This story previously appeared in the My Mongoose E-Zines and the AngelWings Press zine "Soul Quest" by Natalie L.

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.

Acknowledgments: Thanks to those brave enough to beta for me: Mary and Elaine, and to my plot-bunny generator, Terri. Thanks, gals! Couldn't do it without you!

Rating: R to NC-17

Warnings: AU, OMC (Jim and B'lyar's son, L'anin), m/m

Episode related: Blind Man's Bluff (with liberties taken, pardon to the original authors of the episode).

Summary: 25 years later—L'anin goes in search of his father.

Comments welcome and appreciated!

Twenty-five years later:

"Are you coming or not?"

Simon studied his friend. Sympathy for his plight played around Simon's eyes, but he set his mouth in a firm line before speaking. "Jim, how long are you going to hold on to this dream of finding B'layr? You've tried every year for the past two and a half decades—more in recent years. What makes you think this trip will be any different?"

Jim paced sullenly around the loft, finally pausing in front of the empty birdcage, which still sat among the forest of plants, despite having lost its occupant over fifteen years earlier. A finger traced the ornate latch on the cage's door before Jim turned to look at the Police Commissioner, his best friend. "I'm getting old, Simon," he began. His hand dropped to his side, and he walked over to stand in front of his ex-captain. "I'm going to retire soon. I want to settle down. I want my family back." He paused to take a deep breath. "He's out there, waiting. I can feel his presence when I'm in the woods, just out of reach, but there, watching me. I need to find him. He's the missing piece of my soul."

"I never did buy into that soulmate theory of yours," Simon said, shaking his head. "Jim, this is crazy. How much of a connection could B'layr have felt to breeze into your life and back out again so easily?"

"It tore at his soul as much as mine," Jim replied. "He had my baby. He had to go back to the forest. I just couldn't bring myself to go with him."

"That's bullshit and you know it!" Simon spat angrily. "He did not have to go back. He could have stayed and raised the child here."

"No, Simon." Jim shook his head sadly. "The city was affecting his health. Sometimes, when he'd allow me to take him out, he would start wheezing. It hurt to see it so difficult for him to breathe. He was very sensitive to the pollution. I couldn't keep him locked up in the loft, either. He's a wild creature. He needed to be free, needed his own home, his own people. I just didn't have the strength to follow."

"And now?"

"Now ... I'm tired. I just want out of the rat race. I want to find B'layr and my child."

"And you think this camping trip will do it?"

"I don't know." Jim dropped onto the couch, cradling his head in his hands. "I've about given up, but I have to go. I have to."

"I don't know that I can let you go right now," Simon confided. "With this new designer drug out on the streets, I need my best detective on the job. We've had three cases already of Golden overdoses. We've got to find the source and get this stopped, before someone actually dies."

"I know," Jim sighed, looking up. "I've got some leads, but nothing's panned out yet. Simon ... one weekend. That's all I'm asking. Just one weekend."

"And if you don't find him this time out, you'll give up your crazy quest and concentrate on the job?"

Jim nodded. "Whatever you say. I just have to go out one more time. I feel like this is it. Something will happen this time, or not at all."

~oO0Oo~

"I wish to come with you."

B'layr nodded slowly. "This time, you may come. But remember, we must not reveal our presence."

"Why not? Why can he not know we seek him?"

"Because he is not yet ready," B'layr told his son. "You are now our tribe's Sentry. Use all your skill to go quietly. Your Sire will sense my presence through our bond. It will be up to you to see that we stay concealed. You inherited your Gift from him. He will use all his senses to find us. He must not."

~oO0Oo~

"This is great!" Simon exclaimed, climbing out of the truck and stretching muscles cramped from the long drive. He took a deep breath of the cool mountain air and pounded on his chest. "I'm glad I let you talk me into it."

Jim began unloading the camping equipment from the bed of the truck. "This is what you've been missing all these years by not coming with me," he chided.

Simon walked over to help pull the two one-person tents from the back of the truck. "Oh, I missed the camping and the fishing," he explained, "just not that obsessed look in your eyes. This pining for B'layr has worn away at you over the years. It's not healthy, Jim."

"I have a son I haven't seen since he was born," Jim stated, grabbing the Coleman cookstove and a couple lanterns. "He's an adult now, and I haven't been a part of his life. I've missed so much...."

"Do you resent B'layr taking him away?" Simon asked softly.

Jim hung his head and sighed. "Sometimes. Yeah, a little." He lifted his head to look Simon directly in the eyes. "But I understand his reasoning. I understand, but it doesn't hurt any less because of it. I need to find them."

"And if you don't?" The question hung in the crisp, clean air.

Jim shook his head. "If I don't, I guess I'll die a bitter, lonely old man."

~oO0Oo~

B'layr stopped in a clearing. "This is the place we first met," he told his son. "I was out on Quest when I was spotted by a hunter."

"He shot you through the shoulder for scaring off his buck," L'anin continued. "My Sire found you here, rescued you and took you back to his camp."

"Where you were conceived." B'layr smiled warmly at the memory. He rested a hand on the shoulder of the tall, thin elf at his side. "But we cannot stay here. This is the place he always returns to first."

"How long have you watched him?" L'anin asked.

"For the past twenty-five summers." B'layr sighed. "Recently, he has come every turn of the seasons. His heart draws him back." He looked at his son, so much a reflection of himself, and yet so much like his Sire. "Come. We must leave." He turned, pushing his son ahead of him.

~oO0Oo~

Jim stood at the edge of the forest, peering into the false twilight of the heavily wooded area. He looked over his shoulder at his friend, who stood on the old pier casting a line into the icy waters of the lake. "I'll be back before dark," he called. Simon just nodded and concentrated on his fishing.

The forest was cool, damp, and the scent of living things filled the air. Jim struck off north, over a well-worn footpath toward his destination. Once he arrived at the small clearing, he stretched out his senses, searching. He no longer expected to find his soul's completion, but he had to try.

The first year he had come full of hope, certain he could track the elusive elf and reunite with his mate. The second year, and for several thereafter, the hope and certainty continued to burn bright. But as the years wore on, Jim came with less hope for reunion. The past five years, he had come more and more frequently, desperation drawing him back. His heart ached with an emptiness that Simon couldn't understand and that no other man, or woman, could fill.

Simon had argued, had pointed out how his work suffered every time his mind began to focus on his lost family. The man was his best friend and confidant, but he never did understand the elf, nor really want to know about the connection that drew them together. In Simon's mind, ignorance was bliss. Which was why it was getting harder and harder to find the support he needed. Jim felt cut adrift on a sea of loneliness.

He sank to the ground, settling into the spot where he had first found B'layr. Opening his senses to the maximum, he searched the area. His nose caught a faint scent, familiar and comforting. B'layr had been here recently. Perhaps the elf missed him nearly as much as he missed B'layr.

He scanned the area with Sentry eyes, finally spotting traces of feet that had passed through recently: bent grass, a broken twig. With some difficulty, he followed the trail, until it ended at the edge of a bubbling stream. He was deeper in the forest than he had ventured before, but there was still no sign of his lover and mate. He settled on the bank of the stream listening to the gentle splashing of the water over stones. As he sat quietly, he could feel the tug on the connection in his heart, and his senses went on full alert.

~oO0Oo~

"That is my Sire?" L'anin peered through the branches at the man sitting on the stream bank.

"Yes." B'layr nodded and smiled. "He is still strong and handsome after all these years."

"He is old," the younger elf stated with surprise.

"He was not so when first we met," B'layr explained. "Humans have a much shorter lifespan than we do. The years, at least, have been kind."

"I wish to meet him," L'anin whispered.

B'layr held his son back. "I do not think that would be wise."

L'anin hesitated, then settled back next to his Bearer. "You have counseled me against meeting him for many years. Why? Do I not have the right to meet with my own Sire?"

"Of course you do," B'layr answered. "And you will get your chance, but not until he is ready."

"And when will that be?" the younger elf challenged. "When he has one foot in the grave?"

"Do not speak of him like that!" B'layr hissed, anger and fear warring in his heart, for he knew Jim would not have many more summers before the end. "He needs to come willingly. Until he is ready, we wait."

"He comes every year, every season!" L'anin argued. "How much more willing is that?"

"He wants me back," B'layr said sadly. "And, I suspect, he wants you, too. But he is not willing to live here with us. He would take us back to the city."

"I wish to see this city of which you have spoken."

"It is not a gentle place for those of our kind," B'layr explained. "You would not like it there."

"How will I know this, if I do not go?" L'anin argued.

B'layr shook his head ruefully. "Youth will not be told, but must experience for itself," he muttered quietly. Turning to his son, he said, "You do not believe my words, but you will soon find they are true."

"You will let me go?" The excitement in L'anin's voice brought a smile to B'layr's face. He remembered the fear and excitement of venturing into the city. While the idea worried him, he could no longer deny his son's request.

"You may go with my blessing at the next dark moon," B'layr told his son. "But you must observe only. I do not wish you to force your Sire's hand."

"I will be careful," L'anin assured him.

The two elves watched the man for a while longer before melting into the dense old growth forest.

~oO0Oo~

The pull of the bond became weaker, until finally all Jim felt was the emptiness again. He stood and stretched, giving the area one last scan. I must be getting old, he thought. My senses are failing me. Either that, or B'layr and his people have some magic after all. B'layr had insisted, upon being asked, that his people possessed no magical powers, unless you considered the Gift of the Sentries to be magical.

Turning his back on the stream, Jim slowly made his way back out of the woods to the camp he shared with Simon. Along the way, he gathered some of the gray tubers B'layr had once shown him. It was the least he could do, to add to their dinner. Simon undoubtedly had the trout already filleted and waiting.

"It's about time!" Simon greeted the returning detective. "Any luck?" The question was largely rhetorical. Simon could tell by the look on Jim's face and the way he held his body, that his pilgrimage into the forest had been unsuccessful.

The detective sat in the chair next to Simon, and began to clean and skewer the tubers for roasting over the fire. "I was so close," he began quietly. "I could feel his presence for a while, but I couldn't find him. I was deeper in the forest than I've ever been. There was a trail, but it ended at a stream." He began turning the tubers slowly, so that they would cook evenly.

Simon laid the trout fillets in the skillet, seasoned them with some herbs he'd brought along, and began frying them over the cook stove. "I'm really sorry, Jim," he said sincerely. "You know I only want you to be happy. I think this quest business of yours has become obsessive and unhealthy, but I had really hoped you might find him this time."

"Me, too," Jim sighed. "I'll hold to my word, though. This is the last time. I promise I'll concentrate on work now, until retirement. Just five more weeks, Simon." Jim stirred the fire and tossed on another piece of wood. "I didn't think I'd look forward to calling it quits, but I'm getting too old for the streets, and I'd never be happy behind a desk."

"That's why you never took the Captain's exam, isn't it?" Simon asked. "You didn't want to be stuck behind a desk dealing with bureaucratic crap."

Jim smiled and nodded, poking at the thin tubers with his fork.

"And what are you going to do with your time once you're a free man?" Simon checked the trout and, deeming them done, placed the fish on plates and handed one to Jim.

Jim looked thoughtful. He took some time to remove the tubers from the fire and push them off the stick on which they'd been roasting, to their plates. He split and seasoned his portion before turning to his friend. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "Maybe I'll travel. I'm ready for some new scenery, something different."

"You won't come back out here? Continue your search?" Simon wondered.

"I want to, you know that. But after twenty-five years, well, if I haven't found B'layr by now, it's not going to happen." He set his plate down, the food barely touched. "I'm tired. If you don't mind, I think I'll turn in." He stood, dusted off his pants, and then turned toward his tent.

"Sleep well, Jim," Simon called out after him.

~oO0Oo~

Jim threw himself into his work, trying hard to forget the near-disastrous camping trip of the prior weekend. The designer drug, Golden, was hitting the college campus and the streets at an alarming rate, and as yet the police had no solid leads to follow.

Jim found himself in his captain's office, discussing the possibility of his using Cyrus as a cover to get in with the distributors.

Cyrus was a bogus international drug distributor, originally created by the DEA and Interpol. The scam had already netted dozens of arrests, and it seemed appropriate to call in the big guns. The DEA had already been contacted about the use of the cover. So far, Golden appeared to be localized. Word was out on the street that the distributor was looking for Cyrus to make a deal. Jim would play that part.

He was discussing the particulars with Joel Taggert when the phone rang. Jim watched as the look on the captain's face went from curiosity to alarm. He slammed down the phone, grabbing Jim on his way out of the office.

"What is it, Joel?" Jim asked as he tagged along after the captain.

"Some nut in the garage. He's holding a couple security guards at gunpoint. They think he's hyped on Golden."

The two men hotfooted it down to the basement, gathering a small entourage of detectives as they went. They burst through the stairwell door and fanned out, guns at the ready.

Jim stopped short, and Joel ran into him from behind. "B'layr?" The name was no more than a whisper.

"You know this nut?" Joel asked, surprised.

Jim threw a glance over his shoulder at his captain, then looked back at the figure crouched on the hood of one of the police vehicles. Long brown hair, glinting with red highlights was tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He wore a blue-flowered dress that hung about mid-calf length and was belted by what looked like hand-woven rope. He was barefoot. Jim inched closer. This man was too tall to be B'layr; he was nearly Jim's height. But the resemblance was uncanny.

"Stop! Stop where you are! Do not come any closer!" the man shouted. He waved the gun around, and a round went off, hitting the hood of one of the police cars.

"Down! Everybody get down!" One of the officers was shouting as everyone but Jim ducked for cover.

"I'm going to try to talk with him," Jim told his captain.

"Don't be crazy, Jim!" Joel protested. "He doesn't recognize you. You could get yourself killed."

"I have to try," Jim said grimly, starting forward again.

"Hold your fire, everyone! Hold your fire!" Taggert shouted to the assembled detectives.

Jim inched closer.

"I said stop!" the man on the car shouted. He let loose another round, this time clipping the hose on a gas pump.

"Damn," Joel muttered. "If he fires another shot, the whole garage will go up in flames." He watched as Jim continued his slow advance.

"It's all right. Nobody here is going to hurt you," Jim soothed. "Just come on down, and I'll see to it that you get some help."

"There is no help. Can you not see them?" the desperate man begged.

"See who?" Jim asked, his voice soft and calming.

"The golden fire people! They are coming through the walls and floor." The man swung the gun erratically, fear lighting his eyes. "They look like ashes, but they are alive! They must be sent back."

"The gun isn't going to help against the fire people," Jim said reasonably. "Your fire will only make them stronger, don't you see?" He inched forward until he was within arm's reach of the frightened man. "Give me the gun ... please," he coaxed.

The young man shook his head, but loosened his grip on the weapon. "That's right," Jim continued to soothe. "Let me help you. Close your eyes. Yes, that's right. Close them." He reached up and eased the gun from the man's grasp, handing it off quickly to one of the detectives. "Now, take my hand. I'm going to take you away from here, to somewhere safe."

Jim helped the man down from the hood and eased him to the ground. One word escaped his lips before he passed out. "Sire?"

Jim brushed the concealing hair back to expose one delicately pointed ear. He pulled the young man close, resting his chin on top of the curly-haired head. "L'anin." The name escaped on a surprised exhalation of breath.

"I've called the medics," Joel said, bending down over the two figures huddled on the parking garage floor.

"That won't be necessary," Jim told him. "I'm taking him home."

"Jim, that man needs to be in a hospital. When he wakes up, we need to question him."

"He's my son." Jim looked up at Captain Taggert with a look that pleaded for understanding without questions. "I'll talk to him. I promise."

~oO0Oo~

Jim juggled his keys, barely getting the right one in the lock. Pushing the door open with his foot, he carried his son inside and kicked the door shut. With an effort, he managed to get up the stairs to his bedroom, where he lay his precious burden down.

He rummaged through his dresser drawers for an old set of sweats and then set about stripping the dirty dress from the lean body and clothing it warmly in soft fleece. He pulled the blanket over the unconscious elf, then sat on the edge of the bed studying him. He reached over to pull the tie out of the long hair, letting it fan across the pillow. L'anin looked so much like B'layr that it gave Jim pause. He wondered if his soulmate knew their son was here, if he could sense that he was ill. He prayed B'layr would know that, somehow, Jim would find and protect their son and see him safely home again. He was startled out of his reverie by a knock at the door.

"Simon!" Jim opened the door wide to admit his friend. "What are you doing here in the middle of the day?"

"Joel called. Told me what happened," Simon explained. "He seemed a little concerned that you wouldn't let the medics take the perp to the hospital."

"He's not a 'perp', Simon. It's L'anin, my son. I couldn't let them take an elf to the hospital. He'll recover well enough on his own here."

"How do you know that?" Simon asked. "We don't know a lot about Golden. We don't even have a sample yet that we can analyze. He could be very sick—dying."

"Elves recover quickly from all sorts of wounds and illness," Jim explained. "I just want to give him a little time before we panic." He ushered his friend over to the couch. "Can I get you anything? Coffee?"

"Yeah, a good strong cup of caffeine sounds about right. Thanks."

Jim went to start a pot brewing, then came to sit next to the commissioner. "So, are you here in an official capacity, or as my friend?"

"Maybe a little of both," Simon admitted. "It's really important we get L'anin's statement. How did he get the Golden? Who did he get it from? Where?"

"I know, Simon. I'll talk to him, I promised Joel, but I'm not going to treat him like some criminal off the streets. He's my son."

"A son you know nothing about," Simon reminded him. "For all you know, he could be in cahoots with whoever is producing this designer poison."

"Don't even think that," Jim growled. He stood abruptly and went into the kitchen to pour the coffee. He brought back two large mugs, handing one to Simon. "I don't know how he happened across the drug, but I can assure you, it was an accident."

"Sire...?" The voice drifted softly down from the bedroom. Jim was immediately on his feet and flying up the stairs.

"I'm here, L'anin." Jim perched on the edge of the bed, brushing long strands of hair away from the strong, beautiful face. The square jaw and high cheekbones were B'layr's, as was the almost delicate, upturned nose, but the eyes that opened and gazed up at him were like none he'd ever seen: a soft blue-green, liquid and clear. "Do you remember what happened, son?"

"My Bearer gave me leave to come find you," L'anin began, evoking vivid pictures in Jim's mind of his beloved soulmate. "I left at the dark moon, two nights ago."

"Two nights?" Jim was startled. "But the campground is over one hundred and fifty miles from Cascade. How could you walk here in just two nights?"

"I was on the big road," L'anin explained. "A vehicle stopped, and the man offered me a ride. I said I was going to Cascade, and he brought me here."

"You hitchhiked?" Jim felt a sudden stab of fear. "Don't you know how dangerous it is to accept rides from people you don't know?"

"My Bearer did not mention it," L'anin confided. "It seemed more efficient than spending days walking. I was anxious to find you."

Jim stroked the high forehead, resting his hand in the tangle of hair on top of his son's head. "Well, you certainly did find me," he said. "Can you tell me what happened when you came into the city?"

"I found the park. I was tired, so I sat beneath a tree." L'anin closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember the details. "I spotted a small packet, a clear bag of a beautiful golden yellow powder. It intrigued me, so I picked it up. The bag was leaking, and I got some of the powder on my hands. I placed the bag in the pocket of my tunic and cleaned my hands."

"How did you clean your hands?" Jim asked.

"I was curious, so I licked the powder from my fingers, then wiped them on the grass," L'anin replied. "The powder was bitter, but I could not spit it out. It had dissolved on my tongue."

"What happened next?"

"I began to feel strange. Objects took on a golden aura, and the world would not hold still. The fire people began emerging from the tree where I rested, so I moved away. They were following me, so I ducked into the nearest opening I could find. I do not know how far I traveled before I found the refuge.

"I entered the cave, but there were men already there. They pointed their weapons at me and told me to stop. The fire people were close behind, yet they could not see. So I tackled one, and retrieved his weapon. It was shortly after that you found me." L'anin quieted and watched the emotions flit across his Sire's face.

"Do you still see the fire people?" Jim asked.

"No. They are gone. The world still glows, but the light is fading."

Jim smiled down on him. "You're going to be fine. You just need some rest. Sleep, now. We'll talk more later." L'anin closed his eyes, content that he was safe in his Sire's home.

Jim walked back down the stairs and stood behind the couch, looking down on Simon. "You heard?"

"Most of it," Simon admitted. "Does he still have the packet of Golden?"

"I'll check." Jim moved away toward the bathroom, returning a short time later with the soiled dress and a pair of latex gloves. He snapped the gloves onto his hands then rooted in the deep pockets of the dress. "Aha!" He pulled out the small plastic packet of Golden—less than an ounce, but more than enough for analysis. "Someone was mighty careless leaving this lying around a public park."

"Probably an accidental drop from some drug deal," Simon speculated. He pulled an evidence bag from an inside jacket pocket and Jim dropped the packet inside. The strong odor of the powder tickled his nose, and he sneezed. "Bless you," Simon said, smiling.

"Yeah, thanks," Jim replied, wiping at his streaming eyes. Moments later, he was on his knees, peeling off the offending gloves and knuckling hard at his eyes.

"Jim! What's the matter?" Simon jumped to his feet and circled the couch, coming to crouch next to his fallen friend.

"Can't see," Jim gasped.

"What do you mean, you can't see?" Simon demanded, frightened by the controlled panic on Jim's face.

"Everything's a gold blur. I can't make out a thing," Jim explained.

"You must have gotten some on your gloves from the leaking packet. Damn!" Simon swore. "Then you rubbed your eyes after you sneezed. The Golden got in your tears, and it was absorbed through your eyes. How do you feel otherwise?"

"I'm okay," Jim gasped, trying to stand. "I just can't see a damn thing."

Simon guided his friend up the stairs and sat him on the bed. He moved the phone to the nightstand, next to Jim's pillows. "I want you to lie down and rest. Call me when you wake up. I don't want you going anywhere until I can get you checked out."

"Sure, Simon. Whatever you say," Jim agreed, toeing off his shoes and climbing under the covers next to L'anin. He was suddenly exhausted and in no mood to argue. He closed his eyes, shutting out the confusing golden blur, and was soon asleep.

Simon walked quietly down the stairs, and let himself out of the apartment. It was his job to get this sample analyzed as soon as possible so they could track down the creators and stop the pipeline before it got started.

~oO0Oo~

Jim awoke to a pleasant, warm weight holding him down. He felt his way down the length of the object and back up again. A slight movement caused a cascade of silken hair to fall across his face, tickling his nose. Smiling, he shoved at the body, rolling it off him and onto the mattress. "You're just like your Bearer," he chuckled. "All snuggles and a bed hog."

"I am not a hog, I am an elf," came the muffled protest.

"Yeah, that's exactly what B'layr always said. Doesn't change the facts."

"Sire, do you wish that I were not here?" L'anin sat up in bed and looked down on his father.

"No!" Jim's protest was immediate and genuine. He floundered, reaching out for his son. Finally finding the long-fingered hands, he held on tight. "No. I can't tell you how happy I am that you're here. I've longed to see you."

L'anin freed one of his hands and waved it in front of Jim's face. There was no reaction to the movement. "Yet you cannot see me," he said sadly.

"It's that powder you found," Jim explained. "It made you ill, made you see fire people that weren't there. It made me blind."

"I am sorry." L'anin's voice held a world of pain at the thought he was responsible for his Sire's loss of sight.

"It's not your fault," Jim assured him. "It was an accident."

"Do you see anything at all?"

"Just a gold fog," Jim answered.

"Light? Shadows?" L'anin probed.

"Some," Jim admitted.

"Shapes?"

"No." Jim struggled out from beneath the tangled blankets and climbed out of bed. He felt his way over to the stairs and, leaning against the railing, slowly made his way down. L'anin followed, guiding his Sire to a seat on the couch.

"I can teach you how to get around without your sight," L'anin began. "My Bearer taught me many things about being a Sentry. One was that so long as you have your other senses, you can get by with the loss of one. I was taught to navigate without sight, using my hearing and touch. You can do the same. Listen carefully." He clapped his hands sharply. The sound echoed around the mostly empty room. "Do you hear that?"

Jim had clamped his hands over his ears at the loud sound next to him. "How could I miss it?" he complained.

L'anin shook his head. "Not the clap. The echo. Listen." He clapped his hands together again. This time Jim concentrated on the lingering reverberations of sound. "That is how bats navigate. Sounds bounce off solid things. You can approximate the size, the shape, and the distance of an object by the echo."

"If you're a flying rodent," Jim replied sarcastically.

L'anin sighed. "B'layr said you were stubborn and willful. I did not believe him ... until now. Look, even if you cannot see it, smell it, or taste it, you can still know something is there. Listen to the way the sound echoes in a room. If you concentrate on the sounds around you, you can make a map of your surroundings in your mind. Try this." He took Jim's hands and clapped them together. "Listen."

He stood and pulled Jim up with him. Standing behind his Sire, he placed his hands on Jim's hips. "Now clap." Jim felt a little silly, but did as he was instructed. L'anin turned him slightly. "Again." Another clap, another turn. "Again." They completed the slow circle, with Jim listening intently to the echo of sounds off the furniture and walls. "Now walk." L'anin released his Sire.

Jim took a couple tentative steps, clapped his hands, and made a sharp left turn before walking into the coffee table. He slowly navigated his way across the large room to the kitchen, where he felt along the counters for the coffee pot. He pulled a mug out of the cupboards from memory and poured a cup, placing it in the microwave to reheat. He wrinkled his nose at the strong, bitter taste of the hours-old coffee but sipped at it anyway.

"That was very good," L'anin praised, crossing the room to stand next to his Sire.

"Works for here at home, but it's going to look pretty stupid outside the loft." He turned toward the sound of a beating heart and addressed his son. "What if I never get my sight back?"

"I do not think that is likely," L'anin assured him. "Your sight was poisoned by the powder, just like I was when I tasted it. Once it runs its course through your system, you will be free of it."

"How can you be sure?"

"I cannot. One can never be absolutely certain of anything. But you are of my blood, and you are a Sentry. It is my belief that the powder overwhelmed your sense of sight, temporarily burned it out, like glancing briefly at the sun." L'anin rested a hand reassuringly on his Sire's shoulder. "I believe your sight will return when the poison has worked its way through your body."

"Let's hope you're right." Jim dumped the remaining coffee into the sink and set the mug on the counter. He started to cross the room when the phone rang.

L'anin jumped at the sound. "Is that the far-speaking device my Bearer spoke about?"

Jim stumbled to the end table and picked up the receiver. He nodded in L'anin's general direction, and answered the call. "Ellison."

"Jim, thank goodness I caught you at home."

"Oh, hey, Joel! What's up?"

"We got the analysis back on the Golden. Think you can get down here?"

"Sure, Cap, no problem. Be there in fifteen." He hung up the phone, then realized with a start that he wouldn't be able to drive. Picking up the phone again, he dialed a taxi service from memory.

"May I accompany you?" L'anin asked.

Jim hesitated, but admitted to himself that he didn't like leaving his son alone. "Sure, but we'd better find you something else to wear."

"Why?" L'anin asked, following as Jim felt his way back up the stairs. "Am I not properly clothed?"

"What you have on is fine for around the house," Jim explained, laying out some clothes and shoes that had a reasonable chance of fitting. "But you need something more substantial for going outside."

The elf dressed quickly and assisted Jim back down the stairs.

L'anin discreetly helped Jim down the hall and into the elevator. When they got to the front door of the building, the cab was already waiting. The ride down to the station was short. With his son's help, Jim navigated the lobby, making his way up to Major Crime.

"That was quick," Captain Taggert greeted the pair when they arrived. "My office, gentlemen."

Simon was waiting for them in Joel's office. "How're the eyes, Jim?" he asked.

"Still can't see worth shit," Jim admitted, "but I can get around."

"We got the analysis back on the Golden." He rattled the papers in his hand, getting Jim's attention. "It turns out that most of the chemicals are controlled substances. You need a special permit to buy them, store them, or use them in any way, and the rest are just plain rare."

"Good. That'll make them easier to trace," Jim commented. "We should get a squad to run down the local shipments; get a list of permit holders."

"Already done," Joel told him. "We've narrowed the search to three bio-tech companies: Mercer's Research and Pharmaceutical, Bioteck Limited, and Bio-Helix, Inc.

"I remember something about a scandal with Bio-Helix," Jim commented. "It was all over the news a while back. Seems they were heavily involved in biological weapons research. Then they lost all their government contracts due to some kind of phony billing scandal. The company went belly-up. The owners were Paul Jacobs and Andrew Kaminski, if I remember correctly."

"Well, well," Simon mused, nodding. "Sounds like a couple of men with a grudge."

"And the resources to do something about it," Jim added.

"I'm moving Bio-Helix to the top of the list," Joel commented. He picked up the phone and began making some calls.

L'anin pulled Jim aside. "These sound like dangerous men."

"They are," Jim agreed. "Not the sort of people you need to get mixed up with."

"I do not wish to," L'anin concurred. "Nor do I wish to see you involved."

"This is my job. It's been my life's work to get scum like this off the street."

"You are not well. Without your sight, you could be injured."

Jim smiled. "I thought you were the one telling me I could get along just fine with that little bat echo trick of yours."

"That works well when you must navigate familiar places," L'anin explained. "It even works well, if you are careful, in strange situations. But it will not protect you from the weapons these men wield against you."

"It's going to be fine," Jim assured him. "This is my case, and I want in on the bust."

"Jim, you with us?" Simon called as he headed for the door.

"You bet," the detective answered, following the sound of the commissioner's voice. Reluctantly, L'anin followed his Sire out of the office.

Simon helped Jim into the front seat of his car, while L'anin climbed into the back. As he pulled out of the parking garage, Simon filled Jim in on what he had missed while his son was exhorting him to be cautious. "Joel set up a five-mile perimeter around the lab. No one in or out. The assault team should be there by the time we arrive."

"Then you'd better step on it," Jim prodded. "We don't want to be late for the party."

~oO0Oo~

Simon arrived just behind a wave of patrol cars. The police vehicles fanned out to cover the area. By the time Simon parked and got out of the car, there was already a small army of armed police pointing their weapons at two men loading boxes into the back of a white, nondescript van.

When Jim attempted to get out of the car, Simon stopped him. "Look, Jim, there's an army of cops here. I need you to sit this one out, all right?"

"Yes, sir. Whatever you say." Jim waited patiently until the sound of Simon's footsteps faded into the general noise surrounding the drug bust, and then he got out of the car.

"Sire!" L'anin jumped out and stood beside Jim, placing a restraining hand on his arm. "Where are you going?"

"To help," Jim explained. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes. Shapes were slowly forming out of the morass of golden fog. The harder he tried, the clearer his vision became. It still left much to be desired, but Jim refused to be left out of this takedown.

The cops had the two men surrounded. Kaminski wavered. He was just a biochemist trying to make a living. He didn't like guns or killing. He'd even tried to keep the implications of his designer drug suppressed, thinking of it as only a way to make big money fast, without considering the lives it took along the way. He raised his hands in surrender.

"I give up. Don't shoot!" Kaminski began to walk toward the waiting policemen.

A shot rang out, and Kaminski dropped in his tracks.

With his vision still fading in and out, Jim, who was closest to the remaining captive, made a flying tackle toward Jacobs, Bio-Helix's owner. Jacobs' gun went off as he fell, grazing past Jim's ear, leaving a burning trail across his scalp.

"Got you, you bastard!" Jim growled, holding the man pinned to the ground until the other policemen arrived to take him into custody.

"Jim." A soft voice roused him from his adrenaline high. "Jim." It was Simon. He had a hold of Jim's arm, and was gently pulling him to the sidelines. "Are you all right? I thought I told you to stay put."

"I can see again, Simon," Jim told him, still rubbing at his eyes.

"That's great, but you're hurt," the commissioner informed him.

"I am?" Jim reached up to touch the stinging wound, coming away with bloody fingers. "Just a flesh wound. I'll be okay," he said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to staunch the flow of blood.

"I want the medic to see you," Simon insisted, pulling him toward the waiting ambulance.

Joel rushed up to the pair, out of breath. "It's the kid," he panted.

"L'anin?" Jim twisted out of Simon's grasp and ran back toward the general melee. Lying in the mud, with a medic bending over him, the young elf looked deathly pale. "What happened? How is he?" he demanded.

"Bullet wound to the shoulder," the medic answered. "Went clean through, missing major blood vessels. It's going to hurt like hell for a while, but he'll be fine."

"Thank God," Jim breathed. "L'anin?" He lifted his son's head off the hard ground, cradling it in his arms. "How do you feel?"

"It hurts, Sire," he moaned, turning those incredible blue-green eyes on the older man.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Jim scolded, more from fear than anger.

L'anin shook his head. "Protecting you, of course," he answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "You are the elder Sentry of the tribe. It is my honor and duty to serve and protect you."

"To serve and protect," Jim muttered. "That was supposed to be my job." He turned to the medic. "I'll be taking him home. Thanks for your help."

"He really should be transported to the hospital," the medic insisted.

"I'm his next of kin, and I say he goes with me." Jim helped his son to his feet and then wrapped an arm around L'anin's waist, draping the elf's good arm across his shoulders. They hobbled back over to where Simon waited next to his vehicle.

"You sure you're doing the right thing here, Jim?" Simon questioned, as he opened the rear door and helped Jim get L'anin comfortable in the back seat.

"I was a good medic in the Army," Jim reminded him. "I can take care of my own."

"Whatever you say. You're the boss," Simon conceded, closing the door on the two men and walking around to the driver's side. He slid behind the wheel and started the engine. "I just hope you're not making a big mistake here."

"I'm not, Simon. Trust me."

~oO0Oo~

L'anin grimaced as Jim cleaned the wound, checking the entry and exit, meticulously making sure all particles of dirt and debris were removed.

"You doing okay?" Jim asked, tweezing a small bit of gravel from the exit wound.

"Yes," L'anin hissed through clenched teeth. "I did not know it would be so painful."

"B'layr had a better solution when that hunter shot him," Jim told his son with a twinkle in his eye. "He passed out."

"I am not my Bearer. I am the tribe's Sentry," L'anin growled with a hint of boastful pride.

"Then turn down your sense of touch, and deal with it," Jim growled in return. "I'll have you know that B'layr nearly died giving birth to you. He couldn't turn down the pain like you can. Yet he endured it with more strength of spirit and courage than I've ever seen. Be proud of your gifts, but not so proud you fail to see the truth." He finished cleaning the wounds, swabbed them with an antiseptic gel and covered them over with clean squares of gauze. "There you go. Now rest." He gently pushed L'anin down onto the bed and stood.

"Where are you going?" the young elf asked, suddenly anxious.

"I've got to make a trip down to the Chinatown market," he explained. "B'layr insists there's edible food for you there. You're going to need something soon to keep up your strength for healing." At the forlorn look on his son's face, he smiled. "I won't be long," he promised.

When Jim returned from the market, L'anin was sleeping. He cleaned and prepared a variety of the mushrooms and greens he had picked up, then rummaged in the refrigerator for some leftover meat for a sandwich. Once the meal was prepared, he headed upstairs with the lap tray.

He set the tray on the floor, intending to wake his son. As he reached for the young elf's shoulder, he noticed the fine sheen of perspiration covering his brow. Even in sleep, L'anin's features were pinched with discomfort. Laying a palm across L'anin's forehead, Jim turned up his sense of touch. The elf's body temperature was slightly elevated and rising slowly.

Jim left the tray on the bedroom floor and made his way back down the stairs to the kitchen. He rummaged through the healing herbs he'd picked up at the market, just in case. He found the plant B'layr had taught him was good for reducing fevers and one for pain control. He tore the leaves into small pieces and crushed them in a mug. He put a kettle of water on the stove and turned up the heat. Once the water was hot, he poured some into the mug and allowed it to steep into an herbal tea. He had to turn down his sense of smell. He never had figured out how B'layr could stand to drink this stuff. It smelled like rotting compost. He carried the mug back upstairs.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he carefully shook L'anin awake. The elf woke with a start. "It's okay," Jim soothed. "You're safe in my home." The wild look faded from the blue-green gaze, and his son relaxed back against the pillows. "It looks like you might be developing an infection. I made you a drink to help with the fever and pain." He indicated the mug he held.

L'anin struggled to sit up. Jim helped him get comfortable by fluffing several pillows and settling them behind his back. He handed his son the tea, and L'anin sipped at it cautiously.

"This is good." The elf smiled in appreciation.

"Easy for you to say," Jim quipped. "I can't stand to smell the stuff." He bent over to retrieve the tray of food. "I fixed us a little something to eat. You've been here two days now, and were on the road for two. You need some nourishment." He placed the tray over L'anin's lap.

The elf picked up a mushroom slice and raised it to his nose to sniff. He took a tentative bite, rolling the piece around on his tongue. A smile slowly spread across his face, and he began to eat like a starving man.

"Why didn't you say something, if you were hungry?" Jim asked, taking a bite of his sandwich and washing it down with bottled water.

"My Bearer warned me that the food in the city was tasteless and boring." He took another bite, chewing with obvious relish. "He did not tell me that you had such excellent fare available."

"It took us a while to find something he would eat," Jim admitted. "The Chinese market seemed to have the most palatable selection."

"This is really good!" L'anin continued to stuff his face as quickly as he could chew and swallow.

"Don't make the mistake of eating too much," Jim warned. "There's plenty where that came from. It'll keep."

L'anin finished his tea and handed the tray to his Sire. "Thank you. I am sorry to be such a bother."

"You're my son. You could never be a bother," Jim said, taking the tray. "Give me a bit, and I'll be back to check your wound." He turned to carry the tray and remaining food back down to the kitchen. Once he had disposed of the leftovers and had put the rinsed dishes in the dishwasher, he returned upstairs.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jim carefully peeled back the gauze square. The wound was still an angry red and weeping blood, but was already showing signs of healing. "Looking good," he commented. He wiped L'anin's brow with the damp cloth he had brought up with him.

"That is nice," the young elf sighed, closing his eyes.

"It's been a long day," Jim said, pulling the blankets up under L'anin's chin. "It's time you sleep."

"Will you be coming to bed soon?" his son asked, opening his eyes to plead with his Sire.

Jim took the hint. Despite his youthful bluster, L'anin was frightened of this strange, new place. He obviously felt more comfortable in the close company of his Sire. "I need to clean up," he said, "but I'll be back up in a short while. I won't be far," he added as he stood. L'anin closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Jim went downstairs and started the shower. This was his first time to really gather his thoughts since L'anin had reentered his life. He stepped under the hot spray, letting it sluice over tired muscles.

It had been a difficult day. Between the Golden blindness, L'anin getting shot, and the general exhaustion from a very physical drug bust, Jim was beginning to feel the effects of time. His mind drifted to the beautiful face of his soulmate and lover, so gentle and innocent. He thought of the forest, of the quiet peace there that he had always so enjoyed on his camping weekends. Maybe it was time to take B'layr up on his offer. Maybe now he was finally ready.

He finished rinsing off and climbed out of the shower, toweling himself dry. He slipped into a clean pair of boxers, then wrapped himself in the warmth of his terrycloth robe—the same robe he had so often wrapped B'layr in. It was tattered beyond all reason to keep it, but he couldn't bring himself to throw it out.

Jim took the stairs slowly, not wanting to disturb his sleeping son. Shedding the robe, he tossed it at the foot of the bed and slipped under the covers. Almost immediately, the lanky, warm body of L'anin blanketed him. He wrapped his arms protectively around the broad shoulders and closed his eyes.

~oO0Oo~

Jim stood in Joel Taggert's office, his captain and Simon both eyeing him with disbelief. "It's been nearly a week," he attempted to explain. "L'anin's wound has healed, and he wants to return home."

"I understand that," Simon told him. "What I'm not quite processing is that you want to go with him."

"What's so hard about that?" Jim asked. "I'm just a few weeks away from retirement. I have plenty of vacation and comp time accumulated. I want to cash it in and retire now."

"You can't just up and walk out of here," Joel said, astonished at Jim's attitude.

"I've finished up all the paperwork on the Bio-Helix case, and I've tied up all the loose ends of my other cases. The books are clear. I'm outta here." Jim turned to leave.

"Jim, wait." Simon's soft request stopped the detective in his tracks. "Have you really thought about what you're doing? I mean, running off to live in the forest like some hermit...."

"Not a hermit, Simon," Jim explained patiently. "Like an elf. Like my family. I have a home there."

"What about your home here?" Joel asked.

"All taken care of," Jim responded. "I used the past several days to contact an attorney. The loft, my bank accounts—all of my assets—have been turned over to Steven. He'll know what to do with them. I don't have anything tying me down here, gentlemen. I'm ready to leave." With a hand on the doorknob, he turned one last time to his friends and colleagues. "Good-bye, Simon, Joel. It's been a privilege and an honor to be your friend." He opened the door and walked out to greet L'anin, who was waiting patiently by his desk. Simon and Joel watched him go in stunned silence.

~oO0Oo~

"Just one more thing before we leave," Jim said, taking the empty birdcage down from its stand. "I want to bring a gift to B'layr."

"He expects nothing from you, but for your return," L'anin stated.

"I realize that, but this is special," Jim replied.

~oO0Oo~

L'anin led the way through the dense forest undergrowth. Jim knew the path—he had followed it often. They stopped at the edge of a rushing stream. Jim set the caged canary on the bank and crouched down to dip a handful of water to drink.

"I remember this place," he said. "The last time I came camping, I was drawn here, following your trail. I lost it at the water."

"I know," L'anin acknowledged. "My Bearer and I watched you for a long time. It was then I knew I must meet you. That was the day I decided to go into the city."

"It's hard to believe that was less than two weeks ago," Jim mused. "It seems like a lifetime."

"Come," L'anin took Jim's hand and helped him back to his feet. "Your family is anxious to welcome you home." He began to wade across the stream.

Jim took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his pant legs, picked up the cage and followed. Once they were across the stream, L'anin led Jim deeper into the woods. Jim was aware, peripherally, of other elves gathering around and behind them. They stayed just out of sight but still there, a protective presence.

The escort continued to grow as they wound deeper and deeper into the old growth forest. Here were trees of enormous size, whose mere existence stole breath away with wonder. The undergrowth grew denser, until Jim couldn't tell how L'anin was able to follow the path. They continued on, until Jim was thoroughly lost in a world he hadn't realized even existed.

Suddenly, in front of him, a familiar heartbeat echoed from amid the thick vegetation. Jim began walking faster, soon passing L'anin in his excitement. He passed off the canary to an elf standing nearby and muscled his way through bushes and ferns, until he finally burst into a small clearing.

Before he could even register what he saw, he was staggered by the weight of a body slamming into his, arms and legs wrapping themselves around him in joyful welcome.

At the first sight of his soulmate, B'layr had launched himself into Jim's arms. Jim wrapped his arms tightly around the elf, burying his face in the long, fragrant hair.

"B'layr! Oh, my God! I didn't think I'd ever see you again!" He spun around in dizzying circles, hugging and kissing his lost love.

B'layr, for his part, had wrapped arms around Jim's neck and legs around his waist, not intending to let go anytime soon. He returned the kisses with hunger, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. "I knew you would come," he answered with confidence.

The rest of the elves gathered around the reunited pair, cheering and welcoming the newest member of the tribe.

~oO0Oo~

B'layr sat with his mate in a secluded glade, intent on welcoming him home. His fingers played with the bars of the gilded cage that held the canary. "You did not have to bring the yellow bird," he whispered, still awed by the gift.

"It's not your canary," Jim felt compelled to explain. "He died over fifteen years ago. I kept the cage.... I don't know why." His voice trailed off for a moment, then he took a deep breath and began again. "I-I just wanted you to have this. It was important to you before."

"May I set him free?" B'layr looked for acceptance in the blue eyes watching him.

Jim nodded. "He's yours. This is your home."

"This is now your home, also," B'layr reminded him, releasing the latch on the door. The small bird hopped to the perch nearest the opening, peering out before taking flight. A bright yellow blur flew straight up, circling the trees, then came to flutter nearby. Jim felt his heart soar as the bird took flight. He, too, now was free and reunited at long last with his soul's desire.

B'layr held out his hand, and the canary perched on his finger.

"How do you do that?" Jim asked, amazed. "There's something magical about you elves after all, isn't there?"

B'layr smiled. "No magic," he replied. "Just a oneness with nature and her creatures." He lifted his hand, and the canary flew off, circling their heads before landing on a low branch. "He will stay nearby. I will care for him. Thank you, Jim." B'layr leaned in to capture willing lips in a kiss of welcome.

~oO0Oo~

That evening, a huge bonfire was lit in the large clearing that constituted the Wolf Tribe's home gathering place. Jim sat in a place of honor, near the fire and surrounded by the fifty or so elves that made up the tribe.

B'layr emerged from the crowd, naked, but for the body paint that decorated his pale flesh, and a crown of blue starflowers around his brow. He was carrying a similar wreath of flowers in his hand. He approached his mate, stopping mere inches from him.

"It is the tradition of our people, when welcoming an outsider into the tribe, to give that person a new name—one which reflects your joining to us. I hereby declare that you shall henceforth be known as J'anin, Sire of L'anin, and my soulmate." With that pronouncement, he placed the wreath of flowers on Jim's head and leaned down to kiss his mate.

A roar of approval and welcome greeted the announcement, and soon the celebrating began. Food was loaded onto trestles, as handmade flutes and drums provided lively music. The elves began to dance and sing. B'layr dragged Jim into the middle of the clearing and began a joyful dance around him, encouraging him to join in.

The music soon switched to slow and haunting, and B'layr moved in close to his mate, writhing sensually against him. The nearness of the lithe, naked body was having its affect on Jim's libido. Long fingers unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. Bare skin touched bare skin, and electricity sparkled between them. As Jim leaned in to capture the full, waiting lips, he felt B'layr loosen his belt and fumble with the button and zipper on his jeans.

He wrapped his arms around B'layr's shoulders, pulling the elf hard against him. B'layr's tongue was devouring his mouth, as his hands pushed the confining denim down past his hips. Jim struggled for a moment, finally freeing himself from the garment.

B'layr wrapped a leg around his hips and began undulating against him in a maddeningly slow rhythm. Jim could feel his cock swell as the strong leg rubbed up and down the back of his own. Suddenly, the boxers he still wore were uncomfortably restricting. He wiggled out of them, so focused on his mate that he did not notice the crowd watching the reunited pair dancing naked in the firelight.

Slowly, the rest of the elves joined in, dancing with wild abandon. Once they were just a part of the larger crowd, B'layr guided Jim quietly away from the party, unnoticed by the celebrants. They walked deeper into the darkened woods, until a small hut appeared before them, camouflaged by the vines covering it.

The pair entered, and Jim looked around. The enclosure was small but cozy. A thick mattress of grass mats and moss stretched along one wall. There were no other furnishings except for woven mats covering most of the floor. The canary perched on a small branch near the ceiling of the structure—the one bright spot in the darkened room. "This is your home?" he asked his mate.

"My home is the forest," B'layr replied. "This is merely where I sleep." He guided Jim over to the bed and pulled him down. "It has been very lonely for a long time. Now it will be lonely no longer." He kissed his mate, stretching out beside him on the mats, rubbing his aching cock against Jim's erection. "I have missed you."

Jim melted into the embrace. "I've come to the forest every year, looking for you." He buried his face in B'layr's shoulder, reveling at the feel of the silken hair as it caressed his skin.

"I know," B'layr admitted, inserting a hand between their bodies and stroking Jim's chest, paying particular attention to the hard nubs of his nipples. "But you were not ready. I waited through the long years for you to realize your destiny. It took our son to reunite us."

Jim arched into the touch and began a slow thrusting of his hips against B'layr's. He moaned as he felt his body rise quickly toward completion. B'layr met his thrusts with insistent pressure, making sure their cocks never lost contact with each other. Jim's thrusts became more forceful, frantic for release. B'layr cried out as he ground his hips against his writhing mate. The lovers came together, sealing the bond between them.

Jim relaxed in B'layr's arms, peppering the beloved face with tiny kisses. "I never did believe in fairy tales or fairy tale endings," he admitted.

"Ah," B'layr replied, grinning wickedly, "but you also never believed in elves. This, J'anin, this is 'happily ever after'."

To be continued in "Ties of Tradition"...

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