Songs You Know by Heart 4:  The Price of Love 
by JR   (JRR42@yahoo.com)

Disclaimer:   Jim, Blair, Steven, Simon, and everyone else you
recognize are owned by UPN and Pet Fly Productions and used
without their permission.  The Price of Love by Bad English is
also used without permission. This story is not intended to infringe
upon any copyrights, nor is any profit being made from it.

I would like to thank Saraid, Pumpkin, and Heather for keeping
me from throwing this story in the recycling bin.  Many thanks for
the wonderful suggestions and encouragement.

// // Indicates song lyrics

*************************
SUNDAY 

        It was the heat from the body lying next to him that woke
Jim Ellison.  It had been a long time since the Sentinel had shared
his bed with anyone, and while the sensation was immensely
pleasurable, it was unusual enough to rouse him from slumber. 
The deep breath he drew in when he sighed was enough to make
him cognizant of the fact that he wasn’t in his own bed.

        ‘Whaa?’ he thought slowly, his mind still sluggish from
slumber.  Opening his eyes, he realized that he was in Blair’s
room, and more importantly, Blair was cradled in his arms.  His
tactile sense told him that neither of them had any clothes on.

        It took just seconds for it all to come back to him.  It all
started last night when he had seen the anguish in Blair’s face in
the reflection of the glass balcony doors.  The sadness that Jim
had seen in those expressive blue eyes had been enough to break
his heart.  With his Blessed Protector instinct in overdrive, he’d
felt a simple, primitive need to comfort the younger man who was
his charge.  With a simple kiss, an incredible hunger had grown
between the two of them; one that could only be sated by giving
themselves wholly to each other. Never in his life had Jim given
himself so totally to another person, nor had he ever been taken so
completely.

        Blair rolled over onto his side in order to snuggle closer to
the heat coming from Jim’s body.  Shifting his gaze, the Sentinel
took in the vision lying in his arms.  The anthropologist looked so
innocent while he slept.  Jim’s pupils dilated automatically,
allowing him to gaze at the long lashes that had so tempted him
last night.  As his eyes moved downward, the Sentinel was
transfixed by the sight of Blair’s full, pouting mouth.  There was a
sudden rush of blood to his groin when he recalled just how
wonderful those lips had felt wrapped around his throbbing
erection; and he was overpowered with a need to feel that same
sensation again. 

        It was at the precise moment that Jim Ellison realized exactly
what he was thinking. Unbidden flashes of memories from last
night returned to him, hitting him like a bucket of ice water
thrown on his groin.  How could he have touched Sandburg like
that?  How could he have found pleasure in those sexual acts? 
How could he have fucked another man?  And even worse, he had
let Sandburg do the same to him.  He had let another man fuck
him.

        A wave of revulsion swept over the detective as he recalled
how it felt to have Sandburg touch him in the most intimate
places.  The feeling of his Guide’s hard cock sliding into his ass
was burned permanently into his memory.  More importantly,
though, was the ecstasy he felt simply from knowing that it was
Blair who was possessing him.  

        ‘No!’ Jim’s mind screamed in denial.

        The Sentinel jumped out of the bed and ran rapidly into the
bathroom.  The need to remove all traces of last night’s encounter
was overpowering.  Not bothering with the cold water, he dialed
down his sense of touch and proceeded to scrub himself until his
skin was red and raw.  The Sentinel was desperate to rid his skin
from the scent of his Guide that was clinging to him like the blood
on Lady MacBeth’s hands.  He scoured his flesh until the water
ran cold.

        Wrapping a towel around his waist, the Sentinel ran up the
stairs to find some clean cloths.  After dressing, Jim found himself
pacing through the living room, wondering what he should do
next.  His first urge was to take complete control of his
surroundings; to wake his Guide and get him the hell out of his
loft as fast as he could.  Since nothing else came to mind, the
Sentinel decided to run with the idea.  

        The sight of the clothing that they had so carelessly removed
and thrown aside last night caught his eye.  It was a painful
reminder of how pleasurable it had been to undress his Guide, to
explore the lithe body that was finally his.  ‘No!’ his mind cried
out.  Without thinking about his actions, the Sentinel threw his
own clothes in the bathroom hamper.  Next, Jim neatly folded
Blair’s garments and stealthily moved into the younger man’s
bedroom just to get them out of his sight.  He carefully avoided
looking at the figure in the bed sleeping soundly.

        The scent of sex; a heady mix of semen, sweat, arousal, and
both of their personal scents assault his nose.  He could even feel
the tingling sensation of the residual pheromones that were still
present.  Once again, memories bubbled to the surface, the scents
in the air bringing back the picture of Blair lounging on the bed
lapping up Jim’s spilled semen from the Sentinel’s stomach.  He
shuddered as he remembered how erotic that soft velvet tongue
had felt against his heated flesh.

        Shaking off the mental picture, Jim walked into the kitchen
to start a pot of coffee.  He needed to think.  Sitting unmoving on
the couch, the detective spent almost an hour trying uselessly to
come to grips with the situation.  It was impossible.  His thoughts
just kept running in never-ending circles.  Jim was startled when
he finally looked at the clock.  He needed more time to think
about this, but time was a luxury he didn’t have.  Sandburg would
have to be on the road soon. 

        Taking a deep breath, he called out to the younger man. 
“Chief.  Chief, wake up.” Jim was startled by the lack of emotion
in his own voice.

        With his enhanced hearing, Jim was aware of the exact
moment when Blair finally woke up.  Nor did he miss the sharp
intake of breath when the anthropologist recalled the events of the
previous evening.  The sound carried the detective back to last
night as well, his mind haunted by the groans of the smaller man
that had only inflamed his own desires.

        Once again, his mind took control, hastily dragging out all
the old emotional defenses.  They were somewhat rusty from lack
of use; but in just a split second, he managed to rebuild and fortify
them.  The bitter irony of the situation did not escape him;  the
fact that the first time he’d needed his old defenses was to keep
out the one person who had worked so hard to tear them down in
the first place.

        Jim moved into the kitchen to pour himself some coffee.   He
could hear Blair entering the room behind him even before the
younger man called out the simple greeting.  Instinctively, he
knew that one look at his Guide would be enough to make him
crumble, so he kept his control intact by not even acknowledging
the word.

        Unfortunately, Jim underestimated how much Blair’s
presence alone would undermine his resolve.  When he heard Blair
hesitantly calling his name, panic swept over the older man.  He
wasn’t ready for this, yet.  Time.  He needed more time.  In an
effort to delay the inevitable, he told his Guide to go take a
shower. 

        “Jim, we need to talk about this.” A wave of pain flowed
through the Sentinel at the raw hurt he heard in his Guide’s voice. 
As Blair’s Blessed Protector, Jim felt a powerful urge to go
comfort his charge, but for the first time in over three years, Jim
Ellison -- not the Sentinel, not the cop, not the Blessed Protector
-- Jim Ellison the man, let his own need for self-preservation win
out.  

        That was what Jim’s mind was desperately trying to
preserve:  his self-concept.  The simple comfort and security that
came from knowing who he was and where he was from was
under attack.  Now, everything he thought he knew about himself
was being threatened, and in order to prevent the chaos that came
with change, Jim’s consciousness knew that this particular
discussion with Blair Sandburg needed to be avoided at all costs.

        “No.” He answered simply.

        Jim could feel Blair’s eyes on him from across the room. 
Those smoky deep blue eyes  could pierce straight through his
defenses and destroy his inner resolve so easily.  The detective’s
jaw worked furiously as he kept himself from facing the one thing
that could break him.  Jim didn’t move again until he heard the
bathroom door shut.

        Blair was about five minutes into his shower when Jim heard
Steven knocking on the door.  Steven must have picked up on his
older sibling’s tension, but said nothing about it.  Instead, the
younger Ellison moved into the kitchen and began removing the
plates and utensils that would be needed to eat the bagels and
croissants he had brought with him.

        Blair rejoined them a few minutes later.  Jim barely looked at
the younger man, terrified that his brother would somehow figure
out that he and Blair had slept together.  Lost deeply in his own
thoughts, the Sentinel missed most of the meal.  He mechanically
ate the food his brother placed in front of him; and despite his
enhanced sense of taste, everything had the flavor of sauté’d
cardboard.  His thoughts were racing in circles, getting him
nowhere fast.  So deep was his concentration, the next thing he
was consciously aware of, was his Guide giving Steven a hug as
they said goodbye.  

        The sudden pain that came with his renewed awareness cut
him to the quick.  This was it.  Time had run out.  Swallowing
hard, Jim braced his defenses and for the first time that day,
looked straight into Blair’s face.  Mentally, the detective steeled
himself to see confusion and hurt on his Guide’s ever expressive
face, but the mix of venomous anger and pain that glared back at
him tore straight through to his soul.

        Recoiling in shock, the Sentinel stood frozen for a long
minute.  Finally, Jim managed to pull himself together.  Reaching
for his coat, he moved to the door.   The walk downstairs was
made in total silence.  The fact that Steven chose to remain
upstairs in order to give them a little privacy didn’t even register. 
The next thing he knew, they were standing next to Blair’s car.

        “Jim...I...don’t want to leave like...”  The hesitation in Blair’s
voice brought a fresh wave of pain to the Sentinel.  With it, his
heart constricted.

        “Shhh.” Jim said.  He took a deep breath for extra strength
and looked up into his Guide’s blue eyes.  An urgent need to
enfold the younger man in his arms and heal the hurt he had
caused with gentle kisses rose up within him.

        “I...” Jim started.  He was ready to give into the need when
the sounds of the footsteps of a passerby entered his
consciousness.  ‘What the hell?  What the hell am I thinking?’ He
was about to kiss Blair in public.  It was enough to slam his
emotional walls back into place.  Eyes downcast, Jim spoke
quietly to his Guide.  “I’m sorry.  I...I can’t do this.”  Not able to
totally control his impulses, he pulled the younger man into an
embrace as he whispered a farewell to him.  

        Just holding Blair that close was enough to overwhelm his
senses.  Each and every one of them were reporting information
about his Guide to his brain.  Not wanting to get lost in the
sensation, the Sentinel released the smaller man quickly.   

        ‘He’s leaving me.  He’s leaving me.’  Finally, reality came
back with a vengeance.  Jim had been so wrapped up in the fact
that he and Blair had sex last night, he never bothered to consider
how difficult it would be to actually say goodbye.  

        An iron fist grabbed hold of his stomach, and a feeling of
Nausea swept over him.   Knowing that one more look at his
Guide would be more than he could handle, Jim raced back
upstairs into the loft.  He could feel Blair’s eyes burning into his
back as he was retreating into the building.  

        Jim barely made it into the bathroom before his breakfast
came back up. Tremors rippled through his body as he tracked the
engine of Blair’s Volvo as it made its way down Prospect.  Once
the sound was past his considerable range, he finally turned on the
faucet and reached for his toothbrush. 

        After he cleaned himself up, he was startled when Steven
appeared outside the bathroom door with a can of 7-Up.  Caught
up in his own world, Jim had completely forgotten that his brother
had been waiting in the living room.  With a slight nod of thanks,
the detective took the can from the younger man and sipped it
while he made his way to the couch.

        They were both silent for a few minutes before Steven found
the courage to speak.  “You okay, Jim?”  The Sentinel could only
nod.  

        Surprisingly, the younger Ellison sensed his brother’s need
for privacy and solitude. “Jim, I’m going to go now.  If you
want...if you need anything, or just want to talk, I’ll be home all
day, okay?” Acknowledging the remark with another nod, the
Sentinel barely registered the door closing 

        The confusion that had been with him all morning only grew
stronger as the hours passed.  The Sentinel had managed to hold
off on any serious thinking by going to the gym for a two hour
workout, but it all came back to him as soon as he walked into the
loft.  He spent his afternoon doing some simple household repairs
that he had never managed to get to with his hectic schedule. 
Afternoon turned swiftly into evening, and after eating a can of
soup for dinner, the detective finally had nothing left to distract
him.  

        Restless, Jim began roaming through the loft, searching
futilely for something, *anything* to distract him from the
maelstrom of thoughts that just would not leave him alone. 
Memories raced through his mind at frightening speeds.  Like
watching a VCR tape on play and fast forward at the same time,
visions of the past twenty-four hours plagued the Sentinel.   He
was constantly vacillating between feelings of anger and
confusion.  Jim’s basic need for order crawled to the surface, so
he tried his best to slow his thoughts in an effort to rationalize the
events of the past twenty-four hours.

        Making love to another man.  It went against everything he
had ever been taught.  God, his father, bastard that he was, must
have been turning over in his grave.  ‘Guess you were right,
Pops,’ Jim thought darkly.  ‘Guess you were right to worry that
one of your boys would turn out soft.’  In his time, the army
would have drummed a special forces officer out in a heartbeat;
screw that ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy.  Even now, as one of
Cascade’s finest, Jim was well aware of how gay cops were
thought of by fellow police officers.  

        That last thought lead to a new tangent.  ‘I slept with another
man.  Does this mean I’m gay?’  Jim’s thoughts grew wilder as
time went on.  He found himself wondering if subconsciously he
knew all along.   Maybe that was why his marriage to Carolyn had
failed.  His mind raced backward through a list of all of his male
acquaintances, trying to determine if he had a sexual interest in
any of them, or even found them attractive.

        Jim wasn’t really cognizant of what he was doing until he
realized that he was actually running *Joel Taggert* through his
little self-test.  Trying to picture Joel naked in bed sent a shudder
down his spine.  With a shake of his head, the Sentinel lifted his
now warm brown bottle of beer to his lips and took a pull.  He let
himself be distracted by sorting through the tastes of the individual
ingredients in the alcohol.

        Even though it was still early, Jim was exhausted from a
combination of lack of sleep, a hard workout, and too much deep
thought in one day.  The detective locked the door and turned out
the lights.  

        ‘Jesus, Joel Taggert?!?’ he thought with a mental cringe as
he climbed up the stairs to the bedroom.  A fresh wave of
self-loathing rolled over the Sentinel, and not knowing what else
to do with it, Jim’s mind converted it into anger at his absent
Guide.  

        ‘Damn Sandburg.  This is all his fault.’  Why else would he
have thrown away all of his morals.  Not that he was homophobic,
he rationalized, he didn’t care if men slept with other men; just as
long as it didn’t affect *him* personally.  But how did that explain
his behavior last night?  

        More confused than ever, Jim fell into a restless sleep
repeating the same thought over and over.

        ‘I know who I am.’

************************
MONDAY 

        Jim started off his day by hitting the snooze bar on his alarm
three separate times without ever really achieving a wakeful state. 
He had been having the most intense dream and apparently didn’t
want to leave it too soon, but by the time the shrill electronic tone
broke into his subconscious, any memory of the dream was lost to
him.   The detective let go a frustrated moan when he looked at
the time.  He was already thirty minutes behind schedule; and to
make things worse, he was sporting a powerful erection with no
time to take the matter in hand, so to speak. 

        Rushing out of bed, he quickly showered, dressed, and made
his way down to the station.  It seemed that everyone from the
Chief of Police right down to the janitor wanted to know how the
detective was doing and whether or not he had heard from
Sandburg yet.  Any other day, the Sentinel would have been
touched by their concern, not only for himself, but for Blair as
well, but Jim was still angry and out of sorts about the events of
the past weekend.  Only Simon seemed to notice the Sentinel’s
extreme annoyance each time somebody asked after the
anthropologist; but the Captain refrained from making any
comments, choosing to merely observe his best detective before
sending him out on a new case.

        What a thrilling case that turned out to be.  Ryf and Ellison
had been specifically requested by the mayor’s wife to find out
who had spray painted graffiti on the door to her home.  The
Sentinel could barely keep from snarling that the incident was
hardly enough to be considered a major crime.

        Nevertheless, the new partners made their way over to the
Mayor’s house. While they were examining the scene, the Sentinel
was overwhelmed by the smell of the fresh paint.  Jim focused in
on the powerful chemical scents, unaware that he was losing touch
with reality.   Although, Ryf was aware of Jim’s Sentinel abilities
and the dangerous side affects that could happen, he was still not
used to filling the role of Guide.   

        ‘This never would have happened if Sandburg had been
here.’ Jim thought angrily.  The zone out was simply an excuse to
allow his frustration over the *other* situation rear it’s ugly head. 
Blair was his Guide.  He was supposed to be the one person who
could keep the Sentinel grounded in reality.  

        That thought stopped the detective dead in his tracks.  ‘Why
didn’t he stop us before we went too far that night?’ Jim
wondered to himself, not bothering to consider that he had been
just as capable of stopping things as his Guide had been. 
However, it wasn’t the time or place to continue this line of
thought.  The detective returned his full concentration back to the
idiotic case.

        It was a long, wasted afternoon as they waited for the lab
reports to come back.  As far as most of the Major Crimes
division was concerned, the whole case was a waste of time,
money, and resources.  They were all well aware that the kids who
did this would never be found, yet politics forced them into at
least making an effort before they could report that fact back to
the mayor.

        It was already dark by the time Jim returned home.  The
Chinese food he picked up on the way home was suddenly very
unappealing, so he tucked it into the refrigerator and grabbed a
beer while he was there.  The headache that had developed earlier
was starting to ease, but it took three beers in his empty stomach
before the detective could unwind enough to continue with the
mental self examination he had begun the night before.

        Maybe it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was his first day back
on the job without his partner; whatever the cause, the anger the
Sentinel had felt towards his Guide yesterday was suspiciously
absent.  He spared a moment to laugh at how paranoid  he had
been last night as he reviewed his previous conclusions, and
promised himself that he wouldn’t get so carried away again.

        There was a deep sigh as Jim finally admitted to himself that
it wasn’t other *men* he was attracted to, there was just one. 
When did it happen?  What changed that made him want another
man, and Blair of all people?  Despite his best intentions, the
Sentinel felt annoyance well up within himself; an irrational anger
directed at his friend for making him feel this way.  

        As quickly as the emotion rose, it settled back down as the
detective realized it certainly wasn’t Blair’s fault that Jim was
attracted to him.  Blair’s appearance may not have been
‘acceptable’ in the closed society of the police force; but out in the
real world, there was no mistaking the amount of raw sexual
appeal the younger man projected.  It wasn’t as though the
anthropologist worked at it; it was simply something that came
naturally from within.  There was a certain kind of pure sensuality
that exuded from Blair, and that, coupled with his charming,
easy-going personality, often made him the object of affection for
many men and women.  Apparently that included his own
Sentinel.

        ‘Okay, so I think Sandburg’s good looking.  Why in the hell
did I have to do *that* with him?’ For some unknown reason, the
detective found himself chagrined by the fact that he still couldn’t
even *think* the words to himself. Why had he been able to
actually perform the physical acts with his Guide, when just two
days ago he wouldn’t have even been able to mentally connect the
thoughts of ‘making love’ and ‘Blair Sandburg?’ 

        ‘How did it ever come to this?’ he despaired as he
remembered the sequence of events that brought him to this point. 
Deep inside, Jim had always known that Blair’s departure would
be, without a doubt, one of the most devastating things that would
ever happen to him.  He had reserved a space up there at the top
of the list, right along side of things like his mother walking out on
him, his helicopter crash in the jungle, his divorce from Carolyn,
and the emergence of his Sentinel abilities.   All of those events
left their mark on him, but instinctively, Jim knew that losing Blair
was going to be, by far, his most traumatic experience to date.

        Yet, despite this knowledge, the Sentinel knew that Blair
needed to move on after  completing his dissertation.  Jim
practically pushed his friend out the door rather than letting the
anthropologist’s career suffer.  He did try to isolate himself from
the pain the he knew would be forthcoming, but it wasn’t enough. 
The Sentinel had underestimated his own feelings for his Guide.

        “Jesus!” Jim yelped as the sound of shattering glass hit his
ears like an explosion.  Jim had been so far gone into his thoughts
he had allowed the beer bottle to slip from his grasp.  Taking a
deep breath to steady his racing heartbeat, the Sentinel moved to
the closet to grab paper towels, a broom, and the dustbin to clean
up the mess.

        As he worked, a picture of Blair glaring at him in hatred
stuck in his thoughts.  For the first time in two days, Jim felt
shame as he recalled how harshly he had treated his best friend. 
He realized that he had twisted his own hurt and confusion over
everything that happened and turned it into anger, which he then
aimed at Blair.  ‘At least he never stays angry long.  I’ll apologize
when he calls to check in.’ Jim thought.

        He locked up and went to bed.  Sleep was slow in coming
and the Sentinel couldn’t figure out why until he realized that it
was too quiet.  The strong, steady heartbeat that always lulled him
to sleep was missing.  Jim silently wished that Blair was
downstairs asleep in his room right now, so that he could
apologize and try to make everything right between them again.

        The last thing that went through his mind was a quick feeling
of fear.  What if his actions had pushed Blair away for good?

******

        The hand that grasped his aching erection tightened ever so
slightly.  The increase in pressure caused the Sentinel’s back to
arch up off the mattress. The firm grip on his throbbing cock
forced the air rapidly from his lungs, yet his vocal chords managed
to transform the sound into a single name.  “Blair,” Jim hissed in
pleasure.

        “I’m here, Jim.  I’m right here.” Blair spoke softly, his voice
deep with passion. Another hand, more gentle than it’s
counterpart began gently stroking his sweaty brow.  Jim’s flesh
tingled everywhere his Guide touched him as their pheromones
met and mingled together.  Aware of the sensation, Jim’s heart
sped up, the increase in blood flow swelling his already painful
erection to even greater proportions.

        “That’s it, baby.  Feels good, doesn’t it?” Blair coaxed
tenderly.  The Sentinel kept his eyes closed, so as not to be
distracted from the sensual flow of words coming from his
Guide’s lips.  Lips.  At the mere thought of the word, the younger
man’s hand left his brow and traveled down his face.  “Your
mouth is so beautiful, Jim,”  Blair spoke while his nimble fingers
gently outlined and caressed his parted lips.  “I want to kiss you
right now, tease your tongue with my own.  Can you feel them
moving against each other?  It’s almost like a battle, your tongue
rolling around mine while we open our mouths even wider to try
and reach deeper inside.”  Jim groaned as his mind placed him in
the scenario that Blair’s hypnotic words were creating.  “I want to
do that to you, Jim, but then I couldn’t keep telling you about all
the other things I want to do.” 

        “Tell me, Blair,” Jim begged as he gasped for breath.  “Oh
God, please tell me.”

        There was a shift in the mattress at the same time his Guide
slid a finger into his mouth.  Moaning loudly, Jim rolled his tongue
around the digit just the way Blair had talked of not a minute
before.  The action caused another groan to echo throughout the
loft before the litany of words continued.

        “You look so beautiful like this.  You’re like a Greek god,
Jim.  Sculpted muscles, a sheen of sweat making you shine in the
moonlight, your red, hard cock laying on your stomach.  God, it
feels so strong under my fingers.  Each stroke, Jim.  I feel
everything, each ridge, each vein and the blood flowing through it. 
So good, so good.”  As the younger man spoke, Jim couldn’t
prevent the involuntary twitches that jumped through the swollen
organ as the beginning of his orgasm began building.  The groan
that started a low rush of air turned into a scream of outrage as
Blair’s hand was removed from his erection.  

        “Nooo!” Jim wailed in frustration.  He opened his eyes and
allowed his eyes to move wildly around the room.  He found what
he sought at the foot of the bed.  “Wha..” he asked the man
standing there while he panted from the pain caused by his ignored
erection.  

        Wanting a closer look at his Guide, the Sentinel raises the
dial on his sight until the blackness of his pupils almost completely
drowned out any hint of the pale blue irises. Jim gasped in shock
as he saw the same angry look on his Guide’s face that he had
worn the morning he had left for Virginia.  Blair’s eyes narrowed
as their normal rich blue turned cold.  They cut straight through to
the Sentinel’s soul.  

        “How does it feel, Jim?” he asked in a snarl, before fading
completely out of sight.

********

        Jim woke covered in sweat and gasping for breath.  He could
feel the erection that was a by-product of his dream begin to go
down as he tried to sort through the images presented to him by
his subconscious.  He shifted around, trying futilely to find a
position that gave some relief from his still-swollen penis.

        With a groan, the Sentinel finally admitted to himself that he
was not blameless for Saturday night.  He had *wanted* to make
love to his Guide, just as badly as Blair had wanted him.  The
younger man had been as scared and confused as he had been the
following morning.  He could remember the uncertainty in his
Guide’s voice as though he were back in the scene in the living
room Sunday morning.  The Sentinel could hear the hesitation as
Blair tried to get him to discuss the situation.  And what had he
done?  In typical Jim Ellison behavior, the detective had thrown
up a wall so he could avoid dealing with the consequences of his
actions.  To make matters worse, he had shifted all the blame
unjustly onto the younger man.

        “Oh God,” Jim moaned out loud.  “I’m such an asshole, how
could I have done that to him.”   

        He sat alone in the dark mentally kicking himself for a half an
hour before he fell asleep.  The last conscious thought was of his
Guide.  Blair had been gone for two days and hadn’t called.  Jim
prayed that the younger man would call soon so he could beg for
forgiveness.   

*************************
TUESDAY NIGHT 

        After another day wasted looking for the graffiti artists, Jim
raced home to the loft with the hopes of a phone call from Blair. 
After a quick dinner, the Sentinel sat down on the couch to watch
some television while he tried to figure out exactly what to say
when the call came.  Nothing he thought of seemed sincere
enough.
  
        The show that he was planning on watching was pre-empted
by a baseball game being played by two teams that he really didn’t
care about, so the detective indulged himself 
in three hours of channel surfing.  After twenty minutes of
watching the Preview channel roll around, Jim turned off the
television and threw the remote down on the table in disgust.  

        Looking for another distraction, Jim turned on the stereo. 
An illuminated light informed him that there was a tape in the
player.  He removed a rather ratty looking old cassette.  The label
was yellowed and the adhesive on the back had congealed to soak
through the paper, making it difficult to read.  ‘Background Music 
Spring ‘89’ was written on the label in a more childish version of
Blair’s handwriting.  With the chuckle, Jim realized that this was
probably one of the tools a nineteen year old Sandburg used for
seducing co-eds.

        Just having the tape in his possession made Jim feel as
though he had found some piece of Blair himself that the younger
man accidentally left behind. It was silly, but he was grateful for
his discovery of this new connection to his absent friend.  When
Jim pushed the play button, the sound of late eighties glamour
rock ballad assaulted his ears, causing the Sentinel to fumble for
the volume control.  Sitting down absent-mindedly on the floor in
front of the stereo, the detective found himself rewinding to the
beginning of the tape, praying that the track wouldn’t be as painful
to his hyperactive sense of hearing as the last one. 

        The anthropologist’s taste in music had definitely gone
through some changes in the past eight years.   Then again, so had
his own. With a push of the play button, Jim used his enhanced
hearing in an attempt to filter out the pops and hisses caused by
poor recording and age.  

        A softer song played this time.  One line of the lyrics caught
Jim’s attention, so he rewound the tape and started over from the
beginning.  This time he listened carefully to the words that
accompanied the pleading melody.  For the next hour, the Sentinel
played the song over and over.  By the time midnight floated
around, he had memorized the lyrics.  Turning the stereo off, Jim
headed off to bed with the song still floating in his head.

        The phone call he had been praying for never came.  Trying
to relax enough to fall asleep, Jim began the simple breathing
exersizes that Blair taught him so long ago.  The effect was
minimal, though, since his mind refused to slow down.  The
Sentinel kept thinking about all the dangers that could befall a
person on a long trip, especially Blair Sandburg.  Knowing that his
friend had a habit of finding trouble in the best of circumstances,
Jim’s Blessed Protector instincts welled up in full force. 
Something must have happened to him to prevent him from
calling.

        ‘Sure something happened to him, his best friend fucked him
and left a twenty on the dresser.’  Jim said, disgusted by his own
behavior.  

        The thought left the detective feeling more lost than ever as
he succumbed to sleep.

*****
        ‘You shouldn’t let yourself get so tense, Jim.’ 

        The Sentinel moaned in ecstasy as the strong oil-covered
hands worked the muscles in his lower back.  His enhanced sense
of touch noted the heat of the flesh kneading his own, warmed by
the friction of skin rubbing against skin. “Blair.” Jim sighed.

        “Like that?  How ‘bout this?” Blair asked coyly, sliding his
nimble hands downwards to encompass the firm globes of Jim’s
ass.  Increasing the pressure of his ministrations as he spoke, the
Sentinel couldn’t keep himself from moving against the bed to
increase the pressure on his rapidly swelling cock.  “Ooh, you like
that, don’t you Jim?  I’m getting to you, aren’t I?  Your skin is so
soft, but I can feel the muscle underneath.  It feels so good under
my hands.  Look at me, Jim.  Look at me.” 

        Unable to resist the commanding tone in the voice he trusted
so implicitly, he opened his eyes and craned his neck around to the
side.  The vision he saw made him gasp.  Blair was kneeling next
to his waist, and with only the soft light on in the room directly
behind him, the backlighting caused an ephemeral glow around
him.  The gentle light not only pulled out the reddish highlights in
his long curly hair, but also changed the appearance and texture to
that of strands of raw silk.  Shadows played across Blair’s upper
body, accentuating the muscles of his lithe form.  Jim’s eyes
moved lower to take in the sight of his Guide’s groin.  The sight
of the weeping erection aimed straight at his own head was
enough to wring another resounding groan from the older man.  

        Jim could practically hear the silent order to return his gaze
back to Blair’s face.  Once there, his pale blue eyes locked with
the deep blues of his Guide that were darkening from passion. 
Entranced by the subtle changes in color, Jim felt as though he
was going under hypnosis, and strangely enough, that was exactly
where he wanted to be, under Blair’s command for the rest of this
encounter.

        Without breaking the intense gaze, Blair’s hands encouraged
his lover to roll over onto his back.  Jim complied quickly, eager
to find out exactly what his Guide would do to him next.  There
was a secretive yet seductive look on that expressive face, one
that he had never seen before but nonetheless found intriguing.

        As a gentle hand brushed against his balls, the Sentinel
moaned softly. At the passionate sound, an oiled finger carefully
traced the seam of the sac from the base of Jim’s cock to the
sensitive flesh of his perineum.  The teasing touch caused a violent
shiver to rock his body, which in turn brought a smug smile to his
lover’s face.  

        “Oh, I think you liked that.  Want me to do it again?” Blair
asked.  For his part, Jim felt as though he were paralyzed.  It took
all of his concentration to manage a single sharp bob of his head,
but it was unnecessary. His Guide could see nothing but pure need
in the soft blue eyes.  Taking pity on his immobile lover, Blair
repeated the action twice more before moving his slick finger
lower into the valley that hid his goal.  

        “God, Blair.  Please.  Please.” Jim begged as Blair skimmed
over the tender opening to his body.  

        Retracing the same path, Blair teased Jim with both his touch
and his words.  “I know what you want, Jim.  I know what you
need.  You beg so nicely, it’s hard to not give you what you want. 
But not just yet.”  

        While the Sentinel’s mind screamed in protest, his erection
bobbed in anticipation of what he knew was coming.  The teasing
action to his ass was suddenly joined by another hand stroking his
erection.  Instead of the gentle touch Jim had grown to expect,
Blair was using his whole fist to encompass the swollen flesh. 
With his sense of touch overstimulated, the rough pulls to his hard
cock were just shy of painful, but Blair seemed aware of just how
much his lover could handle and was careful not to cross the line. 
The Sentinel frantically attempted to adjust his mental pain dial,
but lost his concentration when his Guide’s oiled finger slid gently
into the tight muscles of his anus.  

        The contrasting sensations of pleasure and pain hurtled Jim
quickly towards completion.  He felt his erection swell and his
testicles contract as his body prepared itself for the explosion that
was about to occur.  The Sentinel’s mind began to blank as the
wave of bliss that was fast approaching grew in strength and
speed.  His last fuzzy thought was ‘Just a little more.’

        Then the sensations stopped.  Again.  

        “Damn you...Blair...don’t stop.” Jim raged in between gasps
for air.

        The sensual expression on his Guide’s face melted into hurt
and confusion.  “Didn’t it feel good, Jim?” Blair asked uncertainly.

        “Until you stopped.” Jim growled.

        The last thing the Sentinel noticed about his Guide as he
faded away were those pouting lips curving into a cryptic smile.

*************************
WEDNESDAY 

        Jim didn’t even bother to try to kid himself into believing that
he would be able to relax anymore.   Three days and he’d still
heard nothing from Blair.  He was half tempted to put out a
warrant on the younger man, in hopes that somewhere along the
way, some cop would arrest him.  The graffiti case was officially
marked unsolved, freeing the detective to  spend the rest of the
day preparing for a trial that he would be testifying at on
Thursday.  Doing the paperwork involved only increased Jim’s
awareness of Blair’s absence, something that resulted in a series of
zone outs.  

        There had been eleven of them.  That was a new record.  ‘If
Blair knew, he be having apoplectic fits right now,’ Jim thought
with a mental smirk.  ‘I wonder if he’d even care anymore.’  The
detective knew his last thought was the cause of the problem, and
that the zone outs and sensory losses he was experiencing were
only the symptoms.  Aside from the paint, each and every incident
occurred while the Sentinel was subconsciously searching for his
missing Guide. 

        Even in the weeks before the anthropologist’s move, the
stress the detective had been under wreaked havoc on Jim’s
heightened senses.   He had been careful to hide his condition,
afraid that his Guide might decide to forego his job out of
obligation to his Sentinel.  Jim supposed that the anger he had
been feeling at Blair earlier in the week kept his senses from
seeking out the younger man; but now that he was worried about
his Guide, he couldn’t stop subconsciously seeking him out.

        Concerned for his best detective, Simon called Jim into his
office.  After twenty minutes of obfuscations Blair would have
been proud of, the Sentinel finally admitted what was causing the
problem.  Unsure of the best thing to do, Simon sent Jim home for
the day with the hopes that the zone outs would stop once he was
out of the station.

        Restlessness overcame the detective as he drove home. 
What Jim really wanted to do was to just drive around and burn
off some of his excess energy, but he was worried that Blair might
call the loft instead of his cell phone.  That was, if he bothered to
call at all.

        Once he reached the loft, the Sentinel grabbed a beer and sat
wearily down on the couch.   For the first time in ages, Jim
watched a sunset, marveling in the various hues as the sun backlit
the clouds.  When it was over, only one thought occupied the
Sentinel’s mind.  ‘God, Blair would have loved that.’

        Without realizing what he was doing, Jim got up from the
couch and opened the French doors that led to Blair’s room. 
‘Former room.’ Jim corrected mentally.  After being closed up for
three days, he could still smell his Guide’s unique scent.  That
wasn’t surprising, considering that the younger man had occupied
this space for over three years.  

        Focusing a little more, the Sentinel found almost
imperceptible traces of the lovemaking in the air as well.  As he
moved about the small room, he found the scents more defined as
he got closer to the bed.  Again, it didn’t surprise him, but it did
entice him.  

        Moving slowly, he ran a hand over the comforter.  Blair
made a token gesture of flipping it back up over the pillows before
he had left, leaving the quilt crooked and lumpy.  It didn’t matter
anyway, since Jim grabbed the thick material in his hand and
pulled it back to expose the sheets.  

        A symphony of scents assaulted his nose at the same time,
the most powerful one by far being Blair’s own.  Narrowing his
focus to dangerous levels, Jim managed to pull out other softer
smells; himself, detergent, shampoo -- both his own and Blair’s,
sweat and semen -- again from both men.  Wanting to get closer
to the source, the Sentinel pulled both the top sheet and the flat
sheet free from the mattress.   Rolling them up in a ball, he leaned
forward to press his face into the plentiful material.  Jim felt reality
slipping away, but he really didn’t care.  He just wanted to find
more traces of his Guide.

*********
        ... no sense of time where he was, just a feeling of comfort. 
The scent of his Guide was nearby now.  His Guide would protect
him.  Bring him back before long.  He supposed that he was
disappointed that the jungle hadn’t come to him this time.  Here,
wherever this was, there was just darkness.  Most importantly,
there was no pain.  He was free here, and his Guide was nearby. 
After all, his scent was close.  Wait.  There was a noise.  Never
mind it.  Freedom is here.  The Guide is here.  The Guide
is...where.  Confusion.  The Guide scent was coming from two
different places.  Focus harder.  No, that is part of the Guide’s
scent, but it’s stronger.  Noise again.  Louder...

********
        “Jim! Jim! Come on.  Damn it!  Come back now.”  

        The Sentinel found reality painfully coming back into focus
around him. The scent of Blair’s shampoo mingled with the fainter
scents of Simon and Ryf.  Jim tried to raise himself out of the
awkward leaning position he had been in, much to the displeasure
of his aching back.  The detective couldn’t hold in the painful gasp
that the movement caused.  His head began throbbing fiercely, as
if it didn’t want his back to be the only thing hurting him.

        “What...” Jim was amazed at the hoarseness of his voice. 
“What happened?” 

        Only when the detective finally spoke did Simon let go of his
fear.  Shaking his head, the Captain explained the details of what
had just occurred.  “I tried calling you to go over some details on
the Hawkins case, but you didn’t answer.  I got worried when you
didn’t pick up the cell phone either, especially after all those zone
outs you had today.  I couldn’t find you at first, you were sitting
here in the dark, and your face was...” Simon trailed off.

        For his part, Jim was mortified.  How in the hell was he
going to explain this?  Stuffing his face into cum stained sheets? 
At least they were balled up enough so the white splotches
weren’t visible.  Nevertheless, he could already feel the heat that
accompanied the redness on his face.  ‘The best lies always are
partial truths.’  The old adage came back to him, as he offered a
hesitant explanation.  “I was just worried about him.  I just
was...well...looking for some trace of him, ya’know?  The last
thing I remember is standing in the doorway.  I guess I must have
come over here while I was zoned out.”  Jim stated.  ‘Careful,
Ellison.  Don’t protest too much.’  Ryf seemed to accept what he
was saying, but Simon had a thoughtful look on his face.

        “What’s with the shampoo?”  Jim finally asked.

        Simon and Ryf exchanged a glance that the detective
couldn’t interpret. Finally, the Captain spoke.  “When I couldn’t
bring you out of it, I called Ryf. Damn, Jim.  You were gone for at
least a half an hour, and I had no idea how long you had been
sitting here before I came over.  Sandburg always said the longer
you’re under, the harder it was to bring you back.”  Jim
reluctantly nodded at the comment.  

        Ryf took up the tale at that point.  “Well, nothing I did
seemed to bring you out of it, and since you seemed to be zoning
on Sandburg...well...it just seemed like you might respond to
something a little stronger than the sheet.”  The younger
detective’s embarrassment was easily seen by the Sentinel.  

        In an attempt to put his new partner at ease, Jim spoke
quietly.  “Thank you.  It was smart thinking, too.” ‘Just like
Sandburg,’ he added to himself.  

        The Sentinel attempted to pick himself up off the floor, but
his muscles had other ideas.  While his Captain and partner gave
him a hand up, Jim glanced over at his watch.  ‘Jesus Christ!’ he
exclaimed mentally.  He had been sitting there for over three
hours.  

        Ryf made his excuses and said goodnight, leaving Jim alone
with his Captain.  All the Sentinel wanted to do was take
something for his headache and find his bed.  He had a feeling that
in order to get his wish, he was going to have to go through a
long heart to heart with his friend.  He went to the kitchen and
warmed two mugs of water in the microwave.

        “Jim, are you alright?” Simon began.

        With a tired sigh, Jim answered.  “Yes Sir.  I’m okay.”

        Simon started a little at the formality of the detective’s
response.  “Don’t ‘Sir’ me outside of the office.  I’m here as your
friend, not as your Captain.  Now I’ll ask you again, are you
alright?”

        Jim brought the mugs of tea into the living room.  He handed
one to Simon as he spoke.  “Yeah, Simon.  I’m fine.  It’s just...I
just miss him sometimes.”

        Wrapping his large fingers around the cup, the Captain took
a swallow.  “This is good.  What is it?” 

        “Chamomile.  It’s good for when you can’t sleep.”  Jim
replied automatically.

        Simon stifled a grin.  “Guess you picked that up from
Sandburg, huh?  Look, Jim.  I know this must be hard for you.  I
mean at first, you didn’t really want the kid around, but then, it
was almost like you were joined at the hip.” 

        ‘Off by a few inches in either direction, there, Simon.’ Jim
thought ironically as he finished the last of his tea.  “Simon, I’m
not really in the mood to talk about this.”

        It had been a long time since the Captain had seen his
detective this closed off.  It really didn’t surprise him that Blair’s
departure had brought all those old emotional defenses back, but
Simon was still disappointed.  It was like the kid had taken the
more relaxed version of Jim Ellison with him and left the older,
more unapproachable model in it’s place. 

        The detective was rubbing his temples in a useless effort to
ward off the pain.  Simon  worried that the Sentinel might zone
out again during the night, so he offered to stay.  Although he
really wanted to be alone, Jim was more rattled by the last one
than he cared to admit.  Grabbing some sheets from the hall
closet, he made up the couch.  Simon actually preferred it since
Sandburg’s old bed was too short for his long form.

        “So what exactly am I supposed to do?” Simon asked as he
grabbed the quilt from the back of the sofa.  

        Jim explained it to him as he put the chain on the door.  In
the course of his study on Sentinels, Blair discovered that the best
method of approach in this situation was to wake Jim every hour
to ensure that he was still ‘with it.’ The older man set the alarm on
his watch as the Sentinel headed up the stairs to his bed.

******
        There were no dreams that night.  The constant interruptions
prevented the Sentinel from reaching a deep enough sleep for
them to occur.  Even when he did doze, he was hounded both by
the sound of the unfamiliar heartbeat downstairs and the nagging
throbbing in his head.  Jim couldn’t focus his concentration long
enough to turn down his mental pain dial.  He just wished that
Blair was there to help him.

        The idea came to him about three o’clock in the morning. 
After Simon came up to check on him, the Sentinel waited
patiently for the older man’s breathing to even out.  Once assured
that his Captain was asleep, Jim crept down the stairs and made
his way to the washing machine.  From the basket beside it, he
pulled out the sheets that had graced Blair’s old bed just a few
hours earlier, and made his way back up to his own bed.  As
quietly as he could manage, he folded the material into compact,
neat squares and placed them under his extra pillow.  

        The scents in the sheets permeated his olfactory sense.  This
time, he was careful not to let himself be drawn in too far.  The
smell surrounded him, and gave him comfort as he finally found
rest.

****************************
THURSDAY 

        Jim rose at 5:00 AM to send Simon home.  With nothing else
to do at the loft, he made his way down to the station to do some
paperwork before he had to be at the courthouse.  As the
detective reviewed the files from an older case, he came across a
report that Sandburg had signed off on.  

        ‘Blair Sandburg.’ The signature was written in the younger
man’s strong, scrawling hand.  Jim found himself running a
sensitive finger over the indentations in the paper.  He focused in
on the tiny grooves left by the ball point pen until reality began to
fade away.  

        The next thing he was aware of was Ryf shaking his
shoulders while speaking firmly in his ear.  ‘Damn it, not again.’
Jim thought to himself.  He thanked his new partner, but had the
good grace to blush when the younger detective looked down at
the report and shook his head sadly.  

        “You need a new hobby, Ellison.” Ryf said under his breath
as he made his way to the coffee machine.

        The rest of the day limped along slowly.  He spent three
boredom filled hours in a courtroom waiting to be called to give
twenty minutes worth of testimony.  At least he found some
consolation in knowing that Hawkins was going to be convicted. 
The D.A.’s case was airtight.

        Ten police officers watched Thomas Hawkins hold a gun to
Blair’s head while trying to flee from a bank robbery.  Jim could
still remember the absolute fear that turned his blood cold when he
saw the muzzle against his Guide’s temple, as well as the pride he
felt when the anthropologist had thrown his elbow back into
Hawkins’ solar plexus. Once freed from the gunman, Blair had
knocked him out cold with a jab to the face.

        Irritable and tired from several days of poor sleep, the
detective called it a day.  As he made his way home, an impulse
came over him as he passed the Cascade Mall.  Parking his truck,
Jim headed inside to the music store.  It took a few minutes for
the clerk, a teenaged girl with  purple hair and a nose ring, to look
up the song and find the CD for him.  Purchase in hand, the
Sentinel resumed the trip home.

        As soon as he walked inside, Jim made a bee-line for the
stereo.  He let the CD play through once as he ate dinner, but set
it to repeat that one special song while he drew a bath for himself. 
Although the Sentinel usually preferred showers, he was hoping
that a long soak would help him relax enough to go to sleep early. 
With the cordless phone close by, Jim let the now familiar lyrics
wash over him, and as exhausted as he was, the Sentinel closed his
eyes and fell asleep.

*******
        “Umm.  Jim, you taste so good.”  Blair whispered to him in
between long inflaming licks to his cock.  A moan escaped the
Sentinel’s lips as Blair sucked the head of his erection into his
mouth while running his clever tongue over the slit at the top. 
“Umm,” his lover groaned as he lapped up the few salty drops of
pre-cum that had escaped.  There was a sucking sound when Blair
removed his mouth so he could speak.  “Talk to me, Jim.  Tell me
what you’re feeling.  Tell me what you like.  Tell me what feels
good.”  With each word, his Guide’s warm breath caressed his
wet skin sending shivers through the Sentinel.   

        As soon as he finished speaking, Blair moved his mouth back
to encompass several inches of Jim’s hard cock.  “Oh Jesus!” the
Sentinel exclaimed as the hot tongue worried his most sensitive
flesh.  “God, yes that’s it.  Yeah, right there.  Aah, that’s so
good...more...right there...” It was getting more and more difficult
to form coherent thoughts as his Guide continued his oral
ministrations.  Like so many men, Jim lost the capacity to make
complete sentences the more aroused he became.  

        When Blair finally took the full length of his cock deep into
the recesses of his mouth and began to gently swallow, the
Sentinel could do no more than let out a wail of approval. 
“G-God...so...aah...” Jim panted as Blair’s strong throat muscles
massaged his hardness.  Without realizing his action, his hands
traveled to the long soft curls of his Guide’s hair and began
stroking the silky tresses.  

        With his sense of touch overstimulated beyond imagination,
Jim found himself being dragged ruthlessly to the brink of orgasm. 
“G...gon..gonna cum...” he gasped.  

        Blair gave him no warning before removing his mouth from
his engorged cock.  “Nooo.  Blair...please...s-so...close,” Jim
begged as he used the hands that were tangled in his Guide’s soft
hair to pull that talented mouth back to his weeping erection.

        His grip lessened somewhat when he felt a warm hand brush
against his straining member.  Jim’s pelvis involuntarily shot
upwards off the mattress as he vainly sought more contact with
the tender flesh.  A sigh escaped his lips as two moist fingers and a
thumb encircled his cock just below the ridge of the head and
began stroking ever so slowly.  Blair’s free hand reached up to
remove Jim’s hands from the long curls he had been clinging to. 
Using his forearm, his lover pinned his arms to his chest.

        The delicate touch of the soft fingers was almost torture.  It
was enough to keep him balanced on the knife’s edge of orgasm,
but not enough to send him over.  The Sentinel began thrusting
rapidly, encouraging his Guide to set a faster rhythm so he could
find the relief he was so valiantly seeking.  But Blair would have
none of it, and kept up his slow, steady pace.

        The soft rich, sensuous tones of his lover’s voice drove Jim
further into madness as he encouraged the Sentinel towards
completion.  “Do you want it faster, Jim? Do you want it harder?”
Blair asked while he increased the tempo and tightened his grip.
“Talk to me, Jim.  You have to tell me what you want.” 

        But the Sentinel was already beyond words.  His entire world
had narrowed down to the expanse of flesh his Guide was
stroking, each pull fanning the flames of desire, bringing him that
much closer to the ecstasy he so desperately needed to reach. 
Blair’s fingers tightened so imperceptibly that only his enhanced
sense of touch noticed the difference; but it was enough to throw
him right to the point of no return.

        And then it stopped.  Completely.  

        Too close to the edge, Jim howled in rage.  He couldn’t stop
himself from continuing to undulate his hips into the air.  Instinct
told him to free his hands, but somehow Blair managed to
maintain his hold on them.  When the insanity began to ebb with
lack of stimulation; it left a panting Jim aching from the absolute
need to spill his seed.  There were tears of frustration in his pale
blue eyes which were dilated from a combination of  pain and
arousal.  

        “Why?” Jim asked feebly of the younger man leaning over
him.  

        A look of indifference was all he received.  Blair shrugged
his shoulders casually as he spoke.  “I told you, you had to talk to
me.”  

        With that said, his Guide disappeared.

******
        The water had long grown cold while Blair was torturing him
in his dreams.  Searing pains from his groin made it perfectly clear
that although the entire episode had taken place within his own
subconscious, the effects were based in reality.  Moving carefully
as so not to aggravate the hurt he was already feeling, Jim inched
his way forward to release the stopper on the drain.  

        The agony of moving into a standing position quite literally
took his breath away.  Gasping for air and shivering from the cold
and the pain, the Sentinel turned on the shower.  ‘Please God, let
there be enough hot water.’ He prayed silently.

        Apparently, either some deity had taken pity on him or he
had been asleep much longer than he thought because after the
first cool drops of water, the rest scalded his skin.  Adjusting the
faucets to a more comfortable level, Jim started to reach for his
bar of soap, but before he could complete his task something else
caught his eye.  

        The bottle of Blair’s shampoo that Ryf had used last night
was sitting in the shower caddy, right where Jim had returned it
to.  With a trembling hand, the Sentinel removed the bottle and
flipped open the lid.  The smell instantly registered in his senses,
triggering one simple primitive thought --  Guide scent.

        Pouring a little of the shampoo into the palm of his free hand,
Jim replaced the bottle in the caddy.  Rubbing his palms together,
he created a lather out of the clear gel.  As the thick liquid began
to bubble, more of the scent was released into the air. The effect it
was having on his olfactory sense made the Sentinel groan in pure
desire.  

        He took one last look down at the erection that pointed
angrily away from his body, before closing his eyes.  The
prolonged swelling had left his cock almost purple in color.  As a
lather-covered hand made contact with the heated skin, a
passionate moan echoed through the shower.  

        With a part of his Guide’s scent overpowering his sense of
smell, Jim found it easy to loose himself in a fantasy.  No longer
were his fingers massaging his engorged flesh, instead in their
place was Blair’s tight ass.  They were in the shower together,
warm water raining down on top of both of them.   His lover’s
back was to his chest, the almost full body contact that occurred
with each powerful thrust sent electrical currents of pleasure
straight to the Sentinel’s groin.  

        Blair’s continuous moans of ecstasy were amplified by the
acoustics of the shower; their volume rising and falling in cadence
with each stroke of Jim’s hard cock into the tender flesh of his ass. 
When a particularly strong thrust caused the Sentinel’s hardness to
brush against his Guide’s prostate, Blair arched his back and
screamed out his lover’s name.  Wanting to recapture the feeling,
his lover rested the back of his head on Jim’s right pectoral muscle
while he lifted his arms up to Jim’s neck for balance.  Locking
each hand to the opposite wrist, he used the extra leverage to take
more of his Sentinel’s throbbing erection into his own body.  

        The new position allowed Jim to sink the full length of his
cock into his lover. Blair’s wet hair now brushed against his right
nipple, causing the already hard bud to tighten even further.  The
delicious sensation pulled the Sentinel dangerously close to
completion.  But he wasn’t going to reach it alone.

        Jim moved the arms that up until now had been securely
wrapped around Blair’s chest.  With one hand he grabbed his
Guide’s pulsating erection and pumped in a rhythm to match his
thrusts into Blair’s tight passage.  The other hand moved down
and began to delicately pull on the silver ring threaded through the
pebble hard nipple.  The multiple stimulations proved to be too
much for his lover and with a hoarse scream he surrendered to the
onslaught of passion.

        As his Guide’s internal muscles contracted with his orgasm,
Jim felt his own release beginning.  With a scream of his own, he
felt his seed spill from his body in five long spurts.  Although his
vision began to fade in and out, the Sentinel could hear the impact
of his semen hitting the wall of the shower like rolls of thunder in
the distance.  As the sensation began to fade, so did Jim’s
strength.  Like a rag doll he collapsed on the ceramic floor and fell
into a complete stupor.  

        By the time he was fully aware of his surroundings, the water
had run cold.  Again.  Jim was still feeling shaky in the aftermath
of his orgasm as he got out, dried off, and padded naked up to
bed.  This time, sleep came quickly.

***************************
FRIDAY 

        It was another busy day being one of Cascade’s Finest.  As
soon as he walked through the door of Major Crimes that
morning, Simon’s bellow of  “Ellison, Ryf. My office.” pretty
much set the tone for the rest of the day.  The Captain was
bringing them in on a new case, one a little more serious than the
last.  The 357’s, one of the biggest gangs in the Pacific Northwest
were expecting a large shipment of crystal meth from their
counterparts in Seattle.  Jim and Ryf were to represent Major
Crimes on a task force comprised of officers from several
departments.  After a strategy session that lasted most of the
morning, the partners had been assigned to the surveillance team.  

        With the meeting concluded, most of the cops milled around
the briefing room, either just to finish their coffee or to talk
amongst themselves.  Jim was surprised at the number of people
from various departments that asked after Blair, some of the same
cops that he’d overheard making derogatory comments about the
younger man over the years.  Shaking his head in amusement, Jim
wondered at his Guide’s innate ability to win people over. 

        It was much later in the afternoon when Steven called to ask
him to dinner.  Although they hadn’t seen each other since the
past Sunday, the younger Ellison made it a point to call every day. 
Jim was grateful, not only for the calls themselves, but also for
Steven’s diplomacy.  Aside from a few general ‘how are you
holding up’ inquiries, the younger man never questioned Jim about
what had occurred Sunday morning.  

        Tired and irritable, the Sentinel really didn’t want to go, but
he found himself agreeing to be at the posh Riverboat restaurant at
8:00.  He only hoped that his brother would continue to respect
his unspoken request that he was not yet ready to discuss Blair. 
Somehow, Jim knew that he was going to be disappointed.

*********
        “So, have you heard from him, yet?” Steven finally broke
down and asked five minutes into dinner.

        There was a deep sigh of resignation before Jim responded. 
“Ya’know, I’m beginning to think that they changed the words
‘hello, how are you’ into ‘have you heard from Sandburg’ and
never bothered to tell me.”

        The comment got a laugh out of Steven, but the younger
man could see past the casual humor right to the annoyance it
masked.  “He hasn’t called at all, has he?” Steven asked quietly.  

        Picking up his bottle of beer, Jim took a sip before he began
to nervously pick at the edges of the label.  “No, he hasn’t.”

        Steven silently studied his dinner companion for a moment.  
His older brother had been through a lot of changes in the past
fifteen or so years.  Jim had lived through some terrifying
experiences, things that could have easily broken other men, but
Jim managed not only to survive, but to become stronger from
them.  Even so, underneath it all, his older brother still exhibited
some of the same traits that Steven remembered from their youth.  

        Friendship was not something Jim Ellison granted easily, and
the number of people the detective considered friends was
incredibly small.  Even though they shared the same blood, Steven
himself had needed to *earn* that boon from his older brother. 
As for love, the people who received that gift were on a even
shorter list; a list that started with the name Blair Sandburg. 
There was no doubt in Steven’s mind that anything had changed in
that regard, yet there was obviously something wrong, something
that had affected the friendship the two men shared, but not the
love that it was based upon.

        The trouble was getting Jim to talk about the problem.  If
Blair had been here, the scrappy anthropologist would have just
kept hounding the detective until he finally broke down and
admitted what was bothering him.   It was simply a normal
dynamic of their friendship.

        However, in this case, Blair *was* the problem.   Steven’s
own relationship with Jim was still too new, too tentative, to risk
antagonizing his brother with questions that he obviously wasn’t
ready to answer.  Although he really didn’t want to, Steven let the
subject drop.

        They were talking about the new airplane Steven’s company
had purchased when dinner arrived twenty minutes later.  Jim only
managed to get one bite in before his cell phone began to ring. 
Muttering an apology for the interruption, the detective unfolded
the device and turned it on.

        “Ellison.” Jim said as he rushed to swallow his food.

        “I’m here.”  

        After six days of growing concern, the Sentinel couldn’t help
the feeling of relief that swept over him.  It must have been
evident in his expression, since a smile appeared on Steven face as
well. 

        “How did the trip go, Chief?” Jim inquired.

        “Fine.” Blair said coldly.  

        Jim recoiled from the iciness in the tone.  “Chief...” he began.

        “Look, man, it’s been a long trip and I’m really wiped.  You
got a pen?” 

        This was not going how Jim wanted it to.  In all of his
daydreams Blair would call and either try to apologize for what
took place on Saturday night, or in that hurt tone of voice of his,
would ask why the Sentinel had been so cruel to him Sunday
morning.  Whatever the case, Jim would use it as a springboard to
start a sincere apology, one that would get their friendship back
on track.

        The anger and indifference in Blair’s voice threw Jim off
guard.  He could practically hear the venom that dripped from
each word the anthropologist spoke.  Oh, Jim knew that Blair had
a temper, but it took a lot of pressure before it finally made an
appearance; and what’s more, Jim could never remember the
younger man staying angry this long before.

        “Jim.  You there?  Come on, man, I’d like to get a little sleep
before the century winds down.”

        The sarcastic attitude was enough to drive all thoughts of
apologizing out of the Sentinel’s thoughts.  In a split second all of
Jim’s emotional barriers snapped into place.  Reaching into his
jacket pocket he withdrew a pen and an old slip of paper.  “Yeah,
Sandburg.  Go ahead.”  Dutifully, the detective wrote down the
phone number he was given.

        “Later.” Blair said informally.  He hung up the phone before
Jim had a chance to say anything else.  

        Folding up his cell phone, the detective looked dejectedly at
his waiting meal. The food no longer was appetizing.   Lost in
thought, he completely forgot that Steven was sitting right across
from him until the younger man asked what had been said during
the short conversation.  Keeping the answer as brief as possible,
Jim relayed the information.  

        They sat together quietly for the next fifteen minutes, Steven
eating and Jim slowly toying with the food on his plate.  It was
somewhat of a relief when Simon called and asked the detective to
cover for one of the officers on the surveillance team that had
come down with the flu.  Apologizing to Steven, he left the
restaurant quickly and spent the rest of his night in an unmarked
van.  Jim filled the long boring hours by replaying the short
conversation over in his mind.  For the life of him, he couldn’t
figure out how to clean up the mess that he had created.

***************************
SATURDAY NIGHT

        There was never any rest for the weary.  Exhausted as he
was from the stakeout, Jim had still managed to put in six hours
questioning all nine of the perps they arrested in the wee hours of
the morning.   One of the gang members finally broke and agreed
to turn State’s evidence, and of course that required filling out the
paperwork that went hand and hand with booking each suspect. 
The detective returned to the loft to grab a bite to eat and a
shower before heading back out to put in another eight hours on
surveillance.  Simon wasn’t pleased by Jim’s insistence on
working tonight, but the Sentinel knew it was the only way to
avoid the dreams that had been haunting him for the past week.  

        With a half an hour to go before he needed to pick up Ryf,
Jim debated calling Blair.  He really didn’t want to be in a rush
when he talked to the younger man, he wanted all the time
necessary to try to apologize and explain his behavior.  Then
again, if it was anything like last night, his Guide probably
wouldn’t want to hear it anyway.

        Taking a deep breath, the Sentinel pulled the slip of paper
that held Blair’s number out of his pocket.  Jim was astounded to
discover that his hands were shaking slightly as he punched in the
numbers.  Finally, he heard the tones that signaled that the
anthropologist’s phone was ringing. 

        And it kept ringing.

        ‘Shit, he’s not home.  Where in the hell is he at 7:00 at
night?’ Jim wondered as he hung up the phone and left the loft. 
He had no way of knowing that Blair was eating dinner with
Steven, so his mind occupied itself for all eight hours of the
stakeout by creating mental pictures of Blair; out on the town
partying, picking up a beautiful woman, and even worse, taking
her home and into his bed.  

        It was a long frustrating night.  Even without the dreams.  

***************************
PRESENT NIGHT

        He was doing it again.  It was becoming some kind of sick
routine for him.  Put in his hours at work, stop at the grocery
store for some beer, pick up some take out, come home, and start
playing that damned CD again.  In less than a week, it had become
a habit; and, if nothing else, Jim Ellison was a creature of habit.

        With beer in hand, and the song playing in the background,
Jim took another deep breath to relax.  Like most of the other
nights this past week, the detective began wandering around the
loft.  It seemed so empty now, so impersonal; and it wasn’t just
because most of Blair’s things were gone, it was the loss of Blair
himself.  Jim never really considered how much life and
personality the younger man had breathed into their home, and
now it was gone.

        Walking to the balcony doors, Jim thought back to the night
he had wrapped the crying young man in an embrace, giving and
receiving comfort against the knowledge that they were soon to
be separated.  Closing his eyes, the Sentinel’s arms rose to mimic
the events in his memory.  It was hopeless.  Silently he cursed his
powerful senses for ruining the illusion; the cold air reminding him
that the soft, warm flesh of his Guide was missing, as were the
comforting heartbeat, and the mix of scents that could only belong
to Blair Sandburg.

        With that particular thought, Jim felt the depression that he
had been swimming in all week intensify.  He couldn’t go on like
this.  Between the zone outs and his dreams, he felt as though he
was losing his mind.  ‘Just like I was doing when I met him for the
first time.’ Jim thought sadly.  ‘I need him, and if I can’t have him
with me, I still need to know that he’ll be there for me.  Either we
have to put this behind us or eventually let it become more.’

        That thought startled Jim.  Never before did he consciously
consider that possibility.  ‘Maybe that’s part of what the dreams
are all about,’ he supposed.  When he first began analyzing them,
he really didn’t read much past Blair simply using sex to torture
him, bring him up to the edge and leave him hanging.   Jim knew
what was going to happen each time, and each time he fell for it
anyway in a ‘kick the football, Charlie Brown’ kind of way. 

        There was a silent laugh before he continued his previous line
of thought.  Deep down, he instinctively knew that it was his own
subconscious torturing him, punishing him for not only denying
what he felt for his Guide, but also for driving the object of his
affection away.  He needed to apologize to Blair, if he ever hoped
to continue their relationship on any level, let alone taking it
further.   He backed away from the thought, tucking it away until
a later time.  

        It was going to take everything he had just to save their
friendship.  And he needed that friendship, needed it just as badly
as he needed food to eat or air to breathe.  The Sentinel just
wasn’t complete without his Guide.  More importantly, Jim
Ellison just wasn’t whole without Blair Sandburg.

        With renewed confidence, the detective picked up the phone
and dialed the number that he had memorized after staring at the
paper for hours on end.  Cursing as his large finger pressed two
numbers accidentally, he hung up the and redialed more carefully. 
Using one of Blair’s relaxation techniques, the Sentinel futilely
attempted to calm his racing heart.  

        The phone rang twice before it was picked up.  There was a
slight pause before his Guide spoke, exhaustion evident in his
voice.  “Hello.”

        Jim closed his eyes as the rich tone of Blair’s voice washed
over him.  It was only two days since he had last heard it, but to
the Sentinel, it felt like weeks. In fact the sound was so
hypnotizing, Jim forgot he was supposed to return the greeting.  

        “Hell-llooo?  Is anybody there?”

        Snapping back into reality, Jim finally responded.  “Hey
Blair.”  The detective was surprised by the husky tenderness in his
own voice.  

        “Jim?” Blair’s voice dripped with amazement.  From the
surprised tone that he heard, Jim knew that the younger man had
definitely not been expecting this call.  

        “Yeah, Blair.  It’s me.”  The Sentinel was willing to bet that
his Guide had been somewhat thrown when he had used ‘Blair’
instead of ‘Chief’ or even ‘Sandburg.’  He made a conscious
decision to use Blair’s first name, hoping that it would put the
younger man at ease at the start of what was going to be a
difficult conversation.  

        “Um...what’s up?” Blair asked warily.

        The hesitation in Blair’s voice started an ache in the
detective’s heart.  At least his Guide wasn’t as hostile as he had
been two days ago.  Not that he blamed the kid, not after the
emotional roller coaster Jim put him through the past week.  Now
it was time to end that particular ride and fix the damage it left
behind in it’s wake.  The Sentinel decided that the best course of
action was to dispense with small talk and start with the heavy
duty topics while his Guide was somewhat off-balance.

        “Blair, I...I wanted to...I need to,” Jim struggled with the
words.  Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Jim used the brief
pause to mentally review the thousands of different scripts he had
composed and discarded during the past week.  Not one of them
seemed adequate now that the moment of truth had finally arrived. 
In a move that was utterly *not* typical of Jim Ellison, he decided
to simply go with what he felt.  

        “I have a lot of things I need to tell you, okay?” Jim took the
total silence as agreement.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry,” he said
softly.  “What I did...the way I reacted...well, you didn’t deserve
that.” 

        There was a pause before Blair spoke.  “Why, Jim?  Why did
you shut me out?  We could have talked about it.”

        “I was just so..so..., it was too...Chief.  I...,”  God, this was
harder than he had thought it would be.  “...I guess I couldn’t
handle it, and I took it out on you.”

        “Oh.”  

        All the devastation the younger man was feeling was clearly
evident in that one little word.  It was powerful enough to knock
down Jim’s remaining emotional defenses.  “I’ve been doing a lot
of thinking this week, trying to come to grips with...with
everything.  It was just such a shock.  I mean, I just never
thought...”

        There was a wry chuckle.  “I know what you mean.”  There
was a long stretch of silence before Blair spoke again.  “Are
you...have you...”

        Knowing what his Guide was trying to ask, Jim finished the
thought.  “Am I okay with it?” 

        “Yeah.”

        Jim took a deep breath.  “Yeah.  It took me awhile to sort it
out, but yeah, I’m...okay with it.”  There was another pause
before the Sentinel dared to ask his own question.  “What about
you, Chief?”

        Even from 3,000 miles away, he could see the younger man’s
thoughtful expression.  “I was fine with everything until...”

        “...I was such an asshole.”  Jim completed.  “God, Chief. 
I’m so sorry.  I never should have treated you like that, I...just
needed some time to...”  A lump formed in his throat as his eyes
began to well up.

        “...it’s okay, man.  It’s okay.”  Blair comforted as he sensed
his Sentinel’s distress. Both men were quiet for a long time.  The
only sounds in the loft were the hissing of an open phone line and
the CD player adjusting itself to start the song over.  
        The opening notes must have carried through the phone lines
because Blair broke the silence to comment on it.  “Jim, what’s
that playing in the background?”

        With a quick sniff, the Sentinel cleared his throat and spoke. 
“You can hear that?”

        “Yeah, just barely.  It sounds familiar, but I can’t hear it well
enough to recognize it.”

        “It’s from a tape you left here on accident.” Somewhat
embarrassed, Jim explained how he had found the tape, as well as
his obsession with the song.  A blush crept up his face as he said
his next words.  “It reminds me of you.” 

        “Play it for me.”

        “Huh?”

        “Play the song for me.  It’s been awhile since I really listened
to that tape.  I don’t remember the lyrics.”

        Feeling somewhat silly, the detective nevertheless moved to
the stereo and started the song over.  Jim turned up the volume
slightly before sitting himself down on the floor  and holding the
mouthpiece of the phone in front of the speaker.

//Love, sometimes it seems to me that I don't act the way I should 
To you I act like I'm no good, and you wait for me patiently
This house is not a home without you, it takes two hearts to share
Your eyes have always seen through me bring me to my knees
And I will always turn to you, you're everything I need

And through the good and bad times, you had always been there
We'd hold each other close, you'd tell me it's alright
The nights we'd fight about it, never think of giving up
That's the price of love

Love, sometimes it makes us cry, forgive me when I get it wrong
Sometimes it hard to be that strong
And oh, I would do anything
For you I'd turn the stars around, I'd find a way somehow
This time, you'll see I'll build a bridge to you again
Love shines, sweep away the past, we're more than lovers, more
than friends

Your eyes have always seen through me, bring me to my knees
And I will always turn to you, you're everything I need
And through the good and bad times, you had always been there
We'd hold each other close, you'd tell me it's alright
Sometimes I can't give enough
That's the price of love.//

        As the music trailed off, Jim brought the phone back to his
ear.  “Blair?”

        It was a moment before his Guide spoke again.  “Is that
really what you feel?”

        “Yeah.  It’s...like...everything I don’t know how to say. 
Does that make sense?”

        “Jim...”

        The Sentinel slowly closed his eyes.  “I miss you, Chief.  This
week...it was just so hard.  I had so much stuff rattling around in
my head, and the one person I could talk to about it...well...I just
kept wanting to turn around and ask you what you thought about
it, like you were still here, ya’know?” 

        “I know exactly what you mean.  Everytime something
would happen to me, my first thought was ‘Man, I gotta tell Jim
about this...’”  For the first time that night, Jim could hear some of
the normal enthusiasm in the younger man’s voice.  As Blair
began telling him stories about experiences while crossing the
country, a feeling of normality washed over Jim.  It was almost
like his entire world had just been realigned.

        They talked for the next two hours, catching each other up
on their weeks.  There were a few awkward moments at first
while they struggled to find that comfortable stride they had spent
almost four years to establish; but all in all, it was like there had
never been a break in their friendship.  

        When Jim looked at the clock, he was amazed to find that it
was so late.  With the time difference, it was after 3:00 am for
Blair.  “Chief, you need to go to bed.  It’s your first day
tomorrow, you don’t want to start off by coming in a zombie.”

        “Holy shit!  I didn’t even realize it was so late.”  Blair
exclaimed.  His next words, however, were much more subdued. 
“I really don’t want to hang up yet.”

        “I know you don’t, Chief.  Neither do I.” Jim said softly.

        There was a moment’s hesitation before his Guide spoke
again.  “I miss you, Jim.” 

        The Sentinel could hear the love that was hidden underneath
the words.  “I miss you, too, Blair.”  ‘I love you, too,’ he thought
to himself.  

        “Jim,” Blair spoke cautiously.  “Are you...are you sorry that
it happened?”  The open fear in his Guide’s voice and the
knowledge that he had put it there broke the Sentinel’s heart.  

        “No, Blair.  I’m not sorry,” he said, surprised by the
conviction in his own voice.  “This is going to sound really weird,
so just work with me here, Chief.  I think the thing that spooked
me the most was just how...easily it seemed to happen, how
*right* it seemed to feel.  Does that make sense?” 

        He could almost see Blair nod as he agreed.  “Yeah, it does. 
It’s like this is...was supposed to happen.”

        Jim didn’t miss the slip in tenses.  It was now or never.  His
Guide had unwittingly given him the chance to pursue the one
topic of discussion that he was uncertain about bringing up in this
conversation.  “Blair, how do you feel about...I mean, do you still
want...”  ‘God, I’m messing this up.’ Jim thought to himself in
frustration.

        “Jim,” Blair began tenderly.  “I’m not sure if we’re ready to
talk about this yet.  Maybe...maybe we should just wait a little
longer, y’know, finish processing everything.  Don’t take this the
wrong way, man, but I think this hit you a lot harder than it hit
me.”

        He was right.  While Naomi had raised her son with a more
open mind, Jim’s entire self-concept had just been altered.  It
wasn’t a change that he was going to be able to deal with easily,
no matter how much he loved Blair.  

        Even though he could see the logic in waiting to continue
this discussion, Jim still needed more of an answer from his Guide. 
“I know what you’re saying, Chief, but I just need to know, well,
whether I should write this off as a one time thing or if I should be
thinking about making some...adjustments in my life.”  

        He could hear Blair’s quiet chuckle at his obtuseness, but his
answer was clearly serious.  “Jim, that depends on you.  Right
now this is mostly academic, isn’t it?  I mean with 3,000 miles
between us...”

        “Sandburg, I just need to know if you want this to continue.” 
There was a hint of irritation in his voice as he spoke this time.

        “Maybe we should wait until...”

        “Sandburg.”  This time the name came out as a warning.
‘Damn him!’ Jim cursed to himself.  Nobody, but nobody could
verbally dodge a subject like Blair Sandburg, Ph.D.

        “This is all a little...

        “Sandburg!”  Despite his earlier vow not to lose his temper
during this particular conversation, Jim couldn’t help interrupting
his Guide with a growl.  

        “Jim...”

        “Just.  Answer.  The question.”

        “Yes.” The single word was spoken so softly, only Jim’s
enhanced hearing allowed him to pick it up.  A mix of elation and
fear swept through the Sentinel, only to be replaced by confusion
at his Guide’s next words.  “Shit.  I didn’t want to tell you that.
Dammit.”

        “Why?  Why wouldn’t you want to tell me that?” 

        The sigh of frustration was captured by the phone lines.  “It’s
too soon, Jim.  I don’t want to back you into a corner, make you
feel trapped, y’know?  I don’t want there to be any pressure
between us, like the next time we see each other, we immediately
have to jump each other.    I don’t want to risk our friendship over
it.  It means way too much to me.”

        “This would never...” Jim paused as he realized the error in
what he was about to say.  It *had* hurt their friendship once
already.  ‘But that’s because it was such a shock,’ he rationalized.  

        His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a wry laugh. 
“See what I mean?  Jim, I just want you to know that I’m going to
throw the ball back in your court.  I won’t push you into anything,
and don’t let my feelings push you into anything.  This is going to
be up to you.  I won’t do anything that will jeopardize our
friendship.  It’s too important to me.   This week...being without
you this week hurt too much.  Do you understand?” 

        “Yeah.  I hear you, Chief.”  Using Naomi’s favorite
expression broke some of the tension and both men chuckled.

        “Let’s just give this a rest, okay.  Who knows, what we’re
feeling today could just be giddiness from knowing that our
friendship is still on-line.  Either one of us could change our minds
on it tomorrow.”  Blair said casually.

        Jim saw right through his Guide’s cavalier attitude.  Blair
was still trying to give him a way out down the line, rather than
put their whole relationship at risk again.  While he appreciated
the sentiment, Jim knew that the younger man had already made
his decision.  Now it was up to him.  He and Blair wouldn’t see
each other until Thanksgiving, which gave him the time to make
sure this was what he wanted.

        “Arrgghh.” 

        “What’s wrong?”

        “Have you looked at the time?”  Blair asked, disgusted.

        “Go to bed, Chief.  And good luck tomorrow.  Call me and
let me know how it goes.” 

        “I will.  G’night, Jim.  Sweet dreams, man.”

        As he hung up the phone, Jim smiled to himself.  “Now they 
will be,” he said to the empty loft as he headed up to bed.