Disclaimer: Pet Fly and Paramount own the copyright to The Sentinel and its characters. This piece of fan fiction was written solely for the love of the characters and to share freely with other fans. No profit is being made from the posting of this story.

Author's Notes: This story has waited seven years to be written. I'm pleased to finally be able to present it to the fandom. I hope you enjoy it.

Acknowledgments: I want to give a special thank you to my editor, A. S. Nightbird, without whom this story might never have been posted. She put up with a lot of my drama over the course of the edits. Her help has been invaluable, especially with the medical procedures. If you think this story is any good at all, it's because of her. THANK YOU, my good friend!

I also want to give my sincere thanks to Mella, whose cover art graces my story, and to PattRose (who jumped in when it looked like Mella's computer problems might prevent her from doing art) for the interior and ending pics. Both artists deserve a round of applause.

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: This story contains some graphic references (in flashbacks) to rape and torture, and deals in the present with PTSD and prejudice.

Summary: Blair returns to South America to bring Jim back to Cascade. At home in Cascade, both men have demons to wrestle: Blair with PTSD flashbacks and an unexpected medical condition, and Jim with extreme prejudice on the part of his fellow police department peers.

Comments welcome and appreciated! Simply click on the title picture to send feedback.

November 2011

Jim sat out on the veranda, as he did every evening, sipping a cold beer and staring out at the long road that wound its way through the tropical jungle, joining his plantation with the city. There was very little traffic this far out, unless he was expecting a buyer, which he was not.

A spot of dust in the distance caught his attention and he perked up, turning eyes and ears on the vehicle that slowly made its way past the fields and toward the house. The taxi came to a stop and the driver got out, opening the door for his passenger. Jim's heart leapt to his throat at the sight that greeted him as the young man exited the cab. He couldn't believe his eyes, and yet his senses never lied. Heart pounding, he ran through the mansion to the front door, flinging it open just as Blair prepared to ring the bell.

Blair's eyes lit up when he saw Jim, and he threw himself into his Sentinel's arms. His words were music to Jim's ears. "I'm back."

Dusk kissed the plantation with violet and gold as the two men sat on the veranda, quietly eating their evening meal. Scuttling around, Mattie made sure that both were content.

"It seems quieter than I remember." Blair looked out across the road to the fields beyond.

"I freed all my slaves after I sent you away." Jim put down his fork and sighed. "A few stayed on as hired hands, but I can't pay enough to entice the number of men I need. I was going over the books just the other day, and it looks like I may have to declare bankruptcy. I don't see any way out, now that I don't have the labor to tend and bring in the crops."

"Maybe you should consider moving back to Cascade. I could pull a few strings, call in some favors.... I'll bet I could get you on the force without much trouble. With your background in the military and covert ops, you'd be a natural." Blair sipped at his coffee while he presented his suggestion, hoping that Jim would rise to the challenge.

"I left Cascade for a reason." He poked at his food with his fork. "I couldn't take all the noise and commotion."

"But that was because you didn't know how to control your senses." Blair reached out to cover the Sentinel's hand with his own. "I can help you with that."

"I don't know...." Jim hesitated. "I like it here. It's peaceful."

"Yes, it is." Blair nodded. "But you're also stagnating here. You say the plantation is about to go under. Maybe it's time for a change."

"You never told me how you're doing. Did you ever get your degree?"

Blair smiled, taking note of the not-so-subtle change of subject, but going along with the charade for the time being. "Yes, I got my Ph.D. in anthropology, and Cascade P.D. awarded me an official gold shield for time served in Major Crime. I'm a detective now, too. But I realized something...." He stared into azure eyes. "I realized that it all meant nothing without you beside me. Look...." He unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt and pulled it to the left, exposing his nipple and the gold ring with the blue topaz teardrop gem dangling from it. "I still wear it. It reminds me of you."

"That's slave jewelry." Jim's voice held a mixture of contempt and awe. He reached out to finger the jewel, allowing his hand to brush against the taut nipple and noting the frisson of excitement that swept through his companion's body at the touch. He withdrew his hand and watched with regret while the younger man re-buttoned his shirt.

"It was a gift ... from you," he corrected. "When I can't sleep at night or a nightmare wakes me, it helps me to center myself and remember that someone cared about my well-being."

Jim shook his head, folding his hands in his lap. "I don't deserve this. You shouldn't have come back."

"Don't you want me here?"

"YES!" Jim's head shot up. "Of course I want you here. I lost more than just my workers and my livelihood when you left. My senses went, too. But now ... now you're back, and I feel alive again!"

"Then what's the problem? I'm here because I choose to be here, not because someone brought me here against my will." Blair cocked his head to one side, studying the man across the table.

"I'm glad you came back." The simple statement hung in the air between the two men for the span of several heartbeats. Sighing, Jim pushed his chair back to stand. "I'll have Mattie prepare a room for you; you must be exhausted."

"I thought I'd be sleeping with you tonight." Rising from his seat, Blair circled the table and slipped his hand into Jim's, squeezing lightly. "After all, you're the reason I'm here."

~oO0Oo~

Blair rested in the warm circle of Jim's arms, replete with spent passion, his lover's cock still filling him. He didn't think that any dream come true could possibly rival the one he was currently experiencing. He felt soft lips kissing his shoulder and turned his head, smiling. "Don't move," he chided softly. "I want you in me forever."

Jim returned the smile, hugging his lover closer. "I still can't believe you came back," he whispered into the younger man's ear.

With a sigh of regret, Blair felt the flaccid cock slip free from his body. He turned to face the man who held him. "Believe it," he said with a smile. "I love you. I think I did from the day I first set eyes on you...."

Jim smiled, warming at the admission, and let his finger play with the jewel dangling from his ex-slave's left nipple. "I love you, too, Chief. It killed me to let you go, not knowing if you'd ever come back."

"I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere without you." Blair leaned in to kiss him. "This is where I belong, wherever you are."

The kiss was returned with a fiery passion. Gathering his lover into his arms, Jim held on, knowing he'd never have to let go again.

~oO0Oo~

Strolling along the edges of the coffee plantation in the early morning, Jim wondered, "So, what's next?"

Blair turned to study the stern features of the man walking beside him and decided that Jim was scared. Change never came easy to men like him, but they were standing on the cusp and a decision was going to have to be made soon.

"I have a life back in Cascade ... a job, a career, a future. None of it is worth anything without you beside me, but ... I'm not sure that I can stay here." He paused and drew a deep breath. "Too many memories, too many nightmares...."

"I don't know if I can go back." Jim's handsome face contorted with self-loathing. "What would your friends in Cascade think of me? I owned you! You were my slave. They're not going to look kindly on that."

"Joel and Megan already know what you did for me." Blair reached out to rest a hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "I told them how you rescued me, gave me medical attention, and treated me with care and respect. I told them that I love you."

"But that doesn't change the fact that I am—I was—a slave owner."

"No, but that's their problem, not yours or mine. You'll win them over, Jim. I know you will." Blair let his hand slip down to join the firm grip of the other man's. They walked, joined together, down the path that led back to the house.

"My senses...." The Sentinel hesitated, turning his face away from his friend. "In a big city like Cascade, I'd go mad."

Blair tugged at his hand until the bigger man faced him once again. "Have you had a problem since I've been back?" His eyes narrowed. "You haven't, have you? I can guide you, ground you, keep your senses under control. You know I can."

The older man gave a grudging nod. A part of him wanted—no needed—to be with Blair, even if that meant returning to the fast-paced world of the big city, but another part was loath to leave the plantation and the peace he associated with it. Still, his fiscal outlook for the near future was grim. If he could sell the plantation to someone who could actually work the land, he'd be wealthy enough to make the move and have money to live on until he could find suitable employment. Making his decision, he pulled his Guide into his arms.

"I'll sell the plantation and move back to Cascade with you ... but," Blair looked up into the ice-blue eyes of his lover as he waited for the other shoe to drop, "you'll have to give me a few weeks to wrap things up here. I promise that I'll move as quickly as I can, but the timing depends on how soon I can find a buyer for the land."

"I can wait as long as I'm with you."

"You don't understand." The Sentinel pushed him back to arm's length, hands firmly planted on the younger man's shoulders. "There are things I have to do. Things you'd be better off not witnessing. Go back to Cascade. I'll join you when I'm finished here."

"No, Jim! I'm staying here—with you! You can't make me go."

His eyes darkened and the hands on Blair's shoulders trembled with suppressed rage. "You. Will. Go. Home." Each word was punctuated with a growl. "I need you to be safe."

"But—" The young Guide started to argue, the words dying in his throat. The phrase 'Don't ask, don't tell' came to mind, in this case referring to Jim's black ops training. He shuddered, fearing what the other man had in mind, but unable to voice his concern. "If you want me to, I'll go." The reply was so soft, only a Sentinel could hear.

That night, in their bed, Jim mapped his lover's body while Blair slept, including every mark left by the sadistic slave owner, Montego Juarez. An index finger traced the faint scarring from the identification tattoo on his scrotum, the whiplash scars on his back and chest, and the stun gun scars on his penis and buttocks. Anger flared white-hot, directed at the man who had inflicted these indignities. By the time he had managed to purchase Blair from the madman, the slave had endured countless brutal rapes that had left his rectum torn and raw. He had survived, just barely. Juarez was going to pay for his brutality in the only way that counted—with his life.

~oO0Oo~

The day Blair left was the hardest Jim ever had to endure. Tears welled in the younger man's eyes, begging once more to not be sent away. The Sentinel steeled himself against the emotions that roiled inside and firmly placed his Guide in the taxi that would take him back to the Galeão International Airport in Rio. He could hear the gut-wrenching sobs over the engine's sputter as the cab pulled away. It was all he could do to simply stand there and watch the man he loved leave him once again.

When the car had disappeared from even a Sentinel's sight, he turned back toward the mansion, determined to quickly do what had to be done.

~oO0Oo~

Several nights later, a shadow slipped across the vast lawn of the plantation, avoiding the guards and disabling the alarm system. White curtains fluttered from an open window on the second floor of the mansion, inviting the shadow in.

The intruder could see clearly in the darkened room. His target lay asleep on the bed, his naked body covered only by a white sheet. Sidling next to the bed, the dark figure withdrew a large knife, whose blade glinted in the moonlight streaming through the window. The sleeping man snorted and shifted. The intruder froze—waiting. When the man had once again settled into sleep, the knife blade rose and fell so quickly that there was no need to muffle a scream. The cut across the man's neck nearly severed his head. The shadowy figure then pulled back the sheet, exposing the victim's genitals. Another swift slice and the man's penis and scrotum were shoved into his mouth and down his throat.

Pausing for only a moment to admire his work, the intruder vanished into the night.

~oO0Oo~

The following morning, Jim met with his realtor in order to sign the bill of sale on the property. He was surprised how quickly the plantation had sold. It had only been on the market a few days. Pocketing the substantial check the realtor handed him, Jim shook hands. All that was left to do was lock up and turn over the key.

His maid bustled around nervously until Jim finally grasped her firmly and held her still. "What's the matter? Talk to me, Mattie."

"... Master! What's going to become of your Mattie now? You've sold the plantation and you're leaving!"

"You don't think I'd leave and not make provisions for my favorite housekeeper, do you?" Jim shook his head and smiled at the nervous black woman. "You've already been freed. You can come or go at will. But I've spoken with the new owner of the plantation—he's a good man, very reputable—and he's agreed to pay you to be his house servant, if that's to your liking."

"Oh, Master!" Mattie freed her arms and flung them around Jim in a crushing hug. "You're too good to Miss Mattie. Thank you, Sir! Thank you!"

"I'm going to miss you." Jim realized that was more than just a platitude. He really would miss the feisty, caring woman very much. "Goodbye, and take care." He kissed her on the cheek and turned to leave.

A white limousine waited outside on the circular drive. With just one large suitcase to put in the trunk, Jim got in and instructed the driver to take him to the airport in Rio. At the terminal, he checked his bag, taking only his wallet and a book—The Art of War by Sun Tzu—with him on board the plane.

Cascade International Airport was still familiar, even after all the years he'd been away. Jim gathered his suitcase from baggage claims and walked out to the pick-up area. Dialing his cell phone, he waited for Blair to answer. "Hey, Chief. I'm at the airport. Could you come get me? I'd take a cab, but I don't know your address."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Look for a gray '62 Corvair."

There was no way Jim could miss the car when it pulled up, top down, Blair's auburn-tinted curls flying wildly in the breeze. "Man, it's good to see you again! Why didn't you call after you sent me home? I was hoping to hear how long you thought you'd be."

"I was busy." Jim tossed his suitcase in the trunk and slid into the passenger seat next to Blair.

"Doing what, besides putting the plantation up on the market? What was so time consuming that you couldn't call?"

"You don't want to know the details. Trust me."

The Corvair pulled out into traffic, maneuvering into the proper lane before the driver turned his head to study the man sitting next to him. "I do trust you, but you need to trust me too. What is so bad that you can't talk about it?"

"Suffice it to say that you will never have to worry about reprisals from Montego Juarez. He's out of the picture—permanently."

"Oh." Blair fell silent, a shudder running through his body. Just the mention of the slave owner's name was enough to induce terrifying flashbacks of his imprisonment. Knowing Jim's background in the U.S. Army Special Forces and his black ops training, maybe it was better that he didn't pry into the details.

They pulled up in front of a converted warehouse at 852 Prospect Avenue. After parking in the lot next to the building, Blair retrieved the suitcase from the trunk.

"Let me take that." Jim reached for the heavy case, which Blair handed over gratefully.

"My condo is on the third floor," he explained. "There's an elevator, which comes in handy ... when it's working." They entered the building, and he made a beeline for the lift. The elevator door opened with a squeak of protest. Grinding and vibrating, the car made its way up to the third floor.

Down at the end of the hall, he stopped in front of an apartment with '307' mounted in brass numbers on the door. "Home, Sweet Home." Unlocking it, he let it swing wide, ushering his guest in ahead of himself.

Jim stepped inside and looked around in appreciation at the large, open concept condo with a balcony and loft.

"This is the main living-slash-dining area." Blair gestured, indicating the great room. "The kitchen, of course. The bathroom is right off the kitchen, down this hall—"

"What's in here?" Jim started toward a small room with French doors that had windows looking out onto the great room.

"That used to be a storage closet, but when you freed me and sent me home, I converted it into my bedroom."

"I thought you'd sleep upstairs, in the loft."

"I did." The memories came flooding back; his eyes clouded over. "I used to love the openness, the feeling of being able to survey my entire kingdom from up there. But after I got home, I found that openness left me feeling vulnerable and exposed. I had nightmares every night. Some nights I wouldn't sleep at all. I finally decided to move downstairs to this smaller room where I could close the doors and feel safe."

"Did that stop the nightmares?"

Blair shook his head, eyes cast downward. "No. Only therapy helped that, and I still have them. But I did feel more secure down here, so this is where I've stayed ever since."

Jim opened the doors and looked inside. "This is too small for both of us. How would you feel about moving back up to the loft?"

Goose bumps rose on Blair's body and his eyes became haunted. "I-I don't know if I could."

"Let's go take a look." Jim reached out and grasped his lover's hand, leading him to the stairs and up to the loft. The room was dusty from disuse, but the king-sized bed, shelving, and closet space looked sufficient for the two of them. "How're you doing?"

Blair stood behind him, still on the top step, not quite back in the loft. "I'm fine." The words were brave, but he wasn't able to keep a slight quaver from his voice. The Sentinel took notice.

"You're not fine, but that's okay. It's going to be all right." He wrapped an arm around trembling shoulders and guided Blair into the room. "You never have to be up here alone. I'll hold you all night; make you know how loved and safe you are now that I'm here. Will you at least try?"

The younger man nodded, his vocalization so soft that only a Sentinel could hear. Clearing his throat, he changed the subject. "It's a mess up here. Would you mind cleaning while I fix us dinner?" He was already halfway down the stairs before Jim answered in the affirmative.

~oO0Oo~

After dinner the couple spent several quiet hours on the couch watching television. Jim cradled his lover's head in his lap, gently stroking a hand through the soft curls. Blair sighed contentedly, feeling protected and safe for the first time since he'd come back home. Maybe, just maybe, he could once again sleep upstairs. The thought of Jim's naked body cradling his, warming him, made him almost forget the horrors that often populated his dreams.

When the time came to go to bed, he was almost eager to get upstairs. They stripped, throwing their clothes to the floor, not caring in their hurry to get into bed. Arms and legs tangled while Jim's fingers twisted in his partner's long hair, pulling the lush lips toward him for a tender kiss that turned bruising in its intensity. They explored each other's body, reacquainting themselves with the familiar and beloved territory. Erotic zones were touched and fondled, drawing groans of pleasure from both men. But in the end, after the frantic mapping was complete, neither man really wanted sex. Although rock-hard, Jim could sense that what his lover needed now more than anything was security. Wrapping him in his arms, he held Blair close, spooned against him, his face buried in the fragrant strands of hair. Entwined, they fell asleep.

~*~*~*~*~

Rough hands bound him to the punishment frame, wrists and ankles tied to the four corners, leaving his naked body exposed and vulnerable. He drew a ragged breath and begged for forgiveness, knowing it was already too late. His heart pounded in his chest while he watched Montego Juarez hand the stun gun to his jilted guest. Blair wished now that he had knelt and sucked cock as commanded, but he'd felt a foolish spike of defiance, and now would pay for his pride.

The stun gun was pressed against his penis. The arc of electricity shot through his body, making every muscle contract and spasm, until he was on the knife edge of consciousness. Smelling salts were waved under his nose to revive him. The weapon was then jabbed into his scrotum, electrocuting his testicles. A strangled scream ripped from his throat before blackness engulfed him a second time.

Slowly, Blair revived. He was now so weak he hung by his bindings. The man moved around behind him. He felt cool hands part his buttocks and cold metal press against his anus. Openly weeping, he begged forgiveness—promised to be a good slave, but his pleading was ignored. Horrendous pain ripped through his body for a third time, leaving him wishing for death.

When Blair woke again, he was screaming.

~*~*~*~*~

Jim bolted upright, hands covering his ears. His lover was in the throes of a nightmare, thrashing in the sheets and crying out. When he had recovered his senses, he gathered his Guide into his arms, quietly shushing the agitated man, crooning words of love and safety in his ear.

It took several minutes before Blair calmed enough to be rational once more. He found himself wrapped in strong arms, held against a muscled chest. Snot and tears smeared his face. His eyes were bloodshot marbles of fear. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to slow his racing heart.

"What happened?"

"Bad dream."

"That must have been some bad dream." Jim's words were soft, holding no hint of sarcasm.

Blair pulled away, but not enough to be free of Jim's embrace. He wiped at his face with the back of his hand and arm. "God, I must look awful. I'm sorry. I still get these nightmares sometimes."

"Do you think it's because you're sleeping upstairs again?"

"Maybe ... I don't know. Sometimes they happen for no reason. I'll make an appointment with Dr. Cunningham in the morning."

"Who's this Dr. Cunningham?"

"She's my shrink. She's a good person. I think it's time I talk with her again."

"Does my coming to live with you have anything to do with this?" Jim was grasping at straws, trying to understand the frightening scene he had just witnessed.

"Any number of things could have triggered this, or it might have been nothing at all."

"Would you like to talk about it now ... tell me what you dreamed about that was so horrible?"

"No." Blair slowly shook his head. "No. It wasn't about you. It was about ... before. There's nothing you can do now to make this better."

"But that's what I want to do. That's what a Sentinel does for his Guide—he makes things better. Remember, Juarez can no longer hurt you. Don't let the memories torture you."

"It's not like I have a choice."

"But maybe you do." Jim cupped the distressed face with his palm and drew his Guide toward him. A gentle kiss caressed the swollen lips, hands stroked the still-trembling back until Blair relented and relaxed into the embrace. His cock swelled and he felt the Sentinel's warm fingers grasp the firm shaft. A few short strokes were all that was needed to rip a cry of ecstasy from his throat when he came, showering his lover with semen.

Jim pulled some wet wipes from the nightstand drawer to clean them up, and then gathered his exhausted lover into his arms once again. "It's time to sleep and dream of pleasant things."

With a sigh, Blair snuggled against his protector and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, sun was streaming through the balcony windows heralding a new day.

The young detective strode through the door into the Major Crime Unit, Jim close on his heels. "This is the bullpen ... and that's my desk." Blair waved a hand toward his station on the way by. He stopped at a door with 'Simon Banks' stenciled in gold on the glass and rapped his knuckles on the frame.

"Come."

"Hey, Captain!" He entered Banks' office, closing the door behind Jim.

"It's good to see you back, Sandburg. You here to stay this time?"

"Yes, Sir." He nodded and pulled up two chairs in front of Simon's desk. "I'm hoping to come back to work full-time, if that's acceptable."

"What about Rainier? You worked so hard for your doctorate that I thought you'd want to go back and claim that full professorship."

"I'm not ready to go back to the merry-go-round when I have the roller coaster right here." Blair's grin brought a twinkle to the captain's eye.

"So you're ready to go from paid consultant to full-time detective?"

"Yes, Sir!" He turned to the man standing beside him. "This is Jim Ellison. I told you about him...."

"From your time in Brazil." Simon studied the newcomer, and then turned toward the coffeemaker on the shelf behind his desk. "Coffee?"

Sitting down, both men answered in unison, "Yes, thank you."

Simon filled the mugs and turned back toward the couple with a smile on his face. "You two really are in sync, aren't you?" Without waiting for a reply, he continued, "So, Ellison—"

"Please, call me Jim."

"All right, Jim. I hear that you're looking to take on a detective position here at the P.D. in Major Crime."

"I want to work with Blair, Sir."

"Why?"

Panic showing in his eyes, Jim turned to his partner, shrugging his shoulders ever so slightly.

"We should tell him the truth. The captain deserves to know."

"Know what?" Simon's voice held an edge that demanded an explanation.

"Well, Sir ... Jim has heightened senses. Remember when I told you about my studies into Sentinels in tribal cultures?" Simon nodded. He recalled quite clearly the babble that had sounded like pure fantasy to his ears at the time. "It turns out that Sentinels do exist in modern times. Jim's eyesight, hearing, touch, taste and smell are all elevated far beyond human norms. He'd be a walking crime lab with the right training."

"And how do you intend to get that training?" Simon turned his gaze to the man sitting at his detective's side.

"Blair is teaching me all I need to know. Mostly, he's helping me to control my senses so that they don't run amok and drive me insane. I was reluctant to come back to the city because my senses can be so easily overwhelmed. But with his help, I'm managing just fine so far."

Simon studied the tall, muscular man. He picked up an old stogie and, without lighting it, chewed on the end for several seconds, considering. "You'll have to go to the police academy and firearms training, or test out of one or both. What sort of background do you have? Military?"

"Army special forces. Covert ops. Black ops."

Eyebrows rising into a sparse hairline, the captain considered the applicant's qualifications. "I think you should test out of firearms easily ... and the physical fitness part doesn't look like a problem either. You may need a class or two in police procedures and the law."

"Whatever it takes, I'll do it."

"You are aware that Sandburg already has a partner—Joel Taggert."

"Yeah, about that, Simon...." Blair was hesitant. Joel had not only been his partner, but a good friend for many years. When he'd first come home from Brazil, the man had been a strong shoulder to cry on. He didn't want to hurt the man who had become his best friend on the force, but he needed, really needed to be partnered with Jim.

"I'll talk to him," the captain promised. "If Jim needs you by his side to control his senses and turn him into this 'walking crime lab,' then we'll just have to work something out."

"Megan is currently without a partner, isn't she?" Blair looked out the windows of the captain's office and spotted the redhead working at her desk. A stunning woman, Megan had been a huge help to him when he'd first come home. He only prayed that his friends would accept Jim for the man he currently was, and not for what he had been.

"I'll take care of it, Sandburg," Simon replied with a firm voice. "Not your problem."

"Let's hope not."

~oO0Oo~

The door to the captain's office had barely closed behind Blair and the stranger when Joel Taggert looked up, a mixture of curiosity and distrust mirrored on his face.

Megan Connor had sauntered over, resting a hand on Joel's shoulder. "So that's Sandy's mysterious 'Jim.' He's quite a looker. I can see why he would be attracted to him."

"But he owned Blair ... as a slave. A sex slave, no less." Taggert's voice dropped to a near whisper.

"You know how much Sandy loves him." Megan leaned down to keep her voice from carrying too far. "He told me that Jim actually rescued him from an abusive owner and took good care of him."

"But Blair was still his slave, whom he put on display when it suited him."

"And he gave him clothes, Joel. His former owner kept him naked all the time, flaunting his concubine status. And don't forget that Jim ultimately freed Blair and sent him home. He returned to Brazil of his own free will to bring Jim back to Cascade."

"He only thinks he's in love with this man. He was still exploited ... bought and sold as a slave in the sex trade."

"No, I think it's more than that." Megan glanced into the captain's office, wishing she could hear what was going on in there. "I think there's genuine love there. I'm betting that he's trying to get Jim a job with the department. You may be looking for a new partner ... partner."

"You offering?" Joel looked up at her with a grin.

"Only if you promise to give Jim a fair chance."

Joel sighed. "I love Blair like a brother. You know that. And I trust his judgment. I couldn't have stayed his partner this long if I didn't. If he thinks Jim's okay, I guess I'm willing to give the guy a chance. But one screw up, and he's dead meat."

"That's my mate." Megan patted the broad shoulder and went back to her desk.

~oO0Oo~

"Sandburg, why don't you take Jim down to personnel and get the ball rolling? I'll look into the academy situation and see what we can do to test him out of all but basic police procedures."

"Will there be a problem with promoting him directly to detective?" Blair's brows were furrowed. The last thing he wanted was for the other detectives in Major Crime to think that his partner was being granted special privileges.

"Given his experience in the U.S. Army Special Forces, I think we can turn that into time served." Simon rose and extended his hand to his new officer. "Welcome to Major Crime, Mr. Ellison."

~oO0Oo~

The two men made their way back through the gauntlet of the bullpen, well aware of the eyes boring into their backs.

After dropping Jim off at personnel to get the paperwork started, Blair made his way to the fourth floor and the office of Dr. Cunningham.

"Blair! Good to see you!" The receptionist smiled broadly. "Is Dr. Cunningham expecting you? I don't have you listed in my appointment book."

"No, she's not, but I do need to set up an appointment. There have been some pretty big changes in my life in the past week, and I'm not dealing with them as well as I'd hoped."

"Let me see.... I have a cancellation tomorrow. How does two o'clock sound?"

"Perfect. I'll be here. Thanks."

"You take care, Sweetheart."

He smiled and blew the receptionist a kiss on his way out.

~oO0Oo~

"It's good to see you again, Blair." Dr. Cunningham extended a hand in greeting before they both sat down. "So, tell me ... what's been going on in your life recently?"

"Some really good things." He smiled ear to ear, thinking about the previous night's passionate lovemaking. His cock began to stir with the memories, so he turned to the reason he had come. "But some not-so-good things, too. I'm having nightmares again."

"Can you tell me why you think the dreams have returned? Before this, you'd gone several months with only minor setbacks. What changed?"

"I took a trip down to Brazil ... to bring Jim home with me. He's the best thing that ever happened in my life," he hastened to add. "He's not my problem."

"Hmmmm...." Dr. Cunningham tapped a finger against her hardwood desk. "What do you think is your problem?"

"I've started dreaming of my time spent with Montego Juarez. I wake up in a cold sweat, screaming. I thought I was done with that." He sighed, his clasped hands dropping between his knees. After a minute of silence, he looked up at the psychologist. "Jim said he 'took care of' Juarez and that I'd never have to worry about him again. So why am I having the nightmares?"

"I know you probably don't want to hear this, but your trigger could very well be Jim Ellison."

"What? No!" Blair sprang to his feet in protest. "I love Jim! He's got nothing to do with this!"

Elizabeth Cunningham waited patiently for the young man standing before her to calm down. He paced a few times around the chair before finally sitting back down. "I know you say you love him ... no, wait ... hear me out." Blair had started to rise up from his chair again, but he settled back, his face a dark cloud of resentment. "Have you heard of 'Stockholm syndrome'?"

"Of course I have! But Jim wasn't my captor; he was my rescuer! I grew to love him, since he treated me with respect. He didn't hurt me. Not ever."

"But he owned you ... as a slave, and a sex slave at that. Don't tell me that you didn't have intercourse with him."

"Not until after.... He bought me to save me from the life of a sex slave. He took care of me."

"You do know how that sounds to an outsider, don't you? Blair, I know you think you know what you're feeling for the man, but please take the time to consider this rationally. You were a slave, and Jim took advantage of you. You had been so brutally abused by your former owner that anything Jim did would seem like love and caring by comparison. But he still bought you, owned you, and treated you like a concubine. Your love for him isn't rational."

Blair wrung his hands, dropping them between his knees. Tears silently traced silver trails down the cheeks of his bowed head. Finally, he spoke, but his voice shook. "It is rational. It is love." He looked up and wiped the tears from his eyes with his right sleeve. "I'll bring him in, let you meet him. Then you'll see."

"I'd like to meet him, yes. Do bring him to your next session." Dr. Cunningham jotted a note on her pad. "How does Wednesday at 9 A.M. sound? Do you think you could get Jim to come with you then?"

"I'll talk to him about it," Blair promised.

"Good. Meanwhile, keep a journal of your dreams and bring it along with you to the sessions. I'll see you on Wednesday."

"Thank you, Dr. Cunningham." Blair rose and shook the psychologist's hand. He wasn't sure what, if any, progress he'd made that day, but at least he still had Jim to go home to.

~oO0Oo~

It had been a long day for Jim. The process of filling out the personnel forms and providing the required samples for drug testing had been a tedious necessity. He was now on the road to becoming a detective in Major Crime. When he had returned to the bullpen after the paperwork, he'd sensed a distinctly negative reaction. The smell of anger and fear permeated the large workspace. He supposed he knew why, but these people were soon to become his coworkers and "brothers in blue," so they'd just have to get over any prejudicial ideas they had about him.

Blair's day hadn't been much better. He'd returned from his therapy session tense and angry. Captain Banks had sent them home early, realizing that neither man was going to be worth anything for the rest of the day. Since it was Friday, they had the weekend to cool off and work things out.

After an early dinner, they had retired to the couch with a couple of beers and a bowl of popcorn to watch a movie. Halfway through, it was clear that neither man was interested in what was happening on the TV, and so they retreated to the loft. Quickly stripping, both men fell onto the bed and into each other's arms. Their lovemaking was a combination of passion and gentleness, need and want, and when their orgasms washed over them, both men felt a release from the day's tensions that cleansed both their bodies and souls.

"She said that my love for you wasn't rational." Blair shifted the tangle of his arms and legs to a more comfortable position and snuggled in close to the warmth of the muscled chest beneath him. The afterglow of their lovemaking still enveloped him.

"What we just did felt pretty considered and rational to me." Jim's voice rumbled in his chest, sounding to his partner's ears like the purr of a large cat.

~oO0Oo~

"I don't know why everyone wants to pigeon hole our feelings for each other. They don't know us. All they know is that you were a slave owner, and I was your slave. They know nothing and are presuming everything. It just isn't right."

"But it's natural ... it's human." Jim smoothed a stray lock of hair away from the mournful blue eyes that watched him. "Hopefully, their perceptions will change when they get to know us better."

"Dr. Cunningham would like to have you come with me to my next session. Will you?"

He squirmed away, loosening Blair's hold without breaking it. "I'm not so sure that I'm comfortable with that. Why does she want to meet with me?"

"To get to know you ... to better assess our interactions and whether or not you really have some sort of 'voodoo hold' over my soul." The lush lips pulled up in a grin, one corner of his mouth quirking just enough to let the older man know what he thought about that insane idea. "You really have cast a spell on my heart, but only because I let you."

"No, no. You have it all wrong. You're the sorcerer who ensnared my heart. I've loved you since I first set eyes on you. That's why I couldn't leave you with that ... man ... even though it cost me half a year's income to buy you."

"That much?"

"I would have given him everything I had to save you from that life."

"I love you." Closing the gap that had come between them, Blair let his lips lightly brush across Jim's, his warm breath sweet to the Sentinel's sense of smell. "Will you come with me?"

"Do you really have to ask?" With his cock slowly stirring back to life, Jim gathered his partner into his arms, letting his body answer the question.

Jim raised his Glock, aimed at the paper target, and squeezed the trigger.

"Looking good."

Lowering his gun, the Sentinel turned to find Blair standing behind him wearing the required noise-canceling headgear and protective goggles. He pushed the button to bring the paper target forward.

"Nice shot." The younger man admired the clean hole through the heart of the target. "Not going to try again?"

"I emptied my clip already." A smirk greeted the inquiry.

"But there's only one hole!"

"I'm just that good." He shrugged and tapped his goggles. "I remember a time during my days with the army when I was in a stand off with the leader of a major drug cartel. I put my bullet right down the barrel of his gun."

"But that's impossible!"

"For mere mortal men, perhaps." Jim removed his gear, hung it up, and then holstered his gun, putting a hand on his partner's shoulder. "Weren't we going to talk with your shrink this morning?"

"Yes, and if we don't get a move on, we're going to be late!" He removed the hand from his shoulder and gave it a tug. "Come on. Fourth floor!"

~oO0Oo~

"It's good to see you, Blair. How have the nightmares been since we last talked?" Dr. Cunningham let her eyes stray briefly to the tall, handsome man her patient had brought with him.

"I haven't had another one ... yet. Maybe I'm done with them." He pulled up a second chair and the two men sat down. "This is Jim Ellison. Jim, meet Dr. Elizabeth Cunningham, the department psychologist."

Jim leaned forward and extended his hand. The doctor gripped it firmly, and they shook hands. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Ellison. Blair has told me a lot about you."

"He's told me a few things about you as well." He reached across the arms of their chairs to grasp his partner's hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

"Then he's probably mentioned that I feel his attraction to you is unhealthy and unreasonable."

"He's told me you think he's a victim of Stockholm syndrome. That couldn't be further from the truth."

"He's right." Blair sat up straighter, raising their clasped hands. "You don't know the whole story."

"Then why don't you tell me?"

The painful memories pulled his lips into a grim line as he began. "I was kidnapped from the Rainier campus and taken by ship to South America where I was stripped, tattooed, and sold into the slave trade. The man who bought me was a sick son-of-a-bitch. He thought I was 'pretty' and bought me to be his personal concubine. While I was with him, I never wore a single thread of clothing. I was raped daily ... and nightly. I was loaned to guests he wanted to impress. If I didn't do everything I was told—particularly if I refused sex—I was punished. I still have the scars from those punishments that ranged from whippings to the use of a stun gun on my privates. I was collared and led around on a leash, even in the public market places where Juarez would often put me on display and sell my ass to anyone willing to pay his price." Blair squeezed Jim's hand until his knuckles turned white.

"On one of those days, Jim came along and offered Juarez five times the average price of a slave sold at market that day. It took half a year's profits for him to do that, but as soon as he got me to his truck, he gave me a blanket to cover myself." Toying with a strand of hair, he gave Jim a tremulous smile. "When we got to his home, he brought in a doctor to tend to my torn rectum and gave me a shirt to cover my nakedness. I was never naked again, except to bathe. Eventually, he gave me a closet full of clothes to wear.

"Jim would sleep with me, but he only held me, never forced sex or even asked for it. He comforted me, helped me to heal both physically and mentally. All the time I was with him, we never once had anal sex."

"But he still treated you like a slave, didn't he?"

"Yes, at times, to keep up appearances. It wouldn't have been seemly for a plantation owner to actually love one of his slaves. Look, if you must know, while I was extremely grateful for all the gifts and kindnesses, I couldn't bring myself to admit to loving him. He owned me! True love would set the object of that love free. And Jim did that." He turned to look at the man seated beside him. The stern face had softened and the ice-blue eyes were haunted. "I can't imagine how much it must have hurt him to do that, not knowing if I'd ever return ... imagining that I wouldn't."

"But that doesn't make your love for him any healthier. It's still based on perceived kindness."

"Not perceived!" Blair surged to his feet, nearly toppling his chair. "He was kind to me. He was always kind to me. He loved me, even though I repeatedly told him I couldn't reciprocate that love. He clothed and fed me, gave me medical attention, and in the end, he set me free. It wasn't until I got home and had recovered somewhat from the ordeal that I realized how very much I missed him ... needed to be with him. It was love that sent me back to Brazil to bring Jim home. Nothing you can say will ever convince me that my love for him is anything other than the genuine article." He pulled his chair back next to Jim's and sat down.

Dr. Cunningham turned to the man in question. "Blair's been doing most of the talking. Is there anything you would like to add?"

"I think he's pretty much covered it. I'll admit that becoming a slave owner in the first place was a bad decision on my part—and that's an understatement." The doctor nodded her head and growled out a quiet agreement. "My start-up cash was very limited and slave labor was cheaper than hired hands," Jim continued. "I treated my people well. I never abused them or overworked them. In the end, I gave all of them their freedom.

"I bought Blair because I'd fallen in love at first sight, no matter how hokey that sounds. He needed to be rescued from the fucker who was abusing him, and I had the cash to do it. But I'll admit I was afraid. I wanted to give him his freedom, but after what he'd been through, I was afraid he'd run back to the States. I'd never see him again, so I did the only thing I knew how to do...."

"You kept him as a slave." The doctor tapped the pencil tip against her pad of paper. "I don't condone what you did, but I think I'm beginning to understand the dynamic a little better."

"Then you don't think I'm a victim of Stockholm syndrome?" Blair sat forward on the edge of his chair. "Because I'm not. I'm an anthropologist, a Ph.D. and I know the causes and symptoms of the condition. I don't fit."

"I can't say that I'm fully convinced, but for now I'm going to give you both the benefit of the doubt. I'd like for you to continue to keep a dream diary. If you have any problems, please feel free to make an appointment for a talk." The doctor set aside her notepad. Eyes narrowing, she studied the two men. "I do hope I'm doing the right thing."

"You are, Doctor. I'd give my life to protect Blair. And since I'm in line to become a detective with Major Crime and partner with him, you can bet his safety will be my first priority."

Dr. Cunningham nodded and rose from her chair, extending a hand to him. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Ellison. Just see that you stand by your words."

"On my honor, I could do nothing less." He shook the woman's hand before grasping Blair's.

After the door closed behind them, Jim turned to his partner. "That was like going through the wringer.... Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine. It had to come out, I suppose. You know, we'll likely have to go through something similar with my friends in Major Crime. They respect my feelings, but I'm not sure if they completely trust you yet."

"We're just going to have to convince them." He smiled and pulled Blair in for a kiss that made his partner temporarily forget the ordeal they had just been through.

~*~*~*~*~

He was bent over the footboard of the bed while Montego Juarez pounded into his ass. He could barely breathe due to the compression of his diaphragm, and he gulped in air whenever there was the slightest release of pressure. The silent tears that tracked down his face were of no consequence. His master didn't care what happened to him ... wouldn't even care if he died. Oh, he might regret killing his favorite, for a short while, but Blair held no illusions about being irreplaceable. After several minutes of the relentless pounding, Juarez buried himself balls-deep in his concubine. Blair felt the hot rush of semen fill his passage. The slave owner withdrew, went to the washroom to clean himself up, and then left.

Shortly thereafter, Priscila arrived, clucking her tongue over the state of her charge. "There, there, Menino, let me help," she crooned. Slipping her strong arms beneath his she dragged him to his feet. With assistance, he was able to make it over to the side of the bed and fall face down on the mattress. She then bustled into the washroom to fetch towels and a warm, damp cloth and proceeded to clean the blood and semen from his inner thighs. When she was done, she coated an index finger with a large bead of antibiotic ointment and eased it into his anus, spreading the medicine on the tortured walls of his rectum, all the while murmuring comforting words to him in her native Portuguese.

He felt the bed rise when she stood and left the room. He soon heard water running in the bathtub and smelled the lavender-scented Epsom salts of which his caregiver was so fond. He found the fragrance relaxing and had nearly drifted off to sleep while he awaited her return. Soon, strong hands were helping him from the bed. Leaning heavily on the older woman, she guided him to the tub for a restorative bath. With her help, he lowered himself into the aromatic water with a sigh of relief. The warmth immediately began to soak into his weary and abused muscles. He closed his eyes and let the peace descend. He so rarely felt relaxed and safe, but during his baths he could ... if only for a few brief moments.

Priscila came back just as the water was beginning to cool. She took a cloth and carefully washed Blair's body from head to toe. Then, helping him out of the tub, she toweled him down and took him back to the bedroom. As he stretched out on the mattress, relaxed and clean, he felt his caregiver pull a sheet up to his shoulders. She brushed a hand through his damp hair whispering, "Good night, Menino. Sleep well," before her footsteps faded and the bedroom door closed behind her. There would be no more rape tonight. He quieted his fear-filled mind and found sleep.

~*~*~*~*~

The following morning, Jim found Blair sitting at the dining table busily writing in his dream journal. "Another nightmare?"

Looking up, he put down his pen. "Only the beginning. Actually, I dreamt mostly of Priscila. She was always so kind to me."

"The woman who was assigned to care for you? To make sure that you were in good shape for her master to rape?"

"That's a little harsh, Jim. She genuinely cared for me and hated what Juarez did. I wonder what happened to her ... where she is now?"

"I imagine that all the slaves on Juarez's plantation were freed once their master 'disappeared.' I'm sure she's much happier now that she's no longer under that bastard's thumb."

"I hope so. She was like a mother to me while I was there, and the only one I could turn to that I knew wouldn't intentionally hurt me."

"If you'd like, I can make some inquiries ... find out where she is and how she's doing."

"Would you?" Blair looked up, his eyes sparkling. "That would mean a lot to me. If anyone deserved a better life, it was her."

"I'll see what I can do," Jim promised.

It was no surprise to the sergeant conducting Jim's firearms testing that the man passed with high marks. The eye-opener was the fact that he had set a new record for accuracy within the Cascade P.D.

Being a sharpshooter wasn't going to make his classroom time any easier, however. He had tested out of the physical training and all parts of the academy courses with the exception of Procedures.

After class, several of the cadets gathered and cut off Jim's exit. "We heard about you." A young man named Chris Ayres was forward enough to poke a finger against Jim's chest. The Sentinel stood calmly, assessing the man's vital functions—heart rate, breathing ... the sweat beading on his upper lip—and realized that he was afraid.

"Yes, and what exactly is it that you've heard?"

"You owned slaves, and you owned one of our brothers!" Ayres swallowed hard, but garnered courage from the gang of classmates surrounding him. "You'd better watch your back. If you ever call for backup, it may not come."

"Then you'll put the life of the very 'brother' that you're trying to protect in grave danger, since he's going to be my partner." That statement put a sudden halt to the aggressive onslaught.

The men began backing off, but Ayres had to get in one last word. "You'd just better watch your back, because we'll be watching you."

Jim turned to walk in the opposite direction, quietly muttering, "And I'll be keeping my eye on you, too, you illegitimate little punk."

~oO0Oo~

The Sentinel walked through the doors into Major Crime, looking for his partner.

"He's in talking with Captain Banks." Joel Taggert sauntered over to greet the newcomer. "You know, you and I haven't really had a chance to talk. I know you owned Blair as a slave while you were both in Brazil, but I'm willing to cut you some slack on that, if you can answer one question for me."

"Shoot."

"Do you love him as much as he loves you? That boy adores you. He worships the ground you walk on. I don't know why, and it's none of my business, but Blair's my friend, as well as having been my partner. I don't want to see him hurt."

"That goes double for me." Megan Connor joined them. "Sandy was terribly hurt during his time in Brazil, and he's had a journey coming back from that. He doesn't need the constant reminder that your presence provides."

"Look, I know you're protective of him. I don't blame you. If I were you, I wouldn't like me much either. But I do love him with all my heart and soul. I would lay down my life for him in an instant, with no regrets. Nobody ... nobody is going to hurt him while he's with me. If they do, they'll pay."

"And you swear you never touched him while you owned him?" The Australian inspector had felt a strong affinity for the young detective ever since she had counseled him on rape survival. Blair had arrived home looking strong, but broken inside. Through talking with her and Dr. Cunningham, he had eventually recovered enough to return to work. Instead, he returned to Jim.

"Not in that way. We never had intercourse, consensual or otherwise, until he voluntarily returned to Brazil to bring me back here."

Megan made an approving grunt.

"We don't need the details of your private lives." Joel put a hand on the Aussie's shoulder and squeezed it gently, eliciting a smile from the redhead. "We just need to know that you'll treat him right and always have his back."

"You have my word on that."

Relieved to feel he had potential friends on the force, Jim shook hands with both his future colleagues. It would have been hard if all the detectives in Major Crime felt the way the cadets had earlier that morning.

The door to the captain's office opened, and the subject of their discussion walked toward them. "Hey, Jim! How did the class go this morning?"

"Fine. You ready for lunch?"

"What aren't you telling me?" Blair cocked an eyebrow at his partner.

Jim reached out to ruffle the younger man's hair. "Nothing you need to be bothered with, Chief. We're good, and that's all that matters."

At Blair's insistence, Jim walked the academy commencement with his fellow graduates. Captain Banks would have happily handed him his badge in a quiet ceremony within Major Crime, but the young detective had wanted to show off his new partner with all the pomp and circumstance a formal graduation ceremony entailed. As his name was called, Jim marched up to the podium in his dress blues to officially receive his badge. When he shook hands with the sergeant, cheers and applause rose from a small section of the crowd, while a few boos and hisses were heard from another section.

"Don't let it get to you." Simon leaned over Blair's shoulder to whisper in his ear. "You and Jim have a history, and pretty much everyone knows it. It'll blow over once they get to know him."

"I hope so. I certainly hope so." Blair continued clapping until Jim had left the stage and sat down with his fellow graduates.

~oO0Oo~

"I think this deserves a little celebrating, don't you?" Captain Banks wrapped an arm around Jim's shoulder after the ceremony. "How about we all meet up at O'Callahan's in an hour?"

"Sounds good to me! I could use a stiff drink." Joel slapped the new officer on the back. "Congratulations! You're now officially one of us."

"Welcome to Major Crime." Megan leaned in to place a quick kiss on his cheek.

"I don't know...." Jim tried to protest. He really preferred small gatherings and not big public displays. "I think I'd rather just go home and have a beer."

"Oh no, you don't!" Blair grabbed his arm and began dragging him away. "We're going home all right, but only long enough to change into something comfortable. See you all at O'Cal's later!" He waved to the small group assembled around them before pushing Jim out the door.

~oO0Oo~

The pub was noisy and filled with people. Things were a bit quieter and less frenetic in the back where Simon had secured them a table. Jim was on his third beer and actually beginning to relax, while Joel was busy telling stories of his exploits with Blair. Particularly fond of the tale concerning how he'd lost his courage as a bomb technician, he explained how a young consultant from Rainier had managed to give it back to him with an obfuscation the size of the Grand Canyon.

"It wasn't exactly a lie." Blair turned to glower briefly at the storyteller. "I was using an analogy to help Joel come to terms with his fear. It worked!"

"That it did." The ex-bomb tech thumped him on the back hard enough to make him spew some of the beer he'd been trying to swallow.

Jim nearly choked with laughter at the look on his partner's face.

When their food arrived, the conversation dropped to a minimum while the alcohol soaked revelers eagerly filled their empty stomachs. Once Blair had reached a point where he no longer had to shovel in food as fast as he could chew, he put down his burger, surveyed the small cadre of friends, and cleared his throat.

"I'd just like to make one thing perfectly clear so that there won't be any more misunderstandings.... I'm with Jim by my own personal choice. He freed me and sent me home. I returned of my own accord. He's a good man, and he's going to be a great addition to Major Crime. I just hope you all can accept that, and treat him with the respect he deserves."

"Don't worry, Hairboy," Henri Brown spoke up. "If you say he's okay, we've got your back."

"Hear, hear!" Joel thumped the table with the palm of his hand. "You're one of us now, and we take care of our own."

"Of course we do, Sandy." Megan wrapped an arm around her friend and squeezed. "And don't you ever think otherwise."

Captain Banks ran his steely gaze around the table and settled on the new graduate. "Have there been any statements to the contrary that I should know about?"

"No, Sir." Jim spoke around a mouthful of food that he quickly chewed and swallowed. "Nothing I can't handle, Sir."

"You can drop the 'Sir' crap. This isn't the army."

"Yes, Sir ... Captain Banks."

"Simon."

"Yes, Sir."

Once the chuckles had died down, Jim wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood up. "Thank you all for the party and for accepting me as one of you, but I think it's time that Blair and I get home. It's been a long day, and we're going to need some time to recover before reporting in for work tomorrow."

Blair pushed back his chair and also stood. "Thanks, guys. Your support means more to me—to us—than you'll ever know. See you in the morning."

"Report to my office when you arrive. I'll have an assignment waiting for you."

"Will do, Simon." Blair grasped Jim's hand and waved a farewell to his friends. A chorus of goodbyes followed them as they left the pub.

"I think we have a little celebrating of our own to do, don't you?" Jim tugged on the hand that clasped his. "Got any ideas?"

"Oh, I think we can come up with something." Blair's lecherous grin told his partner all he needed to know.

~oO0Oo~

"Harder! Harder!" Jim's naked body gleamed with sweat as he knelt on the bed, face pressed into the pillows.

In the dominant position above his lover, Blair held Jim's wrists tight to the mattress while thrusting deep inside the compliant body. Perspiration dripping from his forehead, he pounded harder, deeper, waiting for the cry that would topple him over the edge.

He didn't have long to wait. Jim's body trembled beneath him, tense with the need for release. Letting go of one wrist, Blair reached beneath his partner's body to grasp the hard column of flesh. He stopped thrusting, choosing to bury himself deep within his lover. With a few sharp jerks of his fist along the length of the turgid penis, he got the desired response.

Jim's orgasm wrung a cry from his throat that echoed around the loft. Feeling muscles squeezing his cock, Blair was brought to the brink and over, emptying himself into the muscled body. A tsunami of sensation washed over him, his own shout blending with the fading sound of his Sentinel's. Sated and spent, he collapsed on top of his sweat-slicked lover. It was several minutes before either could move or speak.

Finally rolling off the cooling body beneath him, Blair groaned. "Oh, man, I'm going to hurt in the morning!"

"Been a while since you used those muscles, has it?" The chuckle that accompanied the statement earned Jim a punch on the arm. "Feel up to a warm shower? The heat will relax your muscles ... and I give a good rubdown."

"Sounds wonderful, but I'm not sure I can get off the bed." Another groan followed as he tried to move his already stiffening body.

"Here, let me help." Jim got up and offered a hand, pulling Blair up and off the bed. They made their way slowly down the stairs to the bathroom.

Starting the water, Jim tested the temperature until it was just right—hot enough to relax, but not to scald. He pulled his lover in with him and worked up a good lather, massaging away the tension first in the shoulders, and then working his way down. His partner's moans of pleasure spurred him on. Running a slick hand up the right inner thigh, he connected with the heavy sac that hung between the younger man's legs. Blair tensed, and then relaxed at the touch, feeling his penis twitch in an effort to rise again, but he was too exhausted. Continuing the sensual massage, two hands slicked their way over his abdomen and up his chest. A thumb tweaked his right nipple as fingers tugged at the blue jewel piercing his left.

"You're trying to make me come again, aren't you?" Blair shook his head, wet hair spraying a fine mist of water. "It's not going to work. You took it all from me upstairs."

"Can't blame a guy for trying...."

Blair leaned back against the muscled body and let Jim support him as they rinsed off. Getting out of the shower, he allowed himself to be toweled dry and led back upstairs. He sat wrapped in a comforter, watching his partner change the sheets on the bed and throw them over the rail for tomorrow's laundry.

"Come to bed, Chief." Jim held the blanket until Blair slid into place. Joining him, he wrapped his arms around the younger man and pulled him close. He buried his face in the damp, fragrant curls. "I love you, Mina Alma."

"Love you, too." The words were muffled and jumbled, as the object of Jim's affection quickly fell asleep.

The two detectives stood at the conference table in Simon's office watching him drop a file folder in front of them.

"Looks like you two get to jump straight into the fire. I just got this. The body of a young male was found naked in a shallow grave in Bayside Park. The ME is on the way. You'd better get going."

"Not much here." Jim closed the slender folder and tucked it inside his jacket. "Let's go, Chief. You drive."

~oO0Oo~

Uniformed police milled around the taped-off crime scene. It didn't take long for the detective and his rookie partner to find the officer in charge when they arrived.

"What's the story?" Blair took a brief glance across the barrier and glimpsed a small, white form lying in a shallow ditch.

"Mr. Anderson, here," pointing to his left, the officer indicated a pale middle-aged man, "found the body while he was out for his morning jog."

"What can you tell us?" Jim took a notepad from his inner jacket pocket.

"I was just out for my morning run. I jog in this park every morning between six and seven, before I go to work."

"And where do you work?"

"Cyclops Industries, downtown. I-I stumbled.... I must have tripped over a tree root or something, and I looked down and saw.... Oh, God ... he's ... just a boy!" Anderson began openly weeping.

"We appreciate you calling it in. You did the right thing." Blair reached out to place a hand on the man's shoulder. "Can you tell us, did you see anyone else in the area at the time you discovered the body?"

Anderson shook his head. "No. No one. The park was deserted."

Pulling a business card from his pocket, Blair held it out to the witness. "That's all the questions we have for you right now. If you can think of anything else, anything at all, please, give us a call." The man nodded and was turning to leave when the detective spotted a van. He slapped the back of his hand against Jim's chest. "ME's here. Let's go take a look at the body."

The two men ducked beneath the yellow tape and headed over to where the body lay in a shallow grave at the base of an old oak. The pale white skin gleamed in the rays of the morning sun that managed to pass through the thick foliage. Dirt and leaves were scattered sparsely over it, but could not conceal the fact that their victim was just a child.

Jim knelt at the edge of the depression, scanning the body with his senses, but not touching until after the medical examiner could have a look. Blair crouched down next to him, looking decidedly unwell.

"You okay, Chief? You don't look so good."

"H-He's so young...."

"I'd say around six or seven, at most." Jim cocked his head. "I smell blood on the body ... blood that doesn't belong to the boy."

"It could be from his attacker. We'll have to tell Dan when he gets here."

"Dan?"

"The ME, Dan Wolf. Oh, that's right! You two haven't met yet. You'll like him. He's Native American." A small glimmer of enthusiasm for his first love—anthropology—shone through his otherwise agitated demeanor.

"I also smell semen."

"Oh, God...." Blair stood up and bolted from the makeshift grave, leaning against a nearby tree, gasping for breath.

"Chief? What's the matter?" Jim rose, making room for Dan Wolf to perform his exam and hurried over to where his partner leaned against the tree, retching.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry," Blair gasped between bouts of vomiting. When he was finished, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "That wasn't very professional of me."

"What's going on?" Jim wrapped an arm around his partner and led him away from the foul smelling stomach contents. "It's not like you to react that way. Surely you must have seen worse since you started working for the P.D...."

Nodding, he clung to his partner, unwilling to try to stand on his own. "Yeah. I don't know what's causing this. Maybe because it's a kid...."

"Maybe because it's a boy who's been raped." Placing a finger beneath Blair's chin, Jim turned the younger man's head, to look him in the eyes. "Maybe it's not this case.... Maybe it's yours. We should ask Simon to take us off this one; give it to Taggert and Connor instead. We can work another homicide."

"No. No, I'll be fine." He pushed away from Jim and carefully made his way back to the crime scene. "Hey, Dan. What did you find?"

"Oh, hi, Blair! TOD looks to be around midnight. Petechial hemorrhaging suggests strangulation as the cause of death. You can see bruising around the neck as well." He pointed out dark purple blotches—obvious finger marks—around the boy's throat.

"I can almost make out fingerprints in those bruises."

"Dan, I'd like for you to meet my new partner, Jim Ellison. Jim, this is Dan Wolf, the department's medical examiner. Jim's got really good eyesight. Is there any chance that you could lift a print?"

"It's particularly difficult, if not impossible, to lift fingerprints from flesh."

"But it has been done, right?"

"Rarely, and only under very special conditions. I wouldn't hold my breath."

"I also smell blood that doesn't belong to the victim ... and semen." Jim crouched down next to Wolf.

"You've got a pretty sensitive nose." Dan turned to look at the detective beside him. The man didn't seem out of the ordinary—a bit over six feet tall, muscular build, handsome—the epitome of the classic detective.

"It's a blessing and a curse." Jim stood up, brushing the dirt from his slacks.

Dan stood also, looking down with pity at the makeshift grave. "We'll get the body back to the morgue. I'll be able to tell you more after the autopsy."

"May we come and observe?" The Sentinel hoped the ME would give them more to go on. Until then, there wasn't much more that could be done.

"If you have the stomach for it." Dan turned and signaled his men.

~oO0Oo~

"Are you ready for this?" Jim paused at the morgue's door, waiting for his partner to catch up.

"As I'll ever be." Blair pushed the door open and strode through, summoning all the strength he had to cross the threshold.

The two men approached the medical examiner who was dictating his report into a portable recorder. They paused beside him, waiting for him to finish.

Dan Wolf put the device down and turned his attention to the arrivals. "Well, gentlemen, it looks like we have ourselves a rape homicide. The kid fought his attacker. I got blood and skin samples from beneath his fingernails. I've sent that to the lab along with the semen I took from the body. I should have something for you in a few hours—I put a rush on this one."

"Thanks, Dr. Wolf."

"Dan," he addressed the department's newest detective. "We don't stand on formality down here.... Jim, isn't it?" The man nodded. "Well, Jim, have you and Blair discovered this little man's identity yet?"

"No. We're pulling all notices of missing children, but so far we haven't been able to find a match."

"I don't envy you having to tell the parents what happened to their kid. This sort of thing ... it should never happen, especially to a child." Dan pulled the sheet back up to cover the small body. "All I can give you for now is that the means of death was strangulation, and that he was raped at least once."

"You think more than once?"

"From the tearing of the tissues and the amount of semen found inside the body, it's a distinct possibility."

A soft thump from behind them drew the two men's attention. Blair lay on the floor with his eyes open and limbs twitching against the linoleum. Quickly kneeling beside him, Jim rolled him onto his side. He folded his jacket and placed it beneath his partner's head.

"He looks like he's having a seizure." Dan squatted down next to Jim, making a cursory exam of the unconscious man. "He ever have one before?"

"Not that I know of."

"Then we better call 911. He should get checked out."

~*~*~*~*~

Blair lay on the bed on his stomach, the whiplashes on his back still a burning agony despite Priscila's gentle ministrations. It would be a while before he spoke out of turn again. In the hope that someday he might be free again, he'd do whatever was necessary to survive.

The sound of a doorknob turning and the squeak of hinges took his breath away. *'No! It's too soon. No more today, please!'* his mind screamed.

"Let's see if you've learned your lesson for the day," Juarez growled, leering at his helpless concubine. "On your knees, Slave!"

Trembling with shock and fear, Blair complied, facing the head of the bed. He shivered from cold sweat despite the warmth of the room. Closing his eyes, he waited for the rape to begin. The mattress dipped behind him. He tensed. An involuntary cry escaped as the hard cock entered him with brutal swiftness. Strong hands gripped his ass, holding him up as his master pounded into him. He let his head drop onto his folded arms. His body slowly collapsed under the assault until even Juarez's brute strength could no longer hold him up. It felt like his insides were being torn, cut, punctured—he stopped caring that he was being fucked to death. Death might be preferable to the anguish of the whiplashes and the ripping of his ass. Hot semen flooded his rectum, burning like molten fire.

~*~*~*~*~

Blair regained consciousness. Confused and unaware of his surroundings, he began to speak softly. His words were a jumble that made no sense to anyone but Jim. "No, please. I'll be good. Won't talk. No. No punishment. God, please! No more...."

The ambulance arrived, and the EMTs loaded the delirious man onto a gurney. Dan explained his observations to the medic in charge, mentioning his suspicion that the patient had suffered a seizure. "He's awake now, but not lucid."

The man nodded. "Thanks. We'll let the ER doc know." With a grunt of effort, he helped his partner lift and slide the stretcher into the back of the vehicle.

Jim insisted on riding along. He jumped into the back despite the protests of the EMT in charge. Busy with his patient, the overworked tech decided not to argue. He performed a cursory exam and called the hospital with the patient's stats.

When they arrived, Jim insisted on accompanying his partner to the triage area.

Blair was transferred to a gurney and a curtain pulled around him for privacy. Although the seizure was over, and he was conscious, he was also confused and exhausted. Before the doctor arrived, he had drifted into a light doze.

A man in a white coat entered the curtained off area. To Jim, he seemed too young to be working in an ER or to even have his medical degree. "My name is Dr. Baker, and this is..." he consulted his chart "...Blair Sandburg?"

"Yes."

"And you are?"

"Jim Ellison. We're detectives with the Cascade Police Department. Blair's my partner."

"Do you know if he's had seizures before, Mr. Ellison?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Any head trauma? Did he strike his head during the incident?"

"No, Sir. We were observing an autopsy of a young boy, and he just dropped. His limbs were twitching and jerking a bit ... like a mild seizure."

"No family history of epilepsy?"

Jim shook his head. "I haven't really known him all that long, but no ... not that I know of."

"Does he take any drugs—prescription or over the counter?"

"He's really into herbal remedies. He can concoct some pretty strange brews sometimes. One of his 'cures' included a substance with properties similar to peyote."

"And has he taken any of this substance recently?"

"No."

"I'm going to order a chem panel, thyroid panel, and tox screen." Dr. Baker scribbled notes on his clipboard, checking off the blood tests he wanted the lab to perform. "If his electrolytes are out of whack, his blood sugar is too low, or he has hyperthyroidism—those could trigger a seizure. I'm also ordering an EKG to eliminate the possibility of any heart problems. His blood pressure is fine." He looked up from his notes, poised to ask one more question. "Is there any reason to think he might suffer from PTSD?"

"He's never been formally diagnosed, but he did experience physical and emotional trauma recently that would be more than enough to trigger a case of post-traumatic stress. He's under the supervision of the department's shrink." Jim sighed, casting a wistful glance at his partner. "I thought he had it pretty well under control, but this case seemed to set it off. He got upset and vomited at the scene earlier."

The doctor nodded sympathetically. "The stress of the case—I see in the notes the boy was raped and murdered—and then witnessing the autopsy would be enough to trigger a psychogenic non-epileptic seizure in a susceptible individual." He lifted Blair's eyelids with his thumb—first the right, then the left—and flicked the beam of a pen light into each of his eyes testing the pupil reaction, which was normal. "I've seen police with 20 or 30 years on the job become emotionally distraught when a child is the victim of a violent crime."

"So this might be nothing?" Jim kept his eyes on his partner, who was still dozing peacefully despite the chaos around him.

"Possibly. I'd like to keep him for 24 hours for observation." The doctor handed his clipboard with the test orders to the attending nurse. "We'll get the blood drawn and the EKG done now before we move him. The lab work will take a while. Once we see what the tests show, we'll go from there. For now, he needs his rest." Dr. Baker gently guided a reluctant Jim away from the bedside. "If you'd like to wait in the reception area, a nurse will let you know when he's been settled into his room."

A deep voice came from the waiting room. "Jim, may I have a minute?"

"Simon! What are you doing here?"

"Dan told me about Blair having a seizure while you were at the morgue. What the hell happened?"

"It's this case, Sir. A young boy, found naked and raped.... Use your imagination. At the crime scene, he got so ill that he vomited. I was reluctant to take him to the autopsy, but he insisted he'd be all right with it. I should have gone with my instincts."

"That does it. You two are off the case as of right now. I'll assign one of my other teams to work it."

"That won't be necessary. I can handle this on my own."

Simon shook his head, not buying into his detective's argument. "You need to be here for your partner. Blair needs you now, more than I need you on this case."

Jim nodded, silently relieved at being ordered to take care of his partner. All that mattered to him now was getting Blair home and helping to heal the wounds that had been reopened.

~oO0Oo~

"W-what happened?" Blair lay in bed in a private hospital room.

"You crapped out on me, Chief. The autopsy was a bit too much for you to handle, apparently."

"Sorry. I need to be stronger. I'll try, I promise." He rubbed at his eyes, willing away the headache that pounded at his temples.

"You're the strongest man I know." Jim smoothed back the unruly hair that had fallen across his partner's forehead.

"Physically," Blair ground out. "But it seems like I'm a mental case now."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because I-I ... damn! Jim, I had another flashback. We were at the autopsy and just seeing that kid.... It triggered the memories."

"It wasn't easy for me to watch either," Jim admitted. "But you suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder. You're seeing the department shrink, and you're getting help. You're learning to deal with it."

"So what happened? Besides the flashback, I mean? Why did I end up in the hospital with the headache from hell?"

"Don't you know? You had a seizure, Chief."

"What the heck? No way!"

"I'm afraid so. You don't remember?"

Blair shook his head, then pressed both throbbing temples with the palms of his hands. "Simon's going to want to put me on medical leave."

"Most likely. But just until we're sure that you're okay."

"So when I do get to blow this joint?" He tried to smile, but his lips curved into a grimace instead.

"Tomorrow afternoon, if all goes well." Jim reached for the call button at the side of the bed. "But for now, I'm going to see to it that you get something for that headache."

~oO0Oo~

The next day, Blair felt more alert and was anxious to leave. "I hate hospitals! Been there, done that too many times. Just get me out of here!"

"Dr. Baker should be by any minute with your release papers." Jim patted the hand that rested in Blair's lap.

"Did I hear my name?" Dr. Baker walked into the room with a clipboard in hand. "How are you feeling this afternoon, Mr. Sandburg?"

"Much better. The headache is almost gone. I was able to sleep just fine last night."

"That's good to hear." The doctor nodded. Glancing down at Blair's chart, he continued, "There has been no further sign of seizure activity. The lab tests showed that your blood sugar was a little low and your electrolytes were a bit out of balance. That may have contributed to the seizure episode."

"I didn't eat breakfast; I was in too much of a hurry. Then I threw up at the crime scene...."

"That would explain the lab results." Dr. Baker grinned at his patient and shook the tip of his pen at Blair. "You know that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Try not to miss it again. Now, in all seriousness, I suspect the seizure is a non-epileptic psychogenic seizure caused by stress and emotional trauma. It is a real seizure. It's just not caused by a brain problem. So, I'm going to order that you continue to see your therapist to work on your issues."

"Okay. It can't hurt." He looked up at the doctor who was signing some papers on his clipboard. "Jim says I'll probably be off work because of this. Any idea how long?"

"That's not up to me. Your captain and therapist will jointly decide when you're ready to return to duty. I would suggest at least a week of rest at home. No excitement. If needed, I'll give you a prescription for some tranquilizers that will make you drowsy." He scribbled a prescription on his pad and handed it to Jim. "If he won't rest on his own, see that he takes these. No more than two a day."

"Okay." Jim pointed to the clipboard in the doctor's hands. "Are those the release papers?"

"Yes, they certainly are." He handed it to Blair, who eagerly signed all the necessary pages.

"Thanks for all your help, Doc. I'll take good care of him." Jim shook the doctor's hand and pocketed the prescription before turning to his partner. "I guess it's time to find your clothes and spring you from this joint." He went over to the small closet and brought out Blair's things.

~oO0Oo~

On the drive home, they stopped at a pharmacy, and Jim went in to fill the prescription. Once they arrived at the loft, he led Blair over to the long couch and settled him down with a pillow beneath his head.

"Really, Jim, I'm fine." Blair fussed, resisting the attention, not wanting to lie down.

"The doctor said you needed rest, and rest you're going to get. You can either lie on the couch down here where the action is, or I can take you upstairs to bed. Your choice." After making sure his partner was situated on the couch, he headed for the kitchen, pulling a bag of microwave popcorn from the cupboard. "How about I make us some popcorn, and we can watch a movie?"

"Can I at least sit up?" The young man's sarcastic tone wasn't lost on the Sentinel's ears.

"Wouldn't want you choking on the popcorn." Jim set the timer and waited until the popping had slowed to just one or two kernels. He took the bag out of the microwave and poured the contents into a bowl. Grabbing two bottles of water and the Valium, he headed back into the great room.

Putting down the food, he turned on the TV. "Anything in particular you'd like to watch?"

"How about 'Die Hard' or 'Indiana Jones'?"

"How about something that won't get you too excited?" He went to look through their collection of DVDs. "Maybe a chick flick, like 'Sleepless in Seattle'?"

A sigh escaped Blair's lips, and he nodded in resignation. "You're not going to let me enjoy this, are you?"

"Who said recuperation should be enjoyable?" Jim slipped the DVD into the player and came back to the couch. He helped Blair to sit up and handed him a Valium and bottle of water. "Drink up."

"Aw, Jiiiiim...." He reluctantly took the small white pill in his hand, but hesitated before swallowing it.

As they watched the movie and munched on popcorn, Blair began to relax ... so much so, he needed to lean against Jim in order to stay upright. It wasn't long until he'd fallen asleep with his head resting on his partner's shoulder.

Carefully, so as not to wake the younger man, Jim got up and lowered him back onto the couch. He pulled an afghan from the back cushions and covered him, then took the popcorn and water back out to the kitchen.

~oO0Oo~

After nearly a week of enforced inactivity, Blair was getting restless. He fussed and whined enough that Jim took to retreating to the small room under the loft to conduct his business. He'd been making calls to South America, contacting old friends, calling in debts. Finally, he got the news he'd been waiting to hear—news he knew would cheer up his partner.

"I've got some news." He walked out of the small room and over to the couch where his partner glowered at him. "I think you're going to like it."

"I could use some good news right about now."

Jim sat down after Blair pulled up his legs enough to give him room. "It's about Priscila."

Blair immediately sat up, his interest genuinely piqued. "What about her? Is she all right? Where is she? What happened to her?"

"Slow down ... slow down!" Jim laughed. "She's fine. I called in some favors and had some guys I know who are still in the area check up on her."

"So she's okay? Man ... she was so good to me, the only bright spot in my miserable existence with Juarez."

"She's just fine. I told my friends to make her an offer; I'd pay the way for her and her family to come to the States to start a new life."

"That's wonderful, Jim! I can't thank you enough!"

"Wait.... She didn't accept the offer." He held up a hand to stave off Blair's protest. "She accepted a job in Rio de Janeiro as a housemaid to a wealthy family. They treat her and her children well, and she's very happy."

Blair sank back down, resting his head on the pillow. "I'm glad. If she's happy, I'm happy. She deserved something better than the life she had with Juarez."

"She sent a message for you as well." Jim grinned as Blair's eyes lit up. "She said to 'tell the menino that she still thinks of him and prays he is happy'."

Wiping his sleeve across his eyes to mop up the tears, a tremulous smile crept across Blair's face. "I am.... I really am happy now."

"I'll find a way to let her know." Jim leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss against the quavering lips. "Now rest."

"Tell me how you've been feeling this past week." Dr. Cunningham sat back in her chair, observing her patient.

"Probably about what you'd expect." Blair sat back in his chair, feeling defeated. "I had Jim drive me over here, since I think it's prudent that I not drive for a while. That's limiting my ability to get out and do things. I've been pretty cooped up this past week. This is my first outing since the seizure."

"Have you had any flashbacks recently?" The doctor leaned forward, interest sparkling in her gray-green eyes.

"Last week, during my 'seizure.' Nothing since." He sighed, balling and unballing his fists.

"Do you know the trigger for that flashback?"

"I'm pretty sure it was the autopsy. Well, not the autopsy itself so much as the victim. He was just a kid ... no more than six or seven. He'd been raped and left naked in a shallow grave in Bayside Park."

"And that brought back memories of your own captivity and rapes." Dr. Cunningham waited patiently.

Finally, he spoke. "I got sick at the crime scene. Jim pointed out the similarities, but I think I knew ... I just didn't want to admit it to myself. It came to a head at the autopsy, when Dr. Wolf confirmed the rape. I just passed out and had this vivid dream. When I was lucid again, I was in the hospital being told I'd had a seizure."

The doctor briefly glanced at her notes. "Dr. Baker gave you Valium for the stress. Have you been taking it?"

"Off and on ... whenever I feel high levels of anxiety. I still have a lot of the pills left, though. I don't like how they make me feel. I'd rather be in a bit of pain."

"That's understandable. So no more flashbacks since the autopsy. That's good. I've heard from Captain Banks. Unfortunately, he's mandating a thirty-day medical leave, during which time you won't be allowed out in the field."

"No way! They can't take me out of the field. Jim needs me!" Blair gripped the chair arms so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"I'm afraid they can. If you were to have a seizure in the field, it could be dangerous to both you and your partner. You're being asked to turn in your weapon for the duration of the leave, but you can keep your shield. It's been decided Major Crime can keep you on as a paid, part-time consultant, as they've found your insight into human behavior to be very useful."

"I've got to figure out a way to be with Jim, or to help him if I can't be at his side. With his senses, he really needs me there to guide him, to keep him from zoning when he concentrates too much on a single sensory input." He squirmed in his seat.

"I'm sure that another detective could be coached to help in that regard...."

"No, it takes more than just knowing the signs and symptoms. I can bring Jim out of a zone with a single touch or word, or keep him from falling into one in the first place. Not everyone can do that." He sighed and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. "Maybe I can work with him at home. Teach him more self-control. I don't know. Damn! This crap about seizures is putting a cramp on every facet of my life—and Jim's too."

Dr. Cunningham got up and walked around to the front of her desk, perching on the edge. She leaned forward breaching his personal space. "I know it seems bleak at moment, Blair. I know there are a lot of things you need to work out. But please believe me when I tell you, things will work out. You just need to have patience and use your creative thinking. I've been told you're exceptionally good at that." She winked and smiled. Standing, the psychologist backed away to a more comfortable distance. "You know you can contact me if you have any questions, any problems adjusting to this new reality."

"Thanks." Blair stood and reached out to clasp the doctor's hand between both of his. "I'm sorry to be such a bother. I just need to be able to wrap my head around all this."

"You're no bother, and you will be able to 'wrap your head around all this' soon enough. Just give it time. Try not to get overwhelmed. Call me if it becomes more than you think you can handle."

"I will. Thanks again."

"See you next week, Blair. Take care."

~oO0Oo~

Blair hurried over to the elevator and took the lift up to Major Crime.

"Just the man I want to see." Simon Banks stood in the doorway of his office. He cocked his head toward the conference table. Blair made his way across the crowded bullpen, giving Jim a quick nod of acknowledgment in passing.

"So, how did the session go with the department shrink?" Simon settled himself at the head of the big conference table, trying his best to look casual.

"Fine." The young detective shrugged and reached for his shoulder holster. "You'll be wanting this, I'm told."

"Just for the time being. If you go thirty days with no seizures, you can have it back."

"Meanwhile, what about Jim?" Blair paced, unable to make himself sit and face the captain. "He needs me out in the field, Simon! What if he zones and I'm not there?"

"Joel can help. I've clued him in on the situation."

"You what? Simon, we didn't want anyone else knowing about Jim's abilities. The more who know, the more likely the secret will slip out. If the criminals get wind of this, there are all sorts of things they could do to use Jim's senses against him!"

"Calm down, Sandburg! It's just one more detective, and one that you ought to trust! I've thought this through, and with a little coaching from you, Joel will be able to handle most of the situations that Jim might get into out in the field." Simon watched Blair pace. "It's already done," he said softly. "Why don't you get Jim to take you out for lunch, then get your ass back here and start telling Joel what he needs to know."

Blair sighed, defeated. "Guess I'd better get out of here, then. I've got my work cut out for me."

"Just one more thing."

The detective paused at the office door, turning back to face his captain. "Yes, Sir?"

"It's good to have you back." Simon offered a rare smile to the young man, who returned a bewildered grin before walking out and closing the door behind him.

~oO0Oo~

Blair decided it'd be much easier over dinner for him and the Sentinel to explain to Joel what Jim required in terms of help and guidance. He cooked up a large pot of ostrich chili—Joel's favorite—and they went over the game plan.

"Yeah, yeah, I could do that." Joel sat back in his chair and patted his stomach. "Got any of that chili left?"

His host shook his head. "Joel, you'll end up sick in the bathroom if you eat another bowl." Blair laughed, remembering the time his ex-partner had done just that after eating an entire potful.

"But it's just so good! It's hard to stop."

"You understand that this is serious, right? You really have to watch Jim for signs that he's concentrating too hard on a single sense. Coach him to use at least two, when you can."

"I think we can handle it, Chief." Jim put down his spoon and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "I've been trying to suppress my senses as much as possible—dial them down as much as I can and keep them there. Joel shouldn't have much to do."

"But there are times when you'll need your senses, too! You both have to be ready."

"I promise you we'll practice, right Joel?" Jim pushed back from the table and started to gather up the dirty dishes.

"You got that right, Partner!" Joel high-fived Jim, who nearly dropped the bowls he was balancing in one hand. "How about I help you clean up, since Blair played chef tonight?"

"Sounds like a plan. Why don't you grab a beer, Chief, and relax in the living room. Joel and I will be there shortly."

"Don't let him near the chili pot," Blair admonished, grabbing a bottle from the fridge and heading out to the sofas.

Once the dishes were done, Jim and Joel grabbed their drinks and went to join Blair.

"Hey, you two, I've been wanting to run an idea past you all evening, but we had more important things to discuss." Blair sipped his beer, set it down on the table and scooted his butt to the edge of the couch, leaning forward conspiratorially.

"Yeah?" Jim's interest was piqued. "What's this great idea of yours?"

"Well, I want to talk it over with Megan first, but if she agrees, we'll take it to Captain Banks and then Police Chief Warren."

"Go on...."

"I want to start a rape hotline at the P.D. Megan has already worked as a phone counselor on a hotline in Sydney, so she'd know how it works. With my ... background ... I think I'd be a good one to empathize with the callers and give them suggestions to work through the trauma."

"Do you really think a woman who has been raped is going to want to talk with a male counselor?"

"I don't know why not. At least after I explain that I'm a rape survivor, too. And not all victims of rape are women."

"But men are much less likely to come forward."

"Perhaps. But the hotline will be strictly confidential. Like a doctor or a priest, we wouldn't be allowed to discuss our phone conversations with anyone. We could advise, suggest in-person counseling, and advocate for legal action, but we wouldn't be able to give out names or details unless the victim signs a release form."

"It sounds like you've got this fairly well thought out."

"I've been working on the idea for several days," Blair admitted. "What do you think?"

"I think it's a great idea, so long as you're comfortable with it." Joel studied his ex-partner, and seeing no signs of nervous tension in the young man's body, he relaxed as well. "I'd say go for it. I'm sure Megan will cooperate."

"What's your opinion, Jim?" Blair gazed at the man sitting next to him.

"I think it would be a great way for you to work through your own issues and to keep busy for the next thirty days until you can get out in the field again. I'm with Joel. Run it past Megan and if she agrees, I think you should take a stab at presenting the idea to Simon."

"Great! I'm really excited about this. Unfortunately, I think there's a real need out there. I'd like to help."

"If there's anything we can do to help out, let us know." Joel finished his beer and sat back, rubbing his full stomach until he let out a satisfying belch. "Sorry about that." He smiled a cheeky grin. "Good food, good company."

Jim and Blair both laughed. It had been a good evening.

~oO0Oo~

The following morning, Blair approached Connor's desk and explained his hotline concept.

"I think that's a terrific idea, Sandy!" Megan leaned back in her office smiling, her red hair fanning out around her face.

Once again, the young man found himself admiring the tall, flame-haired Aussie inspector. It wasn't hard to understand how he'd fallen for her once upon a time. Of course, now he had Jim, and he wanted no one else. What he did want was for this idea to go through.

"Do you think we have a chance?"

"I think we have pretty good odds on our side. Let's go see if the idea flies with Simon." She got up, towering several inches over her companion. Putting a hand in the small of his back, she gave Blair the push he needed to go talk with the captain.

After almost an hour of explaining the concept, including the confidentiality clause, the idea of a toll-free number (1-800-555-RAPE came to mind), and staffing the call center with rape survivors who could empathize with the victims who used the hotline, Simon grunted his conditional consent.

"You know we have to run this past Chief Warren, right?"

Blair was excited. "Oh, I understand, Sir. We'd just like the ability to present the idea to him."

"Well, Sandburg ... you've come up with some pretty hair-brained ideas over the years, but this one actually has some merit. Write up a formal proposal, and I'll take it to the Chief. If he likes the idea, I'm sure he'll want to talk with you in person about implementing it."

"Thank you, Sir!"

"Now, get out of my office!" Simon shooed the two detectives, chuckling as the door closed behind them.

"I think that went well." Megan gave Blair a quick kiss on the forehead. "Let me know if there's anything more I can do to help."

"Thanks, Megan!" He was practically skipping when he exited Major Crime, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Entering the elevator, he rode it to the ground floor and caught a bus headed for home.

Nearly three weeks had passed since discussing the hotline with Simon. Chief Warren had championed the idea. The call center was already up and running, keeping at least three volunteers busy around the clock fielding phone calls from victims and friends of victims.

Blair worked the phones from 8 A.M. to 5 P.M. during the week, keeping him in the building and relatively close to Jim. While he occasionally took breaks to go visit his partner, the older man had never set foot in the call center.

Until today.

Surprise washed over the serious face of the call center's main volunteer. "Jim! What are you doing here?" Blair took off his headset and asked one of the other volunteers to take his calls for the next few minutes. Walking over to the door, he escorted Jim out into the hall. "What's up?"

"I wanted to let you know that Simon gave us an assignment."

"Us?" Blair's face lit up.

"Joel and me."

"Oh ... yes ... of course. An assignment? What kind?"

The detective cleared his throat, reluctant to tell his sidelined partner about the case.

"C'mon, give! You're making me nervous!" Blair punched Jim's shoulder and shook out his hand. "Damn, what have you got in there, bricks?"

"Just been working out." Jim chuckled. "Maybe you should hit the gym a little more often."

"You're stalling."

"Yeah, well.... According to an informant, there's been some suspicious activity in an abandoned area of the docks. We've received reports of illegal gunrunning, so Joel and I are going to check it out ... see if it's connected."

Blair's eyes grew wide. "Oh, Jim.... You're not going to be dealing with weapons and gang activity without me there to help you with your senses!"

"I'm afraid I have to." He rested a hand on his partner's shoulder. "You've done all you could to teach Joel. Now it's his turn to practice what he's learned."

"But you could get yourself killed!"

"Not going to happen, Chief. I've got too much to come home for." He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Blair's forehead.

The younger man was having none of that. He pulled Jim into a fierce embrace and locked lips in a titanic struggle for dominance.

"You'd better come home in one piece, or I swear I'll come looking for you and finish the job!"

"Well, we can't let that happen, can we?" Leaning down, Jim placed one last quick kiss on the swollen lips. "You man your phones and tonight when I get home I promise, I'll make it up to you."

"Holding you to it, Ellison." Blair abruptly turned and re-entered the call center.

~oO0Oo~

It was after dark when Jim and Joel arrived at Dock 59. The detectives hugged the buildings' outer walls, staying within the deep shadows for cover. They made their way north, to the far end of the dock, where they could see a cluster of men standing near the water's edge. Still a safe distance from the activity, they slipped inside an open warehouse and hunkered down behind some old, weathered shipping crates.

"How many do you think there are?" Joel asked, peering out from his position behind Jim. They watched through the open door as the men gathered around a stack of wooden boxes, prying the lid off one to examine the contents.

Concentrating on the tight cluster of men, Jim reached out with his sight, zeroing in on the arms shipment.

"Remember what Blair said...." Joel tapped his partner's shoulder lightly. "Try to use two senses. See if you can hear what they're saying."

Resuming his concentration, Jim counted the gang members. "I only see five, but can hear seven sets of heartbeats. They must have two on guard around the periphery. We need to be careful."

"What are they talking about?"

"The guns. Seems they're mostly automatic and semi-automatic—enough to start a small war."

"We can't take these guys on our own." Joel shook his head and backed deeper into the cover of the warehouse. "I'll call for backup."

"Good idea." Jim continued to watch the men rummage through the crate of firearms.

~oO0Oo~

Dispatch sent the call for backup to all available vehicles in the vicinity of the shipyards. Rookie Ayres turned to his training officer, a man named Johnston, who had also expressed a deep dislike of James Ellison.

"What do you think? Should we take this one? We're only two minutes away."

Chewing on a toothpick, Johnston grunted. "Sure, why not? It might be amusing to watch Ellison get himself into a little trouble."

Ayres' smile stretched from ear to ear. "You mean show up, but hang back? Oh yeah ... let Ellison get a little taste of his own medicine. Nobody takes advantage of one of our brothers and gets away with it."

"Put in the call. Tell dispatch we're responding." Johnston gunned the engine and headed for the docks.

They approached from the south, silent, without lights, and parked their vehicle well out of sight. Guns drawn, the two police officers crept along the outer walls of the old warehouses, until they could see the group of men clustered around the shipping crates. They crouched down, hidden from the gang and the two men who had called for help.

~oO0Oo~

It was getting late, and Simon Banks was ready to call it a day. Gathering up his coat and some paperwork, he was heading toward the door when his phone rang. With a regretful sigh, he turned to answer it. Cara Sims from dispatch quickly outlined the situation to the captain.

"Thanks, Cara. I'm on my way." Dropping the paperwork and throwing on his coat, he ran to the parking garage. If Johnston and Ayres had responded to Joel's call for help, he had a gut feeling that his men were in trouble.

~oO0Oo~

Joel looked at the illuminated dial of his watch. "Backup should have been here by now."

Jim had inched out to get a better view, straining his hearing to catch every word spoken by the gunrunners. The leader gave orders to retrieve two nearby trucks, load the weapons, and get the hell out of there before anyone saw anything.

"Get back!" Jim hissed, stretching an arm behind him to shove Joel deeper into the shadows. Quickly ducking, he also found concealment from the men rushing by.

~oO0Oo~

Hidden in the shadows, Ayres and Johnston waited. There seemed to be some activity around the crates, but the officers couldn't tell much in the dark. The sound of pounding feet approaching got their attention. They saw two men running toward them. Stepping out of concealment, gun drawn, Officer Johnston ordered the men to stop. Standing at his side, nervous but determined, Rookie Ayres drew his weapon.

There was a quick exchange of gunfire. One of the gunrunners shot first, taking Ayres down with a bullet to the leg. Officer Johnston fired on the man with practiced ease, killing him instantly, and now found himself in a standoff with the man's partner.

~oO0Oo~

Shots rang out from the south end of the dock—the direction in which the cartel members had gone. The muzzle fire nearly blinded Jim. He gestured to Taggert and said, "Stay here. Keep an eye on the shipment," and darted out from behind cover, running in the direction of the sound. Four men were ahead of him, two on the ground—one wounded, one dead. He ascertained, from a distance of thirty yards, that the wounded man was one of theirs—a uniformed cop. His partner was in a standoff with the remaining gunrunner.

~oO0Oo~

Simon arrived at the north end of Dock 59 behind the four cars that had responded to the dispatch. Eight uniformed officers exited their vehicles and looked to the captain for direction.

"Lie low," Simon ordered as they all took up position in the shadow of the buildings. "We need to find Ellison and Taggert."

Before the captain had a chance to radio Joel, shots erupted, fracturing the stillness of the night. The leader of the cartel shouted orders. Several men began to run in the direction of the gunfire, while those remaining stood with weapons raised, guarding the arms shipment.

~oO0Oo~

Jim slowed as he approached the standoff. Hiding in the shadows, he sneaked up behind the gunrunner and raised the butt of his pistol, bringing it down heavily against the man's skull. Ignoring the unconscious thug, he turned his attention to the injured officer. Bending down, he grabbed the wounded man's ankles and began to drag him toward an open warehouse. Struggling to move the body by himself, he looked up at the remaining uniformed cop. "How about a little help?"

Gunfire and shouting erupted behind them. Immediately, Jim's priority became getting his men to cover.

Johnston blinked, shook his head, and then reached down to grab his partner's shoulders. Together the two men got the wounded officer moved.

Once hidden, Jim took stock of the men, recognizing both. "Where were you guys? You should have been here fifteen minutes ago. We could have been killed." His eyes narrowed. "That was the whole point, wasn't it?" he growled. "You meant for me to be on my own. Well, get this straight—what's past is past. None of that matters now. What's between me and Blair is none of your business. We pull together as a team—right now—or we're all going to die."

Jim quickly assessed Ayres' injury. The bullet hit the right inner thigh, missing the artery, but it didn't exit. The man was extremely lucky. Even so, he was losing a lot of blood. Jim ripped a strip from the officer's shirt and used it to apply direct pressure to the wound.

"Call for an ambulance." The ex-army medic glared at the stunned training officer. "Do it!"

Johnston spoke into the radio mike pinned to his left shoulder, quickly making the request.

~oO0Oo~

The officers jumped into action as soon as they heard the first blast. Guns raised, they confronted the cartel. Shots rang out. Muzzle fire lit the darkness. Two of the gunrunners fell dead.

Hearing the ruckus, Taggert came out of hiding to join the captain and men. With the numbers on their side, it took only minutes to collect and subdue the cartel members.

Simon turned to Taggert. "Where's Jim?"

"He headed south," Joel pointed, "when we heard gunfire from that direction. He ordered me to stay put and keep an eye on the rest of these goons."

"We'd better get down there and make sure he's all right." Simon started to run, Joel following behind.

~oO0Oo~

Jim looked out when the sound of running feet caught his attention. It wasn't long before Simon Banks and a winded Joel stood in the doorway.

"You got here just in time," Jim snapped. "These two," he jabbed a finger at Johnston and the wounded Ayres, "nearly got us killed."

"Dispatch contacted me right after Ayres radioed in that they were one of the responding units." Simon rubbed his forehead. "They knew the situation as well as the rest of us—there are still some knuckleheads in the department who don't approve of you, and these two are among the worst. So I figured, to be safe, I'd come see what they were up to."

"Thanks, Simon. I promised Blair I'd be home tonight."

"Why don't you take off. I'll make sure everything here is buttoned up. You can write your report in the morning."

The scream of the ambulance's siren cut off Jim's reply. While Ayres was loaded into the back of the bus, Jim gratefully returned to his truck and drove home.

~oO0Oo~

It was late when he unlocked the front door and entered the apartment. A nightlight glowed up in the loft, but otherwise the great room was dark.

Jim hung up his coat and headed for the stairs.

"I was worried."

"You and me, both." Jim's eyes raked across the exposed skin of Blair's body. The sheet was artfully draped across a hip, hinting that his partner was nude and had been waiting for him. "But you know me. I made a promise and I intended to keep it." He began to unbutton his shirt, stripping slowly so that the younger man could enjoy the show. Once undressed, he slipped beneath the sheet and pulled his lover into his arms. "I've been waiting for this all night."

Their lovemaking was intense, born of apprehension and urgency. They fell asleep, eventually, still physically joined; Jim spooned up against Blair's back, an arm wrapped protectively around the precious body.

Spirit drums and the sweet notes of a wooden flute floated out over the desert. Dan Wolf stood in the dusty wasteland surrounded by nothing more than sagebrush and scrub. Dressed in ceremonial garb, he looked out onto the painted sandstone hills of his native land. He waited. For what, he wasn't certain. He only knew that he was to wait.

The padding of feet from a few yards in front of him drew his attention. A coyote appeared from behind a scrub bush and trotted up to the waiting man.

"Greetings, Spirit." He waited patiently for a response.

The coyote morphed itself into the Indian's mirror image, speaking with Wolf's voice. "You have made a mistake that must be corrected."

"What have I done, Spirit?"

"You have put a life in danger."

"How could I do this? I'm locked away in the morgue all day, working with bodies of the dead."

"But you interact also with the living."

"From time to time ... yes."

"The Sentinel is in danger because the Shaman cannot be by his side."

Dan Wolf was stunned. His mind racing, he remembered tales he was told in his youth of men whose senses were beyond the ordinary, and of the shamans who guided and aided them in their quest to find game, predict the weather, and protect the tribe from other warring nations.

"But I do not know this Sentinel ... or his shaman."

"The one whose visions wrack his nights and days with terror. During a vision-trance, he was misdiagnosed, and because of that, he's been ripped from his Sentinel's side."

"Blair? Blair is a shaman?" Dan shook his head in disbelief. The young man was many things: an anthropologist, a Ph.D., a detective, a victim, a survivor.... But a shaman? Could he really be?

"He has always been a shaman, although he does not know it. His trance state was called a seizure, and now he must fight his way back to his Sentinel."

"Oh my God! I called it a seizure. I diagnosed him.... And I should have known better. I should have seen."

"You have been too long away from your roots, Dan Wolf. Embrace your spiritual side and correct this mistake."

"I will. By the Spirits ... I will." He watched as the mirror Dan morphed back to a coyote and trotted off into the desert, disappearing in a cloud of dust.

~oO0Oo~

It was early morning ... still dark. The sun wouldn't rise for at least another three hours. Blair awoke due to a full bladder. He carefully folded the blanket back and swung his legs over the side of the bed, taking care not to wake his sleeping partner. Walking as softly as he could, he made his way down the stairs and into the bathroom. After relieving himself, he stepped to the sink to wash his hands. A wave of dizziness swept over him, causing him to grasp the sink. When the spell passed, he turned toward the door and collapsed onto the cold linoleum.

~oO0Oo~

Calm. Relaxed. Like floating on clouds. Surrounded by nothing but his own thoughts. Something told him to open his eyes. He did. It took a while to take in the alien landscape. He was in a forest, or a jungle, but everything was blue. The foliage was blue, even the dirt beneath his bare feet was blue. As he was digesting this strange turn of events, a rustling in the bushes in front of him caught his attention. He looked and saw a blue-black jaguar approaching. The cat was not threatening ... simply advancing. It stopped a few feet in front of Blair and began to morph. He watched as the cat's face became more human-like. As the body elongated, the front legs turning to arms and the back legs to human legs, it rose to stand upright.

Before him stood a man with long black hair braided and decorated in the manner of natives of South America. The clothing reminded him of one of several Peruvian tribes he had visited during his graduate studies. The face was painted in a mask of bright red—the mark of a Chopec shaman.

"Who are you?"

The shaman cocked his head, the hint of a smile curving his lips. "Who are you?"

"My name is Blair Sandburg. What is this place?"

Ignoring the question, the shaman continued, "Who are you, Blair Sandburg? What is your purpose?"

A cloud of depression settled on him. "At the moment, I have no purpose."

"Ah, but we all have a purpose. Look inside yourself, and tell me what you see."

"I see a man whose livelihood has been taken from him over a seizure that may or may not have happened. I see a man separated from his partner ... from the man who needs him."

"And why are you needed?"

"To guide him. Jim's a—" Blair fished around his memory for the Chopec word "—a 'Sentinela.' He needs me to help him focus, to keep him from zoning ... but I can't be there because of some stupid rules."

"A shaman must always stand next to his Sentinel."

He blinked in confusion. "I'm not a shaman, just a Guide. I've not been trained in shamanism, nor have I had 'the way' passed on to me."

The man's hand shot out like a striking viper. Pain seared through Blair's forearm where the fingers wrapped around it with bruising strength. "I give you the way of the shaman so that you may properly guide the Sentinel of the Great City."

"Hold on! Wait a minute! Just who are you anyway?"

"They called me Incacha. Many years ago, I was shaman and Guide to Enqueri when he lived with my people."

"Enqueri?"

"The Sentinel of the Great City."

"Jim! Wait ... you were Jim's Guide? Incacha ... that Incacha? But I'd swear Jim told me you had died in a battle with a warring tribe."

"He speaks the truth. I am but a spirit sent to guide you and give you the necessary elements you need to take your rightful place at his side."

"That's not going to happen any time soon." Blair scuffed a toe in the dirt before turning his attention back to the shaman. "You see, I suffer from panic attacks and flashbacks...."

"You need not worry. The anaconda that strangled the life from you and gave you the nightmares is dead. He can no longer harm you or invade your dreams—unless you let him."

"But I can't control it! Something triggers a memory, and I have flashbacks so vivid ... it's like they are happening to me all over again."

"That is because you allow it."

"But I don't want it! I'd do anything to be rid of the memories!"

"Then you must let them go. Now is the time for you to make a choice. You may return to your life as you currently know it, or you can move forward, but to do so will require a sacrifice of your life and your soul. Are you willing to make that journey?"

Blair found himself standing on the brink of a very high cliff with a rushing river far below. Incacha stood to his left. He looked down and shuddered.

"If I go forward, I'll die."

"Yes."

He trembled at the edge of the cliff. Always afraid of heights, he wasn't sure he could take this leap of faith. But fear of his dreams overrode the fear of high places. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "All right. I'm ready."

~oO0Oo~

Awakened by a loud thump from downstairs, it took Jim a moment to realize Blair wasn't beside him. He was out of bed and downstairs in the space of a heartbeat. The light in the small bathroom was on. Dashing across the room, he tried to push the door open, but something was blocking it. He had to squeeze through the narrow opening.

Blair lay on the floor, his limbs jerking. Jim quickly got a rolled towel under the younger man's head, and moved him so he wouldn't bang himself against the toilet. Running out to the living room, he grabbed the phone and dialed 911. While he waited for help to arrive, he found himself calling the medical examiner at his home.

"Dan! This is Jim Ellison. It's happening again! Blair's having another seizure."

Dan Wolf was immediately awake. "Have you called for an ambulance?"

"Yes. It's on the way."

"Very good. You take care of Blair. I'll meet you at the hospital."

~oO0Oo~

Several hours later, Blair lay in a hospital bed with Jim to one side and Dan Wolf on the other.

"It was the weirdest thing!" The anthropologist waved his arms. "I was in the bathroom. I'd just finished washing my hands and the next thing I know, I'm in this blue jungle. Incacha was there. He told me I'm your shaman now. He even passed me 'the way of the shaman'."

"You were having a seizure, Chief. You scared me to death! Are you sure you're not imagining all this?"

"Hell yeah I'm sure, Jim! This was as real as me talking to you right now. But the weirdest part ... oh, man ... the weirdest part was when he freed me from my nightmares. He told me I had to step off this high cliff ... and when I did ... I woke up here."

Dan cleared his throat, reluctant to interrupt, but feeling a strong need to do so. "I believe you, Blair. I, too, had a dream walk last night. My spirit guide came to me and told me that you were to be Jim's shaman."

"Are you both chewing peyote?" Jim's brow furrowed, eyes narrowing.

"It's not uncommon for a shaman in a trance to appear to be having a seizure. We walk between two worlds," Dan explained.

Just then, Dr. Baker entered the room, leafing through Blair's medical records. "We've run a battery of tests since admission last night: a chem panel, another tox screen, an EEG, and an MRI. I can't find any physical cause for the seizures. Based on your history of extreme trauma and abuse, I've concluded that you're having non-epileptic psychogenic seizures." Baker sat down next to the bed. "First of all, I want to assure you you're not crazy. The seizures are real, but instead of being caused by a physiological problem, they're caused by emotional trauma."

"Okay, so how do we treat this? Will I have to stay here or can I go home now?" Blair was anxious to leave the stink and noise of the hospital behind. He had grown to hate the place, despite the flirtatious young nurses.

"Treatment consists of therapy and medication for anxiety and depression." The doctor scribbled some notes on the chart. "I want you to continue to see Dr. Cunningham once a week, and I'm giving you a prescription for sertraline. It's an anti-depressant that has been shown in a recent study to reduce the number of psychogenic seizures." He pulled two slips of paper from the clipboard and handed them to Blair. "I'm starting you on 50 mg. once per day in the morning. I want to see you again in three weeks to determine if we need to adjust your dosage. That other sheet has information about the drug. You need to read it. The most important thing to remember is that this drug can sometimes cause suicidal thoughts in some people. If this happens let Jim know, and call me right away. Okay?" Blair nodded. "Well then, I see no reason to keep you here any longer. You can go as soon as the nurse brings you your discharge papers. It'll probably be about an hour. They're a bit backed up at the moment."

"What about work?" Blair toyed with the frayed edge of his blanket.

"That will be up to Dr. Cunningham and your captain." Baker smiled. "I see no problem with you returning to desk duty, but anything else will have to wait for now."

"Thanks, Doc." Jim turned back to Blair, the doctor having nodded and left the room. "That's good news, isn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah ... great." Blair brushed the crumbs of his earlier breakfast from his gown. "Desk duty is really going to help you out in the field."

"This will be over soon," Dan assured the upset young man. "At least now you have an explanation, corroborated by my dream walk."

"You said that Incacha freed you from your nightmares and flashbacks?" Jim was still trying to understand the mystical world into which he was suddenly thrust. "How does that work?"

"If I'm to believe what Incacha told me, then yes. He said all I had to do was let go of my fears. He reminded me that Juarez is dead—" Blair scrutinized Jim's eyes, almost able to see the murder of his tormenter reflected in the ice blue of their depths. "And that he no longer had control. I am the one in charge of my thoughts and memories. I can recall that which I choose, and suppress the rest."

"I hope you're right." Jim's mouth squeezed into a tight line.

"When you were with Incacha you believed what he told you, didn't you?" Blair cocked an eyebrow at his partner.

"Incacha was strangely insightful for a 'savage.' I trusted him with my life." Pausing, Jim stared into his partner's eyes before continuing. "You really saw him? You saw Incacha...?"

"Yes, Jim. I really did."

"Well, I'll be damned...." Jim tried to wrap his mind around the concept of visions, dream walks, and shamans, failing to fully succeed. "But who's going to buy into all this mystical mumbo-jumbo?" He directed his question to both men. "You know what's going on. I know what's going on, but do you realize how hard it will be to convince Simon we aren't out of our minds? A psychiatrist would lock us up and throw away the key!"

"We'll have to find some way of explaining it without using terms like 'vision' or 'dream walk.'" Blair's gaze shifted from his partner to the medical examiner and back. "But I think we can do this if we stand together."

Dan nodded. "I'll do whatever it is you need, but I think it might be best to keep this fairly quiet. Simon needs to know, but beyond him, I think it best if we don't press the subject."

"I agree. People think this one," Jim gestured toward the bed's occupant, "is crazy enough without adding 'shaman' to his résumé."

"It's a good thing we're in a hospital, or you'd pay for that." Blair's eyes sparkled with mischief.

Jim nudged Dan with an elbow. "I think that's my cue to make a quick exit. I'm going to go check on Ayres. Be back before the discharge papers get here." He started for the door as the medical examiner said his goodbyes to the patient.

Once out in the hall, Jim headed over to the nurses' station.

"May I help you?" A middle-aged nurse wearing rose-colored scrubs and a name tag that read 'Lettie' smiled at him.

"Could you tell me the whereabouts of a Christopher Ayres? He would have been brought in last night ... gunshot wound."

"Let me see." Lettie consulted her computer monitor. "He's in room 361. Down the hall to the elevators," she pointed. "Third floor, then take a left. It should be near the end of the hall."

"Thank you." Jim turned and saw Dan waiting for a car to arrive. He walked up to the medical examiner. "Heading to work?"

"Yeah, soon as I go shower and change my clothes. Call if you need me, especially to help explain things to Simon."

"I will, Dan. Thanks."

The two men boarded the elevator, Jim getting off on the third floor while Dan rode the car down to the reception area.

Walking down the hall, Jim scanned the room numbers. Finally he came to room 361. Poking his head inside, he saw Training Officer Johnston sitting at the bedside.

"How is he?"

Johnston gestured for him to come in. "He's doing a whole lot better since they got him out of surgery. If it hadn't been for your quick save, Chris would have died. The surgeon said the bullet hit the large vein in his leg. Why'd you do it?"

"He's a fellow officer." Jim gazed at the man sleeping in the hospital bed and then at his partner. "If it had been me instead of him, wouldn't you have done the same?"

The beat cop had the good sense to look embarrassed. "You took a big risk, stepping out from cover to drag Chris to safety."

"You would have done it if I hadn't." Jim wasn't certain his statement was true, but he said it anyway.

"I'm not so sure." Johnston whispered. "You know, some of the guys had it in for you."

"Because I was a slave owner ... yeah, I know. That's in the past. Talk to Blair. He'll straighten you out on the facts. I know that nothing I say will ever convince you."

"We didn't think you'd have our backs, so we decided not to have yours." He sighed. "We were wrong. I'm sorry ... so very sorry."

"Being a brotherhood, we all need to trust one another. If we can't trust, we can't operate as a team. I was army special forces once upon a time, and I know the value of trust and teamwork. And I know the value of a life. Ayres may have hated me, but he was a top notch cadet in the academy, and he's going to make a fine officer one day."

"Thanks again. I'll let Chris know that you stopped by to check up on him. He's going to appreciate that."

"Take care." Turning to leave, Jim felt Johnston's gaze follow him into the hall.

Captain Simon Banks sat in his office sipping his Kona brew as he listened with rapt disbelief to the story being spun by his officers and medical examiner. "You expect me to buy into the idea that a man can go into a trance and walk through another plane of existence?"

"Native American shamans have been doing it for thousands of years," Dan Wolf spoke with authority. Even Simon knew that he had status as a medicine man in his tribe. "There's no reason to believe that a white man couldn't do the same, especially when gifted the way of the shaman by a native."

"If I understand Blair's story correctly, he was given this 'gift' by a ... ghost?"

"Not a ghost exactly." Blair's hands described shapes in the air. "It's kind of like visiting a Native American 'heaven'. The spirit plane is host to the spirit guides and the souls of those who have passed beyond, but have a message to impart to the living. Incacha was there to heal me and guide me toward my ultimate goal—to be Jim's shaman and Guide."

"Okay. So say I believe you. What's this going to mean to me?"

"It means you'll get your detectives back." Jim grinned, giving his superior a cheeky wink. "All you have to do is clear Blair for duty."

"I really should keep him on desk duty until this business with the seizures is cleared up for good." Simon vacillated, looking to the three men for confirmation.

"That shouldn't be necessary." Dan glanced at the new shaman. "I can help train Blair so that he can control the vision trances. That way, if he needs to speak with the spirits, or they with him, he can do it in a safe manner."

"You can do that?" Blair beamed. "That would be wonderful, Dan! I really want to be able to get back out in the field and start working with Jim again."

"My hands are tied, Gentlemen. Regulations say that Blair must remain on desk duty until he's cleared by his doctor." Simon looked pointedly at his medical examiner. "In the meantime, you can start on those lessons."

~oO0Oo~

Three weeks had passed since Blair had been released from the hospital. He now sat in Dr. Baker's office, fidgeting while he waited to hear if he would be released for active duty. During his desk-bound time, he had thrown himself into the lessons with Dan Wolf, but it hadn't lessened his longing to be working with Jim. All told, he'd been off active duty for nearly six weeks.

Dr. Baker entered the room and sat at his desk. A manila folder with Blair's medical records lay in front of him. Folding his hands and resting them on the folder, he studied his patient. As Blair continued to squirm in his seat, the doctor took a breath and finally spoke. "So ... tell me about the past three weeks. Have you had any more seizures?"

"No, Sir. I've felt great."

"I'm happy to hear it. That being the case, I won't need to adjust the dosage of your medication." He scribbled a new prescription on his pad, tore off the sheet, and handed it to Blair. "Since the sertraline has been working so well, I'd like for you to continue taking it. Have you been seeing Dr. Cunningham for your therapy?"

Accepting the prescription, Blair tucked it into his pocket. He felt a bit guilty, since he'd never filled the first one, but he hadn't needed the medication. Dan Wolf had done more for him than any amount of pills or therapy. He met the doctor's eyes. "Yes. As a matter of fact, I have an appointment with her following this one. I'm hoping she's going to release me from therapy."

"Then it's been going well?"

Nodding, the shaman smiled. "Very well. I haven't had a nightmare in over a month."

"That's perfect!" The doctor smiled as he opened the folder and made a notation in Blair's file. "I'm officially releasing you to return to active duty."

Blair jumped up and pumped the doctor's hand. "Thank you! Thank you!" Dr. Baker chuckled as the door banged shut behind the excited young man.

~oO0Oo~

Elizabeth Cunningham grinned as Blair practically bounced into her office. She could tell just by looking that her patient had turned a critical corner in his treatment. It solidified her resolve to release him from further therapy. "You're looking good," she greeted Blair.

"I feel great!" Blair sat in a chair opposite the therapist, his smile reaching from ear to ear. "Dr. Baker just released me to go back to active duty."

"That's very good news," Dr. Cunningham agreed. "I just need to ask you a few questions, and then I think we'll be done as well."

"I'm ready when you are!" Blair rubbed his hands together.

"Have you had any nightmares since your last visit?"

"No, none."

"How about any seizures ... visions ... anything unusual?"

"Nothing. I've been doing great."

"Not even any headaches?"

"Nope. I've got the medication Dr. Baker gave me—" he wasn't about to say that he wasn't taking it "—and I've been doing some meditation exercises that have really helped."

"Excellent!" Dr. Cunningham grinned, closing her notebook and putting down her pen. "This is the last time I need to see you. If anything happens—if the nightmares return, anything unusual—just give me a call. My door is always open." Rising, she walked around her desk and extended her hand.

"Thanks, Dr. Cunningham." Blair stood and reached out, pulling the therapist into a hug. "You've been great."

The psychologist returned the embrace, patting Blair's back. "Any time ... remember."

"I will."

Blair exited the office with a new spring in his step.

~oO0Oo~

Later that afternoon, Blair was summoned to Simon's office. Opening the door, he saw Jim and Dan Wolf standing beside the captain's desk. "You wanted to see me, Simon?"

"It's Captain Banks to you," Simon snapped, turning his head to give a brief wink to the two men standing beside him. "I've heard from Doctors Baker and Cunningham, and they cleared you for active duty. The paperwork will be here before 5 P.M. You start Monday."

"Thanks, Sim ... Captain!"

Jim stepped forward to hug Blair, thumping him on the shoulders. "Good to have you back ... Partner."

There was a knock at the door. Simon turned his attention to the newcomers. "Come in."

Joel, Megan, Henri, and Rafe stood in the doorway of Simon's office, grinning like devils. "Captain," Joel said, speaking for the group, "we were wondering, since it's Friday, if we could all get together down at O'Callahan's after work tonight to celebrate Blair's return to duty."

Simon shrugged, looking at the three men in his office who were now smiling as well. "I don't know why not. Now get out of here and get back to work. You still have two hours to devote to this department!" The crew scattered, and the door closed. "Jim, Blair, why don't you knock off early and have a little time to yourselves."

"Thank you, Sir." Jim rose, tipping an imaginary hat to the captain. Tugging on Blair's sleeve, he hurried his partner out of the office.

~oO0Oo~

"Don't you think they're going to miss us at O'Callahan's?" Blair's voice was breathy, his body trembling under the onslaught of Jim's cock invading his ass.

"Right. Now. I. Don't. Give. A. Damn." Grunting with exertion, Jim's hips plowed into the cushion of the well-formed buttocks beneath him. With one final deep thrust, he filled his lover with hot semen. "They can take O'Cal's and screw it. I like this better."

Blair's laughter filtered up from the pillow into which his face had been smashed after their mutual orgasms. Jim rolled off his partner's back and onto his side, watching him bring his fit of mirth under control.

"I like your idea of celebrating much better than Joel's," Blair admitted once he'd stopped laughing. "God, you're good." He eyed Jim for the space of a few heartbeats. "I'm hungry."

Jim crawled off the bed and tossed Blair his robe. "You change the sheets, and I'll fix us something to eat."

While the soup simmered, the two men hit the shower. Hot water streaming over their bodies, they took turns soaping each other, gently scrubbing the drying semen from their skin. Hands drifted to heavy cocks, caressing the spent organs, teasing new life into them.

"We'd better stop this now." Blair removed his hand from his partner's thick penis and turned Jim around in order to scrub his back. "If we don't finish up, the soup may scorch, and I'm still hungry."

Jim groaned, but nodded. "We'll continue this when we get back to bed."

"I'm down with that." Blair spun his lover back to face him and plied his lips with a gentle kiss. "But for now, let's eat."

After a light meal of vegetable soup and breadsticks, the two men retired to the loft, crawling beneath the fresh sheets. This time, their lovemaking was slow and deliberate, with each man taking the time to pleasure the other, drawing moans of pure delight.

"God, Jim ... I don't care what anyone says about us...." Blair lay basking in the afterglow of his second orgasm. Having tasted his semen on the lips of his lover, he slowly licked his own, gathering the last bit of flavor into his mouth so he could savor the sweetness. "You're never going to get rid of me now."

Jim's eyes raptly watched the sensuous tongue make its journey around the full red lips, sighing when it finally disappeared, but enjoying the coy smile that replaced it. He reached out to cup Blair's cheek and let his thumb caress those lips before leaning in to once again press a kiss against their softness. "I'm never letting you go again," he affirmed. "For better or worse, I'm holding on as tight as I can."