Disclaimer: The main
characters are not mine, this is an amateur effort written purely for the fun of
it, and no money has exchanged hands, and it is not intended to breach the
copyright of Paramount and Pet Fly Publication.
With thanks to Lois,
Gail, and Nancy for the beta reading and the input.
This story is for
Dawn, Meercat, Sabrina, Olwyn, Rogue, Lois, Gail, Nancy and for everyone that
has helped me through the year.
For Eileen for all
your help and support, without you there would never be web page.
Wishing you all a
most Happy Christmas.
Set in the GDP Series.
This story comes after the
events of Making of a Dark Guide, and those in the story curve of Be Sure your
Blair stood back from the
Christmas tree. His head tilted
slightly to one side as he examined it almost critically.
He moved forward to adjust a piece of tinsel. It was a sensory feast of colour. With great reverence he
took the tissue paper covered parcel from his partner James Ellison, and
unwrapped a crystal angel for the tree. Holding
it up to the light Blair could see the colours of the tree reflecting in the
ornament’s ridges and plains.
Jim stood behind him and
slid his arms round Blair’s waist, pulling the smaller man against him.
Blair patted Jim’s arm and allowed his body to sink back against the
much larger man. His mind opened,
his barriers dropping, allowing Jim to join with him.
Together they placed the
angel on the tree, in its place of honour next to the crystal bell from their
first Christmas together as Sentinel and Guide.
All together they had been bonded for eighteen months, which now included
A lot had changed in those
eighteen months, Blair mused, as he revelled in the feeling of being cherished
and cared for.
He had arrived at the
Cascade PD a beaten and abused Guide, thrown at the feet of an out-of-control
Sentinel. Instead of a monster, Blair had found his salvation in one James
The man should have been a
nightmare. He was ex-military, a
cop, all hard edges, ‘my way or the highway’.
Yet he had let Blair take control of his own life.
Allowing the Guide to pick the way he wanted to bond.
Knowing the traumatic effect of lying on his stomach, pinned down, he had
let the Guide find the most comfortable position. Jim had been patient when
Blair had woken him in the night screaming at night terrors, taking him to his
bed to make sure that he slept and felt safe and protected, cocooning him in his
Sentinel’s arms and senses.
He could have been treated
as nothing more than a tool to help his Sentinel work; instead he had been
treated as a person, given his life back.
Blair smiled as he felt Jim
dip his head and scent at his neck, so he tilted his head back exposing more of
his throat. His empathic power
reached out and wrapped around Jim’s mind, soaring as he felt it open at his
touch. There were no barriers
between them. He could hear the big
guy purring against him, and he knew that the rest of the tree and dinner could
All through the day in the
Bull Pen, he had been aware of the small touches to his arm, his back, his
shoulders. Translated into the
language he was fluent in -- Jim Speak -- his Sentinel wanted to bond.
The need was not strong enough to result in him being tugged into the
Sentinel suite, but it gave a promise of a Sentinel night once they got home.
Early in their pairing Jim
had found it hard to put into words all his needs, which had resulted in some
spontaneous primal pouncing.
Blair could not stop a
smile as he remembered one incident that stood out.
Jim had pounced, and he had managed to avoid it only to find himself
trapped and thrown over a broad shoulder, carried upstairs, tossed onto the bed,
pinned, and expertly stripped.
Blair suppressed a laugh as
he remembered his clothes laying scattered round the room, the tee shirt hanging
from the light fitting. A none too controlled Sentinel had worked his way over
Blair, mapping, touching, sniffing, and nuzzling him as he had been claimed
right down to the bone, all because an insane Sentinel had made the mistake of
trying to force Blair to his knees and claim him. There had not been enough of
the guy left to make a smear on the wall.
Jim had been mortified when
he had come back to his senses, in more ways than one, and Blair had had to talk
pretty quick, blurring a few facts to get him to calm down. He’d known his
Sentinel well enough even then to know that he needed control, and the primal
scared him, only recently was he starting to embrace it.
Blair was honest enough to
acknowledge that the sheer size and power of Jim Ellison had been intimidating.
But then he had realised that Jim was a pussycat where his Guide was
concerned. Jim would rather cut off
a hand than hurt him. His own personal fluffy, 6 foot 2 inch, Sentinel teddy
bear. Blair chuckled at the mental picture. Jim was the one person that would
never hurt him.
As he stood in front of the
Christmas tree he could feel the bond increasing, like the buildup of molten
lava in a volcano. The tension in
the body that held him, the low growl, then the nip to his throat that made him
gasp. Yes, it was nearly time.
The bond between them
burned with a passion that blotted out all other feelings.
It was not a sexual union, although he had heard others say different.
It was the ultimate connection between Sentinel and Guide, more intense
than any carnal experience, and he had had more than a few of those.
The primal bonding was more charged and intense.
But tonight it would be
slow and mellow, the moment he stepped into the apartment he had known that Jim
would remain close, the gentle touches would increase, as did the need for the
Sentinel to connect. Blair had been
surprised that Jim had managed to wait long enough for them to even put the tree
The bond marked the joining
of two minds, information and memories, thoughts and emotions, exchanged between
them in a millisecond.
But Jim hesitated, and he
felt a shimmer through their link.
“Good news, Mine.”
Jim’s voice was a whisper against the young man’s ear, Blair could
feel the breath brush his skin. The
endearment was pure Sentinel; it could be thought of as a Sentinel proclaiming
his ownership of the Guide, but in the bonding link, Blair knew differently.
It was Jim’s way of reassuring him that they were one.
He patted Jim’s arms, the
word always warmed him. Then he felt a joyful excitement bubbling through his
“Dr. Claydove called me
to the Institute today.”
“Jim, you should have
called me. I would have...” Blair
found himself silenced by a finger to his lips.
“You were where you
should be, taking your exam. That
was more important. Now Dr.
Claydove has told me that in two years time the laws governing the treatment of
Guides is up for renewal. Only this
time, they’re going to be abolished, because Claydove has the backing now.
He’s bringing in a pilot programme of Guide emancipation in Cascade.
It’s a two-year programme to monitor the changes needed.
You already have your own bank account, and as of the 25th of December,
the use of the leash on a Guide is abolished -- it’s now illegal.
You no longer have to kneel to anyone, and that includes Claydove. If
you’re discriminated against, it’s illegal. The rest comes in on the 1st of
Blair began to lose his
breath. Immediately he felt himself
spun round and a concerned Jim was coaching him with his breathing and helping
him to the sofa as he felt his legs began to give way.
“Oh my God!
Political power, lots of factors. But
the impression I got was that Claydove has been working to this for a while, and
finally all the pieces have come together.
It's also got something to do with the New GDP that Slater has been
recruiting. I know its not going to change overnight.
There are going to be GDP, and Sentinels, who are going to fight the
changes. But there will be changes,
and they will be here to stay, I promise.”
Jim cupped Blair’s face,
and his thumb brushed away the tears that fell.
“I am just sorry it took
so long, and that you... that I...” He trailed off.
“Jim, you protected me.
Sometimes you had no choice but to make me kneel, and to leash me.
But don’t you think that I could feel through our link your disgust,
your loathing, when you did it? You
hated it, man. I know that.” Slightly
shakily, he added. “Jim... claim
Jim Ellison was well aware
of his reputation at the PD. He
would have to have been blind and deaf not to notice the way that other people
reacted to him. But he honestly had
given up even caring anymore. They
got just what they saw.
He had made an effort with
Carolyn, though, allowing her inside the walls of his heart. But as his marriage faltered, so too the walls rose again
until she had also been locked out. His
only salvation had been Major Crimes and a captain who'd had the guts to take
him in. If Simon hadn’t, Jim had
the common sense to know that he would have been in the morgue by now.
No one could keep bucking the odds he had.
Now he was no longer alone;
he had been given a Guide. They who
had taken away his freedom of choice in the name of saving his life, had given
him the one thing that he had run from, a Guide.
He could still remember the
filthy, stinking creature they had thrown at his feet, as if they were feeding a
tender morsel to a wild animal. That had been Blair Sandburg, his future Guide;
frightened and abused, the young man had still tried to do his best for Jim.
Jim sat on the edge of the
bed they used as a bonding platform. The
GDP still had a fit over that, but Jim and Blair had used it to start with
because he had refused point blank to allow his injured Guide to lie on
something as hard as an exercise mat. Now
he watched his Guide sleep, his second favourite Guide pastime.
Blair was so mellowed out
by the bond that he had sunk into a peaceful sleep.
Reaching out, Jim placed his hand on Blair’s stomach, and then lightly
brushed his ribs. In his sleep, his
Guide tried to brush Jim’s hand away, ticklish.
But he had felt what he
needed. His Guide was putting on
weight, and it was staying on. The
doctors had given the Sentinel all sorts of warnings about his Guide’s mental
state, that Blair might have eating disorders, even be suicidal.
But Blair had come through the horrific ordeal reasonably intact.
That wasn't to say that he
didn't have flashbacks, but they had learned to deal with them, day by day, one
at a time.
Now Jim’s life was built
around the hyperactive bundle who he'd taken into his life. Other Sentinels
might laugh, but they certainly never did it to his face.
His world was his Guide, and he would make a difference for Blair.
Some of the GDP might think
that they could ignore the new rules, and he knew there would still be people
who would be prejudiced against Guides. You
couldn’t change people overnight -- tell them one day a person was a virtual
slave, and the next tell them the same person was a citizen, and expect the
change over to run smoothly.
The Clan meeting in the New
Year was going to prove interesting, but he already had the backing of the other
Sentinel Primes. And Simon Banks
had already started the transition at Major Crimes, making sure the officers
were all aware of the changes.
Blair reached up and
snagged the front of Jim’s sweater. He
pulled him down, pushing and tugging until he got in the position he wanted, and
then virtually climbed onto Jim.
The growl he gave Blair
wouldn't fool anyone; Jim was where he wanted to be.
When Blair stretched out over him into his favourite position of a curly
head on Jim’s shoulder, face pressed to his throat and an arm round his waist,
Jim just sighed contentedly and tightened his grip on the smaller man.
Later they would eat, but
now it was just enough they were together. Overhead, the first of the winter
snow began to fall onto the skylight. It
was cold out, but inside the loft, warm and safe.
He pulled Blair a little
tighter and then cocked his head to one side as he heard the mechanism on the
old clock tower opposite the loft draw itself up to chime midnight. Just as it
struck, he whispered, “Merry
“Merry Christmas Jim.”
Blair’s voice was slightly muffled by the sweater, but there was no
mistaking the increase in the hug.
Together they would face
the future, and the challenges of the New Year, with relish. It would not be easy. But
they would win. Cascade, and the
GDP, would never be the same again, because no one would ever stand against the