Title: Here Comes Mr. Sandburg

Author/pseudonym: Tinnean

Fandom: The Sentinel/Here Comes Mr. Jordan

Pairing: Blair Sandburg/Jim Ellison

Rating: NC-17

Email address: Tinneantoo@aol.com

Disclaimer: They still belong to Petfly, or maybe SciFi owns them, or maybe... Here Comes Mr. Jordan belongs to Columbia/Tristar Studios.

Status: new/complete

Date: 9/03

Series/Sequel: no

Other Web Site: http://www.angelfire.com/fl5/tinnssinnshttp://www.angelfire.com/fl5/tinnssinns

Archive: OK, I surrender. Yes to all the list archives. (I'm so easy!)

Summary: During a mission that was slated to fail, Special Ops Jim Ellison is pulled from his body prematurely. Before he can be returned to it by the Heavenly Director of Souls, Blair Sandburg, it has been cremated.

Warnings: spoilers for the movie, but rather minor ones, and for The Sentinel pilot, Switchman.

Notes: This first appeared in The Many, Many More Movies of the Sentinel. Mr. Softee was a brand of ice cream; the trucks used to drive through the neighborhoods on summer evenings. Thanks to PattRose1 and the ladies of MME for their help in this one. It was greatly appreciated! Thanks also to Gail, for her invaluable advice, as well as the fantastic beta.



Here Comes Mr. Sandburg
by Tinnean

I had always loved my job, and if I said so myself, I was da... darn good at it.

My Boss thought so too. That's why I had been promoted after only a couple of millennia, the youngest angel to become Director of Souls in the history of ... well, of history.

Once a soul had crossed over into the light, it was my job to check their records, and then send them on, to Heaven, to Purgatory, to Hell.

At first they would make the journey to their final destination on foot. As time passed, it was on horseback, carriage, and then things moved more quickly. Lighter-than-air ships, airplanes, and most recently, jets. I knew one day soon they would be arriving in heaven via spaceship.

Progress was a truly amazing thing.

Collecting souls was a task delegated to the older angels. They had learned patience, and as difficult as it could be to watch one of His beloved children struggling with the massive fear of the unknown that dying represented, they waited until the body had ceased functioning, and the soul was once more free.

We had learned, through sad experience, that the younger angels tried to spare the mortal psyche, and too often retrieved the soul before its time. That was why there had been that massive spate of 'out-of-body experiences'. The cherubim would take a soul too soon. And I was the one who would have to send them back.

****

"Mr. Sandburg."

Everyone expected The Supreme Being to have this deep, resonating voice, like James Earl Jones, maybe, but actually, it was a light tenor. That didn't stop it from grabbing your attention when it was addressed to you.

"Sir?" I snapped to attention, when all I wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep for a couple of centuries.

"We have a problem, I am afraid." At His side was St. Peter, who stood there with his hands fisted on his hips.

I cast my mind over the latest contretemps with the opposing team. We had won that one. That made us 6 and 0 for this season, and St. Michael, the Archangel in charge, had let us know how pleased he was with our record.

"No, nothing like that." Sometimes it helped having a Boss who could read your mind.

Other times it was just a holy pain in the keister.

"I don't understand then, Sir."

"It's you, Blair," St. Peter interjected. "You are one of His best, and we do not want to see you burn yourself out."

"I'm fine, Sir," I hastened to assure the Lord. "I love my job."

"I am aware of that. However, when was the last time you took some time off?"

"Why it was just..." I cast my mind back over time. "Er..."

"Exactly."

"You never pay a visit to any of the alternative Heavens." St. Peter again. "You need to get naked and sweaty. I am sure a Valkyrie or an Odalisque would put the spring back in your step immediately, if not sooner."

I could feel heat in my cheeks. The Valkyrie and Odalisques, while all lovely ladies, I was sure, were not exactly who I would want to get... er... naked and sweaty with. This was one of those times when I wished He could not see into my mind. I risked a peek into His face, but all I could see was love and acceptance.

"There are alternatives to those Heavens also, Mr. Sandburg. Find one to your liking, and spend an eon or two there."

One did not say 'no' to the Lord God. However, "Will You send for me if I'm needed, Sir?"

"Of course." He rested His hand on my hair. "And Blair, lighten up. Have some fun."

****

My first vacation in forever had been... interesting... but a waste of time as far as I was concerned. None of the beings had attracted me enough to want to get naked, much less sweaty, and so I had spent most of the time fretting about my job.

I had cut the trip short and was in my quarters unpacking when I received an urgent message that my presence was required at the Way Station.

Not even taking the time to change into my formal robes, I flashed there, to be greeted by a concerned Angel in Charge.

"Mr. Sandburg! Oh, thank...!" He hastily cleared his throat. "Sir, I'm so sorry, I don't know what's wrong!"

A mortal was curled up in the corner, his hands over his ears, shuddering in distress.

I waved the Angel back to his duties.

Normally, I would have gone right to the angel who had escorted this soul to demand an explanation, but there was something about the mortal. I crossed the cloud cover and crouched beside him and raised his chin so his eyes met mine.

His ice-blue eyes were clouded with pain.

"It's all right..." I searched his mind for his name, wincing as I experienced the level of noise and chaos that was bombarding his senses. "... Jim. Dial it down." With mental pictures, I demonstrated what I wanted him to do, and gradually his color became more normal, and he looked relieved.

"Thanks, Chief. I don't know why the sound was getting to me."

Neither did I, and I frowned, becoming concerned.

One of the side effects of a soul taken too soon was that with the physical body still functioning, the soul didn't realize its problems should be left behind. Whatever was bothering Jim seemed too much like that.

If this wasn't explained to my satisfaction, someone was going to find my size 8 1/2 shoe up his butt. Or her butt. I was an equal opportunity ass-kicker. I had implemented programs that would make the initial arrival as untraumatic as possible, and this was unacceptable.

I obfuscated. "Well, the transition can be a little unexpected." I was getting lost in those eyes, and I forced myself to look away. "If you're better now, I'm afraid I'll have to leave you."

He looked disappointed, then nodded and gave a rueful smile. "I'll be fine."

Usually, I didn't touch mortals, but there was something about this one... I stroked his hair. It was short, a brush cut that felt ... I was at a loss. I'd never felt anything like it before, and I found myself lingering. "I'm Blair."

Jim rose to his feet. "Hi, Blair." He was taller than I expected, and I had to gaze up at him. "Um... transition? What transition would that be?"

My brows snapped together. "Didn't your escort explain all this to you?

"Escort? Oh, you mean that idiot dressed like the ice-cream man over there?" He pointed to an angel I was unfamiliar with. The angel was wearing blindingly white formal wear including a top hat, which he carried under his arm.

He must have been very new. It was usually the rookies who went overboard making a fashion statement.

The formal robes we all wore were much more sedate, and the casual suit I had on now appeared to be an ordinary white. That is, until I stood in the sun, when the rainbow of colors woven into the material became evident. I made my own fashion statement.

As soon as he saw me look over at him, the angel bustled to where we stood. "Jessups, sir. I've just been assigned your section. And may I say how very proud I am to be working under you!"

"Did you explain to Mr.... er..."

"Ellison, Chief."

"Thank you." My underlings complained that I tended to be too formal, but it seemed to ease the anxiety of the new arrivals. I turned my head to smile at him, and my breath snagged in my throat when I saw how he was regarding me. No one ever looked at me as if they wanted to cover me with raspberry sauce and whipped cream and eat me, spoon optional.

I coughed lightly, swallowed, and forced a smile. "Uh, yes, thank you. Jessups, did you explain to Mr. Ellison why he's here?"

Jessups glared at Jim... Mr. Ellison, then faced me, his expression earnest. "I tried, sir, truly I did. But every time I told him he was deceased, he would say a bad word and demand to be returned to ... er..."

"Peru, Mac. I was in Peru."

"How many times must I tell you my name is 'Jessups'? Mortals!" he huffed.

"Yeah, well, if you'd kept your hands off me, I could have kept that chopper from crashing."

I was suddenly getting that feeling that usually signified Lucifer was about to dance the Macarena, naked, before a group of silver-haired church ladies.

"That 'helicopter' was going to crash, and you were going to wind up burned to Special Ops cinders!"

"Oh, yeah? Well..."

"Excuse me." I touched Jim Ellison's shoulder. I really didn't have to, but... "Jessups, did you take this man before he had passed?"

"Mr. Sandburg, there was no way he could have survived. He wasn't even *the pilot*! That copter *was going to crash*!" He was becoming agitated.

"Listen, you..." Jim grabbed him by the collar and dragged him up on his toes. "I'm a Special Ops, as you were so kind as to mention. I'm trained to deal with situations like that!"

"Put him down please, Mr. Ellison."

He looked over at me and raised his eyebrow. "Call me 'Jim'."

I smiled at him. "Jim?"

He returned the smile and dropped the angel. Jessups fussed with his collar, smoothing out the wrinkles and muttering under his breath.

"Thank you. Now, all this can be cleared up quite easily." I walked to the nearest jet where boarding was taking place. "Frank!" I slapped the skin of the jet, and the pilot poked his head out the window and grinned down at me.

"Hey! Blair! We missed you last weekend! It was a good game! We on for next week?"

Behind me I felt Jim stiffen, and I glanced back at him. He was scowling up at the pilot, which was rather odd.

"Uh.... sure." I was startled when Jim turned his scowl on me. I raised an eyebrow, even more startled when his hand began kneading my shoulder. The feeling was interesting. "Uh... do me a favor, Frank, and check the stats for James Ellison?"

"Sure thing, Short-stuff." He put in a call to Records. Jim was still on Earth time, so he didn't realize how slow the time really passed. Finally, Frank received a response and called down, "James Ellison, middle name Joseph?"

Jim nodded and dropped his hand, tension starting to radiate from him. I missed his touch. "That's me."

Frank ran interested eyes over the man at my side, and I began to bristle. "What did you learn?"

"James Ellison, middle name Joseph, son of William and Mary Margaret, is scheduled to arrive here 28 May, 2038."

"There, you see, Mr. Softee! Asshole!" Jim glowered at Jessups, who backed up a few steps.

"Well, really!" the angel humphed. "There's no need to be rude."

Unable to resist, I rubbed Jim's shoulder comfortingly. "I'll see that you're returned to the time and place of your retrieval."

"Thanks." He leaned into my touch, then straightened with obvious reluctance and shook himself. "Uh... I guess I'll see you in fifty years, Chief."

"*Mr.* Sandburg!" Jessups corrected sharply. "These mortals! No sense of decorum whatsoever! If you'll come this way, please?"

I stood watching them leave, wondering why I felt bereft. I touched the spot on my shoulder where his hand had been.

In this place time passed at its own rate of speed. There was no rush, for we had all the time in the universe. I would see James Ellison again.

I just didn't realize how very soon.

****

I needed something to distract myself from thoughts of the mortal, Jim Ellison, so when Michael mentioned he needed some help in getting his newest recruits online, I volunteered.

"All right. No wings, you lot. Practice can be grueling, and if you break a wing, you're going to be benched for the season. *He'll* forgive you. *I* won't. And you definitely don't want to see *me* unhappy! Okay, break!"

The archangels were standing around the field, regarding the action intently. Gabriel had a stopwatch in his hand. Raphael was scribbling alternative moves on a chalk board that hovered at a convenient height for him.

And Michael-- "C'mon, Sandburg, shag it!" he shouted.

I raced down the field, a horde of seraphim thundering, as much as angels could be said to thunder, after me.

And then something on the sidelines caught my attention. I skidded to a halt and checked my watch. It was still 1988. Jim Ellison should not have returned so soon.

With a howl of 'Dog pile on the angel!', I was buried under a pile of weightless bodies.

"Chief!" There were squeaks of surprise as angels were flung every which way, and abruptly, I found myself free of them. "Chief! Are you okay?" Jim Ellison was on his knees beside me, running his hands over my body.

Oh! I liked that. I arched under his hands, almost purring in pleasure until I gagged and choked and spit out a feather that had gotten in my mouth. "Never mind me. What are you doing here?" His expression became stubborn. I held my hand up, and Jim pulled me to my feet. I liked that too. "Oh, all right, I'm fine. *Now*, what are you doing here?"

"Bright boy over here," he jerked a thumb, indicating Jessups, "screwed things up royally."

"I did not screw up," the angel sniffed. He was looking a bit frazzled, his white tails rumpled.

"Michael?"

The archangel nodded to indicate he was aware this was work-related and studied the players who were seated on the sidelines. "Paul! You're going in for Sandburg!"

The apostle bounced to his feet and hurried onto the field.

"Nice moves." Michael joined us. I didn't care for the way he was looking Jim over. I stepped closer to the mortal, angling my body so that it stood between the archangel and him. Michael smiled at my action, and I frowned. I failed to see the humor. "Whose division do you belong to? I want to see about having you transferred to mine."

"Michael!" Raphael was almost shimmering with excitement. "Look at this! If we switch to this play, we are so going to kick old Smokey's ass!"

"That's what I like to hear." He smiled at Jim. "Get in touch with me," and he trotted to the other archangel's side, all business. He did not take Lucifer lightly.

"All right, now suppose one of you tell me what happened?"

Jim folded his arms across his chest and stared at Jessups stonily.

"*It was not my fault*!" His voice was almost shrill. My foot began to beat out an impatient tattoo. "Well, it wasn't," he said sullenly. "And how come you're siding with him? He's just a mortal."

"Jessups, need I remind you that..." I snapped my mouth shut before I gave him a dressing down in front of the very mortal he was sneering at. I pushed my hair behind my ears. "Speak."

"My body is gone!" Jim burst out.

"Say again?"

"Cremated. The Chopecs don't believe in consigning their dead to the soil."

"They leave them exposed to the elements on a raised platform." I was familiar with various burial rites and customs.

"Yeah, well, my men and I aren't Chopec. We were all cremated!" He slumped in defeat, and I raised my hand to stroke his back comfortingly, but let it drop down to my side. What was it about the man that made me want to touch him? "What do we do, Chief?"

"I'll find another body for you, Jim."

"I don't want another body, I want *my* body!" He scrubbed his face. "Sorry, that sounds really childish. It's just... I had that body thirty years, Chief. I was kind of used to it."

This time I permitted myself to pat his back. "You can have your choice of any body on the planet. I promise I won't stop looking until we find one you're happy with. Let's check out the mug shots." I began to lead him off the field.

"Do you smell chocolate, Chief?"

I nearly stumbled. That was the scent I gave off when I was aroused. How could he... I hunched a shoulder and gave him a weak smile.

"Mr. Sandburg, what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Jessups, I believe you're a collector of souls? Go find some souls to collect."

****

"Take my seat, please." I pulled out the big book of Souls Who Will Cross Over Today and placed it on my desk. Jim leaned forward and began thumbing through it. "I'm a little sweaty from practice. If you'll excuse me, I'll just get cleaned up."

"No, it's fine, Chief. You don't know what whiff is until you've bivouacked with a squad of Rangers for two weeks."

"In that case..." I leaned over his shoulder. I would have sworn I could feel the air between us move with each of his inhalations, and my body hardened. I cleared my throat and began pointing out various body types and occupations I thought might interest him.

He turned them all down.

"All right. Not a problem, Jim." I was half sprawled across my desk, and I ran a hand through my hair, trying to tidy it. "I'll just get the book of Souls Who Will Cross Over Tomorrow..."

He leaned forward, and I found his lips a breath away from mine. I couldn't drag my eyes away from his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Chief. You can show me souls who'll cross over from now till Judgment Day, and it wouldn't matter. All I can think about is..."

His hand curled around my neck and gently brought our mouths together. My lips parted, and I swallowed his sigh. Or maybe he swallowed mine.

The next thing I knew, I was straddling his lap.

Jim inhaled sharply. "Chocolate!"

****

I'd never felt so relaxed. Jim was sprawled beneath me on that chair, his hands under my shredded shirt. One hand stroked over my shoulder blades, wandered down over my vertebrae, while the palm of his other hand cupped my buttock, the fingers caressing the slick spot where we had been joined, pressing a tip in to penetrate me once more. I shivered and wriggled against him, my essence cooling between us.

"Why didn't you tell me you'd never done this before?"

"You could tell? I was that bad?"

"You were that tight, Chief!" He turned my face toward his and took my lips in tiny, nipping kisses. "If you were any better, you'd have killed me!"

I sighed into his mouth, then trailed my lips over his face. The stubble on his cheek and neck made my lips tingle. I liked it.

"We still need to find you a new body," I whispered as I worked my way down to his neck.

"No rush, Chief. *I* have no problem with staying like this for a couple of centuries."

There was a tap on my door. "Mr. Sandburg?"

"Go away."

"Mr. Sandburg, please, this is important."

I'd been enjoying this interlude. "Jessups..."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Very well. What is it?"

"Regarding Captain Ellison? There... er... there appears to be a survivor."

"What?" Jim sat up so abruptly that it was only his grip on my hips that kept me from spilling onto the floor.

The door opened cautiously, and Jessups poked his head in. He blushed when he saw my state of disarray and cleared his throat. "Only seven of the bodies in Captain Ellison's squad were cremated."

"Someone's survived? Why didn't you tell me sooner?" For a second I thought he was going to lunge at the young angel, even if it meant dropping me. Instead, his grip tightened.

"Really, Captain Ellison, there was no need...

"Jessups, please wait for us outside. And close the door, if you don't mind." I waited for him to obey my instructions, then climbed off Jim's lap. "Jim. Time moves differently here." I was tempted to beg him not to begrudge the short hours we had spent together.

"I should have been there; I wasn't. Chief, I want to see him." He stood up and fastened his trousers.

"Of course, Jim. Just let me get dressed."

He took in my torn shirt and lack of trousers, the love bite I'd allowed him to place on my collarbone, and he flushed. "I'm sorry, Chief. I've never... You were so... that was the best... " He took a deep breath. "I don't want this to end, but..." He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." I snapped my fingers, and there was a subdued 'pop'. I shrugged my shoulders, and the suit I now wore settled nicely into place.

Jim would have fallen onto his backside from the shock, but I caught him in time. "Sorry. Next time I'll warn you." 'Next time'? What was I thinking?

We left my office. Jessups was just outside the door, almost hopping from one foot to the other in impatience, and he fell in behind us.

"We'd better hurry. Lieutenant Carson will not last much longer."

"Kit's the one who survived?" Jim asked.

"Yes, but I'm afraid he's very badly burned. If he lived, he'd need plastic surgery and extensive rehabilitation on his hands." I spoke to distract him. Mortals didn't deal well with our method of transportation, and I could move us even faster than Jessups. "Here we are."

He gazed around in disbelief, stunned to be back in the Peruvian jungle.

"Uh... Chief, aren't they going to be upset if we just walk into their village?"

I opened my mouth to reassure him, but Jessups jumped in.

"They won't see us. We are ephemeral, and you..."

"Jessups."

He subsided, but I could see him sulking out of the corner of my eye. His lower lip jutted out, and I heard him muttering, "... not supposed to play favorites."

I pretended I hadn't heard him. Angels were supposed to neither sulk nor pout. Nor play favorites.

We entered the Shaman's hut.

On a pallet on the ground was the badly burned man. Shivers wracked his body, and his breath spilled from cracked lips in hitches and gasps. The Shaman squatted beside him, chanting. In one hand were smoldering feathers, which he waved over the body, letting the smoke drift over the injured man in hopes of soothing him. In his other hand was a mixture of ash and ground herbs, and he sprinkled that over the man's flesh.

Surrounding the Shaman were a number of men and women who would periodically shake gourd rattles and add their voices to the chant. They radiated concern.

I sighed. Christopher Carson didn't have much time left.

"Can't we take him now, sir?"

"No, Jessups. You know better than that."

"Incacha." Jim was staring at the Shaman. "He's the man we were supposed to get in contact with," he whispered. His breath was warm and caressing in my ear.

The Shaman's head jerked up, and he stared around the hut, his body almost thrumming with tension. After a moment, he went back to his chanting.

"Oh, fuck. Kit." Jim crouched down beside him and tried to brush the singed hair back from a brow wrinkled in pain, but of course he couldn't. "He was our pilot. He has nobody, you know? His family wrote him off when he came out to them. I'm his..." He swallowed. "I was the only one in the squad he told."

The dying man opened his eyes, hazel and filled with pain. "Jim? Is that you, buddy?" The voice was ruined from smoke inhalation.

"Kit." Jim's voice cracked.

"Sorry, Cap. Guess I really fucked up." His body began seizing, and when the tremors finally stopped, there was blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

Jim blinked rapidly, his lower lip quivered just once, and then the anguish in his face vanished. If I hadn't been watching him, I would have missed it completely.

"Can't you save him?"

I shook my head.

"Well, can you take him; at least spare him the pain?" he demanded.

As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn't. Suddenly I realized the Shaman was staring directly at me.

He made a gesture, and the other Chopecs quietly left the hut. His eyes moved to the man beside me, who he should not have been able to see. "Enqueri."

Unless... "Would you be willing to accept this body, Jim?"

"What are you saying?"

"You said you wanted your own body. I can't give you that, but I can give you the next best thing, the opportunity to return to the world as Jim Ellison..."

The Shaman sat back on his heels.

"Mr. Sandburg! This is highly irregular."

"Jessups, shut up. I can do that for you, Jim."

"Sir!"

"Chief, how?"

"Carson is your height and coloring. His fingerprints have been burned off, and the burns on his face will conceal any facial differences."

"His eyes."

"They're the window of the soul. Gradually they'll change to reflect the soul contained within this body."

"Mr. Sandburg!"

"Jessups, am I or am I not Director?"

He quieted, but continued fidgeting. I ignored him.

"Blair, I don't want you to get in trouble."

I waved away that possibility. "I can release his soul early, I can give you this body. If this is your wish."

"Kit won't be in this agony any more?" He didn't hesitate. "I'm his captain. Yes."

"Very well."

"Just a second. What about you, Chief? I'll remember you, won't I?

My lashes shielded my eyes. I smiled but didn't answer him. I ran my hand over his hair, over the back of his neck, then over his cheek.

"Chief?"

"Time to go, Jim. Jessups?"

The two souls passed each other, Carson's leaving his body, Jim's entering it.

"Mr. Carson?" The soul that stood beside Jessups wavered for a moment, then steadied. "If you'll come with me? I'll take you home."

The soul looked down at what had once been his body. "Thank you, Jim. You always were a good captain. Thank you."

I was alone in the hut with the Shaman and the man who would be known as James Ellison.

His eyes opened. Pain was there, swamping his memory, and I sent him into a deep sleep.

As Incacha looked on, I caused the burns to heal. The scars would remain until he was rescued and returned to the United States. Working from a picture given them by William Ellison, the plastic surgeons would replace Christopher Carson's features with Jim Ellison's.

When he recovered, he would have no recall of the time he spent out of his body.

He would have no memory of me. Which was as it should be.

Fifty years. "Have a good life, Jim."

****
****

"Mr. Sandburg."

"Sir?" I snapped to attention.

"We have a problem, I am afraid."

"*Again*, Sir? I don't need another vacation! Truly!" Time to think? To dwell on how much I missed the man I had spent such a short amount of time with? I'd had years to do that, would have even more years.

The Boss smiled. At His side was Jessups, the rookie angel who was shaping up to be a more than competent collector of souls.

"Actually, this is something that is coming back to ... er... bite us in the ass, if you'll forgive me for saying so, Sir." There was a smirk on Jessups' lips.

"Of course, Jessups. Is not forgiveness one of My many attributes? I have a mission for you, Mr. Sandburg. If you choose to accept it."

"Certainly, Sir." No matter what, one did not say 'no' to the Lord.

"Good." His smile broadened. "Jessups will fill you in on the details. I will see you in forty years or so."

"Sir?" But I was talking to His back. "All right, Jessups, would you mind telling me what this is all about?"

His expression was bland, but his eyes were laughing. "Do you remember my royal screw-up eight years ago, Earth time?"

"Yes," I said cautiously.

"It was a set-up. He felt you were working too hard, and He was unhappy with the results of that mini vacation you took. He asked me if I would mind stepping in and taking the heat for an error that even a novice collector wouldn't make."

"Are you telling me you're a ringer?"

"'Fraid so. I'll be filling in for you while you go deal with that 'screw-up'."

"That was dealt with. Satisfactorily."

"Not quite."

"What are you talking about? Jim Ellison was given a body that would pass as his own, no one has questioned it. The plastic surgery needed to repair the scars explained the fact that he didn't look exactly like himself. His lack of fingerprints was accepted as a result of the burns he sustained in the copter crash."

"That's true."

"And as Jim said, Christopher Carson's family had disowned him, so they never thought twice about that urn of ashes that the Army presented to them."

Jessups eyes grew sad. "I don't understand how they could do that to him. He's the best... the most..."

"And how long have you been in love with him?"

He blushed but didn't deny it. "Would you believe since that little hut in the jungle, when he looked up at his captain and apologized for fucking up? He was in such pain, and yet..."

It had been a three millennia wonder throughout Heaven, how the former mortal had chased after the angel who had collected his soul until he allowed the angel to catch him.

Michael had been annoyed. He'd wanted to recruit the one-time Ranger for his Army. The battles with the Other Side were never-ending. The Boss had finally stepped in and promised Michael he could have him one weekend a month and two weeks in the summer.

"Tell me something, Mr. Sandburg."

"Oh, for St. Peter's sake, we're colleagues, Jessups. Call me 'Blair'."

"Blair. Have you been checking up on your favorite mortal recently?"

"What do you mean?" I thought I'd been discreet about it. In the beginning I hadn't been able to resist keeping tabs on him, visiting him in his dreams, an act which could have seen me sent to limbo for a stretch of time that would have been long, even by Heaven's standards. Oddly enough, I had never been called to task over it.

But I realized that after those nocturnal visits Jim would be restless and unhappy. I couldn't do that to him, so I stopped.

After he'd been rescued and returned to the States; after the successful surgery to 'restore' his face; after he'd moved out to Washington State and joined the Cascade PD; after he'd become a vice cop; I'd watched him search, watched him go from one woman to another, from one man to another...

I just stopped.

"I mean that Jim Ellison is having some problems. Blair, you've been assigned to clean up the mess."

"What mess? What's going on? What's wrong with Jim?"

"His senses have gone haywire."

"His senses have what?"

He shrugged. "You'll see when you get there."

"Get where?" I frowned. I was starting to sound like an echo.

"Cascade."

****

I looked around, disoriented. What was I doing on this street? Shouldn't I have been... I couldn't remember where I should have been.

And then abruptly, I remembered and bounced on the balls of my feet. Eli Stoddard, my mentor, had been to see me in my tiny office in the basement of Rainier University.

"Blair, you're in the running for funding for your research into the topic of your dissertation."

"I'll be able to go to Peru to study that tribe of Chopecs? Ah, Eli, that's awesome!"

"Don't get too excited, Blair. I just said you're in the running. Chancellor Edwards will make the final decision on who gets the money."

But I had no doubt she would award it to me. Ever since I had discovered that monograph by Sir Richard Burton, the explorer, I'd known my life would revolve around the search for a sentinel, an individual with hyper active senses, who protected the tribe.

I looked around again. I hadn't been in this part of Cascade before. Although it was reputed to be alternative-lifestyle friendly, word was that gays were being attacked here. I must have been so wrapped up in plans for my diss that I'd lost track of where I was going.

I must have lost track of the time as well. I was positive it had been mid-afternoon when I'd started out. Now street lights illuminated the damp sidewalks, and streamers of fog drifted knee high.

For a second I was sure that this was what walking through clouds was like.

Suddenly the pounding of footsteps disturbed the quiet night, and two hulking figures came barreling out of an alley.

"Fucking fag!" "Get him!" "Gonna whip his little pansy-ass!"

Ham-sized fists reached for me, swung at me, and then they were in a mound on the sidewalk, moaning. One cradled his balls in pain, while the other cupped a hand over his mouth.

I was impressed with myself. I hadn't realized I could react so quickly.

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed.

"This is 9-1-1. What is your emergency?"

"I'd like to report an ...er... accident."

She took down the information I gave her. "That doesn't exactly sound like an accident. Will you be needing an ambulance?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

"Very well, Mr. Sandburg. A car has been dispatched to your location and should be there in..."

"It's here!" The light on the roof of the unmarked car circled lazily, sending splashes of red onto the street, the sidewalk, the surrounding buildings.

"Cascade's finest at their finest." I could hear the smile in her voice. "Good evening, sir."

Two plainclothes detectives got out of the car. One was a black man, tall and stocky. The other was...

"Detective Jim Ellison." About six feet tall, close-cropped brown hair, and eyes that were the perfect color. I wanted to lose myself in those ice-blue eyes. "This is my partner, Joel Taggert."

"Blair Sandburg."

"You called in an assault?"

"Oh, er... Yes. I'm surprised they sent detectives. I mean, I would have thought a uniformed officer..."

Detective Ellison flipped open a pad. "We've been getting reports of gay-bashing in this neighborhood." He observed his partner checking out the two men on the ground. "Looks like they were the ones who got bashed." He turned those blue eyes on me, and they seemed to stroke over my body. I was startled to feel myself harden. His nose twitched, and he became very still.

"Jim?" His partner looked up from the two men.

"Oh, right, big guy." He shook himself and glanced back down at the pad. "According to dispatch, epithets were tossed around. That makes it a hate crime. Major Crimes has been working on this."

"We wanna preth chargeth!" one of the men complained through a mouthful of missing teeth. "We wathn't doin' anything. Thith guy over-reacted! We jutht wanted a match."

"A match? How about your face and my ass?" I muttered under my breath.

Jim gave a sputter of laughter, then cleared his throat. I hadn't spoken loud enough for him to have heard what I'd said, and I wondered what he found so amusing.

"Yeah, we wanna press charges," the other man insisted. "He's dangerous!"

Jim looked from them to me to Detective Taggert. The men were both over six feet tall and over two hundred pounds.

"Yep," he told his partner. "5' 7", 150 wringing wet, I'll bet. I can see he's a real tough cookie. What'd you two do, trip over your own big feet? Radio for an ambulance, okay, Joel?"

"Got it." He went to the car.

"He broke my dose. And I think my balls are in my mouth." The one beside him punched his arm. "Oww! What'd you do that for?"

"Do you know how *faggy* that thounded?" he lisped.

He turned green in the light of the street lamp. "Uh... I mean..."

"Y'know, you two match the descriptions of the perps who've been attacking members of the gay community."

"Wasn't us! We weren't even near Blanche!"

"Now how did you know that was where the assaults took place?"

"We didn't! You're tryin' to railroad uth! We're upthtanding, thraight thitithenth!"

Detective Taggert had returned in time to hear that. "Oh, Jimbo, these straight citizens are gonna enjoy jail so much. I bet they'll have no trouble filling their dance cards." He lowered his voice, but I was close enough to overhear. "You doing okay, Jim? You're not seeing weird shit, or hearing weird shit again, are you?"

"I'm fine, Joel. I just need to... I need to dial it down!" Jim's smile was incandescent, as if he remembered something that made him very happy. He seized the big man in a bear hug, actually lifting him up off his feet.

I had to clench my fists to keep from yanking Detective Taggert away from his partner. He misread the glare I sent his way, no doubt thinking I prudishly disapproved of police officers displaying affection on the streets of Cascade.

He patted Jim awkwardly on the shoulder and stepped away from him. "Uh... glad to hear that, Jim."

Somehow, Jim was aware of my reaction. He raised an eyebrow, then sent a little smile my way, and that flash of desire arrowed down to my groin.

The two men looked uncomfortable. "You can't put uth in a thell full of queerth!"

"You don't think so? Well, you just contemplate the error of your ways. Here's the ambulance. The paramedics will take a look at you and see if you need to go to the ER, or if you'll be going directly to jail."

The paramedics squatted beside the two men and examined them cursorily, cleaned the blood from their faces, and picked up the teeth that were scattered on the pavement.

"This one's nose is broken."

"I told you!"

"His septum may be deviated."

"Who you callin' deviated?"

They ignored him. "We'll take them to Cascade General for X-rays. If there's an orthodontic specialist on call, maybe he can put this guy's teeth back in. Which one of you will be riding along with us?"

Detective Taggert glanced at me, then smiled at Jim. "I'll take this one, but you're gonna owe me, Jim."

The ambulance drove off into the night. I could feel Jim watching me.

"So, where do you live, Chief?" Was he going to ask me out? "I need the information for my report."

My shoulders sagged.

And then I panicked. I couldn't remember where I lived.

"Chief?"

A picture of the warehouse I rented flashed through my mind, and I blew out a relieved breath. Of course. I gave Jim the address

"What were you doing in this neighborhood anyway, Chief? Looking for companionship?"

"No."

"Oh. You have someone at home." It was his turn to look unhappy.

"No. I live alone."

That cheered him up. "So, what were you doing here?"

"I guess I just wasn't paying attention to where I was walking. Eli Stoddard..."

"Who's Stoddard?" Jim asked sharply, looking up from his notebook.

"Eli's my mentor. Anyway, he told me earlier that I'm a front runner for funding for a research project in Peru, to study a tribe of Chopecs. I'm working on my Ph.D. in Anthropology at Rainier. I just have to submit my dissertation on sentinel abilities, and I'll be Dr. Blair Sandburg!"

"Sentinel abilities, Chief?"

"Yes. Hyper-acute senses. The men and women who exhibited these traits protected the tribe. They tracked game, weather, enemies. I've found records of one or two senses being online, but not all five." I stared up into his ice-blue eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm hmmm. Each sentinel had a guide who helped him control his senses, watched his back, kept him from zoning out."

"Zoning out, Chief?"

"Mmm hmmm. Losing himself in the sight or sound or... " I realized I was in danger of zoning out. I was leaning toward him, encroaching on his personal space, and I stepped back. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling, and you probably couldn't care less."

"Actually, I find that interesting. I stayed with the Chopec for about eighteen months. I've been having some problems with my senses lately. Might you... Oh, no. You said you're going to Peru. Damn." He shut the notebook and tucked it into his jacket pocket. "Well, I'll drive you downtown, and you can press charges against those bozos. You will press charges, won't you? So many of the victims have been reluctant to do that, for fear of more physical violence."

"We can't let fear control us, stop us from doing what we know is right."

"I like you, Blair Sandburg." He extended his hand.

"I like you too, Jim Ellison." We shook hands. The feel of his palm against mine was ... familiar.

"Listen, Blair. By the time you're done swearing out the complaint, my shift will be over. What would you say to having a cup of coffee with me?"

I ran my tongue over my lips and smiled at him. "I'd say I'd love to."

Two weeks later he asked me to move in with him. And Jim being a sentinel had nothing to do with me saying 'yes'.

****

Diffuse sunlight was shining through the window of the loft onto my closed eyelids. I mumbled a sleepy complaint, turned my head and buried it under my pillow.

My pillow went sailing over the railing of the loft to the living room below. Strong arms pulled me back against a hard-muscled chest.

"Morning, Jim," I mumbled and wriggled my ass closer to his groin. I suddenly realized those muscles banding my torso were hard because they were tense, and woke completely. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Chief."

"Jim," I prodded.

"Always the Guide?" He sighed. "It was just a dream. A strange dream."

"You want to tell me about it?"

His arms tightened around me, and after a few minutes he began to speak. "I had no control of my senses, and I thought I was losing my mind. I went to a hospital to have some tests run, and you were there in a white lab coat. You told me your name was Dr. McKay, and when I said your nametag said 'McCoy', you told me that McKay was the correct Gaelic pronunciation."

I couldn't prevent a spurt of laughter.

"Admit it, Chief. That's so you. Anyway, you told me I didn't need medicine, I needed information, gave me a business card with your name on it... *your* name, Blair Sandburg. You said, 'You're a cop, see the man.' For a minute I thought I was dreaming Adam 12."

He became quiet, and I turned my head to nip his chin. "Well, it's just..."

"I'm not done. I tracked down the address on the business card, and it turned out to be this ratty little office in the basement of Rainier. When I opened the door, you were there. We argued, and then I tossed you up against a wall and called you a neo-hippy-witch-doctor punk."

"That's cold, Jim." But my shoulders were shaking, and he laughed a little too before growing serious again.

"I stormed out of there, but once I was outside, I was distracted by some kids tossing a red Frisbee. I zoned on it. I stood in the middle of the street. I could hear you shouting, I could hear a horn blaring, but it was as if I was hearing it from a distance. My whole world was centered on that Frisbee. And then you were on top of me...

"Oh, yeah, I like that dream, Jim!"

He pinched my ass. "Let me finish, Sigmund. You were on top of me, and a garbage truck passed over us. You saved my life, Chief."

"Good thing. I couldn't live without you, you know. So, what else happened in this dream?"

"Oh, not much more. We became partners and tracked down a bomber who called herself the Switchman."

I shifted around until I was facing him. "Forget about it, Jim; none of that happened. It was just a dream." I ran my fingers over the buzz cut of his hair, then brought his mouth down to mine and kissed him.

Jim reached down and tickled the back of my knee, then slid his hand up my thigh and stroked my ass cheek. Warm lips caressed the curve of my neck up to the hinge of my jaw.

He rolled onto his back, taking me with him, and I settled on him like a blanket. He spread his legs, and our dicks lined up together, jerking as they slid in the pre come we were both leaking.

"Blair, I want you to fuck me."

"Don't I always, Jim?" I licked my lips and brushed them over his cheek, then braced an arm on the bed while I reached for the night stand drawer where we kept the lube.

Jim's big hands grasped and kneaded the taut muscles of my buttocks, parting them. I always felt so exposed when he did that.

A wet finger circled the rim and dipped in, and I shivered, almost forgetting that I was supposed to be getting him ready for my dick.

I squeezed some lube onto my fingers and began working them past the tight ring of muscle that guarded his hole.

"Like that, Chief," he gasped as I pressed up against his prostate. His hips rocked up and twisted, trying to get me to touch that spot again.

"I'll give you what you want, babe."

He whimpered as I found it again and again. His dick was hard against my groin, leaving a trail of pre come to my navel.

I was sweating by the time I removed my fingers and sat back on my heels.

Jim breathed deeply. "Chocolate!"

I laughed, but it was a ragged sound. Jim teased that he always knew when I was aroused; my scent was like dark, bittersweet chocolate.

Quickly I lubed my dick, then parted his cheeks and set my dick against his hole. "Okay, Jim. Relax and breathe."

"Hey, Chief, I'm not the one who was a virgin!"

I pinched his ass. "Smile when you call me that, partner!"

"I'm smiling! I'm smi..." His words changed to a groan as I pushed into him. "Fuck, babe!"

"That's... that's what I'm doing!"

He rocked back and locked his ankles around my waist, keeping his hips angled so I could pound into him. "You talk too much!"

I didn't bother telling him that he was the one who was always carrying on a conversation while I was trying to... I panted and drove my dick deeper in that passage that was like heated velvet.

"More! Harder! Fuck, Chief, *harder*! I'm almost there!" He clamped down on me, then howled as I squeezed the base of his dick, slowing his need to come. "What the fuck are you doing?"

I braced my weight on my hands and plunged into him again and again, six, eight, ten times, and with a gasp I was coming, pouring my semen into him, filling him.

"Chief!"

"Shhh, babe. I'll take care of you." I was still half-hard as I pulled out of him carefully, then swooped down and swallowed his dick to the root.

This time he really *howled*. I sucked strongly while my tongue massaged that spot under the head of his dick, the spot that drove him insane. I slid a finger back into his slicked hole and rubbed his prostate.

"Chief, I'm..." But he didn't even have time to warn me before his dick quivered and began spurting the slightly bitter liquid down my throat, and I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed.

****

"Chief?"

"Yeah, Jim?"

"Nothing. Just... Chief." He pulled me closer to his body and hooked his leg over mine. Our sated dicks were trapped between us. "You know, angel, I have no problem with staying like this for a couple of centuries."

"What?"

"I said, 'Babe, did I ever tell you, the first time I saw you I was positive we had met before?'"

"Really, Jim?" Of course that was what he said. Loving Jim always left me boneless and mindless. I smiled against his neck, and flicked out my tongue for a lick. "What a nice thought."

But of course, we never had.



~End~