Rating: NC-17

The cab was extremely out-dated by London standards, a product of a bygone age, old, but here, well loved -- much like the horse that pulled it. But it was clean, and brightly tasseled, horse and buggy -- and likewise the more affluent part of the sleepy town of Muggia.

Blair Sandburg sat in the back of the cab and did what he did best -- he observed. As the cab began the climb up the steep hill he studied the houses alongside the road. There was a particular intensity to the sunlight that gave a glow to the buildings. Some were whitewashed, others had been left the traditional yellowy-gray of the local stone. Yet others, like the ones on the main square, were brightly painted. Some had pretty twisted iron balconies with plants growing up the sides. It was all a beautiful backdrop to the cornflower blue of the sky over the Adriatic.

People went about their daily business paying little or no mind to his passage amongst them. Here and there laughing children ran between the houses or watched with long faces from the windows as the buggy went past. A wrinkled old lady, dressed all in black taffeta, sat on a stool in front of her house and glowered at Blair. A younger, prettier version, carrying a basket of fruit, smiled flirtatiously at him as the cab rumbled along. Blair smiled and nodded to her. Blair, my man, you haven't lost your touch with the ladies! Or the men, he thought as a tanned, muscular youth leaning casually in a doorway, gave him a smile and a wink in open invitation.

No time for that today! Blair told himself. No time indeed, to look at the Roman remains dotted around the area, or take in other sights. He stuck a finger down his collar to loosen it a little. He'd had his hair short when he left England, but now it was long enough to be pulled back into a small ponytail. At least it was off his face. Even so, he could feel the sweat and grime building up around the back of his neck. He ran his hand over the two-day-old whiskers on his chin and the bristles felt abrasive against his fingers. He probably should have taken the time to find some lodgings and have a wash and shave after his long journey, but he was too excited to wait -- he was going to meet his hero at last. Blair Sandburg, clerk, was going to meet Captain Richard F. Burton, explorer extraordinaire.

The man was, in Blair's opinion, a largely unappreciated genius. He could speak at least thirty languages and another twenty or so in different dialects. He'd traveled widely in America, Africa and India, written countless articles and any number of books. Blair had read everything he could lay his hands on and had even worked his way across the Atlantic to England to seek out more of Burton's writing, when the supply of new articles had dried up in America. Blair had taken a post with the Royal Geographical Society of London in the hope of actually meeting his hero, and now, here he was, carrying proofs of an article for Burton himself to check over before publishing. Could the gods be smiling any brighter on him?

Back in London, older colleagues had warned Blair that the man was... difficult. But the warnings slipped off Blair's back, like water off a duck. In his eyes, Captain Burton could do no wrong. Yes, Burton had a reputation for a bad temper; a man didn't achieve all that he had, without being a bit... impatient with bureaucracy and fools. He was an adventurer, a seeker of knowledge, quick to burn and slow to forget. Blair had heard about the trouble in Damascus when Burton was the Consul there, but that was surely exaggerated, wasn't it? Burton's rivals and enemies had written so many lies and obfuscations about him. The truth probably lay somewhere in the middle. Apprehension juggled with excitement in Blair's head as the buggy bumped its way over the poorly cobbled road as the houses thinned out.

Burton's house, the Viennese-styled Palazzo Gosleth, was set high on the wooded promontory that divided the town from the Bay of Muggia, and it was one of the finest houses in the area, set within a large formal garden and with a fine view over the bay towards the red tiled roofs of the city of Trieste.

The driver halted his horse outside the consul's residence and climbed down from the buggy to help Blair with his luggage. Blair always traveled light, and he watched his two canvas bags as they were lifted down. As he stepped down from his cab onto the pebbled drive, he noticed a gentleman exiting the house. The man was tall, shorthaired and well dressed in an expensive, lightweight business suit. His face was pale and drawn, and he was close enough for Blair to see a muscle jump in the man's jaw. He gazed at Blair with piercing blue eyes that seemed to look straight into his soul, and then looked down at a scrap of paper in his hand. This the stranger screwed up and tossed away in a gesture of annoyance, before striding, stiff backed, away down the drive.

Blair stared in blatant curiosity. He paid his driver off and, as the buggy clattered away, and for no conscious reason, Blair bent to pick up the paper the stranger had dropped, putting it in his pocket before collecting his bags and turning to knock at the door of the house. He was still staring after the man as the door opened and Burton's manservant asked him, in a heavily accented voice, for his business card. This tall retainer was dressed in Arabian robes, had a short, graying beard and a dusky complexion. There was a look of disdain on his face. He looked down at Blair who was suddenly hit by an attack of nerves and, flustered, found himself struggling as he tried to draw out his card wallet without putting his bags or the portfolio down. He finally calmed enough to think straight, put his bags on the floor and was then able to hand the servant his credentials from the Geographical Society, as he held the bulging portfolio under his arm. With some relief, Blair found himself admitted through the large entrance into the palazzo.

His eyes widened as they adjusted to the change of light inside. It was a grandiose house; there was no word for it other than 'grand'. In front of him, and commanding the hall, was a polished pink marble staircase. Around it several doors led off the airy hall. Behind one of those, Blair thought, with something akin to awe, could be Captain Burton himself, reading or writing, studying some obscure language. His attention wandering, Blair realized he'd missed seeing which room the manservant had entered and he had been left alone, cooling his heels.

That thought had him looking down at his shoes. He carefully placed his bags on the marble floor and then rubbed first one shoe and then the other over the bottom of his trousers to scruff them clean.

"If sir would come this way?"

Blair started at the manservant's deep voice. God! This servant would do well in the world of mediums and spirits, scaring the bejesus out of the gullible and charging them to do it! He nodded briskly and followed the man down the hall to one of the doors. The Arab knocked once, Blair heard a voice say "Come!" and then he was ushered into a study room.

Behind a desk, lit by the light from a large window, sat Captain Richard Burton, half turned away from his visitor and reading some papers. He had one of those fashionable Chinaman moustaches and closely cropped black hair, tinged with gray and brushed forward. The scar on his cheekbone where a javelin famously cut his face years ago was still pale and very noticeable even against the backlight, and he wore a spotless white suit. But his eyes, black and intense when he looked up, took Blair's breath away.

"Mister Sandburg, sir."

For the second time, Blair jumped out of his skin as the Arab introduced him. "I wish you'd stop doing that," Blair mumbled quietly as he regained his composure. The Arab didn't seem to notice as he slipped out of the room. Blair took a deep breath and stepped up to the desk, his hand held out. "Captain Burton, my name is Blair Sandburg. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir. I've long admired your work." Burton didn't say a word, just sat looking blankly at him. "I have some papers for you, sir, proofs from the Royal Geographical Society." Blair drew back his hand and instead presented the portfolio.

Burton scowled and put a cheroot in his mouth. He reached out for the portfolio with a brisk "Ah, yes. Thank you, Mister Sandburg," and drew out the papers to read.

Blair stood back, unsure if he was being dismissed or not. He clasped his hands behind him and began to let his eyes wander around the room. There was so much to see. Artifacts from all Burton's travels were dotted around. Shrunken heads, masks, animal skins and native spears were hung from the walls. Strange globes of rock crystal sat on the bookshelves, alongside sepia photographs, and the books.... Blair's fingers just itched to take one or two down to look at. And everywhere there was the glint of silver. You can learn a lot from a man's bookshelves! he thought.

"Hells bells, man! Can't you stand still? At least sit down, for pity's sake." Burton's agitated voice cut through Blair's musings.

He mumbled his apologies and sat in the only other chair in the room, across from the desk. For a moment he was still, but then his leg began to twitch and move as nervous energy made him restless. Burton finally slapped the pages down with a sigh. "Mister Sandburg, it's going to take me a good while to look through these and jot down my responses. Do you have somewhere to stay, sir?"

"No. I came here straight from the Vienna train, sir. As soon as it pulled in, I jumped on the ferry, then a cab and came here." Blair smiled as winningly and as guilelessly as he could.

"I see." His charm was lost on Burton. "Well, Signora Marguerite runs a trattoria down by the bay. It's clean and respectable and she has rooms to let. I expect you'll get accommodation there. Ask one of the servants. They know of it." He opened up the pages again and Blair guessed this time he was being dismissed.

As he was shown to the front door, Blair chastised himself. For a moment there, he actually thought Captain Burton was going to offer him a room in the palazzo. Stupid idea, Blair! The man doesn't know you from Adam, why the hell should he offer you a guest room? He nodded to the manservant as he was given his bags and he began the long trek back into town.

The trattoria of La Signora Marguerite was relatively easy to find and, thanks to Blair's smattering of Friulano -- the local dialect -- and Italian, he was able to obtain a room plus some bread and milk, and a jug of clean water so that he could freshen up and shave, and then he changed into some clean clothes. He would have to pay someone to wash his laundry if he stayed for any length of time. With that thought in mind, he went through the pockets of his trousers and found the paper he'd stuffed in there. Reaching for his spectacles, he smoothed the scrap out. It had just four words written on it, The Sentinels of Paraguay.

He let the trousers drop onto a chair and stared at the paper as if it contained some great riddle. It was none of his business, but he couldn't help feeling curious about the man who dropped it. Who was he? Why was he at Burton's house? What was the mystery with the title of a monograph of Captain Burton's? By a strange coincidence, that was the one piece of writing that truly fascinated Blair. He shook his head. He was seeing mysteries where there was probably a simple explanation and, he repeated to himself, it was none of his business.

He stood in front of the open window, letting the breeze from the sea waft through his shirt and he took a deep breath of salty air. He still felt as though he was on the verge of something exciting and dramatic, and the breeze whispered and teased at the hairs on his chest. He felt his nipples harden and his cock slowly pulse. His mind was drawn back to the stranger he saw in front of Burton's residence. Blair's hand wandered down towards the fly of his pants as he pictured the blue eyes focused on him; those hands as they crumpled up the piece of paper. The heel of Blair's hand rubbed the fabric against the tender skin inside. His stance widened and his fingers rubbed lower. He closed his eyes to better see the man's fingers as they crunched up the paper. He pictured them around his testicles, squeezing gently and releasing, drawing him ever closer to the edge... and going lower, a finger pushing against... Blair moaned out loud and he had to steady himself against the window frame as his completion swept through his body and soaked his trousers. Damn and blast! he thought as he pulled himself together, these are fresh pants!

Blair awoke slowly from a dream where he'd been chasing a large black cat with blue eyes through a jungle. No matter how fast he ran, the cat was always just out of sight, though he could hear it and see flashes of it through the foliage. He needed to catch up, he wasn't sure why exactly, but he knew it was important. Abandoning sleep, he lay on his back on the bed listening to the gentle cooing of the pigeons outside, his heart pounding, feeling exhausted as though he'd been running a marathon.

The trousers he'd sponged down the night before were dry and acceptable, so after washing in the now tepid water, he dressed and went down into the trattoria. The lively café was busy with people enjoying their repast. Over a cup of their best coffee and a pastry, Blair negotiated with the signora over the price of getting his laundry washed. Though she looked plump and motherly, she was a shrewd businesswoman and Blair had a hard time beating her price down. Finally they agreed on a fee and the signora said she was cheating herself, but the signor's shining blue eyes had weakened her resolve. Blair smiled, not at all taken in.

Once fortified, he made a quick trip to the outside privy and then started back up to the palazzo, trying not to think about his blue-eyed mystery man and determined to have a serious discussion with Burton about his adventures and, maybe, learn more about these sentinels.

As the day before, Blair was shown into the palazzo and asked to wait. The manservant returned after a few minutes and passed on the message that Captain Burton would be busy all that day. Blair replied that he would wait. The Arab looked dubious but said, "As sir wishes." Then he briskly walked away to whatever duties he had. And Blair waited... and waited. After a while he sat down on one of the stiff backed chairs in the hall. Occasionally a domestic would dart across the hallway on some errand. Once a middle-aged lady wearing a loose gray morning gown and a 'smoking cap', walked across the hall, nodded to Blair and continued on her way, giving instruction to her female attendant who trotted along beside her, nodding and taking notes. Blair assumed that the lady was Mrs. Burton. And still he waited.

He stood and stretched his legs a little. He asked a maid for a glass of water and she brought him some juice. And still he waited. The waiting left him feeling tired and bored... and hungry. And still he waited. He approached another servant and asked if Captain Burton knew he was still there. The man replied that Captain Burton knew, but that the Consul was a busy man.

Left alone again, the juice started to make itself known to Blair's bladder, so, feeling uncomfortable, he took a walk down the corridor towards some steps at the back of the house to find a privy. A window looked out onto a sun-kissed courtyard, across from which was a small stable block where a groom was holding a saddled horse by its bridle. The horse's black coat shone in the sunlight. It was getting impatient, pawing at the ground, snorting and tossing its head. Then a door slammed nearby and a figure stepped out of the house dressed for riding. It was Burton! Before Blair could find a way out into the courtyard, the man had mounted the horse and had ridden off. Blair tensely sought out the helpful maid. "Oh yes," she said to his enquiry, "the captain often rides to the consulate at this time of day and doesn't return until late."

Blair sighed, too tired to feel angry. He'd wasted nearly a whole day. He could of course go down to the consulate, but there was no guarantee that Burton would see him there either. A thought occurred to him. He smiled his best beguiling smile. "So, tell me, Miss...?" He waited for her to tell him her name.

"Ellie, sir. They call me Ellie." She blushed and bobbed in a curtsy. A stray dark curl escaped from the starched white mop cap on her head.

Blair smiled again. "Ellie, such a pretty name. So, tell me, Ellie, there was a gentleman leaving the palazzo yesterday, just as I arrived. Tall, imposing fellow, short hair and blue eyes. You remember him?"

She hesitated, but then nodded.

"Good. Good. So, do you remember his name perhaps?" Blair reached into his top pocket and jiggled some loose change. "I think he looks familiar. Maybe I know his family?"

"Perhaps, sir." Ellie's eyes were drawn to the pocket where Blair had his hand. "I believe the gentleman is from your home country." She licked her lips. "His name is Ellison, Mister James Ellison."

"Ellison, of course. Then his father would be William Ellison, the financier." Blair didn't expect the maid to answer. He had seen the Ellison name on any number of businesses, from railways to shipping. And Blair remembered that it was 'Ellison and son'. "So, Ellie," he smiled again. "You wouldn't happen to know where Mister Ellison is staying? I'd like to pay my respects." He lifted out two coins and rubbed them together between his fingers.

"The Albergo Rosandra, sir." Ellie was already reaching for the coins as Blair dropped them in her hand.

"Thank you so much, Ellie. You are a treasure, my dear."

She blushed again as Blair made a small gallant bow. Then she gasped as she stared over his shoulder and quickly ran off. Blair turned to see the chest of the tall Arab retainer in front of his face. "Ah, my good man," he pulled himself up and, adopting an arrogant air, challenged the servant to say something. "Please tell the captain that I shall return tomorrow, when I hope he will grant me the privilege of an interview as I would greatly enjoy the chance to discuss his work," Blair said. And he stepped up toe to toe with the servant. For one moment, it seemed that the man wasn't going to move out of the way, but the moment passed and he finally stepped aside. Blair walked unhurriedly to the front door. He waited for the servant to open it, and then carried on walking, as though he didn't have a care in the world. It was only when he heard the door shut behind him that he let out the breath that he'd been holding and tried not to rush down the driveway.

The Albergo Rosandra was on the Via Dante Aligheri. It was a pretty, up-market, sedate hotel, on a quiet street. It was the kind of place where, if you had to ask the price of a room, it was unlikely you could afford to stay there. The doorman looked Blair up and down before opening the door for him. At carnival time, it would have probably been crowded with European tourists, but at the moment, there was just one gentleman sitting in an armchair reading the paper. He didn't look up as Blair walked over to the reception desk and asked for Mister Ellison, adding that he'd come on business from Captain Burton's residence. Thankfully, his bluff paid off and the receptionist sent a messenger boy to Mister Ellison's room.

Blair began to drum his fingers on the desk as he waited. He missed the annoyed look on the face of the receptionist. His attention was focused on the groaning elevator in the corner. Finally the dial above the doors began to move, its arrow showing it was descending and Blair waited to see who would step out, his heart in his mouth.

As James Ellison emerged from the elevator, Blair's mouth went dry. Now dressed in a dark suit, the man looked like an off duty athletic. Suddenly Blair felt that he was back in front of his window at his lodgings, with his hand caressing his cock, fantasizing about this man, and the color rose in his face. Ellison wore a puzzled frown as he came towards Blair.

"Mister Ellison." Blair held out his hand, which he was pleased to see didn't so much as tremble despite the turmoil inside, but his voice came out huskier than he'd intended and he cleared his throat.

Mister Ellison appeared not to notice. He shook Blair's hand. "You have the advantage of me, sir," he said, cautiously.

God! I wish I did! Blair chose to ignore the lewd voice in his head. "Blair Sandburg. I saw you coming out of the Palazzo Gosleth yesterday. I don't know if you noticed me?"

The clouds cleared slightly from Ellison's face. "Ah, yes. So what can I do for you, Mister Sandburg?"

Strip me, eat me, fuck me, anything you like really. "Perhaps we could talk over there?" Blair put his hand on the man's back and indicated a couple of empty armchairs across from the desk.

Ellison allowed Blair to direct their course and once they were seated, he ordered coffee for two. "This sounds like a coffee sort of conversation," he said with a smile. He shifted a little. "Damn suit is uncomfortable," he muttered before turning his attention back to Blair. "So, Mister Sandburg...?"

Blair sat forward. "I'm curious, sir. Outside the palazzo, you discarded a piece of paper. It had the title of one of the captain's monographs written upon it. Are you interested in sentinels or just Burton's writing?"

They sat back for a moment as the waiter brought them coffee. Ellison signed the paper chitty and once the waiter walked away, he frowned at Blair. "You picked it up? Why? I thought you'd come with a message from Burton?"

"Not a message as such. Call it more... the chance to discuss a shared interest with a fellow American. As I said, I'm curious." Blair tried to keep his face as open and bland as possible, although his pulse was racing.

Mister Ellison was pouring out the coffee. "I wanted to know whether such people as these sentinels Burton describes really do exist and if they do, how could they survive in modern society."

Blair took his cup and sat back considering the idea. "It's possible. There is a precedent. Blenders of coffee, for example, who have heightened taste buds. Perfume manufacturers employ people who can detect the best fragrances for scents. Musicians with prefect pitch. If someone possessed the whole set, however, they would be inundated with stimuli. Modern life would likely drive a true sentinel insane. He or she would have to have a way of mentally controlling such chaos."

Ellison perked up. "Do you have an idea of how they might do such a thing?"

Blair frowned. He studied the wall behind the desk, composing his thoughts. "Mind over senses. The elevator dial that indicates the floors, maybe. If they could think of their senses as being attached to such a dial... as the arrow showed the elevator descending, so picturing a dial like that would lower their sensibility to the sensory input, or increase it if necessary...." Blair's voice trailed off as a tray piled high with thick cream cakes was wheeled by and captured his stomach's attention. Mister Ellison noticed and asked for a similar selection to be brought over. Blair looked up at him with a mixture of shy wonder and gratitude.

When it arrived, Blair picked a large pastry from the tray, but when it was offered to Ellison, he shook his head. "You don't like the pastries?" Blair asked.

"No, too sweet for me. Though, I do have a secret vice," Ellison leant forward and Blair bent towards him. "I love donuts." Ellison whispered, his eyes twinkling.

Blair laughed out loud. "And you say these are too sweet!"

His companion shrugged, smiling. He watched as Blair tucked into the pastry. "Ye gods! Doesn't Burton feed his staff?"

Blair felt himself bristle at the implied slight to his hero. "Captain Burton's staff are well looked after." I believe, he finished in his head. "It's just been a while since I had breakfast."

"Of course, I mean no insult," Ellison agreed amiably.

"So, what was the captain's opinion on the subject of modern sentinels?" Blair asked, as soon as his mouth was empty of cake.

Ellison snorted. "I meant nothing before, Mister Sandburg, but I have to tell you, that over-blown useless popinjay wouldn't know a modern sentinel if one walked up to him and shook his hand!"

Blair's temper took him at once to his feet, crumbs scattering on the floor. "How dare you, sir!" He lowered his voice as he heard a newspaper being deliberately rustled and the receptionist at the desk cough pointedly. "Captain Burton is an extraordinary gentleman. He has seen things, done things that other lesser mortals can only dream about. If he said he met sentinels in Paraguay, then that he did!"

"Steady there, Lancelot. I don't mean to slander the man's achievements, just his attitude." Ellison paused. "Listen, I think that you are a very astute, intelligent young man. Once you've calmed down, should you wish to talk again, I'll be staying on here for the rest of the week, before I head back for America." He pulled out a card case and pencil from his wallet. "If you decide to contact me again, after that, this is my home address." He jotted something down and offered Blair the card. "Please, take it."

Blair reluctantly put the card in his own wallet. "Thank you for the pastry and good day to you, sir," he said, briskly, as he turned and walked away.

Blair tossed and turned in his bed that night, thinking of the words he could have said to James Ellison, words to persuade him of Burton's merit. When he finally slept, he dreamt that the black cat had been caged and he couldn't release it.

The days settled into a routine. Each day he went up to the palazzo. Each day he was told that Captain Burton was too busy to see him and each day Blair waited in vain hope. He did become friendly with some of the staff. The little maid, Ellie, took him into the kitchen where the rosy-cheeked cook slipped him a small portion of food. "You need feeding up," she said, patting his stomach and giving him a wink.

Each night the black cat, always out of reach, but crying out to him for help, would haunt his dreams. He ruthlessly forced away any desire for Ellison, but every so often a sly thought betrayed him and he had to focus on something less 'stimulating'.

Then, one morning as Blair was admitted into the residence, the Arab servant told him that Captain Burton wished to see him. Blair could hardly contain his excitement. His persistence had finally paid off! Now at last he could have an intellectual conversation with his hero.

He was to be disappointed. No sooner had he been shown into the study than Burton was on his feet, brandishing the portfolio that Blair had brought -- like a weapon.

"How dare they!" he thundered. "These changes are unacceptable, young man!" Burton threw the pages down on the desk. "I submitted this article in good faith and these... suggestions are totally unreasonable."

Blair listened while Burton ranted on, totally stunned by the venom that the captain expressed. As he paused for breath, Blair carefully spoke up.

"I'm very sorry, Captain Burton, sir. All I can do is to take it away with your comments and carry back your displeasure." The angry man seemed a little gratified by his words and Blair pushed his luck. "There are so many people, sir, who don't understand your work. As I was saying to Mister Ellison..." He didn't get a chance to finish as Burton exploded again.

"That buffoon! Man's an idiot! Came here with some cock-and-bull story about him being a sentinel! What does the man take me for? Reckoned he could smell the spices from the market place. Hear the train whistle from Trieste station. See someone step off the ferry with papers with my name on them! Even offered to tell me what was in my cook's stew without visiting the kitchen! Man's a fool and a charlatan!"

Blair knew his mouth had dropped open. He ran down the list, smell -- the spices, hearing -- the train whistle, sight... taste... and touch -- Ellison had complained that his suit was uncomfortable. That was all five senses!

"Please, forgive me, Captain Burton. I've just remembered a very important engagement I really must keep. Please, make what comments you need to in the page margins and I will take it back to England as soon as I can get a passage." With that Blair dashed out of the house, leaving a stunned and gaping Burton in his stead.

By the time Blair reached the hotel, he was red faced and had a stitch in his side. He stood still for a moment, catching his breath then he walked up the steps to the hotel and waited, with barely controlled patience, while the door was opened for him. He tried to stroll over to the desk, though he felt like running. "Mister Sandburg for Mister Ellison," he announced.

The receptionist frowned. "I'm sorry, Mister Sandburg, Mister Ellison left for Vienna early this morning. I believe he intends to travel on to England and from there to South America. You could probably reach him through his family... if you have their address?"

Blair suddenly felt drained. "Yes. Yes I have that. Thank you." He turned and walked slowly out of the hotel. He found himself down by the harbor, looking towards Trieste and imagining that he could hear the mournful sound of a train whistle. He wondered just what experiences he'd lost when he walked away from Mister James Ellison.

The next eighteen months saw a number of changes for Blair. Burton wrote a scathing letter to his employers about the 'arrogance and ill manners of their young employees', and Blair was 'requested' to resign his post at the Royal Geographical Society. He returned to America, traveling steerage on a White Star steamer that sailed from Liverpool to Boston. He managed to find a post with Boston University as a teaching assistant and tried to convince himself that he wasn't staying in the town in order to be near to the Ellison residence. He regularly bought copies of the Globe and the Herald newspapers, paying special attention to the society pages. He had a subscription to the American Geographical and Statistical Society's 'Bulletin' journal and scoured its pages... just out of academic interest. In short, he tried to fool himself that he wasn't hoping to hear news of the man who'd left such a big impression on him in such a short time.

Then, one day he found a small article that made him admit the truth to himself. The article in the Globe mentioned the return of William Ellison's eldest son, back from an expedition into the jungle of South America. It reported that James Ellison was suffering from 'Jungle Fever' and was receiving medical care in the family home. Blair's body started to hum with renewed energy.

If Burton's house was a Venetian villa with an air of the theatrical, then the Ellison home in Back Bay was a solid red-brick Colonial mansion house. Though only a two-story building, it had many windows and presumably a good number of rooms. There were dormer windows in the roof, for the servant quarters, no doubt. The house was built to be imposing and the only thing that softened its facade was the creeper that reached the second floor windows on one corner. The houses in this area had been constructed on reclaimed land and were built for the affluent old families from Beacon Hill, those who desired more spacious homes. This house screamed 'old money'—but in a sedate, Bostonian way.

Blair stood outside the gates and wondered just what had possessed him to come here, and if he should go in search of a 'tradesman entrance' but instead he girded his loins and walked right up to the front door. The doorbell was one of the new electric ones and as he pulled on the small round knob, he prepared himself for another intimidating encounter with a manservant. So he was a little taken a back when a small Oriental woman opened the door.

A shiver of deja vu ran through him as he said, "Mister Blair Sandburg to see Mister James Ellison."

The woman hesitated and then opened the door to let him in. "I'll tell the master, sir." She bowed rather than curtsied and hurried across to one of the rooms, knocking quietly on the door and entering. She returned a moment later. "If you would wait in here, sir?" She opened one of the sliding doors to a room off the entrance hall and allowed him to step through.

The room was a library or study, with bookshelves lining the walls and a big heavy desk in front of the window. All the furniture was made of dark wood and polished until it gleamed. In front of the fire was a set of dark ruby-red leather chairs. Over the fireplace was a large, family portrait, the traditional pose of a proud upright father standing behind his seated wife, his two young sons with them, one a toddler on his mother's knee, the other a serious little chap dressed in a somber suit with what looked like a very uncomfortable stiff collar. On the mantelpiece stood a smaller picture of the mother, the frame draped in black. Blair put his spectacles on and had a walk around the room, studying the books on the shelves, noting the titles. There were books on fishing, on bird watching, books on Bostonian families. Encyclopedias, history, nature, medical books... no fiction allowed on these shelves! And then Blair saw one book that seemed both to fit in and yet was out of place. On the shelf sat Burton's monograph on the Sentinels of Paraguay.

He straightened as the doors opened and he turned to see an older, more care-worn version of the father in the portrait, enter. The man carefully closed the doors and turned. "Mister Sandburg? I understand you want to see my son, Jimmy." Ellison senior was not a man to waste words, it seemed.

"Yes, Mister Ellison. I met... Jimmy in Muggia when I was carrying proofs to the Consul on behalf of the Royal Geographical Society of London. We found we had some things in common. When I heard that he'd returned from South America, I wanted to pay my compliments."

"I see." Mister Ellison's eyes shifted away to stare into the fire. The patriarch of the Ellison family seemed very uncomfortable for some reason. "Please, take a seat." He indicated the two chairs. "You may be aware, my son... has been most unwell. I'm not sure he's fit enough to see visitors." He paused. "He suffered from a delirium and during his fever he mentioned a witch doctor with long hair and blue eyes... called Blair." Mister Ellison's eyes narrowed as he took stock of Blair Sandburg.

Blair's own eyes widened. "I'm no witch doctor, sir. I'm not sure why his fevered mind should link me with one. But I would like to renew my acquaintance with your son, if I may?"

Mister Ellison sighed. "Very well. Though I think you will find him very different from the man you met in Muggia."

Blair was shown into a darkened room across the hall. It seemed empty and he thought he was being made to wait again, until James Ellison was made presentable perhaps. He felt his way across to where he could make out a sliver of window light and put his hand out to open the heavy curtains.

"Please... don't." The plea was weak and ragged. Blair swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Just a little," he ventured, "so that I can see enough not to fall over the furniture."

"Very well." There was a defeated tone in those two words and the sound of a body slumping back. "When I asked you to contact me again, I'd hoped it would have been under better circumstances." There was a feeble, throaty chuckle that ended in a gravelly cough.

Blair crossed over to the day bed set against the wall, narrowly avoiding a small table with an assortment of bottles on it. There was a strong smell of chamomile and goose grease -- the sort of preparations that, if Ellison were a sentinel, would probably aggravate his symptoms. Now that his eyes were getting used to the faint light, Blair could make out the frail form on the bed. James Ellison seemed a shadow of the man Blair had encountered in Muggia. He was dressed in some sort of silken robe, but where the sleeves had ridden up, Blair could see the skin on his arms was blotched and inflamed. His eyes were red-rimmed and Blair was sure James Ellison had lost a fair amount of weight. "Jesus, man! What happened to you?" Blair exclaimed as he sat down on a chair placed near the head of the bed.

There was that weak chuckle again. "The ocean happened!" Ellison sighed. "No, that's unfair. The truth is -- crossing the Atlantic twice was -- unpleasant, but on the way home from South America, I had to take a smaller vessel and we hit a terrible storm..."

"Mal de mer?" Blair ventured.

"What? Oh, no, not sea sickness." Ellison hesitated. "Do you remember our conversation in the hotel in Muggia?"

"When I behaved like some bad novelist's idea of an indignant heroine? No, I forgot all about that." Blair smiled, ruefully, at his own folly.

Ellison smiled back. "Well, you had the right to be indignant. I shouldn't have said those things about your employer. It was the height of bad manners."

Blair fidgeted. "I'm afraid I misled you there, Mister Ellison. Burton wasn't my employer. I was just carrying some proofs for him to edit. But I admired the man, built him up in my mind to some sort of a paragon. You forced me to re-examine that impression. I still admire his achievements, but now I see he's a man with faults like the rest of us. I have you to thank for that."

"I see I made an impression upon you. Nevertheless, I still feel I should apologize for destroying the image of your idol, and it's 'Jim'. Mister Ellison is my father."

Blair smiled. "No need to apologize, Jim. You did me a favor. I came to see you again at the hotel, but you'd already left. You went to Paraguay -- didn't you -- to find the Sentinels for yourself."

"Yes." Jim looked down at his hands. "Burton... he rebuffed me when I asked for his help with my wayward senses." The supine figure propped himself up on one elbow and looked straight at Blair's face. "You know, don't you? All five of my senses are heightened."

"I guessed as much, from what Burton said. I made the error of asking him about sentinels and he exploded, telling me about your *cough* discussion."

Ellison laughed. "I can well imagine what was said!"

"It was certainly informative." Blair decided he liked the sound of Mister Ellison's -- Jim's laughter. "So did you find any sentinels, apart from yourself?"

The figure on the bed tensed up and the room went very quiet. Then, "Why are you here, Mister Sandburg? Don't tell me you were 'just in the neighborhood'."

Blair blinked at the change in Jim's attitude. "I could remind you that you invited me to renew our contact, but, as it happens, I moved back to America and decided to stay here in Boston. I saw the notice in the Globe about your return and decided to 'look you up' to use the current fashion. You didn't answer my question, and it's 'Blair', by the way," he grinned.

Jim seemed to slowly relax. "No. No, I didn't find any Sentinels. The war down there had driven the natives too deep into the jungle."

Blair nodded. The conflict between Paraguay on one side and Argentina, Brazil and Uruguay on the other had made the headlines, briefly, some time ago. Blair had read more about it in his geographical journals. It had been ugly, with a large part of the country devastated and the male population decimated. It was understandable that the native tribes had gone deep into the jungle. "But you were already having problems with your senses... that's why you wanted to talk to Burton.... When did this start, Jim?" Blair tried to encourage the man to talk.

Jim wiped a hand over his tired face. "It seems a long time ago. I was in the army. A small team under my command was sent to negotiate a peace treaty with the Indians. Something went wrong. My men and a number of the tribe were wiped out. The only reason I escaped was because I was up in the hills with the tribal witch doctor at the time. I think I was sick -- the memory's hazy." He shook his head as if to clear it of unpleasant memories. "Anyway, when the military found me and brought me back, I decided to resign my commission and took a job with a railway survey team. I knew the land, I knew something about the work -- but a lot of the time I was scouting ahead alone. One day I found that a river, swollen with rainwater, had blocked my way back to the team and it took me several days to return. I was isolated for much of the time. I remember I stopped to make a hot drink and the water boiling...." He swallowed. "It was as if someone had turned me inside out. Everything hurt. Everything was too sharp, too raw. I thought I was going mad."

Jim paused to take a breath. Talking so much seemed to have worn him out, but after another moment, he began again. "Somehow I kept myself together and returned home. With no answers for my condition, I tried various sources, various remedies and then one day I found myself at the Athenaeum club, which houses a private library. I'd hoped that there would be something, a clue, anything about heightened senses in the medical books. Instead I found a copy of Burton's monograph and, after reading parts of it, I thought that the author could aid me. Little did I know that a certain long-haired clerk would give me a better insight into my condition!"

Blair blinked. "I did? How?"

"Don't you remember? The elevator dial?"

"Oh, yes," Blair slowly smiled. "And it worked?"

Jim nodded, smiling in return.

"That's... that's excellent!" Blair sat forward eagerly. "As a matter of fact, after our conversation, I thought of some more things that would help." He frowned. "But first we'd need to run some tests on your abilities, see how enhanced your senses truly are.... How far you can see, or hear. Your touch... how sensitive it is..."

"Whoa there, Sandburg." Jim sat up and caught Blair's expressive hands. "I said nothing about any testing of my senses. In fact -- " he released Blair's hands and lay back, panting heavily -- "the reason I went to see Burton was to ascertain if I could 'switch off' my senses. I don't want to be labeled a freak any more."

It was more the tone of Jim's voice than the actual words that brought Blair back from the contemplation of the experiments they could do as Jim had taken his hands. He frowned as one word jumped out at him. "Freak?" He looked up. "I don't know who called you a freak, Jim, but they couldn't be more wrong. Your abilities are totally natural, there's nothing remotely 'freakish' about them, and if you would allow me to work with you, I'm sure you would gain some control and find them an asset to your life." He paused and looked down again. "I apologize, I'm probably being presumptuous."

Jim eased himself up to sit with his back to the cushions. "You're certainly passionate, Chief. Just how much would you expect to be paid for this... service?"

Blair felt a cold chill. "I can see we come from different sides of the tracks, Jim." He paused in order to choose the right words. "I don't want your money, I just want to help."

"I don't want your pity."

"That's not what I was offering."

Silence stretched out between them.

Blair's heart sank and his shoulders slumped. It seemed Jim was determine not to accept his assistance unless it was on a strictly business level -- and Blair would be damned if he'd take this man's money. Something inside him wanted this man as a friend. "Very well. You can reach me through Boston University, or here." He stood and placed the card with his address, on the chair. "If you change your mind and believe we can work together on this... project, without treating me like some... hired man, then please get in touch. Good day, Mister Ellison. I hope to see you again at some future time when you have regained your strength." He turned to leave.

Jim hit the side of the bed with a clenched fist. "Wait, damn it!" His hand shot out and grabbed Blair's wrist. Using Blair's arm as a lever, he pulled himself up onto his knees. "I seem to be creating a bad habit of unintentionally insulting you." He sighed. "When do we start?"

Blair heard the desperation and vulnerability in that voice. His free hand went over Jim's and he squeezed gently. "Really? Excellent! But no wages, okay? You won't regret it." He put as much conviction into his words as possible, then helped Jim to lie back down again.

He just heard Jim's mumble "I think I already do!"

"Let's start with..." Blair walked across to the curtains and opened the window... "smell. There are some late roses in the garden. It's a fragrance you should recognize. Can you smell them from back there? Allow everything else to drift away and just focus on the scent of the roses...."

William Ellison stood outside the door to the room, listening. He justified his eavesdropping to himself with the knowledge that he didn't know this Sandburg character, then, when Jimmy laughed, William breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe his son would be well again soon, and wouldn't need to be sent to a private sanatorium. That idea had been particularly distasteful. Now, with a bit of luck, that would be avoided. They could offer this stranger some other form of payment -- if he still refused to take money -- to avoid the possibility of a scandal, and Jimmy could take his rightful place in the company. Ellison and Sons plural. Yes, that would put old Collins' nose out of joint -- him and his mills! A polite cough made him start and he stood up straight, then walked away without turning around, as the diminutive housekeeper smiled softly and shook her head affectionately behind him.

She knocked gently at the door. Mister James might be a grown man, but she was still protective towards him. She wanted to know more about this Mister Sandburg.

As she entered the room, she took in the sight of this strange young man talking so animatedly with a smiling Mister James, and she relaxed.

"Sally, I think you've already met Mister Sandburg?" The figure on the bed beckoned her over.

"Yes, sir," she smiled at Blair.

"Sally practically raised me," Jim said, turning his attention back towards Blair. "If it hadn't been for her, I'd be running barefoot around Boston Common!"

Sally blushed. "Oh, sir! You give me too much credit. You would never run around the Common mixing with the down and outs. You always hated getting dirty as a child!"

She was teasing and Blair smiled in turn at the obvious affection between Jim and his housekeeper. He watched as she covered her embarrassment by folding a blanket at the foot of the bed.

"I only wish we could get you to eat more, Mister James." Sally scolded as she worked. "You need to put some flesh on your bones!"

"I may have a suggestion there," Blair said. "Jim's already told me how well you take care of him, but with his illness, he seems to have become extra sensitive to some food. I was wondering if you would allow me to offer some ideas about how to improve his appetite. I don't want to tread on anyone's toes, but I would like to help...."

"I think you should give him a chance, Sally. I believe we can trust him not to poison me!"

"Hey!" Blair hit Jim gently on the arm and he laughed, rubbing his arm as though he'd been badly hurt.

Sally looked at both men. Mister James looked better than he had in a long while. If this long haired man could achieve so much in such a short time, she would give him what assistance she could. "Very well, Mister Sandburg. I am willing to listen and pass on your instructions to our cook."

"Tired, Sandburg?" Jim asked. They were sitting in a French-style café, drinking an early cup of coffee. It was quiet at this time in the morning. There was a misty chill in the air, stopping people from emerging too early unless they had to. In the week that they'd been working together, Jim was coming along in leaps and bounds over control of his senses; however, Blair didn't want to expose his friend to too much stimulus all at once. He'd arranged to do some experiments in the labs at the university with lights and mirrors, but first he needed to wake up! The coffee was helping -- some.

"Sorry, Jim." Blair stifled another yawn. "I've been working on two articles for different publications about the migrant workers and their effect on the social and economical life of Boston, and then there's my work for the university, traveling between my lodging in North End and your home, and all the research I've been trying to fit in...." He gave a rueful grin. "I've been burning the midnight oil a little, I guess."

"If it's too much for you..." Jim had a deep frown on his face.

"No, no. I enjoy the work, our work, I'll be fine, honest." Blair wiped away the milky coffee that had formed a brown mustache on his top lip.

Jim stood and looked down at him. "Would it help if you moved into my family home for a while? I intend to look for a small place for myself, once I get back on my feet, and until then, you'd be very welcome to stay."

Blair rose to join him. "Really? Are you sure? Wouldn't your father object? It would be a great help," he acknowledged. "I wouldn't have to travel and I could be on hand if you have any more of those sensory spikes. That one with the child's red hoop in the street scared me half to death."

"You and me both, Sandburg!" Jim slapped him lightly on the shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sure. You would be my guest. In fact I could do with some moral support." They paid the bill and stepped outside. "My father is putting pressure on me to join the family business."

Blair frowned. "Would that be such a bad thing? It would provide secure employment."

"Believe me, it would be a very bad thing!" Jim moved his hand to Blair's back to steer him through a group of sailors coming along the sidewalk. Blair felt the heat and mass of Jim's hand through his clothes and for a moment imagined he was the sentinel. He straightened abruptly. He couldn't get involved in his fancies over this man.

"You know, you could write down some of your exploits with the survey company. I'm sure folk would be fascinated by your real life adventures. I would. You could sell them to the local paper." Blair began to feel enthusiastic about the idea. "Just think, Jim. You could be famous."

"I have no wish to be famous, thank you." Jim paused, thoughtfully. "But if I could write and sell something under an assumed name.... I'll think about it. Now what's this test you want to inflict upon me?" he grumbled.

Blair adopted a long-suffering expression. Jim had grumbled and groused over every test, every little experiment they'd tried, and Blair was becoming used to having to coax him along. The plus side was that each time, Jim had surpassed Blair's expectations. "If you don't want to learn control of your senses, then far be it for me to try and help you..."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. So what are we doing?"

"Well, it's like this, I want to try and send you into one of the lapses where you are over stimulated, so you can start to pick out when one is about to happen..." Blair's hands were drawing patterns in the air as he explained his theory.

"Why did I ever agree to this?" Blair mumbled out loud as he struggled with the collar stud on his shirt. "A great help! Blair, my man, you had no idea what you were letting yourself in for!" He sighed and let his hands drop, shaking his wrists and stretching his shoulders, until his joints clicked, before having another attempt at fastening the blessed stud in front of the mirror. "You should have guessed that Jim's family would dress for dinner, but oh no, it didn't cross your mind that you'd need a... 'monkey suit' or that you might have to borrow one...." His hair fell around his face, making him more hot and bothered. He blew a curl out of the way. "God, damn...." He uttered a few more colorful phrases and was just about to wrench the collar off and hurl it across the room, when someone knocked at the door.

"Unless you have the dexterity of a jeweler of miniatures and the patience of a saint -- go away!"

Jim entered, laughing. "Having problems, Sandburg?"

Blair let his arms fall in defeat. "These things," he said, gesturing at the collar, "are instruments of torture, created by the idle rich to subdue and humiliate the poorer class!"

Jim laughed again. "I agree with you over the torture, but believe me, the rich have the same problem." He stepped up close to take a good look at the offending item under Blair's chin, tucking Blair's curly hair out of the way behind his ear. "That's why so many have a 'man's man'. Let me see...."

This close to the cause of his arousal, Blair could smell the soap Jim had used and his faint masculine scent underneath. He could feel Jim's breath and the touch of his fingers as they brushed over his neck, straightening his collar. This is the biggest mistake you ever made, Blair, he thought grimly, as he felt his trousers tighten across his groin. You should never have agreed to stay here. Better to keep some distance... Distance? When the man is always touching you? And if you can sense so much, how much more can Jim tell about you? He groaned out loud and his friend moved away, the collar fastened.

"There. That's better." Jim grinned at him as he brushed Blair's shirt with one hand causing Blair to bite his lip hard.

"Tell me something," Blair said, to cover his awkwardness, "do you dress like this every night?"

Jim chuckled as he turned to walk away.

"Well? Do you?" Blair struggled into his dinner jacket and hightailed it after Jim.

At the bottom of the stairs, Jim halted suddenly and Blair almost ran into him.

"Stephen! No one told me you were back." Jim took the hand of the well-dressed younger man who was standing with William Ellison in the hallway.

"I snuck in, big brother, while you were taking all your time getting dressed! How are you, Jimbo?"

"Good. I'm good, better for seeing you." Jim paused and turned to Blair, smiling. "This handsome reprobate is my younger brother. Stephen, this is a friend of mine, Blair Sandburg."

"Mister Sandburg." Stephen Ellison reached across Jim and shook Blair's hand with a firm grip, and a welcoming smile on his face. "Any friend of my brother's and all that."

"Likewise," Blair smiled back.

There was a polite cough from the doorway of the sitting room and Stephen jumped guiltily.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I brought some friends along. I believe you know Mister and Mrs. Plummer and their daughters, Carolyn and Samantha, Jim." Two young women stepped forward, followed by an older couple.

"Of course. Miss Plummer." Jim bowed slightly and kissed the back of each woman's hand in turn. Both Plummer girls were redheads and quite striking in appearance. Carolyn was almost as tall as Jim and almost as attractive with warm claret colored hair piled high on her head and ringlets hanging down to frame her heart shaped face. She was dressed in pale ivory that set off the glow of her skin. Her sister was slightly smaller and wore her hair loose; it hung down her back like a dark shimmering veil. She was dressed in pale lemon that matched the pretty little bows pinned in her hair.

"Good to see you again, Mister Ellison," Carolyn Plummer smiled, coyly, at Jim. "It's been a while. You must tell me all about your adventures...." She linked her arm through Jim's, without waiting to be introduced to Blair, and led Jim in through the doors to the dining room as Sally announced that dinner was served. Samantha took Stephen's arm, and William followed with Mrs. Plummer. Blair and Mister Plummer brought up the rear.

It seemed a long evening. Both Stephen and Jim tried to bring Blair into the conversation, but it was obvious that Carolyn wanted to monopolize the older brother. Her father spent most of the time trying to engage William in business talk. Mrs. Plummer's main topic of conversation was fashion, which she discussed with Stephen and Samantha, though the younger woman kept trying to play 'footsie' with Blair under the table. It was a relief when Mrs. Plummer declared that she had one of her 'heads' and that she should like return to their lodgings. William sent his man for his carriage, and Blair slipped away into the garden as they were saying their goodbyes.

It was a lovely night; the new and perfectly shaped, silvery, crescent moon shone above and a thousand stars twinkled in the dark indigo sky. Its beauty just left Blair feeling incredibly lonely and melancholy. I shouldn't feel like this. Jim and Carolyn looked handsome together. They both come from wealthy families; they share the same background -- from what Blair overheard during the dinner conversation. Jim has a right to a happy family life, with beautiful children. I should be giving them my blessings. Why do I feel like this? And why do I feel that just having his body wouldn't satisfy my need for him? He gave out a heart-felt sigh.

"You'll get cold out here, Chief."

Blair started at the sound of Jim's voice in the quiet of the night. "Oh, I was just thinking what a beautiful moon that is."

Jim looked skyward. "Yes, yes it is."

"I bet with your eyes you could see craters and mountains?"

"And risk going moon blind, professor?" There was a tone of amusement in Jim's voice.

"Or lunacy," Blair added. "You and Carolyn seem to get on well together."

"She's a beautiful woman. Intelligent too." Jim allowed. He turned to look at Blair. "You seemed to have made quite an impression on Samantha."

Blair chuckled as his gaze returned to the moon. "Oh, she's well out of my league, Jim."

"No, Blair, you're well out of hers."

Blair's head jerked back to look at Jim, but his friend's face was now half in shadow and unreadable. "Whatever." Blair shrugged. "I can see a double wedding taking place in the spring between the Ellison sons and the Plummer daughters."

"Oh, yes, old Plummer would love that!" Jim's voice sounded bitter. "No, Carolyn and my day is over and gone. We're better as friends than lovers."

"Really? Not from where I was sitting. She was flirting with you and you with her." To Blair's ears his tone sounded like that of a jealous lover. Must be the wine I had for dinner, he thought, looking down at his feet.

"Would you prefer I flirted with you?" Jim's voice floated on the air, soft and husky.

Blair swallowed. "Don't be absurd, Jim."

"Why would it be absurd?" Jim had moved close behind Blair, his mouth close to Blair's ear. "I wanted to flirt with you, in fact, I think that's what we've been doing ever since we first met."

Blair closed his eyes, his heart beating faster. "You did? I mean, we have?" He didn't dare turn around. He felt dazed, lightheaded, and suddenly incredibly warm. He could sense Jim's solid presence behind him and he leaned back into it.

"Yes." Jim started nibbling at Blair's ear. "I just didn't think it was quite the done thing to do in front of my father at dinner."

"Oh, God." Jim's teeth, his breath against Blair's face, were driving the young man crazy. He stretched his neck back and Jim's mouth took advantage of that exposed skin, kissing, sucking. His hands came around to Blair's shoulders and Jim turned him, holding Blair's face between his two hands, tilting his head just so. Blair's eyes opened so as not to miss a minute of this.

The first touch of Jim's lips to Blair's was gentle, sweet and chaste, a request, and one that Blair was only too willing to agree to. As Jim pulled away Blair realized he'd closed his eyes again. He opened them to see Jim's gaze locked on his. Blair licked his dry lips, unconsciously seeking Jim's taste and Jim's eyes followed the movement. Blair held out a second longer before he pulled Jim's head back into another kiss, this one with more passion and desire. He traced the outline of Jim's lips with his tongue and as those lips opened, Blair slipped in, caressing Jim's tongue with his own. He swallowed a choked off groan. He pulled back a little and Jim followed, pulling him close, his hands moving to stroke Blair's back, his shoulders; to cup his ass. Blair's own hands were busy, stroking over Jim's head down to the back of his neck, working under his dress coat and trying to find a way to get to bare skin.

After waiting so long for this, Blair felt carried away by his need. As they separated and his breathing evened out again, he rested his forehead against Jim's. "This is 'Moon Madness'," he softly declared.

Jim chuckled. "You only get that with a full moon, Chief, and that's not due for another week." He gently kissed Blair's forehead and a shudder ran through the young man's body. "Nevertheless..."

Jim kissed his lips again, nibbling gently on the bottom one, and then pulled away before their lust had them on the ground. "We can't do this here. May I come to your room later, when everyone's retired?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, Jim."

Jim nodded, his movements jerky. "Later, then," and he turned and walked, stiffly at first, back inside the house. Blair watched him for a moment, waiting for his heart to stop pounding in his chest before following.

The clock downstairs softly chimed half past one in the morning and Blair was walking the floor of his bedroom. He'd stripped off his coat and shoes, and undone the stud and top buttons of his shirt. His curtains were open, allowing enough light in for him not to bump into anything as he walked, but he'd lit the gas lamp so that the room didn't look like it had been set for a seduction.

His mind kept replaying the events in the garden and he again felt the blood pool in his groin. God, I was like a bitch in heat! He could have asked me to do anything and I would have. His gaze settled on the bed and for one crazy moment, instead of Jim lying there naked with his ass up and head down, begging to be filled by Blair's manhood -- Blair's usual fantasy -- it was Blair himself, face down with Jim behind, taking him for the wildest ride of his life! He shook his head at the erotic image. "Enough, already! Have some pride. Think about what your cousin would say if you stained his best pants!"

The door opened and Jim stood there, looking magnificent, a robe wrapped around his body. "Well, you could take them off, Chief."

Blair half laughed. "I bet you say that to all the men, Jim. Does it usually work?" He hated his sarcastic words but it was necessary and Jim was frowning.

"Nervous, Blair? Are we moving too fast for you?"

Blair exhaled. "Maybe. Maybe it's because I've always been choosy about whom I bed, Jim. Women who understand the situation and won't scream that I've ruined their good name, or that they are carrying my bastard. But I prefer men -- no emotional ties. It's uncomplicated. But not with you. With you it's too... complicated."

Jim stepped closer and Blair moved back, keeping a distance between them.

"Complicated? It didn't feel complicated in the garden."

"No, it didn't. It felt very simple and very good," Blair admitted.

Jim moved forward again and Blair stepped to one side. He had this idea of Jim stalking him or of them dancing to different tunes. "If we are going to continue to work together, Jim, we can't allow this... intimacy to happen."

"Blair...."

"I'm not talking about love or some romantic notion... I'm talking about you trusting me, relying on me, about us keeping this as friendship because anything else would just get in the way."

"Do you truly believe that, Sandburg? Because from where I'm standing, I don't see it as a problem." The muscle jumped in Jim's jaw and his fists clenched.

Blair sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he tried to talk them both into believing that having carnal knowledge of each other was a really bad idea. "Jim, I can't be objective if I'm thinking about how good your body feels."

"Damn! I knew I shouldn't have given you time to think about this. I should have laid you down and taken you in the garden!" Jim said as he echoed Blair's movement and rubbed his hand over his head.

Blair scoffed. In the stillness of the night, he'd heard Jim's quiet words all too clearly. "I didn't think public sex was your style, Jim. Don't want to scare the servants... or your father. Anyway, what makes you think that you would be doing the taking?"

Jim's head jerked up and his nostrils flared. For a moment, Blair thought he'd gone too far, then Jim's eyes narrowed. "Very well," he said. "We'll leave this... for now. But we will return to it, Sandburg. Make no mistake. This is not over. Not by a long shot." He stormed across to the door and flung it open but he closed it after himself with barely a click.

Blair stood watching, hating what he'd said, but believing it was the only way to drive Jim back to his own room. His legs suddenly felt weak and he quickly sat on the bottom of his bed, before falling back with a soft thud. "Well, that went well," he whispered. Part of him, and not just his loins, longed to call Jim back, to say damn the consequences and to hell with his conscience, with Jim's very willing body. But he didn't. He realized that this man already had his heart, and quite possibly, his soul, and Jim himself had absolutely no idea how near the edge of a precipice Blair felt. If -- no, when Jim grew tired of his long haired companion, Blair would lose so much more than just a good friend. He would lose his very self.

After a long and mainly restless night, Blair wasn't sure of the reception he'd get downstairs at breakfast. So it was with some trepidation that he walked into the morning room, passing Sally on the way out carrying Jim's empty dishes on a tray. Jim was sitting alone, reading a newspaper; drinking a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, Chief."

So... they were going to act like nothing had transpired. He could do that. "Good morning, Jim. Sleep well?" He asked politely as he turned to pick up a plate and started looking in the covered silver dishes for the eggs.

Jim folded up the paper and put it down by his plate. "No, not very."

Blair froze. Damn. He turned, breakfast forgotten for the moment, his heart in his mouth, his eyes drawn to the table.

"Look, Chief," Jim began, "I was wrong last night. I tried to push you when you weren't ready. I made a big mistake and I want to apologize..."

Blair wasn't paying attention, he found himself staring at the paper. The black headlines seemed to leap out of the white broadsheet. He felt the blood leave his face.

"What is it?" Jim asked, concerned.

Blair swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Sweet Roy Williams," he said.

"The prize fighter? Yes, sad case, they found him yesterday in one of the pipes they're using to drain the rest of Back Bay." Jim paused. "Did you know him?"

Blair nodded slowly, his eyes still glued to the paper, still unable to believe the headlines. "We..." he swallowed hard... "we were friends. I met him when I returned to America."

"I think you were more than friends, Sandburg." Jim's voice was quiet and hesitant.

Blair looked up, unsure of what had given him away, wondering what he would find in Jim's face. "Like I said, I like men -- they are uncomplicated."

Jim's expression was carefully blank. "And this... Roy, he was 'uncomplicated'?"

"Until the sex destroyed our friendship, yes, Jim." Blair looked defiantly at his host, daring him to say something.

"I see." Jim looked again at the article. "The police suspect 'foul play' but have no leads to go on." He looked up at Blair. "I guess that means they will put it on the 'unsolved' pile."

Blair looked disgusted. "Because Roy was a Negro."

"And a prize fighter, Blair. That is an illegal sport. It breeds hard men, hard lives. All men may have been created equal, but," Jim sighed, "there are still some less equal than others." He stood and put his hand on Blair's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Chief, I'm sorry." His voice was compassionate. Then, as though wanting to give Blair some privacy, he turned towards the door.

Blair made a grab for Jim's arm in desperation. "Jim, wait. There must be something, someone, we can talk to. Roy's death can't just be swept away like yesterday's rubbish."

Jim frowned. "What do you want me to do, Chief? I'm not a cop, I don't have those skills."

"You have skills, you have contacts. Use them, Jim, please. Roy was a good man." Blair knew he was pleading, but this was important to him.

Jim sighed and puffed out his cheeks. He rubbed at the wrinkle that had appeared between his eyes. "All right, leave it with me. I'll see what I can find out. I may know someone who can lend a hand."

A long day later, Jim asked Blair to go for a little cab ride through town. He'd been very enigmatic about exactly why a cab ride, and Blair finally gave up on asking questions. His friend was being especially secretive about their destination.

The cab dropped them on the 'bad side of the Hill' and they began to walk. Here the houses were closer together and the area was more like a ghetto. Washing lines hung overhead between large tenement buildings, skinny children played with skinnier dogs, loud angry voices were heard from open windows and rebounded around the blocks, and whores in their 'Sunday best' sang out all forms of pleasure, as the two men walked past. Blair was both sickened and fascinated by it all.

They stopped by one normal, undistinguished looking green door. Jim knocked three times upon it. A small slot opened at eye level. "Temperance," said Jim and the slot snapped close, a bolt was drawn back and the door opened to admit the two men.

Jim led the way down some unpainted wooden stairs lit by the odd red gas lamp on the walls. The stairwell opened into a deep, dark carven of a room decorated in red and gold with a bar along one wall and a stage at one end. Round tables sat in pools of intimate candlelight within darkened alcoves or were placed out in front of the stage. The smell of drink and gaslight, sweat and other bodily fluids hung in the air.

Blair stared in open curiosity at the mixture of people in the place.

Jim touched his arm. "Try not to stare, Chief. People come here to be inconspicuous."

"I know that!" Blair said, still wide eyed. "What, you think this is the first time that I've been in a private gentleman's club? Why, there was that time when..." He stopped as a woman in a very skimpy scarlet and black costume -- all lace and bare flesh -- strolled by, slowing down enough to run her fingers over Blair's collarbone as she went.

"Come on, Romeo." Jim tugged gently at Blair's ear, pulling him towards one of the many darkened areas around the sides of the room. "This is a different sort of private club, Chief. Here you can only get in on the word of another member and anyone who breaks the code of privacy and anonymity is thrown out."

Blair looked past Jim to where two smartly dressed young men were talking, leaning towards one another and laughing. As they pulled apart, Blair saw one caressing the other's leg. He looked up at his friend to find Jim studying him and Blair suddenly felt his skin burn, he glanced away to where a large colored man rose up from a nearby table to greet them.

"Jim."

"Simon, it's good to see you. Thank you for coming." Jim shook the man's hand, a warm smile on his face. "Did you have any problems getting in?"

"No, no problems, once I mentioned your name. It's been a while, my friend. I heard you'd been in the jungle or some such thing?"

Jim's smile turned to a grimace. "Long story. Suffice it to say, traveling doesn't agree with me!" He turned to Blair to introduce him. "This is the young man I was telling you about. Blair Sandburg, Simon Banks."

"How do you do, Mister Banks." Blair reached out and shook Simon's hand. "Please, call me Blair."

"You were a friend of Sweet Roy's, I understand?" Simon got straight down to business.

Blair nodded as the three men sat down on the chairs at the table.

"Then you know that he had two things against him, one, his color, and two, he was engaged in a profession that is illegal in most states in the union." He turned to Jim. "There's a lot of money and reputations involved in prize fighting, Jim. If some of the names got out of who have made money on the backs of bare knuckle boxers, there'd be hell to pay."

"You can't just let it lie!" Blair protested.

The big man turned to Blair. "I didn't say I would, Blair. The Pinkerton Detective Agency was set up to investigate crime that the police can't or won't look into. They employ me to investigate within the Negro community. I mentioned the case to my superiors and they agreed to let me run with it and see if I can find any leads." Simon sat back causing the chair to creak a little. "I promise you, Blair, I will do my best to bring Mister Williams' murderers to justice, but I want you to understand what we're up against."

"Simon, I want to help."

Simon shook his head. "Absolutely not, Jim. You're not involved in the police force, or with the Pinkertons. It's out of the question."

Jim sat forward. "I have skills, abilities that could prove invaluable to you."

Blair was nodding vigorously. "We could be of enormous help, Mister Banks. You can move amongst the black community, Jim has the money connections and I can assist you both."

"No, forget it."

"Why did I let the pair of you talk me into this?" They were sitting in a hansom cab, being jostled along, Simon sitting opposite Jim and Blair. He'd called at the Ellison house first thing the next day.

"Because of our charm and good looks?" Blair suggested and got a glare from Simon, his eyebrows climbing up his face.

Blair leaned forward. "Seriously, Simon, the tests I've done on Jim's enhanced sensory abilities indicate he would be invaluable in this area."

"This 'Sentinel' idea?"

Blair nodded.

"So why are you tagging along, Sandburg?" Simon was unconvinced.

"Because I need him, Simon. And you need us." Jim interjected.

"We'll see about that. Just stay out of trouble, both of you. I like my job. I want to keep the chief sweet so I can keep it!"

Their first stop was the morgue where Simon's familiarity with some of the police officers, lack of interest on the part of others and a quiet bribe of the mortuary attendant, got them assess to Roy Williams' body.

The smell of embalming fluids from the undertakers next door, coupled with fumigation elements didn't quite drown out the smell of bodies decaying in the cold morgue and Blair felt his stomach turn over as he surveyed the body shapes lying under white sheets.

A whispered "Ready, Chief?" had him take a deep breathe, before deciding that was a mistake, and nodding, but nothing prepared him for the sight of his ex-lover lying cold and exposed on the icy slab as they drew back the sheet. He felt bitter bile rise into his throat. "Oh, God!" He stepped quickly away and bent over. He'd seen dead bodies before, but never someone so close to him, someone he'd been so intimate with. He remembered Roy's body, alive and vibrant, remembered the pleasure he'd found in the contrast of his pale skin next to Roy's rich auburn one.

"Blair? You don't have to see this." Jim's concerned voice and the touch of his hand on Blair's shoulder, brought him back.

"Just give me a moment, Jim." He took a few more deep breaths through his mouth and straightened up, then he turned, placing his hand squarely on Jim's back, and faced the corpse. "Go for it, Jim. See what doesn't belong here. Block out most of the bad smell, and focus on what you can see."

Simon leaned over. "I'm not sure what the pair of you are looking for..." he began.

"Here. Hand me those tweezers."

"What you got, Jim?"

Jim's eyes screwed up. "It looks like chips of..." he held one up to the light. "Ivory?"

"So," ventured Simon, "someone hit Williams with a piece of ivory?"

"Maybe an ivory topped cane?" suggested Blair. "I've seen some pretty heavy walking sticks topped by solid ivory cravings."

The frown on Simon's face cleared. "Well done, gentlemen."

"So what now?" asked Blair looking from Jim to Simon.

Simon called the attendant back. "Who's claimed the body?"

The attendant glanced at his files. "A brother..."

Blair said his name at the same time, "Jamie Williams."

"So how well did you know the brother, Sandburg?"

Perhaps it was something in Jim's tone, but Blair heard the unspoken question and he grew angry. "Jamie always liked a well-turned female ankle, Ellison. The last I heard he had a sweetheart and I don't come between brothers. Does that answer your question?"

Simon was across the room with the sergeant manning the desk. Although he was talking to the man, his gaze was on Jim and Blair and he had a puzzled expression on his face. It appeared that he knew something was wrong, but he wasn't sure if it was any of his business. Blair was relieved when Simon slapped the sergeant good-naturedly on the shoulder and walked over so breaking the tension.

"Well, boys, I found out where Jamie lives. Shall we go?"

"Simon, I would like to pay Jamie a visit, pay my condolences, but just not today. I have to shoot off. I have classes to prepare for at the university."

Simon's expression grew even more puzzled. "Of course, but I thought you wanted to be a part of this?"

"I do, just... I've got another commitment, okay? I want to be involved. Perhaps Jim could fill me in later with the details?"

"Certainly, Chief. I'll see you at the house this evening. I'll get Sally to save you some cold cuts."

Blair knew Jim was trying to make amends, but he shook his head. "I don't feel much like eating this evening, Jim," and he left, feeling Jim's eyes on his back as he began to try and walk off his anger and grief.

Blair walked the streets distractedly. He still couldn't get used to the fact that Roy Williams was dead, murdered. And it really hurt that Jim had such a low opinion of him.... Jamie Williams was a sweet young kid, insecure, maybe, not sure whether to admire his older brother or be jealous of him, but young enough to learn from his mistakes. Blair had felt protective towards him, but he sure didn't want him in his bed. Blair didn't go around bedding everyone he met! Yes, there was that one time with the identical twin brothers from the Far East... but he was young and flexible then. He felt a flush of blood rise in his face and he grinned smugly as he remembered just how flexible he'd been and the different positions the twins taught him. On the other hand, that one drunken night of passion with Roy had really complicated things and he'd lost a good friend because of it... which brought his thoughts back to the thorny subject of Jim Ellison. The man had no right to accuse him, no right at all. Indeed, if it had been Jim on that slab.... Blair's heart felt as if someone had reached in and squeezed it in his chest and a lump formed in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. He moaned softly. What a mess!

"Excuse me." The voice broke through Blair's rambling thoughts and he realized he'd been walking along without paying any attention to his surroundings. He looked up from where he'd been studying the ground to a thick set man wearing a smart gray suit and a bowler hat. "I wonder if you could help me?" the man's voice was polite and cultured. "I'm looking for this address." He showed Blair a piece of paper and as Blair bent to take a closer look, someone pushed into him from behind.

"Hey! Watch what you're..." A hand was placed over his mouth and a knife placed against his stomach, hidden by the man standing in front of him. "Quiet, Mister Sandburg," a low voice hissed in his ear. Blair was maneuvered down an alley before being released and crowded back against a wall by three very large, broad shouldered men, their hands clenched into fists. He raised his hands to ward them off, quickly glancing this way and that, trying to judge his chances of making a break for it. "Look, I don't know what you want. I don't have any money. I... oomph!" A punch from one bald headed man landed in his abdomen, causing him to double over in agony -- the air forced out of his lungs. Another punch -- an upper cut -- spun him around against the wall. Anger surged through him and he turned to land a few blows of his own, when his arms were grabbed from behind and more blows came pummeling down.

They didn't want him dead; otherwise they would have used the knife. No, they were sending him a message, in a very unsubtle way. The punches were just enough to cut his lip open and give him a serious black eye, to leave bruises on his upper body; to cause pain, but not kill. These men knew what they were doing. There was no anger, no passion involved. A final blow sent his brain rattling in his skull and just before all thoughts fled and blessed unconsciousness claimed him, he heard one of the men say, "Tell your friends, Mister Sandburg, to stay out of things that don't concern them. You hear me?" And then he was allowed to slump to the ground.

He came to when they dumped him on the ground outside the free clinic near Boston Common. He could just make out the blurred face of a young man he knew from previous encounters. "Doctor Jackson...sir, can you help?" He wasn't sure if his words made any sense given the fog in his head, and that he could taste his own blood in his mouth, but someone helped lift him up and carried him inside.

For the next hour, they cleaned him up, wiping off the dirt and blood and applied disinfectant to his cuts, cold compresses to his swellings. Someone enquired if there was anyone he wished contacted and he asked that a message be sent to the Ellison residence in Back Bay, just to inform James Ellison that his friend had met with a misadventure. Blair was surprised when half an hour later, Jim walked in and leant against the door, as the doctor was finishing.

"Well, Mister Sandburg, you were very lucky. These 'gentlemen' knew how to inflict superficial damage without doing any internal injury, as far as I can tell. We'll have to see how you get along over the next few days, but... once the bruises and lumpy swellings subside, you'll be back to normal again." He paused to study Blair over the top of his spectacles. "But, my friend, it will be a while before you're up to chasing the lasses again."

Blair was sitting up on the examination table, still a little shaky, his legs swinging against the table. He was dressed only in his underwear and his untied shoes, his bloodied shirt in his hands, pants and coat beside him, bandages around his ribs to lend him some support. The doctor was smiling, but Blair's eyes were on the stony faced Jim Ellison. He couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his friend's brain. He felt an odd thrill at the penetrating stare Jim was giving him, at being the center of this man's attention.

The doctor turned to see who had distracted his patient. "And you would be..." he consulted his chart for a point of contact, "Mister Ellison, I presume? Come to fetch my patient away?"

Jim nodded curtly, his eyes still fixed on Blair. "If he's fit enough, Doctor?"

"Oh, he'll be fine. With plenty of rest, his bruises will heal nicely. Cold compresses and lotions containing spirit such as eau-de-Cologne could help. The bruises around the eye can be rubbed gently with butter or oil on the fingers from time to time, to disperse the blood. Do you think that can be arranged?" Jim just nodded again.

"I'll give you a prescription of laudanum for him, but it's only to be taken if he should need it. Otherwise it can cause more problems than it's worth. If he seems dizzy, vomits, or passes blood, then you'll need to take him to the College Hospital. I'm afraid I don't have the facilities here to treat anything that serious. But his eyes are not dilated and his skin isn't clammy.... Just make sure he remains quiet and someone should watch him for the next few days."

"I understand, Doctor. How much does he owe you?"

"Oh, no, Mister Ellison, this is a free clinic, we cater for the poor souls who cannot afford health care." The doctor paused. He seemed almost bemused by the glares the two men were given each other. "However, if you should wish to make a donation..." He let his words hang in the air.

Jim was already reaching into his jacket for his wallet. He pulled out a note and without losing eye contact with Blair, he handed it to the doctor. "Is that enough, Doctor?"

Doctor Jackson stared at the note in his hand. "This is... very generous, sir. Thank you!" He quickly left the small examination room, leaving the two men alone.

Jim took off his jacket and wrapped it around Blair. He bent and tied Blair's shoelaces and then helped him off the table with an arm around his waist. He held Blair steady until he found his balance, holding on to his clothes tightly.

"Come on, Chief, I've a cab waiting outside."

It was dark as they left the clinic, Blair's filled prescription in Jim's hand. Blair looked up at the lit streetlights. "What time is it?" he asked as he was helped into the cab.

Jim pulled his watch out of his vest pocket. "Just after midnight." He settled down beside Blair and instructed the driver where to take them.

The silence inside the cab was overwhelming and Blair couldn't deal with what he thought was an angry tension. "I'm sorry to get you out of bed at this late hour, Jim. I just meant for..."

"I wasn't in bed." The words seemed to be forced out between clenched teeth.

"Oh."

"I was waiting for you to return."

"Oh! Sorry." Blair, contrite, stared ahead, unsure of what to say next.

This time it was Jim who broke the silence. "So why did they pick on you, Sandburg?" he asked.

"Just lucky?" Blair's attempt at humor failed dismally. "They wanted me to pass on a message to my friends to 'stay out of things that don't concern them', I guess that means you and Simon, in relation to Roy's death." He risked a glance at Jim.

The muscle in his friend's jaw was jumping. "It also means that there's a crooked cop at the police station."

"Or in the Pinkertons."

"Why then would they instruct Simon to investigate?"

"To lull us into a false sense of security perhaps? Feed us enough rope in case there's any loop holes they haven't covered?" Blair was too tired to avoid mixing his metaphors.

Jim was shaking his head. "Too complicated. They could have just sent Simon on a bogus assignment out of town. Then we wouldn't have had anywhere to go for help. No, I think this is someone at the station."

Blair yawned. "Could be."

Jim turned towards him. "You know, you've got to be woken up every so often during the night, to make sure there's no concussion."

"I guess it's going to be a long night, then."

"I guess it also means I'll have to stay by your bedside to wake you."

Blair smiled sleepily. "Guess so."

"Will that be a problem for you, Chief?" Jim inquired, hesitantly.

Blair was slowly losing the fight to stay awake with the gently swaying of the cab rocking him. "No, Jim. I trust you." He almost missed Jim's soft, "I'm not sure you should, Blair."

Then Jim was shaking him awake. "Come on, Chief, we're home and I'm not carrying you in."

Blair stretched and moaned as his aches and pains nagged at him. "Spoilsport," he grumbled, grateful nevertheless as Jim helped him from the cab and into the house. His support continued up the stairs and into the guest bedroom. The house was dimly lit, quiet and strangely intimate at this late hour. Jim sat Blair upon the bed and then lit the lamp and drew close the curtains. Blair pulled off his shoes, tied laces and all, and Jim's jacket, than sat watching his friend move around the room. He started to shiver and wrapped his arms around himself.

Jim noticed. "Jesus, Sandburg! Wrap that back around you for a minute." He pushed the jacket back into Blair's hands and then disappeared out of the bedroom door, returning a minute later with a checked flannel nightshirt over his arm. "Here, put this on, it'll keep you warm."

Blair lifted his arms, the jacket falling off his shoulders, flinching only a little from the pain, and allowed Jim to assist him into the nightshirt. He was still wearing his underwear and socks, he realized. "Yours?" he asked, indicating the nightwear.

"Yes, an old one." Jim paused. "Is that all right?"

"I do have one of my own, but this is fine," Blair smiled. He quite liked this mother-henning from Jim, as long as it didn't continue for too long. It felt comforting but, paradoxically, he felt reckless, as though the comfort gave him the security to be daring.

"Come on then, let's get you into bed." Jim pulled back the covers and turned to Blair who was quietly chuckling over Jim's choice of phrase.

"What?" Jim looked perplexed.

"Nothing." Blair was too tired to open that jar of worms right that moment. He settled down in the bed with a contented sigh. Jim pulled up a chair to the side and sat down.

"You going to sit there all night?"

"Yes."

"Then you'd better take a blanket and a pillow."

"Sandburg..."

"No arguments, Jim. You sit still for too long and your body temperature drops. The last thing I want to deal with in the morning is a grumpy sentinel, well a grumpier one than normal, because you had an uncomfortable night. Now take them!"

Jim scowled but did as he was told before turning down the lamp and making himself more comfortable. Blair was still smiling as he drifted off to sleep.

True to his word, Jim woke Blair up a couple of hours later, helped him to a glass of water and passed him the chamber pot, though he turned his back to give Blair some measure of privacy, ruined a little by the sound of tinkling from Blair's urinating into the container, before helping him back into bed.

The second time Jim woke him, Blair mumbled something about 'Blessed Protector," before he drifted off again.

The third time, it was light enough for Blair, lying on his side facing Jim, to be able to get a better look at his friend. "You look awful," he commented, noticing the pale face and tired features.

"Thanks, Chief. I'd show you a mirror but you don't want that kind of shock this early in the morning." Jim replied, caustically.

"Ha, ha!.... Look, this bed is big enough for two, why don't you lie down for a couple of hours?"

"Not a good idea, Chief."

"Jim, I'm not trying to lead you on, proposition you or offer you anything except to share a place to sleep, with a friend. Come on, just rest for a while. It'll do you good to stretch out," Blair coaxed.

Jim sighed. "All right. This chair isn't conducive to sleep and my muscles are a bit uncomfortable, but only for a short while."

Blair pulled aside the covers, but Jim pulled them back again and lay, tensely, on top of the bedclothes. "What is it about you that I always end up doing what you suggest?" Jim asked.

Blair shook his head affectionately. "Shhh, Jim. Go to sleep."

When Blair awoke again, it was to an empty space beside him. He tried to open his eyes but they were gritty and sore. He'd been dreaming again, this time of a timber wolf lying nice and cozy with the panther. He'd watched them asleep, the cat with a leg over the haunches of the wolf. They looked peaceful and contented together. There was a growl behind him and he turned to see a lioness standing a little way away, just watching as he was. She growled again and Blair turned back just as the panther nudged his companion with his snout. The wolf yawned, stretched his body. The cat stood and did the same, and then the two animals joined the other cat, touching noses and rubbing heads, then they bounded away together. It struck his conscious mind as strange to see such a mixture of animals in his dreams, but then his mind always supplied strange images to entertain him while he slept.

He felt the presence of someone beside the bed and moved his head carefully just out of the bedclothes and squinted at the blurry shape. "Sally?" he ventured.

"Good morning, Mister Blair. How do you feel?"

Blair ran his tongue around his mouth. It felt furry and tasted worst. "Yucky. Mister James?"

"Is downstairs eating his breakfast. He says he will see you later when you are more presentable. He suggested you might like to see if you can manage some milky porridge."

Blair finally noticed the tray she was holding and realized that the curtains were open allowing broad daylight in. "Thank you. What time is it?" He started to pull himself up in the bed and bit back a cry of pain as his muscles protested the move.

Sally looked in disgust at the bruises she could now see on his face, shoulders and arms. She forgot his question in her displeasure. "I hope Mister James will find those blag'ards who did this to you and give them a taste of their own medicine!" She put down a bottle of lightly fragranced oil on the table for his bruises.

Blair tried not to smile at her protectiveness. He wondered if that was where Jim got his from. "It probably looks worse than it feels. I hope I didn't disturb the household last night?"

"No, Mister Ellison and Mister Stephen had already left for the New York train, on business. They are not expected to return for two weeks. Mister James told me to go to my bed last night after I let you both in. He wanted to take care of you himself. Now try and eat. A message has been sent to the university, so there's no need to fret over your work." She bustled about, picking up clothes, straightening objects and getting out clean items. "After your breakfast, I will have a bath run for you and Mister James can help you into it."

Blair did smile this time at Sally volunteering her employer. He finished off as much of the porridge as he could, but the effort was wearing him out. "I think I've had all I can, Sally. Thank you."

"You are very welcome, Mister Blair. Now you rest a moment while I fetch Mister James."

Blair leaned back and closed his eyes. He thought of the conundrum that was James Ellison and Blair's own place in the man's life. On the one hand, there was Jim who wanted Blair in his bed, that man attracted Blair on a very primal level. On the other, there was this caring, gentle Jim who went out of his way to protect Blair's virtue.

Blair laughed. As if it needed protecting! Then his smile faded to be replaced by a frown. Jim's actions seemed so much more than those of a good friend. Of course, he could be experiencing the aftereffects of his beating, but Jim seemed to be so protective towards him, as though this man was afraid of making the wrong move, saying the wrong thing. How did Jim see him?

He remembered the intense scrutiny Jim submitted him to at the clinic. He felt somewhat like one of those butterflies he'd seen friends collect and admire, pinned down and studied, drawn, measured and catalogued. He wondered if Jim wanted to make him a lifelong hobby, and if he did, how did Blair himself feel about that? Last night, he thought he would enjoy such attention, now in the cold light of day, he wasn't as sure.

He gingerly touched the bruise under his eye, flinching a little at the soreness but, taking the bottle from the table, he began rubbing gently with the oil as the doctor had recommended.

There was a knock on the door and Jim called out, "You decent in there, Sandburg?"

"If I said no, would you still come in?" he asked, chuckling, only to laugh out loud as Jim entered with his hand over his eyes. "Oh, God," Blair held his chest as the effort of laughing caused his body to ache, "don't make me laugh!"

Jim lowered his hand but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he sat upon the bed. "How do you feel, Chief?"

Blair breathed slowly. "How do I look?"

"Like some crazy artist has upended his 'earth tones' over your face."

"Oh, you are such a poet!" He laughed once more, this time more carefully, as Jim shook his head, smiling again. "I guess in some ways I feel better, but my chest and jaw still hurt where they punched me and I suspect that when I get out of bed, I shall know how sore I really am. Sally said you were going to give me a bath?"

"I believe she said I'd help you with a bath! I think she thought you'd prefer me to Ben, our groom, or one of the housemaids."

"Don't know. What does Ben look like?"

Jim sighed dramatically. "Come on Casanova, let's get you to that bath." As he helped Blair up and out of bed, Blair bit his lip, a pain shot up from his abdomen and he had to lean heavily against Jim. "Take it steady now, Chief. We'll get there before the water turns cold, I promise."

Blair took hold of his friend's shoulder, stopping their movement. "I, erm, want to thank you, Jim. I'm not sure what I'd have done if you hadn't come to fetch me."

Jim cleared his throat. "You'd have done the same."

"Yes. Yes I would."

It was a short walk along the landing to the bathroom, but it seemed miles to Blair. Jim pushed open a door and Blair took in a slice of gleaming white porcelain heaven.

"I have to say I really appreciate your bathroom."

"One of two, actually." Jim preened proudly at the look on Blair's face.

"Don't tell me, one for the gentry and one...."

"I was going to say one for the household and one for the guests." Jim added. A young maid stood up from where she was agitating the water with her hand. "Thank you, Kate, we can manage from here." Jim dismissed her with a smile.

"Yes, sir. I've made sure the water's not too hot. Miss Sally said the soap was the one she used for you when you were... you know."

"Right, thank you."

As the girl scurried out the door, Blair looked at Jim. "The one she used when you were...?"

"When my skin played up. It's a very mild soap, one she got from the Chinese quarter."

"Really? I should ask her about that, and maybe discuss other Chinese remedies. They could be useful for your senses." Blair turned his attention to the gleaming copper boiler on the wall over the bath and lifted his hand to touch the surface. "So this tank warms the water?"

Jim snatched his hand back. "Yes, genius, and that small fire there heats it. You touch the outside of the boiler and you get burnt! Got it?"

Blair nodded, sheepishly. "Got it. Guess I'm not fully awake yet. Sorry."

Jim released Blair's hand. "It's all right. I overreacted. I guess last night upset me, seeing you like that." He pulled a wooden chair over. "Here, sit down and let's get you undressed." As Blair sat, Jim knelt on the floor and lifted one of Blair's feet, rolling down the sock and pulling it away.

"I can do that myself." Blair said quietly, feeling uncomfortable with Jim kneeling there, and the sensations of this man's fingers against his bare legs.

"Really?" Jim asked. "You think you can bend or lift your leg up to do it? Go ahead." He sat back.

Blair tried, but found his abdominal muscles were too sore. He sighed in defeat. "I just don't like being treated like a child or an invalid."

Jim nodded. "None of us do, Blair, but it is only temporary. After you've had a good soak you may find your muscles looser anyway. Just... let me help, okay?"

Blair gave a quick nod and Jim pulled off the other sock. "Now the night shirt." Blair obediently lifted his arms and the shirt was pulled over his head. Then Jim unwrapped the bandages from around his friend's torso.

"Oh, that's sooo much better." Blair sighed as he lightly scratched the skin that the cloth had covered.

Jim chucked and then said, "And now the leggings, Chief."

Blair tensed up. "Erm, Jim? I really want to try and take them off myself."

Jim's eyebrows rose. "What happened to the brazen individual who wanted me to give him a bath?"

"He found he wasn't as brave as he made out?" Blair tentatively suggested, thinking I'm still not sure where I stand with you and I'm worried that the touch of your hands may be my undoing.

"Okay, this is what we do," Jim said, as he reached into the bath. "This washcloth you can use to cover your dignity." He held up the square of material.

"Never heard it called that before," Blair groused.

Jim grinned. "Now you have. You can hold it against yourself while I help you take these off. Right? And don't tell me it's not big enough!"

Blair chuckled shyly and nodded. Jim helped him stand up and he balanced with one hand on Jim's shoulder while slipping the other with the cloth inside his underpants, cupping his genitals. He didn't dare look down as Jim pulled the pants down over his thighs and, as Blair lifted first one foot and then the other, slid them off as efficiently as possible.

"I don't know why you're shy there, Chief. You've got nothing to be ashamed of." Jim obviously couldn't resist teasing his friend.

Blair laughed as the tension in the room evaporated. "You peeked!"

Jim just laughed. "Come on, my pocket sized Hercules. In you get."

Climbing into the bath with one hand on Jim's shoulder and the other holding the cloth over his privates wasn't easy, but once in the water, the warmth traveled over Blair's body and felt very good. He slowly relaxed, feeling the vertebrae re-align back into place as he carefully stretched, still keeping the washcloth in place.

"So." Jim was sitting on the chair now. "Tell me how you met Roy."

"Oh, long story, Jim. Roy was always smartly dressed. He liked to look good. One day he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and a group of white fellers decided to take him down a peg or two. They started to beat on him in the street. Now Roy would never fight back outside the ring, he thought it would cause him more grief so he just took it. I came around the corner and saw this gang beating this colored man and I knew I had to do something. Well, I'd just passed this cop. So I took up a small stone, went back and threw it at his cap. It went flying, I ran, and he chased me -- luckily he wasn't that fit. I tore around the corner, shouted out 'Cops!' The gang scattered, I grabbed Roy and pulled and pushed him down an alley, up a fire escape and onto a roof, where we finally collapsed, laughing."

Jim was chuckling by now, but the smile had died on Blair's face. "We became friends, until one drunken night when everything changed and he couldn't even look me in the eye in the morning. Nothing I could say could salvage our friendship."

"It doesn't have to be like that, Chief."

"No?" Blair was unconvinced.

"No."

Desperate to drop the subject, Blair asked, "How did Jamie take the news of Roy's death?"

Jim sighed, but appeared to go along with the change of topic. "Jamie seems to think that Roy and Jamie's own fiancée were involved."

Blair sat up with a splash. "What? How could he think that? They were brothers!"

"Cain and Abel ring a bell?"

"I don't care what Jamie thinks, I don't believe it!"

"Maybe you don't, but I think Jamie does."

"I have to see him, talk to him."

"You're not going anywhere until you are able to walk without pain." Jim insisted.

Blair was ready to argue when Jim became distracted, his head tilted slightly to one side. "What?" Blair asked. "You heard something?"

"Someone's at the door. Must be Simon. I sent him a message first thing..." Jim's voice trailed off. "Damn! It's Carolyn." He stood hesitatingly.

Blair sought to reassure him. "Go and see what she wants, Jim. It may be important. I'll be fine."

"Very well, but don't try and get out of the bath on your own, got that? Wait for me." Jim smiled. "I don't want you breaking your neck in the guest bathroom."

Blair smiled back. "House rule number 36, no breaking necks in the guest bathroom. Got it."

Jim pulled down his sleeves and did up the cuffs. "Just enjoy the soak, Chief. I won't be long."

As Jim went out the door, Blair sank back down. Sally and Jim had been right, this felt much better as his aches were eased in the water. He wished, however, he could do a Spirit Walk like the Indian witch doctors were said to do and listen to whatever Jim and Carolyn were discussing downstairs.

"Not going to sleep, there, Chief?"

Blair splashed water over the side as he sat up. He realized he had slipped into a light snooze. "I may have lost myself for a while, Jim," he admitted. "So, how is Miss Plummer?" He tried to sound neutral about the woman, as if he was only vaguely interested in what she had to discuss with his friend.

Jim surprised him by not answering straight away. Instead he reached for the toweling robe that hung on a hook by the door. "That is one conversation best left for when we are both more comfortable. Come on, junior, stand up. Lean on me. Let's get you up and dry."

Blair nodded and put his hands on Jim's shoulders as Jim helped him out of the bath. He tried to ignore the feel of Jim's cold hands touching his wet, warm skin and sending little tingles though his system.

"Not shy anymore, Sandburg?" Jim asked as he handed him the robe.

"Resigned, Jim, more resigned." Blair quickly pulled it on and tied the belt around his body before his arousal became prominent.

"Right, let's get you back into bed, nice and relaxed."

"Aww, Jim. I'd much rather put some clothes on and sit downstairs." Blair looked at his companion, trying to persuade Jim with a hopeful expression that became a pout.

"The doctor said rest," Jim insisted.

"I could use your daybed, lounge on that. That would satisfy the doctor's design. I really want to see Simon when he arrives and hear what Miss Plummer had to say. Please, Jim."

"God, Blair. Won't you let me have my way, just once?"

Blair wisely didn't answer.

"Very well. But you take things easy. If you want anything, you ask, you don't try and get it for yourself, yes?"

"Whatever you say, Jim"

Jim snorted, loudly.

With one hand on the banister and Jim hovering behind him, Blair made it back to his bedroom. Jim laid Blair's clean clothes on the bed as Blair slowly and painfully dried himself off, his back to his friend. "I could do with another towel. My hair's soaking wet," he mumbled as he eased his shirt on and fumbled with the buttons.

"I'll go and fetch you one. Don't go and fall over while I'm out of the room."

Blair shook his head. Okay, this was getting a bit over the top. He looked at his pants and socks on the bed. Knowing his 'Blessed Protector', Jim would insist on helping him on with them. He didn't think he could take Jim's hands on his skin again right now, not without embarrassing himself. He sat on the bed and contemplated the clothes lying there so innocently. Next minute he was lying on his back, feet and shoulders flat on the bed, pelvis up in the air as he tried to pull the pair of pants up his legs. Air was forced out of his body as he grunted and groaned, shifted and stretched. He heard a choked off moan and looked over to where Jim was standing, frozen, in the doorway, a towel hanging loose in his grip. Blair's ass dropped back onto the bed as he realized Jim had focused on something too much and was lost to the world.

"Damn!" He secured his trousers and stumbled unsteadily to his feet, all the while talking and cursing. "Come on, Jim. What are you doing to me, man? I know you like my body, I mean, what's not to like? I'm flattered, truly. But, damn it all, Jim, you do pick your moments."

He took Jim's arm, though whether it was to steady himself, or to give Jim something to focus on, he wasn't sure. He ran his hands up and down Jim's arms. "Jim, wake up, you have to wake up for me. I need you back with me, Jim." His hand moved up to caress Jim's pale face and his friend gave a deep, full body shudder. Blair held him steady. He let out the breath he'd been holding.

"Phew! You had me worried there, Mister."

Jim swallowed. "Your heart's going crazy, Chief." His voice was painfully rough.

"Yeah? Well, no wonder." Satisfied that Jim wouldn't fall over, Blair let go of his friend and went to perch on the arm of the upholstered chair. "So are you going to tell me what triggered the lapse?" He had an idea, but he wanted to hear it from Jim.

In the silence, Blair swore he could hear Jim's teeth grind. "You didn't drift away in the bathroom," he added for good measure.

"There was too much stimulus; the chair I sat on, the steam, your voice," Jim shrugged. "You needed my help."

"So you didn't feel yourself 'slipping' before, while I was in the bath?"

Jim walked across the floor and sat on the bed. "There were a couple of times. When the light caught air bubbles -- " he looked down at his feet -- "trapped in the hairs on your chest; the way your heart rate seemed to slow as you relaxed." He smiled a little ruefully. "I was determined not to look any lower than your waist."

Oh, Jim. This is killing both of us, isn't it. "But you saw me bending like some contortionist on the bed, and you were... gone."

"It was the sounds... the noises you made, your... panting." Jim shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a sick person." That twisted smile was back on his face.

The noises I made? Oh... "You're no more sick than I am. Jim," Blair said carefully, "I was wrong. I forced this... compulsion down like a genie forced back in its bottle, and made us both more aware of it."

Jim now sat up straight. "So, what are you saying? We should open the bottle and do something about it?"

"That would be one direction to take," Blair cautiously agreed, not daring to look his friend in the face. "The other would be for me to move out, lessen the contact between us."

Jim was vehemently shaking his head. "You ever heard the saying that absence makes the heart grow fonder?"

"Maybe it's a sentinel and his guide, thing, this attraction?" Blair thought out loud. When did the house get so quiet, as if it was holding its breath?

"Is that truly what you think?" Jim's eyes narrowed.

Blair slumped down in the chair. "I don't know, Jim!" He threw his hands out in exasperation. "I'm at a loss here. I don't..."

The sound of someone knocking at the bedroom door interrupted. The young maid, Kate, put her head around the door. "Sorry, Mister James, sir. Miss Sally says to tell you that Mister Banks has arrived and she has shown him into the drawing room."

Jim nodded. "Thank you, Kate. We'll be right down." He stood and walked over to the wardrobe. "Here, you'd best put this on for now and put this around your shoulders." He handed Blair his red silk smoking jacket and the towel that he still held in his hand. Jim turned, as if to say something, but then he paused, his fingers pinched his lower lip together and he waggled a finger at Blair. "You know your trouble, Sandburg? You think too much."

Blair eased the jacket over his shirt and slipped a pair of carpet slippers on. In your case, Ellison, too much is never enough! "Come on, Jim. Let's take on those stairs."

Jim assisted Blair onto the chaise longue in the drawing room as Simon stood and watched.

"Jesus, son, they really made a mess of you, didn't they!"

Blair grimaced as he got his breath back. "This? You should see the other gents, Simon."

"You able to give me a description?"

"Yes..." Blair looked at Jim, impatient to hear what Miss Plummer's visit was about.

"There's something else you should hear first, Simon. Please, sit." Jim waved his hand towards one of the other chairs, before sitting himself.

"Carolyn Plummer came to see me just before you arrived. Her father was disturbed when someone came to see him early this morning. Carolyn happened to be passing at the door of his study and overheard her father talking." Jim rubbed his neck. "Mister Plummer was rebuking someone. The words Carolyn heard were along the lines of, 'What do you think you were doing, arranging that beating on the Sandburg kid like that? It will draw even more attention to us.'"

Blair sat up straight and before Simon could ask, he said, "Did she know to whom he was talking?"

Jim nodded. "She saw him leave the house a few minutes later." He turned to Simon. "It was Jeffrey Collins."

Simon whistled. But Blair looked confused.

"Should I know the name?" he asked, looking from one man to the other.

"You should, Chief. Collins only owns the biggest cotton mills in the state. He's been my father's chief business rival for years."

"Oh, that Collins." 'Collins' Cotton' was well known. "So why did he want me beaten up? And what has he to do with Roy's murder?"

Simon exhaled. "I know he likes to gamble. I'm guessing one of his hobbies is prize fighting.... Maybe he tried to fix a match and Roy wasn't having it?"

Jim was nodding slowly. "He doesn't like to lose. Blair, do you know who Roy's handler was?"

Blair shook his head. "I went to see him fight a few times, but I only know his trainer, Rock."

"Then we need to talk to Jamie again, and then this 'Rock'."

Simon frowned. "Jamie didn't say much before, Jim," he said, doubtfully, "and what respectable man is going to admit to being involved in illegal prize fights?"

"I want to come with you," Blair piped up.

Jim and Simon looked at each other.

Blair sat forward. "I need to pay my condolences. Jamie will remember me. I'm sure I could get him to talk," he said, earnestly.

"Blair, you're supposed to rest. We agreed."

"We can take a cab! I need to explain my absence at the university anyway."

The two older men still didn't look convinced and Blair became angry. "Look, both of you, I can walk, and even if I couldn't, I'm going to see Jamie. If necessary, I'll hire someone to push me around there in a bath chair!"

A smile twitched at the corner of Jim's mouth, it rapidly became a grin and then both he and Simon were laughing out loud. Blair couldn't help but join them as Jim managed to say, "A bath chair?" around his laughter.

Okay, Blair thought, so the idea of him in one of those three-wheeled chairs with a steering column, giving directions to the poor soul pushing behind, was pretty funny. He looked at the two men. It surprised him to discover that he fitted in with them, more so than with anyone else.

"Fine," said Jim as he wiped his eyes. "You can come, but we'll take Ben, and father's old carriage. Then we can make a call on the university first and do it in a bit of comfort."

"To say nothing of saving on cab fare," Blair stage whispered to Simon.

"I heard that!"

"You were meant to!"

Simon shook his head, laughing again. "You two sound like an old married couple!"

Blair blinked. Is that how outsiders see us? He shot a glance at Jim, but his friend refused to look at him. Instead Jim shuddered theatrically. "Thanks for that thought, Simon!" Simon laughed louder. Blair swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"I'll get Ben to bring the carriage around. Sandburg, you'd better ask Sally to get you a pair of socks and boots, oh and a coat, unless you want to go out with slippers and that jacket." His voice rang out from the hall as he walked away.

Simon's laughter had died away leaving an awkward silence. Blair fought against the desire to justify Jim's off-handed attitude. "Could you get that bell pull for me, Simon? Jim's right, I'm not dressed for polite company."

Simon stood and did as Blair asked, then he paused by the couch where Blair was lounging. "I know Jim sounds like a hard ass, Blair, but underneath all the bull, he really cares about you."

Blair nodded. "You don't have to tell me that, Simon. He's taken good care with me since the beating. He's been a real 'big brother'." Blair tried to smile. "I call it his 'Blessed Protector' Sentinel response to someone who's guiding him."

"I've known Jim a long time," Simon smiled gently, "but he doesn't treat anyone as he does you. I noticed it straight away, son. I'm not sure it's what I'd call brotherly."

Blair looked up sharply at Simon. "I'm not sure what you mean. We're friends, although sometimes I think I'm more of an irritant to him, like a flea or a tick."

Simon chuckled. "Well, you certainly seem to get under his skin. Look, I'm just saying... you've been good for him. He's more open, more relaxed than I've ever seen him before. If the feeling's not mutual, let him down gently, okay?"

"Simon, you give me too much credit here," Blair protested. "I started out as someone who could help Jim with his sensory overload, and we're friends, but one day, Jim will find that he doesn't need me around any more and that will be that."

Sally knocked on the door. "Mister James said you needed these, Mister Blair." In her hand were Blair's socks and shoes, and his coat was over her arm. "Do you need any assistance?"

"Thank you, Sally." Blair swung his feet on to the floor. "I would appreciate your help with the socks and boots, if it's not too much trouble? I'm still having problems bending."

"No trouble at all." She pulled over a small footstool and set about her task.

A few minutes later Jim appeared in the doorway, his overcoat on his arm. "You ready, Chief?"

"Just about." Blair smiled at Sally who was just finishing tying neat bows to each of his shoelaces. "Thank you, Sally."

Jim helped Blair up as the housekeeper moved away.

Simon stepped forward. "Do you want some help?"

"We're fine, Simon," Jim answered.

"So," Simon began as they reached the front door. "What is it about you, Sandburg, that even housekeepers fall for you?" He said it as a joke, but Blair heard something underneath.

He couldn't help the bitter tone in his voice as he replied. "Sally just wants to protect me from evil men, Simon, who only want me for my good looks." He felt Jim's hand tighten on his shoulder.

He released Blair, moving his hand to help the younger man as he climbed into the carriage. Jim got in behind him. Simon decided to sit up front with Ben as he had more leg room and Blair could stretch out inside.

"You really think that's all I want you for, Sandburg?" Jim whispered once they were moving.

Blair really didn't want this conversation. "Jim, I'm your friend. I want to stay your friend."

"Being lovers does not prohibit us being friends."

"Only if we were in love with one another. And you're not in love with me, are you, Jim?"

Blair's heart broke a little more as Jim stared straight ahead and didn't answer.

"That's what I thought."

"You are so wrong about so many things, Sandburg, and when we have this inquiry over and done with, I intend to explain just why."

"I look forward to it, Ellison." It'll be good to clear the air, once and for all! thought Blair.

Their first port of call was the university where Jim insisted on going in with Blair to the departmental secretary's office. The teaching assistant explained that he'd been set upon by some rough types and was under doctor's orders to take plenty of rest. The tall, painfully thin secretary looked down through his pince-nez at Blair as if he had just walked something disgusting into the man's domain, but he agreed to pass on the message.

"Condescending little prick," Jim remarked as they made their way back.

Blair couldn't help but grin.

The grin vanished as they reached the Williams residence.

There was quite a gathering inside the tenement, and they were spilling out onto the street.

Simon was first down from the carriage. "What's going on here?"

"It's a wake, my brother, for one of Boston's finest boxers, Mister Roy Williams." The Negro who answered was flamboyantly dressed for a wake. His vest and jacket were more suited for a day at the races than a funeral.

"And you would be?" Jim was standing by the door of the carriage waiting to see if Blair needed any assistance.

"My name, sir, is William Atlas, Billy to my friends..." He performed a deep bow.

"Of which there are few!" Jamie Williams came down the steps to see who had arrived in such a carriage. His face hardened as he recognized Jim and Simon. "As the man says, this is a wake for my brother, Roy. Unless you've come to pay your respects, I'll have to ask you to leave." He turned to go back inside the house, his shoulders slumped.

Blair called out. "Jamie? Jamie, hello. Remember me? Blair Sandburg. I was a friend of your brother's."

Jamie turned and stepped down a few steps. "Yeah, I remember you. You're that rich white fellow Roy hung around with for a while, right?"

"Well, you've got the white part right." Blair looked across at Jim with a smile, before turning back to Jamie. He frowned. "Hey, you're serious. Look, I came by because I had some good memories of Roy and I wanted to tell you how sorry I am to hear about his death. He was a good man, and a good friend."

For a moment Jamie hesitated. Then, "You'd better come in. Get yourselves something to drink. Enjoy my brother's hospitality." He walked away with a sullen attitude.

"That went well," Jim noted dryly.

"We might learn more inside," said Simon, jerking his head towards the house.

"Turn the dial down, Jim." Blair whispered as they walked up the outside steps and inside. He held on to the stair rail for support.

Inside was heaving with bodies. There was a loud but steady hum of voices, punctuated by the occasional loud scream from some child running around, and it's parent shouting to it. The men seemed to be in the front rooms, the women crying or seeing to their offspring at the back of the house. Food and drink was carried between the two areas.

Jim walked over to the mantelpiece in a front room where a carved piece of ivory had caught his eye. It was a beautiful figure of a lioness at repose.

Blair watched as Jim carefully examined it.

"Roy once showed me that. Said it was the spirit of his ancestors." Blair smiled a little wistfully at the memory.

"Pity it's been damaged." Jim pointed to a chip missing from the leg of the cat.

Blair frowned and turned away. The carving was too light to be used as a weapon, but if Jim was still suggesting that Jamie...

Blair studied the guests in the place, looking for something, anything, that could point to the real murderer. He noticed that apart from himself and Jim, there were only two other white men in the house, one Blair recognized as Rock, a round man with narrow shifty eyes. But it was the other man who strolled over to Blair and Jim.

"Well, well, well! If it isn't young Jimmy, Bill Ellison's lad! What are you doing in these here parts?"

"Mister Collins." Jim nodded in acknowledgement. "I could ask the same thing of your good self." Blair alone noticed Jim's shoulders straighten and his body tense.

Collins had a rakish ambiance that spoke of a bon vivant. That he was wealthy was obvious from the cut of his clothes and the heavy gold ring and the watch chain he toyed with as he spoke. He was a few years younger than Jim's father and a few pounds heavier. It seemed that that wasn't the only differences. Where as the Ellison family wealth was understated and subtle, Collins preferred to flaunt his.

"Oh, I admired Mister Williams, greatly," he was saying.

"You saw him fight?" Jim asked.

"Good heavens above, no! It's illegal, don't you know!" He winked at Jim. "But you, are you a student of the art too?"

Jim nodded. "I boxed a little while I was in the army. I was considered fairly good."

Blair looked at Jim wide-eyed. Just what was he playing at?

Collins looked intrigued. "Indeed? Well if you ever want to try your hand, I'd enjoy seeing Jimmy Ellison put his muscles and skill to the test in the ring." He ran an appreciative eye over Jim's form and Blair felt his hands clench. Collins was stroking the back of his fob watch with his thumb. "There's a little island, just off the coast, very hush hush." He winked at Jim again. "Just let me know. I, er, know some people who know some people, if you comprehend me. I'll see if they can set up a match for you."

"I may well take you up on that, Mister Collins."

"Please, just call me Jeffrey, Jimmy." He grinned as if he'd just won the brass ring, and Blair felt his stomach churn. He heard an animal snarl and his eyes widened as he followed the sound to see a live lioness standing on the stairs, her lips drawn back, and her tail thrashing in anger.

"Jeffrey," Jim obediently answered.

Blair turned back to Jim to draw his attention to the cat, but the next moment, when he looked again, the stairs were empty. He felt a cold shiver run through him. Maybe those thugs did more damage than the doctor thought! I'm seeing things now.

"That's my boy." Collins was patting Jim on the shoulder. "Well, must be off, people to do, places to see, ha, ha."

Blair wanted nothing more than to grab Collins' hand away and break his wrist.

Collins strolled off and Blair grabbed Jim's arm. "Just what the hell do you think you were doing?" he hissed. "He could be Roy's murderer, or at the very least the man behind his death. He knows you and I are involved in the investigation. I don't know how much boxing you did in the army, but this idea is insane!"

Jim said nothing, but taking hold of Blair's arm, he half pulled, half dragged him out of the room and along the hall into the darkened area under the stairs. "With my unique talents, I might hear or see something that will tell us who killed Roy and why," he said, passionately, as he released Blair.

"You're crazy! No way you can box for that... individual. You could get maimed, or," Blair swallowed, "killed."

"It's nice to know you care, Sandburg."

"You bet I care, Ellison, you bastard." Blair didn't even stop to think, his hand slipped around the back of Jim's neck and he pulled Jim down for a lip lock that was all about possession. Jim's own hands went straight into Blair's curls, kneading them, pulling Blair even closer.

Blair felt Jim stiffen and then break away, drawing a deep breath. He was about ask what was wrong, when Jim placed a finger against his lips and Blair strained to hear what Jim was picking up.

Two voices, one male, one female, were talking in another room in the house; the area under the stairs helped to amplify and direct the sounds, making the voices louder than the hum from the rest of the household.

"... Going with Roy behind my back. My own damn brother!"

"That's Jamie's voice!" Blair whispered. Jim nodded and shhhed him.

"That's crazy, Jamie, and you should know that."

"I saw the two of you, sneaking off together."

There was a moment's pause.

Then the woman said, "Tell me you didn't kill him. Tell me, Jamie."

"What? Of course I didn't kill him! What's wrong with you? He was my brother."

"Oh, Jamie. Roy just wanted to get us out of here into somewhere better. He was trying to buy us an apartment for a wedding present. We... I wanted to surprise you. I love you, why do you think either of us would do something to hurt you like that?"

"Oh, baby..."

There were the soft sounds of someone sobbing, and Jim removed his finger from Blair's lips. He looked at Blair with such tenderness that Blair felt his heart miss a beat.

"We'd better get out of here, Chief, and tell Simon what we've discovered." Jim's voice was husky and warm, and Blair had to stop himself from pulling Jim close again.

He nodded. "And try and talk you out of this stupid idea!" he said as Jim pulled him out of cover. Simon caught sight of them and beckoned them towards the front door.

None of the men said anything until they were all seated in the carriage and then Simon leaned forward. "I heard something interesting. That Billy Atlas, he was trying to make some money from Sweet Roy. He wants to become the first Black handler in the business. But Roy wasn't having it. They had a big bust up. But the best part is, Atlas had an ivory tipped cane that seems to have gone missing."

"So Collins may not be our man," Blair was disappointed.

"Remember, Chief, he's still implicated in your beating."

"The question is, how do we prove it?" Simon asked.

"I've got an idea about that, Simon," Jim said.

Back at the Ellison home, Jim filled Simon in about his encounter with Collins.

"That's out of the question, Jim."

"Simon, it could be the only way we have of discovering the truth."

"It's too dangerous. They know who you are."

"And this way I could discover who they are! Collins or Plummer ordered Roy's death. Collins may have been the one to order the beating on Blair. I want these men to face justice, Simon."

"You really want this?"

Jim nodded.

"Very well. But I have to clear it with my superiors. Where is this little shindig going to take place?"

Blair's heart sank at Simon's words.

"An island, that's all I know." Jim said.

"They run a boat out, Simon," Blair reluctantly told them. "Everyone is blindfolded, except of course, the organizers and the boatmen." He felt suddenly exhausted, but he'd be damned if they were going to leave him out of this just because of his beating. He wasn't going to let Jim get killed like Roy.

Jim was constructing plans. "Simon, how long will it take you to hear back from your superiors?"

"A few days, maybe a week."

Jim shook his head. "If I leave it too long, Collins will get suspicious."

"As if he isn't already," Blair mumbled sotto voce.

Jim ignored his comment. "I need to get moving on this as soon as possible."

"I could go in as your trainer."

"Forget it, Chief. You do not want to go near the fighting."

"Yeah," Blair admitted, "I know I don't want to.... But what if something happens to you, to your senses?"

"I'll take my chances."

"In that case... we need to get you in tip-top condition."

Jim glared at him. "I'm in good condition!"

"For a man who looked like death warmed over a few weeks ago, yes, and the diet Sally and I kept you to has built you up and given you more muscle tone, but you're hardly up to match standard, Jim. If you are going ahead with this, then at least let me give you a fighting chance."

"What do you have in mind?" Jim asked very cautiously.

"Exercise, and a spot of training."

"I fought in the army and I don't need to exercise more."

"Yes, I know, like most Bostonians, you walk everywhere you can, but I'm talking about overall body strength. After a good exercise session, you should feel worn out, but less tense and more...invigorated. We need to see what your weaknesses are and how we can eradicate them. I promise, Jim, they'll be challenging and injury free." Blair's mind was set. Jim would be made to see that he could be of use.

"But physical jerks..." Jim still looked doubtful.

"Stretching, resistance exercises, the sort I did with Roy."

"You trained Roy?"

"Well, it would be more correct to say that I assisted."

"I'm impressed."

Blair cleared his throat. "I got the ideas from one of Burton's books."

To his surprise, Jim laughed. "At last that old windbag's proved useful!"

"If it hadn't been for him, you and I wouldn't have met, Jim," Blair reminded him.

Jim's eyes became more intense. "I guess I do have something else to thank him for."

Blair held his stare.

Simon coughed. "Well, I'd better go. I'll let you know what my orders are, Jim. See you both in the morning. Good night, gentlemen."

Both men replied with a "Goodnight, Simon" as the door shut.

"Blair, about that kiss..." Jim began.

"Later, Jim. Now you have to send Sally's nephew, Alec, with a message to Collins, and then we start work."

Jim shook his head. "No, junior. If we are not to have this conversation, then you need your rest."

Blair was leaning heavily against the chair. He'd refused to sit down, determine to keep going and not give in to the fatigue he felt.

"Look at you, you're partially dead on your feet. I'll send the message, but you turn in." As Blair went to argue, Jim held up a hand. "Let me have this, Blair. You need to get a good night's sleep. We can start in the morning, I promise."

Blair reluctantly nodded. "In the morning, then, Jim."

"Do you want a hand up the stairs?"

Blair shook his head. "Going up is not such a trial as coming down. 'Night, Jim." Tomorrow, he thought, as he made his way up the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister rail all the way, I'll contact cousin Robert and see if he knows just where the fight would be held. If anyone could find the venue, it would be my bookie cousin. Thank God there's at least one more black sheep in my family!

Blair awoke to a darkened room. He felt sore and uncomfortable. For a long time, he just lay in bed, trying very hard to ignore the problem and drift back to sleep, but it was to no avail and finally he gave up. Sitting up slowly, relieved that there was no wave of dizziness, he felt around on the bedside table for the candle and a match. As he struck it, the bright flare made him blink and the smell of sulphur hit the back of his nose. He quickly lit the candle then extinguished the match.

Treading softly, he made his way out of his room, along the corridor, to the bathroom. On the way back, he paused outside Jim's room. He knew he was too awake to go to sleep; however, there was one tried and trusted way of sending him straight off into dreamland.

He hesitated. Jim wants me. God knows, I want him. Why the Hell am I fighting this? We could just test the waters. It wouldn't have to mean anything. Jim is convinced our friendship would survive. He shook his head. Just who are you trying to fool? It would be the biggest mistake, I should...

The door opened and Jim stood there in just his underpants. "Blair? What's wrong?"

And Blair's resolve evaporated away. "Nothing." His voice came out gravelly. "May I come in?"

Jim stood back, a frown still on his face.

"You remember you said I think too much?" Blair put the candle down on the mantelpiece, noticing in a distracted way, how sweaty his palms were. He wiped them on his nightshirt.

"Yes...?"

Blair stepped up close to his friend, slipping a hand around Jim's waist and moving even closer. "I decided not to think anymore." He swiped his tongue over Jim's collarbone and then blew across the wet patch.

Jim shuddered. "Blair, you said... this isn't what you want," he ground out, a bit desperately to Blair's ears.

"Hush, Jim. Just relax." Blair ran his hands over Jim's shoulders and down his arms, bringing them around Blair's waist. "Just feel. Give your senses free reign. You won't fall, because I'll catch you." He bent his head and sucked Jim's right nipple into his mouth then pulled at it gently.

Jim bucked against him. "Christ, Chief. Stop... your bruises... why now?" Despite his words, Jim arched back his head, offering that long column of neck, as Blair's hands traveled down under the waistband of his pants and caressed the crease of his ass.

"Because... life's too short, Neptune is in retrograde, life must be lived as play, pick a reason. Now, shhh, I'm concentrating." His mouth moved over Jim's neck, kissing, sucking, marking his friend. Some how he managed to maneuver them over to Jim's bed, pushing Jim down and landing on top of him, completely ignoring the slight pain from the more tender areas of his body.

Jim's hands gripped Blair's waist and Blair thought he'd won, but then Jim pushed him away. "No."

Blair was breathless. It took him a second to work out what Jim was saying. "No? What do you mean, no? We both want this." He ground his groin into Jim's letting him feel just how much Blair wanted this, causing the taller man to close his eyes and moan.

"Oh, yeah, Jim. Groan for me. Let me hear you make some noise." Blair lowered his head to kiss his friend.

Jim's eyes flew open and his hands moved to Blair's shoulders, his grip becoming painful. "I... said... no." He determinedly held Blair off. "You, more than anyone, could use my senses to seduce me, but you don't want that."

Blair, his eyes never leaving Jim's face, reached down with one hand and rubbed his erection through his nightshirt, causing a wet spot to appear and outline his hardness. "Don't I?"

Jim angrily caught his hand. "Stop that."

Blair broke away. "Hell's teeth, Jim!" he flopped down on Jim's bed. "You think you know me so well? What is this, payback for the other night? Didn't that kiss in the stairwell tell you anything?"

"You think I'm really that shallow? Sally needs to protect you from me?" Jim's voice was devoid of emotion, but all the more powerful for that.

Blair looked at him in confusion. "What? Oh, that. That was just something Simon said."

"Tell me."

Blair threw his head back onto the pillow. "He's worried that I might hurt you." He looked across at Jim. "As if I would." He sat up. "If you're really not going to help me with this little problem -- " he indicated where his nightshirt still tented -- "I shall go and enjoy some self-abuse."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you, you could go blind doing that, Chief?" Jim chuckled softly.

Blair stood, a half smile on his face. "Why do you think I wear glasses, Jim?" He walked across the room to the door.

His hand was on the handle when Jim said, "Blair...."

"Yeah?"

"You won't... You will stay around, won't you? This won't make you cut and run?"

"No, Jim. I won't leave until you throw me out."

"Then you'll be in for a long haul, Chief."

Blair straightened. "Yeah, well, goodnight, Jim."

"Goodnight, Chief.... Blair?"

"What, Jim?"

"Nothing. Just sleep well."

"You too."

As soon as it was light, Blair was up, dressed and out. Robert was hardly ever home, but the best time to try and catch him was first thing in the morning. Blair borrowed one of William Ellison's canes from the stand by the door, partly in case he needed the support, and partly as a weapon in case someone decided he hadn't understood the message from his beating. Fortunately, either the thugs weren't up yet or the man in charge had called them off, maybe to set up another plan, like slaughtering Jim in the boxing ring. Blair's jaw tightened. Over his dead body!

Two hours later, Blair walked back through the door of the Ellison household and, putting back the cane, he noticed Simon's hat hanging up.

"So, you're back." Jim stepped out of a doorway.

Blair frowned. "'Course I am! What, you thought...." He suddenly realized just what Jim had thought; that Blair had walked out. "I told you, I'm not leaving." He jabbed Jim's chest with his finger. "You checked my room didn't you? Find anything missing?" He didn't wait for Jim's answer, just turned and strolled into the morning room with a cheery, "Hello, Simon. I'm glad you're here. I have some information, but first, have you eaten? I'm famished. I wonder if Jim's cook can rustle us up something?"

Ten minutes later, Amy, the downstairs maid, came in with a plate of eggs, a bagel and a cup of coffee.

"A bagel? Thank you so much, Amy. Sure you wouldn't like some, Simon?" He ignored the grim look he was getting from Simon and the silence from Jim.

Amy bobbed in a curtsey. "My pleasure, sir, but it was Miss Sally who sent Alec down to the Jewish bakery for you."

"That is so very kind. There's nothing like a hot bagel in the morning."

After Amy left the room, Blair began his tale. "I have this cousin, who is -- well, shall we say that his activities are not always within the letter of the law -- and he's discovered where..."

"Georges Island?" Simon's grim expression had gone, replaced by one of keen interest and respect.

"Yes," Blair said as he wiped the last bit of egg from his mouth. "During the last century, the rich folk used the Harbor Islands for illicit pleasures such as gambling and boxing matches. It seems Collins has taken advantage of the amenities."

"Hmm. Fort Warren was constructed in '33 as a training ground and prison. Popular lore has it that the island is haunted."

Blair was nodding. "Which makes for a very good story if any fishermen notice strange lights or noises."

Simon turned to Jim. "You sure Collins will take your bait? My people need to catch him in the act to get anything to stick."

"I've sweetened the pot as much as I can, Simon. Collins would just love to show my father up and using his oldest son to do it should be more than he can resist."

"Do they take the boxers out first to the island, Sandburg?"

"Yes, Simon, in a separate boat. Each match is decided by weight and then by drawn lots -- though I suspect that's rigged. Once the punters arrive, the combatants are announced and the bets are placed."

"A neat set-up." Simon whistled in reluctant admiration.

There was silence in the room as each man considered the task ahead. Then Blair rose. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a lady to thank for my breakfast."

He found Sally in the laundry room with Kate, folding sheets. "Sally, I wanted to thank you for my bagel. It was very appreciated."

Sally sent the maid away. "You are most welcome, Mister Blair." She was now giving all her attention to folding the pillowcases.

"Are you going to scold me for going out without telling anyone?"

"That is not my place, Mister Blair.... But Mister James was very concerned for your wellbeing."

"I thought as much." Blair leaned against the tall linen cupboard. "Where I needed to go, Jim would have gotten me more attention than I wanted. And if I'd told him, he would have insisted on coming along. He can be a little... over protective at times."

A smile played around Sally's face. "He cares about you a great deal."

"And I about him," Blair admitted. He straightened up. "Which is why I wanted to ask you for another favor. Is there such a thing as a spare mattress in the house that can be brought in here for Jim to do some exercises on?"

Sally turned to give him all her consideration. "There's the old nursery mattress. It's relatively clean. It would just need a beating to get all the dust from it."

"That sounds ideal. Jim and I could get it downstairs and outside. I'll go and see if he's busy." Blair disappeared up the stairs.

Sally shook her head. Once that young man got an idea in his head, it was doubtful even Mister James could refuse him!

The mattress was duly brought down, beaten outside, and then brought back in. A giggling Kate and Amy were shooed out of the room by Sally as Jim stripped down to his underwear and Blair did the same.

"I'm not going to enjoy this, am I, Sandburg."

They started off with some simple movements, Jim mimicking Blair, though Jim grimaced as Blair winced when his injuries made themselves known. "I thought I was supposed to be aching my way through this, Chief, not you."

"I figured it'd be useful, Jim, for the next time some thug tries one on me."

Jim frowned. "Not funny, Blair."

"No, no, I know. Sorry." Blair was at once contrite. "Let's do some resistance exercises. Get down on the mat."

Jim's eyes widened and he waggled his eyebrows.

Blair laughed, pleased that they still could tease one another. "On your back, Ellison, and save that energy for the exercises!"

For the next few minutes, Blair had Jim lifting heavy bags full of flour, and then pushing against Blair's hands with his feet while Blair pushed back. After around ten minutes of that, Blair stood. "Now, stand up. I want to see what your stance is like."

"I feel stupid," Jim complained as Blair walked around him.

"Until I find someone for you to spar with, you'll just have to put up with feeling stupid, unless you want to spar with me?"

"No," Jim said flatly.

"That's what I thought," Blair felt a mixture of frustration and resignation. "It wouldn't be a proper workout if you decided to pull your punches because you were worried about injuring me! As if I'm some frail little female...."

Jim snorted. "Frail, you are not! Obstinate, stubborn, irritating, contrary...." A smile was slowly appearing on Jim's face as he tried to find the right words.

Blair was grinning in return. "Okay, okay, I get the message!" He laughed out loud. "Now get your hands up, tough guy. Let me see you jab."

They worked through some attacking punches and then some defensive moves as Jim shadowboxed. He was working up a light sweat, his muscles and tendons more defined by the milky light from the laundry window. Blair watched as Jim followed his instructions, and tried to focus on what they were trying to accomplish, instead of the stirring in his groin at the sight of a sweaty, compliant Jim.

"Okay." He cleared his dry throat. "That's enough for this session. Now we cool down with a bit more stretching." He went through some of the exercises they did at the beginning. "Good, that's good. Now, sit down, back straight. Close your eyes." He waited while Jim did as he directed, sitting down beside his friend. "Good. Focus on your breathing... deep breath in... exhale. In... out... in... BOO!"

Jim jumped as Blair burst out laughing. "That's what you get for insulting your friends!"

Jim looked at him with narrow eyes.

Blair tried to rein in his laughter. "Sorry, sorry. I just couldn't resist."

Jim sighed, but a smile was edging around his mouth. "So how many of these workouts do we have to go through?"

Blair composed himself. "As many as we have time for. Once we get said sparring partner, we should be able to work on your skills. You'll have to wear mufflers -- that's the padded gloves, until the match proper. Don't want to damage your hands." Or any other part of you!

Jim wrapped a towel around his shoulders and wiped his face with one end. "So, you're keen on this sport?"

Blair handed him a glass of water. "You kidding? I've read all about the greatest fights; Joe Goss and Paddy Ryan, Sam Langford and Harry Wills, Sullivan and Morrissey.... Gods all -- warriors of the game." His enthusiasm caused him to bounce on his heels and he grinned at Jim... who smiled in return. For a moment, their eyes locked, and then Blair shook himself. "What are we thinking! You'll catch a chill there. Come on," his hand went to Jim's bare shoulder and he squeezed lightly, his hand lingering. "You should wash up and get dressed."

He pushed Jim towards the sink and watched as Jim poured out some water and splashed his face and upper body then dried himself with the towel.

"Robert suggested a club which may have the amenities we need, no questions asked, for the right price. I wonder if there's anyone there who would be a good sparring partner?"

The bait was taken later that day. Jim and Blair were sitting in the study, Blair with a book in his lap, Jim taking apart and cleaning a set of pistols. Blair was surreptitiously watching. Finally his curiosity got the better of him.

"Do those guns need cleaning?"

Jim looked down the barrel of one he'd taken to pieces, checking to see it was clean. "Better to have them clean than to have one backfire or jam on you." He turned towards Blair. "You never know when you might need them."

Someone rang the front doorbell and a moment later Sally entered with a message. Collins had arranged an amateur fight for Jim, a week on Thursday.

Blair groaned. "Just over a week! I'd hoped for a bit longer."

Jim nodded, his hands clasped, elbows on the table, pistols before him. "We'd better check out this club of your cousin's."

The club Robert recommended wasn't quite up to the standards Blair believed Jim would be used to. All the same, it looked welcoming and had a slightly drowsy, down beat elegance about it. Most of the older members, sitting on stools by the bar in the sawdust covered room, had battle scars caused by boxing, broken noses, cauliflower ears; faces bent out of shape. They looked up as Jim and Blair entered and then returned their attention to their drinks or to their cronies beside them. Jim and Blair paid a temporary members fee to a small man sitting at the door with a cashbox, notebook and pen, to gain access to the gymnasium at the back, which was surprisingly well equipped.

It smelt of liniment, leather and sweat. Off to one side, a gray haired old Negro gent, with a cauliflower ear and a shuffling gait, pushed a mop and bucket aimlessly around. He was a reminder of the darker side of the sport that Blair tried not to think too much about. He looked at the man beside him and forced himself to imagine Jim punch drunk and brain damaged, his intellect destroyed, and Blair's blood turned to ice. "I wish I could talk you out of this," he whispered.

Jim also had his eye on the old man. He turned his head towards Blair. "I thought you were with me on this, Chief?"

"I am.... Just, at the risk of repeating myself, I don't want to see you hurt."

"Believe me, I don't want that either, but this will be just a one time thing, and we're here to see if we can prevent most of the damage, right?"

Blair nodded grimly. "Yeah. Guess we should check things out. See if there's anyone available."

They were lucky, not only did they find someone for Jim to box with -- a young up and coming black fighter by the name of George Dixon, but they also found a retired boxer to help Blair train Jim. Joel Taggart was a large black man, at least the same size as Simon Banks, but with more weight behind him.

"Did you know Sweet Roy Williams?" Blair asked.

Joel stopped wrapping Jim's hands in the white bandages they used. "Yeah, I knew him. Good lad. Tragic."

Jim tensed up. "You heard about that? I guess there's a lot of rumors doing the rounds."

Joel returned his concentration to Jim's hands. "You know how it is, people talk, but no one wants anyone to notice what they say."

Blair smiled. "I hear you." His eyes flashed to Jim and back to Joel. "Roy was a friend of mine. I'd sure like to know what happened to him."

"He was murdered. What more is there?" Joel looked up, as if hearing something in Blair's tone of voice. "Now wait a minute. Don't tell me that you two have some cockamamie idea to catch the culprits out?" He shook his head when neither man denied it. "You're both plum crazy!"

Blair silently agreed with him.

"I realize that's the way it might sound, Mister Taggart," Jim said, "but you see, Mister Sandburg and I, we are both outsiders. The only way 'in' we have is through something like this."

"So how long before you plan on fighting?"

"A match has been arranged for a week on Thursday."

Joel looked from one man to the other in disbelief. "You have got to be kidding me!" He sighed, "Crazy white folk always want it yesterday... Okay, this is what we will do...."

By the time they returned to Back Bay, Jim was walking like an old man. Despite his recent injuries, Blair felt positively sprightly beside his friend. "You need a bath and a back rub," he suggested, sympathetically.

"No, I'll be fine, Chief. Just get a good night's rest, that's all I need."

"Will you listen to yourself! What did you tell me about a hot bath loosing my muscles?"

Jim chuckled. "I guess I asked for that. Okay, I'll ask Sally to start the fire under the tank and have the bath. Happy now?"

"Ecstatic! And after, I'll give you a rub down."

"There's no need to go to any trouble."

"Jim... let me help."

Jim nodded, reluctantly.

While his friend was enjoying a good soak, Blair got some mildly fragranced rubbing oil and put it to warm on the mantelpiece over the fire. He pulled the top covers away and put some towels on the bottom sheet of Jim's bed. Once that was done, he stood and warmed his hands in front of the fire. He tried not to think about laying his hands on Jim's smooth skin, just on easing his friend's aching muscles.

Jim came into the room, slightly pink from the hot water and clad in his bathrobe. He hesitated by the door.

Blair cleared his throat. "Come over and lie down on your stomach on the towels, Jim. I'll soon make you feel better." He took the warm oil down and carried it over to the bed.

Jim took off his robe and did as he was instructed. Blair knelt to one side by Jim's waist and laid a towel discreetly over Jim's buttocks. He dribbled some oil into his hands and laid them on Jim's lower back, on either side of his spine, gently but firmly working the oil into his skin. He stroked up towards Jim's shoulders, then across to the top of his arms, keeping the movements rhythmic and firm, before working down again.

Slowly, Jim began to relax, his breathing evened out. He moaned a couple of times as Blair found a tense spot, but for the most part both men stayed quiet.

Blair found himself lost in the pleasure of doing this for his friend, loving the feel of Jim's skin, the flexing and relaxing of the muscles under his hands, the trust this man was giving him. It was personal, calming, and soothing to both of them. A way of connecting that Blair had never thought of before.

After a while, he realized that Jim had fallen into a light doze and Blair moved off the bed, taking the time to pull the covers over the prone man, before wiping his hands and heading toward the door. He heard a sleepy, "Thanks, Blair."

"You're welcome, Jim," he whispered and left the room. He closed the door behind him softly and leaned up against it. Blair, my man, you have it so bad! Jim, there, under your hands, and all you could think of was easing his pain... He shook his head. I never thought I'd be such a lovesick fool! All the same, he was smiling as he made his way across the hall to his own room.

After a surprisingly restful sleep, Blair awoke without the twinges of the day before. He took his towel and clothes, and left his room, stopping to tap gently on Jim's door. Not getting an answer, he continued to the bathroom. Once washed and dressed, he returned to the hallway, again tapping on his host's door and then opening it, just a crack. Jim had obviously risen earlier; the room was empty and the bed made. Blair shrugged and finished dressing in his own room then he went down for breakfast. The table had been laid ready; the sideboard contained the silver dishes with hot food waiting, but still no sign of his friend. Puzzled, more than worried, Blair made his way down the back stairs towards the kitchen, rather than use the bell pull. He heard Jim's voice coming from the laundry room.

"How can I tell him?"

Blair paused on the stairs.

"How can you not, Mister James?" He heard Sally's no nonsense reply. "He deserves to know how you feel."

There was a long pause and Blair strained to hear more.

"He maintains any relationship other than friendship would be too complicated. Yet last night, when he gave me that back rub.... Sally, how can I tell him that I love him, that way, if he won't admit to himself that he feels the same?"

Blair gasped and put his hand up to mask any more sounds.

Sally seemed to be giving the matter some consideration, the pause was so long. "I know the Good Book says that such feelings are wrong, but I've seen how happy he makes you, how devoted he is to you and you to him. How can that be sinful? Tell him, Mister James. He deserves to know. Only then can he decide how he feels about the matter."

"But what if it's a step too far, Sally? What if he's still not ready and I lose him?"

"Mister Blair adores you, Mister James, it's in his eyes. Tell him. Life is too short not to reach out for happiness with both hands."

"I just never seem to find the right moment...."

Blair was holding his breath, his heart pounding. He heard Jim say, very softly, "It's too late. He's here."

Blair let out his breath and walked down the stairs. "Now would be a good moment," he said, smiling.

Sally had been ironing the washing. Jim was standing across the room, his face was controlled and set. Sally picked up the bundle of clothes. "If you gentlemen would excuse me?" As she passed Blair on her way out, she gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Don't let your breakfast things get cold."

Blair thanked her and then turned back to his stony faced friend. "So, Mister James... talk."

"You know, people who listen at keyholes never hear good said about themselves."

"I was on the stairs, not at a keyhole." Blair waited.

"You really are the most obtuse person I know, Sandburg, do you know that?" Jim walked over to the opaque laundry window and stared at it.

Blair decided to give Jim a little more prompting. "I asked you before if you loved me. And you didn't answer. At the time, I thought you didn't and it darn near broke my heart."

Jim turned, still looking unsure. "All right, you want the words. I love you, satisfied?"

Blair's grin grew wider. "I soon will be, I hope." He was bouncing on his heels.

Jim looked nonplussed. "What changed your mind?"

"I guess I realized something very profound. I didn't love Roy." His head down, Blair stepped forward. "Oh, I wanted him, and I enjoyed his friendship, so much more than the desire for his body; when I lost that, I felt grief-stricken. But with you..." He was almost toe-to-toe with Jim now. "With you I realized we are already in a complicated situation. You have enhanced senses, which I am attempting to guide you with. We love each other, that itself could get us committed, we are investigating a murder, so what's one more complication?" He looked into Jim's eyes, his own full of hope and desire. "And maybe I needed to hear the words from you, to be sure I wasn't projecting my own feelings onto you. I'm babbling, Jim. Why haven't you kissed me yet?" He rested his hands lightly on Jim's hips.

Jim chuckled. He stroked his hand over Blair's hair. "Maybe I needed to hear the words too, to be sure you don't want to just scratch an itch."

"Is that what you thought when I came to your room the other night?"

Jim nodded.

Blair's hands moved up to stroke over Jim's chest, vaguely noticing how his nipples pebbled under Blair's touch. "You thought that I would regret it in the morning." He looked up again. "I thought... I don't know what I was thinking that night, but I wasn't using this head!" He blushed. "I'm sorry for trying to force it, Jim. I just want to love you and for you to love me in return."

"That's all I ever wanted." Jim's hands traveled to the back of Blair's neck and around his waist, pulling him closer as Blair's hands wrapped around Jim's body. They lost themselves in the experience of a soul-claiming kiss, ten times more powerful than the kiss at Roy's wake.

Oh yes, Blair thought, this is bells and whistles, Fourth of July and Christmas, fireworks and gold medals. Oh, God, don't ever stop...

It was the sound of Blair's stomach rumbling that caused them to break away. Jim laughed. "I think we should feed that monster before we go any further."

Blair grinned ruefully. "Guess so. And then we need to go for a run, or you can run -- I'll borrow Alec's bicycle -- down to the gymnasium."

Jim pouted. "I thought we could..." He waggled his eyebrows, causing Blair to laugh.

"Later, Mister Ellison, when you need to relax."

"I may be too tired later," Jim whined.

"Then you will have to let me lead. After watching you work out, I shall have a large amount of... energy to work off!"

"Oh, God! What have I let myself in for?"

Blair smirked. He took Jim's hand and pulled. "Sally said we weren't to let our breakfasts get cold. Come on, Jim, sooner we start today, the sooner bed time'll come!"

Sally must have decided they needed some time alone, because she disappeared as soon as they were seated. Blair couldn't help but stare at his friend. His mind was racing.

"You're staring at me. What's wrong? Have I got crumbs on my chin?" Jim rubbed his jaw.

Blair smiled; if there were, he'd be the first to lay a claim to lick them off that handsome jaw, but right now, he had something else on his mind. "Jim, will your father be back in time to hear about the fight?"

"More than likely. I thought about writing a letter, but I'm not sure he'll get it in time, and some things are better said in person."

"He won't approve."

"No. I'm guessing that's why Collins has set it up. He wants to cause maximum humiliation."

"So why in tarnation go through with it?" Blair's voice rose in aggravation. "The man doesn't just want to physically hurt you; he wants to harm your family. You have nothing to prove. There has to be another way to verify Collins' guilt."

"You name one, Chief. That bastard could have had you killed. If I hadn't seen..." Jim stopped abruptly.

"Seen what?" Blair frowned.

"You'll think I'm really crazy." Jim didn't seem to be able to look Blair in the face.

Blair smiled. "No more than I have before, Jim."

"I knew you were hurt when a large wolf appeared in my bedroom." The words came out in little more than a whisper.

Blair's mouth gapped open. "You saw a wolf?"

"Yes." Jim played with the knife on the table, watching his reflection in the silver. "I've seen a black panther before, but this was the first time I'd ever seen a wolf." He looked up at Blair. "I knew it was in pain, and that I had to find you. Don't ask me how, but I had my jacket on and was just about to go looking when your message arrived."

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy," Blair quoted, staring off into the middle distance.

"Hamlet? You're quoting from Shakespeare when I tell you I see animal ghosts?"

"Not ghosts, Jim." Blair was shaking his head. "More like guardian spirits." He looked up. "If you're crazy, then so am I. I've been dreaming of those very animals for over a year now, and I saw a lioness on the stairs at Roy's house."

Jim stared. "Blair, this is... I don't know what it is!"

"Don't worry, Jim, whatever it is, we're in it together, my friend."

Jim shook his head. "Great, we can have adjoining beds at the sanatorium."

"With your family's money, we can have a private room and a double bed!" Blair waggled his eyebrows, suggestively, but instead of laughing, Jim was solemn.

"You meant it then, Chief? You'd stick with me?"

Blair swallowed around the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. "Through thick and thin, sickness and health, Jim," he said, his voice matching the seriousness of his words.

"Richer or poorer? That's quite a vow there, Blair." Jim's voice was low.

"Yes, and I mean every word."

Jim's face lit up with a smile that quite literally shone. "Good," he said and Blair reached across and squeezed his friend's hand on the table. It twisted in his grip and their fingers entwined.

Blair looked down at their clasped hands. "No one's ever made me feel the way you do, Jim." He looked up. "And we haven't even made love yet."

Jim's face softened. "I think we've been loving each other a long time, just not the getting naked with each other part."

"You've already seen me naked, but I'm looking forward to seeing you panting and begging for it." Blair leered at his soon-to-be-lover, slightly embarrassed by the intensity of the moment.

"Oh yeah?" A wicked gleam came into Jim's eyes. "And I fully intend for you to be doing some begging yourself, my little imp!"

"This is something else your father would not approve of." Blair couldn't stop himself from adding a note of caution.

"Which is all the more reason for us to get rooms of our own."

"You know I can pay my way, as long as it's not too up-market. You think we could get Sally to housekeep?"

"No, but maybe she could call in once or twice a week. I have some money from my grandmamma, but I shall have to find work." Jim chuckled. "Maybe I should ask Simon for a job!"

They'd finished breakfast and now stood up from the table. "That's not such a bad idea. Since Allan Pinkerton foiled that first attack on Abe's life, he's gone from fame to fame with his agency. They probably could use you," Blair added, thoughtfully.

"I was joking."

"I know. I wasn't. You should speak to Simon."

Jim started to walk away.

"Jim. Jim, hold up there." Blair raced after him, he wasn't giving up that easily.

They set off for the club, with Jim wearing the latest in physical exercise clothes, cotton pants, stripy cotton shirt, running pumps, and cap, daring, but not daring enough to frighten the ladies. Blair borrowed Alec's bicycle clips, and tied his hair back off his face. They set off after some brief stretching exercises that Jim said were more so Blair could admire his physic than to loosen up his muscles. Blair didn't bother to deny it.

They had just started the work out at the gymnasium when Simon arrived and interrupted, but his words made Blair forget to mention Jim applying for the agency.

"I've been looking all over for you two." He motioned them into the locker room with a nod of his head, and shut the door. "We're going to try frightening Plummer into making a deal. We need his help in getting men onto the island."

Jim shook his head. "No, he won't agree, Simon, you know that. He's too frightened of Collins."

"He will if you and his daughter talk him into it. Look, Jim, Plummer doesn't have the clout that Collins does. Unless he cooperates with us, he'll go down a lot harder. We can cut him a deal, if he agrees to work with us." He paused and turned to Blair. "I've got to be honest with you, kid, my bosses don't like the idea of taking this wealthy white guy down. Unless he confesses, in front of witnesses to both your beating and Roy's murder, we haven't got enough evidence to hand over to the police."

"That stinks, Simon." Blair had a disgusted look on his face.

"I know, but if we can catch him involved in illegal prize fighting, we can get him for that."

"He'll just pay a fine and get away with it."

"We'll make sure the facts come out, Blair, and, at the very least, ruin his reputation." Jim put his hand on Blair's shoulder and squeezed.

"It's not nearly enough, Jim." He looked at his friend's unhappy face. "But it'll do," he conceded.

There was a knock and a handsome clean-cut young man poked his head around the door.

"Simon?"

"Ah, good, come in, Brian. Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet Brian Rafe, one of my colleagues at the agency. He's going to liaise between Plummer and the company." Simon cleared his throat. "It was felt that the gentleman in question would be more... willing to deal with a white face, rather than my black one."

Rafe looked apologetic. "You know that wasn't my call, Simon."

"I know that!" He smacked his colleague lightly on the shoulder. "Brian, these are the friends of mine mentioned in the files. Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg."

There were handshakes all around and then the men got down to talking business, Rafe and Jim agreeing to meet later at the Plummer residence.

Mrs. Plummer and Samantha were out, but Mister Plummer agreed to see them. After some initial reluctance, and after Carolyn came rushing into the room, pleading with him, Plummer agreed to help. He would introduce Brian Rafe to Collins as the son of a friend, with plenty of money to waste on some illicit gaming. Rafe made sure that Mister Plummer realized the seriousness of letting the agency down and promised that someone would be keeping an eye on the house and its inhabitants until the fight was over and Collins in custody, just for the family's protection.

Blair joined Jim later for dinner and the two men compared notes on their day. Jim had been scouting around for a place for them to live, without much success. Neither mentioned their talk that morning, not with Sally hovering by the door in case they needed anything, though she was well aware of the covert looks they were giving each other and the odd touch of fingers. She thought it rather sweet that they should try and spare her sensibilities.

Finally, it was late enough for them to declare they were ready for an early night. They walked up the stairs together, Jim leading. They were trying not to rush, to give the outward appearance of just two tired friends retiring to their separate rooms for the night, but on the landing, they stopped, Jim's hand on the handle to his door. He turned to Blair a question on his handsome face.

"Five minutes, Jim. Give me five minutes to rumple my bed clothes and I'll be across." Blair held himself stiffly straight. He felt as though his whole body was humming, vibrating with excitement and need. If he relaxed, all pretence would be gone and the servants would discover them kissing -- or worse -- on the landing.

Jim nodded. "I'll be waiting," he whispered.

Six minutes later, Blair again stood outside Jim's door, taking a deep breath, before turning the handle.

There was small fire burning happily in the grate. Candles were flickering on polished surfaces. The bedroom looked warm and inviting, but Blair only had eyes for the man standing by the mantelpiece, the candles and firelight casting half his face in warm shadows, but he was watching Blair with heat in his eyes. Blair wondered if Jim could hear his heart pounding and if he was as anxious as Blair was.

"Nervous, Chief?" Jim answered his unspoken question.

Blair nodded. "Stupid, isn't it. I mean, we've both done this before. We're not virgins to this type of coupling." Part of him, the possessive part, wanted Jim to admit to a lack of experience in some areas, that Blair would be his first for some acts; the other part hoped Jim felt more confident than Blair did.

"Not this, Blair. I've had sexual relations with a man, yes, though it's been a while, but not made love to someone special. I think we've both got a case of 'first night nerves'." Jim smiled, the crows feet around his eyes deepening. "How about we relax a little, slow things down." He walked across to the dressing table where two crystal glasses and a decanter of bourbon sat. He poured some into one glass and offered it to his friend.

Blair accepted it. "A little 'Dutch courage' might help at that. But not too much, don't want everything to relax." He smirked and was rewarded by an answering grin from Jim, as he raised his glass in a toast.

"Is 'To us' too sappy?"

"No, Jim." The musical sound of the two glasses clinking together rang out in the stillness of the room. "To our future together." Blair felt the warm burn as the bourbon traveled down his throat and into his chest. Then with measured care, he took Jim's glass and put both glasses down. He turned with the intention of kissing his lover, but Jim was there first, slipping both hands into Blair's hair to cup his head and pulling him close. Blair sighed and went willingly. Jim took advantage of his open mouth, and his tongue became reacquainted with Blair's.

Blair pulled Jim closer still, his hands constantly moving over Jim's back and neck, stroking and clenching at his short hair, his shirt, down to his pant-covered ass, trying to get as close to the man as possible. He ground his groin against Jim's, feeling the answering hardness push back. Jim swallowed his moan, breaking away to rain kisses over Blair's face.

"God, I want you, need you, so very much."

"You have me, Jim, any way you want me."

"Inside me?"

Blair moaned and grabbed his erection hard through the cloth. He buried his face in Jim chest and took a shuddering breath, fighting off his imminent ejaculation.

"I take that to mean you like the idea?" Jim's voice was rough, but it was still too smug for Blair's liking.

He eased his body away. "If you don't want your clothes damaged, Mister James, I would suggest you undress swiftly." He was gratified as Jim swallowed hard himself, and at the speed at which he attacked the buttons on the front of his shirt. Blair watched, enjoying the show, only belatedly remembering to undo his own shirt.

Jim was about to pull out his shirttails, when he stopped and rushed over to the door, turning the key. "Don't want to be disturbed," he explained.

Blair nodded. Despite the fact that Jim trusted his household staff, some things were better kept private.

Jim finished removing his shirt and Blair licked his lips. "You are magnificent, Mister James." He ran his hands over Jim's chest and shoulders. "So smooth and hard.... Do you have any idea of how long I've wanted you?"

Jim shook his head. He was breathing heavily as was Blair.

"Since the first time I saw you outside Burton's villa. At my lodgings that evening, I played with myself, imagining it was you touching me, until I came."

Jim closed his eyes briefly before focusing again on Blair. His eyes were half-lidded and almost black with passion. "Damn, Blair, do you know how that thought excites me?" His hands were skating over Blair's arms and back.

"Oh, I think so." Blair's gaze never left Jim's face, but his hands traveled down and he deftly undid Jim's fly, his hand slipping inside, rubbing with his knuckles over Jim's hard member.

Jim's eyes closed again, his hands clutching Blair's shoulders tightly. "We need to get horizontal now, before I fall down."

Blair kissed his lover sweetly on the lips and then released him. Jim moved across to the bed and sat to remove his shoes and socks. He looked up and his mouth fell open as he beheld Blair, naked and erect in front of the fire. "God, Chief. You look wonderful in the candlelight. But, then, you looked good enough to eat in the bathroom." He cocked his head as if something had just occurred to him. "Whatever happened to that shy individual in there?"

"He discovered that he could be a lover and not lose his friend."

"Really?" There was that sweet look on Jim's face again, as if he couldn't quite believe this was happening.

Blair nodded and moved closer. "Really and truly."

"I'm glad about that." Jim stood to push down his pants, but Blair knelt before him.

"Let me?"

He eased both trousers and underpants down Jim's long legs, exposing his hard leaking cock. Blair leant and kissed the tip, licking at the slit, before sitting back and licking his lips, tasting Jim's pre-come on them.

"Come up here," Jim ordered, in a rough voice. He pulled on Blair's arms and dragged him up. They fell on the bed and Blair's body blanketed Jim's. They kissed, each man fighting for dominance.

"So good...." Jim murmured as he took a much-needed breath, never really breaking contact with Blair.

"Mmmm," Blair agreed against his lover's mouth.

He shifted and felt the glorious friction of his cock grinding against Jim's. The resulting moan drove him to do it again. Jim grabbed hold of his ass and pulled Blair's body hard against his own. They broke away to breathe.

"Fuck me, please, Chief."

"Shhh, Jim." Blair slid slowly down within his lover's embrace. "You don't have to beg."

Jim's hands moved to Blair's hair, carding through it, caressing it.

Blair kissed Jim's neck. "Going to make it so good for you."

Jim sighed.

Blair licked then nipped at Jim's collarbone.

Jim shuddered.

Blair rubbed his nose against the skin near Jim's right arm, getting quite light-headed on the pure Jim scent there. "It'd kill me to hurt you," he whispered.

Jim moaned. "Blairrrr."

Blair sucked at each of Jim's nipples in turn, teasing them with his teeth, wanting to stay there, listen to the soft sounds his lover was making, but his need drove him on. "Have to loosen you up a bit to receive me."

Jim gasped and clenched at the sheet.

Blair ran his hands over Jim's ribs, delighting at being able to touch, at the trembling he caused by that simple act. "Have to relax you, stretch you."

Jim wriggled under him, getting impatient. "God, Chief..."

Blair held Jim's body down and dipped his tongue in and around Jim's navel. "Never want to hurt you."

Jim's hands were again in Blair's hair, gently encouraging him down.

Blair bypassed the upright cock and kissed Jim's inner thighs, his hair brushing over Jim's testicles. "Love you too much."

Jim threw back his head onto the pillow, his eyes tightly closed, his mouth open, beyond speech, only soft cries escaping. His body shuddered as Blair drove his arousal higher and higher.

Panting heavily and with sweat clinging to his body, Blair sat back on his heels. He longed to bury himself within that sweet ass, but was hanging on to his control by his fingertips. "How are your dials, Jim?" he asked, breathlessly.

"Wha...?" Jim opened his eyes but still looked stupefied.

Blair grinned. He'd put that look there. "Your dials, Jim." He ran his fingers over the inside of Jim's left thigh, needing to keep in physical contact with his lover. "Where's the arrow, high or low?"

"Erm, high. I want to feel it all." Jim's voice was rough and broken.

"Turn them down, Jim. If you slip away now, it'll be... 'unpleasant' for both of us."

"Understatement, Blair." Jim paused -- nodded jerkily. "Okay."

"Good." Blair slid his tongue over his lover's cock and welcomed it into his mouth, cupping Jim's balls in his hand and gently rolling them.

That was all it took before Jim's cock swelled in Blair's mouth and he had to hold Jim's hips down or he would have choked, and Jim came with a deep, shuddering breath. Blair swallowed what he could but some semen escaped and he licked his lips trying to find the dribbles, all the while gazing at the sated man smiling sleepily at him from the bed.

"That's it, Jim. You're all nice and relaxed now." His own voice was barely there. He stroked his fingers over Jim's belly, then looked across at the bedside cabinet, and began to panic. "Jim... tell me you have some sort of lubrication somewhere nearby."

Jim chuckled. "Use spit," he suggested, languidly.

"No, I told you, not going to cause you pain." Blair was getting a little frantic now.

"Bedside drawer, Chief." Jim waved a hand in the general direction of the cupboard and Blair pulled the drawer open to discover a jar of hand lotion.

"You... shit, James Ellison!" Blair declared, his nerves getting the better of him. Spit was not really an adequate lubricant for such an intimate act, and after all Blair had said Jim should know better than to suggest it. Blair let out a deep breath, his panic now receding. "Okay. Turn onto your side while I do this." He patted Jim's hip.

Jim shook his head. "Want-a see you." His voice sounded lazy, dreamy.

Blair swallowed. "Okay," he said softly. He kissed Jim, a gentle touch of lips then he pulled back, stroking his hands down Jim's sides and, lifting those long legs up, folding them back against Jim's chest so Blair had access to his ass.

He unscrewed the jar with hands that trembled and dipped his fingers in the lotion, rubbing them together, still slightly stunned at what he was about to do. He gazed at Jim's spasming anus. "Hello, little fellow. Look at you, all winking at me. You really want my thick cock, don't you?" he said, in a moment of nervous silliness. He rubbed his thumb over the small aperture, hearing Jim's breathless laughter.

"Christ, Chief!" Jim held his legs back, opening himself up more.

"What," Blair laughed, "it's good manners to introduce yourself before you enter."

"Well, now that you have..." Jim pushed his ass towards Blair.

"Okay. Okay, I can take a hint."

"Good!"

Jim's head again fell back onto the pillow with a soft thud as Blair bent his head and licked at Jim's anus, making it good and wet. He grunted as Blair moved his head away and pushed one coated finger in to the first knuckle, moving back a little to watch Jim's responses. His lust-darkened eyes were open, watching Blair's face. Jim fidgeted and the finger went deeper. Blair pulled his finger out and began slowly finger fucking his lover, feeling the muscle relax as he did. Blair concentrated on this one act. Nothing else mattered as he spread the lotion in and around, stretching Jim with a second finger, growing more and more aroused himself with each minute, watching Jim being swept along by the pleasure he was experiencing. Once his lover was panting and pushing back, Blair pressed upward and was rewarded by Jim arching off the bed with a gasp, his cock almost full again and heavy.

Blair couldn't wait any longer. He moved Jim's legs up onto his shoulders, coated his own cock and drove in. He was fully sheathed in one sharp thrust. He gasped as the hottest, tightest place he'd ever had the pleasure of entering welcomed him in. "Oh, God, Jim! So tight, so very hot!" he breathed.

Jim shuddered and Blair stilled, despite wanting desperately to thrust. A long moment went by as Blair stroked his lover's thighs. At last Jim's body squeezed around Blair's cock. "Move... Chief, I want you. Fuck me hard, I won't break." His breathing was becoming shallower; his skin flushed a becoming shade of pink, shining with sweat.

Blair bent over and lightly kissed Jim on the lips, as Jim's legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer in. Blair groaned. Then he pulled nearly all the way back out and pushed in again, changing the angle... and Jim practically came off the bed.

Jim's second climax was marginally less impressive than the first, but as his sphincter muscles clamped down, they squeezed Blair's own orgasm out of him. His slow, smooth thrusts faltered. He shuddered. Then he threw back his head, closed his eyes, gritted his teeth... and erupted, filling Jim with his seed, claiming him. Then Blair collapsed on top of his lover.

They held each other as their climaxes faded and their bodies relaxed. Both men sighed as Blair's softened member was pushed out of Jim's body.

Blair awoke when his mattress moved. It was dark in the room and it took him a moment to remember where he was and then a grin plastered itself to his face.

"Sorry, Chief, I didn't mean to wake you, but we seem to be stuck together." Jim's voice sent little shivers of vibration through Blair's skin, distracting him from the actual words.

"What?" He shifted. "Ouch!" They'd fallen asleep with Jim's legs cradling Blair between them and Jim's semen had dried on them both, effectively sticking Blair's more hairy torso to Jim's smooth one. When Blair moved, several hairs had been yanked, painfully, out. "Oh, euww."

"Yeah. If you roll off a bit more, I can reach that glass of water and a towel. I'll wipe us both down and we can go back to sleep."

"You do want me to stay here then, Jim? You know, sleep here as well as..." Blair asked, still unsure.

"Well, yes, of course, genius." Then Jim hesitated himself. "That is, if you still want to. I thought I made my position abundantly clear."

"Yes." Blair was grinning again. He thought he was finally getting to understand 'Jimspeak'. "You did." Even the shock of the tepid water wiped over his warm belly couldn't get rid of that grin now.

"That's okay, then. I'm just sorry we have to keep up a front, but once we have a place of our own, we can dispense with any subterfuge." Jim finished with the towel. "How's that?"

Blair would have agreed to just about anything Jim said right then. He reached up and stroked a finger over the bulk he could just see above him. "It's good. It's all good. Come here, I'm getting cold, need warming up."

"We can't have that." Jim lay back down beside Blair and pulled him close, kissing him, both men too tired to do more than allow the passion to smolder gently before they drifted back off to sleep.

The morning came too quickly and Blair reluctantly climbed out of the warm bed and pulled his shirt over his head.

"Is it time to get up yet?" asked a sleepy voice from the bed.

"Well, if we still want to spare the servants, I'd better creep back to my room before any venture up here with breakfast trays."

"Pity," said Jim, putting one hand behind his head and running the other over his body and down under the sheet. "This bed is so nice and warm...."

Blair groaned as Jim shifted and stretched so that his morning erection was highlighted by the tented sheet and Blair could see Jim's hand moving over it.

"That is cruel and unnecessary," Blair grumbled. "And you look far too smug, Mister James. Tonight we adjourn to my room and the following morning, you can do the creeping about!"

"So, I don't even get a good morning kiss?" There was that pout on Jim's face again.

"Ye, gods, I've created a monster!" But Blair quickly scrambled back onto the bed and kissed his lover for all that he was worth.

Blair pulled slowly away. "It's going to be difficult to keep my hands off you today."

"Same here, Chief." Jim sighed. "I can hear them preparing the breakfast dishes."

It was Blair's turn to sigh. His feet regained the floor. "I'll see you at breakfast, Mister James."

Blair felt ridiculously happy as he sat down to eat. He couldn't look at his lover; if he did, he would just have to grab the man and kiss him, right in front of Sally and on top of the table. Actually the table had possibilities.... He shook his head. Focus, Blair, focus! Jim rustled the newspaper he was reading. Pretending to read, more like! Blair had felt those hot, blue eyes on him every so often. Jim was not paying any more attention to the news than Blair was to the food in front of him, and it was so quiet. Neither man wanted to risk saying something because that would mean seeing the grin on the other's face, which would then lead to touching, and kissing, and on....

"Sally, I'd really love some of your delicious strawberry jam on my toast. Could you possibly fetch me some?"

Blair looked up in surprise and then looked across at Sally as he realized Jim was trying to give them some time alone. "Oh, that's a good idea. May I have some too, please, Sally?"

The housekeeper looked perplexed. She went to the sideboard and picked up the small sliver salver containing the jam, with the spoon, and brought it over to the table, placing it down in front of the two men without a word and then took her place again by the door.

"Damn!" Blair whispered, hiding a grin at being so easily caught out.

"Thank you, Sally." Jim was trying not to laugh. "Guess neither of us is awake yet."

"So, Jim." Blair cleared his throat. "After breakfast, we're heading down to the gymnasium again?" He was trying for normality, but was having problems keeping a straight face himself. He felt so ridiculously happy.

Jim nodded. "I'll get changed and meet you at the back door, Chief." He spread some jam on the last of the toast and stuck it in his mouth as he stood up.

"Mister James! You'll have wind doing that!" Sally scolded and Blair burst out laughing which he quickly turned into a cough.

"Sorry, gone down the wrong hole," he said, reaching for some water.

Jim laid his hand on Blair's back in order to pat it, but the pat turned to a caress and he bent down to whisper in his lover's ear. "You have to be careful of how much you swallow at one time, Blair."

He quickly stood and walked away as Blair began to splutter around the glass of water. "You know, I never realized you had such a malicious streak, James Ellison!" he called out, wiping his mouth. He heard a deep laugh as Jim walked up the stairs and the door closed leaving Blair blushing as Sally carefully mopped up the water he'd spilt.

Blair bent to place the bicycle clips around the bottom of his trousers. He looked up at the unrepentant leer on his lover's face. "Maybe I should get you to ride the bicycle. That'd wipe that grin off."

"Maybe tomorrow, Chief, when you may find sitting down uncomfortable."

"Is that a threat? Because I have to say, it needs some work." Blair stood and began to push the bike out towards the road, Jim walking beside him.

"No, Sandburg. It's a promise."

"Looking forward to it, Ellison." Blair got on the bike and began pedaling. "Come on, race you."

"Hey!" Jim had to run to catch up with his laughing friend.

They found someone waiting for them at the gymnasium.

"Mister Collins."

"Jeffrey, Jimmy, remember?" Collins looked at Jim reproachfully.

"Yes, of course. Jeffrey. I'm surprised to see you here."

"Well, I thought I should see what manner of fighter you are. Ha ha."

Blair ground his teeth. And the day had started so well!

"I didn't realize you had some one to 'spot' you." Collins stared at Blair as if seeing him for the first time.

"Mister Sandburg is assisting with my training." Jim then paused. "If you both will excuse me, I have to get changed." He turned to walk to the locker room and Collins' eyes followed the whole way. He turned to Blair once Jim's ass had left his sight.

"Mister Sandburg, it looks as if you have gotten a little too friendly with someone's fist." He took Blair's chin in his hand before Blair had a chance to pull away, turning it to see the fading bruise.

Blair sharply wrenched his head away, feeling the pull on his neck as he did. "Just a disagreement over a message, Mister Collins." Blair noticed he wasn't invited to call the man 'Jeffrey', but then he thought the name would possibly choke him if he tried to use it.

Jim quickly returned and Joel helped him with the gloves as his sparring partner came out from the locker room. Collins remained silent, watching.

As Jim climbed into the ring, Blair took his place outside the ropes. Collins stepped up behind him, close behind. Blair moved sideways, and Collins followed, again standing behind. He put one hand on the ropes and leaned in. Blair felt Collins' erection push against his ass. He felt sickened. He could move a little forward and away, but there was a good chance that Collins would just follow and grind himself against Blair again.

Jim must have noticed something because he looked towards Blair, and Dixon got in with a strong right cross to the chin that had Jim down on the canvas, stunned.

Joel stepped in and called 'time out'. Jim would, in a fight by the London Prize Ring Rules, now have thirty seconds to 'come to scratch' and face his opponent.

George came over to Jim. "Gee, I'm sorry, Mister Ellison."

"It's all right, George. It's what you're meant to do. I should have had my mind on the game." Blair had stepped through the ropes to where Jim was being helped to his feet. He heard Collins quietly laughing.

"Was he doing what I think he was doing?" Jim asked, as they made their way home.

"If you thought he was rubbing himself off against my ass, then yes."

"The scumbag!"

Blair looked sideways at him. "For someone with better than average vision, you are not that observant!"

Jim glared at him. "Hey!"

"My own sweet Jim," Blair began, with the voice of a teacher to a slow but well-loved student, "it's not me that interests him. Not to put too fine a point on it, it's you the man nearly creams his pants for."

"Oh."

"Oh? Is that all you can say?"

"Well, what else is there to say? That jealous look is becoming on you, but, since you and I met, I've not been interested in anyone else. And, Collins, Chief.... Even if I were promiscuous, Mister 'Call-me-Jeffrey'? Please! Give me credit for having more taste!"

Blair laughed out loud, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. "Well, okay. Just as long as you are clear about that." He looked over at Jim. "And I'm off the market too, just in case there was any doubt."

Jim smiled that smile that made Blair's stomach do odd things. "Okay, then. Join me for a bite for lunch?"

"Oh, I wish I could. No, I have to grab my books and high tail it down to the university. Alan, who's been covering Professor Stoddard's classes for me, has an appointment with his sponsor, and I have to cover for him."

They had reached the front door of the Ellison house and walked in. As the light hit Jim's face, Blair noticed the mark caused by the punch. "You should put something on that," he said, gently rubbing with his thumb. "It's going to be a beauty."

"Hmm, it does feel sore. Maybe you'd better..."

"So it's true then!" Ellison senior stood in the hallway.

"Father!" Jim frowned. "What's true?"

Blair suddenly felt his heart begin to pound.

"The telegram saying that you've decided to shame the family name by taking up boxing."

Blair couldn't help breathing a sigh of something very close to relief. He'd thought Jim's father had found out about the new aspect of their relationship. "Collins," he whispered, just catching Jim's quick nod.

"You don't understand, Father. There's more going on than you think."

"Well, young man, you'd better explain yourself."

"You want me to stay, Jim?" Blair asked, quietly.

His lover turned. "No, Chief," Jim put his hand on his shoulder for a moment and squeezed. "You go. I'll see you later at dinner."

Blair nodded and watched sadly as the son followed the father into the study and closed the door.

Amy met Blair at the back door when he returned with Alec's bike that evening. "Mister Ellison expects you for dinner in an hour, sir. Miss Sally has laid your suit out on the bed."

"Ah. Thank you, Amy." During William Ellison's absence, Jim and Blair had shared a more informal evening meal. Now that the patriarch had returned, it seemed they were expected to 'dress for dinner' again. Back to the collar stud, Blair thought, glumly.

He washed up and then went to his room to change. He hesitated outside his lover's door but then walked on. He had just begun to dress for dinner and had his trouser pants and shirt on when there was a knock on his door. "Come in."

Jim entered, already dressed and looking, to Blair's eye, totally edible. However, the frown on his face spoiled the look. Blair went across and hugged his lover.

Jim sighed, sweetly kissed Blair and held him close. "How did you know I needed that?"

"Easy. I know how to read Jim Ellison." Blair released his lover and pulled him over to the bed. "Besides, I needed it too. So tell me, how did it go?"

Jim sat down and pulled Blair in between his legs, putting the collar stud in for him. "Well, after he'd finished telling me that I wasn't to fight, I was able to explain why I am."

"And did he approve of the plan?"

"It'd be more correct to say that he finally accepted my decision. I think getting one over Collins swung it. However, Father's going back to New York before the fight. He doesn't want to be here, said he couldn't take that humiliation." Jim rested his hands on Blair's hips.

"Oh boy!" Blair exhaled. "I'm sorry, Jim." His hands rubbed lightly over Jim's shoulders.

"For what? I didn't really expect him to be supportive about my plans. I just hoped I'd get a better hearing."

"You wouldn't have gotten involved if I hadn't asked you to."

"No guilt, Chief. No regrets either. You've done all you can to talk me out of this. My choice." He rested his head against Blair's body and sighed. "God, Blair."

Blair kissed his head. He knew how Jim felt. "Me too, Jim." For a moment they stayed like that. It felt good just to hold on to one another. "I guess with your father back there will be no sleeping together?" Blair asked, tentatively.

Jim lifted his head. "You think I'm giving this up?" His voice was incredulous. He took one of Blair's hands and kissed the palm. "I admit, Father is a light sleeper, but his room is on the other side of the house." He frowned. "I'll have to listen out for him in the morning though. I don't like creeping about. You deserve so much better. I'm sorry to put you in this position."

"Hey, you hear me complaining? We have to be circumspect. It's a sad fact that some thing's just aren't possible, Jim, including being able to do this in public." He kissed his lover's lips. "At least in this house no one covers the table legs, as Mrs. Plummer says she does, in case they corrupt her daughters." He grinned. "As nice as this feels, you'd better allow me to finish getting dressed. I'll meet you downstairs, and after dinner, when it's quiet, you can come to my room. This time I won't turn you away." His smile softened as he brushed his thumb over Jim's lips, tracing the shape.

Jim kissed the thumb. "Okay. I shall move, but I'm holding you to that promise." He ran his hand over Blair's ass, making him squirm.

"Away with you, Mister James!" Blair laughed.

Dinner was a somber affair. Once all three men were seated and dinner served, it was eaten in an uneasy silence.

"So, Mister Ellison," Blair began, desperate to break the tension. "I hope your business went well? Did your other son stay behind in New York?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Blair knew he'd probably said the wrong thing. The air got noticeably chillier.

"Stephen lives in New York, Mister Sandburg. He manages the company from there, a role he could use some help with." William looked, pointedly, at Jim, and then turned back to Blair. "I gather you are assisting Jimmy with this foolish enterprise."

"Father..."

"I can't say that Jim and I haven't exchanged words on the subject," Blair said, folding his napkin. "However, if we can prove Mister Collins is responsible for the illegal matches, at least we can take him down."

William scoffed. "You'll have more chance of catching the moon! The man's a wily fox. Even if you do get him arrested, he'll just pay his fine and carry on, but with Jimmy as his target. And will you be around then, Mister Sandburg, when it all blows up in this family's faces?"

"It won't do that, Father." Jim butted in. "Everyone will know what he's been up to. No one will want to deal with him."

"If you believe that, Jimmy, then you're more naive than I thought!"

And the rest of the meal was conducted in a stony silence.

Blair was absentmindedly petting his lover's hair as Jim lay with his head on Blair's chest in Blair's room. Neither man felt ready to fall asleep.

"I can hear your brain turning, Chief."

Blair sighed. "I was just wondering if your father's right. All this could be for nothing."

"I refuse to believe that. I have to believe justice will prevail."

Blair planted a kiss to Jim's head. "That's because as a sentinel you have a prerequisite to believe in justice," he said with conviction. He felt Jim tugging gently at the hairs above his navel. "What are you doing?"

"I don't want to discuss my father so I'm cataloging the differences between the hairs on your stomach, and the ones on your chest."

Blair chuckled. "Okay, I knew your attention was wandering...." Then his curiosity got the better of him. "Can you? I mean, what are the differences? Texture? Color? Can you see color in this poor light?"

Jim groaned and buried his face against Blair's stomach. "I knew I shouldn't have said anything." He shifted and licked his fingers. "The differences are more noticeable between here," he reached and tweaked one of Blair's nipples, causing Blair to bite his lower lip, "and here." Jim's hand stroked over Blair's scrotum giving a gentle squeeze.

Blair groaned. "Have mercy, Jim. I've already come once during the last hour!"

"It seems to me, that after last night, you owe me one more." Jim moved until he was between Blair's legs. "And I intend to collect." He held Blair's eyes as he bent his head to the task of draining every last ounce of brain matter from his lover's body through his cock.

An hour later, Blair moved restlessly in his sleep and began to dream.

A large coal-black dog, with powerful muscles and bloodshot eyes, stood over the panther with one foot on the cat's body. The cat was still alive, but it had been badly mauled, incapacitated, losing its life essence fast, and the dog had ruby red stains on its pearl white teeth. It was snarling, dripping saliva, its gums pulled back to expose more of its fangs. It bent its head, still keeping a watch, and sniffed, then delicately licked the cat's wound. The cat shuddered... cried pitifully.

The wolf was about fifty yards away. Its own teeth were bared, its body tense, ready. Beside it, stood the lioness, snarling, ready to spring. Not yet. Together they edged forward, stalking their prey. One way or another, that dog was going down.

Blair awoke when Jim climbed out of bed. He leaned up on his elbow and sighed at the view Jim was giving him as he bent to pick up his pants.

"You like what you see, Sandburg?"

"Indeed I do, Ellison. But I'm guessing that's all I shall be doing, just enjoying the view, until tonight."

"'Fraid so. I think I can hear my father moving about the house, and if I don't want him to catch me leaving your room looking debauched, I'd better get a move on."

Copying Jim's attitude from the previous morning, Blair put his hands behind his head and stretched out. "Debauched is such a good look for you, especially as I caused it to be there."

Jim's eyes narrowed. "If I had the time..."

"My turn tomorrow, Jim." Blair turned over and pretended to go back to sleep, a smile on his face, as he listened to his lover complaining as he quietly left the room.

Over breakfast, William reminded them of his decision to return to New York after the weekend. But he had some business to discuss with Jimmy first. Blair thought he knew what the topic might be, but as he was obviously not to be included in such a discussion, he didn't say anything. Jim had other intentions.

"If this is about me joining the company, Father, forget it. I have no inclination for the business."

William glanced over at Blair. "Jimmy, we don't discuss our business in front of your guests."

Blair stood. "It's all right, Jim, Mister Ellison, I should get moving and go to the university. Put some work in before the new week starts."

Jim turned in his seat. "Blair..."

His lover squeezed Jim's shoulder. "I'll see you this evening. Don't forget your appointment at the club."

Jim didn't look happy, but he nodded. "I won't keep Joel waiting, I promise, Chief."

It seemed like William had something of the pit-bull about him. That evening he kept trying to bring the conversation around to Jim joining the family business, even trying to get Blair on his side. Blair managed to sidestep each attempt, but by Saturday night he'd had enough. He planned to talk Jim into a few tests in the park the next day, as the gymnasium was closed on a Sunday. Of course it would have to be after the Ellison household had attended church, but the weather seemed to be holding and a nice walk in the park would improve both their spirits. All he needed was to talk his lover into agreeing, and he had no doubt that at this point Jim would agree to just about anything if it meant having time away from his father.

It seemed an age before the house fell completely quiet, but as soon as he felt sure it was safe, Blair stepped out of his door and started across the landing. His hand was on the doorknob to Jim's room just as William came onto the landing.

"Mister Sandburg?"

Damnation! Thinking on his feet, Blair came up with a reason for his being outside Jim's door. "I was just checking to see if Jim had finished with the book he was reading." His excuse sounded lame to his own ears.

"I see. Well, I think as it's late, perhaps I could lend you one tonight? I don't want the whole house disturbed and I notice you young men could talk all night, given half a chance."

"Thank you." Blair replied, meekly following behind William.

Ellison senior found him a dry tome in his room and then followed Blair back along the corridor, waiting by the bathroom as he watched Blair return to his room. Blair paused by his bedroom door and looked back. William was still standing there, watching him. "Goodnight, Mister Ellison," he said, as defeated, he walked into his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Blair threw the book down on his bedside table, and fell on the bed with a groan. "Damn! Damn! Damn!" Then he sighed and wiped his hand over his face. "Sorry, Jim. Looks like I won't be able to join you tonight. God, I had such plans for what I wanted to do with you." He sighed again and then looked down at the bulge in his pants that seemed to have no intention of abating. A wicked idea began to form.

"I have no idea if you can truly hear me, Jim. You may even be asleep, although I hope not; after all we did have a rendezvous planned. I know I won't be able to get to sleep until I feel less... excited. Do you remember when I told you about that night at my lodgings in Muggia?" Blair imagined he could hear Jim groan at the reference, and he smirked, remembering Jim's remarks about the effects of 'self abuse'. "Well, I think I may need stronger glasses after tonight."

He stood up and began to disrobe. "I'm just going to get comfortable, and then turn down the light. I wish I could hear your voice, but I guess I'll just have to hear it in my head. I can see you there, slowly stroking that beautiful cock of yours, it wet and glowing and standing to attention, teasing me. God, it makes me feel so aroused when you do that. Part of me just wants to grab your hand away and take over, the other part just wants to watch."

Blair laid upon the bed, shifting until he felt comfortable, a towel close to hand.

"I guess as it's my fantasy, I could do both, but I'll try and keep it based in reality.

"So... I lift your hand away and lick it clean, sucking your fingers. I love the taste of you, Jim, bitter and sweet all at the same time, and this will sound odd, but it's a pure taste, honest and true, like you are. I never imagined what it would feel like to make love to a sentinel until I saw you that day, or for that matter to have a sentinel make love to me. Now it's all I can think about.

"God, what you do to me...." He paused to take a deep breath.

"Sorry, became too involved there. I'm touching myself while I'm talking to you. I'm stroking down over my neck with my fingers, remembering the way you do it, as if you're mapping me, remembering your mouth there, how you kiss and lick. Now I'm running my hand down the way you go, over my nipples. They're hard and aching. Are yours, Jim? Do they want my hands, my mouth? I love the way you follow my 'treasure trail' of hair, down my sternum to my navel with your hands, your tongue. You're like some enormous cat, not that I'm complaining."

He sucked his fingers in his mouth, then slowly ran them down his body.

"My fingers are there now. I've made them nice and wet, not as good as your tongue there, but.... You know, I think I would like to ride you tonight, as I won't be using Alec's bicycle tomorrow."

Blair shivered as that idea took hold.

"I'd use that hand cream you left here -- I have some on my hands now while I'm stroking my cock, nice and slow -- then I'd coat your fingers so they can open me, stretch me as I do you.

"I'm doing that now, Jim, with my other hand, one finger pushing into my tight... little... hole."

He gasped as his finger entered his anus and the muscles inside squeezed it tight.

"Oh... Jim. Two fingers now...."

He groaned, pushing his head into the pillow, his left hand pulling at his testicles.

"Don't want to come yet." He took a deep breath before he could continue.

"So, I climb on top of your body. God, I love looking at you. You look so good lying on your back watching me. I never knew blue eyes could burn the way yours do. You steady your cock with one hand while the other holds onto my thigh.

"I have my hand back on my own cock now, Jim, working it, rubbing below the head. Can you smell my arousal from over there?"

Blair was lost in the fantasy he was creating. Time had no meaning, no here or now, only the fantasy. He was so aroused by the idea that Jim could be listening to his actions, he had to keep talking, had to keep on with the words even though the image in his head was driving him ever nearer completion. He wrapped the towel quickly around his member, moaning at the rough texture on his sensitive skin.

"I start to lower myself, feeling you penetrate me. I know the strain you feel, holding back, wanting to ram home, I know you don't want to cause me pain, but I need to feel that strength tonight, I need it hard, so I force myself down on you.

"Three fingers inside me now, Jim. No pain. I want to feel as if it's you stretching me with your cock."

His fingers were pushing as far as he could reach, his member swelling in his grip, one more stroke, one more push...

"Want you inside me, all around me. We'll have to try that, me riding you, back to your chest, skin sliding against mine, your cock buried inside me, your hand on my cock, your mouth biting my neck.... Christ! Jim!" he wailed as he came, shooting hard onto the towel.

From across the hall he thought he heard an answering cry.

He smiled, wiped himself down, sleepily, and shifted around so he could sleep. "Wish I could wrap my arms around you now," he whispered. "'Night, my own one."

A knock on the door woke him the next morning. "Bathroom's free, Chief."

"What? Oh, thanks," he mumbled sleepily.

He blearily climbed out of bed and reached for his towel then grimaced as he saw the now stiff mess he'd made. "Have to get another from the linen closet." He pulled his robe and slippers on and stumbled out of the door.

Outside his room, on the narrow hall table, was a neatly folded clean white towel.

Touched by such a sweet gesture, he whispered, "Thanks, Jim."

For the second day, the three men sat down to a quiet breakfast.

Jim was the first to break the silence. "So, Chief, do you have any plans for today?"

Blair loved that smile on Jim's face, even with Ellison senior in the room, it was still as if he was saving that smile just for Blair. "Well, while you're at church, I have some papers to review for the university, but I thought this afternoon I would take a walk in the park, and I wondered if you would like to join me?"

Blair saw Jim's father bristle, out of the corner of his eye.

Jim was just about to speak when his father interjected. "I intended for you and me to visit Plummer this afternoon, Jimmy."

Jim looked appalled. "Father, you can't. It could put the whole operation in jeopardy."

William was at once irate. "You dare to tell me what I can and cannot do? If I want to visit one of my oldest friends..."

"The man is involved in criminal activities. And since when has he been your oldest friend? You and he only got together because he has two daughters and you, two sons!"

"How dare you defy me!" William's voice swelled causing Sally to visibly flinch as she stood in the corner.

"Father, I am a grown man. I choose what I do." Jim sighed. "Plummer's house is being watched. If you go near the place, it could complicate matters."

William stood and threw down his napkin. "We leave for church in ten minutes, if you deem to honor us with your presence." He stormed out of the room.

Jim looked over at Sally. "Go on, Sally, get the staff ready. I'll be along shortly."

Sally nodded, picked up a tray loaded with dishes, gave the two men a sad little smile and left the room.

Jim stood and leaned down to plant a light kiss on Blair's lips. "Thank you for last night," he said, softly. "We will try that position you mentioned some time, I think."

Blair smiled and his face flushed.

Jim straightened, his eyes locked with Blair's. "I missed you though, missed holding you afterwards."

"Me too, Jim, me too."

The sunshine brought people out and the park was busy with folk strolling in their Sunday best. Blair raised his face to the light and glanced across at his companion. After church, Jim had returned looking tired again and complaining of a headache. It had taken some talking for Blair to get him to eat something and then carry on with the plan to go out. He'd obviously made the right decision, Jim looked much better once he relaxed. Blair hated to break that mood, but needs must.

"You know," he began carefully, "it's been a while since we did any sensory tests."

Jim shook his head, good-naturedly. "I should have known there was another reason for this stroll in the park, apart from being out in the sunshine and away from my father." He glanced over at Blair. "Anyway, you tested my hearing last night, or don't you remember?"

"Yeah, I guess I did." Blair lowered his head so that Jim couldn't see the sly grin there. "But I was in no condition to quantify the results."

"Oh, the results were pretty spectacular, believe me!"

"Boasting again, Mister James?" Blair asked, smirking. "I must admit I lost a gallon or so myself."

"A gallon or so? Now who's boasting, Mister Blair?"

Blair grinned and his eyes narrowed. "Don't think I don't know what you are up to, James Ellison, trying to distract me from the subject of tests. We need to check your control here."

"You know," Jim groused, "there is a down side to having an academic as a lover."

It was only a small jibe, but it spoilt Blair's mood and he dropped his head again so that Jim wouldn't notice.

However, the sentinel must have picked up on something. "Of course, that is negated by the upsides," he said.

Blair looked up to see the soft smile that played over Jim's face from his lips to the corner of his eyes.

"Are there a lot of 'up sides'?"

"You fishing for compliments, Chief? Yes, in fact there are so many I lose count."

When Jim looked at him like that, his fear and insecurities just melted away. Blair cleared his throat and placed his hand on Jim's back. "Tests, Jim. We are here to test your senses." But he had a soppy grin on his face.

He settled them both on a bench behind some bushes with their backs to the large paved area surrounding the ornamental fountain. "Right. Without turning around, I want you to see if you can find two ladies sitting behind us, but facing the fountain." Jim automatically went to turn. "Without turning around!" Blair cuffed his friend's shoulder.

"How am I supposed to find them, Sandburg, if I don't see them?"

"Try and hear them, but don't focus on what they're saying, more the tone of their voices."

Jim frowned, but closed his eyes. His frown deepened as he concentrated. Then it cleared a little. "I think I have them."

"Good," Blair smiled. "Good. Now listen to what they are doing. Go beyond the sound of their voices and listen to their movements."

"Their movements?" Jim puffed out his cheeks and then exhaled. "Okay," he said in a dubious tone. "One of them is shifting, moving rhythmically, I can hear her dress creak as she moves."

"You're doing really well, Jim. Now what is she doing that causes her to move in such a way?" Blair had a pair of small opera glasses out and was trying to squint through them as surreptitiously as he could.

Jim's face was confused and Blair placed his hand on his friend's shoulder to help Jim focus. "She's... pushing...something." Jim said, extending his hearing. Then the shadows cleared from his face and he said, triumphantly, "It's a baby's perambulator. She's a nurse or nanny. I can hear the stiffness of the starch in her dress. That's what's making it creak."

Blair hit Jim's shoulder again this time with pride. "You did it, Jim. Well done." The grin was in his voice. "No, don't turn around just yet. Listen to what they're saying. What does the other lady do?"

Jim sighed melodramatically. "She's..." he grinned. "She's either a mother or..." his smile broadened. "Or more likely a nurse. She has three 'dear little urchins' to look after."

Blair smiled too. "So can you find her charges?"

"Yes, they are over by..." Jim flinched and covered his ears as a shrill screech rent the air.

"What the...?" Blair squeezed Jim's arm. "Come on, Jim, just pull it down. Bring that old arrow down."

Jim nodded, but now he was grinning. He turned towards the fountain where a bedraggled and very wet little girl now stood being scolded by her nurse.

"What happened?" Blair asked now that he was sure Jim was okay.

"Her brother pushed her in."

"What? Why? And why is it so funny?"

"I'm afraid she kinda deserved it, Chief. She threw her brother's straw boater into the water because he wouldn't let her play with his hoop."

"Oh. Still, he shouldn't have pushed her in."

"And you never did anything like that when you were a child, Blair?"

"My mother would have had ten fits if I pushed anyone into anything. She's always been very anti violence. Believes anger never solved anything."

"She sounds like a very idealistic woman. Does she support the woman's movement?"

Blair smiled as he remembered some of the things his mother supported over the years. "She supports a great many causes, Jim. Naomi is something of a social butterfly, but with a conscience."

"She wouldn't approve of us," Jim said flatly.

Blair shook his head and then realized Jim would take it the wrong way. "She probably wouldn't care as long as you made me happy and didn't cause me pain. She's pretty radical in that type of thinking." He considered for a moment. "She would probably worry that I was putting myself in a delicate position by having a long term relationship with a man, but apart from that...."

"I'd like to meet her one day."

"Oh, no. I'm not letting you anywhere near Naomi, nor she near you!"

Jim looked surprised. "But you just said..."

"She is a terrible flirt and so, my sweet Jim, are you. I am not having my heart put on the rack."

"Blair, I wouldn't...."

Blair nodded. "I know you wouldn't want to. But you and Naomi... You are the only two people in my life who could hurt me," he admitted. He straightened, a little embarrassed about how much he'd given away. "So no more talk of meeting her. No doubt she'll visit at some stage and then I'll have to put you in some primitive chastity belt, for my own sanity. Right now, I want you to look over to the blocks of houses across there -- " he pointed across the park -- "and see if you can see people inside one of the windows. If you can, see if you can send your hearing along the same route as your eyes take and hear what they are saying."

"You trying to turn me into some sort of perverted voyeur, Sandburg?" Jim looked at him in mock shock.

"Should I remind you that there are some so called perversions you enjoy, Ellison, or would you rather wait until tonight and I can show you?"

Jim's face turned a delicate shade of pink and he struggled to hide the grin by sticking his tongue in the side of his mouth. "I can wait," he said, a moment later.

Satisfied that he'd won this particular battle, Blair relaxed. He loved Naomi, truly he did, but.... She was a free spirit. She had married twice, both to childless older men, neither of them his father, and both left her with sizeable fortunes. She was one of the few women who had traveled in Africa, and India, alone -- well as alone as you could be with an army of porters carrying enough luggage to equip a small town, but she never settled anywhere for long and pitied those who did. She would, in one breath, applaud his choice of a male lover, and then in the next, condemn Jim for tying Blair down. And she would hurt Jim. Mother or no, he wasn't going to allow that.

He turned his attention back to Jim's voice as his friend filled him in with all the scandal and 'goings on' in the houses around the park.

By the time they reached home, the sun was beginning to sink behind the buildings and neither man was looking forward to the evening meal. As it was, William had preempted them. He'd decided to stay over night at his club, which was more convenient for the railway station, and catch the New York bound train the following morning. Blair couldn't help but feel relieved yet saddened on his friend's behalf. Jim, however, seemed more than happy to see his father depart. He started up the stairs to his room. "Just you and me tonight for dinner then, Sandburg. What say we change into something more comfortable than the starched shirts and studs?"

"I'm with you there, Jim. Those things are instruments..."

"Of torture, yes I know." Jim smiled at him. "You've mentioned it once or twice."

Things returned to normal. They set off Monday morning for the gymnasium. Joel met them at the door. "I have a little enterprise planned for this evening that I wondered if you gentlemen might be interested in," he said quietly. "Perhaps you could meet me at the corner of Broad Street and Franklin, say around 8 o' clock? I think you'll find it instructional. Oh, and wear something you don't mind getting grubby."

Just then someone walked in and Joel stopped whispering. "George is a good little fighter. He'll do well. He's fast, strong, but he's not your weight or size and I think you're still nervous about knocking him out. You need someone to keep your attention on the match, someone more your scale. So I've brought in another fighter for you." He turned towards the Negro standing a few feet away, waiting. "Yo! Turner, come over here, would you?

To Blair, the man was big, taller than Jim in fact, and not an ounce of fat on him. With his square jaw and lazy eyes, he was the kind of man Blair would once have hankered after. He was the prefect match for Jim, who was watching Blair with narrowed eyes.

Blair tried his best 'I'm innocent' look and Jim, obviously not taken in, but willing to let it drop, turned to shake hands with his new sparring partner.

On one side of Broad Street sat a row of warehouses, in use pretty much day and night these days. More and more ships were coming and going from Boston harbor from all parts of the world. Trade was booming.

Joel ushered them over to the blocks of warehouses and down a side alley. It was almost pitch black down there and Blair was hanging onto Jim's coat so he didn't trip over. Joel seemed to be feeling his way along.

"Here." He had reached the metal tread of a stairway and he started up, very gingerly, his feet clanging on the metal. "Mind your step."

"Careful, Chief," Jim whispered back in the darkness.

Above them was a faint glow coming from inside the building. It was towards this that Joel headed. Slowly Blair became aware of noises. Shouts, jeers, the sound of a crowd cheering someone on. Joel disappeared through a broken window and Jim followed, Blair bringing up the rear.

Inside was a series of narrow gangways over the large expanse of warehouse and dotted along them, sitting in the dark cavern of the roof space, were men and boys, mainly Negro, most with ripped and worn clothing. They glanced at Jim and Blair and then refocused their attention on below. Blair fought a wave of dizziness as he followed their eyes down.

Far beneath was an island of warm light highlighting a square of floor roped off and surrounded by heckling men. Inside the space were two fighters, beating the shit out of each other. Blair could see spit and blood splattering the area as one landed a heavy punch that had the other man reeling back. Up here, in 'the gods', Blair was almost far enough away that he could watch with some detachment. He could sense the enthusiasm; the blood lust of the crowd as the two heavily built gladiators slugged it out down below. It was intoxicating and exciting, crouched there in the darkness. Blair was drawn to it, yet at the same time repelled by the savagery. He could almost forget how high he was, or the fact that Jim would be in a similar situation in a few days. Almost.

The match lasted an hour and a half. Around thirty times -- Blair lost the exact count -- one or other man was knocked down flat and given half a minute to recover and regain his feet. The fighters were offered jugs of beer to numb the pain and help them continue. Finally one body hit the floor with a loud 'thud' and stayed there. A cheer went up though those watching in the roof didn't even mumble. There was a lot of disgruntled swearing from below and the crowd gradually dispersed after the winners collected their money. Joel led Jim and Blair back the way they'd come, their companions in the dark following behind them. It wasn't until they hit the main street that Blair realized their fellow spectators had all but vanished into side alleys and they were alone.

"I wanted you both to see what you were letting yourselves in for," Joel said before they went their separate ways. "It's unlikely your bout will go on for that long, and that was only a small crowd compared to what you can expect. You need to know this in your mind." He tapped his head with a finger.

"I understand that, Joel." Jim put out his hand and shook his friend's. "Thank you for putting yourself on the line. We'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, and I will be there for you on Thursday. I have a brother with a boat. He's going to take me and a small group of friends across following the steamer."

Blair patted Joel's arm and squeezed it. "Thanks, Joel. We'll be glad of your support."

"It's the waiting that's the killer," Blair said, that night as they lay in each other's arms. "I can train and tone you, but I can't..." his voice trailed off.

"You can't wrap me up in swaddling clothes, Chief, and, as much as I'd like to, I can't do that with you either."

"I know. There's just so much that can go wrong. Collins may not turn up. Someone may warn him beforehand. We may not get enough on him for him to be convicted. It may come down to your word against his. And what happens if the police arrest everyone there? Collins may get lost in the crowd. You could end up going to jail." He could feel the panic start to rise.

Jim sat up in bed and took his hands. "Blair... Chief, look at me. Yes, things could go wrong, we don't know. But we have to try this. We have to do it." He lay back down on the bed and Blair turned on his side to see his lover's face, Jim again taking his hand.

"When we first started this," Jim continued, "I admit I only wanted to get involved for you, because Roy was important to you. But now, I need to try and put Collins away. He's a thug with money. A crook with connections, and he is going down." Jim's face was set and full of shadows in the candlelight. Blair couldn't remember seeing this expression before on his lover's face.

"From your lips to God's ears, Jim," he whispered as he pulled his lover back into his arms. "From your lips to God's ears."

The next morning as the two men left for the gymnasium, Blair's mind was on strategies to stop Jim's senses being overwhelmed by the audience at the match, when he realized Jim was talking as he jogged along beside the bicycle.

"And don't go making 'cow eyes' at my new sparring partner."

"What?" Blair blinked as his mind deciphered his lover's words. "Oh. I may be committed to you, Mister James, but I'm not dead yet," he smirked, teasingly. "The fellow's one mighty fine-looking man."

"I'll remember you said that when Collins makes another play for me." Jim replied dryly, not slowing his pace one bit.

Blair put one foot on the ground to steady the bike and stopped Jim dead in his tracks with a hand on his arm. "You said... you implied that you had better taste than someone like Collins."

Jim just glared as he stood still, panting just a little as his body cooled from the run.

"Okay," Blair sighed dramatically, letting his hand drop. "No cow eyes." He paused. "What about sheep's eyes? They're a delicacy among Arabic nomadic tribes, given only to honored guests."

Jim cuffed him lightly on his head. "I'm beginning to think you just like fighters."

Blair tried to ignore the knife prick of pain at the memory of one particular fighter. He knew Jim meant nothing by his remark. They were both a little on edge. "Purely for shallow reasons, Jim. Half-naked athletes, what's not to like?"

With each passing day, though, the two men were getting fidgety, more restless, their nerves fraying. By the next day, Blair was ready to snap at Jim when he complained about the tests Blair wanted to run.

It was something of a relief when Simon called to give them a bulletin on how the inquiry was progressing. It seemed that Rafe was 'baby sitting' Mister Plummer to the point where he'd moved into the Plummer residence as a guest. Blair privately thought it likely that at least one of the Miss Plummers was probably making Rafe's stay a pleasant duty. Rafe had arranged an out-of-town magistrate to join them at the fight as a witness. The police were to be informed of the prizefights, only after the small pleasure steamers Collins used had left the harbor bound for the island, so there was no way of any crooked cop alerting him. Everything was set and ready; all they had to do was wait for Collins to tell them the time and the travel arrangements for Jim's fight.

The message arrived the next morning. Jim needed to be ready by four that afternoon. No mention was made of Blair.

It was a long day. Blair went into university early and told everyone that he'd had a family emergency that needed his urgent attention. Though irritated by Blair's insistence that he was required elsewhere, the secretary reluctantly agreed.

Jim had been to the gymnasium alerting Joel and sending a message to Simon. Once back at the Ellison house, Blair packed a few items that he felt he might need; bandages, ointments, Jim's pistol, into an old carpet bag and put it in the hall with William's cane. They had a light meal and then sat waiting tensely, as the hands on the clock seemed to crawl across its face.

Just before four, a small carriage arrived and the two men exited the house. The driver stopped Blair from climbing in. "Only Mister Ellison."

Jim took the man's hand away from where it lay on Blair's chest. "He comes with me, or neither of us go. Do you want to tell Mister Collins that Mister Ellison didn't come because of some mix up?"

Blair grinned nastily at the cab driver, pleased at his lover's words. "I'm sure you don't want Mister Collins to be disappointed, do you?"

The driver hesitated and then stepped back, allowing both men into the covered cab before climbing into the driver's seat and setting off. Blair sat forward, his fingers drumming a rhythm on his thigh. Jim caught his hand and held it still, lacing his fingers through Blair's and giving his hand a little squeeze.

They didn't see Collins at the harbor nor on the small steamer. The two men were escorted down inside the cramped cabin where six other men were sitting, including a couple of Negroes who sat furthest away from the door, and the other boxers. Jim looked at Blair in dismay as he recognized one as being his new sparring partner. Turner glanced at them and then turned away with measured disinterest. No one spoke as the boat started up and began to move away from the jetty.

It was about seven miles to Georges Island. The vista from the boat would have been magnificent with views of the coastline and marine life, had the men been able to see them. As it was, they were discouraged from even standing to stretch their legs by the two guards who stood with heavy cudgels in their hands at the door, and talking seemed also to be frowned upon, not that anyone was inclined to talk. No one looked at one another, no friendly smiles, no frowns, everyone studiously looking away from their fellow passengers. Blair sat as close to Jim as possible, their thighs touching, taking comfort from the contact and hopefully giving the same. In many ways it was fascinating sitting there with all these physically powerful men who were winding themselves up for their fight and trying to put the other men off.

The light was just beginning to fade as the boat reached its destination. It bumped hard against a jetty, jostling the occupants. Ropes were tied off, and then the cabin door was swung open and the men allowed on deck. They were shepherded into the dark, daunting bulk that was Fort Warren and led along corridors and passageways that looked unused and gloomy as though only ghosts had walked that way since Confederate prisoners had been held there. Jim sneezed as the dust rose, bringing with it the smell of wet moss.

"Pull it down, Jim." Blair whispered and got a small nod in acknowledgment.

The corridors ended in a door to a small courtyard. Turner pushed by Blair and Blair felt a piece of paper thrust into his hand. He turned towards Jim, using his body to hide the paper. It was a message from Joel. "Collins has brought in a ringer. Be on your guard." Blair read softly.

"Damn!"

"Yeah."

"Gentlemen. Welcome." Collins' voice caused everyone to turn and face a window overlooking the quad. "Some of you I know well, others, I hope to know better. My men will take you to be weighed and then on to a waiting area until your bout. The winners will get a hefty purse; the rest of you will get a free ride to the free clinic."

There was some nervous laugher at his comment.

"I wish you all well." He paused and looked down at Blair. "Oh, Mister Sandburg, perhaps you would care to join me for a pre-fight drink?"

"I'd like to see the boxers weighed first, Mister Collins," Blair shouted up. He didn't feel that refusing was an option; after all they'd come to draw Collins out.

"My dear fellow, you don't think there's any impropriety here, do you? If you can't stay away from Jimmy for a short while...." He left the words hanging.

Blair smiled. "I wouldn't dream of accusing you of any misconduct -- however, as my money is on the line...." He laid a possessive hand on Jim's shoulder.

"Very well. My men will show you to my quarters when you're done." Collins turned away.

The men were told to follow one of the guards. Jim pushed Blair in front of him. "This is not good, Chief," he whispered.

"You're telling me. While I'm with Collins, you listen in, but the guests should be arriving soon and I don't know when they'll put you in. Just be careful, please."

"You too."

The men were told to undress to their under-garments for the weighing. Baskets were provided for their clothes, though Jim, at first, handed his to Blair. Then the door opened and two more men entered. Blair's eyes widened and Jim straightened in response to Blair's sudden tension. He bent to put Jim's clothes in his basket, leaning towards Jim as he did. "Those are two of the guys who beat me."

Jim looked at them and then at Blair. "Jesus, Chief. No wonder you looked the way you did. It's a wonder you survived."

Both men were large and they had the kind of faces only a mother could love. The bald headed one had a number of tattoos up each arm, and he sat on the bench next to Jim, pushing Blair to one side as he did, and grinning nastily to Jim. He was obviously the ringer Joel had warned them about. The other sidled up to Blair. "You've met me and Mister Vinson before; you know what we can do. Mister Collins sends his best and wants to see you, now." He took Blair's arm in a tight grip.

Blair turned to Jim. "I'll go with this fellow now, and drink to your success, Jim. I'd wish you luck, but I know you don't need it." His smile was a little shaky but they needed to keep up the act.

"I'll see you later, Blair, with my winnings. We can go out on the town." Jim carried on the charade.

"I'm with you there, Jim!" Blair called back over his shoulder. As soon as he was out of sight of the door, he shook the man's restraining hand away. "I can walk on my own. It's not as though I have anywhere to run to."

The thug chuckled. "You got that right." He gave Blair a little shove to move him along.

Collins had made himself at home in an office down one hall. He smiled as Blair was pushed in. "Mister Sandburg, welcome." He turned towards a cabinet. "Will you have a shot of whiskey with me? I don't keep more than one bottle here at any time; you never know when our good law enforcement officers might happen along. They do like their whiskey, you know."

"No, thank you." Blair tried to look impassive.

"I shouldn't really have been surprised to find you here with Jimmy, though I did leave explicit instructions that he was to be brought here alone." Collins finished pouring himself a drink. "Ah, well, I can see I shall have to have some sharp words with my man later." He took a sip from his glass his eyes never leaving Blair's face. "If I'd have known you and Jimmy were so... close, I would have used different methods to get you to leave well enough alone. It's a shame that it had to come to this. Jimmy Ellison is a handsome man, so... fit, so muscular. It's a pity neither of you will leave here alive."

God, how much I really hate this man. I don't want to play his games. Blair fought to keep his focus. "Why did you kill Roy Williams?"

Collins put his glass down and leaned against the cabinet. "Roy was a fine-looking young man. Nice defined muscles that shone like ebony when he sweated." Collins was almost drooling at the memory. "I could have taken him far, if he'd let me take him, if you get my meaning. Unfortunately, the dear boy refused to come across. His younger brother, though, seemed much more accommodating. He wanted so badly to do as well as, if not better than, Roy. With a little persuading, perhaps some slight loosening up, he would have let me do what I wanted with his body -- as long as his name was bigger than his brother's."

Blair had to stop himself from wiping that grin from Collins' face. "I know you're wrong about Jamie." His voice was cold steel.

Collins cocked his eyebrow. "Really? Well, we shall see in a few weeks when he's done grieving for his brother. I can always take Jamie for a little solace down to one of my opium dens." He laughed. "I forgot, you won't be here to see it."

Blair's hands clenched into fists. He forgot about the 'muscle' behind him. "What happened to Roy?" he pressed.

Collins sighed. "I'd arranged to have Jamie come to me, only Roy found out and came in his stead. I thought that Roy had decided to submit in some outdated idea of chivalry. He attacked me. I defended myself with the only thing that I had to hand. It was pure luck that that fool Atlas had called on me earlier and left behind his cane." He pulled out his pocket watch. "Time and tide, Mister Sandburg. It is a great shame about Jimmy. He really should be naked in the fashion of the Greeks, don't you think? All that masculinity in the raw, on display for their sponsors...." He sighed. "I would so have enjoyed seeing Jimmy on his knees servicing me." His thumb was rubbing hard on his watch as he spoke.

Blair's blood was boiling. He'd had enough of this... animal. He lunged at Collins, only to be grabbed and have his arms pinned behind him as he struggled, trying to stamp down on his captor's foot, to head butt the skull behind him, but the guy moved back, still holding Blair's arms tightly.

"Come now." Collins hadn't finished tormenting him. "We have so much in common. Don't tell me you haven't had the pleasure of 'knowing' Bill's eldest son?" He sighed, theatrically. "Sad, then, that you will never now have that experience and this island will hide two more bodies."

Blair struggled even more, frightened more for Jim than for himself.

"I do enjoy a good fight, gets the juices flowing, don't you know." Collins ran his hand over Blair's crotch and squeezed tight as Blair strained against his captor, his eyes closing in pain. "I think I will need some relief afterward and you will have to do. I dare say you can be entertaining." Collins withdrew his hand, wiping the sweat from it on his handkerchief, and then looked over Blair's shoulder to his henchman. "Keep him safe by the ropes. I want Ellison to know he's there, but don't let him inside the ring. And don't let him get away from you. Bring him here afterward. I'll deal with him once my guests have been relieved of their money."

Blair was propelled along the corridor and up some stairs into a large hall where a fight was already being staged upon a raised platform. The audience was yelling and jeering as an amateur fighter was being laid out by Collins' ringer. The poor man stumbled to his feet, his eye badly cut and bleeding, only for Vinson to knock him back down with a vicious punch to the kidneys. The crowd cheered louder than ever, some waving their hats in the air.

Blair felt sick as the now unconscious man was dragged away and Jim brought out. He was wearing a pair of neat black leggings, and around his waist he wore Blair's old blue and green silk scarf, tied in a knot. His eyes sought his lover out and Blair went to wave, but the two thugs flanking him permitted little movement. From across the ring, Blair spied Rafe sitting with Plummer in front of the stage with some other well-dressed men. They were obviously the elite rich gamblers. Plummer, Blair noticed, was sweating. He hoped Collins would think it was the excitement. Rafe leaned over to whisper something and the man nodded, wiping his brow with a handkerchief.

"Gentlemen. I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you before." A path was cleared through the gamblers as Collins came with more of his men beside him. "I had some business to attend to." He rubbed his hands together. "But I see in my absence Mister Vinson has been warming you up." A ripple of raucous laughter went around the hall. Collins walked up to Jim and put his hand on Jim's shoulder. "Here we have a gentleman who thinks he can take Mister Vinson. I give you Mister Jimmy, our own Gentleman Jim!" There was some subdued cheering from the crowd. "You have one minute, gentlemen, to place your wagers."

Suddenly the excited crowd surged towards the runners who eagerly parted them from their money.

Collins held the ropes for Jim to climb through and Jim and Vinson began to scope each other out, keeping the length of the ring between them. Jim edged over to where Blair stood.

"You all right, Chief?" Jim didn't so much as glance at Blair. He kept his eyes firmly on Vinson.

"Fine and dandy, Jim. You?"

"Been better. I heard all that between you and Collins."

Blair looked at his bodyguards. They seemed unsure about their orders, but hadn't shut him up yet. "I hoped so." Jim was still moving, keeping his distance from Vinson. "He favors his left, Jim," Blair remembered from his beating.

"Got it."

"Betting closed." Collins' voice rang out and Vinson was on Jim straight away, crushing him with a bear hug. Jim struggled and managed to land a two handed punch on the back of Vinson's neck that enabled him to break free. But it only stopped Vinson for a moment and as Jim went to attack, he was ready with a twisted punch to the jaw that cut his opponent's lip open.

The noise of the crowd reverberated in the hall.

Jim ran his thumb over the cut and then landed a left jab, followed by a right cross that had Vinson staggering.

He quickly recovered and kidney punched Jim, then shoved him hard with his elbow, leaving him winded. The crowd roared as Jim staggered and almost fell.

For every punch landed, Blair flinched. He was the one who confessed to loving this sport, now he hated it with a vengeance. He wanted desperately to leap into the ring and stand over his lover, taking Vinson on himself. For someone who declared himself a peace-loving individual, he really wanted to punch both Vinson's and Collins' lights out. He wished he could get his hands on his bag and Jim's gun, but he'd had to leave that behind when his 'bodyguard' dragged him to see Collins.

"Come on, Jim, concentrate. The guy's using dirty methods, you have to do the same. Let the panther out to play." Simon, I hope you and Rafe are ready...

Jim nailed Vinson with a couple of quick punches, but then he seemed to lose his focus and he let his guard down. Vinson punched him across the head, just above the right eye.

Blair gasped as blood began to flow. Jim appeared to be struggling, blinking, wiping his eye with his hand.

Jim hesitated as if he was listening to something, then he leapt up, but Vinson was ready. As Jim aimed a punch at him, Vinson dodged and Jim missed. Vinson then caught Jim with both hands, spinning him into the ropes and then pulling him back to lift him above Vinson's head, his muscles straining with the effort, spinning Jim around to the roar of the crowd, then slamming him hard on the canvas.

Blair clenched his teeth. This was like no prizefight he'd been to before. Though under the rules wrestling holds were allowed, this was nothing more than sadistic brutality. This oaf could break Jim's spine and no one would lift a finger. Not the referee whom he recognized as Roy's old trainer, nor the crowd, and certainly not Collins, who stood watching with a smug grin on his face as he played with his watch.

As Jim fell to the canvas, a bell rang out and Vinson took a breather. It was the only compliance with any rules that Blair had seen and it seemed to be for Vinson's benefit.

He put his hand on the ropes so he could go to Jim as his second, but two large hands clamped down on his shoulders, forcing him to stay put. He squirmed, trying unsuccessfully to get around his minders to where Jim lay, panting heavily. As Blair watched, biting his lip, Jim shook his head to clear it and slowly climbed to his feet.

From across the ring, Vinson was taunting him. "Come on, baby. Yeah, Jimmy, that's it. Up you get. You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you. Now you're going to get yours. I've finished playing. Come on, let's do it."

The taunting seemed to work and Jim charged again, head butting Vinson in the stomach. This time it was Vinson who doubled over with a loud "oof!" but Jim wasn't finished. With a burst of speed and energy, he began to work efficiently though his opponent's defenses, jabbing, punching; blocking nearly all of Vinson's attacks. With one final hook, Jim knocked Vinson to the canvas and he stayed there to loud booing and yelling.

Jim half bent over, his hands on his thighs as he breathed heavily. Vinson was dragged away, feet first. Collins was hastily whispering something to his men, who then quickly left the room.

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen, it seems our 'Gentleman Jim' is a better fighter than we were led to believe. However, just in case it was pure beginner's luck, how about we test him with a fresh man?"

Blair groaned in the back of his throat. Jim looked done-in. There was no way he could take someone else on.

The crowd were cheering again as another man was pushed into the ring. It was Turner. Jim shook his head as Collins yelled out, "Place your wagers."

People moved and pushed against Blair from both sides, causing him to lose his balance and he grabbed the ropes. He looked up as someone steadied him, and blinked into Joel's smiling face.

"Your friend Simon's taking care of your minders," he said with a wink.

Blair looked to his left and a new face grinned at him.

"That's my cousin Henry. He's the one with the boat."

Blair couldn't help but grin back. All right! Now maybe they had a chance. But in the ring, it looked like Turner had decided to fight. He was walking around the arena, keeping Jim in his sights as his opponent kept his distance.

Jim was still shaking his head. "No, I won't fight you." They were near enough now for Blair to hear every word.

"What's the fool doing?" murmured Joel. "I told him to lie low, and not get involved."

"If you don't, Ellison, they will kill me. You've lost them money and they say they'll take it out of my hide. I'm no hero."

"No, I won't do it. It's over."

"Betting closed." Collins' voice rang out.

Turner growled, charged and grabbed Jim around the throat in an arm hold. Jim went limp. Blair was holding his breath; his heart seemed to have stopped beating. The hall had gone quiet.

Then Turner slowly released Jim, who stood carefully. The crowd started to yell as police appeared through the doors. Collins and his men were surrounded. For a moment, Blair felt bewildered; all he was aware of was ordered chaos. Then he saw Simon in the ring with Jim as Turner was led away and Blair climbed through the ropes, anxious to be with his lover.

"I was losing control, Simon. All the hatred...it was just eating away at me."

Simon nodded. He put his hand on Jim's shoulder. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

Jim shook his head. "I think I'm going to take a little walk. Sit out in the open somewhere." He started to walk away.

Blair walked up tentatively. "Jim?" But his lover didn't seem to hear him, he just kept walking. Blair bit his lip as he watched and then he turned to Simon. "Send the boat back for us, would you, Simon?"

"You going after him?"

Blair nodded, his eyes still on the doorway.

"It'll be a couple of hours. You'll be stuck here for the rest of the night," Simon warned.

"Yeah."

Simon nodded. "Go to him then, he needs you."

Blair practically ran out of the hall, slowing down to see if anyone had seen which way Jim had gone, then down the stairs, looking in different rooms, along the corridors and out of the fort. At last Blair could see Jim in the moonlight. He'd wandered away from the lights and noise and down towards the shore. Blair began to search for dry wood to build a small fire, still keeping a watchful eye on the slumped figure staring out over the water. He started as Jim's voice floated over to him.

"You should have gone back with them. I'll be fine here on my own 'til the boat returns."

"What? And have Sally flay me alive for going home without you? That'd be more than my life's worth!" Blair managed to make his tone light, though deep down he was shaking, scared he couldn't be enough of a help to Jim.

Jim chuckled and Blair heard a 'plop' as Jim threw a stone or something into the water. He finally turned and came into Blair's circle of firelight. Blair winced as he saw more clearly the cuts and swellings on his lover's face, hands and body. He reached for the blanket he'd snagged from one of the rooms. "Here. You must be feeling the cold now that the rush and excitement is over."

Jim took it from him and wrapped it around his shoulders. "God," he said, wiping his eyes, "I'm tired."

"Come here," Blair said, wiggling his fingers as he made himself more comfortable against a large rock and stretched out his legs.

For a moment, Jim just looked at him, his eyes blinking in the firelight, then he stumbled across and almost fell down against Blair, his head over Blair's heart.

"That's it, Jim. We'll pull the blanket over us. I'll keep you safe until the boat comes. You can rest." He held Jim, stroking his hair. Somehow the space he'd created with the firelight felt sacred, hallowed.

"It was the noise, the calling for blood. I couldn't get a handle on my hearing." Jim's voice was hushed as if he felt it wrong to speak too loud here. "Then I lost you. I knew you were still there, but I couldn't hear you over the crowd. Everything just narrowed down to that space inside the ropes and the man opposite."

Blair continued his stroking. "But you did. I saw you pull it together."

"Yes, eventually, but it was touch and go there for a while." Jim's voice trailed away and his breathing slowly evened out as he slipped into a restful sleep.

Blair held him, watching the fire until, just before dawn, he heard the soft chuffing noise of the boat returning. He gently shook Jim awake. "Come on, Jim. Time to go home."

Simon had sent a message to Back Bay, and by the time they arrived at the harbor, Ben was waiting with the carriage. He was standing in the cold morning wind, blowing on his hands to warm them. He helped the two weary men inside the carriage and they set off home.

Sally had lit a fire in each of their bedrooms and provided a bowl of warm water with a towel. She didn't even blink as Jim and Blair, after thanking her for her consideration, slowly walked up the stairs and into Jim's room, closing the door softly after them.

Jim sat on the bed patiently, while Blair cleaned up his cuts and dressed his wounds.

"You should get checked out at the clinic."

Jim was shaking his head before Blair had finished his sentence. "No doctors."

Blair carried on with his tending. It was another ritual, a cleansing reaffirmation of who they were, after all they'd been through. Finally Blair put the bowl down, undressed and they slipped into bed together and were asleep within minutes, spooned up against one another.

They slept most of that day, only waking when their bladders disturbed their rest. Blair insisted Jim take a hot bath while he had a strip-wash and shaved his face at the sink. He could feel Jim's eyes on him and gave his behind a little wiggle.

Jim laughed. "You know," he said, lazily, "during the summer we should take a ride out, find some nice isolated lake, and go skinny-dipping."

"It'd have to be 'high summer' then." Blair stopped shaving long enough to reply. "Otherwise, everything shrinks in cold water, including," he turned to face Jim, "my ardor." He shook his cutthroat razor at his lover, soap studs flying from it.

"I feel offended, professor. You don't think I could excite your ardor, even in the coldest water?"

Blair turned back to the mirror, putting the blade down and wiping the last of the soap from his face. "When I say everything, Jim, I mean everything!"

"Ahh," Jim sank further down in the water. "The bloom has faded from our romance already."

Blair came and sat by the bath. "Never going to happen, Jim. We'll still have our 'bloom' when we're old and gray. Well, I'll be gray, you'll be..."

"Don't say it, if you value where you sleep tonight."

"You'll be distinguished," Blair finished and leaned over to kiss Jim, balancing with his hands on the edges of the bath, taking care to avoid his lover's cut lip. Jim responded and for a moment they gave themselves over to the sheer pleasure of enjoying each other's responses. Then Jim put his hands on Blair's shoulders and pulled. Blair lost his balance and fell on top of his lover with a yell and a splash, echoed a moment later by Jim as Blair's elbow somehow ended up in a very sensitive spot.

Blair lifted off Jim's body and tried not to laugh. "If you intend to try that again, you should consider a bigger bath." He struggled out of the water. "And while you're at it, a larger boiler. That one goes cold too quick." He gazed down at his lover's body, for a moment just seeing the sores and bruises. "When he was trying to beat the shit out of you, I just wanted to..." He couldn't finish.

"I felt the same when I found you at the clinic. That was one reason I was so willing to take Vinson on, to retaliate for the beating he gave you."

There was a knock on the door. "Mister James? Are you all right in there?" Sally's voice was concerned.

"Yes, Sally." Jim glared at Blair who wasn't in the least bit taken in by his expression. Sally'd probably heard their yelps. "We're both fine."

"That's good, then. I've had cook prepare a hot meal for you and Mister Blair. It's all ready for you downstairs. Please, try not to let it get cold."

"Thank you, Sally," Blair called out, then he turned to his lover. "Time you were out of that bath, Mister James, and into some clothes."

"The same goes for you, Mister Blair, or I shall have to ravish you and the food would get cold."

"Being ravished, or eating cold food.... Tough choice." Blair reached up to get his robe from the door hook.

"Imp!" Jim hit Blair's ass with the corner of his wet towel.

"Brute!" Blair cried out in a falsetto voice. Still clowning around, the two men put their robes on and, laughing, walked back to their rooms, only sobering up as they parted to get dressed.

It was dark outside as they finished their meal and went to sit in the drawing room, tired, but happy. They made themselves comfortable, Jim stretched out upon the chaise longue, Blair sitting on a cushion on the floor, his back against the couch, close enough for Jim to touch his head. He'd picked out a book to read and Jim was listening to him read passages out loud, all the while playing with his lover's hair.

The doorbell rang and Simon was admitted into the room. Blair sat up and put down his book.

"You two look well, considering."

Blair frowned at the irritation and tiredness in their friend's voice. "Just recovering, Simon."

"You look like you could do with a drink." Jim got up and poured Simon a glass of bourbon. Blair took off his spectacles and sat down on the couch as Simon took a chair.

"Thanks." Simon took a slip and sat nursing the glass. "Collins got bailed this morning."

"What!" Blair leapt to his feet.

Simon nodded. "He put all the blame on Rock, Roy's trainer. Said he was just the front man, that Rock organized it all."

Blair scoffed. "Like anyone would believe that."

"Enough did, Sandburg." Simon stared into his glass. "We don't know for certain if he was going to make a run for it; what we do know is that he took a carriage out to a livery stable on the edge of town after leaving his house. He had two heavy saddlebags with him containing money and papers. His man went with him. He hired two horses and the pair of them rode out."

He took a swig of the whiskey as the two men waited impatiently for him to continue.

"They had to slow down as they passed under some trees outside town. The manservant said he saw this flash of tan fur from the trees as this puma or mountain lion knocked Collins flying from his horse, which naturally bolted. Collins was screaming as the servant sat transfixed and scared. Then the screaming stopped as the animal ripped out Collins' throat."

He drained the last of the glass. "Apparently, the animal looked up at the servant as if to make sure he didn't move, and then took off into the trees." Simon finally looked up at the two horrified men. "Sounds unbelievable, doesn't it. The servant tracked down the horse and brought his master's body back. We found the money when we searched Collins' man. Said he felt he deserved the money for watching that." He took a breath. "We've organized a search party to hunt down the cat. Don't want a man-killer that close to town, but they had to turn back when it got too dark."

"They won't find it," Jim mumbled.

Simon's head shot up. "Why not? What do you know?"

Blair was shaking his head and Simon groaned. "Tell me it's not some weird Sentinel stuff."

"Okay, it's not some weird Sentinel stuff," Blair obliged.

Simon moaned. "Why did I ever hook up with you two? You know, my boss seems to think you did a good job. In fact he wanted me to approach you about joining the agency." He looked up again at his two friends.

Blair looked at Jim, then back to Simon. This was just too good to be true. "What about my post at the university?"

"Oh, this'd only be a part time role at first, to see how you do." Simon got to his feet. "But you'd get a retainer. I think you both are pains in the butt, but you could be useful." His smile belied his words. "You don't have to decide now, just let me know."

"What happened about the other fighters and Plummer, Simon?" Jim asked.

"Well, Vinson is in a prison hospital. He'll recover and will stand trail for assault, along with Rock and the rest of Collins' men. Vinson didn't just assault you, Blair; the man has a record of violent incidents. Turner and the others will disappear and no doubt turn up in another state fighting under different names. It's how they earn their living. Plummer, after he's given a sworn affidavit, will return to his normal life, albeit quieter and, hopefully, he's learnt his lesson. The fort is now off limits to all but a chosen few, for the time being at least."

"So the only ones who will face justice are Vinson and Rock, and the hired thugs. Though I guess Collins faced his own form of cosmic justice," Blair remarked.

Simon put down his glass. "I know which one I'd choose. Thanks for the drink, Jim. I'll bid you both a good night, and well done."

"Thanks, Simon. Good night."

"You're very quiet, Chief." Jim's face was full of concern as he unbuttoned his shirt.

The two men had retired to Jim's room, though after sleeping most of the day, they weren't that fatigued.

Blair pulled out his shirttails from his pants. "I was thinking about Collins... that we had a lot in common."

"You had nothing in common with him!" Jim snapped.

"He wanted Roy... in that way. I had him. He wanted you..." Blair's voice trailed away. He concentrated on undoing his cuffs.

"Now you hold it right there. One drunken night's fuck is hardly what Collins had in mind for Roy, or for me." Jim took Blair by the shoulders. "And as for us.... Tell me something, do you get excited by me being battered and blooded?"

"No!" Blair was horrified by the idea.

"Collins did. I could smell his arousal. You could never be like him, do you hear me? You just don't have it in you."

Blair smiled a little crookedly, not so certain but willing to be convinced. "If someone hurt you like that again, they'd have to hold me down to stop me killing them."

Jim smiled. "Me too, Blair, me too." He caressed Blair's chin and jaw.

Blair took Jim's hand to his mouth and kissed the palm. "You know, I'm going to miss this when your father returns."

"Ah, I have something to tell you about that. We may not be here for much longer. I wanted to wait until after the fight." Jim moved away, removing his shirt and slipping it over a chair. "On Wednesday, I went to see that editor about the story I submitted to his paper."

"And?"

"He accepted it and wants more. Paid me too."

"That's wonderful, Jim!"

"There's more." Jim was grinning. "He has an aunt who owns a bakery, 'Collette's' on the Flat Side of Beacon Hill, over on Charles Street. Since her husband passed away, she and her daughter have been living on the ground floor behind the shop. The rest of the house is furnished but unoccupied. She's looking for some respectable lodgers. The other two floors have their own kitchen and bathroom, and two reception rooms. Upstairs from that are two good-sized bedrooms, one that could be turned into a study. The editor, George Mitchell, took me over and introduced me to his aunt. She's agreed to take up our references."

"And you waited to tell me this?" Blair couldn't believe Jim kept this a secret. He was ready to grab his lover and kiss him for sheer joy.

Jim shrugged. "I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought we could go around tomorrow and..."

Blair was shaking his head. "No."

"No?"

"My own sweet Jim, have you forgotten that you've just been beaten within an inch of your life? Now, my bruises are fading, but yours... the poor woman will be horrified! She'll come to the conclusion that you are some kind of common prizefighter and will slam the door on us!"

Jim laughed. "Okay, we wait until they're not so vivid and then you can explain that these are badges of honor won taking down a gang of ruffians and villains."

"Badges of honor..." Blair tried out the words. "Nice, I like that." He grinned. "So will we employ a housekeeper, or do you have some hidden talents that you haven't told me about and can cook, clean and mend?"

"I did while on survey work... but perhaps we can find someone to do a spot of cooking and cleaning for a couple of hours a day, for two respectable bachelors," Jim relented.

"That'd work." Blair wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and pulled him closer.

"Ouch!" Jim winced in pain.

"Oh, sorry." Blair was contrite. He quickly released his lover. "You know, they do say that pleasure and passion can block out pain." He gently ran the tip of a finger over one of Jim's bruises.

Jim carefully pulled Blair back into his embrace. "Oh, do they? Well, I'm all for testing out that theory. How about we try that position you suggested the other night?"

"Sounds good. Anything for science." Blair felt the heat rise in his skin.

"As long as I'm the only one you experiment with, Chief."

"Oh, yeah. You are stuck with me now, James Ellison. I'm never going to let you go." He grabbed two hands full of Jim's ass.

Jim grinned. "Yeah, and talking about never letting go..." His hands slipped inside Blair's pants and he grabbed his own handfuls.

The sound of laughter was soon replaced by groans of passion, gasps of pleasure and finally, cries of completion.

The panther and wolf stood on the steps of a stone temple, facing the lioness. She rose to stand on her hind legs and gradually changed her form into that of an African Amazon, her skin glistening in the sun, her hair stained with red ochre. A tan colored pelt was wrapped around her slim body. A dagger sat at her belt and a spear was in her hand. The panther and wolf followed suit, the panther changing into a warrior with the likeness of Jim Ellison, naked and proud, complete with a quiver of arrows and a bow over his shoulder, a spear in his hand, and half his skin painted mottled black to resemble the panther. The wolf became a medicine man, slightly shorter than his companion, looking just like Blair Sandburg, but tattooed and painted with symbols and paw prints, carrying a knife and a pouch at his belt, and like the panther, a bow and arrow over his shoulder.

The woman smiled warmly. "Thank you, Sentinel, Guide. My warrior will be able to rest now."

"What will become of you?" asked 'Blair'.

"I will rest also, until he is reborn. Perhaps we will meet again in some future lives." She bowed her head in respect, and then started down the steps.

The two men watched for a while as she slowly disappeared from sight. Then they turned and again took on their animal forms, leaving the temple and loping away through their jungle territory, always watchful, always guarding.

The train rumbled along the tracks, ever further west, through changing countryside and mountains. In a private compartment, paid for by the Pinkerton Agency, sat Jim and Blair, the newest detectives of the agency. A gang of outlaws had robbed one too many banks and, in the recent robbery, had murdered a lawman. It was an assignment that their superiors decided would suit the up and coming team of Ellison and Sandburg. Blair had hoped they would warrant a private carriage, rather than just a compartment, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He'd picked up his mail just before they'd left Boston, but this was the first chance he'd had to sit and read it. He was so deeply engrossed in one item that he jumped when Jim spoke and had to ask Jim to repeat what he'd said.

Jim shook his head but was smiling. "I asked what had you so engaged, Sandburg."

"Right, sorry." Blair took off his spectacles and smiled apologetically. "It's this letter from Captain Burton."

"I didn't know he had your address." Jim frowned.

"He didn't. This was forwarded from my last employer in London, England."

"So? What does he say?"

"Apparently he's been very ill with a fever, during which he had a lurid dream -- " Blair looked up to Jim's face -- "of a panther and a wolf that changed into figures that resembled you and me. They admonished him for dismissing you so offhandedly and not telling us everything and so, once recovered from his illness, he sent me this." He held up a sheaf of papers. "A missing chapter from his 'Sentinels of Paraguay.'"

Jim sat forward, interested.

"He says," Blair slipped his spectacles back on and consulted his correspondence, "that he felt this was too extreme for his readers, in much the same way as his translations of 'The Indian Art of Love' or 'The Perfumed Garden' are only available to a few gentlemen in a private club..." His voice trailed away.

"Chief?" Jim called him back from where his mind was wandering.

"Right, yes. Burton talked with some tribespeople about the role of the Sentinel's companion. He learnt that practically anyone could be a guide to a Sentinel, watch his... or her, back, get him or her out of one of those lapses..." He looked at Jim again to see his lover start to shake his head.

"But," Blair continued, quietly, "once in a while a true Guide finds their Sentinel and this teaming enables the sentinel to be much more effective. This 'true' Guide can bring his Sentinel out of lapses much quicker and more effectively than anyone else. The pair establish a sort of 'bond' with one another that transcends all their other relationships and it doesn't matter what the gender of the pair is, male/male, female/female, male and female."

"Sandburg..." Jim was getting impatient.

"I'm getting there. This 'special pair' are more than just protector and companion. The companion doesn't just back up the watchman, he or she guides him, translates his dreams, helps him as no other can. They are 'spirit-mated'. Burton doesn't know what that means; he can only provide the literal translation. The tribe that has such a pair think of themselves as truly blessed." Blair wasn't sure how Jim would take this information. It sounded a trifle arrogant and presumptuous to think of themselves as such a pair.

Jim sat back. After a moment, he said, "That's how I feel, blessed to have you in my life."

Blair blushed. "Really?"

Jim's smile softened. "Truly." He cleared his throat. "What's the other piece of paper?"

"Oh, it's part of the illustration for the chapter. It's a map, supposedly of a Temple of the Sentinels where they would go to experience 'the eye of God'."

"Indeed?"

"Burton never got the chance to find out if it existed, and the map isn't very clear on where it is in Paraguay, after all most of it is jungle and there are few points of reference. But maybe one day we could take a trip and do some exploration ourselves?"

"One day." Jim gazed at his lover. "So... tell me more about these translations of Burton's. Is there anything you want to share with me?"

Blair chuckled. He removed his spectacles and put them in their case on top of the little shelf beside him, then he stood and walked over to the windows that separated their compartment from the corridor of the train, and pulled down the blinds. "Well, the passages I'm aware of concern male and female coupling." He turned the key in the door lock. "However, we are both inventive..." He turned towards Jim.

"Intelligent..." Jim added.

Blair stood before his lover, pushing his legs apart to stand between them. "Versatile..."

Jim pulled him closer, his hands moving to Blair's fly. "Sensitive... men."

Blair grinned widely as he put his hands on Jim's shoulders and lowered his head to nibble Jim's ear. "I'm sure we can think of something!"

A lone wolf sat on the edge of a cliff watching the metal beast as it chuffed through the landscape below, a cloud of gray smoke trailing behind it. The wolf yawned and the air beside it seemed to thicken and consolidate, and a black panther took shape. It nuzzled the ear of the wolf, which gave out a sound suspiciously like a laugh. Then the cat arched its back and stretched -- all the while the wolf watching with half closed eyes -- and settled down beside its companion, bumping slightly against its body, listening to the train's wailing whistle, the rhythmic sound of the wheels on the track, as it made its way west beneath a cornflower blue sky.