Millennium Angels

By

Dar Hutson Scally

(Chopecdar@yahoo.com)

2-2-2000

Blair Sandburg woke to the sound of someone moaning, only to find that it was his own voice he was hearing. And even awake, he was having a hard time stopping it. He tried to think, to remember why he was moaning, but nothing came to him. He wasn't in pain, was he? His thoughts felt foggy. He felt disconnected from himself, almost like he was floating on a cloud of numbness. So, then what was up with all that moaning?

Well, the first step to finding out, he supposed, was to open his eyes. He concentrated and sent the signal to his brain and soon felt his eyes dragging open. Darkness. No, not complete darkness. There was a lantern hanging on a hook on the wall. He focused on the light streaming from it. Not much light, only about enough to see four or five feet from the wall. Enough to see that he was chained to that wall with thick heavy very solid looking chain which was attached to his ankle, his bare ankle, which when he followed it up, he realized was attached to his bare leg. Looking further, he discovered that he was in his underwear.

At least the moaning had stopped. Now he was breathing quickly and his heart was running wild. His typical fear response. His body was shooting him full of adrenalin and telling him to run like the wind, only it didn't know he couldn't. Only his mind knew that, and his body, at the moment didn't want to listen to what his mind knew.

He looked around, trying to see if he could see anything else in the room. He already knew he couldn't hear anything besides whatever noises his own body decided to make.

The knowledge that he had been drugged recently was just starting to filter through to his mind, that same mind that was currently trying to communicate with his body, trying to tell it not to waste all of that adrenalin when there was no where to run to, trying to tell it to save some of that flight response for a more appropriate moment.

He could see dark shapes and shadows across the room. He could see that there were no windows or other sources of light at all besides that one lantern. He could see that that one lantern was starting to get dimmer and would probably soon go out entirely. He could see that he couldn't see much of anything else.

Okay, so sight was a no go. How about hearing or smell? Not a sentinel here, just a guide, and a confused guide at that. He listened. It was quiet, very quiet. He held his breath and listened, finally picking up on a dripping sound coming from across the room somewhere in the dark. It kind of sounded like the shower head in the loft had sounded during the one day that Jim had allowed it to go on before he had gotten a chance to fix it. Jim Ellison loft rule number two hundred forty three: No dripping of any kind.

Smell, he didn't have to concentrate on. He could identify that right away. It smelled like a damp musty basement. How did he know what a damp basement smelled like? At some point during his childhood he remembered getting "accidently" locked in a damp musty basement and left there over night during a thunderstorm, by a boy whose father had wanted to marry Naomi. Like that was ever going to happen. But the other boy didn't want a new family and definitely didn't want to share his father or his bedroom so he had done everything he could think of to scare Blair away, even to the point of locking him in the basement overnight when their parents had gone away together for the weekend. Not one of his better memories. He still didn't think much of spending any time in a basement.

But none of that compared with being chained to the wall in a damp, musty basement.

This was new fodder for his nightmares. He could just see the dreams coming. The kind that would wake him up in the middle of the night and refuse to let him go back to sleep. Yes, he definitely saw some sleepless nights ahead from this one. Assuming, of course, that he lived long enough to have those dreams. What a way to start the new year. And at this rate he was going to miss the New Years Eve party. Maybe he already was. Maybe it was going on right now without him. He wished he had a watch on with date and time. He really wanted to know how long he had been here.

Okay, time to figure out what's going on here. He could feel his mind getting sharper, more focused. The drug must be wearing off, finally. Time to start thinking. Time to start remembering. What had happened? How had he ended up here and where was here?

Working backward, he could now say for sure that he was in a basement. His sense of the size of the room, made him think it was a basement under a regular size house, as opposed to a basement of a building. Where that house was, he had no idea. What was he doing? What was the last thing he remembered?

Oh, yeah. He had been getting in his car with a Chinese food order that he had just picked up from China Garden. Jim would be wondering where he was. Jim would be looking for him. Jim knew he had been stopping for Chinese food. He would know where to start looking for him. All right, now think. Somebody had grabbed him. Somebody had drugged him and taken him here. How could it have happened without him remembering any of it?

He remembered sitting the carryout bag on the seat in the car. He remembered turning the key in the ignition. He remembered feeling sleepy. So, he must have passed out in the car. That meant somebody had managed to slip him the drug somehow and had waited for it to take effect and then collected him peacefully from his car. Then they had carried him here, taken his clothes, and chained him to the wall. He wondered how long he had been here. Now that he thought about it, he was starting to feel very thirsty.

Jim found the car witting in the alley beside China Garden. The door was unlocked, the engine was running, and the cold Chinese food was sitting on the seat of the car. Sandburg's ever-present backpack was on the floor, badge and gun inside, along with an assorted collection of police and anthropology books. Even as a detective, Blair was ever the student, always ready to read, to learn, to absorb new information.

Jim studied the car, inside and out, looking for any sign of what had happened to Blair. Outside the car, he saw scuff marks from Blair's new rubber soled hiking boots. Marks that led away from the car, down the alley, to a spot where they suddenly disappeared. From there, he followed a drip. It was an oil drip, like the trail left by a vehicle with a fairly considerable oil leak. He kept following it where it crossed over the next street and continued on the alley and then stopped in a big puddle. A big puddle, which sat under an old faded yellow Ford Maverick, with flattened tires, broken windows, ripped seats, and a neat little stack of shirt, pants, and new hiking boots sitting on the front seat.

Oh, God. What were they doing to his guide? Thoughts of depraved excuses for humanity crossed his mind. If someone like that had taken Sandburg, who knew what they were probably doing to him right now. He had seen male victims of sexual assault, men whose lives had been ruined by rape. He thought it must be harder on men even than on women, simply because it wasn't supposed to be able to happen to them. They were supposed to be strong, invulnerable. They were supposed to be the protectors of society, not the helpless victims. And what could make anyone feel more like a helpless victim than being raped?

Most of the men he knew would rather be dead than survive a rape.

He prayed that it was only his imagination making him think this way. There could be any number of possible reasons that Blair's abductor's would take his clothes off and leave them to be found. Maybe his first thoughts were exactly the impression they were trying to leave. Maybe somehow that fit into their plan. Maybe he should just get his butt moving to find his partner.

Bright light flooded the room from a door, a suddenly opened door, a door at the top of some steps that Blair could now see. He watched as robed, hooded figures, carrying candles walked slowly down the steps. As they reached the floor, they each took space kneeling around him, until they were all gathered encircling him, each holding a candle in front of them. He looked from one to the other, trying to see some facial features, but they were all well covered by their dark hooded robes.

He was about to say something when the chanting started, quietly at first, like the hum of hummingbirds, but gradually getting louder and faster, until he could make out what they were saying, and that scared him even more. "We are the millennium angels. You are the offering. You will appease the gods. We are the millennium angels. You are the offering. You will appease the gods." Soon they were shouting it, feverishly swearing it, as if the more emotion they put into saying it, the more true it became. It was really scaring him now. These people were all insane. They were like some kind of deranged cult and he was afraid, that for some reason, he had been chosen as their sacrificial lamb, a position he was sure he didn't want.

Then they all stood and started swaying, candles waving back and forth, and they started moving away, over to the other side of the room. Then he heard water running into something. He couldn't see past them, but it sounded like a large tub was filling up, and he prayed that their method of sacrifice wasn't drowning, cause he had already tried that once and he was definitely, positively, sure that he didn't want to try it again, ever!

He sat up and looked over toward them and noticed that they were one by one heading back up the steps. Well, maybe he was okay for now, maybe this part of the ritual was done with and they would leave him alone for a while. Maybe not. The door slammed shut and there were still three of them down here with them. That fact was making him very nervous.

The water was shut off. He watched as they lined the candles up on a ledge along the wall. Then they turned toward him. One of them walked over to him and spoke to him.

"It's time for your ritual cleaning. You must be bathed and purified for the ceremony." It was a female voice. She put a hand out to him. "Come. We do not want to hurt you, only to bathe you."

He glanced at the bathtub. Steam rose from the water. It must be very hot. He wanted no part of it. Visions of Lash and his victims, all found in bathtubs, swarmed through his mind. No, he wanted no part of any bath, ritual or otherwise. He looked back at the chain on his ankle. How did she expect him to get over to the bathtub anyway with a chain on his ankle?

She looked down at the chain and the padlock that sealed it and held up a key. "I will unchain you, but you must not struggle. We do not want to hurt you. The ceremony requires you to be clean and unblemished."

Well, maybe this was his chance. He looked at her, wishing he could see past the hood to her face. That was the first thing he would do, he decided. He wanted to see the crazies who had taken him. If he got out of here alive, he wanted to be able to identify them. He looked at the tub and back at her and nodded. She took it as his agreement that he wouldn't fight them and she unlocked the padlock.

He pulled the chain away from his ankle and stretched, then slowly stood, acting like he was weak and unsteady on his feet, which actually wasn't much of a stretch. He wondered again how long he had been here. He felt like he hadn't been up in days. She started to take his hand to guide him over to the tub. He acted like he was reaching to take her hand, but as his hand got close to hers, he pushed her toward the other two and ran for the steps.

He didn't know where he was going. It was stupid really, to try to get away up those same steps where he had just seen all of the other cult members leave the room, which really didn't matter anyway cause when it came right down to it, how could he have ever thought they'd let him make it up those stairs anyway?

Well, the other two were men, big men, bigger than him, and definitely stronger than him, and they had no inhibitions when it came to demonstrating that fact. It took them only a moment to rip his remaining clothes off and sit him down in the hot steamy water.

At least it wasn't quite as hot as it looked. But it was still significantly warmer than he would have liked. He struggled to get loose from them, but one held each shoulder down in the water, which gave him no leverage, no way to get out. If he slid down off his butt, his head would go under, so he had no choice but to sit there docilely, waiting for them to make a mistake.

The girl came over then. "That wasn't very nice." She said. "Do you want them to drug you again?"

Blair shook his head. "Why are you doing this?" He asked, trying to distract himself from the fact that he was sitting here naked in a tub, being held down by two men and about to be bathed by a crazy woman who was preparing him to be killed.

She smiled, apparently happy that he wanted to talk now. She picked up a thin sponge and dipped it in the water, then squeezed some liquid soap on it. Then she proceeded to rub it against his chest, arms and stomach, as she talked.

"We are the Millennium Angels. We are the chosen people to go into the next millennium, to be the guides, the leaders of the new order. You have been chosen. You are to be the sacrifice. The supreme one has decreed that the sacrifice must be one who has died and risen, one who has been on the spirit walk and returned to live again. You have done this. The sacrifice must also be one who does work to the benefit of the people. You work for the police. We saw you saving that little girl from kidnappers last week. The chosen must also be well educated, someone who can pass on knowledge in the next life. You have been a teacher, a wise one, much liked by your students. The supreme one has chosen you wisely. You will be a good sacrifice. The gods will reward us greatly when we send you to them."

"How do you know so much about me?" Blair asked.

"The supreme one knows many things about many people. He communes with the gods. Tomorrow he will commune with the gods again and tomorrow night they will accept you as our sacrifice and they will bless us with many years."

"What's your name?" Blair asked. This question seemed to confuse her.

Finally, she answered. "You may call me Dia. We don't use our real names among outsiders."

"But of I'm the chosen, doesn't that mean I'm not an outsider anymore?" Blair asked her.

"You're trying to confuse me." She said. "I won't answer any more questions."

She continued scrubbing him until she had scrubbed the soapy sponge against every part of his body that she could reach. Then she motioned to the two men and they gripped him under his arms and lifted him up. "Kneel." One of them ordered. He kneeled and soon felt the sponge scrubbing his back and butt and down the back of his legs.

Then she was finished and told him to step out, which he did, the two men still holding his arms. She started drying him with a big thick towel, again covering every inch of his body. He thought briefly of how he might have enjoyed having a woman bath him this way, in very different circumstances. He pushed the thought out of his mind. He didn't need to have his body start reacting in any way that might make them think sexual thoughts. He was in a very vulnerable position here. And although they seemed to want him to be clean and pure, that didn't necessarily preclude sex. After all, these people were crazy. There was no place for rational thought here.

She finished drying him, and walked away. He watched as she carefully hung the towel up and pulled the plug on the bathtub. Then she covered the floor where he had been chained with a white sheet and walked away again. The two men pulled him over to the sheet, still holding onto his arms.

"Down, on your back." One of them said, lowering him down to lie on the sheet. They wrapped the chain around his ankle and the woman handed them the padlock, which was quickly secured. Still, they didn't let go of his arms, instead raising them above his head. He looked back toward the woman and saw that she was coming over to him carrying a bowl, which she sat down on the floor next to him. Then she kneeled beside him and dipped her hands into the bowl.

When she started rubbing her hands on him, starting at his shoulders, he realized it was massage oil. It was warm, having apparently been sitting over a candle during the bath, getting warmed for her to use it on him now. She gently rubbed it into his shoulders and chest, working down, gently touching his genitals and working down his legs. Again, he thought how nice this would be under normal circumstances. Being given a bath and massage by a woman was any mans dream, but not this way.

She finished his toes and worked her way back up, then he was told to roll over and strongly guided that way by then men who still had a hold on his arms, not even letting go as they helped him flip over. Then she worked on his shoulders and back, his buttocks, and legs, until there wasn't a spot left on him that she hadn't bathed and oiled, except for his head. They didn't seem to be interested in his head, which was fine with him.

He watched as she cleaned up and then came back with a clean sheet. The men held his arms as he stood up and she removed the oily sheet and placed the new one down. Then they let go of him and stepped out of his reach. His arms were sore from being held up for so long. He stood there, trying to pretend he wasn't standing here naked in front of strangers, and glared at them.

The woman headed up the steps first. Not saying anything, she opened the door and went through, closing it behind her. Then one of the men followed her. The other walked around the room, blowing out the candles, one by one. It got very dark as the last candle went out. Then a small lamp lit on the other side of the room. It was dim, but better than the dark.

Blair waited, standing still. He knew as soon as this crazy left him alone, he was going to wrap up in this sheet he was standing on. At the moment, he didn't want to show how vulnerable he felt. He was comfortable in his own body, but this whole situation was too weird and definitely way too scary.

The other man walked over to him, standing right in front of him, as if daring him to make a move against him. Blair forced himself to stand still and glare at the fully covered figure. How fair was this, anyway. They were all completely covered with robes, even their faces, but they had left him completely uncovered, completely exposed. He guessed sacrificial lambs didn't need clothes. After all, he came into this world naked.

"It's a shame to waste such a nice looking body." The man finally said, quietly, and Blair realized he had been leering at him. That really made him feel like a piece of meat.

"Maybe you'd like to experience sex once last time before you make your trip to the other side?" The man asked.

"If I did, it wouldn't be with you." Blair said, defiantly.

The man laughed. "Prefer the women, huh?" The man turned, walking toward the steps. "Well, I don't know if the supreme one will care what you prefer. I have a feeling he's going to take care of your sexual needs himself, not to mention his own, before we send you on your journey. Don't worry though, he's pretty good. If he's in a gentle mood, he might not even make you bleed. Of course, what's the difference anyway? It won't hurt for long." He laughed all the way up the stairs and slammed the door behind him.

Blair picked up the sheet and wrapped himself up in it, then started testing the strength of the chain that trapped him. He was not going to wait meekly like a lamb for some supreme crazy man to come down here and rape him and then kill him in some pretense of a holy sacrifice. He had to get out of here. He had to start thinking like a cop. What would Jim do if he were in this position? Well, he wasn't Jim. If he were he'd probably be strong enough to break the chain away from the wall. But he wasn't Jim. He didn't have the same physical strength. His area was brainpower. But how was he going to "think" his way out of this one? He was getting a headache and he was still thirsty. Weren't they going to give him anything to eat or drink?

PART 2

Simon drive slowly along the street as Jim directed him. He couldn't believe they were following a scent. Jim was hanging his head partway out the window as Simon drove along. Every few minutes, they would stop while Jim caught the scent again. He was working with a bloodhound here, not a sentinel.

Under normal circumstances, Jim might be offended by that reference, but tonight, his guide was missing, having been snatched away from him almost seven hours ago. He was determined to find his partner before it was too late. The sentinel was in overdrive. His guide needed him and he needed his guide. He would find him and he would not rest until he did.

Simon understood this. But he didn't know if it was already too late. Jim seemed pretty sure that it wasn't and after all, he was the sentinel. He should know. Sometimes it seemed him and Blair had some kind of connection. So, maybe Jim did know that Blair was still alive. Maybe he'd feel it if he died. He had been drawn to the fountain at Rainier when the kid had drowned. And he had saved him when everyone else there had given up on him.

But they weren't out here following some sentinel guide connection right now. They were following a scent, the scent of "overpowering roses" as Jim had put it. The scent that had pervaded the interior of the car that Blair's clothes had been found in.

The significance of Blair's clothes being found anywhere without Blair wearing them, was causing Simon significant worry. There weren't too many good reasons to take away a man's clothes. In fact, he couldn't think of one.

"Stop!" Jim yelled, suddenly.

Simon pulled over to the side of the road. Jim leaned farther out the window, sniffing the early morning air.

"Back up. We passed it." Jim said.

Simon looked behind him. No traffic at the moment. Not that they had seen much traffic in the last hour or so. It was almost four in the morning. Most people were home in their beds at this time of night, or was that this time of day?

He backed the car gradually down the road, being careful to watch for any traffic.

"Stop!" Jim said. "That way." He said, pointing down a dirt road leading off through what looked like overgrown farm land.

Simon backed up enough to get turned onto the dirt road and slowly drove along, Jim's nose constantly sniffing the air. Blair was going to love this development. Bloodhound Jim. He just hoped Blair would be alive and well to hear about it.

The dirt road went several miles before a tall-padlocked gate halted their progress, the gate being attached to a barbwire fence that stretched in both directions. A small sign on the gate identified this as the Millennium Angel's Retreat House. Behind the fence was a lightly wooded compound with what appeared to be an old farmhouse sitting in the middle of it. Far to the rear of the house, Jim could see that the fencing went all of the way around it.

Simon turned to look at Jim. About to speak, he held his tongue, seeing that Jim was straining to listen.

"It's a shame to waste such a nice looking body." A man's voice was saying.

"Maybe you'd like to experience sex once last time before you make your trip to the other side?"

"If I did, it wouldn't be with you." Jim heard Blair's voice answer.

The man laughed. "Prefer the women, huh?" The sound of footsteps.

"Well, I don't know if the supreme one will care what you prefer. I have a feeling he's going to take care of your sexual needs himself, not to mention his own, before we send you on your journey. Don't worry though, he's pretty good. If he's in a gentle mood, he might not even make you bleed. Of course, what's the difference anyway? It won't hurt for long."

The sound of a door slamming jarred Jim out of it and he looked at Simon.

"He's in there, Simon. They have him in the basement. It doesn't sound like he's been hurt, yet. But there was a man talking to him. He said something about a supreme one. This guy just told him that this supreme one is planning to rape him. He also said something about sending him on a journey. It sounds like they're planning to kill him. We have to get him out of there, now."

Simon nodded, backing the car away from the gate to conceal it in the overgrown roadside. "How many of them are in there?" Simon asked.

Jim listened, first tuning into Blair, who he could hear muttering. He tuned him out and listened for heartbeats. Blair was alone in the basement. Upstairs he singled out ten more heartbeats; only three of them were on the first floor. The others were all upstairs. He opened his hearing to see if he could catch any conversation. Four of the ones upstairs seemed to be sleeping. The other three were all together. He listened a moment to sounds of movement: a rhythmic thumping sound, moans and grunts, breathless whispers, and he realized that he was hearing three men engaged in sex. He quickly tuned it out.

"We need to go in now, Simon." Jim said. "There are ten of them all together, but only three downstairs and of the ones upstairs, six are sleeping and three are preoccupied. If we strike now, we can catch them off guard."

Simon frowned. He didn't like the odds. Two men couldn't take down a group of ten, even if one of those two men was a former covert ops ranger.

"I've got back up coming, Jim. We'll wait for them to get here, unless Blair is in imminent danger." Simon said. "From what you've said, they're leaving him alone at the moment. We can't afford to charge in and take a chance on failing with just the two of us here."

Jim reluctantly agreed. "How long?"

"They should be here within the hour." Simon said.

Jim looked at his watch. It was six in the morning. He suddenly realized that it was New Year's Eve, an event that had totally slipped his mind the moment he realized Blair had been taken. He looked back up at the sign on the gate.

"Simon, it's New Year's Eve." Jim said.

"Uh huh." Simon responded intelligently.

"Look at the name on the gate." Jim said. "They must be one of those crazy millennium end of the world groups."

Simon nodded. "I already asked Rafe to get whatever information he could. Maybe he'll have something for us when he gets here."

Gradually, over the next hour, Cascade's finest congregated in the field outside the compound. They had Brown, Rafe, Conner, and Gentry from Major Crime, and the A-shift SWAT team, commanded by Henry Silver, who was the one SWAT team Captain that Simon liked and respected. He had a reputation for using caution, for always putting the hostages first and his fellow officers second, and for being reasonable when dealing with other departments. He reported in to Simon, right away making it clear that he and his team realized this was Simon's detail and they were only here to take orders from him.

As Simon organized the assault team, Jim sat on the hood of the car and kept his ears tuned toward the farmhouse, listening for any activity in the basement. So far, all he had heard was the sound of a chain rattling, and he had surmised that Blair was chained to something and each time he moved that chain rattled. Occasionally, he heard Blair's voice muttering something so low even he couldn't make out exactly what was being said. This, he was used to. It was Blair's way of organizing his thoughts, especially when he was stressed.

He was just trying to make out something Blair was saying, when his voice suddenly stopped. Then he realized why, as he heard footsteps going down the stairs. Listening, he determined that the footsteps belonged to three men. They seemed to be chanting something. He listened and was able to make it out. "You are the chosen. You must be prepared. You are the chosen. You must be prepared." They kept repeating it, and Jim could hear the chain rattling and the sound of Blair's heart racing and tense breathing.

"Jim!" Simon's voice pulled Jim back and he looked at Simon, alarm in his expression.

"Something's happening, Simon. We have to go in now." Jim demanded.

"It's okay, Jim. We're ready." Simon said. "Just a few minutes for everyone to get into position and we're moving."

Jim nodded, looking around him to see SWAT team members using wire cutters in several spots along the fencing. As each opening in the fence occurred, officers slipped through the fence and took positions in the bushes and behind parked cars around the house.

"Go, Jim." Simon said. "I've given instructions, only our people will go to the basement. The SWAT team members will take care of anyone else in the house. You lead our team directly to the basement. I'll coordinate everything from here."

He handed Jim a headset radio, which Jim positioned as he slid through the opening in the fence. The other detectives followed him through. As soon as they were all in position, Jim notified Simon, who gave the order to proceed.

They had pulled the sheet away from Blair and pushed him down onto his stomach and were holding him there. He had an awful feeling that he knew what was coming next and he knew he would fight it. He had felt violated enough just having a woman give him a bath. He turned his head to the side, trying to see behind him. One of them was kneeling on his back and the other two each had a hold on his ankles. They were pulling on his legs, trying to spread them apart. Okay, that was it! No way was he letting this happen. He put all his strength into holding his legs together and throwing this jerk off his back.

Suddenly he felt a hard smack on his butt. That really pissed him off. But the one who had smacked him had taken one hand off his ankle, which gave Blair the freedom to pull that leg away and kick out at his attackers. He felt his foot hit something solid and he kept kicking, and kept connecting. Suddenly both of his legs were free and he pushed with his arms, finally throwing the guy off his back. He rolled over and tackled the guy, punching him and cheering inwardly when the man went down.

Unfortunately, the other two were just recovering from his kicks, and both started punching him at once. He fought back, but there were two of them and they were both bigger than him. Within moments, he found himself slamming into the wall, banging the back of his head, and falling to the floor in a fog. Distantly he felt them touching him, starting to roll him over onto his stomach, but then there was yelling and sounds of punching, and he didn't feel anything anymore. He tried to look to see what was happening but realized his eyes were closed and refused to open for him. He laid still and awaited his fate, too weak to move.

Jim wasn't surprised to see one of the three men down already when he entered the basement. He had been listening as he approached. Running down the stairs, Rafe and Brown right behind him, he ran straight for the two men who were trying to rape his guide. He pulled one off and threw him across the room. The other man looked at him and turned to run away, being caught by Brown and handcuffed. Rafe and Gentry each handcuffed one of the other men and started hauling them up the stairs. Megan Conner took one look at the scene before her and decided Jim needed some private time with his partner.

"I'll send the medics down when they arrive." She said, knowing that Simon had already called for them, just in case they were needed. She walked up the stairs and closed the door. Jim knew she would guard it until the medics arrived.

He pulled the sheet over and wrapped it around Blair, gently lifting him to pull the sheet around his back. Then he lifted his eyelid and looked at one eye. Feeling around his head for any bumps, he found blood seeping slowly from a cut on the back of his head.

"Blair." He called gently. He sat against the wall and held Blair, his head cradled against his shoulder. "Chief, I need you to wake up now. Come on. You can do it."

Blair heard his sentinel calling him from far away. He concentrated on following the sound of Jim's voice and it seemed like it got closer. Gradually, he became aware that he wasn't cold anymore and someone was touching him. Remembering suddenly, what was happening to him right before he had apparently passed out, he jerked away, struggling to free himself. But the arms that held him only pulled him closer and he realized he was hearing Jim's voice urging him to calm down and open his eyes, telling him it was okay.

He opened his eyes and found Jim's worried face looking down at him.

"It's okay, Chief. You're okay now." Jim assured him. "You just bumped your head. Can you say something for me?"

Blair looked away. He was still in the basement. He felt disconnected, like he wasn't fully awake. He couldn't really feel his body, like it was numb, but maybe that was a good thing. He remembered getting beaten and knew there had to be some pretty bad bruising. Then he thought about the men who had attacked him and wondered what had happened. Had they raped him while he had been unconscious?

Jim heard Blair's heartbeat quicken in fear and he rocked him gently trying to soothe him.

"It's okay, Chief." He said. "Blair, do you hear me? It's okay. You're okay."

Blair looked up at his partner. "Jim, did they..?" He stopped, not wanting to say the words. He looked at Jim, waiting for a response.

The look on Jim's face as he realized what Blair was asking, was a look of relief.

"No, Blair. We got here in time. I got to them right after you passed out. I'm sorry I didn't get here in time to keep them from hurting you."

Blair smiled, feeling relieved and warm and content to be resting in his sentinel's arms. He was safe now.

"Sleepy." He said, his eyes drifting slowly shut. "And thirsty." He added, drifting off into a dream of drinking a cold glass of ice water.

Jim smiled. His guide would be okay. And these crazy cultists would be put away where they couldn't hurt anyone else. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, the tension and lack of sleep of the last day catching up with him.

When Simon led the medics down into the basement a few minutes later, he smiled at the sight awaiting them. Jim slept peacefully, head back, gently snoring, as he held a sleeping guide in his arms, both wearing peace filled smiles of contentment. Simon couldn't help smiling, too. All was right with his world when all was right with the Sentinel and his Guide.

The End

(Sorry for the sappy ending. I couldn't help myself. Blame it on millennium fever..)

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