Disclaimer:The main characters are not mine, this is an amateur

effort written purely for the fun of it, no money has exhanged hands, and it is not intended to breach the copyright of Paramount and Pet Fly Prouductions.

 

Thanks to my alpha reader Sue and my beta reader Stormwolf  for all their help and advice.

 

Also my thanks to Ophite for allowing me to use elements of her work in the Dark Sentinel Series.

 

This story is AU, set in the near future, and follows "Opposites Attract."

 

 

Claimed and Marked

<Dark Sentinel Fiction>

 

 

 

Destroy the slavers

free the sentinels

SLF

 

 

The words were spray painted onto the walls of Hargrove Hall. The Chairman of the Council had personally called the Mayor about the outrage, and he in turn had called Captain Simon Banks of Department 51, Major Crimes. Calling in the elite Headhunters, to investiate was the Mayors way of showing the university, and their powerful  backers that he was not going to have this outrage treated as a trivial crime, but an affront to the whole of the city.  The nickname of the Headhunters was one that was given to all of Major Crime, but in fact applied in particular to the three Lieutants under Captain Banks, each of them had the additional police powers of arrest crossing state and zone lines, each where ex-miliary and where the last resort, always bringing back their man, either dead or alive.

 

 

Jim Ellison moved back from the wall, the paint fumes were getting to him so he dialed back his sense of smell.

He could not help but admire the sentiment of, if not the manner in which, the SLF, the Sentinel Liberation Force, went around promoting their cause. 

 

Hargrove Hall, the old Anthropology building, was the main location for Sentinel studies and the students there still did cross over studies, with anthropology.  His guide's office, nothing more than a glorified artifact storage room, was on the third floor. Ellison allowed his senses to tune into him. Sure enough, through the sound of other heartbeats, a photocopier, a kettle brewing, and hundreds of other noises, he could hear the steady pound of Blair Sandburg's heart.  

 

 

In the three weeks, since they had met and bonded, Blair had become one of the most important factors in his life. Ellison glanced around at the other headhunters. These people had protected the secret of his sentinel abilities until he had been forced on-line by a Black Ops Doctor. Shipped secretly to Rainer University, his planned bonding to a Black Ops Guide was upset by a chance encounter with Blair.  The other headhunters had been very hostile to the young student in the beginning, and some still thought of him as an interloper in their world. But Jim Ellison, in his own very up front and personal way, had soon made it clear that *his* Guide was off limits for harrasment. Simon Banks had backed the message up with a short and sharp lecture that the quickest way to a bodybag was to mess with a sentinel's guide. No one in their right mind would openly go after Blair,  they had learned very quickly that Ellison, in a  protective mode was lethal.

 

Brown came up, "can you sense anything?"

 

"The paint is nothing unusual, just a commercial spray paint".

 

"Slavers', they mean the guides."

 

"The same."

 

"Well here's your slaver now", Brown's voice was light and joking. He and Rafe actually liked the kid, but his comment still got them treated them to an icy Ellison stare, before it softened when it came to rest on Blair Sandburg.

 

As a matter of course, his senses wrapped themselves around  the energetic bundle that was his guide until Jim was satisfied that he was okay.

 

"Any luck, Jim."

 

"None, they know what their doing, Sandburg."

 

"The SLF." he saw Sandburg shiver. "You okay chief," his voice softened as he detected the sudden elevation of heart beat and and the increase in respiration. The Guide was heading towards a full blown panic attack. 

 

Jim's hand tightened on his arm. "Easy chief, breathe, nice and deep. That's it." Gently, he coached Blair's breathing back to a more normal pattern. Blair's gaze was fixed on the writing, "This is crazy Jim, they've never got this close before."

 

His heart began to pound again; then he felt his sentinel's hand on his face, turning him so that he was looking at Jim and not the wall. The concerned look on his sentinel's face seemed to focus him. "Sorry Jim." 

 

 

"It's okay, Chief", Ellison released his hold on his Guide but made a silent note that he would get to the bottom of Blair's near panic later.

 

The investigation turned into the usual hunt for witnesses.            But apparently no one saw who did it; or if they did, they were sympathetic to the SLF and not talking..

 

Finally he had to ask. "Mind telling me, Chief, why the other students give me the impression that they would cheerfully set fire to Hargrove Hall and dance around it while it burned?"

 

Not all the students who apply are accepted. Those who do make it into the program are on constant probation. If for any reason the Reviewers believe that the would-be guide is not fully committed, he is washed out. Some are within six months of their degrees when they get switched to anthropology; their minor becomes their major subject." 

 

"No appeal allowed," Jim sounded suprised.

 

"Nope. Council decision is final; they can't risk allowing anyone against whom there is even a question mark becoming a guide."

 

Blair seemed to have gotten over whatever had spooked him, and was chattering away as they walked out of the building.  Blair hitched his backpack up higher on his shoulder. Suddenly, he received a none too gentle blow to the back of the head. It was nothing like the playful swat that Jim would give him. This was done with enough force to snap his head forward. His assailant gave a cry of pain as his throat was caught in an iron grip that threatened to cut off his air supply.

 

Blair quickly caught his Sentinel's arm, "its okay,Jim.  Let him go, he did'nt mean anything. Come on, let him go." He had dropped his voice to his Guide tone and felt the Sentinel respond to the soothing sound. Muscles slowly relaxing under his touch, his sentinel finally released his grip and gave the man a push. As he planted himself between  the newcomer and Blair, he snapped out,"You know this guy, Chief?"

 

"Philip Reeves, he was my roommate when I first started here." Blair swallowed, before saying,"Its been a while, Phil."

 

Reeves was a good five inches taller than Blair's five foot nine with a hefty build. There was a tone in Reeve's voice that made Jim's hackles  rise as he said, "I heard that you got bonded, this  your Sentinel?"  He looked Jim up and down. "Introduce us, Sandburg."

 

It was not a request; it was a demand.

 

"Philip Reeves, Lieutant James Ellison. Jim, Philip Reeves". 

 

The sentinel pointedly ignored the hand that was offered him. He did not like Reeves, and his Guide's reaction to the man was enough to put him on alert.

 

"You can catch up on old times later,Chief. Simon wants us down at the station."

 

As they walked off Reeves called, "See you later, Sandburg."

 

 

Blair was miles away, walking on automatic. *It could not be happening again, he could not let it happen again.*

He glanced at his sentinel,this was something that he had to do himself.

 

 

Blair settled onto the futon he used as a bed and pulled the blankets over the layers of clothes he was wearing. The three space heaters did little to cut through the chill of the warehouse, but it was his; home, as long as he could pay the rent. Wool cap on his head, and fingerless gloves on his hands, he picked up the anthropology book that he was reading. It contained an interesting interpretation of Burton's work on sentinels. His lecturer had accepted his proposed thesis on  Dark Sentinels; it would get him his Ph.D. and, more importantly, give him access to the labs that he needed to help Jim. He reached for his notebook on the floor and settled in to study.

 

He was just nodding off to sleep, when he heard the noise, for a moment he froze, then it came again. Slowly  he reached under the fulton for the baseball bat that he kept there. For all his none violent nature, he had soon realised that there where times when he couldnot talk his way out of trouble, and this could be one of them.

 

He moved quietlyinto the darker area of the warehouse. A noise made his head snap around; a rat, a big one, ran past him. He repressed a shudder. Then his head exploded; he didn't even feel it when he hit the concrete.

 

Jim sat up in bed and grabbed the phone, cursing the shrill sound that had pulled him from his well deserved rest.

The voice on the other end of the line banished all thoughts of sleep and he was dressed and out the door in five minutes.

 

Ellison's truck screeched to a halt at Cascade General Hospital. Parking in a no-parking zone; a scant minute later he was waving his badge at the nurse and demanding, "Blair Sandburg, where is he and what happened?"

 

The nurse was trying to block him away from the treatment rooms, when a doctor came up, "Lieutant Ellison?"

 

"Yes, I need ...." The Doctor cut him off, " this way, Lieutant. Mr Sandburg is in a private room. We'll be keeping him overnight, and we've  already placed a cot for you in his room".

 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

 

"Lieutenant, Mr. Sandburg's medical file is heavily flagged. He is a Guide, and you are named as his Sentinel. I have treated guides and sentinels before, I know what it's like when one of them is injured".

 

"What happened to him?"

 

"Mr. Sandburg was attacked in his home this evening. He received a heavy blow to the head. He does have a  concussion, but there appears to be no other damage. We should be able to release him tomorrow."

 

"Has he been conscious at all?"

 

"In and out, but he hasn't been coherent."

 

The doctor carefully checked Blair before nodding in satisfaction and leaving them alone. Jim leaned over his guide and gently put a hand out. He let his touch go hypersensitve, and then glided over his guide's head until he was sure that the doctors hadn't missed anything.

 

While he was bent over the bed, deep blue eyes flickered open, the gaze unfocused. Blair's voice was almost dream like. "Jim?"

 

"Right here, Chief", he perched on the edge of the bed and    went on, "you're okay. You're in the hospital."

 

His partner struggled to sit up, but the sentinel held him down, "you're not going anywhere until tomorrow".

 

"Kay Jim," was the drowsy reply as Blair drifted off again.

 

The sentinel spent the night in the chair, ignoring the cot. When the nurse came in she found Jim asleep, head resting on his forearms only inches from his guide.  His head lifted as she entered, and icy blue eyes looked at her for a moment. She must have passed some sort of test because his head went down again.  But she was sure his senses followed all her moves until she left.

 

Outside the door, the nurse exhaled slowly.She had treated guides before and knew how touchy the sentinel could be. It was the reason she had been called in to work this wing tonight; to anyone not used to them it could be unnerving.

 

 

Jim looked round Sandburg's appartment, and his face reflected his concern. Spray painted across the wall and floors was "SLF- Destroy the slavers." Blair's laptop was on the floor; it was not just broken, it was destroyed. Someone had taken great pleasure in reducing it to spare parts.  The kid didn't have any money, aside from an old car, the laptop was the most expensive thing he owned.  Jim could feel the anger building in his soul.  He scooped up the SLF leaflet from the floor, nothing unusual there, the same party tract. He threw it down in disgust,and looked over the warehouse. He found himself becoming angry at his guide's living quarters; he wouldn't dignify them with the label "home." Rats skittered in corners and the warehouse would be even colder and darker when...if... Blair returned. Lamps and salvaged space heaters were in pieces on the floor. Jim slowly scanned the make-do living area then started collecting his guide's things. Dumping the boxes in the back of the truck he drove back to his loft for some serious thinking.

 

Jim took a pull at his coffee, and studied the small pile of boxes in his hall. The kid's whole life was in those boxes. He justified his removal of the kid's belongings on the grounds that the area was not safe anyway. And if Blair had been targeted because he was a guide, his attackers might be back. The loft's spare room was useable; okay, he would need to move some of the stuff down to his part of  basement storage,but he had blankets, sheets and pillows for the futon.  The doctors had said that Blair could leave the hospital only if there was someone to look after him. The blow had been a nasty one, and he would feel the effects for several days.  Simon had put him on desk duty, muttering something about standard procedure for sentinels with injured guides, so he might as well get the kid settled. Quicker the kid was on his feet, quicker he'd be off desk duty.

 

When Jim entered the hospital, he found the same the nurse was still on duty. She was the motherly type, her cheerful smile meant to reassure the sentinel. "Hello Lieutant, Guide Sandburg is just receiving a last check up by the doctor, then you should be able to take him home." She patted his arm gently before saying, "he will be all right. While you're waiting for Guide Sandburg we could do the paperwork, it will save time."

 

 

 

 

The paperwork was finished just in time for Jim to lend a hand to his shaky guide. Sandburg was suprisingly quiet as Ellison escorted him to the truck and got him settled for the ride home. Whatever medication the doctor had given Blair had the young man floating by the time they got to the loft. Blair peered rather shortsightedly at the building in front of  him, "Er.. Jim, this isn't my place."

 

"Very good Chief, it's mine."

 

"We picking something up?"

 

"No," Jim got out of the truck and moved around to carefully help his guide out. The smaller man wilted at the knees and he was brought upright by a strong arm around his waist. In the elevator the sentinel kept a watchful eye on his guide. Blair had pushed away from him, trying to pull his muddled thoughts together enough to ask why he was at Jim's place. Jim watched as Blair slowly sank toward the floor again; with a tolerant shake of his head, he pulled Blair back up again. 

 

Jim dropped his keys on the table inside the door, and manhandled Blair to the sofa, allowing him to sink down. His eyes where closed before his head hit the cushions. Jim hesitated, then prepared the futon before returning to scoop up the now sleeping guide. He took him to the onetime spare room and put him on the bed. Jim eased off Blair's ratty sneakers and long coat, shirt and jeans, making sure that he was comfortable. Only then did he leave his guide and return to the living room.

 

The backpack was on the floor by the sofa, where he had dropped it off this morning. For the first time he noticed the black and red colored paper peeking out of the top and pulled it out. It was another SLF leaflet,  only this one had a  message scrawled across it REMEMBER. Jim looked across at the spare room, and then screwed it up, and binned it.  He lined the pills up on the kitchen table. Self-appointed chores done, he put the television on to watch the jags game.

 

The first thing Ellison realized when he woke was that for once his senses were not going haywire. He had not admitted it to Blair, but first thing in the morning one or more of his senses were usually on the blink. This morning everything was online; a quick instinctive sensory sweep of the area and he knew his territory was secure and his guide was sleeping but...not soundly. What had awakened him was his guide's distress; his heart was beating too fast and his breathing was quick and uneven. He was out of bed and on the way down the stairs before he was aware of what he was doing, never even realizing it was only 3am.

 

Blair was huddled on the futon, talking in his sleep, "No don't, please don't." "No!" the pitch of his voice was rising in terror. He began to move as though trying to pull away from someone or something. Jim caught one of his arms. "Sandburg, Blair, it's okay, come on, wake up." Suddenly he found himself trying to hold onto a twisting and turning bundle of guide. Blair was screaming at him; a fist lashed out and caught the sentinel across the jaw, hard enough to snap his head around. Jim ducked another punch and changed his grip, managing to pin Blair down. Ellison leaned his weight on his guide as deep blue eyes flew open, wide with fear.

 

"Chief, it's okay. Easy, it's just a dream. It can't hurt you. Nothing's going to hurt you."

 

Ellison eased back, releasing his hold, not wanting the smaller, younger man to feel trapped.

 

"Jim?" The voice sounded lost. Then the sentinel was taken aback as he found himself with an armful of  guide, slender arms locked around his chest, hands gripping against his back. Only a short time ago, Jim's reaction would have been to push him away, hating any display of strong emotions. But now, Sentinel instincts overrode a lifetime reserve to protect the life clinging to him. He closed his arms around Sandburg and pulled him close. It felt right to do this, to offer physical reassurance. 

 

He tucked his guide's head under his chin, and with one hand stroked Blair's back, feeling the tension in the smaller body. Slowly, his guide relaxed under his soothing; he moved his hand up to the back of Blair's neck, easing the tightness there as well.

 

Some of the pieces of the sentinel puzzle started to drop into place for Ellison. He had woken from the most sound sleep he had enjoyed since his senses came online because the kid was having one hell of a night terror. The last time he had slept at all well was in the Hotel after he first met Sandburg. Sharing that room with the younger man he had experienced a feeling of calm, of control, that had allowed him to drift off. That feeling, he now knew, was connected to the kid; his territory was secure and his guide safe.  When Blair was not near him, his focus started to slip. During the day he could control it, but at night, asleep, apart from his guide, he couldn't. Jim swore violently, silently.  They were linked, had to be. It made sense, he was searching for the kid in his sleep, extending his hearing and smell to locate his guide. That's why, in the morning, his senses were hypersensitive.  

 

Sandburg's shaking was slowing down. Blair tried to push away but Jim would not let him. Ellison knew he was right to hold on when the younger man moved closer to him.

 

Blair's mind was groggy, he had seen them. He had been back in *that* room; naked, his hands cuffed behind his back, a dog collar uncomfortably tight on his throat. The collar's lead was tied to a bracket high on the wall, he could not lay down without choking himself. He was cold and hungry, hurting from the beatings they had given him. Then they had come in, the faceless men. They had come in, he had seen them circle him. One of them had grabbed his arm, moved closer. Terror had flooded his mind; he struck out at them, his hands miraculously freed.

 

Then, somehow, he was out of his prison, clinging to his Sentinel for dear life. His Sentinel would make them go away. As the nightmare receded and he woke to where he was, who was holding him, he had panicked, his face flushing. Jim would not want him any more. He was a wimp, couldn't even stop his nightmares coming back. Even knowing the SLF attack on the University could trigger one had not done him any good. When he finally pulled away to look fearfully at his Sentinel, all he saw was concern in Jim's eyes. That was all the encouragement he needed to huddle up closer against him.  His eyes closed; he was safe now, he could sleep. 

 

Jim felt the curly head against his shoulder become heavier, and the slender body go limp in his arms as Blair surrendered to sleep. The older man allowed his instincts to govern his actions; allowed the Sentinel to do what he knew he must.  Once he was sure his guide would not awaken, he scooped him up and carried him up to his own room. Gently laying him down on the side of the bed away from the stairs, he pulled the comforter over him, then sat next to the kid, watching him sleep. Blair whimpered as nightmares threatened and his hand sought his Sentinel. As Jim grasped that searching hand, the younger man settled down. Guarded by the wall on one side and his Sentinel on the other, Blair fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. It soon became clear that Jim had lost the use of his hand for the rest of the night. Trying to break that desperate grip only disturbed his Guide's sleep. Shrugging at the absurdity of the situation, Ellison carefully stretched out on top of the covers and allowed his senses to open up and take in his guide before falling asleep. 

 

Blair woke up and stared with unfocused eyes at the ceiling. That had been one hell of a nightmare before it had turned into an even wierder dream of comfort and safety. Blair's ruminations broke off as he realized that what he had taken to be his pillow, wasn't. He turned his head and felt the heat of a blush flood his face. His pillow was Jim's chest; the cop would kill him.

 

He tried to move off Jim without waking him up; then a warm hand on his head pulled him back into place. A sleep-heavy voice murmurred, "It's alright, Chief, everything is okay. Go back to sleep." Wrapped in the security of his Sentinel's hold, Blair complied.

 

 

 

 

Next time Blair awoke he was on his own, and the smell of coffee was filtering through to him. He tried to sit up and  his head exploded with pain.  Carefully, he got to his feet and, leaning heavily against the wall, eyes half-closed against the painful light of day, made his way down the stairs. A strong arm caught him around the shoulders and guided him to a kitchen chair.  A glass of water and his pain medications were handed to him and a voice ordered, "Take those."

 

"Thanks," Blair managed to mumble, looking with blurred vision at his host. Then he noticed the bruise on Jim's jaw. "What happened to.." His voice trailed off as he remembered the nightmare, remembered lashing out at one of his tormentors. Lowering his gaze to his hands, he saw the bruising on his knuckles...and knew.

 

"Jim, I am sorry, man. I never...."

 

His protest was waved aside. "Accidents happen, Chief, mind telling me what it was all about?"

 

Blair looked down at the table top and shook his head, his breath catching as his temples throbbed.

 

Jim exhaled, he wanted to know but decided not to push, it was too soon for Blair to trust him. But, Jim promised himself silently, if these nightmares kept happening he would make the kid open up.

 

The grad student looked around him and noticed the boxes. "This is *my* stuff, what......"

 

"You're moving in, Chief." Jim's tone of voice was uncompromising, stopping Blair before he could start arguing, "until we get to the bottom of that attack your place is not safe. They got in once, they could do it again. And  the doctor only let you out because I said that I would keep an eye on you.  So you're stuck here, Chief, for the duration. And since Simon's grounded me until you're fit, well,let's just say that getting you well is a priority for me."

 

"Jim, I can manage. I don't need a nursemaid."

 

"Your headache is a killer, I can *sense* that. Do I need to give you all the facts?"

 

 

At another time Blair would have been interested in the abilities of his sentinel, but today he just could not keep his mind focused. It was easier to just drift off, just let Jim take care of him. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had taken care of him. Couldn't remember the last time he had been warm....

 

 

The day passed quietly, with Jim making sure that he ate even if he didn't want to; invalid fare, soups and juice, tea and toast. 

 

Blair was curled up asleep on the sofa with the afgan thrown over him when Simon visited. The Sentinel led his captain to the kitchen, to lessen the chances of waking his charge.

 

Simon began his report bluntly,  "nothing, Jim, whoever attacked him wore gloves, the paint is the same make as that used at the University. Forensics is trying to match it, but it's commercial, and you can buy the stuff anywhere. It's still a needle in a haystack."

 

 

"Simon, can you do a search on Sandburg? The kid's acting really spooked since the attack on Hargrove Hall".

 

"Jim, he's a Guide. Of course he's going to be spooked.  He's spent years of his life training for this moment, and these people...", his words trailed off.

 

"No, there's  more than just the normal *kill the slavers* crap going on here, Simon. There was something personal about that attack on Blair."

 

"Okay, I'll get right on it personally, let you know what I come up with." At the door the captain said quietly, "You still alright with him?"

 

"He's my guide," Ellison flashed a rare grin and shook his head in bemusement, "and he grows on you."

 

 

After Banks had left, the Sentinel settled himself on the other end of the sofa and switched on the television. He  surfed the channels until he picked up the local news station; the broadcast suddenly had his undivided attention. It was a recording of a fire in the warehouse district. The fire fighters had contained the blaze, but the old Wright and Co. warehouse had been burned to a shell.

 

*Blair's warehouse*, Jim thought grimly, *his home* was gone. He looked across at his guide as he noticed a change in Blair's respiration and heartrate. Jim switched the television off just as his guide woke up.

 

For a moment, Jim could tell, Blair was completely lost, then he remembered where he was. "Sorry, Jim. Didn't mean to sleep."

 

"No need to be sorry, if you're tired, sleep. Why don't you call it an early night?"

 

 

He got a nod in return, and with Jim's steadying hand Blair  got to his feet and headed to his room. *Blair's room,* Jim mused, *the other day it had been a junk room, now it was Blair's room.*  Jim began to wonder if all guides got under the skin of their sentinels this quickly or just Blair Sandburg.  As the younger man detoured towards the bathroom, Ellison said, "don't lock the door." Blair looked as if he might protest, then just shrugged and nodded.

 

Jim justified his eavesdropping on his guide as a safety measure in case Blair had problems from the concussion.  He only relaxed his guard when his guide finally dropped off to sleep. He switched the TV back on in time to catch the end of the Jags match. He made a mental note to get the fire report for the warehouse; the blaze had followed too close after the attack on his guide for it to be coincidence.

 

 ooooo

 

Blair looked wildly around. He was chained to the wall so he couldn't lay down; he needed to lay down. Pain was burning through his back where the lash had sliced his skin open each time he had been too slow following their instructions; he was always too slow. He watched in terror as the door opened and the men entered. He reeled from a savage blow to the head, the collar tightening on his throat. His vision darkened but he could *feel* hands on his body, pinning him down. Then there was pain and burning and he began to scream, scream until his voice was so raw  it was no longer human. 

 

Blair jerked awake. Rolling onto his side he threw up the small amount of food that he had managed to eat for dinner. He was still dry retching and shivering violently when a  hand on his shoulder made him jump. "Easy, Chief, it's okay. I've got you." The calm voice steadied him as much as the warm hands gently rubbing his back, supporting his forehead. As his stomach settled and his breathing and pulse slowed, that voice ordered him to stay still.  Footsteps receded toward the kitchen. As if he had Sentinel ears, Blair heard the water go on. He shuddered, tried to think what he would say, what he could say, when Jim got back.

 

Jim returned with a wet towel, and gently eased him onto his back.

 

"Jim, I..." he hated that his voice sounded shaky.

 

"It's all right, Chief, I'll take care of it."  Ellison carefully wiped the grad student's face, taking the sweat and vomit away.  He helped the younger man sit up and get out of his sweatshirt, cleaning him up.  Blair was still shuddering, his eyes wide and unfocused. Jim disappeared and returned with one of his old Cascade police sweatshirts; it was much too big and made Blair look like a lost child.

 

The living room was cold, so Jim helped him up the stairs to his room. "You need to stay warm while I get things cleared up in your room."

 

Blair tried to pull away. "No. I did it.. Let me.."

 

Ellison said in his best "don't mess with me" tone of voice, "You're dead on your feet. Listen to your sentinel on this one. Okay, kid?"  Jim gave the shaking shoulder a firm squeeze and eased his guide under the covers.

 

Blair settled down into the warmth of the comforter as the older man moved the wastepaper basket near the side of the bed, just in case.  "I won't be long. You just rest."  Ellison could tell that the younger man still was not ready to talk; whatever was troubling him seemed to have gotten worse.  Blair watched him leave, then huddled up, pulling his knees close to his chest. He could feel the tears gathering under his eyelids. If Jim ever found out he would not want him as his guide. How could he? Everything would be over before it started.

 

Downstairs, Jim was cleaning up. He had turned down his sense of smell as he bagged the sheets and blankets. He smiled slightly as he heard his guide falling back to sleep. The Sentinel exhaled slowly, it looked as if he was going to be a human security blanket again tonight.  He just hoped that Simon found something to explain it all, he wasn't sure how long his Guide could keep this up.

 

Tomorrow, he would take Blair into the station for a few hours for a change of scenary. It might do him some good and it would give him a chance to catch up with the arson investigator. She had a reputation as a hard nose but she was good at her job. Ellison smiled, last time they met there had been definite sparks between the two of them. It could prove interesting.

 

 

 

Jim had been called into Simon's office, so Blair swung a second chair around and settled down cross-legged at Jim's desk.  He opened the bottom drawer and extracted the anthropology book that he had stashed there, a new release  dealing with the sentinel myth and legend.  He noticed the piece of paper sticking out of it and opened to that page, and found himself looking at a leaflet for the SLF. His hand was trembling as he reached for it, he looked around the bullpen to see if anyone was watching him. It was a pointless exercise, it could have been any of them. He crumpled it up and threw it into the bin.

 

Jim broke off what he was saying to Simon and turned to look out of the window.

 

Banks said "Jim", and then louder, "JIM".

 

"Sorry, Simon, Blair's heartrate just when up like a skyrocket."

 

"The kid's just nervous, he probably thinks that he's going to be slammed into a wall and frisked any minute."

 

"The kid's clean, Simon, I would know if he wasn't."

 

"A joke, Jim, that's all it was."

 

Blair looked up and saw his sentinel studying him. He tried on a smile as he realised that Jim must have caught his fear. "I'm okay, Jim, I'm fine," he spoke softly but knew that his sentinel could hear him.

 

Reluctantly, Jim returned to his conversation.

 

Pushing the book to one side, Blair made himself consentrate on the paperwork laid out on Jim's desk, running through the file numbers he realised that one was missing, with a look towards the Captains office, he decided to get the file himself, to save Jim a trip down to records.

 

As he walked off the elevator, he heard someone call his name.

He turned clutching his backpack, almost protectively in front of him.

 

"Sorry if I startled you. Dr. Cusack told me to look you up."  What Blair saw was a young man, another student but more smartly dressed, his expression was smug, as if he took some pleasure in the fact he has made him jump.  

 

It took a moment for the other man's face to click in his memory, "Lee Evans." He noticed the Guide pass on the other's shirt front. It surprised him, he didn't think the other man had bonded with a sentinel.

 

"Yeah, long time no see. Dr. Cusack thought you could help me out with a problem.  I'm having trouble with a sentinel, his senses keep fading in and out."

 

Blair was thoughtful, "that would indicate that he's not fully bonded. The bonding usually brings them on line. Is he a latent sentinel?"

 

"No, he was born in the program."

 

"Then I can't understand what's happening. He bonded with you and you have been reinforcing the bond? Sometimes it can take a while to build up, and does need continuing work."

 

"We're not bonded, Blair."

 

"But you're his guide?"

 

"He's been attending the police academy to become an officer. He posted out, or whatever they call it, six weeks ago, and he's had no luck finding a guide.  Dr. Cusack thought it would be too dangerous for him to go out without some help, so she gave me the job." Evans grinned.  "Someone has to hold their leashes, you know what I mean? His partner's pissed off about me, but I figured, what the hell, as long as he's a good little sentinel and I can get some extra credits out of it, what's the harm?" Evans frowned, "But with his senses on the fritz he could screw it all up for me."

 

Blair was appalled by Evan's attitude. He never had liked the man, now he remembered why.  He tried to keep his reaction to himself as Evans went on, "So I was hoping you could take a look at him tonight.  Rainier about 8:00?"  Blair nodded, "Lee, in the meantime, keep him centered and don't push him with his senses."

 

Lee clapped his shoulder hard, "I knew you would work it out. By the way", he grinned, "I saw Phil today, he's transfered back to Rainer. It's been a while hasn't it, Blair?"  The grin turned wolfish.

 

 

Evans was making him uncomfortable, bringing up memories best left forgotten. "I have to get going, Lee. See you tonight." Evans gave him another whack on the shoulder before he turned to go. Blair watched until he got on the elevator and the doors closed.

 

Blair was lost in thought as he walked away. He collided  with a solid hulk of a man and papers went flying in all directions.

 

"Sorry, man, didn't see you. I'll get those for you." Blair bent to retrieve the papers. Even as he did so a large hand grabbed onto the back of his neck and yanked him to his feet. Then his feet were kicking in mid-air before he was slammed against the wall, the back of his head making hard contact with the wall. 

 

"Watch where you're going, you little hippie freak." Each word was punctuated by contact with the wall. 

 

Blair pushed a hand against the man's chest, "Sorry, man, my mistake, I'll fix it, okay? Chill out."

 

His offer was rewarded with a hard shake before he was thrown to the floor. "Then do it, *guide*," the man snarled. Blair shivered as the man made the word a curse.

 

The young Guide glanced around.  There were only two uniforms present and they seemed to be enjoying the show. No help there. Blair gathered up the papers and got to his feet.  The man grabbed them off him. "Now keep out of my way, you freak." He barrelled past, pushing Blair against the wall.  Blair tried to steady his breathing, the last thing he needed was a full blown panic attack.  All he had to do was get to his sentinel and everything would be okay. Blair turned toward the bullpen, the file forgotten.

 

Almost to his sentinel, almost to safety, Blair chanted silently as he got back to Jim's office. Then he stopped cold in the doorway to the Bullpen. There was Jim, talking to the mammoth from hell. Not just *talking* but clapping each other on the back in the hearty way that said the more painful the embrace the closer the friendship. Before he could retreat, Jim noticed him and motioned him over.

 

Blair approached slowly, almost reluctantly to where the two mens where standing.

"Jim," he kept his voice steady with an effort.

 

"Hey, Chief. Want you to meet someone. Clark, this is Blair Sandburg. Sandburg, Jim Clarkson."

 

Clarkson's gaze slid over Blair as if he were a worm that had just crawled out of the woodwork.  Then he totally ignored him.

 

"Tough luck, Jimmy, I heard you got bonded. This your slaver?  I heard the place was crawling with them." Blair felt his stomach lurch, this guy was a friend of his sentinel?

 

"He's my guide, Clark."

 

"Sure he is, Jimmy, just your sort."  Clarkson laughed as if it was the biggest joke around,"see you later."

 

"Jimmy?" Blair asked.

 

"Leave it alone, Sandburg."

 

"I haven't seen him before."

 

"Lieutenant Clarkson is a headhunter, Sandburg. He's just come in from the outer zone; he got his fugitive.  He's a good man."  

 

For a moment Jim just stood there, lost in thought.  Blair was worried that Jim had zoned, and put a hand on his sentinel's shoulder, massaging with his fingers, "Jim?"

 

Jim suddenly jerked away from him and clipped the back of Blair's head. "Hey, keep your hands to yourself, Sandburg." The clip had been playful but Blair could not stop a cry of pain as it caught a tender area from his run in with Clarkson.

 

"Sorry, Chief, forgot about that concussion of yours."  Jim looked very concerned.

 

Blair did not want to talk about Ellison's old friend's contribution to his headache. Let Jim think it was the concussion. "It's okay, Jim, what're we doing?"

 

"Simon wants us to talk to Miss Matterson, so grab your bag, and put your book away. I don't need your stuff all over my desk."

 

Blair nodded and pulled the drawer open, and stopped. Where his book had been was a colorfully wrapped box. Carefully he pulled it out and looked at Jim, unsure.

 

"Jim?"

 

"Go ahead, open it," there was a smile in Jim's voice.

 

With a shrug, Blair did. And pulled out a new laptop computer. His mouth opened, but nothing came out of it.

 

"A first! Sandburg speechless!" his Sentinel said with a grin.

 

The younger man ran his fingers over the computer, "I don't understand?"

 

"Your laptop got destroyed when you were attacked. You need it for your thesis, don't you?"

 

"Yes, but, Jim, I can't afford this! I hadn't even paid the other one off." It was a new model, faster, with more memory and top-of-the-line modem. 

 

Blair reluctantly looked up from the computer and tried to hand it to Jim. Ellison shook his head slowly, for such a smart man, his Guide was a bit slow at times.

 

"It's yours, Blair." Sandburg was shaking his head in confusion, still trying to give it back. Jim put his hands over Blair's, forcing the kid to hang onto the computer.

 

"You're my guide, right?"

 

"Right."

 

"This thesis is all about Dark Sentinels, right?"

 

"Right."

 

"Then you're helping me, so all I am doing is looking after my own interests. Right?"

 

"Mine?"

 

Jim rolled his eyes, "Yes, yours."

 

For a moment it was debatable as to what he was going to hug, Jim or the computer. Ellison was pleased to see him gather the computer against his chest before sliding it into the backpack.

 

"Chief, this one's got a five year warranty, and it's insured against theft, damage and fire. So don't lose it."

 

"Thanks, Jim."  "No one's ever...you didn't have to..." Blair  just trailed off lost for words, hopeing that his sentinel would understand the feelings behind them.

 

Jim gave his Guide a gentle push on the back and felt him flinch badly. He could feel heat coming from his partner's back, as the bruising started to come out. Partner?, Jim realised with an almost physical start that he was now thinking of this grad student as his partner, a partner was something he had always fought against, yet when he though of Blair in that role, somehow it felt right.   For a moment he was ready to haul Sandburg around and demand to know what was going on.  But the kid was happy so he decided to wait until later to corner him about what was going on.

 

 

 

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

It was 10:30 when Blair finally returned to the Loft. It had been a long, hard day and his head was informing him with a steady throb that he had overdone things. He had sat in  with Jim on his interviews at the station, before skipping dinner and meeting Evans and the other Sentinel at the lab. Blair fiddled with the doorkey, he hadn't put it on his key ring yet. He was still a little shocked by the news that his home had burned to the ground; he couldnot help but  wondered how long he had until Jim wanted him out.

 

The moment he entered the loft, he was hit by the twin blue lasers of Jim Ellison's stare. The look that crossed the Sentinel's face went from annoyance to anger to rage in a split second.  He was out of his chair in a blur of motion. "Sit down, Sandburg." Ellison grabbed his arm and swung him onto the sofa. He landed hard and scooted to the far end to put some distance between him and his sentinel.

 

"Jim, what's wrong? Whatever it is, we can talk about it, man. If it's something I did.....".

 

"Shut up, Sandburg. Keep your lies to yourself.  I can smell him on you, another sentinel. YOU ARE MY GUIDE, AND NOONE ELSE'S." Ellison was pacing angrily, his hands fisted at his sides.

 

Blair exhaled slowly, *okay, he could handle this. It was just some territorial thing; although he had never heard of this happening before, it must be a Dark Sentinel thing.*

 

As Ellison loomed over him Blair talked fast, "Guide Evans had a problem with his sentinel, well not exactly his sentinel, they're not really bonded, he asked me, well to be exact Jane asked me...".

 

Jim closed the distance between them and grabbed him by his shirtfront, hauling him effortlessly onto his feet. Blair gasped as his bruises made themselves known. "MY GUIDE, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" Blair shuddered, this was a dark zone out like the one at the warehouse. The Sentinel was operating on a primitive level here.   Blair managed to brush his fingertips along Jim's clenched jaw, trying to make contact.  For a moment Jim startled, then a look of disbelief came to his face as he realized he was shaking his Guide.

 

"Chief?"

 

"It's okay, Jim. Deep breaths, nice and easy, it was a zone out."

 

Blair felt the hands slowly let go of him. He started to relax then tensed as he saw rage reappear as his sentinel inhaled the scent of the unbonded sentinel. Blair kept talking, his fingers continuing their soothing strokes, anchoring Jim to the present. "Jim, it's okay. I am your Guide. Jim, I'm just going to take a shower, okay?  And I'll bag the clothes so you won't smell anything."

 

 

It was half an hour later that Blair reappeared from the shower, his hair still damp, although he had towelled it off. He had taken the time to make sure that the scent was washed off completely.  During the shower he had been thinking the territorial thing through. Ordinary sentinels were protective of their guides, but in the Dark Sentinel, the emotion would be stronger just as they were physically stronger and their senses more powerful. So, it all made sense. It would be well worth a trip to the lab to test this out. Jane would.....  He had broken off as he remembered the predatory look that was in Jim's eyes.  Blair dumped the now bagged clothes into the laundry hamper and went out to face his Sentinel.

 

Jim stood leaning against the kitchen island, sipping a beer. He put the beer down, walked over and closed the distance between them, stepping into Blair's personal space.

 

Then he reached out, his hand going around Blair's throat, the thumb and fingers tightened just enough so that the Guide was aware of the pressure. Blair kept his eyes fixed on Jim's face, watching for any signs of the Dark Zone out.  Ellison looked down into the trusting eyes of his guide; he opened his senses up one by one, his other hand moving to his partner's heart. He felt Blair's hands moving into place, one laying along the side of his face, the thumb against his jaw, the fingers stroking his temple, his other hand, resting against his shoulder.   With their anchoring he opened all his senses fully, until there was nothing left in the world but the life force under his hands. He could hear the air rushing through Blair's lungs, the blood running through his veins, feel the warmth of his breath, the beat of his heart.  He needed to re-enforce the bonding. Suddenly, Jim's face became peaceful.

 

 

"Jim," Blair's voice seemed to come from a distance.

"Jim?"

"JIM!"

 

The sentinel nodded, "I'm okay, Chief." 

 

The feel of Blair's hand on his face, the light fingers on sensitive skin, had brought him back. Jim pulled his Guide into a firm embrace, holding him close.  His hand skimmed over Sandburg's back, feather light; he could detect the bruising.  He frowned, Blair had been hurt but for some reason he refused to talk about it or even admit that something had happened.   Blair leaned into the embrace, feeling at one with his sentinel; he gave a contented sigh.  Reluctantly, Jim decided to let it slide rather than break the peace of the moment. He knew he could have scared the younger man badly, was oddly grateful that he had not.

 

Jim slid his other hand through the long curly hair and gently massaged Blair's neck as he tucked his guide's head under his chin.

 

"This sentinel that you were helping, Chief. What's his problem?"

 

Blair's voice was muffled against Jim's chest, "He's not bonded yet. Jane, I mean, Dr.Cusack, got him a temporary guide, but it's not working out. They're going to have to bond him quickly before it gets dangerous.  He's a uniformed cop."

 

"If he went through the academy maybe there's someone there he clicked with."

 

"An unqualified guide." Blair sounded almost shocked, "Jim the risk is too great."

 

Jim chuckled, "I never took you for a snob, Chief, or don't you think a cop could be a guide?"

 

"Yes, no. Jim, what I mean is that you have to go through Rainier, it's more than just telling you what to do."

 

"Telling me what to do," Jim's voice was flat.

 

"I don't mean it that way, Jim. It's just...", his voice trailed off. Blair pulled away enough to see his sentinel's face. Seeing the grin, he allowed his Sentinel's hand to move him back into place.

 

"Maybe I could arrange some tests.  I'll speak to Alan Holland, that's the sentinel I'm helping, tomorrow. See who helped him at the academy."

 

"No, Chief."

 

"Huh?"

 

"WE see Alan Holland tomorrow", Ellison paused, and a little of the Dark Sentinel showed as he tightened his grip slightly on his guide and added, "We go together, you're mine. Remember?  Mine Marked and Claimed Guide."

 

 

"Marked and Claimed Sentinel, "Blair intoned in response. The words where as old as sentinel and guides, repeated by each pairing, through the centuries, but standing there facing his own sentinel, hearing them, intoned with the possessive ferver of the Dark Sentinel, they became more than just words, they where emotions, binding as strong as chains the two of them together. 

 

They stayed that way for a moment longer, then Jim gently released his hold, allowing Blair to ease back.

 

 

When Blair left his room the next morning, he was surprised to see that Jim was already up and cooking breakfast. His sentinel looked at him and grinned, "breakfast in ten, Chief."

 

He hurried through a quick shower, giving a quick intake of breath as the spray played over the bruises on his back. Over breakfast, he saw the way Jim was looking at him, almost critically.

 

"Something wrong, Jim?"

 

"How's the back, Chief?"

 

"Fine," Blair shifted uneasily, "why?"

 

"I was just thinking it must be uncomfortable with all those bruises coming out."

 

Blair's fork paused between plate and mouth.

 

"So, what happened?" Jim continued casually.

 

"I won't be interrogated over breakfast, Jim."

 

"So tell me."

 

 Blair knew that tone and surrendered to the inevitable.

 

"Okay."  He laid the fork down rather than eat the eggs.  "One minute I was rushing over the polished floor and the next minute I was staring at the ceiling. I am a professional and it was sooo not cool. Embarrassing, even."

 

Blair's face suddenly took on *that* look, the one he wore when he was about to launch into Guide mode. 

 

"How did you know about the bruises, Jim, just for the record?"

 

Jim gave a theatrical sigh, "Trade Secret, Chief."

 

"Jim, come on, man, talk to me."

 

"Like you're talking to me, Sandburg?" As the younger man tensed, Jim reached out and touched his hand. "It's okay, Blair. When you're ready, I hope you know you can talk to me?" A hesitant nod, but there was still confusion in the blue eyes that met his. Confusion that quickly gave way to  curiosity as Jim went on,

 

"When we reaffirmed the bond, I could feel the heat of the bruising under your shirt. You've also got some lumps on your head that weren't there after the warehouse attack."

 

"You didn't say anything?" Blair's question was hesitant.

 

"Hey, you didn't want to talk and your pupils were normal and reactive. It hadn't worsened your concussion so I let it ride. You seem to have slept well last night."

 

Blair smiled, "No problem, Jim. I am okay, I keep telling you that," he focused on his glass as he took a sip of his orange juice.

 

He allowed himself a quick peek up and saw that Jim had returned to his breakfast; case, apparently, closed.

 

Blair relaxed, he seemed to have gotten away with last night. Thank god, any more night terrors and Jim would have gone from mother hen to Blessed Protector in one straight line.

 

 

 

Blair used his Teaching Assistant commitments at the University to get away from Jim for a while. Once in his office, he curled up in his sleeping bag and tried to get some sleep. He had forced himself to stay awake all night to avoid any chance of a return of the night terrors. But they found him by day as soon as he had drifted off. He came awake, entangled in his sleeping bag, but managed to free himself in time to make it to the wastebasket before he lost the breakfast Jim had made for him. At least Jim was not there to see what a mess he was. It took a while to settle himself back into sleep but this time he was too exhausted to dream.

 

 

After a restless few hours of sleep, Blair managed to get the sleeping bag packed away, and the wastebasket cleaned up before Jim arrived to take him to his appointment with Dr. Jane Cusack.

 

Jim's nose twitched as he detected the odor of vomit. He prowled around Blair's small office as if seeing it for the first time. Blair winced, wondering how much Jim was picking up. Best to get them both out of the office, "Ready Jim?"

 

"When you are, Chief."

 

 

oooooooo

 

Blair knocked and reached for the doorknob, only to have Jim stop him. During the three weeks they had been together,  Blair had catalogued the different sides of Jim Ellison. There was the hard-nosed, no nonsense cop; the Covert Ops "Black Angel"; the Dark Sentinel; and, finally, the man.  He was a mixture of all of them; the cop keeping the Dark Sentinel impulses in balance and the man starting to show through the roles he played. A man with a sense of humour, a friend; Blair liked the sound of that. He hoped never to see the Dark Sentinel linked with the Black Angel, the man the military had wanted to create. The grad student was sure that he would be the most dangerous man he had ever, could ever, meet.  He had seen a glimpse of that man when they had been hunted by the Black Ops Doctor and it had scared him, even though he knew, deep down, that he would never be in danger from his Sentinel.

 

But now, standing in front of him at the lab door, he was the pure Dark Sentinel; not allowing his guide to enter before he had checked it out. Once inside Blair's view was blocked by his partner's body as Ellison scanned the people in the room, all senses alert.  

 

Jane Cusack smiled, "Hello Blair. Detective Ellison, thank you for coming."

 

She was always pleased to see her favorite student and his sentinel.  Jane immediately recognized Ellison's predatory mode; it was a typical Alpha Male reaction. The sentinel was looking for threats to his ownership of his guide. He had quickly dismissed her and was now focused on the younger, unbonded sentinel, Alan Holland.

 

She had explained to Alan what to expect and he had readily agreed to obey the rules which could keep him alive.  Number one, and the only one: make no gesture or even acknowledge Blair Sandburg until Jim did.  Sentinels, ordinary sentinels, were protective and possessive of their guides. But for the Dark Sentinel, it was an even stronger, more primal, urge and the last thing she wanted was Alan to end up badly injured or dead. One wrong move in the direction of Ellison's young Guide and that's what he would be if he went up against the older sentinel now.

 

Alan kept calm under Ellison's intense scrutiny. Jim never took his eyes off the younger sentinel as he ordered Blair, "Stay put."

 

 

The Dark Sentinel prowled around Alan Holland. He had opened his senses wide and was reading the younger sentinel.  Alan held still until Jim was facing him, then said, "Sentinel Ellison, thank you for coming. I am having problems with focusing my senses. I have just started at the station, fresh from the academy, and already they are threatening to take me off the streets. I need this help." The whole time he kept his attention on Jim, never allowing it to stray onto the active guide.

 

Finally, Jim said, "My Guide, Blair Sandburg, marked and claimed." The last words had a feral snarl to it, not a social nicety, but a warning off. Now that Jim had clearly claimed ownership of his guide, Alan could at last acknowledge him.  "Blair, thank you for coming with Sentinel Ellison."

 

Both the guide and former guide were watching the events unfold before them with keen interest. It was a type of behaviour they rarely saw in the modern era. But it was not hard to imagine that, in the past, sentinels, especially dark sentinels, would have marked and claimed and fought to keep their guides.

 

Jim settled into a chair in a shadowed corner of the office. Slowly, he relaxed; the Dark Sentinel faded to the background leaving the worried friend. 

 

Blair gave Jane and Alan a grin, "Let's get started, shall we? Now, have you been trying the exercises I was telling you about last night?"

 

"Yes, but I...", Alan stuttered to a stop, "Guide Evans..."

 

"Alan, Lee Evans is not a guide, he's a grad student."  The venom of Blair's outburst caught Jim by surprise, "he's not a  bonded guide, so it's either Lee or Evans."

 

Alan nodded. "He's not very constructive." He glanced nervously between Blair and Dr. Cusack.

 

Jane nodded, "its alright, Alan. Blair and I have talked about him. We also talked to two of your academy classmates. Both Roger Trueman and Joseph Middleton agreed to come in for some testing, and at first sight it looks like they both have some guide instincts. Maybe, with a little help, we can get you bonded with one of them. They need lessons; it wont be easy, but it can be done."

 

Alan's face told it all, to be rid of that obnoxious bastard, Evans, it would be worth any wait.  Dr. Cusack smiled as she added, "I have spoken to your Captain. You have a weeks leave while we get to the bottom of your problems.  In the meantime.... Blair?"

 

 

Jane seated herself at a lab table while Blair ushered Alan into a comfortable chair close to Ellison's corner.  No sense making Jim nervous by getting too far away from him in the company of another sentinel. Blair smiled at Alan and, in his guide's voice, began to instruct him on breathing exercises to help him relax.  Jane switched her attention to Jim and noticed he was following the same instructions, his breathing pattern mimicking the younger sentinel's.

 

She pulled her notepad to her and began to make notes.  Alan zoned; Blair immediately  laid his hand on his shoulder to bring him out of it. Alan responded, after a few minutes, to the guide's voice and touch.  Blair felt a hand on his own shoulder, lightly resting against his neck.  Alan came out of the zone to see Blair right in front of him, and behind him, the other sentinel. 

 

Alan's hand lightly brushed Blair's cheek. Then his hand dropped away as he said, "Your guide, Sentinel Ellison, marked and claimed."   Jim nodded slightly and returned to his seat.

 

Once he had settled again, Blair began to take Alan through each of his senses, trying to find the trigger for the zone out, twice more he nearly zoned, each time Blair caught him in time, and worked back from that point to find the trigger, it was slow careful work.

 

Dr. Cusack nodded, "That's enough for tonight. Thank you both for coming."

 

Both academics noticed that the two sentinels did not shake hands. Once the door closed on Alan, Jim pulled out his keys and tossed them to Blair. "Your bag's in the truck, Chief. Take a shower and change. I am not having HIS scent in my truck, in our home, or on MY guide. Got that?"

 

*Our home*, Blair's face lit up. It was the first time Jim had called the loft "our home." It gave his living there an air of permanence.

 

Jane got up, "Coffee, Detective?"

 

He just nodded, watching his Guide leave the lab. Once Blair was gone, Jim suddenly grinned, and Jane had to admit that he had a very nice smile.

 

Smiling in return she asked, "What's so funny?"

 

"Blair. He was just saying he didn't know his sentinel was part bloodhound." 

 

Ellison's face lost the smile as he turned serious.

 

"Dr. Cusack?"

 

"Jane."

 

"Jane, it's Blair. He's reacting badly to the SLF propaganda attacks, what's behind that?"

 

"Detective."

 

"Jim."

 

She smiled, "Okay, Jim it is. Jim, I am sure that he will tell you."

 

"Jane, a couple nights ago he woke up at O dark 30 from  violent nightmares. He was vomiting, shaking badly. And last night he stayed awake, tried to hide from me the fact that he got no sleep at all. He tried to sleep in his office today, and still had nightmares."  He noticed her look, "I am a detective after all."

 

 

"Not to mention a sentinel," she murmurred. Jane searched his face for a moment and saw only geniune concern for his guide and, perhaps more importantly, his friend.  Ellison might deny it, but in just three short weeks he had grown close to the hyperactive grad student.  She was convinced that she was looking at what could be one of the most powerful pairings she had ever seen: guide - sentinel, friends.

 

"Eighteen months ago, Blair was kidnapped by the SLF because he was a guide. What they call...."

 

"A slaver," Jim supplied.

 

"Yes. They decided to show him what it was like to be a pet, a slave. They put a collar on him, and a lead; he was chained to a wall and made to eat off the floor. When he was slow to obey them he was beaten." Ellison could hear the pain in her voice as her words faltered slightly, "Jim, we found him one morning on the steps of the Hall. He had a serious head injury, was badly beaten, half-starved, naked, and, perhaps blessedly, unconscious." "He had photographs thrown over him, all the time they where hurting him, they took photographs", her voice shook with disbelief, "I WANTED to destroy them Jim, but the police took them". He could see the effort she was having to take to calm herself down, the rapid beating of her heart, and he laid a hand on her shoulder, she covered his hand with hers, and allowed herself to tune into his calming influence. 

 

Jim waited, until she had collected herself. "I don't remember the case. Department 51 would have been called in on something like that."

 

"Have *headhunters* on the campus? Sorry, Jim, the whole incident was covered up. The council has a lot of power and Blair was in no condition to give us any information. He had a memory lapse for the time he was missing. Even now, he only remembers bits and pieces of it."

 

"The head injury?"

 

She nodded.

 

"There's more, isn't there?"

 

"The doctors that examined Blair said that he had been tortured while he had been held captive. He had burns on his chest, back, and legs. Jim, he was branded with the letters SLF. Blair said he could not remember what they had done to him, who *they* were. The doctors thought it was some sort of protective reflex, he just shut it all out."

 

There was a long pause as her mind went back to the beautiful, sunny morning she had found her favorite student dumped carelessly on the steps of the Hall. Just thinking about it, she flinched.

 

Jim nodded. He was sure the memories where returning in force, inhabiting his young Guide's nightmares. Out loud he mused, "This graffiti at the Hall, it's bringing up memories and he's having a hard time dealing with them.  Thank you for telling me, Blair is lucky to have someone like you Jane."

 

"You will look after him," Jane sounded very sure. "Some of the faculty thought he would never bond because of the trauma. I am pleased, very pleased, to see we were wrong." She gave Jim's hand a squeeze.

 

"No one is going to hurt him again."  Jane believed him, this wasn't just his friend, Jim Ellison, speaking but also his Dark Sentinel; and that was a combination to be reckoned with.

 

oooooooo

 

 

Blair was coming out of the shower, with only a towel wrapped around his hips, when he stopped dead in his tracks. Leaning against Blair's locker as if he owned it was Phil Reeves.

 

"Well, just like old times, Sandburg."

 

"Nothing like them, Phil. I want my clothes, now move."

 

Reeves grinned mockingly, "Why don't you come through me, little man? You never managed it before, think you can do it now?"

 

"He doesn't have to bother because you're leaving."

 

The older grad student turned and found himself looking straight into the  eyes of Jim Ellison. The cop's eyes had a hard edge to them and the slight twist of his lips gave Phil the impression that all Ellison wanted was was an excuse to snap him like a twig. Reeves backed down.

 

"Just a joke, Sandburg, like the old times.  I'll see you around."

 

"Not if I see you first." Only sentinel senses could have heard Blair's mumbled rejoinder. Ellison heard the anger, and the fear, in those soft words.

 

The sentinel pushed off the side of the locker. "Say good bye, Chief, you won't be seeing Mr. Reeves again. Will he?" The last two words were aimed at Reeves in a dangerous purr.

 

Phil backed off; he was looking at something that could kill him before he moved a muscle, would kill him if he even so much as twitched in Sandburg's direction.

 

"No," he choked out the negative, anger and hate temporarily displaced by self-preservation. Reeves turned and fled.

 

"I could have handled him, Jim. I can take care of myself. There was no need to be so heavy handed."

 

Jim pushed himself off the locker. "I'll see to you out at the  truck", his tone was neutral.

 

 

 

Blair's hand tapped nervously on the dashboard as they drove away from the Hall. Jim glanced across at him; ready to snap at Blair, he made himself relax. Yelling at Blair would just shut the kid right down, and he would not get anywhere near the truth. Sandburg would just hide whatever was bothering him behind a bodyguard of lies.

 

Arriving at the loft, Blair went straight to his room and Jim heard the lock set. For a moment, Ellison stood in front of the door, hand raised to knock. Thinking better of it, he shook his head, turned on his heel and went and got himself a beer. Jim spent another quiet evening with his guide locked away from him. This avoidance had to end soon, would end soon, if Jim Ellison had anything to say about it.

 

It was 2:00 am when Blair went to get yet another cup of coffee from the kitchen.  God, he was so tired but he

couldn't allow himself to sleep. If he did, the night terrors would come and he would wake Jim up; he couldn't, wouldn't, let Jim see him like that again. Blair startled violently as he saw a shadow move on the sofa. His heart came down out of his throat as he realized it was Ellison. "Go ahead, scare the life out of me," he snapped as he walked forward and hit his foot against a chair. To

sentinel's eyes the loft might be bright as day, but guides had no such advantage.

 

"Stand still." No mistaking the growled words for anything but what they were, an order. Jim reached out and switched on the light by the sofa as he continued in a more reasonable tone, "before you break your neck, Chief."

 

"What are you ...."

 

Jim cut him off in mid-sentence, "We need to talk, Blair."

 

"No,Jim, we don't." Sandburg turned back toward his room. A hand caught him, pulled him back. Blair spun around and lashed out.  Jim caught his fist before it could hit him and enveloped his guide in his arms, pinning him fast.  Blair struggled against him violently, all the pent-up fears over the last few days coming to a head. His sentinel was too strong and too big for him to break free.  Suddenly, all the fight went out of him and his body sagged, "I can't do this any more, Jim, I can't."

 

 

The sentinel eased his partner down on the sofa, keeping in contact with him to reassure him. "Talk to me, Blair."

 

The young guide didn't look up, just focused on his hands as he picked threads off his torn jeans.  In a voice only loud enough for sentinel hearing, Blair said,"A while back, I was coming out of the dormitory when I was kidnapped by the SLF. I was the enemy, Jim, a 'slaver'. They..." his words halted. Jim gently rubbed his arm, "take your time, Chief."  He could hear his guide trying to control his breathing, watched as Blair steadied himself and then looked up at his sentinel. There was grim determination, and fear, on the face Blair turned to him.

 

Blair kept his eyes on his sentinel's; if he was going to lose Jim over this, he wanted to be looking him straight in the face, see the disgust. "They treated me like an animal, beat me, and they ....." his voice faltered, his body rocking as if he was fighting to say the  words that would end the security he had at the loft.  The words exploded out of him in one breath, "I was tortured, they branded me like an animal, and I was too weak to stop them.  OKAY?"

 

"There is nothing okay in that, Chief."

 

"You're angry," the grad student's head dropped as he whispered the words.   Using great care, Jim put a finger under his partner's chin, and tilted it upward so that he was looking him in the eyes.

 

"Not angry at you, Blair. Angry at those animals. I just wish that I could have been there for you, kept it from happening."

 

"It was before you knew me, Jim."

 

"I can still wish, can't I, Chief?  You're my guide and nothing will ever change that. You're stuck with me." Blue eyes locked on blue, searching for and finding truth. Ellison saw the relief flood through the younger man. He softened his voice, "these nightmares?"

 

"Always the same, there's three of them, and they're reaching for me." His voice rose,"I can't see their faces, they're blank, but I can *feel* their hands... holding me. I...." The words were gasped out between strangled gulps of air.

 

"Blair!" Jim grasped his shoulders, gave him a sharp shake. Blair shuddered as he snapped out of the waking nightmare.

 

"Sorry."

 

"You've got nothing to be sorry about. Look, kid, it's been a long day. Why don't you try to get some sleep?"

 

"I can't. I'm just so tired."

 

Jim nodded. "Okay, then let's get you comfortable."

 

 

An hour later, Jim looked down at Blair, seated beside him on the sofa, drinking one of his weird teas that Jim had made for him, as he pretended to watch Highlander. The tea's advertising promised a good night's sleep, but somehow, they both knew it would not work. But where the tea didn't work, the Sentinel's presence finally did.

 

Highlander 2 started. Blair's head would slowly begin to sink toward his chest. Then it would jerk back up again, his eyes flying open. Then the cycle would start over. Finally, as Blair's head drooped once more, Jim carefully slid his arm around Blair's shoulders and eased him over so that the drooping head fell against his shoulder. Ellison felt the compact body relax against him as the younger man slowly snuggled up against his sentinel, feeling safe and protected.  Jim snagged the afghan and pulled it down over his partner, then settled in to watch the film, Sentinel senses monitoring his Guide's sleep. He didn't have to work tomorrow and he was prepared to lose a night's sleep if it meant that his guide would rest peacefully. He would guard his guide, keep him safe in his territory.  

 

Jim's face hardened and his eyes were like ice as he thought about the SLF. They would pay for what they did to the gentle, affectionate, and loving soul that was Blair Sandburg. The kid did not have a mean bone in his whole body. If his guide did not also possess a resilient nature and a strong will, he would have been destroyed before they had ever met.  As Blessed Protector, he would protect Blair from anyone and everyone, even from Blair himself; he would not lose his guide, not now, not ever.  As Blair stirred restlessly, he raised his hand and softly stroked the long curly hair against his chest. The gentle pats and soft reassuring words made the younger man sigh as he slid back into a deep sleep.

 

 

Ellison knew there was no quick fix for Blair's problems, but at least now the kid did not have to worry about his reaction; they could face the nightmares together.  Jim shook his head; how could the kid think that he would throw him out when he learned what had happened to him?  When everything had calmed down he was going to lay down some house rules, in particular, the one about trusting your sentinel.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Banks had given Jim the file, the expression on his face a dead giveaway that Jim was going to find it hard reading.  Simon's short, "Sorry, Jim" had spoken volumes.

 

Now Jim was at his desk reading the file. His pencil snapped in half in his hand as his young Guide's nightmares took on form and substance in the words and pictures crawling in front of his eyes. The sound of it brought him back from the dark anger that was swamping him.

 

A shadow fell across his desk.

 

"Detective Ellison?"

 

Jim looked up and his face hardened, the muscle in his jaw jumping. "Mr. Reeves." He said the name like a death sentence.

 

"I am sorry that we got off to a bad start, Detective, that was not what I intended."

 

 

Blair walked into the bullpen and stopped in his tracks.  Phil Reeves talking to Jim! A turbulent feeling went through the normally peaceful natured guide and the full venom of his anger was aimed at Phil Reeves.

 

He closed the distance to his Sentinel's desk quickly, in time to hear Phil say "of course Sandburg has always been highly strung, his near nervous breakdown just underlines how unstable he is."

 

"So what are you saying here, Mr Reeves?" Jim's tone was icy, the muscles in his jaw starting to jump as he ground his teeth to keep himself from reaching across and breaking the other man's neck.  Reeves chose to ignore his danger.

 

"Simple, you need a new guide."

 

"I am bonded already, don't forget." Ellison's voice was soft and deadly.

 

"I think ...."

 

 

Rafe leaned across to his partner, "The guy with Ellison, I don't know what he's said but volcano Ellison is about to erupt."

 

Brown took one look and nodded his agreement. Jim Ellison's temper was legendary; anyone who experienced it made sure it didn't happen again, or at least made sure they kept moving. Whatever that kid was saying was pushing all Ellison's buttons and he was too dumb to see it, just went on digging himself in deeper by the minute.

 

Volcano Ellison never had the chance to erupt as Blair Sandburg exploded across the distance between him and Reeves.

 

"What the hell are you doing here, Phil?" Blair's temper balanced on a thread.

 

Reeve's smug smile tipped that balance as he said, "What's yours is mine, Blair, remember?"

 

Blair swung; the blow was well delivered and well timed and connected hard. It was the last reation that Reeves expected and he went down hard.

 

"THIS SENTINEL IS MINE. GET IT? MINE.  You might have stolen my work and my girls, but you're NOT getting MY sentinel, so get the hell out of here while you're still able."  Blair was standing over Reeves; the anger seemed to vibrate from his whole body.

 

The assault had caught everyone off guard but Jim swiftly caught his guide and pulled him away.

 

Phil got slowly to his feet, "You little hippy freak, I'll have you arrested for this."

 

Blair tried to push away from Jim. Seeing that the sentinel had his hands full of a ranting, twisting, struggling guide, Brown and Rafe rushed up to manhandle Reeves out of the room.Ellison released his hold on his partner but still blocked his way to Reeves.

 

Blair spun around on Jim, "YOU'RE MINE ELLISON, AND NO ONE ELSE'S. YOU GOT THAT?" He punctuated his words with a hard tap against Jim's chest.

 

 

Jim's temper flared, and he knocked Blair's hand away.  "What the hell are you playing at, Sandburg and what exactly is your history with that guy?"

 

"None of your business, Ellison", Blair snarled back. The adrenalin was still pumping through him, sending him into an area that angels feared to tread, the vicinity of a really angry James Ellison.

 

"You're my guide. This...".

 

"NOW  you remember. Why were you talking to that scum, trying to find a replacement? Well..."

 

Ellison's hand snapped out, caught his guide by the front of his layered clothing and hauled him off his feet, the clothing bunched up under his chin.

 

"Let go of me."

 

"Get this through your thick head, Sandburg. You are my guide, and only my guide. Now calm down."

 

"ELLISON - SANDBURG. IN MY OFFICE - NOW. AND ELLISON, PUT YOUR GUIDE DOWN NOW."   Simon's voice rang through the

bullpen.

 

When they entered Simon's office Ellison had put Blair down but his hand was still wrapped around the younger man's shirt as he pulled him along.

 

Simon tried his best to keep his anger to a minumum. If he exploded as well, this situation was going to spin out of control.

 

"Will one of you tell me why my detective and his guide are screaming at each other in the bull pen?"

 

"A misunderstanding, Simon, pure and simple." Jim's tone was level and icy cold, reminding Simon of the pre-Sandburg Ellison.  The Ellison who could give someone frost bite at 100 yards with one look.

 

"Sandburg?"  Simon made the name a question.

 

"What Jim said", Blair fought the urge to look across at his sentinel.

 

"So, do I put all this down as a sentinel/guide thing?" 

 

"Write it off any way you want," Jim's hand gave Sandburg a light cuff across the back of the head. "Mind your manners, Chief."

 

"Sorry."

 

"Both of you, go home. I want you both back in this office tomorrow morning with all this put behind you."  As they both moved to the door, Simon added "Sandburg, stay put.  We need to talk." His tone showed his authority.

 

 

Brown came up carefully, trying to gauge if Jim Ellison had calmed down at all.

 

"I spoke to  Reeves, and he's not pressing charges." Seeing Jim's expression, he added, "I am a man of many talents,  Jim."

 

Rafe cut in, "He pointed out that it would not do Reeves' macho image any good to go to court and admit that he was put down by a 5 foot 9 inch grad student who weighs 155 lb  soaking wet."  Rafe and Brown grinned.

 

"Thanks. You done good, guys. I owe you one."

 

Blair was left in no doubt by Simon Banks that, guide or no guide, any repeat of the incident in the bullpen, and his guide's observer pass would be pulled until he earned it back. It was a much quieter Guide who joined his Sentinel for the trip home.

 

The ride home in the truck was quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts. The silence held as they went up the stairs. Suddenly, Jim stopped Blair with a hand across his chest. The door to the loft was ajar. Ellison's hand went under his jacket and came out with his automatic. He motioned Blair to stand back. His head cocked to one side as he sent his senses out to scan the loft, the soft touch of his guide's hand grounding him.  No heartbeats echoed from the loft; even so, he entered with care, checking each part of their home before allowing his guide to follow. 

 

The floor of the loft was covered with SLF leaflets; grainy black and white pictures were tacked to the pillars. Jim pulled them down, knowing he was too late. Blair had already seen them, had already seen himself wearing collar and lead and nothing else. Ellison turned to see his partner heading into his bedroom, avoiding eye contact. Jim swore. After all they had gone through last night, he thought some of Blair's demons had been exorcised. But this was bringing it all back.

 

What puzzeled Jim was that Blair was a confident, independent, young man, yet somehow he had convinced himself that his own sentinel would throw him out because he had been tortured and branded.  If anything, that assault made him more protective of his young guide. So where had he got that idea from, or rather from whom?  Jim looked at the pictures again, fighting the urge to tear them up. He recognized the pictures, they were from the police report on Sandburg's kidnapping. Whoever had set up this homecoming for Blair, had access to police files.

 

 

Ellison was lost in his thoughts so deeply that he did not hear Blair come up behind him until a hand rested on his shoulder. That hand trembled slightly.  "Sorry, Jim. I shouldn't have let Phil get to me."

 

Jim's hand covered Blair's, patting it.  "It's okay, Chief,  but I think we should talk about this."

 

He felt Blair's hand flinch under his.  His guide's breath come out in a shudder. He reached past Jim and took the top photograph.

 

"Seeing it in black and white, I never....."

 

He broke off as his sentinel suddently sat up straighter in his chair. "Chief,  these aren't from the police file."

 

"They must be."

 

"No, these are slightly different.  They're close but not the same, the lighting is wrong, the poses different. These must have been taken earlier in the day." 

 

"So whoever left them here, was there, when they kidnapped me, they watched while they, oh god I am going to be sick."  He could feel the panic rush through him, if they could break in to leave the photographs they could....  he tightened his grip on Jim's shoulder and suddenly found himself grounded. This time it was different; this time his sentinel was there. He took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly, the nausea was fading, looking into his sentinels concerned eyes, he make himself calm down, he opened his mouth, "Jim....".

 

"Don't even think of apologizing Cheif, pictures are one thing, but knowing that one of that scum was in *our* home is another, of course its going to throw you." "Just remember they have to go through me first".

 

Blair nodded, then  switched into his guide's persona.

"Jim, I need you to look carefully at the pictures and tell me what you see."

Each photograph was searched; slowly, more information was added to the overall picture. Even as he worked, part of Jim's brain tracked his guide's vital signs. "Let's call it a day, Chief." Jim's nose twitched slightly; there was still an odor in the loft he could not place, but he knew he had smelled it previously. He would have pursued it then, but the pictures, and the emotional state of his guide, had been more important. But he had filed the smell away for future reference. He felt Sandburg's hand tighten briefly on his shoulder in agreement.

 

Blair was tired, more so emotionally than physically. He moved over to the the sofa and sat down. He jolted as he realized his sentinel stood in front of him, holding out a towel wrapped in ice. "Help take the swelling down on your hand, Chief," he gave Blair a smile, "for a pacifist you've got a good right cross."

 

His smile was echoed by Blair's tired grin, "I'll have to tell you, one day, how I saved a future world champion."

 

"That sounds like a story worth waiting for, Chief."

 

There was a long pause before Jim said quietly, "you told Reeves that he stole your work and your girls, right before you belted him. Mind filling in the rest of the picture?" Jim perched on the arm of the sofa.

 

"God, all I seem to be doing is confessing my life history to you." Blair kept his eyes on his towel wrapped hand.

 

"I'm a good listener, Blair."

 

Dark blue eyes searched his face before the grad student began softly, "Phil's parents have money, they donated Reeves' Gym at the University. That kind of money. Phil, well, he wanted to be a guide, and Merryweather wanted extra funding so..." Sandburg's eyes were focused on the past. "He hadn't been at Rainier long when they found out he was involved with the 'wrong' crowd. They assigned him as my roommate;  I'd just gotten my MA and was starting on my Ph.D, they thought I'd be a good influence on him, help him with his work." Blair lapsed into silence.

 

"Chief?"

 

"Sorry. Guess I had my own version of a zone out. Right from the word go, I knew it wasn't going to work, Jim. But I needed to keep my job as a TA and Merryweather made it quite clear that I needed his good will for that. Phil made only a passing attempt to do his university work, he liked the idea of being at Rainier more than the work.  He wanted to be a guide but he didn't think he had to work for it. His parent's money had always gotten him everything he wanted before and he figured they would just *buy* him a sentinel when the time came. He was friends with Lee Evans and Graham Gardner and they were always in our room, partying. I ended up having to read and work in the library just to get a bit of peace and quite. I even slept in my car a lot of the time."

 

"Didn't you tell anyone, Chief?"

 

"Who's to tell? No one wanted to listen."

 

"One evening, I was going through my files, looking for some notes that I made when I did my BA, and I found some of my papers were missing, reports I had written. I found them on Phil's desk, he was using my work to do his papers.  I called him on it when he got in." Blair exhaled slowly, "not one of my best plans. He got really angry; and the next thing I knew I was in the ER with concussion and a couple of broken ribs and Evans and Gardner were saying that I got high and fell down the stairs. Who were they going to believe, Jim?  Phil, the clean-cut, all-American boy? Or me, the little hippie wannabe?" Blair waved a hand in Jim's direction, "I know what they call me, you know. But it wasn't enough that he stole my work. My girl friend Amanda, he took her too. She was smart but very quiet, and he just swept her off her feet. She left Rainier when he got her pregnant. She killed herself, Jim, her parents threw her out when they found out about the baby."  

 

Jim had to make himself sit quietly. Now that the dam holding back the flood of emotions had broken, all he could do was sit there and let Blair get it out of his system... and be there to gather up the pieces. 

 

Blair's voice was so soft that only a sentinel could hear him,  "I took more and more to living in my car, anything to get away from him. He'd come in drunk at all hours with the other two. I couldn't sleep, couldn't study. When he found out that I had removed all my papers, he knocked the hell out of me. He had a paper due and he wanted to use one of mine or I could write one for him."  Blair's laugh was harsh, "he promised to make it *worth my while*, as if that would make any difference, Jim. Anyway, he really lost it; I though he was going to kill me.  Graham Gardner, of all people, got me out of there and  told me to go the the new tutor. That was Doctor Cusack, she had just  started at Rainier then. She was great, she backed me 100 percent  and had Phil brought up on assult charges, which *surprise, surprise* were dropped. He *was* shipped out of Rainier when Doctor Cusack threatened to go public if he was allowed to stay on in the guide program. Graham and Lee carried on in guide training.  Graham actually turned out to be an okay guy but Lee's been in and out of trouble. He finally got put on probation this morning over his handling of Alan Holland. So those are my deep dark secrets."

 

"So, when you saw Reeves with me, you just reacted."

 

"That's putting it mildly, Jim. It was like I was on overdrive, I just knew I had to get him away from you."

 

"It looks like territorial behavior is not just restricted to sentinels, is it?" Jim said teasingly, trying to lighten his Guide's mood.

 

Jim silently moaned as he saw the academic light suddenly switch on in his partner's face, this was going to mean a whole barrage of tests, but another part of him was pleased to see that Blair was getting back to normal.

 

Blair suddenly closed the distance between them; he seemed to hesitate for a second, then put his arms around his sentinel. His body was tense as if he was afraid Jim would push him away; all the other times bonding had been at the sentinel's instigation. Being together for only three weeks, reaffirming the bond was important; it would remain important through all the years to come. But Ellison was not exactly the hugging type, and he was still somewhat unsure of his sentinel's reaction.  He relaxed as he felt his sentinel gently pull him closer.

 

Jim opened up all his senses and detected the all too fast thumping of his guide's heart; the hitch in his breathing; the elevated temperature of the body under his hands; and, the smell of blood from Blair's hand where the skin had been broken. All his senses heightened, higher than normal; he was scanning the area around him for any threat to his guide. He was aware of the pheremones coming off his guide, and he revelled in them.

 

There was nothing sexual in the bonding, even between opposite gendered sentinels and guides.  It was something more powerful that even that most physical of connections. The sentinel sharpened his senses even more, so that he could feel the flow of the blood under his guide's skin, the rustle of air through his lungs. Each time they did this, the bonding became deeper. Blair was beginning to be able to feel the emotions of his sentinel; anger aimed, not at him but at the people in his past who had hurt him. Then he felt the warmth and security flowing from the bigger body sheltering his. By the time they reached the highest level of bonding, normally in about six months, which would be maintained throughout their life together as sentinel and guide, Blair would be able to influence Jim's moods. Even now with the channel between them at a fledgling level, the promise of what was to come warmed the younger man.  Much was spoken about the guide centering the sentinel; in reality, it worked both ways.  Blair eased out of Jim's hold. "I'm sor..," he never got to finish the word. "Blair, it's okay," Ellison gave him a soft cuff on the back of his head, "and it's your turn to cook."

 

Jim was pleased to see the relaxed grin he got in return.

 

The sentinel started to collect together the SLF leaflets that were spread over the loft. What surprised him was the lack of damage. He quickly checked Blair's room; it was untidy, but then, the kid never could put anything away. He inhaled the air; only Blair's scent was in the small room. Whoever had left their welcome home greeting had made no attempt to enter that room.  He looked down at the leaflets in his hand. There was the same odor as the printing ink from the publications at the Campus, but he remembered it from somewhere else. Where had he smelled it before? 

 

Something nudged at the edges of his mind. "Jim, you have to come out of it now, man. Listen to my voice and follow me back," it was his guide's voice. The sentinel shook his head and everything snapped back into place.

 

"What did you zone on?" Blair's voice stayed calm and soothing.

 

"The printing ink. I've smelled it before, not just on the other leaflets either. These are a lot newer, right off the press; the others were older, the ink smell had faded some. No, I smelled it *on* someone recently."  Jim felt his guide's touch again, grounding him. Seeing the worried face, reading the concern, he smiled, "Okay, I won't push it right now, but later..."

 

"We'll do it correctly." Sentinel and Guide shared a look of mutual intent.

 

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Later, Jim was seated in one of the armchairs, his hands resting on his knees, his guide kneeling in front of him.  Blair's voice had changed to what Jim always called his "Guide tone." Without conscious thought, the sentinel followed his instructions, filtering throught the multi- layered odors to isolate the one he was looking for.  Then his eyes flickered open,  "Clarkson, that's where I smelled it last."  Jim was on his feet so fast, he knocked Blair over.  The young guide landed heavily on his back. "Jim", his pained cry was ignored and he did the only thing he could.  He launched himself forward and held tightly to Jim's leg.

 

"Jim, NO!"

 

The  sentinel reached down to knock away the obstruction to his leaving.  He grabbed Blair's shoulder and a physical jolt went through him. "Blair?" he sounded slightly confused, "why are you hanging onto my leg?"  Jim's expression was comical.

 

Blair could not help but laugh, "believe me, Jim, it was in self-  defence. You were in a dark zone, I thought it would slow you down."

 

Jim shook his head, then reached for Blair's hand and drew the smaller man to his feet.

 

"I remembered where I had smelled it, it was on Clarkson that time he was in the bull pen. He's a member of the SLF."

 

"Then we need to talk to him."

 

"Not 'we', Chief.  He...."

 

Before he could finish Blair cut in, "No way, man, it's together or you don't go. You might dark zone on him and if that happens we'll never find out what's  going on."

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Clarkson was unlocking his car when he was thrown into the side of it. An arm locked around his throat, the voice in his ear was a harsh whisper, "Clark, old buddy, we are going to talk."

 

"Jim," Clarkson's voice was a strangled croak.

 

Blair reached his hand to Jim's shoulder, "easy, Jim, let him go."  Jim turned to look at his guide and Blair suppressed the impulse to step back from that stare. Jim's eyes where ice cold, he was in full Dark Sentinel mode, nothing of the cop remained, like this he was extremely dangerous. 

 

Clarkson was no slouch at hand-to-hand combat himself; but he knew that if he tried anything now, Ellison would kill him. "Kid, I can't breathe," he gasped as the grip tightened.

 

"Don't talk to him, Clark, just to me."

 

"Jim, let him go, now." When words failed, Blair took a deep breath and hit his sentinel hard across the back of his head. He had to get Jim  back from the zone.  With a growl, Ellison slammed Clark's head into the side of the car, stunning him, and turned to Blair. He rubbed the back of his head, a deep growl in the base of his  throat. He reached out, snagged the front of Blair's jacket, and pulled the grad student to him. As Blair's feet dragged across the ground, his heartbeat skyrocketed. The Sentinel's head twitched as he sensed Blair's sudden fear; he looked around and checked that Clarkson was still down. Not understanding his guide's sudden fear, he petted Blair's shoulder and head in a clumsy, heavy-handed attempt at comforting him.  

 

"Jim, follow my voice back. Listen to me, you have got to come back. I need you."  Ellison's head tilted to one side as he examined his guide.  Taking a deep breath, Blair hit him again, "JIM!"  His sentinel caught his wrist, it felt like a vise had clamped onto him. The too-tight grip changed so that Ellison could feel the pulse of his guide throbbing under his fingers. Blair kept talking and, suddenly, Jim loosened his grasp as he snapped out of the dark sentinel state. 

 

 

Indicating Clarkson, Blair said, "Easy, Big Guy, let's take this somewhere else." He got a nod in reply, and Jim quickly frisked Clarkson before handcuffing him and shoving him into the back of the truck.

 

Once clear of the police station, Jim pulled over. "Stop pretending Clark, I know you're back with us."

 

"Jim, what the hell's up with you?"

 

"The SLF leaflets have a certain type of printing ink and that odor was all over you, yet you never came into contact with them. So let's talk about why you smell like that."

 

"I don't belong to the SLF."

 

"Wrong answer. You see, Clark, I am a human lie detector. So don't try to put one over on me, it won't work.  Now, you get three strikes and you're out. That was strike one."

 

Clarkson swore, "Okay. I've belonged to the SLF for five years all together.  I don't believe that Sentinels should be owned by their guides; that those guides should have the right of life and death over them; that they take over as the sentinel's family."  He paused, then went on, "So, I have been helping them. I collected a new consignment of leaflets, there's nothing illegal about that, Jim. And, okay, I gave your partner a hard time and bounced him off a wall, but that's all."

 

"What about tonight?"

 

"Tonight?" Clarkson sounded puzzled, "I've been catching up with paperwork all night, ask Brown and Rafe."

 

 

Jim nodded. Clarkson was telling the truth, his heartbeat was stable. Ellison kept his voice level, "Eighteen months ago, my guide was kidnapped by members of the SLF and left beaten on the steps of Hargrove Hall. Who did it?"

 

"I don't know, and that's the truth. This is the first I've heard of anything like that. The group I work with here are more the blue hair bridgade than radicals."  There was a long pause.  "You going to tell Simon that I'm a member of the SLF?" Clarkson knew that if that information got out it would finish his police career. Although being a member of the SLF was not illegal, it was heavily frowned on, and would blight his career. He would be taken off Headhunting jobs and transferred from Major Crime.

 

Jim's gaze switched to Blair and back again, "No, but you keep away from Blair, and any other guides at the station. And leave the SLF, because when I find out who hurt my guide, I will bring them and anyone connected with them down."

 

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

 

After a night during which the guide actually got some sleep while the sentinel stood guard, Jim was working on a file, stabbing the computer keys and muttering under his breath.

 

"No Hairboy today, Jim?"

 

Brown held his ground at the look that Jim gave him. Ellison finally relaxed.  "He's working on his classes today, got a presentation to give in a couple of days."

 

"What on?"  Brown actually seemed to be interested.

 

"The sexual role of women in the... er... something or other tribe,"

Jim's voice held humor.

 

"And he gets paid for this?" Brown grinned.

 

"Knowing Sandburg, he probably got a grant to investigate it", Jim said with a smile. A ringing interrupted their banter.

 

The sentinel scooped up the telephone. "Ellison." Brown saw the smile fade from his face.  "I'll be over there right away."

 

"What's wrong, Jim?"

 

"That was Rainier. Blair missed his class, and when they went to look for him, they found his office trashed and him missing."

 

The sentinel was rushing out of the bullpen even as he spoke, "tell the captain where I'm going."

 

000000000

 

 

Dr. Jane Cusack was there when he arrived, "I have kept as many people out of here as possible for you, Lieutenant." She could see the dismay on his face; there was nothing worse than a sentinel who had lost his guide.  "If you will allow me to help you?  Please, Blair is very special to me."

 

She could see him clamp down on his emotions and added quickly, "Jim, I was a bonded guide. I can help you. Let me."

 

"Everyone out of here," he barked the order.

 

Jane centered herself, this was going to be different from when she worked with Alexander. Ellison was not her sentinel, but she was sure that she could help him.  She laid her hand on his shoulder, and felt him flinch slightly at her alien touch. She allowed her voice to drop to the guide tone and began to talk him through each of his senses, trying to prevent zoning. A couple of times she pulled him out too soon, worried that if he went under too deeply she would not be able to pull him out of it.

 

The smell of his guide's scent was powerful in the room, and over it was the smell of the printing ink. "Clarkson," he breathed the name. He would kill the man for laying a hand on his guide. Thoughts of vengeance died as he realized that he did not smell the man's scent.

What he was picking up was another man's scent; filtering it through his memory he identified it as one that he had detected on Alan Holland. Suddently, he felt his arms shaken.

 

"JIM!"

 

He focused on Jane Cusack, "Alan Holland, what was the name of his guide, the one that Sandburg didn't like?"

 

"Lee Evans. Why?"

 

"His scent is all over the office. Is there any reason that he would be here?"

 

"Lee was upset. I took him off Holland's case and put him on notice that he would have to appear before the Council. If he fails to give them the answers they want, he's out of the program."

 

"When did you tell him this?"

 

"Yesterday".

 

"Maybe he came to talk to Blair about it. I ..." Jim's voice broke off. It was tight with rage when he went on, "Blair's blood, I can smell it. He was injured when they took him."  He shook off her hand, "Sargeant Doyle, have Lee Evans picked up. Now! He's wanted in connection with the kidnapping of Guide Sandburg."

 

But, even as he spoke, he realized that didn't jibe with the smell of the printing material. Lee Evans was a guide, surely he would be the last person to be connected with the SLF. 

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Blair was laying on the floor when he started to come around. He tried to raise his hands to his aching head and found that he couldn't. He shuddered as he realized that he was handcuffed. Panic grew when he felt the chain around his throat that tied him to a ring on the floor. There was very little play in the lead, he could only straighten as far as his knees.  He waited for the dream to end, for his sentinel to come; but it didn't. He was naked and he shivered with the cold; his clothes were bundled up and thrown out of reach.  He tucked his knees up and curled into a ball; there was no escaping the fact that he was back where it had started. He slowly began to rock back and forward. "Jim, find me, please find me," he muttered over and over again trhough a throat tight with fear and unshed tears.

 

Graham Gardner hesitated when he saw the large police lieutenant come out of the Hall. Ellison looked like death incarnate. Although unbonded, Graham could pick up the emotions boiling from the sentinel.  There was a veil of controlled aggression about the man. Taking a deep breath, Gardner intercepted him, "Lieutenant Ellison?"

 

Graham stepped back as the sentinel looked at him. He was, for the first time in his life, completely scared. They had been introduced to bonded sentinels during their course, but none of them were like this man. At this moment he seemed more predator than protector.

 

"I'm Graham Gardner. Blair may have spoken about me?" Somehow, he managed to keep his voice from cracking.

 

"You were one of Reeve's sidekicks. You stood by while he beat up my guide." There was something feral in the sentinel's voice.

 

"I'm also the one who got him away from Reeves, I was afraid he would kill him. But that's past, Lieutenant. What's more important is that I think Phil's gone after Blair again."

 

"Why?"  Jim fought to keep his voice level and his emotions clamped down; if he lost it now, he could get his guide killed.

 

"Phil, he blames Blair for getting him expelled. He wanted to be a guide, and  ....  I saw him with Lee earlier."

 

"Do you know here they would take him?".

 

"No, the warehouse  we used last time burned down."

 

"Last time." Jim's tone when icy.

 

"Look, I'm not proud of it. I just got caught up in something and didn't know how to get out.  Phil had Blair kidnapped and beaten. He wanted to destroy him just like he thought Blair had destroyed his career. Blair never knew it was Phil. Phil even went to see him when he was recovering, told him he would never be a guide, that he was..."

 

"Damaged goods."

 

"Yes. I never wanted to go along with it, but.... You have to believe me, Lieutenant. Phil got in touch with me when he returned to Cascade, told me he wanted to finish the job on Blair. He was furious when he heard that he had bonded with you, said there was nothing that Blair had that he couldn't take." Sentinel senses read truth and detective instincts acted.

 

Jim leaned into his truck and asked Simon to put out an APB on Phil Reeves and Lee Evans. If anything, Graham looked pleased that it had finally come out. He could not see Blair every day and know what they had done to him.  

 

Clarkson pulled up by the truck. He knew that he was the last person the Sentinel wanted to see but he had heard the call about Sandburg.

 

He pulled Jim aside. "Look I had nothing to do with this," he forced his voice to remain level, especially when he saw the deadly light in the sentinel's eyes. 

 

"The SLF, have they gotten a new recruit recently?"

 

"Jim, I can't...."

 

"He has Sandburg, and its got nothing to do with your ex-cause, Clark. It's pure revenge; he's using the SLF to get back at Blair for getting him thrown out of the University. I need to know where you print your leaflets. Last night, Reeves left some at the loft, along with some pictures they took of Sandburg when they had him last. When they tortured him, Clark. Do you understand me here? They *tortured* him. Those leaflets were so new they stank of ink. They left more of them in his office, so who do you think is going to take the fall for this? I'll tell you who, the SLF. Is that what you want? Your "blue-haired brigade" going down for kidnapping? Talk to me."

 

"Cascade Docks, Number 12B," then added as the sentinel started for his truck, "I'm coming with you, you'll need me to get inside."

 

"Cross me, Clarkson.." Jim did not have to finish the rest of the sentence. Clarkson just nodded and climbed into the passenger side of the truck.

 

ooooooo

 

Hand on the door to the room where Sandburg was held, Lee Evans was getting nervous. "Phil, last time he never saw us. This time he saw me, what do you think he's going to do when he gets out of here? For god's sake, his sentinel is a cop! We can't scare him this time."

 

Phil's smile was pure evil, "who said the little creep is going to walk away from this?"

 

"Look, Phil, scaring him's one thing, but you're talking about murder."

 

"No, you look, Lee. He took everything away from me, got me thrown out of Rainier. You're just about to be thrown out of the guide program. You just going to let him get away with it?  By now they will have realized that he's missing, so let's get on with it.  You're either part of the solution or part of the problem; which one are you, Lee?"

 

For the first time Lee was really scared. Phil had always been very intense, but now he had stepped over the line, he was unhinged.

 

"So, let the fun begin."

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

 

Outside the warehouse, Clarkson stood quietly to one side as Jim stood there, head cocked to one side, sending his senses out to search for one very special heartbeat. He found it, thank god, he found it. But it was too fast and he could detect two others as well..

 

"There's a room at the back of the warehouse." Clarkson moved to the front entrance. Quickly, he swiped the card through the locking device, entered the code, then said "the last place you would look for a printing press is in the secure lockup in a dock area."  Clarkson stopped talking as he realized that Jim was listening to something he could not hear.

 

"He's in a storeroom, one entrance, no windows. They're with him." Clarkson heard the beginnings of rage in that grim voice. The Sentinel pulled out his weapon, ready to use lethal force to protect the life that in three short weeks had become more important to him than his own.

 

 

 

0-0-0-0-0-0

 

The door opened. Blair's heart skipped a beat as he looked up. For a moment he was blinded by the light; but, as he managed to blink through the brightness, he saw Phil and Lee standing over him.

 

Phil was stroking a baseball bat, "it's been a while, Blair. Do you still remember how to behave, or do we have to go over it all again?"

 

"Go to..."

 

Blair was slammed into the wall by a vicious backhanded blow across his face; he could taste blood in his mouth. He spat it out.

 

"You don't speak unless I tell you too, remember. On your belly."

 

"No. Not this ti.." Blair snarled his defiance, hiding his terror.

 

He had only the slightest of warnings, barely managed to get his hands down to protect his lower body before the boot crashed into him. The air was forced out of him, leaving him gasping for breath even as the boot thudded into him again. He tried to curl his body even tighter against what he knew was coming.

 

As quickly as it started it was over. Blair's voice was edged with pain as he asked, "Why, Phil?"

 

"You really don't know, do you?  And you're surpposed to be so clever. Simple really, Blair, you had to pay for getting me thrown out of Rainier. Why couldn't you just toe the party line, Blair? So I pinched a few reports, what's the harm? But you had to go to Cusack about it, didn't you?" Another kick punctuated the question. "So I put you in your place. How dare a low life hippy bastard dictate what my life is going to be like. I thought you had learned your lesson. But you didn't stay down, did you?" Another kick. "Hey, as long as you hadn't bonded things were okay. If I couldn't have a sentinel, neither could you. But then you did it, didn't you?  You bonded, and I could not allow that, you can't be better than me."

 

He hefted the baseball bat, and his grin was evil, "remember the number I did on him last time, Lee?  I think this time I'll work on the ankles first, so he has to crawl."

 

Evans was looking from one man to the other, he looked almost physically sick, "come on, Phil, all we've done is pick him up and roughed him up a bit. He won't tell.  Let's just leave it at that."  Lee shifted so that he was standing between Blair and Phil. He reached  out and took a firm grip on the bat, "Phil you've shown him you're twice the man that little hippy is.  Okay, you kill him and it will feel great but it'll be over, Phil.  Better he lives with the knowledge, for the rest of his life, that there's nothing he can do that you're not better at. Nothing he can have that you can't take away from him."  He held Phil's stare; there was a crazy look to it he didn't like, but suddenly Phil released his hold on the baseball bat. Evans breathed a sigh of relief, *okay, Blair might have lost him the sentinel, but Phil was crazy, a psycho, and murder was one line that he personally was not going to cross.* 

 

"You're backing out on me, Lee." Phil's voice sounded as if he was giving out a sentence.

 

"Of course not, I just don't think we need to murder anyone."

 

Phil pulled a gun from his pocket, "I though we were in this together, but you're weak and corrupt. No wonder that bitch, Cusack, threw you out of the program."

 

"Come on, Phil, put it away. We could go to jail for this, bigtime."

 

Phil seemed to consider his words, "maybe it would be for the best." Lee nodded, "Sure it is, Phil. You've got too much to live for to spend the rest of your life in prison."

 

"You don't get it, do you?  When the cops find this place they're going to find him dead," he pointed at Blair, "and you next to him, a  suicide. You couldn't live with what you had done. Don't worry, they'll hush it all up again. Rainier won't want the bad publicity, and I'll go on and claim the sentinel."

 

"Jim will never bond with you," Blair spat the words out, "our bonding is too deep already, he's MINE."

 

"With you dead, my parents will pay for him. Rainier will give him to me. He'll need a strong guide to get through this tragedy, and that's going to be me."

 

He started to bring the gun up, and Lee swung the bat at the hand holding it. The bullet went high, into the ceiling, as Lee dropped the bat and launched himself at Phil.  The gun hit the ground; the two men dove for it, struggling  for ownership. Both their hands catching hold of the weapon as they rolled over; the gun was trapped between their bodies, then there was a  loud crack as it discharged. For a frozen moment, the two men just looked at each other; then, Lee crumbled back, releasing his hold, the front of his jacket red with blood.

 

For a moment, Phil just stared at his friend, then slowly straightened up, an unholy look on his face as he said, "look what you made me do." Reeves smiled down at Blair as he closed the distance between the two of them.

 

Blair tried to pull away, but Phil snatched a handful of his hair and jerked him backwards, arching his body, before running the cold barrel of the gun along his shoulder until it rested against his head.

 

The door exploded off its hinges as Ellison kicked it in. In the split second Reeves glared at him, gun instinctively moving from Blair's head to cover the new threat, Jim's eyesight focused in on the danger to Blair's life, the danger that had to be destroyed. Moving faster than any normal human, and without seeming to even take time to aim, he fired.  Reeves landed on top on Blair, his blood seeping over the smaller man.  Ellison pulled the body roughly to one side, not even bothering to waste the time needed to see if Reeves was still breathing. He didn't need to check; he had shot to kill.

 

"Jim?" the voice was shaking.

 

"Here, Chief," he said gently, "you're okay, now. I've got you." Jim tilted his guide's face up so that he could check his eyes. The deep blue eyes were dilated, confused. The kid almost certainly had a concussion. "Keep awake for me, Blair." The curly head nodded as Ellison wrapped him in a brief hug. He could feel Blair shaking badly with the cold, and Jim stripped off his own coat to cover him. All the while he was talking in a low, reassuring voice to his partner, moving away only long enough to frisk the dead man for the the keys to the restraints. The sentinel released his guide from the chains, his hands gentle on bruised and bleeding flesh.

 

Clarkson had been leaning over Evans, trying to stem the student's bleeding. Finished with his rough first aid, he got up and crossed over to where Jim was helping his guide to dress. Blair was moving slowly and painfully.

 

"You stay with your guide, I'll call Banks." There was a long pause before he added, "I'm glad he's okay."

 

"Not okay, Clark. But he'll be okay, and that's enough for now."

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Captain Banks leaned back in his chair and looked up at his headhunter, "Clarkson, I've spoken to Ellison about the case. The Chancellor at Rainier has pulled some strings and the Mayor's decided that the case has to be buried along with Phil Reeves." Clarkson nodded, "because if this case comes to light then the first attack on Guide Sandburg will also come up and their supression of it comes into the glare of the media." Banks grimaced, "You got it. But that brings us to you. Your involvement with the SLF ends now. If I ever hear of you even so much as looking at one of our guides the wrong way, I will bounce you out of here so fast your feet won't touch the ground."

 

"Ellison has already spoken to me on the matter; he put it in a very unique and memorable way last night," Clarkson offered grimly.

 

"Good. As long as we have an understanding here."

 

"What are they going to do about Lee Evans?"

 

"Evans pled guilty to the kidnapping of Guide Sandburg, so he'll go straight to sentencing, no court case. Blair spoke on his behalf, told how he stopped Reeves beating him to death with that damn baseball bat; that should help him.  Phil Reeves' body has been shipped home. The story is that he was unbalanced, committed suicide."

 

"Suicide?"

 

Banks laughed sardonically, "not too far off the mark, at that. How else would you describe trying to kill Jim Ellison's guide?  Gardner is on probation; he so much as litters and he's pulled in. Pesonally, I'm not happy with any of this, but it's out of my hands. We all just have to live with this.  Now, get to work."

 

Clarkson halted just outside of the door and looked across the bullpen at the sentinel and his guide. He nodded to them before walking out; all too aware of the fact that they were the reason he still had a career in Major Crimes.

 

THE END

 

Thanks to my sister Eileen, for her support and confidence that I would get this finished.

 

Hope you enjoy the story. 

 

The next one is this series is called "Throwback".