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Battle For Territory
by Lianne Burwell
June 1998
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PART ONE
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"Jim, he's gone. Please..." Simon pulled his best detective away from the 
body of his partner. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Brian and 
Rafe and Connors. All of them had tears in their eyes and on their faces. 
Hell, he was tearing up himself. He found the anthropology student 
annoying, hyperactive and far too enthusiastic, but he was like a breath 
of fresh air among the cynics that populate most police departments.

"He can't be dead, Simon, he can't be," Jim mumbled against his chest. 
Simon was praying that they weren't going to lose him too.

"What the hell?"

Simon looked up to see one of the paramedics still working on Sandburg 
jump back, shaking his hand.

"What?" he barked.

"I could swear... it was like an electric shock or something."

There was a rattling gasp, and suddenly all eyes were fixed on Sandburg's 
body. Another gasp, then suddenly he jerked and arched up off the ground.

"Shit! He's breathing. Get him in the ambulance *now*. Call the hospital 
and tell them we're in transit, and to be ready!" The paramedics were a 
blur of motion, while Simon held Jim back. They watched as Blair was 
loaded in the ambulance and it pulled away, sirens blaring. Simon finally 
noticed that a crowd of campus staff and students had formed.

"Brown, start questioning. See if anyone saw *anything*. Rafe, get back 
to headquarters and coordinate with the feds on the hunt for Barnes. 
They're going to be all over this one. I'll be at the hospital with Jim 
and Blair. Connors..."

"I'm with you, Captain," the Australian inspector said firmly.

"Fine. Let's get moving."

* * * * *

Getting Jim into the truck was easy. Getting him to hand over the keys 
wasn't. Finally, Simon had to resort to ordering him to hand them over, 
or he'd shoot out the truck's tires so that it couldn't move. There was 
no way in *hell* he was trusting Jim to drive in his condition.

Even so, Simon broke just about every traffic law, especially the ones 
about speeding, getting to the hospital. Connors hung onto Jim, who was 
propped between them.

Once at the hospital, Simon pulled up outside the ER entrance. He planned 
to grab the first person he saw and demand to know what was happening 
with Sandburg, but it wasn't necessary. They were barely through the 
doors before they could hear his voice.

"I'm telling you, man. I feel *fine*."

The three of them found Sandburg, sitting up on an examining table 
arguing with a doctor.

"Sandy!" Connors gasped.

"Chief?" Jim went white, and his knees started to buckle. In an instant, 
Blair was off the table and supporting his weight.

"Hey, big guy. C'mon, I'm okay. I'm right here."

"You were dead, Chief. No heartbeat. Not breathing. Oh, God, I though I'd 
lost you."

"Hey, you know me. After the last three years you should know that I'm 
practically indestructible."

Meanwhile, the doctor had moved over to Simon, who he recognized from 
previous visits. *Many* previous visits.

"Captain Banks, we want to check Mr Sandburg in overnight for 
observation. Could you *please* help us convince him."

"No way. I *so* don't like hospitals. If I have to check myself out AMA, 
I will."

The doctor groaned. "Tests, at least?"

Jim had finally pulled himself together. "That would be a good idea, 
Chief. It'll give me time to go home and fix things back up. Can't get 
your stuff from your office, though. It's probably marked off as a crime 
scene."

"That's fine. I just want to go *home*," Blair said, eyes shining at the 
silent assumption that he was going back to the loft.

"Home," Jim promised.

* * * * *

In the end, Connors stayed with Blair at the hospital, while Simon went 
to help Jim fix up the loft. When they arrived, he was shocked. 
Everything had been moved to the basement, including most of the 
furniture. The windows were wide open, and it was like an ice-box. While 
Jim went downstairs to collect the first load of boxes. Simon closed all 
the windows and turned the heat up. Blair would need a warm loft to come 
home to. Simon resolved to get the full story of just what the hell was 
going on from Jim later.

By the time Connors brought Blair home, everything was back where it 
should be, the rooms were warm and a fire crackled in the fireplace.

Connors just stood in the doorway. "Guys, I'm heading down to the station 
to see what they've come up with so far," she said. "I'll call you if 
there's anything."

"Thanks, Megan," Blair called out from Jim's hug. Simon had been almost 
embarrassed at how Jim had grabbed Blair as soon as he was through the 
door, all the while muttering that it was his fault, while Sandburg 
reassured him over and over again that he was all right. Simon *knew* 
that the two men were close, but now he was beginning to wonder just 
*how* close they were.

"Well," he said, heading for the kitchen. "How about some coffee? Then, 
Sandburg, you can tell me *exactly* what happened." As he spoke, he 
pulled a tape recorder from his coat pocket. They might as well get an 
official statement now, while it was still relatively fresh.

* * * * *

An hour later, Sandburg was hoarse, but had described everything he 
remembered. What Alex had said and done at his office. She had held a gun 
on him, but instead of shooting him, like he had expected, she had hit 
him with it. Dazed, and unable to control his limbs, he hadn't been able 
to fight her as she dragged him out to the fountain and... drowned him.

It was obviously a challenge being issued to Jim, Blair told them. 'This 
is *my* territory now' she seemed to be saying. Through the entire 
recitation, Jim had refused to let go of Sandburg, clinging with a 
strength unusual even for the big man. Blair hadn't commented, just 
letting Jim keep holding him like an over-sized teddy bear. Simon was 
surprised at his patience, but knew he shouldn't be.

Blair stopped suddenly, a strange look on his face.

"Blair, what is it?"

"I don't know," Blair replied in a distracted voice. "It's like there's a 
tingle running through my body, like a low electric shock or something."

"Should I call the doctor?" Simon asked, heading for the phone. Maybe 
Blair *shouldn't* have been allowed to leave the hospital so soon.

"No, Simon," Blair started to say, when there was a knock at the door. 
The three of them looked at each other, seriously weirded out. Simon 
wondered if maybe it was Barnes, come back to finish the job.

Finally, Jim let go of Blair for the first time and headed for the door, 
gun already out. He flung the door open, gun pointed at the figure 
standing there. It wasn't Alex. It wasn't anyone from the precinct. 
Instead, the large, handsome man was a complete stranger to all of them.

"Hello," he said, ignoring the gun pointed at his face. His voice was 
deep, and the accent was one that Simon couldn't quite identify. He 
looked past Jim, straight at Blair.

"My name is Duncan McLeod. We need to talk."

* * * * *

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PART TWO
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"My name is Duncan MacLeod. We need to talk."

* * * * *

Jim glared at the man in the doorway. Even to his enhanced senses, the 
man seemed completely unconcerned about the gun pointed at him. In Jim's 
experience, even the most hardened of men should react, but this one 
hadn't even broken into a sweat.

"About what?" he asked, suspicion clear in his voice. Simon was poised 
near the phone, ready to call this in. Blair was sitting on the couch, 
heartrate elevated.

"About what happened earlier today," MacLeod replied, looking past him to 
Blair. Jim was about to slam the door in the man's face when his partner 
spoke up.

"Let him in, Jim. I want to hear what he has to say."

"You sure about that, Chief?"

"Yeah." Blair didn't really sound sure, but he did sound determined. For 
a moment, Jim was tempted to shut the door anyway, but he stood aside.

He kept his gun trained on the man, though. The fact that the man moved 
gracefully, in the way only a martial artist does, didn't ease his mind. 
MacLeod sat down on the other couch, keeping plenty of space between him 
and Blair. Jim's instincts said that this was deliberate, to make the 
cops more comfortable. It didn't work.

You wanted to talk. So talk," he said, moving to stand behind Blair. 
Simon stayed where he was, next to the phone. "Start with *exactly* who 
you are."

"I told you," the man said. Jim still couldn't identify the accent. It 
was vaguely Scottish, matching his name, but there was something else... 
"My name in Duncan MacLeod. Currently I run a dojo in Seacouver. Before 
that, I dealt in antiques." Jim's senses said that the man was telling 
the truth, but he wasn't sure he could trust that, considering the man's 
lack of reaction to guns.

"Seacouver, huh?" Blair said. "So what brings you to Cascade?"

"A man named Martin Geary. At least, that's the name he was using the 
last time we met. He's used other names since the first time we met. He 
killed someone... close to me, and got away with it."

"And what does this have to do with us?" Simon asked, speaking up for the 
first time.

"A friend of mine found out that he had been seen in Cascade. I came 
looking for him." Jim wondered, for a moment, just what MacLeod planned 
on doing when he *found* the man, but didn't much care. "When I got here, 
I found out that he had been seen in the company of a thief named 
Alexandra Barnes. Apparently she's working for him."

Finally he had everyone's undivided attention.

"Are you saying that this man, Geary, is the one who ordered the theft of 
the VX Nerve Gas?" Simon demanded.

"I believe so."

"Shit!" Simon shouted, grabbing the phone. "Mr. MacLeod, you'll need to 
come down to the station to answer some questions. Anything you know 
about this man. Other aliases, description..."

"Wait." Jim was surprised when Simon hung up the phone without dialing. 
This MacLeod character had a charisma that seemed to inspire obedience.

"Your people can't deal with Geary. You'll just get a lot of people 
killed."

"Why?" Jim asked, suspicion flaring again.

"He's immortal."

For a moment, the blunt statement made everyone freeze. The Jim and Simon 
snorted, starting to relax. Obviously, the man was a nutcase. But Blair 
leaned forward, still intent.

"How do you know this?" he asked. Jim was surprised at how earnest he 
sounded.

"Chief, you can't be buying this?" he said, incredulous. MacLeod ignored 
him.

"I met Geary for the first time nearly two hundred years ago."

"So, what? You're an immortal too?" Simon asked, laughing.

Instead of answering, MacLeod pulled some sort of dagger out of his 
pocket. Before anyone could move, he pulled up his sleeve and sliced a 
deep cut, from wrist to elbow, along the inside of his forearm.

"Shit!" Blair shouted, and Jim had to prevent him from diving forward to 
treat the man's injury. MacLeod dropped the dagger on the floor, and held 
out his arm towards them. Jim's eyes widened as he watched a faint blue 
spark race along the cut. MacLeod pulled a handkerchief from his pocket 
and wiped away the blood. There was no sign of the wound. Blair pulled 
out of Jim's weakened grasp and went to check MacLeod's arm.

"Incredible," he said, in a shaky voice. "I'd come across mentions of 
immortals, but never really believed them."

"What are you talking about, Chief?" Jim said, annoyed at himself for 
letting Blair to get close to the man.

"I've read about immortals in a large variety of sources, and they're too 
consistent to completely dismiss. Immortals live normal live, they say, 
aging like everyone else until they get killed. After that, they revive, 
and don't age from that point on, and the only way to kill them is by 
cutting off their head. They also fight, whenever they meet, in a form of 
single combat. Something is supposed to happen when only one is left 
alive."

"You can't be serious," Simon said. "This is crazy!"

MacLeod ignored him. "It sounds like you already know the basics. Good. 
It's certainly more than *I* knew at my first death."

Jim eyed him, wondering at the tone, then turned towards Blair. 
Realization of what the man was saying hit them both at the same time.

"No way, man," Blair said, almost choking on the words.

"Immortals recognize each other. I was tracking Alex Barnes, hoping she 
would lead me to Geary. I got to the university too late to stop her from 
killing you. When you revived, I know. *Think*. Did you feel anything 
just before I knocked at the door?"

Blair paled. "It was like... a low-level electrical shock. I still feel it."

"For me it's more like a buzz. One of my more recent students likened it 
to an early-warning system."

Blair stared at his hands, contemplating what MacLeod was saying. Simon 
looked over to Jim, and Jim nodded. His senses were still saying that 
MacLeod was telling the truth, and it *did* explain why MacLeod didn't 
react to the gun. Based on his story, bullets wouldn't cause any long-
term damage.

Suddenly, Blair grabbed for the dagger that MacLeod had dropped. Before 
anyone could stop him, he had cut the back of his hand. He watched, with 
an expression of sickly fascination, as the same sort of blue spark 
crawled along the cut. It was slower than for MacLeod, but no trace of 
the wound was left behind.

"So..." he finally said. "Other... immortals are going to be trying to 
*kill* me?"

Jim stiffened, then moved to stand between his partner and MacLeod. "If 
you think I'm going to let you..."

MacLeod smiled. "No. Not me, at least. This... killing is referred to as 
the Game, for some reason, but not all of us participate. Many of us only 
fight if there is no other way out of a confrontation. Unfortunately, 
when one immortal is killed by another, there is a form of energy 
released that is absorbed by the slayer. The older the immortal, the 
greater the energy, and the stronger it makes the winner. As a result, 
there are immortals who could be considered... predators. The Game, 
though, has rules. Bladed weapons only. Single combat only. And holy 
ground, *anyone's* holy ground, is off-limits. There have been immortals 
who have lived centuries in monasteries when they were tired of the 
fights. But you need to learn to use a sword, and soon."

Jim could tell that Blair was uncomfortable. The young man had always 
been leery of weapons, preferring non-violence, and now someone was 
telling him that he was going to be put in 'kill or be killed' situations 
on a regular basis. Jim's blood ran cold at the thought. He squeezed 
Blair's shoulder and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"They'll have to come through me first."

"That's fine for *now*," MacLeod said. "But eventually he *will* have to 
learn to fight for himself, or spend the rest of his life on holy ground."

"So who'll teach me? You?"

"If you like. I've taught others, just as I was taught. It's one of the 
traditions among immortals, that new immortals will have a teacher until 
they are ready to look after themselves. A little like foster parents."

Blair chewed at his bottom lip. "I... need some time to think about this."

MacLeod stood. "Of course. Here's my card," he said, handing the small 
piece of paper to Blair. "Call me anytime. And, in the meantime, if you 
feel that... shock, get out of there. Stay in public places, with other 
people. Only the most crazed of immortals is willing to risk exposure. We 
do *not* want to end up in laboratories."

Jim moved to let MacLeod out. He could sympathize with the last 
statement, wholeheartedly.

"And," Simon spoke up, making everyone jump a little. "You *will* send me 
everything you know about this Geary person. If he's the man *behind* the
theft of the nerve gas, then we need to find him fast."

"Of course, Captain. I'll e-mail you?" Simon handed over one of his own 
business cards, which had his e-mail address on it. "But hopefully, you 
won't have to deal with him. I... owe him, like I told you, and when 
immortals get involved in this sort of high-profile crime, we usually 
deal with it ourselves."

Somehow, Jim didn't think that 'dealing' with it involved prisons. He 
shut the door behind MacLeod with a sigh of relief, mind reeling. Turning 
back to the room, Simon and Blair both looked as dazed as he felt.

"Well," Blair said, finally. "This has *got* to be the most... 
interesting day of my life."

* * * * *

Simon left about an hour after MacLeod. None of them wanted to believe 
the man, but seeing the cut on Blair's hand heal itself was hard to deny. 
In the end, Simon headed for home, after calling in the information that 
Barnes was working for someone else.

The moment Simon was out the door, Jim had his arms around Blair, holding 
on like he was never going to let go.

"Jim. We need to talk."

----------------------------------
PART THREE
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"Jim. We need to talk."

* * * * *

Blair could feel the flinch from his lover. The arms tightened around 
him, then let go. They moved back to the couch.

"I suppose we do. About yesterday..."

Blair reached out to take Jim's hand. "We *can* work this out. What 
happened. About Alex. About what I've...become. But we have to *discuss* 
it, not run away. Yesterday you said that I betrayed you by not telling 
you about Alex. I want to explain..."

"Chief, you don't have to..." Blair reached to stop the movement of Jim's 
lips.

"Yes I do. We both need to understand where the other is coming from. I 
told myself a lot of things. That you were reacting territorially, like 
an animal that realizes that another has entered his territory and wants 
to drive the other off. I told myself that it was just instinct, and that 
I shouldn't tell either of you about the other until I could bring you 
together in a neutral, controlled environment. It was a mistake." He 
grinned suddenly. "Considering my luck with women, I should have been 
begging you to do a background check on her at once." That got a weak 
chuckle from Jim.

"But I also thought that, maybe, if I had another Sentinel to study, I 
could make *her* the focus of my thesis. I mean, you've always been so 
uncomfortable with it, so I thought that maybe if I had a different 
primary source, I could use you just for confirmation. Less risk of you 
being exposed, too."

"Chief... I don't... I wasn't..."

Blair smiled. "Real coherent there, man."

Jim flushed a little, then took a deep breath, seeming to collect his 
thoughts. "Chief... I've been a little leery of some of the conclusions 
you've drawn, and I *do* understand that it's only preliminary, but I 
have *never* objected to being your subject. At least, not after I got 
used to the idea. In fact... I'm kind of proud of it."

"oh." Even to his own ears, Blair's voice sounded weak.

"And yesterday. I don't know. I think I was running on instinct. 
Everything was closing in. *She* was closing in. I needed to concentrate, 
and everything was a distraction. Even you. And..." He stopped.

"And?" Blair prompted.

"I had a dream recently. One of *those* dreams." Blair nodded. Alex might 
be more in tune with the mystical side of being a Sentinel, by Jim was 
still affected by it.

"It was the jungle, the temple. I was hunting. I had my bow ready. I 
could hear sound, and when I saw the wolf, I shot. I collapsed and died, 
whimpering." Jim shook his head. "Then the body changed. It wasn't a 
wolf, it was *you* lying there and I had *killed* you."

"I'm not dead, Jim," Blair said, soothingly, hearing the tinge of 
hysteria in the other man's voice.

"But you *could* have been. And it would have been *my* fault. If I 
hadn't pushed you away, then you would have been with me, safe, instead 
of alone in your office where *she* could get at you." Jim stood up and 
started pacing back and forth in front of him.

Blair groaned. He had seen this coming. Unfortunately, Jim Ellison had a 
highly-developed guilt complex, started by his father, and nurtured by 
the crash in Peru. *No* one did guilt better.

"On the other hand, she might *still* have killed me, or at least tried. 
Maybe I would have been killed five years from now, when there wasn't 
anyone like MacLeod around to explain what happened."

Blair looked at Jim, checking his expression. "Does that bother you? 
Knowing... knowing that I'm not going to age? That I'm not going to die?"

"I'm still having a little trouble... processing the idea. Do I have 
trouble with the fact that you're not going to die? No. Considering how 
you attract trouble, it's probably a good thing. That there are people 
out there who are going to want to kill you, just because you *are* 
immortal? Definitely. Not to mention the fact that you are now in the 
position of having to hide *your* nature from the government, just as 
much as I am. After all, the military would love to have soldiers with 
enhanced senses, but they would probably do *anything* to have soldiers 
that can't be killed."

Blair flinched. "I hadn't thought of that."

"You better. And as for not aging..." Jim looked away. "It's fine now, 
but what about ten years from now, when you still look twenty-nine, but 
I look fifty?"

Blair grinned. "You'll be one *hot* looking fifty-year-old."

"But what about sixty? Or seventy? Or eighty? What about the day when you 
still look and feel twenty-nine, and I can't look after myself anymore."

Blair lost the grin. "Jim, try to understand. There is nothing that is 
going to scare me away from you. I've learned my lesson. The only way 
I'll leave is if you truly *want* me to. I don't mean because you think 
it's best for me or safest for me. I mean only if you *really* don't want 
me anymore, because you don't love me anymore. I plan on being with you 
until the day you die, and that day will hurt like hell. If having you 
for a few extra years would mean be a personal nurse, I will do it and be 
grateful for the extra time. So I suggest you forget any ideas about 
going all noble on me. Got it?"

Jim started to smile. "Got it."

"Good. Now let's go to bed."

Jim blinked at the sudden change of topic. "Huh?"

"Hey, in the last couple of days I've been on a roller-coaster ride, 
starting with being kicked out of the loft and ending with dying, coming 
back to life and finding out that I'm immortal. I'm *exhausted*!"

"Well, when you put it that way..."

* * * * *

When Blair woke up, he felt warm and safe, a far cry from the previous 
morning. Sunlight streamed through the room, suggesting that they had 
over-slept. He rolled over, planning to wake Jim up, but found the other 
man already awake. He was propped up on one elbow, watching him. Blair 
made a big production of stretching, just to see the light glow in the 
big guy's eyes.

"Been awake long?"

"About an hour. I just... wanted to watch you."

A hand reached to brush the tangles out of Blair's eyes. Blair caught the 
hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss into the center of the 
palm, enjoying the gasp that the action caused.

"No more stupid plans for pushing me away to protect me?" He asked.

"None," Jim replied, then leaned in for a kiss. When they pulled away, he 
started to sit up. "Now, we have to go in to work so that you can make 
your statement about the attack, and we can start trying to track down 
Geary..."

Blair grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. "I think Simon will 
forgive us if we're a little late."

"I don't know..." Jim said, but he was smiling. "If you really think 
so..."

"What I think is that you aren't getting out of this bed until I have my 
wicked way with you," Blair told him with a straight face as he rolled on 
top of the bigger man.

"If you must." Jim gave a theatrical sigh, throwing his arms out to the 
sides, inviting Blair to do whatever he wanted with his captive lover.

Not one to turn down an invitation, Blair decided to make breakfast of 
his lover. Every inch of bare flesh was licked, nibbled and otherwise 
tasted. He was almost tempted to duck downstairs to get some appropriate 
flavorings (maple syrup, jam, etc...) but decided that making a mess of 
the sheets would delay them *too* long, since Jim would insist on washing 
the sheets immediately to prevent permanent stains.

Besides, unfiltered Jim was a tasty treat on its own.

However, Jim was right. They did need to get in to work soon, so rather 
than drawing the Jim-torture out, Blair went quickly for the final prize. 
His lover's erect cock was stroked, fondled, licked and finally sucked, 
until he spilled everything he had into Blair's mouth.

"Well, we better get going," he teased, getting up from the bed. As 
expected, Jim pulled him back down.

"I don't think so. You've had *your* protein shake. Now I want *mine*."

Smiling, Blair allowed himself to be manipulated into a position 
straddling Jim's head. Bracing himself against the railing, he thrust his 
hips forward, and his cock into the waiting mouth. The resulting suction 
nearly made him fall over. Jim was not in the mood for patience. He 
wanted his breakfast and he wanted it *now*. The suction, combined with 
the tongue action, was too much for Blair to resist, and he came very 
fast, faster than he might have liked. If they had the time.

"Oh, man. It's a good thing I can't die, or I'd be dead right *now*!" 
Blair gasped, collapsing on top of his lover.

"*Now* we can get going," Jim panted.

"Right," Blair replied, plastered all over Jim. Neither man moved.

* * * * *

When they both had finally regained their breath, and their heartrates 
had lowered to healthier levels, they shared a fast shower, not taking 
the time for their usual water sports (no, not *those* kinds of water 
sports), then headed out the door. Next stop, the station.

No matter how their personal lives may have been turned upside down, 
there was still the matter of a rogue Sentinel and a large amount of 
nerve gas missing, and that was far more important.

----------------------------------
PART FOUR
----------------------------------

Simon was looking through his window, into the bullpen, when Jim and 
Blair finally showed up the next day. It was almost lunch-time, but no 
one had been surprised at their lateness. If anything, he would guess 
that a lot of people hadn't expected to see the two men at all that day. 
Rafe and Brown had vividly described the finding of Blair, drowned in the 
fountain, and Jim's behavior while Blair was resuscitated.

Jim and Blair had never publicly announced their personal relationship, 
but most people accepted it as a given. In fact, Simon knew that most of 
the Major Crimes group had figured that the two men were lovers before 
*they* had figured it out. Even Connors had figured it out *before* the 
undercover op the three had gone on.

Through the door, Simon could see Blair being passed from person to 
person. Even the hardest of cops were taking the chance to hug him. The 
academic might be annoying at times, and overly hyperactive, but he had 
quickly become little brother to most of the department. Some considered 
him like a mascot. Others considered him almost a good-luck charm. 
Between the rise in arrest rates, since he started working with Jim, and 
his apparent ability to survive *any* disaster, most people felt that 
there was *something* special about the young man.

Simon moved to the doorway, verified that the pass-around had finished, 
and called out. "Sandburg, Ellison. My office, now."

The two men came through the door as he was sitting down again. He gave 
them a once-over, and was relieved to note the smiles and relaxed poses. 
It was far better than the tension that had filled the air for the past 
few days.

"All right. MacLeod sent me a ton of information on Geary." He passed 
over two printouts. "Aliases. Previous crimes. Modes of operation." He 
shuddered. "They go back more than a hundred years, so I suggest you 
*not* let anyone else see them. There are also several photos, with 
different hair styles. Also, an itinerary for the last few years, 
although I don't know *where* he could have gotten it. He didn't say that 
he'd been following the man all that time."

"No," Blair said, leafing through the papers. "But he did say that he had 
been directed this way by a friend. Perhaps his *friend* has been 
following the man."

Simon had wondered about that, and had e-mailed MacLeod, but there hadn't 
been an answer yet. "Maybe so. In the meantime, I want the two of you to 
work with the team tracking him down."

"What about Barnes?" Jim asked, jaw suddenly clenching. Simon sighed.

"If the two of you come up with anything that will help us find her, 
fine. But I don't think I want to let you anywhere *near* her." Because 
you would probably kill her, and I'd be left in the position of trying to 
cover it up, was the unspoken part of the conversation. Jim didn't look 
happy, but he nodded.

"All right, sir. Anything else?"

"No. Get to work, you two. And gents?" They both turned around at the 
door. "I'm glad to have you *both* here. Together."

Jim's expression lightened, and Blair smiled brightly. Then they were 
gone, headed back to Jim's desk, Jim's hand pressed to Blair's back. The 
return of their normal touching was reassuring to see.

* * * * *

Simon hug up the phone with a groan. At this rate he was never going to 
get any work done. Every five minutes, it seemed, he was getting a call, 
either from the Mayor's office, demanding to know what he was doing about 
the theft of more than enough nerve toxin to wipe out the entire city, 
several times over, or another call from the Feds, wanting to know what 
his people had found out, but not willing to share any of *their* 
information. Assuming, of course, that they had any.

Unfortunately, so far his people had come up empty.

When Ellison knocked on the door, he looked up with a hopeful expression. 
"Anything?"

"A man matching Geary's description *was* checked in at the Day's Inn, 
just north of town, using one of the aliases on MacLeod's list. 
Unfortunately, he checked out this morning. Nothing since then."

Simon sighed. "I suppose it was to much to hope for. Was he carrying 
anything unusual when he left?"

"Two duffel-bags."

"All right. Oh, and Blair, I got another e-mail from MacLeod. It seems 
that the friend who told him Geary was in Cascade is a 'Watcher'. 
Apparently, these 'Watchers' are an organizations that keeps an eye on... 
people like you and MacLeod. They don't interfere. They usually don't get 
close. Most of... your people don't know they exist, but he said that 
with Jim keeping an eye on you, that the two of you should probably know. 
After all, you wouldn't want Jim to kill some poor shmuck whose only 
crime is recording your actions for some sort of super-secret archives, 
would you?"

Blair blinked. "I suppose there would be academics who would want to know 
about the lives of... us," he said awkwardly, not willing to use the 'I' 
word in public, any more than Simon was.

"So. Anything else?" Simon asked, reaching for a cigar before he 
remembered that the police department had recently decreed that the 
building was a 'smoke-free' one. Damn, he really wanted a smoke.

"Simon," Blair said. "I'd like you to put us on finding Alex. Jim's been 
reacting to her since the start, before any of us even met her. I think 
he might be able to track her."

"You mean her scent or something?"

"Nooo... Their reaction to each other is much more than just personal 
antagonism. It's like... like they recognize each other as competitors. I 
think that Jim can track her, on a different level than the physical."

Simon shook his head. Enhanced senses, he could barely wrap his mind 
around. This mystical mumbo-jumbo just gave him a headache. However, at 
this point he was about ready to take any chance, no matter how far out. 
Hell, the mayor was even talking about calling in a psychic, like that 
Charlie guy who had shown up with Naomi Sandburg last year.

"Fine. All I want is for this to be *over* while I still have *some* hair 
left. Bring me results. Just *please* don't tell me how you got them. And 
try to bring her in alive, would you."

Simon watched the two men leave, and sighed. Some days he longed for the 
days when weird crimes bypassed Cascade, his best detective *wasn't* a 
human blood hound, and said detective's partner wasn't unkillable.

Things were so much simpler back then.

----------------------------------
PART FIVE
----------------------------------

"Tell me again, Chief. How are we going to find her?"

Jim eyed his partner with a dubious expression. Despite Blair's 
statements to Simon, he still wasn't sure about this idea of him tracking 
Barnes.

"I'm going to put you in a light trance, kind of like the one right after 
Incacha died. While in the trance, you should be able to see your spirit 
guide, and have it lead you to Alex. It will have to be a much lighter 
trance, since you need to be able to move and function in the physical 
world, while still tuning in to the metaphysical one."

Jim sighed. The explanation hadn't changed. It might sound perfectly 
logical to Blair, but he really wasn't sure about that. The elevator 
pinged, and the doors opened on the parking garage, and they headed for 
the truck. Blair held out his hand and Jim looked at him.

"C'mon, man. You may be able to function while in the trance, but if you 
think I'm going to let you *drive*, you're nuts. A car crash might not 
kill *me*, but you're a different matter."

Jim glared a him for a moment, then handed over the truck's keys and slid 
into the passenger-side seat. "Now what?" he asked.

Blair started the truck, and pulled his bookbag into his lap. Rummaging 
through the books, papers and other miscellaneous fallout from his life 
at the University and the station, he finally emerged with a tape in his 
hand. Slipping it into the tape deck, he turned up the sound until the 
vehicle was filled with jungle sounds.

"All right, now lean back and close your eyes. Think of the jungle and 
the temple from your dreams. Picture them in your mind. Take a deep 
breath... and let it out. In... and out... in... out..."

Breathing in time with his guide's hypnotic voice, Jim shut his eyes and 
let his mind drift.

* * * * *

He was running through the jungle, following the panther. The branches 
reached out to grab at him, but he ignored them. Nothing was going to 
stop him. He was on a mission.

Out of the blue-tinged greenery, the temple emerged in front of him. He 
followed the panther up the steps, to the altar. It was joined there by a 
wolf, and they sat down, pressed close to each other. Suddenly, the wolf 
blurred, and reformed as Blair, dressed in the loincloth and paint of a 
Chopec shaman.

"Why are you here?" the Blair/wolf asked him.

"I need to find the other Sentinel, before she hurts more people. Like 
she hurt my Guide."

"You were warned."

Jim winced. "I didn't understand the warning."

"You must *learn* to understand, or your Guide will be taken from you."

"Taken?" he asked, horrified.

"You have chosen to be Sentinel for your city, and he has chosen to be 
your Guide. But you must chose him *as* your Guide. If you do not, you 
will lose him."

"What do I have to do?"

The Blair standing before him morphed back into wolf form, and took of 
running through the jungle. Jim gave the panther a brief glance, then 
went after the wolf. Behind him he could hear a purr of approval.

Through the jungle they ran, silent and unnoticed. It felt so good to be 
running. It felt so good to be running with the wolf. The urge to use the 
bow was gone, unlike the last dream. Up ahead, he heard the sound of 
rushing water.

They burst through the edge of the jungle, and he saw the cliff before 
them. The same cliff whose edge he had stood on before. The wolf was 
still running, passing over the edge and disappearing. He didn't hesitate.

He followed his Guide over the edge.

* * * * *

Jim came to with a shudder. He was sitting in the truck, jungle noises 
coming from the speakers. Blair was watching him.

"Well?"

Jim looked around. Over near the exit sat a black panther. He sat up 
straight. "Let's go," he said. "I'll give you directions."

Blair put the truck into gear and for the exit.

* * * * *

It was definitely one of the more surreal periods in Jim's life. He had 
seen the panther before, in Cascade, but it was always a brief glimpse. 
Other than the time it had tripped him so that he would land on top of 
his roommate, but not yet lover, that is. This time, though, the panther 
was acting as guide.

Jim directed Blair, as they followed the panther through the streets of 
Cascade, and into the outskirts. It wasn't until they reached one of the 
new sub-divisions, still under construction, that he heard it. A feline 
growl in the distance. Not the panther. This was a different feline. 
Hers.

"She's nearby," he said, the first words other than 'right' or 'left' to 
leave his mouth since they had left the station garage. Blair slowed the 
truck down. "Stop."

Jim got out of the truck, and scented the air. "She's close. Call it in, 
Chief. We may need backup."

Dimly, he heard Blair talking to Simon, explaining where they were. All 
his focus was on the angry black cat, pacing up and down the street, 
waiting for him to follow. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught 
glimpses of spotted fur.

"Chief stay here," he started to say, then stopped. "Forget that. I want 
you where I can keep an eye on you. Let's go."

The panther was growling, impatiently. Simon was on his way with an army 
of cops, but Jim wasn't about to wait for them. Thankfully there were no 
workers around this late in the day. The panther led them through the 
neighborhood until they reached one of the model homes, then disappeared. 
Jim started forward, then ducked behind a dumpster as bullets hit the 
ground in front of his feet. Behind him, still out of sight of the other 
Sentinel, Blair was updating Simon.

"Give it up, Ellison," came the shout from the house. "Your time here is 
through. This is *my* town now."

Next to him, Blair looked up in interest. Before he could say anything, 
Jim waved at him to stay quiet. "Nice try, Barnes, but it won't work. 
You might as well give up now."

"To a has been like you? Don't make me laugh. You're nothing without your 
Guide. Give up, and move out of the way. Your day is through."

"Oh, but I still *have* my Guide. Or did you *really* think he would be 
*that* easy to get rid of?"

There was a moment of silence. "You're lying. I shot him and dumped him 
in the fountain. There was no heartbeat."

"No lie, Alex." Blair called out. "I'm right hear. If you listen, you can 
hear my heartbeat now."

The only answer was an almost feline scream, and a hail of bullets. Then 
the bullets stopped.

"Her gun's jammed," Jim said, then ran for the door. Behind him, he could 
hear Blair cursing him for being too impetuous, but all he cared about 
was getting his hands on the bitch who had killed his lover. In the 
distance, he could hear sirens, but he was through the door and into the 
house.

She was upstairs. He could hear her cursing. He headed towards the 
bedroom she had been shooting from, gun drawn, and swung through the 
door.

"Hold it right there, Barnes," he shouted.

The response was an attack so fast and ferocious that it caught him off-
guard. His gun went flying (again, damnit!) and he hit the ground with 
the snarling blonde on top of him, knife held to his throat.

"This is *my* town now, Ellison," she hissed. "*My* town. *My* jungle."

The woman was seriously crazed, he realized. In every other encounter she 
had seemed perfectly controlled. Blair's description of her behavior in 
his office had been equally cool. But now she was practically frothing at 
the mouth.

He managed to get his legs between them and kicked her off. She landed on 
her feet, knife still in her hand, but he was already up and ready for 
her next attack. Outside, he could hear Simon shouting. Then she was on 
him again, and it was all he could do to keep it from embedding in his 
throat.

Shit, she was strong. The knife was creeping, steadily, towards his 
throat, and there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it.

Then his hearing exploded with the sounds of gunfire, and she slumped 
against him, knife falling to the floor. Turning his head to the side, he 
could see Simon in the doorway, gun still in firing position. Behind him 
were Blair, Rafe and Brown. He let go of Barnes, and the woman slumped to 
the ground. His enhanced hearing told him she was dead, and, unlike 
Blair, there wasn't going to be any reprieves for her.

He stumbled over to the corner where her bags were. He emptied the first 
duffel, finding only clothing and a statue of a temple. The one from his 
dreams. In the other bag was a canister. He hefted it, considered the 
weight, and turned to Simon.

"If this is the stuff, I'd say that less than half of it was here."

Simon closed his eyes and groaned.

* * * * *

"Did she say *anything* useful?" Simon asked, yet again.

"No. She just kept ranting about this being *her* city, *her* jungle," he 
told his Captain, yet again. "She wasn't coherent. She wasn't in control."

"And for good reason," said Cassie from the doorway. Jim felt his jaw 
clench. He still didn't like the new chief of forensics. Luckily, she 
didn't bother them much anymore. After interfering with one case too 
many, when she didn't have any business poking her nose in, the law had 
been laid down. Either she stick to her job, or she would be fired. Since 
the chances of finding another job at the same level would be about 
impossible without a good reference, she had stuck to her lab. Since 
then, her work had been beyond reproach.

She walked over to Simon's desk and handed him the papers in her hands, 
none of the flirtatious swagger that used to fill her walk. "Here's the 
preliminary bloodwork. We haven't identified it yet, but there is 
definitely some sort of narcotic in her system."

Simon glanced through the pages. "Thanks, Welles. Let me know when the 
ME finishes his autopsy report."

She nodded and headed for the door, careful not to push for details. As 
soon as she was out of sight, he groaned.

"Let me guess..." he said. Jim nodded.

"She delivers the toxin to Geary, and he gives her a going away present. 
Some of the toxin, and a drug that leaves her crazed enough that she 
would probably use it. Considering the way the wind was blowing, 
releasing the toxin from that sub-division would have blown it right into 
Cascade, passing over two malls and three schools on its way towards 
downtown."

"Good thing you were able to find her first. Now, find this sonofabitch. 
I'm getting really tired of this."

----------------------------------
PART SIX
----------------------------------

Blair woke, feeling warm and comfortable, the way he usually did when 
cuddled up against his Sentinel. He turned in the man's arms, careful not 
to wake him up.

Jim always looked so peaceful when he slept. The lines on his face 
smoothed out and his jaw unclenched. A good thing, that, since otherwise 
he would probably end up needing major dental surgery, and Blair wasn't 
sure that standard freezing would work, the way Jim reacted to medication.

Blair smiled, and buried his face in Jim's neck, inhaling the musky-salty 
scent of the other man's sweat. Sometimes he wondered what he smelt like 
to the enhanced senses of his Sentinel. He had asked, once, but the 
response was as nonsensical to him as a description of the color purple 
would be to a blind person. He took a small lick, and felt Jim start to 
shudder to life. He grinned, and licked again, less subtle about it this 
time. His reward was a chuckle.

"Trying to start something, Chief?"

"Nah, just ignore me," he shot back, before leaning down to suck on a 
nipple, enjoying the gasp.

Almost at once, Jim grabbed him under the arms and pulled him up, like a 
warm blanket. After a leisurely kiss, he looked Blair in the eye, with a 
serious expression.

"I could never ignore you, Chief. You're far too important to me for 
that."

Blair waited a moment to appreciate the sentimentality of the moment. 
Then he leaned down and bit the tip of Jim's nose.

"Ow! Imp!" Jim said, rubbing at the red spot.

Still grinning, Blair followed up with a kiss to the poor, abused 
feature. Then a kiss to every other feature on the face. Soon they were 
moving together it that well-known, but always pleasurable rhythm. From 
his position of leverage on top of Jim, Blair rocked his hips back and 
forth, getting the maximum amount of friction between their genitals, 
enjoying the expression of total abandon on his lover's face. Everything 
was forgotten. The death of Alex Barnes two days earlier, the theft of 
the toxin, Geary still out there, immortality. Everything was forgotten 
in the heat of the moment.

Blair could feel his orgasm building, and knew from the sounds he was 
making that Jim was close too. He buried his face in Jim's throat and bit 
down hard. Under him, Jim arched up off of the mattress, coming in great 
spurts. Jim's arms, wrapped around Blair, squeezed tightly, pressing his 
cock tightly between their bodies, and the pressure was all he needed to 
finish off.

They lay, glued together by their combined fluids, panting.

"Well," Jim said, finally. "I can't say that you don't finish what you 
start."

* * * * *

Blair was still grinning when he pulled into his parking spot at the 
University. The good mood lasted him almost all the way to the building 
with his office, but standing on the steps, the feeling quickly vanished. 
He knew that if he turned around he would see the fountain, but he 
refused. He wasn't going to let this win. He had survived worse.

Forcing himself to be calm, he walked through the main doors, answering 
the calls of welcome from students and faculty as he headed for his 
office.

The yellow "police line" tape was gone. His office had been sifted for 
evidence, then put back together by his friends. His possessions had 
already been delivered back to the loft.

He wandered around the office, touching an item here, an item there, 
wondering how it could seem so... normal. Like he hadn't sat at his desk 
with a gun held on him. Like he hadn't been forced out of the office, 
struck on the back of the head, hard enough to immobilize but still leave 
him conscious, then pushed into the fountain, and held face down until 
his vision had gone dark and his lungs had filled...

Blair jerked himself back to reality with a gasp. Looks like he was going 
to need some heavy therapy to deal with this, he thought to himself.

Opening his bookbag, he collected the reference materials that he wanted 
for working at home. He definitely was *not* ready to work in his office 
yet. He wondered if he ever would be. It figured. He got moved out of the 
storage room in the basement, into a *proper* office, and something like 
this has to happen to spoil it. There was no justice in the world.

He tucked the last book in, closed the zipper, and pulled the bag over 
one shoulder. He gave a last glance around the room, wondering if he 
would ever feel comfortable in there again, then headed for the door.

* * * * *

Leaving the building again, he took a deep breath of the crisp fall 
air. He stopped, and deliberately looked at the fountain opposite the 
building. It was an attractive fountain. He'd sat on its side many times 
during the summer months, reading, or talking to a student, or just 
thinking. It was a favorite spot for eating lunch too. He shook his head. 
He wasn't going to let her ruin everything, he thought as he headed down 
the path towards the parking lot. She's dead, and he wasn't going to let 
her poison things, just like he hadn't let Lash.

Suddenly he stopped, feeling like he had stepped on a live wire, or 
something. He paled as he realized where he had felt that before. 
Glancing around, he noticed a man, standing near some trees at the edge 
of the parking lot.

Blair did an immediate about-face, and headed back towards the University 
Quad at a brisk walk. As he went, he pulled his cell phone from his coat 
pocket. He punched the first speed dial number, and lifted the phone to 
his ear.

"C'mon, c'mon. Answer!" he muttered to it.

"Major Crimes, Jim Ellison speaking."

"Jim," he said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I'm at the university, and 
Geary is here."

"Shit! Remember what MacLeod said. Keep in public. He won't do anything 
in front of witnesses."

"Unless he plans to use the toxin to get rid of the witnesses. I'm 
heading for the admin building. It's busy this time of day."

"I'll be there as fast as I can. Hang tight, Chief."

----------------------------------
PART SEVEN
----------------------------------

"Simon!" Jim called as he grabbed his gun and headed for the door. "Blair 
just called. Geary's at the university."

The next thing he knew, his Captain was practically exploding out of his 
office, calling for backup to be sent to the university and grabbing his 
coat. Jim looked at him, blankly, for a moment.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Simon demanded. "Let's go!"

"Simon..."

"Give me a break, Jim. Even if it *weren't* for the toxin, I certainly am 
not going to sit around while one of my men is in danger."

Jim was thrown so off-balance by the 'my men' comment that he didn't even 
protest when Simon insisted on taking his car. He even drove fast enough, 
with lights blazing, to satisfy the Sentinel.

* * * * *

As soon as they had pulled up outside of Rainier University's 
administration building, Jim was out of the car and scanning the area 
with his hearing. He didn't find the heartbeat he was looking for. 
Widening his focus, he finally heard it, off to the side and heading into 
more deserted areas of the campus. It was fast, panicky.

"This way," he told Simon, already moving.

As they pushed their way through the light crowd, Jim expanded his 
hearing to pick up the conversation.

//Listen, man. This is *really* not a good idea. The cops are already on 
their way.//

Good. Blair was thinking on his feet, something he did very well. For a 
moment, Jim flashed to outside a warehouse, listening to Blair talking to 
a serial killer, confusing the man long enough for Jim to come to the 
rescue.

//Oh, be quiet, boy. You'll be dead and I'll be long gone before they 
ever find you. You may be to... new to have much of a quickening, but 
don't think that it will stop me from taking your head.//

//I don't know what you're talking about.//

//Don't jerk me around, boy. I saw MacLeod going into your apartment. You 
know *exactly* what I'm talking about. Oh, no you don't!//

Jim heard a cry of pain, and moved even faster.

//Don't think about running. Shooting you might not be as effective as 
shooting one of those mortals back there, but it *will* slow you down, 
long enough for me to take your head.//

//You're going to do that anyway, so why should I make it any easier?//

The response was a shot, muffled by a silencer, followed by a choked 
scream that was more familiar than Jim would have liked. However, he was 
almost on top of them, and Simon was mere steps behind.

"Freeze! Cascade PD!" he shouted, round the corner to the back of the 
science building.

The man they knew as Geary was standing over Blair, gun in one hand and a 
sword in the other. Blair was on the ground writhing, holding his hip.

Geary turned, and fired twice at Jim and Simon. They ducked for cover, 
shooting as they went. Jim heard a cry, as one of the bullets hit its 
target. He poked his head, and gun, back around the corner.

"He's headed for the north parking lot," he told Simon as he headed to 
Blair's side. He could hear Simon on his cell, directing cops to cut off 
the parking lot's exits, but Blair was all he was concerned about.

"Chief?" Blair had stopped moving, but his face still showed pain.

"Man, this is so *weird*!" he gasped through gritted teeth. Jim could see 
flashes of blue sparks between the young man's fingers, as he grasped his 
hip. "It's like... like I can *feel* the bone chips moving back into 
place."

Jim touched him, and felt a heaving underneath the skin as the last 
traces of the wound disappeared. It was... weird. But it was still Blair, 
he told himself. And Blair was unhurt again. If not for... this, he'd be 
looking at a long hospital stay, therapy, and probably some long-term 
disability. A shattered hip-bone was difficult to deal with. He looked up 
as Simon came up to them.

"Well? Have they caught him?"

Simon shook his head. "A car ran the blocks, getting away. It's probably 
going to turn up, abandoned somewhere. Sorry."

"Not your fault, Simon," Blair said, standing up. He took a couple of 
hesitant steps, as though to confirm that the pain was gone. He looked 
down at the blood-stains on his jeans and grimaced. "Man, I want a *hot* 
shower." He grinned at Jim. "Wanna scrub my back, big guy?"

Jim was fighting his suddenly active libido, while Simon made fake 
gagging noises in the background. He forced himself to concentrate on the 
matter at hand.

"Chief, why the hell were you going with him? I thought you were going to 
stick to crowded areas."

Blair's grin disappeared. "He caught up with me in front of the admin 
building. He showed me his gun, without letting anyone else see it, then 
said he'd start shooting students if I didn't go with him. I don't know 
if he really would have, but I wasn't going to take the chance."

Jim sighed. "Don't worry, Chief. I would have done the exact same thing 
under those circumstances."

"No kidding. I've *seen* you do it, remember?"

* * * * *

Luckily Blair's jacket was long, and of a color that hid bullet holes and 
blood-stains well. They did not want to be explaining how he could have 
been shot and bleeding, but show no wounds. Blair was parked in Simon's 
car, under the watchful eyes of a *lot* of cops, while Jim and Simon 
coordinated the search.

"Captain," Rafe said, coming up. "They found the car, about five miles 
from here. Geary was gone, and there's no sign of whether or not he had 
toxin with him."

"Damn," Simon ground out. "I want him *found*. Make sure there are 
spotters at all the train and bus stations, as well as the airports."

"That won't be necessary, Captain Banks," came a smooth voice. Jim turned 
to see two men in suits that screamed 'Fed'. He groaned, and heard every 
other cop in hearing distance do the same. He should have known that it 
was only a matter of time before the feds showed up. Actually, he was a 
little surprise that they hadn't poked their noses in sooner.

Somehow, he would guess that their chances of catching Geary had just 
gone up in smoke.

* * * * *

"Well," Simon growled, after hanging up the phone. "All they would tell 
me was that Geary was seen heading out of town. Apparently, he had a 
small plane at one of the private air-strips on the outskirts of town, and 
he got there before the feds got around to it."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Figures."

"So, they say we don't need to worry about him *or* the toxin. It's out 
of our hands and in theirs."

"Why doesn't that reassure me," Blair muttered to himself. Jim flashed 
him a grin, then turned back to his captain.

"Simon, I want to take some leave time."

"After everything that's happened lately, I should think so. A week to do 
some camping?"

"No... I'm not sure how long, but I think we should take a trip to 
Seacouver."

"Huh?" Blair looked surprised at that.

"Chief, you could have been killed today," Jim said, turning to his 
lover. "And I might not make it in time, the next time it happens. You 
heard MacLeod. There *will* be a next time, and we both know it. It's 
just a matter of time. I'll sleep better if we get more information from 
MacLeod, and get you some training. The sooner, the better."

"You expect me to start carrying a sword around, killing people?" Blair 
seemed horrified at the thought.

"No, of course not. But I would like to know that if someone *with* a 
sword comes after you, you'll know how to defend yourself. That's all I'm 
suggesting. Basic self-defense."

He could see Blair's pacifism warring with his well-developed sense of 
self-preservation, and waited for the verdict. Blair chewed on his lip 
for a moment, then looked up.

"All right. It's almost winter break, I can take the time. Just let me 
arrange for someone to proctor my exams."

"Fine," Jim said, with a smile. "We'll go, the end of the week."

----------------------------------
PART EIGHT
----------------------------------

Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod was wondering just how the hell he had 
managed to get himself into this mess. He was flat on his back, tied, 
spread-eagled and naked, to the corners of his bed. Watching him, with an 
evil grin, was his lover, Methos.

"I'm ready for my dessert, now," the lanky immortal said, as he stalked 
forward. Duncan tore his eyes from the predatory expression on the other 
man's face to focus on his hands.

In one hand, Methos held a tub of whipped cream - the real stuff, not 
that "edible-oil product" you find in most grocery stores. In the other 
hand was a jar of chocolate sauce. Duncan eyed them, dubiously.

"And just want do you plan to do with *those*?" he asked, not sure he 
wanted to know.

Methos moved to straddle him, on the bed, and looked down at him. He 
dropped the chocolate sauce off to the side, and opened the tub of 
whipped cream. "I told you. Dessert."

Methos gently lowered his weight down onto Duncan, sensuously rubbing 
against him, and Duncan groaned, arching up as far as his bonds would let 
him. His eyes rolled back as his cock finished coming fully erect. A 
finger rubbed across his lips, and he opened his mouth to taste the rich 
cream. The fingers were followed by a hot mouth that licked the excess 
cream off his lips. Then Methos pulled back with a grin, and held his 
hands over the tub. "Time for the main course," he said.

He was just about to dip his hand in for the first scoop, when they both 
groaned. Methos resealed the whipped cream and started undoing the 
bindings. "I swear," he grumbled. "Whoever it is, I'm taking their head. 
I don't care if it's Amanda, or Richie, or..."

Duncan silenced him with a kiss, then pulled on his sweatpants and 
grabbed his sword. Downstairs, they heard the doorbell ring. "Well, it's 
not Amanda or Richie," he said. "They both have keys."

It was definitely the buzz of an immortal, but someone wanting to 
challenge didn't usually ring the doorbell. Maybe Richie had lost his 
keys, or something. Still, Duncan thought, you can't be too careful. He 
and Methos headed downstairs, as quietly as possible, swords ready. 
While Methos waited to the side of the door, Duncan opened it.

Of all the things he thought he might see, Blair Sandburg and Jim Ellison 
standing on his doorstep had been pretty low on the list of probabilities.

* * * * *

A little while later, they were sitting in Duncan's living room. He had 
brewed a pot of tea while he listened to the explanation of why they had 
shown up without warning.

"So Geary saw me go to your apartment. He must have been watching, after 
he realized that Blair was an immortal. Are you sure that he has left 
Cascade?" he asked, carrying the pot out to the living room. Both he and 
Methos, who he had introduced as Adam Pierson, had dressed. The two men 
had been so embarrassed when they realized what they had interrupted that 
Methos had ended up laughing himself silly. Once he got over the 
frustration, that is.

"That's what the feds say," Jim told them. Duncan groaned. This was 
exactly the sort of thing that immortals preferred to avoid. Federal 
agents taking an interest.

"Okay. So you want to start Blair's training, focusing on defense." He 
looked over at Blair, who nodded, with a stubborn look on his face that 
said offensive training had better wait. "Adam, you can take care of 
that. Meanwhile, Jim and I will go see Joe. Find out if the Watchers can 
track Geary down. We need to take care of this ourselves, before the feds 
see something that they shouldn't."

"Like Geary being riddled with bullets, then getting back up again," 
Methos said with a wry grin.

"Um... You mentioned these 'watchers' before, in your e-mail to Simon. 
Exactly, what are they?"

Duncan thought about it for a moment, figuring out how to explain. "The 
Watchers are an organization of mortals, who watch immortals. They never 
interfere, just record. They have histories going back hundreds, even 
thousands of years, for any immortals they come across. Most of us don't 
know that they even exist. Joe Dawson, who owns a bar, here in Seacouver, 
is the Watcher assigned to me. I found out about him, and we eventually 
became friends. It works well for us."

"Record? How?"

"Used to be just documents, written histories. These days, it's a 
combination of journals, videos, photographs, bugs. Like I said, they 
never *do* anything with the information, they just record it."

Blair glanced over at Jim, giving him a wry look. "Good thing you warned 
us. I don't even want to *think* about what Jim might do if he caught 
someone recording us, without knowing *why* they were doing it."

Jim frowned. "I might still do something about it. I do like *some* 
privacy in my life."

Methos popped into the conversation. "Most people would never even 
notice."

"I would."

Duncan had to blink for a moment. "How can you be so sure?" he wondered 
out loud. Jim and Blair exchanged glances, obviously communicating in the 
way only long-time lovers or partners could. Ellison nodded.

"Jim is a Sentinel," Blair said, at last. It didn't mean anything to 
Duncan, but the sudden interest from Methos was obvious. Duncan turned to 
him.

"If that means what I think it means, then he definitely *would* notice a 
Watcher," Methos said. He turned back towards Blair. "I've heard a 
variety of names used for it, but I take it you mean a person whose 
senses have been enhanced?" 

Blair nodded. "That's how Jim was able to get to me before Geary could 
kill me. He was listening for my heartbeat."

"I'd recognize it anywhere," Jim added, firmly.

"How many of your senses are enhanced?"

"All of them."

Duncan just shook his head. It sounded a little strange to him, but who 
was he to talk? He was a four hundred year old immortal, after all.

Methos looked thoughtful. "And they usually have a partner, who is often 
a lover, to keep them focused and grounded. I take it, that's you Blair."

Blair nodded, his interest obviously peaked, but he also seemed to be 
having a tough time hiding his yawns, and Duncan decided it would 
probably be a good idea to call it a night, before the young man could 
start into the questions that looked to be about to start. "It's late. 
Umm. I don't have a spare bedroom, but there are mats down in the dojo, 
and I can supply you with blankets and pillows."

"That'll be fine," Jim said, looking relieved at the reprieve. "We can 
find someplace else to stay, tomorrow."

"After all," Blair said with a leer. "We don't want to cramp your style."

* * * * *

A half-hour later, their two unexpected guests were set up for the night 
in one of the downstairs rooms, and Duncan was read to call it quits. It 
had been a long week, and it was very late. He stripped again, and 
crawled into bed, collapsing on his stomach. He closed his eyes, and was 
already drifting to sleep, when they flew open again. Something cold and 
wet had just landed in the small of his back with a loud 'splat'.

Twisting his head, he saw Methos crouched behind him with the tub of 
whipped cream back in his hands.

"Methos..." he groaned.

"I haven't had my desert yet, Highlander."

----------------------------------
PART NINE
----------------------------------

Jim was awake, bright and early the next morning. Instinctively, he cast 
his hearing out, checking his partner first, then the area for possible 
threats.

//God, Methos. Yes!//

He was a little embarrassed at what he was obviously hearing - the sound 
of flesh against lubricated flesh was unmistakable - but wondered who 
Methos was.

//Are you sure, Mac? I could always...//

//Don't you dare, old man. You are such a tease.//

//I always come through, don't I?//

//Yessss...// was the response, punctuated by a strangled cry of pleasure.

Jim turned his hearing back down to normal levels, having heard enough. 
Obviously. Methos was Adam Pierson. He wondered why they had been given a 
different name, but decided that it was unimportant. Far more important 
was the poker trying to burst through his boxers.

He rolled over on top of his partner, diving in for some hickey-making, 
which soon had Blair awake and ready to participate.

Blair groaned, and reached for him. Jim reached out with his sense of 
smell, for a moment, and was overwhelmed by the scent of semen from 
upstairs. He gasped, and humped against Blair's groin, exploding all over 
his lover. Then he headed south, licking his semen off of Blair's stomach 
as he went, until he reached the erection that stood weeping from its 
nest of curls. He sniffed the familiar musk, then dived in. It didn't 
take long for Blair to climax under the onslaught.

Jim cuddled up against his lover, idly running his fingers through the 
curls on the smaller man's chest. Blair gave a deep sigh.

"So what brought that on?" he asked. "Not that I'm complaining, of 
course."

Jim just smiled, and kissed him. Upstairs, he could hear two male voices 
muttering endearments to each other.

* * * * *

Mid-afternoon, Jim and Duncan were heading off to see Duncan's Watcher 
friend while Adam was starting Blair's training. Jim was still on edge 
about the idea of Blair taking on someone armed with a sword while he 
wasn't there, but knew it was necessary. Blair would have to be able to 
do it in a training situation before he could do it for real.

Jim distracted himself by asking Duncan one of the questions that had 
been bugging him. Namely, what *was* the connection between him and 
Geary, and what was the bad blood between them.

"A girl," MacLeod said, and Jim groaned at the cliché. "No, not *quite* 
like that. Her name was Sister Berenice. She was traveling with a group 
of nuns to a mission, and I was hired as a guard. Geary was heading a 
group of bandits at the time. They attacked the group, killing most of 
the guards, including myself. When I came to, several of the nuns were 
dead, the rest were missing and the gold that was being transported with 
them was gone as well. I'm still not sure why he left me alive, since he 
*knew* I was immortal. It would have been easy enough to take my head 
while I was unable to defend myself. It's considered... bad form, but 
Geary doesn't seem to hold to tradition.

"I tracked them for nearly a week, before I caught up. I spent several 
days trapping his men, one by one, and killing them. Finally, when there 
was only four left, they were so cautious that I had to be a little 
more... direct. Naturally, Geary could feel me coming, and they were 
ready, but I managed to take his men out, and almost killed Geary, but he 
got away. Only three of the nuns, including Sister Berenice, were still 
alive. I took the bandits' horses and transported the nuns to the nearest 
mission, along with the recovered gold."

Duncan paused for a moment, eyes not focused on the present. "I heard 
later that she committed suicide, even though the church considered it a 
mortal sin. The mission's padre covered it up, so that she could be 
buried on consecrated land. He felt that what she had suffered would 
convince God to forgive her having taken her own life. She was pregnant 
at the time."

"Geary?"

"No. Immortals are incapable of siring or bearing children. At least one 
of his men raped her as well."

The blunt statement saddened Jim. Blair would have been a wonderful 
father, and he had considered suggesting that they find a surrogate 
mother to bear his child, but that wasn't going to happen, it seemed. He 
tucked away the dream of holding a small child with Blair's curls, and 
intense blue eyes. Having Blair alive was worth the sacrifice.

"So you blame Geary for the nun's death. And Geary?"

"He holds a grudge for a very long time. He has attacked me twice in the 
decades since then."

"Is this part of another attack on you?"

"I don't know. But if it wasn't before, it might be now."

* * * * *

Joe's place was small, and not much to look at from outside. Inside, it 
had the slightly unreal look that a bar has during the day. Jim could help 
smiling, as they entered, at the rich sound of a blues guitar.

The music was coming from a man, sitting on a small, empty stage in the 
corner. He had grey-hair and a beard, and something struck him as odd 
about his legs. He smiled as they came in, put the guitar on its stand 
and stood up. Jim realized that the man's legs were prosthetics.

"Jim, I'd like you to meet Joe Dawson," MacLeod said. "Joe, this is 
Detective Jim Ellison, from Cascade. I told you about him."

"Ah, yes. The cop whose partner is a new immortal. Pleased to meet you." 
His grip was strong, and Jim found himself liking the man at once. His 
brief glances at the man's legs didn't go unnoticed, either.

"Vietnam. You?"

Jim wondered how Joe had picked up on him so quickly. "Peru. I was in the 
Rangers, Covert Ops."

"I thought I recognized you. It was in all the magazines."

Jim shrugged. Even years later, he still ran into people who remembered 
the news articles on the sole survivor of a mission in Peru. From Joe, it 
didn't bother him since the Man obviously understood, and didn't ask for 
details. He just acknowledged it, then dropped it.

"So what brings you to Seacouver?" Joe asked, moving behind the bar to 
pour them each a beer.

"Geary," Jim said, bluntly. "He tried to kill my partner, Blair. We came 
so that Blair could get some training, and to see if we could find Geary."

"The Feds are looking for him too," MacLeod said.

"Jeezus, Mac. This is not good. I'll put out the word, but Geary has a 
habit of losing his Watcher. We still don't know if he does it 
deliberately, or if he just is naturally sneaky. But I'll call you if I 
find anything out."

Joe shook his head, then poured himself a drink.

* * * * *

Jim was watching Blair train. Methos, or Adam as he still was calling 
himself, was putting Blair through his paces, while MacLeod watched from 
the sidelines, making comments and corrections. In the short time since 
they'd arrived in Seacouver, Blair had already built muscle mass. He was 
more confident in these sparing matches, and had even agreed to let 
Duncan start teaching him how to use a sword. His main focus, though, was 
still how to defend himself without a sword, since he still said he 
wasn't willing to consider taking someone's head, and the other three men 
knew better than to try and convince him otherwise. When he was ready was 
when he would be ready.

Suddenly all three men stopped, and looked towards the door. Jim turned 
and saw a tall, slender woman, with died-blonde hair. MacLeod and Adam 
both relaxed, and turned back to the lesson. After a moment, Blair had 
forgotten her as well.

"My, my, my," the blonde said, coming over to stand next to Jim. "Now he 
*is* a tasty little morsel."

Jim glared up at her, and she waved her hands in a placating gesture.

"Oh, don't worry. He's not my type. Personally, I go for the tall and 
muscular..." She started running her hands over Jim's shoulders. "For 
example, you're even better built than Mac."

Jim gave a small laugh. "Sorry, Miss..."

"Amanda, please."

"Amanda," he said with a grin. "Unfortunately, I'm already taken."

"Well then," she said, with a flirtatious glance over at Blair, who was 
trying to both keep a wary eye on his practice partner and a jealous eye 
on his lover. It didn't work. Seconds later, he was flat on his ass with 
a sword at his throat. Both Duncan and Adam were lecturing him on not 
splitting his attention. "Perhaps I can interest you in a threesome?"

Jim laughed. "I don't think so."

Amanda gave a small pout. It was an attractive pout, but not on the same 
plane as Blair's. "Foo. And I still haven't been able to talk Mac and the 
old man into one yet, either. I think I'm losing my touch."

----------------------------------
PART TEN
----------------------------------

Blair shivered in the damp wind, and went over his mental list as he 
headed back towards the dojo. He had picked up the beer, and makings for 
dinner. Jim and Adam were off with Adam's Watcher friends, trying to get 
a line of Geary. Duncan was teaching a youth class. Amanda had already 
left town. She hadn't said where she was going, and no one seemed too 
concerned.

Amanda had turned out to be quite nice, once she'd stopped flirting with 
Jim. Blair smiled at the memory of Jim's reaction on finding out that the 
female immortal was a thief. It shocked him even more than finding out 
that she was more than a thousand years old. Her only response was to 
laugh, and say that Jim was an even bigger boy scout than Duncan. Blair 
had laughed and agreed with her, while the two large men glared. Adam had 
found it all terribly amusing.

Blair was still getting used to the rather blasé attitude towards 
separations that the immortals seemed to have. It had seemed strange that 
no one commented on Amanda leaving, but in a way it made sense. After 
all, if you're immortal, it didn't really matter if you didn't see 
someone for a year or a decade or even a century. After all, assuming one 
of you doesn't get killed, you'll both still be around, looking the same.

Speaking of not getting killed, He had shocked the hell out of himself by 
actually getting the drop on Adam in a practice session that morning. Of 
course, the man had immediately retaliated by knocking him on his butt 
five times in a row afterwards. Immortals might heal fast, but he still 
ached. Still, he had been pleased, and Jim had been relieved. Perhaps he 
would stop spending all his time worrying about how Blair was going to 
defend himself when Jim was gone. Blair shivered, and cut off that line 
of thought. Eventual life without Jim was not a pleasant thought, so he 
deliberately considered other subjects.

Adam still hadn't mentioned just how old *he* was. Blair knew that Duncan 
was four hundred years old, and Amanda was more than double that. Since 
the buzz he got from Amanda was stronger that Duncan's, and Duncan had 
mentioned that the older the immortal, the stronger their quickening, he 
figured the relative strength of an immortal's buzz was related to their 
age. If so, Adam must be *very* old, since Blair still found himself 
almost disoriented by what he felt from the man.

He was only a few blocks from the dojo when he felt a buzz. He looked up, 
and scanned the area, but didn't see anyone. He was too far to be picking 
up Duncan, but maybe Adam and Jim were nearby, heading back too. 
No. It wasn't strong enough for Adam, unless he was a fair distance 
away. He thought of calling, then kicked himself when he realized that he 
had left his cell-phone behind when he had gone out.

The feeling was getting stronger, and Blair decided not to take chances. 
He picked up his pace, taking the fastest route to the old building. 
Unfortunately, the other was still getting closer. Passing by an alley-
way, and figure darted out and grabbed his arm, pulling him into the 
shadows.

Blair dropped his bags, and struck back hard, just the way that Adam and 
Duncan had shown him. His arms were held, but he lifted his knee in a 
vicious blow to the groin, then struck the shin and instep as he lowered 
his leg. He heard a muffled cry of pain, but his attacker was too big. He 
was quickly pinned against the wall too tightly to move.

"Be quiet, boy, and I might let you live. For a while, at least."

Blair's eyes widened as he recognized Geary, then a fist impacted with 
the side of his head slamming it into the brick so hard that he knew his 
skull had fractured, and everything went black.

* * * * *

Returning to consciousness was slow and painful for Blair. He kept his 
eyes shut, and tried to avoid attracting attention while he evaluated his 
surroundings and waited for the healing to complete.

His coat was gone, and he was freezing, which meant either outdoors or an 
unheated space. Since the bitter wind from earlier was gone, he was 
betting that it was indoors. He could hear footsteps, and they echoed 
slightly, so make that a *large* unheated space. A warehouse perhaps.

He was hanging by his wrists, which were caught in a pair of metal 
handcuffs. He could feel the trickle of blood running from where the 
metal had bitten into his wrists. They would heal. At least he hoped they 
would have the *chance* to heal.

A blow to the face put an end to his playing possum. He opened his eyes 
and looked up.

"Back with us, boy? Good. I really do want you awake for this."

Blair saw that his guess was right. It was a warehouse, abandoned by the 
look of the boarded up windows. He was in the middle of the room, and a 
glance up showed that the cuffs were attached to a chain that went to a 
hook that was obviously intended to help move heavy equipment or product 
around.

Then he looked down and saw what seemed to be a bomb, except that instead 
of explosives, the timer was hooked up to a cylinder. He had a sinking 
feeling he knew what was in it.

"Yes, that is the toxin," Geary confirmed. "You should be flattered. My 
original plan was just to sell it off to some third world dictator or a 
terrorist organization, but when I saw you with MacLeod, back in Cascade, 
I changed my mind. I decided to use it against him. Finding you here in 
Seacouver was an even bigger bonus."

"This is crazy, man. That stuff..."

"Will kill everyone in the city. Who knows? It might even be able to kill 
an immortal. I haven't tried that out, yet. If MacLeod doesn't do as I 
tell him, I guess we'll find out."

Geary walked away, pulling a cell phone from his pocket. He dialed a 
number that he obviously had memorized.

As Geary talked to Duncan, Blair started praying. Praying that Geary 
would be stopped. Praying that the toxin wouldn't be released. Praying 
that he would survive this.

But most of all, he prayed that Jim would still be alive when this was 
all over.

----------------------------------
PART ELEVEN
----------------------------------

Duncan was coming out of the shower when the phone rang. Toweling his 
hair, he picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Mac, it's Joe. Listen, Geary has been spotted in Seacouver. Better watch 
yourself."

"Thanks. Is Methos there?"

"Yeah, him and Jim."

"Right. Tell them to get back here at once."

"Will do. Watch your head."

Duncan hung up the phone, frowning. He was surprised that Geary would 
show up here. It would be smarter to stay well out of the way, at least 
until he could sell off the toxin. At least, that was what everyone 
assumed was his plan. After all, why else would he steal it?

The phone rang again. He picked it up, hoping that it was Methos, or 
maybe Blair, since he wasn't back from running his errands yet.

"Hello, MacLeod. Remember me?"

"Geary."

"If you prefer that name, feel free to use it. I have something you might 
be interested in."

"The toxin?"

"That too."

He could hear the sound of footsteps through the phone. It sounded like a 
large room, with concrete floors. Then he heard a gasp of pain.

"Duncan?"

"Blair! Are you all right?"

"I'm okay, but he's got the toxin hooked up to a timer..." Blair was cut 
off.

"Enough."

"What do you want, Geary?"

"You, of course. The old Whatley Shipping warehouse, down at the docks, 
in an hour. Bring your friends, if you like, but it's you against me. If 
you don't show up, the toxin will be released into the air. The wind's 
blowing off the water, so I would guess that a *lot* of people will die. 
As for the boy, here. Well... maybe I'll kill him first. Or maybe I'll 
see if this toxin is strong enough to damage or even kill an immortal."

The line was cut off, and all Duncan heard was the sound of the dial-
tone. He dropped the phone. He dressed quickly, picking clothes that 
would be easy to fight in. Tight enough to not offer a handhold, but 
loose enough not to restrain him. He was pulling on his overcoat and 
sword when Jim and Methos came in the door.

"Geary called to issue a challenge," he explained quickly. "He has Blair 
and he has the toxin, ready to release over Seacouver if I don't meet 
him. You two might want to wait here."

"Don't even think about it," Jim snarled, Methos just a breath behind 
him. Duncan sighed. He knew that they wouldn't stay behind, but he'd had 
to try.

"Fine. Let's go."

* * * * *

From outside, the warehouse looked like any other boarded up building on 
the docks. The glass at the upper levels was broken, and all the doors 
were chained shut except one.

Duncan turned to his companions. Methos was shivering in the cold wind, 
but Jim didn't seem to notice. He was focused on the building, and 
nothing else seemed to matter. That, as well as the buzz from two 
quickenings, confirmed that this was the place.

"I don't suppose I can convince the two of you to stay out here?" he 
asked. Jim glared, while Methos gave him an amused, you-must-be-joking 
look. "I didn't think so."

There wasn't time to look for an alternative entrance. Besides, Duncan 
wasn't the type of person who liked sneaking up on someone, no matter 
what the circumstances. He opened the door and stepped through.

Geary was standing in plain view, at the center of the room. 
Unfortunately, he was standing next to Blair with his sword held to the 
young man's throat. Duct tape covered Blair's mouth, but his wide, 
expressive eyes screamed volumes. At their feet was what looked like a 
bomb. Blair had said that Geary had the toxin attached to a timer. Duncan 
eyed it, cautiously, while he unsheathed his katana.

Unfortunately, Jim was a little less cautious. Seeing his lover hanging 
from a set of restraints, blood stains, both fresh and dry, on his arms, 
Jim gave a bellow and charged.

"Ellison! No!" Duncan shouted as Methos tried to grab the man, but it was 
too late.

Jim was a good fighter, well-trained, but he had never gone up against an 
opponent with *centuries* of experience behind him. Geary feinted, 
drawing Jim in close, then slashed with his sword. Jim went down, 
bleeding from the wound that went across his arm and chest. Duncan could 
hear the muffled scream from behind Blair's make-shift gag.

"Enough, Geary," Duncan said in a calm voice. "I'm the one you want. 
Leave him alone."

Geary stepped away, allowing Methos to get to Jim. The older immortal 
immediately put pressure on the wound. It wasn't critical, but Jim would 
need a hospital and stitches.

"Well, MacLeod," came the mocking call. "I'm waiting."

Katana held in a guard position, Duncan stepped forward. He didn't make 
the mistake of watching Geary's sword or eyes. Watch the mid-section. It 
will always tell you where the attack is coming from.

But Geary was fast. Very fast. He only saw the shift in balance a moment 
before the other immortal attacked, and he barely dodged in time. A minor 
cut opened on his forearm. They circled each other cautiously.

Suddenly, a though occurred to him. "Methos!" he called out, forgetting 
to use his lover's use-name. "Get that thing out of here! I don't know 
how a quickening will affect the device, regardless of who wins, and I'd 
rather not find out."

Geary snarled, and made a move to stop the other man, but Duncan was 
instantly in front of him. He kept his attention on Geary, but in his 
peripheral vision he could see Methos struggling to move the heavy pseudo-
bomb. Jim was helping him.

"You're going to lose, Geary," he told his opponent, trying to goad him 
into making a mistake. "Just like you always do. You keep trying and you 
keep failing."

Suddenly he wasn't so sure that it had been a good idea to provoke the 
man. Geary exploded with carefully controlled swings that had the weight 
of madness behind him. Duncan had always figured that Geary was mad. 
After all, what had happened between them didn't really seem to warrant 
the amount of effort that he had put into trying to kill Duncan.

However, he was putting so much effort into trying to kill Duncan that he 
didn't notice that he had circled around to where he had his back to 
Blair. Duncan noticed, and feinted in, driving him backwards, hoping that 
Blair would pick up on...

Blair lashed out with one leg, obviously fueled by his fury at what Geary 
had done to Jim, and threatened to do to Seacouver. As blows went, it 
wasn't enough to do more than faze the other man, but it distracted him 
long enough for Duncan to slip inside his guard and take his head off.

Geary's body had barely hit the ground before the sparks began to fly. 
An immortal's quickening was a violent thing, shattering glass, exploding 
lightbulbs and affecting electrical equipment. Duncan saw a few arcs of 
the quickening reach out to strike Blair, and the young man stiffened, 
but the majority focused on Duncan.

After four hundred years, Duncan still wasn't used to the sensation of 
another's quickening flowing into him. It was like grabbing a live wire, 
only more so. Vaguely, he could hear the sound of his own shouts, the 
crash of the little glass left in the building shattering.

As images flashed through his mind from Geary's life, he prayed with what 
little bit of Duncan that remained coherent that Methos and Jim had 
gotten the bomb far enough away that the energy unleashed by Geary's 
death wouldn't set it off by accident.

Then the last flashes ran through him, and his vision went grey. Slowly, 
he crumbled to his knees.

* * * * *

When Duncan struggled his way back to consciousness, the first thing he 
saw were the worried faces of Methos and Blair.

"The... bomb...?"

Methos smiled. "GI Jim said he could disarm it with one arm tied behind 
his back. Good thing he was right, since he's only going to be *using* 
one of his arms for a while."

Methos pulled him to his feet.

"Jim's in the car," Blair said. "He needs to get to a hospital. We'll 
tell them that he was attacked by a mugger with a knife. Meanwhile, we 
need to get out of here before someone comes to investigate the 
fireworks. And, just to be safe, I made an anonymous call to the FBI to 
tell them that Geary and the toxin is here. Hopefully, that will keep the 
cops from doing something stupid."

"Sounds good to me," Duncan said, already steadier on his feet. "Let's 
get going."

----------------------------------
PART TWELVE
EPILOGUE ONE
----------------------------------

Jim groaned as he lowered himself onto the couch. His stay at the 
hospital had been as short as he could manage, but still too long for his 
liking. His left arm was strapped to his side, and he had more stitches 
in his hide than he'd had total in his lifetime. He grinned up into the 
worried face of his lover, who was hovering with a worried expression.

"Come here, Chief," he invited, holding out his good arm in invitation. 
Blair slipped next to him, almost laughably careful about not jarring 
Jim's wound. Jim smiled as Blair turned his face into Jim's chest, and 
indulged himself by burying his nose in Blair's much-loved curls.

In the kitchen area, he could hear Duncan and Methos (or Adam has he 
still preferred) puttering around, talking in low voices. He could have 
listened in, had he wanted to, but he left them with their privacy.

He started, when a mug of tea was placed on the table next to him. By the 
light from the window, several hours had passed. Blair was still in his 
arms, sound asleep. He picked up the mug, trying not to wake Blair, but 
the young man stirred immediately.

"Oh, man," he said, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. "Sorry 'bout that Jim. 
Didn't mean to drop off on you - literally - like that.

"Don't sweat it, Chief," Jim reassured him, though he could feel that he 
was stiff. Maybe he could wrangle a back massage out of it, later. Maybe 
even more...

"Any word on the Feds, yet?" he asked, turning to MacLeod.

"Joe has a friend who is... connected. The Feds have the toxin in hand, 
and the body of Geary. They've attributed it to a falling out with 
whoever he was planning to sell it to."

Jim snorted. Feds were sooo willing to accept the most ridiculous of 
explanations. How many terrorists cut off their victim's head? And why 
would they leave the toxin behind? Still, it worked in their favor to not 
have the authorities look *too* deeply at what had happened.

Jim turned thoughtful at that. Hiding his abilities, he was used to. 
Covering up crimes that involved him and Blair? That was another matter. 
Still, if he was going to stick with Blair, no matter what, he was 
probably going to *have* to get used to it.

"So," he said. "I guess we won't be imposing on you for much longer."

Blair shifted next to him. Jim eyed him, curious. The expression was one 
of 'I want to say something, but...'

"Spit it out, Chief. Whatever it is."

"I want to stay a bit longer," Blair said, quickly. "I need more 
training. And... I should start learning to use a sword."

Jim blinked in surprise. "What brought this on?"

Blair looked shamefaced. "I fought back against Geary, but it didn't do 
any good. Maybe with more training..."

"The result still would have been the same, Blair," Duncan said. "Geary 
would have killed *me* if you hadn't kicked him at just the right moment. 
He was *old*, and very, very experienced."

"I know, but the next time, you won't be there. *Jim* might be there, for 
any number of reasons. I... need to know what to do. For my peace of 
mind, and Jim's."

Jim nodded at that. "I won't deny that I'd feel better, but are you sure, 
Chief? Can you really use a sword on someone for real?"

Blair looked uncertain. "I don't know that I could actually do it, follow 
through. But, I won't have the chance to find out if I don't train for 
it, will I?"

"Good point. And since the docs say that I should go back to work for at 
least a month, I doubt that Simon would object..."

"Hey, you don't have to stay." Blair trailed off at the glare from Jim. 
"Okay, stupid thing to say. I know. So," he said, turning to Duncan, who 
sat in an armchair with Methos draped all over the back. "Is it all right 
with you?"

"Of course," Duncan assured him. "But you might want to find someplace 
else to sleep. Those mats aren't the greatest for long-term sleeping."

"No problem," Jim said. "I'm sure we can find *some* sort of sublet for 
a month. Doesn't need to be great, for that length of time."

By this time, Blair was finally grinning. "Cool!"

* * * * *

Later that night, Jim and Blair were established in MacLeod's bed. Jim 
had protested, but Duncan had insisted. After all, he had told them, it 
was just for a night, since Jim was going to check them into a hotel the 
next day, for the time being. And, with his stitches, Jim should *not* be 
sleeping on an exercise mat. In the face of all that logic, Jim had given 
in.

He looked up at Blair entered the room, returning from the bathroom. He 
leaned against the wall, in a deliberately provocative pose that was 
*definitely* not hurt by the fact that he was naked and half way to erect.

"C'mere, Chief," Jim growled, patting the mattress with his good hand. 
Blair grinned, and obeyed the order.

Once on the mattress, he moved to straddle Jim's hips, pressing him back 
into the mattress. "You just lie back and take it like a man," he 
instructed. Jim relaxed into his pillow, waving with his hand to indicate 
that he was all Blair's.

"Hmmm," the young man purred. "Where to start, where to start..."

Jim forced himself to stay relaxed as fingertips glided across his skin, 
stopping here and there to stroke a muscle, pinch a nipple. They only 
hesitated when they reached the edge of the bandage that was right above 
the nipple. Blair looked a little sad about it, but continued. Tongue 
followed fingers and he moaned as it traced the pulse in his neck, dipped 
into the hollow formed by his collarbone, teased a nipple. Then the lips 
fastened around the other nipple, and Blair sucked, hard.

Jim arched up off the bed. "Ch... Christ, Chief."

A chuckle was the only response, then the lips moved down to wrap around 
his cock, pausing only briefly for a tongue to dip into his navel and 
swirl around.

"Please, Chief, please, Blair..." Jim moaned, and Blair pulled away.

"Please what, big guy?"

"Fuck me?"

"Your arm?" Blair asked. Jim twisted under him to roll onto his uninjured 
side. Spoons wasn't his first choice in positions, but it put the least 
strain on his injury, which would go a long way towards convincing Blair.

He could hear Blair rifling through the bedside table's drawer. Hopefully 
Duncan and Methos wouldn't mind their using the bottle of lubricant that 
Blair found there. Then the bed dipped, and Blair curled up against his 
back.

"Hmmm, you are so gorgeous, you know," Blair said, blowing in Jim's ear 
as lube-slick fingers started to probe and prepare. "Sometimes I wonder 
why you would even look at me. Then again, I don't really *care* why, so 
long as you do."

Jim wriggled on the fingers in his ass, trying to encourage Blair to just 
get *on* with it. He got his wish, as Blair removed his fingers, and sank 
his cock into the channel where they had been.

"I love you, Jim," Blair continued, as he began to thrust slowly inside 
of Jim. "No matter what happens, I will always love you." Jim moaned.

Blair's loving was slow and gentle, considerate of Jim's stitches. Jim 
wished he would be a little *less* considerate, but knew better than to 
try and convince Blair to move faster. Instead, he forced himself to hold 
still, and let his lover work his magic.

When a hand reached to grip his own erection, it was too much and he 
sighed as he let his orgasm rush through his system. He heard a slight 
whimper behind him, and Blair's orgasm filled him up.

Jim arched at the feeling. It was like electric shocks running through 
him. He wasn't being poetic, or anything. He could actually feel every 
hair on his body stand on end. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced 
before, with Blair or anyone else.

Then the feeling faded, and he quickly forgot that anything had happened.

* * * * *

Jim stretched happily, Blair wrapped around him from behind. He was never 
happier than when he was cuddled by his lover, like this. Maybe, someday, 
Blair would tire of him as he grew old and Blair stayed young, but until 
then, he would be there.

----------------------------------
PART THIRTEEN
EPILOGUE TWO
----------------------------------

Simon was staring at the pile of paper on his desk, growling at it. God, 
he hated budget time. Some days he wondered why he had let them promote 
him to Captain. Every promotion seemed to double the load of paperwork, 
until he was practically buried under it. He sighed, and signed off on 
another piece, then flipped to the next item on the list.

He was half-way through reading the next report when he heard the 
commotion from the bullpen. He stood, and went to find out what the hell 
was going on. When he looked out his door, he felt a grin spread itself 
across his face. It was Jim and Blair. Everyone was clustered around the 
two men, shaking their hands and slapping them on the back. Even kissing 
them, though that was limited to chaste pecks on the cheeks from the 
ladies, since both men were known to be fiercely possessive and jealous 
men.

Ellison looked pretty damn good for a man whose arm had almost been taken 
off with a sword, though Simon could see that he was still favoring the 
left arm a little. Good thing he was right-handed. He also looked very 
content, like the world was a wonderful place in his eyes.

And Sandburg. The kid looked... different. More confident. Certainly in 
better shape, but after the two of them disappearing for nearly two 
months so that he could get some training, he better *well* be in better 
shape.

"Hey," he finally growled, loud enough to drown out the hubbub. "If 
people don't have enough work to do, I could always *find* some."

There were some laughs, but people started drifting back to their desks. 
Jim and Blair followed him back into the office. Jim winced at the huge 
pile of paper on his desk.

"Budget time again, huh Captain?"

Simon rolled his eyes and nodded. "And we're supposed to be living in a 
paperless age, they say."

"Could be worse, Simon," Blair pointed out. "You could be dealing with 
the University's paperwork." He gave an elaborate shudder.

"I'm a little surprised to see the two of you. I thought you weren't back 
to work until Monday?"

"Yeah, but we thought we'd stop by and say hi," Jim explained. Simon 
didn't really mind, since it meant he wouldn't have to wait to ask the 
questions that he was *dying* to ask.

"All right, now tell me what happened with Geary? All the Feds would tell 
me was that he was dead, and the toxin was recovered."

Simon listened as the two men told him the whole story. Geary kidnapping 
Blair, and using him to lure MacLeod into a trap. Jim attacking Geary, 
and nearly getting killed as a result. Jim and someone named Adam 
disarming the bomb that the toxin was hooked up to, while MacLeod fought 
Geary. Blair distracting Geary at just the right moment, so that MacLeod 
could kill him.

Simon was a little worried at how little the man's death bothered him. 
But then again, he *had* almost engineered the death of hundreds of 
thousands of people, which definitely put him in the 'deserves to die' 
column in Simon's books.

"So, are you guys back for good?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Blair said. "At least for a couple of decades." Simon frowned 
at the qualification, but Blair shrugged. "Cosmetics will be useful, but 
eventually people will notice that I don't look as old as I should. Then 
I'll need to move, and start a new life with a new identity."

"And I'll be going with him," Jim added.

Simon didn't like the idea, but knew that they were right.

"So, you got all the training you need?" he asked Blair.

"Of course not! You never start learning. But Duncan put me in touch with 
a teacher here in Cascade who will keep working with me. He isn't 
immortal, but knows about us."

"Fine. Now how about lunch?" Anything to avoid the mountain of paperwork 
for a little while longer, he thought to himself.

Unfortunately, at that moment, the phone rang, and he glared at it. Jim 
laughed, as he and Blair stood up. "We'll go pick up something really 
unhealthy and high in cholesterol, and bring it back for you."

"Hey! Just because *I* don't have to worry about those kinds of health 
problems anymore doesn't mean that the two of you shouldn't"

Simon shook his head and smiled as the two men headed for the door, still 
bickering good-naturedly. Then he sighed and picked up the phone.

Damn, he hated budget time.

----------------------------------
PART FOURTEEN
EPILOGUE THREE
----------------------------------

Blair sighed, and looked out the window at the surf. The skies were grey, 
and the waves were rough. Very appropriate for the day of a funeral. He 
turned away from the window. In the rental cabin's kitchen, he could hear 
Duncan and Methos arguing over what to make for dinner. Those two had 
been inseparable, ever since Blair had first met them, more than fifty 
years ago. It was so like them to volunteer to come along for the funeral.

He ran his fingers through his hair. He had started letting it grow 
again, this last move, after he cut it off to get rid of the grey dye. 
He and Jim had moved twice, over the years. Each time, Blair had gone 
back to his apparent age, slowly adding details, like grey dye to the 
hair, to make it seem like he was aging. The first time, he had kept his 
hair cut short, to keep people from associating him with Dr. Blair 
Sandburg, the anthropologist who had disappeared on an expedition to the 
Congo, along with his husband, former police captain Jim Ellison. 
Instead, he had gone back to school and studied linguistics. He never 
reached the top of his new field, but he was now trying to avoid 
attention, rather than attracting it..

Of all their friends from their "first" life, they had kept in contact 
with very few. Naomi had died twelve years ago of one of the new strains 
of cancer. When confronted, she had admitted to finding an abandoned 
infant - Blair - and choosing to raise him as her own. That was just *so* 
Naomi. Jack Kelso had been a great help, even building their second 
identities for them before his own death. Simon had retired, long ago, to 
an area of Washington that was close to his favorite fishing were. Blair 
had also kept in touch with Daryl, who was now a grandfather. Blair had 
been surprised and flattered when Daryl had decided to study 
anthropology, and he was now the head of the anthropology department at 
Harvard, and considered one of *the* leading experts in the field. But 
the rest of the people from Rainier and the Cascade Police Department...

Jim had stuck with him, every step of the way. He had kept the promises 
he had made, years ago, never to try and make Blair leave him for his own 
good. Of course, Blair would have done something *drastic* to him if he 
had even tried. Blair smiled, as he thought of restraints and feathers 
and body oils, and all the other things that would have been involved in 
that 'something drastic'.

Blair wandered around the room, aimlessly. He really should be working. 
His latest book was due soon, and he still hadn't finished. The thought 
struck him as amusing. What would his friends from his first life think, 
if they knew he would spend a couple of decades ghost-writing romance 
novels and celebrity autobiographies? Still, it was a living. One that 
paid well and that let him stay out of the limelight. Who knows? Maybe in 
a few years he would go back school and become an anthropologist again. 
He'd have to make sure that his hair style would keep the number of 
comments about his resemblance to "Blair Sandburg" low. Or maybe he'd go 
for archaeology next time.

He frowned again. He was just trying to distract himself from the pain of 
saying goodbye. Methos had told him that the pain would eventually fade, 
and the good memories would come to the front. The five thousand year-old 
man should know. He'd been through it *many* times in the past. Blair 
stopped, and looked through the window again. He was getting a lot of 
experience in letting go, since the last of his contemporaries had 
started dying of old age. Even the ones they hadn't stayed in touch with, 
they had still kept an eye on. Still, this one was one of the worst. 
Gods, he'd been such a *stable* part of Blair's life, sticking by him 
after he'd discovered that he was not going to die.

"You okay?" came the voice from behind him.

"Yeah," he said, leaning into the embrace as arms came around him. "I'm 
just going to miss him."

"I know, Chief," Jim said, resting his cheek against the short curls. 
"I'm going to miss Simon too. It's just... weird, thinking of him not 
being around. But Daryl is looking for us. The wake is about to begin."

* * * * *

That night, Blair curled around his husband. They'd never found a reason 
for why Jim had stopped aging all those years ago. They'd had several 
theories, though. Perhaps the Sentinel-Guide bond was preserving Jim for 
as long as Blair was alive. Or maybe Blair's quickening was shared by 
their love-making, since Jim had said he often felt something like an 
electric shock run through him whenever Blair took him. Or maybe it was 
something to do with Jim himself, though his father and brother had both 
aged and died in completely normal ways. He definitely wasn't immortal, 
since it had been proven beyond a doubt that his parents *were* his 
biological parents. Besides, he didn't have a quickening of his own.

Whatever the reason, Blair didn't care. After fifty years, his beloved 
was as strong and vital as he had ever been. Blair still worried that he 
would eventually have to say goodbye to Jim, the way that they had said 
goodbye to Simon that afternoon. Still, if it happened, there was nothing 
he would be able to do about it. In the meantime, he would cherish each 
day as it came.

THE END

Note: In the original version of this ending, it was Jim who had just 
died, not Simon. Then I got an idea for how to keep Jim around that 
didn't involve *him* having to pick up a sword. I'm sure a lot of people 
are relieved that I didn't stick with that original ending, though.