"So Sentinel and Shaman went back to t'city and bringed people out of it and made them into t'tribe, and all t'other tribes comed from it and all t'cities got empty 'ceptn for Ravagers, an, an, an now *every body* lives in tribes."  Test recited what he knew of history in one lung-sagging breath, then sucked in more air to keep going.

 

"Not everybody lives in tribes, Test, and it wasn't quite that easy," Sentinel interrupted gently.  "Talking frightened children into leaving what little security they had, teaching them what they needed to know to survive as a tribe, how to *be* a tribe - not even the best shaman that ever lived could have done that by himself if things hadn't been so bad."

 

"Not even with t'best sentinel that ever lived helpin' 'im?" Test asked seriously, though there was a grin playing around the edge of his words.

 

"Not even then."

 

"How could they be so *stupid?"  Test blurted.  "Ev'body knows t'trust sentinel or shaman t'protect and take care of you." The child sounded absolutely indignant on their behalf.

 

"Ahh, but you forget the city people didn't know about them," Shaman pointed out gently. 

 

"Not only that, but most had never spent more than few hours at a time in a forest; some actively hated being outside at all.  None of them knew how to hunt, or what nuts and plants were safe to eat, or how to stay warm when it was cold.  They'd never *needed* to learn those things.  They were more ignorant than the tiniest baby about how to live the way we do now.  Can you blame them for being scared of such a huge change?"

 

It was obvious that the boy was struggling with the concept of *not* knowing how to live as he did, but after a moment he nodded his head slowly.  "Onced we was moving to a Next Camp, and it rained hard, harder than I ever 'membered seeing it rain.  Scared me cause'n I didn't know how t'see or t'walk in it when it was all mean like that.  To them *ev'thing," and he flung out his arms to encompass their world, "was new and mean."

 

"Exactly," Shaman confirmed.  "And they had already lost so much that it was hard for them to risk what little they had left.  It was hard, so very, very hard for those first few city people who ventured out."

 

 

CHANGING TENSES

 

Resolutely Jim kept his back to the balcony doors, though habit dug its claws into him repeatedly.  He absolutely refused to stare into the city that he once seen as his, and somehow managed to keep his attention inside the loft, despite the fact that the view in there was almost as painful.  It looked like a hurricane had hit the place.

 

More accurately, it looked as if someone had broken in, ransacked the rooms, then trashed the contents because they hadn't found what they were looking for.  Which had been precisely what he and Blair had been aiming for when they'd begun.  When they left the next morning, they would deliberately leave the door ajar so that a casual inspection would convince any potential looters that there was no reason to come inside.  Only people who knew them, who had a purpose besides looking for food or random destruction would enter now, hopefully.

 

It was for them - for Naomi who they had lost track of even before the world had started going insane, for members of the Cascade police department who knew them personally, for friends from Rainier University - that they left clues so they could be found.  Blair finished painting the last, 'I miss my mommy naomi berkstrom,' on one of the walls, and stepped back, tossing the paintbrush carelessly away when done.

 

"I hope she remembers that 'Berkstrom' was the name of the people who built that survivalist compound," he muttered, rubbing at the damp paint on his fingers.  "Is there enough of a space between 'mommy' and 'naomi' that it's easy to think a 'Naomi Berkstrom' wrote the first part?"

 

"Yes, and it looks like a ten year old did it."  Jim wrapped his arms around his lover and held him tightly, back to chest.  "Don't worry.  If she makes it this far, she won't be stopped by a little thing like us relocating.  She'll know to look for more once she sees the graffiti.  At the very least she'll find the week's worth of rations we left under your photo albums in your old room.  That is, if she'll even go in there; all we had to do to make that room look trashed was break the door."

 

Blair didn't rise to Jim's attempt at humor, but he did lean back into the comfort offered, letting his head drop back onto Jim's shoulder.  "I can't believe how much it bothers me to see the loft this messy," he muttered.  "I thought it was going to be fun doing something I'd fantasized about for years, but I keep wanting to clean it up.  You must be going nuts."

 

Despite it all, Jim chuckled, brushing a kiss over his partner's temple.  "You never mentioned that fantasy to me.  Been holding out on me, Chief?"

 

With an effort, Blair dug up a smile.  "Yeah, well, I didn't want to use up all the best stuff right away.  Wanted to save a few things for when the magic went out of the relationship, you know?"

 

"If you're waiting for me to get bored with you, you've got a long haul ahead," Jim said complacently.

 

Abruptly Blair broke, squirming around so that he could wind his arms around Jim's waist and hanging on with all he had, face pressed into the bigger man's breastbone.  "Oh, God, I hope so.  I hope so.  It's killing me to leave the loft; I can't imagine what it would be like to lose you.  You're what made this place home."

 

"No," Jim denied instantly, nuzzling into the top of his lover's head.  "Remember what it was like when you first moved in?  Cold, empty...it was just a roof over my head then.  We changed it together, without ever meaning to maybe, but we did.  I promise, I *promise* you, Blair, wherever we end up, we'll change that place into home, too."  With his nose he nudged at his partner's forehead until Blair lifted his head and they could be eye to eye.  "After all, we have the essential ingredient right here."

 

At Blair's quizzical look, he dipped down enough to steal a tiny kiss, then pulled back, relieved to see the understanding in his partner's face.  Stretching up, Blair took a kiss of his own, the contact so sweet that Jim couldn't help a shiver of pleasure from it.  "Definitely a long way from being bored," he muttered, and dove after his lover, claiming his mouth in a serious way. 

 

Opening to him immediately, Blair drew his tongue into his own mouth with hungry intent, trying to burn away his sorrow in the promise of their passion.  But Jim didn't want animal rutting, not this time.  Some instinct told him that the farewell they both needed should be a loving one, a tribute to all the joy and laughter they had shared in this home.

 

So he gentled his lover with long, slow strokes of hands over back, of tongue over lips, until Blair relaxed into the deliberate rhythm Jim set, responding with drawn-out sighs of arousal.  When they were undulating into each other with the same pattern, Jim broke away with a disappointed murmur to whisper, "Upstairs."

 

"Yes, yes."  Blair pulled away, actually wincing at the loss, and took one of Jim's hands in his as he led the way to their bed.  They had left that room untouched, hoping that vandals or thieves would just assume it would be as bad as the rest of the loft, and they fell thankfully onto their fresh sheets and warm quilt, savoring the simple comfort it added to their union.

 

They undressed each other unhurriedly, taking time to sample each bit of flesh as it was revealed, gradually building up their desire until it was the only thing that existed.  Only then did Jim roll on top of his lover to cover him, aligning their erections so that silky hardness glided over silky hardness.  Propping himself up on his elbows, Jim watched Blair's face, awed as always by the beauty and love there.  They rocked together slowly, prolonging their loving both in anticipation of the forced abstinence tomorrow would bring, and to simply *enjoy* it as long as possible. 

 

Eventually, though, Jim was overwhelmed by the multitude of sensory flashes hitting him and began thrusting powerfully.  Riding the wave of hot, slick skin, musky, sexy scent, low, rumbling moans, and the answering urgency in Blair's incredible eyes, he unwillingly rushed toward his finish, trying to hold back even as he succumbed to the demands of his body.  Then Blair reached up to cup the side of his face, thumb lightly tracing his lower lip, and whispered, "My Jim, always."

 

He shuddered, and with almost identical shouts at almost the same time, they both emptied their seed onto their bellies, clinging to each other with muscle aching intensity long after the last satisfied twitch in their bodies. 

 

To his surprise, as good as it had been, making love with Blair didn't have its usual sleeping pill effect on Jim.  Long after his lover had surrendered to the day's tension and exhaustion, he lay in their big bed, trying not to compare this silent, silent city to the noisy Cascade from not that long ago.  The un-natural quiet unexpectedly got on his nerves, but not as much as the uneven, ruddy glow coming from the bedroom window and skylight.  Try as he might, he couldn't hide from it, though he went so far as to put on the sleeping mask that Blair teased him endlessly about.  Even through the dense fabric, the light shimmied on the lids of his eyes, refusing to be ignored.

 

Finally he stopped mentally running and eased from the bed, making sure Blair was well covered against the chill of the early spring night.  Sweeping a curl away from the closed eyes, he pressed a kiss on the high forehead, then padded downstairs to his customary place by the balcony doors.  Though he tried to brace himself for it, the sight of the changed Cascade still hit him hard, and he shuddered, sickened by the dull red smudging the horizon, the blood of a civilization in its death throes. 

 

Most of the fires eroding the familiar skyline were accidental.  People had died with ovens burning, a candle lit, or an curling iron left in the wrong place, still plugged in.  With hardly any firemen left to fight them, the blazes were left unattended with the tiny hope that Cascade's practically daily rainfall would eventually be enough to put them out.  Some of the fires, though, the ones where the precious few firemen worked carefully, were funeral pyres.  Baleful and sullen, they stank up the air and spewed ashes everywhere, giving the smoldering bones of the city an eerie funeral shroud.

 

"The prophets were right," he mumbled to himself an indeterminate time later, tucking his hands into his armpits against a cold that came from within.  "The world ended in fire, but we were too damned busy to notice."

 

"*A* world ended, Jim," Blair said quietly, coming up behind him.  "Or more accurately, a civilization.  People go on, build new lives, build new societies.  They do it all the time.  This," and he waved a hand at the horizon, "Is just the latest in the cycle.  Birth and Death, Creation and Destruction, Alpha and Omega if you will."

 

"It's just so wrong, somehow," he argued without heat.  "So many ways it could have happened: nuclear holocaust, major meteor strike, even aliens blowing it up to make way for an intergalactic expressway.  There could have been a definite end that way, last acts of heroism or defiance that mattered to whatever survivors there was, giving them hope and making them proud of their species.  This is just an ugly shambling toward an shattered future that we can't guess at."

 

"Every immigrant who ever came to this country," Blair disagreed, "arrived here without knowing what was ahead.  They had the same things we do - hopes, dreams, ideas."  Blair drew down the shades to the French doors firmly, his body language telling Jim clearly that he wouldn't listen to any objections from him.  "And the ones who succeeded were the ones who accepted what they found when they got here, despite how different it was from their preconceived ideas.  We can do the same."

 

It was Jim's turn to be offered support, and he closed his eyes in relief as his lover molded himself to his back, the wiry hairs on Blair's chest adding their own unique caress.  The heat of his lover felt good; his presence felt better.  He didn't offer any protest when Blair urged him back upstairs, more than willing to be distracted from his own grief with the same technique he'd used earlier. 

 

This time when he came, emptying himself into Blair's throat even as he drank down his mate's essence, he drifted seamlessly from the reality of making love to dreams of it in a hot, vivid jungle.

 

***

 

Neither one of them looked back at 852 Prospect when they left the next morning.  Defying Jim's common sense rule about staying in the seatbelt and on his side of the truck, Blair sat right beside him, hand on his thigh all the way to the station.  He let it go without comment, driving all the way to work with his own hand similarly placed.

 

It was the only change they allowed themselves all day, and while Jim could sense his partner's growing nervousness as the time approached for them to make their first move, Blair never once bobbled.  The closest he came was when Taggart left for his own duties, throwing a casual wave goodbye at them when he went through the door.  Despite his best efforts, sapphire blue eyes followed the older officer for as far as he could see, sadness making them a darker color.

 

But only Jim noticed that, and when Simon told them to work escort duty a minute or two later, Blair snapped back into a facsimile of his normal self quickly, giving their friend a disgusted glare.  It didn't take any acting on Jim's part for him to pinch his mouth shut in distaste at the assignment, either.  He truly hated standing guard over the kids while they did the filthy work of going from house to house, apartment to apartment, bringing out any bodies they found for the disposal crews and emptying it of food.  Obstensively it was to protect them from anyone who might try to take the supplies.  In reality it was to keep them from eating any of it or running away.

 

"We've already had our tour at that this week, sir," he almost snapped.  "Give it to the guys at the top of the list if whoever's scheduled for it is out sick or something."

 

Looking harried, worried and tired, Simon barked back, "List's been changed and you *are* at the top of it, *Detective.* One of the crews attacked their escorts yesterday, and the Mayor's ordered the number of armed guards doubled."

 

That was no news to the partners; Jim had overheard the Mayor's men report the incident, calmly saying they'd killed them all to be a lesson to future work crews.  It had been both the final straw and the opportunity they'd been looking for; they'd contacted Daryl and set their plan in motion.

 

"Man, can you blame them?" Blair muttered, barely loud enough for Simon to hear.  "They do all the work and barely get enough food to keep going, not to mention the way those thugs treat them like virtual slaves."

 

Bristling, Simon started to yell, then visibly took himself in hand and said flatly,  "Understandable or not, if it happens again the Mayor will have an excuse to stop feeding them entirely.  It's been hard enough to convince him and his people to keep supplies going to the Isolation Camp."  He pinched at his nose, then said more softly, "Look, Jim, Blair, some kids got hurt yesterday.  They trust the cops, but not the goons.  If there are more of us than the goons, we can keep them safe and find ways to bend the rules."

 

It took all Jim had to keep his face in neutral when he realized that Simon's words meant he hadn't been told the truth about the attack.  The lie was a dangerous sign of just how badly the captain's influence over the mayor was eroding, probably because he was beginning to see Banks as a threat to his own authority.  Beside him, Blair had his best concerned look on, though from the racing of his heart, it was obvious that his partner understood the frightening implications of the deceit as well.

 

Woodenly Jim said, "If we're being put on guard duty for the work crews, it means the goons are the only ones at the warehouses." 

 

"Which are locked up tight until time for distribution; the mayor and I are the only ones with the combinations.  Then we'll be there in full force.  The goons don't have any illusions about how nice the crowds will be if we're *not*"  There was a trace of satisfaction in Simon's voice - satisfaction that he was entitled to. 

 

For one heart-breaking minute his own words from last night came back to haunt Jim.  Here were the heroics he'd been looking for; a good man doing the goddamn best he could to hold a dying world together.  Desperately he wished he could tell Simon that, let him know the kind of respect he had for his friend and captain, but all he did was stand, head bent over his desk as if looking over a last note.  "All right, all right, we're going.  Just don't get on my case if I end up redecorating some thug's face for hassling the kids."

 

Despite his care, there must have been something in the way Jim spoke or refused to look at Simon; he could almost feel his friend's gaze burning the top of his head.  But all Banks said was, "No witnesses if it happens, then.  Sandburg, don't let him kill anybody."

 

"Does that mean I can?" Blair muttered, but he gathered up their jackets, handing one to Jim, keeping his own face carefully averted. 

 

With a snort of disbelief, Simon waved them out of the room, mind already on his next item of business. 

 

Taking their time, they left, the facade cracking as soon as they were in the stairwell away from prying eyes and the remaining functioning security cameras.  Then Jim leaned on the nearest wall, head on his forearm, and made himself breathe slow and deep, the muscle in his jaw angrily throbbing.  Blair fit himself along his side, and Jim draped his free arm over the trembling body, wishing he had more to give.  He allowed the weakness for only a minute, then pulled himself together.  "Is there a way we can get a message to Daryl so he can tell his dad the truth about the attack yesterday?"

 

Brushing at suspiciously damp eyes, Blair nodded.  "He'll be at the pickup site at the Isolation Camp today.  I'll find a way to have a private word with him."

 

Reluctantly, Jim turned to start down the steps.  "Let me know if you need a distraction or something."

 

"Have you figured out what to do with the Mayor's men sharing duty with us?"  Blair trotted alongside him, mind already racing ahead. 

 

"Let's just say it's a good thing you didn't promise Simon to keep me from killing anyone," Jim said flatly.  "I called in a favor; the ones who opened fire yesterday are going to be with us."  Blair froze in place for all of heartbeat, then nodded.  It was a rough justice, one they both would have to answer for in their own hearts and souls, but it was, at least, justice of a kind. 

 

They met the other half of their team for the day in the basement, greeting Tom Baker and Serena Chang with a faked surprise at working with them.  Baker was the desk sergeant for the uniforms, and had been teased for years that the one from Hill Street Blues had been based on him.  Grinning, he'd always taken the fraternal abuse with a grin, and an up-thrust finger, saying he was more handsome. 

 

He and Serena had been seeing each other for a while, ever since she had picked up a gun and asked to be assigned to the uniforms, pointing out acidly that a forensic scientist wasn't the most useful thing in the department right now.  Originally he had taken her under his wing to train her in self-defense and whatever else she needed to survive on Cascade's changing streets.  It hadn't taken long for their relationship to grow past that.

 

Like Jim and Blair, they kept it professional in public, however, and that stood them in good stead as the four of them chatted and bitched casually while they readied the big truck they would use for transport.  Once out of the station, though, silence fell, and Serena crawled into Baker's lap, hiding her face in the curve of his shoulder all the way to the pick up point.  Blair had used the crowded cab as an excuse to cuddle Jim, but didn't budge when that changed.

 

Just before they arrived, Jim whispered, "It's not too late to back out."

 

Baker shook his head firmly, and Serena murmured, "No, this is the right thing to do.  It's just so hard, not being able to say good-bye or explain *why.*  And it's going to be murder on the Captain and the others."

 

"The Mayor is going to go ballistic at having part of his slave labor escape," Blair told her unnecessarily, apparently hoping that going over their rationale one more time would be reassuring.  "And he would love to make the Captain the target of it.  Banks' best defense against accusations of a conspiracy or rebellion will be the fact that he genuinely knows nothing about what we're up to, and that he's going to be mad as hell himself.  Our 'desertion' might even heal some of the breach between them, which is even worse than we thought."

 

Blair quickly briefed them on the lie their Captain had been told, not needing to point out how dangerous the omission was.  "Whether he meant to or not," he finished, "the Mayor has set himself and his people up as the bad guys, and Banks and the Police Department up as the good guys.  I don't think he understands yet that his choice of help is the big problem, but if he thinks the Captain can take over using popular support as a power base, he might do something stupid.  We could be buying Banks a reprieve here."

 

"We could also be weakening the Captain's place in the department," Serena worried.

 

"No," Blair said instantly.  "It'll all be on our heads for running out on him, and every one else will be that much more loyal and eager to prove it.  We told enough key people what we were doing to be sure of support for Banks, or we *wouldn't* be leaving.  It's risky, I admit, and I don't know if Simon will ever forgive us, but this was the only way to keep him safe and the department out of the Mayor's hands."

 

"If it helps any," Jim put in, "We left a letter with Daryl explaining everything, including why we didn't tell him.  Simon will get it as soon as the timing's right."

 

Looking relieved, Baker admitted, "I'm glad.  Leaving the Captain out of the loop has been bothering me, too."

 

"Thanks, Jim, Blair," Serena added.

 

Then there was no more time for conversation.  The gates to the Isolation Camp were in front of them, along with three other trucks already loading their workers for the day.  Though Daryl hadn't given out any names for the other teams involved in the exodus, Jim wasn't surprised to recognize all of them as friends and family of the department and Rainier, most of whom he wouldn't have minded having along on his own team.  He nodded in satisfaction, but that was all.  Donning a semi-belligerent attitude, he left the truck with the others, bracing himself for dealing with the goons.

 

Thankfully the arrogant, murderous bastards were about as observant as they were kind.  They never noticed that all of the teens getting on the truck were barely holding in their excitement, or that many of them carried small packs.  As the morning progressed, the mayor's men didn't catch on that the food brought down to the curb for pick up had the light, easily carried things sorted out, or that all those packages went into the truck Serena was driving, not the one they were in.  Or that the kids exchanged whatever they were wearing for warmer, more durable clothing whenever they found something suitable.

 

When the reached the outer edge of the assigned salvage area, Jim walked up to the goons, holding up a dusty bottle of scotch.  "Look what just turned up.  Didn't the Mayor promise extra rations to anybody finding some of this for him?"

 

The taller of the two men, the one with a bad complexion and greasy hair, reached for it.  "Damn straight.  And don't worry; I'll be sure to let him know who gets the credit."

 

Yanking the scotch out of reach, Jim shook his head.  "Stupid I'm not."  He waited a heartbeat, then put it where it could be taken from him.  "But I'm doing okay on rations right now.  Maybe there's something else you could do for me."

 

"Yeah?"

 

Motioning with his head, Jim led the way to the back of the truck, where the others wouldn't see them.  The goons exchanged a glance, not wanting to separate and even less willing not to have at least one of them watching out for trouble from the kids.  Then the tall one followed, apparently spurred by the idea of brownie points with his boss.  He came around the corner into Jim's waiting hands, and his neck was broken a split second later. 

 

A heave put the body into the bed of the truck with the groceries, then Jim poked his head around the corner.  "Hey!  I think your buddy has a problem here!  Did you guys eat something chancy this morning?"

 

That brought the other one on the run; food poisoning had been a persistent problem as desperate people started eating things with questionable expiration dates.  A quick snap gave him the same death as his partner, corpse taken care of the same way.

 

A minute later Jim was behind the wheel, driving the goon's truck into a garage to hide it.  Blair was lowering the door by the time he'd shut off the engine and gotten out, and he ducked under it with a grim nod to his partner to let him know what he'd done to the guards.  The only reaction he got was a slight widening of eyes and an answering nod that still somehow conveyed sympathy.

 

Together they went to the back of their own truck where the teens were milling around uncertainly.  Without thinking about it, Blair stood on the wide bumper step so that everyone could see him easily, Jim taking a guarding position to the right.  "Okay," Blair started, loud enough to be heard by the small crowd.  "You know what's going on here, even if you didn't believe it would really happen.  My partner and I, along with Officers Chang and Baker, are leaving for Cascade National Wilderness Preserve, hoping to set up a new life for ourselves there.  Ellison here is a survivalist expert; I'm not exactly ignorant myself. 

 

"We're willing to take anyone with us who wants to go, and teach you what you need to make it out there.  If you want to take off on your own instead, you're welcome to take as much food as you can carry and go with our best wishes.  All we ask is that if the Mayor's men catch you, don't tell them who set this up.  As far as they're concerned, you took advantage of a fight between Ellison and the other guards.  No reason they shouldn't believe you.

 

"We're not the only ones leaving like this today, but we're all going in different directions, so we're not worried too much about being followed.  But we're really hoping that we can bring out more people, later on, after we're established, and if you don't rat out the guy who helped you, he can give others the chance you're getting right now.

 

He paused a second, a hand going to his hair to push a wind blown lock away, looking for the moment as the same age as the young people he addressed.  "That's why we're only taking those who've already SARa'd, who know what they're allergic to.  That's why only older teens this time; you're already mostly grown and can take care of yourselves, be responsible for yourselves.  What we hoping is that you'll become teachers in turn, which will let us help the younger kids escape from the city.  If you don't want to do that, fine.  We don't mind if you want to cut out on your own when you're able."

 

The small group was unnaturally quiet, not looking at Blair, or even each other, but staring at their feet or something far away.  Holding down a sigh that only Jim could perceive, he waited a moment for any comments, then went on.  "You're waiting for the catch, right?"

 

There was a nervous titter or two, but nobody denied it.  "Smart people," Blair approved.  "The catch is simple.  You have to *listen* to us.  Right now you're not in the mood to do that because of the way you've been treated, and I don't blame you a bit.  But out there," he swung an arm out to the mountains that filled the horizon, "you can die a thousand different ways, most pretty painful, if you don't ask how high on the way up when told to jump.  I could promise or swear or cross my heart and tell you that you will *never* be given an order without cause.  Which is the truth, but you have no reason to believe me."

 

Taking a deep breath, he stepped down into the group.  "If you can't trust us enough to listen to us, you should probably stay here where you know how things work.  The chances are very good that you won't make it in the wilds, otherwise."  Cautiously Blair put a hand on the nearest shoulder, waited until the young woman raised her eyes to his.  "The choice is yours; I hope you'll come with us."  For a few minutes he walked through them, sharing a smile here or a quick touch there, then went to the front of the truck to get in the cab.

 

Out of the 28 who left the Isolation camp with them, 23 climbed into the back of the truck to take their chances with Mother Nature.

 

****

 

Though they didn't think they would be missed for hours, they drove non-stop until nightfall, pulling over only then to gobble a few bites and answer nature's call.  Conditions in the back were rough; too bouncy to really nap or rest, and too crowded with supplies to get comfortable.  No one complained, though, and they good-naturedly tried to help each other as much as possible.  That earned them high marks in Jim's opinion, giving him a shred of hope that taking green horns into the wild wasn't going to be a disaster.

 

Jim drove through the night, not bothering to use the headlights, which earned him strange looks from Serena and Baker.  They didn't comment, however, and neither did he.  After a lot of debate, he and Blair had decided the best way to deal with the sentinel thing was to simply let their new 'tribe' notice and deal with the questions as they arose.  As a general rule, it was easier to let people convince themselves, they both believed, and would give everyone a chance to get to know Jim before they had to deal with his abilities.

 

After all the secrecy, it felt a little odd, Jim mused, pretending not to see Baker's third aborted attempt to say something.  Blair saw, too, and muffled a snort of amusement in Jim's shirt.  About the time he thought Serena and her lover would simply blurt out a question, he saw the abandoned state road worker's facility they had prepared as their jumping off point.

 

It took everyone a bit longer to gather their wits this stop, and it was nearly dawn by the time gear was distributed, backpacks were loaded, and everything was inspected.  Jim could tell they were tired, but not yet exhausted, as he looked over straps and pack weights personally, ignoring the wary body language of most of the teens.  To them, cop or not, he was another big man with a gun who was telling him what to do. 

 

The girls were especially skittish, one in particular so nervous that he thought she might faint on him.  Keeping his expression distant and his hands completely impersonal, he helped her balance her load, mentally noting to talk to Blair about her as soon as possible.  A minute or two later, one of the younger boys had a similar reaction, and he kept his fury at the abuse that must have caused their reactions at bay only by promising himself that he would get the names of the people responsible.

 

By mid morning they were ready, and, after a fast meal of hot instant oatmeal, they started their long hike.  He set a pace just short of brutal, wanting to take advantage of their comparative freshness.  This time tomorrow every single one of them would feel as if they had gone twice the distance with twice the weight - while being beaten with rubber paddles.  Mercifully, Baker was an experienced hiker; he ranged up and down the line with Blair as they moved, offering encouragement and advice. 

 

That freed Jim to take point, and he double-backed frequently as well, re-checking that Blair had hidden their trail sign well enough.  It meant he marched two miles for every one the rest of their troop traveled, but he was hardened to it.  Each trip back he asked for a different volunteer to run point with him, taking time as they hiked ahead to explain what he was doing and why. 

 

They didn't stop for lunch; by now the kids were used to making do with two meals a day, and no one even asked.  Rest stops were short; they couldn't afford for over-worked muscles to stiffen.  A half hour shy of sunset, they reached the site he and Blair had chosen for First Camp. 

 

It was a small, relatively flat clearing just under the ridgeline that marked the beginning of what Jim thought of as their territory, and looked out over the mountains and valleys they would call their own from now on.  Lush, fertile, and relatively unspoiled by man, there were enough square miles that it would take someone extremely familiar with the terrain to find them.  Hopefully the land would provide them with more than refuge; with luck they would find all they needed to survive, and maybe even prosper.

 

The kids didn't care for the view; they didn't even notice it.  Though from all appearances, all they wanted was to throw themselves on the ground and sleep, they managed to keep going until the tents were up and a fire was burning.  Camp stew, hot and plentiful, revived them considerably, and the conversations that were whispered or muttered discretely held a very fragile optimism. 

 

It wasn't until bedtime that the only sour note for the day was silently sounded, making itself known only with a few disguised grimaces and odd looks.  After discussing the watch schedule with the other adults, Jim unrolled his blankets, casually working next to Blair who was doing the same.  When they curled up side by side, tucked close to each other, more than one heartbeat around the fire accelerated. 

 

Without being obvious about it, as only a sentinel could, Jim pinpointed each of them, grinning into Blair's curls when he realized excitement was the cause in a couple of cases.  For the others, he noted one glare that seemed especially vicious, whispering Mark's name to his lover so that Blair was aware of the potential problem.  Strangely, the one boy who had been extra afraid of Jim's nearness earlier, Evan, was smiling softly, clearly approving of what he saw.  Wondering why, Jim effortlessly dropped off into sleep, trusting his internal sentry as much as Baker's ability to guard.

 

By prearranged agreement, he had the last watch before dawn, and he woke Blair so they would have plenty of time to prepare a good breakfast of dried fruit and oatmeal, and a special treat of hot chocolate that they had hoarded for just this occasion.  Each young person was awakened with a gentle call and the offering of food, but the smell of the brew steaming at the edge of the fire was what made aching, complaining bodies move.

 

With careful timing, Blair served up the chocolate, complete with marshmallows, just as the sun cleared the horizon, slowly filling the valley below them with radiance.  By the simple expedience of standing and staring into it himself, he soon had everyone watching the warm sunshine creep into their new range.

 

When it hit the main stream running through the middle, Blair said simply.  "That's our tomorrow."  Then he walked away, seemingly pulling everyone with him by force of will, to a small rise on the far side of the camp that allowed them to see over the ridge, and to the Cascade skyline in the distance.  "That's our yesterday.  *If* we want to, if we try hard enough, we can leave our sorrows, our losses, our grief there.  You need to be thinking very, very carefully about what you do bring with you, what you want to create for yourselves in your new home."

 

Sipping at his hot chocolate, Blair meandered away, but didn't get more than foot or two away before a soft, girlish voice said plaintively, "I don't understand."

 

Sitting, Blair shrugged.  "Well, for instance - dating is hard to do under the current circumstances, right?  You're going to have to leave that behind I think.  But that doesn't mean you're going want to give up the opposite sex.  So what are you going to do instead?"

 

That made them murmur amongst themselves as they sat, too, absent-mindedly rubbing at sore legs.  "If you're close enough to the camp to be safe, you're close enough for us to hear you, so privacy is going to be hard to come by, " Blair went on.  "And sex is going to be a problem because the *only* sure way not to get pregnant is abstinence.  Having a baby out here right now would be a disaster for both the mom and the baby.  I don't think any of us would even know how to begin to deliver one."

 

By now the murmurs had grown into an uneasy, unhappy rumble, and Mark grumbled, swiping his black hair out of rich brown eyes, "Well, hell, we're supposed to do without?"

 

"I don't know," Blair said cheerfully.  "That's entirely up to you to figure out.  We're not your parents; we're your teachers for as long as you need us, then we're your equals if you choose to stay.  I suggest you talk about it with each other until you hit on whatever you all feel comfortable with.

 

"For another thing, there are only 6 girls to 17 guys.  Does this mean you guys pass the girls around?  I don't *think* so!"  His voice became unexpectedly hard and unforgiving.  "And if you do, go back to the city, man.  That kind of animal thinking is what you're trying to get away from; why bring it with you?"  Relenting a little, Blair smiled ruefully.  "At the very least you need to respect each other because you're going to be depending on *every* person in your new family for security, defense, food - everything."

 

At this point, Jim stood up, his height and size automatically drawing the group's attention to him.  "The one thing we will insist on while you're with us is that each of you does every thing that needs to be done, at least often enough that you learn how to do it right.  That means girls *and* guys hunt, cook, clean, tan hides, build shelters, dig latrines, track game, fight, stand guard.  You've all learned the hard way what happens when only a few people have a particular skill, like how to make a medicine, and they die, leaving behind no one who can do it.  When you've got the basics down pat, then you can trade around to do what suits you best.  Just remember, everyone always takes their turn at the nasty stuff.  There is no low man on the totem pole."

 

"Yeah right, like you're going to dig a latrine," Mark said derisively.  

 

Pinning him with a look that made the young Hispanic flinch, Jim said calmly, "It's 100 feet down the trail, near a bush with leaves soft enough to use as toilet paper.  First rule and most important - your latrine is always down wind and below your camp."

 

Mark had the grace to flush, but he didn't back down, and Jim nodded at him in mutual understanding of lines drawn.  That surprised the young man enough that he had to hide his confusion in his cup, muttering to himself unhappily when he saw that it was empty.

 

"Why is it always below camp?"

 

The innocent question from an unknown source broke the tension, and Baker laughingly told everyone being flooded out of his tent in an unexpected downpour, clothing ruined by the wastes washed down with the rains.  He started cleaning up as he spoke, causing the others to do the same, and by the time he had them all leaning on each other, laughing, with a description of what he looked like when he got home, the camp was packed up.

 

Painstakingly, Jim showed them how to cache food so animals wouldn't find it and elements wouldn't spoil it, explaining as he did that leaving most of it and the tents behind was for those who would come after, who perhaps would be much less well prepared than them.  Or that it could also serve as an emergency stash, if they needed it.  Blair had them study the location, pointing out to each other landmarks they could use to find their way back to it.  Still talking about using landmarks for navigation, he led the way down the trail and into their territory, none of them even thinking of looking back as they did.

 

****

 

The early summer day was dawning with a frighteningly red sky some weeks later, as Jim looked into the current camp and the young people slowly, reluctantly moving through it.  Snorting in irritation, he shifted on his perch in a tree where he'd stood his night's watch, a hundred yards or so distant.  By now the kids should have breakfasted and packed, waiting only for him to show before beginning the day's trek.

 

With typical adolescent rebellion, they were anything but ready, and he reminded himself for the dozenth time in as many minutes that it *was* typical.  Blair had told him repeatedly that having it rear its unruly head was a good sign; that the teens were feeling secure in their new lives, that they respected the adults working with them enough to test the limits. 

 

Normal and healthy it might be; it was still a pain in the ass to live with. 

 

He had no idea how much time they would have to teach this first troop before necessity would land another group of greenhorns in their midst.  For the sake of everyone, the first members of their new tribe had to be able to make it with minimum supervision when newcomers arrived.  At the moment, he wouldn't trust them with the care of a stuffed animal.

 

Below him he saw Blair move quietly through the group, smiling and giving a helping hand, both coaxing and shaming the kids into moving with something resembling efficiency.  Taking that a clue to himself, mentally hearing his lover say, 'teach by example, man,' Jim climbed down from his perch and headed for the central fire for some coffee.

 

In a way he couldn't blame the kids.  Deciding that keeping them on the move was the best way to teach them as much as possible as fast as possible, Jim had led them in a wide, jagged ellipse around that very first camp, stopping at a new site every night.  It was his hope that their new tribe would be at least familiar with the terrain of their territory by the time the circle was complete.  And that they would have the basic knowledge to make it if something should happen to the adults.

 

Good in theory, it was tiring in reality, and frustrating because of the need to hunt and gather food anew every day, only to leave any surplus behind the next morning.  Even for him it was a pain, and keeping emergency caches was done at *his* insistence.  Eyeing the threatening sky again, he hurried toward the camp, unease prickling the short hairs at the back of his neck.

 

As he passed Baker, who unobtrusively stood guard as he did up his own bedroll, the wind shifted, and a sniff told Jim what was nagging at him.  Without breaking stride, he picked up speed, barking, "Break camp! Now!"  Jim looked around, counting noses, then shouted to Blair, "We're two short."

 

"Latrine," Blair called back.  "I'll get them!"  With that he started down that path at a rough jog.

 

Serena set her pack by the fire, then put it out with the morning's coffee, not wincing at the loss of the irreplaceable brew.  Eyes busily seeking out the source of the scent on the wind, Jim stopped to help Mark with a tangled strap, not really hearing the muttered curse from the teen.  With a final tug to make sure it was sound, he loped to where he'd left his bedroll.  "Move, people!  Move, move!"

 

There were several unhappy mumbles, and one plaintive, "What's the hurry!" but the urgency of the older people was infectious.  Everyone went faster, scrambling a bit as if afraid of being left behind if they weren't ready when the adults departed.  They were pulling themselves together into their usual travel formation when Blair came back up the trail, leading their two strays.

 

Giving them a cursory glance to make sure they were cooperating with their teacher, Jim did a double take as a flash of movement behind them caught his eye.  Taking out his gun, he shouted, "Down! Get Down!"

 

Blair, bless him, dropped immediately, but the boys looked over their shoulder to see what alarmed their guard.  And panicked at the sight of the big, black bear lumbering after them leisurely.  They broke into a run, coming straight up the sloping path, blocking a clear shot at the animal behind them.  Sight, sound and scent narrowing down, Jim darted to one side, hoping to get a better aim on the beast.  "Ian!  Marcus!  Hit The Dirt!"

 

Twisting to see from where he lay, Blair added, "Drop, drop!"  When the kids simply tried to run faster, he popped up, shooting past them and yelling like a banshee.  Startled, the bear hesitated at the sight of the loud apparition confronting it, dropping to its haunches and regarding Blair with something that looked very like puzzlement.  It roared once, warningly, but Blair only roared back, waving his arms wildly.

 

With a snuffling grunt, it swung its great head from side to side, then sat all the way up to raise a paw threateningly.  That put its head above the incline of the trail, giving Jim the perfect shot.  A second later a bullet buried itself in one eye, and the bear toppled over, dead before the its last rumbled groan finished echoing in the preternatural quiet of the forest.

 

As soon as hearing told him the heart had stopped, Jim rushed toward his lover, ignoring the two frantic youngsters racing past him.  Not sure if he was going to shake him or hug him, he swept Blair into his arms, not surprised to find the sturdy body quaking.  Hiding his face by digging his nose into the curls so close to him, he allowed himself to shake for a minute, too. 

 

It had all happened so quickly, most the camp had barely absorbed what the source of the danger was before it had been dealt with, and he could hear frightened exclamations and explanations bubble through the others.  When a shocked silence began taking the place of the murmurs, he gave a last squeeze and let go, stepping back so that only Blair could see his eyes.

 

His lover nodded fractionally at the promise Jim knew was burning there, and then calmly asked loud enough for the kids to ear, "Should we worry about cubs?"

 

Slipping back into the role of protector, Jim shook his head and went on down the path to check out the carcass.  "It's a male."  Unbidden, a Chopec custom rose to the front of his mind, and without planning to, he lifted the bear's head by its snout.  "Forgive me, Brother Bear.  I couldn't risk you hurting my mate."

 

Unsheathing the hunting knife he wore strapped to his leg, he asked, "Who has butcher duty?" Silence answered him, and he looked back to the people slowly gathering and repeated conversationally, "Butcher duty?"

 

With a visible shudder, Serena asked, "It's edible?"

 

Everyone went back to normal as Blair instructed them on what they needed to know about a bear, including the many uses Native American's had for the fat.  While he did, Jim struggled to break the bones of the ribs to get to the heart, pausing when Tom Baker asked, "Why did you apologize to it for killing it?"

 

Sensing that the others were listening as they helped cut the meat into thin strips for curing, Jim answered easily, "It was a waste.  Bears are extremely unpredictable, but this one is fat and healthy.  It was probably only curious about the people or maybe had learned from campers and hikers that humans meant easy food.  Why should it die when all it was doing was what came naturally?  It's not as if we need either the meat or the hide, and the local ecology might need a predator of this size to be healthy.  We could be doing a damage to our home." 

 

"You really believe that shit?" Mark asked insolently. 

 

Not bothering to look at him, Jim hefted out the liver and heart, handing them to one of the other kids.  "Good source of iron; Sandburg will show you how to fix it up if you don't like the taste." 

 

Carving the tasty, tender rib meat, he added, "You're all old enough to remember what a mess the environment was in before the everything went to hell.  You can still see it in places - like when we wouldn't let you drink from that polluted stream.  Ecology's not belief; it's science.  My respect for that, for the natural balance of nature, is based on common sense.  I don't expect you to either emulate it or respect it.  But if you don't, be prepared to starve when the local animal population gets hunted out."

 

"We could always be vegetarians," Ian said reasonably. 

 

Too angry with him for not following orders, Jim ignored the comment, but answered indirectly.  "It's all connected.  You kill off the predators unnecessarily to protect yourself, and the small animals that breed quickly, like mice, have nothing to keep their numbers down.  Soon you have a bumper crop of the little animals - who eat all the seeds and roots of the plants *you* eat.  By the time they die off from starvation, having exhausted the local food supply, you're dead from starvation, too."

 

"Circle of life," one of the girls giggled, hands bloody from the roast she was inexpertly carving, and hummed the melody from a movie. 

 

"We could farm," Mark suggested, his tone implying that was what they should have been doing all along.

 

"That's why farming and animal domestication was invented," Blair put in, grunting a bit at the effort of breaking a thighbone on the animal.  "A human population out-grew the food supply when it was forced into too small a territory by enemies or whatever."

 

"If you want to," Jim said mildly, "be my guest.  Think you'd be interested in trade occasionally?  Say corn or tomatoes, which won't grow in the wild, for the occasional venison or hide maybe?  Bound to be a farm community or two that made it."

 

Nonplused by the older man's lack of concern at his hint that he was thinking of taking off, Mark sat back on his heels and brushed a drop of water away from his nose.  "Oh, hell.  Here comes the daily shower," he groused, for lack of anything better to say.

 

"At least it won't be hard keeping the fire smoky for curing this," Blair said philosophically.  "Going to take some time, though.  Maybe stay here a few days?"

 

"Looks like bad weather's coming in," Jim agreed.  "How're we fixed for supplies?"

 

"Pretty good," Baker said.  "Set up a smoking tent here?  That way anyone on their way down to the latrine can add wood to the fire.  We could use the break, too."

 

"Need to keep an eye out for scavengers after the meat," Serena reminded them, "Though if the weather's bad enough, the blood smell won't carry too far, not to mention only a human would be dumb enough to be out in this." She uselessly wiped at her face, trying to keep the increasingly heavy rainfall out of her eyes.

 

That earned a few chuckles from the kids, and everyone added their voice to the discussion until it was pretty much settled they would stay until the meat was smoked.  Jim earned a few curious or annoyed looks when he point-blank refused to acknowledge any comment from Ian or Marcus, but none of the other three adults called him on it.  From the first they'd presented a united front to the teens, debating only among themselves, quietly, when they were in disagreement about the younger members of the tribe.

 

By the time a schedule had been set for watching over their bounty, and the other necessary chores had been taken of, it was midday, and he retired to his own lean-to at the edge of the camp.  Tucked under a stand of pines, it was relatively dry despite the heavy downpour, and Jim snaked out of his wet jeans, socks and boots, debating drying them next to the central fire they had put under a canopy.

 

A look at the thick curtain of rain dissuaded him, and he curled into his blankets, already looking forward to Blair joining him for a much-needed nap.  The rampant maleness poking at the fly of his boxers reminded him sleep hadn't been the only thing neglected, lately, and he suppressed a shudder at his need to at least hold his lover.  Reaction from the near miss with the bear earlier kept him from dozing, and left his balls pulled up tight in frustration.

 

By the time Blair crept into the bedding with him, he was ready to climax from a kiss, but his partner laughingly perched over him, not allowing body contact until Jim calmed.  "Tease," he murmured.

 

"Because I want more than a 30 second wham, bam?  Then guilty as charged."  Lightly kissing the end of his nose, then his forehead, Blair whispered, "And I am so hungry, Jim.  It feels like it's been forever since I've had you."

 

Groaning, Jim wrapped both arms around his lover and hugged him tightly.  "The lack of privacy is killing me, too.  God, sometimes all I can think about is burying myself in that tight ass of yours."

 

Sighing in pleasure at their erections rubbing over each other through the fabric covering them, Blair said, "We'll take a break when we get the signal to go back to First Camp for another batch of kids.  There'll be at least four more adults, and we can afford to slip away for a day or so to be alone."

 

"The glade?"  Jim nuzzled at the cloth over Blair's chest, pulling at the buttons with his teeth.

 

"MMmm?"  Clumsily opening his shirt, Blair cradled Jim's head in one palm, holding it to him in obvious suggestion.  "Hard hike," he managed mutter, letting out a breath in a hiss when eager lips closed over the curve of his throat.  "Be worth it, though."

 

"Yeah," Jim agreed distantly, giving the soft flesh a lick, and sliding down to a well-defined shoulder to bite.

 

A muffled, but distinct giggle stopped him, and he unwillingly opened his senses to their environment, reeling them in from his focus on his lover's body.  Three heartbeats, about 5 yards away, hidden in a thicket of low hanging branches, sounded clearly, and a second later, scent told him it was Mark, Gina, and, surprisingly, Evan.  A fast peek showed him that they were watching him and Blair make love, nudging and smothering laughter as they did.

 

Rolling to put his partner under him and shield him from curious eyes, Jim alerted Blair to trouble with a concealed grimace and light fingertip on his lips.

 

"I told you Sandburg was the girl," Mark whispered derisively.

 

"Naw.  He started out on top," Gina argued.  "The pornos always have people moving around a lot before they fuck.  They're probably just, you know, working up to it."

 

"Since when are movies anything like what people really do?" Evan put in, softly, reasonably.  "If it were, some scientist would have found the cure for the SAR virus *just* before everybody died from it."

 

Lips against Blair's ear in a parody of a lover whispering sweet nothings, Jim repeated what the youngsters were saying, not bothering to hide his aggravation.  "Fuck," Blair muttered, clutching at Jim's upper arm.  "I so do not want to deal with this right now."

 

"I still say Sandburg's the girl," Mark said sullenly, and at that, Jim had enough.  He gently pulled away, drawing the gaping shirt closed over Blair's exposed flesh, and sat up. 

 

Loudly enough for them to hear him, he called out, "What makes you think either of us is 'the girl,' Mark?  And what concern of it is yours, Gina?  Evan?"

 

The three gasped in concert, and scrambling noises told the lovers that their audience was making tracks.  "Can't let this pass, Jim," Blair said tiredly, straightening his clothes.  "There will never be a better time or opportunity to set them straight about sex - not just gay sex, either."

 

Bringing up his knees, hoping to relieve the ache in his groin a little, Jim nodded ruefully.  "I know - and if we don't, next time we might be more, ah, involved when they sneak up on us.  This is shaman's work, I think, Chief."

 

"Sure, leave the embarrassing stuff for me," Blair groused good-naturedly.

 

Waving at the huge hard-on peeking over the waist of his boxers, Jim said dryly, "If being interrupted hasn't made him go away, it's going to take some doing to calm down.  We shouldn't wait, and I don't think they'd pay much attention to anything I'd have to say with this thing staring at them."

 

Laughing, Blair stood, pulling on his rain poncho.  "Not to mention, I wouldn't be able to talk straight, either.  Okay, okay, but you *owe* me for this one, oh sentinel of a new tribe."

 

Tossing a damp sock at his lover, Jim chuckled.  "Since you're going over there anyway, oh shaman of a new tribe...."

 

With a rude noise, Blair ducked the thrown object, then ran for the main fire, weaving around the larger puddles. "Stinky socks are above and beyond, man.  Way above and beyond."

 

Lying down, arm over his eyes, but smiling Jim tried to concentrate on cooling his need.  Instead his hearing insisted on listened to his partner quietly confront the peeping trio, and begin setting them straight about his relationship with their guardian.  Blair's voice carried effortlessly, even over the drone of the wind and rain, and, before long, he had the entire troop clustered around him, asking questions.

 

Though he'd always considered himself sophisticated and liberal about sex, Jim found his cheeks flaming at the frank way Blair talked about it. Using both proper terms and common slang, he satisfied everyone's curiosity, and gave them the information they needed.  Once or twice there was some debate - Mark didn't make any bones about thinking gays were sick and perverted - but surprisingly it was the other teens that stomped on the majority of the misconceptions and prejudices.

 

Body at last beginning to give into fatigue, Jim started drifting off, telling himself he *shouldn't* be surprised.  If the day was filled with the nuts and bolts of survival, the evening was devoted to the kind of wide-ranging discussion maturing minds thrived on in an open atmosphere.  No matter how exhausted everyone was, the circle around the fire after dinner had always been lively with talk.  With Blair to unobtrusively guide and channel, the kids had covered everything from capitalism to capital punishment to religion, slowly picking their way through all of the human condition.  Bit by bit, probably without ever consciously realizing it, they were hammering out a code of conduct for themselves.  A pretty reasonable one, he decided sleepily, with lots of room for flexibility.

 

A last question from Evan, spoken with sadness and worry, caught his attention, pulling him from sleep.  "Is Ellison mad at us?"

 

"Some," Blair admitted.  "You could have just *asked* you know?  He feels like you don't trust him to be reasonable."

 

"Well, he sure cut Ian and Marcus cold," Gina said practically.

 

"Ian and Marcus risked their lives and mine by not listening.  Ellison is way past angry about that."  Catching the eye of the two in question, Blair added, "If you go talk to him privately, let him *know* you understand how badly you messed up, it'll be okay.  I promise." 

 

Under his breath, Blair added for Jim, "I'm just grateful you didn't tear them new ones in front of everybody.  Their ego would have been seriously shredded.  Shunning is a much better way to let them know they screwed up."

 

//Not shunning them, Chief,// Jim thought, reminding himself to actually tell his lover that.  //Just too damned pissed to talk to them *without* tearing them a new one.  And you don't need to worry I'll hurt the kids like that; they've had enough grief in their lives.//

 

"Well, who died and left him our guardian angel, anyway?" Mark bitched.

 

"Your parents did," Blair said solemnly, and Jim could almost see his blue eyes fixed on the young Hispanic.  "Ellison can't help it; he was born to be a sentinel or guardian.  It's his thing; just like Ian picked up on tracking almost immediately, and Gina is already a crack shot with a crossbow.  They were born with a genetic heritage that makes those skills easier for them than for me or Serena or anybody else.  Ellison was given traits that made being first a cop, and now our sentinel, almost inevitable."

 

There was a rumbled of hushed conversation at those words that blended in with the rain as the kids absorbed Blair's explanation.  Rather than pick out individual threads, Jim coasted through the white noise and into eventually into a deep sleep, content to leave his partner to deal with finishing the lesson on sentinels.  Blair had, after all, more than earned the right. 

 

A few hours later his eyes snapped open, his hand going for his gun, but he aborted the gesture before it was more than a jerk.  "God!  Blair!" he moaned.  The wet heat of his lover's mouth sank completely into his consciousness as it sank over the head of his shaft, and he started to buck.  A hand on his hip and the distant call of one of the girls to Serena stopped him, and he swallowed the wild cry trying to fight its way out.

 

Pulling back a little, Blair murmured, "Be still, lover.  With you on your side like this, no one can see me, and I'm pretty sure I managed to sneak in here without being spotted.  After all, I snuck up on you!  As long as you don't give us away, I think I can finish what I started a while ago."  He licked at the damp crown in front of him, stifling a groan.

 

"Unh!  Wha... oh, oh, oh...so hot!  Wha' 'bout you, lover?"  The hand under his cheek turned into a tense fist, but that was all the betrayal he allowed his body to show. 

 

For an answer, Blair took out his own erection, at first only squeezing the cap in time to his ravenous sucking.  Soon he was working the shaft feverishly, trembling with the need to do something, anything *more.*  As fantastic as his mouth was, the sight of him giving into his appetite was better, and Jim murmured, carefully pitching his voice to a level impossible to hear more than a foot away.

 

"Yeah, yeah...like that.  Please, Blair.  Just like...yes, oh, god, yes....  So beautiful doing that, so damned beautiful."  A rumbling moan told Jim that his husky words were adding to his lover's excitement, and he forced himself to keep whispering.  "Feels soooo good.  Love doing it, too, don't you?  Yeah, yeah, I can tell.  Can smell your heat, feel your blood racing, heart pounding.  Gonna come, aren't you?  Soon, soon.... Oh, there it is, babe, there it is!"

 

With a tiny keening cry, Blair spilled his seed, and the scent of it unexpectedly hit Jim right in the gut.  Somehow he kept his wild scream of completion inside himself, but he couldn't prevent one backbreaking lunge into the scorching mouth of his lover.  The force of it turned him into stone that crumbled more with each hidden tremor of his climax.  When he was done, he clumsily pulled Blair up into his arms, sparing a second to mop up the stickiness on his stomach with the damp rag his partner must have brought with him.

 

"God, that was worse than making out in the back seat with your date when your mom's driving," Blair mumbled sleepily.

 

"And not nearly as much fun as parking on Lover's lane," Jim agreed.  Finger combing his lover's curls, he soothed his mate into sleep, keeping watch over him and the rest of the camp as it hunkered down to outwait the weather.

 

For three days the rain beat down on them, making hunting a waste of time and foraging a soggy, difficult chore.  Though it gave all the teens a pointed lesson in *why* surplus food was carefully preserved, it also allowed young bodies to rest and heal from the hard use of the past weeks.  With not much to do but sleep, chat, and take care of what small personal tasks that needed attention, Jim expected restless and bored kids, ready to fight and bitch.

 

What happened was something more like a slow-motion orgy, that didn't seem to have any particular beginning or end.  Maybe it was because the subject had been broached, or maybe because it *was* the first time the teens had had abundant free time and spare energy for it, but with a casualness that Jim envied, their tribe began to learn about each other sexually.

 

The lack of privacy and need for sentries in even the most personal situations had already made them comfortable with each other in all states of dress.  Bare skin was nothing to be commented on, and everyone was used to looking the other way when necessary.  Inured by that, the young people didn't try to hide what they were doing or who they were doing it with.

 

Sensibly staying out of it, the adults kept their distance for the most part, ready to step in only if a 'no' wasn't respected or if jealous squabbles took place.  It wasn't necessary. The teens policed themselves, used their supply of condoms religiously, accepted without derision Evan's obvious love of sex regardless with gender, and ganged up on Markwhen he tried to give Lisa a hard time about always saying no.

 

What astounded Jim was that Serena participated, making herself available to the young men with Tom's apparent knowledge and approval.  Scent gave him the suggestion that it might be because she was never fertile.  A late afternoon cuddle with Blair confirmed it; she had confided in him that she had had a hysterectomy.  It was his lover's belief that she was giving the young men experience that didn't have a risk of pregnancy, to teach them control.  And so that none of them would feel deprived or shamed by virginity, the way boys could be sometimes.

 

It wasn't any of his business, but all of it made him uneasy, waking up the conservative, judgmental part of him - which sounded suspiciously like his father at his worst.  Inwardly he recoiled from the nonchalant attitude of the young people about going to bed with each other.  In his own defense, he argued that sex should mean something more than appeasing an appetite or passing the time.  His conscience pricked at him, too, saying they were just kids, too young to be screwing around.

 

The rest of him said flatly, bluntly, that none of the young people with him were really *kids* any more.  They had lost their entire family, their home, their freedom and most of their friends, but had still found the courage to come into the wilderness to try for a better life.  Each one had already had a brush with death, thanks to SAR, and each one knew that they could die the next day.  Or for that fact, the next hour. 

 

It was only human to want to make those days and hours more bearable by sharing physical pleasure with people they trusted.  Age had nothing to do with that.

 

Forcibly he kept his difficulties to himself, the habit of reticence helping him so much that only Blair suspected the turmoil caused by the tribe's choice to equate sex with eating dinner or taking a bath; something that needed doing that could be fun.  Wisely his lover left him alone about it, only smiling and sharing a hug when Jim's expression became stony at what he was seeing or overhearing.

 

In the long run, it was the teens themselves that won him over.  When they broke camp when the rain finally let up, they did so with enthusiasm, working efficiently, laughing and joking with each other.  Then a few days later, he accidentally saw Evan kneeling in front of Mark, pleasuring him.  The awe and dawning joy on the older youth's face struck a cord deep in the sentinel, as did Mark's tender attention toward Evan later that night. 

 

With morale up and his ever-present thorn in the side mellowed, Jim was able to push his qualms aside and accepted the tribe as it was: healthy, happy, and growing stronger every day.  By the time they reached the apex of their circuit around their territory at late summer, he had a team that he could count on and that counted on each other.

 

On that bright, beautiful day, Blair splashed into the middle of a stream like a five-year-old jumping in puddles, sending up sprays and brilliant drops and miniature rainbows.  The water hit half a dozen people around him, who promptly did their own stomping, kicking, and splashing, getting the rest of the troop drenched as well. 

 

"Great.  Half the time we're slogging through rain and mud with wet feet, bitching about it," Jim half-laughed, half-groused.  "And here he is deliberately getting soaked."  Shaking his head, he found a large boulder over looking the creek and climbed to the top of it, automatically going into sentry mode.  Down stream, Serena did the same, cocking her weapon to the ready, but giggling like a schoolgirl at everyone's antics.

 

To Jim's surprise, Mark began to range at an angle to them, walking between the sentinel and Serena to cover any blind spots they might have.  Nodding his approval, Jim saw a shy duck of Mark's head in apparent pleasure, but that was all the acknowledgment they shared.  After a while Evan danced away from the main group, and darted up to Mark, speaking to him earnestly for a minute.  With a laugh and shove, the smaller teen sent him toward the horseplay, taking up his post in his place.

 

Though Mark did join them for a short while, he soon drifted over to where Jim stood watch, nonchalantly leaning on the rock underneath the sentinel.  He fiddled with a leaf, tracing the veins on it with a fingertip, pretending immense concentration.  Hiding his grin, Jim turned slowly in place to survey their surroundings, keeping track of Mark by hearing.

 

"Ellison," the young man muttered finally, "How do you know if you're a man?"

 

"Tough question," Jim answered.  "All I can tell you age has nothing to do with it.  Back in Cascade I knew guys older than me that I wouldn't call 'men.'" He spared Mark a sidelong glance. "And it has nothing to do with where you stick your dick, either."

 

Turning red around the edges, Mark mumbled, "Kinda figured that."  Abruptly he looked up at Jim, face tight with embarrassment.  "So if you don't have a good woman or a house full of babies, how do you know?"

 

Taking a page from Sandburg's book, Jim asked back, "Why did you post sentry without being told?"

 

Looking puzzled, Mark shrugged.  "Needed done.  That bear a while back showed you can't trust things, you gotta keep an eye out."

 

"So you took *responsibility* to protect your friends and new family.  You denied yourself a chance to goof off - and I know how rarely the opportunity happens - to do what was *right.*  You made a choice; a hard one, with no bitching or ego tripping."  Seeing Baker come their way, wiping moisture from his balding pate but readying his weapon, Jim hopped down from the boulder.  Carefully he laid a hand on Mark's shoulder.  "Those are the acts of a man.  A good one."

 

With a small pat, he left, meeting Tom half way and acknowledging the change of shift with a wave.  Dodging and darting skillfully, he made it to Blair's side in time to help the gang hold his squirming, yelping partner down for a good soaking.  And he felt Mark's eyes on him, smiling, ever so often.

 

***

 

Standing slightly ahead and to one side of the trail, Jim waited impatiently for the others while they debated endlessly - and pointlessly in his opinion - about the obstacle ahead.  A plateau stretched in front of them as far as the normal eye could see, falling away to bluffs on one side, and rising crags on the other.  It was a veritable sea of boulders with wild berry bushes filling in the gaps, crashing like waves with green caps around the rocks.  With the late afternoon sun telling them that they were running out of time to find and set up camp for the night, the group was divided in factions that wanted to go back, go around, or go across.

 

Keeping out of it was difficult, but Jim had conceded privately to Blair that it was important to show the young people how vital good leadership was.  And the best way to do that was by with holding it when it was safe to do so.  Expression neutral, showing none of his irritation, he listened with half an ear to the others, wondering if and when they were going to ask him if he saw anything useful.

 

Not that he knew if they'd be sensible enough to use the advice.  Though it looked as if the boulder field was only about a half mile wide, rock hopping when everyone was tired and irritable wasn't a good idea.  Some one was bound to tumble, which at worse meant a nasty fall into the brambles, and at worse, broken bones.  Not to mention the possibility of running into wild animals feeding on the ripened berries - or the predators lurking to feed on them. There was a path cutting down one side of the bluff, and he remembered seeing when on point that it wound in a fairly wide path along the rock face. 

 

A horrid sound broke into his thoughts, one that he had hoped not to hear again for a long, long time: the harsh, choked breathing of a SAR attack.  Piggybacking sight onto the sound, he found Evan at the back of the tribe, leaning on a tree a little way from the rest.  The young man's face and arms were already splotched with bright red hives, and Jim ran for him, dropping his gear and stripping as he went. 

 

"SAR," he shouted.  "Evan."  Naked by the time he reached the teen, Jim poured the contents of his canteen over himself to wash off any contaminants, then started stripping the young blond to do the same to him.  As soon a Evan was bare, Jim scooped him up into his lap, letting the others finishing sluicing them down, since bare skin was the *only* thing that no one had ever sara'd to as far as they knew.

 

"Evan," Blair asked urgently, "What's your trigger?  Your trigger!"  He had been right on Jim's heels, and he scrabbled through his pack for the medical kit and a syringe.

 

"Lied," Evan whispered.  "Lied...sorry....sorry."

 

"You don't know what you're allergic to?" Jim swabbed alcohol over a thigh muscle, then plunged the needle into the young man.

 

"Had to get out, *had* to."  Evan looked over the sentinel's shoulder at the other members of his new family clustered around them and repeated almost soundlessly.  "Had to."

 

"It's okay," Blair told him, brushing the hair away from the swelling face, and giving a louder voice to what the others were murmuring.  "It's okay.  We understand."

 

With no more air to spare for speech, Evan reached out, his fingers brushing over the out-stretched hands of the others, mouthing, "Thank you, thank you," over and over. 

 

Hearing the heart racing, straining to satisfy the demands for the suffocating youth, Jim risked another shot, though there was little chance it would work.  If it had been something Evan had touched or eaten, there would have been some relief from the first.  Sharing a despairing look with Blair, Jim simply held the dying boy, rocking him gently with the many, many hands of the tribe cradling them.

 

When he could no longer deny the stillness in the body, Jim pressed Evan's face close to his chest, covering it with his hand in lieu of a shroud.  "Those of you who feel able, stay behind with me to prepare the body," he said gently into the grief-stricken quiet.  "The rest go back to that clearing we saw half a mile or so back and ready a funeral pyre."

 

Wincing, probably thinking of the perpetual fires in Cascade, Baker asked, "Shouldn't we bury him, instead?"

 

Seeing the question on every one else's face as well, Jim answered quietly, "Too rocky here, and a burial cairn would be disturbed by wild animals unless we prepared Evan's body like an animal's carcass."

 

Nodding their acceptance, every one drifted away to do as their sentinel had told them.  Only Jim, Blair and Mark stayed behind to do what had to be done.

 

That evening, when the sun colored the horizon with celestial fire, Blair put a torch into Evan's pyre, the musical requiem from Rent, "A Day in the Life," playing from his laptop.  For the most part, no one was crying; they had simply seen too much death in their short lives.  But Blair's face was wet, and he sang along with the words, his baritone ringing clearly into the darkening sky.

 

When the last notes were part of the stars, he said quietly, his words carrying above the soft sounds of natural world.  "We weren't fortunate enough to have a year of Evan's life, but what we had will nourish us, even as his ashes will nourish our new home.  We carry part of him within us in the form of memories, and part of him physically from the very food our territory provides us.  Given how generous and giving he was, that simple knowledge will light his path to the next world, clearing it of all shadows.  Goodbye, Evan."

 

Blair turned into the arms waiting for him, and stayed in that strong circle, even as the other members of the tribe huddled together in their own circle, until all that was left *was* ashes. Then they gathered their things and began the day's march, moving woodenly, tiredly.

 

Over the next few nights, Jim heard stifled tears and grieving, but the young people dealt with their loss their own way, turning to each other as they had learned to do, as they had been taught by the adults and by circumstances.  At times one or another of them would approach Blair for a hushed conversation, and once or twice to be hugged and comforted.

 

Seeing that once, Mark had demanded, his tone a mix of confusion and anger, "Why do you let him do that?  Sooner they learn to stand on their own, the better.  Crying to somebody ain't going to help."

 

Not even bothering to look up from the hide he had been carefully scraping in preparation for tanning, Jim had answered, "Just because we're mates doesn't mean I do his thinking for him.  He does what *he* thinks is right, and I wouldn't have it any other way.  How else could I trust him to tell me when I'm being an asshole?"  Sparing a grinning glance up at the young man, Jim added, "Like I never am, right?"

 

Mark had blinked, then snorted in laughter.  "Riiigght."

 

Chuckling, Jim had looked back down at the work his hands were doing.  "As for letting them cry on his shoulder....   Nobody should carry their grief alone; humans aren't really meant for it.  They were meant to spread their pain and sorrow around within their families, diluting it and making it bearable.  Not being able to do that, not having families or friends to trust, was part of what was wrong with the old ways, why millions of dollars were spent on psychologists and psychiatrists.

 

Standing, rolling his shoulders and neck to get the kinks out from the tiring task, he had finished placidly.  "Sandburg does it because he's a natural born shaman: the kind of person who wants to help and who has the skills and gifts to do it.  Our tribe exists because he saw what needed to be done and did it, Mark.  Don't *ever* under estimate what a Shaman can accomplish, how much he can help."  Jim bent to roll the hide, and left Mark to think over his words.

 

It wasn't hard to see that Jim had spoken the truth.  With the natural resiliency of the young, the tribe moved on emotionally, laughing and carrying on as they had before their loss.  They spoke of Evan fondly, sadly, from time to time, but mostly they were caught up in the daily challenge of becoming a strong, capable unit.

 

They succeeded to the point that when Jim saw the smoke coming from First Camp that was the signal that more teens were on the way, he didn't hesitate to lead them straight across country, directly toward that camp, knowing they could handle the terrain.  Pushing them hard, moving even at night while the moon was up and clear of clouds, they made the trip in three days, and were hardly winded by the exercise.

 

Jim knew who was waiting for them at First Camp well before the tribe was close enough to be spotted from there.  Still, he circled the site cautiously, making sure there was no one else hiding nearby and that it wasn't a trap. The time to think about how to approach their guests was only incidental, he told himself steadfastly.  It wasn't as if he was ashamed to face them or was afraid of how he would be greeted. 

 

In the end, though, he simply led his new clan into camp, facing his former captain squarely, head up.

 

Simon Banks slowly rose from his seat on a rock by the campfire as everyone came up the trail, face impassive, hands loose by his sides.  Daryl stood slightly behind him, letting his father take the lead, though he had a broad smile on his face.  A whisper of recognition of the two men raced through the tribe, and Jim didn't have to look over his shoulder to know that there was a mixture of happiness at seeing Daryl and trepidation at seeing the captain of the police department. 

 

But, they held back, pausing to see what their sentinel would do.  With a gesture Jim told them to wait a couple yards distance and went on with only Blair at his side.

 

"Simon," he said by way of greeting, stopping a few feet away.

 

"Jim."  With an obviously speculative eye, Banks looked over the young people, taking in their number, and their healthy, alert, confident air.  "You did good," he said softly.  "Real good."  With that he held out his hand, and Jim took it, only to use it to drag Simon close enough to hug.

 

"Hey!" Simon scolded, a smile escaping, "None of that shit!"  But he hugged back, hard, and Jim could only laugh, pounding on his friend's back.

 

Around them chuckles broke out, and in moments Daryl was surrounded with burbling teens, all of them trying to tell him at once every thing that had happened to them.

 

Without letting go of Jim, Simon grabbed Blair and pulled him close, too.  "Since I'm stuck doing this," he growled.  "Might as well make your day."

 

"More like my year, man!"  Blair crowed, and there was an edge of relief and joy in his tones that precisely echoed how Jim felt.

 

Not wanting to, he eased off and said softly, "Simon, you look like hell."  And Banks did: too thin, shoulders slumped in exhaustion, eyes filled with a shadow of agony that he was trying to hide - and failing.

 

"Yeah, well, been a while since my last vacation."  Simon tried to brush off their concern, but if anything, being reminded made him look worse.

 

With a glance at the milling crowd, Jim drew Blair and their friend to the fire, unobtrusively blocking everyone's view of the older man.  "What?" he asked briskly.  "Is it that bad in Cascade?"

 

For a minute Banks looked as if he'd brush that comment away, too, but then he answered with a question.  "How many more can you take, how young and how fast?"

 

"Whoa," Blair breathed.  Shrugging out of his pack, he sat lotus on the ground beside Simon.  "Maybe you'd better start at the top.  Want some tea to warm you up, first?"

 

The glare Simon sent his way wasn't any where near the strength of those he'd given in the past, but its presence was reassuring.  "What is this; some sort of calming ritual?" Simon muttered, seating himself back on his rock.   "Picked up from the Whatsamatta tribe of upper Waythehellaway?"

 

"It's something for your hands to do," Blair shot back.  "Since you don't have a cigar to torture."

 

Looking at Jim as if asking for commiseration as his ex-detective sat, Banks said, "I could always torture *you.*"

 

"Like this is something new."  Dried mint leaves were added to the water steaming over the fire, and Blair drew in a deep breath.  "Besides, this stuff smells great, if nothing else."

 

"Point, Sandburg.  Here have something to add to that."  From a pocket Simon pulled out a baggie filled with sugar packets.  "Odd the things that turn up.  Found this when I was digging out the camping equipment."

 

Taking it eagerly, Blair said, "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be *glad* to see refined sweets, man.  Can I share this?" 

 

Looking over at the cluster on the far side of the camp that was still talking excitedly, Simon nodded.  "Bet it's been a while since they've had a treat like that.  Go for it." 

 

"I'll wait 'til they've settled."  Blair served up the hot brew to himself and the other men, setting aside enough for Baker and Serena, who were standing guard. 

 

Taking an appreciative sip, Jim said into his tin cup, "Thanks.  They deserve it.  Been bustin' their butts out here."

 

"It shows," Simon agreed.  He stole another look at the young people around Daryl.  "Seeing your bunch makes me realize how *bad* things are for the orphans left in Isolation.  Those kids look like wraiths, or war refugees or something.  And to think, we brought them *into* the tents to protect them."

 

"Not the first time good intentions have led to disaster," Jim consoled, meaning it.  "Warehousing the older teens until they SARA'd made perfect sense at the time.  With the doctors and meds right there, they had the best chance of surviving their first attack." 

 

"Then giving them the younger orphans to take care of," Blair pointed out, "Was the next logical step."

 

"Also made it easier for the Mayor to abuse them," Simon said, suddenly sounding exhausted, and getting to the point.  "I know it's been a while since you got to be a real cop, Jim, but you have to remember Teller Markem."

 

Wincing, Jim nodded.  "We came within a breath of indicting him on child pornography charges twice that I know of.  First time the key witness, family of one of the victims, suddenly changed their tune.  Then moved into a brand new upscale condo a few weeks later.  Second time...."  He took in a breath.  "Well, all hell started breaking loose.  I don't even know what happened to the file."

 

"Guess who His Honor decided to put in charge of the Isolation Camp - and its orphans."  Simon's words dripped disgust.  "Bought his way in with a huge cache of ammunition and weapons."

 

"Oh, God," Blair moaned.  "Oh, my, God."

 

"There was nothing you could do?" Jim asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to give Simon the tiny push he seemed to need to unload completely.

 

Putting down his cup, Simon dropped his head in his hands for a minute.  When he lifted it, he looked years older.  "With the old Mayor, yeah, I had some pull.  Especially after you and the others made your escape."  He grinned sardonically.  "I played it just the way you expected me to, and His Honor practically had a stroke hiding how pleased he was at dissention within the police department.

 

Simon brightened a bit.  "Used the sympathy to convince him I was right about locking down the population, that letting them go to scavenge on their own was no riskier than keeping constant watch within our own walls.  I was right, too.  Half the people left in Cascade decamped almost immediately, which took a *lot* pressure off at the food warehouses. And some of the thugs went too far, so the Mayor started keeping them on a tighter rein, too.   For a while things got better, a lot better.

 

"Then?" Blair asked, leaning into Simon's space, eyes wide and calming.

 

"Then supposedly Wade sara'd, though I could have sworn his allergy was to bananas, which we haven't seen in forever, and he was conveniently by himself, behind locked doors."  Picking up his cup and reaching for the pot of tea, Simon added thoughtfully, "Looks like someone invented a whole new way to commit murder: find out someone's allergy and make sure there's not a dose of ephenepherine close enough."

 

"Human ingenuity at its best," Jim said cynically.  "No matter what the situation, some one will find a way to use it for criminal purposes."

 

Shrugging, Banks finished, "Anyway, Billings took his place as new Mayor, and before long it was all the department had to do to take care of itself.  Son of a bitch had been hoarding, and has more than enough food, booze, and medicine to take care of any one who does things his way.  And his way is survival of the fittest.  The Isolation Camps and most of the general populace have been depending on what they could grow this summer and whatever my men could bring in from the suburbs." 

 

He looked at Jim directly, with a trace of humor finally making him look more like his usual self.  "Thanks to the names you gave me, I found out where *all* The Mayor's stashes are, though.  A couple of them have been hollowed out from the back, so that if he just checks them, the storeroom looks full.  We've got enough to make it through the winter, but we'll have to bring more people out next spring.  I've sent men out looking for the other three groups.  Hopefully, they've done at least as well as you have."

 

Yet again Simon looked over at the other part of their troop, who by this time had built a fire of their own and were in deep discussion.  "Unfortunately, not all the kids coming right now have sara'd, and they're younger than these guys, too."

 

"We can't take them too young," Blair pointed out.  "They have to be able to keep up with us while we range for food and game; we can't spare babysitters yet."

 

"Aren't too many little ones left, anyway."  There was something so sorrowful in his tone that Jim put a hand on his friend's leg, and left it there, which seemed to help Simon force out the rest.  "You already know we lost most of the orphaned babies when the milk and formula supplies ran out.  Just not enough nursing mothers to feed them.  If the infant couldn't eat solid food, they starved pretty quickly.  Well, the toddlers, in fact most of the kids under five, were so weak from malnutrition, that most weren't able to fight off a flu-like something that swept through the Tents a month or so ago.  Dan Wolf managed to get a quarantine in place in time to keep it out of the older children, but there aren't enough adults and teens to keep an eye on that age group.  I get a report of an accidental death or lost child every day, and usually more than one."

 

"God, Simon," Blair whispered.  "You can't keep carrying this load, man.  Stay here with us, please."

 

Shaking his head slowly, Banks said, "No, not yet.  In fact, we need to get going soon.  I don't know how long Joel can cover for me not being available.  Supposedly I sara'd, but can't find my allergen.  That cover won't hold for too long, though."

 

"I thought you sara'd not long after I did?" Jim asked.

 

"Did. To eggs of all things.  But only you two, Daryl and Amy know that.  Keeping it to myself was unintentional, but I didn't see any reason not to use it.  No one will think twice about me being in seclusion for a while because of SAR."

 

Blair said, barely not pleading, "We could really use your help here.  Jim's being stretched thin being trail boss and point man *and* standing guard.  If you stepped in as trail boss, the tribe would listen to you, probably gratefully.  It's really just beginning to sink into their heads that democracy doesn't work when you need a decision *now.*"

 

"What exactly are you two teaching these kids anyway?" Simon demanded, deliberately not making any promises.  "Are you starting your own hippie movement here?"

 

Looking stubborn, but giving in when Jim shot him a look, Blair reluctantly let their captain change the subject, giving him a thumb nail description of a typical night around the fire.  In the background, Jim could hear the conversation on the other side of the camp wind down, so he was the only one who wasn't surprised when Lisa and Mark came over and lingered a respectful distance away.

 

A motion brought them closer, and gave the two youths Blair and Simon's attention.  "Sentinel," Mark started, "Daryl said that he and the Captain need to make it back to the road before dark, and we have to talk to you before they go."

 

"Decision making time?" Jim asked.

 

"Yes, sir.  Lisa here," and he nudged the young woman beside him, "Wants to go back with them. She's not happy about all the young ones being left behind."

 

"We can't bring them out yet, but we will," Simon told them.

 

"Then I'll come back with one of those groups," Lisa said, her soft voice barely carrying.  "I know I'm taking some risks by going back - but if someone tries to hurt me this time, I can take care of myself."

 

A shared glance told Jim that Blair knew what she was talking about, but all he said was, "You haven't learned as much about self-defense as you could, and frankly, there's lots of situations where the best defense is not to get in trouble in the first place.  Going back could be one of those."

 

She fidgeted, but said firmly.  "That's true, but it doesn't feel *right* for me not to help, and I could be teaching other girls like myself stuff they can use to make it in the city."

 

"It's your choice, Lisa," Blair said.  "As long as you realize the possible consequence of your actions."

 

She nodded, and abruptly turned to run back to the others to be absorbed into the mass with hugs and cuddling.  Mark watched her go, but then turned to the adults.  "I'm going, too, but not to Cascade.  The thing you said about trade that time?  We need to know more about who is alive and who isn't, what places have been picked over and what places still have food and medicines."

 

"You're going to be a scout for us?" Jim asked without a trace of skepticism and something that sounded suspiciously like pride.

 

"Yeah, me and Marcus both want to give it a try.  Thought we'd take one of the old maps and follow the roads.  Daryl told us when he's going to be here next, more or less.  We could meet here, too.  Let you know what we find."

 

"Sounds like a good plan."  With a warning glare Jim kept Simon from saying anything negative and the older man looked disgruntled for a minute.  "Anything they need to know about the countryside?"

 

That brought out Banks' command persona, and he focused on the subject. "Just that they should steer clear of actually using the roads.  Lots of the people who left for the countryside travel on them, and highway men are making a come back because of it."

 

"Don't worry about us," Mark said calmly.  "We know how to keep from being seen unless we *want* to be.  And we can live off the land, so no need to carry anything worth stealing." 

 

At that he left, and Simon turned to Jim.  "Are they so good that you're willing to let them go off on their own like that?"

 

Smiling at the young people working on cooking a morning meal without so much as being told, Jim said simply, "Yes, they're that good."

 

 ****

 

He and Blair left for their glade right after breakfast, first saying goodbye to Simon, Daryl and Lisa as they headed back for civilization.  Not bothering to hide the pain, they both made the farewell brief, acting as if they were sure they'd see their friends again.  Telling the tribe that they would be back in time to greet the newest members of it, they set off at a fast trot, much faster than the one they would have used en-masse.

 

For the life of him, Jim didn't know if he could have moved at any slower speed.  From the time the tribe was beyond range of his senses, all he was able to think about was what would happen once they reached the hot spring.  Anticipation had him half-hard and totally aware of his lover, and he hung back to let Blair set their pace so he could admire the round, tight ass as it worked under the concealment of his pants.

 

Thankfully Blair was as eager.  The scent of his excitement tickled at Jim's nose, and, remembering their first visit to the glade, he told himself grimly that if his lover teased him by stripping, they'd never make it to the spring.  As if sensing the thought, Blair glanced over his shoulder occasionally, smiling at him winsomely, but didn't say anything.  They didn't need to talk, anyway, and breath could be better used to get to their retreat as soon as possible.

 

Obeying some unspoken agreement, they did stop just outside, both to let Jim survey the area for safety's sake and to stop panting.  Unfortunately, the pause gave them a chance to look into each other's eyes, and their lungs started working hard again, for entirely different reasons.

 

Not sure if he or Blair had moved first, Jim found himself with his arms full of frantically humping man, his lips in serious danger of being scorched away in a searing kiss.  Which was perfectly all right with him; all he wanted anyway was to weld himself to his lover, make them one entity.  On automatic pilot he navigated them through the dense, low hanging brushes until they were safely inside the glen, hidden and secure.

 

As soon as he felt the spongy give of the moss underfoot, Jim dropped his pack, tore off his partner's, and undid Blair's belt with sure fingers, opening the zip in record time.  His fingertips brushed over the wildly throbbing erection straining at the fabric, and the beat of it traveled straight into his own hard-on, putting him on the edge of climaxing.  Ripping his mouth away, he roughly turned Blair so he could pull that ripe backside into his own groin. 

 

Weeks worth of deprivation, making do with hurried hand jobs and fleeting kisses, crashed through Jim, sweeping away everything but the imperative to possess his mate.  Sinking to his knees, taking Blair with him, he freed his own need with a shaking hand, then reached around to stroke his lover.

 

Shouting, Blair surged into the rough tunnel Jim made for him, bucking without rhyme or reason.  The fleeting contact of the firm globes of his ass against Jim's cock was inflammatory, sending spikes of lust through his gut.  With a growl, he pushed gently at Blair's back, putting him on his hands and knees in front of him.

 

Blessedly, habit made him dig out the lube from his shirt pocket because the sight of that up-turned bottom with the promise of heaven at the core of it finished the job of reducing Jim to one huge want.  Hurriedly he spread the gel over himself and into the waiting portal, then shoved all the way in with one push.  Screaming Blair's name, barely hearing the answering cries of joy and ecstasy, Jim pounded into the clinging channel.  Within a few strokes the undeniable burn of climax hit him, and he screamed again, trying to force himself deeper into Blair.  His lover closed around him in an almost painful grip despite its softness, and Jim distantly felt hot liquid bubble over his hand.

 

The last spurt of his own seed weakened him completely, and, still moaning, he fell forward onto all fours himself.  Covering his mate, Jim let his head hang onto Blair's shoulder from behind, struggling to get air into his overworked lungs.

 

"Love you, love you, love you," Blair whispered, trembling but staying up to keep Jim embedded in him.  "God, Jim, I love you."

 

"Blair."  Sighing, Jim turned his head to nibble, then lick on a perfect ear.  "Blair."

 

"More, babe?  Please? More?"  Tightening his inner muscles, Blair encouraged the presence inside him to stay, and he clumsily reached back to latch onto one of Jim's thighs to hold him in place.

 

A ripple of interest spread through Jim, and he murmured, "Not sore?"

 

"No, no...just...stretched."  Twisting slightly, Blair said, "Oh, I can't believe how *good* you feel, how much I want to keep going."

 

They both felt the twitch of Jim's cock at those words, making Blair flex internally again.  He gave a little 'oh' of pleasure that sent a much more definite pang of desire stabbing into Jim.  Withdrawing from his lover, just a little, he pressed back in, getting another delightful 'oh' from Blair.  "Mmmm."  He nuzzled into the sweaty nape, burrowing under the collar of the shirts Blair still wore.  Lapping at the same spot, he brought up a hand to sweep over chest and stomach, balancing carefully as he did.

 

"Wearing too many clothes," Jim mumbled, clawing at buttons.

 

"Definitely."

 

With some awkward shifting and creative contortions, they managed to get naked, all the way down to their boots, making each other laugh - and groan - as they did.  All the movement did interesting things to where their bodies were joined, and Jim was fully aroused by the time they were done.  It hadn't taken Blair that long.  Halfway through he surrendered himself to Jim's care so he could touch himself.

 

Showing his approval with nips and licks any where he could, Jim pulled Blair up so that he was kneeling and held him in place with a strong arm across the heaving chest. 

 

"Damn!" Blair groaned.  "That's.... that's....oh, oh, oh!"

 

"Fucking fantastic," Jim finished for him.  Pinching and rolling one of the tight buds peeking out from the springy hair on Blair's chest, he lifted his mate up at the same time he sank back, then eased the sturdy body down as he thrust up.  "God!  Oh... oh, love you!"

 

"Again," Blair whimpered, "Oh, again!"

 

Slowly Jim raised him, feeling every millimeter of progress out of the hot passage, then slowly lowered him onto his cock.  "Can't...." he mumbled,  "Can't... ah.... oh, god!"

 

"Please!" It was a sob, and Blair pumped his own hard-on frantically.  "Feel so big, so deep!"

 

Groaning with effort, fighting the urge to lay his mate flat and hammer at him until they both passed out, Jim did as asked.  This time Blair clenched at the shaft sliding out of him, as if to hold onto it, or at least impede its retreat.

 

The flutter of the satin grip jerked a long, low moan out of Jim, and his thigh muscles started trembling from the strain of holding back.  "Babe... have to... have to...."

 

His lover didn't hear him.  Impaled on Jim's staff, tormenting one nipple while Jim tended to the other, Blair was lost in the ecstasy owning him.  To Jim, that was better, hotter, wilder than the flesh caressing him so intimately.  His lover seldom lost control, preferring usually to make sure their pleasure was mutual. 

 

Knowing that gave Jim the will to raise and lower his mate several more times, then a subtle change in tension and breathing told him that Blair was coming, coming hard.  Fastening his teeth into the vulnerable neck, Jim all but dropped his mate onto his cock, using all of his strength to jam Blair down as far as possible.

 

Shuddering so hard Jim shook with him, Blair silently howled and spilled his seed, clutching at the hard-on filling him with inhuman strength.  Despite that, Jim held off his own finish, not giving into his body's demands until Blair began to melt in his arms.

 

Then he carefully, tenderly laid him on a makeshift bed of their clothing, making sure boneless limbs were comfortably arranged.  Only when he was sure Blair wasn't harmed did he slam away at the pliant form, all but snarling like a beast as he did. 

 

Fingers digging into the earth, throwing back his head until the tendons on his neck stood out, he erupted, pouring himself into his mate seed, soul, and heart.  It left him gloriously empty, and he gradually sagged over Blair to fit into every line and curve.  Automatically adjusting them both so the smaller man could breathe, Jim gratefully fell into the first deep sleep he had had since before leaving Cascade.

 

Hours later, to judge by the early evening twilight, he woke leisurely, taking time to actually enjoy the process.  And there was a lot to take pleasure in.  The wind was sweetly cool and feather light, colored with a dozen different fragrances that he didn't bother to identify.  Its soft lullaby was barely discernable over the rollicking babble of the waterfall and stream that at the heart of their glade.  Stretching hugely, he looked around their special place, savoring the way the shadows and flitting twinkles of light soothed his mind.

 

Of course, the most beautiful part of the scenery was the young man standing under the falls washing his hair.  Though Jim loved looking at every part of Blair - from the crown of unruly locks, to the sensuous flow of line in shoulder, hip and thigh, to the unexpectedly elegant feet - what held Jim's attention this evening were the very obvious signs that his mate had been well loved.

 

Some were blatant, like the teeth marks on the juncture of neck and shoulder and the bruises coming up on Blair's backside.  Others were subtler: utterly relaxed and loose muscles, a happy, mellow expression.  Smiling in contentment, Jim watched his lover, almost laughing out loud at the blissful sigh at the hot water cleansing his hair.

 

Blair shifted his position to suds up again and winced, hand going reflexively toward his ass.  "Ouch, ouch, ouch," he muttered, but it wasn't a complaint. 

 

Laughing quietly, Jim decided that a long, hot soak was the second best idea of the day, and he went got up to join his lover, deliberately splashing so as not to startle him.  "You should let me make sure I wasn't too rough on you," he said, half-swimming, half-wading in the small pool.

 

"Why?  Going to kiss it and make it better?" Blair teased.

 

"Sounds good to me," Jim answered agreeably.  Three good breaststrokes brought him to the ledge where his partner was perched.  He floated there, letting the natural tumble of the water jostle and tickle him.  Here the pond was at its deepest, about seven feet, and it was bath water warm.

 

Pulling back his hair and squeezing out excess moisture, Blair sat down on the rock, feet dangling in the pool, thighs spread invitingly.  "Promises, promises," he laughed.

 

Taking a second to make sure that his lover truly wasn't injured, Jim focused on the center of the revealed crease, noting the swollen, abraded pucker looked tender, but not damaged.  He reached for Blair, intending to both make sure of that and keep his promise, but his lover slid into the water himself. 

 

Wrapping all four limbs around him, Blair slithered over Jim, the combination of slick water and slicker skin doing interesting things to his libido.  Snagging a handhold to secure them both above the surface, he murmured his appreciation of the sensuality of Blair's impromptu water ballet. 

 

Between trying not to drown and the lovely distraction his mate was providing, Jim wasn't able to do more than passively accept what was being done to him.  As if realizing that, Blair's lips found his, tongue aggressively claiming his mouth, and Jim opened to him willingly, more than ready to submit to whatever Blair wanted.  It was strange not to be able to reciprocate other than to kiss back - strange but thrilling.  Soon he was breathing raggedly, his erection bobbing between them as if looking for its favorite haven.

 

When Blair angled his hips to accommodate that length, Jim made himself tear away from the nourishing kiss, mouthing a hungry line to his lover's ear.  "Have you ever noticed," he whispered, "that in the water every body is the same height?"

 

"So?" Blair asked disinterestedly, latching onto Jim's neck with a sucking bite.

 

"S...."  Jim lost his train of thought, captivated by the contrast between the cold shivers from that caress and the warm water embracing them.  Then Blair made a more determined effort to take in Jim's hard-on, and he drew back.  Giving a strong kick to turn them so his back was to the rock, he said, "So I can think of a good use for this sudden vertical equality."

 

Ignoring the puzzled look, he wiggled loose enough to be able to rotate in his lover's arms until Blair's chest was gliding wetly over the planes of his back.  "So," he repeated, yet again, and rocked his hips suggestively.

 

"OH!"  That was the only hint Blair needed, and he clung to Jim's broad shoulders, fitting his cock into the cleft of his lover's ass.  "Oh, wow... this is...."  Cautiously he thrust, lost his grip, and slipped, apparently taking in a mouth full of water, to judge by his sputtering.  "A good way to drown," he gasped.

 

"Sorry, babe."  Jim chuckled and started to hoist himself out, but his mate held him back.

 

"Hey, no way," Blair protested.  "You can't make an offer like that then run off.  I've been dying to climb on top of this magnificent mountain you use for a body.  Hang on!"

 

Compromising by folding his arms over the edge of the rock, resting his chin on them, Jim waited curiously to see what his inventive lover would do.  Whatever it was involved some interesting squirming on Blair's part.  For a moment he would have been willing to bet that his partner had grown four more hands and at least two extra feet.  It felt like he was being touched every where at once with the light, teasing contact that he loved most. 

 

All but purring, he obeyed the nudges and tugs positioning him to Blair's satisfaction, contentedly watching through slitted eyes the darkening sky fill with stars.  A tentative finger tested his center, and he opened to it eagerly, sighing in pleasure as it penetrated

 

"You have never," Blair said huskily, strong fingers locking onto Jim's upper arms.  "Been so relaxed or ready." 

 

"Mmmmm."  Spreading his legs, able to do so wider than usual because of the support of the water, Jim hooked the toes of one foot into a crack in the rock face, anchoring them both.  "Take me already."

 

Moaning, Blair did just that, all but flowing into Jim with a steady, smooth thrust.  "Jim," he breathed.

 

"Good, lover. Good!  Can we do this forever?"

 

"Wish."  Blair withdrew, balancing his cock on the very rim of Jim's opening.  "I can *never* get enough of you."  Slowly he pushed back in, wringing a cry from both of them, then settled into a steady, even pumping that really did seem as if it could go on forever. 

 

But much as they tried to hold off, not wanting release to end their physical union, nature could not be denied.  Eventually Blair was plunging in and out, fast and hard, driving them both toward climax. "Hurry," he panted.  "Close, too close."

 

"Wait!" Jim gasped desperately.  "Please!  Wait..."

 

As intense as the sensations were from the steely member using him, and as wonderful as the all-encompassing caress of the water was, it wasn't *enough.*  Poised on the brink of the obliteration he craved, Jim needed something to push him over it.

 

"Can't....  Sor...oh, oh, oh!"  Blair withdrew completely, then with both a powerful kick and strong lunge upwards, he rammed into Jim like a torpedo, his seed already bursting from him.

 

The impact of pleasure so close to pain that Jim was never sure which it was, was exactly what he needed.  Silently, muscles locked in place, the rest of him came apart explosively, rocketing away with the splashes caused by their loving.

 

By and by the currents of the pool brought him back to himself, and he shivered.  Blair's curls were straggling damply over his neck and shoulder, their wetness chilling in the cool evening air.

 

"We should move," Blair muttered.

 

"Should," Jim agreed lazily.

 

"Still have to put my journals in the cache here."

 

"Yep.  How much more do you think you have to transcribe from your files in the laptop?"  Kicking his feet idly, Jim made his lover sway and rub over him.

 

"MMmm?  Uh, about two more, I think."

 

"Why didn't you just print them up and carry that here when we were planting all our stashes?"  He frowned.  Softened, Blair's cock slipped out of him from their mild bobbing, and his lover sighed unhappily.

 

"Cause what we need to leave behind for future sentinels isn't the same kind of thing I needed for the dis.  And I didn't have the chance to go through it all and *think* about the differences."  With a last lick, Blair swam away.  "Does the extra weight of the hand generator bother you too much?"

 

"No," Jim said honestly, and sighing himself, he followed his lover.  "Just wondered a couple of times and this was the first time I've thought to ask."

 

"Yeah, things have been a bit busy for a while.  We really needed this break."  Blair stretched, as if to show off how limber and relaxed he was.  "How much longer before we have to take off do you think?"

 

Checking out the night sky and listening to some innate clock in his head, Jim answered, "Dawn's about 5 hours away."

 

"Time for another nice, long nap before we head for home."  Blair began to dig through his pack for fresh clothes, and Jim sat beside him to do the same.

 

"Home?" he asked, looking up startled.

 

Blinking as if surprised, Blair said thoughtfully, "Yes.  Home."  Then he grinned widely, throwing out a hand that took in the whole countryside.  "Cramped sleeping quarters, primitive kitchen facilities, but man, what a view!"

 

***

 

They took their time going back, partly because they were both a tad too sore to go very fast, and because Blair wanted to time their arrival right.  To that end, they made camp when they didn't strictly need to, cuddling by the fire and talking about everything from whether or not they should give the tribe the guns they had stored to if basketball had a place in their new lifestyle.

 

When the gray of a new day was a thin line along the mountaintop, they silently climbed up the ridge to First Camp, exchanging sly grins with the sentries on duty.  Without disturbing any one, they built up the fire and broke out their precious store of hot chocolate.  That woke the first members of the tribe nearly instantly, with the newest not too far behind.

 

Retreating to his overlook, Jim relieved the sentries so they could join in this special ritual.  From his perch he watched as his mate served up the sweet, hot beverage, then went to stand on the bluff overlooking their territory.  Like before, Blair waited until all the others joined him, then he said clearly.  "That is ..."

 

Staring at the motley gathering, picking out the serene beauty of his lover, guide, and Shaman, Jim said with him, "...our tomorrow."

 

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