Call of the Wolf
by Winds-of-Dawn

"The Hammer Brewery is located in the outskirts of Cascade, almost at the city limits," Simon explained, looking around at the officers and one civilian consultant assembled in the conference room. "The owner of record is one Dean Balantine. He has family ties to some organized crime rings, but he himself has never been implicated in any criminal activities. According to these papers," he tapped a folder, "Balantine purchased the brewery from its previous owner, B.S. Hammer, last year."

"'B.S.', Simon?" Jim asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"That's what it says," Simon said, to chuckles around the room.

"Hey!" Blair mock-protested, "Those are perfectly good initials!"

Simon scowled as the room erupted into laughter. "People! We've got work to do here!"

"Thank you," he said, once the room quieted down again. "Now. As we all know, forensics found an entire packet of cocaine inside the keg of beer. They also found that it was unlikely that the cocaine was placed in the keg after it left the brewery, since you need special equipment to seal the keg, and the only place you're likely to find them is at a brewery. Based on that, we've obtained a search warrant for the place."

Simon paused to take a sip of coffee before continuing. "Our prime suspect, of course, is Balantine, based on his family connections, but we can't discount the possibility that some employees of the brewery are running a drug operation without the owner's knowledge. I'm asking Detective Taggart to lead the search team, along with Detective Ellison and Consultant Sandburg."

"And if, during the course of this search, more drugs are discovered on the premises...?" Megan asked.

"Then the backup units, which will be stationed at strategic points around the brewery, will move in," Simon said, pointing to a schematic diagram on the bulletin board showing the brewery and the surrounding area. On it were marked the positions of the various units.

Simon rapidly gave out the assignments, then looked around the room. "Any questions? No? Well, get to it, then."

---------------

The Hammer Brewery consisted of a central building, which housed the offices and the main brewery, and several smaller buildings that appeared to be used for storage.

A man dressed in work overalls, rubber boots, and a heavy apron stepped up as the group -- Joel, Jim, Blair, and two uniformed officers -- piled out of a police car and Jim's truck.

"I'm Tom Nunann, plant manager," he said, peering warily at the group. "Is something wrong?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," said Joel. "I'm Detective Taggart, Cascade PD," he held up his I.D. "Are you in charge here? Or is the owner present?"

Nunann looked nervously around at the men who stood in a loose semi-circle around him. "What exactly is the problem?" he asked.

"Please," said Joel. "We'd rather speak to the person in charge. This is official police business."

Nunann frowned. "And what exactly is this 'police business'?" he insisted.

Joel traded a long glance with Jim before turning back to Nunann. "We have a search warrant to execute."

"A search warrant! What for?"

"We'll explain, if we can see the owner, please. Or in your office, if he's not present."

Nunann glared defiantly at the police officers before finally relenting. "This way," he said, preceding the group into the building.

The group passed through the main room, full of various brewing equipment, to the curious glances of workers scattered through the place. The owner's office was in the back corner. Nunann knocked on the door and said in a loud voice, "Dean! We got police here!"

Beside Blair, Jim tensed, cocking his head a bit, but shook his head at Blair's questioning look.

The sound of a chair scraping the floor was audible to everyone outside the office, then the door opened, and a tall, somewhat heavy-set man looking to be in his mid-forties or early fifties stepped out and surveyed the group.

"Hello, I'm Dean Balantine," he said. "What seems to be the problem?"

Joel stepped forward and introduced himself again. "I think it's best if we talked in your office," he added.

"I'd say come in, but I'm afraid the room is a bit small for such a large group."

"Joel, you go ahead," said Jim, "We can wait outside."

Balantine's eyes narrowed as he noticed Jim. "Wait a moment," he said, "I've seen you... you're the one that was in the news, that..."

"We are here on official business, Mr. Balantine." Jim's voice was ice, steel eyes leaving no doubt that the subject was off-limits.

Balantine swallowed nervously, then gestured for Joel to follow him into the office. Jim leaned against the wall next to the closed door, Blair beside him. The two uniformed officers took positions a few feet away, one keeping an eye on the door, the other on the main room.

Blair looked cautiously up at Jim, trying to gauge how much he was extending his senses.

"He's protesting that shutting down the brewery is going to spoil the beer," Jim whispered to Blair.

"What did you hear before?"

"Just a loud curse, as soon as he heard the word 'police'." Jim frowned, closing his eyes in concentration. "That Nunann... He's making a phone call."

Blair too, had noticed the plant manager slinking away.

"Where is he?"

"He went back outside... Shit, he's talking about torching the place!"

Jim looked up at the other officers. "Stay here, and don't let him get away," he said pointing back to the door, indicating Balantine. "Chief, call Megan, tell her to be on the alert."

With that, he jogged off. Blair followed at a slower pace as he took out his cell phone and dialed.

By the time Blair caught up to Jim after getting off the phone with Megan, Jim was standing at a corner of the main building, watching Nunann make his way toward one of the storage buildings.

"What do you want to do?" Blair asked.

"Watch him, and hope he leads us to the cocaine."

"So we wait until he's actually about to set the fire? That's tricky."

"Well, we only have a search warrant. We need to have evidence that he knows where the cocaine is stored before we can arrest him." As they watched, Nunann turned into one of the buildings. "Let's go, Chief."

They quickly made their way over to the building where Nunann had disappeared and plastered themselves to its side.

"Do you hear anything?" Blair whispered.

"He's dragging something heavy, muttering what a waste this is." Jim sniffed. "He just opened the gasoline. Let's get in there."

Nunann turned in surprise as the door burst open, then froze as he saw Jim's gun pointed at him.

"What's the meaning of this, officer?" he said.

"Well, looks to me like you are about to commit arson." Jim nodded toward the can of gasoline in Nunann's hand, and the gasoline that was already spilled on the row of kegs against the wall.

Nunann swallowed nervously. "I... I was just moving this can. The lid fell off, and it spilled."

"Onto all those kegs? Well, you can go before a judge and see if he believes you. Put that can down, slowly, and keep your hands where I can see them."

Nunann bent, as if to comply with the order, then twisted, flinging the can toward Jim. The can was still so full of gasoline that it was too heavy to travel far, but Jim had to cover his face to avoid the splash of gasoline from the can. Nunann took off, with Blair right on his heels. As he ran, Nunann grabbed a keg and tumbled it into Blair's path. It rammed into Blair's knees, and he fell on top of it, hard. Stunned, Blair gasped for breath, and suddenly found himself coughing hard as flecks of some powdery substance filled his nose and caught in the back of his throat. Shit! The cocaine.

He heard Jim coming up to him. "Chief? You all right?"

"Not sure. The cocaine..."

Jim looked at the white powder spilling out of the keg. "Did you swallow any?" he asked.

Blair nodded. "Not much, I don't think, but... Hey, man," he waved Jim away. "Stay away from the stuff. Where did Nunann get to?"

Jim listened. "He's trying to get the back door open, seems like he can't find the key."

"Go get him. Did you call Megan?"

"Yup. They are moving in. You sure you're all right?"

"Yeah. Go."

Jim took off. Blair wheezed. He swallowed, trying to clear his throat, then remembered that he should spit out as much of the stuff as possible. He felt a bit light-headed, but wasn't sure if it was the effect of cocaine or just his imagination. He really should find some water.

He had just pulled himself up off the ground and was wondering whether he should try to go back and see if Jim needed any help, or go outside and wait for Megan, when Jim appeared, pushing a handcuffed Nunann ahead of him. Well, one guy under wraps without much incident. So far, so good.

"Chief, can you walk?" Jim asked, as he came up to Blair.

"Do I look that bad?"

Jim studied him. "Not too bad, but you should get checked out."

"Nah, I just need to sit and get some water. You sure you didn't inhale any of it?"

"I'm sure, Chief. Let's get out of here."

Jim marched Nunann out of the building, with Blair stumbling along, pausing every so often to wheeze and spit.

They were halfway back to the main building when suddenly there was a squeal of tires, and a police car came flying toward them at high speed. Jim shoved Nunann into Blair, pushing both of them out of the car's path, flinging himself right after them. The car passed by with only inches to spare, and kept moving without any sign of slowing down. Blair heard Jim curse, saw that the car was headed toward a group of brewery employees who were crossing the street with a laden cart, saw Jim grab for his gun, raise it, and fire --

The car jerked, swerved, and slammed into the building they had just left.

Blair threw himself over Nunann, knocking them both down to the ground, and hoped that everybody else had time to do the same, as --

The car exploded.

The stench of burning gasoline quickly filled the air. Blair coughed, and made sure that he was sitting on top of Nunann, knowing that he was in no condition to run after the guy if he decided to take off, as Jim hurried toward the brewery employees who were slowly picking themselves off the ground.

"Sandy?"

"Geez, Megan. What happened?"

"Balantine slugged one of the cops and tried to take off."

"Figures."

"Sandy, you look bad. What's wrong?"

"Cocaine."

"Cocaine?"

"Got some in my face. I..." he wheezed, "I swallowed some."

"We should get you to the hospital, mate."

"No, just need some water."

"Actually, we do need to get you to the hospital, Chief," Jim said, returning.

Police personnel were now swarming the area, one officer coming by to pick up Nunann, others looking after the brewery employees who had been thrown down by the explosion.

"I don't need a hospital, I didn't swallow that much."

"Yeah, I know, but see, Chief," Jim gestured at the building that was now cackling with flames. "you're evidence. Maybe the only one we have."

Blair groaned. "Oh, come on. Do I have to go? Isn't there some on my jacket or something?"

Jim looked closely at Blair. "Nope, I don't see any," he said. "Not much of that stuff got into the air when it spilled. You just inhaled it because you stuck your nose in it."

Blair stuck his tongue out at Jim. Jim just chuckled.

"Well," said Blair, glaring at Jim. "In that case, I better wash my face before you manage to stick your nose into it. Do I have any in my hair?"

"Not really. Just some in the front."

"Right. Megan? There must be a sink around here somewhere, right?"

---------------

Blair fidgeted in the hard chair, wondering why chairs in hospital waiting rooms couldn't be more comfortable. Having still-damp hair clinging to his neck wasn't helping. He glanced at Jim, who was sitting beside him, staring vacantly at the room.

"Jim," he said.

Jim turned.

"You sure you didn't get any of that stuff into you?"

"Will you quit it? If I did, you'll be seeing the effects."

"Hey," Blair raised his hands. "Just checking. I mean, with the Golden, and the opium..."

"Yeah, yeah. Gotta be careful. I know. But we've established that cocaine doesn't affect me unless I actually put it into my mouth. Or my nose."

Blair grunted. "Well don't go around kissing me, man, until we're sure it's out of my system."

"Just rinse your mouth, and we'll be fine. You've probably ingested everything by now anyway."

Blair was about to retort to that, but Jim held up a hand and dug for his cell phone, which had apparently started vibrating, and flipped it open. "Ellison," he said.

Blair sighed and stared at the other people in the waiting room while Jim talked.

"Well, Chief," Jim put away the phone and turned back to Blair. "Good news for you. They managed to put the fire out, and there was another stash of cocaine in the cellar that hadn't been burned. Plus, Nunann's singing like a canary, giving up everybody involved, including some prominent members of Balantine's family, as well as all the details of their drug operation. We don't need you for evidence."

"Yes!" Blair whooped. "So can we go home now?"

Jim looked over his partner very carefully. "Well, you seem ok," he allowed. "How are you feeling?"

"A little light-headed. Maybe a bit dizzy. Not that diff from having had a few too many drinks."

"Yeah, okay," Jim relented. "Let me tell the receptionist we are heading out."

"Oh, Jim?" Blair stopped Jim as he was about to get up. "Think you can find out how Eric's doing?"

"Sure, Chief," Jim agreed. "Stay right here."

"Woof."

"Is this getting to be a habit, Toto?"

"Giddyup, Ellison."

Jim laughed and threw up his hands. "I'm going, I'm going."

It took a while, but when Jim came back, it was with good news: Eric had been moved out of the ICU into a regular room.

"Visiting hours are over," Jim said, "but the nurse said we can go up and see him, if we want."

"What did you do, throw the ol' Ellison charm at her?"

"Well, not that I don't think the ol' Ellison charm is up to the task, but no. I just mentioned that we were involved in treating Eric when he was first found."

"Okay, whatever," Blair grinned. "Let's go."

---------------

Eric lay quite still in the hospital bed, his face pale, an I.V. and a heart monitor attached to his body.

"Has he regained consciousness at all?" Blair asked.

"Not yet, they said," Jim answered.

Together, they looked down at the boy, silent.

"I hope he's all right," Blair said, finally. "Hope he doesn't have brain damage, or anything like that."

"He's alive, Chief," Jim said, his voice strained. "That's all... all I wanted, when..."

"Jim."

Jim blinked hard, rubbing a hand over his head.

"You know," he said slowly, "when we were working on Eric today... I thought, not very different from Incacha chanting for a sick guy, you know?"

"You thought that too?"

Jim looked up, startled, and groaned. "God, Chief, are we starting to think alike?"

"Before long, we'll look alike."

"Am I going to grow back my hair, or are you going to lose yours?"

"Keep dreaming, Ellison."

Jim reached out and tugged Blair's hair. Blair ducked, raising a hand in protest, and suppressed a squeal in deference to their location.

Just then Eric stirred. The two men froze, their attention riveted to Eric. The boy scrunched his nose, then his eyes slowly opened.

"Eric?" Blair called softly.

The boy blinked -- his eyes slowly focused on Blair's face. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," Blair responded, moving close to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Jim signaled that he would go get the doctor, and slipped out.

"Tired," said Eric.

"Well, you've been through a lot," Blair said.

Eric looked up into Blair's face.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I..." Blair hesitated. "I'm just passing by, Eric. Just wanted to see if you're all right, you know?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Am I... all right?"

"I think... yes, you are." Blair heard the door open behind him. He glanced back to see a doctor and nurse entering the room. "Listen, Eric, the doctor is here, she'll check you, make sure you're all right, ok?"

The boy nodded sleepily.

"Bye, Eric," Blair said, touching the boy briefly on the arm. "Take care."

---------------

"By the way, do we know how that keg got sold to Sigma Delta Alpha?" Blair asked, as he pulled on his seatbelt.

"As far as we've been able to figure, some unsuspecting employee accidentally picked it up and put it into the production line," Jim replied, as he drove the truck out of the hospital parking lot. "Seems only a few of the brewery's employees knew about the drugs."

"Are they going to be out of a job, now?"

Jim shrugged. "Who knows? Somebody else might buy the place. It's a good business, apparently."

"Whose owner was using it as a front for a drug operation, and just died in a fiery explosion while he was trying to escape arrest."

"They'll figure something out, Chief."

They drove in silence for a while.

"You know," said Blair, finally. "That was nice, to see him wake up."

Jim grunted.

"Jim... This shaman thing, do you think there's anything to it?"

"What shaman thing?"

"I mean... Incacha said he's passing on the way of the shaman to me. But I've never really figured out what that was about."

"You and Incacha... Well, I'm not an expert on shamans or anything..."

"Yeah?"

"But if I understand correctly what qualities in Incacha made him a shaman, well, I'd say you have them, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"And which qualities would that be?"

"Well, you both spill enough mumbo-jumbo to confuse anybody..."

"Hey!"

Jim laughed as he blocked Blair's playful punch.

"Seriously. It's... it's convincing people that things can be better when they look hopeless, prodding people into being better in spite of themselves..."

"I do that?"

"For me, you certainly have."

"So... you don't think being a shaman has anything to do with like, mystical powers?"

"What do I know about mystical stuff?" Jim shrugged. Blair stared, pointedly wide-eyed. "Well, ok, so I see ghosts and spirit animals. It doesn't make sense to me, ok? I need you to figure out what all that stuff is about, and bug me into doing something about them, because left on my own, I'd rather just ignore that stuff."

"So I make you face the spirit world in spite of yourself?"

"Well... Remember that day you made me go give a lecture to your anthro class, and I wanted to do that like I wanted to have a root canal?"

"Yeah."

"You made me go give that lecture anyway. Well, I never actually did give the lecture, because of Brackett, but somehow you got me to go along with the idea. If that isn't a mark of a shaman, I don't know what is."

"You make being a shaman sound so mundane, Jim."

"What, you expect magic? Miracles?"

"Well... I dunno. Like Eric waking up while we were there... Yeah, coincidence, probably, but..." Blair looked out the window.

Jim pulled the truck into its parking spot at their building. "I can't deny that mystical stuff exists, Chief," he said. "But... to me, simply being able to sense that kind of stuff doesn't make a shaman. It's... more. Different." He looked at Blair. "So Incacha said you're a shaman. I'll take his word for it."

"Yeah... But what does it mean?"

"Not going to find any answers sitting here all night," Jim said, opening the truck door. "Come on Chief, let's go."

Blair got out, watched as Jim hauled Stoddard's Ainu box out of the truck, and followed him to the elevator. His talk with Eli seemed like something ages in the past instead of just that morning. He really needed a nice, hot shower, he thought, then bed. Yes, definitely bed. He could think about all this sentinel, guide, and shaman stuff some other time.

Getting off the elevator, he unlocked their apartment door and held it open for Jim, then shut the door and turned to tell Jim to put the box in his room --

And froze.

There, on the window of his room, was the wolf.

His wolf. Designed by him, created by a grateful student. That had used to be in the door of his office at Rainier.

He blinked.

Slowly he walked up to it, noting where the glass had been cut and joined, its size cleverly changed to fit this window.

He raised a finger and brought it close to the glass, cautiously, hesitantly, unreasonably afraid that the glass would crumble -- or simply melt away into thin air -- at his touch.

But the glass was solid under his finger, and he pressed his hand flat against it, then the other one, and then his face -- the glass was cool against his cheek as his fingers reverently traced the etched surface.

His wolf. Here. In his home. In their home.

"how?" he asked.

Jim left Stoddard's box by the door and came up behind him. He placed his hand over Blair's, his fingers entwining with Blair's as he too felt the glass surface.

"The other day, when you had that dream... of the wolf... It reminded me of this." Jim moved his other hand to rest on Blair's shoulder. "I talked to custodial services at Rainier. They let me have this, on condition that I pay for the replacement glass for the office door. I found a glass place that does stuff like this -- got them to resize this glass to fit this window..."

"Did you know they were coming today?"

"Yeah. I thought I'd surprise you. I... I didn't know you'd be going to Rainier today, though, when I arranged for the delivery."

"Why here?"

"It... It's not for you, really. Well, I hoped you'd like it, but really, I needed it..."

"You need it? What for?" Blair turned back toward Jim, curious.

Jim didn't let go of Blair's hand, shifting the clasp to be comfortable as they faced each other. He let his other hand drift up to Blair's hair, stroking the nearly dry strands.

"To remind me..." he said, softly.

"Of...?"

"I..." Jim's voice broke. "I lost you once, because I was afraid of my dreams."

"What are you talking about?"

"The wolf... I dreamed about the wolf..."

"When?"

"Before I... kicked you out."

Blair closed his eyes and sighed, sinking back against the glass. "Oh, man. There's quite a story there, isn't there?"

"Yeah."

"Let's sit." Blair said, pushing himself off the window and pulling Jim along with him to the sofa. "I'm wiped."

"It was kind of a long day."

Blair rolled his eyes. "You can say that again," he snorted, as he settled back into the sofa. "So, about this dream...?"

"I shot the wolf. It turned into you."

Blair blinked. "Whoa."

"Yeah."

"No wonder you were so freaked out. You dreamed that you shot me? My god."

"I... I should have told you. I-I'm still not clear on what that meant. But whatever it was, shutting you out was a mistake." Jim glanced at the wolf in the window. "I want that there... to remind me, you know."

"To remind us both," Blair said, leaning forward and pressing himself against Jim. Jim's arms came up around him, molding them together. "I... We didn't communicate very well that time."

"No." Jim pulled away a little, so he could look into Blair's eyes. "But you still came back to me."

"How could I not?" Blair whispered. "You came after me, man. I felt it. You love me. I knew it then."

Jim opened his mouth, tried to get the words out, failed, tried again.

"After... in the hospital... I said..."

Blair waited.

"...not ready... to take that trip..."

Blair closed his eyes, remembering that moment, the crushing sense of disappointment, humiliation, desperation...

"I..." Jim's fingers brushed his cheek and worked their way up his face, ending up tangled in his hair. "I should have said... should have known... I was always on that trip with you, Chief, from... well, from the moment you walked into my hospital room."

"Oh."

Blair blinked. Found a lump in his throat he just couldn't swallow. Felt the light well up from somewhere deep inside himself. The wolf and the panther rushed toward each other, jumped, merged into one...

...and they were molded against each other, kissing, slowly, deeply, their tongues sliding softly against each other, drinking in the other's taste.

Blair moaned as Jim pulled away.

"Don't know about you, Chief," Jim said, grinning, "but I could use a shower."

Reminded that that had been exactly his thoughts when he'd walked in the door, Blair burst out laughing.

---------------

A long, hot shower was exactly what was called for at the end of a long, exhausting day like this. A long, hot shower with Jim's strong fingers massaging his head, working the shampoo thoroughly into his hair -- well, he had died and gone to heaven. He had died, and gone to -- hey, this was better than heaven. Jim waited patiently as Blair bent over doubled, laughing hysterically.

"You're in a real laughing mood tonight, Chief."

"S...so...sorry," Blair gasped, not even attempting to explain.

"You never did tell me how your meeting with Stoddard went," Jim said, as he pulled Blair back up and turned him into the shower spray to rinse off the shampoo.

"Oh, Eli? Yeah, he, um..." Blair paused, uncertain.

Jim frowned. "What is it?"

"Well, um..." Blair threw his head back and rubbed his hair vigorously under the water to rinse out the shampoo. Pulling out of the spray, he reached for the conditioner and started massaging it into his hair. "It's just that, Eli... well, um, he..."

"What? Out with it, Chief," Jim mock-growled, as he grabbed the soap.

"Well, he thinks I should continue working on the sentinel stuff."

Jim paused in the middle of soaping up Blair's chest. "Doesn't believe your press conference, does he?"

"um... no."

"Well," Jim said reflectively as he turned Blair around and started soaping his back. "I suppose it's to be expected that not everyone would believe it. Especially people who know you."

"That's what Eli said."

"You said you don't regret it, but..."

"I don't, Jim. Everything happens for a reason, you know."

"Yeah? I wish I knew what those reasons were."

"Life is about searching for answers, man. It's the journey that's important, not the... oh."

Jim caressed Blair's balls, rolling them gently in a soapy hand.

"Why did we wait so long?" he whispered, kissing Blair's shoulder.

"There's a time for everything," Blair said. "We had to go through everything we did to get to where we are."

"Yeah?" Jim said, "I just wish it hadn't been so... difficult."

"Nothing worthwhile is easy, Jim. Isn't that what you said?"

Jim turned Blair around, gazing deep into his eyes. "Yeah, I did say that," he said, finally. "Come on, let's get out of here."

---------------

Jim would, of course, remember to lay out a fresh towel on the pillows, Blair thought, as he wiggled his damp hair into the towels, enjoying the soft plushiness of the thick cotton strands. Jim did have nice towels, which compensated for his somewhat anal protectiveness toward his pillows.

He watched as Jim finished draping their used bath towels over the railing, then turned to reach for the bedside drawer. He paused, hand on the handle, and looked at Blair -- who looked steadily back. Opening the drawer, Jim pulled out condom and lubricant, eyes still fixed on Blair.

Blair slowly extended an arm toward Jim, and Jim slid in. The embrace was gentle, reverent, and almost tentative. Blair felt his skin mold itself to Jim's, felt their even breaths settle into a matching rhythm, yielded to the subtle pressure pushing him onto the bed.

It was finally happening -- after all the careful explorations, of taking the time to get to know each other physically, they were finally ready, and they both knew it, felt it in the silent but eloquent language of their bodies, in the still depths of their entwined souls.

Blair gasped as Jim slipped down his body and sucked in the whole of his soft penis. Jim cradled it in his mouth, gently rolling the tip back and forth with his tongue, the soft-wet lapping motion so good, so tender...

Dimly, Blair was aware of Jim reaching for the lube, even as his skillful tongue continued to work over him. He felt, more than heard, the snap of the cap being opened.

"You know," Blair said, breathless, "Eli said..." His voice choked as Jim's finger slipped in.

"Eli said... what?" Jim asked, sliding the single finger slowly in and out.

Blair swallowed hard, bracing himself against the assault of the still unfamiliar sensation, so strange and grating, yet so intimate.

"He said..." his voice broke as Jim's finger thrust in, a little deeper than before, "said... I'm your... Guide."

"Did he, really?"

Jim pulled out his finger, and quickly thrust in with two.

Blair gasped. Jim kept the fingers still, running his other hand up and down Blair's chest and along his arm. Blair shut his eyes tight, concentrating on the feel of Jim's fingers inside him, the unrelenting solidity of the foreign presence, the way they intruded into him, stretched him and held him open. He wondered once again why the slight discomfort was the very thing that made this so... so...

penetrating

"I'm... your guide," Blair managed to choke out. "Does that mean you're my sentinel?"

"Always was, Chief," Jim murmured.

"oh..." Blair closed his eyes, relaxing under Jim's caress, letting himself drift in the pleasure that washed over him as Jim returned his attention to his penis. Slowly, with infinite care, Jim lapped the hardening shaft, and just as carefully, his fingers wiggled inside Blair, infinitesimally at first, then gradually increasing their movement, until they were sliding smoothly up and down, each stroke a firm but tender caress against the inner walls of Blair's rectum.

Blair moaned, shifting, his legs sliding open to take Jim in further.

Jim slid up to kiss Blair, softly sucking at each of the full lips in turn before dipping his tongue in to tangle with Blair's.

Blair clutched Jim's arm in protest when the fingers slipped out. Soothingly, Jim nuzzled Blair's cheek, kissed his way down his arched throat, then reached out to grab the condom he'd left on the drawer and handed it to Blair.

Eyes locked with Jim's, Blair slowly brought the condom packet up to his mouth, clasped the edge between his teeth, and with trembling fingers, tore it open.

Jim plucked the wet springy condom from Blair's fingers, and Blair watched, mesmerized, as Jim rolled it onto his hard, erect penis.

Then Jim looked up and smiled, a soft, shy smile that penetrated Blair's soul and filled his being, and he reached up and pulled Jim down, seeking his lips, kissing him deeply.

The panther and the wolf rushed toward each other...

Jim turned him, urging him to lie on his side, facing away, and Blair let him guide, let him arrange his body however he wanted, felt Jim spoon up behind him, felt him shift, position himself, felt the round, smooth-hard tip of Jim's penis pressing against him...

And felt the pressure, felt it grow, insistent, demanding -- and suddenly, his body gave in, and Jim slid in, in one smooth burning stroke.

Blair cried out, grabbing desperately at Jim's arms, which clenched convulsively around him, wrapping him in a tight, gripping embrace. He pressed back against Jim's chest, molding themselves even tighter together, felt the shock gradually abate, found himself able to breathe again, felt the heave of Jim's lungs against his back, the pulse of Jim's blood coursing through the body that surrounded him, inside and out, felt his own heart beating against Jim's hand, craned his neck, desperately wanting to be kissed.

Jim complied, angling his face to meet Blair, and they kissed, gently, tenderly, slowly, until Blair couldn't hold his neck up anymore and dropped back down onto the pillow. Jim squeezed his arm once, slid the hand down, clasped Blair's hand, then brought the joined hands up, pressing them against Blair's chest. His other hand slid down Blair's side and gripped Blair's hip.

Then Jim moved.

The soft, tentative motion sent a jarring jolt through Blair's body, drawing an involuntary gasp. Jim buried his head against Blair's neck, shifted down a bit, and thrust again, rubbing against that place deep inside Blair, and Blair jerked back, shuddering as the pleasure seeped through his nerves.

Jim's hand slid from Blair's hip to fondle his hardening penis, rolling it between teasing fingers, cradling it in a loose grip, tugging it gently, pumping it into full hardness. He moved again, rubbing long and surely against that spot. Blair threw back his head and moaned.

Then Jim was moving, thrusting steadily, with increasing force, and Blair was floating in a sea of sensation, immersed in Jim, and he was gone, Blair was gone, he wasn't here anymore, just this mass of motion and rhythm and pressure, steadily building pressure, tugging, pushing, drawing, pulling, filling...

Suddenly, Jim's rhythm broke, fell apart into erratic jerks, and Jim's hand came down to grasp his penis, pumping it hard, urgently.

The wolf and the panther jumped toward each other, met midair, merged...

And Blair tumbled out of himself and lay panting on the bed, Jim's lax limbs pressing him down into the mattress, feeling Jim's harsh breath calming gradually against his ear, listening to his own body drifting toward the slower, deeper rhythm of sleep.

Oh yes, this was better than heaven.

"Blair?" Jim's voice was soft and drowsy. "You here?"

"No," Blair murmured. "I've gone to the stars."

Jim chuckled weakly. Pushing himself up, he pulled out, the grating feel drawing a soft grunt from both of them. Quickly chucking away the condom, he grabbed some tissues, cursorily wiping them down before snuggling back into Blair and tugging up the covers.

---------------

The wolf gazed at him, its cool dark eyes beckoning.

He moved toward it, and it stepped forward. Blue mist parted as they moved toward each other, the tendrils curling and trailing away into thin air. Face to face they stood, the light of the moon casting cold blue shadows around them.

Deep dark eyes glowed even darker as the wolf's form wavered, shifted, altered -- and the shape that solidified in front of him was him, but not. The now-human figure shimmered in the moonlight, its face framed by the flowing halo of dark wavering hair, naked except for the beads of semi-precious stones that hung from the neck and down the chest. Beads that he recognized as symbols of life, of spirit, of essence.

He himself was totally naked. Shivering, he faced the other, whose dark demanding eyes tore into the core of his being.

"Who are you?" it asked.

"Blair Sandburg," he replied.

"Who are you?" it repeated.

"I'm Jim's partner. His guide." The unfamiliar acknowledgement caught in his throat.

"Who are you?"

"I..." He was a great many things. He was a police consultant now, a graduate student writing a dissertation on police society, an anthropologist, son of Naomi, friend to Simon and Daryl and various other people... But none of it was what was being asked.

"Who are you?"

"I..." He was who he was. Him. Blair Sandburg, son of Naomi, partner and guide to Jim Ellison, consultant to the Cascade Police Department, Ph.D. candidate in anthropology at Rainier University, friend of Simon, Daryl, Megan, Joel, Henri, Rafe...

"I'm Blair Sandburg."

"Who are you?"

"Jim's guide and partner."

"Who are you?"

Apart from everything else, apart from being Jim's guide and partner, from being a graduate student, a consultant, a son, a relative, a friend... Apart from anything he did or owned, apart from all connections he had with anything and anybody...

"I am who I am."

And suddenly, he was wearing the beads, the beads of life and power, the beads of the shaman, around his neck, and the figure in front of him was the wolf once again, and it gathered itself as if to jump...

---------------

He opened his eyes. The room was dark, filled with shadows, the faint ambient light from the windows just enough to throw the darker corners into even deeper gloom.

His hands clenched convulsively over his chest, as if he could grasp the shaman's bead. Who was he, really? Did the dream mean anything, or was he simply projecting?

He turned, looking into Jim's face, relaxed in sleep, open and vulnerable as it never was when he was awake. Tentatively, he reached a finger to trace the contours of the so-familiar face.

Jim grunted, pulled him close, and tucked him snugly against his body, without quite waking up.

Held securely in Jim's arms, cradled in the comforting presence of his partner, Blair slept.