Jim set down the beach bag, and chuckled as his young lover flopped down on the sand with a grunt.

"Comfy?" The big man asked, smiling at Blair. He admired the way the little blue bathing trunks showed off his little 'Bug's' shapely backside.

Blair rolled onto his back on the sand, folded his arms behind his head, and returned the smile. "Ohhhhh yeah," he replied, wiggling, burrowing down into the warmth of the sand. "This was a GREAT idea man, a weekend at the beach is just what we both needed," he said, closing his eyes in relaxation.

Jim sighed as he laid down beside his love, reaching one hand out to fondle Blair's face. He laughed as Blair playfully nipped at his fingers before rolling onto his side to face Jim.

"So how are you feeling?" Blair asked, reaching out to run a hand over Ellison's smooth, bare chest. "Still on edge about Mendari?" Blair's fingers drifted down to the waist of Jim's swim trunks, stroking back and forth over the skin of his hard belly.

"Mmmm... a little," Jim confessed, sighing as the slender fingers glided over his abdomen. "It was just really scary, Bug." Jim reached to pull Blair into his arms. "He could've killed you," he whispered into the dark curls, stroking the sandy skin of Blair's back.

Mendari was the ring leader of a paedophilic prostitution ring, specializing in young boys. The sicko would pick the boys up after school and deliver them into the hands of his johns, letting the parents think their children were enjoying themselves at a local Boys club. His innocent young slaves were threatened with harm to their parents or siblings if they disobeyed or displeased Mendari. The whole thing had made Jim sick with rage; he had wanted to kill that filthy bastard.

Then, during the bust, Mendari had somehow gotten his hands on Blair.

Jim shuddered as he remembered coming around the corner of the building to see Blair in Mendari's grasp, a long knife held to his throat by the desperate pervert. Blair's eyes had been wide with fear as they locked onto Jim's.

The other cops were all following the man's frantic demands to stay back, as he moved toward his car with his hostage. Jim had found that he physically could not obey. Almost against his will he had found himself moving slowly closer to Mendari, eyes never leaving the frightened face of his imperilled love.

Blair was also lost in memories as he lay curled up on the sand. He could still feel the cold edge of the blade as it had pressed against the sensitive skin of his throat. The memory of that slimeball's arm coiled around his waist still made his hair stand on end. Blair had kept his hands locked on Mendari's wrist, struggling in vain to get the knife away from his neck. He remembered the helplessness he had seen in the faces of the other cops. Then, Jim had spoken.

"Let him go." Ellison's voice had been like ice.

"Back off, detective," Mendari had sneered in reply, "Or your little partner is a dead man."

Blair snuggled closer to Jim as the memory of that evil man's voice rang in his head. Jim held him close, and kissed the top of his head. Blair tried to focus on the soothing sound of the nearby waves, letting the gentle rhythm push the lingering echoes of Mendari's voice from his mind.

Jim closed his eyes as he felt Blair shudder against him. No doubt the young man was going to have bad memories for a long time about the incident. Not that he wouldn't himself, Jim reasoned. He remembered stepping forward, slowly raising his gun and drawing a bead on Mendari, only his Sentinel sight giving him the confidence to attempt the close shot. Two inches off the mark, and he'd have shot Blair instead. Jim moved one hand to caress Blair's hair as he recalled what had happened next.

"If you let him go now, Mendari," Jim had said, "Then you won't be harmed. You'll get a fair trial." Then the detective's face had darkened, and the next words were spoken like the growl of a panther.

"But if you hurt him, I promise you'll never see a courtroom. I'll kill you right here. I will tear your head off with my bare hands." Jim had kept his voice low, inaudible to the other officers.

Blair suddenly perked up, pulling back slightly from Jim to look up at him. "Did you mean that, Jim?" he asked, blinking as a gust of salty sea air blew his hair into his eyes..

"Mean what, love?" Jim asked, brushing the hair back from his beautiful one's face.

"What you said at the arrest," Blair said, smiling a little. "That you'd tear off Mendari's head?"

Jim grinned back. "Absolutely," he whispered, leaning down to kiss Blair's rounded forehead. "If he had hurt you, I would've killed him."

Blair sighed, and snuggled against his Blessed Protector again, feeling the warm sun soaking into his body. His ears still hummed a bit from the closeness of the gunshot. He had felt absolutely no fear as he'd watched Jim's finger tighten on the trigger. He'd known without a doubt that Jim could take out Mendari without hitting him.

All the same, Blair had jumped a bit when the shot was fired, instinctively pushing against the hand holding the blade to his throat. He'd heard Mendari's short gasp of pain, and the arms holding him had gone limp as Mendari slumped to the ground. Blair had immediately run to Jim, aching for the safety and comfort his lover was more than happy to give.

Jim sighed, and stretched his legs out on the sand, watching a single seagull wheeling lazily overhead. He remembered the satisfaction he'd felt at seeing that pervert's wounded form slipping to the ground, followed by overwhelming relief as Blair had flung himself into his arms. Jim had held his beloved like he'd never let go, whispering soothing little nothings into the dark curls as Blair clung to him, trembling.

"He's OK," Jim had said softly to the concerned fellow officers who came over to check on Blair. A few of them had given the frightened young man reassuring little pats on the back or shoulders as Jim manoeuvred himself and his partner away from the scene. Blair hadn't let go of Jim until they were both seated safely in the back seat of a cruiser, heading back to the station.

After hearing the report, Simon had ordered both of them to take a long weekend and get out of town. He'd sent them to his brother's beach house, with strict orders to relax until their return on Monday. Now they were at the beach, and enjoying the last day of their much deserved vacation. Warm sun, blue skies, clean sand.... It didn't get much better than this.

Jim smiled as a soft little snore issued from the small figure curled against his side. Carefully, so as not to wake the young man, Jim snagged a beach towel from the nearby bag, and draped it gently over his sleeping love. Then he turned on his side and curled his arms protectively around Blair, pulling him close, keeping him safe.... Jim's thoughts began to drift as he slowly fell asleep in the sand. Sand.

Nothing but warm sand....

Somewhere in the Arabian Desert, circa 1915:

The young man staggered, falling to his knees in the scalding sand, then rising painfully to stumble onward. His breath was coming in ragged, dry gasps as the heat and sand combined to torture his airways. The inside of his mouth felt like hot gravel, blisters on his tongue throbbing painfully. He tried to remember how long it had been since he'd emptied his emergency canteen, heart sinking as the last drops had trickled down his already parched throat.

Blair didn't care to die of thirst. It was an unpleasant way to go, he'd been warned back at the camp. How long ago was that? A day? Three days? A week? If only he'd listened to his instructor when he'd warned the students not to go out on their own. But the sight of the moonlight glistening across the tops of the dunes had been too tempting. The young anthropologist had quickly dressed, and crept out of his tent to explore the desert at night.

He had trekked along for hours, gazing in awe at the ocean of sand that stretched in every direction as far as the eye could see, tinted silvery blue by the moon. The magnificent canopy of glittering stars, like jewels on black velvet, had captivated him. He'd lay on his back, looking up at the twinkling heavens, and had been lulled to sleep by the slowly rising breeze blowing across the desert.

He had awakened some time later to bright light hitting him full in the face. Slowly, he had sat up to morning sunlight. Groggily, chastising himself for his recklessness, he stood up and turned to follow his footprints back to camp.... to find they were gone.

Blair had just stood there for a long time, jaw hanging slightly open as shock and fear began to set in. He turned in a slow circle, looking for a familiar set of dunes, a faint trace of his footfalls from the night before. There was nothing. The dunes looked the same in every direction, and the soft breezes that had coaxed him into slumber had also erased all evidence of his path.

"Don't panic," he'd said to himself, gazing up at the sun. He'd briefly tried to figure out which direction was which by the position of the sun, but soon decided it was futile. He'd not been paying attention when the instructor had showed them how to use the sun to tell direction. Plus, he had no clue in what direction he'd been walking last night. He was lost.

"Ungh," Blair groaned as he stumbled again, rolling part way down the steep side of a small dune. He just lay there for a moment, wincing as he felt more sand slip into his clothes. Sighing, he stood up and began to brush himself off.

His once white trousers, tight at the calves and slightly flared at the thighs, were now a dusty beige color. His button-down tunic of the same color was rumpled, sand in the collar scratching painfully against his neck. With a huff, he removed the garment and shook it out, using one hand to pluck his sweaty undershirt away from his skin.

Next came his hair. Blair bent over, discarding his Pith helmet, and shook the grains of sand from his long curls. He'd received no small amount of ribbing from his fellow students at the length he kept his locks; it was unheard of for a man to have such long hair. But his mother liked it, and that was all that mattered to him.

The thought of Naomi brought tears to Blair's eyes. Would he ever see her again? Would he ever see another human being again? With a shuddery sigh, Blair slowly put his tunic back on, and buttoned it before heading off again in a new direction.

Ellison surveyed the sea of dunes, his keen eyesight scanning for the slightest detail. His long white robes billowed and fluttered around him in the slight breeze as he searched the horizon. As usual, there was nothing but sand, and the occasional residual tracks left by a camel or horse. Ellison recognized one set of tracks, rather the direction of the tracks, and bristled.

Mendari.

Ellison yanked away the cloth protecting his lips to spit into the sand. The thought of that evil bastard sharing his desert made him ill. Such decadence and perversion so close made him....

Suddenly, the steel-blue eyes spotted movement. Ellison sat up higher in his saddle, moving one hand to caress the neck of his stallion, Cascade. He focused on the horizon, easily identifying what would only be a tiny speck to a normal observer. His breath caught.

It was a boy!

No, Ellison corrected himself, looking harder. Not a boy, a young man. Small, slight, and in a very bad way, judging from the erratic, stumbling gait. As he watched, the figure suddenly collapsed to the ground. Ellison had seen enough. Quickly, he turned Cascade toward the figure on the horizon, and urged him forward. The horse broke into a gallop, sand flying from the pounding hooves as he carried his master across the desert.

Ellison kept his eyes on the small figure as he pulled himself to his feet. The big man shook his head, impressed by the young one's determination. The questions of how and why such a person had ended up in the heart of the desert all alone would wait. The main concern in Ellison’s mind now was that the youth was heading straight for Mendari's camp. His stomach turned at the thought of what would become of the young man, should he accidentally wander into that viper's lair.

"Hya!" Ellison kicked Cascade, urging him along faster.

Blair struggled to his feet again and forged ahead. His feet stung with every step, sand in his boots rubbing the skin raw. His throat was dry, swelling tongue making it harder and harder to breathe, to swallow. Again, he fell to his knees, then let gravity take him and flopped down onto his belly. It felt good to rest, even though the scalding sand was burning him through his clothes. Blair closed his eyes.

Rumble

Thunder. Blair heard thunder. That was good! Thunder meant a storm, which meant rain, which meant water....

RUMBLE

The thunder was coming closer. Blair slowly opened his eyes and stared at the sand in front of his face. The tiny grains were vibrating slightly, moving in time with the thunder. Before Blair could think much on the oddness of this, he heard a familiar sound; the whinny of a horse.

Slowly, painfully, Blair rolled onto his side to face the source of the approaching noise. A horse, enormous, white, nearly glowing in the bright sunlight was bearing down on him. He was too weak to try and get out of the way. A part of him hoped the horse would trample him to death; it would be better than dying of thirst.

Ellison pulled back on the reins as he and Cascade neared the fallen young man. Keeping his eyes on the figure, the big man quickly dismounted, one hand lifting the rifle from its place under the saddle strap. He held it casually in one hand as he approached the youth, not wanting to frighten him, but not wishing to be caught unawares should it turn out to be a trap.

Blair stared up through sand-encrusted lashes at the impressive figure as it came to stand over him. Tall, over six feet, and broad. The body was draped in the long, flowing white robes that made up a desert- dweller's wardrobe. The man's face was mostly obscured by a combination turban and veil, made of the same white cloth. Blair gasped a little as he got a glimpse of the stranger's eyes, blue as the sky.

Ellison slowly knelt, and reached toward the young man. He heard the heartbeat speed up as the smoky blue-gray eyes widened in fear. For some reason, it touched Ellison's heart, and he lowered the gun as he held up a hand.

"Don't be afraid," he said softly, the sound of his own voice making him jump. He didn't hear it very often, only when he made his bi- yearly trips to the city for supplies. He hoped his voice would be soothing to the frightened young man who lay before him. "It's all right, I won't hurt you."

Blair tried to swallow as the figure came closer. This clearly wasn't a member of the dangerous band of desert-dwellers he'd been warned about back at the camp. Mendari? Was that the name? His memory was becoming foggy from thirst.

"Are you hurt?" asked the big man, as he helped Blair sit up.

Blair tried to answer, but was seized by a terrible coughing fit. He gasped and choked, vaguely aware of a sturdy hand clapping him on the back as he tried to steady his convulsing lungs.

He must have lost consciousness for a moment, because when he opened his eyes again, the mysterious stranger was cradling him against his chest, gently dabbing at his lips with a wet rag. Blair latched onto the rag and sucked eagerly, his throat and tongue rejoicing at the moisture. He leaned gratefully into the strong chest as the rag was removed for a moment.

"What is your name?" Ellison asked quietly. He carefully squeezed more water from the wineskin at his hip onto the cloth. Then he drizzled it over the youth's face, letting the droplets trickle onto the dry, sandy skin. He smiled as the full lips opened to try and capture more of the water.

"Bl... Blair," rasped the small, weak voice.

"Greetings, Blair. I am Ellison," Gently shifting his hold on the small figure, Ellison brought the mouth of the wineskin to the young man's mouth. He nudged the vessel against Blair's lips, but the boy was too weak to drink.

Resigned, Ellison pulled down his veil, lifted the winesack to his own lips and drank deeply. Then he took a small mouthful of water and leaned down. Very carefully, he pressed his lips over those of his young charge, and let the liquid flow from his mouth into Blair's.

Blair started a bit as he felt warm lips touching his, then relaxed as water trickled into his mouth. He swallowed greedily, then gasped as the lips drew away. Blair tried to open his eyes again, tried to ask for more water, but he was too weak. A moment later the lips were back, dispensing another mouthful of the life-giving liquid.

Ellison let Blair drink from his mouth three more times before he was satisfied that the young man was out of immediate danger. Then he sealed the winesack and re-shouldered it. Carefully laying Blair back down on the sand, the big man stood and moved toward his horse.

Blair looked up in alarm. "Wait," he whimpered, voice cracking, "Please... don't leave me!" he tried to sit up, stretching a desperate hand toward the retreating figure. Ellison turned quickly, and raised a reassuring hand.

"No, of course I won't!" Ellison said gently. The look of terror in the young eyes pulled at his heart. Poor little soul thought he was going to be abandoned. Ellison moved to his horse, and replaced the rifle and winesack in their holding harnesses, then moved back to Blair's side.

Blair sighed, nearly sobbing in relief as Ellison came back to him, and reached down. Blair extended a shaky hand, and gasped as he was pulled easily to his feet. He immediately began to sag, but then a strong arm came around his waist and held him up. Together, he and Ellison moved to the horse.

Ellison turned Blair, leaning him back against Cascade. He made sure Blair was steady on his feet for a moment, then swung up onto the horse's back. Reaching down, he slipped his hands under the young man's arms, and hoisted the slight figure up in one smooth motion. He settled Blair side-saddle and took up the reins.

Blair was beginning to waver, when he felt hands grasp him. He gasped in surprise as he was pulled up, and deposited neatly in the saddle in front of Ellison. He sighed, and sagged against Ellison's chest as the big man clicked his tongue, urging the horse forward. Feeling a bit unsteady at the horse's movement, Blair wrapped his arms around Ellison's middle.

Ellison looked down in surprise as the arms slid around him. The young man was snuggling against his chest, head drooping with exhaustion. With a gentle smile, Ellison wrapped one arm around the slender waist, pulling Blair tighter against his chest as they rode slowly across the desert together.

By the time they reached Ellison's camp, it was dark and Blair was fast asleep. Quietly coaxing his mount to a halt, Ellison slipped to the ground, then reached up to take hold of Blair's tunic. Very gently he pulled the sleeping figure down and cradled him in his arms, pillowing Blair's head upon his shoulder as he turned toward his canvas tent.

Ellison smiled down at Blair, amazed at his lack of weight as he carried the sleeping youth through the flap of the tent. He crossed to his sleeping corner, stepped through the translucent curtains, and knelt to gently lay the young man out on the clustered pillows that made up his bed. Assuring himself that Blair was safe and comfortable, Ellison stood to tend to Cascade, but not before tenderly brushing a dark curl away from the young face.

Blair woke up slowly, groaning a bit as he felt his stiff joints beginning to protest yesterday’s abuse. He opened his eyes and looked around, trying to figure out where he was. He was laying upon a pile of soft cushions, inside a sort of curtained alcove. The gauzy curtains were transparent, allowing Blair a not-quite clear view of the rest of his surroundings.

Gingerly, he sat up and idly scratched at some sand that had snuck down his pants. He got to his knees, and scrambled off the small mountain of pillows. He swept the gauzy drapery aside, looking around for the big man who had rescued him from the desert the day before. There was no sign of him, but Blair heard the sound of splashing coming from outside the tent.

Squinting in the late morning sunshine, Blair emerged from the tent, and stared. He was in Eden. The tent was situated in the center of a beautiful little oasis. Tall palm trees offered cool puddles of shade, and fig and date trees were abundant. Blair moved through the paradise, following the sound of the splashing. Soon he saw the trees beginning to thin out, and caught a glimpse of sparkling water up ahead.

On to Part 2