he flopped down
next to his guide. Kissing him gently
on the nose, he said, “Good morning, love.
Thank you for fucking me until I saw stars last night."
Blair kissed him
back, "Much better, and you’re welcome."
Placing both plates
of pancakes on the table, Jim sat down.
Blair had already set down their coffee cups.
"We need to go
shopping today and get some more food." Jim said, as he began to butter
his stack.
"I know, there's
a grocery store in town that's not that far." Blair stopped for a moment, then hesitantly he added, “Jim, I'm
sorry about yesterday and running away...”
"Chief, we need
to talk about it, " Jim said, interrupting him. "But, first, before we do that, I have something else to
talk to you about. Let me tell you a story. You think you can sit there quietly and not
interrupt too often?"
Blair laughed,
"Okay, few questions, I promise."
Jim smiled at
him. "Okay. Have you ever heard me mention Vincent Cade
and Damien St. Clair?"
"Yeah, that's
your old commander, right, the one who lives just outside of London? He and Damien are partners."
"Right, they've
been together for years now. They live
in Salisbury. Cade retired from the
military when I was in Peru. I spent some
time with them---over a month---when I got out. It was peaceful there, walking or just looking out on the
Plain. So different from Peru"
"I bet."
"But, what
impressed me the most was them. I
already had some male lovers, if you could call them lovers. Most of them were just quick lays, a good
hard fuck once in awhile. It was sort
of depressing and that's what I really thought gay relationships were. Nothing committed, nothing stable."
Blair nodded, he had
gone through lovers like that, "It is lonely. It’s depressing to think
that is it."
"Yeah," Jim
said, reaching over and giving Blair's hand a gentle squeeze. "But, they were different. They were totally in love, totally committed
to each other, true lovers---emotionally and physically lovers. They rarely argued, both seemed at peace
with each other and with themselves, there was a sense of order."
Blair blushed and
looked down at his plate, knowing that order and peace was something rarely
seen at the loft. Especially lately,
with his schedule, he seemed to be running around half the time, not sure if he
was coming or going.
"Vincent and I
spent a lot of time together, walking around or just sitting on their porch
talking. I already knew I was at least
bi-sexual, if not totally gay, and we talked about that. When I told him how impressed I was with his
relationship with Damien, and I asked him how he found someone so perfect, he
just told me that they had an arrangement that worked for them, kept the peace
and kept Day on track and in control. I
gathered from what Vin told me, Damien had some trouble staying in school and
was just out of control when they first meet.
I think he had even had some minor trouble with the law."
"What sort of
arrangement did they have?" Blair
asked.
"I found out one
afternoon. I had gone for a walk over
to the Cathedral, but had gotten a headache and came back home early. I walked in and heard Day crying. I thought he was hurt or something horrible
had happened. I rushed into their
bedroom, without knocking and found him curled up on Vincent's lap,
crying. He didn't seem to notice me,
but Vin nodded to me and motioned for me to leave. I did, totally puzzled by what I had seen. I went out on the porch and about an hour
later Vin joined me. He told me that
Damien had been rude and had been punished."
"Oh!" Blair
said quietly, "I wondered where you learned to spank me."
Jim smiled,
"Yeah. We talked a long time about the arrangement they had come up
with. They found that being in a
disciplinary relationship worked. Day
did better, he was happier, less stressed, felt more in control, as a result
their relationship worked better. They
had a set of rules that they agreed upon for Damien and they agreed that he
would be punished, mainly spanked or paddled, for breaking them." He stopped, looking at Blair for a minute.
Blair looked down at
his plate, not meeting Jim's eyes.
"Blair,
love," Jim began, placing his large hands on top of the smaller, trembling
ones. "I talked to them both
Friday night, when you were missing. I
told them about how stressed you've been, how out of control you've
seemed. We talked a long time about the
stress our relationship's been under.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but you seemed to be better, happier, less stressed
right after I spanked you those two times.
I was keeping you in line, for a little while right after that, then I
would slack off and you, we, would go right back into the old patterns for
awhile until the next time I reached my limit and punished you again."
Blair nodded, and
mumbled, "Yeah," hating to admit the truth of the matter.
"That's not fair
to you. Most people need consistent
expectations and I was failing to give that to you in our relationship. I would be frustrated and punish you for pushing
yourself and doing too much, but then I would allow you to do exactly the same
thing a month later. That's not fair,
that's not helping. Vincent and Damien
both suggest, think it would help, for us to try a disciplinary
relationship."
Blair's head shot up
with that and he looked startled.
"What does that mean? What
do you mean by that?" he asked, quietly.
"It means pretty
much whatever we want it to mean. But,
basically, we would sit down and write out rules for your behavior,
expectations for you, with clear consequences for breaking those rules. We could agree to this for a trial period
of time, say ... six months. After that
time, we would talk about it and see how it's working for us."
Blair did not say
anything, just sat at the table, twisting his paper napkin until it began to
shred.
"Blair, please,
look at me." Jim waited until his
guide finally raised his eyes and looked at the older man. "I love you so much, I hate to see you
hurting yourself, stressing out, being out of control. I don't like what it does to our
relationship. I really think that this
might work. I think we need to do
something. Please, trust me, give up
control to me and you will find a deeper, better control over your life. I can't force you; I want you to decide on
your own. I am not going to leave you,
even if you say ‘no,’ but I think we need to do something."
Blair nodded,
"We have to do something," he agreed, softly.
Jim knelt down next
to Blair's chair. "That's all I
ask love, think about it. We can talk
about it later. Just think about it right
now." Kissing the younger man
gently, he stood up. Picking up both
plates, he walked into the kitchen, giving his lover the space he needed. Running water, and adding soap, he looked
over at Blair still sitting at the table.
The younger man looked up and gave Jim a small smile. Smiling back, Jim's heart felt lighter.
Blair stood up and
carried the butter back and put it in the small refrigerator. Grabbing a sponge from the sink, he began
to clean the counters.
As they cleaned up
after breakfast, Blair asked, hesitantly "Jim, I know that we need to talk
about this...”
"Yes, we
do."
"Umm, I have
some things I need to figure out first, can we do it in a little while, like
maybe this afternoon or something?"
Jim put the plate
down that he was drying and stepped closer to Blair.
"Love, we have
all week to talk, take as much time as you need, we can do it whenever you
want. We have some big issues to talk
about and I want you comfortable.” He paused for a moment, debating about
saying something and then deciding, he continued. "You know, whatever you decide, we will work with it and
deal with it, so don't worry about what I want or what you think I want, you
have to make this decision."
Leaning over, hands
soapy and wet, the younger man kissed him, leaving wet handprints on his
shirt. "I love you."
"Me,
too."
Blair walked up a
path near their lodging to the middle of a small waterfall, an easy half-mile
walk from the cabin. The path ended
into a rocky outcropping into full sunlight.
Sitting down comfortably on a rock, warmed by the sun, he looked up at
the cascading water spilling over the edge of the waterfall---rushing, plunging
onward, not knowing where it was going, not knowing what lay before it or what
would happen when it got to its final destination.
Smiling, feeling a
sort of kinship with the water, he relaxed.
Looking down, he could see still ponds around the edge of the stream,
fed by the waterfall, but safely protected from the whitewater by rock or tree
branches. Blair became absorbed in the
churning excitement and foaming movement created in the whitewater directly at
the base of the flowing water. A small
twig fell over the edge and was carried along with the current. Tracking its place and movement
absentmindedly, he saw it churn and turn, trapped in the turbulent water, not
going anywhere, not continuing its journey, just spinning.
Suddenly, through
some force of nature, it was able to free itself and continued along its path
down the river. Blair watched it float
away in the water, knowing that it would find other waterfalls and face other
struggles in its journey until it found a safe resting place. The calm pool around the edge of the stream
had a mixture of twigs and leafs that had decided to end their journey in this
beautiful spot. Knowing it was stupid,
he still could not help but wonder, which twig was happiest.
The young man sat
there, thinking of twigs and journeys and Jim and himself for almost an
hour. Sitting straighter and
stretching, he debated about what to do next.
A peace had come over him; a decision had been made. He did not want to leave his perch, but
wanted to explain his decision in the spot where it had made the most sense to
him.
Feeling confident
that Jim was respecting his privacy, but also equally confident that his
Blessed Protector was also keeping an ear out for him, he said in a normal
tone, "Jim, I'm ready to talk if you want to." Pausing for a moment, then, suddenly afraid,
he added, "but not if you're busy, or don't want to talk right now. I'll understand ... we can do it whenever
you want. There's no rush."
Nervously fidgeting
for a few moments, he forced himself to take a deep breath and relax. It was out of his control now, he had chosen
a path and he was going to see where it went.
It was not his to worry about and stress over because he had handed the
problem over to a man he trusted with all his heart.
Ten minutes later, he
heard a warm, gentle voice behind him, as strong arms wrapped themselves around
his chest. "Love, I am never too
busy for you. You are my top priority,
you are above everything else."
Smiling, Blair did
not turn around, but gave a stage whisper, trying not to laugh, "Oh
Bob! You shouldn't be here. Jim, my possessive and overly protective
lover is going to be here in a few minutes.
He has a tendency to go a little crazy if he finds me with other
men. He wants me to have 'property of
JE' branded on my forehead."
Laughing, Jim bopped
him on the head, saying, "Yeah, and don't you forget it!"
Settling down behind
his guide, the Sentinel surveyed the waterfall and the stream, "This is a beautiful spot you've found,
Chief."
"It is."
Several moments of
silence eased them into a familiar comfort, as Blair tried to shape his
thoughts into structure.
His partner waited
patiently, knowing that this was a leap in trust his friend had to make on his
own. His only job right now was to be
supportive and protective and be there when that leap came, catching the young
man in a web of strength and promise.
"Remember the
first time you spanked me?" the younger man, asked finally.
"Yeah, this
summer; you were not sleeping or eating...but telling me you were. You ended up crashing your car, because you
fell asleep driving home."
"You basically
carried me home, put me to bed for two days.
You weren't too mad at me."
"I was scared,
Chief. You could have gotten seriously
injured."
"It hurt."
Jim knew immediately
what he was talking about. The day
after Blair's accident, he had gone upstairs and the younger man was blowing
the whole thing off. He didn't seem to
understand how important his health was or how frightened Jim had been by his
carelessness. The older man, acting not
as a roommate or a friend or a police detective, had reacted solely as a lover,
frustrated at his partner's actions and out of a need to get through to him how
wrong his behavior had been.
Jim had sat down on
the bed, pulled Blair over his lap, pulled down his boxers and spanked
him. It had been a short, but hard
spanking that had left Blair sobbing.
The tears were caused more by embarrassment and the knowledge that he
had scared the detective rather than real pain or damage. Later that day, they had talked about it and
Blair admitted that while he did not enjoy the spanking, he understood it and
was fine with it.
"It was supposed
to hurt, love," Jim answered, pushing the memory from his mind.
"I
know." Then falling silent again,
Blair reworked his thinking, gathering his courage to make the final leap.
Time matched the
steady flow of the stream, constant and moving. The two men sat quietly watching the water both lost in thought.
"I was sitting
here thinking," Blair said, breaking the silence, "and I saw this
twig floating in the water. It went
over the waterfall and got caught down below in the turbulence. It looked like it was trapped there, but
somehow it managed to break free and continue on down the stream. It seemed to pause for a second, as if it
were thinking about going into the calm area, in that little pool over
there."
Jim looked to where
his partner was pointing and saw a calm, peaceful little patch of water,
protected by some larger rocks.
"Ah huh," he said, not wanting to stop Blair's speech, but
wanting to be encouraging.
"I kind of felt
sorry for the twig, it chose to continue down the river and it's going to face
more waterfalls and more turbulence. It doesn't know what it's like to feel
safe and at peace and it may never find it,” he finished, twisting around so he
faced Jim. "I want what you
offered this morning, I want to give you that control over me. I want to feel safe, Jim, for a time."
"Blair, you
don't have to give me control for us to continue. I love you, no matter what," Jim said earnestly, knowing
this was a big step---wanting Blair to make it for the right reasons.
"I know, Jim, I
really do. I thought a lot about the
last months and the time when you did discipline me or make me walk some
line. I was a better person, and we
were better together. There was less
stress and I felt calmer, more in control and I got more things done. I was a better person, knowing that you were
there, ready to pull me back in line if I strayed too far."
"Blair, you are
always a good person, you will always be a good person. I don't do that, that is you...all by
yourself."
"I know. I am smart and everything, and before I met
you, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to travel. I didn't want to settle down. I enjoyed following the river, not caring
what I was leaving behind or what I was facing, I had to keep moving." His voice trailed off, once again allowing
silence to reign between them.
Honoring the silence,
not wishing to push, giving Blair the freedom to make his own decision, Jim
stared off into the distance.
"Now," he
began, almost whispering, "I don't know what I want. I'm out of control. My schoolwork is suffering, my teaching is
suffering, I'm hurting myself and I'm hurting our relationship. I need you to take control for a little
while, I need a firm constant in my life.
I need to know that you are there.
I need to find out who I am and what I want."
"Blair,
love," the older man said, hugging his partner tightly, "I will
always be there."
"I know,"
came a small voice, "but I need this; I need you, I can't do it by myself
anymore." With that final
revelation, a sob broke free and Blair seemed to fold up into himself.
Pulling the huddled
figure closer, Jim began a slight rocking movement. "It's okay, it's going to be okay. You'll be fine. We'll be
fine. We'll get you back on track in no
time."
Blair nodded, hugging
tightly to his own rock in the stream, sighing heavily.
Time moved forward
half cloaking the once sunny rock in shadows, burnishing the landscape with the
golden solemnity of late afternoon.
"Chief, I think
we should be heading back. We need to
run into town for some supplies and I don't want to be out too late."
"Okay,"
Blair said, slowly moving out of Jim's arms and standing up. "I don't want you to spank me," he
whispered quietly, not looking at the Sentinel, studying the stream intently.
Throwing an arm
around the smaller man's shoulder, giving him a hug, the other replied gently,
"That's not your decision anymore, Chief."
"I
know."
Walking through the
aisles of the small grocery shop, they discussed what they needed for the
week. Blair had gotten some supplies,
but they needed what Jim referred to as "real food.”
"Sandburg, why
don't you go pick out some potatoes to go with the steaks."
"Okay, but I am
also getting stuff for salads, just because we're on vacation, doesn't mean
that I'm going to let you eat whatever you want," Blair said, laughing
dictatorially, as he walked off towards the produce.
Smiling to himself
Jim watched him disappear around a corner.
Blair had been quiet and subdued on their walk back from the
stream. The older man was determined to
show him that little was going to change in their relationship now that Blair
had agreed to answer to Jim about his behavior. In Jim's mind, they were still equal, neither one of them having
more say about their lives than the other one.
His smile vanished,
replaced by a more thoughtful look, knowing that they were going to have a
rough night tonight. He knew he needed
to punish Blair for taking matters into his own hands and for running away. He had jeopardized Cutler’s life as well as
his own. Blair knew that it was going to happen---would have happened even if
they had not reached their agreement this afternoon---but, Jim knew, just
because his guide knew it was deserved, knew he had agreed to it, he would not
go quietly. He expected and understood
the reaction. It was a natural one, no
matter how much you deserve something and almost welcome it a part of you is
still afraid---does not want to be hurt
Driving up with Simon
yesterday, he had given Blair's behavior and the consequences of it a lot of
thought. Now, with their recent
agreement, Jim knew that he would have to go beyond a simple spanking. Dismissing using a strap or a belt as too
harsh, he decided that a paddle would be best.
"Hey, man,
you've barely moved since I left," a voice came from behind, startling the
older man.
"Oh sorry,
Chief, just thinking. Did you get
everything we need?"
"Yeah,"
Blair exclaimed, proudly holding up a multitude of bags.
"Okay. I need to get some shampoo, I forgot to
bring some."
"You could
always use mine. Hey, don't be making a
face! If it's good enough for all of
this,” he said indicating his curls, "I'm sure it can handle your…. Umm…
hair."
Laughing and teasing
each other, they walked to the hair product's aisle. Picking up a small bottle of his normal shampoo, Jim paused by
the hairbrushes, studying them. Seeing
one that would work, he picked it up and threw it into the basket.
Blair noticed the new
addition, picking the large brush up, he looked puzzled, "Jim, this isn't
going to make a dent in my hair. I use
a comb, plus I don't think half these bristles will ever get a workout on your
head." Reaching over to put it
back on the shelf, he was stopped by Jim.
Taking the brush from
his hand and tossing it back into the basket, Jim said gently, almost
matter-of-factly, "It's not for your hair, love."
A look of puzzlement
and then embarrassment crossed Blair’s face.
Glancing around quickly to see if anyone else was close enough to
overhear his lover's statement, he lowered his voice and stammered out,
"Not for my hair?"
"No," the
other man replied calmly.
"Oh!"
As they finished
shopping, Blair could not keep his eyes off of the brush. No matter what he threw into the basket, the
brush remained on top, in plain view, a constant reminder of what was
coming. He could not help staring at
it. I'm
crazy, he thought to himself; I'm a
grown man that is going to allow my lover to discipline me when he feels it's
necessary. I have no say in the
matter. Oh God, what was I
thinking? I can't do that! I can't
allow that to happen to me! Feeling
the rising panic, he tried to control his breathing enough to get the words
out, say something that would cancel their agreement.
As they rounded a corner
into an empty aisle of cereals, Jim suddenly stopped the cart and gathered
Blair into a quick hug. "It's
okay, Chief, you've made the right decision, it will work out. You have to trust me and you have to trust
yourself."
Blair gave a small
laugh, "How did you know I was freaking out?"
"I figured as
much. Plus I could hear your breathing
and heartbeat going off the scale. It's
a scary thought. But," he said,
looking down into worried blue eyes, "it's the right thing. You said it's what you want and what you
think you need. I agree with you. You have to have faith in me and have faith
in yourself; you may be scared, you may be having second…"
"Try fourth,
man."
Jim smiled,
"fourth thoughts, but think back to the river this morning and what you
told me, what you figured out. I think
if you look deep inside yourself, you'll see that this decision is the right
one."
Blair did not speak
for several minutes, just allowing himself to feel safe in Jim's arms, trying
to re-capture the feelings he had this afternoon. The image of the twig caught in the turbulence and not finding
peace flashed through him. Breaking
free, he sighed, "You're right.
I'm just scared. Seeing the
hairbrush that you are buying, knowing what you are going to do with it....
" He paused for a moment,
searching for the right words. "It just makes it seem so real, so 'this is
my life'. "
"It is real,
buddy. This is your life…at least for
the next six months. It's going to be
okay."
"I know, I do
know you’re right; I know I'm right, but I'm still scared," he finished
with a nervous laugh.
"You have every
right to be. Come on, let’s finish this
and go home, it's getting late."
After unpacking the
Volvo and putting the groceries away, Jim went into the bedroom they were using
and grabbed a book from his bag.
Settling on the sofa in front of the fireplace he listened to Blair grab
something from the fridge and walk into the living room.
"I'm going to go
sit outside on the porch for awhile.
Okay?"
"You want some
company?"
"Umm,
actually..."
"Say no
more...it's okay. I'll do dinner
tonight. In about an hour?"
"That sounds
good."
Blair opened the
door, but stopped. Not looking at Jim,
he asked quietly, "When is it going to... when are we going to... when are
you going to spank me?"
Rising from the couch
Jim walked over to the smaller man.
Gathering him in his arms he kissed him softly on the forehead. "After dinner, we will sit down and
talk and then you will go into the second bedroom and wait for me. I'll come in and put you over my lap, pull
down your pants and boxers and paddle you.
We can talk again afterwards or we can just cuddle or I can leave you
alone. Your call, we can do whatever
makes you comfortable."
Swallowing hard,
Blair nodded. "Thanks, I hate not knowing what's going to
happen." Stepping outside, pausing
just before he closed the door, still looking down, he asked, "Is it going
to hurt?"
"Yes."
Nodding slightly,
Blair shut the door to the porch. Jim
could hear his soft footfalls on the wood planking then the creak of the swing
chains, and ultimately the steady, even rhythm of his glide through space.
Pausing for a moment, gauging the other's vitals, Jim walked back to the sofa. Lifting the book from the large coffee table, he tried to refocus to the page, but it was futile. Concentration eluded him like a soft butterfly, fluttering out the window to the porch, to the one who mattered the most to him. Listening with his heart as well as his senses, he latched onto his love, wanting to protect him from anything harmful, including himself.
Sitting in the cool
of the evening, allowing the motion of the swing to relax him, Blair thought
back over the past several years of his life with Jim, the last year since they
had become lovers and further back to the time before Jim.
He had always prided
himself on being smart, driven, sure of himself, but deep down inside he knew
that it was a lie. The lies were fabricated as shells to protect him, keep him
safely tucked into a world where he had control, where he could strut his stuff
with surety and purpose.
The younger man
grimaced thinking of how like Ben Cutler he really was: cocky, almost to the
point of obnoxious, when he started college, overly eager to enlighten the
realm of academia and blow them all away with his insightful wisdom. What few people saw was that the cockiness
was just a mask, just a cover to hide his fears, his insecurities. Bringing his knees up to his chest and
wrapping his arms around them, he hugged himself. Trying to keep the long suppressed fears and feelings of
inadequacies at bay, he knew that these fears were still driving him
today.
Fear of falling short
of the mark plagued him in all his roles. If he wasn't perfect; wasn't a
wonderful teacher, insightful guide, caring and attentive lover, brilliant
consultant, then he would not be deemed worthy by whatever gods or fates
controlled these things. It would all
be taken from him and he would be alone again---tossed without choice back into
the river to face the turbulence and whitewater again, without support or
guidance, alone again.
Rationally, he knew
this was the force driving him, trying to do too much and failing at all. No!
he told himself, not failing, just not succeeding, not enjoying much of it. He shook his head as if trying to rid
himself of such depressing thoughts, and pushed back on the swing to get it
going again.
Thinking back to his
arrangement with Jim and what was going to happen this evening, he began to
concentrate on that. He was still lost
in thought, fluctuating between a calm acceptance and the knowledge that it was
the right thing to do and a cold fear that settled into his stomach. He contemplated calling the whole thing off
when Jim quietly opened the door and announced that dinner was ready.
Dinner was a simple
meal of soup and crusty bread, broiled with garlic and oil.
Sensing the distress
associated with the coming event, Jim set off the meal with an explosive
barrage of questions, all focusing on the vacation, the time to relax and enjoy
each other's company.
"What do you
think we should do, love, with our time up here, anything special? I was thinking some hiking, maybe catch some
scenic sites, or we could just lay around here, read, or..."
"No way, man.
This place is magnificent, Jim. I did some reading about the local sites and
historical dramas in the region…"
With that Blair
jumped in. The remembered plans for their week together kicking in and going
full throttle. Blair took off on ideas and expectations.
Jim listened
attentively, nodding his head, withholding the smile that threatened to break.
This was the Blair he wanted out more often. This was his eager charmer of
tales and plans and dreams, spinning with bright blues eyes and quick-witted
hope webs of delight.
"…And Jim there
is a trail about 10 miles from here that leads to a series of three amazing
waterfalls. It’s supposed to be an easy hike from the tourist lot near the
Point. So, you think we can go
tomorrow?"
Jim smiled at his
lover, glad to see the nervousness and hesitation that had gripped the younger
man earlier was almost forgotten.
"Sure, Chief, tomorrow or Tuesday---remember, we have all
week."
Nodding his head, in
eager agreement, lost in the joys of planning the vacation, he concurred. "Okay, that sounds good. Whenever. Fishing, too, Jim, let's do some
fishing."
He stood from the
table and carried his and Jim's bowls into the kitchen. Looking out the bay window, he saw a deer
and fawn grazing off some berries in the thick foliage.
"Jim...Jim,"
he said softly, motioning with his hands for the man to join him at the window.
Ellison came up
behind him and pulling Blair back against him he hugged the man to him. They
stood for a few seconds enjoying the beautiful creatures. Then a noise from the
road, some unknown predator scrambling through the thick growth, or a danger
only they could sense, and they were off and away in their graceful dance of
flight.
Pulling away, Blair
started filling the sink with water.
"So what do you want to do tonight?"
Calmly and evenly Jim
said, "I think we have some business to take care of this evening. Why don't we see what you are up to after
that."
Blair blanched,
feeling ridiculous. How could he have forgotten? Jim had made him so relaxed
throughout the meal, how could he have actually forgotten. "I'm sorry,” he
said quietly, "I can't believe I forgot.
I'm sorry."
Jim walked over to
him quickly, taking the dish from him and kissing his hand. "Blair love, there is nothing to be
sorry about. It's not something to look
forward to, I am not surprised you forgot.
You didn't do anything wrong by forgetting, okay? I'm glad you were allowed to focus on the
week ahead and enjoy the meal. It was my intent."
"Oh."
"Okay. Why don't we finish these dishes later, come
sit down with me and let's talk."
"Why do we need
to talk? I know I screwed up and I'm
sorry. I don't want to talk, let's just
do it and get it over with," Blair said, following Jim into the living room.
"Blair, come sit
down with me. I want to talk about it;
I want to make sure you know why you are about to get paddled. I don't want to just discipline you without
it being clear which actions are unacceptable." Settling himself on the
couch, Jim reached his arms out for his lover.
"This is a big step for you, I want to make sure you are
comfortable with it and understand how it works."
"I know, but...”
the rest trailed off too quietly for even the Sentinel to hear him.
"What did you
say, Chief, I didn't hear you?"
Blair took a deep
breath and let it out quickly, saying, "I'm embarrassed, I'm sorry and I
don't want to talk about it, I just want to get this over with it." He paused for a moment, then taking another
deep breath, he added, "Please, Jim."
The other man thought
for a second and then nodded, "All right, Blair, if that is the way you
want it. We can talk later. Right now, I want you to go into the second
bedroom, take off your jeans and stand in the corner. I'll be there in a few minutes."
Blair looked at him
and then nodded once and walked quickly into the other bedroom, just off the
living room.
Jim walked into the
kitchen, grabbing a coke from the refrigerator, he stared out the window,
thinking. This was not the first time
he had disciplined his lover, but it was in a way. The other two times had been out of frustration and fear, the
only way he could think of to reach the thick-headed, stubborn, whirlwind...the
only attention grabber for the eager mind.
Tonight, they were
going to enter a new stage; a new height to their relationship built on trust,
love and hope. Consensual, disciplinary
relationships worked well, when both men understood the purpose and benefits
gleaned from it. He hoped, prayed, that it was the right one for them, that it
would make them stronger and happier together.
In his heart, he knew it was right.
He knew that Blair had made the decision on his own and this afternoon
seemed confident that it was the right choice.
Still, Jim had fears, hurting someone you loved, having that kind of
control over the smaller, weaker man, honed Jim's conscience with the doubts of
all men in power.
Steeling himself to
follow through on the agreed upon routine, he put his coke on the counter and
walked into the master bedroom. Picking
up the newly, purchased hairbrush from the dresser he proceeded into the second
bedroom.
Seeing his lover
standing in the corner, the slight tremors passing through his body, head
bowed, Jim zoned in on the beating heart. Sitting on the bed, laying the brush
beside him, he said, "Blair, come here, please."
Jerking his curly
head up at the sound of the older man's voice, Blair took a deep breath and
turning, schooled his face with a brave smile.
Walking towards Jim, he avoided the brush on the bed, focusing on the
man he trusted.
Reaching out his
hand, Jim said, "Come and stand next to me. It's okay."
"I know, I'm
sorry. I know you aren't going to hurt
me." Stopping to the right of his
lover, Blair took a deep breath and said, "I'm ready."
Jim simply nodded,
gripped him by both arms and gently but firmly drew him across his lap. Blair didn’t resist, but he didn’t exactly
cooperate with the maneuver. Holding
himself stiff and rigid, he braced himself, tightening his buttocks, squirming
on Jim’s lap, testing his freedom of movement.
Realizing he was a
captive audience to this event, Blair folded his arms and rested his head on
them on the bed, allowing a small gasp to escape his lips as he felt Jim tug
down his boxers. "Please, Jim,
don't take them down."
Jim ignored him. "Blair," he asked, rather harshly,
"what are you getting punished for?"
Blair wiggled uncomfortably, whether it was his position or the
question, Jim wasn't sure. Either way
there was a struggle, a small sign of resistance showing from the penitent.
"Um ... I..."
Blair started.
Jim brought his hand
down hard on the right cheek. Satisfied
with the red imprint, he asked again, “What are you getting punished for?”
Blair shivered, then
said, "I’m getting punished for lying to you and for running away with Ben
yesterday. For not coming to you with my concerns and fears and for not
trusting you and for not believing you when you said that you would look into
what was going on with Ben."
"That's right,
but mainly, you are getting paddled for lying to me about coming to me with
your questions, for taking the law into your own hands. You could have been
hurt---you endangered Cutler's life, too. You said you would trust me, and you
lied. Lying breeds distrust and without
trust, no relationship, no matter how strong, can survive."
"I know, I'm
sorry." the other man whispered, sniffling a little.
"I'm sure you
are in your present position, but I'm going to make sure you're going to be a
lot more sorry in the next few minutes."
With that statement, Jim picked up the hairbrush from the bed, raising
it he quickly and sharply brought it down on Blair's left check, producing a
matching set of red imprints.
Blair gasped out loud
and tried to squirm away from the brush as it landed again and again on his
unprotected bottom. “No!” he voiced his
protestations.
“Please, Jim.”
Jim answered his
pleas by pulling him tightly up against his stomach, holding on to his lover as
he swatted him repeatedly.
"I'm sorry,
Jim. Please, stop! I'm sorry.
Please!" Blair cried out.
Jim watched with a
detached fascination as the soft globes changed color. The perfectly white,
tender flesh now ripened to a cherry red, hot and angry. The mounds arched and wiggled as Blair
sought some surcease from the assault.
Pulling himself back
to reality, he was shocked by the fact that the angry flesh brought no
compassion, only a more heated rage at the need to punish the one he loved more
than life itself.
"Lying will not
be tolerated at all. Distrust will not
be tolerated at all," was the older man's reply, punctuating each word
with a swat. Increasing the force of
the assault as he brought his anger in for a landing. Stopping with the final
word, he laid the brush down and slowly rubbed his lover's back.
Lying across Jim’s
lap for several minutes, Blair tried to gain control over his emotions. The
great gasping sobs now eased into a steady murmuring of sorrow.
Finally bringing
himself under control, he slowly raised up.
Wiping his eyes, he stood and turned to leave.
"No, Blair,
wait. Come here, love," Jim said,
grasping his arm and not letting him escape.
"No, Jim,"
Blair said, his voice catching in his throat, "Just let me go, I need to
go... I need to leave... I need…." he said desperately, trying
to tug away from his lover, as his crying increased on the final need.
"Blair, Shhhh!”
Jim said, standing up and gathering the crying man in his arms. "It's
okay. I really think you should stay
here. There's nothing to be embarrassed
about, nothing to be ashamed of, cry, get it out of your system."
He stroked the curly
head and felt the young man slowly relax against his chest as he muttered
nonsense words and sounds, not meant to make conversation, just add an air of
comfort.
Wordlessly, he led
Blair into the living room. Sitting on
the couch, Blair instinctively curled up in his arms, perching on Jim’s lap.
Wiggling
uncomfortably as his sore bottom made contact with Jim's hard thighs, he
gripped Jim's shirt and buried his face, trying to hide the tears that were
once again flowing. "I'm sorry,
please forgive me," came the muffled voice heavy with regrets.
"Love, it's
over. All is forgiven. Once you have been punished for something,
that's it, it's forgotten and over."
Remaining firmly
committed by their embrace each man tried to sort through the ramifications of
their new arrangement, the responsibilities each had and the trust that needed
to be forever evident in their dealings with one another.
"Blair,"
Jim said softly, not wanting to disturb the peace that had fallen over the cabin. "I think I know that if you put your
complete and total trust in me that you will be happy. I think right now, you are struggling so
hard for control over everything---school, teaching, police work, us, your
personal life---that you can't possibly get it. That makes you more frustrated and more determined to do
everything and gain control over everything and, in the end, you loose it even
more. Six months, that’s all I’m
asking---give up control for six months and see. Just relax, leave the decisions up to me and trust that I will be
there for you." He paused for a
moment, giving the weight of what he had said, time to sink in. "Can you do that?"
Pulling back
slightly, locking on the man he loved so much with his soft blue eyes, he
nodded solemnly. “I can, Jim, because I do trust you.”
The days following
were the most relaxing Blair could remember spending with his love. The easy trust and confidence he had placed
in his Blessed Protector only seemed to intensify his feelings of love and devotion.
The remaining days eased by with calm dalliance, peaceful and gracious in their
timing.
Fishing, long walks,
lying in the sun by the stream, nothing more than spending time with one
another, enjoying each other’s presence.
Now the last day of their week, the overcast sky promised little outdoor
activity.
Breakfast over with,
Blair sat on the swing enjoying the growing turbulence around him. He loved the
time before a storm, the building of pressure, the totally overpowering
sensation of atmosphere, and the eager rush his own soul built.
The wind was picking
up, swirling leaves around his feet in angry cyclones. He wanted to see the stream one last
time. It would be too muddy after a
heavy rain and he didn’t relish the muck and goo he would have to trudge
through. The stream was the focal point of his commitment to Jim, the rambling
friend who convinced him that sometimes you did indeed have to give yourself up
to someone to truly discover yourself.
“Jim,” he called into
the cabin. “I’m going up to the stream. I’ll only be a half hour or so.”
“Okay, Chief,” Jim
called back as he continued drying the dishes, his concession to Blair for the
great blueberry pancakes he had made for breakfast.
“Just don’t stay out
too long. It looks like a storm’s brewing. Half hour and I want you back here.”
“Yeah, Jim, probably
less than that.”
Blair was off at a
good pace. The trail was uphill most ways, and normally an easy walk. However,
the strong gusts of wind that periodically pushed through the trees made the
climb seem more arduous.
Reaching the same
rocks he had made his life-altering decision from several days ago, he sat down
upon the perch. Perhaps the spot was
Feng-shui, with the position of water or the stars, or whatever Naomi Sandburg preached
in her constant desire to re-arrange Jim’s furniture. A soft laugh escaped and
he shook his head. Life is indeed
interesting if nothing else, he thought.
The rain started
almost instantaneously. No soft droplets promising the torrential downpour, no
simple moisture pocking the air, but a curtain of harsh, skin-prickling
rivulets came drumming down upon him. Jumping up immediately, his foot slipped
on the now slippery surface of the rock.
The foot pushed down harshly between another boulder wedging itself deeper
and angling downward. Gasping at the
pain, he tried to brace himself against another rock, trying to take the
pressure off of the foot pinned to the ankle in a crevice.
Finding no purchase
on the rocks, no easy stance to alleviate the pain in his foot and ankle, he
awkwardly balanced himself. His foot
was tightly wedged, but he felt an urgent need to free it before it swelled.
Surely some bones were broken, and now would be the best chance to pull free.
Grabbing the boulder
with both hands, he carefully eased his whole body up, the slippery, wet
surface becoming slimy as the rain continued in torrents. His hair plastered
his face, and it was difficult to see through the curtain of water that would
just not let up. He raised up on his
knees, angled his foot in different positions, seeking the less painful, and
with one great effort, biting his lip at the pain, he managed to pull his foot
out, minus the shoe.
Looking down at his
foot, the sock torn and bloody, he thanked God that the shoes were sturdy. It
could have been a lot worse. Gingerly placing the foot on the mud-soaked earth,
he eased his body weight forward.
“Oh God! Ow…ow…ow…” he cried out as his foot slipped
in the mud. A bright burst of lightening blossomed across the sky followed by a
loud rumble of thunder that seemed to shake the ground. Blair tried to walk
again, easing himself gently forward while leaning against the rocks. His good
foot lost purchase and he slid forward into the mud-drenched earth.
“Damn it,” Jim
muttered as the lightening and thunder assaulted his senses. Positioning himself on the porch he had
scanned the surrounding area, listening for signs of Blair. Surely the damn fool was half way back by
now. However, the sensual search proved ineffectual.
Grabbing his jacket off of a coat rack just inside the door, he started off up the trail towards the stream. Running up the path, now slick and thick with black goo---portions of the trail actually had mini streams rushing downward---he struggled several times for footing.
Stopping suddenly, he
grabbed his ears. A loud roaring assaulted his sense. It was a flash flood---remembering the sound from his past
experiences, he let out a cry of desperation, "SANDBURG!”
Sandburg struggled to
pull himself up. How did I end up in the
stream? he asked himself, realizing that he was in the water now, not
alongside it. Somehow he had failed to
notice when the stream became a raging river.
Feeling his body uplifted, he struggled to grab hold of something. The rocks he had fallen near were no longer
there. The harsh, beating rain made everything seem foggy, blending the scenery
into one thick fishbowl of murky madness.
He could no longer demarcate branches or roots or rocks...all was raging
water swelling around him, angrily demanding his cooperation.
The tugging current
increased its strength lifting him up. He started moving in quick short
excursions of pain, his leg twisting in the water, snagging a rock or stone,
his arm banging against a boulder. Desperately reaching around him for anything
to delay his eviction from the spot, he was finally able to grab what appeared
to be a long vine reaching out from what surely was the bank at one time. It's a
flash flood. I've gotten myself caught up in a flash flood, panic rose up
in his thoughts.
With eager hope he
dared one hand a short flight to his face, brushing away the wet tendrils of
soggy hair. Water continued to plaster him with defiance. He raised his head up to the heavens and in
the trust all men place in God and friends, he directed his cry to both, "JIM…Please, let Jim hear me."
Ellison heard the cry
for help. With determination bred from
love and need, he crashed through the undergrowth, veering off the path,
finding leverage and assistance from the thick foliage alongside the weathered
trail.
Crashing out into the
opening, he pulled back, quickly hugging a tree. The complete bank where he and
Sandburg had so lazily lain days ago, was no longer...the quiet, gentle stream
had changed into a raging river...angry and violent and uncontrollable.
"SANDBURG!"
He shouted in competition with the drumming sounds of rain and the roaring rage
of the river.
"SANDBURG! WHERE
ARE YOU?"
"Jim...Jim, I'm
here. Help me!"
The quiet sound
reached the Sentinel's ears. Focusing in, panning the turbulence before him he
saw an arm upraised several yards up river, fighting the rushing waters to stay
erect. There was no way to get to
him. The whitewater crashed violently
towards him, reaching out in eager swells to pull him in.
There was only one
thing to do. No time to go back for a rope, no time to think. If the river
didn't sweep him away within the next few minutes, surely he would be pulled
under and drowned or battered by the passing foam and the debris that churned
in the madness.
Pulling a firm, but
pliant branch down from the sturdy tree he held onto, he cautiously moved
forward into the path of the water.
Immediately he felt the pull of current pushing and heaving him
backwards, away from Sandburg.
"BLAIR. LISTEN TO ME!
LET GO! I WILL CATCH YOU!"
"JIM, I CAN'T. THE CURRENT IS TOO STRONG."
"TRUST ME!"
He yelled back. There was nothing else to say. It all came down to those two
words. The whole week, the whole relationship, the final call would lay in
those two words.
Blair heard the final
command. It was not a request. When Ellison said those words, they were not
said in any invitation to a party, ‘trust me and we'll have fun.’ They were
given as orders with only one thought intended...DO IT!
Blair raised his
water-swollen eyes to heaven, sighed deeply, raised his hand in a final
gesture, and let go, as his body and soul tumbled towards its only
destination---Jim.
Jim saw the small
circle the hand made in the air, the thumb and forefinger forming a small loop.
He smiled at the spunk the kid showed. The "gotcha" that was implied
was so typically Sandburg...the trust so much a given in their relationship.
Then all thought
pushed into a clear cool pool inside his head.
The practiced ranger, the detective in charge, the man who commanded
situations and was not commanded by them, reached out a large hand and snagged
the passing jacket...for that was all that was visible above the raging tide.
The soggy
anthropologist sputtered and gasped.
"Grab hold of my belt, Chief. Don't let go," Jim yelled above
the chaos.
"Don't worry,
Jim. Getting me to let go might prove a problem later."
Jim smiled as he
concentrated all his efforts now on pulling the extra weight back out of the
force of water. The large muscled arms
crossed hand over hand along the branch in quick rhythm, easing both men up and
out of the raging tide.
Collapsing on the now
solid ground amid the trees, Jim turned and grabbed Blair's arm. "You can let go now, Chief," he
encouraged gently.
The bedraggled form laughed,
almost hysterically, then threw himself into Jim's arms, burying his face
against the broad chest.
"I was so
scared, Jim. It came out of nowhere."
"I know, Chief,
that's why they're called flash floods."
"Jim, I don't
think I can walk. I think I might have broken some bones in my foot. It was
wedged between some rocks just before the water swept me away."
Jim pushed him gently
away, stationing him against a tree. He
pulled the injured foot up onto his lap and tugged off the ragged sock. Blair winced,
but said nothing. Jim focused in on his heartbeat and gauged the pain as he
fingered the foot and ankle.
“Chief, I don’t feel
any broken bones, but I can’t be sure. There are so many small bones it could
be undetectable. The foot is pretty badly swollen.”
Blair nodded. “I
don’t think I can walk on it.”
“No problem.” Jim rose.
He bent and lifted his love to his chest with ease.
“I just love the
caveman in you, love,” Blair said sheepishly, wrapping an arm around the tall
man’s neck.
“Well, I’ll expect
you to wait on me hand and foot when my back starts realizing I’m not young any
more, Chief.”
The other merely
smiled wanly and laid his head upon his rescuer’s shoulder.
He started off
cautiously down the slope. The
treasure held snugly in his arms. The rain had eased a bit and the clouds moved
off over the mountains with disinterest.
All immediate danger was gone; only the ravages of nature’s forces
remained. The sun would return and the
lands would dry and before long the small stream would gurgle along with
trusting twigs and lost anthropologists in her wake.
THE END
We thank you for
reading and hope that you have been entertained.