Title: Hunter

Author/pseudonym: Kata Avalon

Pairing: Jim/Blair

Rating: G

E-mail address for feedback: catya0@yahoo.com

Other websites: http://kavalon.moodyblusr.com

Disclaimers: would I be writing stories for free if the Sentinel belonged to me?!

Notes: Developed from Stormwolf Dawn's abandoned plot bunny. A gift to Stormy you might say. Thanks to Sheila and others at the Sentinel betas list for help with the story.

Summary: The aftermath of the dissertation disaster forces changes on everyone.

Warnings: Spoilers for TSbBS. If you figure out any others, do let me know.

Hunter
by Kata Avalon
***

*Prologue*

It was a wet and cloudy day in Cascade, Washington. The drops of water fell almost gingerly on the windows of a luxury hotel in the centre of the city. An older gentleman was watching CNN at his suite on the seventh floor of the hotel. He was feeling bored, seriously bored. There was still some time until his business meeting and it seemed as if nothing was happening in the world at large. At least, nothing that had not happened before a dozen times over. He was feeling his age, he concluded, unhappy at the thought.

He took the remote control from the glass table by the chair and switched to a local channel. Maybe he could learn some gossip to share with his business associate.

"The Sentinel is a work of fiction -" a young man was saying in some kind of press conference.

*Sentinel?! There's an American sentinel?* He straightened from his slouch, all signs of boredom suddenly gone.

He listened to the press conference, his own meeting all but forgotten by now. As the young man hurried out of the line of cameras, he got up and took his cell phone from his leather travel bag. The number he chose was not in the phone's memory, only in his own.

"Robert? This is Michael. . I'm fine. Are you still doing freelance work? . Good. I have some work for you and the boys."

***

*HUNTER*

***

*What the fuck happened?*

Jim slowly climbed toward wakefulness. His head felt as if someone had stuffed it with cotton and his mouth felt like sandpaper. It was not a pleasant combination. Reminded him of his last hangover, before the senses.

He opened one eye. His sight zeroed in on a water bottle lying near his left arm. He reached for the bottle and opened the cap with shaking fingers. The liquid was lukewarm, but felt like ambrosia sliding down his throat: soothing and nurturing.

Jumbled memories of a late night stakeout came timidly to the front of his mind, as if afraid to intrude. He and Blair had returned to the loft a couple of hours after midnight. There had been an ambush at the loft.

***

*Last night in Cascade*

It had been a quiet and cold evening. The crook they were watching had gone to bed and was busy snoring. Jim was envious of the guy. He was really missing his own warm and soft bed.

"So, then the woman shows me a photo of her boyfriend. Says that if I'm not interested in her, maybe I'd be interested in doing her boyfriend. Turns out she really likes to watch."

Jim chuckled. He never knew how much of Blair's stories was fact and how much was fiction, but during a late night stakeout, he did not much care. They were entertaining and kept both of them awake.

"I admit, the offer warranted a second thought, but I said 'no, thanks'. Told her I had a steady boyfriend in my sights and I wasn't going to risk my chances."

"How did she take that?" Jim asked, genuinely interested in the story.

"Gave me her number in case I changed my mind. And wished me luck," Blair told him smugly.

"Only you, Darwin."

"Just hope." Jim barely heard Blair's soft whisper.

"What?" Jim asked gently once it was clear Blair was not going to say anything else.

"I'll let you know later. Maybe."

Later? Jim shook his head. Trying to keep up with Blair was sometimes an exercise in mental Olympic level gymnastics. Something he was not equipped for, at least not at 2 am.

"So, how are things with that lawyer, Zwack?"

"He hit the publisher with the papers the other day. Says it will take them about a week to go through them. He doesn't believe they'll find any loopholes. Should be alright."

Jim nodded. He was glad Blair was standing up for himself and doing it well. He sure as hell had not done so well.

"I turned in my dissertation," Blair said quietly.

For a moment Jim forgot how to breathe. He had done it all his life, but suddenly he could not remember what to do.

"But. how?" he managed to croak.

"I knew there were problems with the original diss, but it was my original and primary focus. It had been for so long. I'd been fiddling with another, based on my time as a police observer. All the groundwork had been done, it was just a matter of writing it out." Blair was looking out the side window at the quiet street. Carefully not noticing Jim, waiting for his reaction to the news.

Jim wondered how he had managed not to notice. He was so used to Blair writing and he had been so careful not to get in his way, not to push in any way. Doubly so after Blair had turned down the badge for good, saying he appreciated the offer but it would not work. He had been right. But to be so out of sync with his guide.

"It's not going to solve everything." There would still be the damage to his reputation, people would still talk.

"No," Blair admitted. "But I'll get the letters after my name, I'll get closure and Rainier's forced to recognise me in some way."

"When?"

"I'll defend it in a couple weeks."

And then what? Would Blair leave? It would hurt, just thinking about it hurt, but Jim was determined to think of Blair first for once. He would hug him goodbye and return to the loft with a bottle of scotch. *An empty, silent and devoid of life loft.*

"So, how've things been at the station? Really?" Blair asked softly after a moment of silence.

Jim was not sure how to answer. He had hoped that things would quiet down, but it seemed as if the opposite was true. As if the more time people had, the more they thought about what had happened and added one and one, getting two.

"Not too bad." At least that much was true.

"As in you can handle it or as in it's not the end of the world yet?" Blair was obviously losing his temper with the non-answers he was getting. Jim had heard Blair talking with others in the PD, and receiving no clear answers to his queries. There was a wall of silence and denial around the subject.

Jim tried to think of something suitably innocent. Luckily for Jim their relief arrived just then.

"That's Rafe and Brown." Jim said, nodding towards Rafe's car.

"This is not getting you off the hook. We'll continue this at the loft. Tonight."

"It's almost two in the morning, chief. Let's sleep first." And give him more time to think of something to say. Something that would not worry Blair, but would still satisfy his curiosity.

"Nope."

Brown got out of Rafe's car and walked over to the truck. He knocked on the window.

"Hi, guys. Anything unusual?" Brown asked them.

"Nah. The guy's fast asleep. Have fun," Jim said starting the engine of the truck.

"We'll do our best. Sweet dreams."

It had been a quiet ride to the loft. If he knew his guide, Blair was lining up questions and arguments. He would be facing the modern equivalent of the Spanish inquisition.

As soon as they got inside the loft, four men jumped them.

***

*Present somewhere*

Jim's eyes shot open. The assailants had used a white noise generator, and a flashlight. The kidnappers had known about his senses and were equipped to deal with a sentinel.

*A cage?!*

Jim sat up. His head connected with the top of the cage adding to the headache. The whole place was vibrating and there was the noise of high-powered engines. The air was wrong; it was recycled, not fresh. Reality settled in with the finality of a tax review. He was in a cage in the belly of a plane, flying high.

Jim looked at himself, sight confirming what touch had told him. He was not wearing his own clothes anymore, but a nondescript olive green coverall. Someone had undressed him while he was unconscious. The thought added to his outrage at the situation.

He scanned his surroundings one more time. Nothing useful, just tightly tied down uniform packets and boxes. He checked the lock of the cage. It could not be opened without a lock pick. Which he did not have. The cage itself was sturdy, obviously made for large wild life predators. There was even an empty bottle in the cage, obviously for use as a toilet.

*Fuck.* It summed up the situation pretty well.

Someone had gone into a lot of trouble for this, kidnapping a police officer and transporting him to god-knows-where. It was not a simple project, nor inexpensive. Curiosity burned inside him, but without Blair to ground him, he did not dare investigate too far or long. Filtering out the noise of the engines, electronics, radio traffic, other people and air currents while concentrating on certain voices would be risking a zone out. So, no eavesdropping.

Blair. He wondered what had happened to his guide and best friend. He had been the first one to go down, so he had no recollection of his friend's fate. He could still be in Cascade, waking up in the hospital. *God, I hope so.* The other alternative was that Blair was somewhere in the plane. Jim refused to think of any other possibilities.

He settled down on the thin mattress. Waiting. Something he did not do that well, but with no other alternatives in sight.

***

*Did we have a night out with the guys last night? Sure feels like a hangover.* The guide's thoughts on waking up echoed the sentinel's.

Blair opened his eyes. A ceiling. Okay, he was inside. Sounded funny, though.

He sat up fast. Sounded like a plane. And those were clouds outside the window.

*Deep breath. No need to panic.*

He was lying on a couch in an alcove of an obviously expensive and private jet. Memories came rushing in. They, whoever they were, had knocked Jim down as they entered the loft. He had fallen right after him. Was Jim somewhere nearby? Why was he here?

A woman with designer clothes and a $100 haircut came into the alcove carrying a breakfast tray.

"How are you feeling? Any nausea?"

Actually, he was feeling better already. They must have used some better and higher-class tranquilliser than the ones he was used to. *Great, getting to be an expert on knock-out drugs.*

"No, not anymore. Where are we?"

"On a plane to Africa. Mr Blackwood will be able to tell you more. Here's some breakfast, if you're feeling up to it." She put the tray on the small table by the couch.

"Thank you."

Blair decided it was no use pumping her up for information. He would do better to get some basic info from this Blackwood first. Better to know what to look for before beginning a search.

Blair looked at the tray. The eggs and fruit looked good and the juice was practically calling to him. *No use wasting time and energy on empty gestures.* He cleared the tray.

Blair walked to the main area of the jet. He went directly to the centre of the attention, an older gentleman. The man reminded him of Sean Connery for some reason.

"I must apologise for my drastic measures, Guide Sandburg," the older man greeted him.

A cold wave of dread washed over Blair, and stayed there.

"What do you mean, guide? I'm not working for any travel agencies, far as I know."

"No, but you do have a sentinel, Detective James Ellison, and a sentinel needs a guide. Since you're the one near him at all times."

*Think, Blair, think. How much does he know? How much can I obfuscate? Has he seen the diss? Oh, shit.*

"A sentinel? I've already told everyone and their cousin that the whole thing was a figment of my imagination."

"Oh, yes. But I happen to know that sentinels and guides exist. Always wanted a pair," Blackwood said as if talking of purchasing a new set of luggage.

*A pair. He's got Jim.*

"And you think we're it?"

"I know you are. The sentinel reacted as he should during the acquisition. I've also read your original dissertation. Quite fascinating reading, you write well."

"Thanks."

*This is not good. Definitely not good.*

***

Finally they landed. Jim had been feeling unwell for some hours. He was ready to kiss the ground by the time they rolled on the airfield. The vibrations were not good for his senses, nor was the constant noise of engines. He was definitely not in the best of moods, or health.

A blast of hot air hit him as the doors to the hold were opened. An array of unfamiliar smells burst in. *Definitely not the US.*

His cage was unloaded first. The workers did not treat his cage with anything resembling tender care. He was sure they added to the bruises on his backside. Blair was waiting for him outside with an older distinguished looking man in safari clothing. His guide looked seriously pissed off. Jim's mood plummeted. He was glad Blair was not in a cage too, but he had been hoping he was the only one in trouble. Since they were both taken, this had something to do with a case they had both been working on, or something with the sentinel stuff. Most probably the latter, he had to admit.

Jim was about to say something as his cage was hauled beside his guide and the older man, but he caught a minute shake of Blair's head. He kept quiet.

The cage was transferred to the back of a truck. A light cloth was put on top of it, to keep off the glare of the sun. The cloth reached to the middle of the sides, high enough for him to see some of the surroundings. It eased his feeling of claustrophobia somewhat.

Jim looked around curiously as the men bustled around, unloading the plane and loading the cars.

*Africa, most likely. But where exactly?* Jim knew enough of the region to recognise the people and the savannah, but the African savannah covered a large region. He was certain Blair would know, but his guide was standing by the older man who seemed to be in charge of things.

"Why are you keeping him in that cage?" he heard Blair demand of the older guy. He had seldom heard such contained rage in Blair's voice.

"Easier to handle," was the simple answer. "Besides, where else would he be? He's just a sentinel."

The matter-of-fact tone in the man's voice chilled Jim. These people knew he was a sentinel, and they thought less of him because of that. *Is Blair here because he's my guide? They think he's my handler?*

Finally everything was loaded and everyone in the entourage got into the cars. The cars themselves were an odd mixture of old, used, do-it-yourself, new and just plain weird. Blair shared a newer model jeep with the safari guy and a native driver.

Jim lay down and watched the sky and the occasional treetop go by. Fascinating, but he had never been that eager to visit Africa and right now he wished he were somewhere else, preferably in wet Cascade. He wondered what time it was in Cascade.

After a few hours they stopped for a break. As the shades and picnic tables and chairs were put up, Jim heard the safari guy telling Blair to go take care of his sentinel. Jim growled at the comment. *I'm not some pet cat.*

Blair climbed up to the bed of the truck. He was wearing thick khaki trousers and a dust covered once-white shirt. With the sun glasses and his hair in a ponytail, he was every inch the anthropologist he could have been. Jim choked down the by-now familiar regret and guilt.

Blair sat down beside the cage. There was enough room between the cage and the sides of the truck for him to sit down comfortably. He opened a small hole by the side and gave Jim a water bottle and a pack of sandwiches.

"How you doing?" His guide sounded sad, and angry.

"About how you'd expect. Pissed off and frustrated." It felt good to talk with someone. So far, no one had said a word to him.

Blair nodded.

"I heard some of the conversation by the air field. Just what's going on here? Is this guy totally nuts or what?"

"The head honcho around here, and the one responsible for this whole mess, is Michael Blackwood. His sole passion in life is hunting. The guy's seriously stuck in the 1800's. Since he's not much of a tracker, he uses hunting dogs. But dogs need maintenance, papers, vets, not to mention quarantine regulations. Those can seriously mess with timetables," Blair sneered.

Jim had a bad feeling about where this was heading.

"As luck would have it, Blackwood was in Cascade at the time of the press conference. And it occurred to him that a sentinel would make a lot better tracker. Actually, sentinels of old probably were -" Blair started rambling but a glare from his sentinel cut it off. Jim did not want to hear it.

"If the guy thinks I'm going to start sniffing up endangered species for him to shoot, he's seriously in need of a reality check," Jim growled.

"First you need training," Blair said with a straight face.

"What?!" Jim checked the dials of his hearing, just in case.

"Yep. He has this trainer with him, Alan Perry. The guy is actually a fledgling guide."

"How do you know?"

"I can sense it. Just didn't put two and two together before. Megan has guide potential too."

"Whatever. I'm not going to -" Blair silenced him with a raised hand.

"Jim, do you trust me?" he asked quietly.

It was a valid question after the way Jim had acted during the dissertation mess. Jim felt bad about pushing his guide away. He had been a royal jerk and blamed Blair for something he had little control over. But he had honestly believed that anyone would put fame and fortune before him. *Should have known better.*

"Yes, I do," Jim answered seriously. It was a statement and an apology.

"Good. Play along here, just keep everything a bit above your average. No need to show them your best, we might need the edge later on. I've got a plan to get us out of here. Might take a day or two, but we'll get out. I promise."

Jim nodded. He was feeling hopeful for the first time since waking up in the plane. If anyone could come up with a plan it was Blair. The plan might be weird, but it would work. His guide's ideas always did. Maybe not as they were originally intended to work, but they worked.

"Perry will start your training tomorrow. Do as he says. Just remember that *I'm* your guide." The last comment was practically a growl. It went straight into Jim's reptilian brain, chilling and warming at the same time. *Weird.*

***

After letting Jim out for a potty break, under the watchful eye of a few guards, Blair walked over to the guy he had picked up as the unofficial foreman of the native hired help.

"<Greetings. I'm Blair Sandburg.>"

The guy actually stared at him for a second, before reclaiming his cool.

"<Greetings. You speak Swahili?>"

"<Some.>" *Would not do to appear to be boasting.* "<I would like to know more about the area around here.>"

"<Well, this is the nomad land. Mr Blackwood's villa is the only major white settlement around. Otherwise, the land is used by occasional safari tourists.>"

"<Do the nomads accept Blackwood's hunting? He is, after all, operating in their land.>"

"<He offers work to the locals,>" was the short and curt answer. "<Why are you asking?>"

*Might as well be as honest as possible. I need his help.*"<He intends to use the one in the cage as a hunting dog, give him over to his own trainer. I intend to prevent it.>"

The man thought about it. He looked at the truck with the cage. Jim was looking at the two of them. They were about 15 feet from the cage, but Jim was looking directly at them, watching intently.

"<A guardian-hunter?>"

Blair nodded.

"<Why do you stay here?>"

"<He has been given into my care and I will not leave him. Especially not to someone else's care.>"

"<I'm called M'gaba. Where are you from?>" the man asked after a moment.

"<Cascade, in northern United States. We work for the police there, catching murderers and those who would endanger the people living in the area. For example, there was a theft in the chemical factory in the area and the thief took a canister of poisonous gas. If he had mishandled it, everyone within miles would have died. We caught him in time, before he had a chance to sell it to someone who might have used it.>" *Sorry, Alex, but I don't think he would consider a woman much of a threat.*

M'gaba thought about it.

One of the workers approached them.

"< I have to go now. We'll talk more at the ranch.>"

*That went well,* Blair congratulated himself. After walking around and chatting with people - getting to know the lay of the land so to speak - he went over to the main table. Seemed as if no one had noticed his talk with M'gaba, or at least considered it important. Everything was going well so far.

***

By evening they arrived at their destination, Blackwood's ranch. It was an old colonial style farm, lovingly renovated and modernised. Jim was put into the stable, in a stall beside a mean tempered mare. *I'm not happy about the situation either, honey.*

Under Blackwood's gaze, Blair put a collar around his sentinel's throat. Jim baulked, but allowed the collar after Blair's whispered ´trust me`. A long chain attached to the collar was padlocked into a ring on the back wall of the stall.

Jim was given blankets to keep him warm during the chilly nights. They smelled strongly of horses.

Sleep did not come easily.

***

"I'm happy to see you are being reasonable about the arrangements," Blackwood said to Blair. They were having dinner in the main building of the farm. The long table was made of thick dark wood and the china was of Villeroy & Boch.

"I'm holding you to your promise to treat him well," Blair said sternly. He was playing time to find a way out, but he sure as hell was not going to agree to just about anything that came into the lunatic's mind. And Blair was convinced the guy was not living on the same planet as the rest of them.

"I would expect nothing less of you. It is a guide's responsibility to see to the welfare of his sentinel. However, his hunting training is Perry's responsibility," Blackwood pointed out.

Blair nodded reluctantly. Actually, the last part fit into his plans. He had found out where they were and what tribes were around from the workers. *Always pays off to know the language and the culture of the area you're in.*

"I'm not sure about letting Perry train him, Jim's used to me."

"True, but you've obviously been lax in showing him his place. He needs a sterner hand."

Blair did not like the sound of that.

"What the hell are you talking about? If you think -" Blackwood halted Blair's speech with a raised hand.

"It's quite simple. Have you heard of the local legend?"

*Kind of a stupid question to ask an anthropologist.*

"Can't say I have."

"In the old days, the animals and humans were living in peace upon the land. But as always, there were quarrels and unrest between the two groups. Finally, the gods decided to simply separate the two. But some of the animals liked being among the humans, preferred human company. The gods gave them human form so they could stay among the human tribe even after the separation. Those who stayed behind were called sentinels. But as they were not full humans or full animals, they needed a caretaker, a guide. The guides were chosen for their wisdom and ability to correctly interpret the spirit world."

Blair had heard the tale before, on his first trip to Africa in fact.

"So, you see, he's not a full human. He's at least half-animal and needs discipline. He's much better off used as a hunting dog or a drug sniffer at the airport than as a detective." The last word was practically snorted. Blair bit on his tongue to keep his temper in check. No one interpreted the tale that way, it was used to show how much closer to the nature the sentinels were. Nothing more. The guy was reinterpreting the tale to suit his own twisted worldview. *I need to get Jim out of here.*

***

Blair walked downstairs for breakfast. His bed was *made* for sleeping in, but thinking about Jim and their situation had made it difficult to sleep well.

Blackwood greeted him as he came into the terrace.

"Good morning. I trust you slept well," he said, barely raising his head from a newspaper.

"Quite well, thank you." *Why bother to complain?*

"Remember to take some breakfast to the sentinel after eating your own."

*Breathe deep. Calm. Serenity.*

Blair managed to eat slowly and actually chat civilly. Perry came to check Jim's breakfast as he was loading a tray.

"That just won't do."

"What do you mean?"

"Too heavy for a breakfast. We're supposed to practice hunting today." Perry started unloading the tray and putting fruit on it.

"According to my logic, practice means that you need *more* energy, not less," Blair growled.

"It also means that you can't eat too heavy a meal," Perry countered calmly.

"Jim happens to be a large man and I seriously doubt this is going to carry him until lunch", Blair said sneering at the breakfast on the tray. "I know him a lot better than you do."

"I happen to be in charge of his training -"

"Gentlemen!" came a bark from the main table. "Perry makes any and all decisions concerning his training," Blackwood said. "Go feed your sentinel."

Blair walked off after a venomous glare at Perry. The glare met an icy wall.

***

Jim rose with his neighbour. The mare had taken an instant dislike to the latest intruder into her territory and was doing her best to show off her dislike at every opportunity.

Blair brought him breakfast, fresh juice and fruits.

"Sorry about the meagre breakfast, Perry chose this. He insisted on a light breakfast, wouldn't listen to me."

"It's okay, chief. I know you're doing your best." Jim offered a weak smile to Blair. Fruit cocktail was really not his favourite meal. He looked at a slice of some unidentifiable fruit before taking a bite of it. Tasted okay.

"The one with me is M'gaba. He's from around here," Blair said pointing a hand at the person in question.

Jim looked at the calm dark skinned man. It was the one Blair had been talking with during the trip to the villa. M'gaba reminded him of Simon, they had the same confident stance. He missed the bullpen and the loft already. He was sure the others were busy looking for them, but they were not in the US anymore and their disappearance was not connected to any of the old cases. There would be no cavalry coming to their rescue.

"He doesn't speak much English. He understands it all right, just doesn't want to speak it. Luckily I know Swahili."

Jim just nodded. If his guide had informed him he was a werewolf, Jim would not have even blinked. He was used to Blair constantly amazing him and he wanted out of this madness, it did not much matter how.

"There are tales of sentinels and guides here, too. M'gaba is willing to help me get you away from another guide." Blair's gaze clearly said 'just be quiet and behave like a well brought up sentinel'.

Jim nodded. He got it.

***

"<You have a solid connection with your sentinel,>" M'gaba complimented him as they left the stable.

"<We have been together for a long time,>" Blair said absently.

He felt relieved Jim had not started to argue. Guides were expected to act differently in different cultures, and this one assumed that Blair practically owned Jim and kept him in a short leash. He did not like it. Blair preferred to have Jim as a friend and a partner. He would have to remember to apologise once they got back to Cascade and the loft.

***

*Meanwhile in Cascade*

Simon dreaded what he would find at the station that day. He had been waiting for things to calm down after the diss fiasco, but it had yet to happen. They would have to face it; everything had changed. *Maybe a departmental meeting to discuss things, tell the others the truth.* If everything went well, it could stay in the Major Crimes. *Yeah, and Naomi will marry the sheikh of Qatar.*

He went into his office and attacked the pile of paperwork on his desk. After a few hours, he noticed that something was missing. He checked the bullpen. Everything looked the same as usual, except.

Simon grabbed his phone and called Jim's cell phone. No answer. Butterflies were beginning to fly around in his stomach. He called the loft and even tried Blair's cell phone. No answer there either. The butterflies multiplied and entered into a mating frenzy.

He straightened out his desk, grabbed his coat and bellowed for Connor and Taggert to follow him as he walked briskly to the elevators.

"What is it, sir?" Connor asked as they waited for the elevator.

"Sandburg and Ellison."

"Oh."

The elevator arrived.

***

The loft door looked intact and there were no obvious signs of forced entry.

"How're we going to get in?" Connor asked.

Simon took out his keys and selected one. He opened the door with it.

"I'm the official loft watcher," he said to Connor in a 'want to make something out of it' voice.

"Yes, sir. I understand," Connor assured him with a straight face.

Simon glared at her for a second and pulled the door fully open. Three people looked inside. Some of the cookbooks at the end of the counter were lying on the floor, a couple of the couch pillows were on the carpet and a jar of spaghetti had been knocked over. Not the norm for the Ellison-Sandburg household.

"Taggert, call forensics. Connor, inform the others and get the APBs out."

***

*I hate waiting.* But there was nothing else he could do. Rafe and Brown were going over the old cases and whereabouts of people Jim and Blair had sent to jail. Connor and Taggert were talking with snitches and shaking the criminal world. Forensics was busy analysing their findings. With all the resources at their disposal, they did not have the faintest idea where their friends were. If the criminal element was not behind the kidnapping, it left the sentinel business as the explanation. If that was the case, they were on their own. He did not know enough to start looking. It was a depressing thought.

***

"If another jerk gives me the 'no sé, señorita', I'll wipe the floor with him," Megan complained to Taggert as they walked to the car from yet another wasted meeting with the shadowy side of Cascade.

"I'm sure someone's heard something. An operation with just outsiders would be too expensive and difficult." Taggert tried to sound as optimistic as possible. "There's a good coffeehouse nearby. We could both use a break."

"Sure," was the unenthusiastic reply. Megan felt as if she was failing her friend. Jim could take care of himself, but Blair was not as tough. He was bright but not so wise, not so knowledgeable about the ugly side of life.

As they were sitting with their coffees and sandwiches, Taggert commented on her unusual silence.

"What's wrong?"

"Just thinking. It doesn't look like anyone we know is behind the kidnapping and there's been no ransom demand. That leaves the dissertation disaster as the only explanation."

Silence reigned as they both thought of that time.

"He... They both denied it all," Taggert said quietly.

"Not everyone's convinced," Megan pointed out.

***

Rafe walked into the conference room he and Brown had confiscated for their use. There were files and notes on just about every surface. Brown cleared some of the main table for the take out Rafe was carrying.

"I've got some Mexican. The Chinese place has a new owner."

"I'll check the place out tomorrow," Brown promised.

They started on their lunch.

"Do you think we're wasting our time with the old cases?" Rafe asked between bites of his taco.

"Don't know. It's good to cover all bases, but I don't think it's an old player. We'd have gotten something by now, some clue."

"So, you think it's true?"

"If someone were to check some of the old cases these two have solved in their time. yeah. They'd think it's true."

Rafe nodded.

"Kind of hard to think of Ellison as some... I don't know. Anyone with abilities like that wouldn't be fully human, so what would he be? Some half-cat, half-human?"

"Reminds me of an old tom-cat more than an alley dog, that's for sure."

"The feline crime-solver," Rafe painted a title with his hands. "The furry crusader."

"And just what would that make Hairboy? His caretaker?"

"Sure, why not? All that fur's hard to keep clean all by yourself."

They looked at each other, and started to laugh. After a few minutes of laughing and more comments of the feline detective and his sidekick, they straightened themselves out.

"I'll check from Records if anyone else has asked to see these files," Rafe told Brown.

"Okay. Drop a note to the computer geeks too. Someone could've just hacked into our database."

"Sure." Rafe finished his diet Coke and headed off to Records.

***

*Back to Africa*

Perry was a nice enough fellow with sun bleached brown hair and warm green eyes. Jim hated him from the beginning.

The first day was spent getting to know the terrain and learning to separate different smells. There were the everyday smells, danger sign smells and smells that marked someone's territory. Separating them was not easy in the unfamiliar dry forest, not that it was any less difficult in the grass fields. Jim kept his eyes and ears open for any unwelcome surprises while trying to concentrate on his sense of smell. Hearing was up too. The birds and their behaviour was another important indicator of what was going on.

Jim was careful to keep his senses just above the normal, normal for him that is. There were a lot of interesting and unfamiliar sensations around, but he could not afford to show off too much. Or be too good at what he was doing.

Perry had an annoying habit of tugging the chain to get Jim's attention. He ignored Jim's growls every time. *Wonder what would happen if I actually bit the guy?* Jim wondered at one point. He decided not to find out. The thought was tempting, though.

"Put your hands on the ground. Use touch as a background noise and scan the surroundings with your hearing," Perry ordered him. That was the main difference between the two guides: Perry ordered where Blair instructed.

Jim did as he was told and found a bird's nest. He concentrated on the voices until there was a yet another tug at his leash.

"Don't zero in, not yet. Try with sight next."

The lessons were interesting enough and potentially useful, but Jim was glad when they finally turned back to the farm after hours of sense practice. He was sweaty, dirty and tired. He was also reaching the end of his patience with the guide pretender.

Blair was sitting on the veranda in front of the villa with Blackwood. His guide glared at Perry as they approached. The guy ignored that too.

"How did it go?" Blackwood asked.

"Quite well. He needs to hone his abilities though; he's seriously under trained. A few more days of basic training and a couple more days of practice, and he should be ready for the first hunt," Perry answered like it was all his doing.

"Good, good. Take him back to the stall. Sandburg will take care of his bath and dinner."

Jim bit his tongue to keep from growling, or cursing. Though he supposed they would have ignored that. Either that or he would have been punished. Jim wondered if punishing him was considered Perry's or Blair's duty. *Probably depends on the infraction.*

***

Blackwood watched from his study as the guide bathed his sentinel. Ellison was more relaxed with his original guide, but he had done well with Perry too. It would not be too long before Sandburg could be disposed of and Ellison could be permanently bonded with Perry. It would be better if the sentinel had just one handler, someone he could trust not to cause trouble.

***

"I'm telling you, Chief, that guy gets on my nerves!" Jim complained to his guide as he was eating dinner, some kind of vegetable rolls and slices of meat. The meat was a reward for good work, Jim suspected.

He was sitting cross-legged on the ground in his stall. Blair had washed him outside in a watering trough. If it had been Perry, he would have broken the guy's arm. There were limits to his tolerance and patience. No matter how good Perry was, Blair was his guide.

"I don't exactly like the situation either, but we won't have to suffer them for long."

Jim sighed. He wished they had never ended up in this surreal situation in the first place.

***

Blair was sitting on his bed in the guest room. There was a small laundry sack on the bed beside him, with a large bottle of water and a couple of bottles of sunscreen inside. He had not been able to steal any clothes or food.

Blair checked his watch. If M'gaba was right, most of the few guards had ended their early evening rounds and they had about an hour before the next rounds started. Enough time to be well on their way out of here. Next, he would have to figure out how to keep Blackwood permanently off their backs.

***

Jim woke up suddenly. Someone was walking silently toward his stall. Blair.

His guide opened the stall and walked over to the back wall. He opened the padlock with a key, stolen most probably. Jim doubted Blackwood would have just given Blair a key to his chain. Jim rose as Blair gathered the chain in his hand and gave him a small laundry sack. There was a water bottle in it, judging by the sound. The guide and sentinel left the stable. The mare had been quiet for once. *Probably glad to be rid of me.*

M'gaba was waiting for them at the edge of the yard. There were a few others with him, all in minimal native garb. M'gaba returned to the barracks after introducing the men to Blair. Jim kept quiet and kept his senses open.

They sneaked into the cover of tough trees and bushes and grass, avoiding the few guards on lookout for thieves and wild animals. The trees were not of much help as most of them were acacias and the leaves were concentrated on the highest branches.

Blair was keeping the chain wrapped around his hand to keep it from rattling. Jim wondered how they were going to get it off. He had spent hours trying to figure out how to get the damn thing off. It was one of those things that were easy to attach, but hell to take off.

The moon was half-full. Most of the night animals were active, but did not cause any problems, not with the natives and a sentinel present to warn of any potential trouble. After a few hours of walking in the cool night air they arrived in a nomads' camp. Jim had smelled the cows and the humans long before the others could see the camp. He noticed the knowing glances as he quietly told Blair of what was ahead.

"<Wise of you not to let the foreign hunter know how good a sentinel you have.>"

Blair bowed slightly to the man. Jim wondered what had been said, but decided to leave it be. Whatever it was, it was a positive comment.

At the camp, Blair was introduced to the elders while Jim was ignored, again. Except by the children. The kids seemed to think him a fascinating creature. They kept whispering and pointing at him. A few more daring individuals touched him and then darted back to their adoring companions. A few looked at his backside for some reason. They seemed to be quietly arguing about something. Jim looked at it to see if he had ripped his coveralls or something. Nope, nothing fascinating as far as he could see. The children giggled at his reaction.

***

"<Your children seem to find my sentinel most interesting.>"

"<Our sentinel passed away a few years ago and the guide has yet to find another sentinel. He'll find one this next gathering, I hope,>" the old patriarch of the tribe told Blair. "<The younger ones do not remember the sentinel, and have seldom seen one.>"

*Could I take another sentinel if something happened to Jim?* Blair looked at Jim trying to figure out what the kids were checking for. *No, never.*

"<What will you do when the hunters come looking for us?>" Blair asked changing the subject.

"<They see us as simple in all things. Deceiving such people is easy. No need to worry about us, young shaman.>"

"<What about you? How will you keep them off your tracks?>" the shaman of the tribe asked.

"<We shall think of something. Such men have many enemies.>"

"<True. Even here. I have a cousin ->"

***

After the pleasantries were over, they were shown to an earthen hut with a sleeping pad for two.

"Okay, we have a few hours before the camp is put down and the tribe's on the move again," Blair said.

"How about finding a way to take the chain off first?" It was not quite a reproach. Jim wanted the chain, and the visible reminder of what had happened off, preferably yesterday.

"Mmm. The tribe's smith is visiting his relatives," Blair said apologetically.

"Sandburg." A hiss.

"I'm sorry. I checked it as they were putting it on. It's one of those things that can't be taken off without proper tools," Blair explained. "The smith's family is living near the town. We're going there anyway. He can take the collar off at the same time as the chain."

"How long?" Jim did not bother to keep the whine out of his voice.

"A couple of days."

"If you ever tell the other guys about any of this, I'll make your life into a living hell," Jim swore.

Blair was valiantly fighting an assault of giggles. Pretty soon they were both laughing. After all, they were free and on their way home, and they were together. Another possibly disastrous situation had been avoided.

"Oh, god. I needed that," Jim said wiping his eyes. "But the promise stays, chief. No mention of this to the others."

"I won't tell a soul," Blair promised.

Jim looked at his guide.

"How do you know so much? I thought you knew about Asian and South American tribes. You were planning on going to Borneo."

"It's not a region I've specialised in, though I've studied the tales and traditions relating to sentinels from here as well as elsewhere. And similar phenomena." Blair thought for a moment. "I studied Swahili to be able to talk with the local people as I came here some years back. I had read a tale telling of sentinels and guides, and since I knew that there was a group coming up here. It was one of the first expeditions I was on."

Jim wondered just how much he knew of his guide.

"Anyway, time for the little sentinels and guides to get to sleep," Blair announced sternly.

"Who're you calling little?"

***

Blair watched the sleeping sentinel. Jim had been understanding about the whole situation. At the moment, Blair was most worried about his own reactions. He had to admit he liked making the decisions. It made everything so much easier. The trust Jim had in him warmed him, but also scared him. It would be so easy to stay in the roles. *Beware of the dark side,* the saying from Star Wars came into his mind. There was a dark side to everything, even to being a guide.

***

"What about Blackwood's men?" Jim asked as they walked in the flank of the procession. He was walking a couple steps behind Blair and carrying the chain in his hand. He made regular sweeps with his senses for anything unusual. Perry's training was actually proving to be useful. He could watch for the predators and poisonous snakes Perry had taught him about while keeping a track of Blackwood & co. So far, their pursuers were way off the track.

"The natives in his employ will lead them in circles. He crossed the line of acceptable behaviour by giving you to another guide."

"We can't let him get away with this." Jim did not want to spend any more time looking over his shoulder for Blackwood. He had enough problems in his life as it were.

"I know. I've been talking with Mebeta, the tribe's shaman, about it. One of his cousins is part of the wildlife conservation project. If we put in an official notice, they could check Blackwood's house. From what I saw, there's enough in there to get him into a lot of trouble. Specially if the media's in on the bust." Blair sounded vengeful.

Jim felt the same way, but he had always considered Blair to be the gentler of them. *Probably the endangered species bit that has him enraged.* Or maybe it was a guide thing. Jim did not much like the more mystical part of being a sentinel, but he had to admit it was there. Maybe there was a similar thing for guides. If it had been Blair in danger, he would have been feeling vengeful too.

***

The rest of the African adventure seemed anticlimactic in relation to the rest. As soon as they arrived by the nearest town, the shaman's apprentice led them to the smith. The middle-aged gentle looking man was quite happy to help them. Jim waited nervously outside the makeshift smithy as it was heated. Blair chatted with the shaman's apprentice, and kept an eye on his sentinel. Jim practically sprinted forward as the smith came to get them.

Next stop was the cousin. The guy was more than happy to help them. Blackwood had been a thorn in his side for some time, and the publicity would help promote the conservation issues. He started eagerly planning the bust and a media campaign. He pumped them for information, relevant and not so relevant. At least in Jim's opinion. Blair was happy as a lark chatting with a kindred soul.

The cousin insisted on buying them lunch before driving them to the consulate in the next town, nearer the coast. Jim was still unsure about where exactly they were.

The lunch was pretty good. Jim was glad it was not snake - he had learned during the first day with the nomads that he hated snake. Another reason for happiness was that the weight of the collar and chain was off his neck. There was already a clear tan line where the collar had been, but that was all that remained. He had given the chain and collar to the smith to be melted down and recycled. There would be some questions at the PD about where they had gotten their tans. Jim was certain Blair could come up with something.

It took them a few hours to drive to the consulate. Jim napped on the back of the truck amongst wicker baskets. The cousin had said he would do the week's shopping at the same time. Jim never caught the guy's name. He felt seriously out of things. Blair was the one who knew the language, he was also considered the senior partner so everyone talked with him and not Jim. Jim could have pumped Blair for info but quite often they were around others, there was something else going on or Jim was busy looking for anything out of place. *Have to remember to ask for a digest version once we get home.*

Late that afternoon two bedraggled and dusty eco-tourists walked into the US consulate. Blair concocted some tale about having been trekking and communing with the home of the human ancestors when a few not-so-friendly natives had mugged them and taken their wordly goods. The consulate bought it. After all, it was a lot more believable than the truth.

They called Simon as soon as they could. The captain was relieved to hear from them. Somehow he did not seem the least surprised to hear of their whereabouts. Though Jim suspected he would attack his private aspirin stash as soon as the call ended. It was a well-known fact that there was always a jumbo-sized bottle of aspirin or some similar product in the top drawer of Simon's desk.

***

*In Cascade*

*Africa. What next, Bangkok?*

Simon went to the door and called for Connor, Taggert, Rafe and Brown to come to his office.

"Word from Ellison, sir?" Connor asked after Taggert had closed the door after them.

"Sandburg actually. They're in some African country, tired and dusty, but in good health."

The others waited for the captain to say something else, a punch line or something. When it was obvious none would be forthcoming they started to ask questions.

"How did they get there?"

"What are they doing there?"

"Who kidnapped them?"

"When are they coming back?"

"Hold it, people." After his detectives had quieted down, Simon explained what he could. "They're in good health as I said. Apparently Sandburg saved the day. They're coming back as soon as I send some money for the tickets. As for what happened, Sandburg's not telling. And I'm not going to pressure him to tell," Simon added quietly. The others got the message. It had something to do with the condition of Ellison's that did not exist.


***

*Cut back to Africa*

Jim enjoyed the shower in the consulate's guest rooms. The water was lukewarm and the shower should have been renovated in the previous decade, but he barely noticed. It felt good to wash off the dust of the road using a modern convenience instead of the water trough, or sand or a shallow pool.

It had been one really weird week. Maybe their lives could now settle down to earth, though somehow he doubted his life would ever be usual, everyday life. At the moment he would settle for the Ellison-Sandburg usual. Though even that did not seem likely. This latest escapade was just the tip of the iceberg. They would have to actively *do* something instead of just reacting. But that was for later, now he just wanted to enjoy the present.

He towelled off and walked to the bedroom. Blair had put their clothes to dry on a couple of chairs. They would not have any money to buy new clothes before tomorrow, so Blair had washed what they had. Tomorrow the money Simon had promised to send should arrive and they could buy some new clothes, after buying tickets home.

The guest room had just one bed, king-size thank god. By now Jim knew that Blair had an annoying habit of stealing the bed, or blankets or cot. His guide had a serious subconscious desire to conquer any areas around him. Jim slid into the bed and just enjoyed the feel of clean sheets, firm mattress, real western bed.

He could hear the smile in Blair's voice. "You look like a large cat that's finally found the perfect beam of sun."

Jim just purred.

Blair got under the covers, shaking his head at his sentinel's antics.

***

Jim stared at the clouds outside the airplane. Blair was snoring softly next to him.

It was finally quiet and he could think of what had happened. The tribe had known of sentinels. They had acted like sentinels and guides were a natural, everyday occurrence. Had Blair really been unable to find a sentinel or just unable to find a guideless sentinel? Blair had had a lot of background knowledge. Enough know-how to get them out in a couple days, and to know how to act properly among the nomads. Did he really get all that from just one trip?

Jim looked at his guide.

*How long and wide had you looked for your sentinel?*

Blair's sentinel. That's what everyone had considered him to be. And it felt. right. Once he got through his stubbornness, it had been somewhat relaxing to leave it all to Blair. To let his guide shoulder the responsibility, to trust Blair to take care of things. He should have protested the turn of events, and with anyone else he would have. But this was Blair, his guide, the one he trusted.

Jim wondered how many had not bought Blair's explanation at the press conference. Probably too many. He would have to resign; there would be too many complications if he stayed. There had already been a few tests, some smaller incidents before the kidnapping. He had not told Blair of them. His guide had enough to worry about, or so he had thought. It would grow worse if he stayed. *In this case, retreat is the better part of valour.* But would resigning be enough?

Blair sniffed in his sleep.

Jim smiled. They would be able to come up with something. This time they would make the decisions together. As partners, as they should have done from the beginning.

Jim tried to settle more comfortably on the seat. Still a few hours before they arrived at Miami. Then another flight to Seattle. He shuddered as he thought of the noise and vibrations.

"Jim?" A drowsy question.

"It's okay. Get back to sleep."

"Noise bothering you?" Half asleep as he was, the guide managed to put a note of steel into the question.

Jim nodded sheepishly.

"Okay. Lean back and breathe deep."

Trusting his guide Jim did as instructed.

***

"Yes, Simon. We're both in one piece. . No, there were no emergencies. No bomb threats or destroyed property. . Yes, we'll let you know when we'll be arriving. . Yes, you'll be the first to know if anything happens." Blair put down the receiver. He walked over to the bed and flopped down on it. Jim was sitting by the lonely table, reading a paper. They had decided to sleep at a hotel in Seattle, then rent a car to drive to Cascade. It gave them time to recover from jet lag, and deal with what had happened. It would also be easier on the sentinel than yet another flight.

"You know, Simon definitely needs to find a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, to be PC. Preferably a single parent with a bunch of kids. He has some serious fatherly tendencies he needs to exercise more often."

Jim chuckled. "How about Sheryl in forensics?" She was a jazz fan, and had just been dumped. Her husband of ten years had suddenly decided he wanted someone younger and more exciting. She was a humorous, no nonsense woman and believed that having three kids excluded her from ever again having a steady relationship.

"That has some possibilities."

Blair studied the ceiling. There was something he had meant to say to Jim. What was it? He went through the events in his head.

Jim sat down on the bed beside Blair.

"I'm going to resign," he blurted out.

"Why?" Blair thought he knew, but he wanted to hear Jim say it.

"Blackwood's not the only one. There are others who won't believe it was all a lie, an obfuscation. The lawyers are going to use it, often. The others are going to be under a microscope too. The whole department's a celebrity at the PD right now." Jim was silent for a moment. "People remember detective Ellison. If I'm something else. It's going to die down sooner."

Blair nodded. It had been a bit naive to think that saying ´it's not so` would make it all better, but he had not been able to come up with anything better at the moment. He had been stressed and panicky and it had been the best he could come up with.

"What will you do?"

Jim shrugged. "I'm not sure. What could I do?"

Blair thought about it. "PI. With your senses and my knowledge of people, we could do well." *Why didn't I think of this sooner?*

"You sure?"

"Oh, yeah. Anthropology is all about people and the culture they create, this way I could apply it to practice. A Ph.D and a former detective/Ranger, we'd do real well." Blair had sat up and was practically bouncing on the bed. "Of course, starting a business requires a lot." Blair grabbed the hotel letter paper and pencil from the bedside table. "Then again, we could go to search and rescue." Blair nibbled on the head of the pencil. "Or security. There's a lot we could do, partner."

Jim watched amused as his guide scribbled a list of things to do and possibilities to check out. He smiled.

"Then of course, there's the fact that changing professions may not be enough," Blair said softly, still scribbling.

"I know," Jim whispered, no longer smiling.

Blair turned to look at him.

Jim sighed. "I don't know. Leaving Cascade."

Blair nodded. "It's not easy to leave your territory, but just changing professions isn't enough to throw the more determined types off our backs."

"I know! It's just. It seems like running away. I haven't done anything wrong!"

Blair put the pencil aside to pat and stroke his arm. "No, you haven't. But if we truly want to start anew and leave this mess behind us, we've gotta start with a clean tablet so to speak."

Jim nodded. "But where?"

"Preferably somewhere warmer." Blair grinned. "I'll write a list of things to check when moving out of state and changing your name."

"Name?"

"Yes, that way we won't be so easy to find."

Jim did not like it, but it made sense.

"You get some sleep. After all, you're the one who'll be driving tomorrow," Blair said.

Jim yawned. "Okay. Don't stay up too late."

He laid down on the bed and fell asleep to the soothing sound of his guide's writing.

***

The breakfast next morning was a subdued affair. Blair was eagerly stuffing himself while Jim was merely toying with his minimal meal.

"Jim? We'll get through this. Together."

"How can you be so sure? Mebeta's cousin can't keep Blackwood busy for long." Jim sighed. "You wouldn't even be in this if not for me."

Blair took Jim's hand in his. "Don't. We're partners. Get it? We'll do what's needed to get another chance at living in peace."

Jim looked at the determined face of his best friend and guide.

"Together," he promised. "Are you sure about changing your name?"

"Yes. We need to go all the way. We'll have better chances that way."

***

The ride to Cascade was spent in comfortable silence, broken occasionally by Blair's chatter. He had bought a notebook in Seattle and was scribbling in it.

"Driver's license? Have to remember that. We'll need to go by the judge for the name change. The loft will sell pretty quickly, specially if we put a notice in some artist magazine or something. We're moving to some warmer state. I mean it. I'm not going to suffer in Alaska or some similar place. California's too near."

And so forth. Jim was mainly listening, trying to follow the leaps his guide's thoughts were taking.

***

Simon called them as soon as they had arrived at the loft. The captain informed them he would be coming by.

"Simon's coming over for a visit," Jim told Blair as he was coming from a shower.

"Thought so. Are you going to tell him now?"

Jim nodded. He had to concentrate to keep his eyes off the wet chest in front of him. *What's wrong with me? This is Blair.*

"How much?"

Jim took a deep breath. "That I'm resigning and we're leaving. If we change our names, it'd be best not to be in contact with our friends for a few years. Let the tracks cool down."

Blair stroked his cheek.

"I know. As long as you don't get any stupid ideas of going our separate ways, I'm in. I'm not giving up my sentinel."

Blair's hand felt real good. It was all he could do to nod. It was a struggle not to nuzzle the familiar hand.

***

Simon was relieved to see they were both in one piece. Blair had assured him they were, but it was a different matter to hear it and see it for himself.

"So, you've been nervous like a cat in a kennel. Spill it," he told his best detective as they were drinking tea on the couch.

Jim looked to Blair for moral support. *It's about both of them. Wonder if they're getting married.*

"I'll be writing my resignation tomorrow. We're leaving Cascade."

Simon was not really surprised. He had been expecting something like this. Things would have come to a head even without the kidnapping, sooner or later.

"I understand. Will you be keeping in touch?"

Jim shook his head.

"Okay. I assume you'll be together."

"You can count on it," Blair stated.

"Good. I'll feel better knowing you're together." Simon had learned a long time ago that those two belonged together.

"How soon can you cut him loose?" Blair asked.

Simon thought about it for a moment. There were no major cases on Jim's desk at the moment, but a few would be coming to court.

"In a week. All the paperwork needs to be signed off and the DA will want his testimonies on tape."

"It will take at least that long for me to straighten out the loose ends here. The lawyer should have word from the publisher this week."

"They'll settle for compensation. Buy you off." Simon knew the type: they thought money could solve everything. The sad thing was that they were often right.

"I know. We can use the money to start anew."

"True. It would be a lot easier with a ready nest egg," Simon agreed, thinking of the loans he and Joan had taken when they had moved together.

"How are the others?" Jim asked quietly.

"Megan's worried about Blair. Everyone thinks this had something to do with the diss but no one's saying anything out loud. They're not comfortable with the matter. Now that you're leaving. They won't say anything. It will stay as rumours and maybes, become a station legend in a couple of years."

"Most probably," Blair said. "Until the next reporter, the next based-on-a-true-story writer."

Simon nodded.

***

Blair took the mugs to the sink and went to Jim who had retreated to the balcony after Simon had left.

"Come on inside, it's cold."

Jim sighed, and went inside. Blair closed the doors and pulled him to a hug. They stayed in the embrace for a long time. It felt good to hold Jim, to feel him, breathe him in.

"He didn't ask," Jim wondered.

"Simon would rather not know. He's like the others at the station; they'd prefer not to know about the sentinel. It's outside their world."

Jim drew back.

"We can't tell about Blackwood, but we have to tell something."

"We were hauled off, we didn't recognise anyone, we got out before learning anything useful. That's it. I doubt anyone's going to press too hard."

Jim nodded. "I'll see if I can find something more about Blackwood. I don't think the conservation guy can hold him for long."

"You never know," Blair grinned. "I'll see if Kelso can help."

Jim yawned. "I'm off to sleep. ´Night."

"Night."

***

*I'll never take waking up in my own bed for granted.* Jim wondered how long it would take to move. He did not know how to tell his father, the old man would probably blame Blair. Everything was always someone's fault to him.

It might be for the best to move, to leave all the reminders behind. Maybe he could find out just what was going on between him and Blair. In the new place there would be no burdens, no preconceived notions, nothing and no one to tell them how to act. They could build their lives anew; become whatever they wanted to be.

***

There were not many questions as Jim returned to the station. The few that were asked were the general 'are you alright?'. It was as if people did not *want* to know what had happened, as if they thought that by ignoring the matter they would strip it of power over them, it would no longer exist. Jim and Blair were healthy and in one piece, and that was all that anyone was interested in.

It was just as good that Jim was left alone. He was busy tying up and transferring cases to others for a couple days and the rest of the week was spent in the DA's office, testifying.

Blair had been right. Since they did not push and there was not much evidence, the kidnapping was buried at the bottom of the pile.

***

Blair called Megan next day.

"Hi, how about lunch with the most popular bachelor in Cascade?"

"I'd love it. Who is he?"

"You're talking with him, sweet lady. How about Wong's?"

"Sure, I'll meet you there in an hour."

***

Megan closed the phone. She glanced at Jim's desk. The man himself was in DA's office at the moment. By all the signs he was getting ready to leave. *Good riddance.* Blair would be better off without him. Jim was the only one who benefited of their partnership. Blair helped with his paperwork, looked after him, gave him information and ideas. What did Blair get? Neglect, small insults and all the problems that seemed to follow Ellison around like puppies. Yes, Blair would definitely be better off with Jim gone.

***

Blair was waiting for Megan outside the restaurant. There were not too many people eating there despite the lunch hour. They found a free alcove by the back of the main room.

"I heard that Jim's leaving the PD," Megan said after their lunch had arrived.

"That's right. We're leaving Cascade. Going to a warmer climate."

"We?" Megan seemed worried for some reason. "You're going with him?"

"Yes. That's one of the reasons I wanted to see you."

"Oh. I thought. Are you sure you're making the right decision?"

"Never been surer in my life. With what's happened, it's better to start again somewhere else."

"*You* have no reason to leave."

"What do you mean? Do you seriously believe I'd stay at Rainier? That I could stay in Cascade and not be hunted down by the occasional reporter?"

"I suppose not." Megan was toying with the remains of her lunch. "I'm just worried. Worried you might be making a mistake staying with him."

"What - You can't mean what I think you're meaning," Blair said coldly.

"I know you've got a crush on him," Megan said carefully.

"I'm in love with him. Not that it's any of your business." Blair shook his head. It looked as if he had miscalculated with Megan. She was way off the mark. "You have no reason whatsoever to be worried about me. *I'm* the top in the relationship." Megan's face was one of pure amazement and disbelief. "I thought you didn't believe in judging a book by its cover, but I was obviously wrong."

Blair waved for the bill.

"Blair. I'm sorry if I insulted you in some way, but -"

"*If*," Blair hissed. "You judged the relationship between me and Jim without bothering to ask. You all but handed me a leaflet about the battered wives centre without checking to see if you were anywhere near the mark. There's no if about it." Blair got up after putting a couple of bills on the table, and walked out without looking back.

***

"Did you find anything about Blackwood?" Blair asked one evening as they were going through their lists; remember to do, absolutely have to do, when you have time to do.

"No, not much. He's a rich American brat. No criminal record, but then again he's lived abroad most of his life. Since I'm a cop only one more day, and it takes time for overseas inquiries to come through."

"And we can't afford to ask anyone else to do it. I know. I'm sure Kelso can find something. I asked him to drop a few hints about Blackwood here and there."

"Encouraging in criminal activities?" Jim grinned.

"Getting even," Blair said seriously.

Jim nodded. He was getting to see the protective streak in the guide. In some ways it was wider than the sentinel's, it covered more than just the physical.

"Any word from the judge's office?" he asked.

"The name change will take another week to go through. It should be clear sailing all the way."

The phone rang. Blair was closer to it, so he got up to answer it.

"Sandburg & Ellison, Sandburg speaking. . Hi, Zwack. . Yeah, we were off for a week. Didn't remember to inform you. Sorry about that," Blair said, turning toward Jim. He shrugged, 'why bother to explain'. Jim shook his head and waved off his explanations. "I swear. Any word from the publisher? . What?! . Oh. . Well, we're moving away in a couple weeks. So, could you. Good. . Sounds good to me, but if you want to investigate further. Okay. I'll come by your office tomorrow. .. Sure, bye." Blair gingerly replaced the receiver on the phone. He seemed to be in shock.

"Chief?"

"A million dollars. They're willing to pay a million dollars to avoid a lawsuit."

Jim thought about it for a moment.

"They've had similar incidents before. They're afraid Zwack would find something uglier."

"That's what he said." Blair flopped down on the couch.

"And?"

"I'm taking the money. Zwack can investigate on his own if he wants, I just want out. Away."

Jim put his arm around Blair's shoulders.

"At least we won't have to worry about paying off loans. With my savings and your hush money we can afford a better place to live."

"Pay off my student loans," Blair added. "We could really start anew." Blair turned his head and looked Jim into the eyes. Their faces were inches apart. "Together."

***

Blair did not want anyone there as he defended his dissertation. There would not have been any room anyway, not in chancellor Edward's office. It was a mere formality as the university wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible.

There was not any going away party or anything for Jim either. Simon had informed others by email a few days before. The others were not sure how to react. Jim had become an oddity at the station and, in extension, so had the Major Crimes. They cared for him, but were relieved that he was leaving. At least there was a bottle of red wine on Jim's desk the morning he was resigning, but that was it.

***

*Somewhere in Africa*

Blackwood was convinced that that damn guide Sandburg was behind the latest wave of trouble, protecting his sentinel. *Let them think they've won, let them relax their guard.* He could wait, but one day he was going to get Sandburg's sentinel, and this time he would kill the guide as soon as possible. He was not going to underestimate Sandburg ever again.

***

*Back in US*

Jim looked around the loft. Most of the furniture had been sold, given to charity or hauled off to the recycling centre. Just the bare necessities were left. Those would be given away next week, just before they left, under their new names. The official announcement had come yesterday; they would receive their new passports tomorrow. They would have to get new driver's licenses in the new state anyway. Jim would get a new gun and license there too, under his new name.

It felt odd, to think of himself as someone else. He had been Jimmy, Enqueri, Jim Ellison, and now he would again become someone else. But this time he would not be alone, Blair would be with him.

Jim had been wondering how Blair would taste. He had noticed men before, but that's all it had been, just noticing. This time he was actually thinking of maybe doing something. He was pretty sure Sandburg was interested in him, he just was not sure how or what to do about it. Or even if he should.

***

Blair informed a couple of old friends how to reach him in the future. They would tell Naomi. Blair did not know how to reach her, but he knew she kept in contact with a few old friends. More frequently than with her own son in fact, but that's how she was.

***

Jim called his father. The conversation did not go well, but he would have been surprised if it had gone well.

"You mean you're eloping with that neo-hippie?!"

"Father. I am. Not. Eloping with anyone. We're moving away, probably changing our names too."

"Why? You thinking of marrying him?"

Jim was rapidly losing his patience. When his father got an idea, he held to it, no matter what any additional evidence said. "And if I am? We're both adults, totally capable and within our rights to make such decisions."

"No son of mine sleeps with a pansy!"

"He's a wise and compassionate man. And he's more of a man than you'll ever be," Jim said slowly and carefully.

There was shocked silence at the other end of the line.

"Just thought you should know. Bye."

Jim put the phone down and went to the refrigerator for a beer, or three. He was just opening the cap as he realised how that one comment would sound to his father. Oh hell, who cared what the old man thought?

Things went better with Steven. Though he too thought that they were eloping, even congratulated them. *Am I the only one who thinks we're not sleeping together?*

***

Everything was ready. Blair had received a fourth of the settlement and would get the rest once a month in three months. The first chunk had been used to pay off the student loans, buy tickets and pay for the freight of the few things they would take with them. There was still enough to live with until they found a suitable apartment.

Jim wandered the empty loft. This was where it had begun, a few years ago. Now they would enter a new phase in their lives, with less baggage for both of them.

Jim had to admit he was worried. They were truly together, just the two of them. They did not know anyone in their new home, they were dependent on each other. *What if I screw up? Again?*

***

They were at the airport. Luggage had gone off, customs check was done, now it was just a matter of waiting.

"Jim? Something wrong?"

"No. Just. nervous," he admitted.

"Come here."

Blair led him to a secluded corner close to a quiet gate.

"Jim, I." Blair was quiet for a while, thinking. Then he seemed to come to a decision. He grabbed Jim by the neck and brought his head down. And kissed him.

Jim was stunned. It was not what he had expected, then again Blair specialised in doing the unexpected.

After they surfaced, Blair looked at him, asking a question.

Jim returned the kiss. Blair tasted good, as he had known he would.

They were together, and they *were* eloping. Everything was all right.

***

*Epilogue*

Jim was sitting on the terrace, watching the sun as it rose above the horizon. The night creatures had retreated to their nests and the daytime animals were waking up. The air was soft and full of vibrant scents.

He heard Blair struggle to wake up in their bedroom. *Their bedroom*. It had been a year and he still felt amazed at the words. It had not all been easy, but he had not expected it to be. Still, they were in love and they fit together.

Blair came to the terrace.

"Still worried about Kelso's message?"

Jim nodded.

Blair put his arms around Jim's neck and his head on top of Jim's.

"We knew someone would come after us, for whatever reason."

"I know. I just hoped we'd have more time in peace."

Blair kissed his neck.

"Me, too. But we *are* sentinel and guide. I think it's written somewhere in that great cosmic book that we can't have quiet and uneventful lives."

"I love you," Jim whispered.

"I love you, too. We can handle Brackett, and anyone else who comes after us."

"You're so certain of it."

"I am. We can do it, together."

"Together."


End?