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: Many thanks to the generosity of Terry Kadie, whose donation to the Moonridge Animal Park through the 2003 charity auction will help that fine establishment to feed and house injured animals. This story is dedicated to Terry, who liked my writing well enough to pay for this story, and whose patience in waiting for it nearly qualifies her for sainthood. ::grin::

~*~*~*~ Denotes flashback/dream sequences.

Acknowledgments: I wish to thank my wonderful betas, whose suggestions and corrections have made this a better story: Montserrat, who didn't hold back the punches when telling me what needed to be changed or added to; and Mary, whose suggestions, corrections and comments polished the piece.

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: AU, m/m, h/c, angst, n/c (rape), attempted suicide, graphic flashbacks of torture from "Paid in Full." (These scenes were edited slightly to fit this story. They are intensely graphic in nature, including references to castration and other sexual mutilations.) This story should be considered extremely intense and focuses on Blair's psychological suffering and recovery in the wake of Bloomfield's escape from prison. CAVEAT LECTOR -- let the reader beware. As with its predecessor, "Paid in Full," this subject matter is not my usual fare. As always, there is generous comfort and a happy ending.

Summary: Bloomfield escapes from prison, sending Blair's recovery into a tailspin of terror, attempted suicide and living nightmares.

**Extremely intense -- read with caution**

Comments welcome and appreciated!

Bloomfield tugged on the leash connected to his newly pierced cock. Blair scooted his bare butt across the wooden table until he was able to stand. The pain had weakened him causing his knees to buckle. He nearly fell. Bloomfield smiled grimly, giving the leash another tug. Desperate to relieve the pain, Blair stumbled back to his feet with a gasp and followed his tormentor down the hall to a bedroom.

There he was forced to crawl onto the bed and submit to a rape. Twice. His penis, still restrained by the cockring Bloomfield had used to keep him erect, ached with a fiery pain. And his torment wasn't over yet. Bloomfield released the cockring and began stroking him. His orgasm, too long restrained, burst forth in a flowering of agony, coating his captor's hand with hot come.

Bloomfield laughed, delighted at his play-toy's pain. He crawled up the bed and forced his hand into Blair's mouth, making him taste the results of his climax before dragging him back to lock him away, naked, in a cage too small to allow adequate movement. He was left alone in his agony. "Oh, God, Jim. Please find me..."

~*~*~*~

"Blair? Blair? Wake up, Sweetheart!"

Blair came awake quickly, bolting upright at the touch on his shoulder. His chest heaved with the effort to force air into and out of his lungs; his eyes darted around the room in terror.

"It's all right. You're safe." Jim's softly spoken assurances finally began to penetrate the fog of Blair's nightmare. "Another bad dream?" he asked as Blair finally turned toward him, pale and shaken.

"S-Sorry, Jim," Blair stuttered, collapsing into his lover's strong embrace.

Jim stroked the long silken locks of chestnut curls and placed a kiss against the high forehead. "You've got nothing to be sorry about."

"It's been a year," his lover reminded him. "I should be over this by now."

"A year or a lifetime... what does it matter? Blair, you went through hell," Jim whispered in the young man's ear. "It's no wonder you're still having nightmares."

"I can't t-talk about it," Blair said so softly that Jim almost missed it.

Hot tears moistened Jim's shoulder, and he tightened his arms, whispering comforting words to his trembling lover. "I wish you could," he said finally, a note of longing in his voice. "I wish you trusted me enough."

"I do! I do trust you," Blair insisted, pushing away to look into Jim's eyes. "I just c-can't... I don't remember everything," he confessed.

"So your subconscious processes it as dreams," Jim concluded. "It's all right, Sweetheart," he said, gathering Blair close again. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." He rocked Blair, knowing the motion would calm the young man.

Blair allowed himself to be comforted, drinking in the knowledge that he was safe and loved, without reservation and without any strings attached. He drew a shuddering breath. "It was just so awful, beyond words," he whispered.

Jim tightened his hold on the quaking body, his voice rough with sorrow. "It's okay, Babe. It's going to be all right," he soothed. "I saw the statement you gave before the trial. What you were able to report was horrific."

Blair drew in a shaky breath and burrowed deeper into Jim's protective embrace. "It was. Oh, God... it was," he said, unshed tears choking his voice. "I'd rather die than go through that again."

"Oh, God, Honey, that's not going to happen," Jim assured him, rubbing calming circles on the broad back. "That bastard is locked up tight. He can't get to you, Sweetheart. Not anymore." He continued to console his lover until Blair calmed enough to push away.

"S-Sorry," Blair apologized again.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Jim repeated, giving the silken hair one last stroke. "Think you can go back to sleep now?" Blair nodded, and Jim sank down beside him, gathering his lover close.

~oO0Oo~

Later that morning, Blair emerged from the doctor's exam room and walked out to where Jim waited in the lobby of the clinic. "Thank God, that's the last of it!" he declared.

"What did the doctor have to say?" Jim asked, gathering his coat and holding the door for Blair.

"All the kidney tests are back and looking good," the young man replied, beaming with excitement. His scare earlier that morning had dissipated at the good news from his doctor. "No more dialysis. No more special diet. I'm a free man!"

"That's great!" Jim enthused. "Maybe we should go out and celebrate. How does a nice, greasy pepperoni pizza sound?"

Despite his previous aversion to cholesterol-laden food, Blair's eyes lit up. "Sounds great! I'm starved." He climbed into the cab of the truck and turned to Jim. "You buying?"

Jim chuckled. "Sure, Sherlock. Where do you want to go?"

"How about Mama Rosa's?" he suggested. "It's pretty close."

"Mama Rosa's it is," Jim agreed, starting the engine and pulling out into traffic.

The cell phone rang, and Blair picked up. "Jim Ellison's phone, Blair Sandburg speaking."

"Simon Banks," came the deep voice over the connection.

"Oh, hi, Simon! We were just leaving the doctor's office. Jim's taking me to lunch. Want to join us?"

"Not this time," the captain declined. "May I speak with Jim, please?"

"Ahhh... I don't know, Simon. He's driving. Can I take a message?"

Banks let out an explosive harrumph at the police observer's cheekiness before replying. "Tell him to get his butt into the office now. We have a situation."

"Sure thing. Bye, Simon." Blair disconnected the call and turned to his partner who had been listening in on the conversation. "Simon wants you down at the station."

"So I heard," Jim said with a smirk. "You got anything going at the university?"

Blair shook his head. "Want me to come with you?"

"What do you think, Darwin?" Jim quirked a grin at his partner.

~oO0Oo~

The two men had no more than walked through the door of the Major Crime Unit when Captain Banks stuck his head out from his office door.

"Ellison, in my office," he called across the room. "Sandburg, you stay put," he told the anthropologist when the young man started to follow.

Blair looked puzzled, glancing between the brusque captain and Jim.

"It's okay, Chief," Jim said, laying a reassuring hand on Blair's shoulder. "I'd appreciate it if you could help me with some of my paperwork."

"Yeah, sure, Jim," Blair said, sitting down and scooting his chair over in front of the computer monitor.

Jim walked into the Captain's office and closed the door. "What's so secretive that Sandburg couldn't join us?" he wanted to know.

"This." Simon shoved a high-security memo across his desk.

Jim picked up the piece of paper and skimmed the contents. "Oh, no, Simon. Tell me this is some kind of sick joke." He let the paper flutter from his fingers as the captain slowly shook his head.

"Unfortunately, it's been verified," Simon's solemn voice informed him.

"How could this happen?" Jim shouted, glancing self-consciously out the office window toward his partner. Blair continued to work at his desk, unaware of the outburst. Jim lowered his volume, but the intensity of his voice remained. "How could Bloomfield escape a maximum-security lockup? My God, he practically killed Blair!"

"How does anyone with enough money get things accomplished?" Simon asked with a sigh. "He bought his way out. A little money here, a little there, and guards will look the other way."

"And what am I supposed to tell Blair?" Jim felt the color draining from his face. "My God, he just got off dialysis. He still has scars..." His mind flashed back nearly a year to the day he rescued the young anthropologist.

~*~*~*~

Entering the room, Jim was momentarily stunned by the tableau before him. Letting his military training kick in, he temporarily ignored the plight of his lover as he focused in on the man responsible for his abduction. Gordon Bloomfield knelt on the bed with Blair's knees draped over his shoulders and his cock buried balls-deep in the young man.

"Get your fucking dick out of that man's fucking ass!" he growled at the startled businessman. Bloomfield carefully withdrew, ducking to try and avoid capture. Jim hauled him off the bed, barely resisting the urge to snap the man's neck. Instead, he cuffed Bloomfield and turned him over to the waiting uniforms.

Turning his attention to the man on the bed, his stomach churned and bile rose in his throat at the sight that greeted him.

Barely conscious, Blair lay on the bed. His hands were cuffed to the headboard; his head restrained by a strap. A large dildo, which stank of bodily waste, was wedged in his mouth, halfway down his throat. His butt was suspended a foot above the bed by a cruel hook attached to a leash that was attached to a golden ring piercing the delicate head of his penis. The flesh was tearing from the weight it bore, and blood was dripping to mix with urine already staining the sheets. His ravaged scrotum hung between his legs, mute testimony to previous torture.

~*~*~*~

"He's not going to take this well, Simon. He's not." Jim paced the room, turning abruptly to face his captain. "My God, you didn't see him! That man had him trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey!"

"Jim, calm down," Simon said, laying a reassuring hand on his detective's shoulder. "We've got men out in force looking for the bastard. For all we know, he could be in South America by now."

"Not good enough." Jim's eyes grew cold as he paced in front of the captain's desk. "Until that bastard is back in prison or dead, Blair is at risk. He knows where we live. He knows how to find us." He looked out the window at Blair seated at his desk.

"He's safe in here," Simon said softly.

Jim spun around. "He's not safe anywhere!"

Simon stood next to his detective and spoke softly. "You're going to have to explain to him what's going on."

"And what, exactly, do I tell him? That the sexual sadist who tortured and nearly killed him is on the loose, but we don't have any idea where he is?" Jim was livid with anger. "How do you think he'll take that? He's still having nightmares. He told me just this morning that he'd rather die than go through that hell again!"

Simon held up a single hand, stopping the tirade. Coming to stand in front of his friend, he tried to calm him down. "We've got the best cops in the state working on this. The FBI has been informed as well. We'll find him. You just take care of Sandburg."

Jim deflated. Gesturing to the lone figure sitting at his desk, he spoke softly. "Look at him, Simon. He's just a kid. He didn't do anything to deserve the torture and humiliation that Bloomfield heaped on him. And don't bring up the lounge dancing. He was young, naive... he knows better now."

"I wasn't going to," Simon said, shaking his head. "I don't know, Jim. I don't know what to tell you to tell him. But I think you're doing him a disservice if you don't let him in on the news. He may be young, but he is an adult. Treat him like one."

"You're right." Jim sighed and ran a hand down his face. "I just have to figure out how, and when."

"Don't wait too long," Simon suggested. "He's smart. He'll see the patrol cars and he'll start asking questions. Then he's going to be pissed at you for holding out on him."

Jim nodded. "Is it all right with you if I call it a day? The sooner we get this over with, the better, but I don't want to tell him here."

"Sure, Jim. Take him home. Take care of him. I don't want to see you back here until Monday, unless something breaks in the Bloomfield case."

"Thanks, Simon." Jim slapped the captain's shoulder and walked out of the private office, his face grim. "C'mon, Chief," he said in passing, grabbing their coats off the rack. "We're headed home."

"So soon?" Blair looked up at the clock. "It's only three o'clock."

"Simon gave me the rest of the day off."

"In that case... I remembered I have some work over at the university that I ought to get done before finals...."

Jim put a hand on Blair's shoulder, stopping him. "You're coming home with me."

Blair studied the solemn-looking Sentinel. "What is it, Jim? What's going on?" An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach at the look his partner was giving him. "Come on, man, tell me. You're making me nervous."

"When we get home," Jim said, steering Blair through the door.

~oO0Oo~

"No... Oh, God, please, no...." Blair sank onto the couch, his head in his hands.

Jim sat beside him, wrapping an arm around the shaking shoulders. "Simon has put an extra patrol on our block," he told his young lover. "I'm never going to let you be alone. You got that? You're safe here with me."

"He'll come l-looking for m-me," Blair stuttered, looking up at Jim with fear-filled eyes. "He told me I belonged to him."

"Simon's got the state patrol and the FBI on this case, Sweetheart," Jim soothed. "We'll catch the bastard before he can get to you."

"If he finds you with me, he'll kill you, Jim," Blair said, his voice still unsteady. "He doesn't like the idea of anyone else having me. Oh, God..." He dropped his head back into his hands. "I can't go through that again!" he whispered, shaking his head. "I'd rather die. I'd rather die..."

"Shhh... Nothing's going to happen. I won't let it," Jim assured his lover.

"He's crazy, Jim! Rich and crazy! If he wants me badly enough, nothing is going to stop him," Blair said, fighting back tears. "Not Simon, not the FBI... not even you." His voice dropped to a quiet whisper, forcing Jim to dial up his hearing to catch the words.

Jim pulled Blair's head to his shoulder, kissing the chestnut curls. "You're giving him too much power," he said softly. "He's just a man, and men make mistakes. We'll catch him."

Blair sniffled, curling his fingers into the fabric of Jim's shirt. His Blessed Protector had no words to deflect the terrible fear, so he began a gentle rocking, soothing the young man as a mother would her child.

Eventually, Blair pulled away and wiped his eyes. "Sorry. I-I just... I just can't..." he stuttered to a halt, unable to finish his thought.

"It's all right," Jim assured him. "You don't have to talk about it now." He pulled an old-fashioned handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the puffy, red eyes of his lover. "How about we just sit here for a while; maybe watch some TV?"

Blair swallowed and nodded. "Okay." He snuggled into Jim's arms, his head resting against Jim's chest as the older man reached for the remote control and turned on the television.

Bypassing the soap operas, Jim settled on the droning voice of a talk show host. One arm was wrapped securely around Blair, while his free hand played with the silken curls, twirling the long hair around his fingers in a sensuous feast for his senses.

An hour ticked by... then two, and the body in his arms had relaxed. A knock on the door sent Blair bolting upright, his heart rate skyrocketing. Jim reached out and grabbed him, pulling him back to the couch. "Stay here," he commanded. "I'll get it." He rose and went to the door. "Hey, Simon," he greeted the captain as he unlocked and opened the door.

Simon stood in the hall balancing a pizza box and a six-pack of beer. "May I come in?"

"Oh, sure... sure." Jim stepped aside, ushering his boss into the house.

Simon looked around, his gaze settling on Blair, who looked like a deer poised to bolt at the slightest sound. "I just thought I'd stop by and see how things were going." He walked over to the dining table to deposit the food, and then approached the couch. "How are you doing, Sandburg?" he asked, sitting on the opposite couch so that he didn't tower over the younger man. Blair shrugged, snuggling up against Jim who had come to sit beside him.

"It's been a rough day," Jim answered, with a glance at his partner. "But it hasn't been all bad," he added. "Blair got the news that he's free of the dialysis now."

"That's terrific!" Simon enthused, trying to lighten the somber mood in the loft. "I'll bet you're glad that's over." Blair nodded, but didn't reply. "Well," the captain said, slapping his hands on his knees as he stood. "I brought dinner. Anybody hungry?"

"How about it, Sweetheart?" Jim asked, giving Blair a reassuring squeeze. "We were going to go out to celebrate earlier, before Simon called. I think it was really nice of him to bring the party to us, don't you?"

Blair finally stirred, taking a deep breath and pulling away slightly from Jim. "Yeah, Simon. Thanks," he said, standing and walking over to the table. "I think I could really use one of those beers."

"Here you go, son," Simon said, handing over a bottle. "So, let's toast to your good health." He raised his bottle, clinking it lightly against those of his hosts'.

"Hear, hear," Jim agreed, smiling. "To good health and happiness."

Blair took several long swallows before setting the bottle down. "That's better," he said softly. Looking at the table, he shook his head and headed into the kitchen. "We need plates and napkins, Jim," he scolded gently, getting the items and bringing them back.

The three men settled around the table and began eating. There was still an air of tension hovering near, as Blair and Jim ate silently. "Well," Simon began again, trying to get a conversation started. "I've got extra patrols on the streets and a warrant to search Bloomfield's last place of residence..." He stopped as Jim, his mouth full, shook his head and gestured to be quiet.

"It's all right, Jim," Blair said, sighing. He put down his half-eaten slice of pizza and took a pull on the bottle of beer. "It's good to know you're working the case, Simon," he said, turning to the captain.

Simon eyed the young man, whose face was drained of color and emotion. Since he had known the anthropologist, Blair had been an irritant at best and a magnet for the most bizarre trouble at the worst. But now all he saw was a frightened young man trying his best to put on a brave face for the guest in his home, when all he probably wanted to do was bury himself in Jim's embrace. "We'll get him. It's just a matter of time," he said, trying to sound confident.

"Just don't take too long." Blair pushed his chair back and stood. "If you don't mind, I need to get some work done for my classes," he said as a way to excuse himself. "Thanks for the dinner, Simon."

"You're welcome, Blair," Simon replied, feeling like a heel for bringing up the subject of Bloomfield at the table. "Good night." He watched as Jim's partner made his way into the downstairs bedroom and closed the door.

"Doesn't he usually sleep upstairs with you?" Simon asked softly with a jerk of his head toward the closed French doors.

"He's got a big research paper due," Jim explained. "He's a thesis away from his Master's degree. Damned if I know how he can concentrate on that now, though." He stiffened, senses coming on-line as quiet sounds emanated from the small bedroom. "Shit..." Jim cursed, wiping his mouth on a napkin and pushing his chair back to stand.

"What's the matter?" Simon asked, suddenly concerned.

Ignoring the question, Jim made his way across the room to the hall outside the bedroom in just a few long strides. He rapped a knuckle on the glass. "Blair? Everything all right in there?" The muffled sound of snuffling, coupled with the salty tang of tears answered his question for him.

"I'll just be going," Simon said, gathering his coat and heading for the door. "I don't want to see you back at the station until Monday," he ordered.

Jim nodded an acknowledgment of his captain's words; his attention still focused on the man on the other side of the closed door. "Blair? Sweetheart, I'm coming in." He wiggled the knob and swung the door open slowly. Blair was curled on the futon, his face buried in the pile of colorful pillows that decorated the furniture when it wasn't being used as a bed. Jim approached carefully, sitting on the edge of the mattress and reaching out to place a hand on a shaking shoulder.

"I'm s-sorry..." Blair apologized. "I should be able to--to have a s-simple conversation..."

"Why?" Jim asked. "Nobody expects you to be Miss Manners right now." He reached out to wipe some wet strands of hair from Blair's face. "It's okay. Simon's gone, and I have the weekend off. Maybe we can do something special. I hear there are tickets available for the Sunday afternoon Jags game."

Blair rolled over and looked up at Jim. "Could we just stay home? I don't f-feel much like going out."

"Sure, Babe. Whatever you want to do," Jim assured him. "How about coming out now and having a little more to eat?" He slipped his arm beneath Blair's shoulder and helped him to sit up. Together, they went back out to the dining table to finish their dinner.

~oO0Oo~

It had been nearly a week since the news of Bloomfield's escape. Blair had been unable to sleep without nightmares since Jim had been forced to tell him that his torturer was back on the streets.

Crawling out of bed, Jim crept downstairs as quietly as he could. Blair was still asleep, having finally attained a measure of peace after another hellish night. Considering the circumstances, it was a small miracle the shaken young man could sleep at all.

He went to the kitchen to start the coffee. As he shuffled his way to the bathroom, the phone rang. He glanced at the clock: 6:12 a.m. He grabbed the receiver on the second ring. "Ellison."

"Jim? It's Simon," the captain announced. "Something's come up."

"What is it, Simon?" asked Jim, his voice still laced with the remnants of sleep.

"There's been a murder..."

"Let someone else handle it," Jim replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I'm not due in for another two hours."

"I think you really ought to see this one, Jim. It looks like it could be the work of Gordon Bloomfield," Simon told him. "I'll assign an officer to your apartment, so that Sandburg will be safe."

"What's the address," Jim asked, pacing the floor as he spoke.

The captain's voice was tense. "Got a pencil?"

"Just a minute," Jim said, heading to the desk in Sandburg's old bedroom to grab a pad of paper and the writing instrument. "Go ahead, sir."

"5211 Southwest Madison. It's a single family dwelling," Simon said.

"I'm on my way, sir," Jim promised. He hung up the phone and looked up. Blair was watching him through the railing. "That was Simon," he told the young man. "I've got to go out on a call."

"I want to come with you," Blair insisted. "Just give me a minute to get dressed." He got out of bed and began throwing on his clothes as quickly as he could.

"Not this time, Chief," Jim said, climbing the stairs to block the way down. "Simon is putting an extra man on the building. You'll be safe here."

"I'm not staying here alone. Not with that psycho on the loose!" Blair said adamantly. "I'm going with you. What is it, anyway?"

"Murder," Jim said tersely. "Simon said I needed to see this one. He probably needs my senses, or something."

"Good. Then maybe I can help," Blair said, seeing a legitimate reason for Jim to take him along.

"You should stay here," Jim repeated. "I can handle my senses fine without you being there. Besides, you don't have the stomach for messy crime scenes."

"How am I supposed to get a stomach for them, if you always keep me away?" Blair asked, following Jim down the stairs.

"That's not the point," Jim argued.

"Then what is the point?" Blair's hands flew up as he vented his frustration.

"That you don't belong at a murder crime scene," Jim answered. "You don't belong at this crime scene."

"Why not, Jim? Why not this crime scene? It's not like I haven't been with you before on cases."

Jim hesitated before answering. "Because it looks like the work of Gordon Bloomfield," he reluctantly admitted.

The revelation caused Blair to back up a step and frown. Taking a deep breath, he finally replied, his voice soft, but firm. "I still want to go."

Anxious to be on his way, Jim finally gave in. "All right, but you'll stay in the truck," he insisted. "There will be plenty of police around. You'll be safe."

Blair nodded nervously and grabbed his coat, following Jim down to where the truck waited in the parking lot outside their building.

~oO0Oo~

"This is it. Remember, you promised to stay in the truck," Jim reminded Blair, jumping out and slamming the door. He looked around, scanning the area for anything amiss, for any sign that Bloomfield might have stayed nearby to watch. A crowd had gathered in the street: curiosity seekers and the media. Convinced that Bloomfield was not among them, he entered the house after a brief backward glance at the truck, ducking under the crime scene tape as he passed inside. A uniformed officer led him to the bedroom where the victim lay in a pool of his own blood.

Jim walked across the room, feeling a shiver run through him at the sight. He immediately recognized the signature modus operandi of Gordon Bloomfield. The victim was naked, his genitals mutilated, his penis pierced by a heavy gold ring. As he approached the bed, the officer began briefing him. "Donald Madison, twenty-nine, single... worked at the First Union Bank down on Procter and Fifth as a security guard; went to Rainier nights..."

Waving his hand, Jim cut the man off and concentrated on the crime scene. Opening his senses to search for clues the forensics team might have missed, he circled the bed, not touching anything, but aware of everything--blood spatter, hand and foot prints left in blood on the sheets, the smell of bodily waste and semen. The sudden addition of the fresh scent of urine surprised him. The smell was coming from behind, from...

He turned to see Blair standing in the doorway of the bedroom. His eyes were fixed and staring at the man on the bed. His jeans were saturated, a puddle of urine pooling between his feet.

~oO0Oo~

Blair squirmed on the seat of the truck. He'd been on edge ever since Jim had told him of Bloomfield's escape. He knew his partner was only trying to protect him from the horrors of the murder scene, but he felt that nothing could be as bad as sitting here alone.

Finally, he slipped from the truck and entered the house. The uniformed officer who had directed Jim to the bedroom pointed the way to Blair. He made his way quietly to the door of the room, not wanting to disturb the Sentinel if he was working. The sight of the body sent his mind reeling.

~*~*~*~

He lay bound securely to a hard wooden table: naked, spread eagle, helpless and vulnerable. Gordon Bloomfield fondled his penis, brandishing a large, sharp needle. "Now is the time for tears, Baby," he was saying. To Blair's horror, the needle pierced the fleshy glans of his penis at the thickest point. The pain was incredible. His body spasmed, causing him to lose bladder and bowel control as he cried out his anguish...

~*~*~*~

"Good God... Blair!" Jim dashed over to where the young man stood, frozen in shock, his eyes glued to the bloody tableau on the bed. He took hold of the slumped shoulders and shook lightly. "Come on, Chief, we're getting out of here." He got no response from his shocked partner as he turned Blair away from the scene of the murder and led him out of the bedroom.

"What happened?" the uniformed officer asked, looking at the spreading wet spot on Blair's jeans and smelling the tang of urine.

Jim shouldered past the officer, steering Blair through the house toward the front door. Blair allowed himself to be maneuvered outside, too stunned to do more than operate on autopilot. He whimpered as the cooler air outside the house hit the wetness of his pants, startling some semblance of a reaction from the stricken man.

When they got to the truck, Jim pulled a folded blanket from behind the seat and put it on the passenger side. He helped Blair up into the cab, settling his soaked behind on the blanket. Rolling down the windows, he also dialed back his sense of smell as he gunned the engine and headed back for the loft. He cast worried glances at his silent lover, who sat staring out the windshield as if in a trance.

They arrived back at the loft, and Jim helped to get Blair inside. He stripped the unresponsive man, helped him through a quick shower, and dressed him in dry clothes before guiding him over to sit on the couch.

"Blair? Sweetheart?" Jim settled next to the young man, stroking a hand over his forehead and down the long locks of hair. "Oh, Babe, it's going to be all right. Shhh.... It's all right. You're safe."

Blair began rocking back and forth, his hands folded in his lap. Eventually, tears welled in his eyes and fell silently down his cheeks.

"Chief?" Jim wanted to pull Blair to him, hold him in a comforting embrace close to his own body where Blair would never have to fear anything again. But he hesitated. His lover was working through something and needed a little space for the moment. Needing to touch, but not wanting to interfere, he rested a palm lightly against Blair's back.

"Bloomfield." The name was spoken softly between silent sobs. Blair dug the palms of his hands into his eyes, brutally wiping away the tears before turning to look at Jim. "He's coming for me, Jim. He killed that man to send me a message. Oh, God! I can't do this, I can't!" He dropped his head back into his hands, his sobs now vocal, wracking his entire body.

Abandoning his caution, Jim drew the crying man into his arms, pressing Blair's head against his chest so that the young man could hear the steady beating of his heart. "There's no proof Bloomfield had anything to do with that murder," he assured his lover. "We'll get to the bottom of this."

Blair's fists balled up and pounded against Jim's chest. "It was him! It was him! T-That man, he--he... the ring... in his cock, just like m-me..." His voice trailed off in a hitching sob as he pounded weakly against solid muscle. "Oh, God... it had to be Bloomfield!" he said, choking on the words.

"Shhh... calm down, Sweetheart," Jim soothed, rubbing Blair's back and covering his tear-stained face with gentle kisses. "You don't have to worry. I'll see to it that you remain safe. It's going to be all right; you'll see."

"You can't be with me every minute of every day," Blair said through his sniffles.

"Who says I can't?" Jim asked with a gentle smile. "Just watch me." He pulled Blair back against him and began to rock slowly, as Blair had been doing before. The gentle movement lulled the young man, and he closed his eyes, relaxing in the protective circle of Jim's arms.

It had been an early morning for the anthropologist, and when he began to snore gently, Jim eased him down onto the couch cushions. He found some pillows to slip beneath Blair's head, and covered him with the wool afghan that hung over the back of the couch.

Getting up, Jim went into the kitchen to poke around, checking to see what might be available for lunch. As he was beginning his preparations for the meal, the phone rang.

"Ellison," he answered softly, so as not to disturb Blair.

"How's the kid?" Simon asked, with no introduction. "I heard there was an 'incident' at the crime scene."

"He's pretty shaken up," Jim admitted. "I told him to stay in the truck, but with Bloomfield on the loose, he didn't feel safe."

"He saw the body?"

"Oh... yes," Jim said with a sigh. "That murder is the work of Gordon Bloomfield, or I'll turn in my gun and shield. Blair got it right..." he paused, evening out his breathing. "I think Bloomfield did it as a message to Blair. He's coming after the kid, and I think he means to kill him."

"That's quite an assumption, but you could be right," Simon admitted. "It was Sandburg that ultimately put that bastard behind bars. I'll put an extra patrol around the loft."

"Thank you, sir," Jim said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"So, how is he now?" Simon asked.

"Sleeping," Jim told him. "We had a little talk. He's scared shitless, Simon. He knows that asshole is coming for him. I'm afraid of what he might do if we don't catch the bastard soon."

"You need to keep a close eye on him," Simon acknowledged.

"Agreed, sir." Jim cast a glance toward the couch, where Blair shifted uneasily in his sleep. "I think we're in for a rough time."

"I think you're a master of understatement," Simon replied dryly. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off? Stay home with the kid, calm him down."

"Thank you, sir," Jim said, his voice tight with worry. "But I want to help get this guy off the street. I can bring Sandburg in to work with me."

"I'll leave that up to you," Simon conceded. "Just remember..."

"He's not a cop. Yes, sir," Jim said with a faint smile and a nod. "See you later, Simon." He hung up the phone and looked over to where Blair twitched and tossed in his sleep, a low moan escaping his lips.

~*~*~*~

He hunched in the corner of his small cage--a cage too short to allow him to stand and too narrow to allow him to lie down. All he could do was squat or sit in his own filth, naked and cold, until Bloomfield decided he needed another fuck.

The sound of a key in the lock stirred him to full consciousness. Hands reached in to drag him from his prison. The leash was clipped to the ring piercing his cock, and he was dragged out of the room and into a bright hallway. He was led to a sterile bathroom where rough hands lifted him into a tub of too-hot water to scrub the stench of urine and feces from his skin and hair. He was then carried to a cold, steel table where a tube was inserted into his ass and water pumped in until he cried out from the painful abdominal cramps.

When the enema was finally over, he was taken down the hall to the master bedroom. The door swung open and Bloomfield greeted him, his cock already heavy with arousal, pulsing with need. Blair whimpered as he was dragged by his abused cock over to the bed where his next rape awaited him...

~*~*~*~

"Blair? Sweetheart?" Jim lightly shook the shoulder of the younger man. Blair's moan had turned to whimpers of fear and he had curled in upon himself, as though trying to protect his privates. "Come on, Babe, wake up." He kept his voice soft, calming, all the while listening to the rapid flutter of his lover's heart.

Blair's eyes flew open with a start. "Jim?" His breathing was rapid and shallow, his heart still pounding from the rush of adrenaline coursing through his system. He reached out and clung to Jim's arm, fingers digging painfully into the flesh as he pulled himself upright.

"It's all right," Jim soothed. "You're home; you're safe." He pried the fingers from his arm and sat down next to the shaking anthropologist. "You were having a bad dream," he said, brushing an errant strand of hair away from Blair's face. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really," he sighed, dropping his folded hands between his knees.

"You never did want to talk about what you went through," Jim reminded him. "You can't repress memories like that and expect them to just go away. Trust me, I know."

Blair cocked his head to one side and smiled up at Jim. "Yeah, I know." He sat up a little straighter, running a hand through the tangle of his hair. "It's just that after the rescue, with all the physical stuff going on... I didn't have time to reflect on it much--didn't want to, I guess. And later, it all seemed like a bad dream, one that was fading if I didn't concentrate on it too hard."

"And now it's come back to bite you in the ass," Jim concluded. "You're overdue, Chief. It's time to put this behind you."

"And how am I supposed to start?" Blair's voice held defeat as he realized this wasn't going to go away on its own.

"I can get you in to see the Department's shrink," Jim offered. "Or maybe you know a Psych professor on campus you trust and feel comfortable with?"

"I-I don't know if I c-can..." Blair said softly. "Bloomfield, he d-did things to me, disgusting things..."

"I understand, Sweetheart," Jim said, gathering the younger man into his arms. "I know it's hard to talk about it. But it hurts me to see you hurting like this, too. You need help."

"I don't know how you can even stand to look at me," Blair whispered. "The scars are still visible... You're a sentinel, for God's sake! How can you not notice?"

"I notice," Jim said softly, the hurt evident in his voice. "It simply doesn't make a difference to me. You're a beautiful soul and I love you."

A knock interrupted Jim's reassurances. He patted Blair on the back and stood. "I'll get it," he said, striding toward the door. Jim opened it just as the deliveryman was about to knock again.

Startled, the man rocked back on his feet before smiling and extending a clipboard and pen. "Delivery for Mr. Blair Sandburg," he announced. "Sign here, please."

Jim signed the paper and took the large bouquet of exotic flowers and the wrapped gift from the man's hands. Fumbling for his wallet, he handed over a tip and closed the door. He examined the flowers and box, searching for signs of who might have sent the gifts. "Some lady-friend got the hots for you, Chief?" he asked with a smile, carrying the flowers and gift back to his waiting partner.

Blair shook his head. "Not that I know about," he said, accepting the bouquet. "They're beautiful." He buried his face in the blooms and inhaled deeply. When he finally looked up, he smiled. "You sent these, didn't you? To make me feel better?"

Jim shook his head. "I wish I could take the credit, but I don't know who sent them," he replied honestly. "Maybe they're from the guys down at the station." He looked at the foil-wrapped package still in his hand. "There's a gift, too." He shook it lightly before handing it over. "Somebody must think you're something special."

"Like you?" Blair asked, smiling sweetly at his lover.

Jim leaned across the distance separating them and pressed a kiss against Blair's temple. "Of course me, Einstein. But who else?"

"Is there a card?" Blair asked, examining the box.

"Maybe it's inside," Jim suggested. He lifted the bouquet from Blair's arms. "I'll put these in water for you." He headed off to the kitchen. Laying the flowers on the counter, he began to dig in the cupboards for a vase large enough to hold the bouquet. The sounds of paper slowly tearing reached his ears, as did the curiously excited patter of Blair's heart. Finally finding the right vase, Jim pulled it out and began filling it with water when he heard a sharp gasp and the clatter of a cardboard box on the hardwood floor.

Spinning around, Jim saw the pale features of his lover, frozen in a mask of horror. Something glinted from the small box on the floor. Focusing in on the contents of the box, he could feel his heart drop to his shoes. A golden chain, about two feet long, curled amongst the white tissue. At one end was a sturdy clip, at the other a rhinestone studded leather loop.

In a flash, Jim crossed the room, kicking the offending object across the floor and out of Blair's shocked view. He quickly slid onto the cushions, gathering his lover into his arms. "It's all right, Sweetheart. It's all right," he crooned. The body that he cradled began to shake once more.

Blair rested his forehead against Jim's shoulder and sobbed. "God, oh God! He found me. He k-knows where I l-live." He lifted his head and turned blue eyes pooled with tears on his protector. "What am I going to do?"

"You're going to relax and let me handle this," Jim said calmly. "Wait here." He stood, pressing his hands reassuringly against Blair's shoulders to keep him down on the couch. "I'll be right back."

Jim went back into the kitchen and put a kettle of water on the stove to heat. He dug through the anthropologist's stash of tea bags until he found a calming chamomile. While he waited for the water to boil, he took the flowers from the vase and stuffed them into the garbage beneath the sink. When the teapot whistled, he poured the hot water into a mug with two teabags, steeping the strong brew as he carried it back out to where his shaken partner waited for him. "Here, try this," he said, handing over the mug.

Blair accepted the offering, blowing across the surface of the hot liquid until it had cooled enough to sip. Jim wrapped an arm around the trembling shoulders and pulled the young man against him, offering comfort and protection while his lover struggled to find peace of mind.

"I don't want you to worry about this," Jim said softly as Blair sipped at the hot tea. "I've got it all under control, understand?" Blair nodded, setting the half-full mug on the table and snuggling into Jim's embrace. "It's going to be all right," Jim told him. "I'll take care of everything." He rubbed his lover's back and placed a kiss firmly against the top of his head.

Blair tilted his head up and looked at his partner. "Jim, I-I can't stay here r-right now," he whispered. "I can't be in the same room with t-that..." His hand swept the area, indicating the mess on the floor where the gift box had landed.

"I'll get rid of it," Jim promised. "Why don't you go into your old bedroom and read, or something?" he suggested. "I'll be right out here if you need me."

Blair nodded and rose on shaky legs. Jim stood beside him and supported him as they walked toward the small bedroom. Once inside, Blair sank onto the futon, grateful to be away from the leash and the memories it invoked. Jim settled next to him, an arm wrapped around the trembling shoulders.

"You gonna be okay in here alone?" he asked, pressing a kiss against Blair's temple.

His lover nodded. "Y-Yeah, I think so," he answered softly. "You'll be right outside?"

"Yeah. I have to clean up and call Simon; let him know what happened." Jim tightened his hold, giving Blair a reassuring squeeze. "Maybe you could read?" His glance fell on the laptop on the small desk. "Or maybe do some research for your thesis?"

"Yeah, maybe," Blair agreed, trying his best to remain in control so that Jim would feel comfortable leaving and doing what he needed to do.

Reluctantly, Jim stood, knowing that he had to go back out into the main room and clean up. "Feel free to interrupt, if you need me," he said as he stood in the doorway. Blair nodded silently and Jim backed out, closing the door against the memories that lurked in the great room of the loft.

He approached the gift box, which had slid partway beneath the stereo, and bent to pick it up. He looked at the contents with distaste, feeling the bile rise in his throat as he considered the implications. Crossing the room, he set the box down on the table next to the phone. He stopped briefly to monitor Blair's vitals, assuring himself that his lover was occupied and not listening in. The soft tapping of keys let him know that Blair had decided to use the Internet as his source of diversion. Satisfied, he picked up the phone and dialed.

"Simon? It's Jim," he began, when his boss picked up the call.

"What's up, Jim? I figured you two would be having lunch about now," Simon said, his curiosity strong.

"We had an incident," Jim said dryly.

"What happened?"

"Bloomfield happened," Jim barked. "The kid fell asleep and had another nightmare," he explained. "And then, after he woke up, we got a delivery."

"What kind of delivery?" Simon asked after a lengthy pause.

"Flowers," Jim replied. "And a gift." He paused, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise again. "That bastard sent Blair the cock leash he used to drag the kid around with."

"Oh, good Lord," Simon sighed. "How'd he take it?"

"How do you think, Simon?" Jim hissed into the phone. "He freaked. I calmed him down with some herbal tea. He's in his old bedroom now, doing some research on the Internet. He couldn't stand to be in the same room with that thing."

"This isn't good," Simon mused. "Obviously, Bloomfield knows where you live. I'll beef up the patrols around your block, and put an officer at the entrance to your building until this thing is over."

"Thanks, Simon. I appreciate that," Jim said. "I plan on keeping the kid close for a while. Don't be surprised to see him hanging around the bullpen with me for the next few days."

"Doesn't he have classes at the university?" Simon asked.

"I'm calling the dean next and explaining the situation," Jim told him. "So far as I'm concerned, Blair is in protective custody, as of now."

"We can move you both to a safe house," the captain suggested. "That might be better until this blows over. It's hell when you can't feel safe in your own home."

"Not right now, but I'll keep it in mind," Jim replied.

"You take care of him," Simon growled.

"I intend to," Jim said softly. "See you tomorrow." He hung up the phone and leaned down to pick up the box with the cock leash. He put on the lid, covering the disgusting item. Stuffing the box in the pocket of his coat, he determined to file it in as evidence at the department the next day.

Picking up the phone again, he dialed the university, making short work of informing the Dean of Humanities why his star Master's candidate wasn't going to be on campus for a while. "Yes, sir. Blair is a protected witness," he confirmed. "No, I don't know how long this might take. Hopefully, no more than a few days, but we can't be certain." He paused to listen again. "Yes, thank you. And you'll let us know if there are any unusual deliveries made to the university that are intended for Blair?" He nodded, pursing his lips. "Thank you again."

He put down the phone and turned toward the bedroom, listening to the random clicking of keys on Blair's laptop computer. Making a decision, he walked over and rapped his knuckles against the door. "May I come in, Chief?" Without waiting for a reply, he slowly opened the door and peered in. Blair was hunched over the small machine, gazing intently at the screen. "Am I interrupting?"

Blair looked up with a sigh. "No, not really. I'm not getting anywhere with this," he said, indicating the thesis on which he'd been working.

"How about we go out for a bit? Get away from here; do something to help get your mind off Bloomfield for a while?" Jim suggested.

Blair's eyes sparkled at the mention of the name. "I-Is it gone?" The halting words held a world of fear.

"It's put away," Jim assured him. He walked over to where Blair sat and rested a hand on a slumped shoulder. "I think it would do you good to get out," he said softly. "We haven't had lunch yet. Maybe we could go to the park for hot dogs," he suggested.

"I-I don't know." Blair hesitated, looking up at Jim. "Maybe we could just order in? I don't really feel up to going out."

"That's all right, Sweetheart," Jim said, bending down to place a kiss on the top of Blair's head. "We don't have to go anywhere right now if you don't want to."

Blair pushed his chair back and stood, pressing himself into Jim's ready embrace. "Sorry." Blair's voice was muffled by Jim's collar, where the anthropologist had buried his face. "I'm not usually such a coward."

"Aw, Babe, you're not a coward," Jim soothed, stroking his hand down the length of the soft curls. "You're one of the bravest men I know. You're up against some pretty strong odds right now; it makes sense that you're scared. I would be."

"No, you wouldn't." Blair pulled away enough to look Jim in the eyes. "You wouldn't let something like this scare you off."

"Maybe not," Jim admitted. "But then, I haven't been through the hell that you suffered, so who knows? Blair, I love you, and I'm going to go on loving you, forever. I'd give my life to protect you. You know that, don't you?"

"I love you, too." Blair's lips parted in invitation. Jim closed the gap, claiming the willing mouth with fevered intensity. They tumbled onto the futon, a tangle of arms and legs. Clothing flew with wild abandon, littering the floor.

Their lovemaking was desperate in intensity; the channeling of fear and hope into pounding thrusts that drove the demons temporarily from their hiding places. With the last of their passion spent, Blair collapsed with a sigh, closing his eyes and allowing a wisp of a smile to curl the corners of his lips.

Jim gazed down on the naked body of his lover, sprawled across the narrow mattress. In repose, Blair looked younger than his years, a child-like innocence suffusing his face. How anyone could defile that sacred purity was beyond his imagination. He would see Gordon Bloomfield caught and punished if it took his dying breath.

~oO0Oo~

Blair lay naked and spread eagle on the bed, his hands cuffed to the headboard; his cries were muffled by the silk scarf tied across his mouth. He watched in wide-eyed horror as a large hook on a chain and pulley was lowered from the ceiling, and the rhinestone-studded leather grip of the cock leash was slipped over it. Giles Markham, Bloomfield's right-hand man, stood over by the wall and pushed a button at his master's nod.

The hook rose slowly, taking up the slack in the leash until the chain was pulled taut. His penis throbbed with the pain of being pulled vertical by the ring and leash. Bloomfield stood at the foot of the bed, gloating over his captive's discomfort. He teased Blair's anus with an unlubed finger, breaching the tight ring of muscle despite the young man's efforts to pull away.

Blair's moans of pain fueled Bloomfield's amusement in his new toy. "Like that, Sweet Baby?" he crooned. "There's plenty more where that came from." He unzipped his pants and pulled out the impressive bulk of his erection, making sure that Blair got an eyeful of the dripping organ before giving Giles a thumbs up.

Markham pressed the button again, holding it in as it slowly dragged Blair's ass into the air by his aching cock. Blair scrambled to get his feet beneath him to take some of the weight off the ring that pulled mercilessly at the tender flesh of his glans. When his hole reached Bloomfield's cock, Markham released the button and the lifting stopped. Helping hands lifted his legs, hooking his knees over Bloomfield's shoulders, taking some more of the weight off the burning flesh of his straining organ. Bloomfield aligned himself and then pushed in, wringing a strangled cry from his prisoner.

The pain was incredible as the long, thick cock drove into him, pounding mercilessly with no concern for his suffering. Bloomfield's head was thrown back, his hands firmly gripping Blair's hips, as he grunted with effort. Perspiration glistened on his red face as his thrusts became faster and more erratic. A final deep plunge, and Blair could feel the pulsing release of the molten hot semen searing his insides. Tears trailed silently down his cheeks as Bloomfield withdrew and gave his ass a slap, causing his hips to swing like a pendulum of pure agony.

Finally, hands supported his hips as he was lowered back to the bed. The leash was unhooked and his bonds released before the relentless tugging had him scrambling off the bed in an effort to lessen the pain on his abused and bleeding cock. He was led back to his tiny cage and locked in, not even allowed to clean himself. As he squatted, miserable and hurting, semen leaked slowly from his stretched anus, while blood and urine dripped onto the floor from his battered penis. He leaned heavily against the strong steel of the cage bars, his mind clouded by pain and the anticipation of humiliation and torture yet to be endured.

~*~*~*~

Jim sat on the edge of the bed the following morning, noting the rapid patter of Blair's heart and the quick, shallow breaths. His face was slicked with perspiration, his hair was matted and damp. The moans issuing from the full lips were heart wrenching. Jim could only imagine the horrors that the sight of the cock leash had liberated from Blair's memories. He reached out to gently shake his lover awake, out of the depths of the nightmare that gripped him.

"Blair? Hey, buddy... wake up," Jim urged softly. It was harder to wake the young man than he had anticipated. Exhaustion from the previous day had worked to make Blair's sleep deep, if not untroubled.

Blair rolled over, a groan escaping his lips. Jim's eyes watered with unshed tears for the unspoken horrors the young man had endured. "Come on, Blair," he said, shaking one shoulder gently. "Time to wake up."

Eventually, the familiar voice and gentle motion broke through the barrier in Blair's mind, and the young man woke with a start. "Jim?" He rolled over and flung himself into the strong arms. "Oh, God! I thought I was back there again!" he sobbed.

Jim petted the matted hair, rocking his lover in his arms. "It's all right, you're safe, you're home," Jim's voice soothed the frightened man as he would a child. "Nothing's going to hurt you here." When the initial terror abated and the tears had stopped, he continued softly. "Maybe it's time we had a little talk about this."

He helped Blair off the bed and wrapped him in a warm, fleece robe before guiding him down the stairs and over to the couch.

"Sorry to be so much trouble." Blair sighed, settling onto the cushions. "I really thought I was over Bloomfield. I mean, he was behind bars, out of circulation. There wasn't any reason to think about the... stuff... he put me through."

"But now he's escaped," Jim said softly. "And the repressed memories are surfacing again. I know all about holding in your emotions, suppressing the horrors of something unthinkable.... But you can't run from yourself forever. Eventually, this shit catches up with you, if you don't deal with it."

"I just don't think I can right now," Blair admitted. He looked up at his companion with fear-haunted eyes. "Jim, you've got to get him, man. If you don't, he'll come for me and I can't, I won't go through that again. He knows where I live..." His trembling increased and he tucked his hands between his knees to hide how much they shook. "I'm serious, Jim. Anything is better than letting Bloomfield get a hold of me again, even death."

"Blair, please, you have to stop talking like that," Jim pleaded, grasping both of Blair's hands and squeezing them tightly. "We'll get him; you don't have to worry."

"I trust you, but it's just so damn terrifying." Blair's heart rate skyrocketed. "That l-leash... H-He wants me again..."

"He'll have to come through me to get you," Jim promised. He studied the face of his lover, trying to project confidence into his words. Dark circles ringed the tired eyes--eyes that were rapidly losing hope. He shifted on the couch so that he could gather the willing body into his arms. "It's all right, Sweetheart," he whispered through the tangle of hair covering Blair's ear. "You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you."

They cuddled on the couch, Blair clinging to the lifeline of his lover, until the alarm finally went off upstairs.

Jim unfolded himself, sitting up, and kissed Blair's cheek. "Time to get going," he said reluctantly. "Feel like coming into the station with me this morning?"

Blair nodded. "No way am I staying here alone!" he stated, pushing up out of Jim's lap. "You don't mind me tagging along?"

"Do I ever?" Jim asked, smiling and tousling the already tangled mane of curls. "Of course I don't mind. Think you could eat some breakfast?"

Blair took some time to assess how he was feeling physically. "Maybe just a cup of coffee and a bagel," he conceded. "I don't think I could handle much more than that."

"Cream cheese?" Jim asked, going to the breadbox to fetch the requested item.

"Just dry, I think. Thanks," Blair said, accepting the bagel and a mug of steaming coffee. He ate about half before putting the bagel down. "Aw, man... I can't eat any more than that," he said, rubbing his queasy stomach.

"We can always catch something in the station break room later," Jim said, concerned for his partner's health. "You about ready to go?"

"Just give me five to get dressed," Blair said, turning to head back upstairs. Jim followed and the two men made themselves ready for the day.

~oO0Oo~

Rhonda looked up from her desk as Jim and Blair walked past. "Good morning, Jim... Blair," she greeted them with a smile. "Oh, Blair, there's a call waiting for you on line three. You can pick it up here, or at Jim's desk."

"Thanks, Rhonda," Blair acknowledged, trying to return the grin. He walked over to Jim's desk. "Who would be calling me here?" he asked to no one in particular.

"Did you give out this number as a contact?" Jim asked, hovering close behind his partner.

The young man shook his head. "A couple of colleagues at Rainier, but only for emergencies," he said nervously. "Who else could it be?" Cold fingers of premonition crept down Jim's spine. He paused, motioning for Blair to wait before picking up the phone. "What?" Blair asked impatiently.

"Just a precaution," Jim answered carefully. "Brown?" he called softly across the room. When the dark-skinned detective looked up from his work, Jim motioned him over. "See if you can trace this call, just in case."

Henri nodded and picked up the phone on an adjacent desk, speaking quickly. "Yeah, Gale, we have to run a trace on extension 112." He looked up at Jim and pointed a finger toward Blair.

Jim nodded, giving Blair the signal to answer. The young man hesitated, suddenly fearful of who might be on the other end of the line. "Hello?" His voice quavered, and he swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he firmed his voice. "Blair Sandburg speaking."

The petulant voice that came over the tapped line sent icy chills through Blair's body. "You're not wearing the gift I sent you," Bloomfield pouted. "But don't worry. You'll get to try it on again soon enough." Blair felt his balls tighten and a painful ache throb through his penis at the sound of his tormentor's voice. He tried to reply, but the words choked in his throat; all that came out was a grunt of pain. "Never mind trying to trace this call," Bloomfield taunted. "You won't be able to." There was a click, and the phone disconnected.

Jim took the receiver from the trembling hand and helped Blair to sit down. He looked hopefully up at Brown. Henri shook his head. "Sorry, Jim. All we got was that it was a satellite phone--untraceable."

Simon stepped out of his office and motioned to Jim. "Bring him in here."

Jim turned to the shaken young man. "Think you can walk?"

Blair nodded and stood, swaying for a moment until he could get his balance. Jim began guiding him toward the privacy of Simon's office, but suddenly Blair turned, twisting out of Jim's grasp and making a beeline for the hall. The detective followed, catching up just as Blair pushed through the door into the men's room.

He made a turn into the first available stall and bent over the bowl. Grabbing the seat with both hands to support himself, he began to retch, vomiting up that morning's breakfast.

Jim wedged in beside him, holding Blair's hair out of the way while the young man cleansed his system. Finally, there was nothing left but bile and salvia. Blair spit into the toilet a couple more times, and then stood up to lean against the cool metal of the stall's wall.

After a minute, Jim wrapped an arm around Blair's waist and gently guided him over to one of the sinks. There, he wet a handful of paper towels and began wiping down his lover's face and shirt front. Then he got a paper cup and filled it with cool water, offering it to his shaken partner.

"It's all right, Blair," he said softly as the young man sipped at the water. "We'll get him."

"No. No, you won't," Blair muttered.

Jim's eyes narrowed at the comment. "What makes you say that?"

"You just won't." Blair's voice reflected his despair, leaving his partner at a loss for words. He leaned heavily against Jim and allowed the larger man to support and guide him back to the Major Crime bullpen, and into Simon's office.

"How is he?" Simon asked, looking at the pale, drawn face.

Jim guided the young man over to one of the large, upholstered chairs in the office and set him in it. Crouching down so that he was on an eye level with his distraught lover, he brushed some hair off his forehead before settling a hand on his shoulder. "He's in shock, sir," Jim answered, glancing up briefly at his boss. "I don't believe that man had the balls to call here, of all places!"

"He wants to send us a message," Simon speculated. "He wants us to know he's untouchable, and that he can have Blair whenever he wants."

"Simon!" Jim hissed, sending an angry glance at his captain before turning back to Blair.

"It's all right," Blair whispered. "I already knew that."

"It's not true," Jim insisted. "He can't have you whenever he wants. I won't let him!"

"Jim, he can do what he wants, when he wants to do it," Blair said softly, his voice hoarse from the vomiting. "If he wants me, nobody's gonna stop him."

"Jim's right," Simon said, supporting his detective. "We'll do whatever we need to do in order to keep you safe. Just because Bloomfield's got money, doesn't mean he has the upper hand." He turned to Jim. "Why don't you take him back home? I'm officially assigning you as bodyguard--go home, lay low."

"I want to be a part of this investigation," Jim insisted, glancing between Blair and his boss.

"I plan to keep you informed," Simon replied, "but right now, Blair needs you."

Jim nodded, studying the pale, shaken young man still seated in the chair. "How're you feeling?" he asked. "Think you can make it back out to the truck?"

Blair swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. "I'm okay." He pushed up from the chair, swaying slightly. Jim reached out to grab his arm and steady him.

Simon held the door as the two men walked slowly out. Watching them depart, the captain firmed his resolve to put Bloomfield back behind bars as quickly as was humanly possible.

~oO0Oo~

Jim unlocked the loft's door and pushed it open, ushering Blair inside. The young man stumbled into the room, still reeling from the phone call. He didn't notice the small, white envelope on the floor.

Bending down to pick it up, Jim examined the paper with touch and sight. Nothing out of the ordinary--it was simply a cheap envelope available from thousands of outlets, including the corner grocery story. The starkness of the item surprised him, though. There was nothing written on the outside, although it obviously contained a piece of folded paper.

"What is it?" Blair asked from where he'd settled himself on the couch.

"I don't know," Jim admitted, coming to sit next to him. "It's a blank envelope. Want me to open it?"

"I suppose," Blair reluctantly agreed. "Do you think it's from... h-him?"

"I think it's a good possibility," Jim acknowledged. He pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket, not wanting to contaminate the evidence further, and reached for the letter opener on the end table to slit it open. "Aw, shit!" he exclaimed upon glancing at the note. His fingers began to curl, to crumple and destroy, but instead, he forced himself to slip the missive into his pocket.

"What? Jim, what is it?" Blair wanted to know. "Is it from Bloomfield?" His lover nodded curtly, not trusting his voice as he struggled to control his rage. "What did it say?" He tried reaching for the pocket, but Jim diverted his hand, clasping it tightly.

"You don't need to know." Jim's words were clipped, terse. "Believe me, you don't want to know." Jim's impulse was to throw the taunting message into the fireplace and watch it burn, but he knew that his best course was to hold on to it to use as evidence later, if necessary. Instead, he gathered Blair into his arms.

"God, Jim, he's everywhere," Blair whispered into his lover's shoulder. "I can't get away."

"That's what he wants you to think," Jim said. "He's trying to rattle you, keep you off balance."

"He's doing a damn fine job," Blair admitted. "I'm scared shitless. H-He's going to f-find a way. I can't do that again, Jim, I just can't!" he repeated.

"Shhh... it's all right," Jim soothed, smoothing down the wild jumble of curls beneath his hand. "You won't have to. He's going to make a mistake, and I plan on being there when he does." Blair sighed and settled into Jim's comforting embrace. Jim kissed the top of his head, and held the younger man as his heartbeat gradually slowed. "So," he said after several minutes of relative peace, "do you think you could manage a little lunch? After that performance at the station, you really need to get something into your stomach."

Blair looked up and grimaced. "I don't know. My stomach's still a little queasy," he admitted.

"Something light--maybe a salad?" Jim suggested. "Come on, Blair. You have to eat something."

The younger man sighed. "Oh, all right. I suppose a salad would good," Blair said softly.

"Great! I'll just go and see what we have." Jim slipped out from the comforting circle of the embrace and stood. As he made his way to the kitchen to prepare some lunch, Blair reached across to the coffee table and grabbed the remote, switching on the TV. As Jim puttered around, gathering ingredients for their meal, he listened as his lover flipped restlessly from one channel to the next. Convinced that Blair was occupied for the moment, he picked up the portable phone to report in to Simon.

"Yeah, Simon. It's me."

"How's the kid doing?"

"Better, but it's been rough," Jim admitted. "At least he's relaxing now. I'm fixing us some lunch," he added.

"I'm glad to hear he's improving." The captain sighed. "He looked like you could knock him over with a feather after that phone call."

"Simon," Jim interrupted. "There was a note slipped under the door, waiting for us when we got home."

"Good God... From Bloomfield? What did it say?" Simon asked.

"'I'm coming for you soon; be ready for me'," Jim reported with distaste. "The paper and envelope were plain, common stock. Nothing we could trace," he added.

"We could dust for prints," Simon suggested.

"Not necessary, sir," Jim replied. "There's no doubt in my mind that it's authentic."

"How did the kid take it?"

"He's terrified. I picked up the note--he knows it's from Bloomfield, but I refused to let him read it," Jim confessed.

A heavy sigh came across the line. "That's probably just as well," Simon agreed. "Tell Blair we're on top of this, not to worry."

"Are we, sir?" Jim's voice held sarcastic disbelief. "This bastard seems to be staying one step ahead of us. There's an extra patrol in our neighborhood and an officer at the door to the building, and he was still able to get this message delivered."

"Maybe Bloomfield sent someone else to drop it off," Simon suggested. "We can't stop every stranger entering your building."

"I realize that," Jim said with a sigh. "We'll just have to be more careful. Thanks, Simon." Jim put the finishing touches on his grilled tuna sandwich and Blair's salad as he said his good-byes and hung up. Walking back to the couch, he placed a hand on Blair's shoulder. "Hey, buddy, lunch is ready."

"I'm not really hungry," Blair said with a sigh. "But I guess I can try."

"That's the spirit," Jim said, smiling. He pulled out Blair's chair and waited until the young man had seated himself. He walked around the table and sat opposite his lover.

Blair picked at his salad, trying a bite before confronting Jim. "What did the note say?" he asked. "I have a right to know."

"You do." Jim nodded. "But is it really necessary? You know he's taunting you, trying to frighten you."

Blair sighed. "Well... I suppose..."

"I think it's for the best," Jim agreed.

The two men settled at the table to eat lunch. Blair had only managed to consume about half of his salad before the stress-induced nausea made itself known again. Pushing back his chair, he bolted for the bathroom, arriving barely in time to lift the lid before lunch, too, became a part of Cascade's sewage system.

"Blair? Sweetheart... are you all right?" Jim knelt next to his retching partner, gathering the long hair back and out of the way until the young man had finished throwing up.

Blair sat on the cool tiles and wiped his sleeve across his mouth. "Jim? Do you remember when we first met?"

Jim was a little shocked by the seemingly non sequitur remark. "Yes, of course I do," he answered cautiously. "What does that have to do with what's happening to you now?"

"I was dancing naked in a bar, wagging my cock and my ass at the customers." His face flushed with shame, Blair looked up at Jim and met his eyes with a questioning gaze. "Did I bring this on myself? Is all this my fault? Maybe, in a way, I asked for it."

"Oh, no; God, no, Sweetheart!" Jim said, gathering the stricken man into his arms. "You made an error in judgment taking that job to pay your way through college, but if you hadn't, we never would have met." He pulled Blair into the circle of his lap. The young man settled in, laying his head against Jim's chest and sighing as Jim began to stroke the long hair. "You were just doing what you were told to do," he continued. "You were more naive then. I don't think you understood the implications of what you were getting into. No, Blair, you didn't ask for what happened."

Blair clung to Jim's shirt with clenched fists. Tilting his head up to look at his lover, he managed a weak smile. "At least I found you." He parted his lips and closed his eyes, inviting a kiss.

Jim complied, pressing his mouth against the willing one beneath him. Blair melted into the kiss, as if all he'd ever needed was to know that someone loved and cherished him. As they broke apart to breathe, Blair groaned and shifted in Jim's lap until the older man could feel the hard column of flesh pressed against his thigh.

"Blair? Honey... is that such a good idea right now?" he asked, wondering how his lover could become aroused after the events of the day.

Blair moaned, burying his face back into Jim's shirt as he humped against the firm thigh. Jim gently pushed him away and stood, lifting Blair to his feet and guiding him out of the bathroom, then up the stairs to the bedroom. As they undressed, he remembered something he'd heard a long time ago--perhaps even from Blair himself--that fear and arousal were closely linked, the same as pain and pleasure. Blair was definitely on the knife-edge of fear, so perhaps this strange turn of events was only a natural reaction of his body to the adrenaline coursing through his system.

"Come on, Jim," Blair growled, waiting impatiently on the bed for his lover to join him.

Jim climbed into bed beside Blair and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Look, Babe, if we're going to do this, we're going to do it my way--for your pleasure and release, okay?" Jim hadn't even been able to become aroused. He was still too upset by the threats to his lover and Blair's reactions to them. Still, if Blair needed this, he would comply with love and gentleness, to the best of his ability.

Blair reached up to pull him down and kiss him passionately. Jim let his lover control the situation, just as he had every time they'd made love since Blair had been rescued from Bloomfield. He ran his hands through the mass of silken curls that were spread out on the pillow, circling his hands around the lithe body and pulling his lover closer.

He could feel the heat as Blair's erection pressed against his belly, a hard column against equally hard abs. He reached down between their bodies to take the cock in his fist and squeeze, running his thumb over the leaking head. Blair moaned and squirmed in his arms, breaking free and laying back on the bed, eyes closed as his hips pushed up into the hand that encircled him.

Jim leaned down to slowly bathe each brown nipple with his tongue, sucking on the small nubs as they hardened under the attention. Another moan, and Blair arched his back, silently asking for more. Jim nibbled at the fleshy peaks, teasing the sensitive tissue with his teeth until the moan turned to a drawn-out groan of pleasure.

He followed the arrow of hair to the depression of Blair's navel, swirling his tongue around the edges before dipping in for a taste. Blair lifted his hips, pressing the head of his needy cock against Jim's chin. Finally, his lover took pity and moved lower, engulfing the glans with his lips. He was moving faster than he normally would--Jim enjoyed taking his time, making Blair beg for his release. But this time his lover needed something more; something that reassured him of Jim's love.

He let his tongue trace the ridges and depressions, as well as the scar tissue that marred the perfect surface of the otherwise magnificent organ. Blair's hands reached down to scrabble in the short hair on Jim's head, finally locking on to his ears and pulling painfully, trying to force Jim to take him deeper. His lover complied, letting his lips slide down the shaft as the head traced its way across the roof of his mouth and into his throat.

Eager hips began thrusting, and Jim relaxed, opening his throat to take in the considerable length of his young partner. Finally, he stopped the frantic motion, applying gentle pressure against the pistoning hips. He pulled back slightly, so that he could suck on the glans, teasing the slit that leaked a steady stream of pre-come. His left hand cupped the scarred scrotum, fingers paying special attention to the one real testicle left inside. The cry that accompanied the touch was strangled, drawn out of a throat that hadn't stopped moaning since Jim had moved his attentions to the aching cock.

Jim could feel the tension gathering as the muscles beneath him coiled in preparation for release. The scrotum tightened and the cock in his mouth twitched eagerly. He applied more suction to the shaft, swallowing the head once more as he felt the final thrust to climax. Hot semen spurted down his throat and he swallowed quickly, lapping up the remaining droplets as he allowed the spent penis to slip from his mouth.

Blair's cry of completion echoed in the large open space of the loft, rattling the skylight. As the sound died away, he collapsed on the bed, completely drained of energy.

Jim gathered the sated young man into his arms, allowing Blair's head and shoulders to rest upon his chest. He smiled at the sight of the tousled hair and the satisfied glow on his lover's face. His fingers ghosted lightly over the flushed cheeks, tracing an ear, playing with the silver rings piercing the left lobe.

Blair stirred, opening blue eyes whose pupils were still blown wide with passion. He smiled up at his lover, content to be wrapped in the protective embrace.

~oO0Oo~

The weekend had passed with no new leads and no attempts at contact by Bloomfield. Blair was just starting to relax again, and Jim had let him sleep late. The ringing of the telephone disrupted the quiet of the morning. Jim grabbed the portable phone from the table before the noise could wake his partner. "Ellison," he answered crisply.

"Mr. Ellison? Jerrold Hammond here," the university dean introduced himself. "You told me to call if anything came to the school for Blair."

"And...?" Jim asked, impatient with the academic. "Something arrived?"

"A plain envelope, addressed simply to 'B. Sandburg'," the dean informed him. "What would you like for me to do with it?"

"Would it be possible to have someone bring it over?" Jim asked. "852 Prospect, apartment 307."

"I'll see what I can do," Hammond said.

"I need it as soon as possible," Jim said, his voice tight. "I'd come get it myself, but Blair is still asleep, and I can't leave him alone."

"I understand. I'll find someone to bring it to you."

"Thank you." Jim hung up the phone and turned around, looking up to see Blair standing at the top of the stairs.

"What was that all about?" he asked, shuffling downstairs in his bare feet and underwear.

"Dean Hammond called. He said there was an envelope delivered for you at the university."

"D-Did he say who...?" Blair asked, the color draining from his face.

Jim shook his head. "He didn't open it, but I think that from the description, we can safely assume it's from Bloomfield."

"W-Why would he send something to the university?" Blair asked, sinking onto the couch, his face turned up to watch Jim.

"He's just trying to shake you up," Jim said, coming to sit beside his lover. He wrapped an arm around the bare shoulders and pulled Blair against him. "Hammond is sending someone over here with it. Every piece of evidence brings us a little closer."

"N-Not close enough!" Blair shrugged out of the comforting hold and stood up, pacing the room. "H-He's still out there, stalking me..." He walked past the dining table where Jim had laid his gun and holster when he had come downstairs earlier that morning. Automatically, his hand reached out, his fingers brushing the cold metal of the gun's barrel. "He's going to have me, Jim! Nobody can stop him."

"That's not true," Jim argued, coming to stand behind Blair. He wrapped his arms around his lover, pinning Blair's arms to his sides. "I can stop him, and I fully intend to do just that!"

"I-I won't go through that again! I won't let him t-touch me." Blair twisted in the tight hold to look at Jim. "He's always one s-step ahead of us. Always. How can you catch s-someone like that? If he wants me, how can you stop him? You can't!"

Jim turned Blair around in his arms and gazed into the blue depths of the frightened eyes. "You have to trust me, Honey. Trust that I won't let anything happen to you."

Blair pounded his fists against Jim's chest. "He'll kill you, too! He wants me, Jim! And Gordon Bloomfield always gets w-what he wants!"

"Not this time," Jim said, silencing further comments with a kiss.

When they separated, Blair sighed and laid his head against Jim's shoulder. "I wish I could believe that." He wrapped his arms around Jim's waist and squeezed. "I-I just don't know what to do anymore. I can't think straight."

"I know... I know it's been rough, Babe," Jim soothed, turning his head slightly to press a kiss against Blair's forehead. "But you have to trust me, believe in me."

"I do; I trust you," Blair whispered. "I know you'll do everything in your power. But Jim, he's powerful, too. Be careful."

"I will, Sweetheart. Don't worry." Jim pulled away from the embrace to study Blair. "Think you feel up to a little breakfast?"

Blair frowned. "Maybe just some toast," he finally conceded. Jim steered him over to the dining table and made him sit, then fetched a mug of coffee. "Thanks, Jim," he said, smiling slightly. "Caffeine is always a good start."

Jim busied himself making the toast and breaking some eggs into a skillet for his own breakfast. They had barely settled in to eat when there was a knock on the door. "I'll get it," Jim said, wiping his mouth on a napkin and getting up.

Blair stopped eating to follow Jim's progress across the room. The detective opened the door and spoke softly for a few moments, accepting something from the caller. He gave the object a cursory glance, but didn't open it, before he slipped it into a pocket. He closed the door and returned to the table.

"What was that about?" Blair asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Jim shrugged. "Dean Hammond sent a kid over with the note that was delivered to the school."

"May I see it?" Blair reached a hand across the table.

"I think it's better that you don't," Jim said, ignoring the hand. "It's evidence in our case."

"What case?" Blair asked, annoyed at Jim's reticence. "You don't have Bloomfield yet. That note was sent to me."

"Trust me on this one, please, Chief?" Jim said, going back to his breakfast. "You don't need any more stress in your life right now."

"But, Jim..." The ringing of the phone interrupted Blair's argument. The young man hesitated briefly and then reached for the device. "Ellison-Sandburg residence," he answered, keeping his voice firm.

"Sandburg?" Simon's voice came across the connection. "I need to speak with Jim. Is he available?"

"Sure thing, Simon," Blair said, relief flooding through him as he handed the phone to his partner.

"Yeah, Simon?" Jim greeted his captain.

"Jim?" Simon checked. At his detective's affirmative grunt, he continued. "You're not going to believe this," he said, a note of incredulity in his voice.

"I'm not going to believe what, sir?" Jim asked, slightly annoyed at having his breakfast interrupted for a second time.

Simon didn't mince words. "There's been another murder. Definitely the work of Gordon Bloomfield, or I'll resign my commission."

"Oh, God, Simon..." Jim groaned. "Now? What about Blair?"

"You could bring him down to the station. We'll make sure he's okay," Simon offered. "We need to get this dirtbag off the streets and back in prison as soon as possible. You're our best bet."

Jim conceded with a sigh. "All right. What's the address?" Simon gave the street number of the house and Jim hung up.

"What was that all about?" Blair asked, finishing off his coffee.

Jim's answer was succinct. "There's been another murder."

Blair was suddenly alert, his heart pounding. "Bloomfield?"

"Simon says it looks like there's a good chance of that, yeah," Jim informed him. "Get dressed, I'm taking you down to the station."

"Like hell you are!" Blair exploded. "I'm going with you!"

"No way, Blair. Not this time," Jim said, standing firm. "You've already had enough shocks today. Go wash up and get dressed."

Blair pushed back his chair and headed for the bathroom. Jim heard the sound of water running and the rasp of terrycloth against skin as Blair took a quick shower. He was out of the bathroom and back upstairs in record time, dressing in blue jeans and a layer of plaid flannel over a T-shirt. Pulling on his socks and shoes, he stood. "Ready."

"Good." Jim had dressed while Blair cleaned up, and now led the way back down the stairs.

"Where's the murder?" Blair asked, grabbing his coat on the way out.

Jim glanced over his shoulder at the young man whose shorter legs caused him to be chronically behind his taller partner. "East side," he answered tersely.

Blair nodded. "That's where he always hung out when he was slumming."

"Right," Jim agreed. He climbed into the driver's side of the truck and started the engine. Pulling out into traffic, he made the turn that would take him by the police station.

"Jim, I'm going with you," Blair insisted. "Don't try to leave me with Joel and Simon."

"Chief, this is bound to be gruesome," Jim argued. "You don't need to see it."

"I don't care. I want to be with you." He turned entreating eyes on his lover. "Jim, I don't feel safe anywhere else."

"You'd be perfectly safe down at the station," Jim told him. "That's the last place Bloomfield would show up and try to harm you."

"But he's not going to hang around the scene of a murder, either," Blair countered. "His face is too well known. He'd be caught right away. I want to come with you."

Jim pulled into the basement garage of the precinct. "Get out, Chief. I'll take you up to Major Crime."

"I'm not going." Blair crossed his arms and remained seated. "I'm staying with you."

"God, you're stubborn," Jim sighed. "Do I have to come around and drag you out?"

"I told you, I'm not going in there," Blair answered obstinately.

"Blair, please?" Jim turned to wheedling. "Simon's expecting you; it was his suggestion that you stay in Major Crime."

Blair shook his head. "I've got a lot of practice with protests, man," he warned. "I'm not leaving."

"I'm just thinking of your safety, Sweetheart," Jim continued softly. "I just want to know that you're protected while I'm out there in the field."

"I'll do whatever you tell me to do," Blair promised. "Jim, please, you have to take me with you! I need to be near you. I-I can't explain it, but I feel safer with you."

Jim sighed and started up the engine again, backing out and heading onto the street. "Just remember, you promised."

~oO0Oo~

"Here we are," Jim said, pulling up in front of a brick, single-story home. "This time you really need to stay in the truck. This murder is Bloomfield's doing, and it's not going to be pretty."

The young man sat rigidly in the passenger seat, his clenched fists between his knees, his head down. Cascades of brown curls obscured his face, but couldn't hide the fear in his voice now that they were at the crime scene. "I-I know that," he said softly. "But I d-don't feel safe out here a-alone."

"You won't be alone. There are cops everywhere." Jim gestured to the milling police force outside the residence. "If you want, I'll ask one of them to come stay with you."

The curls bounced as Blair shook his head. "No. I don't feel safe with anyone b-but you. I'm coming in."

"Please... Blair, please, don't." Jim resorted to pleading. He waved to a nearby uniform who happened to glance their way. The policeman walked over and Jim rolled down his window. "Hey, Pederson," Jim greeted the wizened street cop.

"Hey, yourself, Ellison. Long time, no chat. What's up?" Ron Pederson inquired.

"I'm lead detective on this homicide," Jim informed him. "This is my partner, Blair Sandburg."

"He the kid this bozo, Bloomfield, is after?" the older cop asked.

Jim nodded. "Afraid so. I need to get inside, but Blair needs a bodyguard. He's in protective custody and needs to be in a policeman's presence at all times." Jim stretched the truth to cover for his partner's fear.

"Sure thing," Pederson agreed. "Hey there, Blair. My name's Ron," the policeman introduced himself as Jim slipped out of the truck and walked up to the house.

Blair watched the detective disappear inside. His gut was knotted with fear, but he was determined not to be left behind. "You know, my stomach's been a little queasy lately," he said softly, turning to the cop beside him and trying his best to look ill. "I don't suppose there's any way you could get me a glass of water?"

Dark circles ringed the young man's eyes, and Officer Pederson took pity. His charge was a few years younger than his own son and reminded him a little of Matt. He nodded and gave Blair an encouraging smile. "Sure thing. Stay put and I'll be right back," he said, turning to go into the house.

As soon as the officer disappeared inside, Blair slipped out of the truck and followed, ducking beneath the crime scene tape and making his way up to the house. Thinking that Bloomfield might somehow know that he was there fueled his fear--his need to be with Jim overriding his common sense. As he approached the door he hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. Taking a few halting steps into the house, he looked around for his partner. One of the forensics team members recognized him and pointed the way to the bedroom. Checking to make certain that Officer Pederson hadn't spotted him, he quickly slipped down the hall.

Pausing at the bedroom door, Blair was unable to contain the cry that tore from his throat at the sight that greeted him. He shrank back, his eyes glued to the tableau on the bed. The victim lay trussed and gagged, his knees drawn up to his chest. Even in death, the penis was engorged, held rigid by a leather cockring constricting the base. A latex dildo, somber black in color, was fully inserted into the anus. On the mattress lay another dildo, flesh-toned, about nine inches long and thick, molded from the cast of a real penis.

Blair's heart was hammering and his breath was coming in short gasps. Before Jim could reach him, he fell to his knees, emptying his stomach on the plush carpet.

Jim had been examining a gift card that was attached to the object when he heard Blair enter. He quickly dropped the item and rushed to his lover's side. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe Blair's mouth when he finished vomiting. "Oh, Blair," he moaned, fear for his lover clenching at his gut. "What did I tell you about staying in the truck?" Trembling, Blair leaned against him, allowing the detective to wrap protective arms around him. "Where's Pederson? He was supposed to be watching you."

"I sent him to get me a g-glass of water," Blair stammered. "Please don't be m-mad at him. It's m-my f-fault."

"I'm not mad, Sweetheart," Jim assured him. "I just really didn't want you here, seeing this."

"I-I-I..." Blair stuttered and fell silent, giving in to his need to be close to Jim. He leaned his head against the broad chest and sighed. "I-I need to be with you," he said finally. "T-That t-thing..." He pointed toward the bed without looking up. "That's Bloomfield's. It's the one h-he..."

"Shhh, shhh, Babe. It's all right. It's going to be okay," Jim assured him, stroking a hand over the silken curls.

"H-He's sending me a m-message..." Blair continued, gasping in great gulps of air in an effort not to pass out. "He's going to have me b-back. I won't let him! I won't! I can't! Oh, God..." he cried. "You'll never catch him. He's coming for me!"

"Calm down, Sweetheart. Shhh..." Jim tried to soothe the terrified young man. "It'll be okay. Shhh.... We'll get him. I promise you. You're going to be all right." He looked up as he caught motion from the corner of his eye. "Pederson!" he shouted to the uniformed cop as he walked past with a glass of water. The man glanced between Blair and the irate detective with a look of shock and chagrin. "What do you mean by leaving Blair alone?"

"I'm sorry, Detective," Pederson apologized. "He said he felt sick and needed some water." He paused to look at both men. "He looked pretty bad," he finished lamely.

"Jim... please...." Blair warned, putting a hand on the bigger man's shoulder.

Finally, Jim nodded. "It's all right; you're not at fault here. Blair's a slippery one," he told the officer. "You have to keep an eye on him every minute."

"I'll do better," Pederson promised, taking Blair by the elbow.

At the anthropologist's panicked look, Jim relented. "That's all right. Let him stay here with me." Pederson nodded and went about his business. Jim drew Blair close to still his trembling. "Why don't you let me take you home?" he suggested after several minutes. "I should never have brought you here."

"B-But you're not d-done," Blair stuttered, giving in to the fear that made his heart hammer and his throat constrict so that he couldn't breathe.

"The forensics team can handle it from here," Jim said. "Just let me get something and we'll go."

"All right," Blair said, allowing Jim to disengage. He started to follow, but the detective held out a hand to stop him.

"Wait for me in the living room, I'll be right out." He watched Blair go, and then went back into the bedroom, gathering the crime scene Polaroids to study later. Coming back out into the main room of the house, Jim steered Blair toward the door. "We're going home," he said softly, leading the way back outside.

Blair allowed himself to be led to the truck and bundled inside. He was uncharacteristically quiet on the ride home. Jim let him be until they reached the loft. Settling Blair on the couch, he picked up the phone.

"Simon? It's Jim. Could you come by the loft later? I have something I'd like for you to see," he told his boss.

"I hear that Blair accompanied you to the crime scene," Simon stated, a disapproving note in his voice. "How is he?"

"He's pretty shaken up," Jim admitted, casting a quick glance over to the quiet figure on the couch.

"I'll be over as soon as I finish up here," Simon told him. "Take care of the kid."

"I will, Simon. Thanks," Jim said, hanging up the phone. He crossed the room to sit next to the shaken young man. He wrapped an arm around the trembling shoulders and pressed a kiss against Blair's temple. "How are you doing, Sweetheart?"

"B-Bloomf-field left the d-dil-do for m-me to find. He's leaving me a message." Blair looked up at his protector with desperate eyes. "He's going to have me back, Jim, and I can't let him. I won't go through that again!"

"It's all right, Sweetheart... shhh... settle down." He pulled Blair against his chest, letting his lover hear the calm, steady beat of his heart. "The entire Major Crime Unit has got your back. We're going to nail this guy before he gets anywhere near you," Jim said, desperate to convince his lover.

"Oh, God, Jim... I'm so scared!" The words came out almost as a sob. Blair's hand clenched the fabric of Jim's shirt in an attempt to draw even closer.

Jim cradled Blair's head with one hand, tucking it beneath his chin. "I know, Honey. I know you're scared. You went through hell. But I've got you now, and I'm not letting you go."

"Promise me." Blair's voice was muffled by Jim's shoulder. "Promise me he won't hurt me again."

"Aw, Sweetheart... I promise." The warm breath of Jim's words ruffled the hairs on top of Blair's head. "How about you get a little rest, huh? You look exhausted. I'll take you upstairs; tuck you in... how does that sound?"

Blair nodded and pulled out of Jim's embrace. Jim stood, taking Blair's hands to pull him to his feet and lead him up the stairs to their bedroom.

"Need anything to help you sleep?" Jim asked. His glance strayed to the bottle of Valium on the nightstand beside Blair's side of the bed. He hated drugging his lover, but occasionally Blair needed the extra help to get to sleep.

Blair shook his head. "I don't like how they make me feel," he admitted, stripping down to his underwear. Climbing under the blankets, he turned to look back up at Jim. "You'll be right downstairs? You're not going anywhere?"

"I won't leave you alone, Chief," Jim promised. "Simon is coming over later. We'll try to be quiet so that you can sleep."

"All right," Blair said softly.

Jim leaned down to kiss his lover. "Sweet dreams, okay?" he asked, smiling gently. Blair nodded his agreement and closed his eyes. Jim continued to stand next to the bed, monitoring his lover until he was certain Blair was asleep.

~oO0Oo~

A knock on the door roused Jim from a light doze. He jumped up to answer before the noise could disturb his sleeping partner. "Simon! Come on in," he said softly. Turning his head to nod toward the loft bedroom, he added, "Blair's asleep."

Simon nodded. "Good. After what he went through this morning, he probably needs the extra rest." He crossed the room to sit on the couch.

"He's asleep on his feet most of the time, lately," Jim admitted. He turned to his captain. "Can I get you anything? A cold beer? Hot coffee, maybe?"

"Actually, coffee sounds good," Simon admitted. "Seems I run on caffeine these days."

"I know what you mean," Jim agreed, setting up the coffeemaker. He came to sit next to Simon, handing him a short stack of pictures. "The crime scene photos," he told his boss.

"God, that's an ugly thing," Simon sighed, looking at the close-up Polaroid of the dildo.

"It's the one made from a cast of Bloomfield's penis," Jim said with disgust, his jaw twitching.

"I can understand why Blair is so damn afraid of that guy." Simon glanced through the other photos, all prominently displaying the victim from several angles or the flesh-toned dildo. "Damn."

"And when he wasn't being raped, he had that up his ass," Jim spat, grabbing the picture of the dildo from Simon's hand and tossing it onto the table, face down. "He was so badly stretched when we rescued him, that he didn't have bowel control for weeks."

"We're gonna catch this guy," Simon growled. "I'll stake my reputation on it."

"The sooner, the better," Jim agreed. "I've never seen Blair so upset. This is as bad, if not worse, than it was right after we rescued him the first time. He hasn't slept well for over a week because of the nightmares, and his days aren't any better. I'm worried about him."

"If you need time off to spend with Blair, you've got it," Simon assured him.

"I want this guy, Simon," Jim's voice rumbled with anger. "I'm not quitting until he's back behind bars."

~*~*~*~

Fever raged through his ravaged body, leaving him weak and helpless. Bloomfield picked up the gift that Blair had dropped, holding it up for him to see. Approximately nine inches long and nearly two inches in diameter, the soft flesh-colored dildo exactly matched the contour of the cock that raped him daily. The fat man grinned at his discomfort, stroking the head of the artificial penis down his cheek.

"I don't want you to forget who owns you," Bloomfield taunted. "Besides, if you're stretched, there's less need for lubrication, and we can fuck more frequently. How about we try it on for size?" He motioned for his men to approach and assist him.

Blair made a meager attempt to struggle against the hands turning him onto his side, but the fever had sapped his strength, and he could do little more than moan and cry out at yet another humiliation visited upon his abused body.

He felt the coolness of the lubricating gel touch his anus moments before the relentless pressure of the dildo forced its way into his body. The foreign object filled him to the point of discomfort. Once it was fully inserted, he was turned over onto his back.

"Nice. Very nice." Bloomfield nodded his approval. The dildo was fully inserted into Blair's rectum, up to its realistically molded artificial balls. Blair's damaged scrotum and infected penis draped down over the object, nearly covering it. Bloomfield reached out to fondle the ravaged organs.

Pain shot through his groin and vibrated up his ass as his tormentor's hand touched him. Blair cried out, and tried to move. Rolling to his side, he grasped at the sheets with claw-like hands, desperately pulling himself toward the edge of the bed. Escape was his only thought, his only hope... escape the pain, escape the humiliation.

Rough hands dragged him back and tied him spread-eagle to the bedposts. Voices echoed nearby, but Blair's fevered mind was too far gone to understand.

~*~*~*~

Blair awoke with a start, a strangled scream caught in his throat as memory and reality overlapped for a moment.

~oO0Oo~

"Oh, good God," Jim swore, putting down his coffee cup and leaping for the staircase. He was upstairs seconds after Blair's cry. "Blair? Sweetheart, it was just a dream. You're safe, you're safe...."

"Not safe," Blair sobbed, the ragged remnants of his nightmare still clinging to the edges of his memory. "Not safe until he's gone. Oh, God..." he gulped down the tears draining into his throat. "I'll never be safe until he's gone."

"Yes, you will," Jim insisted, rubbing soothing circles on the back of the terrified man. "You're safe right now. It was just a dream, Blair--memories. I'm here; Simon's here. You're safe."

Blair began rubbing his arms, scrubbing at the bare skin. "I feel so filthy," he spat. "Can't get clean. I feel like I've just been violated again."

"How about a nice hot shower?" Jim suggested. "I'll go run the water, okay? You can put on your robe and follow me down."

"Okay," Blair said softly. He stood up and grabbed his robe from the foot of the bed, slinging it around his shoulders as he followed closely behind his lover.

"Everything okay?" Simon asked as the two men came down the stairs.

"Nothing a little hot water can't fix," Jim said, placing a hand on Blair's shoulder and guiding him toward the bathroom.

Simon stood and gathered the pictures, stuffing them into his jacket pocket. "I'll be on my way," he said, taking a step toward the front door.

"No! Please, Simon, stay a little longer," Blair pleaded. "Stay with Jim."

"I'm going to be busy, Sweetheart," Jim reminded him with a soft smile.

"I-I'd rather take my shower alone," Blair told him. "I f-feel dirty, you know? I need to be by myself."

Jim frowned. "Are you sure? I don't know that it's such a good idea to leave you alone right now."

"It's just a shower, Jim," Blair said softly, his voice shaking slightly. Jim nodded his reluctant agreement.

Entering the bathroom, Jim turned on the water full force, letting the hot steam fill the room. He took Blair's robe and hung it on the hook behind the door. "Are you sure you don't want me to shower with you?" he asked one last time.

Blair shook his head. "I need to do this alone," he said, his voice steadier this time. He waited until Jim had left, and then closed and locked the door behind him. Taking off his clothes, he stepped into the shower. He poured a dollop of Jim's favorite green apple scented shampoo in his palm and began to meticulously scrub his hair and scalp. Rinsing, he lathered a second time, until his hair practically squeaked as he ran his fingers through it. After applying a thick cream rinse, he began to bathe his body, scrubbing every nook and cranny. The ritual cleansing did little to wash away the sullied feeling left behind by the nightmare.

Once he was satisfied, he stepped out of the shower, leaving the water running as he opened the medicine cabinet and removed a blade from his razor.

~oO0Oo~

In the living room, Jim kept one ear on the bathroom, concerned that the shower was lasting so long. While it was true that Blair tended to hog the hot water because of washing his hair, even he didn't usually take this long.

"Don't you think, Jim?" Simon was asking.

"Huh?" Jim turned back to his captain. "Oh, sorry, Simon. I was checking in on Blair. What were you asking?"

"I said I think that finding that damned dildo at the murder scene today must have really shaken the kid up," Simon repeated.

"Yeah, yeah," Jim agreed, still half distracted.

"Is everything all right?" Simon sounded worried as he studied his friend.

"He's taking too long," Jim muttered. Suddenly, his back stiffened, and he sat up straight, turning his head to sniff the air.

Simon was immediately up and standing by Jim's side. "What is it?" he asked, noting the look of growing fear on the detective's face.

Jim stood up and bolted for the bathroom, shouting to Simon as he broke through the locked door. "Blood!"

He entered the bathroom and pulled back the shower curtain. "Call for an ambulance!" he shouted. Kneeling on the floor, he turned off the water and quickly assessed the situation.

Blair lay slumped in the tub, rivulets of blood running from two slashed wrists to mix with the water and swirl down the drain. "Oh, good God," Jim breathed. He gathered towels and quickly wrapped them around the bleeding wrists, staunching the flow. Blair's heart still beat, but the rhythm was erratic and slow.

After making the call, Simon pushed his way into the small bathroom and helped Jim to lift Blair from the tub, wrapping him in a terrycloth robe and carrying him out to the couch to await the paramedics.

Jim knelt next to the couch, stroking Blair's forehead as he whispered encouragement to the dying man. "Don't you go, Blair. Don't you leave me now, do you hear me? Not after all we've been through. Don't let the bastard win, Sweetheart. Don't let him come between us this way. We'll get him, I promise you. Please, Blair. Please..."

Simon had to pull the grieving man away when the paramedics arrived. They quickly assessed the situation and transported the victim to Mercy General Hospital, downtown. Simon drove his distraught friend, following the ambulance with his own lights and siren blazing.

~oO0Oo~

Waiting rooms were the worst. Jim was distant, cold, not wanting the reassurance of his boss and friend. Simon tried not to take it personally. He knew that Jim was concentrating on listening to Blair, listening to what was being done to save him. Simon's fear was that Jim might zone out on his lover, and Simon wouldn't be able to bring him back.

Dr. Masterson, who had treated Blair's injuries after his rescue from Bloomfield's clutches, had been called in to consult on Blair's condition. He now strode across the lobby of the waiting room toward the two men.

"Jim. Captain Banks. I'd say it's good to see you again, but not under these circumstances. Please, come sit down." Masterson gestured toward a grouping of chairs and sat, waiting for the two men to follow suit. Simon sat beside him, but Jim remained standing, alert.

"Where's Blair? How is he doing?" Jim asked, getting right to the point.

"He's stabilized," Masterson assured him. "We've taken care of the wounds, and are giving him a unit of blood. He'll be fine."

"When can we see him?" Simon asked, beating Jim to the punch.

"Not for a while, I'm afraid," the doctor said. "All attempted suicides have to have a psych consult. We're waiting on a bed in the psych ward now," he continued. "Once he's settled and has seen a psychiatrist, he'll be allowed visitors."

"I need to be with him," Jim insisted. "He'll be scared out of his mind if he wakes up and I'm not there."

"Don't worry," Masterson soothed. "He's heavily sedated for now. It would really be best for both Blair and yourself, if you went home, got some rest, and came back in the morning."

"I can't leave Blair here overnight, alone!" Jim said, pacing in front of the doctor, his hands flying to emphasize his words. "I won't!"

"He doesn't even know you're here, Detective," the doctor said sternly. "He's medicated, and will stay that way until the psychiatrist says it's safe."

"And how long will that be?" Jim stormed. "I won't have him locked away like some lunatic!"

"Jim, calm down," Simon said, rising to clasp Jim's shoulders and still the nervous pacing. "You can see Blair in the morning. Right, Doctor?"

"That's right, Captain Banks," Masterson confirmed. "Whether or not Blair is allowed to go home, you will be allowed to see him tomorrow morning."

"Come on, Jim. I'll take you home." Simon steered a sullen Jim Ellison toward the emergency room doors and out into the parking lot.

"He shouldn't be left alone," Jim mumbled, once they were in the car and on their way back to the loft.

Simon stole a glance at the brooding detective. "He's in good hands. You need a decent night's rest so you can deal with him in the morning."

Jim fell silent until Simon pulled into the parking lot outside the loft.

"Want me to stay with you?" Simon asked.

Halfway out of the car door, Jim sighed and turned to his captain. "Thanks for the offer, Simon, but I think I'd rather be alone, if you don't mind."

"If you need to talk, you know where to call," Simon said as Jim closed the door. He watched as his friend made his way across the lot and into the building. Then, pulling out of his parking space, Simon turned toward home.

~oO0Oo~

The room slowly swam into focus: white on white, some creamy yellow, chrome and steel. Blair blinked his eyes and tried to raise a hand to wipe away the sleep--but he couldn't. His arms were strapped down, as were his legs and waist. His wrists throbbed to the beat of his heart, which increased in tempo as he realized that he was bound, hand and foot, to a bed.

"Jiiim!" he cried out. "Help me! Help me! Oh, God, please help me!" He began to writhe and twist in an attempt to free himself from the leather bindings. His struggles caught the attention of a passing nurse.

"Mr. Sandburg! Mr. Sandburg..." Sarah hurried across the room to try and calm her restless patient. Strands of strawberry blonde hair came loose from the tight bun on the back of her head and floated around her face like golden spider webs as she fought to hold the frightened man still. "It's all right, Mr. Sandburg... Blair..." She stroked a hand across his brow, cradling a cheek and turning his face so that he was looking into the depths of her sea-green eyes. "That's it. Good... Blair, Honey, you're in the hospital. You're all right. Do you know why you're here?"

The frightened man shook his head. "My hands," he said weakly. "I can't move my arms."

"That's so you can't hurt yourself," Sarah explained. "You cut your wrists. Do you remember doing that?"

Blair shook his head in denial. "No! No... Where's Jim? Jim should be here!"

Sarah quickly checked his chart, noting that a Jim Ellison was listed as next of kin. "Jim had to go home," she said softly. "He'll be back in the morning when you're feeling better."

"I want to see him now!" Blair cried out, renewing his struggles to free himself.

The nurse looked up with relief when she saw Dr. Gillis enter the room, syringe in hand. "I'll take over here, Sarah. Thank you." The nurse nodded and quickly left the room. "Blair, my name is Dr. Gillis. Do you remember me?" Blair shook his head. "I was the one who took over your care earlier when you were admitted. Dr. Masterson transferred your care to me. I'm a psychiatrist."

Blair's eyes blazed with fear, a whimper escaped his lips. "Let me go, please..."

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that right now," the doctor told him. "You tried to commit suicide this morning, and hospital regulations say you must be restrained for at least twenty-four hours or until you are deemed stable enough not to harm yourself again."

"I won't hurt myself," Blair moaned. "I won't... please. Please let me go."

The doctor swabbed a spot on Blair's arm and injected a mild sedative. "This will help you relax and get some sleep," he said. "I hear you were asking for Mr. Ellison. He'll be here tomorrow morning."

The doctor turned to leave. As he opened the door, one last, plaintive cry followed him out into the hall. "Please...."

~oO0Oo~

Jim paced in front of the nurses' station in the psych ward of the hospital. "Dr. Masterson said I could see him this morning."

"Dr. Masterson isn't currently in charge of his care," the nurse informed him. "I'll page Dr. Gillis for you." When Jim continued to pace, the nurse looked up from her computer screen. "Why don't you have a seat? Dr. Gillis is with a patient right now; it'll be a few minutes." She turned back to her work, and Jim continued to pace, finally dropping into a seat when the doctor didn't magically appear.

Forty minutes later, Dr. Martin Gillis walked out to greet the detective; a middle-aged man, graying at the temples and wearing glasses, he appeared unassuming. Extending a hand, he greeted the detective. "Mr. Ellison?"

Jim glanced up from the magazine he was leafing through to shake the doctor's hand. "How is Blair?" He stood, looking the psychiatrist in the eye.

"We have him lightly sedated, but he's awake and doing better," the doctor told him. "We've started him on Paxil for the depression and anxiety attacks. We'll need to keep him here at least one to two weeks, until we can see how the medication is taking effect. Would you like a short visit?"

Jim cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at the doctor, wondering what would make an intelligent man ask such a stupid question. "Yes, please." He turned to follow the doctor down the corridor to the locked room.

Dr. Gillis opened the door and ushered Jim inside. "You may have ten minutes, and then we must get him back into treatment."

Jim paused as the door closed behind him, sealing with a snick of the lock. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dim room, zeroing in on the man in the bed. Blair lay semi-reclined, dressed only in a knee-length cotton gown with no blankets to cover him. His wrists were thickly bandaged and bound by wide leather straps lined with sheepskin to the mattress of the bed. Similar restraints bound his ankles and waist. His eyes were closed, but Jim could tell by his heart rate and breathing that Blair was awake. He crossed over to the bed and looked down upon its occupant, letting his fingers trace lightly over the bindings on one wrist.

Blue eyes opened to gaze up at him. "Jim?"

"Yeah, buddy, it's me," Jim said softly. He bent down to place a kiss on the broad forehead. "You're looking better this morning. You really had me scared yesterday."

"I'm sorry," Blair murmured. He tugged at the wrist restraints, frowning. "Jim, please... please help me. I can't move my arms."

Jim lowered the guardrail and perched on the edge of the bed, taking hold of Blair's nearest hand. "Oh, Babe... I wish I could, but it isn't my call."

"Please! Please... you have to get me out of these things!" He struggled some more against the leather straps. "Please, Jim. I'm not crazy; I don't need to be tied down."

Jim stroked the heavy gauze wrapping the wrist of the hand he held. "Does it hurt?" Even with sentinel touch, he couldn't feel through the thick layers of bandages to the damaged flesh beneath.

Blair stopped squirming and concentrated on his pain. He nodded. "My wrists; they ache."

Reaching out to brush the hair off Blair's forehead, Jim let his hand linger against a pale cheek. "I'm not surprised," he said softly. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't see this coming."

A tear streaked down Blair's cheek, and Jim wiped at it with his thumb. "I was so scared... am so scared... Bloomfield wants me back. I'd rather die than go through that again." Blair looked up, catching Jim's eyes with a desperate gaze. "He knows where I live, where I go to school, where you work. He won't give up until he gets what he wants."

"We'll get him first," Jim affirmed. "I'm going to keep you safe."

"Jim... Jim, man, please... let me go," Blair whimpered, tugging feebly at the wrist restraints despite the pain it caused him.

Jim frowned and let out a sigh. "I wish I could, Babe, but that's going to be up to the doctor. He wants to be sure you won't try to hurt yourself again."

"I don't believe this!" Blair shouted. "I thought you loved me, trusted me! You're just like all the others. You don't care. Leave me here, let Bloomfield find me. I'll be easy pickings tied down like this for him!"

The outburst startled Jim, but the words triggered a sudden realization. Wiping another tear from the damp cheek, he captured his lover's gaze and held it with his own. "Blair, when we rescued you, you were bound to the headboard of the bed. Did he do that often?" he asked softly.

Blair nodded. "Most of the time," he whispered. "If I wasn't locked in my cage, I was leashed by my cock or bound to a bed and raped."

"Oh, Babe..." Jim leaned over the distraught young man, brushing a kiss across his forehead. He stroked the sweat-dampened hair, trying to soothe his lover. "I'm so sorry. You never talk about your time with Bloomfield. I didn't know."

Tears welled in Blair's eyes as memories long repressed came flooding back. "H-He was a monster, a sadist. He enjoyed seeing my f-fear, my pain. He kept me n-naked all the time, left me in a tiny cage surrounded by my own w-waste. He only gave me enough food and water to keep me alive..." The words began to flood from the young man's tortured mind.

Jim looked up at the soft sound of a key in the lock. Dr. Gillis stood framed in the door, poised to tell Jim to leave. The detective shook his head and turned back to Blair. Dr. Gillis crossed the room to stand quietly at the foot of the bed.

"Bloomfield wanted you helpless, dependent," Jim corroborated, still stroking a hand soothingly over Blair's hair as his lover told the tale.

"When I first woke up, I was bound to a wooden table," Blair explained. "His first act was to pierce my nipples and cock, then leash me and drag me to his bedroom to rape."

"Oh, Sweetheart...!" Jim felt his own genitals ache in sympathy. The cruel piercing was something he'd observed firsthand. "I didn't know..."

"'Cause I didn't want you to," Blair said softly. "I didn't want to have to think about it, once I was free."

"Did he tie you up every time he raped you?" Dr. Gillis added his own question.

Blair flinched at the new voice, his eyes darting around until he spotted the doctor in the room. "Does he have to be here?" he whispered to Jim.

"If you want those restraints removed, Sweetheart, you have to convince Dr. Gillis," Jim said gently.

Blair's eyes sought out the doctor, and he answered cautiously. "Not always, but usually. When he took me out in the woods, he didn't tie me up."

"He took you outside?" Jim asked, astonished.

"Yes," Blair said, grimacing. "I had that dildo up my ass and the leash on my cock. He walked me a good two miles into the forest." He shivered. "That was after... after, he... h-he c-cut..." Blair squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head against the memory.

"What did he do, Blair?" Gillis asked gently.

"No. No, I don't want to talk about that," Blair insisted. He squirmed in his bonds, shifting uncomfortably.

Jim touched the doctor's arm. "I'll tell you about it later," he said, indicating the door with a quirk of his head. "Meanwhile, considering that so much of his captivity involved being bound.... Would you consider removing the restraints?"

"I'll remove the ankle and waist restraints," the doctor said, going about the task as he spoke, "but I'd rather leave his wrists restrained for the time being. I can't take the chance that he might hurt himself."

"If you'd let him go, I think I could get him to tell us more about his imprisonment," Jim suggested. One look at Blair's hopeful face made him press for the young man's freedom. "If he doesn't, I'll authorize you to reinstate the wrist restraints." He turned toward the bound patient. "Is that all right with you, Blair? Will you talk to us, if Dr. Gillis releases you?"

Blair nodded. "I'll try," he promised. "Just, please, let me go."

Jim turned to look at the doctor. Gillis shrugged and unbuckled the wrist restraints, as well.

Blair leaned forward, sitting up, and rubbed at his sore wrists. "I really screwed up this time, didn't I?" he asked, turning wide eyes on Jim.

"'Fraid so, Chief," Jim said, lowering the rail and leaning down so that Blair could wrap his arms around Jim's neck. He slipped his arms around the slender body and pulled his lover against him in a crushing hug. "I was so afraid I'd lost you," he whispered into Blair's ear. "Don't you ever scare me like that again." Blair nodded his assent against the firm muscles of Jim's chest. "Are you ready to talk to us a little bit more?" he asked.

"Can you hold me," Blair begged, "while I talk? I-I d-don't want to be a-alone."

Jim looked up at Dr. Gillis, who shrugged. "Perhaps you'd be more comfortable talking in my office?" he suggested.

"What do you think, Blair?" Jim whispered into the pile of hair under his chin. "I'll get you a robe and slippers, and we can take a spin down to the doctor's office. I'll bet he has a couch there we could share." He glanced up at the doctor for confirmation. Gillis nodded.

"All right," Blair said meekly, relaxing his fierce grip on Jim's neck.

The detective went over to the closet and found a worn robe along with some disposable slippers. Bringing them back over to the bed, he carefully dressed the younger man and helped him off the bed and into a wheelchair. "I'll drive," Jim told the doctor, when the man acted as though he would take over.

Gillis nodded and went to unlock and open the door. "Very well. You can follow me." Once they were out in the hall, Jim pushed the wheelchair behind the doctor and into an elevator. They descended two floors before getting out and entering a well-appointed office.

Jim helped Blair out of the chair, and they both settled on the couch, with Blair tucked firmly under Jim's protective arm. Dr. Gillis went to sit behind his desk. He watched the two men get comfortable, content to wait and let them lead the session.

Blair let out a shuddering breath and looked up at Jim. "Any time you're ready, Sweetheart," Jim encouraged him.

"I don't know where to s-start," Blair admitted, pressing closer to his protector.

"You mentioned being taken outside," Gillis prompted. "Can you tell us about that incident?"

"It was just before Jim rescued me," Blair began, taking a deep breath and curling his fingers tightly into the fabric of Jim's shirt. "He--he wanted... uh..."

"Can you tell us who 'he' is?" Gillis asked gently.

"Bloomfield, Gordon Bloomfield," Blair whispered. "He wanted to do something d-different, I guess. He took me outside..."

"Were you still unclothed?" the doctor asked. When Blair nodded mutely, he continued. "How did that make you feel?"

"I didn't w-want to g-go with him," Blair stuttered. "It was bad enough in the cabin, being naked all the time," he explained. "I-It was humiliating and degrading. But then he wanted to t-take me out..."

Jim stroked the long curls, murmuring into the soft mat of hair on top of Blair's head. "It's okay, Chief. You're doing great. You can do this."

Blair took another deep breath before he began talking again. "He dragged me through the forest, along a narrow trail. When we got to the clearing, he--he pushed me up against a tree and raped me."

Jim grimaced, imagining what it must have been like for Blair to have his naked body pressed against the rough bark of a tree, especially in his condition, with the barely healed excision of his testicle ground into the unforgiving wood. He tightened his hold on the shaking shoulders. "Oh, Babe... God..." Jim breathed, reliving the horror as though he'd been there to witness it.

"Did he take you home then?" Gillis asked softly, folding his hands and leaning across the desk to hear the whispered response.

Blair shook his head. "N-No... He had a picnic planned. He gave me alcohol and a little food, then made me dance for him, like when I d-danced at the club..."

Gillis looked up at Jim, quirking a questioning eyebrow. "I first met Blair at the Cock-Tail Lounge. It's a strip club and bar for gay men," he explained without hesitation. "Blair was one of the exotic dancers there. He caught Bloomfield's eye that first night." He loosened the tight hold he had on Blair's shoulders so that he could rub soothing circles on the shaking man's back. "Blair needed the money for tuition and books," he continued. "Prostitution paid the bills, but it was obvious even then that he didn't like it. I found out later that he's straight."

The doctor looked from Jim to Blair and back again. "I thought the two of you were in a relationship?"

"We are... now," Jim admitted. "But it was a long process uncovering the seed of bi-sexuality in Blair. He'd never considered sex with a man before taking that job, and the experience with Bloomfield soured him on it pretty quickly."

"I understand," Gillis said, nodding. "So," he continued, turning his attention back to Blair. "He had you dance in the meadow?"

"Uh-huh." Blair nodded his head against Jim's chest. "It turned him on. After three songs, he r-raped me again..." He hesitated. "H-He... Bloomfield... he touched me..." Blair's face bloomed with embarrassment at the memory. "I got hard, and he put a cockring on me. He made me dance again. I got through it by thinking about Jim."

Jim leaned down to press a kiss against the slightly parted lips, bestowing a measure of his strength to the younger man. "I can't believe that in the middle of all that, you could think of me," he said, stroking the long curls again.

"I couldn't have survived without you," Blair confessed. "He wanted to see me come, but I wouldn't do it for him. He was masturbating, watching me. It was sick!" He shivered and closed his eyes, burying his face in Jim's chest for a few moments. Finally, with a sigh, he picked up the sordid tale again. "When I wouldn't cooperate, he t-threatened... he t-threat..." Blair stumbled to a halt, looking beseechingly up at Jim. "He had that knife with him," he explained, speaking only to his lover. "H-He was going to take the other one..."

"Aw, God, Sweetheart," Jim groaned, pulling Blair's head against his chest. He could feel his own testicles tighten in sympathy as he listened to the tale of sadist torture. When Dr. Gillis started to speak, Jim interrupted quickly. "Later. I'll explain later," he snapped, still comforting Blair.

"Can you tell us what happened next?" Gillis asked gently, prodding Blair to open up with the rest of the story.

"He-e, Bloomfield, h-he had the cockring put back on..."

"He took it off?" Gillis questioned.

"During the dance, when he wanted me to c-come for him," Blair explained. "I wouldn't take it off, so he had his men do it."

"I see," the doctor said softly. "I'm sorry, Blair, please go on."

"And they put the dildo back in, and made me walk back to the cabin," Blair said in a rush. "After that... I don't know. It was all such a blur. Bloomfield was raping me again when Jim came in to save me."

Gillis looked at the two men. Blair had curled up next to Jim, almost in the larger man's lap. His head was pressed against the firm chest, chestnut curls hiding his face from the doctor. Jim's arms were wound tightly around the smaller body, rocking slowly as he murmured softly, talking into the top of Blair's head. The younger man seemed to hear, and be calmed by, whatever was being said. After a few minutes, he interrupted quietly. "I think perhaps that's enough for a first session," Gillis said. "I'd like to take Blair back up to his room and have a discussion with you, Mr. Ellison, if you don't mind."

Jim nodded and unwound Blair from his body, helping his lover back into the wheelchair for the ride back up to his room. Once Blair was settled in bed, Jim turned to the doctor. "No restraints, you promised." The doctor nodded his agreement. Jim turned back to Blair, stroking a soothing hand over the ruffled hair. "You need to rest now, Sweetheart. If you need anything, I'll be nearby, okay?"

"'Kay, Jim," Blair responded softly.

"You did good, kid," Jim said, pressing a kiss against Blair's forehead. He turned to the doctor and nodded, before reluctantly moving away from the bed.

Dr. Gillis preceded Jim into the hallway outside Blair's room and turned to a nurse at the desk. "Carol, would you please administer a sedative to Mr. Sandburg? He needs to rest."

"Yes, Doctor," the nurse acknowledged, checking Blair's chart before turning to get the medication from a locked cabinet.

"Back to my office?" Gillis suggested once the nurse was gone. Jim nodded, following the doctor into the elevator. "He's been through a great deal," he said conversationally.

Jim snorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Are you vying for the Guinness Book of World Records for the biggest understatement of the millennium?" He sighed, his eyes taking on a haunted gleam. "Blair told me flat out that he'd rather die than be captured by Bloomfield again. That he attempted suicide doesn't really surprise me in the least. What does surprise me is that I didn't see it coming." He fell silent, dropping into step beside the doctor as they exited the elevator and reentered the well-appointed office.

"May I offer you a cup of coffee, Detective?" the doctor asked, reaching for the pot in the coffeemaker.

"No," Jim shook his head. "No thanks." He settled on the couch with his folded hands resting between his knees.

"You had something important about Blair's history you wanted to tell me?" Gillis prodded gently.

Jim nodded, taking a deep breath before beginning. "It's about what Blair hasn't been able to say," he began. "I don't know the particulars, because he won't talk to me about his captivity, but when he was rescued, he was..." Jim stuttered to a stop, almost as reluctant as Blair to discuss the painful memory. Gillis waited patiently, knowing that pressing the issue now could cause the man to shut down and tell him nothing. Taking another deep breath to compose himself, Jim continued, "Blair was missing a testicle. The left one had been removed and the incision site stitched closed." He shuddered, his mind drifting back to a meeting he had had with Bloomfield's personal physician, Irvin Palmer, before Blair's rescue. "Bloomfield's doctor was the one who came to the police with his suspicions. He told me he had treated Blair's injuries, but that his medical ethics prevented him from disclosing any more information."

"So you think he's the one who treated that particular injury?" Gillis asked.

"Yeah, I do," Jim said. His face darkened at the painful memory that surfaced next. "Blair wasn't very coherent when we found him. He--he was tied to the bed, suspended by that damn hook so that his ass was high enough for Bloomfield to fuck." He spat out the words, indifferent to the impact of his crude language.

Dr. Gillis leaned forward, riffling through a folder on his desk. "I'm sorry that I haven't had time to thoroughly examine Blair's medical records before now," he said. "We're overworked and understaffed, unfortunately." He found the page he was looking for and skimmed the contents. "Ah, yes. I see." He looked up. "There's a notation here about a tattoo, also? Was that a part of this case?"

Jim nodded, his face grim. "The bastard had tattooed 'Property of' on Blair's butt cheek." He pulled himself ramrod straight and stared at the doctor. "What he told us today was only a fraction of the hell he went through. He's kept this all bottled inside for nearly a year now. He was managing to cope fairly well; things were getting back to what goes for normal for the kid, when Bloomfield escaped from prison. Can you blame him? Can you?"

Gillis shook his head. "Looking at his medical records and listening to you both talk today, I have to agree: Blair was, and still may be, a prime candidate for a suicide attempt."

Jim was shaking his head, his grim look growing even darker. "No. No more. I've lived with Blair for over a year now, and he's remarkably resilient and strong. He's hurting, but I think the suicide attempt was more a cry for help than it was serious."

The doctor fastened Jim with his gaze. "Did you get a good look at the cuts on his wrist, Detective? Blair meant business. He knew the correct angle to slice in order to bleed out quickly. If you hadn't gotten to him when you did, he would have died. There is no doubt in my mind."

At the doctor's pronouncement, Jim paled. "Oh, God..." He dropped his head into his hands, the enormity of the past twenty-four hours finally catching up to him.

"Why don't you go home and get some rest?" Gillis suggested. "I can see the strain this is putting on you right now. Blair needs you to be strong for him."

"Can't go home," Jim muttered, pushing against his knees to stand. "Blair needs me. I want to go back to him."

"I'm afraid that's not in Blair's best interests at the moment," the doctor told him. "He's been sedated and should be sleeping."

"I don't give a damn!" Jim said, two long strides carrying him to the doctor's desk, where he leaned over and gave the man a menacing look. "I'm going back, and I'm staying at his side until you release him."

"You don't understand," Gillis tried to explain. "The hospital has rules, especially in the psychiatric ward."

"I said I don't give a damn about your rules!" Jim insisted. "Blair has been abused, tortured, and locked away with all his basic rights and dignity stripped from him. I won't let you do it to him again!"

"I assure you, he's getting the very best of care," Gillis shot back. "But he's in a locked ward for a reason. Visits are extremely limited, and in some cases, monitored."

"Monitor all you want," Jim hissed, "but I'm going up there, and I'm staying with him." Before the doctor could protest again, Jim stormed through the office door and headed for the stairwell, too keyed up to wait for the elevator.

He burst through the stairwell door onto the psychiatric floor, striding swiftly over to the door of Blair's room. He rattled the locked knob, banging on the door and shouting at the nurses. "Unlock this door, dammit! Blair? Blair, can you hear me?" He stopped to listen, hearing the erratic heartbeat of his lover as Blair struggled against the sedative in order to answer him. "Let me in!" he roared at a passing nurse.

The woman shied away, backing out of arm's reach. "I'll get Dr. Gillis," she said as she hurried away.

Dr. Gillis emerged from the elevator on cue, and the desperate nurse almost collided with him. "Dr. Gillis, sir... That man is disturbing the patients! You've got to stop him!"

"Just let me in, and I'll be quiet," Jim growled, rattling the doorknob again.

"Mr. Ellison, please don't make me call security," Gillis warned.

As the two men stood opposite each other, a pained cry came from inside the room. "Jiiiiimmm...!"

"Let me in, please," Jim begged. "He needs me. God, don't you have any compassion?"

Gillis unlocked the door and Jim slipped quickly inside, followed by the doctor.

"Jim!" Blair's voice was soft, rough, muffled by the sedative he couldn't quite shake off. He reached out with both arms toward Jim. To sentinel eyes, the white bandages on his wrists glowed in the dim light.

"I'm here, Honey," Jim said softly, crossing the room quickly to gather the trembling body in his arms. "It's all right. I won't leave you." He turned to give Gillis a look that pleaded not to make him out to be a liar.

The doctor nodded, and left the room, pulling the door closed and locked behind him.

~oO0Oo~

Jim continued to hold Blair, who clung to him with desperate strength. "It's all right, Sweetheart. I'm here," Jim soothed. "They're not going to make me go away." He pried the strong fingers from his shirt and pressed Blair back against the bed, lowering the head end until it was only slightly elevated. He leaned over the rail and pressed his lips against the soft ones waiting for him.

He released Blair a few moments later, looking down on the heavy-lidded eyes. "That's it, that's good," Jim crooned, petting the soft hair. "You're exhausted, Babe. Get some sleep. I promise, I'll stay right here by your side."

Blair let his eyes slide closed, reassured by the closeness of his lover and protector.

~*~*~*~

He was bound to the bed, arms spread wide and cuffed to the headboard. The leash was already fastened to the ceiling hook, pulling his penis vertical and straining the ring piercing his glans. Fear blossomed in his gut, making his heart pound and his throat constrict. Despite the fear, anger grew in a tiny corner of his mind, giving him strength. Who was this man? Who had given him the right to take away his freedom and dignity? The one thing Bloomfield could never take from him was the devotion and love of one James Ellison. He stared at the man who was about to rape him and spat out his anger. "No way, Bloomfield! There's no way I'm ever going to be your willing sex toy. I love Jim Ellison. Ellison! Not you! Never you!"

His tormentor trembled with rage. He nodded to Markham, who raised the pulley, lifting Blair's ass off the mattress, his weight supported solely by the ring piercing his penis.

The pain was indefinable. An intense burning sensation traveled with lightning speed from the head of his cock to his groin, continuing up his spine to his brain resulting in a cry that reverberated around the room. He bent his knees, scrabbling to get his feet positioned beneath him, to help support his weight and take the pressure off his tortured genitals. His heart thudded in his chest, threatening to burst. Suddenly, Blair found himself praying that it would. Death was preferable to whatever degradations and torture this man had in store for him.

"That's only the beginning, Baby." Bloomfield scoffed at his captive. He brandished the hunting knife once more. "What did I tell you would happen if you didn't cooperate?" He fingered the vulnerable balls that dangled freely between Blair's legs.

"Oh no. Please. God, no! Nononononono!" Blair's cry echoed around the room once more as the knife sliced through the tender skin of his scrotum. He tried to pull back, away from the blade that threatened to castrate him, but the attempt only added to his agony. Strong hands gripped his ass, while another set held his feet in place.

"Now, now," Bloomfield scolded the defiant man. "You broke the rules, and now you must endure the punishment." The tip of the blade probed again at his balls, cutting cleanly through the exposed flesh. Blair's cries of agony were deafening in the small room. Bloomfield smiled as he lifted a glistening testicle, holding it up for his hostage to see. "One down, Baby. One to go."

~*~*~*~

Jim was startled awake from his doze by the activity on the bed. Moaning his distress, Blair was scrambling over the railing on the far side. Jim reached across to snag the young man, but missed. Blair dropped to the floor and scuttled into a corner, partially shielded by a privacy curtain that hung nearby.

Jim moved quickly to come kneel in front of the huddled figure. Blair sat in the corner with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped tightly around them. His head was bowed, buried in the circle of his arms.

"Blair? Sweetheart?" Jim reached out and lightly placed a hand on Blair's arm. The terrified man shrank back, gibbering in fear. "Blair? It's all right, Chief, it's just me, Jim," he continued softly, trying to break through the wall his lover had erected to protect himself. "Come on, Sweetheart, look at me." He gave the arm a gentle shake. "Look at me." His voice took on a slightly harder edge, shocking Blair into lifting his head. "See? It's just me. You're in the hospital. Nothing's going to hurt you here."

"Jim?" Blair's voice was tremulous and soft.

"Yeah, Babe, it's me," Jim responded, smiling encouragingly. "Can you tell me what just happened?"

Wide blue eyes focused on Jim's as Blair continued to shake. "B-B-Bloomf-f-field..." he stuttered, tears streaming down his cheeks. Jim groaned, opening his arms wide in offering. Blair hesitated for only a moment before throwing himself into the protective embrace. Tears wet Jim's shirt as the terrified young man shuddered in his arms. Finally, after several deep breaths to calm himself, Blair relaxed, hugging Jim tightly.

"It was another nightmare, wasn't it?" Jim asked, feeling Blair's nod against his chest. "You have to talk about this, Hon, otherwise it's not going to get better." He stroked the long locks of hair soothingly as he cradled his lover's head in a large hand. "You're safe here, safe with me. Tell me about your dream."

"I c-can't," Blair cried into Jim's shirt, wrapping his arms tighter until Jim could barely draw a breath.

"Yes, you can," he replied softly. "You need to talk about this. Did this dream have anything to do with..."

Jim's question was cut off when Blair blurted, "He cut out my testicle with a hunting knife!" Hands clenched and released repeatedly in the fabric of Jim's shirt as Blair squirmed to get comfortable in his lap. "H-He c-cut..." One hand released its death grip on Jim to seek out his groin, where the remaining testicle throbbed to the rhythm of his thundering heart.

"Oh, God!" Suddenly, Jim found it difficult to breathe, as though someone had punched him in the gut. He tensed, feeling his own genitals ache in sympathy. He had seen the result, dealt with the consequences, but to hear Blair begin to speak of it was almost more than he could bear. He tightened his hold on his lover, rocking gently to calm the fear. "It's all right, Blair. You're safe here. You can talk about it." He placed a kiss on top of Blair's head and continued rocking.

The soothing motion acted like a balm. His mother had rocked him like this as a child when he was frightened. He was always safe with Naomi. He was always safe with Jim. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Bloomfield had a r-rule," Blair began, swallowing around the lump trying to form in his throat. "I couldn't s-speak unless he gave me p-permis-sion." He began rocking against Jim when the older man stopped to concentrate on his words.

"Oh, God, Babe..." Jim murmured, knowing how much Blair loved to talk, and how his lover would have had choice words for his captor. Give me a chance, one chance, he thought, and I'll rip out the bastard's throat with my bare hands!

"H-He threatened me with the kn-knife w-when-e-ever I spoke out of t-turn," Blair said, continuing to rock in the comfort of Jim's arms.

The older man shifted, uncomfortable on the cold linoleum floor. He settled with his back propped up against the wall and pulled Blair into his lap, circling the shivering body with strong arms. "Did he hurt you?" he asked softly.

"Sometimes, just a l-little," Blair confessed. "He'd knick the skin j-just to see the blood and h-hear me cry."

Jim stroked the sweat-matted hair and rubbed circles on the broad, trembling back. "But that day... That day was different, wasn't it? Can you tell me what happened that day?" He pressed another kiss onto the top of Blair's head and tightened his grip, beginning the soothing rocking motion once more.

Silence reigned in the room for several minutes while Blair struggled to get his breathing under control. Thoughts of that day were making him hyperventilate. He felt light-headed, clinging to consciousness with what strength remained in his exhausted body.

"H-He wanted me to... to l-love him." The words were so soft that Jim had to dial up his hearing to make them out. Even so, the whisper was nearly drowned out by the ragged breathing and the frantic beating of a terrified heart. "I h-hated him!" The volume of that shouted statement rocked Jim, who wasn't expecting the impassioned outburst. "I t-told him I could never love anyone but you!"

"It's all right, Blair... It's okay, you're fine... you're safe," Jim soothed as the younger man sobbed against his chest. "Nobody can hurt you here."

"He wanted to f-fuck me," Blair stammered, lowering his voice to a more moderate volume. "He wanted me to co-cooperate. He had the leash on that d-damn hook..." His voice trailed off as he took a few moments to take several deep, calming breaths.

Jim let his eyes close at the painful memory of finding Blair, his butt suspended over the bed by the cruel ring and leash, his damaged penis supporting most of the weight of his body. His arms tightened around his lover as he took over rocking the distraught man.

Blair found his voice again, and continued haltingly. "W-When I refused him, he hoisted me up by my d-dick a-a-and he, he..." The shaken young man had to stop and control his breathing once more, forcibly slowing himself so that he wouldn't pass out. Jim kept up a soothing pattern of circles rubbed onto his back, as he continued to rock his lover. "H-he touched me; caressed my b-balls..." At that statement, bile began to rise and Blair choked, trying to swallow down the burning liquid in his throat.

Scooting away from the support of the wall, Jim slid his burden from his lap so that he could stand. He helped Blair to his feet, then picked up the smaller man and carried him back over to his bed. Blair's skin was icy and he was trembling from head to toe. Jim covered him and went to get some water so that Blair could wash out his mouth.

"Here you go, Sweetheart. Drink this." Jim supported Blair with an arm around his shoulders as the young man greedily consumed the cool water. "Hey, not too fast," he admonished, pushing the cup away. "We don't want you getting sick."

Blair sighed, lying back against his pillows and closing his eyes. His stomach roiled as the memories flooded back to consciousness, making him physically ill.

Jim sat on the edge of the bed, stroking sweat-matted hair off Blair's forehead and worrying over the clammy feel of his skin. "Feeling better?" he asked softly.

Blair shook his head. "Sick," he answered without opening his eyes.

"I know you don't feel well," he said softly, concerned for Blair. "But you need to tell me what happened next. You need to get this out. Holding it in is what's making you sick."

The soft sound of the door unlocking startled Jim, who had been concentrating on the man in his care. He turned his head to see Dr. Gillis quietly enter the room. He shook his head, indicating with his free hand for the doctor to not approach them.

"Come on, Sweetheart, what happened next?" Jim asked quietly.

"He c-cut m-me, my b-balls..." Blair stuttered to a halt, and then cried out. "God! Oh, God, it hurts! Stop! Stop! No, no, no, nonononono.... Please, please stop! Make it stop!"

Gillis lunged forward, pulling a syringe from a jacket pocket, only to find himself forcibly stopped by a human wall of muscle and flesh. "This will calm him down," the doctor insisted, trying to get past Ellison to be with his patient.

"He needs to get this out," Jim said through gritted teeth, knowing how cruel and harsh he sounded. Turning back to Blair, he pulled the hysterical man to his chest. "Shhh, it's okay, Sweetheart. Bloomfield isn't here, he can't hurt you. You're all right. You're safe. Shhh...." He rocked Blair like a child, stroking his hair, rubbing his back, whispering soothing nonsense as he held on to the shaking body.

Blair pushed away without warning, leaning over the side of the bed and vomiting onto the floor. Jim sidestepped quickly, but not fast enough to avoid some of the back splatter hitting his slacks and shoes. He continued to rub circles on Blair's back until the episode ended, and then helped him to lie back against his pillows.

Dr. Gillis emerged from the small bathroom with a wet washcloth and a cup of water.

"Thanks." Jim took the cloth from the doctor's hand and began to bathe Blair's face. "It's over now, Sweetheart. The hard part's done." Blair stared back at him with bleak eyes and shook his head. "No?" Jim looked into the haunted face, reading in the wide blue eyes that the nightmare wasn't over. "Can you tell me the rest?" When Blair pursed his lips but didn't speak, Jim continued. "You don't have to talk more now if you don't want to. You've done good today, Chief."

"One down, Baby. One to go." The soft words startled Jim. Blair had closed his eyes, the words issuing from his lips sounding like a recitation.

"Blair?" Jim settled back onto the edge of the bed, leaning over his partner and stroking a cheek. "Sweetheart, who said that? Bloomfield?"

The young man nodded. "H-He held it up for me to see," Blair confessed very softly. "Then he... he..." He had to stop for a moment, the bile climbing in his throat threatening him again. He swallowed, taking deep breaths to calm himself. "He p-put it in my mouth and gagged me so that I c-couldn't spit it out," Blair finished.

"Oh, Babe... I'll kill that bastard with my bare hands if I find him first," he vowed.

"No." The single syllable, softly spoken rang louder than a shout. "It's over. I need you, Jim. Don't let him put iron bars between us." Tears glistened in Blair's eyes, but he blinked them back, the maelstrom of emotion finally abated. "Don't give that monster the power. He castrated me, then tattooed me. He kept me naked and vulnerable. He fucked me every day, more than once. But he never got what he wanted. He never got my soul. I gave that to you a long time ago," he confessed.

Dr. Gillis nodded, pocketing the sedative he had been ready to give his patient. With the experience of years, he knew that with the expulsion of this particular demon, Blair had weathered his crisis and could now heal. He left the two men alone, deciding to speak with Ellison later.

"I love you so much," Jim whispered, cupping Blair's face and pressing his lips against his lover's. Blair responded, opening his mouth and allowing Jim in. Even the vile taste of vomit couldn't mask the sweetness Jim experienced every time they kissed. Gathering Blair into his arms, he held the precious gift of Blair's love close to his heart.

~oO0Oo~

Over a week had passed since the painful confession, and Blair had shown steady improvement. The daily dose of the antidepressant drug, Paxil, had finally put an end to the incipient panic attacks and the young man had been able to tell Jim and his doctor more about his period of confinement. The day finally arrived for his last interview session with the doctor. If he passed this test, he would be released to return home.

Dressed in blue jeans and a red Henley shirt, Blair was escorted down to Dr. Gillis's office. The psychiatrist's secretary smiled up at him. "Hi, Blair! Go on in, Dr. Gillis is expecting you."

With only a slight hesitation, Blair turned the knob and opened the door.

"Come in, Blair. Have a seat. I'll just be a minute." Dr. Gillis bent over a file and finished scribbling a few notes before closing it and looking up at his patient. "How are you feeling this afternoon?"

"Good," Blair said with a nervous smile. "Anxious to get out of here and go home."

"I'll bet you are," the doctor agreed. "It's been a tough couple of weeks for you. Do you really feel that you're ready to be on your own?"

"I won't be alone," Blair reminded him. "Jim is going to be there with me."

"Jim was there the day you tried to commit suicide, too," Gillis pointed out. "How can I be sure you won't try it again?"

"You can't be," Blair answered honestly. "You can't look into my heart; you can only believe or disbelieve what I tell you."

"What I want to know is what brought you to think suicide was your only option?" The doctor folded his hands and rested them on his desk as he turned intent eyes upon his patient.

Blair took a deep breath. "You know most of the details of my imprisonment now," he began carefully, trying hard to stand outside his emotions and recite his reasons. "It felt like being condemned to the seventh circle of Hell. There was no hope, no relief." His folded hands hung between his knees and he began to rock back and forth with slow, deliberate movements. "I-I recovered. It took a long time, but Jim was there. Jim saved my life and my sanity. I guess I l-locked the memories away. They hurt too much."

Dr. Gillis nodded. "That's not uncommon in cases of extreme trauma," he acknowledged. "You were doing well until something triggered the memories."

"Yeah." Blair stopped rocking and looked up at the doctor. "Bloomfield escaped from prison."

"Jim told me that upset you," the doctor prompted when Blair fell silent.

"I knew he'd want me; try to find me."

"What made you so certain?"

"Are you kidding?" Blair spread his hands in disbelief. "That man is obsessive and he had a fixation on me. I was the reason he went to prison with no hope of parole."

"You were frightened, and reasonably so," Gillis agreed. "But even that level of fear rarely leads to suicide."

"You don't know Bloomfield." Blair shuddered. "He wants r-revenge. H-He knows everything about me: where I live, where I work, that I hang out at the PD. He sent me re-reminders of, of..." He stopped to get his breathing under control. Already he could feel the terror gripping his gut despite the effects of the Paxil he had taken that morning.

"Just slow down," the doctor directed. "You're safe here, Blair. You know I need to hear this."

Blair nodded and took another deep breath. "He sent the l-leash and left the d-d-il-do at the crime scene..." He stopped to breathe again, finding this harder than he thought it would be. "He called me, and sent notes... He wants me back. He said he'd have me back."

"And...?"

Blair swallowed the lump in his throat. "And I feared what he would do to me more than I feared death," he said in a rush. "He's going to kill me anyway... I can't go through that again!" Terror sparkled in his eyes as he blurted out the confession.

"Blair?" Gillis waited until he had the young man's attention again. "I need your reassurance that despite the fact Bloomfield is still out there, you won't try to commit suicide again."

"I d-don't know if... if I can p-promise that," Blair admitted.

"Are you contemplating it now?" The words were soft, penetrating.

Blair shook his head. "No. No, I know that Jim needs me, that he'll protect me. I want to see Bloomfield get what he deserves, and I can't do that if I'm dead."

"Good enough." Dr. Gillis pulled a prescription pad from his desk drawer and wrote out two scripts, handing them to Blair. "One is for Paxil," he explained. "You'll need to take the anti-depression medication daily for several months, regardless of the outcome of this case. The other is for Valium, to be taken only as needed. Please use them with caution, they're very addictive."

"Thanks," Blair said, taking the slips of paper. "Does this mean you're letting me go?"

The doctor smiled as the door opened and Jim walked in. Blair launched himself into his lover's arms. "You're free to go," Gillis acknowledged. "But I'd like to set up weekly appointments for therapy sessions. How does next Wednesday at nine sound?"

"He'll be here," Jim confirmed, as Blair nodded his agreement. "Let's go, Chief. I'll bet you're anxious to blow this joint."

"You know it!" Blair laughed, suddenly lighthearted with freedom in sight.

"Good luck, Blair," Gillis called after them. "See you next Wednesday!"

~oO0Oo~

"Do you want to stay in or go out?" Jim asked, rooting around the kitchen for something special to make for Blair's homecoming.

"You know," Blair said, coming up behind him and snagging a beer, "in actually sounds better to me. I've been away from home for nearly two weeks, and I feel safer here." He twisted at the cap on the beer bottle and yelped at the sudden sharp pain that lanced through his wrist. The bottle slipped from his fingers to smash on the floor sending shards of glass and cold beer to litter the hardwood. "Damn!"

Jim hurried to Blair's side, grabbing both hands and examining the scars left by the suicide attempt. "Are you all right? What happened?"

Blair tried to shrug off the incident. "Nothing. It was nothing, really, Jim. Certain motions still make my wrists hurt. It was stupid. I'll clean it up."

"That's what you think," Jim said, guiding the young man out of the kitchen and over to the couch. "You're going to sit here and relax. I'll take care of the mess."

"I'm perfectly capable..." Blair protested as Jim pushed him down onto the cushions. "I'm not an invalid."

"I'm not saying that you are," Jim shot back. "But you need to take care of yourself. These things take time." He walked into the kitchen, took a fresh beer from the refrigerator and opened it, returning to hand it to his lover.

"Thanks." Blair took the offering and knocked back a long swallow. "Are you sure I can't help?" he asked, looking up at Jim, who had perched on the arm of the couch.

"I'll take care of it," Jim answered, patting Blair's shoulder reassuringly. "How would you feel about inviting some of the guys over? We can have fried chicken, and then play some poker after."

"Only if you promise to serve something healthy alongside your cholesterol-fest," Blair said with a chuckle.

"Like what? Tofu on a stick?" Jim was enjoying the return of the verbal sparring he and Blair frequently shared over meals.

"More like carrots..."

"I hate carrots," Jim reminded him.

"Or broccoli, cauliflower... at least a leafy green salad," Blair insisted.

"I'll leave that part up to you," Jim decided. "Looks like I'm going to have to make a trip to the store. We don't have enough chicken to feed everyone."

"How many people are you planning on inviting?" Blair wondered.

"Well, I, um..." Jim hesitated. "I already invited them," he finally confessed. "Simon, Joel, H and Rafe all agreed to come over."

"Pretty sure of my answer, weren't you?" Blair asked without rancor. "What would you have done if I'd wanted to go out?"

"We had a contingency plan," Jim said, smiling. "O'Callahan's at eight."

Blair rolled his eyes. He'd been to the smoky bar and grill. While the food was excellent, he couldn't stand to breathe the air for long. "Glad I chose in," he said with a smile.

"Want to stay here, or come with?" Jim asked, grabbing his coat.

"I'll come with you," Blair said without hesitating. Now that he was a free man again, he had also become a target. Staying home alone wasn't an option, given a choice. He put down his beer and grabbed his coat, following his partner out to the truck.

~oO0Oo~

"Mmmm... That was good," Joel said, pushing back from the table and patting his stomach. "What did you say you put on those green beans?" he asked Blair, who was busy stacking dishes for Jim to carry into the kitchen and rinse.

"Lemon grass," he said, looking over his shoulder at the bulky captain.

"Well, it was tasty. A nice compliment to the chicken."

"Thanks." Blair walked into the kitchen and washed his hands, then turned toward the small crowd. "Anybody got room for dessert?"

"Not me." "Huh-uh." "No thanks, not right now." "Maybe after a few hands." The chorus of answers sounded from around the dining table.

"And I've got the deck right here," Jim said, walking over as he tore the cellophane from a new package of cards. "Five card stud?"

"Deal, already," Simon growled, chewing on the cigar he wasn't allowed to smoke in the Ellison-Sandburg home.

The six men gathered around the table and began playing their hands. Like many nights, Blair seemed blessed with good fortune. He was raking in his third pot of the night when Rafe spoke up.

"You seem pretty relaxed tonight, considering Bloomfield's still out there," he commented to Blair.

Jim shot the young detective a venomous look, but not before Blair could answer. "With five experienced detectives here in the house, two of them captains," he said, nodding toward Simon and Joel, "I don't think I have anything to worry about."

"We'll get him, Hairboy. Don't you worry."

"I know you will, H," Blair answered with a smile. "I'll admit, I'm still pretty nervous, but I trust you guys."

"I've assigned a special patrol to the neighborhood," Simon told him, "and placed a man at the entrance to your building. Until Bloomfield is back behind bars where he belongs, we're not taking any chances with your safety."

"I appreciate that, sir," Blair said, nodding solemnly. "But if you think that's going to stop me from cleaning your wallet tonight, you'd better think again."

Simon reached across the table with his losing hand of cards and swatted the backs of Blair's hands as he sorted through the cash piled in front of him.

"Well, I have to fold," Joel said regretfully. "Gotta save some money to pay the bills."

"Aw, come on. Just one more hand?" Blair wheedled, turning his patented puppy dog stare on the bomb squad captain.

"I agree with Joel," Rafe said, folding his hand and laying the cards on the table. "Blair's taken enough of my cash for the night." He smiled at the roguish glance he got from the anthropologist. "Don't I remember hearing something about dessert?"

"Dessert? Oh, yeah!" Henri chimed in. "Whatcha got?"

"How does homemade apple pie sound?" Blair asked, pocketing his night's winnings.

"Warm? With ice cream?" Simon asked hopefully.

"Any way you'd like it," Jim chimed in, gathering the cards and putting them back in the box.

Soon the men were gathered in the living room with their pie and coffee. Blair looked around at the group of quiet detectives. "Okay, what's up?" he asked.

Henri let his eyes stray to the angry red scars that were still prominent on Blair's wrists. "We, uh... we..."

When Henri stuttered, Joel cut in. "We've been worried about you," he admitted. "How are your wrists?"

"They still hurt sometimes," Blair admitted. "Especially if I do twisting motions." He demonstrated and winced at the stab of pain. "Like that," he said with a rueful grin. "And they're still a little weak. I have to be really careful not to carry too much at once."

"I'm surprised Jim lets you do anything at all," Rafe said with a chuckle.

"Tell me about it!" Blair said, rolling his eyes and glancing over at Jim who shrugged and grinned. "It's like pulling teeth to get him to let me help."

"I'm the one who has to clean up your accidents," Jim reminded him, smiling impishly. "He dropped his beer this afternoon--glass all over the kitchen!" he explained to his colleagues with a chuckle.

"Hey, man! I offered to help clean up. It's not my fault you didn't let me," Blair protested.

The conversation was cut short when Henri yawned widely. "Sorry... guess I'm a little tired," he apologized, rubbing a hand over the top of his head. "Been putting in some long hours lately."

Rafe nodded. "We've pretty much set our other investigations aside, until we can capture Bloomfield."

"He's our priority now," Simon added, turning to Blair. "It's not just you, you know."

"I know," Blair said softly, thinking back to the times he had recently accompanied Jim to crime scenes and seen the mutilated bodies of Bloomfield's victims.

"Look," Simon said, putting down his empty plate. "It's getting late, and it's your first day home. I think maybe it's time we get on our way and let you two spend some time together alone." He stood and began helping Jim to gather the plates and cups to put in the kitchen sink. Blair continued to sit on the couch, a haunted look in the brilliant blue of his eyes.

One by one, the rest of the detectives stood and said their good-byes, finally leaving Jim alone with Blair. The remaining detective came to sit on the couch next to his lover. "Are you okay? You don't look so good."

"Just tired," Blair said, turning a sad gaze on his friend. "It's been a long day."

"That it has," Jim agreed. "Are you ready to go to bed?" Blair nodded, and Jim helped him up off the couch.

They made their way up the stairs to the loft bedroom and began to undress. Blair got down to his undershirt and boxers, and hesitated. He turned to look at Jim, who had stripped and was already sporting a boner that needed attention.

"Something wrong?" Jim asked, walking around the bed to approach Blair.

The young man backed off a few steps. "I just don't feel c-comfortable being n-naked with... him still out there on the loose," Blair confessed, his timidity returning now that they were alone again.

"You're not afraid of me, are you?" Jim asked, almost reluctant to hear the answer. His erection throbbed, needing release, and embarrassing its owner who knew the thick cock was probably adding to his lover's distress.

"N-No..." Taking a deep breath, Blair approached his partner, reaching out a tentative hand to stroke the engorged organ. "You'd never hurt me."

"That's because I love you, Sweetheart," Jim said, placing his hands lightly on Blair's shoulders. "You know I'll protect you, take care of you."

"I know," Blair sighed, moving into his lover's arms. "I'm feeling like such a wuss right now."

"No, Babe, never a wuss," Jim whispered, stroking the silken hair. "You've been through hell, and that bastard is still out there. You've got a right to be frightened."

"But I shouldn't be frightened of you," Blair insisted, backing out of Jim's embrace and pulling the T-shirt off over his head.

"You said you're not frightened of me," Jim said, his statement nearly a question. "Are you?"

"N-Not really. Not you," Blair confessed. "I just can't get over the feeling that he's watching me, waiting for the right moment."

"But not tonight," Jim said, pressing Blair back onto the bed. "He'd have to go through me to get to you, and that's just not going to happen." He covered Blair's mouth with a smothering kiss, and was pleased to find the gesture returned. Broad hands stroked through the short buzz-cut of his hair and down his back, pulling him down onto the bed.

Senses open wide, Jim hungrily devoured the feast set before him: a thin lobe of ear, a stubbled cheek, a prominent Adam's apple and hard peaks of nipples. Blair moaned, arching his back as Jim suckled a teat, teasing the sensitive nub with his teeth.

The musk of Blair's arousal sent his lover lower, nuzzling into the depression of his navel before teasing the elastic on the boxers to free the ample cock. Jim glanced up at Blair's face, seeking permission to rid him of the concealing garment. Blair's head was arched back, his eyes closed as he gasped under the onslaught of sudden need. His hands tangled with Jim's in an effort to free himself, and then reached for Jim's head to pull him down to the weeping organ.

Jim resisted, freeing himself so that he could admire the lean body. Scars remained, as thin white lines up the underside of the cock, crisscrossing the glans, and running vertically up the left side of the scrotal sac. He took the time to gently trace the reminders of Blair's captivity and torture, to apologize for not being there when Blair needed him, and to promise never to fail him again. Then he leaned over and took the cock into his mouth, dragging another ragged groan from its owner.

Blair squirmed on the sheets, all thoughts of Bloomfield banished under the avalanche of pleasurable sensations being inflicted on his person. His guttural cries echoed throughout the loft as he thrust into the waiting throat.

Jim finally forced Blair's hips back to the mattress, holding him with a light grip as he slid his tongue around the leaking crown of the cock beneath him. Taking just the head into his mouth, he teased the slit, sucking the juices, savoring the bittersweet tang of his lover. Blair groaned and tried to thrust against the hands holding him still. Jim exerted a bit more strength, taking control of their lovemaking as he lapped his tongue up the length of the shaft before swallowing the entire length again.

Releasing his hold on Blair's left hip, he let his hand cup the heavy sac, rolling the balls between sensitive fingers. His lover had remained reticent about the testicular implant, still uncomfortable when Jim chose to fondle him. But this night, Blair was too far gone to care. Jim could tell the difference between the implant and the real thing, but it had never made a difference in the way he felt about his lover. Everything about Blair was perfect, even the imperfections that made him unique. He felt the sac tighten, pulling up close to Blair's body as his orgasm climbed toward its peak.

Taking the top few inches of the cock into his mouth, Jim wrapped his fingers around the base and wrung Blair's climax from him. He swallowed quickly, the amount of semen Blair produced being reduced by the lack of one testicle and the damage to the other. He suckled the softening organ as Blair collapsed in a sated heap beneath him.

Jim crawled up the relaxed body, leaving a trail of kisses until he reached the parted lips that were still gasping lightly for breath after the release. Blair opened to him, his tongue seeking Jim's in an age-old dance. Arms snaked up to wrap around Jim's neck and hold him in place. Finally, Jim's own moan broke through Blair's afterglow fog.

Reaching between their bodies, Blair stroked the hard shaft that dug into his abdomen, wringing another moan from his lover.

Jim rolled off, carrying Blair with him, and then sat up with effort. Blair sprawled across his lap, legs to either side of Jim's hips. Slowly, he drew his legs beneath him and raised up on his knees, towering a head above the taller man as he slowly lowered himself onto the aching shaft in what had become their favorite position for sex. Bloomfield had used his body in many ways, many positions, but never with Blair in his lap, in control of the sexual experience. Once Jim had discovered that, he was more than willing to allow his lover that control.

Blair's ass finally settled against Jim's lap, drawing a shuddering sigh of relief from the older man. He wrapped his arms around Blair, pulling him close and pressing a kiss against the full lips. "I love you so much, Sweetheart," he murmured when they finally parted. The smile that lit Blair's face told Jim that those were the very words his lover had needed to hear.

Rising up slowly, Blair paused with only the head of Jim's cock still inside, then slammed himself down on the rod of flesh, dragging a groan from his partner. He rose again, more quickly this time, and slammed down a second time. Soon a rhythm was set up that was wringing moans of pleasure from the older man.

Jim's hands roamed Blair's back, as the anthropologist pistoned on his cock. He leaned forward to try and capture a budding nipple as it passed his lips. Blair was laughing, a joyful sound, mixed with the heavy breathing of exertion. He paused at the apex of a stroke when he felt Jim stiffen beneath him, then plunged down as his lover's orgasm washed through him, filling Blair with the hot come.

Exhausted, Blair collapsed against Jim's chest. Jim lowered them both back to the pillows, wrapping his arms around his lover, content to let Blair sprawl across him like a living blanket, his spent cock still buried within the velvet-soft warmth.

Eventually, Jim's softening cock slipped free and he felt the first gentle shiver from his lover's cooling body. He gently rolled Blair off his chest and onto their sides, pulling the blanket up to warm the young man.

"Love you, Jim," came the sleepy response as Blair snuggled against Jim's chest, tucking his head beneath the taller man's chin.

"Love you, too, Sweetheart," Jim responded, placing a kiss on top of the sweaty head of curls.

~oO0Oo~

"Blair's been out of the hospital a week now," Jim said, looking out Simon's office window to where the anthropologist sat at his desk accessing the university's servers through the department's computers.

"How's he doing?" the captain asked, following his detective's gaze.

"Good," Jim replied. "He's taking the anti-depression medication the doctor gave him. It seems to be helping with the anxiety attacks. He hasn't been contacted by Bloomfield since just before the suicide attempt."

Simon shook his head. "I don't like that," he said, chewing on his ever-present cigar. "That bastard was bombarding the kid with messages of one kind or another, and now he's stopped. Why?"

"I don't know, sir," Jim answered honestly. "I'd like to think that he's moved on or given up, but from what the kid has told me, I can't honestly believe that. Bloomfield is obsessed with Blair, and he isn't going to stop until he gets what he wants, or we get to him first."

"Then let's see to it that we get to him first," Simon growled.

"Have there been any new leads?" Jim had been on sick leave for the past week, staying home to be with Blair during the at-home stage of his recovery.

"I'm afraid not," Simon sighed. "I would have contacted you if we'd heard anything. It's like the man just dropped off the face of the earth."

"Men like that don't just disappear," Jim stated flatly. "I'll lay you odds that he's up to something."

"I agree. And the sooner we find out what, the better off we'll be." Simon put down his cigar and noted the nervous tick of Jim's jaw. "I'll add extra security to the building. By the time you get home tonight, there will be a uniform guarding the door to your apartment, as well as the building."

"Thank you, sir," Jim said formally, giving his captain a quick nod.

"Dismissed," Simon said softly, the command unnecessary as his detective was already halfway through the door on his way back to his partner.

~oO0Oo~

"What's the matter, Jim?" Blair sipped at his bottled water before snuggling back into the welcoming embrace. He barely spared a glance at the TV that was airing the halftime report of the Jag's basketball game against the Portland Rapids. "Something's been bugging you all day."

Jim shook himself out of his fugue. "It's nothing," he assured his partner.

"Uh-uh. Don't give me that," Blair clucked, wagging a finger in Jim's face. "Something's on your mind, and you don't want to talk about it. Is it Bloomfield? Jim?" The color drained from Blair's face when his lover refused to answer. "Come on, man, talk to me."

Offering a reassuring smile, Jim finally turned and looked at Blair. "It's nothing," he said. "Just wondering what the bastard's up to now."

"I haven't gotten a thing in nearly three weeks," Blair said. Then a thought occurred to him. "Unless he sent something to me while I was in the hospital, and you didn't tell me."

"No. No, it was nothing like that," Jim hurried to answer. "Actually, it's his lack of contact that has me a little concerned."

"He's still out there," Blair insisted. "He's not going to stop trying to get me until he succeeds."

"Or until we stop him," Jim added. The phone rang, and he reached over to pick up the receiver. "Ellison."

"Jim, it's Simon," the police captain barked. "There's been another murder over on the east side.

"Bloomfield?" Jim asked, straightening and pressing the phone tighter against his ear.

"Looks like his MO," Simon confirmed. "The scene is fresh, less than an hour old. We've got a good chance of catching him if we act fast. He could still be in the area."

"I want to nail the bastard!" Jim hissed. He glanced back at his partner before continuing. "But I'm not comfortable leaving Blair alone."

"What's going on?" Blair interrupted. Jim waved him off as he listened to his captain.

"You've got a guard at your door," Banks reminded his detective. "You'll want to be there. This is your chance to put this guy away for good."

"You're right; I don't like it, but you're right," Jim sighed, fending off more requests for information from his lover. "What's the address? I'll be right over."

"1015 SE Glisan Avenue."

Jim hung up the phone and stood abruptly.

"What's going on?" Blair repeated, rising to stand next to his partner. "Something about Bloomfield? You were talking to Simon about Bloomfield," he accused. With Jim's repeated brush-offs, his agitation was growing. "I have a right to know what's going on."

"There's been a homicide east side," Jim answered, his voice clipped. "It looks like Bloomfield's work. The scene is fresh. We've got a good chance of catching him this time."

"Can't someone else make the arrest?" Blair grabbed Jim's arms and held on tight. "Why do you have to go?"

"It's going to be okay, Sweetheart," Jim said softly, trying to calm the agitated man. "We've got an important lead here, and I need to check it out. With a scene this fresh, my sentinel senses could be key. You'll be fine; don't worry. There's a guard right outside the door."

"Let me go with you," Blair insisted. "If you're using your senses, you'll need me there."

"Not this time," Jim said gently.

"Please, Jim." Blair was reduced to begging. "I'll do whatever you tell me. I'll stay in the truck this time."

"I don't think that would be such a good idea," Jim said, shaking his head. "We could be onto something here, and I wouldn't want to put you in any danger by having you nearby when we capture Bloomfield."

"You really think this is it?" Blair's voice was hopeful.

"Anything's possible," Jim answered. "Why don't you let me put you to bed? I'll wake you when I get home."

Blair sighed. "You're really not leaving me alone?" he asked for confirmation, his voice small and almost childlike in its trepidation.

"There's a guard at the building entrance and one just the other side of that door," Jim assured him, pointing toward the entry. "And there's a patrol car circling the block, like Simon said. You're as safe as you can be. You know I wouldn't leave you if I didn't believe everything was going to be okay."

"Then I guess I'll go upstairs," Blair reluctantly agreed. "I am pretty tired."

They climbed the stairs together and Blair sat on the edge of the bed while Jim methodically undressed him, leaving his tank T-shirt and boxers to serve as pajamas. Lifting the blankets, Jim gently urged Blair to climb in. Once his lover was settled, Jim leaned down to press a chaste kiss on his forehead. "Don't worry, Half-pint. I'll be home before you know it."

"With good news," Blair added hopefully.

Jim nodded. "With good news," he confirmed as he turned to leave. As he pulled the door closed behind him, he turned to the uniformed officer at their door. "Keep alert," he warned the man before heading down the hallway to the elevator.

~oO0Oo~

An hour passed and Blair tossed in the bed, unable to get comfortable, unable to calm his racing mind enough to get to sleep. He opened his eyes to check the clock and spotted the prescription bottle of Valium sitting on the nightstand along with a sealed bottle of water. Making a decision, Blair reached for the bottle, shaking one of the pills into his hand. He didn't like taking the anti-anxiety drug, but with Jim out of the apartment, he couldn't think of a better solution. Taking a deep breath, he popped the pill and opened the bottle of water to wash it down.

Lying back against the pillows, he waited for the medication to take effect. Within minutes he was beginning to feel drowsy, and closed his eyes to sleep.

~oO0Oo~

Gordon Bloomfield watched as Jim Ellison walked out of the building and crossed the parking lot to his truck. He lifted his cell phone and made a call, and then waited. Ellison and the PD were on a wild goose hunt east of here, well occupied and out of range. He knew the false lead would take at least several hours to follow before the police figured out they were chasing phantoms.

His men arrived and set to the task of eliminating the patrol and the guards in and around the building. Bloomfield smiled. He knew it wouldn't be long now. He had waited patiently for nearly a year, plotting and planning this very night. Tonight, the exotic dancer who had so teased his libido and then betrayed him, would experience the full wrath of his revenge. But before he killed the delicious morsel, he intended to have one more taste. He rubbed at his aching erection, assuring the throbbing organ that it wouldn't be much longer before it was satisfied.

He finally received the all-clear signal and entered the building for himself. Taking the elevator up to the third floor, he walked down the hall to the apartment door and quietly entered. His eyes swept the dimly lit room. Snuffling moans came from the loft bedroom as Blair tossed in the grips of another nightmare, despite the sedative he'd taken. A smile spread across Bloomfield's plump features as he made his way across the floor and quietly up the stairs.

A hand clamped over his mouth brought Blair immediately awake, all effects of the Valium mitigated by the rush of adrenaline through his system. His eyes flew open and, to his horror, his nightmare bent over him, a leering smile stretched across his face. He tried to cry out, but the hand pressed harder against his mouth. He flung out his arms, kicked with his legs, to no avail. A sharp prick in his thigh made his blood run cold. God, oh God, no! This can't be happening again. This can't be real. Please, God, let this be a nightmare! his mind screamed as his limbs grew heavy and the fight drained from his body.

Bloomfield chuckled. "Nice try, Pretty Baby, but not good enough. The drug I gave you will prevent you from fighting me, but it won't get in the way of you experiencing what I have in store for you," he threatened.

Blair tried to move, tried to fight back as Bloomfield tied the silk gag in place. His heart thundered in his chest, threatening to burst through his ribs. No! No! God, please, no! He tried with all his strength to move his heavy arms and legs as Bloomfield stripped him and cuffed his hands to the rails above his head.

Fat hands slid down his sides, caressing his skin. Fingers brushed lightly over tender nipples, pinching and rolling them as Bloomfield climbed onto the bed, straddling him. The stench of the man was all too familiar, the smell of Bloomfield's arousal nauseating to his helpless captive.

"I've been waiting for this moment," Bloomfield whispered. "Waiting to get you alone, to have the chance to fuck that tight little ass of yours again." He reached down to stroke Blair's cock. The young man's thundering heart pumped blood to the traitorous organ, filling it against his will. Bloomfield chuckled. "There's a fine line between fear and arousal," he told his prisoner as he stroked the sensitized cock, feeling it jump beneath his touch. "Good, good," he crooned. "I see you haven't forgotten me."

Blair felt the bile rise at the man's sugary words. Bloomfield didn't love him the way Jim did. This monster wanted only to possess and use his body, and he was helpless to fight it off. Jim, please... Come back... Rescue me... Don't let me go through this again! He coughed and spit through the gag, unable to turn his head as the vomit rose in his throat. His struggles seemed only to amuse his tormentor, who kept stroking his cock until the ache of arousal crossed the line into pain.

"You are so beautiful," Bloomfield sighed. "I see I left you some souvenirs." He stroked the underside of Blair's cock, caressing the long line of scar tissue down the shaft and on the back of the glans. "Too bad... for you, I mean," he sneered. He dug in a pocket and pulled out a leather cockring that he fit around the base of Blair's penis and testicles, constricting the organs to prevent premature release.

Blair's stomach finally revolted at the intimate touch the cockring had required. Vomit soaked the silk gag, oozing from the corners of his mouth, down his chin as he choked. Bloomfield swore and ripped the gag from Blair's mouth, turning his head to the side so that the vomit could drain. "Damn you, you little prick! I won't have you choking to death before I'm finished." He pulled an object from his belt, laying it on Blair's abdomen. "Remember this?"

The cold steel of the hunting knife almost burned his flesh. Strangled sounds of affirmation erupted from his abused throat as Blair looked at the instrument of his previous torture. This was the very blade that had cut the testicle from his body as he hung suspended by the cock leash on Bloomfield's bed. The tip now rested between his nipples, the leather-wrapped handle over his navel. His body trembled with tension, but he was unable to move enough to dislodge the blade from where it rested. The glinting metal tore through his memories much as it had torn through his flesh all those long months ago. Blair could feel himself graying out, the world becoming less distinct until his whole consciousness was filled with the sound of the blood rushing through his ears.

The acrid scent of smelling salts pulled the reluctant man back from the brink of unconsciousness. Bloomfield waved the small vial beneath Blair's nose until he snorted, his eyes flying open once more.

"There, there, Baby Doll... can't have you passing out before the fun begins," the fat man intoned. "See? I have a gift for you." He opened a small box and took out a piece of jewelry that looked like an oversized hoop earring. The heavy gold ornament glittered like an eternity ring with channel set diamonds. "I had this little bauble especially commissioned just for you. It cost me fifty grand, more than you could peddle your flesh for in a year."

The oily tone of Bloomfield's voice made Blair's stomach stir once more. He stared at the object with fear and loathing, his drugged body trembling with tension. He tried to shake his head, tried to deny what he knew was coming next. Terror made his blood run cold, and if not for the cockring, his arousal would have withered. He felt the fire as hot urine drained from his body, running down his leg to wet the sheets.

"Tsk, tsk." Bloomfield clucked his tongue. "I thought you'd have a little more appreciation for my generosity." He stroked his fingers over the head of Blair's penis, feeling out the placement of the scar tissue. "But I suppose it doesn't matter. You'll wear this, whether you like it or not."

Blair tried to scream, tried to cry out for help, but his throat was swollen shut. Tears flowed down his cheeks. I should've died. Jim, why didn't you let me die? I can't go through this again... Dear God, please help me!

"Oh now, Baby," Bloomfield said, shaking his head. "Save your tears. I haven't given you anything to cry about yet." He held the expensive ring in Blair's field of view, opening the clasp on the thick wire. "See? This one is even self-piercing; saves time and spares you a little pain," he explained, continuing to finger Blair's cock with his free hand. "All right, now is the time for those tears, boy." He positioned the sharp point of the cock-head ring against the thickest portion of the fleshy glans and pushed it through, locking it closed when the point exited on the far side. Droplets of blood dripped to the sheets, mingling with the urine that already stained the fabric.

Despite the drug's near paralyzing effects, Blair's ass lifted minutely from the mattress as the pain of the piercing coursed through his body. A strangled cry issued from his throat, but the volume was muted as he vomited again.

Bloomfield fingered the new piece of body art and smiled. "Beautiful, just like you are, Sweet Baby," he crooned. He picked up the knife that had rested on Blair's chest and circled the point of the blade around the base of Blair's penis and balls. "I've got plans for you after I've had my fuck," he teased. "You see, when I'm finished with you, you won't have need of these anymore. I thought I'd have them preserved--make a nice desk ornament, don't you think?" He stroked the erect penis from base to head, tugging on the diamond-encrusted ring just to hear Blair's strangled attempt to cry out.

"Now it's time I get a little ass." Bloomfield unzipped the fly of his pants and pulled out his oversized organ, which wept with the intensity of his arousal. He knelt between Blair's legs, lifting first one knee, then the other, up to rest on his shoulders.

Blair trembled with the effort to free his arms, to move his legs, to prevent the violation of his body. Ever since Jim had rescued him, first from a life of prostitution and then from Bloomfield's clutches, Blair had willingly given his body only to the detective. Jim loved him, cherished him, and kept him safe, earning his trust and love. His fear slowly turned to anger at the man who would destroy what was good and noble in him, who would take what belonged to another man. He felt the head of the huge penis tease his opening, felt the molten fire of pain as the organ pushed inside, breaching the tight ring of muscle.

A familiar voice rang out in the quietness of the loft. He felt the cold steel of the knife at the base of his cock, and then heard a shot before a heavy weight fell, pressing Blair into the mattress. The weight was rolled off, the cock violating him slipped free. He felt, rather than saw, the cuffs being unlocked and his arms lowered to his side. He was gathered up and held against a firm, warm body. Just before he lost consciousness, he knew that he was safe.

~oO0Oo~

Every fiber of his being said that something was wrong, his Guide and lover was in some sort of danger. Ellison turned the wheel of his truck, making a U-turn in the middle of the block, causing horns to blare and cars to come to screeching halts. Turning on his lights and siren, Jim headed back to the loft.

The guard outside the building was different from the one when he'd left to pursue the lead on Bloomfield. He knew he hadn't been gone long enough for a shift change, and the man was unfamiliar to him.

"I'm sorry, sir, you can't go in," the guard said as Jim approached.

Ellison took out his shield, showing his ID. "Jim Ellison, Cascade PD. I live here," he told the uniformed man.

"My orders are, nobody goes in," the guard insisted.

"Like hell!" Jim elbowed his way past. Bloomfield's man grabbed his shoulder and spun Jim around. It was a bad move on the man's part. Ranger training kicked in, and Ellison soon had the man unconscious on the ground. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed CPD dispatch as he ran up the steps to the third floor apartment. "This is Ellison. Get me backup at 852 Prospect, Number 307. Possible break-in and assault in progress." He stuffed the phone back in his pocket as he ran down the hall. He noted with alarm that the expected guard at the apartment's door was missing, and the door stood slightly ajar.

With his senses on full alert, Jim pushed the door open and stepped inside, quickly scanning the loft. His attention was drawn across the room by the sounds coming from upstairs. Sharp eyes spotted the hands cuffed to the railing at the head of the bed. Taking the stairs three at a time, he had his gun drawn by the time he reached the landing.

Jim's mind processed the tableau before him with lightning speed. Blair lay naked on the bed, his hands cuffed over his head, his knees hooked over Bloomfield's massive shoulders. Something bright glittered from the tip of Blair's erect cock, which bobbed in the air as his captor thrust into him. Blair's mouth was open, but no sound came from the ravaged throat.

"Cascade PD!" Jim's voice rang in the quiet loft. Two hands gripped his pistol, which was pointed at the intruder.

Bloomfield turned sharply at the interruption, picking up the knife and pressing the blade against the base of Blair's penis, drawing blood. Ellison didn't give the man a chance to speak or act further. A shot rang out, dropping Bloomfield in mid-threat.

Jim rushed to the bed, pushing the heavy weight off his lover. "It's all right Blair. I'm here, you're safe." Jim spoke softly as he quickly unfastened the handcuffs and lowered Blair's arms before gathering his lover close against his body. He stroked a hand through the sweat-dampened hair, pressing a kiss against Blair's temple.

Blair moaned and his head fell back, his eyes rolling up in his head as his body went limp. Jim laid him on the bed, letting his senses sweep the unresponsive body, monitoring his vitals until backup arrived and the paramedics loaded Blair into the ambulance. Reluctantly, he let his lover go, watching until the ambulance was out of sight and sound.

~oO0Oo~

"He had a knife, Simon," Jim was explaining, as they waited in the lobby of the emergency room of the hospital. "He was going to use it to... to... Oh, God, Simon," he moaned. "It's a good thing I got back home when I did."

"It's over now," Simon said, thumping Jim on the back. "IA will want to investigate, of course, but I don't see any potential problems. Bloomfield was armed and prepared to murder Blair."

"Dismember...." The word was whispered so softly the captain almost didn't hear.

"What...?"

"He was going to dismember Blair, sir. He was threatening him with a knife," Jim said, only a bit louder this time.

Simon frowned and shook his head. "That sick son-of-a-bitch!"

"I can't say I'm sorry he's dead," Jim stated, turning a steely blue glare on his captain. "Don't ask me to apologize."

"I won't, and IA won't," Banks assured him. "I'm sure their finding will be justifiable homicide."

Jim dropped his head into his hands in defeat. "God, Simon," he whispered. "That bastard put another ring in Blair's cock. How could any man do that to another man?" He looked up, his eyes bleak. "I don't know if Blair will be able to recover from this. The fear of this happening is what drove him to attempt suicide in the first place."

"You think he'll try again?" Simon asked, concern for the young man in his voice. "Bloomfield's dead, the threat is gone."

"There's more to it than just the physical pain and suffering," Jim tried to explain. "The humiliation and degradation Blair endured because of these intimate violations are harder to get over than the physical mutilations."

"You should insist he talk with a shrink," Simon suggested. "Don't take no for an answer."

"Easier said than done," Jim said with a slight grin. "He may be only twenty-three, but he's got a stubborn streak a mile long."

"Takes after a certain detective I know," Simon quipped, returning the grin.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Dr. Gillis.

"Dr. Gillis!" Jim exclaimed, surprised to see the psychiatrist in the ER. "What are you doing here? Did Dr. Masterson call for you?"

"I'm going to be Blair's attending physician," the doctor answered calmly.

"Is something the matter? How is he? Is he going to be all right?" The implications of having the psychiatrist as attending physician hit Jim like a load of bricks. He was stunned.

"May I speak with you privately?" Gillis asked, eyeing Captain Banks.

Jim looked at his friend. Simon nodded and shooed him away. "Go on. Find out what's happening. I'll be waiting here."

Jim followed the doctor out of the waiting room and down the corridor to stand outside Room 154. Gillis indicated the room and began speaking. "Blair is suffering from a form of psychotic break," he explained. "He has withdrawn into his own mind and is only marginally responsive."

"What do you mean, exactly?" Jim asked, his voice tense. "Is this like a coma?"

"Not exactly," Gillis answered. "Blair responds to simple commands, but won't speak or acknowledge the presence of any of the staff. When anyone touches him, he becomes highly agitated. Because of that, we've been unsuccessful at removing the ring from his penis."

Jim frowned at the doctor. "Can't you sedate him?"

"It would be inadvisable to try a general anesthesia for such a minor procedure," Gillis explained. "Because of Blair's limited response, it would be difficult to gauge the amount of sedative to use. What I was hoping, was that you might try talking to him, keeping him calm, while we administer a local anesthetic and remove the ring. I believe Blair would respond better to you than he has to our staff."

"I'm willing to try," Jim agreed. "When?"

"Right now," Gillis said, holding the door open.

Jim walked in, his eyes riveted to the figure in the bed. Blair lay unmoving, as though asleep, except that his eyes were wide and staring, unfocused. He gave no indication that he was aware that anyone had entered the room. A nurse and an orderly stood nearby, prepared to assist the doctor.

Slowly, Jim approached the bed, speaking softly. "Blair? Hey, Babe, it's me, Jim." He reached out, taking Blair's hand. There was no reaction from the young man, who remained staring straight ahead. Jim rubbed at the cold flesh, trying to warm the hand and bring some circulation back to the fingers. One hand strayed to the mussed hair, pushing some errant strands off Blair's forehead. "Dr. Gillis tells me that you haven't been cooperating very well. He just wants to help, Sweetheart." Jim found it a bit unsettling that his lover didn't respond at all to his voice.

"That's good," Gillis said, approvingly. "Keep it up, while we see what we can do about removing the ring. He's letting you touch him. That's more than he's allowed any of us to do."

Jim nodded and kept talking softly. "Blair, Dr. Gillis is going to remove the ring now. You don't have to be scared. He's not going to hurt you. I'm here, and I'll protect you; I promise."

The nurse leaned forward to pull up the thin gown that Blair wore, exposing his genitals, while the doctor prepared a syringe of local anesthetic. Gillis leaned in to administer the shot, but as soon as his fingers brushed against Blair's penis, the young man exploded into action and noise.

Inarticulate screams echoed in the room as Blair thrashed about on the bed, kicking and flailing to keep the demons away. Both the nurse and the orderly tried to restrain him, which only made Blair fight all the harder. Finally, Jim threw himself onto the bed, blanketing the wildly gesticulating man. "Blair! Shhh... It's all right, Babe. You're safe; I'm here. Nobody's going to hurt you. Shhh... shhh..." Slowly, the young man settled down, returning to a silent, vacant stare.

"What the hell was that?" Jim asked softly of the doctor, once Blair had quieted.

"That is what happens every time someone other than you tries to touch him in any way," Gillis explained. "I was hoping that your presence might make a difference. At this rate, I'm not sure how or when we'll be able to remove the ring."

Jim glanced down to where Blair was still uncovered. The heavy diamond-encrusted gold weighted the penis that rested between his spread legs. Jim shuddered at the sight, certain that Blair wouldn't wish to wear the disgusting symbol of his captivity any longer than was absolutely necessary.

"Why don't you let me try?" he suggested. "I was a Medic in the Army. I know how to use a syringe. Just tell me what I need to do."

Gillis shook his head. "I don't know. I'm not sure that's such a good idea," he hedged.

"Look," Jim said, anger tingeing his voice. "That thing is a constant reminder to Blair of his captivity and rapes. He wants it gone; I know it! I can help."

"It really isn't hurting him, physically, to leave it be for now," Gillis argued. "I don't want to risk another incident."

"Blair will let me help," Jim said, convinced of the truth of his words. "He needs to be free of this thing. Please."

Gillis sighed, nodding his agreement. "If he allows it, you need to insert the needle about a quarter inch into the glans, near the ring, and inject the anesthetic. After a few minutes, the head and most of the shaft of the penis should be numb," the doctor instructed. "The ring has a snap-lock mechanism on the right. Unfasten that, and you should be able to pull it out without incident. Then you will need to apply the antibiotic, and that should be that."

"I can do that," Jim said, nodding. "But I'm going to need privacy."

"I'm sorry, Detective Ellison, but I'm afraid we can't do that," Gillis said, shaking his head. "It's against hospital policy."

"Having me do the procedure at all must be against hospital policy," Jim argued. "Blair isn't going to allow this to happen if he thinks there's anyone else around who might touch him."

"This is highly irregular," Gillis continued to exclaim. He looked at the silent young man, who such a short while ago was a whirlwind of sound and activity. "But I'm willing to try anything at this point. However," he added. "I'm going to be waiting outside the room, in case you find you need assistance."

"Just wait on the other side of the hall," Jim insisted. "Give us our privacy."

Gillis nodded, motioning for the nurse and orderly to follow him out into the hall.

Once they were alone, Jim turned back to his lover. "Oh, God, Blair... what happened here? Why did you go away? Sweetheart, Bloomfield is dead. He can't hurt you anymore; don't you understand?" Blair continued to stare, unresponsive. "I want to help you here, but you're going to have to let me," he explained. "Will you let me, Babe?" He reached out to finger the penis, to cradle it in his hand. A shudder ran through Blair's body, and a keening note sounded from his throat, but he continued to lie still.

Jim withdrew his hand, considering the possibilities. Finally, he decided on a course. He undressed down to his T-shirt and boxers and climbed onto the bed, straddling Blair's legs. He laid the syringe within easy reach, then bent down to press a gentle kiss on the slightly parted lips of his lover. He got no response, but continued his ministrations. He trailed kisses down Blair's throat, one hand reaching behind to untie the strings holding on the gown.

Once the gown was discarded, Jim continued his journey, letting his tongue trace circles around the brown nubs of Blair's nipples, teasing the erect flesh with his teeth. He sat back and let his hands roam the strong body, this thumbs continuing to rub and tease the nipples before continuing down to massage the abdominal muscles.

Jim leaned down once more, letting his tongue dip into the depression of Blair's navel, then come out to swirl around and trace a path down to his groin. He glanced up and met the empty blue eyes of his lover who allowed the touch, but did not respond. Finally, he cradled the penis once more, the heavy, cold metal of the gold ring nearly burning his palm.

Blair continued to lie perfectly still. Lifting the syringe, Jim caught and held the vacant gaze, with only a glance down to position the needle. He injected the anesthetic without so much as a wince of discomfort from the young man. He massaged the lax organ with his thumb, mentally counting off the minutes.

Five interminable ticks of the hand on the clock and Jim bent to the unsavory task of removing the ring. Deft fingers loosened the latch, and with great gentleness he pulled the piercing wire from the head of Blair's penis. When it finally came free, a few droplets of blood spilled on the white sheets.

Jim's first reaction was to fling the offending object across the room, but instead, he pulled open the nightstand drawer and dropped it in, where it couldn't be seen. He then swabbed the bloody wounds and leaned down to finish the job with a kiss.

Reluctantly, he climbed off the bed and dressed. He took the discarded hospital gown and put it back on Blair, covering him, before pulling the blankets up to tuck him in.

"There you go, Sweetheart," he crooned. "All done. You're going to be all right now. Won't you talk to me, please?" He watched with growing despair as Blair continued to silently stare straight ahead, not acknowledging Jim's presence.

"Come," he responded automatically to a knock on the door.

Dr. Gillis entered, taking in the scene. Blair lay on the bed, covered by blankets, still staring at the wall. Jim sat beside him, his hand cradling one of Blair's while he intently studied the young man for any sign of recognition.

"Don't expect too much, too soon," Dr. Gillis said, walking over to stand beside the bed. "What he feared more than death finally came to pass, and it was more than he could handle, so he withdrew."

"But it's over now," Jim said plaintively, looking up at the psychiatrist. "Bloomfield can't hurt him anymore."

"His mind can't comprehend that yet," Gillis explained. "He hears you, and he'll respond to a few simple commands, but he's not processing higher level concepts yet. He doesn't really understand what you're saying to him."

"But he knows it's me," Jim said, looking back at Blair, willing him to return the gaze.

"On a deep, emotional level, he recognizes you," Gillis confirmed. "He correlates you with protection and safety, which is why he allows your touch. But he's not really conscious of your presence."

"Is there anything I can do? Anything I can say that will help him to come back to me?" Jim was desperate. This waking coma, this fear-induced psychosis, was only marginally better than death. So long as Blair remained awake and unresponsive, Jim wasn't going to be able to let go, move on. Not that he wanted to. He desperately wanted Blair back in his life--the vibrant, irreverent, enthusiastic Blair that had so smitten him the very first time he had ever laid eyes on him in the Cock-Tail lounge over a year ago.

"I'm afraid not," Gillis said, dashing Jim's hopes. "All we can do at this time is transfer him to a long-term care ward and hope that he eventually recovers."

"No!" Jim exploded. "You can't just shove him aside in some institution! I won't allow it!"

"Detective Ellison--Jim--calm down," Gillis said, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on the man's arm. "The facility I have in mind has excellent care. You won't be disappointed. Besides," he continued, "the insurance won't allow for the care of the chronically mentally ill in a regular hospital like this. He has to be moved to where his needs can be met."

"I'll take him home," Jim decided. "He'll do better where he feels safe, comfortable."

"May I remind you that the attack that left him in this state happened in your home?" The doctor's tone was harsh. "You have no idea the amount of care a comatose patient requires."

"He's not comatose!" Jim barked. "You said so yourself."

"True," Gillis argued, "but the amount and manner of his care will be very similar. You wouldn't be able to cope on your own."

"I'll quit my job," Jim said. "Whatever it takes. I don't want Blair in an institution!"

"Jim, be reasonable. Think this through," Gillis said with sympathy. "Blair is going to need twenty-four hour care--around the clock care. You can't do that and stay sane yourself. Hathaway House has a full nursing staff on duty at all hours. You can visit as long as you like--spend the night occasionally, if you think it will help."

"There's no other way?" Jim asked, defeated. He reached out to brush a hand over Blair's hair, allowing his palm to cup a cool cheek.

Gillis shook his head. "I'm terribly sorry," he said. "I know you two are partners. I can't imagine how difficult it must be for you to contemplate the possibility that Blair may never recover."

"No," Jim said, shaking his head. "He'll recover. He has to." He allowed his thumb to stroke the sallow cheek, brushing lightly across an eyelid.

"I think you're going to have to prepare yourself for the possibility that might not happen," the doctor said gently. "Blair is going to need the constant support and love that only you can give him. The nurses will tend to his physical needs, but if he's ever to come back, it's you who will be the instrument of that recovery."

"When will you transfer him?" Jim felt defeated. He wanted Blair home, but he wasn't sure that even he could sleep in that bed again.

"We'll keep him here another couple days, as long as the insurance will allow," Dr. Gillis said. "That way we can make certain there are no physical injuries. I'll get you the paperwork for the transfer, and we can have him at Hathaway House by Friday."

"All right, fine," Jim agreed, sighing. He ran a hand over his short-cropped hair before letting it fall back into his lap.

"Good," Dr. Gillis said, nodding. "I'll leave you alone for now. Talk to him, try to break through that barrier he's set up. Blair is in there, somewhere, lost in a labyrinthine maze of his own making."

Jim waited for the door to close behind the doctor. He drew in a shuddering breath, resting his forehead against his lover's bare arm. Blair, why? Why are you hiding from me? his mind screamed. I love you, Sweetheart. I need you back with me. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Lifting his head, he turned and called out. "Come in."

"Hey, Jim," Simon greeted softly, stepping just inside the door. "Dr. Gillis said it would be all right if I came for a short visit. How is he?" He looked over at the bed, taken aback by the vacant stare of its occupant.

"Physically, he's fine," Jim reported. "I got that damned ring off him. It's in the nightstand," he said with a tilt of his head. Simon walked over and pulled open the drawer, taking the offensive item and slipping it in his pocket, knowing his detective would want nothing more to do with it.

"But?" Simon asked, when Jim stopped talking.

"But he's withdrawn into some private place of his own making," Jim said with a sigh. "Dr. Gillis said it was a coping mechanism--his way of dealing with his worst nightmare." He turned desperate eyes to his captain. "He won't speak. He doesn't respond to anything I say or do. If anyone other than me touches him, he goes ballistic, but that's it. It's like the light is on, but nobody's home."

Simon shook his head. "He's been through an awful lot," he agreed. "But, Jim, Blair is strong, resilient. If there's one thing I've learned about him, it's that he fights back. Don't give up on him."

"I won't," Jim promised. "It's just a bit... overwhelming right now." He sighed and fell silent, studying Blair's blank expression. "I don't know how to get through to him."

"You'll find a way," Simon said with certainty. "Just give it time."

"Dr. Gillis wants to put him in an institution," Jim told his boss, frowning again at the thought.

Simon slapped a large hand against Jim's shoulder, leaving it there for comfort and support. "Maybe it's for the best," he said. "Considering Blair's condition at present."

"That's what I keep trying to convince myself," Jim said. "But Blair always hated institutions. He hates being in the hospital. Somewhere in there," he gestured toward Blair's head, "he's screaming to go home."

"I don't know what to tell you," Simon said. "It's a tough decision, but you can't leave him here, and you couldn't manage on your own with him at home. I think that for now, it's in Blair's best interest to do what his doctor suggests. If he hates hospitals as much as you say, he'll be fighting to come back and tell you so."

Jim nodded, keeping his eyes glued on Blair's face. "I hope you're right."

"Jim, I'm no psychiatrist, but I think I'm a pretty good judge of people," Simon told him. "It may not be tomorrow or the next day, but Blair will find his way back to you." He patted the shoulder he'd been resting his hand on. "You take care of him, and don't forget to take care of yourself."

"Thanks, Simon," Jim said, looking up at his captain and forcing a smile.

"Take care, Jim." Simon turned to go, pausing for one last glance at the battered soul lying in the bed. "Tell him everyone in Major Crime is pulling for him."

"I will, sir. Thanks."

"Good-bye, Jim."

"'Bye, Simon." Jim watched his boss leave, and sat staring at the door for several minutes. Finally, he turned back to Blair. "You heard him, Sweetheart. Everyone expects you to get better. Let's prove them right." He settled into the upholstered chair and closed his eyes, exhausted by the day's events.

~oO0Oo~

A week passed with no noticeable improvement in Blair's condition. His bed now faced a sunny window overlooking a park with an artificial waterfall and stream at the Hathaway House for Convalescents. Jim sat at the bedside, spoon in hand, feeding his silent lover.

"It's a beautiful day," he commented, pushing another spoonful of oatmeal past the parted lips. Blair chewed dutifully, swallowing and opening his mouth for the next bite. "I was thinking that maybe after breakfast we might requisition a wheelchair and I could take you outside for some fresh air. How does that sound?" Blair swallowed and accepted the glass of juice Jim held for him, sipping through the straw. "You haven't been out yet. The grounds around here are beautiful. They even have a pond filled with those big Japanese goldfish. What did you say they were called, Blair?"

All his questions fell on deaf ears as Blair continued to stare, unfocused and unseeing, into the distance.

With a sigh, Jim put the glass back on the tray and looked at the nearly empty bowl of cereal. Blair ate well enough, so long as his partner was there to feed him. Jim knew the trauma that caused Blair to withdraw would take time to heal and he vowed to stay with his lover, but it was very hard seeing the formerly vibrant young man so quiet and still.

Jim stood and rested a hand on Blair's shoulder. "I'll be right back. I'm going to see about that wheelchair." He stepped out into the hall and walked down to the nurse's station to pick up the chair. He brought it back to the room and went to the closet to get a robe. He pulled Blair into a sitting position and draped the robe over his shoulders. "Come on, Blair, put your arm through the sleeve," he coaxed. The young man obeyed, putting first one arm, then the other, through the sleeves. Jim tied the garment shut in the front and helped Blair off the bed and into the wheelchair.

Blair's vacant expression didn't change as Jim rolled him out onto the manicured lawns of the hospital grounds.

"The sun feels wonderful, doesn't it?" Jim asked, turning his face up to be warmed. "You can tell it's spring; see the cherry blossoms?" He pointed to an ornamental cherry in full profusion of pink petals. He pushed the chair and its occupant over next to the koi pond and set the brake so that the chair wouldn't roll. "Remember that weekend when we went fishing with Simon?" He squatted down in front of the chair, between Blair and the pool of colorful fish. "You caught the only trout. I remember how frustrated you were that the stream was catch-and-release. You had quite a knack for fly-fishing. I think we ought to try it again this summer, don't you?"

Blair continued to stare at some point in the distance just over Jim's head. Jim sighed heavily and pushed against his knees to stand straight. Not far from the fishpond was the flowering cherry tree. Jim pushed the chair over beneath its branches and coaxed Blair to stand. He wrapped his arms around the young man and sat them both down in the thick grass. Jim leaned his back against the sturdy trunk of the tree and pulled Blair into his lap.

"Oh, Babe..." he sighed again. "I didn't know it was going to be this hard. I promised to protect you, and then I wasn't there when you needed me the most." He pulled Blair's head to his chest and rested his chin against the soft curls. Blair's eyes slid closed and his heartbeat slowed to sleeping rate. Jim shifted slightly to distribute the weight in his lap, and then he, too, closed his eyes.

~*~*~*~

He was running through the jungle, swift and silent, a black shadow in the mottled depths of the underbrush. Ahead was a clearing, where more sunlight shone through the thick canopy of trees. He stopped just inside the concealment of the bush and peered into the circle of light.

In the middle of the clearing lay a wolf. Sprawled on its side, its tongue lolled out, panting as though in pain. Its eyes were closed and a low whimper escaped its throat.

The panther approached with caution, walking slowly from the cover of the jungle out into the open. The wolf did not acknowledge the big cat's presence. The panther pushed at the lupine head with its nose. The whimper turned to a whining howl and the cat backed off a step and waited. When the wolf made no move to attack, the panther approached once more. It lay down beside the wolf, wrapping a muscled foreleg around the stricken animal's shoulders. A rough feline tongue lapped at the gray fur, calming the frightened animal.

The wolf's eyes opened and, for just an instant, the panther saw a flash of vivid blue.

~*~*~*~

Jim came awake suddenly to find that Blair had lifted his head and was staring directly at him. "Blair?" Jim reached up to cup a stubbled cheek with the palm of his hand. The light in the blue eyes sparkled for an instant, and then went out. "Blair? Sweetheart?" Jim stared into the lackluster blue and knew that for a moment, however brief, his lover had acknowledged him.

~oO0Oo~

Dr. Gillis stood over Blair's bed, shining a penlight into his patient's eyes, checking for pupil reaction and any other response to the light. While pupil reaction remained normal, there was no other indication that Blair was aware of the doctor's presence.

"So, you say that while you were outside Blair focused on you for an instant?" Gillis inquired, turning to Jim.

Jim nodded. "I must have dozed off under the tree. When I woke up, Blair was looking at me; not just staring, but looking at me," he explained. "But it only lasted a moment. It was almost like as soon as I noticed, he was gone again."

"So he may have been watching you while you slept," the doctor speculated.

"Possibly," Jim acknowledged. "But once the recognition was gone, I couldn't get it back."

"Nevertheless, it's an encouraging incident." The doctor pocketed his penlight and made a quick physical check of his patient. "This type of reaction often signals the return of consciousness. Let me know if you witness any similar events. And make sure to note the frequency and duration of the episodes."

"Doc, what are his chances of a full recovery?" Jim was fearful of the answer, but too filled with hope by the incident under the tree that morning not to ask.

The psychiatrist studied him a moment before answering. "I don't want you to get your hopes up too high," he cautioned. "It's still early and anything could happen. But I'm encouraged by Blair's response. His chance of recovery just went up several percentage points."

Jim nodded and smiled at the doctor. "Thanks," he said softly, turning his attention back to Blair.

After the doctor had left, Jim continued to hold Blair's hand, stroking the knuckles with his thumb. He watched the gentle rise and fall of Blair's chest as he breathed, mesmerized by the motion.

~*~*~*~

The wolf lifted its head and nudged at the sleeping panther. The cat woke with a start.

~*~*~*~

Jim shook his head sharply, casting away the fragments of a zone-out. His eyes met Blair's, and for several seconds recognition flickered there.

"Blair?" Jim leaned in close to his still lover, but got no further reaction. "I zoned, didn't I? And you brought me back. You brought me back, Blair," Jim all but shouted. "I know you're in there! God dammit, come out and stay!" He shook the young man's shoulders, but Blair only continued to stare into the distance without responding.

~oO0Oo~

That evening, Jim prepared to give Blair his nightly sponge bath. He warmed the water and gathered the soap and towels, bringing everything over to the bed. He turned down the blankets and removed Blair's gown, and then rolled him onto his side so that he could place some towels beneath the naked man to protect the sheets.

He began by gently wiping Blair's face, cleaning behind his ears and down his throat. "This is my favorite time of day, you know," Jim spoke softly as he continued to sponge across Blair's shoulders and down each arm. "It's the only time we're guaranteed any privacy. God, you're beautiful," he sighed, stopping his work to let his eyes roam the length and breadth of the bare skin. Blair's eyes were closed, but Jim imagined he saw the ghost of a smile curve the fullness of the younger man's lips.

He rinsed the sea sponge he was using and began a slow journey across the lightly furred chest, leaning down to kiss each puckered nub as he brushed past. He worked his way slowly down the abdomen, squeezing a few droplets of water into the hollow of Blair's navel, and then lapping them out with his tongue.

Both legs were washed with care, special attention being given to each foot. Jim took a washcloth and gently parted the toes, washing between them with extra gentleness. When he finished, he rolled Blair onto his side again and scrubbed his back and buttocks.

Nearly finished, Jim went back to the bathroom for some fresh water and a clean cloth. He came back, placing the items, including a tube of antibiotic ointment, on the rollaway table. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and said a brief prayer, then turned once more to Blair.

"Sweetheart, we're almost done," he said softly. "I just have to clean down there, all right?" He always asked permission before touching Blair's genitals, even though the young man never responded to his words. He lifted the penis out of the way and gently wiped the scrotal sac before moving to cleanse the area around the anus. He doffed the soiled cloth and picked up a new one, cradling the injured penis in his palm. As he carefully washed the organ, he was surprised to feel it begin to stiffen. He put down the washcloth and began a gentle massage, carefully watching Blair's face for signs of cognizance as he did so. There was no change in the peaceful repose of his lover's features, but the cock in his hand was nearly at full-mast.

He reached for the tube of antibiotic to massage into the glans, and was surprised to see cloudy pre-seminal fluid leaking from the tip. He put the tube back on the table, opting to take the rigid cock into his mouth and taste his lover for the first time in weeks. The taste exploded across his tongue, lighting up like fireworks behind his eyes. With a start he pulled back, shocked at himself for taking even that much liberty with his non-consenting lover. With tears threatening to fall and a fear in his gut that he'd set back Blair's recovery, he picked up the cloth to clean the penis a second time and apply the medicine.

Jim grabbed a clean gown from the cupboard and quickly dressed Blair, covering the erect cock. He pulled the blankets up and pushed the bath table into a corner of the room before entering the bathroom to splash cold water on his face and will his own aching erection to subside.

When he finally had himself under control, he walked back out into the room and settled into his chair next to the bed. "I'm so sorry, Blair. God, Sweetheart, I don't know what came over me. I promised myself I'd never hurt you, never take you without your consent and willing participation. Can you ever forgive me?" He studied the slack features of his lover, enjoining Blair to answer without success.

~*~*~*~

The panther nudged at the sleeping wolf who rolled over, revealing a substantial erection. The big cat nosed the penis, watching it bob and sway enticingly. The call of sex was strong in the animal's nose, and the panther wanted nothing more than to claim the wolf and be done with it. But the wolf didn't answer the panther's low mating moan.

Frustrated, the cat paced the circumference of the clearing, returning after each circuit to nuzzle the wolf. The canine reeked of mating pheromones, but continued to sleep, unaware of its mate's growing irritation.

The panther hovered above the wolf, straddling the slender body in a head-to-tail position. Leaning down, he ran a raspy tongue along the length of the organ, causing it to jump and quiver. A low moan issued from the wolf's throat and the panther twisted to see the canine watching his every move with intent blue eyes. He turned back to his task, worrying the engorged organ with tongue and teeth until it erupted in a spray of semen, coating the black fur of the panther with a milky white.

The wolf's eyes slid shut with contentment as the panther settled in to clean the come from its coat.

~*~*~*~

When Jim awoke, the room had grown dark. The scent of spent semen hung cloyingly in the air to tease his nostrils. He noticed a wet patch staining the front of his slacks, but that wasn't what drew his attention. On the bed, Blair lay uncovered and naked, his flaccid penis coated with come. His head was turned toward Jim, and blue eyes watched him.

"Blair? My God, Blair?" Jim scrambled up out of his chair and leaned over the bed. A gentle smile curved his lover's lips and his eyes tracked Jim's every move. Jim brushed away the strands of hair that had matted themselves to Blair's face and bent to press a kiss against the waiting lips. Slight pressure was returned, but Jim only noticed because his senses were all running full out, monitoring the return of his lover.

Blair's fingers curled into a loose fist, brushing against Jim's arm and immediately grabbing his attention. Jim picked up the hand and slid his inside, feeling the welcoming grip, weak though it was. "Aw, Babe, welcome back. I love you so much, you know that, don't you?" Blair's eyes continued to track, but there was no other movement. Jim suddenly became aware once more of the unkempt state of his lover. He put the hand down and leaned in to press another kiss against the willing lips. "I'll be right back, I promise!"

Jim hurried into the bathroom for a wet washcloth to clean the semen splatters from Blair's body. He gently wiped away the traces of spent passion, and then found a clean gown and dressed Blair, pulling the blankets up to cover him more completely.

The blue eyes continued to watch, following Jim's movements, but Blair remained uncharacteristically still and quiet.

Jim crawled up onto the bed, molding his body against Blair. He wrapped an arm around his lover and propped his head up on one elbow to stare. Bright eyes stared back, recognition and love shining clearly. Jim let a smile curl his lips, and he got a smile in return. He lowered the hand he had rested his head upon and wove his fingers through the chestnut strands of hair. "Oh, Babe," he sighed softly. "I was so afraid you weren't coming back to me. I love you so very much. I'm sorry I failed you when you needed me most."

His final statement caused Blair to frown, so Jim hurried on. "I shouldn't have left you alone, even with the extra security. You were counting on me to keep you safe, and I let you down; I let Bloomfield get to you."

Blair struggled to speak, to communicate his distress, but his mind still held a portion of the barrier in place. Finally, with an exhalation that sounded very much like a sigh, he closed his eyes. Jim watched him for several minutes, then settled down beside him and joined Blair in sleep.

~*~*~*~

The wolf lifted its head, turning bright, blue eyes on the panther. The cat watched cautiously, pulling back to give the wolf freedom to move. The canine sat up slowly and cozied up against the big cat. It whimpered softly, nosing the side the feline's head. The cat lay down, and the wolf settled beside it, both front legs across the panther's back. The wolf lowered its head and began to lick the cat's ebony fur. The panther made a rumble in its throat, a sound akin to purring.

~*~*~*~

The next morning dawned bright and clear again, the sound of birdsong bringing the Sentinel slowly to wakefulness. Beside him, Blair was already awake and watching him. "Good morning, Sweetheart."

"'Morning." The soft greeting was more beautiful than a choir of angels to Jim's ears, despite the roughness of Blair's voice.

"How are you feeling?" Jim asked, raising a hand to stroke Blair's cheek in amazement.

Blair blinked, clearing his fuzzy vision, and focused on his partner. "What happened?" He looked around at the strange room, fear coming back to cloud the clear blue of his eyes. "Where am I?"

"Shhh... it's all right," Jim said, calming him. "You're at the Hathaway House and you're going to be fine."

"W-Why am I here?" Darting eyes took in the hospital bed and monitoring equipment, as well as the chintz curtains on the window overlooking the park.

Jim's eyes narrowed and he studied the precious face before him. "You don't remember what happened?" Blair shook his head, perplexed. "Bloomfield?"

"What about Bloomfield?" Blair's voice took on a noticeable quaver.

"He's dead, Sweetheart," Jim said softly. "He can't ever hurt you again."

"How did it happen? Jim?" Blair was getting more worried as he watched Jim's expression change. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Maybe we should wait until Dr. Gillis shows up for his rounds this morning," Jim suggested. "He's going to be amazed that you're awake and talking again."

"No, Jim. I need to know now," Blair insisted, his heart rate skyrocketing.

Jim sighed and gathered the trembling body close against his own. "Bloomfield broke into the apartment and he tried to hurt you."

Blair's lower lip quivered and his hand strayed down to his crotch where he fingered his penis gingerly. His mouth tightened, and a whimper of pain escaped. "Did h-he...?"

Blair started to lift his gown to see, but Jim stayed his hand. Eyes clouded with tears of sympathy, he nodded. "Yeah, Babe. He pierced you again. But it's gone now, and no permanent damage done."

"W-Why can't I remember? You'd think I'd remember that."

"Oh, Blair..." Jim smoothed down the flyaway hair, wiping some stray strands from his lover's face.

"It was too much for your mind to handle," Dr. Gillis said, stepping into the room. "Good morning, Blair. Good morning, Jim." He walked over to the bed. "Sometimes when we're overwhelmed, our minds block the memories to help save our sanity. In your case, it left you in a semi-comatose state. You're just now waking from it."

"Comatose?" Blair looked from the doctor to Jim. "How long?"

"Nine days," Jim said, his hand resting on Blair's head, his thumb brushing lightly across the high forehead. "I was so afraid you wouldn't come back to me."

"I was dreaming," Blair said softly. "I remember dreaming."

"Good dreams? Bad ones?" the doctor asked, curious.

"Good dreams," Blair confirmed. "Comforting dreams. I was in a forest, and Jim was there, taking care of me. It was like I was scared of something, or injured, and Jim came along and told me everything was going to be all right."

Jim looked startled, filing away the information to ask his partner later, when they were alone again.

Dr. Gillis nodded. "Well, given the circumstances, I think I'll hold you here one more day, and then send you home. We'll continue your treatment on an outpatient basis," he said. "I'll expect you to continue to come weekly for therapy sessions until I'm satisfied that you're stable and no longer a danger to yourself."

"Why can't I go home today?" Blair asked. "I'd really like to go home."

"I need some more time to assess your physical health, and I'd like at least one therapy session before you leave," the doctor told him. "You're a resilient young man, but you've experienced significant trauma and I'd like to make sure that you're currently stable enough to be out on your own."

"But I wouldn't be on my own," Blair said, turning a smile on Jim. "I have Jim to help keep an eye on me."

"Jim needs some rest, too," Gillis said. He turned to the detective. "Actually, I'd like to have some time alone with Blair to conduct the first therapy session. Why don't you go home, get some rest, take a shower, have a good meal, and come back in the evening? If there's any sort of a problem, I'll call you."

Blair looked from Jim to the doctor and back to Jim again, panic showing in his eyes. "I don't want Jim to leave. Not yet. Please."

"He can stay until after breakfast, how is that?" Gillis compromised. Blair nodded, his posture still indicating his discomfort. "All right, then. I'll let you two have some time together. I'll be back in about an hour."

After the doctor had left, Blair leaned into Jim. "I don't want you to go," he said, choking back his tears.

"It will just be until this evening," Jim reminded him. "You'll be so busy, you'll hardly miss me." Blair gave him a look that said, "I doubt that." Changing the subject, Jim asked about the dreams. "Your dreams, Blair... were you really in them? Was I?"

Blair chewed at his lower lip, staring at his hands that were folded and lying on the blanket. "That's the strange part," he said softly. "It felt like we were there, but I was a wolf, and you were a panther."

"Our animal spirits," Jim replied, equally soft.

Blair nodded. "I was in a clearing, hurt and frightened, and you, as the panther, came and cared for me. The whole thing seems disjointed, as if it were more than one dream. In between, it was almost like I was seeing the real you."

"Maybe you were," Jim said gently. "I had very similar dreams, and whenever I'd wake up, you'd be watching me. At first, there was just a flicker, but each time we dreamed, the recognition got longer." He thought about it for a moment before continuing. "I had a dream last night. The wolf was grooming the panther, as though to say everything was all right." He caught Blair's eyes and held the gaze. "And then I woke up, and you were back."

"Shared dreams; shared images of animal spirits," Blair mused. "Sounds like a Sentinel and Guide thing to me."

"Oh, please," said Jim with mock exasperation. "Don't tell me this is going to be a part of your dissertation paper."

That brought a chuckle from the serious young man. "No. No, I think that's getting a little personal," he agreed. "Aw, geez, Jim..." Blair said, getting back to what was bothering him. "I don't want you to go!"

"It will just be for a few hours," Jim promised. "And tomorrow you can come home."

"Home..." Blair said with a combination of wistfulness and fear.

~oO0Oo~

Blair eased out of bed for the first time on his own, and settled in the wheelchair the nurse had brought for his use. Pulling the robe closed, he braced himself for his meeting with the psychiatrist. Dr. Gillis wasn't going to let him go home until he had begun to face his demons and get past them.

The doctor's office was much more casual here than the one he kept at the hospital. This room had the warmth and homey feel of a den or family room. Gillis helped him out of the wheelchair and into a comfortable overstuffed chair.

"I see you're having a little trouble getting up and around," the doctor observed. "That's not unusual for the type of drug you were given and the amount of time you've been confined to bed. It'll get better the more you get up and move." He crossed his legs, getting comfortable, and rested a clipboard on his knee. "So, how are you feeling otherwise?"

Blair took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I-I'm doing okay. I'm looking forward to going home," he admitted.

"That's what we're here for," Gillis said, smiling at his patient. "But first, we need to talk about what happened to you that night in your apartment."

"I really don't remember," Blair said, feeling suddenly defensive.

"It was very traumatic, I understand that," the doctor told him. "But we have to get it out in the open. I know the memories aren't pleasant, but we need to deal with them."

Blair sat in the chair with his folded hands between his knees, concentrating on the gold ring circling the third finger of his left hand. "But I can't tell you what I don't remember," he said softly.

"Have you ever been hypnotized?" Gillis asked.

Blair shook his head. "No, but I'm familiar with relaxation techniques."

Gillis nodded. "That's a good start. Considering that you can't consciously call up the memories, I'd like to try regressive hypnosis, if you don't mind."

"I guess n-not," Blair stuttered, uncomfortable with being forced to remember, but knowing he wasn't going home until he did. "If we have to."

"I think it's the only way we're going to get to the bottom of this," Gillis stated matter-of-factly.

"All right," Blair sighed. "Do I need to go over to the couch?"

"No, you're fine right where you are," the doctor told him. "Just close your eyes, breathe normally and try to relax." Within a few minutes, Blair was under a light hypnosis. "Are you comfortable?" Gillis asked.

"Yes," Blair answered softly.

"Good. I'd like for you to remain calm as you slowly work your way back to the night you were attacked." He waited, watching the fine lines of tension play out on the youthful face. "Where were you, what were you doing?"

"I was asleep upstairs," Blair told him. "I had taken a Valium to help calm me down."

"And then what happened?"

"I felt a h-hand over my mouth," Blair stuttered. "I tried t-to f-fight..."

"Blair," Gillis interrupted. "Take a deep breath, calm down. Bloomfield is dead, he can't hurt you any longer. These are just memories. They can't hurt you." Blair sucked in several shuddering breaths, before finding his center once more. "Good, very good; now, can you tell me what happened next?"

"He..."

"Bloomfield," the doctor interjected.

"...injected me with something," Blair continued. "My body felt heavy, like lead. I couldn't move, but I could feel everything that was happening." He looked up to see Gillis nodding, watching him intently. "He gagged me, then took off my clothes and began touching me." An involuntary shudder coursed through his body, and Blair found himself having to stop and breathe again.

"That's all right, Blair. You're doing fine; take your time," Gillis said calmly.

"He--he touched m-my cock," Blair said, fear and loathing coloring his voice. "I-I got hard for him and he put on a cockring. His touch made me sick--I threw up." He stopped talking, swallowing and grimacing as though still tasting the rancid vomit.

"He violated you," Gillis said, basically repeating what he had been told. "That was tantamount to rape right there."

"Then he took the kn-knife... the one that... that..." Blair stuttered to a stop, one hand reaching between his legs to massage his crotch.

"It's all right, Blair. He's not here, he can't hurt you anymore," Gillis reminded him again.

"The knife he used to c-cas-tr-trate me," he stuttered, squeezing his balls harder in pale imitation of the pain he'd suffered. "He laid it on my abdomen, like a threat. I th-think I passed out." Blair had to stop and take more cleansing breaths. Despite the command to remain calm that Dr. Gillis had given him as he went under hypnosis, Blair had a hard time containing the emotions the memories produced.

The doctor gently removed Blair's hand from his crotch and rubbed it soothingly. "You're doing fine. Please, go on."

"He had a ring--a gold ring with diamonds. He said it was worth more than I could make selling my body in a year."

"What did he do with the ring, Blair?" the doctor asked.

"H-He pierced me again--pierced my cock--with the ring. Oh, God, it hurt!" The last words came out as a small yelp of pain, Blair's hips lifting off the chair at the memory. Dr. Gillis continued to hold his hand, grasping the other as well to keep Blair from rubbing his genitals and causing himself any more discomfort.

"What else, Blair? Was there more?" Gillis asked. "When did Jim come in?"

"He... Bloomfield..." Blair gasped, finally saying the name himself. "He threatened to cut off my c-cock and balls after his... his fuck... and make a d-desk ornament out of them." Tears were trailing down his cheeks as he spoke, his eyes sparkling with the pain of the memories. "And then he... he... and then he started to... to... I felt his cock at my hole. He... he started to f-fu..." He stopped, trying to get his rapid breathing under control, to slow the speeding patter of his heart.

"Blair, listen to me," Gillis said, his voice soft and low. "Listen to me. You're safe, Blair. He's not here. He can't hurt you. Just be calm, and we can get through this, all right?"

The young man nodded, slowly pulling himself back together. "T-That's when Jim came. I heard a shot and the next thing I was conscious of was someone holding me. Then I don't remember anything until the dreams, just before I woke up."

"That's good, very good, Blair. Now, on the count of three, you're going to wake up. You'll remember what you told me, but there won't be any fear attached to the memories. They are just memories," the doctor repeated, "and can't harm you. Do you understand?" Blair nodded, his eyes drifting closed. "All right, then: one... two..." He hesitated for a breath. "Three."

Blair blinked and sat up. During the course of their talk, he had slumped in the big chair, coming to rest on one of the cushioned arms.

"How do you feel?"

"O-Okay, I guess," Blair answered, mentally giving himself a once over to be certain.

"Do you remember what we talked about?" Dr. Gillis watched Blair closely for signs of the overwhelming terror that had gripped him, even under hypnosis.

Blair closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them and nodded.

"And you're all right with the memories?"

"I don't want to remember them," Blair stated flatly. "They're ugly and terrifying. I-I'm afraid I'll still have nightmares."

"You might," the psychiatrist admitted. "Even with the post-hypnotic suggestion not to fear the memories. The terror they evoked was very strong. But the fear should fade over time, until you can remember the events without reacting to them."

"I hope you're right," Blair sighed. "I can't even tell you how it felt. It was beyond words."

"You already have, actually," Gillis replied. "Your words and your actions while under hypnosis gave me a very good idea of the terror you went through. It's rare for a patient to show as much agitation as you did, when instructed not to fear the memories."

"Will I be able to go home now?" Blair asked, anxious to receive a positive response.

The doctor looked at his notes and considered the question. "I think you're still on track for release tomorrow," he said. "We'll see how you do the rest of today, and overnight."

"Jim will be spending the night with me, won't he?" Blair's pulse suddenly shot up at the thought that his lover might not be able to stay.

Gillis smiled. "If he wants to stay, I have no problem with that. He should be back sometime this evening."

"Is he at home? Could I call him and tell him we're done?" Blair asked anxiously.

"I think he mentioned having something important to do today," the doctor told him. "Perhaps this isn't the best time to disturb him. Maybe you could take a walk out in the park. Jim said you seemed to enjoy the koi pond."

"There's a koi pond?" Blair's eyes lit up.

The psychiatrist returned the smile. "Right next to the flowering cherry tree."

"Sweet." Blair pushed to a stand, wobbling on unsteady legs. "Maybe I'll do that."

"I'll have Kari take you back to your room so that you can get dressed," Gillis said, gesturing toward the wheelchair. "After that, it might be a good idea if you let her accompany you."

"You're probably right," Blair replied, easing into the wheelchair. "Thanks, Dr. Gillis."

"You're welcome, Blair. It was my pleasure to be of service."

Kari entered and walked over to where Blair waited. Dr. Gillis smiled at the nurse. "I think Blair might enjoy a walk around the grounds," he suggested. "Show him the koi pond."

"It would be my pleasure," Kari said, grinning. "How about we get you dressed first?" she asked Blair, wheeling the chair out of the office and down the hall to the elevators.

"Sure. Yeah, okay," agreed Blair. He liked the pretty, young nurse, but at the same time longed for it to be Jim who took him to fishpond.

Arriving back at his room, Blair levered himself out of the chair with some effort and stumbled over to the bed.

"Would you like me to get your clothes?" Kari offered, walking over to the small closet. She pulled out a pair of jeans and T-shirt, and then rummaged in the dresser for underwear and socks.

"Thanks," Blair said, accepting the items. "But I think I'd rather get dressed myself."

"You might need a little help," Kari warned him. "I don't mind."

Blair pulled his mouth into a tight grin. "Yeah, but I do. I'll be done in five minutes," he said, dismissing the nurse.

"Take your time," Kari said lightly. "I'll be outside if you need me."

Blair found that he was less coordinated than he thought. Putting one leg and then the other into his jeans and pulling them up was a challenge he hadn't been quite prepared for. The T-shirt was easier, and within a few minutes, he was finally clothed and seated in the wheelchair.

The fresh air of the manicured gardens was refreshing. Blair particularly enjoyed watching the bright orange and white fish swimming gracefully in the placid water of the koi pond. He imagined what it must have been like when Jim had brought him here and held him beneath the cherry tree. It was like a memory that balanced on the knife-edge of his consciousness, but he couldn't quite pin it down.

"I think I'd like to go back in now," he told the nurse, who was sitting at the edge of the pond, teasing the fish by swishing her finger in the water. "I'm getting a little chilly." In reality, he just wanted to be left alone until Jim arrived. He didn't feel quite safe without his protector's presence, even knowing that the threat was now dead and buried.

~oO0Oo~

The rest of the day stretched out interminably while Blair waited with impatience for Jim's return that evening. He lay in bed, watching TV until finally there was a knock at the door and Jim walked in.

"Jim! It's good to see you, man," Blair greeted his partner as he walked into the room. He put down the TV remote control and reached out for the detective with both arms.

"Sweetheart!" Jim was all smiles as he made his way over to the bed and gathered his lover into his embrace. "God, I've missed you today."

"What have you been so busy doing?" Blair asked. "Dr. Gillis said you had some kind of special project or something."

"Or something," Jim said with a teasing grin. "You'll find out soon enough when you come home tomorrow."

"Aw, come on," Blair wheedled. "Just a little hint?"

"Nope. Not even a hint," Jim said firmly. "So, tell me about your day."

Blair took a deep breath. "Welllll..." he said, stretching the word out as he exhaled. "It wasn't exactly a walk in the park."

"You had your session with Dr. Gillis?" Jim asked. When Blair nodded, he probed deeper. "So? What happened? Were you able to talk about that night?"

"I couldn't remember," Blair confessed. "I really couldn't." He looked up into Jim's clear blue eyes, begging for him to understand.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," Jim said, placing a kiss on Blair's forehead. "I know it must have been hard for you. Does that mean you won't be released in the morning?"

"No. No, I can go home," Blair said. "Dr. Gillis used hypnosis. I was able to tell him everything. And... and I remember it all, now," he finished softly. His head dipped and long hair draped across his face, covering his features.

"Blair?" Jim placed a finger under the younger man's chin and tipped his head up. "Are you all right with that?"

Blair shook his head. "Not really, but Dr. Gillis didn't give me a choice. I need to remember, in order to work through the emotions. It'll be okay," he rushed to explain, "so long as I have you here with me."

"I'm not planning on going anywhere," Jim said, pressing a kiss against his lover's forehead. "Now, have you had any dinner?"

"Nah." Blair shook his head and forced a grin. "I wasn't really very hungry earlier."

"How about now?"

"Now? Um, yeah, I suppose, a little," admitted Blair.

"Good," said Jim, pulling a small package out of his coat pocket and handing it to his partner.

Blair unwrapped the plastic grocery bag and pulled out a small cardboard container. A smile lit his face.

"Your favorite raspberry sorbet," Jim said unnecessarily, presenting with a flourish the plastic spoon he had carried separately. "And," he continued, pulling another package from the pocket on the other side of his coat, "those cinnamon cookie crisps you get the midnight cravings for."

"Spoil me some more, why don't you?" Blair said around a mouthful of the sorbet, his grin a genuine smile of delight.

"Oh, I plan to do just that," Jim said, wiggling his eyebrows. "Just as soon as we get home."

They snuggled side by side on the bed, with Blair feeding an occasional spoonful of sorbet to Jim as the older man clicked through the channels on the TV looking for something interesting to watch. After about a half an hour, Jim plucked the empty sorbet container from Blair's fingers and settled the sleeping man onto the pillows. Pulling up the bedspread to cover them, he turned off the TV and wrapped his arms around his lover, pulling him in close to his body.

~*~*~*~

The wolf paced the perimeter of the clearing--circling, waiting, watching. He paused when the bushes in front of him rustled. The hair on the back of his neck bristled and he braced for possible attack. Within moments, the underbrush parted and the panther stalked out. Inky black, he looked like a walking shadow. Large golden eyes fastened on the wolf.

The wolf lay down and rolled onto his back in a submissive posture. The panther approached and straddled the canine, then began licking the fur of its belly with his raspy tongue. The wolf whimpered with delight, his tail thumping happily on the ground.

The bushes rustled once more, and the panther was immediately on alert. The wolf rolled over, gained his feet, and came to stand beside the cat. Together they watched as something moved forward, coming between them. The hyena nipped at the wolf's nose, causing the canine to cower. But before the animal could get any further, the panther had gripped it by the throat with powerful jaws and was shaking the life from it, throwing the carcass into the underbrush when he was through.

Approaching the wolf, the panther nosed him in the ribs until he lay down in the grass. The big cat settled behind him, engulfing the gray body with powerful forelegs and began licking the back of the wolf's neck. With a whimper of delight, the wolf settled into the protective embrace and went to sleep.

~*~*~*~

The sun sparkled in through the curtains, kissing the sleeping couple with its morning warmth. Jim stirred, opening his eyes and feasting on the sight of his lover in repose. All of twenty-three years, going on twenty-four, Blair looked positively childlike as he slept. Lines of worry and stress were smoothed away from his brow. His lips were parted, and drool dampened the pillow. He propped himself up on an elbow and took in the sight, pleased with the prospect of finally getting to bring Blair back home.

Finally, blue eyes opened, blinked, and looked up at him, smiling.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." Jim leaned down to kiss the waiting lips gently.

Blair wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shook his head. "I don't know how you can stand to do that," he said with a chuckle.

"What?" Jim asked, putting on his innocent face.

"Kiss me when I'm drooling like that." Blair flipped the pillow over, so that the wet spot was underneath, and then settled down once more.

"I like the way you taste," Jim said simply, smiling at the disgusted grimace on his lover's face. A knock sounded at the door. "Come in."

Kari entered with a tray of hot food. She pulled the rollaway table over to the bed and set the tray down. "Jim told me your favorite breakfast was scrambled eggs and toast," she said. "So, for your farewell breakfast, I went down to the cafeteria and supervised the making of this little repast myself. Hope you enjoy it." She took the lid off the serving tray with a flourish.

"Oh, man! Would you look at that, Jim?" Blair said, pointing at the plate. There were enough eggs piled up to feed both men, and another plate of hot, buttered toast. Two glasses of orange juice finished off the meal. "Thanks, Kari! That was really nice of you."

"As much as we love and care for all our patients here," the nurse explained, "we are especially excited when one gets to go home. It's been a pleasure being your nurse, and I wish you all the best." She placed a quick kiss on Blair's cheek and hurried from the room.

"I think she has a little crush on you," Jim said with a chuckle.

"Nah... Kari? Nah." Blair shook his head and picked up a fork, digging into the scrambled eggs.

"Oh, yeah," Jim said, needling his lover. "I'd say she has it for you big-time. Good thing there's that big sign around your neck saying that you're taken."

"Shut up and eat." Blair laughed, nearly choking on his food.

~oO0Oo~

"I want you to feel free to call me anytime," Dr. Gillis said as Blair climbed into the passenger seat of the truck. "I'll see you next Wednesday for our regular session?"

"I'll be there," Blair promised. "Even though I really don't think there's anything left to talk about."

"You've come through the worst of it," the doctor agreed, "but there will still be times when you may feel overwhelmed by the memories. I'm here to help with that."

"I appreciate it. Thanks." Blair waved as Jim put the truck into gear and drove off. "So, what's this surprise?" he asked his partner, hoping to get a hint from the stubborn man.

Jim laughed. "Persistent little devil, aren't you? You're just going to have to wait."

Blair fidgeted the rest of the way home, darting up the stairs when they arrived, too anxious to wait for the elevator. He burst through the front door and stopped, looking around.

"I don't see anything different," he said, slightly disappointed.

"What did you expect?" Jim asked, following him in and closing the door behind them. "I was only gone a little over half a day."

"I just thought..." Blair said with a shrug, letting his words trail off.

"C'mon, Chief." Jim put a hand on Blair's shoulder and guided him toward the stairs. "I guess I can't leave you hanging any longer."

"I don't k-know," said Blair, suddenly hesitating at the foot of the stairs. He looked up the flight toward the room with trepidation.

"It's all right," Jim said softly, coaxing the young man to move. "He's not up there."

"I k-know that," Blair responded, putting one foot on the first stair. "But it's like his ghost is there."

"Not a chance," Jim said emphatically. "That was what my day here was all about. Come and see."

Reluctantly, Blair followed his partner up the stairs, pausing one step shy of setting foot into the room. He looked around, his jaw dropping with surprise. Slowly, he made his way up the last stair, walking over to the new king-sized bed that replaced the old queen where Bloomfield had raped him. He ran his hands over the down-filled comforter and stared in awe at the solid rosewood headboard.

"You can't be hurt here," Jim said softly. "You're safe. You can't be chained to the railing, and you don't need to worry about falling." He came to sit on the bed, patting the mattress beside him in invitation.

"It's gorgeous, Jim..." Blair's jaw was still slack with surprise, his eyes darting around the room. All the furniture was new, including nightstands and a matching dresser. The old wooden chair had been replaced with an upholstered recliner. Even the Tiffany lamp and cordless phone were new. "You did this all for me?"

"I didn't want you sleeping in the bed where you were... hurt," Jim answered, wrapping an arm around Blair's waist. "I didn't want anything up here to remind you of that night. This is our space, our sanctuary, and I won't allow anyone to despoil it."

"Nobody's ever done anything like this for me before," Blair breathed. "Never..."

"Well, it's about time someone did," Jim said firmly. "You deserve only the best, Sweetheart. Don't you ever think otherwise."

"I want to make love here." Blair turned to Jim, grabbing his biceps with both hands. "Right now. We can christen the new bed."

"Right now?" Jim let the surprised chuckle slip from his throat. "You've barely been home for ten minutes. Wouldn't you like to go out, do something special?"

"This is special," Blair insisted, letting his fingers move to unbutton Jim's shirt. "If I'm going to exorcise my demons, then I need to start here, in the bedroom. Dr. Gillis said that I should confront my fears, meet them head-on." He peeled the shirt from Jim's shoulders, exposing the smooth muscles of his chest.

"And which fears are those?" Jim asked, allowing Blair to continue to undress him.

"Well," Blair said, working on Jim's belt. He loosened it and pulled it from the loops, then unbuttoned the waistband of the jeans and pulled at the zipper. "Being naked up here, in this room, for one. Being the bottom, for another."

"You don't have to be the bottom," Jim insisted softly. "I love having you in me."

Blair tugged at the legs of the jeans until they slipped past Jim's hips and slid off, leaving the older man clad only in black silk boxers. "I know it sounds strange to talk about it," Blair said, blushing slightly, "but I feel like I need this. Dr. Gillis told me to do whatever felt right, whenever it felt right."

"And it feels right, now?"

"Uh-huh." Blair sat next to Jim, still fully clothed. "I have to do this. The sooner the better."

"Oh, Babe..." Jim moaned, gathering his desperate lover close. "There's no need to rush anything. No need to hurry." He stroked a hand down the length of chestnut curls, soothing the nervous man.

Blair buried his face in Jim's shoulder, in critical need of the comfort. He stayed that way for many, long minutes, setting up a gentle rocking motion to help him relax. Eventually, he pulled away, looking up at Jim with mist-clouded eyes. "Would you undress me? Please?" he asked softly. "I don't think I can do it myself."

"Please, Sweetheart," Jim begged. "We don't have to do this now. You're moving too fast. I don't want you to do something that you're not ready for, yet."

"I'm never going to be ready," Blair admitted. "I'm scared, all right? I'm scared! I don't know if I can ever give myself to you again. I don't even know if I can be naked in front of you again. Do you have any idea how that feels? I love you, Jim! I want to be there for you; I want to be with you, but I don't know if I can."

"Oh, Blair... Honey, you can do whatever you want to do. You've been through hell and back, and yet I've never known anyone as resilient as you," Jim assured him, reaching up to cup a cheek and brush away a tear that managed to spill. "But are you sure this is what you want to do now?"

Blair nodded slowly, wrapping his fingers around the hand on his face and bringing the palm over to kiss it gently. "It's what I need to get past this," he said softly. "Help me get past it?" His eyes pleaded with Jim to understand.

Jim extricated his hand from the loose grip and began to unbutton Blair's shirt. He took his time, doing the job by touch as he held the blue gaze of his lover. Blair stared back resolutely, swallowing hard as Jim peeled the shirt from his shoulders. Leaning in to kiss the inviting lips, Jim let his hands slide lower, teasing the zipper on Blair's jeans and slipping his hand inside. For just a moment, Blair pulled away, a spark of the old fear lighting his eyes. Jim hesitated, preparing to withdraw, but then Blair surged in to meet him, renewing the kiss and moaning into Jim's mouth as his partner's hand kneaded his slowly hardening shaft.

The touch of his lover awakened feelings within the younger man that Blair feared had died the night that Bloomfield had visited. As his arousal grew, he humped into the hand massaging his cock, groaning and panting as he climbed quickly toward climax. He backed away, fumbling at his belt in an effort to be rid of the confining denim. Jim batted at his ineffectual hands, doing the job quickly. Blair kicked away the jeans and fell on top of Jim, his hands and mouth exploring the expanse of pectorals, while his cotton-clad erection rubbed against a muscled thigh.

Jim's arms wrapped around Blair, rolling him onto his side. He pulled away slightly from his spirited lover, smoothing the hair off his perspiration-slicked face. "Blair, Sweetheart," he whispered, getting the young man's attention. "Let me do this for you, all right? Let this time be for you." Blair's chest heaved with exertion and arousal as he was rolled onto his back. Jim slowly peeled the cotton boxers off over the bulging shaft of Blair's cock, carefully watching his lover's face for signs of distress.

Blair's eyes were closed, his mouth open and panting as he allowed Jim to finish undressing him. The cool air of the loft hit the damp warmth of his cock; causing his abdominal muscles to contract, and making the organ jump like a living thing. Small mewling noises of pleasure escaped his lips as Jim's mouth engulfed the head, his tongue swirling under the prominent ridge to trace its way up the slit to the leaking hole.

His hips stirred restlessly as his arousal continued to climb, spiraling toward its peak. The sudden release of his cock drew a gasp of disappointment from Blair, who soon had other things to worry about. Jim's nimble lips were tracing their way up to his chest, where they teased the nubs of his teats until they were so tight that they ached. Blair's hands snaked up Jim's cheeks to bury themselves in the short-cropped hair. He held the head to his chest, begging for the eager mouth to give his nipples release. Jim was happy to comply, taking one nub between his teeth and biting until just shy of pain before suckling until the tightness relaxed and Blair could breathe again. He gave the other nipple similar treatment before capturing Blair's mouth once more, exploring and tasting its depths.

Blair thrust his hips against Jim's body, trying desperately to relieve the ache that continued to grow in his groin. His lover finally took pity, returning his attention to the neglected organ. As Jim's mouth fully engulfed the rigid cock, a moan of satisfaction came from near the headboard. One hand came up between Blair's legs to fondle his balls, giving each equal attention without regard to flesh or implant.

"Oh, God, Jim... Jiiiim!" Blair cried out as his completion was sucked from him. He bucked his hips as semen spurted down his lover's throat, to be eagerly swallowed.

Jim continued to suckle the spent organ until it slipped from his mouth of its own volition. The sheets and Blair's leg were covered with his own contribution to their lovemaking. He slowly made his way back up the bed, gathering Blair into his arms. "I love you so much, Babe," he whispered.

Blair snuggled into the embrace, feeling the tendrils of doubt and fear slip away.

~*~*~*~

The wolf nosed at the still body of the dead hyena, nudging it to see if, perhaps, it was still a threat. The panther circled slowly, watching as the wolf came to terms with the beast. Then, gently, the big cat shouldered the wolf away from the carcass before dragging it off into the jungle.

The panther returned alone, coming to stand beside the wolf. A rasping tongue lapped at the gray fur, and a large head rubbed against the wolf's shoulder as the feline rumbled its affection.

The wolf lifted its head and howled in victory, a sound echoed by the roar of the great cat.

~*~*~*~

Blair set the plates on the table and slipped into the chair opposite Jim. His partner smiled back at him, pleased by the transformation in his demeanor since the christening of their new bedroom earlier that morning.

"Any thoughts about how you want to spend the rest of your first day at home?" Jim asked, after washing down his first bite of lunch with bottled water.

Blair pushed the food around on his plate before finally looking up. "Yeah. Um... I've been thinking about that," he said softly.

Jim's eyebrows rose questioningly after several seconds went by and there was no further response. "Yes...?" He studied his partner, trying to read his mind. "What is it you've been thinking?"

"I need closure, Jim," Blair said finally. "I need to go to the cemetery and see the gravesite for myself."

Jim exhaled heavily, pushing his own food around... avoiding the subject for a few seconds longer. "Do you think that's really wise? I mean the guy is dead and buried. You know that. Why do you have to work yourself up by visiting the grave?"

"I wouldn't be working myself up," Blair argued. "I just need to see it for myself to know that it's real."

"Since when did you become so empirical?" Jim reached across the table to take Blair's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Whatever happened to taking things on faith?"

"I just need to go," Blair said softly. "Please?"

"Anything for you, Sweetheart, if you think it will help," Jim promised.

~oO0Oo~

The truck stopped on the narrow driveway through the cemetery. Hopping out, Jim circled around and helped Blair down. He wrapped an arm around his lover's waist, and together they walked across the manicured lawn to a large granite monument marking the grave of Gordon Bloomfield, business magnate.

Blair had dressed in black--black jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. His slender figure appeared almost wraith-like as he stood in front of the monument, studying the engraving. His long hair ruffled in the slight breeze of the spring afternoon.

The two men stood silently for several minutes before Blair's soft tenor broke the stillness. "I almost feel sorry for him."

Jim turned his attention from the granite headstone to his lover, a look of surprise crossing his features. "How could you possibly feel sorry for him?" he asked a bit sharply. "He did so many horrible things to you--almost took you from me--and you can feel sorry for him? Why?"

Blair sighed and tilted his head to look up at Jim. "Because he was alone. He had power and he had money, but he didn't have anyone who loved him simply for who he was. He could buy loyalty, he could buy friends, but he couldn't buy love. He didn't have someone to come home to, someone who counted the minutes until they were together again." He reached out to take Jim's hand and give it a squeeze. "Not like I do." He sighed, allowing his head to drop. He studied the blades of grass for several moments before continuing softly. "He had to buy love for a night, or steal it from those unwilling to give it freely. He was surrounded by people, and yet he was alone. That's sad."

"He brought it on himself," Jim argued softly. "He was a sadist, a cruel man. It's no wonder no one would love him."

Blair turned in Jim's grip and put both hands on his lover's waist, just above the hips. He pulled the older man close and stood on his toes to reach up and place a kiss on Jim's lips. "He never knew the kind of security and love that I've found. He never had a Blessed Protector, someone who would die to save him. I pity him, Jim."

"He doesn't deserve your pity," Jim said, letting a little of his anger color his voice. "You're far too good for the likes of him."

Blair reached up to place a palm soothingly against the stubble of Jim's cheek. "It's a part of my healing," he explained. "Being here, knowing that he can never hurt me again. I'll never be able to forgive what he did to me, but I can take pity on a wasted life."

"You're amazing, you know that?" Jim asked, covering Blair's hand with his own and curling his fingers around it. He squeezed lightly as he smiled at his lover. "I love you so much, Blair. You'll never know how much."

Blair smiled back at him, his blue eyes sparkling. "I know," he said with conviction. "I know."