I promised Tricia I'll give her this story for her anniversary, but one thing after another, and I didn't get around to writing this story until after her anniversary. Well, better late than never, so Tricia, a belated Happy Anniversary!

Thank you to everyone on sentinel_betas for their input and encouragement while I was writing this. And to all the list members of senad, who make TS fandom a community I'm truly proud to be part of, my humble gratitude.

God, however did they manage to end up in these situations?

Dust was everywhere. Jim couldn't see, couldn't breathe, didn't dare move. Beneath him, Blair gasped, also struggling to breathe. Jim tightened his arms around Blair and gathered the other man's head close to his chest and tucked his own head in as much as possible. Around them, chunks and pieces of the collapsing building continued to fall with a deafening roar that gradually slowed to a dull rumble and eventually faded to the occasional creak and clatter.

With a shaky shuddering breath Jim realized that they were alive. A slower, calmer breath, and he knew nothing hurt badly. A moment later he was aware of a large solid mass just above his back, somehow suspended at an angle without crushing them.

Cautiously, he relaxed his hold around Blair's body, noting with relief the pounding heartbeat thrumming against him, in chaotic cacophony with his own rapid heartbeat and hitching, ragged breaths.

"Blair," he breathed, as his fingers skimmed over the head he still cradled, seeking any injuries.

Blair let out a weak groan which gave way to a hacking cough. Gingerly, Jim raised his head just a little, giving Blair room to shift his head. He found that he could see -- it was dark, but not pitch black. If there were cracks to let in light, then surely there were enough to let air circulate? Beneath him, Blair continued coughing and gasping, his chest muscles alternately tensing and relaxing as his body tried to drag in air. Jim took a deep breath himself, experimentally wiggled his toes, and decided nothing was broken in his body.

"Chief," he asked, "you ok?"

"Wh-wha-what ha-happened?" Blair asked weakly.

"Gas tank exploded. Must have been hit by a bullet."

Blair coughed some more and tried to wiggle to a more comfortable position, which was impossible with Jim's body plastered over most of him. Jim did note, however, that Blair was able to wiggle his toes, too.

"How do you feel, Chief?" Jim prompted again, although he was fairly certain by now that Blair hadn't sustained any major injury.

"Like some three-hundred pound line-back prowled into me and tackled me to the ground. Hard, concrete, ground."

Jim grinned. "You're going to be fine, Chief," he assured, daring to lift himself up enough so he could look into Blair's eyes. Blair's face was covered with dust, streaked with tears from his coughing. Absently, Jim rubbed the worst of it away, sweeping an errant curl off Blair's forehead.

"Jonas?" Blair asked.

Jim frowned. Where exactly had Jonas been standing when...?

"I-I'm not sure," he said. "He was trying to make his way out the side exit..."

"That was near the gas tank, right?"

"Well, closer than we were, yeah."

Blair swallowed. "You think he made it out?"

"No idea," Jim shrugged.

"Can you hear...?"

Jim sighed. "My ears are still ringing from all that noise, Chief," he complained. But he resignedly took a deep breath and focused. Off in the distance, he heard sirens, getting louder by the second. Creaks and groans from various parts of the building, indicating that some sections were still standing and in danger of imminent collapse. But no heartbeat, other than their own.

Jim shook his head.

"Oh." Blair swallowed. "Maybe, he got out."

"Blair," Jim said, "I'm not going to shed any tears if that creep didn't get out of this alive, ok? He set off this explosion by firing at us when all we wanted to do was question him about the whereabouts of Dr. Jackson."

"Jonas didn't kidnap Dr. Jackson. He just happened to know the guys who did."

"Well then, why did he start shooting when I said 'Cascade PD'?" Jim asked. "Never mind, we've got other things to worry about now, ok?"

"Yeah," Blair agreed. "Like my legs are starting to go numb."

"There you go," Jim said. "Cavalry's on the way. I can hear them."

"How long before they dig us out?"

"I dunno. I have no idea what's on top of us," Jim twisted his neck, but all he could see was the huge metal slab that had shielded them from the rest of the debris.

"No sentinels outside to listen for us," Blair observed wistfully. "Maybe... Where's the phone?"

Jim frowned. He shifted, and was suddenly aware of something hard poking him in the stomach. "Uh... Chief?" he asked cautiously.

"Yeah."

"There's something... poking me."

"Oh," Blair said, considering. "Yeah, I feel it too," he concluded after a moment.

"Okay," Jim said. "Now we've got to get it out."

Just then, a cell phone started to ring, somewhere off to the side. "Shit!" Jim muttered, "There's the phone!"

"Then what's this thing?" Blair asked.

Jim frowned, closed his eyes, and concentrated. "Shit," he swore again, "It's the gun."

"The gun? We actually have the gun, and the phone's over there?" Blair asked incredulously. "Waitamin, is the safety off?"

Jim froze. "Okay, first things first," he decided, as he heard the ringing click off. Whoever had been calling would be listening to the answering message right now. "Don't move," he told Blair.

"Do I look like I'm going anywhere?" Blair grumbled.

"I mean it, Chief," Jim said sternly. "We do not want to set off the gun."

"Okay," Blair agreed. "So, what?"

Carefully, Jim levered himself up as much as he dared. He really didn't have much room to move before his back touched the metal slab. On one side was the mass of unidentifiable bric-a-brac that was supporting the slab, which he dared not disturb. On the other side the slab dug sharply into the ground, leaving very little room to maneuver.

"Can you... where's your hand?" he asked.

Blair tapped Jim's back.

"Okay. Slowly, now. Reach down and..."

"Don't tell me, I know what I'm doing," Blair snapped. He relaxed his arm, letting his hand slide down Jim's back and flop softly onto the ground. "Where's the muzzle?" he asked.

"Pointing up."

"Okay." Blair took a deep breath, then stuck his hand between their bodies, angling down. The pressure caused Jim's hip to shift forward, which...

"Ooof," Jim complained.

"Sorry," Blair returned, but he was concentrating on wiggling his hand to the right position. Jim tried to push up further to give Blair more room, but his back was already pressed into the solid unyielding mass of the metal slab. A probing finger poked into...

"Aw!"

"Sorry." This time Blair sounded sincerely contrite.

Jim gritted his teeth. "Just be quick about it, Chief," he commanded.

Blair took another deep breath, pushed, and Jim closed his eyes and bit his lip as Blair's hand closed around...

Click. The safety slid in place.

And Jim was hard. God damn hard.

"Uh... Jim?"

Jim glared at Blair.

"Could you, like..." Blair grabbed Jim's arm and tugged down. Jim obediently shifted himself down. "Good. Now if you could lift..." Blair tapped Jim's hip. Jim lifted, and Blair pulled the gun in one smooth sweep across...

"Aaaah!"

"Extra-sensitive?" Damn if Blair didn't sound amused. "What should I do with...?"

Jim grabbed the gun and pushed it away, toward the corner where the slab met the ground.

"Okay, so that's that." Blair commented. "Now where's that phone? It sounded fairly close."

Oh, good. Blair was going to ignore this -- this hard throb and pulse, digging almost painfully into Blair. Act normal, wait, and it'll go away.

But who was he kidding? This was Blair. When had he ever let Jim off easy? A glance at Blair's face confirmed Jim's suspicions. Blair might be concentrating on getting them out of here for now, but his eyes were bubbling with amused curiosity tinged with a hint of concern, just waiting for the right moment to burst into the open.

The phone rang again, right on cue. Probably Simon, trying to get in touch with them. Jim turned his head toward the sound, and located the phone. It was...

"Jim." The urgency in Blair's tone made Jim snap his head back. "My legs!"

"Um, okay," Jim mumbled, looking once again around the narrow, tight space wedging them in. "What do you want to do about them?"

"Just, can we just..." Blair squiggled, sending a jolt through Jim's groin. "Here, lift that leg." Jim lifted it as much as he could, which wasn't much. Blair grunted and strained until his leg slid out from under Jim's.

"Chief," Jim moaned as he braced himself against the delicious slide of another body against his.

"Now move it in... like that. Okay, the other one."

"Blair," Jim pleaded.

"No, hold on, gimme a sec. Okay, shift down. Down! Yeah, like that. And I do... There."

The phone had stopped ringing, but Jim didn't know when. Oh god. Each slide, each shift, each little scrape and shove sent fiery little tingles up and down Jim's spine. And now he was pressed tight against Blair, hard throbbing dick pressed into Blair, and he could feel Blair's soft organ, through the layers of fabric, could feel how it was curled and soft and tucked snugly against Blair's lower belly inside the encasing clothing, and Blair's legs wrapped around his thighs and held him closer, and he grabbed Blair's shoulders, and pushed, and pushed...

And oh god, he was coming, he was gasping and shuddering and seeing white behind his closed eyes and coming and coming, and Blair's arms tightened around him and a startled low moan escaped Blair's throat, and he buried his face tight against Blair's neck and it was dusty and gritty and the wet spot in his pants was clammy and rapidly cooling, and he was still shuddering, and Blair was rubbing soothing circles over his back and crooning softly, and he could hear the emergency vehicles pulling up outside, doors were slamming open and shut and equipment was being unloaded and people were shouting orders, and god what had just happened? What had he done?

Shame and consternation warred with languor and satiation. Jim drifted, idly taking in the commotion outside, unwilling and unable to draw himself out of the comfortable haze, feeling Blair's arms and legs and voice and smell wrapping him, gently cradling, and how could Blair be so... so... tender, and accepting, and just so... well, so.... Jim blinked, the thought that he must be crushing Blair finally enough to propel him to motion.

And damn, Blair's eyes were stunned and dark with an emotion Jim dared not name, but right beneath the surface, Jim could see the wheels turning, could see Blair rapidly sorting and shifting and measuring and considering, and he had this momentary flash of Blair in a lab coat with a stopwatch in his hand, all set to measure and document sentinel "extra-sensitive touchy-feely" response, and Blair's mouth opened and Jim decided he didn't want to hear any of it. So he kissed Blair.

As kisses went, it wasn't much of a kiss, actually more noses mashing and teeth clicking against each other, and Blair let out a startled yelp and jumped as much as the tight space would allow, which was to say that he jerked rather than jumped, but the taste exploded across Jim's mouth, and he hadn't known he wanted this, but oh he wanted it, needed it, craved it, was addicted to it even though he hadn't, not ever, not 'till now -- so he just corrected the angle and went back for more.

And Blair's lips opened with a low moan which Jim swallowed greedily, and as he dived headlong into the sweet heady taste, Blair arched up against him, grinding their bodies together, and oh, this time he could enjoy the friction, enjoy the simple feel of Blair's body against his, the thrumming heartbeat and soft gasps and moans, the soft silkiness of Blair's skin contrasting sharply with the rough spike of stubble as he slid his hand to cup and stroke Blair's cheek, and he finally drew away and watched as Blair blinked languidly, the wheels still turning, but at a much more placid pace, eyes staring into Jim's, seeking, searching, probing, and the gaze drilled straight to Jim's heart so he slid back down and kissed Blair some more, and he knew that Blair loved him as much as he loved Blair, and they'd go home and make love and live together to be a hundred, and the thought made him giddy and heady and nauseous and scared to his bones, but Blair was Blair and he was Jim, and such a simple thing but so complex and wonderful and marvelous and terrifyingly dazzling...

"Ouch!" Blair complained, as his hair got caught by a piece of the rubble.

Fondly, Jim untangled Blair's hair from the offending object.

"Uh... Jim?" Blair's hand gripped Jim's shirt. Face flushed, hair matted with dust, eyes wide, tongue flicking nervously just inside his lips. "I mean, this is nice, really... Weird, yeah, but nice... But... can we just get out of here already?"

So Jim just had to ruffle Blair's hair before he stretched his arm as far as he could reach, snagged the phone, and called Simon.