Blair sat on the bed, his bad ankle propped up on a pillow with a big bag of frozen peas on it. He wore one of Jim's white T-shirts; it was so big on him it looked like a nightshirt. He had commandeered the remote and was surfing channels on the TV in Jim's wall storage unit. Jim had turned out all the lights downstairs and was busy rummaging through his dresser drawers looking for Ace bandages he was sure he remembered being there. Blair would need them in the morning for his sprained ankle. He was restless, his body still vibrating and his blood still singing from the adrenaline rush of the day's close call.

Blair's tired eyes followed his movements. Jim was wearing him out. He felt like his bones had turned to lead. He turned off the TV.

"You know, that was the closest you've been to a superhero since I've known you."

Jim looked up, frowning.

"You were flying through the air like Superman, no, like Sentinelman."

"I... you saved my life. You were the hero, Supershaman."

"No, no, shamans only fly in their dreams."

Jim came closer and perched on the bed, smiling solemnly at his friend.

"I'm glad you're still here."

"I'm glad we're both still here," Blair added seriously.

Jim wrapped his arms around him and they just held each other for a long time. Jim helped Blair lie down and arrange his injured leg in a comfortable position, then curled himself carefully around Blair. The younger man soon fell into a restless sleep brought on by the pain meds. Jim watched time tick away until the sun woke Blair up. There was a dull ache behind his eyes but otherwise he didn't miss the sleep.

Inside the exclusive club, a party was in full swing. Loud music was blaring from the speakers. The neon light turned everything into a cold blue. The man who had led the assault against Chris Ng's restaurant strolled over the dance floor. He had no interest in the revelry around him. Two of his musclemen followed him.

"Boss?"

A slender man flanked by two pretty girls looked up. He had long black hair and was dressed in a black silk suit, shirt and tie. Sitting in a booth in the back of the club, he was able to see everything without being seen. The table in front of him bore a magnum of champagne and two silver-plated guns.

"Any news?" He asked.

"Chris Ng had his merchandise taken out of the country."

"Tim!" one of the girls pouted. "I want to dance."

She was obviously drunk. Tim Lung pushed her aside impatiently. She scrambled to her feet and staggered on high heels toward the restroom. The other was wiser, and kept her mouth shut.

"He's getting scared?" Tim asked.

"His lieutenant came to me to ask for a deal."

Tim Lung smiled like a predator while sipping from his glass. "What did you tell him?"

The man relaxed his stance and smirked. "You will offer your conditions. He accepts or he's dead."

Tim grinned, obviously pleased. It was going better than he had thought. Nevertheless, Chris Ng wasn't a man to take lightly. He hadn't become a Triad patriarch because of his fine cuisine.

"We can't trust him. He might try something."

"I will take care of everything," the man promised.

He waved at his men, signaling that it was time to leave. He didn't like that his boss was partying while their enemy was still alive.

Simon slapped a folder down in front of Jim.

"Care to tell me about the dead Chinese man in the field outside Wiltham?"

"Wiltham?"

Jim was the picture of innocence. Simon didn't buy it for a second, but Jim's "who me?" routine didn't surprise him at all.

"A small town between Cascade and the Canadian border. Ring a bell?"

"Not really."

Jim's eyes had never been a more innocent shade of blue.

"Witnesses said three men jumped out of a plane heading north. Two came down with a single parachute and landed safely. The third one just came down. Hard."

Simon clipped off the end of his cigar. He leaned forward to put his elbows on his desk. He knew this act well. Ellison and Sandburg had played this routine dozens of times on this very stage. The only thing missing was the other half of the vaudeville team.

"And where is Sandburg today?"

"How should I know? He's probably in the library doing research."

Jim said it as if the very idea of knowing where Blair hung out bored him.

Simon tilted his head and gave him his best glare. Jim's comment had all but confirmed his suspicion.

"Hope he's not lying somewhere with a broken pelvis after that stunt. Should I call the hospital or just send flowers to the funeral home?"

Jim rubbed his neck. Simon knew them far too well.

"What do you want, Simon?"

"I want to know why you called air control about an airplane that took off last night from the old Cascade Airport."

Jim sighed. He should have notified Simon about their plans. He would be better off spilling the whole plan now.

"My snitch told me that Chris Ng might have an airplane out there. We thought we might find him there. He's been hiding ever since his restaurant went out in a blaze of glory."

"And my two Jedi Knights had to root out evil on their own?" Simon concluded.

"Simon!" Jim protested.

Simon waved him off and sighed. "While you were out chasing Ng, we got some news. One of Brown's informants came forward and told him that there would a meeting between Chris Ng and Tim Lung. To make a deal."

"You believe that? Deal, my ass. They'd rather cut each others' throats."

"Yeah, that's my read, too. It's just that we have nothing on Lung, just the word of some snitches. His men would rather cut off their own fingers than talk to the police. And Chris Ng is hiding. We need someone for the surveillance, to listen in. And that would be you."

Jim swallowed a triumphant grin. "At your service, boss."

Jim headed out of Simon's office, eager to call Blair and tell him the news. Simon's voice wafted out after him.

"Bring Sandburg, assuming he can walk on his own!"

Blair had cooked dinner by the time Jim came home. He wasn't limping much, thanks to Jim's tidy wrap job on his ankle.

Jim hung up his jacket. "How's the foot?"

"Almost like new. I've used some herbs this Hungarian witch gave me once -- along with some fortune-telling about my lover."

Jim leaned in to kiss his brow tenderly.

"Something smells good."

"Arroz a la Cubana," Blair replied, distracted.

Jim stepped closer to Blair where he stood by the range stirring the tomato sauce. Jim sniffed Blair as well as the food. The smell of food and his lover created an arousing mix. He slipped a hand beneath Blair's flannel shirt and stroked the soft skin at the small of his back. Blair blew on a spoonful of the sauce.

"Try this."

Blair held up the wooden spoon for Jim to taste. Jim bent forward and sipped the red sauce from the spoon.

"Nice."

His hand wandered up along the dip of Blair's spine over soft, fine hair. He could feel Blair's heart hammer faster. Finally he rested his hand at the back of his lover's neck. He loved the tantalizing vulnerability of the skin there and he took it in a firm grip.

Blair shivered. He stirred the sauce but was acutely aware of the strong hands at his back and neck and how Jim crowded him. He peered up. There was something dark and predatory in Jim's expression. The Sentinel stared down at him, his gaze unwavering. The arousal hit Blair like a shock. He let go of the spoon. Jim's eyes were nearly black as Blair leaned his head back to offer his lips.

Jim immediately claimed his mouth and kissed him hard. Blair made a choking noise and went limp against him. Jim held him upright, one arm around his chest, one at his crotch. Kissing Blair desperately, he pressed himself against the smaller man as if to merge with him. They made it down to the floor and Blair tore frantically at Jim's shirt. Jim wiggled, half helping, half hindering as he seemed unable to let go of Blair for a second. Finally he sat up, straddling Blair, and threw his shirt off. Blair opened Jim's fly impatiently and drew the hard cock out, weighing it in his palm.

"Want you!" Blair panted darkly. "Want this!"

Jim studied his lover, trying to decide what to do next. Blair was a feast for the senses: hairy chest pumping like bellows, full lips swollen, silky hair fanned out. He leaned over and placed his hands on either side of Blair's head. Wrapping the curls around his fingers he plundered the mouth again. The body under him arched against him, begging for more.

"Fuck me! I'll do whatever you want, just fuck me!" Blair begged.

Jim latched onto a nipple, sucking and biting it until it was bright red. Blair squirmed and groaned loudly.

"Want you!" he moaned over and over.

Jim crouched back and tugged Blair's jeans down. He wasn't wearing any underwear and his hard cock sprang out.

"You were waiting for me? Weren't you? Your sweet little ass ready for me?" Jim taunted.

"C'mon, Jim!" There was impatience in the hoarse voice.

Blair pushed his jeans the rest of the way off, sat up and climbed onto Jim's lap.

"I'm ready for you!"

With that, he led Jim's hand to his ass. Jim probed him, surprised to find him lubed up already. The realization that Blair had waited for him like this, ready to be claimed, shot directly to the most primal levels of his brain. He growled like a panther and lifted Blair up.

With a bit of coaxing, Blair sat down on the hard cock. Panting, he wrapped his arms around Jim's neck and bit him hard. Jim gasped from the pain, the adrenaline firing all his nerves. Blair rode him slowly at first, taking control. He fondled him, kissing his face all over. His cock was pressed against Jim's smooth skin, rubbing over the hard muscles of his abdomen. Slowly he picked up the pace and both caught the steadily building rhythm.

"Love you!" Blair whispered when he felt close.

"Love..." Jim gasped and came.

Jim clutched him tightly and Blair came, sparked by his lover's orgasm. Jim let them slide back down to the floor and he cradled Blair against him.

"Love you!"

Cascade Center Mall had been open since the winter and was winning acclaim for its large central hall, which featured a bamboo grove. The papers cited it as one of the finer tourist attractions in Cascade. It was early in the day and there weren't many people around yet. Most shops had only just opened.

Chris Ng posted his men all around the galleries. In the center, he waited for Tim Lung. The audacity of the newcomer and his disrespect for traditional ways made him angry. His right-hand man, tall and bald with tattoos running up his neck, stood by him, nervously talking on his cell phone.

"Back in the old days, men had respect. This country is destroying our ways," Chris Ng complained.

"Tim Lung is too ambitious. He might be in power now but he is careless and he will fall."

"Do you have everything prepared?"

"I do. But I doubt that this place will keep him from starting a fight. He doesn't care about the police. He is a madman. He will destroy us all with his craziness."

Chris Ng sat down at one of the small coffee tables and ordered an espresso. He drummed his fingers on the table, but stopped when he realized it betrayed his unsettled frame of mind and made him look weak.

Simon was standing in a back room with the leader of the SWAT team, Troy Rogers. They had agreed to mix regular officers with SWAT team members for back up. The manager of the mall brought the building plans and spread them on the table between them.

"You have all entrances covered?" Simon asked.

"The best we could. Even though there aren't many patrons in there yet, I pray nothing happens. This place is a perfect trap. Anyone who really knows the layout could control everything with just a few well-placed men," Rogers explained.

"Let's hope that their meeting will work out. I hate to have a full-blown gang war right now."

"We're ready to arrest them if they make one hostile move, but I wouldn't mind if Chris Ng got rid of that bastard. I can't get the picture of that container out of my mind."

A little ways away, Jim fastened his Kevlar vest and studied the plans, memorizing all exits and passages. Like the SWAT team, he was in full combat gear. Blair stood in the background, looking adrift in the sea of testosterone around him.

"I expect Tim Lung will try something. If not here, then later when Ng feels safe. There isn't enough room in Cascade for both of them," Jim speculated.

"As long as Chris Ng is alive, Tim can't hold his place. Ng has more friends in Hong Kong than Lung," Simon agreed. "We need to keep an eye on Lung after the meet. He might go after Ng once he lets his guard down."

Rogers nodded and went back to his men. Jim helped Sandburg don his vest. The younger man wiggled around to find a comfortable position.

"Man, I hate these things," Blair complained. "This is so not my kind of fashion statement."

"It's saved your life before." Jim's tone brooked no argument. "Besides, it makes me feel better when you wear it."

Jim closed the Velcro and patted his lover's back reassuringly.

"I feel better too," Blair admitted.

Jim turned his cap around backwards. He looked ready for anything. Blair looked his lover up and down with an appreciative smile. There was something about Jim when he unleashed the warrior in him. Something dangerous and dark and very attractive on some primal level. Blair could easily let loose and act on those primal desires inside him.

"What?" Jim picked up on the shift in Blair's scent from nerves to something else.

"Have you ever thought about a little role play?" Blair queried.

Jim glanced around to see if anybody was paying attention to them. This wasn't the time for sexual innuendo, though most of the SWAT team members had cleared out, leaving for their posts. Only Rafe and Simon remained in the room.

"What kind of role play are you talking about? Shepherd scenes or studded leather and a whip?" he asked, exasperated.

"Well, I like the combat boots and the vest. They bring your muscles out."

Jim sighed, rolling his eyes heavenwards. "Chief, I don't think now's the time."

Blair wasn't impressed at Jim's refusal. He just needed something to goad him into it.

"C'mon, you can choose something too. I bet there's something you'd like to see me in." Blair grinned.

"You? Sure, a pink tutu."

"Really?" Blair snorted.

They stared in each other's eyes for a moment trying to gauge how serious the other was with the admitted kinks.

"Ellison!" Simon called. "We're heading out."

Jim and Blair joined Simon and Rafe in the front room where they could watch the center of the mall through a window. Jim zeroed in on Chris Ng having coffee, then on the other men he had brought with him for protection.

"Ng has at least seven men with him. Two down at the lower level, four on the first level and one up over by the elevator. As far as I can see, they're all armed." Jim counted. "Any sign of Lung yet?"

Simon spoke into his mike. "Brown is outside. He'll let us know as soon as Lung's inside the building."

A movement on the first floor caught Jim's attention. Tim Lung and a group of his bodyguards came up from the west wing of the mall. The young man, his face was pale against a shock of long, black hair, was a picture of arrogance and machismo..

"He's here. Damn it, where did he get in?"

Simon looked around until he spotted Lung. Immediately, he called all units and alerted them to Lung's presence.

Lung went to the stairs and walked down slowly, surrounded by his men. Chris Ng had noticed him and stood up.

"Jim, can you hear anything?" Blair asked over Jim's shoulder.

Jim tilted his head and focused on his hearing. The noise of the mall faded into the background and the voices of the two men became clear.

"Finally, we meet." Tim Lung greeted his rival with a mocking bow.

"I do this only for the families and for the business. What do you want?" Ng cut the other man off.

Tim Lung seemed to be annoyed.

"This city isn't big enough for both of us. You are out, old man. It's time for a change. You are sloppy and soft. The bosses at home want more success, more results."

"This isn't Hong Kong. We have to get along with the police. You think you can do what you want."

"I know I can do what I want," Lung snarled.

With that, he drew his gun and held it against Chris Ng's chest. The sound of the shot was muffled. Ng jerked and Lung let him slide back onto his chair. The move was so smooth and subtle that no one seemed to notice. Lung turned and made to leave.

"Shots fired! Perp down!" Jim shouted and was out the door leading into the galleries.

Simon bellowed orders into his mike and followed Jim, gun drawn.

All hell broke loose in the center. Mall patrons screamed and scattered for cover as the bald man stormed forward and shot blindly in Tim Lung's direction. He missed. Lung's bodyguards opened fire and the bald man fell back into a shallow landscaping pool. From the top galleries, Ng's men started to fire down on Lung's men, who returned fire. The SWAT team rushed forward but found themselves caught in crossfire, the situation out of their control.

Tim Lung was in the middle of it all, still unhurt. He drew back quickly, firing in all directions with a gun in either hand.

"He's getting away!" Simon yelled.

Jim watched helplessly. Then he spotted a string of decorations hanging down from the ceiling a few feet to his left. He tugged at the string and determined it could carry his weight. He climbed over the railing.

"You are so not Jackie Chan!" Blair protested.

Using his long legs to balance, Jim rappelled down the string. The fall was slowed by the ripping decoration but he still landed gracelessly on a table below. The small food court table broke apart under his weight and Jim fell to the floor. His crash landing briefly caught the gunmen's attention and soon bullets flew around his head. With a mad dash he hopped behind the large planters full of bamboo.

When Blair saw that Jim had left him behind, he raced toward the emergency stairs. No way was he going to let Jim hunt down Lung alone and unaided. As Blair opened the door at the top of the staircase, he listened for sounds of anyone else inside. From upstairs, he heard someone open a door and several men rushed down the stairs. Blair was relieved when he saw that it was the SWAT team. They ran down to ground level and Blair followed them.

Chris Ng's bodyguards had had enough and were trying to find an escape. They worked themselves back to the emergency door while exchanging bullets with Lung's men, who had stayed behind to cover his retreat. They opened the emergency door and found themselves faced with a staircase full of SWAT cops. With dozens of guns pointing at them, they surrendered and threw their guns down.

"Henley! Markham!" Rogers barked.

Two of his men arrested the gunmen. The rest of the team spilled out into the center hall with Blair on their heels.

"Jim? Jim!"

Blair scanned the room fearfully. He spotted his lover lurking between the bamboo stands. Lung was leaving by the west wing. Waving frantically at Jim, he pointed at the disappearing Lung. Jim nodded and sprinted over to Blair, who was hiding behind a wide beam.

"Didn't I tell you to stay out of the action?"

"Didn't I tell you you're not invincible?" Blair replied. "How about following Lung?"

Jim peeked around the beam. Grabbing Blair by the arm, he sprinted after Lung into the west wing.

"Where did he go?"

The hall was empty. Jim moved forward stealthily, gun raised and ears trained to detect any movement in the open shops. Blair caught sight of some women stumbling hastily out of a shop to flee. He nudged Jim and nodded in that direction. Jim grinned.

"Every so often I remember why I keep you around, Sandburg."

"Bite me!"

"Later!"

They skittered to a halt in front of Victoria's Secret.

"Maybe you can find a tutu in there," Jim smirked as he glanced at the shop's window display.

There was movement in the back of the store. Jim looked around but couldn't quite see. He had to move into the shop. He did so quietly but not unobtrusively. A tall, sweating Jim in full combat gear had a hard time blending into a lingerie shop display. Still, he narrowed his senses and searched for the gunmen. A few women were hiding in the changing room. He could tell they were scared to death by their loud, irregular breathing. Suddenly someone shoved a rack full of lingerie at him. Jim fell backward and was buried under it. Lung and two of his men slipped out of the store's back door. Blair helped him up, picking small pieces of lingerie off him. Jim found a red lace panty hanging off the front of his Kevlar vest. He plucked it off and offered it to Blair.

"Here, something for you."

"No thanks, man. Where did that asshole go?"

Jim threw the scanty garment over his shoulder and tugged Blair with him to the back door. It led to a narrow hallway, which brought them straight to the parking lot outside the mall. Jim turned toward the sound of a car horn honking. It was Tim Lung's car, which was being held up in its escape by a blocked exit ramp. After a lightning glance around, a delighted Jim spotted what he needed.

"A motorcycle?" Blair gaped. "With a sidecar?"

Blair hesitated to climb in and stared at Jim's dubious choice of transportation for a high-speed chase. It was an old model, black with a sleek sidecar. Jim had already settled astride the machine and was fumbling to start it.

"The owner's gonna kill you."

"C'mon, let's go!" Jim ordered impatiently.

Blair swung his legs inside the sidecar and settled down, not sure what to do with his hands.

"Next thing will be a tricycle." Blair complained. "You jump on everything that moves!"

"And if you're really lucky, you'll be next, babe!" Jim promised with a leer.

He gunned the accelerator and let the gear go. The front of the bike lifted up, and the motorcycle raced off on its back wheel. Blair clutched desperately at the edge of the sidecar.

"Holy shit, Jim, you're not a Hell's Angel!"

They raced from the parking lot. Lung's car was already disappearing in the distance. The traffic was light, so Jim leaned over the bike's handlebars and followed at top speed. Blair clutched at the sidecar. His long hair waved in the wind. His ass was bumped painfully by the rough ride over the uneven street.

Just as they were about to overtake it, Lung's car suddenly took a hard left turn. Jim whipped the bike around. Blair's sidecar lifted from the ground and he howled in panic. But Jim had it immediately under control and Blair's sidecar plunged onto the asphalt again. Blair bobbed up several times before it was stable.

"I need better life insurance!"

Lung's driver sped the car down a long street to the port. Jim threw a speculative glance at Blair, then took his gun out and handed it down to Blair.

"Here! Take it. Shoot at the car."

"Me? From a motorcycle?" Blair asked, unbelieving. "You've got to be kidding."

But he gamely grabbed the gun and attempted to point over the windshield at the car in front of them. He shot twice. Jim grimaced as the rounds went wide.

Blair held his breath and aimed more carefully, leaning as far as he could out of the shaking sidecar. He squinted his eyes and tucked his tongue in the corner of his mouth. He made two more shots and the back window of Lung's car shattered. Blair looked up triumphantly.

"Keep shooting, Deadeye Dick!"

At that moment, they passed over a row of potholes. Blair was thrown against the edge and the gun went flying.

"Oops!"

Blair stared after the black metal that ended in the gutter. He peered up apologetically at Jim who, in turn, glared back at him.

Lung's car was now at the entrance to one of the piers. Jim realized there was nowhere for it to go. It was a dead end. He zeroed his sight ahead. At the end of the pier, a motorboat waited.

"Hold it steady!" he growled at Blair.

Blair eyes went as round as saucers but he reached up and held onto the handlebars. Jim snatched his ankle gun out and rose up over the seat. He focused his sight over his outstretched hand. Two shots and the back tires of the car exploded. The car started to spin but the driver got it under control again and raced on. The back fender slid on the asphalt, producing wild sparks.

Car and motorcycle rushed up on the water channel. On the other side, Jim could see the boat waiting with a running motor. He swore and steered to the side to get a clean shot at another tire. Blair saw that they weren't going to be able to stop at this speed and would land in the channel. But Jim seemed completely unconcerned. He shot at the car. It lost its front wheel and skittered to the left of the bridge.

Pushing his gun haphazardly into his shoulder holster, Jim grabbed the handlebars and steered the motorcycle towards a ramp on the pier. It pointed towards the channel.

"Jim, you are not Evel Knievel!" Blair yelled in terror.

The bike zoomed up the ramp and then there was a moment of absolute stillness as they flew through the air in a wide arc. Blair briefly noticed Lung's car skating over the edge of the dock and hitting the water with a huge splash. The hood buckled as the front end rammed the opposite wall of the channel.

Blair realized mid-air they wouldn't make it. The sidecar was dragging the bike down to one side. They missed the dock at the other side of the channel by inches, and landed face down in the water. The sea swallowed them immediately.

Jim was up first, coughing and looking around for Blair.

"Sandburg! Sandburg!"

Blair came up right behind him sputtering, looking like a drowned poodle. He splashed water angrily at Jim.

"Calm down, will ya?" Jim tried to swim back guiltily.

"You are a complete nut! You are crazy! You are a public menace! You belong in a loony bin!"

"We have to find Lung," Jim tried to distract Blair.

"Tim Lung is sleeping with the fish. And you will be sleeping on the couch!"

Blair was sitting huddled under a blanket, shivering, when Simon wandered over to offer him some coffee. Blair took it thankfully and sipped the hot liquid.

"Lung is dead," Simon said. "They just fished him out of the water."

"Can't say I'm sorry," Blair said.

"You want to go home?" Jim asked, concerned. "You'll get a cold if you don't get out of those wet clothes."

"You both go home and get some dry clothes and then I want a report. I'm particularly looking forward to seeing how you are going to explain to the owner of that motorcycle why it drowned in Cascade Harbor."

"It isn't broken, it's only wet. It will run fine when it's dried out." Jim replied confidently.

At that moment the salvage crane pulled Lung's car out of the water. It spilled water from all openings.

Blair came out of the bathroom in his ratty bathrobe. Jim fidgeted in the kitchen. He had made sandwiches for them.

"You hungry?" He offered his special super-deluxe peace-offering sandwich.

"I don't think I can take this any longer!" Blair protested.

Jim looked puzzled at his disdained sandwich.

"I want at least a hint of safety in my life. Is it too much to ask not to be bombed, shot at or almost killed once a week?"

"C'mon, Chief, this isn't you. For what, more than three years we have been working together, and only now you get cold feet over a dip in the harbor?"

"But it's different now, can't you see? We're a couple now. The honeymoon may be over, but we should still count as newlyweds!"

"You're not pregnant, are you?"

"Ha ha, very funny. No. I just want to grow old with you. Is that too much to ask?"

Jim's flippancy faltered. Deeply touched, he drew Blair into his arms.

"No, it's not, Chief. I love you."

Jim reveled in the affection shining in eyes of his lover. He rubbed his hands soothingly over Blair's back.

"All right, all right. I promise to be more careful."

Blair sighed and leaned in. The essence of Jim surrounding him reminded Blair that there was something else he wanted.

"I bought whipped cream and chocolate sauce," he mumbled against Jim's chest.

"You wanna bake a cake?"

"Yeah, Jimcake a la carte."

Jim shoved him back and Blair grinned up at him.

"Oh, no! That sticky mess on me? And it'll get in my hair!"

"We could shave it off."

"Shave it off? Nobody is going to shave my hair off!" Jim protested.

Blair laughed out loud.

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Author's E-mail: tarismare@yahoo.com
Author's Webpage: http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Nook/5175/Sentinel.htm