The Journey

The Sentinel threaded his way through the jungle with the skill of a predator, stepping over branches, stooping under boughs, dodging around the dense tangle that made up the rich, verdant vegetation. Small insects buzzed and crawled about him, occasionally making his skin tickle and twitch as they landed upon his body or bit him. Above, monkeys clambered and swung from tree to tree – screaming about the intruder in their midst, while spiders and snakes climbed and slithered over and around the trunks, and brightly colored birds squawked in the branches. Small predators ran over the ground and scurried out of his way. The dappled sunlight shone through the jungle canopy. The jungle was alive with color and sounds but its beauty was lost on the Sentinel.

The humidity made his skin glisten, causing his clothes to stick to his body and emphasizing his strong, muscular form.

He had become accustomed to feeling achy, sweaty and grimy. It meant nothing to him; all his senses were on the alert for the one man who held this sentinel's sanity in his hands.

A part of Jim Ellison's mind flashed back to the first time he went on an S.O. mission into a jungle. He was so young, so naïve that he couldn't shake the unrealistic, totally illogical notion that it would be similar to camping out in his father's conservatory, only on a larger scale, and hotter and wetter. Man, was he ever mistaken. The jungle was so much more in every way. Jim was hit by the extremes every time he had to return, and every time he'd forgotten just how energy sapping it really was. Each time it hit him, forcing him to adapt anew and each time it took longer to acclimatize, to accept the limitations the ecosystem forced upon him.

Still – now that he was sure he was nearing the end of his search – he felt better, more 'balanced' than he'd felt in weeks and the sensory spikes seemed to have abated. In fact, his senses seemed to be working better than ever.

As he traveled, his body guided by primitive instinct, he became aware of a 'presence' to the right of him, never venturing any closer, but always keeping up, keeping just behind him. Jim guessed he'd ventured into someone's territory and a scout was keeping tabs on the intruder – checking out his intentions, assessing any threat. It didn't bother Jim. Nothing would distract him from his mission.

Before nightfall, he stopped to camp in a small clearing. His skin was cooling as the temperature dropped and he built a fire, then sat in front of the warming glow to eat some of the food he'd been carrying and replace the fluids he'd lost.

He made himself comfortable by wrapping his blanket around his shoulders. He stretched out the kinks in his neck and began to meditate the way he'd been taught, closing his eyes but keeping alert, homing in, searching... reaching out for the one he wanted... needed as much as the breath in his body. It took a while, but... there, right on the edge of his senses... his Guide's presence vibrated through the air, feeding Jim's soul and making his senses sing. Another day, perhaps? Once assured that he was still on the right path, Jim drew back and opened his eyes... to see his 'shadow' sitting in amongst the trees, just beyond the light from the fire. To the unenhanced vision – Jim surmised – the scout would be almost invisible, a vague outline of 'something' in the dark jungle, his markings perfectly blending his body with the foliage that surrounded him... but to the Sentinel, the man was as obvious as in a clearing in daylight. Jim smiled to himself and banked down the fire, then settled down on his bedroll to sleep.

He was awake and moving just before daybreak, hearing his shadow curse and mutter as he rushed to catch up. There was a river close by, a silver ribbon in amongst the vibrant green and Jim stopped to wash off some of the sweat and filth that seemed to penetrate his skin, and then, using only his hands, he caught a fish upstream. He took the time to gut, clean and cook it, eating some and leaving some behind, wrapped in a leaf – an overture of friendship for the scout – before continuing on his quest.

This was unfamiliar territory, which may have been why his absent Guide had chosen it; to give himself time to do whatever it was he needed to do. Jim didn't want to make any assumptions about his friend's behavior. He'd done that too often in the past and look where it'd gotten him, up the proverbial creek without a guide!

By the middle of the afternoon, Jim had reached the outskirts of a village and he squatted down, allowing his Indian shadow to pass him and enter the clearing with its small group of huts and fire pits. People sat and talked and went about their business. Children ran laughing and squealing.

Now Jim could see his shadow with normal sight. The man was tall and muscular; his skin was artfully tattooed and painted; his long black hair braided with beads. All eyes turned to watch the scout cross to one hut, before they noticed Jim and, after giving him the once over, summoned their children closer. A precaution Jim whole-heartedly approved of.

The man ducked as he went into the covered part of the hut and Jim could hear murmurings in the native dialect. While waiting, he took the opportunity to study the village. The huts were all constructed the same way, on short stilts, covered on three sides with woven bark mats, but the fourth side left open; all looked the same, except for one larger hut. This one was fully enclosed.

The tribe looked contented and healthy, mostly undisturbed by his presence. Jim took in all the details with a detective's eyes and waited, trying to curb his impatience. His guide was close, out of sight, but close.

After a few minutes the scout came out of the hut and waved to Jim. The Sentinel stood, straightened his bow across his shoulder, flexed his hand around his spear and then strode over with a confidence he didn't really feel. The eyes of all the villagers focused upon him, making his short walk across the clearing feel like he was on parade in front of a review board.

He ducked inside the hut to meet the elders of this tribe, three gray haired men with skin like tanned leather. They sat in a half circle, alert, wary and curious, studying Jim, assessing him just as he did them. These were men who knew their own power and how to use it. Jim sat cross-legged facing them. He'd been in situations similar to this, but, before, he'd been able to learn some of the local language. He hadn't had that option this time and it was frustrating trying to communicate his intent. He was more than a little relived when someone, a young man called Manenima, was found who could speak Quechua well enough to translate.

"I am a Sentinel," Jim began, silently praying they knew what one was. "My Guide is in your village. I have come to fetch him home."

"Your Guide is the white man?" one elder asked.

Jim nodded.

"He is here training to become a teacher, a healer. You will not be able to speak with him until he is done. Then he must choose his own path. Do you understand, Sentinel?"

Jim nodded once more. "I agree to abide by your laws, but I will try and persuade him to return with me when it is time."

"As the spirits decide." The elders stood, indicating the meeting was at an end. "As is our custom, we offer you our hospitality. You are welcome to stay with one of our older families, in deference to your senses."

As Jim exited the hut, Blair stepped out from the large covered hut. His hair was braided, arms painted, the hair on his chest glistening with sweat, and he wore a loincloth and simple sandals. He looked tanned; maybe a little tired and certainly thinner, more toned. As if alerted to something unusual about the place, he glanced up and across and his eyes widened, his mouth falling open in surprise, as he saw Jim. The Sentinel couldn't help but smile, just a little smugly, as he turned away and followed the scout to his new lodgings, leaving his Guide staring at his back.

The family made him welcome and, after a surprisingly restful night, Jim was asked to take part in the next day's hunt. The tribe's shaman had told the warriors that it was a good day to hunt for the pigmy deer that inhabited the area and that the white Sentinel would be invaluable.

He was; the hunt was an unqualified success and the hunting party was cheerful when they returned to the village just before dusk, with two of the small deer strung up on poles. The smiling womenfolk removed the animals to prepare them for a feast that evening. Jim felt gratified – hunting food for the tribe was very satisfying – but he was also edgy and restless, as if a part of him was missing.

That night the whole village sat in front of a big fire, the deer roasting over it, women basting them and carving pieces off for the men. They passed around the locally made alcoholic drink and everyone got comfortable and relaxed. The smell of cooked meat and warm companions drifted up into the night sky.

Blair and two others sat just outside of the fire glow, not eating, not talking, just sipping juice and watching. These 'payes' had to fast, abstain from strong drink and intimacy, Jim learnt, until after their initiation. For Blair this also now included not talking to his Sentinel, but Jim could almost see the wheels turning in his Guide's head as Blair's questioning eyes fixed on him all evening.

"Tell us a story, Sentinel. Tell us of your life outside." The request came from one of the young warriors and Jim saw a way of passing on a message to Blair. He settled into a more easy posture and began to speak. He told them of his time before in Peru. He told them of the Chopec, then of his tribe in Cascade, and then he told them of his Guide.

"Why did he leave you?" The young warrior glanced across at Blair.

"That is for him to say, when the time is right," Jim answered in Quechua, "but I will tell you why I came to find him. I wanted to ask his forgiveness for all the times he did something for me and I was too weak to reach out and thank him, too frightened that he would see how vulnerable I was, how easily he could hurt me. So instead I created barriers between us and held him at arms' length when I should have pulled him close."

Between his Quechua and the native translation, Jim wasn't sure how much Blair had heard and understood, but enough, apparently, because his friend's mouth again hung open. As Jim finished, Blair seemed to come back to himself and he closed his mouth with – to Jim – an audible snap and a swallow. Soon after that the trainee shamans returned into their hut and Jim reached out with his hearing. Blair's pulse was a little fast and Jim thought he heard an explosive, "You Bastard!" murmured in his friend's soft voice. "All the chances we've had to hold this conversation and you wait until I can't speak to you!" Jim heard another voice snap something at Blair and his friend answer – contritely – his words spoken falteringly in the native dialect. Then Blair whispered, "Don't think I'll forget this, Jim Ellison."

The Sentinel returned to his own shelter feeling well fed and oddly pleased at getting such a reaction from his Guide.

The next morning, Jim went out with the village's scout to explore the area. It felt good to use his abilities as if they were normal, respected, and acknowledged. He didn't have to hide what he was or find excuses for what he could do – and Blair was safe in the village, or as safe as any shaman in training could be. It might not be the ideal situation, or the sentinel's own territory, but he felt welcome and even admired; he decided that he enjoyed the feeling, even if it was just for a short time. Of course, there was always the risk that Blair wouldn't want to go home with him and they still had to decide what they would do, but whatever his Guide wanted, the Sentinel would fit in with. He wasn't about to allow Blair to leave him or send him away. One way or another, Guide and Sentinel would be together, whatever it cost Jim.

The scout seemed determined that the sentinel would see as much of the tribe's territory as possible, pointing out landmarks; large, old, bent trees – the river – special areas where one or another animal regularly left its scent mark – and again it was late in the afternoon before they returned.

There was a palpable aura of excitement buzzing around the small village as they arrived back. The tribal shaman had decided that the white Guide was ready to take the evening's special ritual. Jim was invited along but was first sent to wash in the river and change into clean clothes. By the time he'd gotten back, clad in a borrowed loincloth, it seemed the entire village was in the one big hut. As Jim lifted the cloth covering the doorway, the heat and smoke hit him and he blinked, pulled back, shaking his head to try and clear it.

"Dial it down, Jim." Blair's voice was whisper soft and meant for only his ears, and Jim obeyed without a thought and stepped though. Two young shamans stood on each side of the door and waved sprigs of leaves over him as he entered, ritually cleaning him and casting out evil spirits.

Inside, the hut was very different to the others in the village. For one thing, it was built as a meetinghouse and had room for everyone. Jim noticed that only the young children or mothers who were breast-feeding were excluded from the ritual, everyone else sat without talking against the mat covered sides. Right now, fresh air wouldn't have been a bad thing; the smoke from the central fire seemed to be scented with herbs, probably something mildly hallucinogenic and Jim's head began to swim.

The fire glowed and billowed, strangely hissing and spitting, and the smoke had Jim's eyes tearing. He blinked again and again to try and clear them and then noticed the trainee shaman off to one side. At first Jim didn't recognize his friend. Blair's face and body was covered in brightly painted markings of swirls and arrows, and his hair hung loose and had been stained with red ochre. Feathers, ribbons and beads hung from it. He wore a small apron of tanned skin and nothing else, but it was the startling blue of his eyes that marked him out as different and they were fixed on Jim. Then they slowly closed, shutting out the real world, and Jim was suddenly aware of the drumbeat that he'd totally missed. It was the steady 'lub-dub' of a heart picked out on two drums beaten by the other two apprentices. The only reason he registered them now was because the rhythm picked up a little and became louder as Blair took up his own drum.

The hut seemed to grow darker as the sun set, until only the fire lit the interior. It had been changed from something material and man-made to something sacred and profound. Long shadows danced as the flames moved, the lub-dub grew louder and quicker and vibrated through the earth. Soft chanting could be heard; the words unclear even to Jim, but gentle, like a lullaby, a ballad, a serenade.

Gradually... slowly... the air thickened, the heat increased. It became harder to breathe. His body felt heavy. The air pressed down on him. The sounds grew to a crescendo, Jim's heart pounded in his chest – there was an aborted cry –

– and then the beats slowed down to background noise again, steady and calm. Someone behind him shifted, nervously, and Jim became aware that there was some 'thing' else in the hut with them. He squinted, trying to see what it was, but the shapes moved even as he attempted to bring them into focus. Strange glowing eyes seemed to appear, shift and dance, then fade and vanish like the Cheshire Cat from Alice's Wonderland adventures. Noises like purring, hissing, snuffling, surrounded him. Cold sweat trickled down his back, making his skin crawl and turning him cold then hot. He felt the urge to run and had to force himself to stay still. Time lost its meaning. Shapes became distorted and colors flowed into one another.

Blair seemed to be everywhere in the hut. First whispering in the ear of one person, then another. Jim strained to hear what his friend was saying, but it was always just out of his reach. Again he shook his head to clear it as the beginnings of a zone-out started to overtake him.

Then Blair was behind him and his senses evened out. Jim relaxed marginally.

A drumbeat echoed where there should be no echo in the hut. "Why did you come here?" Jim's Guide asked, by his right ear, in Quechua. The voice was Blair's but Jim was aware that something else was asking the question.

"I came seeking that which I lost." Jim struggled to concentrate on his answers. He knew they had to be honest here.

"What did you lose?"

"My Guide. My friend." He felt paralyzed, only able to move his head, but not turn around.

"Is one the same as the other?"

Jim felt woozy. "Yes. No... I don't know. I need to ask him why he left."

"Didn't he tell you?"

"He said he needed to get away, needed time."

"And you didn't accept that answer."

"I... I felt it wasn't the whole reason."

"What else could there be?"

Jim shook his head and then immediately regretted the move as the room swam around him.

"Perhaps he left because he needed to find himself," Blair's voice intoned.

"Possibly." Jim struggled to answer concisely. "But I believe that's only a part of his motivation."

"Then you know him better than he knows himself! Perhaps he couldn't be who you wanted him to be."

A shiver traveled through Jim's frame at the thought of Blair hurting because of him. "He is who he is, leaving didn't solve anything," he insisted.

"Is he a coward?"

Jim smiled, sure of this one thing. "Blair is the bravest, most loyal soul I know."

"Not so or he would tell you why he left."

Jim frowned. He tried to shake off the feeling that the ground had somehow shifted under him. Once more he shook his head, trying to clear it.

"Perhaps he left because you came to mean more to him than everyone else and he was afraid of that." The voice dropped. "What would you say to him then?"

"That I love him."

"He knows this."

"No. He only thinks he knows. He doesn't know how I love him because I was a coward and never told him. Never showed him because I was afraid he would run. He doesn't know that my life is empty without him, that I would settle for whatever he could give me, if I could be part of his life."

"And what do you offer in return?"

The fog cleared a little in Jim's brain. "To him, or to the spirits for him?" he asked.

'Blair' laughed unpleasantly. "The spirits have what they want! What would you offer him?"

"All that he already has, all that I am."

"And if that isn't enough?"

"Then if it's in my power to give, he can have it."

"Is it that simple?"

Jim shrugged. "I love him. That is the most simple and the most difficult part of it, anything else we can work on."

"Your words sound true." There was doubt in that voice.

"They are. I've never lied to him about something this important."

"You left out 'truths'."

Jim's heart was heavy. "We both skated around the truth. We need to work things out together. We are better together than we are apart."

Then Blair was gone from behind him

Jim found it harder to breathe. He didn't seem to be able to suck enough air into his lungs. He reached out with his senses for Blair and couldn't find his guide anywhere. Panic set in. Things were spinning out of his control. The drumming became louder, beating into his head, setting his teeth on edge. Just when he thought he would keel over, run out, or vomit... there was a cry... and the harsh sound of someone throwing up in the corner.

The sides of the hut were swiftly rolled up and the temperature suddenly dropped. Jim took a grateful, shuddering breath of fresh air. He briefly smelt the bitter tang of vomit, but a light breeze took it away. He swallowed, coughed, and then swallowed and coughed again. His head began to slowly clear and his heart stopped trying to escape from his chest. He wiped his eyes and looked around for Blair.

A hand touched Jim's shoulder causing him to start.

"Take your Guide to his hut, Sentinel." Manenima stood over him and was pointing to a small hut near the edge of the village. "The spirits still move within him, but he will sleep through until morning and you should stand guard."

Jim stood, his muscles stiff and slow to cooperate. Shakily, he stepped over to where he saw Blair lying on the floor of the hut, his head in a young woman's lap, her hand gently stroking his face. His guide was fast asleep and breathing deeply with a smile on his face.

The Sentinel squashed the feelings of jealousy that arose in his chest and took up his Guide's lax body in his arms. Even out for the count, Blair was no lightweight, but Jim merely grunted and gently carried him out of the confines of the meetinghouse to Blair's own shelter, his interpreter leading the way. Halfway there, Blair came to, long enough to ask for and drowsily sip some water before he fell asleep again.

Once at the hut, Manenima held steady the sides of a hammock that hung in front and Jim carefully placed Blair in it. Blair snored once and turned over. Jim waited a minute and his friend settled again. Manenima raised his hand in farewell and left. Once alone, Jim changed into his fatigues, found a blanket, and sat down to rest against the support pole at the open end of the hut, keeping watch over his Guide through the rest of the night.

"Tell me why you followed me here."

The words woke Jim from his light doze and, for a moment, he thought he had been dreaming. Blair was lying on his back in the hammock and that faint smile was again on his face, but his eyes were still closed.

"I thought you were still asleep."

"Maybe I am." Blair said, enigmatically. "Maybe I'm talking in my sleep. So humor me."

Jim pulled the blanket closer around his body defensively. He'd spilled his guts two times and he didn't feel the need to go through it again. "Jesus, Sandburg, I told you twice already!"

Blair's eyes were still closed but now his brow creased in a frown. "Correction, Ellison. You told the spirits once – everyone else once – when you knew I couldn't answer you, you asshole. Now I can, so talk to me."

Sure he didn't want this conversation, Jim resorted to old habits and went on the attack. "Why don't you tell me why you came here? You'd have been welcomed into the Chopec territory. You'd have been safer. Why did I have to track you all the way here?"

Blair opened his eyes to glare, balefully, at Jim. "I didn't ask you to follow me. I've been perfectly safe and, for your information, I chose here simply because it wasn't Chopec territory. I needed to do this on my own, with no special privileges because the Chopec shaman passed on The Way to me. And if you intend to take that attitude, detective, I'll go back to sleep." He started to turn his head away.

"Don't." Jim sighed. "I had to follow you. After all that we'd been through, I couldn't just let you disappear with no idea about when, or even if, you'd be back." He closed his eyes and put his head back against the support. "I meant every word I said by that fire and to the spirits." He opened his eyes and tried to smile. "I need you in my life, Chief. I want you, and, God help me, I love you."

Blair slowly sat up in the hammock, one leg on either side to balance. "Jesus, Jim!" he exclaimed quietly, not looking at his partner. "Was that really so hard to say to me?" He raised his face and Jim could at last see the love in Blair's eyes. Love, he realized, had been there all along. "I love you too. I just needed to get this out of my system before I could truly commit to you. I knew there was a good chance you'd track me down, but I wanted time to get through it before you appeared, before I started at the academy, so I came here to learn as much as I could, to feel more prepared."

He climbed out of the hammock and crouched down in front of Jim. "I'm glad you followed me, but I really need to be all I can to help you and that includes becoming a shaman. You're too powerful a sentinel to be guided by anyone except a shaman. You need someone who can read your dreams, your visions, someone who knows what to do if you see another troubled spirit like Molly, someone who isn't relying on instincts alone to help you. It's helped me feel surer of myself and of my abilities." He stroked Jim's stubbly cheek, allowing his thumb to run over Jim's lips. "And... I want you... need you, too. Do you get that part?"

He gasped as Jim's mouth opened and Blair's thumb was sucked in and gently nibbled before Jim's wet tongue ran over the pad, soothing it. Then he released it, smiling broadly as Blair seemed unable to do any more than look in bewilderment at his wet digit as though it was alien to his body.

"Oh, I get that, Sandburg, and hopefully, I'll get a lot more."

Blair's eyes traveled up to Jim's face and he blinked, owlishly. "Oh, you're going to get it, Ellison," he said, as he began to smile. "More than you ever thought you wanted!" He launched himself at Jim, cupping his sentinel's head as he kissed him. At first, it was surprisingly gently, just letting his lips touch Jim's, then, as Jim opened his mouth with a soft sigh, Blair groaned and went in for the kill, sucking Jim's tongue and exploring every nook and cranny of his mouth. Jim found himself being devoured to within an inch of his life, and he loved it.

He was effectively pinned up against the hut support, his hands and arms struggling to get free as they were trapped in the folds of the blanket and Blair's weight. With a sense of relief, he managed to disentangle himself and he grabbed hold of his lover and pulled him even closer, feeling Blair's hardness against his own as Blair ground himself against Jim. Both men groaned and reluctantly separated, breathing heavily.

"Inside... on the bedding." Jim said, huskily. The covered area of the hut would give them a modicum of privacy.

Blair nodded and stood, holding out his hand to help Jim up. They barely made it to their feet before they were kissing each other again. Through luck or good judgment, they managed to end up on a mat and by mutual agreement came up for air, Jim giving up his prize reluctantly, sucking Blair's lower lip and slowly pulling back.

He stroked Blair's face enjoying the glazed look in his guide's eyes. "If the guys back at the station could see you now!"

Blair frowned, then his face cleared. "Oh, the paint! I'd forgotten about that. Guess I look a mess." He scrubbed at his face.

Jim stopped Blair's hands. "You look exotic and... incredible."

Blair looked shyly pleased. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. But don't think you are going to get out of washing it off before we go back to civilization. No way am I going to try and get that out of the sheets and pillows back home!"

Blair ignored that comment and gently wiped away some of the paint transference on Jim's face. "I was coming back, Jim. You knew that, right? I mean, I told you I would be back."

Jim took Blair's hand and kissed the palm. "I guess, I mean, I know you said you just needed time. But when I discovered you'd left the US..." His voice trailed off.

Blair sighed and looked down, his hair covering his face. "Right. I knew you'd track my paper trail. But the Sentinel had to follow and check up on his trouble magnet of a Guide, make sure he didn't run into any psychos, as if I couldn't take care of myself," he grumbled.

Jim shifted; Blair's words a bit too uncomfortably near the truth. "Not exactly. I was pretty sure you'd be safe... but then doubts started to set in... you've given up so much for me. Hell, I wouldn't have blamed you if you ran and kept on running! Then Simon called me in, asked when you were coming back. When I told him I didn't know, he told me to go find you and not return until I did!"

Blair was frowning, studying Jim's face. "Doubts...?" He'd stopped listening once he'd heard that one word. "You still thought that maybe I.... Jim, man! I thought we'd worked through all that. When I said, a while ago, that I stayed because of our friendship, I was so wrong. It's not just friendship, it's love, soul-deep, passionate, never anyone else, forever, love. You've given me so much, a home, a purpose in life I didn't even know I lacked until I found you. I won't walk away, not then and certainly not now. You're mine, Jim Ellison."

Jim had to ask, "Your what?"

Blair leaned forward and kissed Jim's eyelids. "My Sentinel." He kissed the tip of Jim's nose. "My man." He kissed the edge of Jim's smiling mouth. "My stud-muffin."

That caused a derisory guffaw to vibrate up from Jim's chest. "Stud-muffin?"

Blair was grinning broadly. "Okay, maybe not stud-muffin..." He kissed his way down to Jim's jaw and started nibbling at it.

Blair's actions were sending bolts of pleasure south in Jim's body. "How about 'Big Guy'? I've always liked the sound of that one." He arched his neck so Blair could get better access.

Blair sniggered against the skin he was sucking. "I bet you do! I shall have to watch you and Joel! I remember you calling him 'Big Guy' one time! Just you remember there are two 'Big Guys' in this relationship." He unsubtly ground his groin against Jim's again and Jim groaned at the contact. "We have got to get you naked," Blair panted, pulling at Jim's trousers.

Jim lifted his hips to help. "I'm down with that." He cursed silently. The fatigues seemed stuck to his skin and his own fingers didn't want to cooperate. "You seem to have a head start on me."

"What, this bit of sartorial elegance?" Blair wriggled his hips, allowing the cloth to gap on each side. "This was just something I threw on. My best loincloth is in the wash."

Jim laughed out loud. "So... how did you find this tribe?" he asked to try and distract himself from Blair's hands undoing his fly. His hard cock jumped out as Blair tugged the fatigues down.

"Hmmm?" Blair's lust-filled eyes were focused on Jim's groin. It took him a moment to refocus. "Oh, I followed my instincts. I felt I needed to come into this area, so once I got here I went looking for a guide." Blair sat up, and, with a final tug, pulled Jim's fatigues off and threw them over his shoulder. He paused to look Jim over and licked his lips. "God! You are sooo edible, man! I've wanted this for a long time."

Jim blushed over Blair's frank gaze. "A guide?"

Blair pushed his hair back as he settled down between Jim's legs. "I have to force you to talk and now you want a conversation! A guide – right." he smiled. "I let the wolf lead me." The smile broadened at Jim's obvious confusion. "This guy was recommended and when I saw that he had a wolf tattooed on his arm I knew he was the right man. He'd traded with this tribe and spoke Quechua. Thank God, I studied the language after Incacha..." Neither of them could forget the Chopec shaman dying in the loft. "Because otherwise," Blair continued, "I'd have been up the Amazon without a paddle! And I lucked out with the shaman of this tribe; he has a smattering of Quechua too, not much, but enough that he could teach me. Now, can we concentrate on other things?" He pushed Jim back onto the mat and followed him down. "At least I had someone with me in the jungle. Just what were you thinking of, coming alone? Anything could have happened; I could have lost you before I knew I could have you. Were you having problems that Simon or Megan couldn't deal with?"

Jim shrugged, trying to act casual even with a raging hard-on. "They helped but I respond better to you and, for your information, Junior, once I got to the jungle, I followed my instincts too. I didn't feel alone, I could feel your presence."

Blair balanced over Jim, his body supported by his hands and knees, his eyes bright and serious as he stared into Jim's face. "I do love you, you know."

Jim smiled gently and brushed back Blair's hair, hooking it behind an ear. "God, I've missed you so much. The loft was just too quiet."

Blair chuckled. His hands moved to Jim's shoulders and he leaned in to press his lips to Jim's. "I missed you too," he whispered against Jim's mouth.

Jim's hands came up to cup Blair's ass under the loincloth, feeling the warm skin, and he pulled his Guide hard against him earning him a deep groan.

Blair's head arched back, the tendons in his neck taut and his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "God, Jim, you don't know how crazy you make me."

Jim took advantage of the bare column of neck and he swiped his tongue over that area of skin, causing Blair to tremble. Jim could taste the sweat, the heat, even the vegetable dye Blair had been painted with, but over it all was Blair's desire. It was a heady mix. "Oh I think I have a fairly good idea," he mumbled. He pushed up as Blair rocked down and he felt Blair's loincloth chafing against his really sensitive skin.

"Loincloth off," he demanded.

"That's why they made you captain in the Rangers. Clear concise instructions." Blair's hands were busy untying the strips of leather that held the apron on.

"A man's got to do..."

Blair smirked as he lowered his body back down. "Man, they broke the mold," he said just as his lips touched Jim's. The taste of his lover exploded over Jim's tongue as Blair tried to suck out his tonsils.

Their bodies now aligned, they began to move together, back and forth, with the odd tiny roll of hips to add variety. Jim sneaked a hand between them and brushed over Blair's cock with his fingers.

That was all it took and Blair was coming over Jim's hand.

"Oh man!" he said, breathlessly, as he collapsed on top of Jim. "Give me a moment and I'll move."

"Nah. You're fine where you are." Jim smiled, as he wrapped his arms around his Guide. His own hardness was drilling a hole in Blair's thigh, but he could wait... if he had to.

Blair eased himself up, looking at Jim's face with passion heavy eyes. "Oh, no, my Sentinel. We haven't finished yet." He guided Jim's sticky hand around to his buttocks and the opening hidden there.

Jim looked at him in surprise. "You sure?" Those two words covered a whole plethora of questions.

Blair answered them all. "I'm sure. I'm clean, and I know you are. I've seen your reports."

Jim chuckled as he shook his head. Blair knew more about him than Carolyn ever did. He was still anxious though. "But we haven't got anything."

Blair grunted as he stretched over Jim's supine body, reaching for something. Jim took the opportunity to caress his lover's chest and gently tug at his nipples, feeling Blair quiver as he did.

Blair moaned, then looked down at Jim with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Hi," he said, smirking.

"Hi, yourself."

Blair undulated down Jim's body, making sure to keep as much skin contact between them as possible. He slowly sat up, lifting a bowl in front of him.

"This," he explained, "is what this tribe uses to treat wounds. It's a form of natural antibiotic. The women even use it as spermicide." He dipped two fingers in and brought them up to show Jim, the sticky goop oozing from his fingers. "As far as I'm aware it's safe and, well, I don't know how effective it is as a contraceptive, I haven't been here long enough to know for sure, but I think it will do the job very well. It's not like we have to worry about one of us getting pregnant." Holding his lover's gaze, he coated Jim's fingers and moved them down to his ass. Jim took the hint. Looking for any signs of pain, he pressed one finger into Blair's opening.

Blair smiled, reassuringly, and squeezed his internal muscles, clenching around Jim's finger and making him ache to replace that finger with his cock.

"More," Blair whispered, his cock firming up as he squirmed around Jim's digit.

Jim obliged, slipping another finger in with the first.

Blair closed his eyes and rode Jim's fingers. Jim watched as this beautiful man fucked himself. He grinned, and as Blair rocked down, he twisted his hand to rub over the nub inside his lover.

Blair gasped and opened his eyes. "God! Do that again!" He looked down at Jim, his eyes dilated so that only the smallest circle of blue remained. "I think you've done this before."

"Don't ask and I won't tell."

Blair's eyes narrowed. "Past history, right, Jim?" He squeezed down hard on Jim's fingers.

"Yes."

"Good, because I'd hate to have to abuse my new status as a shaman by hurting you." He closed his eyes again in pleasure.

It was said as a joke, but Jim heard the underlining threat. Well, he had no intention of fucking this up!

"Always knew you'd be a possessive lover. Don't worry, I'm not going to mess with something this good." He paused to gaze at Blair's rapt expression. "Ready for more?"

"Hmmm, oh yeah."

Jim pulled his fingers free and reached for the bowl.

"Here, let me." Blair took it from him and scooped up a gooey handful that he used to slowly coat Jim's cock until Jim was fighting not to come from just that touch.

He grabbed Blair's wrist. "Enough, Chief."

Blair laughed with sheer delight. He lay down on his back, bending and lifting his legs to his chest, exposing himself to Jim's eyes. "Come on, Sentinel, claim your Guide."

Jim's mouth ran dry. He swallowed so he could form words. "You know just how to push my buttons, Chief."

Blair looked unconcerned. "Well, man, how about you push mine? I'm waiting, Jim."

Locking Blair's gaze, Jim lined up his cock with Blair's opening and pushed in. Blair grunted and thrust back, trying to impel himself onto Jim's cock, taking more of Jim inside.

Jim pulled almost out, and slid in again, burying himself up to his balls within Blair. "Damn, Blair. This is so fucking good."

"I hear you, man. Oh... God, Jim, harder, fuck me harder, I won't break." Blair wrapped his legs around Jim's body and pulled him in deeper. Both men moaned in pleasure.

Jim tried to take his time. He wanted to make Blair forget about any other lovers, to only ever think of him, but it was too intense, too exquisite a sensation to last and his rhythm faltered, his need overtook him. He cried out, "Blaaairrr!" and the world exploded behind his eyes. He was dimly aware of Blair following him over the edge.

"I've missed this," Jim said, quietly, as they lay, holding each other.

Blair was drawing patterns on Jim's chest with a fingernail. He looked up. "What? This?" His face showed his confusion.

Jim blinked. "No. Touching. I missed us touching. It seemed you always had a hand on my arms or my back, grounding me, us."

"Yeah." Blair laid his head back down. "We sort of stopped after Sierra Verde, didn't we, and never really got the vibe back, until now." He paused. "Of course now I won't be able to keep my hands off of you, which will out us to the whole station...."

"So... you are coming back with me to Cascade?" Jim asked.

Blair shook his head. "You know, for a detective with special abilities you can be very dense at times. I said I am, it's where I belong, isn't it?"

Jim relaxed a little. "Yes, yes it is."

"Good. Though just not straight away."

"There's no reason to stay, is there?"

"Just a final part of the ritual." Blair answered quietly, talking to Jim's chest.

Jim noticed how reticent Blair was being and he at once became suspicious. "Okay, out with it, Chief. What don't you want me to know?" He shifted his arm, which had been wrapped around Blair and moved to look at his lover's face.

Blair sighed. "I have to get tattooed." He put a hand on Jim's chest as his lover started to protest. "It's something that needs to be done, Jim. The final act to mark my change, my 'becoming'... the end of my training as a shaman and the start of my education."

Jim frowned. "I'm not sure I understand."

"A shaman never stops learning, never stops gaining experience. This tattoo will mark my... graduation from this 'school'. It's like my diploma, the start of my initiation into the world of the shaman. It's a rite of passage."

"Diploma." Jim ran the word around his brain in relation to this ritual. "Okay, I can accept that, but what happened to the guy who wouldn't put something on his body that he couldn't take off?"

Blair shrugged. "I never found a good enough reason to mark myself."

"Call me anal, Blair, but here in the jungle they don't have anything to numb the area about to be marked. I know how painful these things can be. I've seen Rangers almost weep while having one done using basic tools. And you could develop blood poisoning. If you must have it done, can't it be done in Cascade, somewhere registered?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Jim knew Blair wouldn't agree.

"I do hear you, Jim, and if there was another way, then yeah, sure, I'd have it done in Cascade, but my teacher here has to do it himself. The spirits have to guide his hands, his tools, and the guy's been marking payes for many years. He knows what he's doing. The only thing I have asked is that it's not on my face. If I wasn't going into the police force, I wouldn't care, but, well, fitting in is going to be difficult enough as it is, without something more obvious marking me out. And there are precedences. The 'Ta Moko' of the New Zealand Maori, the Dayak people of Borneo, the Timucua tribe, and you mentioned the Military. What about prison tattoos and those gangbangers wear? Tattoos indicate status in a hierarchy society: sexual maturity, genealogy, one's rank within society, and personal achievements.

"And – " he paused, finally taking a breath – "it was a choice between a tat or a piecing, and to be blunt, as that would have been through the nose, or somewhere more... intimately painful," he shifted as if just the idea made him squirm, "I felt a tat would be much more... well, discreet. And then there's the endorphin high. I've read of shamans that walk with the spirits while having a tattoo done. You know, some people swear it's better than sex. Of course they've never had sex with you, or me..."

"And are never likely to now," Jim pointedly added.

Blair grinned shyly. "Well, no, but you get what I'm saying?"

"You really want to go through with this?"

"Want? Not exactly. Feel that I need to, yes, absolutely."

Jim nodded. "Okay. I'd like to be there, if it's allowed."

Blair looked intently at Jim's face. "You sure?"

Jim nodded and Blair smiled. "I'd like that. I may need to hold your hand. I've been told that the pain is bad enough to make a Ranger cry."

"Yeah? Would that be lone or space?"

"Ha ha, man." Blair became serious. "So you're okay with this?"

Jim smiled. "You look at me like that, and you can probably get me to agree to anything."

"Really?" Blair got up on all fours over Jim. "Anything?" Putting his weight on one arm and watching Jim closely, Blair's right hand stroked over Jim's belly, then down between Jim's legs, avoiding his interested cock, and squeezing his scrotum lightly, before going back further and tapping gently at Jim's anus.

"Well...." Jim squirmed, trying to get more of the stimulation.

There was the sound of a smothered giggle and a discreet cough. Both men craned their necks around to see a young woman just inside the hut. She placed two bowls down and mumbled something to Blair. His skin turned pink and he nodded. She giggled again as she turned and walked away.

"What was that all about?" asked Jim.

Blair cleared his throat. "The shaman wants to see us after we've... mated is the closest word."

"Is that what we've been doing?" Jim was grinning. He eased himself from under Blair and went to pick up the bowls of what smelt like soup. He brought them over to where Blair was watching, apprehensively.

"This looks very watery, but I guess after your fasting, it wouldn't do to have something too heavy."

Blair was chewing on his lower lip. Jim leaned over and kissed it. "Here," he said, handing Blair a bowl. "I think we both need our strength back. This mating is hungry stuff and we want to practice and get it right."

Blair chuckled and drank his soup.

After eating, they headed down to the river to wash off the remains of their mating, before they presented themselves to the shaman.

The Sentinel watched as the water took away the paint that covered his Guide with a mixture of relief and discontent. On the one hand, he could see his lover without all the gilding, on the other; he was also washing away all traces of Jim.

Blair looked up from where he'd been washing his legs and grinned. "Don't worry, my sentinel, I still carry your mark. It's burned on my insides."

Jim flushed pink. Busted. "So will you 'mark' me the same way?" he asked.

"Just try and stop me!" Blair was now washing his cock, although it seemed to Jim more as though he was brandishing it. "I intend to take you each and every way, on your back, on all fours, on your side."

His Guide was now stalking through the shallow water towards his Sentinel.

"I'm going to take you to the edge and then pull back until you are begging me to let you come, and then I'll do it again and again," Blair vowed.

Jim found he had his arms full of a slippery Blair. "You make it sound as if that will be a bad thing."

Blair's eyes opened wide and then he chuckled. "I hope you're singing the same tune when I've got you where I want you." He pulled Jim's head down to meet his own, kissing him with a sweet tenderness.

The shaman and his two assistants were waiting as Jim and Blair crossed the village to the shaman's hut. He led the way into the jungle to where a lightning-damaged tree stood. It had been roughly fashioned into an odd-looking jungle 'throne'. One of the payes stood behind the seated Blair, his hands on Blair's shoulders, while the other squatted along side the shaman, holding a bowl with color pigment with in it. Jim stood by Blair's side, ready to offer whatever support his friend needed.

Blair smiled up at him and Jim suddenly wondered who was offering the support.

The shaman began to chant as he wiped a cloth, soaked in the local hooch, over Blair's left thigh. Another soaked cloth, wrapped around a small piece of wood was given to Blair to act as a gag.

The shaman dipped a comb with three sharp teeth, into the bowl and began.

The first blow had Blair gasping around his gag. Around the third, the shaman had found his rhythm and Blair was blinking away the water that formed at the corner of his eyes.

The chant was picked up by the shaman's assistants, syncopated to the rhythm of the tapping of his little mallet on the comb. Each drop of blood was rapidly wiped up with a scrap of cloth, so that none was allowed to fall to the ground.

Blair was gripping Jim's hand tightly, but apart from that, and his watery eyes, he'd made no sign of discomfort, though Jim could hear his heart beating fast and loud. Jim flinched every time the comb tool pierced Blair's skin, even after Blair had stopped flinching himself.

Finally, the chant stopped and the shaman sat back. He wiped his brow, and took a slip of water.

The gag was taken from Blair's mouth and he was offered the water jug.

"So – " Blair voice was hoarse and breathy – "what do you think?" He swigged a mouth-full of water.

Jim looked down to where the shaman had been working. The area was swollen and angry, but he could make out the pattern. There were two lines criss-crossing around the front of Blair's leg in a band and, in between the lines, there were solid patterns and swirls, an intricate and precise design given the primitive tools.

"It's not finished yet..." Jim began.

"Well, duh!"

"But I can see it's going to be beautiful."

"Yeah?" Blair looked pleased. "Well, I guess even if it looked strange, it's the symbols that matter, what they represent, right?"

The shaman slipped two leaves into his mouth from his medicine pouch and chewed. He tapped Blair's leg.

"Here we go again, man." Blair's voice was shaky. "You know, it's not as bad as I thought."

Jim didn't bother to reply. He could still hear Blair's heart beating hard. He wished he could help in some way. He hated feeling useless.

The two assistants helped Blair move so he was lying face down on the ground, his head on his arms. "This isn't exactly comfortable," Blair mumbled.

Jim sat down with his legs outstretched. "Here, put your head on my lap, it's probably better than the hard earth."

"Oh, I don't know, man, there's some hard stuff there too," Blair chuckled, as he made himself at home.

Jim ruffled his lover's hair, ignoring the sensation against his groin and began to stroke Blair's back as the shaman began again to chant and tap.

The rhythm became hypnotic as the heat of the jungle increased and despite the circumstances, Jim found himself drifting. His eyes were half closed. He could see the shaman and his assistants, see the jungle beyond. It all seemed to be glowing, air vapors shifting and raising, like the air currents you see around aircraft engines. Each tree, each person, had their own signature, their own pattern of heat. Strangely the shaman and Blair seemed to be giving out the most. Their 'pattern' was more visible than the two assistants, or any of the wildlife around. In fact, Jim could almost see colors in the vapors. He looked down to where he was slowly rubbing Blair's back. His hands had a heat pattern of their own and where he caressed Blair the vapors blended, merged, the faint colors harmonizing. It was soothing, calming....

"Hey, Jim. As sweet as this is, you think you can let me up now? Come on, man. Jim? You zoning out on me here?"

Jim blinked and the jungle snapped back into focus. The shaman had finished and was wrapping Blair's thigh in a clean cloth.

"Sorry, Chief." Jim took his hand away and shifted as Blair stretched and sat up. The shaman started giving Blair instructions and he translated for Jim.

"I'm to use the ointment for the next three days whenever I wash it, and make sure that I do keep it clean. Any sign of fever or poison, I'm to check with him."

Jim nodded. "I'll make sure of that."

Blair rolled his eyes and said something to the shaman who laughed. "I just told him my sentinel is over protective."

Jim grinned. "Too right, junior."

His assistants helped the shaman up and handed him the water jug. He wiped his arm over his face and leaned against a tree, closing his eyes and taking deep breathes.

Blair carefully climbed to his feet, his weight shifting to his good leg, one hand on the tree trunk, the other on Jim's shoulder to steady himself.

"It was weird," he said to Jim, as he regained his balance, "while you were stroking my back, it felt as if you were somehow connecting to me, helping me to turn down the pain. It was very cool, but very... hinky."

Jim stood. "Hinky." He rubbed the back of his neck where the hairs were standing up. "Hinky is the right word, all right."

"You felt it too? Wow!" He looked at Jim under lowered lashes. "We should test this out, you know. See if it's part of a new development now that we..." he made a gesture with his hands that Jim recognized.

Jim groaned. "I thought we were through with the tests," he whined. He didn't have to look at Blair to know that his lover was grinning.

Blair slapped him on the arm. "Come on, Jim. It'll be fun. I'm sure I can come up with something that will leave us sticky and with stupid grins on our faces." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Jim burst out laughing. He slung his arm around Blair's shoulders. "You're full of it, you know that, Chief?"

"I'd rather be full of you." Blair's hand found its way to Jim's groin and he squeezed the erection Jim was trying to ignore.

Jim growled and he caught Blair's wrist, gazing over to where the shaman and his payes were watching with blatant interest. "If you'd given me this incentive before, I would have been much more cooperative about the tests you conjured up."

"If I'd known you could be bribed, I would have seduced you ages ago!"

"You seduced me? I thought it was the other way around!"

"Nah, I just let you believe that. We still have to talk about how you managed to sense my presence while you were in the jungle. You didn't think I'd forget about that, did you? Come on, Jim, this is me!"

Jim groaned out loud.

Good-naturedly bickering and laughing, the two men made their way back to Blair's hut, Blair leaning on Jim so as not to put too much pressure on his leg.

The shaman watched, shaking his head as his assistants collected up the tools of his trade. The Chopec shaman who came to him in a vision was right. Now that the young shaman had begun his journey with his sentinel, the evildoers of the Great City wouldn't know what hit them!