We don't own any of these guys. Rysher, Pet Fly, UPN and a bunch of other people who make a lot more money than we do get to claim them. Please don't pick on us, it's all in good fun.

Attention: This is an ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. In reality, or as close to reality as Zen&nancy can get, Jim would never act this way. We love Jim!!!

This is a crossover. We're not sure where it came from, nancy doesn't even like crossovers. Zen kept pushing this outline for a Blair/Duncan piece and this monster of an ongoing work in progress is what happened. It doesn't seem to have an end in site. At first we weren't even going to post it, but now Zen really wants to share. We'd really appreciate some feedback here, so by all means, do tell us what you think. However, we really need you to read this one with the words 'alternate universe' firmly fixed in your mind. We don't think we've committed any character assassination (except that Jim isn't really a bigot), but if you do, let us know. We're tougher than we look.

That said, this story takes place somewhere roughly around the beginning of the yet to be fourth season of the Sentinel, and the never to happen seventh season of Highlander. BTW, Zen&nancy are in complete denial of the Archangel stuff and, so far, the entire sixth (crappy) season. So, none of that really matters here. :)

Story title and lyrics borrowed without permission from Bob Marley (r.i.p.)

Three Little Birds

Part 1

By Zen&nancy

Don't worry about a thing

Cause every little thing is gonna be alright

Don't worry about a thing

Every little thing is gonna be alright

Rise up this morning

Smiled with the rising sun

Three little birds

Pitch by my doorstep

Singing sweet songs

Of melodies pure and true

Say, this is my message to you:

Don't worry about a thing

Cause every little thing is gonna be alright

Don't worry about a thing

Cause every little thing is gonna be alright

Blair lay awake, staring at the ceiling. A little light from a street lamp below filtered in the window. His bedroom was larger than the one he'd slept in for the past three years, and this one had two windows. A tape in the portable radio sitting on the floor played Tibetan bells, very quietly. He could do that now, fall asleep with music playing, there was no one here to be bothered by it.

Kicking his covers off with a dramatic sigh, Blair got out of bed. There was no point in lying awake, and if he wasn't going to sleep he might as well get some work done. Setting water to boil in the tea kettle on the stove, Blair walked around the one bedroom apartment, turning lights on as he went. When every light in the house was on, he went back to the kitchen to check the water. Not even steaming yet. He retraced his path through the rooms, checking each window and door to make sure that they were locked. This was a ritual he would perform every night, sometimes more than once.

There was no security here, not the kind he had lived with for the past four years. No one slept above him with a gun in the table at the side of his bed, ready to protect him. No one with hyper senses would hear him if he whispered for help. No, there was no security here at all, it was the most temporary place in the world, but it was very safe. Safe from best friends that expected you to risk your life for them every single day, and never listened when you talked. Very, very, safe from best friends that punched you in the face and broke your favorite clay statue.

The water finally boiled, and Blair poured it into a large ceramic mug. The scent of rose hips filled the small kitchen, making it seem less foreign a place. There was nothing here to tell anyone that Blair Sandburg lived here. No wall hangings, no masks, no statues or brass singing bowls or feathered pipes or divining rods. Just some halfway decent furniture he'd had delivered from a rental place, a dozen boxes stacked against the dining room wall, his laptop, and a futon on the floor of the bedroom. There wasn't even any mess. There was nothing to make a mess with, and he spent very little time here.

The past two months had been spent almost entirely on campus at Seacouver University, in his new office. There was a real desk and a comfortable couch and no one would ever dream of using his space as a storage room. There were some good things about being a real, bona fide Ph.D.. Living in the web of state university paperwork and faculty meetings and campus politics were the drawbacks, but he'd known that. Seacouver U was a big school, with a campus that stretched for a narrow mile along the west side of the city. From his office, on the fourth floor of the Anthro building, he could just see the haze of the water on the other side of the city.

He'd gotten lost every day for the first three weeks, and the number of new names to remember were mind boggling. A hundred times a day he thought of his Sentinel, wishing for his help in some little way. Jim would never get lost trying to get from the library back to his three o'clock ancient civilizations class in the lecture hall that wasn't on the map they'd given him. Jim wouldn't let him miss Thursday's seven p.m. faculty meeting because he was so emersed in grading a stack of papers that it was nine thirty when he looked up, hoping he had a little more time. Jim wouldn't have let him let it go when some asshole had smashed the driver's side window of his car, either.

It had happened last Tuesday, Blair had walked the two long blocks across campus from his office to the faculty parking garage to find the pride flag sticker on his bumper blacked out and his window smashed. A brick lay on the front seat, a piece of paper wrapped around it with a rubber band. It had one word printed on it, "FAG". He'd stood there under the streetlight, shaking, expecting a gang of snarling skinheads to jump out of the shadows and beat the shit out of him at any moment, wishing feverently for Jim.

He'd gone home, went straight to his bedroom and closed the door. Although there was no one to keep out here, in his six hundred square foot apartment. He sat on the floor in the corner of the room, with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around himself, his knuckles white from the stress he put on his locked hands. Blair seethed with rage. He was so angry, and there was no one and nothing to be angry at. He wanted to hit Jim back, hit him so hard he went over backwards and skidded across the hardwood floor, the way Blair had the night he'd made the 'big mistake'. He wanted to find the guy who had smashed his window and kick him in the balls, and push his face in the broken glass he'd had to sweep gingerly off his seat. He wanted to yell, fight, break something, make someone cry. Instead, he was the one who was crying, rocking back and forth with his head on his knees, drawn up as small as possible in the corner of the room.

That night had sucked, he couldn't remember a time when he had felt so bereft, alone and helpless. He hadn't even had the guts to report the crime, just spent money he didn't have on a new window. The nights he spent here were horrible. He paced and talked to the walls and stared out the windows, afraid of the silence. For the first month he'd been here, he'd spent more nights on the couch in his office than at his new apartment. He would set an alarm clock on his desk for six a.m., go home to shower and change and be back on campus for his first class.

He was trying to adjust, trying to accept the fact that this was his life now, and if he wanted it to get better he would have to make an effort to do something with it. Blair had moved around and relocated countless times in his life, but this time he just couldn't seem to settle in. Teaching full time was good, it took more time and concentration than he had in a day. That was exactly what he wanted. He had willingly taken on an absent professor's class schedule as well as his own, and this was his very first semester as a full time teacher. It was a crazy workload. He was juggling more classes than he could ever remember taking in a single semester, let alone trying to teach. It was better than having time to think though, anything was better than that. Blair felt like he had been on automatic pilot for the past two months, using only the parts of his brain that he needed, feeling as little as possible.

People saw him differently than they had in Cascade, he could tell. He was faculty here, of course, not just a teaching fellow, but it was a lot more than that. He didn't try to make a connection with every person he met here, didn't throw himself into conversations and offer bits of information. People treated him with more respect, and people touched him less. A lot less. No one put their hand against the small of his back when he walked, no one touched his arm to ask a question. Are you okay? Are you ready to go? Do we like this person? No one messed up his hair or called him stupid nicknames. In fact, in the past two months, no one had called him anything but "Dr. Sandburg" and "Professor". That sucked.

"Why did you have to be an asshole, Jim?" Blair questioned the empty room softly, knowing he wasn't going to get an answer. Why didn't really matter. There were a dozen more important questions that Blair asked himself everyday, but he didn't get the answers to those, either. Are you okay? Who pulls you out when you zone now? Are you being careful on the job? Do you miss me? Are you sorry? That last one was the only one that he really needed an answer to, Blair thought.

Sighing, he went into the dining room, dropping down cross legged on the floor next to his laptop. "Thinking about him isn't going to help." He muttered to himself through clenched teeth. There was plenty of work waiting for him, he didn't have time to waste thinking about what he couldn't change. Naomi had told him over and over again growing up that you had to go forward, that you couldn't live in the past.

The sunset outside his window turned Blair's whole office red with its color. He was sitting at his desk, legs thrown over the arm of his chair, chewing absentmindedly on a pen. Three stacks of graded papers sat in neat piles in front of him on his desk, the last of the day's work. It was Friday, and he didn't have anything else that couldn't wait till tomorrow.

He was thinking about his friends in Cascade, and how much he missed going out to eat pizza and carouse with other grad students. He was trying to make friends here, but there were so many people and he seemed to be working for all of them. He wasn't used to the idea of really being faculty yet, although certainly everyone treated him that way. His assistant, a clean cut young man named Jason, even tried to call him 'sir'.

The weather wasn't any better here, Blair mused, the beginning of November was just as bitter as the ones in Cascade had been. The heat in his apartment wasn't very good, and he wasn't looking forward to going home tonight. Someone knocked on his open door.

"Doctor Sandburg? Can I bother you?"

"Sure Susan, what's up?" Susan Lancaster was one of the almost five hundred names in his grade books, but she was an easy one to remember. She was in three of the six classes he was teaching, his Monday morning lecture and two of the anthro labs.

"Can I talk to you for a minute? I know I didn't make an appointment, but I couldn't find your assistant this morning."

"It's okay Susan, you don't need an appointment, if the door's open, come on in."

"Well, I just wanted to ask you if you could go over some of the material I missed last week, if you have the time. I was going to get the notes from a friend of mine, but she can't find them."

Blair laughed. "I know that story. Okay, it was last Tuesday you missed right? Let me see if I can find my notes."

Susan Lancaster was a bright student, and took rapid notes, but it still took almost two hours to go over the three hour lecture she had missed. Blair didn't mind, he didn't have anything better to do, and while her company was restrained to polite 'thank yous' and rapid scratches of her pencil, it was better than being alone.

Susan left with a final apology for wasting his time, and closed the door behind her. The hall outside was quiet, everyone else on his floor seemed to leave early. Blair closed the venetian blinds of his office window, trying to think of something else to do that would put off going home. There was Monday's cultural anthro lecture to finish up; if he did it now then he wouldn't have to worry about it later. Then, of course, there were always the stacks of papers that he had to grade over the weekend. Turning on the lamp on his desk, Blair pulled out his notes, getting dragged back into the material he was so excited about teaching.

When he looked up again, it was almost midnight, but the lecture was finished and he only had a medium size mountain of papers to take home with him. Sometimes Blair felt like life was nothing more than a constant stream of ungraded papers to be read and evaluated. Taking on so many classes his first semester here had been lunacy, but so far he was keeping up with it. Of course, he did nothing else. Go to school, teach, grade, lecture, go home, grade, sleep. Weekends broke the pattern up a little. Then it was grade, do laundry, go grocery shopping, grade, sleep. Sooner or later, life was going to get better, he told himself resolutely.

He tried hard not to feel disappointed, not to compare his new position here to his life in Cascade. It was boring, being an ordinary person, instead of a cop's partner. It still felt weird to hear about crimes and situations on the news, instead of being there, tagging after Jim, cell phone in hand.

Stuffing the folders he needed into his backpack, Blair shrugged into his coat and grabbed his keys, locking the door behind him. The halls were empty, and he saw no one on his trip down the stairs and through the main hall to the doors. In Cascade, there had been more night classes and there was almost always someone around.

The wind was bitter once he got outside, shaking the trees and blowing newspapers across the steps. Blair pulled his scarf up until there was only a little slit for his eyes, stuffing his hands in his pockets for the long walk to the parking garage.

Halfway there, Blair realized someone was following him. He could hear their steps every few minutes, the sound carrying on the wind. He walked faster, and the steps behind him increased their pace, getting closer. Shit! Which way was safer, back to the deserted Anthro building or across the field to the garage and his car? Neither sounded like a place not to get mugged tonight. The second best option was to try to talk to them. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. What would Jim want him to do? He didn't have a cell phone to call for help anymore. He could yell really loudly, but he was on a path that took you to the edge of the campus, and no one was around to hear him. He could run, but that sounded like the way to get attacked. Blair stopped abruptly, waiting for the person behind him to get a little closer before speaking,

"Look man, I've got twenty-three bucks, and it's all yours."

"We don't want your money, faggot."

Oh fuck. Two guys, not one, both of the buzz cut, combat boot variety. Now what was he going to do?

They didn't bother to say anything else, they just moved in on him, dragging him to the ground and kicking him. Blair twisted and grunted in pain as the steel toe of a combat boot connected with his ribs.

"Go back where you came from, faggot! We don't want you here!" One of them was holding him down, his arm locked under his chin, the other one was kicking him, and it really hurt. It hurt so much that he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Jiiim! Help! Please!"

"You screaming for your boyfriend, you little piece of shit?" Another blow landed squarely in his groin, and he doubled up in agony.

"Stop! NOW!"

Blair looked up, there was a very tall, dark haired man standing over him. It took Blair a moment to realize that this very angry person wasn't yelling at him, but at the two guys who had attacked him.

"What are you gonna do about it, asshole?" One of Blair's assailants shouted.

The man smiled. "Try me."

Blair gasped for air, his face pressed to the cold concrete. If he could just stay very still, the pain would get manageable. Right now he all he wanted to do was breath. Carefully. It hurt so much. Why did they stop? Were they finished? He could hear yelling and the sounds of flesh connecting with flesh, but he couldn't make himself turn his head to look.

"Hey, can you look at me? I want to see how badly you're hurt. I'm Duncan MacLeod."

"Huh?"

"It's okay, we'll get you an ambulance, you're going to be okay."

"No! Wait! Please, I'm okay. Just... got the wind knocked out of me, let me breath for a minute here."

Mr. MacLeod smiled."You're in shock, and you have to go to the hospital. What's your name?"

"Blair Sandburg, I'm a new professor here. I was walking to my car, I think I know who they were, somebody smashed my window last week. My car window, not my house. Who are you?"

"Slow down Blair, it's okay, everything's alright. My name is Duncan MacLeod, I'm a teacher here, too. I was on my way home from my last lecture, and I heard you calling for help. Who's Jim?"

"Jim's my partner, but not anymore." Mr. MacLeod nodded, sympathy in is eyes. Blair blushed. "No! I mean, not like that, he's a cop. A detective in Cascade."

"I see. Should we call him?"

"No!"

"Okay, who should we call?" Duncan was trying to keep Blair calm.

"Nobody. Look, um, thank you. You just saved my life."

Mr. MacLeod grinned. "Well, you know, according to Chinese folklore, that makes me responsible for your welfare. How about we start by getting you to the hospital?"

Blair choked, squeezing his eyes shut. He had a blessed protector, but his protector didn't want him anymore. Jim thought the same way about him as the guys who had just beat the crap out of him did.

"How do you know that?" Blair asked curiously.

"I'm a history professor. Come on, Blair, let's see if you can stand up, okay?"

Blair tried to get up, getting almost halfway to his feet before curling up again with a sharp cry of pain.

"Ouch, I think you get to have your ribs taped. Here, let me help you." A strong arm came under his, and lifted him carefully to his feet.

"Are you sure you don't want an ambulance, Blair? The university will pay for it."

"No! I hate ambulances. They strap you down and it sucks."

Duncan chuckled, getting a better grip on Blair, who wasn't standing very well on his own. "Yeah, that's true, they do. I don't think you're going to make it across the field, though. Do you want me to carry you?"

"All the way to the car?"

"Yeah, unless you think you're up to walking, or change your mind about that ambulance."

"No."

"Okay, hang on then, I want you to stay as still as you can. I think it's pretty likely your ribs are bruised."

"My backpack... I need it!" Shock was starting to give way to belated panic.

"It's here Blair, it's okay, I've got it." Duncan swung the heavy pack onto his shoulder.

"Can you really carry me all the way to the garage?"

"I don't know, lets find out." Duncan smiled, scooping Blair up into his arms.

"I'm heavy. I weigh a hundred and fifty pounds, man."

"No way, I'd say about ten pounds less than that, at least."

Blair didn't say anything to that. Duncan decided he must be in an awful lot of pain, because he wrapped his arms around Duncan's neck, put his head down on his shoulder and didn't say another word all the way across the field. Duncan worried that maybe he should have called the young man an ambulance, in spite of his refusal. Something about Blair Sandburg stirred up all his clan protector instincts. He had the saddest, sweetest, puppy eyes Duncan had ever seen. He probably wasn't seriously hurt, and Duncan could get him to the hospital just as well as an ambulance. They were almost to the garage when Blair spoke, wheezing a little.

"How did you get them to stop?"

"I kicked one in the head, and the other one decided to leave."

"Wow."

Blair felt slightly ridiculous, letting a stranger carry him, but it was wonderful to feel like someone was going to take care of him. Even if it was only to give him a ride to the hospital.

"Almost there. How are you doing?"

"It hurts and I feel really stupid," Blair confessed sheepishly.

"Don't Blair, you weren't doing anything wrong."

"I should have been able to talk my way out of it."

"Sometimes that's not an option. Here's my car, you're not going to bleed on my seats are you?"

"I'll try not to." Blair sounded guilty already.

"I'm only kidding Blair, don't worry about it, okay?"

"Jim would kill me if I got blood on his truck."

"Well, then Jim is just way too anal."

"You don't know the half of it. He wouldn't even let me flush the toilet after ten o'clock at night."

Duncan gave his passenger a worried look. Blair wasn't making a lot of sense, maybe he was hurt worse than he thought.

"Blair, I want you to keep talking, okay? Don't go to sleep." Duncan started the T-bird, navigating out of the parking garage.

"Wow, nobody ever says that to me."

"Did you get hit in the head?"

"I don't think so. Hey, this is a really nice car."

"Thanks, she's a classic."

"I used to have a Corvair, but it got shot up in this armored car robbery."

"Really? Did you get enough to buy another one?" Duncan smiled at his passenger, who was curled on his side facing him.

"No, I wasn't robbing the truck, I was trying to help Jim. I did that time, too, he even said so."

Duncan smiled at Blair, thinking that this Jim guy should be the one taking care of him now, he was obviously the person Blair cared about most.

"Are you sure you don't want to call him? I could call for you, from the hospital. Cascade's not that far away, he could probably be here in a couple hours.

"NO!" Blair gasped in pain, he had tried to sit up, and now he curled up again, arms wrapped around his stomach. "He won't come. He doesn't want me around anymore."

"Are you sure that's how he feels?"

"Oh yeah, he made it real clear."

"Okay. How long have you been in Seacouver?"Duncan wanted to keep him talking, just in case Blair did have a concussion.

"Two months, I got the position here at the last minute. They needed somebody bad, and I had my doctorate, so I went for it. I was really lucky to get it at the last minute."

"So there's nobody here you should call?"

"No, nobody."

The way Blair said it made Duncan sorry he'd asked again. Don't worry Blair, I'll take care of you, he thought, and then almost laughed at himself. What was it about this boy that made him want to make sure Blair had someone to look after him?

"We're almost there. I'm going to let you out at the emergency entrance and find a place to put the car, okay?"

"You're going to stay with me?"

"Well, assuming they let you go, you're going to need a ride home, and probably help up the stairs, unless you live on the first floor."

"Uhhg, I hadn't even though about that. Fourth floor. That's really going to suck."

"Maybe you should stay with me for a couple of days. At least I have an elevator."

"Oh man, I can't do that. You don't even know me."

"Let's see what the doctors say, and worry about it later."

"Oh, okay. Are we there yet?"

"Almost. Do you think I should carry you in?"

"No, I'll be okay, look, you can pull me right up to the door."

Duncan leaned across Blair, unlocking his door for him. "Okay, here you go, kiddo, I'll be in in a minute."

"Okay, thanks." Blair pulled himself carefully out of the car.

"Wait Blair, what's your last name, again?"

Blair smiled, thinking that Duncan MacLeod knew more about him than anyone in Seacouver. "Sandburg."

Part 2

By Zen&nancy

Duncan sat in the waiting room while the doctor looked at Blair. He thought about the attack that the young man had suffered, angry that this was still happening, especially on campus. He had already decided against trying to get Blair to go to the police. He had a strong feeling that Blair would refuse, and that it might have something to do with Jim, the person he had talked about so much.

He wondered what had happened to cause Blair to leave Cascade, and the person he called his partner (but not like that), although Blair certainly wasn't a cop. He still thought it would be a good idea to call Detective Ellison, but Blair had been adamant, and he couldn't bring himself to go against the young man's wishes.

"Hi." Blair stood in front of him, coat in hand, swaying slightly on his feet.

"What did they say?"

"I have bruised ribs and bruised lots of other things, but I can go home."

Duncan smiled. "That's good. You don't look very steady on your feet. Do you want to sit here and wait while I get the car?"

"No, they gave me these muscle relaxers." Blair gave Duncan a goofy grin. "I am, like, feeling no pain, man."

Duncan chuckled, steadying Blair with a hand on his elbow. "That's good. What did they say about stairs and driving?"

"Umm, I forgot to ask. They didn't tell me not to do anything." Blair giggled. "Well, actually, they did, but I don't think it's going to be a big problem. Oh, and she said to stay in bed as much as possible for a couple of days, which I can definitely handle."

Duncan laughed at the dopey version of the person he'd met an hour ago. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

"That sounds really good to me, man. It's freezing in here. I hate the paper thing they make you wear."

"Uh-huh. You sure all they gave you was muscle relaxers?"

"Oh yeah, I'm normally like this."

Duncan guided Blair out the emergency room doors, smiling at the paramedic that held the door for them.

"The car's across the street. Can I put you up against this wall for a couple of minutes?"

"Yeah, sure. This looks good."

Duncan shook his head, watching Blair melt against the wall. "I'll be back in a minute."

" 'kay, I'll be here."

Blair slept through the ride back to the loft. Duncan made the decision to take him home with him when Blair fell asleep trying to give him directions to his apartment.

Pulling up to his spot at the dojo, Duncan tried to wake his passenger gently.

"Blair? Hey, kiddo, wake up, we're home."

"Home?" Very confused, sleepy blue eyes looked up at him.

"My home. Come on, you can sleep on the couch. There's no stairs."

"Okay."

Blair was drifting back to sleep.

"Come on buddy, let's get you inside." Duncan shook his arm gently.

"Mmm, 'kay." Blair raised him arms, waiting for Duncan to pick him up.

Duncan chuckled. "Okay, I guess you can be carried inside. Here, hold on." Duncan walked around to Blair's side of the car, lifting him carefully.

"Oww."

"Shh, it's okay. Stay still."

Blair put his head down on Duncan's shoulder, only vaguely aware of what he was seeing.

"Where are we?"

"It's a dojo, I live here."

"Cool."

Blair didn't say anything else, he closed his eyes, appearing to go right back to sleep in Duncan's arms. Duncan managed to get them as far as the elevator without too many problems, but he was at a loss for how to close the elevator gate without letting go of Blair. Finally, he wedged his burden against the near corner of the elevator wall, holding him up with one arm, and pulled the gate down with the other.

Blair's eyes sprang open at the jerk of the gears. "Where?"

"Elevator, almost there."

"Oh, okay. Why are you being so nice to me?"

"You're not hard to be nice to. Whoa..." Duncan caught him as he swayed. "We're here."

Blair looked around groggily. "It's like home."

"I'm glad you like it." Duncan guided Blair over to the couch, pulling his coat off of him carefully. "Do you want anything besides a blanket and a pillow? Water? Tea?"

Blair shook his mop of hair, curling up carefully on his side.

"Just like home," he mumbled again, his eyes drifting shut.

"Really?" Duncan asked the beautiful, sleeping young man on his couch. He didn't expect an answer, but he stood there another minute, looking down at him.

Blair didn't stir when he was covered with a thick quilt Duncan pulled out of the chest at the foot of his bed for him. Duncan pushed a pillow gently under his house guest's mop of hair and left him to sleep.

Going into the kitchen, Duncan put on water for tea. He was tired, but he wanted to stay up for a little while and make sure that his patient would sleep through the night. Going to his desk, he pulled out that month's account book for the dojo. He could sit at the counter and go over the books without disturbing Blair.

It was almost two hours later when Duncan closed the big blue book. The accounts were balanced for another month, and things were even looking up, a little. On the couch, Blair threw off his covers, moaning.

Duncan went quickly to the side of the couch. "Easy buddy, you're okay." He didn't want Blair to be frightened when he woke up in a strange place.

"Jim?" Blair sounded so happy, as if he wanted very badly to believe that he was right.

Duncan frowned, he was starting to get mad at this Jim guy, who didn't want Blair around anymore. "No, I'm sorry Blair, it's Duncan. Did you have a nightmare?"

"No, it hurts," Blair moaned, opening his eyes. "Duncan? Oh, I remember. Hi. I'm sorry, am I keeping you awake?"

"Hey, slow down a little, okay? Do you want one of those muscle relaxers they gave you at the hospital?"

"Oh yeah."

"Okay, hold on, I'll get them for you. In your jacket, right?"

"Oh man, I'm sorry, you don't have to wait on me, I can get them."

"Stay." Duncan gave him a mock fierce look.

Blair smiled meekly. "Okay. Thank you."

"Would you like some tea?"

"Sounds great."

"Here are the pills. Do you take sugar?"

"Depends, what kind of tea?"

"Dragon tea."

"Oooh, wow, don't do anything to it."

Duncan grinned, pouring Blair a cup. He carried it back to the couch, sitting on the coffee table and handing it to him.

"This smells better than anything." Blair took his mug in both hands, inhaling appreciatively. Transferring the steaming mug to his left hand and resting it on his knee, Blair popped the cap off the amber plastic bottle. He shook out a small white pill into his palm, making a face at it.

Duncan watched Blair take the pill, blowing on his tea several times. "Do you want to talk about what happened? You said you thought you knew them."

Blair looked down, shaking his head. "No, but I think they were probably the ones who smashed my window last week. At least I hope so, I'd rather it just end here."

"But you have no guarantee that it will." Duncan told him gently. "What are you going to do if the harassment doesn't stop? Hate crimes usually do escalate, and this was pretty serious."

Blair blushed, shrugging his shoulders. Duncan was a little confused, if Blair was "out" on campus, and that was the reason he was being attacked, then why did it embarrass him for Duncan to mention it?

"I guess I'm just not ready to deal with it. I'll worry about it tomorrow." Blair shifted, trying to get comfortable without putting weight or strain on any of his bruised parts, which was virtually impossible.

"Okay, Scarlet, no problem." Duncan teased him.

"That's me man, que sera sera..." Blair's eyes closed for a minute. Duncan could tell he was in pain, he wished there was something he could do about it.

"Don't talk if it hurts."

"No, it's not that bad. You know, actually, this is the second time I've had my ribs taped."

Duncan raised his eyebrows, but Blair didn't say anything else. "What happened?"

"Oh, this guy shot me, but I was wearing a vest, so it only bruised my ribs. Freaked me out really badly though."

Duncan smiled, intrigued. He wanted to ask Blair a dozen more questions, but he didn't want to keep him up if he could sleep. "Sounds awful."

"Yeah, and I didn't even get to rest afterwards, either. Gosh, have I even thanked you for taking care of me like this? Or for coming to my rescue in the first place?"

Duncan smiled at him, nodding. "You have, several times."

"So do you just go around rescuing anthropologists on a regular basis, or what?"

"You're an anthropologist?" Duncan realized he was becoming more and more intrigued with the strange person on his couch.

"Uh-huh, I finished my thesis three months ago."

Right before Jim didn't want you around anymore, Duncan thought quickly. He wondered if the two were related.

"What was the subject?"

"Jim." Blair's smile was sad.

"Police work?"

"Not exactly."

Even though the thesis was finished, had been published for several months now, Blair still felt as if he was doing something wrong, talking about Jim's Sentinel abilities.

"You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to Blair." Duncan was afraid he had said something to upset the melancholy little person he had rescued.

"No, it's stupid, I mean, it's published and everything. It just feels weird to talk about it, 'cause we kept it a secret for a really long time. Um, okay... Jim is a Sentinel. He has dramatically heightened sensory perception, of all five of his senses. He's sort of like a walking crime lab, which is one of the reasons he wanted to keep it a secret. I found him four years ago. It was like, this tremendous coincidence, my subject just sort of fell in my lap, when nobody even believed there was such a thing."

"You're a student of Richard Burton?"

"Not really, he's more like my idol. You know Sir Richard Burton's work? That's amazing."

Duncan hid a smile. Actually, he had known Richard Burton himself, but telling someone like Blair that might be dangerous. "I'm familiar with it, yeah. So you're saying your friend has hyperactive senses?"

"Uh-huh, he developed them in Peru. He was an Army ranger, and his helicopter crashed, he was the only survivor and he spent eighteen months in the jungle."

"That's quite a story."

"Yeah, I know."

"So you finished your thesis, and Jim wanted you to leave?"

"No, not exactly, he was going to let me stay... then I screwed up. Um, I'm sorry, I don't think I want to talk about it anymore. Is that okay?"

"Of course it is, I'm the one who should be sorry. I have no right to be asking you such personal questions."

"No, I don't feel that way about it at all. You know more about me than anybody else in Seacouver at this point. I just don't want to think about it. Tell me about the dojo?"

"I've owned the place about five years. It drives me crazy but I love it. Some months it makes money, some it doesn't."

"Do you manage it, and teach?"

"When I have to. Right now I've got a guy named Spencer who does the day to day, keep the place open stuff, but I'm still teaching three classes a week."

"What do you teach?"

"Judo, a basic self defense course for women, and right now I'm also running an advanced martial arts class that incorporates several different schools. There's a dozen more classes, but those are Spencer's headache."

"I think I need to sign myself up for intro to ass kicking." Blair grinned, feeling a little loopy now that the pill was kicking in.

"You could take a self defense class, it wouldn't be a bad idea."

Blair made a face. "I'm not really the violent action type."

"Judo isn't about violence, it's about defense."

"I'm not so good at that, either," Blair giggled.

"Pills working?" Duncan smiled indulgently.

"Yeah, sorry man, didn't mean to get manic on you."

Duncan shook his head. "No, I'm glad you're not in pain. You should probably try to sleep, though, while you can. Can I get you anything else before I go to bed?"

"Um, no, thanks, I'm fine. Thank you so much, it was really nice of you to take me home like this, I mean, since you don't even know me and all..."

Blair looked like he could keep right on rambling through the night. Duncan cut him off gently. "I know you, Blair. Go to sleep."

"Goodnight Duncan, thank you for rescuing me." Blair pulled his covers back up over himself.

"You're welcome Blair, sleep well. Wake me if you need anything."

Duncan went to his bed, hoping Blair would be able to sleep through the night.

Blair woke to the sound of the coffee pot gurgling. The first thing he was conscious of was pain. He felt like someone really big had stomped on him a lot. Then he remembered that someone had. There had been two of them, actually, and then this amazing person had materialized and made them go away...

"Duncan?" His voice was hoarse. He sat up very slowly, clutching the blanket. His pills were on the coffee table next to him.

"Good morning. How are you feeling? Awful?"

"Pretty awful. Is that coffee?" Blair squinted across the room, inhaling hopefully.

Duncan was in the kitchen, making breakfast. He pulled a cup down from the cabinet, pouring for Blair. "How do you like your coffee?"

"Milk?"

Duncan smiled, Blair looked lost. "Sure. Did you sleep okay?" He came around the counter, bringing Blair his cup.

"Thank you." Blair took a long sip from his mug. "Ah, that's good. Yeah, I must have, I feel like I've been asleep for a really long time."

"You have. It's two o'clock."

"It is? Oh man, I never sleep that long."

Blair drank more coffee, consuming it as if he could see 'awake' at the bottom of his cup.

Duncan watched him, smiling. "It was probably the pills."

"I guess. My brains feel like cotton candy."

"Are you hungry?"

Blair looked up at Duncan from under a very messy mop of hair. "Yeah, I am, actually, I'm starving. Which is really weird, because I usually don't eat in the morning. Where's your bathroom?"

"It's right there." Duncan nodded towards the open door near the bed.

Blair pushed his blankets off his lap, rising slowly to his feet. He groaned, his arm curling around his ribs immediately.

"Oh man, this is way worse than last time. Why is it always me? I swear man, I am like, this walking magnet for trouble."

He took a hesitant step and faltered, the pain in his ribs throbbing. He swayed, falling back onto the couch. The impact made him yelp, doubling over.

"Ow, easy, Blair. You took a hell of a beating last night, kiddo. Let me help you." Duncan was looking down at him, sympathy and distress in his dark brown eyes.

"Oh man, you are being, like, way too nice to me. I don't mean to be so much trouble."

"Wasn't Jim nice to you?" Duncan asked softly.

Blair squeezed his eyes shut, his full lips pressed into a tight line, and Duncan immediately regretted him words.

"He was nice to me, but I took advantage of it."

"I doubt that," Duncan told him gently, putting his hand on Blair's arm.

"No, I did," Blair answered softly, not looking at Duncan.

Duncan felt terrible for upsetting Blair again. He realized that it was very important to him, to find out if Jim had been good to Blair. The emotions that this beautiful boy provoked in him were powerful. Somehow, he had just known right away that Blair needed someone.

"You couldn't possibly," Duncan told him gently. "In fact, from what you've told me, I think it was very much the other way around."

Duncan remembered that Blair had been trying to get to the bathroom when he'd started this. "Can I help you up?" He asked, already moving to wrap his arm around Blair's middle, careful to touch him below his bruised ribs.

Blair didn't say anything, he was too overcome by what Duncan MacLeod had said. He put his hand on the bigger man's shoulder, letting himself be raised effortlessly to his feet.

"That is so much easier," Blair mumbled, secretly feeling guilty for enjoying Duncan's arm around his waist. It felt so good, for someone to touch him again. He couldn't remember anyone touching him, even just a hand on his arm, since Jim. He remembered being carried in the strong arms last night, how safe it had felt.

"Standing up puts a lot of strain on your abdominal. How are we doing here, kiddo? Think you can make it across the room?"

"Probably." Blair gave him a shaky smile.

"Okay, take it slowly." Duncan kept his arm around Blair's back, supporting him with a firm grip on his elbow until he found his balance.

Duncan watched Blair make his way carefully to the bathroom. He was very glad that he had happened to be there last night, it could have been much worse.

Blair emerged ten minutes later, the fuzzy mop of hair much closer to under control. Making his way slowly back to the couch, Blair looked around for the first time. Now that he took in his surroundings, he realized that it didn't really look anything like the loft in Cascade. It was the bare bricks and lack of walls that had reminded him of home last night. It was smaller, overall, cozier, but, Blair thought, Jim had the advantage of a balcony.

"Nice place. I used to live in a loft. I can't get used to the rooms being so small at my apartment."

That explained what Blair had meant last night when he'd said it felt like home. "Everybody says it's too small." Duncan shrugged. "I like to keep things simple."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Blair lowered himself gingerly back to the couch.

He watched Duncan in the kitchen for a moment, his gaze wandering around the loft again.

"Are you ready for breakfast?"

"Sounds great. More coffee?"

"Sure. No, don't get up, you can eat on the couch." Duncan was gathering up a plate of pancakes, syrup and a glass of milk to bring to Blair.

"I can?"

"Sure, I do all the time."

"Really?" Blair was looking up at Duncan dreamily.

Duncan gave him an odd look, setting Blair's plate and milk in front of him on the table. "Well, this place isn't really set up for formal dining," he explained. Taking Blair's mug, Duncan went back to the counter to refill it and get his own plate.

"You didn't have to make me pancakes."

"But I love pancakes." Duncan came back, balancing Blair's full coffee cup carefully. "Here, take your coffee."

He sat down on the other end of the couch from Blair, reaching for the syrup.

"Wow, these are incredible. You made them from scratch?"

"I like to cook." Duncan smiled. Blair was frighteningly easy to please.

"Me too."

Blair made it through a little more than half his stack of hotcakes before running out of steam. He eased back into the couch, sighing contentedly.

"Those were amazing, you are a really good cook."

"Thanks."

Duncan thought that Blair's smile was even more radiant this morning than it had been last night. This rapidly increasing attachment to the young anthropologist was a little disturbing, but Duncan honestly couldn't remember the last time he had smiled this much.

Blair was almost asleep again, eating had worn him out. He burrowed contentedly into his corner of the big leather couch, thinking how nice it was to be somewhere that felt safe and warm. Suddenly, he realized how much he was imposing on Duncan; he felt guilty, and ungrateful. This man had put himself in the middle of a violent situation to save him, and then treated him like a house guest on top of it, and here he was lounging on his couch like he lived here. As good as this felt, in spite of his bruised ribs, the last thing he wanted to do was overstay his welcome. He sat up again, as quickly as he could.

"I should really get out of your hair, I hope I haven't messed up your plans for the day." Blair blushed, realizing the day was more than half over.

"I didn't have anything I had to do, no plans. Do you really feel up to driving? You're still in a lot of pain. You're more than welcome to stay you know, don't feel like you're imposing."

"Oh no, man, I can't do that. I feel really bad that I've been so much trouble already. You've gone above and beyond the nice guy call of duty here."

Duncan laughed. "Look, my friends tease me and call me Boy Scout. It's just in my nature. I don't think you're in any condition to be home alone, especially with four flights of stairs to deal with. Why don't you just hang out on my couch until you feel up to driving, because we are going to have to go get your car eventually."

"My car... I forgot. I really do feel bad, to impose on you like this."

"You're not imposing, you're good company."

"Oh, okay." Blair smiled hesitantly. The truth was that just arguing about it had worn him out, Blair didn't think he could drive himself home from the university if he had to.

"You're looking kinda pale kiddo, do you want take a pill?"

"I don't know, I don't really like putting chemicals into my system."

Duncan nodded, thinking that if he were mortal, he would feel that way, too.

"I understand, but your body will heal faster if you're not in pain, that's why they gave them to you."

"I submit to superior reasoning." Blair grinned, picking up the pills from the table. He took one, swallowing it with the last of his milk.

Duncan cleared their plates and glasses, setting them in the sink to deal with later.

"Blair, will you be okay if I go downstairs and work out for awhile?"

"Oh yeah, of course, go ahead."

Duncan checked the clock on the wall. "All right, I've got about two hours before the next class, Saturdays get really nuts down there. Listen, if you need anything, press the first programmed button on the phone, it's on the desk. It'll ring downstairs in the office. Tell Spence to go get me, okay?"

"Okay, but I'll be fine, I promise."

"Okay, the remote for the t.v.'s right there, read a book if you want, but don't walk around too much, okay?"

"I think I see what your friends mean with the Boy Scout thing."

Duncan grinned. "Yeah, well, I didn't say I liked it." He disappeared to the bathroom to change into a pair of sweat pants.

Duncan emerged a minute later, shirtless, with his hair pulled up into a tight pony tail and wrapped over double to keep it out of the way. He never bothered to take a shirt with him just to go downstairs, but the way Blair was looking at him made him glad he hadn't. It was only a moment, Blair turned his wide eyed gaze away quickly, mumbling. "Have a good workout."

"Thanks, I'll see you later." The sound of the elevator gate followed Duncan's words, and then Blair was alone in the loft.

He looked around curiously, studying the furnishings and the titles of the books on the shelves that he could see from the couch. Very expensive stuff, mostly antique. Not much in the way of knick knacks or clutter. Lots of books about weapons, and European history, titles in French and Italian and Russian, and some paperbacks that looked like they were probably science fiction.

Blair sighed, deciding that he couldn't afford to waste time reading for pleasure. He had already set himself back several hours on his schedule for grading the mountain of papers he took home with him every weekend.

He had set himself up a system for dealing with the confusion of grading six different classes worth of compositions early in the semester. Saturdays from ten a.m. till noon he graded the human diversity and development papers. From after lunch until evening, physical anth and arch, and after dinner, he'd sit down with the anthro 101's because they were easy and by that time his brain was fried. His other three classes were saved for Sunday. Just thinking about it now made him dizzy, but there were 600 odd papers and tests waiting in his backpack, and they weren't going to go away because he had a headache.

His backpack was sitting against the wall by the coat rack. Not wanting to risk another impact from falling over, Blair rolled carefully off the couch to his knees. Hanging onto the arm of the sofa, he pulled himself laboriously to his feet. "Come on, get with it," he muttered to himself, aggravated by his body's unwillingness to cooperate. It hurt to do almost anything. He had breathing under control, so long as it wasn't a deep breath, but coughing or even yawning was excruciating. He couldn't lift his arms much higher than his waist, and even a coffee cup was too heavy. It felt like every muscle in his body was directly connected to his ribcage.

Shuffling across the big room he contemplated the stuffed bag with a practiced eye. Four or five textbooks, six folders full of papers, and his gym shoes. About fifteen pounds. No way. Sighing, he eased himself back to his knees, scooting the bag in front of him across the hardwood floor. By the time he made it back to the sofa he was out of breath, which hurt like hell. "Man, this sucks. Why does this shit always have to happen to me? Couldn't I just get a damn break for once?" Blair talked to himself as he climbed gingerly back onto the couch, pulling the bag up with him, groaning in pain.

It seemed like no matter what happened, he could count on being the victim. This never would have happened to Jim, he couldn't help thinking morosely. Of course this would never happen to Jim, his rational mind answered, Jim was a cop, and he had probably never lost a fight in his whole life. It wouldn't happen to Duncan, either, depression argued back, digging it's feet in for the long haul. People look at you and the first thing they think is "no threat". Anybody could kick your ass. Old lady's getting their purses snatched probably defend themselves better than you did.

"Work, don't think," Blair muttered to himself, unzipping the backpack.

He had the folder that held the first batch of diversity and development papers in his lap, red pen in hand, when he realized he was crying. "Stop it!" He told himself angrily. "It's over." A panic attack seemed like a really bad idea right now. Blair shut his eyes tightly, rocking slightly forward and back. "It's over it's over it's over it's over it's over it's over it's over it's over." He kept repeating the words until they turned into nonsense syllables, and he could breath a little easier.

Wiping cold tears from his cheeks, he clenched his fists, thrusting them into his lap. Yeah, it was over, but there was always more to come. That was the one thing he could count on, there would always be a next time. If there was trouble, it would find him. And if there was a bully, or a jerk, or a psychopath, well, it was Blair Sandburg, wimp extrordinare, that they were going to pick on.

Now this incredibly nice, interesting guy was taking him in like a lost puppy, and the pathetic thing was, that was exactly what he felt like. He couldn't even keep it together sitting here in Duncan's house... He was having a panic attack on his couch. Great. He felt like the world's biggest loser. Thirty years old and he couldn't even walk after dark by himself without getting beat up. He should have tried to outrun them instead of talking, that was stupid. He never did the right thing.

There was one thing to be grateful for, it had happened here, in Seacouver, and not in Cascade with Jim. He never could have faced Jim, could never tell him that he had gotten jumped and called a faggot and all he did was curl up in a ball on the sidewalk and let them kick him in the stomach. Jim would have been so embarrassed to have him for his partner... A guy who got gay bashed on a college campus, for christ's sake.

He remembered the nasty, furious voice yelling "We don't want you here!" All of the sudden his brain played another sound byte over the first. "Get out of my house, I don't want you here!" The boy with the steel toed combat boots yelling. "Are you screaming for your boyfriend, you fucking faggot?" and Jim, in his face, his fist clenching a handful of Blair's shirt. "You're a fucking faggot, is that what you're trying to tell me, Blair?" He was starting to hyperventilate, and every breath he fought to pull in hurt more.

Part 3

By Zen&nancy

Duncan exhaled slowly through pursed lips, lifting the bar for the last time. There was noise and activity all around him. He hadn't been able to get a space on the mats, so he settled for a corner with a little room to move and the free weights. Weight lifting was usually the part of his workouts that he liked least, it was monotonous and didn't engage his brain at all. Today pumping iron felt good. He had a lot of excess energy to work off.

Counting reps didn't distract him from thinking about Blair at all, it was something so automatic he did it without thinking. He thought about everything Blair had told him about himself, and all the things he wanted to know. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was about the young professor that made him feel such an immediate attachment to him. Maybe it was because it was so painfully obvious that Blair needed someone. He had the sweetest, bluest eyes. They reminded Duncan of Debra Campbell's, they were almost exactly the same shade of deep, pure blue. Duncan couldn't imagine anyone wanting to hurt Blair, or treat him harshly.

His thoughts wound their way back to the cop, Detective Ellison. A Sentinel. Duncan had heard of people with such gifts before, even before he had met Sir Richard Burton and learned about his work. There had been tales about a Clan leader with such gifts when he was a boy. He had never met one though... Duncan decided it must give one a huge advantage in a fight, in almost any situation for that matter. It might be the fairest fight he could have with a mortal. Where had that come from? He wasn't going to clash with Jim Ellison, it was very unlikely that he would ever meet him.

The twelve to fifteen year old boys, who made up the five p.m. karate class were filtering in, adding their higher pitched voices to the din of the dojo. Sneaking in one last set, Duncan stacked the weights against the wall and picked up his towel and water bottle. Weaving his way through the gathering of excited adolescents, he decided to take the stairs. Just in case Blair was sleeping, he didn't want the banging of the elevator to wake him.

"I'm back." Duncan called out, pulling his key from the lock and shutting the door.

It was obvious that Blair hadn't heard him, but Duncan swallowed his second attempt to get Blair's attention just before he spoke. Blair was sitting cross legged on the couch, papers strewn around him, and his knapsack next to him on the cushion. He was rocking forward and back, his eyes open but unfocused. His hands sat limply on his knees, each index finger was busy ripping the skin all around his thumbnails. A thin trickle of blood had stained his jeans in the same spot on each knee.

Duncan went to him quietly, taking up Blair's hands lightly in his own. "Blair. Blair honey, come back to me. Come on, buddy, it's okay."

Blair's dilated pupils focused on Duncan's lips, and then on his hands. He had scratched off his cuticles completely, and torn the skin all around the nails of both thumbs. He clenched his hands into fists, hiding his thumbs under his fingers. He was shaking. How long had he been sitting here like this? Shit, that was bad, Guides weren't supposed to zone out, then he remembered that he wasn't a Guide anymore.

Duncan was still holding his hands, his much larger palms closed lightly around Blair's fists. Total mortification seeped into every pore. Oh God, what's he going to think of me now... as if last night wasn't bad enough.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, wishing he could just disappear.

"Hey, it's okay, you don't have to be sorry. Are you alright?" Duncan's voice was very gentle.

"Yeah." Blair sneaked a look up into the concerned brown eyes. "No. I'm not. I'm sorry."

Duncan released the small, tightly closed fists, ignoring the smear of blood on his hand. He moved to sit next to Blair on the couch, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. "It's okay, you're safe here, you don't have to be sorry, or scared. Everything's going to be alright."

Duncan's voice was soothing. Even if it was the furthest thing from the truth, it was so comforting to have someone tell him 'everything's gonna be alright'.

"Do you like Bob Marley?"

"Who?" Duncan was confused, Blair's voice was shaky and his breath was coming is soft gasps, but he was smiling.

"You don't know who Bob Marley is? How is that possible? You just reminded me of this song. I used to play it over and over again when I was upset, and it would calm me down every time. It's really wonderful, Bob just tells you over and over again that everything is gonna be alright."

"It is, I promise. Do you want to talk about it?" Duncan's arm curled protectively around the hunched shoulders, his thumb stroking the curve of Blair's right shoulder unconsciously.

Blair leaned into the reassuring arm a little, shrugging. "There's not much to tell, I'm scrawny and I look like a wimp, so I got jumped, and I'm no good at fighting so they beat the shit out of me. I'd probably have brain damage and be a vegetable right now if you hadn't come along."

Duncan spoke very quietly, keeping his voice calm and even. He was angry at himself for leaving Blair alone. Of course he wasn't okay, he'd been attacked for being the person he was, and hurt badly.

"Blair, listen to me, the motivation for the attack didn't have anything to do with your size, or your ability to fight, it was purely in response to your sexual preference, and because of that, it's called a hate crime, an act of fascism."

None of Blair's face was visible under the hair, he had his chin buried in his chest. "I guess I'm just not used to thinking that way. I put the pride flag on my bumper because..." Blair's voice trailed off, and his face twisted up, as if he were in pain. He was, because he was trying really, really, hard not to cry in front of Duncan, and that hurt like hell.

"Because..." Duncan prompted gently.

"It was like, independence, I guess. I sort of felt like I should, too. I mean, if I was going to take the fall I might as well at least wave the flag, right?" Blair's voice was bitter. "I guess I just didn't think it was gonna be that big a deal," he added, sounding tired.

Duncan absorbed the bits of information he'd been given, trying to understand. He was sure it made sense to Blair, he was too serious for it not to. Independence? From Jim? Maybe, but the rest left him a little confused.

"Blair, may I ask you a personal question?"

Blair finally raised his head, to look at Duncan. They were only a few inches apart, Duncan's arm was still around his shoulders, holding him gently. "Sure, I mean, I don't think we can talk about anything more personal, can we?"

"Was Jim your lover?"

"No." Blair bit his lip. "But I wanted him to be."

"Ah." Duncan swore that he could feel the hurt in those six words, instead of just hearing it. "I'm sorry Blair."

"Me too."

"It's going to be okay, kiddo, I promise."

"Thanks. Honestly right now I wish I could just crawl into a nice dark hole and hide. Real macho, huh?"

Duncan's hand moved from Blair's shoulder to stroke his silky hair for a moment, then he smiled. "Well, it's getting pretty cold to be digging in the park, but we could probably build a pretty good fort downstairs in the dojo."

Blair smiled, touched and somewhat bewildered by Duncan's willingness to indulge him. "You must think I'm a real head case."

"No, I think you're a very interesting, intelligent, handsome man, who's had a very bad few months, and a terrible Friday night."

Duncan moved away from Blair a little on the couch, just in case he had misread Blair's appreciative stare earlier. The last thing he wanted to do was make the young man feel trapped.

"You do?" Blair was looking at him with those heart melting, hopeful eyes. They were round as saucers.

"Yes, I most definitely do."

"Wow. That's amazing."

"Is it?"

"Totally, because you are like..." Blair blushed, shaking his head. "I won't go there, I'll just embarrass myself."

"You seem to be pretty good at that." Duncan teased him gently.

"Yeah, I sure am." Blair started to laugh, but it got cut off with a groan of pain. "Man, that is the worst. I mean, not being able to have sex, I'll live, but not being able to laugh? I'm gonna kill myself."

Duncan did laugh, then he mussed the hair on the top of Blair's head and rose from the couch. "I'm going to shower and change, then maybe we'll think about dinner, okay?"

"Okay." Blair smiled at him shyly.

Duncan went to his dresser, pulling out jeans, underwear and a sweater. Blair was re-sorting the stacks of papers that had disorganized themselves on the couch around him.

When he returned from his shower, Blair was curled up with his side against the arm of the couch, wearing a pair of reading glasses. He was grading at mach speed, red pen flashing across the pages his other hand methodically turned over from the stack in his lap.

"Can you really read at that speed?"

"No, it's not reading, it's only multiple choice, piece of cake." Blair answered without looking up.

Duncan watched him for another minute, standing behind the couch. "Want some help?"

"Are you serious?"

"Sure."

"Man, where have you been all my life? I've got seventy more of these to go, here's the answer sheet."

Duncan sat at the other end of the couch, taking the piles of paper Blair was pushing at him.

"That's great! I might actually get caught up before Monday now."

Duncan looked at the four other thick folders stuffed with student's papers in the backpack. "Blair, how many courses are you teaching?"

"Six. Only four of them are really mine though, I only have the other two 'til Professor Rodman gets back from Australia."

"Six, that's crazy. They let you do that?"

"I'm one of those hyper, workaholic types."

"You know, I never would have guessed," Duncan told him, smiling. "You have to finish all of these by Monday?"

"Yep. I know it looks bad, but it's possible, believe me."

"If you do nothing but grade papers for the next thirty-six hours."

"That's what weekends are for, man."

"As soon as you're up to it, I'm going to do my very best to change your mind about that."

Blair grinned, bending over his own stack of papers. Duncan finished the multiple choice papers Blair had been working on, then inherited a new stack.

"These are a scored a little differently, here's the answer sheet for them. I really appreciate you helping me with these, I got seriously behind schedule."

"Blair, this is an insane work load, don't you have an assistant to dump some of it on?"

"Well, yeah, they assigned me one, but I don't think he likes me very much, he's never around."

"Talk to the head of your department, get someone you can work with."

"Oh man, I don't want to do that, make him look bad and all, he's just kinda stiff, ya know? I don't think I meet his standards for what a professor should act like. He's real young, he'll figure it out eventually."

Duncan shook his head, thinking that it was obvious that Blair put everyone else's needs before his own, even people he barely knew. "You, my friend, could use some assertiveness training."

Blair's smile faded."Oh, I'm assertive, believe me. I have this really intense tendency to say the thing that will piss people off the most, at the worst times." He was thinking of all the times he had pissed Jim off, putting in his two cents when it wasn't his place to do so. It had gotten them in trouble more than once.

"You want to know what I think? I think you are way too hard on yourself. You can't hold yourself accountable for other people's actions, Blair, believe me."

Blair looked up from the test he was marking to meet Duncan's eyes across the couch.

"That sounds like learned wisdom."

Duncan just smiled, and Blair thought that his eyes looked sad. He had the most expressive eyes. It was such a strong face, complicated. There was a great deal to Duncan MacLeod, Blair decided. He was what Naomi would call an 'old soul'. Blair thought that the description really fit very well. There was an underlying melancholy to Duncan, not sadness, but something more subtle. As if he had carried his feelings, whatever they were, around with him for a very long time, and was resigned to the burden. For all that, he was still a very high energy person, Blair thought. He radiated confidence and positive expectations.

Blair was always drawn to people who maintained steady eye contact, but with Duncan, he didn't seem to be able to look away. He would glance up every few questions, to find Duncan looking at him, and get caught in those complicated eyes.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Duncan asked quietly, his expression open and relaxed, prepared to accept any answer Blair gave him.

It took a minute for Blair to find his voice. "No, you're not making me uncomfortable." It came out rather breathless.

"Good," Duncan told him decisively. "But I am distracting you, and that's no good. At this rate you'll be grading those into next week. I'm going to order us some dinner, and then I'll go downstairs and help Spence close up. By the time I get back the food will be here and I'll make you take a break.

"Sounds wonderful." Blair felt a rush of pure adrenaline go through him when Duncan reached over to brush back a lock of curls that had fallen forward into his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" The tenderness in the warm voice turned Blair's brain to mush.

"Wonderful," he replied dreamily, then he blushed, realizing how presumptive that sounded. "I mean fine," he added quickly. "My ribs don't really hurt, as long as I don't move."

"I'm glad." Duncan smiled. "But I liked wonderful better," he drawled, getting up from the couch to find the take out menus.

Blair blushed, ducking his head. Telling himself resolutely to get back to work, he stared at the paper in his lap, but it was several seconds before his brain began to comprehend the words on the paper before him.

"What would you like?" Duncan called from the kitchen, spreading the menus out on the counter.

"Anything but pizza. I've eaten enough pizza in the past four years to cover my acceptable cholesterol intake for the rest of my life."

Duncan chuckled. "Okay, no pizza. How about Chinese? Let's see, what else have we got here? Pizza, Pizza, Italian, more pizza, Vietnamese, Ethiopian, Indian..."

"Indian?" Blair asked hopefully.

"I could do tandori, what do you like?"

"Everything! How about Lamb sag and tandori chicken and some cheese naan?"

"Sounds great, I'll put the order in now and ask them to hold it half an hour or so. Will you be hungry by then?"

"Yeah, that'll be great, I should be done with these by then, and then I can get the anthro 101's over with after dinner. They're the worst this week, five hundred word compositions. Sixty of them, all freshman, pure torture. Wait a minute, an Indian restaurant that delivers? They never deliver. You always have to go pick it up, if you can even find a place that's willing to do take out."

"Yeah, well, they don't, really, but the owner likes me. They're right down the street, he'll send his nephew over with it."

The realization dawned on Blair that Duncan was a wealthy man. It shouldn't be that much of a surprise, it was in the way he carried himself, and in the polite way he spoke. He was the kind of person people used the phrase 'well bred' to describe. It was more than class, although that was obvious from the antiques that complemented each other so well throughout the loft, and the books on the shelves, more than half of which were in foreign languages. It was the kind of grace that people who wanted to give the impression of generations of wealth tried so hard to affect, and never could. Blair told himself not to be impressed, but he was anyway.

It wasn't the money itself, he mused, it was the exposure to higher culture that it bought, that he envied. Blair tried to imagine what it would be like to have season tickets to the symphony and drive a T-bird that cost more than every car he had ever owned put together.

Duncan broke into his thoughts. "You'll be okay? It should only take about half an hour. I want to check the schedule for next week, see if we can manage to sneak in a few hours for a guy to come in and give me an estimate for a little remodeling I want to do. I went over the books last night and it looks like we're going to be able to go ahead and put in the separate weight room I've been wanting. There is just not enough room the way it's set up now to accommodate the number of people on the floor on the weekends."

"Hey, that's great, man. I mean, it's crowded, that means business is good, right?"

"Yeah, it's been picking up pretty steadily for the past few months. Spence has done a lot for the place. He has a real head for advertising."

"Your old manager wasn't good at his job?"

"No, he was the best, but he died, four years ago. His name was Charlie DeSalvo, and he was a good friend. That's why the place is still called De Salvo's."

"I'm sorry," Blair murmured sincerely.

"No, don't be. He's gone, and I miss him, but Charlie wasn't the kind of man who would have wanted anyone to waste time mourning. He would be real proud of the dojo now, though, we weren't even making enough to cover the lights and water when I bought it. He was there before I bought the place, and I think I would have lost every single one of the customers we did have if I'd brought in someone to replace him. It's always been Charlie's place, maybe that's why I kept it after he died. I knew he would have wanted me to stick with it."

"Sounds like you've been successful."

"Yeah, I try not to measure success with money, but the way that place eats up dollars, it's hard not to."

Blair didn't know what to say to that, he figured Duncan's expense account for his business was probably more than double what he made in a month.

"Well, I'd better get down there. Just call if you need anything." Duncan picked up the phone, placing their order in perfectly accented Punjab.

Blair was gaping at him when he hung up the phone. Not being impressed by Duncan MacLeod was a losing battle.

Duncan looked embarrassed. "Raji doesn't speak any English."

"Where did you learn Punjab?"

"In India. How did you know which dialect it was?" Duncan asked curiously.

"I'm an anthropologist, remember? And I have a really good ear for languages."

Duncan nodded, thinking that he was either going to have to tell Blair the truth, or he was going to have to be very careful. The boy was too clever.

"Okay then, do you need anything before I go? Something to drink?"

Blair shook his head. "No, I'm fine." When Duncan hesitated, standing next to the couch, he added more seriously, "I promise, I'll be okay. Go, get your work done."

"Okay, no dark thoughts, I'll be back soon," Duncan told him softly, bending down to drop a light kiss on the top of Blair's head.

Blair stayed very still, savoring the wonderful, protected feeling until the elevator gate closed, ringing out loudly in the quiet room. He turned back to his stack of papers, conscious of the wide smile on his face.

Duncan met up with Raji's teenage nephew on his way back up the stairs.

"Hey Maliek, how's it going? Here, I'll take that."

"Hey, Mr. MacLeod, how are you?" Maliek handed over the paper bag.

"Good thanks, here you go." Duncan paid for their food, handing the boy an extra ten. "Here, hide that from your father."

The boy's face split into a wide grin. "Thanks Mr. MacLeod!" Maliek stuffed the bill into the oversized pocket of his ridiculously baggy jeans. They hung down far enough on his hips for Duncan to see the waistband of his plaid boxers. He supposed that was the point.

"Have a good night Maliek."

"Hey, you too Mr. MacLeod." Maliek disappeared down the stairs.

Blair didn't look up from the paper he was speed reading, the tip of his pen following rapidly across the lines, guiding his eyes. "Hi. One minute, almost done." He mumbled, the pen slowing down only slightly.

"No problem." Duncan took the paper bag that held their dinner into the kitchen, setting it on the counter and pulling out plates and utensils.

"Not bad, Madeline, but you're going to have to convince me that you did more than spend a Sunday at the museum next time." Blair scrawled in the margin, tossing the paper onto the stack next to him with a small sigh of relief. "That's it, the last of the anth and arch, only sixty more to go."

"That's crazy," Duncan told him, dishing their meal out of the white cartons and onto plates.

"I know, man. I can't seem to say 'no' where classes are concerned. I'm always afraid if I do they'll get some sub who knows nothing about the material, just teaches straight from the book. I hate to see the kids get gypped like that."

"And what about Blair?" Duncan asked mildly from the counter. "Isn't he getting gypped?"

"Nah, if I had any kind of social life, then maybe, but honestly, working is better than staring at the walls."

"Well, we're just going to have to do something about that." Duncan carried their plates to the living room. "I put water on for tea, is that okay? Otherwise all I have is beer, and I don't think you should drink on the muscle relaxers."

"Tea's fine. I haven't taken any since this afternoon, though, I needed to have a brain to deal with these." He waved his hand at the stacks of papers. "But I'll probably want one when I'm done."

"How is it without them, are you in a lot of pain?" Duncan asked, concerned that Blair was pushing himself to hard.

"Not bad at all. Unless I move around, then it sucks," he admitted.

"Well then we'll just have to make sure you stay put," Duncan told him, picking up their plates and coming over to the couch to sit down beside Blair and his pile of paper.

"Here, let me get all this out of the way." Blair began stuffing papers into folders, and then the folders back into his pack. When there was room on the coffee table, Duncan set down Blair's plate.

"Oh man, that smells incredible, I haven't had Indian in ages. Jim wouldn't eat it, it was too spicy." Blair stopped, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I keep talking about him."

"You miss him," Duncan replied gently, making it a statement rather than a question. "It's perfectly okay. I'd like you to tell me about him, and about your work in Cascade, I'm interested." Blair nodded, and Duncan added quietly. "And he's obviously very important to you. That makes it important to me."

"Wow, thanks," Blair answered, reaching carefully for his plate. When he looked up, he realized that Duncan was waiting, patiently, but expectantly.

"I guess there's not really that much to tell, that I haven't told you already. He's a cop, a really good one. I helped him with cases and stuff, did all the paperwork. Mostly it felt like I was only there to call for backup, he was always telling me to stay in the truck. What he really needed me for though, was to keep him from zoning out, and to help him learn how to use his senses and be able to control them. He has them pretty under control now, he hadn't had a zone out for months when I left. I worry about that a lot though, who's going to pull him out if he zones now?" Blair asked, self recrimination obvious in his voice.

"What's a zone out?" Duncan asked, his tone gentle.

"It's like, he gets so deep into concentrating on one sense, all the others go offline. It can be really dangerous, especially in the middle of a shootout or something."

"Yeah, but he's still the one making the choice to put himself in that situation, right, to do the job?"

"Well yeah, I mean, Jim's a cop, that's just what he is. I can't even imagine him doing anything else."

Blair wasn't seeing his point. "What I mean is that it's not your responsibility to keep him from zoning out, that he chooses to put himself in danger, because it's what he wants to do."

"Not anymore it isn't," Blair mumbled, pushing his fork through the remains of the lamb sag on his plate.

Duncan chastised himself for reminding Blair of what he obviously considered his failure. Still, he wanted to know, and he had a feeling Blair needed to talk about it. He probably hadn't talked to anyone about himself personally since he left Cascade. It didn't sound as if he'd made any friends here yet at all.

"Why is that?" Duncan asked, as gently as he could.

Blair looked up from his plate, meeting Duncan's warm, brown eyes. "I did something that made him seriously angry, and he decided that he didn't want me to be a part of his life anymore."

"What did you do, Blair?"

Blair blushed. "I kissed him."

That was what Duncan had expected to hear, or something like it, but the pain and regret in the words made them seem new.

"What did he do when you kissed him?"

"He punched me in the mouth, and I went flying across the room. I said I was sorry, that it would never happen again, but by that time, he was like, way past the reasonable point."

Duncan worked on unclenching his jaw. Again, from the things Blair had said last night, it was what he had expected, but the feelings of rage and protectiveness that swelled inside him weren't. He wanted to go find this Jim Ellison and teach him to fight with people his own size.

"He had absolutely no right to hit you, even if he was upset by your advances, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so. He probably wouldn't have, I mean, he never did before, no matter how bad I screwed up, but we were both pretty drunk, and I..." Blair stopped, trying to get over his embarrassment. Duncan didn't look either embarrassed or surprised by anything he'd said. "I sort of jumped on him."

Duncan waited patiently, and after a moment of silence, where Blair toyed with his food, he continued. "It's just that he was sending out all these really intense signals, or at least I thought he was. I guess I was wrong."

"Maybe not," Duncan interrupted, unable to listen to Blair put any more blame on himself. "Maybe you were right, and he was sending you these signals, but wasn't doing it consciously, or admitting it to himself. What kinds of things did he do that made you think it was sexual attraction?"

Blair thought about it for a moment. "Well, he was always touching me, you know, in conversation and stuff, but that doesn't really count, cause he's just like that, even with people who send out 'don't touch, I hate touchy-feely people' vibes, like the Captain. Jim uses touch to communicate, he's not real good at talking about emotional stuff. There were other things though, he called me a bunch of silly nicknames, all the time." Blair ran down, a hurt in his eyes that Duncan longed to replace.

"What did he call you?" he prompted gently.

"Chief, Darwin, Guppy..."

"Guppy?" Duncan asked, losing his picture of a tough, hard as nails cop.

"He took me fishing. I'd never been fishing before."

"Did you do other things together, I mean socially?"

"Oh yeah, we were together just about twenty-four seven. He took me camping, we went to the movies together almost every weekend, we even went on vacation together. I took him to this monastery I spent a summer at when I was kid."

"So he was pretty dependent on you? For the Sentinel stuff I mean?" Duncan asked, taking Blair's empty plate from his lap and setting it on the coffee table.

"Well, yeah, at first, definitely. He handles it really well now, like I said, he hadn't zoned in ages."

"Maybe that scared him, needing someone."

"Jim is not afraid of anything."

The absolute certainty in his voice made Duncan smile. Jim must have some good qualities, if Blair idolized him this much.

"Everybody's afraid of something, Blair."

"Not Jim. He is like, Mr. Take Charge. I've lived with him for four years, and I've never seen him in a situation he couldn't handle. Here..." he reached for his backpack, digging in the side pocket. "That's Jim." He handed Duncan a picture of Blair, standing next to a much taller, well built man, with clear blue eyes and a military buzz cut. He had his arm around Blair's waist, they were both wearing Tuxedo's and smiling. If Duncan didn't know better, he would have assumed that they were a couple.

Duncan studied the man carefully. He was in his late thirties or early forties, about Duncan's height. His smile was confident, the arm around Blair's waist casual. "He looks like a nice guy."

"He is. He's just not real accepting. Everything is black or white with Jim, right or wrong, and what I did was wrong."

"You lived with him for four years, right? What made you..." Duncan faltered, trying to find the right words.

"Pounce? It was definitely a pounce."

Duncan chuckled. "Yeah, what made you decide to pounce?"

Duncan formed a mental picture of what a pouncing Blair would look like, and his body temperature rose.

Blair shrugged, squinting his eyes, something Duncan realized he did when he was thinking hard. "I dunno, we went to a party, it was a retirement party for a guy at the station. Jim doesn't usually drink, it fucks up his senses. But we'd just nailed this incredibly heavy case, this psychopath... Anyway, we were both drunk. It was something he said, at the party. He said 'Sandburg, you are the best partner I could ask for. Don't you ever leave me." Blair felt his eyes fill up with tears, and closed them quickly. "I guess he didn't mean it," Blair finished quietly, forcing the words past the lump in his throat.

Duncan's eyes were full of compassion. "I'm so sorry, Blair. For what it's worth, I think Jim Ellison made a very big mistake."

"It's worth a lot," Blair whispered, trying desperately to get his emotions under control.

"I'm glad." Duncan's hand rested on Blair's forearm, for a moment, squeezing gently. Then he got up, carrying their plates to the sink. When he returned, Blair had pulled another folder out of his backpack, and was starting in on his last batch of papers. Duncan went back to him, kicking off his shoes and putting his feet up on the edge of the table. "Can I help?"

"No, thanks, really, but these are compositions, I'm going to have to actually read them."

Duncan peered over Blair's shoulder to look at the chicken scrawl penmanship, written in purple ink. "Good luck."

"Yeah, thanks." Blair started to laugh, but it quickly turned into a groan, his hand clutching his taped ribs. "Man that sucks!" He gasped, hissing air between his clenched teeth.

"Try to relax, breath evenly."

"Isn't that my line?"

"Huh?"

"Nothing, it's just what I would always say to Jim when I was trying to get him to use his senses."

"Oh, well, do it anyway, okay?"

"Yeah, it's better now."

"Good. I'll do my best not to make you laugh."

"Oh man, that is like, a loaded line."

"Okay, smart alec, that's enough."

Duncan smiled, enjoying watching Blair with a mischievous grin on his face. Blair's smiles were rare, and radiant. He got up, going to the bookshelf to find something to read while Blair was grading his papers. Choosing his collection of Sarte's plays, he returned to the couch, careful not to sit down too heavily and jostle Blair and his pile of paper.

Two hours later, Blair's finished pile was finally starting to look bigger than the pile of papers yet to grade. Duncan looked up from his book to check on him, and realized that Blair had scooted closer to him on the couch. He must have moved a little bit at a time, Duncan thought, or he would have noticed. Putting his arm around Blair's waist, he pulled him carefully against his side, closing the small distance left between them. Moving his arm to Blair's shoulders, he bent his head near the young man's ear to ask quietly. "Is this alright?"

"Mmm," Blair responded, leaning a little closer, without ever pausing in his pens path across the page.

"I'll take that as a yes." Duncan told him, his voice deepening slightly.

"Do."

It was a very small word, Duncan almost missed it.

Blair finished the paper he was working on and reached for the next one from the stack on his right, settling back against Duncan's side. Duncan's arm curved around his shoulder, two fingers absentmindedly twirling a curl while he read.

This feels too good to be real, Blair thought. His side ached fiercely, and the bruise on his hip throbbed, but he was completely content. Duncan MacLeod was the kind of man that it had gotten hard to believe existed anymore, seeing the worst of the world everyday with Jim. There was something about him that reminded Blair of a more civilized, graceful age. Maybe it was only that he was European. Blair had detected the slight accent from the first moment Duncan spoke to him, but try as he might, he couldn't place it. He finally decided that he must have moved around a great deal in his formative years.

Unable to keep his attention on the loose, sloppy thinking of his student, he turned to look at Duncan over his reading glasses. "Where are you from?"

"My family is from Scotland, but I've moved around a lot."

"Scotland, really? Did you grow up there?"

Adorable dog with a bone, Duncan thought wryly to himself. "Yeah, I did, I left home fairly young, and I didn't go back."

"Did your family disown you or something?"

Oh, he's a quick one, Duncan thought. How am I going to deceive him? I'm not even sure I want to.

"Something like that. It was a very long time ago."

Blair was about to argue that it couldn't have been that long ago, Duncan wasn't that old. He was younger than Jim, surely. Blair thought he was probably only three or four of years older than he was. It was the finality in Duncan's voice that stopped him. His words were short, as if he were trying to say them and be done with them as quickly as possible. Something Jim had said once came to him, that people always talk faster when they aren't telling the truth. Blair decided that if Duncan didn't talk easily about his childhood, that was no reason to be suspicious, and that four years with Jim had made him cynical.

"You know Blair, I'm so sorry about what happened to you, and I'm so glad that I was there."

"Oh man, me too. You were like, like an immortal warrior, man, like Belatucadrus, coming down from the sky to battle the unjust."

Duncan decided this was a really good time to shut Blair up, before he got any closer to the truth. So he kissed him. Blair's small mouth moved softly under his, his full lips returning the kiss sweetly. His hand drifted up to rest at the center of Duncan's chest.

Releasing the soft lips, Duncan pulled back a little. Blair was staring at him with wide, dreamy eyes. "Who's Belatucadrus?" He asked, brushing Blair's full lower lip with the pad of his thumb.

"He was, um, a Celtic war god, but later the Greeks stole him and associated him with Mars." Blair smiled at him shyly. "Belatucadrus means 'fair shining one'."

"And I thought I was the history teacher," Duncan murmured, smiling. Will this beautiful boy teach me my own history, too? Duncan mused to himself, lost for a moment in the deep ocean blue of Blair's eyes.

"I'm really glad you were there, you saved my life. Another five minutes and my brains would have been smeared all over the sole of a combat boot."

The image that evoked was so upsetting, Duncan pulled Blair into his arms, wrapping him in a gentle embrace. "I don't even want to think about it," he told Blair, trying not to squeeze the beautiful, injured creature in his lap too hard.

"Me either," Blair mumbled, burying his face in the hard, broad chest. His arms wrapped around Duncan's ribs, holding himself as close to the warm, wonderfully big body as he could. "This feels so good, so safe," Blair whispered, pressing his cheek against Duncan's chest. He could hear Duncan's heart, steady and strong, beating under his cheek.

"You are very safe, I promise. I won't let anything bad happen to you. Only good things."

"Mmm, I like that idea." Blair snuggled into Duncan's arms, finding a comfortable position on his lap.

"Me too," Duncan whispered, kissing the top of Blair's head.

Blair fell asleep like that, and Duncan sat for hours, holding him, unable to make himself release his precious burden. He watched Blair's face, listened to his breath. He thought that asleep, with that halo of hair and a sweet smile on his lips, Blair looked exactly like an angel. A heavy angel, his legs had fallen asleep, but Duncan didn't care. Holding this beautiful creature felt better than anything had in a long, long time.

Part 4

By Zen&nancy

Blair came awake slowly, his eyes fluttering open to search for the sound that had woken him. It was Duncan, exhaling a deep breath. He was directly in front of Blair, going smoothly though the motions of tai chi chuan. His face was totally calm and his were eyes closed.

The coffee table had been moved against the wall, and Duncan was standing in the middle of the room, about two feet in front of him. He was balanced on the ball of his right foot, his left knee bent and the leg extended behind him. Blair watched, fascinated, as his arms slowly crossed in the air before his chest, sweeping out and around in a curve that brought his leg in and then forward.

Blair swallowed, a complicated reaction of lust, admiration and appreciation of the total control and grace of Duncan's body was his first fuzzy thought. He lay very still, watching Duncan with increasing awe. As he came awake, Blair realized that Duncan MacLeod was a master of the ancient art he was performing in the small space of his living room.

The powerful body moved in a hypnotic, constant motion that was neither quick or slow. Each movement was an expression of grace, the muscles moving fluidly under the dark bronze skin. Blair squirmed a little under his blankets, Duncan's strength and symmetry had caught the attention of his morning erection and it was very interested. There had been a little soreness all day yesterday, the ache from being kicked much too hard in the groin, but this morning it was gone. He did, however, have to do something about his bladder, which was seriously compromised.

Duncan had both feet on the floor now, his arms raising slowly above his head. Blair sighed, having a hard time tearing himself away from the sight of the incredible strength in Duncan's body. Rolling quietly to his feet, he shuffled to the bathroom, making as little noise as possible.

Duncan opened his eyes slowly as he was returning to the couch. Completing the elegant motion of his limbs before speaking, he smiled at Blair. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Blair answered, somewhat dreamily, his eyes following the supple movement of the muscles in Duncan's well defined back and broad shoulders. Duncan finished his exercise, his concentration only slightly distracted.

Finishing with a long stretch up onto his toes, arms above his head, Duncan wondered how long Blair had been awake.

"That was incredible. You should be teaching Tai Chi, not history, you're awesome!"

Duncan smiled, pleased with Blair's praise, even though he didn't think he was entitled to it. He reasoned that if you did the same series of exercises for 300 years of mornings, you naturally had an advantage over a mortal who is learning the art. Duncan had found that time and dedication were the secret to mastering almost every art, although they was no substitute for talent.

"You're familiar with Tai Chi Chaun?"

"Enough to know that people don't move like that, at that level of difficulty, from taking a few classes from an American instructor at some new age learning center. That was a very old form, wasn't it?"

"Yes, I had a very traditional teacher."

"A sensei?" Blair asked, fascinated and impressed.

A faraway look smoothed Duncan's features, his face relaxing into a smile that was a little sad. "Yes, I had the honor of calling him sensei." Shaking off the memory, he smiled at Blair. "I'm sorry I woke you, I would have gone downstairs, but I didn't want you to wake up to an empty room. You must be a very light sleeper, I don't make much noise."

"A pin drop will usually wake me. I'm glad you didn't, go downstairs I mean. Duncan, that was like, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen a person do with their body. Can you teach me to move like that?"

Duncan tried to ignore the wave of heat that went through his body with Blair's admiration. He was only wearing the sweat pants he had slept in, and Blair's wandering, appreciative eyes were eliciting a response that was getting difficult to control.

"How's your balance?" he asked, smiling at the blue eyes that were devouring him.

"Good."

"Co-ordination?"

Blair shook his head, grinning back. "Not so good."

"Do you meditate?"

"Oh yeah, Naomi, that's my Mom, she taught me to meditate before she taught me to read. She's really cool, you'd like her."

Duncan mused that the woman who created Blair must be a beautiful, carefree spirit.

"Then I think we can work with you, yeah. You don't learn that level of control overnight, but if you're serious, I've love to teach you."

Blair pictured himself standing in front of Duncan, the hard, muscular chest close behind him, Duncan's warm hands firmly positioning and guiding his limbs.

"Oh man, I am soo there."

"I'll take that as a yes, and hold you to it as soon as your ribs heal. I'm going to make coffee. What do you want for breakfast this morning? French toast?"

Blair's eyes went from burning, unguarded lust, to sweet, hopeful puppy dog faster than Duncan would have thought possible.

"Could we have pancakes again?"

"Two days in a row?" Duncan asked, purely for the pleasure of watching Blair's eager expression for a moment longer before giving in.

"They were so good...Please?"

Duncan crossed the short distance between them, bending down he pressed a warm kiss to Blair's forehead, near his left temple. "How could I possibly refuse? You should get those puppy eyes patented before someone steals them and makes a million dollars."

"You think so?" Blair grinned up at him, mischief in his smile.

"Yes, I do," Duncan chuckled, leaning in to brush his lips lightly against Blair's.

Blair sighed, wishing he could make Duncan kiss him for the rest of the day. It felt so nice... Blair was suddenly conscious of the fact that he hadn't brushed his teeth, and that his hair probably looked like the Bride of Frankenstein.

"Um, can I take a shower?"

"Go right ahead, let me try to find some clean clothes for you to put on, I'm sure I can find something that will fit you."

Blair was dubious, but Duncan came back from his dresser with a pair of white cotton, loosely cut pants with a drawstring, and a matching shirt, cut to allow freedom of movement. It was a light cotton gi that Duncan did his Katas in. It might not keep Blair warm enough, but, Duncan thought, maybe he could take on that responsibility for the day. Besides, it was the only thing in his wardrobe that wouldn't fall off Blair's smaller, slender frame.

"Here." Duncan handed them over, along with a pair of sweatsocks and boxer shorts. "These are pretty much one size fits all, they should be okay for hanging out here. If we go anywhere though, we'll have to find you something warmer."

"Thanks."

"Sure, be careful in the shower, don't hurt yourself. There are clean towels in the linen cabinet in the bathroom, and an extra toothbrush, it's the blue one."

"Okay, I'll be back." Blair walked slowly to the bathroom. Duncan watched him carefully, deciding that Blair was moving around with less difficulty today, and if it weren't for the four flights of stairs, would probably be fine home alone.

Blair closed the bathroom door, setting his pile of clothes carefully on the hamper. Turning on the cold water tap in the sink, he squeezed toothpaste onto the blue toothbrush. Leaning over the sink was painful, even with one hand grasping the edge to brace his weight. Blair rinsed his mouth, cupping water in his hands several times rather than bending down to the stream from the faucet.

Undressing was a slow and laborious process. Luckily, his denim shirt buttoned down the front, he was sure he couldn't have lifted a sweater over his shoulders.

Standing in front the mirror, Blair cataloged his injuries. There were vivid crimson and purple bruises, three clear imprints of the steel toes of their boots. One high up on his hip, he could just see the top of the fist sized welt above the waist of his jeans. One on his left thigh that he couldn't see, but could certainly feel, and one not quite as dark as the other two, that spread across his stomach.

He hadn't seen his bruised ribcage since the doctor had taped them up at the hospital, telling Blair not to remove the bandages for at least twenty-four hours, and then only to shower. He had instructed him to re-wrap them as tightly as he could comfortably stand after he showered. Realizing the range of motion necessary to unwind the rolls of white bandage from around his middle, Blair wasn't sure that he could do it at all.

He tried, his hand reaching around to his right side, where the little metal toothed elastic fasteners held the bandage in place. He yelped, grabbing on to the sink again as the world spun. Regaining his equilibrium slowly, Blair bit his lip. It sent a lightning bolt of pain straight through him to try to reach around himself to unwrap the bandage. He hadn't even gotten the fasteners off. He had grasped one and felt it snag just before the pain had hit him, and his arm snapped back. He leaned against the sink, rocking back and forth and trying not to make any noise. Making one more attempt to pull the edge of the bandage free, Blair came close to blacking out when the wall of pain hit him. It stole his breath, freezing his lungs and his throat.

"Come on, easy, take it easy," Blair groaned softly to himself, trying to prop himself up more solidly against the sink. Embarrassed and disgusted by his helplessness, he forced himself to move slowly back to the door. Opening it, he called out softly. "Duncan? Could I, um, ask you to help me? I'm sorry, man, but I can't unwind the bandages they taped up my ribs with."

Duncan was already at his side, before he finished speaking. For a moment his eyes couldn't look away from the bruise that spread across Blair's stomach, then he looked at the young man's face and realized that he was white as a sheet. Two deep indentations marked Blair's lower lip, where he had bit it trying to keep quiet.

"What did you do to yourself, buddy?" Duncan admonished, all concern and compassion. "You shouldn't have tried to reach this yourself, kiddo. It hurts bad, huh? Hang in there, just try and relax," he continued softly, unhooking the fasteners under Blair's right arm and beginning to unwind the bandage. Blair stayed still, holding his arms slightly away from his sides for Duncan, his eyes fixed on their feet.

"Are you okay, kiddo? Do you want to sit down here for me? It's going to hurt more when we get these off, they wrapped them tightly. I'm so sorry, Caro."

Blair raised a hand to Duncan's shoulder to steady himself, letting Duncan lead him to the wide, tiled edge of the tub to sit down. He was thinking about the last time he'd had bruised his ribs, when Jim had taped them for him. It had hurt so badly, although this time was worse. He had nearly ground his teeth down, trying not to make a fuss in front of the other cops and embarrass Jim. All he had wanted was a kind word from Jim, he had tried so hard to hide the pain, afraid that Jim would call him a sissy, or something worse.

He had wanted it so badly; just a little compassion from the man he worshipped, and to be able to rest for a little while. He hadn't gotten either. Jim had taped up his ribs, acting like it was no big deal, and they had gotten right on with the case. The case was always what was most important to Jim. His own comfort, and sometimes even his safety, always came second, and he expected Blair to make that sacrifice as well.

He had felt like such a crybaby, trying not to let Jim see how bad it hurt. And last night, he had curled up in Duncan's lap and Duncan had cuddled him and comforted him, and kissed him, and it had felt so incredibly good. Shame and embarrassment had been the farthest things from his mind, he had felt nothing but peace and contentment, letting Duncan hold him.

The bandages were gone, it hurt more now when he exhaled. Duncan was kneeling in front of him, holding his shoulders in a gentle clasp. Emotion so strong it frightened him welled up inside Blair, and he wanted to sob out loud, but held it back. It was the gentleness in Duncan's touch, the warmth in his simple kiss. It was what he had been aching for, for so long. It was the way Duncan looked at him when he talked, as if he was really seeing him. It was what he had waited for so patiently, with the wrong person. The pain and the futility of the past four years stabbed him, bringing clarity and self recrimination. He saw that in a hundred different ways, he had let himself see only what he wanted to with Jim, and denied a truth that was obvious.

"It's okay, Blair. Everything's going to be alright, I promise."

It was the steady, honest, affection in Duncan's coffee brown eyes, even more than the words, that made Blair lean forward, throwing his arms around Duncan's neck. Duncan's arms wrapped around him, low on his waist to avoid his ribs, pulling him close.

Blair hid his face in the long, incredibly thick hair that Duncan hadn't bothered to put into his customary ponytail this morning. "Thank you," Blair whispered against Duncan's neck.

"Shh... it's okay. I've got you." Duncan's palm stroked Blair's back in soothing circles.

"I'm sorry," Blair whispered, pulling back a little. "It's just that I've been so much trouble, and I, I like you so much."

"Hush Caro, all is well." Duncan was rocking Blair gently forward and back in his arms. "Just a rough morning, it'll look better after coffee and pancakes, I promise."

"Mmm, pancakes. Okay, you could be right about this," Blair conceded, wishing he didn't have to move from Duncan's arms, ever.

"So you think you can handle this shower thing?"

Blair blushed deeply, nodding. "Yeah." He took a shaky breath. "I'm okay." Duncan's rich brown eyes smiled at him, and life suddenly seemed much easier than it had ten minutes ago. "I'm good. Really good."

Duncan's hand cupped his cheek, holding him against his warm, bare chest for another moment. Kissing the top of Blair's head, he pulled them both slowly to their feet.

"Okay, then breakfast will be done when you get out."

"Man, you are like, way too good to me."

"Not nearly." Duncan shook his head, thinking that spoiling Blair rotten could be a lot of fun.

He left, going into the kitchen to start the coffee. When he had filled the basket with grounds and poured the water, Duncan stopped, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed on his chest. He was getting in deep here, he knew it, couldn't help it. He had taken responsibility for Blair from the first moment he had seen him, with his face pressed against the concrete. From the moment he had brushed the thick, curly hair back to see his face, Blair had slipped under his defenses, and aroused every protective, nurturing instinct inside him. It was very easy to forget that a few days ago, he hadn't even known what a Blair Sandburg was.

Drawing the real Blair out from under the shadow of his misery was so wonderfully satisfying. He was full of surprises and mischief, knowledge and ideas, and Duncan wanted them all. Holding Blair in his arms felt better than he ever would have dreamed. A small, sad, angel. Fragile, but not delicate. He felt like redemption. Duncan knew that this was in his nature. He was an introspective person, and after four hundred years he had learned enough about himself to be able to admit that he had something of a pygmalion complex. So yes, it was that, but there was a great deal more. Knowing that Blair was hurting, and alone, only made him determined to be very, very, careful with the beautiful creature, but, it wasn't the reason that he was falling in love with him.

There were a hundred of them. It was the way his eyes lit up when he talked about races of people and places so far away from him. It was amazing to Duncan that he could see them so vividly. It was the way Blair could shift gears in his head in the blink of an eye, he could knock Duncan off his feet, and leave him scrambling to catch up. That wasn't something he was used to. Having a companion that challenged him mentally was rare, and wonderful. It was also the almost frightening extremes of emotion he was capable of feeling. Blair could go from despair to elation in a matter of seconds. It made Duncan want to hold him ferociously tight, to keep him safe and sheltered. It was the way Blair felt in his arms last night, so incredibly right, so good, as if he were meant to be there. Duncan realized a little guiltily that he was already feeling not only protective, but also possessive, of the fascinating man he had rescued.

The coffee pot gurgled, finishing its brewing process and drawing him back to the present. Blair was still in the shower, he could hear the water running. If Duncan worked quickly, he could have the pancakes on the griddle before he got out. He poured himself a cup, taking a minute to drink half of it before pulling down the glass mixing bowl and collecting ingredients. Getting eggs and cream from the refrigerator he began the magical process of turning simple eggs, butter, flour and sugar and cream into thin, gooey, melt in your mouth flap jacks.

The bathroom door opened, letting out a cloud of steam and a wobbly Blair. He stood in the doorway for a moment, holding onto the door frame. It was the look of determination in his eyes that stopped Duncan from going to him. He made his way slowly across the long room. When he finally made it he stopped at the kitchen counter, resting a minute before he tried to talk. He was wearing the gi pants that Duncan had given him, and the socks. He had the rolls of cotton they had wrapped his ribs with and the shirt in his hand.

"Those look incredible. My mouth is watering."

"Just don't drool on my counter top."

Blair giggled, wincing when it made his ribs shake.

"I'm sorry, I have to stop making you laugh."

"No, it's good. It's worth it."

Duncan was trying very hard to put Blair at ease, and not to stare at the dark bruises across his bare chest.

"Do you like crepes too? I almost made you crepes instead, but I was afraid you'd be disappointed if you didn't get pancakes."

"Crepes are yummy, but oh, man, these things are like, divine. A religious pancake experience."

Duncan felt himself smile, turning his attention back to the griddle to flip the pancakes. These were the last of the batter, the rest were staying warm on a plate in the oven, drowning in syrup and butter.

"We should wrap your ribs before we eat, right?"

Blair made a face. "Probably. Could I have some coffee first?"

Duncan reached for the pot. "Absolutely. Do you want to sit here with me?" He pulled one of the stools around from the other side of the counter so that Blair could sit next to him near the stove. As impersonally as he could, he grasped Blair's hips and lifted him gently to the seat. "There, that's a good spot for you."

Blair gave him a beautiful smile, and drank his coffee. "I'm glad you think so," He murmured quietly.

Duncan couldn't help it, it wasn't as if he intentionally made the decision to kiss the soft, full mouth that tasted like sweet coffee, he was simply drawn to it like a magnet. Blair made a wonderful little noise against his mouth, half sigh and half moan. Duncan growled back gently, kissing him more passionately than he had before. His tongue explored the soft moist cavern of Blair's mouth, stroking enticingly along his tongue until he responded, wrapping his tongue lazily around Duncan's in his mouth.

Duncan remembered his hotcakes just in time to save them from turning past the desired shade of golden brown. Blair was holding on to his coffee cup with both hands, his expression a little dazed.

"Hey, are you okay?" Duncan asked softly, hoping to draw him back.

Dreamy blue eyes met his, and Blair shook his head, smiling. "No, I'm wonderful."

Duncan thought the happiness was going to just bubble over and spill out of him, watching that smile. It was for him, and for a moment he just let himself enjoy it. Every emotion Blair felt literally radiated out of him, or so it seemed to Duncan. Just then, his smile was enough to make Duncan certain that falling in love with this incredibly beautiful boy was the right thing to do.

Duncan returned the plate with it's two towering stacks of pancakes to the oven. "Okay, are you ready? Do you want to do this here or on the couch?"

"This is good." Blair gave Duncan the rolls of bandage.

He lowered his eyes when Duncan came to stand beside him. It seemed silly to be shy of Duncan's touch after he had carried him around and even held him in his lap, but he was. Maybe it was because he couldn't dispel the warm, liquid feeling of Duncan's kiss. It was like fire that didn't burn.

Blair flinched when Duncan touched him, fighting the urge to giggle. "I'm ticklish, I'm sorry, I'll try to hold still."

Duncan flattened his palm, touching the swollen, bruised ribs on Blair's left side very lightly. "I'm so sorry." He murmured, wishing he could have prevented the painful looking bruises.

Blair trembled under his hands. "You shouldn't be sorry, you stopped them."

"I'm going to wrap you pretty tight, kiddo, I want you to tell me if it hurts too much, because you have to keep them bandaged like this, and I don't want you to be in pain, okay?"

"No, it feels better when it's tight." Blair's voice was muffled by hair and clenched teeth.

Duncan frowned, knowing that he was hurting Blair and unable to prevent it. "I'm so sorry, Caro." He murmured soothingly, keeping an even tension on the bandage he was wrapping carefully around Blair's middle. He could barely remember what it was like not to recover almost instantly from an injury, and thought it must be awful, and very frustrating. Especially for someone like Blair, who had so much energy.

Blair tried to hold still, holding his arms away from his sides to make it easier for Duncan. "Thank you for taking such good care of me." Blair looked up at Duncan shyly.

"It's my pleasure. Besides, you deserve it." Duncan fastened the end of the bandage with the little metal tabs. He had run out of bandage at Blair's back. "Don't try to take this off by yourself."

"Okay, I won't." Blair answered.

Duncan picked Blair's shirt up from the counter, holding it for him to put his arms through. Blair hummed through his clenched teeth when he had to lift his arms for Duncan to get it over his head. When the cotton fell over him he lowered them very slowly, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He felt Duncan's strong arms wrap around him, holding him close without squeezing him at all. He was so careful with his strength. Blair kept his eyes closed, his hands found Duncan's solid chest, and moved slowly up to his shoulder, which was as high as he could reach without pain. Tugging insistently, he pulled the big body down until he could touch Duncan's face with his fingertips, and lead him to his mouth for a kiss.

Blair was delighted when Duncan held still and let him kiss him. He licked delicately at the full lips, teasing and coaxing until Duncan growled low in his throat, and opened his mouth. The kiss was long and complicated. Blair didn't want to come up for air, but eventually they had to. He let go of Duncan regretfully, amazed that Duncan had let him kiss him without trying to take control.

"Breakfast?" Blair murmured with a mischievous smile.

"Breakfast, definitely." Duncan pulled up a second stool, placing it next to Blair, around the corner of the counter. Removing the plate from the oven, he set it between them. "Do you want milk or more coffee?"

"Coffee, please."

Duncan pulled silverware from the drawer for them and sat down next to Blair.

Duncan was happy, Blair ate twice as much as he had yesterday, and chattered nonstop all the way through breakfast. He told Duncan all about life at Rainier and the classes he had taught as a teaching fellow there. It was obvious that he missed his friends and his old life. He told Duncan about a trip he had taken with Naomi to the Amazon and about life with the tree people. He talked about Cascade a lot, but he never mentioned Jim or working at the police station. Duncan wanted to tell him that it was okay to talk to him about the man he had spent the last four years of his life with, but he didn't want to say anything that might dampen Blair's buoyant mood.

When they had demolished the two stacks of pancakes Duncan did the dishes. Blair sat on his stool and kept him company, telling him a funny story about the first class he had ever taught.

When the dishes were done Duncan poured them each another cup of coffee and carried them into the living room.

"Come, sit with me." Duncan reached for Blair's hand, pulling him carefully down next to him on the couch. Instead of releasing Blair's hand, he covered it with his left one, cupping Blair's smaller hand between his palms.

"Blair, I feel like I should say this. I know this might not be the best time, for you, but I care for you a great deal, and I want to be part of your life. If I should back off here, tell me, but I want to be your friend."

Blair closed his eyes briefly, and took as deep a breath as he could with taped ribs. "Time is precious, it's an offense to the gods to waste it. Naomi told me that. I've been here for almost three months, I need to start living in the present. And I like you, too." He blushed, looking down at his hand held in Duncan's. "I haven't um, had a boyfriend, in a long time. I never accepted when guys asked me out in Cascade, I didn't want to have to lie to Jim. Man, I feel like I can tell you anything, and that is like, so cool. You make happy."

"I'm glad," Duncan told him, chuckling when Blair threw himself into his lap, burrowing into his chest like a very cuddly small animal.

Duncan lifted his face with a finger under his chin for a gentle, lingering kiss. "That's my plan," he told Blair softly, threading his fingers through his curly hair. "We probably should go get your car today. I could go back to your apartment with you if you want, and you should call your department head and let them know you need to take a couple of sick days. Are you going to tell them what happened?"

Blair could tell from the way he asked that Duncan really did believe that it was his decision to make, and that he wouldn't judge him either way. He groaned softly, pushing his forehead into Duncan's muscled shoulder.

"Oh man, I really don't want to, but I feel like I should. I mean, what if they start harassing other students? I mean, if these guys think they can get away with attacking a teacher, what's going to stop them from harassing anybody with a pride flag on their bumper? I'm not the only one on campus who has one, I've seen a few in the faculty lot, and I'm sure there's plenty of gay students that are out on campus. I feel like I owe it to them."

"I could go with you, to talk to the Dean," Duncan offered, stroking the back of Blair's head hypnotically.

"You'd do that?" Big blue eyes looked up at Duncan adoringly, and he felt himself melting.

"Of course I will, if you want me to. I know him, he's not a difficult man to talk to."

Blair looked steadily into Duncan's warm brown eyes, drawing strength from his unwavering support. "Okay. That would be good, thank you."

"Don't worry about it, we'll see if we can talk to him Monday. Do you feel up to driving? Because you know, if it were up to me, I'd just keep you here, but I guess you'd probably like to be in your own place."

"Your place is a lot nicer than mine," Blair grinned, then sighed softly. "But I guess I should go home. Do you think they'll be able to find someone to take my classes?"

"Of course, they'll have to." Duncan didn't want to let him go, he wished that he could just keep Blair with him in the loft, where he could take care of him. But Sunday afternoon was almost over, the light was slanting in orange patches across the hardwood floor.

"Does your car have decent heat? I'm afraid you're going to be cold driving home like that."

Blair was snuggled against Duncan's warm chest, feeling sleepy and absolutely content, and he didn't even want to think about going out and dealing with the world. It hadn't been very friendly the last time he was there. The loft was like a safe, cozy cocoon, made even more wonderful by Duncan's solid, reassuring presence.

"Mmm, I'll be okay. We should go now, though. Otherwise, I'm going to fall asleep on your lap again." Blair smiled up at Duncan, looking sleepy and very comfortable.

"Sounds wonderful, can I have a rain check?" Duncan asked, lifting Blair easily off his lap and helping him to his feet.

"Definitely." Blair sighed, leaning against the strong body for a moment before beginning to gather up his folders and put them back into his book bag.

Duncan went to the coat stand, pulling down Blair's jacket, his long overcoat, and then a second leather coat he wore on warmer days. Blair had zipped up his bag and was standing in the middle of the room, looking around the loft affectionately.

"Here, will you wear my coat? It'll keep you warm." Duncan guided Blair's arms gently into his long wool coat.

It hung down to the tops of his shoes, and his hands were lost in the sleeves. He laughed, smiling up at Duncan. "I'd love to, man. It smells good, like you."

Duncan shook his head, smiling, and bent down to kiss the beautiful creature swallowed up in his overcoat. "I don't want you to freeze, it's cold out there."

"I hate winter," Blair grumbled, stuffing his hands in the overcoat's big pockets.

"It can be dreary here, but after a while you start to like the rain."

"It's not the rain I mind, it's the cold. It was the same in Cascade. I think I'm just destined to live in places with crappy weather."

Duncan decided he would try to talk Blair into going away someplace tropical with him over Christmas break. Somehow he didn't think it would be too difficult.

Duncan pulled the gate down and Blair smiled to himself, remembering riding up to the loft in Duncan's arms. He looked around curiously when Duncan led him through the dojo, which was closed on Sundays.

"Neat place, I like it."

"Thanks." Duncan held the door for him, and Blair stepped out into the icy November air.

Blair was glad that the T-bird was only a few steps away, the wind was bitter. His hands burrowed into Duncan's pockets, wrapping the long coat around himself and holding it closely to his body.

Duncan unlocked his door and settled Blair into the passenger seat before going around to the driver's side. The T-bird warmed up quickly, and Blair relaxed against the leather seat, thinking that this was by far the nicest car he had ever sat in in his life.

The ride back to the university was short, Blair stared out the window, asking questions about the neighborhood. He was ashamed of the fact that he, supposedly the anthropologist, had lived in this city for three months and knew so little about it's population. He hadn't explored much at all, only learned the route to and from the university from his apartment.

Blair was sorry when they reached the campus and he had to think about getting out of the comfortable car. Driving was going to be rough, it was about a fifteen minute trip back to his apartment. He was glad Duncan was going to follow him. He wasn't letting himself think about the time that would come after that. After Duncan helped him up the stairs and into his apartment, when he would say goodbye and leave Blair alone. It frightened him, how badly he wanted to be able to stay with Duncan, being separated from him seemed like the worst thing in the world. He told himself he was being a baby. How was he going to get through the rest of his life if he was afraid of being alone in his own house? It wasn't like he wouldn't see Duncan again. Duncan had said that he wanted to be his friend, that he wanted Blair to be a part of his life, he wasn't going to just disappear like a wonderful dream that doesn't come true.

Blair knew that, and it was a ball of secret happiness inside him that dulled the pain in his ribs and made it easy to smile at Duncan each time the other man spoke to him. It was the fear of being alone in his apartment that he couldn't conquer. Remembering all the nights he'd spent awake, alone, talking to himself because he was afraid of the silence. After spending the last two days in Duncan's constant, watchful company, it seemed so much worse, to have to go back to being there alone. The analytical part of his brain wondered if maybe Guides weren't somehow incapable of living alone, needing a partner to keep them grounded and focused on the tasks of daily life. For the hundredth time he reminded himself that he wasn't a Guide anymore, that he had failed at that responsibility and the title had been revoked. For a second, the rational part of Blair wondered what Jim would think of Duncan MacLeod, and the way he treated Blair. Blair couldn't even imagine.

Duncan pulled up next to Blair's Volvo, somewhat concerned by his uncharacteristic silence. Blair hadn't said a word since they had reached the campus. Duncan worried that maybe Blair wasn't ready to deal with being in the place where he'd been attacked yet.

"Hey." Duncan reached for Blair's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Are you okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. It's going to take a while for my car to warm up, if it starts. Cross your fingers."

"I have cables if it doesn't, are you sure you're going to be okay driving? You don't look so good, buddy." Duncan brushed Blair's cheek with the back of his hand.

Blair smiled, holding very still to focus on Duncan's touch. It sent a rush of happiness through him, every time.

"I'll be okay, it's not that far. I'm glad you're following me, thank you so much."

Duncan shook his head, his brown eyes smiling. "You won't get rid of me that easily."

"That's good." Blair looked away, suddenly shy again.

Duncan reached across him, pulling the handle to open the heavy door. He pressed a quick kiss to Blair's cheek.

"I'll follow you."

"Okay."

Blair pulled himself slowly out of the car, hanging on to the roof for a minute. It hurt, but it was bearable. Duncan had pulled up directly beside his car and he unlocked the door, thinking that it seemed like a very long time ago that he had parked it here and walked to his morning lecture.

The Volvo started on the third try, sounding like a small airplane engine turning over. Blair kept his foot on the gas, listening to the engine and shivering in Duncan's big coat. A little sooner than he really should have, he put the car in drive, revving the engine to keep it from dying. Duncan followed him out of the parking garage and onto the street, turning in the familiar path towards home. Blair drove on autopilot, glancing back at Duncan in his rearview mirror every few seconds.

Part 5

By Zen&nancy

Blair pulled into the parking space behind his building with a sigh of relief. Driving had taken more concentration than he had expected. He was tired and very sore. Duncan was right behind him, he'd even remembered to bring Blair's backpack with him from the backseat of his car.

"How are you doing?" Duncan's eyes swept over him, searching for signs of fatigue or pain.

"Tired," Blair smiled, leading the way slowly up the walk to his building.

They went in the back way, walking down a long hallway to the small lobby with its blue tiled floor. The stairs were wide, with an old fashioned metal banister. There was a landing and a turn every half flight, and it looked like a very long way up.

Duncan shook his head, smiling. "I don't think so kiddo." Before Blair could answer, Duncan scooped Blair up into his arms, settling him against his chest with his arms locked under Blair's legs.

"No way man, you can't carry me up four flights of stairs. I am not going to be responsible for giving you a coronary." Blair was indignant.

Duncan just barely managed to stop himself from telling Blair that he didn't have to worry about that particular possibility.

He grinned down at Blair, shifting his weight carefully and readjusting his grip on the beautiful boy shaking his head 'no' in is arms. "Want to bet?"

Duncan started up the stairs, Blair tried to stay very still in his arms. He wrapped his arms tightly around Duncan's neck and closed his eyes. Duncan paused to rest on the third floor, leaning his back against the wall. He was a little out of breath.

"I can do the last flight, it's okay."

Duncan grinned. "No." He took the last flight two steps at a time, just to prove his point.

Blair rolled his eyes, secretly delighted by Duncan's strength. "Okay Hercules, you can put me down now."

"You mean after all that, I don't even get to carry you over the threshold?" Duncan teased, swinging him lightly to his feet.

Blair blushed, fumbling with his key. "Uh-uh, no way."

He unlocked the door, swinging it wide before entering the small apartment. Duncan noticed the way Blair looked around carefully before entering, and wondered if it was a habit learned from police work or a more recent fear that caused Blair's suspicion. There was no one there, the small one bedroom apartment was empty and dark. Duncan could make out the shapes of furniture and a wall of boxes stacked at the end of the long, narrow room.

Blair went to the far wall, turning on the lights and kicking up the thermostat, although it probably wouldn't do much good. It was chilly in the almost empty rooms, but the heat would rarely come on until it dropped below sixty five degrees in the apartment. Blair suspected that the landlord had set it that way.

"It's cheap," Blair replied to the skeptical look Duncan was giving his three room apartment.

"I hope so," Duncan smiled, setting Blair's backpack down next to the coffee table. All of the furniture was functional, inexpensive, and of no particular style. It didn't look like anything Blair would have picked, and Duncan decided he'd either rented the place furnished or had the furniture delivered from a rental company, making monthly payments on the ugly stuff.

Duncan couldn't help feeling depressed by the dark rooms. There was absolutely nothing of a personal nature in the place. The bookshelves were empty, although six boxes marked 'Books' were stacked next to them. There were no pictures on the walls, no plants or knick knacks. Nothing to tell him anything more about the person he was falling in love with.

Actually, Duncan mused, the boxes stacked at the end of the dining room told him a great deal. Blair had been here for three months, but had unpacked only the necessities. He didn't want to be here. Through the open door to the bedroom he could see a futon on the floor and portable radio. A laptop sat on the coffee table, next to a stack of folders. A stack of textbooks sat next to the table on the floor. Blair had sat there, his back against the couch, working on something. An empty mug of tea sat on the corner of the table, next to a pen and a notepad covered with scribbled notes.

"It's not that bad, I don't really spend that much time here. Do you want some tea?"

"No, thanks, I'm fine. You should call the university, let them know you won't be there tomorrow."

Blair sighed, frowning. "Yeah, I know. I was really hoping I'd be able to go, at least to my morning labs. I have a test to give back and mid terms are coming up."

"Blair, you can't. Your office is on the third floor, right? And how are you going to make it across the campus? Kiddo, you are not up to that yet."

"I know," Blair answered glumly, dreading the idea of being stuck here home alone all day.

He looked so forlorn, Duncan wanted to promise to carry him around campus all day. "Is a day off really such a bad thing?"

Blair sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess not." He didn't sound very sure of himself. "I guess I better call the U. Make yourself at home, okay?"

Duncan looked around, thinking that Blair certainly hadn't made much of an effort in that department, but he took off his coat, sitting down on the couch to wait.

Duncan listened to Blair leaving a message on his department head's voice mail, he could see him every few seconds as he paced back and forth in the kitchen. He hadn't taken off Duncan's long coat, probably because it was freezing cold in the small apartment.

Blair hung up the phone, coming back to the living room to sit next to Duncan on the couch.

"I guess they'll get the message,"Blair sounded like he was worrying.

"It's okay Blair, everything's alright. Professors get sick all the time, they'll find someone to take your classes. Don't worry, okay?"

"Oh man, telling me not to worry is like telling the sun not to rise, totally pointless. But I'll try."

"Are you tired? I'll go if you want to rest..."

"No! I mean, you don't have to leave, unless you have to, I'm not tired, but you probably have stuff to do."

Duncan put his arm around Blair's shoulders, squeezing gently. "I'll stay, for as long as you want me to."

"You must think I'm like, a total wimp." Blair was nervously picking at the scabs on his thumbnails.

Duncan took his hands, gently halting the self destructive behavior. "No, I think it sucks to be alone when you feel lousy and you got jumped two days ago."

Blair nodded, still not able to look Duncan in the eye. "Yeah, I guess you have a point, but Jim would think I'm being totally ridiculous. He'd say 'Sandburg'..." Blair stopped, swallowing his words with almost comical haste. "I'm sorry."

Duncan knew that one of them really should make an effort to keep their emotions under control here, but Blair had a tendency to silence his voice of reason. He pulled him squarely into his lap, wrapping his arms securely around the body shivering in his coat.

"What would Jim say? Tell me."

Blair looked up at him hesitantly from under his hair. "He'd say, 'Sandburg, don't be a baby. If something happens, call 911'."

"That's really reassuring," Duncan murmured dryly.

"He'd tell me that what happened the other night was my fault, for not reporting the incident with the rock through my car window. He'd tell me that it's the citizen's responsibility to be honest with the police and help them to protect them."

"That's a very idealistic view. As a police officer he must be aware that there are many situations that make it difficult or impossible for people to go to the police directly for help."

Blair smiled, with the closest thing to cynicism Duncan had seen on his face. "Jim has very high standards, and he expects other people to live up to them, too. People get divided into good guys and bad guys in his mind pretty quickly. If you're not part of the solution then you're part of the problem."

"He had no right to tell you who to be or how to live your life, Blair," Duncan spoke softly, not at all sure that those were the words Blair wanted to hear.

"I was his partner, and he had the right to tell me what to do and how to act at work, because he's the cop, and I was only there as an observer. He took me in when the place I was living at got blown up during this case he was on. So, it was his house, he had a right to tell me what he didn't want to live with. Although some of his house rules were totally anal, but I mean, it was his house, he let me stay with him."

"Maybe he wanted you to stay with him. Jim doesn't sound like the kind of guy who would let you live with him for four years if he didn't want you there, no matter how badly he needed your help. I understand what you're saying Blair, but neither of those things gives Jim the right to tell you what it is and isn't okay to feel, or who to be."

Blair bit his lip, wanting to argue, but he knew that Duncan was right. "I know. It doesn't matter, it doesn't make any difference what he would think."

Duncan listened to Blair trying to convince himself that it didn't matter anymore what Jim thought of him, and fought the jealousy he felt. He was having a really hard time seeing Jim as anything other than a fairly typical, aggressive, controlling cop. He sounded like an asshole.

"It's okay, everything is going to be alright." Duncan stroked the unruly curls at the nape of Blair's neck.

Blair smiled up at him. "That's it, I have got to play you that song. You really don't know who Bob Marley is?"

Duncan obfuscated, "I've heard of him, I'm just not familiar with his music."

"Amazing." Blair shook his mop of curls incredulously. Scrambling off Duncan's lap he went to the boxes at the other end of the room. "I think the tapes are in this one."

He bent slowly to a large box on the floor that had the helpful description of 'stuff' scrawled across the top. It was still taped shut. Duncan got up, going to his side to help. Opening his leatherman, he slit the duct tape carefully. Inside was a jumble of totally unrelated objects. 'Stuff' had been a perfectly accurate description.

"I didn't have a lot of time to pack," Blair told him, rummaging through the collection of a few square inches of his bedroom floor. When he had packed, he had just thrown everything in his bedroom into boxes, clearing surfaces and floor space methodically until everything was packed. His hand closed over what felt like a tape case and he pulled it out of the collection of clothing, papers and statuary.

Blair bit his lip, staring at the tape. It was the 'earth music' that Incacha had liked. After he died, Jim had let him play it whenever he wanted to. He remembered his invincible Sentinel falling apart over the body of his original Guide. He felt so helpless. How would Jim find another Guide now? What would happen if he zoned out with out one? Maybe he already had. Blair attacked himself for the thousandth time. How could he have put anything, especially his own desire, over his responsibility to guide James Ellison, Detective and Sentinel of the great city? What would Incacha think of him now? Don't go there, Blair told himself sternly, but his stomach contracted with pain anyway. The guilt he hadn't been able to hide from these past three months came back full force. How could he be so happy, practically throwing himself at Duncan MacLeod, who had to be the nicest person on the planet, when Jim could be dead, or in a mental hospital permanently zoned, or anything, for all he knew...

"Blair?" Duncan put his hand on Blair's shoulder, concerned. Blair looked like he was beating himself up over something, it was an expression Duncan had come to recognize quickly. "What's wrong?"

"Oh man, I just really don't want to be here right now. I hate this place. Part of me wishes I had just left all this stuff behind. It's just a bunch of worthless junk..."

Stop it, you're not worthless. Duncan spoke the words in his head, only slightly surprised by them. Translating Blairspeak was getting easier. What he said out loud was, "Okay kiddo, lets go." His voice was gentle, pulling Blair back from whatever pain he was reliving in his mind.

"Go where?"

"Back to the loft. Grab some clothes, we'll go home, come back here in a couple of days, when you feel up to dealing with this." His hand moved to include all the boxes stacked against the wall.

Blair shook his head, big eyes pleased and embarrassed. "Oh no, I couldn't do that. You don't have to babysit me just cause I'm a head case and I can't handle unpacking my own stuff."

Duncan took his shoulders firmly in his hands, turning Blair gently to look at him. "No, enough, no arguments. I don't know why I can't handle the idea of being separated from you, maybe I'll get better at it." He grinned, and Blair smiled back. "But for now, you don't want to be alone, and you don't want to be here. I want you close, and I have to admit my place is a lot nicer than yours. Come on, grab some clothes. You can stay with me until you're ready to go back to school. I want you with me Blair."

"Okay," Blair conceded, looking up at Duncan doubtfully.

Duncan's smile broadened. He lifted Blair's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. "Good. It's freezing in here. Doesn't your heat work?"

"This is working. Not working is ten degrees colder, at least." Blair felt a rush of giddiness wash over him with the brush of Duncan's soft lips against his skin.

Blair went into the bedroom to find clothes, taking his backpack with him. Duncan stayed where he was, looking at the things in the box without actually touching them. He was curious, he wanted to know everything he possibly could about Blair, but he couldn't quite allow himself to go through his things without permission. His eyes scanned the papers on the top layer. Most looked liked notes for Blair's thesis. The word 'pheromones' scrawled across one caught his eye. Duncan read a few scribbled paragraphs. Apparently, Jim's senses could be affected by pheromones, and sexual attraction. At the bottom of the page, in the margin, were the quickly scrawled words 'what if Guide were F?' Duncan winced, and looked away, forcing himself to concentrate on something else. It hurt him, imagining the four years Blair had spent living with the pain of loving someone he was with every day, and never being able to express it. He didn't need to ask Blair if he loved Jim, it was obvious.

Blair came back with his backpack tightly crammed with clothes and books. He stood halfway between his bedroom and Duncan.

"Are you sure you want me to come with you?"

Duncan stood up, coming over to Blair and taking his bag from his hand. "Absolutely."

Blair smiled, and slipped his hand into Duncan's. "Okay. I'm ready."

"Good, let's go."

Duncan lifted Blair's bag to his shoulder, wondering how he had managed to drag it out of the bedroom with him, it was twice as heavy as it had been before.

"You get these backpack muscles, after fifteen years of being a student, if it has a shoulder strap, no matter how heavy it is, you can carry it."

"Uh-huh." Duncan shook his head at Blair, smiling, and followed him out of the apartment. Blair locked the door, and started for the stairs. Duncan stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Humor me."

He leaned down, picking Blair up with one arm behind his knees and one under his shoulders.

Blair sighed, wrapped one arm around Duncan's neck. "Do I have any choice?"

"Not really." Duncan started down the first fight of stairs.

Blair put his head down on Duncan's shoulder. He felt really high off the ground, and a little scared. He closed his eyes, mumbling. "Just don't drop me."

"Never."

Blair kept his eyes shut tightly all the way down the stairs. Duncan's kiss at the bottom surprised him. His eyes fluttered open for a second and then closed again, savoring the feeling of Duncan's warm lips.

A man in a uniform for the power company walked past them, muttering under his breath in disgust.

"Fucking faggots."

"Fuck you," Duncan called cheerfully after him, giving Blair another quick kiss before letting him down.

Blair looked like he was ready to run for his life. Duncan put his hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, take it easy kiddo, it's okay."

"Yeah, I know," Blair nodded. Duncan could see the adrenaline running through him.

"Relax Blair. When you let yourself get upset by assholes like that, you give them the victory. If you're stronger than them, then what they think of you doesn't matter."

"But I'm not."

"I meant as a person, not physically."

"Easy for you to say."

"Blair, physical size has nothing to do with dealing with stupidity like that."

"It does if you look like a victim."

"Is that what you think you look like?" Duncan held the door for Blair.

Blair didn't answer until they were in the car.

"How can I think anything else when every time there's an asshole looking for someone to hassle, or a psycho who needs a hostage, or a guy with a gun who needs a distraction, it's me they go for, every time. I swear to God, I am so sick of getting pushed around!"

Duncan nodded, not upset by Blair's outburst at all. "Well, maybe we can do something about that. Jim didn't teach you any kind of self defense?" Duncan couldn't imagine someone putting Blair in danger without taking any steps to teach him to protect himself.

Blair laughed bitterly. "Jim taught me how to call for back up."

"Well I think I can teach you something a little more practical. We'll see, when you're feeling better."

"Okay, I guess. I have to warn you, I'm a total klutz, and I am like, so not into fighting. I'm really bad at that hitting back part."

Duncan laughed. "We'll work on it."

Duncan started the car, pulling out into afternoon traffic. "How are your ribs doing?"

"Oh man, really sore. If you can possibly avoid getting kicked with a steel toed boot, do it."

"I'll remember that."

"Do you have classes tomorrow?"Blair asked.

"Not at the University, but at the dojo, yeah. Ten to eleven and then three to five in the afternoon."

"What do you do after that? Eat three steak dinners?"

Duncan laughed, shaking his head. "No, collapse."

"That sounds good."

"Almost home."

Blair sighed, sinking back into the comfortable seat. "Man, I love this car. How long have you had it?"

"I took it out of storage a few years ago. It's been incredibly dependable."

Blair was quiet for a few minutes, starring out the window. It was so nice, not to have to worry about anything, at least in the immediate future. He drifted sleepily, enjoying the warmth of the sun through the window on his face. He opened his eyes again when he realized they had stopped moving.

"Wake up, sleepyhead, we're home."

"Mmm, that's great."

Duncan got out of the car, going around to help a sleepy Blair to his feet. Blair wrapped his arm around Duncan's waist, steadying himself. Duncan was pleased when he kept it there, walking close beside him into the dojo.

They took the elevator up to the loft, Duncan turned the key that locked it and kept it there. The loft seemed even more cozy and welcoming after the trip to his dark, dreary little apartment. Blair took off Duncan's long coat, hanging it up on the coat stand by the door.

"Do you want a beer?" Duncan called from the kitchen, opening the refrigerator.

"No thanks, I think a beer would knock me out right now. Can I look at your cd's?"

Duncan chuckled. "Sure, but it's mostly opera. Why don't you turn on the radio?"

"Okay."

Blair figured out which one was the tuner and turned it on. Finding something mellow, he turned the volume down a little, joining Duncan on the couch.

"It feels so good, not to have to move. I just want to stay right here." Blair's eyes drifted closed for a moment.

Duncan watched him tenderly, thinking that Blair must be exhausted. "Why don't you just relax, sleep if you can. I'll sit here with you and read."

"Mmm, read to me?"

Duncan smiled, stroking Blair's curls. "It's in French."

"That's okay, I just want to listen to your voice," Blair mumbled, only half awake.

"Alright, lie down." Duncan pushed Blair gently back, supporting his back so that he wouldn't strain his sore muscles. When he was lying down, Duncan pulled his legs up, putting Blair's feet in his lap to unlace his hiking boots. Taking them off he set them next to couch on the floor. Reaching for his book on the coffee table, his left hand returned to Blair's feet in his lap, holding them there.

"You really want me to read to you, in French? I might be able to translate as fast as I read, I don't know."

"No, read it in French." Blair mumbled, too sleepy to open his eyes.

"D'accord, mon ami. Te couches avec moi," Duncan murmured, stroking the arch of Blair's foot in his lap.

"Mmm, feels good." The words were barely distinguishable.

Duncan smiled, opening his book and finding his place. He began to read aloud in a deep, steady voice that put Blair to sleep in minutes. Duncan finished the chapter, reading aloud because he liked the idea of reading to Blair, even if he was sound asleep. Sound asleep wasn't a very good description, Duncan decided, watching Blair twitch and fidget. He mumbled a little, but nothing intelligible. His eyes moved rapidly behind his closed lids, and his index finger circled his thumb's knuckle in the same unconscious motion Duncan had noticed when Blair was awake.

Duncan watched Blair twist restlessly on the couch for five more minutes. He couldn't seem to find a way to lie that didn't hurt. He would turn on his side, make a little noise of distress and turn back onto his stomach without waking up. Duncan decided Blair would have a better chance of finding a position to sleep in that didn't hurt his taped ribs in a bed, and stood up, scooping Blair up carefully into his arms.

Blair's eyes opened before Duncan had lifted him completely off the couch. He was right, he was a very light sleeper. He decided to go downstairs and work out so that he wouldn't wake Blair, moving restlessly around the loft.

"Duncan?" Blair squinted up at him.

"Yep. Go back to sleep."

"Where are we going now?"

"Bed."

"Oh, okay. Umm, shoes?'

Duncan kissed the top of Blair's head. He was so sweet half awake. "I took them off."

"Oh, good, okay." Blair's eyes drifted shut again.

Duncan lay Blair on his bed, pulling the covers up around him. Blair curled around his pillow, snuggling into the down comforter.

"Sleep well, sweetie," Duncan murmured softly, bending down to kiss Blair's forehead again before making himself walk away from the side of the bed, and the beautiful sight of a sleeping Blair.

He went to his desk, writing a quick note on a pad of paper there, although he thought it was likely that Blair would sleep until he got back. Ripping the paper off the pad he put it on the coffee table where Blair would see it. Taking his sword from it's place by the door he left the loft, closing the door carefully behind him.

Duncan returned two hours later. He'd had a good work out; Sunday night was his favorite time to practice with his sword, when the dojo was closed and it was unlikely anyone would come by to disturb him. He had worked solidly for two hours at the Iaido form, a series of katas done with the sword fighting an imaginary opponent. He found it to be the most effective practice when he didn't have the luxury of a sparring partner. He had stayed in constant motion, the graceful movements of his body controlled by the image he conjured in his head. Sweeping in the gliding step of the kendoka, his sword had cut and arched back and forth across the dojo floor in a deadly, beautiful dance, until he was dripping with sweat and feeling the burn of fatigue in the arm that lifted the heavy katana.

Slipping quietly into the loft Duncan went straight for the shower, setting his sword on the kitchen counter to clean when he got out. He went into the bathroom, peeling his sweat soaked gi from his skin and stepping into the shower. The hot water felt good on his tired muscles, he stood for a long time under the spray, letting it sooth the knots from the heavy sword work. He worked out intensively with his sword every Sunday night, whether he had a sparring partner or not, and every Sunday he told himself that he needed to practice more often.

When he'd dried himself off, Duncan pulled on a pair of sweat pants and went into the living room. He was surprised to find Blair awake and sitting up in bed.

"Hi, you're awake. I tried to be quiet when I came in. Are you hungry?"

Blair smiled, shaking his head. "No, not really. That's a beautiful sword. It's a katana, right? Do you collect weapons?"

"Yes, but this one's special. I have to clean and oil the blade, would you like to see it more closely?"

Duncan went to his desk drawer for the cloth bag that held the stones and soft cloth he used to clean his blade. Bringing it and the katana to the bed he sat down at the foot, laying the sword between them.

Blair reached out a hesitant finger to touch the blade. "It's beautiful. Not a reproduction, either. How did you get it?"

Duncan's hand covered Blair's wrist, moving it away from the gleaming metal. "Never touch the blade, only the hilt. The oil from your skin will degrade the metal in time."

"Oh, I'm sorry. So how did you get it?"

Duncan smiled, thinking that Blair was going to ask way too many questions. "It was a gift, from a friend in Japan, a long time ago."

"Wow, what did you do, save his life?" Blair grinned at Duncan, thinking of way Duncan had rescued him.

An old pain shadowed the other man's face for a moment, then he took a deep breath and answered. "No, no I didn't. Not at all."

Blair wanted to ask what he meant, but it was obvious that Duncan didn't want to talk about it. He hoped that someday he could ask again, and maybe Duncan would tell him the sword's story.

"Were you practicing with it, in the dojo?"

Duncan smiled indulgently, thinking that maybe showing Blair his sword wasn't such a good idea. It was hard, to remember that he shouldn't give Blair the opportunity to ask too many questions. Because he undoubtedly would, and Duncan was realizing that he really didn't want to lie to him.

"Yes, I was, which is why my arms feel like rubber bands. Do me a favor, okay, kiddo? Don't decide you absolutely have to go back to your apartment tonight. I don't think we'd make it up the stairs."

Blair chuckled, holding his ribs. "I promise. How long did I sleep?"

"About two hours, it's almost nine o'clock."

"Weird, feels later." Blair rubbed his eyes, watching Duncan wipe down the blade of the katana with long, careful strokes.

"It's always strange when you wake up at night. How are you feeling?"

Blair stretched a little, testing the limits of his range of motion. "Not bad, I think it's getting easier to move. Wow, that's really cool."

Blair watched, fascinated, while Duncan used the two small stones to put a perfect edge back on the blade.

Duncan looked up from his work, smiling. "Yeah, it is, I'm glad you like the sword."

"It's beautiful. Can I watch you practice sometime?"

"Mmm, maybe. I usually work out on Sundays."

Duncan finished cleaning his blade, and returned it to its ornamental metal scabbard, laying it casually next to the bed. He was trying not to worry about what he would do if he had to fight while Blair was in the loft. Telling himself sternly that he would cross that bridge when he came to it, Duncan lay down next to Blair, on top of the blankets.

"I'll move if you want to rest..." Blair spoke softly, and it was obvious from the hesitant way he spoke that he didn't really want to.

"Stay," Duncan murmured, coaxing Blair into his arms with an arm around his waist.

"Mmm, okay, I could do that." Blair settled back happily against Duncan's broad chest, spooning himself in Duncan's arms.

"You feel wonderful in my arms," Duncan spoke softly, his mouth near Blair's ear.

"Do I? I'm happy," Blair sighed contentedly.

After a few minutes he squirmed, turning over in Duncan's arms so that he faced the man who held him so tenderly. For a moment he let his eyes roam over Duncan's bare chest, marveling at the beauty of the sharply defined muscles and the smooth bronze skin. Duncan was so strong, and lying in bed next to him, the difference in size between them was even more obvious. Blair knew that Duncan could probably break him in half with one hand, and yet he felt nothing but totally safe and protected lying in Duncan's arms.

"Kiss me?" Blair looked up at into Duncan's dark eyes, seeing affection and desire.

"Oh yes." Duncan's large hand cupped his cheek, lifting his chin to kiss him tenderly. One warm, sweet kiss followed another, until Blair was panting softly against Duncan's mouth, reaching hungrily for the full lips.

"Mmm...you taste soo good." Blair mumbled against Duncan's mouth, feeling him smile.

"So do you." Duncan's hand buried itself in Blair's hair, supporting the back of his head.

Duncan thought hazily that he really should stop, he had made himself promise that he would go very slowly with Blair. He couldn't bring himself to, though. Blair's wet, hungry mouth was too wonderful.

Blair kicked at the covers until he could squirm out from under them. His only coherent thought was a need to be closer to Duncan's body, which was radiating heat. When he was finally free he pressed himself close against the big, strong chest.

Duncan made a low noise of pleasure deep in his throat, and held Blair closer. Their mouths were locked together, Blair's tongue in his mouth coaxed and teased until he gave up, surrendering to his kiss. Blair kissed him as if he were trying to crawl inside him. Duncan felt as if he had been drawn down into an ocean of desire, where the only way to breath was through Blair's mouth.

Duncan's arms around him tightened and Blair moaned softly in pain and protest.

"Oh God, Caro, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" Duncan let go of him instantly, berating himself for losing control and hurting Blair.

"Mmm, yes," Blair whispered, reaching for him. "More?"

Duncan smiled, letting himself enjoy the beautiful sight of Blair aroused and wanting him. "Oh yes," he told him, his voice was rough. "But not now." His hand caressed Blair's cheek. "I'm going to hurt you if we don't calm down, and I won't do that Caro, you are too important to me. Be patient with me? Come here, let me hold you."

Blair took a shaky breath, crawling back into Duncan's arms. He pressed his face to Duncan's shoulder, a little embarrassed by his lack of control. "I'm sorry, I kinda lost control there, I won't do it again."

"Oh no, don't say that, that's cruel." Duncan's smile was not quite lecherous, but Blair blushed anyway.

Blair nuzzled his face into Duncan's shoulder, too shy to look up again. "Really?"

"The proof is poking you in the tummy."

"Oh." Blair giggled. "You're right. Wow."

Duncan chuckled, stroking his fingers through Blair's curls, untangling the knots carefully. "I don't know what good thing I did to deserve you, but I'm awfully glad fate sent you to me."

Blair looked up at Duncan incredulously. "Oh man, you have got to be kidding. You had to fight these two totally terrifying looking guys to save me, and then you had to carry me half way across campus, and go to the hospital and deal with me being a total wreck and..." Blair paused for breath and Duncan interrupted.

"Don't forget having to carry you inside, and ruining my diet eating pancakes two days in a row, and actually enjoying lifting weights because I had so much energy to work off, and being happier than I have been in years. Blair, you are so good for me, you make me remember to laugh, even when you can't laugh yourself. I didn't even know I needed you until you were here, and now I can't let you go."

Blair was afraid he was going to cry. He pushed his face into Duncan's chest, trying to absorb what Duncan had said. Part of him insisted that it couldn't be true, and that even if it was, he had no right to be this happy. He wanted this so much, and he felt so guilty.

Duncan waited for Blair to speak, running his fingers through the messy curls. Blair had curled up into a little ball against him, his knees drawn up to his chest. It was very quiet, and Duncan listened to Blair's shaky breaths, hoping he would say something. When he didn't, Duncan slipped his arms under Blair's, pulling him gently up to the head of the bed with him.

"Blair? Look at me, kiddo. Did I say something that upset you? I'm sorry, I shouldn't be pushing you. We have all the time in the world. It's just that I want you to know how wonderful you are." He paused, trying to figure out what had upset Blair so quickly. "Talk to me, Blair. What is it? What did I say?"

Blair shook his head, moving back to press himself against Duncan's warm, comforting bulk. "No." He shook his mop of hair, tickling Duncan's chest with his curls. "I just don't know what to say. What you said is, like, incredible, unbelievable, and wonderful. Nobody sees me that way. You have just totally knocked me off my feet here. I mean, most people can only take me in small doses, you know? I'm neurotic, and annoying, and I talk too much. You are the first person I've met in a really long time that I feel totally comfortable with. I love being with you, you make me feel so good, and I'm just really scared that I'm going to fuck it up. My track record isn't all that great."

If Duncan hadn't already decided that Jim Ellison was responsible for Blair's lack of self esteem, he'd want to punch him in the nose even more than he already did.

"We are really going to have to work on this self worth thing, kiddo. How can you possibly not see what an amazing person you are? No, look at me." Duncan's palm cupped Blair's chin, lifting it gently. "You are a fascinating, wonderful, extremely intelligent person, with a great capacity to care about humanity as a whole. I find that devastatingly attractive. And you're gorgeous. I hope that I'm going to have the opportunity to keep telling you these things until you believe me."

"Me too." Blair answered in a small voice, more pleased than he knew how to express.

Duncan smiled, leaning down to kiss Blair's soft lips. Blair melted against him, feeling wonderfully right in his arms. Blair's stomach growled, and Duncan chuckled.

"Maybe you're hungry after all. Why don't I make us some sandwiches?"

"I guess I could eat," Blair mumbled against Duncan's chest, not really wanting to move.

"Okay, stay here, I'll go make us something to eat." Duncan leaned down to draw the covers up. Kissing his cheek, he tucked the covers around Blair before getting out of bed.

The phone rang while he was at the counter, spreading mayonnaise on a roast beef sandwich. Duncan sighed, hoping it would be someone he could tell to go away. He picked up the cordless on the wall.

"MacLeod."

"Hello MacLeod, I'm so glad I found you at home. I'm standing on the corner in front of your building, looking up at you. Do you recognize me?"

Duncan looked at Blair snuggled under his covers, and the sword on the floor next to him, and got very angry at the person on the other end. No! Not now, he thought frantically, wondering if he had somehow cursed himself, worrying about it earlier.

"Should I?" He asked cautiously, glancing back at Blair, who was wide awake and watching him.

"Come to the window, Duncan."

Walking casually to the window, the phone cradled tightly against his ear. Duncan drew the curtain back. Lucas Cromwell. Why now? Duncan thought furiously. I haven't seen the bastard in almost a hundred years and he comes for me tonight. I hate my luck.

"I told you I'd get back to you, MacLeod. It took me a little longer than I thought it would, but now it's time for you to pay. Get down here."

"I'd really rather not." Duncan's voice had an edge on it that could slice bread. Blair sat up in the bed, looking worried.

"Do I have to come up there and drag you out? I noticed you have a very good floor in this dojo of yours, would you like to die at home, MacLeod?"

"That's not necessary, give me fifteen minutes."

"Ten. Say your good-byes."

"I'll see you then," Duncan responded curtly, pressing the cancel button to terminate the call. Lucas was watching him from the corner, his long coat drawn back so that Duncan could see his weapon.

Taking a deep breath, Duncan turned to face Blair's questioning eyes.

"I have to go out for a little bit kiddo, I'm sorry. I'll be back as soon as I can. I want you to stay here, okay?"

"Okay, what's wrong?" Blair had been certain that Duncan didn't like the person he was talking to, he'd never heard him use that tone of voice before. Something wasn't right.

"I have to go see a friend, they um, need some help and I can't refuse. I'm sorry to leave you alone, will you be okay?"

Duncan went to his dresser, grabbing jeans and shirt while he talked.

"Um, yeah, I'll be okay. Will you come back tonight?"

Duncan looked up at him, an expression Blair couldn't read on his face. He came to stand by the bed, taking Blair's face between his palms. He kissed him softly, whispering "Yes," against his lips.

Blair smiled up at him. "Okay, come back soon."

"I'll try."

Duncan went into the bathroom, changing quickly. When he came out Blair was still sitting up in bed. He looked worried. For a second Duncan realized that he was glad that Blair didn't know, and wouldn't be afraid for him, waiting. Then his mind, already kicking into pre-fight overdrive, returned to the problem of getting his sword into his coat without attracting Blair's attention. It was lying on the floor directly in front of the bed, where he had laid it down. He checked his watch, he had five minutes left.

"Um, Blair, could you get me the hair tie on the sink in the bathroom?"

Blair looked a little surprised, but he nodded his head, sliding from the bed.

"Sure, no problem."

Duncan moved quickly, reaching the sword the moment Blair's back was turned. He slipped it into it's sewn-in scabbard in his coat, leaving the metal one where it was on the floor. He pushed it slightly under the bed, thinking that if he was lucky, Blair wouldn't notice. Luckier still, he would come back in one piece, Duncan thought bleakly. Lucas had been good when they'd fought last, too good to beat. He had been very glad when their duel was interrupted.

Blair came to him with his hair tie in his hand, offering it to him. Duncan took the celtic bull, inscribed with the words 'hold fast', raising the hand to press a kiss to Blair's palm.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Blair sat down on the couch. He watched while Duncan pulled his hair back into a tight ponytail at the base of his neck. Duncan put on his long coat, emptying his pockets on the end table. Blair watched him remove his wallet, sunglasses, some change and a money clip. The keys he transferred to the front pocket of his jeans.

"Does your friend live in a really bad neighborhood, or what?'

Oh, he's a clever one, Duncan thought, not really upset by Blair's questions. It made him happy, that Blair was so smart and so intuitive. Of course, it was unlikely that he would be able to hide the truth from him for long, but right now he didn't have the time to explain, even if he wanted to.

"Yeah, he does. I'm sorry, I have to go. Your sandwich is on the counter. Lock the door behind me. I'll be back as soon as I can." Duncan stood for another moment, drinking in the sight of Blair smiling at him. It was a wonderful thing to take into a fight, this beautiful smile that was just for him.

"I will, are you sure you want me to stay here by myself? I could come with you."

"No, it's fine, I won't be gone long, but I have to go." He kissed Blair one more time, hoping feverently that it wouldn't be the last. Then he was gone, striding purposefully down the stairs and through the empty dojo to the street.

"Be careful," Blair whispered to the closed door, listening to Duncan's steps on the stairs.

Part 6

By Zen&nancy

Two hours later, Blair was pacing the length of the loft, in a high state of agitation. He had sat on the couch for an hour, grading papers and trying to keep his mind off Duncan and the strange phone call. Something hadn't been right. The way Duncan reacted to the call just didn't seem normal. Getting up to see if he could make himself a cup of tea, he spotted the empty scabbard half under the bed. He got down on his knees, holding his ribs gingerly, and looked under the bed. A search of the loft failed to produce the sword.

Blair made himself tea, trying to imagine a reason that Duncan would take his sword with him, without the scabbard. He had warned Blair not to touch the blade, and he had been careful to be sure that Blair didn't see him take the sword. He must have had it in his coat. He had said a friend needed his help, and he couldn't refuse. The person on the phone hadn't seemed like a friend at all.

Blair never doubted Duncan. The idea that he would hurt someone without an acceptable reason never crossed Blair's mind, but he was clearly in some sort of danger, or he wouldn't have taken the weapon. Or left his wallet and his money clip. Blair paced the loft for a solid hour, becoming more and more distressed. He even thought about calling Jim for help, but he knew it was ridiculous the moment he considered it.

When the door finally opened, Blair rushed to Duncan, wrapping his arms around him before he was inside. Duncan kicked the door shut, hugging Blair to him gratefully. It had been very close, he could easily have lost. They had fought and circled for what seemed like hours. Lucas had countered his attacks again and again, until he began to doubt that there would be a winner, they were so evenly matched. It had come down to a test of endurance, and he had won. He had done his best to clean up after the fight, but his shirt was torn to shreds, and there was a long tear in his jeans as well.

"I'm so glad you came back." Blair had wrapped his arms around his waist, under his coat, and was squeezing him as hard as he could.

"Me too," he agreed, too exhausted to hide his relief.

Blair's mind finally registered Duncan's torn, dirty clothing.

"Are you hurt?" He asked anxiously, his hands touching Duncan everywhere quickly, searching for blood or injury.

"No, I'm fine." Duncan caught his hands. "Honestly, I'm not hurt. Let me take my coat off, okay?"

Blair stepped back, holding onto him by bunches of torn fabric, "Man, you have got to tell me what's going on here. I knew there was something wrong, I did. Then I saw the sword, you took it with you." Blair let go of him to pace back and forth in the living room. "Look, whatever it is, you have to tell me. I can deal with it, honest. I was going out of my mind worrying about whether or not you were going to come back. It was worse than..." Blair stopped again, his words and his steps stopping short. "Duncan, please, you have to tell me, because I'm falling in love with you here, and not knowing is worse than anything you could possibly tell me."

Duncan had been watching Blair pace, working himself up into near hysteria while promising that he could handle it. Oh God, how am I going to tell him? Duncan didn't know what he could possibly say that would calm Blair down. One small part of his brain registered the fact that Blair had said that he was falling in love with him, and cherished it.

"Blair, stop. Wait, Caro, sit down with me." Duncan tossed his coat over the chair, sinking down onto the couch gratefully. Although his wounds had healed, he was exhausted from the long fight.

"I don't know if I can stay still," Blair told him, coming to sit on the edge of the couch next to Duncan. His eyes were bright and anxious, and Duncan could see his pulse beating rapidly at the base of his throat. Taking both Blair's hands in his, Duncan took a deep breath. His thumbs caressed the backs of Blair's hands soothingly.

"Please try, Caro, this isn't easy to explain."

Blair's eyes looked steadily into his. His breathing evened out and his voice was calm when he answered. "Okay, take your time. Just take a deep breath and start talking. Let it come, just tell me."

Duncan marveled at the speed that Blair could pull himself together and concentrate on getting Duncan to relax and talk to him. He was beginning to see why Blair was the Sentinel's partner, and how much Blair must have helped him.

"I'm taking a big risk, telling you this, it's not something I've been able to share with most of the people I've loved. I need you to promise me that you will never tell anyone what I tell you. I'm hoping that having lived with Ellison, and keeping his abilities secret, will help you deal with this a little easier. All the research you've done with Sentinels, maybe it will make it easier to accept..."

"Duncan, just tell me already!"

Duncan smiled, looking uncomfortable and maybe a little afraid. Blair tried to imagine what it could possibly be, that Duncan was afraid to tell him.

"Can you swear to me, Blair? I need you to."

"Yeah, I swear man, whatever you tell me, it's between you and me."

"And a few thousand Watchers," Duncan added grimly.

"What?"

Duncan was having trouble meeting Blair's eyes. He couldn't remember this ever having been so difficult. "I'm sorry, it's hard to explain, I don't know how to tell you. Well, here, this is a start... Don't be scared."

Duncan reached for the ornate letter opener on the coffee table, letting go of Blair's hands. He pushed the shredded sleeve of his sweater up, and drew the sharp edge across his arm, cutting himself deeply.

"Are you nuts!" Blair reached for Duncan's arm, trying to put pressure on the wound.

"No." Duncan pulled back from Blair's reach. He grimaced in pain, but spoke soothingly. "Just wait, watch."

Holding his arm up for Blair, he waited for the wound to close. It healed with the spark of blue energy, sealing the skin.

"Oh my God! Duncan, what is that?"

Duncan took a deep breath. "I am Immortal. My kind have been around for as long as mortals, and we are very much like you, but we do not die, unless you take our heads."

"Holy shit! Tonight, you took your sword..."

Duncan nodded, taking Blair's hand again. "I had to fight, I didn't have a choice. There is one rule that we all have to live by, that in the end, there can be only one. Now is the time of the gathering, and old fights and grudges are renewing. There are other things you should know."

"Wait. Stop. You are what? Immortal? How is that possible?"

"If you need to see me die and come back to believe it, I will, but you will have to promise me that you won't call 911."

Duncan sounded deadly serious, and Blair didn't doubt him.

"No, I don't think I can handle watching you kill yourself and come back to life right now, the magic blue healing was more than enough. How does it work?"

Duncan shrugged. "It's not something I can explain, it's the Quickening. It's what we absorb when we take an opponent in battle. It's what makes us Immortal."

"Are you telling me you just chopped someone's head off?" Blair sounded incredulous.

Duncan sighed heavily. "Blair, it's what we do. The man I fought was evil, he exploited human lives for over two hundred years, he deserved to die. More importantly, he will not be the last of us, in the end, the last one will absorb the power of all the others and be..."

"Like a god," Blair finished for him, awestruck. He looked directly into Duncan's eyes, his gaze piercing. "How old are you?"

"Four hundred and seven. I was born on the winter solstice."

"No wonder I couldn't place your accent! You must have watched a dozen different languages evolving. Oh man, do you have any idea what kind of subject you would be? Okay, okay, I know, we can't go there, but oh, man, you are like, walking, breathing history!"

Duncan smiled, wondering what Blair would think of Methos, the oldest living Immortal. Maybe someday he could meet him. If he ever turned up again. Methos had been gone almost a year. Duncan worried about him and hoped he would see his friend again.

Blair's next question was more urgent, almost panicked. "How much longer? How much time until the end?"

Duncan shook his head. "None of us know." He smiled at Blair, reassuringly, "Not now, not next week."

Blair took a deep breath, holding his ribs. "That's good. How many? How many other Immortals are out there?"

"I don't know that either. Many."

"Okay, give me some perspective here. How many Quickenings have you taken?"

Duncan's eyes closed, his face drawn. He shook his head again. "I couldn't count. Too many. Many more than I wanted to. I have killed for hatred rarely. I'm not perfect, and I have many regrets, but I try to live with honor. There are rules. One Immortal cannot interfere in the fight of two others. There are places where we cannot fight. Any holy ground is sacred. We can feel another Immortal approaching, feel the Quickening. It gives us time to prepare to fight. The healing prevents us from getting sick, but not from fatigue or stress. We can't carry disease, or have children."

"You can't reproduce? Then how..."

"That I can't tell you, I don't know, but I can assure you that no Immortal has ever conceived or produced a child. I was a foundling, in the Scottish Highlands. My father found me, left to exposure on the moor, and brought me home to his wife, who was barren. He was the chief of our clan, I was to be his successor, but fate prevented me, and he was killed in battle."

"Oh my God, you're telling me the truth. This is like, so amazing. I mean, how many famous people in history were Immortal, and what kind of effect did they have on us? How does your race see us? Do you have a collective agenda? Does anyone else know, I mean, have you ever been discovered? How could you possibly keep something like an Immortal race secret from the beginning of time?"

Duncan smiled. "You are so smart. We are very careful. Although most of us aren't aware of it, there is a secret society that observes us and records our lives and the outcomes of our battles. They're called the Watchers. Mortals, who keep our secrets and pass down their journals and records from generation to generation. As long as there have been Immortals, there have been Watchers. There's nothing like a collective agenda, except perhaps to keep our existence a secret. Usually when two Immortals meet, and they don't know each other, it ends with death. Not all of us are evil, but there are many who want the power, and would use it ruthlessly."

Duncan took a deep breath, smiling at him. "Did I answer all your questions, Caro?"

"The first dozen or so, I think. Wow. I thought Sentinels were weird. No, wait, do you think there could be Sentinels that are Immortal? Do you think Jim is?"

Blair looked up at Duncan hopefully. Duncan answered gently, knowing how badly Blair wanted to hear that Jim could be indestructible, at least in his eyes. "I think it's very unlikely. You lived with him in a loft not much bigger than this one for four years. Does he own a sword?"

Blair shook his head. "No."

"Have you seen him hurt?"

Blair sighed, knowing where Duncan was going. "I've seen him shot, stabbed, punched out cold, thrown out windows, and hanging from helicopters. He bleeds, no funky blue energy, he's not Immortal. I'm sorry, I just thought maybe..."

"You don't have to be sorry Blair. It's okay." Duncan paused, adding softly, "I know you love him."

Blair's eyes clouded over. "I don't want to anymore!" His cry was half rage, half misery. "It hurts," he added unnecessarily. Duncan had known from the first ten minutes he had spent with Blair how much it hurt him to be separated from his Sentinel.

"I know. I'm so sorry Blair. Can I tell you he's not nearly good enough for you, or will that just make it worse?"

Blair brushed at his eyes quickly with the back of his hand, and looked up at Duncan, trying to smile. "It helps. I don't want it to matter."

"But it does. I know, it's okay. If you could deny love because you don't want to feel it, you would be an entirely different person. It'll get better, it will hurt less, I promise."

"It's just that I feel so guilty!" Blair admitted. The moment the words were spoken it seemed as if the weight of the guilt inside him was a little less.

"It's not your fault, Blair. It's not your fault that he couldn't accept your feelings, or that you couldn't keep them a secret any longer. I know you were very important to each other, and it's hard to lose him, but it's not your fault."

Blair looked up at Duncan, he felt as if his soul was naked. "I'm afraid."

Duncan's voice was infinitely gentle. "Of what, Caro?"

"Of him not being okay without me. Of something bad happening. A zone out someplace dangerous, or fatal. I'm afraid that he needs me, and I don't want him to. He hurt me, and he scared the shit out of me, and made me feel like crap about myself. I spent four years in his world, surrounded by cops, and half the time I hated it. Everybody treated me like Jim's pet tagalong and he never even noticed. Not once in four years did he ever say thank you, not once. He's a jerk, but deep down inside he's a really good person, and I love him, and he doesn't love me. I don't want him to need me, I want it to be over. I want to be with you, and I feel incredibly guilty because you're amazing and you make me really happy. Oh God, I'm ranting, you must think I'm totally fucked up."

"Shh, come here kiddo." Blair had jumped up to pace in front of Duncan half way through his emotional tidal wave. Now Duncan caught his wrist, pulling him down gently into his arms. "Hush, it's okay, everything is going to be okay, I promise."

"You keep telling me that. I think I'm starting to believe you. I'm so glad you came back. I knew you had to be something different, something special, I just knew it."

Duncan held Blair close, his back cradled against Duncan's shoulder, Duncan's arms wrapped around him. "You know, having you to come back to, it made it easier to keep fighting. The man I fought, he was very good."

"You must be exhausted." Blair looked up at Duncan, concern in his big blue eyes.

Duncan smiled wryly. "Sort of, physically exhausted. Mentally and emotionally hyper. It's the Quickening. When you take one, it affects you strongly, sometimes it's worse than others."

"And this one? Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?"

"Stay right here in my arms and let me hold you, let me look at you. You are so beautiful, Blair."

Blair swallowed, his eyes holding Duncan's. "You really think that?"

"Oh yes, Caro, I do," Duncan's voice had deepened. Blair watched his eyes go sleepy with desire.

"I believe you," he whispered, relaxing against Duncan's chest.

Duncan gathered him close, drawing peace and contentment from the simple act of holding Blair in his arms. He couldn't remember the last time holding a man had felt so right. Brian... But even that hadn't felt like this. Blair felt like home.

"I love you, Blair. You are so precious to me, Caro. I know I've only known you for a few days, but the feelings you've awakened are a bit overwhelming. I'm not in the habit of falling in love with someone in three days, but I do love you, very much."

Blair choked up, but he smiled, nodding. "Don't stop," he whispered, touching Duncan's face with his fingertips.

"I won't, Caro."

"That's good," Blair whispered against Duncan's lips, kissing him hungrily.

Duncan felt himself melting into Blair's mind numbing kisses. His body had already been drawn to a fevered pitch by the Quickening, and reacted immediately, his cock hardening in his jeans.

"Mine," Blair whispered against his mouth, squirming against the growing bulge in Duncan's jeans. His tongue parted Duncan's lips expertly, slipping inside to play.

"Blair, we shouldn't," Duncan groaned, trying to get control of his traitorous body. Somehow Blair had gotten the torn pieces of his shirt off him. He felt so incredibly good. His breath on Duncan's chest was hot, and his mouth was leaving a wet trail of tiny kisses across his burning skin.

"Why?" Blair asked, sounding much too innocent. His tongue circled Duncan's nipple and he shuddered, groaning.

Duncan tried desperately to force his brain to form coherent thoughts. "We shouldn't, I don't want to hurt you, your ribs."

"So you'll just have to let me stay on top," Blair whispered seductively, turning in Duncan's arms to reach more of his bare skin with his mouth.

"Caro, are you trying to kill me? Stop, sweetie, let me take you to bed."

"Mmm, sounds wonderful," Blair agreed, his mouth on Duncan's warm skin. He was kissing a line down the center of Duncan's chest, his tongue flicking out to take little tastes of him.

"That mouth is going to be the end of me." Duncan gathered Blair close in his arms, standing up in one smooth motion.

Duncan carried him to the bed, setting Blair on his feet beside it.

"I love it when you do that. You are so strong," Blair told him, caressing the muscles of Duncan's arms and chest. "So incredible. This is what we should all look like. I just want to touch you, know what you feel like."

Blair's deep voice was hypnotic. Duncan sighed, his eyes drifting shut. He gave in to the pleasure of Blair's hands moving over his body. His touch was light, his palms skimming over his skin, like a blind man seeing with his hands. It was too much and not enough, holding still for Blair's exploratory touch. When he couldn't take it any more, Duncan opened his eyes. Blair's eyes moved over him, following the path of his hands, memorizing his body. His eyes were a dark, intense blue, and his face was slightly flushed. Duncan thought that he had never seen him look more beautiful.

"Caro, tell me, will you laugh at me if I tear that shirt off of you? I want it off, but I don't want to hurt you."

Remembering how much it had hurt to lift his arms above his head to get it on, Blair shook his head, making a noise that was almost a giggle, "No, I won't laugh at you. It's your shirt."

"A very small sacrifice," Duncan murmured, gathering the fabric at the neck of the loose cotton shirt in his fists carefully. "Hold still."

Blair held still, and the fabric ripped cleanly down the middle. Duncan slipped it carefully off Blair's shoulders. Duncan's fingers found the drawstring at Blair's waist, pulling the knot free. The gi pants slipped to the floor and Blair stepped out of them.

Blair's hands fluttered at the waist of his jeans. "Please, take them off?"

Duncan took a step back, working the button of his jeans, which had become much tighter in the last half hour. Blair sat on the edge of the bed, watching him peel the torn denim off his thighs. "Oh man, you are absolutely gorgeous. You know that, right? Mmm, perfect. Come here?"

Duncan kicked his jeans from his ankles, coming to sit next to Blair on the bed. Blair's hands went to his shoulders, pressing him back with a light touch. "No, lay back. I need to touch you..."

Duncan watched Blair moving over him, straddling his hips. It sent a rush of pure happiness through him, he was sure it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Blair's hands resumed their exploration of his body, touching Duncan with something like reverence.

"I can't believe you're letting me..." Blair's words trailed off, he blushed, gesturing to himself on top of Duncan on the bed.

Duncan chuckled, "I'm all yours, Caro."

"Oh man, don't tell me that." Blair's mouth came down on Duncan's, devouring him with undisguised hunger.

It was an intoxicating feeling, to have Duncan's powerful body beneath him, hard and flushed with excitement. Blair trailed hot kisses down Duncan's neck. He discovered that Duncan would groan with pleasure if he sucked on his earlobe, nipping lightly with his teeth. Blair licked delicately along his collarbone, loving the way Duncan moved restlessly beneath him.

Duncan's hands moved over his back, kneading the muscles at the base of his spine, below the white tape that wrapped around his ribs. His hands were strong and gentle, spanning his hips and stroking down his thighs.

Neither of them could stay still under the other's hands. Blair flattened himself on top of Duncan's long form, sighing with pleasure.

"Oh Caro, you feel so good." Duncan's arms wrapped around him loosely, holding him closely without restraining him.

"Mmm, you too," Blair mumbled, his mouth hot on Duncan's skin. He moved slowly down Duncan's chest to his stomach, leaving a trail of wet, hungry kisses. Duncan was groaning softly, his eyes closed, his head thrown back. When he reached the barrier of Duncan's underwear he bit his hip playfully. "You have to take these off. Want you. Want you in my mouth, want to make you come so hard you forget your name."

When Duncan didn't move quickly enough for him, Blair nipped a little harder, this time in the center of his stomach, where the muscles rippled under his tongue.

"Ouch! Imp. Only if you promise not to bit any lower."

Blair chuckled, pulling Duncan's boxer shorts off himself. "Promise."

Leaning over him, Blair bent his head to draw his tongue slowly up the length of Duncan's cock.

"Caro, you're going to kill me. Serpentine," Duncan groaned, burying his hands in Blair's curls.

Blair's tongue responded to the praise, flicking over his flesh in quick flurries of movement that left Duncan panting, straining towards the pleasure of Blair's mouth. Blair couldn't remember anything ever being as intoxicating as the feeling of holding Duncan against his lips, kissing him softly and listening to his groans of pleasure. His hand came up to wrap around the base of Duncan's cock, pulling back to look at him.

"God you're beautiful," Blair whispered, unable to look away from the swollen cock, slick with saliva from his kisses. Duncan trembled in his hand, his body arching slightly off the bed. "So beautiful," Blair murmured, taking the glistening head into his mouth.

"Ahh, Caro, yes, so soft," Duncan moaned, fighting for control. Blair's mouth surrounding him felt so incredibly good, like warm, wet velvet. Blair's tongue circled the head of his cock again and again, tormenting the sensitive, seeping slit relentlessly.

"Please," Duncan groaned, unable to stand the intensity of the pleasure.

Blair raised his head for a second, to look up at him, before covering Duncan with his mouth once more, drawing him deeply into his throat. Duncan watched, spellbound, as his cock disappeared, inch by inch, into Blair's small mouth. It was hot and wet and tight, the suction of Blair's soft lips drove him higher and higher, the pleasure turning to burning need inside him.

Duncan felt so wonderfully alive in his mouth. It had been a long time since he'd done this, and Blair couldn't remember it ever being so exciting. Every time Duncan's rigid cock pushed into his mouth, Blair felt a wave of pleasure flow through him. He thought dreamily that he could do this forever, stay curled up at Duncan's hip, concentrating so completely on the feeling of Duncan in his mouth, and the act of giving him pleasure, that everything else ceased to exist.

Duncan cried out Blair's name just before he came, every muscle straining, pulling his body into a long, arched line. Blair's small hand wrapped around him, pumping the pulsing cock. His lips sealed tight around the head, sucking the hot seamen that spurted onto his tongue eagerly.

"I don't want to move," Blair's slack lips mumbled against his softening cock. Duncan opened his eyes, looking down at the beautiful boy curled up against his side.

"Mmm," Duncan agreed, unable to form words. His fingers stroked through Blair's hair, enjoying the silky texture of the curls.

"Wow," Blair grinned, and Duncan could feel him smile against his skin.

Duncan chuckled, reaching to pull Blair up into his arms. He sprawled across Duncan's chest, turning his face up expectantly for Duncan's kiss. Duncan's mouth covered his, kissing him deeply. Blair responded, moving against him with growing urgency.

"Oh no, Caro, that's mine," Duncan whispered, referring to the stiff erection brushing across his belly.

"Yes?" Blair asked, kissing him back fiercely.

"Oh yes." Duncan's voice was deep with passion. He rolled Blair over carefully, bracing his arm on either side of Blair's shoulders to keep his weight off him. Duncan's breath caught in his throat, overcome by the beauty of the compact body beneath him.

Duncan's lips captured Blair's again, very softly, before moving on to cover his face with passionate, tender little kisses. He kissed the tip of Blair's nose, his cheeks, his closed eyelids and the fine eyebrows, his temple, and then a path through his hair to his ear. Duncan's breath was warm, making Blair shiver in delight when he whispered in his ear.

"I love you Caro."

"Ah, Duncan," Blair cried his name softly, shivering under the kisses Duncan was trailing up and down his neck. He squirmed, turning his head to offer Duncan better access to his skin. Duncan licked at a drop of sweat that had pooled in the hollow of Blair's throat, nipping delicately at the sensitive skin until Blair gasped, helplessly.

"Mmm, Duncan, oh, God. More?" Blair moaned, his voice rising in pitch and volume.

Duncan felt the thrill of Blair crying his name in the pit of his stomach, and in his groin. Blowing lightly over the soft, thick mat of hair on Blair's chest, he watched a nipple harden to a tight, wrinkled bud. He licked the hard little nipple, first lightly, and then rapidly, flicking hard with his tongue.

Blair's breathless moans turned into squeals of pleasure. "Oh my God, Duncan, oh please... please please please, don't stop. Oh God, feels so good."

Duncan was moving slowly over his chest, covering him with moist, searing kisses. Blair thought he might burn up, or explode. His heart hammered in his chest, his breath came in quick gasps. Duncan's hands were very gentle, moving slowly over his belly and stroking up and down his thighs. Blair was trembling uncontrollably, anticipating the touch of those large, sensitive hands on his cock.

Duncan slid down the bed, kneeling between Blair's legs. Blair was twisting anxiously beneath him, and Duncan was afraid he would hurt his bruised ribs gasping for air if he made him wait any longer.

"My sweet Blair," he whispered, his voice rough, before taking the hot, hard flesh into his mouth.

Blair moaned his name, drawing the syllables out in a long exhalation of wonder. Duncan consumed him, drawing him deep into the back of his throat. Hot, incredible pleasure. Blair felt himself coming apart, disintegrating into a thousand pieces under Duncan's touch.

"Oh yeah, oh my God, Duncan. I love you," Blair panted brokenly, surrendering to the mouth sliding up and down his cock so skillfully. Duncan's hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently between his thumb and forefinger.

Blair moaned piteously, arching up into the wet, tight heat. "Oh please, oh love, so good, so fucking good, Ahhh," Blair screamed, pumping into Duncan's mouth helplessly. Duncan's fingers pressed gently behind his balls, his throat closing tightly around Blair's cock, moving faster now. Blair held on to Duncan's shoulders, crying out as he came in a long, shuddering stream, deep in Duncan's throat. Blair fell back against the bed in exhaustion, clutching his taped ribs. His blue eyes were soft and unfocused, he smiled up at Duncan, too out of breath to speak.

Duncan moved up beside him quickly, his arms around Blair's shoulders pulling him back against his chest. "Are you okay, sweetie ? Did we hurt your ribs?"

"Worth it," Blair whispered weakly, turning in Duncan's arms to bury his face in his chest. "Love you."

"Shh, don't talk Caro, just breathe."

" 'kay," Blair mumbled contentedly, kissing the warm skin under his lips.

Duncan's hand stroked his back soothingly, holding him tenderly against his chest. "I'm so sorry I hurt you Caro, we should have waited."

"Oh no," Blair grinned up at him. "Don't you dare say that. That was, oh my God... I don't even know how to say... incredibly wonderful. Definitely worth it. I just need to catch my breath."

Blair snuggled into his arms, wrapping his arms and legs around Duncan's big, warm body. He sighed contentedly, "I feel, so good. I am so very glad fate gave you to me Duncan. I want..." Blair looked up at him timidly.

Duncan smiled, smoothing back the damp curls. "What do you want, Caro? Name it, and it's yours."

Blair smiled, ducking his head. "I want to be with you. It must be so different, for you, I mean, how many loves have you outlived? But I want, to be yours, for as long as I can." Blair took a deep breath, forcing himself to say the words. "Everyone one that I've wanted, I've always lost them. They always decide that I'm too much, or that they need somebody who actually sleeps and doesn't talk non-stop and doesn't want to leave them to take off to South America every six months. I haven't had much success in the lasting relationship department. Okay, none, actually, but I want us, so badly. I am so in love with you. You could break my heart, totally, and I don't think I could handle that again."

Duncan kissed the top of his head, sighing, "Blair, someone like you is so rare, so hard to find, Caro. My life, what I am, it's dangerous, and I can't make you any promises, except to love you always."

Blair raised his head, his blue eyes shining. "That's all I want."

"It's yours." Duncan kissed him lingeringly, his lips moving over Blair's with a heady mixture of love and passion.

"Mmm, mine," Blair sighed, rearranging himself in Duncan's arms.

"Sleep well, angel," Duncan whispered, kissing the top of Blair's head. He pulled the blankets up around the beautiful, almost asleep creature in his arms.

"Hmm," Blair answered happily.

"I'll be right back." Duncan murmured, not surprised when Blair didn't answer. His breathing was already light and regular, his body limp in Duncan's arms.

Duncan eased carefully out from under Blair, shushing him soothingly when he moaned, reaching for Duncan without opening his eyes.

"I'll be right back," Duncan crooned, stroking the thick curls at the back of Blair's head.

He moved quietly around the loft, turning off lights and checking the door to make sure it was locked. Slipping carefully back into bed, Duncan had to suppress a chuckle when Blair attached himself to his body like a heat leech, burrowing into his chest.

"Ah, Caro, you're going to be impossible to sleep with, aren't you?" Duncan whispered tenderly, smiling at the restless, fidgety, sleeping boy in his arms. Duncan decided he didn't mind at all. Pulling him close, he tucked Blair's head under his chin, sighing happily, Duncan drifted off to sleep.

Part 7

By Zen&nancy

*Three weeks later*

Blair sat at his desk, watching the trees blowing in the wind outside his window. A pile of papers waiting to be graded sat in front of him, and a red felt tip pen dangled from his fingers. He was daydreaming, letting his mind wander over the past three weeks with Duncan. He hadn't actually moved into the loft, but they spent almost all their time together. Duncan would stop by and pick him up after his last class, and then they would either go out to dinner, or back to the loft to cook something together.

Blair sighed, thinking about the night before last. They had been making stir fry together, hips brushing as they passed each other in the small kitchen. When Duncan reached across him for the cleaver, Blair had leaned forward, his tongue darting out to flick Duncan's earlobe. Duncan had growled, turning to pull Blair into his arms. They had made love standing up in the kitchen. Blair's back pressed against the counter top, Duncan had knelt before him, teasing Blair with his mouth until he screamed, begging Duncan to take him. And he had, turning Blair around to bend him over the counter top. Duncan moving slowly inside him, drawing out the pleasure, holding him up when his legs gave out beneath him...being bent over a counter top didn't sound very romantic, but it was. It felt so good, to be held safe and close in Duncan's strong arms, his heaving chest pressed against Blair's back, while he moved like liquid silk inside him.

Blair sighed, forcing his mind back to the compositions in front of him. Duncan had a class last night, and a meeting with his staff at the dojo after that, so they hadn't seen each other. Blair missed him. He looked at the clock expectantly. Only 11:30. It would be another hour before Duncan came to take him to lunch at the Ethiopian restaurant that they liked to go to on Thursdays, when they were both free in the afternoon.

Starting in on the next paper on the pile resolutely, Blair told himself the faster he worked, the faster the hour would pass, and then he would be with the man he loved again.

Blair didn't look up from the endless sentence he was reading when Duncan rapped lightly at the door, but his heart leapt happily, " C'mon in, I'm almost done," he called, his eyes still scanning the paper.

"Hey, Chief," James Ellison was leaning his tall frame against Blair's doorway, looking uncertain and uncomfortable.

"Jim!" Blair's jaw dropped, his wide eyes staring in shock at the person in his doorway, "Oh my God," he murmured softly, having no idea what to say next. He felt heat rising in his cheeks, and fought the shaky, shivery feeling. A cold sweat broke out across the back of his neck, and he glanced quickly at the clock on his desk, gauging the time before Duncan would come.

"Can I come in?"

"Um, yeah, come in. Why are you here? Is everybody okay? Simon? Sam?"

"Everybody's fine Chief, but they miss you," Jim took a deep breath, looking around Blair's office, "I miss you too. Look, Blair, we need to talk. Get your coat, we'll go to lunch."

"No, we won't. I'm already going to lunch. Why are you here?"

Jim ran his hand through his short hair, a long, frustrated breath hissing through his teeth, "Look, Sandburg, it's taken a while for me to deal with...whatever. I'm sorry I reacted like that, and I want you to come home. Get your coat, we'll talk over lunch."

"Oh man, you are something else! You really think that you can just come in here and snap your fingers and I'll jump right back to your side like some kind of puppy dog? I don't believe you. You're sorry? For what? For punching me in the face? For being an asshole? For breaking my shiva statue? For kicking me out of the house in the middle of the night? For taking three months to figure out you want me back? You are really incredible Jim!" Blair was angry, so angry that the words came easily, without the usual fear of provoking the larger, older man.

"Blair, look, you have a right to be upset..."

"Oh, thank you so much, Detective Ellison, for giving me permission to think you're a jerk!"

"Blair? Is everything alright?"

Blair and Jim both turned to stare at Duncan, standing just inside the open door.

"Everything's fine, thank you." Jim gave Duncan his most intimidating, cop glare.

Blair raked a hand through his hair, taking a big, fortifying breath, "Jim Ellison, Duncan MacLeod. Duncan, Jim."

Duncan nodded to the man standing at the corner of Blair's desk, coming to put a protective hand on Blair's shoulder, "Are you ready for lunch, Caro?"

Blair looked up at Duncan, giving him a dazzling smile. He was so pleased by the way Duncan handled the situation, making his affection for Blair perfectly clear without trying to take control of the scene he had walked in on. Blair thought of the way Jim had demanded that they go out to eat a moment ago, and the differences between these two men that he loved condensed in his mind. Jim made all his choices for him, he had told him what to do and what to say from the start, and had controlled the greater part of his life for all the time they were together. With Duncan, all the choices were his to make, and even more than that, he knew that Duncan would accept them, even if he didn't always agree.

"Um, yeah, I am. Can you wait just a minute?" Blair answered quietly, thanking Duncan with his eyes.

"Of course, Caro. I'll be right outside," Duncan murmured, giving Detective Ellison one last, mildly antagonistic look before strolling out of Blair's office.

Blair stood up, putting himself on the opposite side of the desk from Jim, "Look, Jim, this is a bad time, okay? If you want to talk, call me. I don't really think this is a very good idea. I mean, you made your feelings perfectly clear, and beyond that, there's just not much to say. I have a life here..."

"With that yuppie?" Jim interrupted, his jaw clenched, "Look, Chief, this guy, this town, this can't be what you want to do with your life. I need your help, so does Cascade. You're the Shaman of a great city, remember? You can't tell me that this is more important to you than that."

Blair felt the last of his self-restraint snap, "HOW DARE YOU!!! After four years of emotional black mail, you're going to use your friend's dying words against me? You've got a lot of class, Jim Ellison!"

"You ungrateful little bastard!" Jim was in his face faster than he had time to register. Looming over him, the vein at his temple red and pulsing, Blair shrank back, remembering all the other times he'd been here. Jim's hands clenched fistfuls of his shirt, lifting him an inch off the floor. Blair's hands pushed futily against Jim's chest, remembering their first meeting in his office at Rainier. He was very glad when Duncan stormed in.

Duncan came up behind Jim, breaking his grip on Blair ferociously. His hands flew up under Jim's elbows, snapping his arms up and back in a continuous motion, pinning Jim's arms behind his back.

"Don't you ever put your hands on him like that," Duncan growled over Jim's shoulder, pushing him towards the door.

Blair stood with his back plastered against the wall, trying to force himself out of a mild state of shock. *Wow*, Duncan is *so* awesome, he thought bemusedly. No one jumped on Jim like that, he was bigger than your average brick wall, and just as intimidating. Blair was very glad to be out from under his angry hands. He realized that Jim would fight back, and that this was about to get very ugly a moment before it happened.

Jim twisted out of Duncan's grip, pulling his arm back. Duncan caught the fist intended for his face with his forearm, deflecting the blow. If he were two hundred years younger, Duncan reflected, Jim's face would be one with the wall by now. However, he had learned that there were many types of people that it was absolutely counter-productive to hit, cops were one of them.

Jim was just about to strike him again when Blair jumped between them, his hands raised in the air, palms spread.

"Hold it! We are not going to get violent here," Blair almost shouted. Then he took a deep breath, confident that he had their attention. He continued in calm, measured tones, "Jim, get the fuck out of my office. Anything you have to say to me you can say on the phone, some other time. If you don't leave, I'll call campus security. Duncan, calm down. Let's go to lunch."

He stepped back, looking between them sternly.

Jim stepped back, still looking daggers at Duncan. He put his hands up, shaking his head, "Okay Chief, fine. But this isn't over. I'll be in touch," he turned back to Duncan, extending a finger in warning, "We're not finished either, slick."

Duncan shrugged, smiling, "Anytime."

"Okay, goodbye. Come on Duncan," Blair grabbed his coat and scarf, marching resolutely out his office. The two men followed him, Duncan motioning for Jim to proceed him with a sarcastically polite smile. Blair leaned against the wall next to his office door, watching Jim's retreating back as he strode angrily down the hall.

Duncan closed the office door, taking Blair's keys from his hand and locking it for him. Blair looked a little shell shocked.

"Are you okay, Blair?" Duncan put his arm around the younger man.

Blair took a big breath, looking up at him brightly, "Yeah, I'm good. I'm really good. I stood up to him. Well, you did, really, but I feel like I handled it pretty well. Man, I was like, totally not expecting that."

"You handled it great," Duncan gave Blair a huge smile, and Blair got lost for a moment in the dark brown eyes.

"Now how about we start working on that self defense thing, and maybe next time you can be the one to shove him around?"

Blair laughed, throwing his arm around Duncan's waist, "Okay, but only if I get individual lessons."

"Deal," Duncan drawled, pulling one of Blair's curls playfully.

They left the building together, Duncan's arm draped casually over Blair's shoulders, Blair's arm around Duncan's waist. Neither of them noticed Detective Jim Ellison, watching them from his rental car in the parking lot. Sentinel vision cut across the long distance, zeroing in on Blair's face, smiling up at Duncan MacLeod. He watched them walking up the path towards him. Anger and rage made his blood pound in his veins. Jim came dangerously close to zoning on Blair's smile, something he had been absolutely sure he could live without until two weeks ago.

He hadn't expected Duncan MacLeod. What kind of name was that? All of Jim's instincts said something about this guy was a lie, but he didn't know what. He didn't even know who he was, other than Blair's new boyfriend, but it didn't matter. If it was going to be a factor in getting Blair back, he'd find out. Jim pulled out of the parking lot when the pair walking towards him were almost close enough to be seen with normal vision.

"Thank you, you were incredible. You know that, right?" Blair looked up at Duncan adoringly. Duncan stopped them on the path, turning to Blair.

"I know I love you."

Blair's smile went from luminous to electric. He jumped up, throwing his arms around Duncan's neck. Duncan caught him in his arms, holding him close for a moment before steering them back onto the path to the car.

Blair and Duncan sat at a small table in the back of the restaurant, the remains of their lunch between them. The short ride and the meal had both been quiet, Duncan realizing that Blair needed some time to sort out how he really felt about his ex-partner's reappearance.

"I'm really glad you were there, man. I think I might have just compounded the problem," Blair said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence.

"In what way?" Duncan took Blair's hand across the table, stroking the back of his hand with his thumb.

"I shouldn't have lost my temper, provoked him. I mean, he came here to ask me to come back, and I turned it into this major confrontation."

Duncan frowned, "Blair, you are not responsible for his actions. How is it your fault that he attacked you?"

Blair shrugged, not meeting his lover's concerned eyes, "I, um, brought up that night..."

"When you made a pass at him and he hit you," Duncan supplied gently.

Blair nodded, squeezing Duncan's hand, "Yeah."

"Blair, how do you really feel about Jim?"

Blair drew his hand back from Duncan's, dropping his head into his palms. He let out a shaky breath, pressing his fingers to his temples, "Oh man, that is like, way too confusing. It wasn't anything like I thought it would be. I used to fantasize about him coming here all the time, you know? I always pictured this scenario where he would beg me to go home, and tell me how much he needed me and all that crap..." Blair took a deep breath, trying to contain the bitterness that was poisoning his insides, "I guess he did, basically. I mean, this is Jim were talking about here, so what I actually got was more like, 'Chief, I need your help, let's go'...but that is Jim's idea of an apology. I didn't react anything like I thought I would. I mean, I was just angry, totally furious, just like, rage. I don't get angry like that. I hate it, makes me all shaky and messed up inside."

"Blair, when someone makes you that angry, when they can make you feel that much, it means that they matter to you, a lot. I think you need to take some time to think, carefully, about how you really feel about Jim, what you want to do about this..."

Blair raised his head from his hands, big blue eyes looking at Duncan earnestly. He saw concern, and love, and doubt in Duncan's dark eyes.

"Oh man, you have nothing to worry about. I told you that I want to be with you, and I mean it, Duncan. I would never leave you to go back to Cascade," Blair's smile faltered for a moment, "I don't think you can go home again."

Then he brightened, taking Duncan's hand again, "I love you. It feels like so much more time has passed...God, it's so hard to believe I've only been here three months, it feels like so much longer. I don't want to leave you Duncan, I don't want to go back. This is my home, and you are my life. Nothing could make me happier than what you give me."

"I don't want to lose you either, Caro, but I want you to be happy. If being his guide is the life you should be living, I don't want to keep you from it."

Blair shook his head resolutely, holding Duncan's loving gaze, "You are my fate, this is where I'm supposed to be. That was another life. I can't go back there Duncan, I'm not even the same person. That was somebody totally different, and he wasn't nearly as happy."

Duncan's smile felt like a physical embrace, "I'm a very lucky man, Caro."

Blair blushed, smiling back, "Uh-uh, I am."

Duncan laughed, "If we start that we'll be here all day. Come on, let's go," Duncan stood, picking up the check.

"Can I pick you up tonight?" Duncan asked, as they walked back to the car parked down the block.

"I've got the Volvo, I could just come to the loft after my anth and arch," Blair looked up at Duncan, understanding dawning in his expressive eyes, "You're worried that he'll come back tonight."

Duncan's knuckles brushed Blair's cheek, "The man threw you up against a wall. I'm not trying to interfere, but can I be just a little bit protective here?"

Blair grinned, "Only if I can get you that boy scout uniform...no, I'm kidding, man. Pick me up, I'll leave the car. It's not like it's the first time..." Blair's Volvo had spent more time in the faculty parking lot than it had anywhere else in the last three weeks.

Duncan leaned down to kiss him lightly on the lips, "Thank you."

Duncan dropped him off at the library, leaving him with a kiss that promised even nicer things to come. Blair's afternoon passed slowly. He was jumpy for the first hour or so after Duncan left him, expecting Jim to be standing around every corner. By the time his students were filtering out of the lecture hall after his last class, he had calmed down considerably. It looked like Jim was going to take him seriously, and stay away.

Jim Ellison sat at the lunch counter, slumped over a cup of coffee. He was shocked, and angry. Very angry. His vision was acting up, turning everything into bent spectrums of light, as he'd noticed it did when he got too upset these days. He couldn't tell if the coffee was hot or cold, but he drank it anyway, raising the cup mechanically to his mouth. He was shocked by way Blair seemed to have built a new life for himself so quickly. Coming down here, he hadn't even considered the possibility of not bringing Sandburg back with him. He wouldn't have come at all, if Simon hadn't made him. The frequency of his zone outs over the past three months had just about chained him to his desk, and Captain Banks needed his best detective back on line.

He had told himself over and over again on the long drive that he could deal with it, tell Blair that he was sorry and that he could accept his sexuality, or whatever the hell he was supposed to say. He needed Blair, badly. He hadn't even considered the possibility that Blair might be with someone. Who the hell was this over dressed, long haired, yuppie, faggot anyway? And how had he managed to establish himself in Blair's life so quickly?

Seeing Blair with a guy had been more of a shock than he thought it would be. It made him angry. Blair telling him he was gay was one thing, watching another man putting his hands on him and calling him sweetie was something else. It had made him furiously angry, watching another man put his hands on his Guide. What the hell was Sandburg thinking? How could he possibly think that playing professor here with this MacLeod guy was more important than being his Guide? How could Blair walk away from him like this? He couldn't, it just wasn't an option. Jim imagined going back to Cascade without Blair, and losing his position on the force altogether. Simon had threatened he might if he couldn't pull his act together. That just couldn't happen. He would go back to the university, and talk to Blair again, without his boyfriend around to piss Jim off, and he would make Blair see that it was time to come home.

Jim went to the pay phone by the door, and checking with the administration office at Seacouver University, found out that Blair's last lecture would end at five o'clock that afternoon. Jim tossed a dollar on the counter, deciding to go back to his hotel room and shower and change before going back to the university. If he was going to talk to Sandburg, he was going to have to keep his cool.

Jim walked slowly up the path, he was a few minutes early. Sitting down on a bench, he watched the college students passing by, glancing at his watch every few minutes. The campus was larger, and more modern, but the kids looked the same. He was trying not to be nervous. He told himself that once he had the opportunity to talk to Blair alone, he would be able to make him understand. Blair would come home with him and help him get his senses under control and everything would go back to normal.

Duncan held the door open for Blair, following him out into the cold November evening. He was happy. Blair was smiling and animated, and in much better spirits than Duncan had expected. He was excited about the film festival they were going to.

"Oh man, I am like, so psyched. I haven't seen 'Small Change' since Naomi took me, I think I was twelve. Truffaut is the coolest."

Duncan mussed his hair affectionately, thinking how easy it was to make Blair happy, "I want to take you somewhere after the show, a friend of mine just got back from Paris. He has a bar, you'll like it."

"Sounds great. Who am I meeting?"

"Joe Dawson."

"Really. Cool. Maybe I can get him to tell me things about your sordid past," Blair wiggled his eyebrows at Duncan, making him crack up.

"Don't even try, kiddo..." Duncan mock-threatened.

"Oh yeah, whatcha gonna do about it?" Blair leapt onto Duncan's back, knapsack and all, knowing his legs would be caught and held securely. Duncan bounced him down the steps, very much accustomed to being Blair's personal taxi.

"I think I may have to have a word with Joe before you two meet..."

"No, I'll be good, I promise," Blair pantomimed locking his lips with a key, although riding on Duncan's back, his lover couldn't see him.

Duncan laughed, happy to be alive on this crisp, cold November evening, "You're always good Caro," he taunted, not surprised when Blair pulled his pony tail.

"No bedroom talk on campus, remember?"

"Did I really agree to that?" Duncan asked over his shoulder.

"Uh-huh, right after your assistant played that message I left on your voice mail."

Duncan grinned, remembering Charlotte's crimson face, "I guess I did. Race you to the edge of the campus?"

Blair laughed, squirming down from Duncan's broad back to give him a bear hug.

Several yards ahead of them on the path, Jim Ellison stood with his back pressed against a large oak tree, listening to the sound of the blood rushing though his veins. He had been walking towards the anthro lab when Blair and Duncan had come out. Watching their antics, Jim froze, unable to turn away. He listened in on their conversation, surprised by how close they seemed. Watching his Guide, Jim realized how much he missed Blair. He had been so pissed off when Blair had made that pass at him, that he hadn't thought of the consequences of kicking him out. Jim's only thought at the time was to get Sandburg the hell away from him so he couldn't try it again. Now he realized that Blair had really balanced his life out for him. He realized that he missed his friend.

Before he was aware, Blair and Duncan had made their way to the parking lot and Jim had missed his chance to talk to his Guide. Was this MacLeod character always around? This little episode only made Jim's resolve stronger. He would get to Sandburg alone and talk some sense into him. He had to.

Duncan had found a parking space not too far from the movie theater and Blair was almost bouncing down the street.

"I think every kid should get to see this movie, know what I mean? Truffaut just captures that joy and pain stuff so well. The whole adolescent experience."

"Just watching you talk about it is almost better than seeing it. You've brought so much life back to me... Joie de vivre," Duncan grinned a goofy grin that Blair had only recently been privilege to.

"That's awesome man, especially if this newfound 'Joie de vivre' will get me an extra large popcorn with tons of butter," Blair hopped on Duncan's back and lightly bit his ear. He was rewarded with a hearty laugh from his lover.

"Okay, imp, end of the line," Duncan teased as he set Blair down. They got in line for tickets and Duncan wondered if Blair was really dealing with Jim Ellison's appearance this afternoon as well as he seemed to be.

"Do you think Jim's going to call me?" Blair asked, as if he could read Duncan's mind.

"From what you've told me about him, and what I saw today, I think he's pretty determined. After all, he wants you to go back to Cascade with him," Duncan's soft tone took any harshness from his words.

Blair let out one of his melodramatic sighs and leaned heavily against Duncan. A strong arm automatically wrapped around his shoulders.

"Yeah, he practically demanded it. The man is way too good at emotional blackmail. He's got four years of pushing my guilt buttons, too. Do you believe he pulled the 'you're the Shamen of the great city' shit on me?"

"This is a little more hostile than I expected you to be. Are you really okay with all of this, Caro?" Duncan was glad that Blair wasn't intimidated by Jim, but he thought Blair would be, well, a bit more fragile where Jim was concerned.

"Man, I am so not okay with this entire situation! Yeah, I'm a little hostile, okay, a lot hostile. What did you expect? As soon as I saw Jim I'd crumple into a sobbing heap on the floor? No way man, my days of submitting to Jim Ellison's will are long gone. Actually, I kind of surprised myself." Blair paused to suck in a breath, "I've never stood up to him the way I did today. Besides the fact that he still thinks he can put me up against a wall anytime he feels like it, I think I handled myself pretty well. It's kind of liberating, ya know?"

"Kind of like standing up to the school bully?" Duncan chuckled. Blair's unbridled energy was contagious.

Duncan beamed at Blair as they shuffled a little closer to the front of the line. One thing he'd learned in the past three weeks with Blair was, the man would constantly surprise him. Whether it was some obscure dish that even Duncan had never heard of, or the whiplash speed that Blair's mind worked at. Once he woke Duncan up at three-thirty in the morning to ask if Duncan really knew Picasso. Earlier in the evening Duncan had made the mistake of mentioning Pablo and Blair went nuts. Just to tease, Duncan had simply said everyone knew Picasso back then.

"Yeah," Blair stared at Duncan somewhat amazed, "You really do understand what I'm talking about when I go off like that, don't you?"

They had reached the window and Duncan got their tickets. They stopped at the concessions stand and got Blair his popcorn, then made their way to find seats. Who would've thought a Francois Truffaut film festival would draw so many people in Seacouver?

"Duncan?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"You would have kicked the shit out of Jim in my office if I hadn't stepped in, wouldn't you?" Blair asked with an evil grin on his face.

"Probably," Duncan's lips were curling in response to Blair's playfulness, "I've learned that it's not a good idea to go around assaulting police officers, but in this case I'd have enjoyed it thoroughly."

He lost his smile for a moment,"Seriously though, Caro, when I saw him slam you into that wall I almost lost it. If he ever tries to hurt you again, I'm not sure I'll be able to be so sensible."

Blair didn't really want Duncan to beat up Jim, it was all just a bit too adolescent. However, Duncan's protectiveness and complete support were astonishing. Blair still wondered what this magnificent four hundred year old warrior could possibly see in him.

The lights dimmed and the previews started. Blair snuggled closer to Duncan as the movie began.

Walking back to the car, Blair was chattering happily about the movie, explaining to Duncan why it was such a compelling example of the socilizations boys make as adolescents. He stopped in mid-rant, wrapping his arm around Duncan's waist. Looking up at Duncan joyfully, he continued, "Thank you so much for taking me to the movies. You know Duncan, I am so happy...this day should have been so terrible. I mean, if Jim had pulled this on me four weeks ago I would have been a total mess right now, and instead I feel like I can handle it. You've made me see myself so differently. Living with Jim was like living in a movie, almost. I had this role of guide that I had to be committed to twenty four hours a day, and anything that compromised that went out the window. I think I'm just beginning to realize how much his expectations restricted me."

Duncan nodded, he was so glad that Blair was beginning to feel better about himself. He had come such a long way in the last few weeks. Duncan had a feeling that there was still a great deal Blair wasn't seeing when it came to Jim, but he wouldn't push him. The changes in Blair's self image were a vast improvement. Duncan was trying not to hate Jim Ellison, but he found it impossible not to hold Jim responsible for the way he'd broken Blair's spirit. How he could ever want to contain or control anyone as vibrant, and alive, and beautiful as Blair, was beyond him. Watching Blair regain his self confidence, and come out of his shell, Duncan was beginning to see how much Jim had taken away from Blair.

"You've come a long way Caro, taking control of your life, putting the pieces back together. The credit's yours, not mine. But, I do feel privileged to be able to watch you begin to redefine yourself. You are so beautiful, Blair, so alive."

"With you," Blair clarified, squeezing Duncan's waist.

Duncan opened the car door for him, kissing Blair quickly on the tip of his nose before going around to the driver's side.

"So, tell me about Joe, is he going to like me?"

"Joe's a great guy, and he's really easy going. He'll like you. I'm not sure whether I'll surprise him or not, I've never managed to get much information out of him about what's in my chronicles. I think it's fairly safe to assume he knows I've had male lovers."

"Oh, wow, I didn't even think about that, should I um, make an effort to keep my hands to myself?"

"No Caro, don't. I don't care, and in any case, Joe isn't going to hold it against me."

Blair scooted across the bench seat, slipping under Duncan's arm, "You are so awesome."

Duncan laughed, squeezing Blair's shoulder, "Thanks kiddo, so are you."

Duncan pulled the T-bird into a spot in front of the bar. They could hear the music as soon as they stepped out of the car. Duncan cocked his head, smiling, "Joe's playing."

"Really? Wow, he's good," Blair walked beside Duncan into the bar, looking around curiously, "Nice place. Feels kinda nineteen thirties."

Duncan nodded, finding them a table near the left side of the stage, "I think so, too."

Duncan ordered a scotch and Blair asked for a Heineken when the waitress stopped at their table. While they waited for their drinks Duncan watched Blair take in the atmosphere. He loved to watch the younger man. Blair's lust for life had only showed itself in flashes, at first. The more time that they spent together, the more Duncan saw how much passion had been lying under Blair's sadness. In the past three weeks he saw Blair emerge in front of his eyes, and it was blinding at times. Sometimes he felt like one of Blair's students caught up in one of his compelling lectures. The applause of the crowd brought Duncan out of his reverie.

"Oh man, that was fantastic," Blair leaned close to Duncan's ear so he could be heard over the enthusiastic crowd.

The drinks came, and when the band stopped for a break Joe wandered over.

"Hey Mac, how's it going?"

"Hi Joe, you guys sound great tonight. I want you to meet someone. Joe Dawson, Blair Sandburg."

Joe dropped down into the third chair at their table, "Hey Blair, welcome to my place. What do think?"

"Man, you guys are awesome! I love Chicago blues. How long have you been playing?"

"Most of my life, I'm glad you liked it. So, how long have you known Mac?"

Blair grinned, thinking that Duncan's Watcher was a hardworking man. He liked Joe, though, right away. He seemed like a really nice guy, "Almost a month. He sorta rescued me, I was getting my ass kicked, and he just sort of happened by."

Joe Dawson laughed heartily, "That's our boy scout. Was the clan getting too small, Mac?" Joe asked the Immortal, teasingly.

"Yes, definitely, but not anymore," Duncan took Blair's hand on the table top, interlacing their fingers.

"Hey, that's great Mac, I'm glad. So do you think you can keep him from brooding all winter, Blair?"

"Duncan, brood?" Blair cocked his head at Joe, genuinely surprised. "Duncan doesn't brood."

"Oh man, must be the real thing, Mac," Joe chuckled, watching Duncan blush.

"I knew this was going to be dangerous," Duncan rolled his eyes, smiling.

"So, Blair, what line of work are you in?"

"I'm an Anthropologist. Oh wow, it is like, so cool to be able to say that...I just got my doctorate. I was a teaching fellow at Rainier, in Cascade, for four years, I just moved down here at the beginning of this semester."

"Anthropology, sounds like interesting work."

Blair's eyes sparkled mischievously at Duncan across the small table, "Oh yeah, studying unknown races, recording their lives, it's totally fascinating."

"Hmm, I could see that. So, you're teaching full time at Seacouver?"

"Oh man, more than full time, but it's what I'd been working towards all those years in school."

"Hey, that's great," Joe nodded at Duncan, and Duncan could tell that his Watcher and his new lover were going to get along just fine. It was always interesting, introducing people to Joe. The man was an excellent judge of character, and Duncan enjoyed watching him extract information. He did it so cleverly that the person being interrogated was rarely even aware of it.

Duncan sat back in his chair, sipping his scotch and listening to Blair and Joe talk about Seacouver and it's diverse population. Joe got up reluctantly when his band members called him for the second set.

"It was really good to meet you Blair, are you guys going to stay?"

"Oh yeah man, wouldn't miss it, you guys are awesome."

The waitress brought them another round, and then another after that. By the time Joe played his last song Blair was slumped happily against Duncan's shoulder. Even in his advanced state of intoxication Blair was still bouncing up and down to the music. Duncan grinned, amused but in no way suprised that alcohol didn't seem to slow Blair down at all, it just made him a little goofier. He drank twice as much as Blair, but Blair was still twice as drunk as he was. Sometimes Immortality was a hindrance, or at least expensive. Duncan decided getting drunk with his adorably trashed lover wasn't a bad idea, and renewed his efforts.

"How can you drink that stuff?" Blair asked, his chin on Duncan's shoulder.

"I've been drinking 'this stuff' for an awfully long time," Duncan turned to steal a quick kiss from Blair, who giggled, surprised.

"How long?"

"Somewhere around two hundred years," Duncan signaled the waitress for another.

"Such a creature of habit," Blair teased, happy that Duncan was getting drunk with him. He knew that it took twice the effort, Immortal healing absorbing the alcohol at a much faster rate than human metabolisms. It felt so good to cut loose with Duncan like this.

When the band had finished their set, Joe came back to their table.

"Blair, you are no kind of drinker. What have you had, four beers? We're going to have to work on you're tolerance," Joe grinned at the young man leaning sloppily on Mac's shoulder, "And you, my friend, are drunk," Joe accused Duncan mildly. "Give me your keys, Mac, I'll call you guys a cab and bring the Thunderbird over tomorrow. You can buy me breakfast."

"Sounds good, thanks Joe," Duncan had been hoping that Joe would make just such an offer, "Come over around ten? We'll go to Mitchell's."

"I want pancakes," Blair chimed in happily.

"Okay kiddo, you get pancakes, but you have to wait till morning."

"Mmm, okay," Blair got unsteadily to his feet, bracing himself with a hand on Duncan's shoulder.

Joe Dawson smiled indulgently at the young man swaying behind Duncan's chair, still holding on to Mac for balance. Or maybe it was just a habit, Joe decided, watching the way Blair's fingers kneaded Mac's shoulder. He was very happy for his friend. Young, bouncy, Blair Sandburg looked exactly like what Mac needed. Watching the way Duncan got Blair ready for the cold, putting on his coat and zipping it up for him, Joe thought that this might just be the real thing.

Blair snuggled against Duncan in the backseat of the taxi, sneaking his hands into Duncan's big pockets, "Man, don't you ever get cold? I'm freezing."

Duncan leaned to whisper in Blair's ear, "Don't worry Caro, I'll warm you up soon..."

"Now?" Blair giggled, wriggling onto Duncan's lap. His hands slipped from Duncan's pockets, finding their way under his coat.

"No, not now Caro, we are in the backseat of a cab..." Duncan thought he might have giggled himself, tickling Blair back when he started.

Blair shrieked happily, causing the driver to make a sound of long suffering annoyance in the front seat.

Duncan tipped him outrageously, holding onto Blair with one arm. He was standing next to the cab, swaying dangerously.

Duncan gauged his own state of intoxication, and decided he wasn't too drunk to carry Blair inside. The taxi pulled away from the curb as he was scooping Blair up into his arms.

Blair threw his arms around Duncan's neck, laughing, "My taxi. I love you, old man."

"Old? Be careful, imp, you're in dangerous position," Duncan tossed Blair into the air, catching him easily.

"Show off," Blair laughed. He settled in Duncan's arms again, nuzzling his lover's neck, "Take me upstairs and fuck me senseless?"

Duncan laughed, squeezing Blair tighter, "I think we can do that."

"Oh man, I know we can do that."

Duncan set Blair down to dig the elevator keys out of his pocket, pulling the gate up for them. Blair started fighting with the buttons on his shirt before the elevator's gears had even begun to rumble.

"Caro, you're trouble," Duncan chuckled, helping his insistent fingers deal with the buttons on his shirt.

"You like it," Blair accused, his roaming hands straying to the growing bulge in Duncan's jeans.

"No, I love it," Duncan pulled the gate and Blair bounced ahead of him into the loft.

Once Duncan had made it about halfway across the room, Blair turned, launching himself into Duncan's arms, sending them both sprawling onto the couch. "I love you, man," Blair told him, slurring his words a little. Using Duncan's shoulder as an anchor, Blair pulled himself up to his knees, straddling Duncan on the couch. He'd managed to unbutton all but two of the buttons on Duncan's dress shirt in the elevator. Now his hands roamed slowly across his lover's chest, "Mmm, mine. You are like, so totally perfect," Blair's fingers dug into sculpted muscle, emphasizing his words.

Duncan groaned, relaxing under Blair's hands, "I am so glad you think so Caro...take your coat off."

"Just my coat?" Blair asked innocently, sliding backwards off Duncan's lap to stand between his legs.

Duncan grinned wickedly, settling back into the couch, "Actually, I think everything would be much nicer."

"I can definitely agree with that," Blair told him, wriggling out of his coat and pulling his sweater over his head. His clothes pooled quickly on the floor, Blair flopped down unceremoniously on Duncan's lap again to take his socks off.

"Uh!" Duncan caught the naked ball of Blair against his stomach, letting him squirm until he found a position he liked.

"You are way overdressed, man. Shoes, jeans, totally unexceptable..." Blair grinned up at him wickedly.

Duncan laughed, kicking off his shoes. Using one foot to pull the sock off the other, he managed to take them off as well, "Okay, Caro, the jeans are your problem," he told Blair humorously.

"Not a problem," Blair mumbled, sliding down to kneel in front of him on the floor.

"Do you have any idea what you look like?" Duncan asked him softly, watching the joy and excitement in his lover's eyes as he undressed him.

"Drunk?" Blair asked, tugging the jeans determinedly off Duncan's hips.

"Beautiful. Irresistible. Amazing," Duncan told him, groaning softly when Blair crawled back up to settle in his lap.

"Mmm," Blair agreed, rubbing himself sensuously against his lover. Duncan felt so good, strong and hard and hot beneath him, "Oh, man, I have been needing this all day," Blair groaned, rubbing himself lightly against his lover's hardening cock. Blair sighed softly, teasing them both with the slight contact. "So nice," he slurred, undulating against him.

Duncan groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, "God Caro, so sweet..." Duncan's hand's dug into his lover's hips, holding him against him.

"Bed?" Blair whispered in Duncan's ear, biting the lobe playfully.

"Now," Duncan agreed, lifting Blair reluctantly.

" 'Kay, race you to bed?" Blair laughed, leaping the two steps to Duncan's bed and landing squarely in the center, bouncing.

Duncan laughed, tackling Blair on his third bounce, "Bouncing on the bed will get you tickled, imp," Duncan held the smaller man beneath him with his legs locked around his waist, tickling Blair's sides until he begged.

"N-no, Duncan! Stop! Pleeease..." Blair screeched, laughing hysterically.

"What's in it for me?" Duncan growled back. He grinned down at his lover, who was red in the face from laughing, and thought about how incredible these moments were. Priceless, Blair's spontaneous outbursts of joy were more frequent as the weeks went by, and Duncan treasured all of them.

"Anything, man, everything, I swear..." Blair laughed, gasping for air.

Duncan's legs released him, flipping them over so that Blair was on top of him again, "Show me, Caro," Duncan told him softly, his eyes going sleepy.

"Oh man, when you look at me like that, I melt..." Blair whispered, going still on his knees over Duncan.

Blair's hands roamed lovingly over Duncan's body, watching the changes his touch caused. A fine sheen of sweat broke out over Duncan's chest, and his breathing deepened, becoming husky. His eyes were almost closed, watching Blair through the curtain of his lashes. He arched and stretched towards Blair's palms, his muscles rippling over his stomach and chest.

"Ah, Duncan, you are magnificent. When I have you like this, I can see you as a warrior, so easily. You are so strong," Blair looked down at him with a dangerous gleam in his eye, "I want to make you wild."

"You do, Caro," Duncan whispered, reaching up to pull Blair down for a kiss.

Duncan tasted like scotch, which Blair thought hazily tasted wonderful on Duncan's tongue, but horrible in a glass. He wrestled with Duncan's tongue playfully, moving too fast to be caught. Duncan growled low in his throat, thrusting his hands into the masses of Blair's curls. When Blair pulled back, gasping, his eyes were a dark indigo blue, and he whispered roughly, "I want you in my mouth. Now."

Duncan groaned, anticipation making him shudder as Blair slid down his chest. Blair's tongue licked delicately at the drop of liquid, teasing the ultrasensitve slit until Duncan gasped, and grabbed his hips, "No fair, Caro..." He whispered, turning Blair around so that he lay upside down on top of Duncan. Holding Blair's narrow hips in his hands, Duncan lifted him up to take his cock into his mouth. Blair's moan was almost a wail, and then he responded in kind, deep-throating Duncan's rock hard cock mercilessly. They teased and tortured with their tongues, egging each other on and showing off. Blair came up for air, gasping and giggling, "Mmmm, bet I can last longer..."

"Bet what?" Duncan groaned against his balls, flicking lightly with his tongue. Blair moaned, burying his face in the juncture of Duncan's hip and thigh.

"Umm....oh God, uh, sex?"

Duncan's answer was to take Blair's cock between his lips once more, suckingly him steadily into his throat with obvious determination.

"No fair!" Blair cried, flicking his tongue rapidly over the engorged head of Duncan's cock.

Blair's small mouth devoured him, sucking greedily, pushing himself up and down on Duncan's cock so ardently that his whole body moved with his thrusts, pushing his own cock back into Duncan's mouth, "Mmm," Blair hummed anxiously, trying to hold back his approaching orgasm.

Duncan's hands roamed over his ass, squeezing and petting, and his throat worked his cock, massaging him as he moved up and down. Blair made a sound of pleasure and aggression around Duncan's cock, hanging on to his control desperately. Forcing himself to concentrate only on the feeling of Duncan in his mouth, and not the wicked things his lover was doing to him.

With a gurgled cry of victory, Blair pulled himself from his lover's throat, as Duncan came in his mouth. Blair savored Duncan's orgasm, milking the shuddering cock until Duncan groaned, his hands going to the back of Blair's head to still his movements.

Blair laughed wickedly, turning around to press himself against his gasping lover, "I win," he growled, leaning down to nip the side of Duncan's neck.

"I guess you do, Caro..." Duncan's rich voice was husky, his smile enigmatic.

"You, my Immortal beloved, are all mine," Blair told him, slipping between Duncan's thighs, "Turn over."

Duncan sighed, looking into Blair's excited eyes for another moment before rolling over beneath him. Blair stretched out on the broad, muscular back, his aching cock nestling between his lover's cheeks.

"I want you, I want inside you," Blair whispered hotly in his ear, grinding himself against his lover. Duncan's long arm reached to the night stand, digging the tube of lubricant out blindly. He pressed it into Blair's hand, murmuring, "Make love to me, Caro."

"Oh yes," Blair slid slowly down Duncan's body, his hands kneading the big muscles. His tongue traced wet spirals, staring at the small of Duncan's back and moving slowly down the cleft of his ass.

Duncan moaned, pressing his face into the pillow. Blair's tongue teased and tantalized, his hands spreading the muscular cheeks firmly. Blair's wet, pointed tongue pushed inside him, and Duncan saw explosions of color and light behind his closed eyes. He moaned, pushing back helplessly. Blair held him, fucking him with his tongue until Duncan was moaning continuously, pushing himself into the mattress.

"Shh, I know,"Blair murmured soothingly, pushing one slick finger into his lover's body. Duncan relaxed around him, going still on the bed, "That's it, let me..." Blair whispered, thrusting slowly.

Blair pressed a second finger slowly inside him, and Duncan groaned softly, giving himself up to the pleasure. Blair's fingers stroked and twisted inside him, stimulating nerves endings until Duncan was gasping on the edge of orgasm once again.

"Please...Caro," Duncan groaned, unable to force any words past the haze of pleasure.

"Mmm, soon," Blair responded softly, almost hypnotized by the glide of his fingers in and out of his lover's body. It was so magical, to hold him like this, so close to coming. Blair clenched his teeth, spreading lubricant quickly over his aching cock.

He moved very slowly, pushing into Duncan carefully. Blair squeezed his eyes shut, breathing and counting. Duncan felt so good, held him so tight, he wanted to come right then, so badly. Holding very still, he massaged Duncan's lower back and the muscular cheeks until he could breath a little easier.

Duncan was groaning softly, pushing his cock against the sheet, rocking back against Blair, "Caro..." he pleaded desperately, and Blair began to move, very slowly.

"Ahh, so good," Blair muttered, falling over Duncan's sweat slicked back and wrapping his arms tightly around him. Arching up into Duncan's heat, Blair felt as though he had never been so much a part of another person in his life. It was too good to last, his body was already rushing ahead of him towards the dizzying cliff of orgasm. The sounds Duncan was making filled Blair's ears, heightening his urgency.

Blair's hand reached down to cover Duncan's cock, pumping in time to his thrusts into his body. Duncan was gasping beneath him, his hips coming up off the bed to meet Blair's thrusts.

Blair felt himself lose control, driving desperately into his lover's body. The entire world condensed to the feeling of Duncan's muscles clenched tightly around him, and the warm wetness of his come spilling over Blair's hand. He came with a shout, burying himself deeply in the warmth of his lover's body.

Blair collapsed, utterly exhausted, against Duncan's sweat slicked back, "I love you," he whispered, trying to catch his breath.

Duncan made a happy, satiated sound that was somewhere between a groan and a hum.

Blair eased out of Duncan's body slowly, crying out softly when they separated. He wrapped his legs around Duncan's thighs, plastering himself to his lover.

They rolled to their sides together, Blair drawing his knees up to spoon behind Duncan. Duncan fumbled for Blair's hand, raising it to his lips to press a warm kiss to his palm. When he let go, Blair's hand nestled in his chest, covering his heart.

"I love you, Blair," Duncan whispered sleepily, kicking the edge of the blankets up over them with his foot.

Blair tugged the covers up, burrowing into Duncan's back, "Mmm, you too," he breathed, already drifting off to sleep.

Duncan flung an arm out, checking the alarm clock to make sure that it was set to wake them in the morning. Falling back against the pillow and into his lover's embrace, he sighed, absolutely content. Blair snored softly, Duncan fell asleep smiling.

Part 8

By Zen&nancy

Duncan's alarm clock rang loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls of the loft.

"AAhhhgg, make it stop!" Blair half groaned-half yelled from under a pillow. He was buried entirely under the covers, his head shoved under, rather than on top of the pillow.

"Duncan! Shut. It. Off!"

"Okay, relax Caro," Duncan rolled to the far side of the bed, finding the button that silenced the alarm.

Sitting up in bed, Duncan raked his fingers through his hair, looking at the lump under the cover that he was fairly certain was Blair, "Good morning love," Duncan pushed the pillow off Blair's head, ruffling the tangled curls.

Blair's voice was hoarse, "Duncan, I love you, but if you don't shut up and stop touching me I'll take your head, I swear it!"

"Okay... Um, coffee?" Duncan asked, much more quietly.

"Coffee would be good," Blair hadn't moved at all, his hair was plastered against the side of his face, one curl hovered over his lower lip. He spit it out with a disgusted little "phh" sound, turning his face into the sheets.

"Hangover?" Duncan asked, remembering to speak quietly.

A pained groan was the only answer Duncan got. Blair's eyes were still closed. His arm dragged slowly up to cover his face with his hand.

"Poor baby," Duncan murmured, trying to remember a hangover remedy. All he could think of was the traditional hair of the dog, and he thought mentioning alcohol to his rather grumpy lover might be dangerous.

"Something died in my mouth," Blair moaned, the words barely intelligible.

"Coffee," Duncan answered decisively, rolling out of bed.

"Ugh," Blair grunted as Duncan's weight caused the mattress to shift under him, "Hurts."

Duncan went to the counter to start coffee, Blair staggered to the bathroom. Duncan listened to the sound of water running, picturing his lover brushing his teeth while counting teaspoons of coffee grounds. He smiled, thinking of how much fun a drunk Blair had been. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed that much in bed. Poor Blair, he was paying for their revelry, while Duncan felt almost obscenely jubilant.

Duncan went to his desk, bending to open the bottom drawer. He took out a bottle of aspirin, breaking the safety seal. When he turned around Blair was standing behind him, still looking very fuzzy.

"Why do you have a first aid kit and aspirin in your desk? You're Immortal, remember?"

"Yes, but my lover isn't. Here, coffee's almost done."

Blair smiled, in spite of the throbbing in his head. It was so like Duncan, to remember to buy aspirin to keep in the loft for him. "You know, a boy scout isn't a bad thing to have," Blair took the bottle of pills, looking up at Duncan from under his hair.

Duncan almost swept Blair up into his arms, but he remembered just in time. He followed Blair's shuffle to the counter instead, pulling coffee cups from the shelf for them. Blair leaned his elbows on the counter, propping his head in his hands.

Duncan bent his head to place a kiss on Blair's bare shoulder, murmuring, "Drink the coffee Caro."

"Mmm," Blair answered, reaching for the pot.

Blair gulped his first cup standing at the counter next to the coffee maker. He poured himself a second cup and carried it into the living room, sinking very slowly onto the couch. Setting his cup on the coffee table, he pressed his fingers to his temples again, groaning softly.

"Did you take the aspirin, sweetie?"

"Huh? Yeah, I did. I'm sorry, I'll be closer to human soon, I promise. I didn't mean to bite your head off."

"It's okay, Caro. I know what a hangover feels like."

"Really?"

Duncan recognized the curious anthropologist side of Blair pushing through his hangover. "Really. Although we have to drink a tremendous amount for the alcohol to remain in the blood overnight."

"How much?" Blair asked curiously.

Duncan laughed, "Enough for me to have at least a dozen very embarrassing, foggy memories."

He came over to sit next to Blair on the couch. They drank their coffee together without any more words. Duncan decided Blair's headache would benefit from the quiet, and Blair concentrated on getting another cup of coffee into his somewhat uncertain stomach.

Duncan set his cup on the table, kissing Blair's shoulder again. "I'm going to take a shower, okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute. I think I need another cup."

"Sounds good. I'll wash your hair for you," Duncan promised, kissing the top of Blair's head before heading for the bathroom.

Blair dragged himself back to the coffee pot, thinking that Duncan knew him too well. That was just about the only motivation that Duncan could offer him right now that would keep him from crawling right back into bed. One of Duncan's scalp massages sounded like the very best cure for his headache. Blair smiled, thinking about it, and poured himself another cup of coffee.

The knock on the door made him jump, spilling some of his coffee over his hand and the counter top. "Shit!" Blair exclaimed, setting the cup down and reaching for a sponge.

"Hang on a minute," Blair called, wincing at the volume of his own voice. He went back to the bed to pull on Duncan's robe before answering the loud knocking.

Blair fumbled with the tie to the robe on his way back to the door. It was much too long, dragging on the floor behind him, but it was definitely preferable to answering Duncan's door in his boxer shorts.

He unlocked the door, cracking it open. Joe was standing in the doorway, leaning on his cane. He surveyed Blair's rumpled, groggy appearance, grinning.

"Morning Blair."

"That's what they keep telling me. Duncan's in the shower. 'C'mon in."

"You look like hell," Joe followed Blair into the loft.

"Thanks. Coffee?" Blair squinted at Joe from under his hair. Sunlight was streaming in the loft's windows, and piercing through his skull.

"Yeah, that sounds good. Are you gonna live?"

Blair laughed wryly,"Yeah, I think so. This is why I don't drink."

"I suppose Mac was his usual cheerful self this morning? That must have been rough. I hate morning people. That's why owning a bar is so good for me, I hardly ever have to see them."

"Oh man, I'm with you. Yeah, he's way too awake," Blair nodded, drinking the coffee still left in his cup after the spill.

Joe followed Blair back to the living room, sitting in Duncan's chair. Blair curled up on the couch, pulling his feet up and wrapping Duncan's robe around himself.

Joe noticed how at home Blair was in the loft and guessed that he had spent a great deal of time here lately. It wasn't all that unusual for MacLeod to develop serious attachments quickly, and it seemed that he was very much attached to Blair Sandburg.

"You know Blair, I'm really glad that you and Duncan got together, it's the happiest I've seen him in years. You seem to be really good for him."

Blair was a little surprised at Joe's frankness, but tremendously pleased to have Duncan's Watcher's blessing. "Um, gosh, thanks. That's really cool. He is like, so amazing...definitely the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Joe drank more coffee, cocking his head at Blair, "So, you said Mac rescued you?"

Blair grinned, wondering if this story would end up in Duncan's chronicles later this afternoon. He didn't mind. In fact, thinking about the idea, he decided it was really cool that his love for Duncan MacLeod would be recorded for history.

"He saved me, man, no doubt about it. These two skinheads were kicking the shit out of me and he just happened to be walking by," Joe saw Blair's hangover take a backseat to singing the praises of Duncan MacLeod. The young man became more and more animated as he told the story.

"He was like, so awesome. I'm curled up on the ground, right, and these assholes with their steel toed combat boots have been dancing on my rib cage, and he's just like, looming over us, yelling at them. So he kicked their asses and the next thing I know he's trying to talk me into an ambulance. He was so incredibly nice to me...He took me to the hospital, and let me stay here. I live on the fourth floor, and there was like, no way I would have made it up those stairs." Blair paused, smiling. He was remembering the way Duncan had carried him up all four flights, running up the last one just to prove his point.

Joe shook his head, laughing. Blair was just too much. Joe really liked the kid though, and he was obviously goo-goo for Duncan. "Yeah, that sounds like Mac."

Duncan came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He looked surprised to see his Watcher and his lover chatting and drinking coffee together. He had expected to find Blair back in bed, sound asleep.

"Oh, hi Joe. Sorry we're not ready to go." Duncan's gaze turned to smile at Blair apologetically, "There might be some hot water left. How's the hangover doing, kiddo?"

Blair's eyes roamed over Duncan's body, mentally stripping him of the dark green towel wrapped low on his hips. "Amazingly, it's better." Duncan MacLeod could even cure a hangover, Blair thought bemusedly. He never tired of looking at his lover, who had the most incredible body ever made, Blair was sure.

Joe cleared his throat, chuckling when Blair blushed. "I think maybe he could use a cool one, Mac. Put some clothes on, before he forgets how to blink."

Blair turned a darker shade of red, mumbling, "Sorry," to Joe.

Joe laughed, waving his hand in a dismissive motion, "Ah, I'm just teasin' Blair, I don't care. I think I'm pretty darn unshockable."

"Believe him, kiddo," Duncan advised from under the henley he was pulling over his head.

"I'll remember that," Blair grinned, going into the bathroom to shower. He was disappointed to have missed his scalp massage, but the chance to talk to Joe alone had been worth it. Blair liked the older man, though he was nothing like what Blair had pictured a 'Watcher' to be when Duncan had told him about the secret society.

Duncan took Blair and Joe to his favorite breakfast spot, and Blair got his chocolate chip pancakes. Over breakfast they talked about Blair's move to the city, and his new position at the University. Duncan was surprised when Blair mentioned neither Sentinels or Detective Jim Ellison of the Cascade P.D. at all.

Joe asked Blair about his classes, and stayed with him through Blair's long and complicated explanations. Duncan enjoyed watching his best friend get to know Blair. He polished off a spinach and feta omelet and a side of sausage, thinking about the plans Blair and he had made for later in the day.

Duncan had asked Blair two weeks ago if he wanted to move into the loft with him, and Blair had surprised him when he turned him down. Although it would have made him even happier to wake up next to Blair every morning, Duncan was impressed with Blair's reasons. He felt that he needed to prove to himself that he was capable of living alone, and Duncan realized that Blair wasn't ready to assimilate himself into anyone else's life, yet. Up until that night, Blair had spent almost every day with Duncan, sleeping at the loft and going home every few days just to check the mail and get clean clothes.

Now they were trying to make an effort to spend more time there, and to make the place a home for Blair. So today they were going to paint the apartment. It had been Duncan's idea. Trying to cook in the dingy walled, badly lit kitchen last Tuesday night, he had told Blair that they should put a fresh coat of paint over the entire apartment, and Blair had agreed enthusiastically. So yesterday before going to pick Blair up for lunch Duncan had stopped at the hardware store and picked up three gallons of white paint and some drop cloths.

"Earth to MacLeod...are you with us here, buddy?" Joe clinked his spoon against his water glass to get Duncan's attention.

"Oh, sorry Joe, yeah. I was just worrying about whether or not I bought enough paint. We're going to paint Blair's apartment today, right, kiddo?"

Blair looked up from his fifth cup of coffee, "Oh man, I forgot...Yeah, okay. You don't need a brain to paint, do you?"

Joe chuckled, thinking that if this was the kid without his brains working, he must be impossible to follow when he was 'on'. Blair had regaled him with a complicated explanation of his study of the hierarchy and social structures within institutional environments. He had to admit it was fascinating. The kid would make one hell of a Watcher, he had a great mind for detail, and a broad perspective on the human condition. Watching the way Blair read Duncan, anticipating his words and movements, Joe decided he had a pretty good take on Immortals as well.

"Well, I should let you guys get on with your day, I've got to get back to the bar sometime this afternoon, too."

Duncan grabbed the check out of Joe's hand, and Blair could tell from the way they smiled at each other that this was an age-old argument. Joe knew he didn't have a fighting chance, since Duncan was calling breakfast repayment for bringing the T-bird over for him. He gave in, shrugging, "It's really not a big deal Mac, most people would pay to drive that car."

"I wouldn't trust most people to drive that car, which is why you're going to let me buy you breakfast. Where can we drop you, home or the bar?"

Joe checked his watch, considering briefly. He sighed resignedly, "Back to the bar, Mac, I've got work to do."

Duncan pulled up in front of Joe's, bidding his Watcher a fond farewell, and promising to bring Blair back to the bar sometime soon.

"Take good care of him, Blair, don't let him brood," Joe gripped Blair's arm affectionately.

"Not a problem, man," Blair grinned at him, "Take care Joe, see ya soon."

"Sounds good, be safe, Mac."

"Always. You too, Joe," Duncan called, watching Joe find his keys and enter his bar.

Blair somersaulted into the front seat, wrapping his arms around Duncan's neck. He kissed him, tasting of chocolate and pancakes.

"Mmm, very sweet," Duncan told him, smiling against Blair's lips.

"I love you," Blair told him happily, scooting back to his side of the car and reaching for the radio.

"You too, Caro," Duncan answered, pulling back out into Saturday morning traffic.

Blair surfed the radio stations, listening to only a few seconds of each song before twisting the dial to the next station. Duncan wondered how he could possibly recognize so many songs so quickly.

"Oh man, I love this song!" Blair turned the volume almost all the way up, bouncing happily.

"Okay, what band that I've never heard of is this?" Duncan asked him indulgently. Actually, Blair had broadened his musical horizons a great deal in the past three weeks, and Duncan was surprised by how much of it he genuinely liked.

"It's Depeche Mode. Just listen to the lyrics, man, this song is so awesome!" Blair was bouncing happily, singing along.

"Fast Fashion?" Duncan translated, confused.

"Yeah, I guess. Hey I didn't name them. Listen to this, it's just like, so us," Blair sang along with the upbeat music, bouncing all over the car.

When I'm with you baby

I go out of my head

And I just can't get enough

And I just can't get enough

Everything you did to me

And everything you said

I just can't get enough

I just can't get enough

We slip and slide as we fall in love

And I just can't seem to get enough...

They were stopped at a red light, and Blair threw himself joyously into Duncan, one arm behind his shoulders. "That's exactly how I feel about you, old man," Blair's smile lit up his whole face.

Duncan marveled at how quickly Blair recovered from his hangover. It was strange to have someone calling him 'old man'; it was what he called Methos when he was teasing. Duncan decided that coming from Blair, it was just fine, as long as no one else picked up the habit.

"You know, kiddo, relatively, I'm not that old. I have several friends that are a great deal older than me."

"Really? How old? What part of the world are they from? Originally, I mean," Duncan laughed, watching the anthropologist take center stage, again.

"Well, I've told you about Amanda, she's a little over a millennium, I think, and she's definitely of European origin. I have a friend who's much older, maybe you'll get to meet him someday, but I have no idea what part of the world he started out in, and I doubt he does either."

Blair poked Duncan in the side, grinning, "Oh, I get it, you like older women and younger men, is this what you're telling me?"

Duncan laughed, pulling Blair firmly against his side to avoid being poked again,"When you meet Amanda, you'll forgive me."

Blair squinted, cocking his head at Duncan, "So, how come it's when I meet Amanda, and maybe someday with this other guy. Was he your lover?"

Duncan smiled, but Blair caught something else, maybe regret, behind it, "No, Caro, we never did. But even if we had, I don't think I would understand him any better. He is my friend, and we are...bonded, in certain ways, but there are parts of him that I have a very hard time reconciling. We don't always agree. He is complicated, and very old. He also has a very annoying tendency to disappear when I'm most concerned about him...The last time we saw each other, he wasn't very happy with me. I took away someone who was dear to him."

Duncan swore under his breath at the car that had just cut him off, turning back to Blair to smile at him apologetically. Duncan had been a victim of Blair's 'road rage' lecture more than once.

"You know what, Caro? Why don't we save this story for tonight, in bed, when I can relax and really talk to you, okay?"

Blair nodded, knowing that Duncan really meant it. When Jim had said, 'We'll talk about it later, Chief', it meant they weren't going to talk about it at all. When Duncan said the same thing it meant that what they were talking about was something that he needed to be able to hold Blair close in his arms to tell him.

"Okay man, it's a date," Blair told him softly. Changing the subject he asked, "So, are you ever going to let me tell Joe that I know that you're Immortal?"

Duncan thought briefly about the most likely way that Blair and Joe would come to have that conversation, and banished the disturbing thought. Thinking about the way Joe had drawn information out of Blair all through breakfast, Duncan chuckled, "I think it's fairly likely that he already knows, Caro."

"That's cool, I really like Joe. Do you think he's going to write about me in your chronicle?" Blair grinned at Duncan, obviously excited by the idea.

Duncan shook his head, smiling, "I have no idea kiddo. To tell you the truth, I try not to think about it."

"All of life's a stage, huh? Yeah, I could see that," Blair made a mental note not to pester Duncan about his chronicles.

They pulled up in front of Blair's apartment building, and he went digging in his backpack for his keys. Duncan went to the trunk, loading his arms with gallons of paint and brushes and pans.

"Can you get the drop cloths?'

"Sure thing. Hey, did we remember clothes to paint in?" Blair called to Duncan from inside the car, where he was stuffing everything back into his backpack.

"Oops, sorry kiddo, I didn't think of that."

Blair got out, going to the back of the car. He pulled the folded drop cloths out of the trunk. Duncan was waiting patiently, holding everything else. Blair flashed him a dazzling smile, "It's okay with me, I'm going to enjoy watching you paint in one of my t-shirts."

Duncan laughed, following Blair up the walk to the courtyard of his building. Blair opened the security gate and Duncan followed him into the building. Blair stopped to get his mail from his box in the entranceway, and they climbed the four flights of stairs together. Blair juggled the drop cloths, balancing the pile on his left hip to unlock the door to his apartment.

Going into the living room, he dumped the drop clothes on the sofa. "Hey, babe, we should open all the windows..." Blair's words were interrupted by a familiar, commanding voice,

"I took care of that for you Chief," James Ellison was sitting at his kitchen table, his feet propped up, his hands locked behind his head.

"Jim!" Blair stood frozen in shock, rooted to his spot behind the couch. Jim had broken into his apartment. Something was very wrong. The Guide mode kicked in before Blair could stop it. He recognized it in the tone of his voice as soon as he began to speak, but he couldn't do anything about it.

"What are you doing here Jim? What's going on? It's your senses, isn't it? What's happening, man?"

Jim looked uncomfortably at Duncan, who was standing directly behind Blair, his hand on his shoulder. Did Duncan MacLeod know all about him?

"Look, Chief, we need to talk, alone. Just give me an hour of your time here, Blair," Jim did his best to keep the anger from his voice. He was desperate, ready to beg Blair to come back to Cascade with him, even for a little while, but seeing Duncan MacLeod made his blood boil.

"No way," Duncan answered abruptly, tightening his grip on Blair's shoulder protectively.

Blair looked up at Duncan, surprised. "This is your decision?" he asked mildly, not sure if he was upset by Duncan taking control of the situation or not. He certainly wasn't doing anything about it on his own, Blair thought, trying to make himself think past the panicky confusion in his head.

Duncan took a deep breath, reigning in his anger, "No, Caro, it's not. It's your decision how to handle it when someone illegally breaks into your apartment." It came out harsher than he intended, and he hoped Blair realized that his anger was for Ellison and not his lover.

"Look asshole...you want to mess with a cop? You're gonna get a hell of a lot more than you bargained for, I guarantee it," Jim jumped to his feet, glaring at Duncan.

"No," Blair murmured quietly, a light touch restraining Duncan when he started to move out from behind him. He was thankful when Duncan stopped instantly, remaining tense and solid behind his back. Blair's heart was pounding in his chest, and he knew Jim could hear it. He took a deep breath, trying to get his breathing and his emotions under control. This was so not what wanted to do today.

"Look, anything you want to say to me you can say right here and now, 'cause I don't plan on going through another one of these little scenes, okay Jim? If you don't want to talk to me in front of Duncan, then you can leave, and call me when you get back to Cascade, but we're not going to talk at all unless you calm down" Adrenaline was making Blair's hands shake, but he managed to keep his voice clear.

"I'm not going to say shit in front of D'Artagnan here. Look Blair, this is important. A hell of a lot more important than your little romance."

"Jesus Christ Jim! Why do have be such a fucking asshole? I'm willing to listen to you here, and all you can do is give me shit for being gay. Haven't we done this little scene already? You can't deal with me, fine, then get the fuck out of my life! You have no right to decide what is and isn't important to me," Blair finished, slightly calmer.

The vein in Jim's forehead throbbed, and he shook his head quickly, trying to get his trailing vision under control. The roar of his own blood was painfully loud in his ears. He turned his back to Blair, his shoulders hunched, "How the hell am I supposed to react when my best friend tells me he's a faggot?"

"Look, I'm sorry I jumped on you, okay? I'm sorry I read all your signals wrong, but man, what the hell was I supposed to think?" Blair almost laughed at his own boldness.

"What does that mean?" Jim asked, his voice dangerously calm.

"It means that for four years you acted like a classically repressed, macho guy, who had the hots for me..."

Jim spun around, and Blair recognized the depth of Jim's rage, realizing that it was too late at the same moment. Before he knew it, Jim's hands grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt, ripping him from Duncan's light touch and spinning him around to slam him up against the kitchen wall.

Understanding hit Blair with the same force that his back connected to the wall, and the words came out all on their own, "I was right...you do..." Jim was obviously following his train of thought, because his fist slammed into Blair's jaw before he could finish. Blair's head snapped back, hitting the wall behind him and bouncing back.

Jim's hand closed around his throat, choking him and pressing him back against the wall. His eyes were blank, and Blair was terrified that Jim would zone with his fingers locked around his throat and choke him to death.

"Jim!" He gurgled, fighting the sinking dizziness clouding his mind.

Duncan moved faster than Blair would have thought possible, landing on top of Jim and knocking him to the floor with a loud thud. Duncan went down with him, rolling to his side. Jim jumped on top of him, but Duncan's hand came up, his palm flat and his fingers curled up to strike Jim under the chin, snapping his head back. They rolled to their feet, both men falling into a fighting crouch. Jim threw the first punch, which Duncan blocked, aiming a solid kick to his opponents knee. Jim yelled, and returned the kick, which Blair heard connect with a disgusting crunching sound. They fought in the open space near the windows, sizing each other up in the first flurry of traded blows. Duncan thought grimly that Jim Ellison was well trained, and very nearly his equal. He was also as big as a house, but Duncan was faster. He landed a solid kick to Jim's ribs, feeling the impact all the way up his leg to his hip, and smiled tightly at the loud crack that accompanied it.

Blair flattened himself up against the wall, watching them in frozen shock. His jaw throbbed painfully, distracting him. He tried frantically to decide what to do. He couldn't call the cops, it was far too dangerous for both the Sentinel and the Immortal, but it looked like they were trying to kill each other. Jim's fist landed hard across Duncan's cheek, spraying blood as his teeth cut his mouth. Duncan stumbled back from the force of the blow, knowing his cheekbone had shattered. Jim was surprised when he didn't go down, and in that second of shock Duncan's middle and index fingers struck the center of his throat with brutal force, sending him to the floor, unconscious. Duncan froze, crouching over him, panting harshly.

"Blair! Are you okay?" Duncan called urgently, not looking away from the unconscious man.

"Yeah. No. I'll deal with it later, man. Oh my God, Duncan..."

"It's okay, Blair, everything's going to be alright."

Duncan glanced over at his lover, still pressed against the wall and holding his mouth. He saw Jim move out of the corner of his eye and jumped back, just missing the kick intended for his groin.

Blair flew to the phone on the wall, snatching it off the hook, "I swear to God, Jim, I'll call the cops, and I will press charges. Don't do it. Just get the fuck out, now, right now, or I'll dial 911."

Jim sprang to his feet, spinning around to look at Blair, shock and betrayal in his eyes. Blair felt something inside him crack, the depth of the pain in his Sentinel's eyes was frightening. "Jim..." He didn't know what to say, and before he could think of anything, Jim was gone. Turning and striding quickly out the door, slamming it behind him hard enough to make the walls shake. Blair sank slowly to the floor where he was in the kitchen, his hand covering his bleeding mouth. His lower lip was split, and swelling up. It felt enormous already.

Duncan came to squat next to him, he was still winded, adrenaline and the Immortal healing racing through his blood.

"Oh my God, Duncan, your face..." Blair looked up at his lover, terrified by the amount of blood he saw.

"Just wait, Caro," Duncan groaned, his words almost unintelligible. His hands tilted Blair's face gently to the light, "Oh love..."

Duncan was preoccupied with his distress over Blair's injury, he hardly felt the familiar energy that crackled over his skin, knitting torn skin and shattered bone back together seamlessly.

"Jesus," Blair breathed, reaching up to touch his cheek. Blair felt something like a low level shock, as if he had touched an electromagnetic current. "I can feel it! That is so weird. Does it hurt?"

"No, my face hurts, but the healing doesn't. I'm a little more worried about you,Caro, we need to get some ice on this right away," his speech was much clearer now. Blair just starred up at him in shock.

Duncan rose, going to the freezer for several pieces of ice and wrapping them in the dishtowel on the countertop. Bending back down to Blair, sitting cross-legged and numb on the floor he murmured softly, "Here, let me..." Taking Blair's face in his palm he turned it up to the light again, inspecting the cut on his lip carefully. "This is deep, kiddo, I'm surprised you didn't lose any teeth."

"Hurts like hell," Blair told him, trying to feel his face with his fingertips.

Duncan caught his hand, pulling it back, "No, don't touch, you'll make it bleed again. Here, hold the ice on it. That's it, steady pressure," Duncan was moving his fingers over Blair's jaw and cheek carefully, searching for further injury. "Are you hurt anywhere else? Oh God Blair, I'm so sorry, I should have never let him get near you."

"I was right," he spoke softly, with absolute conviction.

"Blair, sweetie, you're scaring me. Do you want to go to the police?" Duncan resisted the urge to shake Blair's shoulder's and try to draw him back to him.

"No, Jim would lose his badge," Blair spoke almost as if in a trance, his voice monotone.

"Blair! The man doesn't deserve to have one. He certainly isn't stable enough to be a cop, I can't believe they let him carry a gun. If you don't want to go to the police here, you should call someone in Cascade and tell them what happened.

Blair looked up at him. "Call Simon?" he asked vaguely, still sounding as if he was a million miles away.

"Blair, love, come sit on the couch with me, okay? I want you to talk to me, Caro. I know you're upset, I am too. Come talk to me, everything's going to be alright," Duncan took Blair's hand, lifting it tenderly to his lips.

"Oh God, Duncan, I was right...all that time. I'm scared. What if he tries to hurt himself?"

He wouldn't say kill himself, he wouldn't even think it, although the sudden picture in his mind of Jim sitting on a bed somewhere with his gun to his forehead was what had prompted his panicked words.

"Caro, he's far more likely to try to hurt you than himself..."

"No, he isn't. I know what I'm talking about here, man," Blair looked into Duncan's angry brown eyes, horrified. "Oh God, what if he does? Duncan, I'm scared..."

Duncan pulled Blair into his arms, rocking him gently back and forth. "Hang in there, Caro," Duncan murmured against the top of Blair's head, "Everything's going to be okay."

"Oh God, Duncan..." Blair almost wailed.

"I know, love, I know. Everything's going to be alright," Duncan rocked him soothingly, and Blair pushed his forehead into his chest.

"Thank you," Blair whispered. "I can't believe you fought him...Oh man, I am like so messed up right now." Blair took a deep, shaky breath, his hands clutching the front of Duncan's shirt.

Duncan stroked the back of his head, "It's okay, Caro, you're allowed to be. Come on, let's get off the floor and go sit on the couch and talk, hmm?"

Blair nodded, letting Duncan help him to his feet. They went into the living room and Duncan sat in the corner of the couch, opening his arms to Blair, "Come here Caro, I need to hold you."

Blair curled up against his chest, and Duncan wrapped his arms around him gratefully. He pressed his lips to the top of Blair's curly head, closing his eyes. They rocked back and forth unconsciously, holding each other tightly.

"Are you really okay? For a minute there, I thought you were going to kill each other. I've never seen anybody fight like that, like two warriors fighting to the death. I've seen Jim beat up lots of people, but never like that." Blair looked up at Duncan, bumping his chin.

"He's been trained in hand to hand combat, Blair. He's good."

Duncan was having a hard time getting his emotions back under control. The moment Jim's fist smashed into Blair's face, rage had exploded inside him. He had wanted to kill Jim, and that disturbed him deeply,

"I'm sorry, I told you, that if he hit you I was afraid I'd lose it. I guess I lost it."

"No way man, if you had really lost it you wouldn't have stopped after you knocked him out, you would have killed him." Blair talked around the towel he was holding to his lip. He was shaking visibly.

Duncan took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, "You're right."

Blair shook his head, not sure if he was trying to deny Jim's violence or Duncan's. He felt nauseous, shaky, scared and totally overwhelmed. Something was wrong with Jim, he knew it. The Jim he knew didn't act that way. His lip throbbed, making it impossible to banish the memory of Jim's blank eyes, and his hand at his throat, choking him. Blair opened his mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was a harsh sob.

"Shh, it's okay, caro. Just let it out, it's okay," Duncan rocked them soothingly.

Blair hid his face in Duncan's chest. Duncan's voice was so gentle, such a sharp contrast to the lethal, furious person who had fought Jim. Blair felt the last of his self control snap, all the walls inside him crumbling. He sobbed brokenly against Duncan's chest. Harsh, ugly sounds that filled his almost-empty apartment. The tears burned his eyes, streaming down to soak the front of Duncan's shirt. The violent sobs split the his lip open again, and the salt of the tears stung sharply in the open cut. The loud, painful sobs that exploded from his chest wracked his body, and his breath came in hideous gasps.

Duncan clutched Blair to his chest, sheltering him in his arms. "It's alright Caro, I love you, just let it out," he encouraged softly, murmuring in Blair's ear.

Blair cried until he was exhausted, letting the terror and anger and the pain out all over Duncan. His face was a wet, snotty, bloody mess, and so was Duncan's shirt. His throat felt raw from sobbing and his breath came in halting gulps. "I'm sorry," he cried, losing it all over again when he tried to get words out.

"Shh, it's alright, Caro, you have nothing to be sorry for. It's okay," Duncan's hand rubbed circles on Blair's back soothingly, holding him close.

"I love you," Blair whispered when the sobs had died down to hiccups again.

Duncan picked up a bandanna sitting on the pile of drop clothes next to them. He used it to wipe Blair's face, pressing the cloth gently to his lip to stop the renewed bleeding. "It's going to be okay Caro, I promise. Do you want to get out of here, go back to the loft?"

Blair thought about it for a minute, and shook his head. "No, I can't be afraid to be here, I have to stay. If I leave now I won't have the guts to come back," he answered quietly. It hurt to talk, his throat was raw and his swelling lip throbbed painfully.

"Okay, so we'll stay," Duncan agreed soothingly, squeezing Blair gently.

"Thanks, I don't think he'll come back here..." Blair's words were thick and hard to understand, his lip making it almost impossible to talk.

Duncan raised Blair's red, swollen face to look at him. His voice was very gentle, "If he does, he won't hurt you again, I promise you."

"He won't, he'll go back to Cascade...maybe I should call Simon. Oh God, Duncan, I don't think I can deal with that..." Blair looked into his lover's kind eyes, fearfully.

"Shh, You don't have to, kiddo. You don't have to do anything you don't want to right now. It's going to be okay. Maybe you'll decide you want to do something about it in a couple of days, and if you can't, that's okay too," Duncan spoke to him soothingly, stroking his back.

Blair nodded, sniffling. They stayed like that for over an hour, not talking much, just holding each other and drawing comfort. Duncan realized that Blair's ice had melted all over them both, and tilted his face up to inspect the cut with two fingers under Blair's chin. "We should clean that, and put some ointment on it. My poor Caro, it looks awful."

"Yeah, I bruise in technicolor," Blair agreed, trying to smile, and wincing when he realized that involved using his swollen lip. It had swelled up hugely, his words were all b's and m's, and it hurt like hell to talk.

"Don't talk sweetie, you're making it bleed again," Duncan dabbed gently at the blood oozing from the cut lip with a dry edge of the bandanna.

"Worbse than not being able to laubgh," Blair answered, annoyed when it came out almost unintelligible.

"I know, Caro. My poor little chatterbox, we'll get you a pad of paper and a pen, okay?" Duncan brushed the hair from Blair's face tenderly. "Come on, let's go to the bathroom and see what we can find to put on this, okay?"

Blair heaved a huge sigh, nodding. He couldn't help thinking that one night's drunken stupidity had caused all this pain, and the last four months worth as well. He knew it was a lot more complicated than that, but it was easy to let himself think that way. He remembered the look in Jim's eyes when had told him he was repressed, before they went blank with rage, and sighed again. It was such an ugly mess. Knowing he had been right only made it harder to think about. He forced himself to push the painful thoughts away, reaching for Duncan's offered hand.

"This is gonna hurt, ibn't it?" Blair asked, sitting on the toilet watching Duncan squeeze antibacterial ointment onto a cotton swab.

"I'll try to be gentle Caro," he tilted Blair's face up to the light, dabbing lightly against the cut. Duncan winced, feeling the discomfort he was causing his lover. "I'm so sorry, sweetie," he murmured, spreading the ointment as quickly as he could over Blair's lower lip.

When Duncan had finished, and put the first aid supplies away, he took off his ruined shirt, going into Blair's bedroom to find one to put on. He came back wearing a sweater that was oversized on his lover, and almost fit him. The sleeves were too short, and it stretched tightly across his shoulders, but it was wearable.

"You look silly," Blair informed him, trying not to smile.

"Well, we're not exactly the same size, kiddo. You wear my clothes much better." Duncan smiled, thinking about Blair walking around the loft in nothing but one of his t shirts. "How are you doing, sweetie?"

Blair got up, walking into Duncan's arms. He sighed, resting the side of his face that wasn't swollen up against Duncan's sternum.

"Tired," Blair made a frustrated sound when the word came out with two extra syllables.

"Tired?" Duncan guessed, leading Blair back to the living room. Blair nodded, feeling like every ounce of emotion had been wrung out of him while he cried. He felt drained, spacey and exhausted.

"Lay down here, caro, I'm going to try and put this room back together, okay?"

" 'Kay." Blair lay down on his couch, looking disparagingly at the mess of papers and broken things spread across half the living room floor. Two of the boxes that he had opened and started to unpack the last time he was here had been knocked over, the contents scattering. He could see his brass singing bowl, dented badly, lying against the wall. "Just throw everything out, okay? I don't think I can deal with it."

"Oh Caro, I'm so sorry, we'll see what we can salvage, okay?" Duncan leaned down to kiss his forehead, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

"Whateber," Blair answered listlessly, making a face at the way it sounded.

Duncan began sorting through the scattered books and tapes. Most of them were fine, although a dog eared paperback's cover was torn, and several of the tape cases were cracked. The tibetan bowl was ruined, which was a shame, because it was a good one, Duncan could tell. He gathered up the papers, stacking them back in the box. Gathering the cassettes, he noticed the name on one.

"Hey, kiddo, 'Bob Marley and the Wailers', isn't that the one you were looking for?"

"You're kidding? Really? Is it playable?" Blair asked hopefully, looking up from the couch.

"Yeah, the case is cracked, but the tape's fine."

"Coulb you put it in for me?"

"Sure Caro, no problem."

Duncan went into the bedroom, bringing back Blair's boombox. He put the tape in, rewinding it. Blair sat up, reaching a hand out to Duncan. "Comb sit wibth me?" he asked, rolling his eyes at the way his words came out.

Duncan set the radio down on the coffee table, sitting next to Blair and pressing the play button when the tape stopped rewinding. The music was very much like calypso, but slower, with a pulsing, mellow, beat. The singer's voice crooned with a thick Jamaican accent, telling him that life was worth much more than gold. It was happy music, and strangely spiritual. Duncan listen to a few more bars, deciding the bouncy rhythms and the deep conviction of the lyrics reflected his lover perfectly.

"I like it."

"It's rebggae," Blair laughed shortly, unable to pronounce the word. "Neber mind," he reached for the cracked tape case, pulling the paper insert out to show Duncan. "Here, reab."

Duncan read the small print and looked at the college of pictures, learning about ska and reggae music, and the rastafari singer, who had died of cancer before this tape was released. It was called 'Legend'. The music was evocative, joyous and sorrowful by turns. Duncan felt himself lulled by the steady rhythms, stroking Blair's curls in time to the music.

"I like it, it reminds me of you," Duncan told Blair between songs.

"Thibs one reminbds me of you," Blair told him, trying to talk around his lip.

"Shh, Caro, don't talk, just listen to the music with me, this is nice," Duncan murmured in his ear, massaging his lover's temples with his fingertips.

Blair sighed, relaxing against Duncan, his back against the broad chest.

The familiar song was almost like a lullaby for him, he had played it over and over again those first few weeks alone here, the chorus was a mantra he would mumble over and over again in bed at night, curled up around his pillow.

Don't worry, about a thing

Cause every little thing, is gonna be alright

Don't worry, about a thing

Every little thing is gonna be alright

Rise up this morning

Smiled with the rising sun

Three little birds

Pitch by my doorstep

Singing sweet songs

Of melodies pure and true

Say, this is my message to you:

Don't worry, about a thing

Cause every little thing, is gonna be alright

Don't worry, about a thing

Cause every little thing is gonna be alright

Duncan listened to the sweet melody, singing the lines softly to Blair, "Don't worry, about a thing, every little thing, is gonna be alright."

"I lobve you," Blair told him, feeling as if Duncan had wrapped him up in his love. This man could be so sweet, so incredible. Blair thought that it would be wonderful if the world stopped right now, and this moment could just last forever.

"I love you, Caro. So much," Duncan answered, pressing a soft kiss to Blair's forehead.

Blair dozed in Duncan's arms, drifting in and out of sleep while the music played. Duncan ran his fingers soothingly through his hair, humming quietly. When the tape ended, Duncan flipped it over, putting it back into the deck to play the other side. He loved the singer's voice, and the way he seemed able to transmit his love for his listeners through the music. He listened to the tape a second time through while Blair slept against him, remembering Blair telling him about the song called Three Little Birds the first night, when he had taken him home from the hospital.

The apartment had grown dark. When the tape ended a second time, Duncan carried Blair to bed, settling next to him on the narrow futon. He didn't think he could sleep, but he didn't want to be far from Blair. His lover slept so lightly, anything he found to do in the apartment would surely wake him. So he lay next to Blair, stroking his temple and watching over his restless sleep.

Some time past midnight, Duncan finally drifted off to sleep, still cradling Blair in his arms.

Part 9

By Zen&nancy

Jim didn't know how the hell he'd made it back to the hotel, he didn't even remember driving. He was sitting in the parking lot, the truck idling in neutral, his hands limp in his lap. All he could hear was the sound of his own heart beating, and the blood flowing in his veins. It made a rushing sound, like waves. The setting sun spiked into his eyes, a stabbing pain that lessened, but didn't go away, when he closed them. He shut the truck off, his hand dropping back to his lap, limply. His ribs were bad, real bad. He knew at least one was broken, and he really should go to the emergency room. He was tired, and feeling kinda hazy and woozy. Jim shook his head rapidly, telling himself not to zone on the painful light, not to pass out. If he did, he figured he might never come out of it. No, the hospital wasn't a safe option right now, maybe in the morning... He groaned, opened the truck door and slid slowly to his feet. He staggered, the knee Duncan had kicked was swelling up nicely, and didn't really want to support him. He managed the short walk to the room, forcing each shuffling step and staring straight ahead.

Slumping against the wall, Jim fished the key out of his pocket. "Come on Ellison, focus," he mumbled to himself, trying to find the lock with the key. All he could see were the lines of light reflecting off the metal key and the doorknob. Vertigo was winning. He slid against the wall, finding the keyhole just as his knee gave out for good.

Dragging himself into the room, he avoided the bed. If he lay down now he'd never make himself get up again to tape his ribs. He knew if he didn't tape them, it was possible he could puncture a lung in his sleep. Dragging his almost useless left leg, Jim stumbled to his suitcase, searching blindly for the first aid kit he had packed out of habit. There was gauze, and medical tape, although probably not enough of either. Taking the roll of bandages, the tape and the disinfectant, he staggered to the bathroom.

He didn't bother to turn the light on, or even try to look at himself in the mirror, he already knew his face was a mess. Propping himself against the sink, he pulled his shirt over his head, groaning in agony. He tried to remember how to turn down the dial for pain, but every time his brain heard the word 'dial', it came up with 'Sandburg' and threatened a total systems shut down. So he slammed his fist into the sink, bouncing his knuckles off the cheap fake marble surface again and again.

Jim groaned through clenched teeth, waiting for the sharp, ugly, pain to ease a little. Finally, it did, and he could almost breath again. Reaching for the roll of gauze bandage, he began to wrap it as tightly as he could around his rib cage, starting at the top and working down. He moved very slowly, trying to keep his rib cage still while he moved his hands, wrapping tightly. It was a frustrating, painful job, and when he finally finished he had to repeat the whole procedure with the tape.

When he was finished with his ribs, he pulled a handful of kleenex from the box on the counter, soaking it in disinfectant and pressing it to the cut on his chin.

"Fuck," he growled, holding the wet tissues to the cut. It burned, felt like his whole God damn face was on fire. He wasn't up to dealing with his knee, it was swollen and it hurt like hell, but he was out of gauze and there wasn't much he could do for it. So he dragged himself back into the room, falling on the bed and yelling in pain when his middle section hit the mattress.

He stared up at the ceiling, gritting his teeth and trying to breath. He lay there for what felt like a long time, not thinking anything, just concentrating on breathing slowly and evenly. The ceiling was covered in a thick layer of dust and tobacco residue, even though this was supposed to be a non-smoking room. He watched the air currents moving, and listened to the water in the pipes.

He must have drifted off to sleep. He woke up some time later, his hand going to his side. "Jesus fucking Christ!" Jim grumbled, holding his ribs. Memory came back. Duncan MacLeod, the guy fought like a Green Beret, and had the idea that Blair belonged to him. Jim let out a growl of anger and frustration, opening his eyes to stare vacantly at the ceiling.

He tried to remember what had happened before the fight, what Blair had said, but he couldn't. All he could see in his mind was his Guide, holding the telephone and threatening to have him arrested, to press charges against him. The betrayal felt worse than anything Jim had ever felt before, far worse than the pain of his broken rib. Blank, black rage well up inside him, and he shouted,

"NOOO!" Jim sprang from the bed, looking around furiously for something to smash. The television was mounted on a metal bracket in the corner of the room, near the ceiling. He wrenched it from the wall with a primal shout, throwing it as hard as he could across the room. It smashed into the floor, the screen shattering. Jim tore methodically around the room, attacking each item ruthlessly. He turned the dresser into kindling, kicking it repeatedly with his good leg; the sound of splintering particle board was satisfying. The cheap heavy plastic table and chair were less destructible, so he threw them across the room. The base of the table smashed into the mirror on the wall. The shatter of glass added a musical ring to the sounds of smashing furniture.

Suddenly, he stopped, looking around dazedly. Get a grip, Ellison! He shook his head like a dog, trying to clear the red haze of rage from his mind. What the hell was he doing? Jim fell slowly onto the bed, his hands coming up to cover his face.

"God, Blair, help me, help me..." he crooned softly, rocking back and forth on the bed. The clock on the undamaged bedside table ticked steadily, and the water ran in the pipes and the only other sound was his own frantic heartbeat.

Jim listened carefully, scanning in a circular pattern around his hotel room and then farther out, to the parking lot, listening for someone coming to respond to his tirade. Long seconds ticked by, turning into minutes, and Jim listened for the sound of sirens, genuinely frightened for the first time in years. When no one came, he sat up cautiously, rolling to sit on the edge on the bed again, his head in his hands.

He rocked back and forth, his fists grinding into his eyes. What are you trying to do to me, Sandburg? He tried not to think about the pain, but it was all he had. He couldn't seem to pull his mind away from it. The steady, angry pain of his broken rib, and the slow, throbbing pain in his knee, and burning of the antiseptic on his face.

He was two hundred miles away from home, from anyone who knew him. The idea was both frightening and oddly liberating. He had the strange thought that if the 'copter hadn't have crashed in Peru, he would never be here. That seemed like someone else entirely, he didn't even know that man. He thought about Duncan MacLeod, and now the rage wasn't the red haze that clouded his mind, it was cold and clear and precise, zeroing in on the person that had taken his Guide away. What the hell was Duncan MacLeod? Certainly not what he seemed to be. Could he be a Sentinel as well, was that why Blair was with him? He sure knew how to fight, Jim had never even seen some of those moves.

Blair's words came back to him suddenly, "It means for four years you acted like a classically repressed, macho guy, who had the hots for me!" Oh God, was that really what his Guide thought of him? Not your Guide! His anger screamed back, reminding him of Duncan MacLeod and the pain in his ribs. Blair's contempt was worse than anything, even worse than losing him had been.

Rage, denial, and pain warred inside him, he rocked back and forth helplessly, the springs of the motel room bed frame screeching. Jim gave in, letting the emotion swallow him up. He didn't even know which pain was dominant, only that he hurt, deep inside, stronger than anything he had ever felt before.

He heard Blair's voice in his head, telling him, "It's about friendship."

A high, keening sound rose from his chest, and it took him a moment to realize that he was the one making this noise. Wetness occurred against the hands that were rubbing his eyes, and he fell back onto the bed, groaning. This is exactly what you get when you let someone become essential, his mind told him, but the fierceness of his self contempt was fading. He was tired....Jim drifted slowly, letting himself get to the edge of zoning, and pulling himself back, playing with his vision and his hearing. It was rather like playing Russian roulette. He knew if he zoned here it would all be over. No one who knew how to help him would find him. He would probably end up in a nuthouse, totally unaware of his surroundings. The idea was seductive. If he just zoned on the texture of the tiny particles on the ceiling, or the wail of the baby across the street, it would all be over. He wouldn't have to worry about how to survive without a Guide anymore.

The sun was coming up, streaming throughout the window. The rays caught his attention, lighting up the destruction of the room. It pulled him back from the edge, he had been so close, almost gone. Jim groaned softly, covering his eyes briefly. I need you Blair. How am I going to face Simon without you?

He pushed himself slowly to a sit on the edge of the bed, inspecting his knee. It hurt, but he thought maybe it was not quite as bad as it had been last night. He would go back, there was nothing else to do. He would go back to the loft and the empty room that he had scrupulously avoided for the past three months, and he would figure out something to tell Simon. He sighed, feeling his ribs gingerly. It was bad. Well, at least he had the satisfaction of knowing that Duncan MacLeod was in the same, if not worse, condition.

Jim pulled himself slowly to his feet, wondering how the hell he was going to make the four hour drive back to Cascade. Deciding against a trip to the emergency room, he stumbled painfully to his bag and the first aid kit. There was a bottle of pain reliever in it, he took three.

His suitcase was a bitch to carry. He stopped at the desk, giving the dreadlocked boy behind the desk four fifty dollar bills. He hoped it would be enough to cover the damage, it was almost all the cash he had.

The walk to the truck was slow, it seemed to take forever to make it across the parking lot. He finally did, climbing into the truck gratefully. Jim rested his forehead on the steering wheel, trying to slow his labored breathing, which hurt like hell. Come on Ellison, get past the pain, you've been worse off than this and pulled through, get it together.

He started the truck, wishing it wasn't a stick. Jim pulled out of the lot, trying not to think about what he was leaving behind him.

Part 10

By Zen&nancy

Blair woke very early the next morning. He was stiff from sleeping curled in his lover's arms, and his lip throbbed painfully. He groaned, raising a hand to feel his swollen face. Duncan was sleeping beside him, his fingers still threaded through Blair's hair.

He rolled quietly to his feet, shuffling to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Last night he'd been too upset to care what he looked like, he hadn't even noticed. Now he inspected his fat lip unhappily, staring at the red and purple swelling along his jaw.

"Great, freak show," Blair mumbled to himself miserably, going into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.

Duncan woke up when the tea kettle whistled, looking for his lover in the small room.

"Blair?"

"In the kitchen," Blair called, growling in frustration at the ridiculous way he sounded.

Duncan came up behind him to press a kiss to the back of his neck, "How are you doing, kiddo?"

"I don't know yet, let me drink some tea and I'll get back to you," Blair turned his head to kiss Duncan, remembering just in time. "That sucks!" he complained unhappily. "Bet he hit me in the mouth on purpose, just so I couldn't kiss you," Blair grumbled, trying to sip his tea out of the corner of his mouth, "I sound retarded."

Duncan smiled sympathetically, kissing the corner of Blair's mouth carefully, "I'm so sorry, Caro."

"It's not your fault...." Blair tried to tell him, pressing his fingertips to Duncan's lips.

Blair sipped his tea awkwardly, leaning against the counter top. He shook his head, setting his cup down to run a hand through his hair. "Man, that was so fucked up. I think I'm still trying to figure out if yesterday really happened... except I've got this lovely fat lip, so Jim must have been here," Blair continued sarcastically.

"Do you know what hotel he's staying at, Caro?" Duncan asked mildly, inspecting the contents of Blair's refrigerator.

"Why, so you can go over there and beat the shit out him while he's all messed up?" Blair turned on Duncan, who froze, standing with the milk carton in front of the open refrigerator. Blair's eyes were so full of distress that Duncan wanted to take him in his arms, although he knew that wasn't what Blair wanted right now.

"No, I wouldn't do that. I only wanted to check and see if he's still in town, or if he went back to Cascade. You said you thought he would. I thought you might feel better knowing he's not here. That, and if you were going to go to the police, it would be helpful to know where he's staying."

"I'm not going to the cops!" Blair almost shouted at Duncan.

Duncan took a deep breath, and managed to keep his voice calm and even when he answered, "Okay, Blair, you're not going to go to the police, fine. Please, kiddo, try to understand, it's not easy for me to just let him walk away, after he tried to strangle you. I know that you care about him, and it's your decision to make, Caro, but I can't help thinking that it's not in your best interest, or his, to do nothing."

"He wouldn't have strangled me, he was zoning, I could have pulled him out, and he's not 'just walking away'. I doubt he can walk at all. You beat the shit out him, remember?" Blair's tone of voice was slightly more reasonable, but still hostile.

Duncan sighed, setting the milk down and closing the refrigerator door. "Blair, I don't know what you expected me to do. He punched you in the face, and he had his hand around your throat. Was I supposed to just stand there and watch?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. I'm sorry..." Blair made a high pitched sound of frustration, running his hands through his hair.

"Blair, I can't let him hurt you. I can accept that he's your problem to deal with, and stay out of it if that's what you want, but I'm not able to stand there and watch him hurt you, and do nothing," desperation was creeping into Duncan's voice. He came to stand in front of Blair, taking his hands.

"Don't you see, Caro, I'm not ready to lose you..." Duncan looked into Blair's dark eyes, pleadingly.

"Oh God, Duncan, I love you..." Blair wrapped his arms around Duncan's waist, hugging him tightly.

"I'm so sorry," Blair mumbled against Duncan's shoulder. He sighed, "I don't know why I'm taking this out on you, none of this is your fault. All you did was try to protect me. But Duncan, you two beat the shit out of each other, and you're okay, you're fine. He's not. He's probably got broken bones. And there's something else, his senses are freaking out on him, I'm sure of it. That wasn't Jim, that was Jim really messed up. You have to trust me Duncan, I know him. Jim doesn't act that impulsively, and he doesn't try to kill people with his bare hands. I pushed some pretty dangerous buttons, and he snapped on me, but Jim's not going to stay here and stalk me, or anything. He came here because he needed my help, and I couldn't help him. He's going to go back to Cascade."

Blair was starting to relax against Duncan, he sighed dramatically, rubbing his forehead against Duncan's shoulder.

"I believe you, Blair, and I trust your judgment. It really is your decision to make. I just need you to understand how precious you are to me," Duncan told him honestly.

Blair's expression softened, and he gave Duncan a lopsided smile, "I know you do old man, and I'm not going to leave you anytime soon..." His eyes became serious again, "Jim is my problem, Duncan, and I need you to accept that. It's like me having to deal with idea that anytime you get that little tingle at the back of your neck you're probably going to have to go fight, and maybe you won't come back. Look, whether I like it or not, whether we can deal with each other or not, I am responsible for him, to an extent...Duncan, if it weren't for me, Jim might not have learned to develop his senses at all. He might have just had that one episode and gotten over it and just blocked them, or he could have zoned permanently and wound up in a psyche ward, or dead. In a lot of ways, you could say I'm directly responsible for him becoming a Sentinel in the first place. I don't know if I can help him, I think he's going to have to help himself, but I am his Guide, and it's not like he can just go find a new one..."

Duncan put his hands on his lover's shoulders, "I think your loyalty is one of the things I love best about you. Do what you think is right."

Blair shook his head, "Oh man, I don't even know what that is. I never do with him. It's always a guessing game. I mean, I didn't have any idea what a Guide was supposed to be, I just sort of winged it, and most of the time it worked. It just feels so weird to be the cause and not the cure."

Duncan thought about what Blair had said, trying to see the situation from his lover's point of view. He understood that it was a matter of honor and duty, as well as friendship, "You can't help him if he's attacking you. What do you think is the cause of the problems you think he's having with his abilities?"

Blair took a big breath, exhaling noisily, "Me. Me leaving. A Sentinel needs a guide."

"And do you want to go back to him?" Duncan asked softly, his arms around Blair loosening.

"No. But part of me does want to help him. I'm here, man, this is my life, and l love you, you have to believe that."

"I do, Caro, I'm sorry. Forgive me if I need to hear it this morning?" Duncan asked, smiling.

Blair shook his head, wishing he could kiss Duncan. "No, don't be sorry. I love you, Duncan, I've never felt this way about anybody before. I could tell you all day..."

Duncan pulled him close, kissing the right side of his mouth carefully, "You'd just swell my head," he told Blair, nuzzling his neck. Blair leaned against his lover, letting Duncan hold him up. It felt so good, to just close his eyes and draw Duncan's strength.

"You know, buddy, if this whole mess were the other way around, if it was someone from your past, I don't know how well I'd deal with it. I mean, anybody else would either have called the cops, or just dumped me by now. Jim is an awful lot to expect someone to understand."

"And Immortality isn't?" Duncan asked, smiling at his lover. "I'm going to go take a shower, do you want to join me?"

Blair sipped his tea, letting his hair fall forward to hide his eyes intentionally, "No, go ahead. I've got papers to grade."

Duncan shrugged, not surprised by Blair's refusal, "Okay, can't blame me for trying," he grinned, going into the bathroom and closing the door.

Blair leaned against the kitchen counter, feeling his lower lip gingerly. The bruises were dark, over the left side of his mouth and his cheek, and the swelling didn't seem to have gone down any overnight. He touched the cut on his lip self consciously. He didn't want to go outside, didn't want anybody to see that Jim had hit him. The reality of yesterday afternoon was starting to really sink in for Blair. In spite of everything, Jim's disgust hurt just as much as it had three months ago. It was almost impossible to stay angry at him. Every time he thought about it, all he saw was the hurt and surprise in Jim's eyes when he'd threatened to call the cops. He didn't even want to think about having to go to school on Monday. Blair hoped that Duncan would be willing to stay inside and paint today, maybe he could put off dealing with the world until tomorrow.

Dammit, Jim, I am so worried about you, and I am so fucking pissed at you. Why can't you accept me? Blair finished his tea, wandering listlessly to the living room and curling up on the couch. He didn't know how to fight the feelings that were taking over. He was horrified by the way he had turned on his Sentinel, and frightened by Jim's obvious lack of control. Something was very wrong, and if he didn't find out what it was, he might regret it for the rest of his life. He didn't know how he was going to deal with handling Jim, the idea scared the hell out him, but even now, he had a responsibility to the man that he couldn't deny.

Duncan came out of the bathroom in jeans he'd worn yesterday, and one of Blair's old tie-dyes, which was tight enough to show off of his muscles. "Hey kiddo, you okay?" Duncan asked, coming to sit next to Blair on the couch. His hair was still wet, and he smelled like soap and the new shampoo Blair had bought.

"Yeah, just trying to figure out how I'm going to handle this. You smell really good," Blair tried to smile at Duncan, and winced instead.

"Don't worry, you'll find a way. Do you really want to paint today? If you don't, we don't have to. If you want to get out of the house..."

"No, let's paint," Blair interrupted, too quickly.

Duncan's winced, bringing his hand up to stroke Blair's jaw tenderly, "Don't be ashamed, Caro. I'll tell everyone you kicked his ass, I promise."

Blair ducked his head miserably, "Like anyone in there right mind would believe you."

"Oh sweetie, come here," Duncan opened his arms to Blair, who curled up into a tight ball against his chest.

"I'm being such a baby. I'm sorry."

"Shh, don't be silly. You're upset, I'd be a lot more worried if you weren't. I know it's hard, kiddo, but I'm here for you, and I love you. Everything's going to be okay."

"You are like, so incredible."

Duncan smiled, kissing Blair's temple. Blair let Duncan hold him for a little while, drawing comfort from his loving embrace. Duncan broke the silence, speaking quietly.

"What do you think made Jim come here now, after you've been gone for three months? If you're right, and he's having problems zoning out or whatever, why did it take him this long to ask you to come back?"

Blair shook his head, shrugging, "I have no idea, man. He's proud...and he's real good at repression. I don't know, maybe something happened to change his mind. Or maybe..." Blair's words trailed off, his eyes closing in pain. "I don't know, Duncan."

"I'm sorry, kiddo. I didn't want to upset you. It just seems strange to me...It doesn't matter. Should we get started on this painting thing? Where do you want to start?"

Blair lifted his head to smile at him, "Yeah, that'd be good. Let's start with the kitchen, it needs it the worst, then maybe the bathroom."

"Sounds good. Why don't you spread the drop cloths and I'll start masking the cabinets."

"Deal. I love you."

Duncan smiled, kissing Blair's temple, "I love you too."

They painted all afternoon, taking a break to order Chinese food when the kitchen was finished. Blair decided it looked one hundred percent better. Now all it needed was better lighting. That florescent was going to drive him crazy. Standing in the doorway, surveying their work, Blair wiped a smear of paint on his forearm onto his jeans.

"What do you know about wiring?"

"Mmm, I'm beginning to think mine are definitely crossed..." Duncan teased, touching up the floorboards.

"I was thinking about track lights."

"Okay, I think we can figure that out. How do you think your landlord is going to feel about you cutting holes in the ceiling?"

"Landlord? You mean the slumlord who turns the setting on the furnace down to sixty five at night? I couldn't care less. What color?"

"Black. We could put new tile down, too, if you really wanted to."

"Sounds expensive. If I don't get rid of that florescent though, I'm going to go nuts. Those things are evil."

Duncan laughed, but he agreed with him. "Okay, next weekend, lights."

Blair beamed, "You're the best."

The buzzer sounded, and Blair went to let the delivery guy in. They ate in the living room, sitting on the floor beneath the windows.

"I think it might be a good idea to sleep at the loft tonight, kiddo. Are the paint fumes getting to you?"

Blair shrugged, stuffing Egg Foo Yung carefully into the corner of his mouth. "How am I supposed to tell? I think I've had a headache since I walked in here yesterday and Jim was sitting at my table."

Just at the moment Blair said his name, as if on cue, the phone rang. Blair froze, starring at it.

"You don't have to answer it, Caro..." Duncan murmured, watching his lover with growing concern.

"Yeah, I do. It's okay, it's cool," Blair reassured both Duncan and himself, getting up an going into the kitchen.

"Hello?"

"Blair?"

"Simon? Oh my God, is Jim okay?"

"Calm down Sandburg. No, he's not okay, but he's not feeling any pain at the moment. I need to talk to you Blair..."

"Is he in the hospital?" Blair interrupted, his brain still on emergency alert.

"No, he's drunk. Passed out on his couch, and will probably stay that way for several hours. Sandburg, what the hell happened down there?"

"Um, that might be kind of a confusing story, Simon."

"Why does that not surprise me. Look, Blair, I sent him down there to talk to you, try to straighten out whatever went wrong between you two. Jim wouldn't tell me what you fought about when you left, and you disappeared practically overnight..."

"Yeah, well, it seemed like the most viable option. And uh, actually, Simon, he kicked me out."

"Why?" Simon demanded, sounding very determined to get an answer.

"Um, oh gosh, Simon, I don't think you want to hear about this... uh, do we really have to go there, man?"

"Is this going to be a Sentinel/Guide thing that completely confuses me?"

"Maybe. No. It doesn't matter. Oh, jeez, okay, fine. It was the night of Howard's party. I was really drunk. We went home. I kissed him. He punched me in the mouth. He told me to get the hell out. I left," Blair exhaled a deep breath, staring at the cracked tile of his kitchen floor.

"I see. Well, now I understand why Jim wouldn't talk about it. Did he know...never mind, it's none of my business, and I really don't want to get involved here. However, I would like to know what happened while he was down there. He looks like he took on a platoon of marines, Sandburg, what the hell happened? Are you okay?"

"I've got a fat lip, but yeah, I'm okay. How's Jim? Did you take him to a hospital?"

"Sandburg! What happened?"

"Uhng, it's ugly. Okay, Simon. He showed up at my office and he told me he wanted me to move back to Cascade, just like that. Come on, Sandburg, get your coat, lets go. I said no. He went kinda ballistic, put me up against a wall. That was Friday. I didn't see him again until yesterday afternoon. He broke into my apartment. He was here when I walked in, and he was like, totally not in control, and we argued. He punched me and Duncan jumped on him and it got really ugly after that..."

"I'm assuming Duncan is your..." Simon's voice trailed off.

"Yeah. I think the word is boyfriend, for now anyway," Blair smiled at Duncan across the room. He was sitting tensely on the couch, looking concerned.

"Okay, that makes a little more sense, at least. I couldn't get anything out of Ellison."

"How is he, Simon? Bad?"

"He gets any worse and I'm going to have to take his badge and his gun. I'm pretty damn close to doing it right now, Sandburg. That's why I called. I don't want to, but I'm going to have to put him on temporary suspension, at the very least."

"Ah, Captain, don't do that. You have no idea how hard he's going to take it. Jim is not capable of dealing with someone telling him he's isn't in control of himself right now."

"Blair, you're not listening to me. He's not in control. I can't have him having these zone outs every other day, and going ballistic on witnesses. The man has not said one single civil word since you left. You need to talk..."

"I'm not sure I can do that, Simon. Is he really that bad? Every other day?"

"Until I chained him to his desk. He hasn't been on the streets for the past two weeks, although it's not much better. He's been drinking..."

"Jim doesn't drink, not to get drunk, anyway."

"Tell that to the empty whiskey bottles lined up in his kitchen."

"When did the zoneouts start? Is there anything else? Is he having trouble with trails, or echoes? Is he losing an individual sense altogether?"

"I don't know, Sandburg, he hasn't given me a straight answer about anything for weeks. You're the Guide. Please, Blair, I'm asking you as a friend, just talk to him."

"Okay, Simon, tell him to call me. I'm not making any promises..."

"Thank you Blair, I'm sure this has been hard on you, too. He really needs your help, even if he is acting like a complete jackass."

"I don't know if he's going to let me help him, or if I can be of any help at all, but I'll try."

"Thanks kid. You doing okay down there?"

"Yeah, I am, really good. Say hi to Joel and everybody for me, okay?"

"Will do. I'll go over there tomorrow, sober him up, make him understand that if he wants to keep his badge, calling you is definitely on his agenda. Along with a visit to the department psychologist."

"I don't envy you Simon. Take care."

Blair said goodbye, setting the phone in it's cradle on the wall. He stood there starring at it for several minutes, as if waiting for it to ring again.

"Blair?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Can we get out of here?"

"Absolutely." Duncan stood up to join Blair in the kitchen, resting a hand on his shoulder, "What did he say?"

"He said he's going to take Jim's badge and his gun...Can we talk in the car? I really need to get out of here for awhile."

"Sure, do you want to grab some clothes?" Duncan was capping the paint gallons and picking up the mess they'd made.

"No, I've got stuff at the loft. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a spaz, I just can't handle it here all of the sudden."

Blair was bouncing on the balls of his feet, trying to keep himself from having a panic attack.

Duncan took one more look at his lover, grabbed his keys off the counter top and Blair's hand, "Okay, kiddo, let's go."

Blair waited impatiently for Duncan to lock the door, bounding down the steps as soon as Duncan turned towards him. He seemed to calm down as soon as he was outside. The fresh air helped. Duncan opened the door for him, and Blair slid into the T-bird. He felt like he needed to put some distance between himself and the phone call with Simon. Scooting over, Blair leaned against Duncan, dropping his head to his shoulder.

"Tell me I'm not a headcase."

"You're not a headcase, but I'd love you even if you were." Duncan gave a tug on one of Blair's curls.

Blair smiled in spite of his split lip, "That's good."

The remainder of the ride to the loft was quiet. Blair kept his head on Duncan's shoulder, watching the wet city night passing by. He wasn't thinking about anything, just floating, enjoying the feel of Duncan beside him and the motion of the car. Duncan promised himself to give Blair all the time he needed. When he was able to, he'd talk about the phone call with Simon. Until then Blair just needed to know that Duncan was on his side, and that he was loved.

Blair leaned back against the wall of the elevator, sighing, "I'm glad we came back here. Maybe I'll be able to think about all this shit if I'm just a little further away from it."

"That's good, Caro. I'm glad you feel at home here. You know, if you change your mind, about moving in, I'd still love to have you here."

"A very tempting offer. I think I'm going to have to keep thinking about it. I really love it here, although, it's almost better to have it to come to, you know?" Blair hung up his coat, going to the refrigerator for beers.

Duncan took the bottle Blair offered him, leaning down to kiss him gently at the corner of his mouth. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Blair smiled, wishing more than anything that he could kiss Duncan for real.

"I know, sweetie," Duncan murmured consolingly, wrapping his arms around the smaller man. "It'll heal."

"Not fast enough."

"You're one big knot here, kiddo. Come on, sit on the couch with me, I'll give you a backrub." Duncan's hands stopped kneading Blair's shoulders long enough to lead him over to the couch.

"Now that I won't refuse. Oh man, that feels so good," Blair groaned, trying to relax under the strong hands that were manipulating his back and shoulders.

"That's good," Duncan murmured, digging his fingers gently into the rocks in his lover's back.

"Oh, yeah, there...thank you so much..."

"My pleasure, Caro."

Blair closed his eyes, giving in to Duncan's strong hands. When he finally started to relax a little, he told Duncan about the phone call with Simon.

"Simon says he's drinking, and that he's been zoning almost every day. He's going to put Jim on temporary suspension."

"He called to ask you for your help?" Duncan clarified softly, his thumbs digging in to Blair's shoulder blades.

"Ahh... Yeah, he did. I promised him I would..."

"Blair, it's okay. You don't have to feel guilty, or apologize. It's your decision to make, you just do what you think is right, and don't worry about me. Okay? I'll be on your side no matter what you decide to do."

Blair leaned back against Duncan, and his lover's strong arms wrapped around his waist. He sighed, "You are so incredible, Duncan. I love you so much, I wish Jim could have just an ounce of your acceptance. He is so rigid. I mean, it's not really his fault, it's the way he was raised, and the Army helped too, I'm sure...but he can be really hard to get through to. Especially now. I just don't know how I'm going to help him. Frankly, the idea scares the shit out of me, and it feels, like, so totally wrong to be afraid of him..."

"Are you going to call him?" Duncan asked, his fingers stroking through Blair's curls.

"No, I told Simon to tell him to call me. If we're going to have any kind of interaction at this point, he's the one who's going to have to make the effort."

"That's good. I think you're handling this really well."

Blair chuckled, "You have an extremely biased opinion, man."

Duncan nuzzled the back of his neck, pushing the thick curls to the side to kiss him. "Mmm, I do."

"You think that the problems he's having with his senses are related to his repression of his feelings for you, don't you?" Duncan asked softly.

Blair leaned his head back into Duncan's shoulder, sighing, "Yeah, I do. How did you figure that out?"

Duncan shrugged, "It makes sense. Pardon the pun."

"Does it? I never know if I'm just going totally off the deep end, or if I'm right."

"Well, I guess I don't know either, Caro, but it does sound likely."

"It feels so weird, to think I was right, all that time. I kept hoping that if I was patient, eventually, he'd just wake up and realize what was there...I wanted it so badly, Duncan. And now, man, it is like, so totally confusing. I wish I'd been wrong... I don't want to be causing him all this pain. I think it'd be better if he just hated my guts."

"Blair, it's not your fault. None of it. It's not your fault. You don't owe him anything, unless you decide that you do. Don't let them use guilt to influence you."

"Oh man, I could write an entire dissertation on Guide-guilt alone. Even now, there's a part of me that is screaming that I should be there, that I'm fucking up. It's like, this instinct, to be there when he needs me, I don't know how to turn it off."

"Do you want to?" Duncan asked gently, very glad that Blair was finally facing his feelings.

"No, I don't know... I guess I'm hoping that I can redefine what it means to be his Guide. I want to help him, I have to, but I won't go back. If I can't make him understand that he's going to have to be honest with himself, and deal with me on my terms, then I don't think I'll be able to help him at all. I can't let him lose his badge, Duncan, it would kill him. In this society, he has to be a cop to be a Sentinel. I have to find a way to get through to him..."

"Well, that may be easier without me hovering over you. I know it made him angry, to see you with another man..."

"Do you really think it was that basic? I mean, setting all the sexual stuff aside, on a purely emotional level, I can see him reacting with the whole blessed protector thing, and a Sentinel feeling territorial about his Guide makes sense, too. I don't know, I guess I assumed it would just totally disgust him to see me with another guy, being affectionate or whatever, because that's the way he reacted when I kissed him that night. Just total straight-guy fury."

"I think you did surprise him, but he's had three months to think about all this, too."

"You think? I don't know, I guess I never consider Jim being like that, questioning anything he does, or ever changing at all. He's just so...like a rock. Absolutely certain."

"Honestly, Blair, I don't think Jim is certain of anything right now."

Blair sighed, "You're right. I know I idolized him, put him up on a pedestal... I couldn't help it, he was so strong. I don't think I was ever very objective. I mean, all the tests I did, all the time I spent studying him, writing about him, and I still only really saw what I wanted to see. I still turned him into a hero, someone to worship. That is so wrong."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, caro. Unrequited love is a powerful thing."

"Oh man, tell me about it." Blair finished his beer, getting up to throw away the bottle. "I spent four years there, Duncan. I think I got pretty obsessive towards the end. He was my life, I didn't do anything that wasn't about helping Jim. I didn't want to. I didn't even want to finish the thesis, I put it off for almost a year after it was finished. I put off my life, everything I'd worked for, just to be with him. I had enough material to write four papers, Duncan. Boxes and boxes of notes. I just didn't want it to end, I didn't want anything to change. Always knowing that he could hear everything, that he could hear my heartbeat and my pulse, always being terrified that he was going to figure it out... It was a four year study in self control and obsessive compulsive behavior, man. It was hell, but I was happy. It was the longest I've ever stayed in one place in my life, and probably the closest friendship I've ever had. The police work was really rough, sometimes, but I got used to it, I guess." Blair paused for air, coming back to sit on the couch with Duncan.

"I missed him so much at first. This was the hardest starting-over I've ever had, and I can't even tell you how many times I've moved to a new place. I still miss him, but I don't miss my life with him. Loving Jim was like loving a brick wall. I mean nothing is going to get through, but that brick wall is going to be there to protect you from anything, and there is absolutely no getting around it, it's always there... God, Duncan, you have no idea how good it is to be in a normal relationship, not that either of us are normal, but you know what I mean. I love you so much, I love my life with you. It's so different, sometimes I still just stop, totally amazed."

"Me too," Duncan smiled, pulling Blair close for a moment. "You are more than I could have ever thought to ask for, Blair. You give me things I didn't even know I needed. I am so much more alive with you, Caro."

"That is like, so cool." Blair traced Duncan's features lightly with his fingertips, "You know, I love that you will always look like this, that your face will never change. I'll always see you just like this...you'll always look exactly like you did the first time I saw you."

Duncan smiled, thinking that it was so very Blair to see it that way, rather than worrying about his own aging and mortality. "Yes, but you will be gorgeous with white streaks in this hair. Promise me you won't cut it?"

Blair laughed, "That's an easy one to make, I think I'd cut off a finger before I'd cut my hair."

"Do you have papers to grade tonight, kiddo? I have some work to do for my lecture on Tuesday, but it can wait..."

Blair shook his head, "No, you know I do... just procrastinating. I'm going to be up all night, I really should get started."

"I'll make you a pot of coffee." Duncan got up, going into the kitchen.

"Thanks, man, that'd be great."

Blair brought his backpack to the couch, spreading the folders out in front of him on the coffee table. " At least I'm down to four classes, I thought six was going to send me right over the edge. Promise me that next time they ask me to take a class for someone you'll make me say no."

Duncan smiled at him, pouring water into the coffee maker, "No, I won't, because you know you'll say yes. You really enjoyed Professor Rodman's classes."

"Oh yeah, working with the grad students was awesome, even if it was really hard to remember I wasn't one of them, but the work load nearly killed me. I mean, here I am bitching about three hundred papers, when two weeks ago there were twice as many."

Duncan nodded, thinking that he was very glad that Blair's class schedule was a little more reasonable now that the other professor was back from his trip to Australia.

"Is there room for me over there in that mess, or should I work here at the counter?"

"No, sit here with me, I'll make room," Blair smiled, stacking the folders he'd spread out on the couch on the floor beside him. Taking out his glasses and a red pen, he started in on the first of the Diversity and Developments tests from last Friday.

Duncan went to his desk, getting the notebook with the outline for Tuesday's lecture in it. Settling at the opposite end of the couch, Duncan let himself watch Blair for a moment. He looked so different with his glasses on, much more like the Anthropologist he really was. Duncan thought it was incredibly attractive, the way the wire rimmed glasses held his mop of hair away from his face, framing it instead of falling in his eyes. They made his dark eyes look even bluer, and his features softer.

Blair was such a striking combination of masculinity and femininity, and he was so comfortable with the balance, in both his appearance and his personality. It was what made him so special, Duncan thought. Blair wasn't the least bit uncomfortable with any aspect of his sexuality, and although he wasn't at all submissive, he was perfectly happy to let Duncan carry him around, or even let him spoil him a little, buying him things for his apartment. It made him happy, to do things for Blair, and it was wonderful that Blair let him, without feeling 'kept' or demeaned by it. It had nothing to do with his gender, really, it was just in his nature to take care of people he loved, it made him happy.

Duncan sighed, pushing back the thoughts of all the things he wanted to do for his lover, all the ways he could please him, for later, when their work was done. He got up, going to the bookshelf to get one of his own books on ancient weaponry to help with the facts he wanted. When he sat down again Blair reached out with his left hand to twine his finger's lightly with Duncan's.

"Love you," he murmured, not looking up from the paper he was reading.

"I love you, Caro," Duncan squeezed his fingers lightly, leaving their hands stretched across the couch, resting on the cushion between them.

Two hours later, Blair put down the last of the tests with a sigh of relief. He took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes before putting them back on again. "That's it, the Diversity and Development's are all done, and the Anth.and Arc's, too. Only two more to go. Maybe I'll even make them wait one more day for the Cultural Anthro essays."

"That's great, do you want another cup of coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks, that'd be great." Blair stretched, arching back over the edge of the couch.

"You're undoing all my hard work hunching over those papers like that, aren't you?"

"Yep," Blair grinned at his lover, who was stirring sugar into his coffee for him.

"Take a break?" Duncan asked, handing Blair his coffee cup. His eyes sparkled, mischievously.

"Well...I did finish these faster than I thought I would. I suppose I could take a little break..." Blair grinned, his fingers reaching up to Duncan's shirt, hooking under the top button to pull him down next to him on the couch.

Duncan's arm went around his shoulders, pulling him close. He kissed Blair very gently, careful not to touch the swollen side of his lower lip. Blair sighed, reaching up to pull his glasses off. Duncan's hand caught his wrist, stopping him.

"No, leave them, I like the way you look with your glasses, Caro, very sexy..." Duncan's fingers trailed down Blair's left cheek.

Blair laughed self consciously, "I look like a nerd."

"Oh no, you don't," Duncan raised Blair's hand to his lips, pressing a warm kiss into his palm. His lips lingered, caressing the hand he held with his thumb and forefinger spanning Blair's wrist.

"Duncan..." Blair breathed, his eyes drifting shut as the soft lips caressed his palm again, the tip of Duncan's tongue tracing the lines of his hand.

"Mmm," his lover agreed, his tongue tracing a hot circle in the center of the palm. "You are so good to have, Blair," Duncan told him huskily, his lips drifting up his wrist, drawing his tongue across the sensitive skin until he found the rapid pulse. Blair groaned, the pen falling from his other hand, uncapped, leaving a red dot on the hardwood floor. Duncan was biting his wrist, nipping lightly over Blair's pulse, and then sucking. His lips formed an oval over the pulse he could feel now, beating rapidly.

"When you do that..." Blair groaned, pulling Duncan roughly against him and kissing him desperately, hurting himself and not caring at all. His lip throbbing barely even registered in his mind. There was so much more to feel... Duncan's hand on his back, warm and hard, holding him. Duncan's hard thigh, pressing deliciously against his. Duncan's lips, so soft, even fuller than his own, and the slight trace of malt on his tongue from the dark beer he'd drunk.

"Your lip..." Duncan murmured, pulling back reluctantly.

"I need this, Duncan," Blair's voice was deep, his eyes searching Duncan's, solemnly.

Duncan's finger's pushed the buttons on Blair's shirt through their holes, brushing the cloth aside to touch him, his fingertips grazing over the small nipples.

"Just let me love you, Caro. I can live without your mouth if I can have the rest of you," Duncan raised his hand, brushing Blair's bruised cheek gently.

"It's making me crazy, I want to kiss you so badly..." Blair almost whined, squirming against Duncan until his lover took his hips in his hands, pushing Blair back against the corner of the couch. Stretching Blair out to lean over him, one hand bracing his weight on the edge of the leather cushion, Duncan kissed his nose.

"I know, Caro, it's awful," Duncan consoled him, his hands returning to Blair's chest, stroking him ardently. "I love your mouth, I love to kiss you, you have the softest lips...but there are other parts of you that are even nicer," Duncan bent his head, his lips closing over the nipple he had teased to a hard point.

"Ahh," Blair moaned, arching against Duncan's mouth.

Duncan's mouth moved slowly over his chest, his tongue paying careful attention to every inch of bare skin.

"Duncan... want you. Oh God, Duncan, I want you so badly. Want you inside me..."

"You're impatient,"Duncan teased, flicking his tongue rapidly across his lover's hard nipple, rolling the other in his fingers.

"Yeah... can't help it. I need you to make it all go away. Make me forget about it."

Duncan's hands slid down to his waist, his fingers working the button on Blair's blue jeans free.

"I will, Caro, I promise," he whispered, pulling Blair's jeans down his legs and off of him. Blair was watching him, trying to hold still for him and failing miserably.

Duncan's hands roamed over his body, stroking and petting until Blair was squirming and whimpering beneath him. His hands reached for Duncan's shoulders, trying to pull him down to kiss him.

"No love, your lip," Duncan reminded him gently, bending down to kiss Blair's neck instead.

Blair groaned, frustrated, and turned his head to the side to give Duncan better access to his throat. He panted softly as Duncan's teeth nipped down his neck, sucking hard for just a second at the hollow of his throat. It felt so good to give himself up to the hunger for Duncan's touch. Just for a little while, he wanted to forget all about Jim and school and responsibility.

Blair threw his head back, groaning. Duncan's wandering hands had finally reached his cock, touching him with feather light strokes up and down his straining erection.

"P-please?" Blair whimpered, thrusting up anxiously into Duncan's hand.

"Yes, Caro," Duncan assured him, nuzzling and then biting his ear, sucking the earlobe with it's silver ring into his mouth as his long fingers closed lightly into a fist around his lover's cock.

"Oh yeah... Oh please, Duncan, don't stop. Oh God that's nice," Blair groaned helplessly, melting into Duncan's touch.

"I love you," Duncan whispered, his breath hot in his ear.

"Mmm," Blair moaned in answer, as his lover slid down his body to run his tongue down the length of his cock.

Duncan's moist little flicks and licks were driving him higher and higher, until all he could comprehend was pleasure. His lover's wet, pointed tongue played up and down the underside of his cock, taking his breath away with the pure, intense pleasure. Blair cried out when Duncan's lips closed around the head, his tongue swirling the drops of precum oozing from him around and around his sensitive tip.

"Ah, God, Duncan..." Blair groaned helplessly, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He lifted his hips, arching towards the heat of Duncan's mouth.

"More? Please? Oh yeah, mmm," Blair writhed in delight as Duncan sucked him slowly into the back of his throat.

Just a few minutes of Duncan's mouth moving over him, sucking hard, his tongue dancing up and down his cock, and Blair felt himself start to lose control. All his muscles tensed, anticipating orgasm.

"N-no," Blair's fingers groped for his lover's long hair, trying to form words. "You have to stop... I'm going to come... Please, Duncan, I want you inside me..."

Duncan lifted his head, his dark eyes burning with love and desire. "Come here," he whispered roughly, pulling Blair out of the corner he had wriggled himself into.

Blair wrapped his legs tightly around his lover's waist, his arms reaching up to lock around Duncan's neck as he rose, carrying him the short distance to the bed. Blair scrambled across the bed as soon as he was dropped, digging the tube of lubricant out of the bedside table drawer. Duncan was standing next to him, stripping hurriedly. When he was naked, he knelt on the bed, reaching for Blair and pulling him close.

"Now?" Blair asked anxiously, wriggling out of Duncan's arms to turn onto his stomach.

Duncan chuckled, enjoying the sight of Blair's squirming backside. He reached for the tube, squeezing the cold lubricant into his palm to warm it before touching his lover.

"You are impatient tonight, Caro."

"Can't help it, it's your fault..." Blair moaned, grinding his hips urgently into the mattress.

Duncan positioned himself between his lover's thighs, spreading the lubricant hurriedly over his aching cock. "Easy, Caro, hold still for me," Duncan whispered in his ear, his cock nestling in the valley between his cheeks, rubbing maddeningly up and down, spreading the slickness of the lube over his skin.

"Duncan..." Blair groaned, trying to hold still as the thing he wanted most in the world slid elusively across him.

"Please... inside, now. Oh God, yes, there, oh there, please...ahhh," Duncan thrust slowly inside his body, holding his hips still with a iron grip.

"So tight," Duncan muttered in his ear, his right hand moving from Blair's hip to his cock, cupping his balls briefly before closing his fist around him.

He pulled back, plunging deeper into the incredible heat of his lover's body, savoring the sensation of Blair relaxing beneath him, opening up to accept him into his body.

"Ahh, love, I am so yours," Blair moaned in ecstasy, pushing back up against him.

Duncan thrust deeply inside him in answer, his mouth laying claim to the back of his neck. Blair writhed beneath him, already almost out of control, his cock pushing desperately into Duncan's hand.

Duncan groaned, thrusting again and again into the heavenly heat of Blair's body, the pace hard and fast.

"Oh yeah... like that... ahh, Duncan!" Blair shouted, urging his lover to an even faster pace, until they were moving together. Duncan's cock was slamming into his ass as his cock thrust hard against Duncan's fist. Blair moaned, his voice rising in pitch and volume as he felt the tightening in his balls that signaled the beginning of the end.

Duncan groaned, losing control altogether as he slammed into his lover's body, the heat and friction robbing him of the ability to even form a coherent though. Pleasure flooded his brain and he sank gratefully into Blair, his hand still pumping his cock spasmodically.

Blair screamed, coming long and hard, covering Duncan's hand and his belly with hot fluid. Duncan's other arm wrapped tightly around his chest, holding Blair pressed against him as he sank one last time into the tight channel, groaning his name as he came inside him.

Blair moved first, wriggling off his lover's softening cock and out from under his weight.

"Did I kill you?" Duncan asked, still unable to move at all.

"You blew out every brain cell I had left, and if I don't get them back I won't complain at all," Blair groaned, rolling to his side to smile at his lover.

"But, I didn't hurt you?" Duncan asked, reaching out one arm to pull Blair close.

"Oh no, you never hurt me. You are the most considerate, and the most incredible, lover I've ever had. And did I mention the most talented? Definitely the most beautiful, possibly the most insatiable..." Blair continued humorously, as Duncan's hand covered his softening cock.

"No, I just like to hold you," Duncan told him, tremendously pleased with Blair's compliments.

"Mmm, thank you, I feel so much better. I think I really needed that."

"My pleasure, Caro," Duncan growled softly, rolling to his side to press a kiss to Blair's shoulder.

Blair sighed contentedly, his fingers combing through his lover's tangled hair. "I'm going to have to get up and go back to those papers sooner or later," Blair told him softly, reluctant to leave the bed and Duncan's warm, sleepy body.

"I left the coffee pot on for you," Duncan mumbled sleepily, reaching for Blair's hand to press one more kiss to his palm.

"Thanks. I should get up, if I don't I'm going to fall asleep with you," Blair sat up, leaning over to kiss Duncan softly. "Sleep well, handsome."

"Mmm, I love you," Duncan mumbled, sighing happily when Blair pulled the covers up over him, kissing his forehead lightly.

Blair smiled, watching Duncan for another moment before forcing himself to crawl out of bed and back to the papers waiting to be graded. He went to the bathroom to take a quick shower, moving quietly so that he wouldn't wake Duncan, who was already snoring softly.

Blair sat on the couch, wrapped in Duncan's thick robe, his hair still wet from his shower. He sipped his coffee, thinking that this was the most peaceful he'd felt all day. He listened to his lover's breathing, looking around the loft contentedly. It felt so good here. It had felt like home from the very first moment he'd been here. Maybe he would accept Duncan's offer. Things just seemed to keep going wrong at his apartment. Every time he tried to spend any time there life seemed to get worse. He knew it would make Duncan happy, and really, he couldn't think of any reason why he shouldn't.

He loved Duncan, more than he had ever loved anyone, even Jim. Life with him was better than Blair had ever imagined it could be. Still, something inside him didn't want to give up his apartment. He hadn't had a place of his own in years. What if he'd forgotten how to be on his own? He'd assimilated his life so completely with Jim's, he became so dependent on him. Blair didn't want that to happen with Duncan. But, the two situations were so completely different. Blair knew that if he moved into the loft, Duncan would do everything he could to make Blair feel that it was his home, too.

It was something he was going to have to think about a lot more, Blair decided. Living with Duncan sounded wonderful, although part of him worried that maybe Duncan would get sick of him if he lived here. His apartment seemed like just another reminder of Jim now, and all the mistakes he'd made. Still, he wasn't sure he could give it up.

Blair picked up the folder of essays, telling himself that he didn't have to make the decision right now. Duncan had told him that if he ever changed his mind, the offer stood. That was what was so wonderful about Duncan, he never pushed him, never tried to tell him what to do, but his love and support were always there.

His lover snored softly, and Blair's pen scratched across the paper, attacking his student's sloppy grammar. The loft was dark and cozy, with just the lamp on the end table next to him casting a pool of light for him to work by. Blair tried to forget about everything else, turning his attention to his student's writing. Blocking thoughts of Jim resolutely from his mind, he concentrated on the work left to do, and peacefulness of the loft.

End Part 10