FAULT
LINES
By
Mason-Dixon
Authors’ disclaimer: The Sentinel and all related
characters are the property of Paramount Pictures and Pet Fly Productions. No
copyright infringement intended.
WARNING: This story contains non-sexual,
disciplinary spanking; it is slash and adult in nature.
We, Mason-Dixon, would like to dedicate this story
to T & B. To thank them for the
lightness of their being, the variegations of their souls, and the joy they
bring us in the knowing.
I do more than walk the line
I sometimes cross it. The lines are not barriers. They do not contain me, they
are merely boundaries that help define me and keep me true to form. I rise
within the lines, safe and secure---for there are no limits to what I can
be---only guides to get me there. I
have never reached so far beyond my limits…than when love drew lines for
me. (From the Lines of Demarcation)
The
morning light spun the loft in a golden haze, languorous and warm. Blair hugged the pillow next to him still
lingering with the scent of his beloved.
He stretched his compact form to cover the imprints of heat that had
moments ago come from James Ellison’s body. Still wishing to push back
morning’s daunting reality, he allowed his mind to drift back to the
night. They had not made love, but that
was fine with him. Sometimes it was
just as nice to curl his body around his lover's and drift to sleep, feeling
safe and warm. Trying to catch the fleeting memory, he curled more tightly
around the pillow.
“Sandburg, get a move
on it. Breakfast is almost ready and I
am not waiting for you.” The first
warning burst forth upon his pleasant memories of a night in Jim’s arms. Well, so much for the lover in Jim. Gone
were the lazy mornings at the beginning of their relationship when Jim would
wake him up with small kisses, leading to tender lovemaking. Cop Jim was in full force this morning just
as surely as he had made his appearance at dinner yesterday. Blair grimaced into the pillow at the
memory.
They had just sat
down to dinner, one of Blair’s culinary creations. Spinach-Cheese pie and cornbread graced the table as Jim lowered
himself into the chair opposite his lover and roommate.
“What
is it?” Jim asked in a peculiarly curt tone, staring at the food in front of
him.
“What’s what, Jim?”
Blair questioned the inquisitor, a bit perturbed, himself. “It’s vegetarian,
full of nutrients and flavor and you can at least give it a try.”
“Well, I don’t feel
like experimenting,” he said as he took a whiff of the pungent cheeses, their
odors still strongly abrasive to his senses. He sat there, glaring at the food.
“You know, if you
just tasted it, you’d find it quite delicious. Can’t you just try something
first before you make one of your faces.”
Blair took a large slice of the pie for himself.
“I just expect a
little more effort on your part, Sandburg, that’s all. I haven’t seen hide nor
hair of you at the station for the past several weeks.” Jim reached over and spooned a small helping
of the questionable meal onto his plate.
Putting a huge spatter of butter on his cornbread, he pointed his knife
in the direction of the living room.
“You haven’t been
keeping things clean around here, either, and I’m beginning to wonder if the
rules of communal living have slipped your mind.”
“Man, you are so
anal. I can see why Carolyn had a hard
time living with you," Blair retorted, yanking the butter away from Jim,
"Don't use so much, it is not healthy,” he griped, still smarting from the
lack of appreciation for his dinner and Jim's attitude.
True, he had
originally entered Jim Ellison’s life as a Guide. The true meaning of the word slowly became evident to him as
their partnership deepened. The eager
student blessed with a discovery he could only dream of, never imagining it to
be true. A real live Sentinel crossing his path, becoming a willing topic for
his dissertation…well... almost willing...semi-cooperative at best, but still
within his realm to monitor and assess.
"SANDBURG!"
The call came louder, more threatening.
Dragging himself out
of the bed, clad in pajama bottoms and a tee shirt, he grabbed his robe from a
chair? Stumbling down the stairs, he spotted the object of his affections
cracking eggs into a bowl.
"I'm
up already, no need to yell. You better
have saved me some hot water, Jim. It's freezing in here."
"The
days are getting warmer, Chief. No sense in wasting heat."
"Well, I'm
cold," a pouting voice came back at him from behind the bathroom door.
Then more quietly, knowing full well that Jim could hear him, "Seems it's
always the temperature you're comfortable with. I live here, too, you
know."
Jim shot a frustrated
look toward the bathroom and shook his head as he beat the eggs more fervently
than necessary. They were both getting on each other's nerves lately. For two years Blair had pretty much fit into
the loft, tucked into the corners, quietly leaking out into his daily
routine. It was an unexpected surprise
to the hard-ass cop that this antithesis to all the discipline and control he
had practiced most of his life could have charmed and bewitched him so subtly.
In a matter of
months, he recognized stirrings beneath his hard shell. First, friendship
quietly prodded the sealed chambers of his heart, opening them wide to the need
and comfort of someone to share space with and toss around ideas like a
football into the early morning hours. Then, desire had lit a flame beneath the
cold exterior of macho self-control. At
first he denied the passion and attraction the blue eyes evoked when they
turned to him with sadness or fear or concern. However, when the spark lit in
the kid's eyes and he realized it was indeed a two way street, the detective,
like a primal animal bidding for the attentions of his mate, took charge in a
proprietary and decisive fashion. The
futon was immediately relegated to the basement and Blair Sandburg, friend,
Guide, and doctoral candidate was safely ensconced beneath the constant
protection of Jim Ellison. Once they
shared a bed, he put an even tighter rein on his young lover.
Now, one year later,
the fibers of that nest were beginning to prickle and tease. He loved the damn kid, there was nothing he
could do to deny it or change it and he didn't want to if he could, but the
little things were beginning to chafe.
The last few weeks
alone were a sore spot. Blair had
practically spent all his time at the University. There were piles of reports
that needed to be filed, sitting patiently on Detective Ellison's desk. If Blair didn't get his butt down to the
station soon, he would just have to tackle them himself… a chore that would
surely press and crease his sharp edges to an even finer point.
The kid works long hours; he has a life at the University, Jim reasoned as he scraped the last of the eggs onto a
plate, I can't always expect him to give
me all his spare time. Then the
little child in him, afraid of being forgotten and unloved, surfaced and took
over his reasoning. I just wish he would make the effort to cut
back a bit on his teaching assignments. This guide thing can't work very well when
he's never with me anymore.
"Man, I froze my
butt off in there." His thoughts were interrupted by his lover's
appearance. Jim set the pan on the table, then turned quickly to the
curly-headed young man. Blair's head was down as he tightened the belt of his
robe against the chill. Jim grabbed him by his shoulders and passionately
kissed the lips that were still pouting.
The peppermint taste of toothpaste mingled with the sweet warmth of
Blair's lips. Jim pulled playfully at
the lower petal, tempting the soft flesh, while making a low, primal growl out
of, "Good morning, love."
Blue eyes met blue
eyes in a fiery glance of recognition.
For all their differences, all their polar views and contrary opinions,
when they met on that plane of pure passion and emotion, all the colors and
hues that shaded their personalities melted into one burning rainbow.
Blair's eyes were
smoky, like they were wont to get when Jim ignited the flame of passion. The
smaller man leaned into the larger man’s embrace and tightly gripped Jim's
shirt. Torn between his desires and the
responsibilities of the day, he seemed to be contemplating how far to take this
kiss.
"I thought that
would warm you up," Jim said teasingly, "not to mention, shutting you
up."
"Damn it, Jim, I
wish you wouldn't do that." Blair laughed. "Not when I have to get to
the University." He pushed off and backed away from Ellison. Lowering
himself into the chair, he reached for a slice of the freshly toasted bread. "You are such a tease sometimes. You leave me in bed without even a good
morning kiss and then you tempt me in the kitchen only to say 'no’ just when I
was starting to enjoy it."
They both lapped into
a comfortable silence enjoying their food and paper for a few minutes.
“I’m going to be late
tonight, so I was thinking maybe we could do carry out,” Blair said, as he
forked a large portion of the fluffy eggs into his mouth. Following the eggs,
he bit into the toast and immediately grabbed his mug. The look on Ellison’s face already began to
mold with frustration and anger.
“Hey, man, I know I
haven’t been spending a lot of time with you.
I know I promised you at least one night this week to shuffle the paper
trail up and away from your desk; but, Jim, I’ve got some students I’m counseling
and I have an appointment this evening with one of them.”
“I think you need to
settle down, Chief. You’ve been operating at full throttle for the past two
months and not holding your end of this relationship up. I’ve done the shopping, cooked the meals,
washed the clothes, and basically tried to keep your end up, but you still
haven’t organized your life. I’m always
willing to help you, but I expect you to see the problem and start working on a
fix.” Jim eyed him, trying to see if he
was making his point. He didn’t want to sound like a fishwife, complaining all
the time, but Sandburg’s life style was out of control.
“Next week is spring
break, right?” Jim asked, stabbing his utensil in the air, aiming the tongs
towards Blair trying to keep the petulant tone out of his voice.
“Yeah, we talked
about this, Jim, quality time, just you and me. You cleared it with Simon, some
time off, right?” Blair asked, using his own slice of toast as a weapon to
punctuate his question.
“Don’t worry about me
keeping promises, Chief. Just make sure you have some time for me. Of course, after some time in bed, I might
have to put you through obedience training one more time. I admit you haven’t spotted the carpet in
awhile, but you haven’t hit the hamper in weeks and I’m tired of picking up the
wet towels off the floor.” Jim finished
off his eggs and immediately took his plate to the sink. Downing his coffee, he rinsed his cup and
left it in the sink.
“Well, I’m off,
Sandburg,” he said as he came up behind his lover and planted a firm kiss on
the upturned lips. “I want your butt
back here no later than midnight tonight. Got it?”
“Yeah,
got it.”
“Have
a nice day.”
“Yeah, you, too, Jim. Love ya.”
As soon as the door
closed, Blair leaned back and shook his head at his lover's behavior. Jim was definitely feeling neglected. Taking
several deep breaths, trying to get rid of the tension of the past several
weeks, he smiled eagerly at the golden sun rising beyond the city. One week in the mountains, just the two of
them, it was just what they needed.
What good fortune that Professor White’s wife needed that emergency
hysterectomy. Well, not good fortune for
Mrs. White, Blair admitted wryly, but
definitely good fortune for Jim and me.
Professor White
needed someone to cover his advanced Anthro class for three weeks so he could
be with his ailing wife. Their 35th wedding anniversary was in a
week and he had planned to take his wife up to a secluded mountain cabin. Since
she was in no shape to travel, the professor had eagerly given the keys to
Blair in payment for taking his class load.
It would be a surprise for Jim. One year together and they needed the
time alone.
They needed some
quiet, stress-free time to reconnect and just enjoy their love. Blair's
schedule had been especially hectic this term and the strain was beginning to
show on them both. Jim had come to
expect Blair's help around the station, but when he was busy at the university,
the detective had a tendency to become possessive and pensive.
When he entered into
a sexual relationship with Detective Ellison, he knew what he was getting into.
There were no blinders on his eyes. Naomi Sandburg had long ago opened her
son’s eyes to the ways of the world.
Men like Ellison didn’t shed skins when they loved someone, they still
chiseled out lives to degrees and specifications, bending themselves to no
one’s will, they sometimes seemed cruel and uncaring. Blair knew differently. The cold, hard casing housed a tender
man. The loving nature that crept out in the shadows of their bedroom, the
prying mind that pulled and teased information from his sometimes, troubled
Guide, the soft whispers in the night of tender feelings and promises of
forever showed Blair the secret man.
He loved Jim. He
loved his tight-ass ways, for they were merely pillars to lean on. He loved the
strong, silent moods that often pulled him back to safety---the watcher in Jim,
gauging the situation at all times.
With eager, careless steps Blair rushed in head on to meet the
situation, while Jim assessed and waited and calculated, oftentimes to Blair’s
quiet thanks. The Blessed Protector
name only seemed to broaden his shoulders.
From then on, the simple things, flu, sleep-robbing finals, suggestions
of tattooing, all brought out the defender ready to kick ass to ensure Blair’s
safety…even if the ass in need of kicking was Blair’s.
Blair thought back to
finals last term. He had graded 175
final papers and approximately 200 essay finals in four straight marathon
days. He had slept less then 2 hours a
day and ate almost nothing, save vending machine cheese crackers. Knowing that he was behind on his grading
and knowing that Jim would not allow him to pull the grading marathon he needed
to do, Blair lied to him. Saying that
he was busy grading, talking to students and posting grades, he swore it would
be easier for him to stay with a fellow professor on campus. Jim had not been happy about the
situation. It was only when Simon
pulled Jim onto a temporary witness protection case that Sandburg's plan fell
into place. He avoided the loft and
Jim's calls, leaving messages for the detective when he knew the other man
would not be around to answer the phone.
His plan had worked. He got
through with his grading and posting in time and was beyond exhausted.
He was also in deep
trouble with Jim. After stumbling home,
his lover had immediately tucked him in bed, saying nothing except they would
talk about his behavior later.
The next morning,
after sleeping almost 20 hours, Blair woke feeling refreshed and somewhat
guilty. Sitting up in bed for a few
minutes, trying to decide if he was getting up or going back to sleep, he heard
Jim walk up the stairs to the bedroom.
Jim stopped for a
moment just inside the bedroom area, looking at Blair with a mixture of anger,
concern and disappointment.
The younger man did
not move or say anything. He looked
down at the quilt, not wanting to see the disappointment or anger that he read
in the detective’s face. He was startled
when he felt the mattress shift and strong arms wrap around him from
behind. He allowed himself to be pulled
in a quick hug and settled in a warm embrace on the other man's lap. Grasping the hands that held him, Blair
whispered, "I'm sorry."
"I know you
are. But we need to talk about
it."
"Not now."
"Okay, but
soon."
"Are you going
to spank me?"
"Did you
deliberately lie to me? Did you act
irresponsibly when it came to taking care of yourself by not eating or
sleeping? We talked about it. We made an agreement when this sort of thing
happened at the end of Summer Term, that if it ever happened again you would be
spanked. It is something we both agreed
we needed and wanted to do.
Right?"
"Yeah, I
know. I don't like it."
"You're not
supposed to. That's why it is called a
punishment."
"I love you,
Jim," he whispered, snuggling deeper and closing his eyes.
"I love you too,
love," the other man whispered back, feeling the most important person in
the world to him relax back into a light sleep.
Blair shook his head
at the memory of the discussion they had later that morning, and the spanking
that had followed. It had been his
second disciplinary spanking from his lover and although Jim had threatened
several times since then, his behavior had not called for one. I think
that's going to change soon if I don't get my act together. We have been snapping at each other lately.
I've been rude and not keeping up my end of this relationship. The stress, the hours and we're taking it
out on each other. We need to get
away. Yes, indeed, he thought to
himself, as he collected his own breakfast dishes and washed then in the sink, a week in the mountains is just what we need
right now. We've got a great thing
going here. It's time I saw a relationship through for the distance.
Blair's life under
the guidance of Naomi Sandburg had been ethereal and enlightening. The free
spirit of counter-culture pulled both mother and son into corners of the world
other children only dreamed about. Adaptability was a cloak Blair wore well,
but always with the thought that it was only an overcoat, soon to be discarded
as they moved on to brighter and newer things, when a coat of different colors
was needed.
Now, for the first
time in his restless life, Blair wanted roots. Looking up from the chore of
wiping the counter, he gazed with pleasure on the place that he had come to
think of as home. Home, what a simple
word to most people, not one reflected on much, but taken for granted in the
busy scheme of life. To the uprooted, socially mobile Sandburg, it had come to
mean much, much more. Jim Ellison embodied the rock solid frame on which
structures were built. He was the quiet
security of reason, trust, and commitment. The military efficiency that ran his
household operations like an army camp was soon downshifted into a more relaxed
hum. True, rules, lists, chores, and everyday little 'no-no's' still peppered
their day, but communal living had taught both men to compromise.
On cold, bitter
nights, warm lamps now glowed brightly; a fireplace tempered the chill with
crackling insistence. Often while he and Jim sat side-by-side on the sofa… one
channel surfing for worthwhile viewing, the other deeply buried in a book
braced against his knees as he leaned back into the other's strong arms…their
world looked picture perfect. In fact,
even before they had admitted the mutual attraction, they were developing a
close relationship in which they were learning to overlook the small annoyances
that each one had. Their love simply
enforced this commitment. One man, so
totally antithetical, had pulled the young man off course and settled him
snugly into a warm and loving routine.
However, over time
tiny flaws can threaten the most solid of structures. Earthquakes topple trees,
bring buildings crashing down, and fracture the earth. Small fissures become large and obtrusive
when they are not addressed and filled and watched. Blair valued the relationship too much to lose what he treasured
above life itself.
Yes, he thought, a week away is just what we need. The fact
that Jim has no idea about the cabin, well, it'll make the treat all that much
sweeter. Shaking his head
vigorously, smiling smugly to himself, he went upstairs to get dressed. As he picked up his backpack and jacket on
the way out of the loft, he gave his home a quick glance and found himself
smiling with the simple joy of it all.
The phones were a
heckling crowd in the background, pestering Major Crimes with their insistent
ringing. Although the crime rate had
been down in the city the past several weeks, the paper trail had stopped its
slow progression and settled contentedly on Ellison's desk. Grimacing at the pile of forms in his
in-box, Ellison looked up to see his Captain and friend, Simon Banks glaring
down at him, disapprovingly.
"Jim, why is
this pile of forms the same size it was yesterday? I thought you said Sandburg would be in this week to help you
process all the paperwork." The
tall, black man placed his hands on his hips, daring his best detective to tell
him more lies.
"Sir, he's busy
today, and, he has some meeting late this evening. I'm sure he'll make it in
tomorrow. He gave me his word, Simon," Jim said as he stood, eyeing his
friend hopefully.
"Captain, I was
wondering, things have been slow around here, today, could I maybe hit the
streets and do some leg work on that skin head group that's been harassing the
local businesses?" Jim looked hopefully at the formidable man who hadn't
budged from his spot in front of the mountain of forms.
"No, Jim, you
cannot leave the department. You have more than enough work right here, mister,
to keep you busy until quitting time and probably long after," Simon said
authoritatively. Then pointing a finger at Ellison's vacant chair he said,
"Sit. I'd suggest you get busy."
Then turning towards
his office, he paused briefly, "How about lunch today, Jim? I have a
craving for Thai if it's okay with you?"
"Sure,"
Ellison said as he held his head in his hands and grudgingly pulled the next
offending form in front of him. "Sandburg, you owe me big time,
buddy."
________
The late morning sun
sparkled through the trees, dancing brightly in patterns along the walk towards
Hargrove Hall. Blair Sandburg hefted his backpack high on his shoulders, a
smile playing along his lips. Thoughts of the week ahead, the surprise treat
for Jim and their one year anniversary together, the spring break that would
take him away from the political and social problems that were raising their
ugly heads on campus lately all made him feel lighthearted.
"I told you to
stay out of my way, Shrimpboat," an angry voice broke out of the shadows
that sprung around the corner of the building.
Blair stopped and
watched as a figure tumbled back from behind some shrubs. Staggering, regaining
his balance, Blair watched Ben Cutler, push his long hair behind his ear. "I'm tired of you telling me what I can
and can't do, Bailey."
Gus Bailey's tall,
lanky form pulled from the shadows, neatly groomed, golden hair, short and
wavy, falling in soft wisps over his brow.
Blair knew for a fact many co-ed hearts were stopped by that innocent
boyish face. If only Gus' grades were as important to him as being top man on
campus, the charm could have been put to better use. "You'll mind what I
tell you, punk."
Gus walked off never
having spotted Blair. Ben Cutler's face
hardened as he watched his persecutor walk off into the shadows. Blair stood
his ground as Ben turned slowly and spotted him. A flash of embarrassment added
heat to the small man's features. Blair had been counseling the young student
for the past few months. Ben Cutler's sharp mind and high-level of achievement
had allowed him to enter college at sixteen. Since Blair had experienced all
the anxieties and problems younger students are beset with, Dean Evers had
clearly thought Sandburg could help out Cutler more than any other advisor.
Although Cutler was
not in any of Blair's classes, the seventeen-year-old was constantly bringing
him essays and papers that other professors had graded too harshly or critiqued
with a biased eye. Nothing Blair could say or do could convince Cutler that the
rest of the campus held nothing against him. Recalling his own feelings of
exclusion and rejection, Blair gave the boy as much time and encouragement as
he could.
However, last week,
one of Cutler's professors had left an irate voice mail for Sandburg telling
him that the student was his problem now and he needed to talk to 'that boy
about his attitude problem.’
Apparently, Ben had done a presentation on subcultures that are
detrimental to the campus social life.
Jocks, Greeks, and all social bonding systems within the world of
academia had fallen under his sharp, bright, rapier wit. Professor Dane's message had said it took
all his best efforts to keep the class from rioting and tar and feathering the
obnoxiously bright, younger student. No doubt, Gus Bailey had gotten wind of
the offending paper and poor Ben was going to be the object of much abuse.
Why does he do this to himself? Blair asked as he waited for the boy to approach him. However,
Ben turned abruptly and headed off in the opposite direction Gus had
taken. Okay, Ben, you better keep your appointment...I've got all evening
set-aside for you and we need to have a talk.
Blair climbed the
stairs cautiously. Bypassing the
elevator, lest his Sentinel hear the chains and pulleys of the lift, he
carefully placed his key in the lock and turned it. Moonlit patches speckled the interior with warm welcome. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he quietly
set down his backpack and slowly stripped off his jacket. He tiptoed across the floor, passing the
couch along his route to the stairs.
Stopping at the foot of the stairs, he paused to give his plight full
consideration.
If I wake Jim up, he'll probably start in on a long lecture
about my hours again. I must admit three a.m. is pushing his patience, when he
insists I get my butt home by midnight. He
started slowly backing up with each page of the argument flipping across his
mind. He'll probably start in again about
my absence from the station and all the forms that I've been promising him
daily I'll get to. Inching further back towards the couch, where logic told
him, he would find rest from the long and trying day.
"Didn’t I tell
you to be home by midnight. Where the hell have you been?" a voice barked
out from the upstairs bedroom.
Blair yelped in
surprised, "Damn it, Jim, you
almost gave me a heart attack, man," his indignation quickly becoming the
forerunner to all other emotions.
He
slowly climbed the stairs, not wanting to deal with his annoyed lover any
sooner then he had to. Jim was sitting
up in bed and clearly had not been asleep.
Undressing quickly, he got into bed, snuggling up to the older man.
Jim easily rolled
Blair on top of him, settling him against his chest, securing him there with
his arms.
“Do you want to talk
about it?” Jim asked, trying hard to be patient and understanding. His plans for an early evening shattered
when he realized most of the time he focused his hearing on the sound of his
lover’s heartbeat. Not hearing that sound for several hours eventually led him
to give up and just wait for the younger man to get home.
“Jim, you remember me
telling you how I started college at sixteen.
College is a change for any eighteen year-old leaving High School and
all his friends behind. Academia can be a little daunting when you still
haven’t reached an emotional and maturity level equal to your classmates,”
Blair began, gently nudging Jim's chest with his head, his normal indication he
wanted his hair stroked.
Jim brought one large
hand up and began to slowly massage the hair that was tickling his chin.
“Well, one of the
kids I counsel, Ben Cutler, he’s so like me at that age. A real smart ass, know it all, who thinks
he’s in college to enlighten everyone else, the profs included.”
“Yeah, I can imagine
what a pain in the ass you were, Chief. Simon can vouch for first impressions
where you’re concerned,” Jim laughed, remembering Simon’s incessant doubts and
objections to Blair’s tag along status.
The know-it-all attitude had proved true and after a few insightful
angles presented on cases, Captain Banks had developed a quiet, respectful awe
of the younger man.
“Why don’t you just
set him up with a hard ass cop and let him set him straight,” Jim suggested,
giving Blair a firm swat on his bottom, "not that I am doing that good of
a job right now with you."
“Come on, Jim, be
serious. I feel for this kid. He means well. His approach is all off. We sat in
my office for several hours going over his assignments and his attitude. He
just doesn’t get it. This kid is brilliant, Jim, a real thinker, but his
delivery of his ideas sucks big time.”
“Don’t
worry about. He’ll come around, you did.”
“It’s not that
simple, Jim. He’s antagonized some campus heavyweights. I’m just afraid that if
he doesn’t do a quick turn around or at least soften his views, he’s in for
some rough times. I just don’t want blood, man. You know how I hate blood.”
"Want to invite
him to go to the gym with me and I can teach him how to defend himself?"
Jim asked with a laugh.
"Seriously,
though, I know what this kid is going through and it’s bringing back all the
fears and frustrations. I just want to help the boy. Is that so wrong?”
"No of course
not, you want to help him. You
understand what he is going through.
But there is only so much help you can give someone who is not asking
for it. Sometimes people just need to
learn their own lessons, telling them doesn't work; they need to learn for
themselves. What is wrong is you letting this kid take advantage of you and
getting you into trouble. What time were you supposed to be home?"
"He is not
taking advantage of me, love. It was my
fault we were out so late, he left around midnight and I just got caught up
working and…" Blair's voice was interrupted by a huge yawn.
Smiling down at his
lover, Jim said, "Let's finish this tomorrow. You are about to fall asleep and we both have to get up early.
"
Blair just nodded
sleepily, allowing himself to be rolled on his side and spooned.
Within a matter of
minutes, the even breathing of his sleeping lover sent the Sentinel into a deep
and restful slumber.
Morning warmed the
loft in a golden film, casting her glow on the cozy dwelling. The smells of breakfast teased the air and
the morning routine was under way.
Jim exited the shower
when his senses were assaulted with burnt toast and the crackling sounds of
sparks. Rounding the corner he zoned in
immediately to the electrical plug where the toaster unit was still connected,
then focusing out, as his instincts led the search, he saw his Guide ready to
stick a fork into the toaster.
Racing forward, Jim
slammed into Blair, knocking him back against the counter, the fork flying to
the floor.
"Damn it, Jim!
What the hell is wrong with you?" Blair yelled, anger heating his facial
expressions.
Pushing his hair out
of his eyes, the rough treatment shaking more than his equilibrium, he angrily
shoved Jim back and away from him.
Ellison stood his
ground and pointed at the plug.
"Did it ever occur to you to disconnect it?"
Blair blushed, his
face turning a deep crimson, heat warming his flesh, a droplet of sweat tipping
his hairline. "Oh, man! God, Jim, I swear I thought I unplugged it."
Jim reached over and
unplugged the unit from the wall socket. He picked it up and shook the burnt
toast out into the sink.
Blair shook his long
locks as though shaking off some fugue state that threatened him. "I
swear, Jim, I really thought I did."
"Well,
you didn't, Chief." Jim growled out angrily. Then turning his back, he headed for the bathroom, leaving a
frightened and confused young man standing alone staring at the fork now lying
on the floor.
The afternoon sun
rested casually on the horizon, silently sneaking beyond the day. Blair looked
at his watch. Four o’clock, time to meet
Jim at the station or my lover is not going to be into any romance next
week. Collecting his papers and
stuffing them as neatly as possible into his backpack, he paused briefly at the
sound of running feet in the hall. Suddenly his door was pushed open wide; a
frantic figure, long hair whipping wildly, burst into the room. Turning quickly the figure closed the door
and positioning himself securely against any intrusion, he exhaled a sigh of
relief.
“Ben? What’s happened?”
Blair came around his desk and caught the young man by his upper arm, half the
intent of securing him from further flight and half to grab the attention of
the fugitive.
“Mr. Sandburg, they
think I did it. I didn’t. I know I said I would, I know I wanted to, God, did I
ever want to, but I didn’t.”
“Ben,
do what? What do they think you did?”
Suddenly, a loud
raucous could be heard in the hall. The young man’s eyes turned desperately to
Blair, an agonizing plea for help.
Blair didn’t think.
This kid was frightened and he needed help.
Pulling the dazed student with him, he opened the metal cabinet that
housed camera equipment, overhead screens and miscellaneous larger
equipment. Pointing to the bottom of
the cabinet, he whispered, “Get in there and keep quiet.”
Once Ben situated
himself in the cabinet, Blair handed him his backpack and pressing his index
finger to his lips, signaled silence.
Returning to his
desk, he quickly bent his head and got into the act. As a knock sounded on the door, he inhaled deeply, calming
himself for his performance, “Come in,” he called, wiping his face of all
emotions.
“Sorry, to bother
you, umm ... Mr. Sandburg,” the tall, muscular man wearing a campus security
uniform said, glancing quickly at the lettering on the door, “but there’s been an incident and I was
questioning one of the students. We have every reason to believe he’s our
perp. He ran out on us during
questioning and we have reason to believe he entered this building.”
“If he did,” Blair
said, evenly, “he’s not here," casually shrugging his shoulders. The tall man scanned the area, and entering
quickly, looked behind the door. Blair
looked amused.
The large man grinned
sheepishly. “Sorry, not doubting you, Mr. Sandburg, but he could have had a gun
on you or something.”
“You new here?” Blair
asked, not recalling having ever seen this mountain of a man on campus
before. “Where’s Will Temple?”
“Oh, he took early
retirement. It was sudden. His wife’s mother became ill and they just decided
to move to Florida.” Then as though
suddenly remembering his purpose, he straightened to his full height.
“Kid’s name is Ben
Cutler, long-haired, neo-hippie type.
Typical troublemaker, dresses like a freak.”
Hearing the
stereotypical tags that had long attached themselves to his own life, Blair
bristled. “Mr. Err?”
”Ed
Tarrington, Chief of Campus Security.”
“What
did Ben Cutler supposedly do?”
“Just beat the living
crap out of Gus Bailey. Poor kid. He’s
a real jock and chances are he’ll never play again…after the beating he
took. Baseball bat. This Cutler’s
dangerous. Hippie radical types always are,” he said with a slight smirk on his
face as he deliberately stared at Blair’s long curls. Then he turned to leave. Pulling the door closed behind him he
peered back at Blair, “you be sure and lock this door after I leave and call
security if you see anyone strange around here.”
“Only one strange
around here is you,” Blair mumbled to himself as he got up and turned the lock
on his office door. Waiting several minutes,
he went to the metal cabinet and opened the door. Motioning for Ben to come out of hiding, he grabbed his backpack
and helped the visibly shaken refugee to his feet.
“Mr. Sandburg, I
didn’t do it. I swear. This Tarrington, he’s got it in for me, always has.”
“Ben, just stop
it. Not everyone on campus is out to
get you. This paranoia is getting out of hand,” he said, rubbing a hand across
his face.
“No, it’s true,” Ben
pleaded, grabbing Blair by the arm. “He hates the way I dress; everything about
me. He’s called me a faggot, a Mama’s boy.
I saw him talking to Bailey the other day, they were laughing at me.”
“What do you know
about this assault on Gus Bailey?” Blair perched one leg on his desk as Ben sat
in the chair in front of his desk. “And don’t lie to me, Ben, I saw you arguing
with him yesterday in front of Hargrove.”
Just then the door
burst open and Ed Tarrington, accompanied by two other security guards, pressed
into the room. Grabbing Ben by the arm, Tarrington twisted it behind his back. Blair reached out a protective arm, “Hey,
there’s no need for this.”
“Stay out of this,
Professor,” Tarrington ground out.
“Your kind always sticks together.”
Years of repressed
resentment in Blair overcame all reasoning. Years of being the object of
derision, the smaller, weaker man, harshly and cruelly labeled by his
trappings, had finally boiled over. He
pushed Tarrington away from Ben.
“Grab him,”
Tarrington yelled to the other guards, and before Blair knew what was happening
he was being cuffed and marched out of Hargrove Hall alongside Ben Cutler.
“Where the hell is
he?” Jim mumbled to himself as he checked his watch for the hundredth
time. What the hell was Sandburg’s
problem lately? He kept making promises
he seemed to have no intention of keeping, putting Jim off like a bothersome
chore. The kid was making no effort to
make this relationship work. Sandburg,
it’s time you and I sat down and discussed this whole commitment business. I think you’re missing the whole point.
Lately Blair had been
so preoccupied with school and counseling that he was endangering himself.
Running himself ragged with commitments beyond his ability to meet and an
erratic eating schedule. He was
constantly putting himself in danger as he had only this morning with the
toaster. Jim had absolutely no patience
with the offhanded attitude he sometimes took regarding his own health.
The morning’s episode
was only one of many in the past few weeks.
Just last week a similar incident confirmed Jim’s growing suspicions
that his guide needed guidance.
Jim came out of the
bathroom in a burst of energy. The squealing of brakes had not gotten his
attention, the horns blaring had not done it, no, it was the loud, anxiety
ridden voice of the one he knew like no other. "I'm sorry. Jeez, mister,
I'm sorry. I never saw you."
The response,
"Damn it, I blew my horn at you. What the hell is the matter with you?
Where the hell is your head, you idiot?"
Jim tensed monitoring
the situation from above in the loft; he had a pretty good visual idea in his
head of what was taking place down below on the street in front of the loft.
His reckless guide had no doubt done something stupid again, something totally
dangerous and life threatening.
Another, new voice,
added to the assault, "Young man, I saw you. You totally ignored the horns
and you never even bothered to look before crossing. You are a nuisance. If you
never learned how to cross the street, you should stay indoors," the
elderly, maternal voice chastised.
"Yes, ma'am,
sorry," the penitent replied.
Jim focused on the
heart rate---the increased rhythm that showed the scare his guide had indeed
suffered.
Then the heartbeat
began its ascent up the elevator. Jim leaned back against the counter, the
towel wrapped around his waist, his arms crossed high on his bare chest. He
looked like a Viking Lord not quite happy with the peasantry at the moment.
The door opened
slowly, Sandburg's downcast eyes lost in some perusal of floor tiles. Looking
up he saw an angry and impatient Sentinel awaiting his return.
"What's up,
man?" Blair questioned, hoping the scene below was not monitored by the
mother ship.
"What the hell
just happened out there, Chief? Or maybe I don't really have to ask. Maybe I
can write the scenario line for line now. It's the same one last week with the
broken light bulb and wet hands, or the short fall down the stairs not watching
where you were going, ...or,"
"Okay, man,
okay. I get the picture. I've been a little pre-occupied lately, so what? You
have things on your mind and I have things on mine...it works both ways. No big deal." Attitude had clearly surfaced and Jim maneuvered the arms now
onto his hips...clearly not happy with the change in temperature.
"Saannndbuuuurrrg!"
Jim growled out in a low and even rumble.
"No, really,
man. What is the big deal? Like you don't drive like a lunatic and risk our
lives every day?"
"You are NOT
putting this off on me right now. Let's deal with the issues here, Chief.
You've been a walking trouble magnet since the day I met you, but this total
lack of interest in your own welfare is getting me just a bit pissed. I want
your butt in bed tonight before Midnight." With that he turned to go back
into the bathroom and finish his morning's sartorial.
"Jim, I'm not
tired and I'm not..."
The cold look in the
blue eyes that turned his way, cut his explanations and excuses short. Then the
simple phrase cut the air in a clear, crisp, no-prisoner's- taken tone,
"We will NOT have this
conversation again."
“JIM!”
Simon’s voice cut through his thoughts. Captain Banks was a man who bellowed,
usually startling his men into instantaneous compliance. Rising quickly, Jim walked into his boss’
office.
“Close the door,
Jim,” Simon said, lighting his cigar.
“There’s been some trouble on campus.”
“What kind of
trouble?”
“Sit down,” Simon
said, pointing to the chair with his freshly lit cigar, “it’s under control, or
at least it better be. It seems Sandburg ran interference during a routine
campus arrest and harbored a suspected felon. I thought he was on our side,
Jim? What the hell’s the matter with the kid?”
“Where is he?” Jim
asked, rubbing his chin, trying to contain the anger and frustration that
twitched along his jaw line. The tense muscle indicating how tightly strung
Ellison really was.
“Some uniforms have
him downstairs. Campus security called them in. Jim, it’s Ed Tarrington. He’s
Chief of Security at Rainier now.”
“Tarrington? I’ve heard the guy's a straight shooter. I
can’t believe Sandburg didn’t charm the pants off of him. Who’s the suspect?”
“Ben Cutler, a
seventeen-year-old trouble maker from what I’ve gathered from the reports the
University faxed over. He’s against
everyone and everything. One of the students was worked over pretty good with a
baseball bat. Another student pointed the finger at Cutler. The kid’s been
writing reactionary, anti-establishment, anti-conformist, anti-everything you
can think of papers and raising a few voices all over the place. It was a known fact, Bailey and Cutler were
having differences of opinion.”
A burst of noise
broke through the glass barriers that separated Simon’s office from the
bullpen. “What the hell…” Simon’s voice trailed off as he and Jim rose in
unison. Blair was marching towards
Simon’s office, sandwiched between a tall security guard and Joel Taggart. The smaller man kept pulling indignantly out
of both men’s grasp.
“Jim!” Blair said, finally managing to pull free,
rushing into the office and immediately positioning himself behind his taller
friend. “Jim, this goon has been manhandling me for the past hour.”
“Jim, I don’t know
what’s got into him,” Joel Taggart’s soft voice tried to push reason back into
the room.
“Me?” Blair cried
out, “Me? This military reject started pushing one of my students around.” Then seeing the stern look Captain Bank’s
threw his way, the apologetic look that passed from Joel to Tarrington, he came
forward to stand next to Jim and look up to his best friend and lover for
understanding and acceptance.
“Jim, he’s arresting
Cutler because of the way he looks, the long hair and earring, he’s making
judgments based on how someone looks not on any tangible evidence.”
Jim reached forward
and grabbed Blair by both shoulders, “ Okay, calm down; what happened?”
“Cutler came into my
office, scared, real scared, Jim,” he emphasized, throwing a scowl at
Tarrington, who stood silently by never saying one word. “He just needed to talk to me, tell me the
whole story. I would have talked him
into turning himself in, but no, Jim. No! Campus security broke into my office,
the door was locked, they just took it for granted that I was harboring him,
because of the way I dress, Jim.”
“SANDBURG!” Simon
bellowed, “I won’t have my office and a member of my department, making
accusations of wrongdoing to another officer.
Especially upon finding a suspected felon hiding out in your office
moments after you were told to be on the look out for the suspect.”
“Tarrington, what do
you have to say for yourself?” Simon asked the man who at one time wore a
uniform in the same precinct.
“Sir, he shoved me
during the arrest. However, we were only going to take him in to the office and
find out what was going on. We were advised the student in question wrote
several papers whereby he suggested certain ways to eliminate campus
dissension. Apparently all these papers
were in Mr. Sandburg’s possession and we found out the night before, Mr.
Sandburg and Cutler burned the papers in back of Hargrove Hall. It just looked
awfully suspicious that maybe Mr. Sandburg and Cutler were aware of how
compromising these papers would prove when Cutler finally whacked Bailey.”
“I was counseling the
kid…Jim, tell him,” Blair’s voice cracking with frustration, “tell him I was
trying to get the kid to use a different approach to expressing his ideas.”
Tarrington snorted
his disbelief, derision clear in the note.
“You’ve prejudged him
and me, haven’t you? Where do you get off just taking over from Will Temple and
making character evaluations based on other student’s likes and dislikes. It’s a
common fact you’ve been friendly with Gus Bailey.” Blair's voice rising in
anger and frustration.
“I’m just doing my
job, Mr. Sandburg.” Then turning to
Simon, he added, “which I think I’ll get back to. I didn’t know Mr. Sandburg
was a friend of yours, Simon. I’ll let you handle the situation now.”
"Thanks, Ed, I
will," Simon said, briefly replacing the glare he was aiming at Blair with
a smile for Tarrington.
As soon as the campus
security chief left, Blair turned his frustration toward Jim. "Thanks so
much, Ellison. Way to support your
partner!" the hurt and anger being evident in his voice. With that remark, he stormed out of the
office, through the bullpen toward the elevator.
"I thought you
had that kid on a tighter rein, Jim?" Simon said with a mixture of humor
and disbelief.
"I am trying,
Sir. I am trying," he replied
wearily, heading toward the elevator where his partner waited.
Why do these stupid elevators always take so long, Blair thought to himself.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw a frustrated Jim coming toward him.
Not wishing to continue the discussion from Simon's office, he turned and
bolted toward the stairs.
"SANDBURG! Stop
right there! Do not make me chase
you!" Jim shouted after him.
Pausing briefly,
Blair seemed to consider stopping, then turned and raced down the stairs.
"Shit," Jim
muttered to himself. Grabbing the
arriving elevator, he hoped to get to the parking garage before Blair did. The fates were with him and he made it to the
ground floor with no stops in between.
Extending his hearing, he could make out Blair running down the steps,
breathing hard. Stepping into the
stairwell quietly, he waited for his runaway Guide to come to him.
Blair was running at
full speed, certain that he could hear Jim behind him. He was mad and upset and did not want to
talk to anyone; especially his so called partner who refused to support and
defend him in front of his attackers.
He skidded to a stop at the bottom landing when he saw Jim waiting for
him.
"What do you
want, man? I don't want to talk to you
right now,” Blair said, crossing his arms and glaring down at the
detective.
"That is fine, I
don't want you to talk. You did enough
of that upstairs; you are going to listen.
Sit. Don't talk," Jim said, pointing to the stairs, scowling at the
younger man.
Sitting down with a
pouting expression on his face, Blair crossed his arms, “Fine! Talk."
"Be quiet,
Sandburg, what part of 'don't talk' is confusing to you?" When Blair did not say anything, Jim
continued, "You made some pretty harsh accusations up there, of me and of
another officer. You accused me of not
supporting you against him. But, how
could I, when you storm in after resisting arrest, harboring a fugitive, and
accusing someone of false arrest? You want
me to jump to your defense but you made it almost impossible for me. I am a police officer, what you did was
against the law. This other officer
might have been wrong in assuming you were protecting this kid because of the
way you look, but," Jim emphasized, pointing his finger at Blair,
"his hunch was correct. You were
hiding him."
"But, Jim, it
isn't fair, Ben is being accused because he has a different opinion than the
majority, because he dresses a little different! That is the ONLY reason!
You know it!"
"Blair,"
Jim said, a little more softly, coming up the stair, "you don't know that
is the only reason. It may have been a
reason, but there has to be something else." He sat down on the stairs, next to his lover. Picking up one of his guide's hands, softly
stroking the palm of it with his fingers, he continued, "You cannot take
this personally, this isn't about you.
Me not jumping to your defense in Simon's office was not about you and
me; it was about a detective not automatically distrusting a fellow
officer. This kid has problems that you
don't need to be taking on; you have enough going on. You have to understand that."
"No, I
don't!" he said, jerking his hand away from Jim. "By you not sticking
up for me in front of everybody, you basically told them that you don't believe
me; that you think I am some sort of radical, who is against the establishment
just for the hell of it! You don't
trust me!"
"What? Where in God's name are you getting this
from?" Jim said, trying to control
his anger, but failing. "I never
said I don't trust you. I never said
you were against the establishment.
What I said was you broke the law several times and by doing so and
acting irrationally upstairs, you made it impossible for me to defend you up
there."
"Same thing
man. You don't like me; you want to
change who I am! You are always doing
that with all of your house rules and your 'do's and don'ts ' and your superior
attitude that you are the only one who knows anything!" he said standing
up, his voice rising in anger and hurt.
"I know what I am talking about!
I know this student and he would never, could never, do this to
someone. He is lost and confused and
just trying to prove to people that look down on him just because of his age or
how he dresses or what he believes that he is smart and is not lesser then he
is! Don't you understand? I was him; he is me at that age; just trying
to prove to everyone that he belongs somewhere!" Blair finished in a half sob, choked with anger and emotion too powerful
to contain any longer. Spinning around,
he fled down the stairs and out into the parking garage.
"Blair!"
Jim cried, trying to snag his lover before he escaped, but missing. Jumping up to follow him, he ran into the
parking garage in time to see his truck drive out onto the street. Cursing the fact that he had given Blair a
spare key to the truck in case of emergencies, Jim headed back to Major Crimes.
"So where is the
kid?" asked Simon, when he saw Jim coming in alone.
"Driving off in
my truck," was the curt reply. Jim
sighed, "I don't know what’s gotten into him,” following Simon into his
office, he settled down in a chair while the police captain poured two cups of
coffee.
"Thanks,"
Ellison said, accepting the coffee. "I cornered him in the stairwell near
the parking garage and he went off on me about how I was trying to change him,
how I didn't accept him for who he was and how I showed that by not immediately
jumping to his defense this afternoon."
"Jim, there was
nothing you could do about this afternoon.
Sandburg came in here ranting and raving, accusing a former officer of
discrimination without evidence one way or the other, it would have been
inappropriate for you to take sides. I
thought you handled the whole situation well; you stayed pretty neutral and let
me handle it."
"I don't know,
Captain, he was upset. He is taking
this whole case very personally.
Speaking of which, what is happening with Cutler?"
"Brown and Rafe
are interviewing him now. But there is
no direct evidence to link him to the beating and until Bailey regains
consciousness and can hopefully identify his attacker, there is not much to go
on. The baseball bat used was wiped
clean of prints. Forensic is over at
the kid's dorm room looking for blood traces, but I haven't heard yet if
they’ve found anything." Simon
sipped his coffee. "Why is Sandburg taking this case so personally? You two having problems on top of this?"
"I don't know.
No, we are not having any major problems.
He has been testy lately and I have gotten on his case about not being
around here more. In the stairs he
mentioned that Cutler was the same as he was when he was that age. You know that Blair started college at
sixteen, don’t you?"
"Yeah, I
remember that now."
"I think he just
can relate to how difficult it is to be accepted by your peers; you know,
younger, shorter and probably more intelligent than they are. He mentioned something about
overcompensating to be noticed, equating 'being noticed' to 'fitting in.’ Blair
has always thought he didn’t fit in anywhere, moving around so much I guess can
do that to you." Jim trailed off
thinking of his lover and the insecurities the young man brought to their
relationship.
"So what are you
going to do about this. Tarrington told
me that the University is not going to press charges against Sandburg for
harboring that student; they caught him and that is all that matters to
them. Brown and Rafe seem to have it
under control. You made a noticeable
dent in that pile of paperwork on your desk, why don't you go home and see
about Sandburg?"
Jim flashed him a
smile, "Thanks, Sir, I think I will. I appreciate it.“
Jim stood and walked
out of the office, gathering his stuff, he paused. "Shit," he said, remembering that his truck had driven
away an hour ago with his guide.
Walking back into Simon's office, he smiled. Simon was putting on his
coat and gathering his stuff.
"Forget that
your truck went AWOL this afternoon, Detective?" Simon asked, with a laugh, "Come on, I'll drive."
City lights sparkled
brightly in the panoramic view. A soft
fire glowed in the hearth. Earth music filtered the air in soft tinkles of
zither, cello and flute. One lonely
anthropologist sat cross-legged in the middle of the patterned carpet, thumbs
pressed into palms, eyes closed, breathing in and out as though the exercise
gave life and eased his troubled soul.
Jim
will be home soon. Man, I don’t want to deal with this. I just don’t feel like
hashing this out again. He’s like so into not seeing my side of things lately.
A deeper breath
filled his lungs. Clear your
thoughts…that’s it...easy…no Jim, no Simon, no Ed Tarringtons and Gus
Baileys…relax.
So
into the exercise of concentration and acceptance, he never heard the door open
nor saw the large figure looming over him.
Catching the shadow
in his peripheral, he jumped. “God, Jim, I don’t have your hearing, man. Can’t
you make your presence known before you give me a heart attack.”
Jim glared down on
him, hands on hips, dour countenance showing full displeasure.
“Do you want to
explain the truck-jacking, Chief? I had to have Simon drop me off.”
“Well, you and he are
cops…don’t you think you owe each other a lift now and then,” Blair mumbled
sarcastically. Trying to rise from his
cross-legged position, he felt his arms grasped above the elbow as he was
unceremoniously hauled to his feet.
“You want to can the
attitude, Chief. You never did stay to
hear out my little talk.”
Blue eyes challenged
bluer eyes; both ignited by anger and the passion of the self-righteous. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. I listen; you talk. You
make rules; I obey. You set guidelines
I follow. You outline the parameters of this relationship and I stay within the
lines. Well, I never mastered coloring
and you can ask Naomi, I always went outside the lines.”
Still holding the
arms of his lover, Jim gave the captive a slight shake. “Will you just stop it.
Put the poor me attitude away and let’s talk about this, Chief. We’re drifting here and if we don’t make the
effort to connect, we could be in serious trouble.”
“And whose fault
would that be, Jim? Mine, because I have a life outside your little boys in
blue setup? Well, I do. I’ve never stopped being me, Jim, just
because I happened to fall in love with a hard ass cop.” Tears began to well in the blue pools,
threatening to overflow. All the
protective instincts that monitored the emotional and physical well being of
Blair Sandburg came bursting forth. The
large man pulled the smaller one into his arms. Turning the petulant mouth up, he firmly kissed the quivering
lips, silencing all protest, rebellion, and doubts.
"Fuck you,
Jim!" Blair said, pushing back angrily from his lover. "Don't do that! Don't pretend a kiss can make everything all
better because it can't!" The last part almost screamed out as Blair
turned quickly and fled into his office.
Slamming the door behind him, Blair collapsed in the soft recliner in
the corner. Drawing himself into a small
ball, he tried to ignore the feelings of hurt and disappointment at Jim's actions,
and, Blair admitted with hesitation, his own.
Oh God, he thought
to himself, I have so messed this
up. I had a wonderful relationship
going with him and now I have gone and totally fucked it up. It's over and it’s all my fault, me and my
stupid, stupid problems. Blair
sighed and curled up deep into himself.
The little voice in his head, the one that told him he did not fit in,
that told him that nothing he would do would ever be good enough, was going
full tilt. Tears ran down his face and
his breath came in short gasps that he did not have the energy to try to
control.
A few minutes later,
a knock on the office door startled the younger man from his latest round of
why he was such a bad person. Looking
toward the door, he said wearily, "Come in, Jim."
The door opened and
the detective came in carrying a cold, wet washcloth. Walking gently towards his lover, he said, “Blair, I am
sorry. I never, ever meant to say that
the small problems we are going through are your entire fault. When I saw you upset and I couldn't think of
the words to say to make it all better, I did the only thing I could think of
doing to comfort you and to let you know how much I love you. I am sorry, I never meant to hurt you even
more." The older man suddenly looked
uncomfortable with his admission.
Leaning forward to place the washcloth on the small table next to the
chair, he said softly, "Here, I thought this might make your eyes feel
better." Laughing almost to himself, he continued "You know how your
eyes get all red and puffy when you cry.”
Blair grabbed his arm
before its retreat. Pulling the other
man closer to him, he said simply, "Please stay with me. I don't want to be alone."
Jim sank to his knees
in front of his partner, gathering Blair’s hands together; he drew them to his
lips. He kissed them softly and
whispered, " I swear to you, Blair Sandburg, as long as I am alive, you
will never be alone." Tears ran down his face, thinking back to the cold
loneliness that was his life before the bright, life-filled imp came to
him. "There is no problem in this
world, that you and I cannot face and overcome together. You have to believe me." The Sentinel bowed his head and rested it in
his Guide's lap.
Blair curled
protectively over him, whispering in a sentinel-soft voice, "I'm sorry I
ran from you. I am sorry I didn't trust
you. I am letting old insecurities hurt
us, I have to get past them somehow."
They stayed that way,
holding each other closely, using each other to help banish the fears temporarily
from their minds. Jim shifted slightly
and Blair lifted his head up and smiled down.
Laughing he said,
"Is your pride starting to have problems kneeling before me?"
Jim kissed him as he
stood up and said with equal humor, "No, not my pride, my knees."
Sharing the laugh,
Blair allowed himself to be drawn up and nestled close to Jim.
"I love you,” he
said as he burrowed himself deeper.
"I hate it when we fight."
"Me too, love,
me too."
"But," Jim
said a moment later, "making up can be fun," as the hands that were
wrapped tightly around the younger man's waist dropped lower and began to
gently knead the jeans-covered butt.
Blair shifted back
into his lover's hands, welcoming the feel of the gentle, but insistent, hands
on his body. Briefly taking his hands
from around Jim's chest, he unbuttoned the detective's shirt and freed it from
his pants. Slowly running his tongue
around a sensitive nipple, he heard Jim groan.
"I don't think
this is fair, Chief," he murmured, lifting Blair's face upward. "You always keep this beautiful,
perfect body hidden. I think we need to
take care of that. "
Quickly stripping
Blair of his clothes, Jim stepped back and smiled. "You know, I take that back, you need to wear more clothes
when you go out. I don't want anyone to
get a hint of how amazing you are."
Laughing he continued, " I think it might put a damper on our
relationship if I have to kill someone defending my property.”
Blair laughed,
"Property? I am your
property? Well, I guess that means you
belong to me, too. And, I for one,
never buy anything sight unseen. I
think I need to inspect the merchandise."
After hungrily
peeling Jim's clothes off, Blair stepped back and eyed him appreciatively. "Oh yeah, I think you'll do. In a pinch."
"In a 'pinch,'
Sandburg?" Jim said laughing, "I'll give you a pinch." Grabbing the younger man gently and pulling
him closer, the detective silenced the laughter with a kiss. Weaving his hands into the thick curls, he
held the object of his desire in place while he drank his fill of what his soul
knew only as "lover.”
Turning up his sense
of smell and taste, the Sentinel allowed himself to almost zone on the essence
of Blair Sandburg. The combination of
herbal shampoo and conditioner mixed with the slight tang from the coffee he
had drunk earlier and the unmistakable scent of arousal and sweat all combined
to form a solid image in his mind. Jim
briefly thought that he could locate Blair in a crowd by scent alone. The rational part of his mind was quickly
replaced with the more primal one as Blair plunged his tongue into Jim's
mouth.
Untangling one hand
from Blair's hair, he slowly trailed an outstretched finger down the sweaty
back, bringing the hand to rest cupping a cheek, fingers curved into the cleft.
Blair shifted,
spreading his legs farther apart, never breaking the kiss, allowing Jim better
access.
Reaching down, Jim
teasingly tickled Blair's opening, briefly plunging a finger in, never going in
too deeply, never quite giving the younger man what his body was screaming for.
After a few moments
of such teasing, Blair broke the kiss laughing. "Let's take this upstairs where you can finish what you've
started."
Looking down at his
lover, the detective smiled, never taking his hand from between Blair's
cheeks. "I don't know, love, I am
a little tired, I may be done for the night."
He laughed as Blair
swatted him across the butt.
"Okay, okay, no need to threaten me." Leaning down as if for another kiss, he
scooped the smaller man up and settled him in his arms.
Blair gasped and
laughed, wrapping an arm around the broad shoulders. Rubbing a hand on the hard chest that was cradling him, he said,
"I love it when you do your caveman impression."
Laughter echoed their
progress up the stairs.
<end of part 1>