Someone To Watch Over Me

by LilyK

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"You better not stand there," Jim Ellison said pleasantly to Simon Banks. After Simon took a step to the right, Jim pulled back his right arm holding the throwing star, but it slipped from his fingers, embedding itself in the ground inches from Simon's toe. Jim smiled to himself when he heard Simon's throat click nervously. "Not there either," he advised the tall black man, hiding his amusement at Simon's nervousness.

Simon moved a good five paces away. "Are you any good with those things?"

Jim chuckled, then he rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck. He flung six of the stars hard and true. All six hit the center of the bull's-eye. "Nah, not much," he said with a laugh when he heard Simon's low whistle of appreciation of his abilities.

Simon chuckled deeply, shaking his head. "Come on, Ellison. Blair Sandburg needs you. You're the best."

"I don't do celebrities."

"His life is in grave danger. He asked for you specifically. He needs you." Simon spread his hands imploringly. "Please, Ellison. I've known Blair since he was a grad student of mine at Rainier when I taught Cultural Anthro almost ten years ago and I love him like a son. He needs protection."

"And he's agreed to my terms?" Jim crossed to the target and pulled the stars out. He walked back toward Simon, clicking the small weapons together in his hand. "He's okay with my price?"

"Yeah. Fifteen hundred a week, right?"

"Two thousand."

"What?"

"Twenty-five hundred?"

Simon sighed. "Okay. Okay. Two thousand."

"Plus expenses. And I get full say on the security measures, and I hand-pick the team."

"Agreed." Simon held out his hand and they shook. "Can you start in the morning?" At Jim's curt nod, he passed over a business card. "Address. House phone. My personal cell. Do you need anything else?"

"No, thank you, Banks. I'll be there at 9 a.m."

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Jim arrived at 8:55 a.m. and pressed the buzzer to alert the household that he had arrived. No one answered his ring, but the rusty front gate slowly creaked open. He drove his 1969 Ford pickup truck through and as he pulled away, he watched in his rear view mirror. In the thirty seconds it took for him to round the curve, the gate had not closed. He listened intently while he drove up to the front of the house and, after a quick glance at his watch, he noted that it took over two minutes before someone bothered closing the gate. So much for security, he thought. Maybe this guy has a death wish?

When Jim pulled up to the custom-built log and stone house, Simon Banks stood on the wide, flag-stoned front porch. He descended the stairs with a grim look on his face.

"Ellison," Simon said, holding out his hand.

Jim took the hand. "Banks. Good morning." Jim saw the beads of sweat on Simon's forehead and noted the rapid heart rate. "What's happened?"

"Another e-mail came in this morning."

Jim squinted in the bright sunlight. "How many does that make? Six?"

"Yes, this makes number six. They get creepier and creepier with each one. Damn, Ellison, I'm really worried."

Before Jim could ask further questions, a cheery masculine voice called, "Simon!"

Jim looked up and held his breath. The man who walked onto the porch and stood at the top of the steps with his hands on his hips made Jim's senses dance with pleasure. His blood hummed in his veins. His heart fluttered rapidly in his chest. He felt a pleasant buzz, like after a good shot of Southern Comfort or after the Jags won the third away game in a row. He felt a loopy grin spread across his face, but he stomped it down quickly.

"Blair!" Simon called. "Come down here and meet Jim Ellison, the man I told you about."

Blair trotted down the stairs, giving Jim a dazzling smile that lit his eyes to a radiant blue. "Oh, you're the bodyguard!"

Jim found himself responding to Blair's outgoing personality and he felt drawn into the sparkling blue eyes. "Yes, I'm Jim Ellison."

"Cool." Blair shook Jim's hand. "I'm Blair Sandburg. Very nice to meet you, Jim."

Jim nodded. Guess we're on a first name basis already, he mused. "Thank you, Dr. Sandburg."

"Blair, please. Dr. Sandburg is way too formal for me. Come on in. May I get you something?" Blair asked as the trio climbed the stairs and entered the grand house.

"A glass of water, please," Jim answered, looking around, observing, testing, cataloging. A small spike of pain passed across his forehead and he pinched his nose with his fingers. His Sentinel senses were acting up yet again. It was time to take his herbal remedy. He sighed and, with Simon bringing up the rear, he followed Blair down the long, Mexican-tiled hallway and through carved double doors into the library.

The library was enormous, taking up a good portion of the square footage on this side of the house. Thousands of books were lined neatly in shelves along two walls. A rolling ladder leaned against the shelves, and a young woman standing on it was reaching for a red leather-bound book. A third wall was comprised of three sets of French doors leading out into the large, modestly landscaped backyard. The fourth wall held shelves crammed full of artifacts from about every group of indigenous people from around the world. A group of desks occupied space in the room, and two other women and two men worked at them. Each person was engrossed in his or her endeavor. Pages rustled. Pens and pencils scratched. Keyboards and mice clicked. Voices called back and forth.

Jim heard the hum of the monitors and the whirl of hard drives, and he smelled the ink and paper and body odors permeating the room. He pulled back his senses and deliberately shut down the dials to nothing. Blair touched his elbow and he looked at the serious face.

"Jim, are you okay?" Blair's soothing voice centered him and he pressed the glass of water that had been brought into Jim's hand. "Here. Take a sip or two."

"Sorry," Jim mumbled, reaching into his jacket pocket and retrieving a small silver pill case that he stared at in the center of his palm.

"Let me." Blair took the small box from his hand. "Will two of these be enough?"

At Jim's nod, Blair fished out the pills and placed them into Jim's open hand. After Jim tossed them back with a sip of water, he asked, "Are you all right? What are these pills for? They don't look like a prescription." Blair sniffed the contents. "These are herbs of some kind."

Jim plucked the box from Blair's hand and quickly pocketed it. "I get headaches sometimes, that's all. It's nothing that will affect my job performance. They're an herbal mixture I have especially prepared for me. You may rest assured that I don't take drugs of any kind. I even avoid over-the counter medications. Allergies," he explained quickly.

Blair put his hands on his hips. "No, that wasn't it. I was concerned, that's all. I'm a great judge of people and you appear to be a professional. I wasn't questioning your integrity, Mr. Ellison."

The corners of Jim's lips tugged upwards. "No, it's me who's sorry, Professor. I shouldn't have been so snappy."

"Cool, man. It's okay." Blair lightly patted Jim's arm. "Anyway, this is the main command center of my operation." Blair waved his hand expansively around the room. "I run a very casual household. I want my people to feel comfortable when they're working."

From over Blair's head, Simon waggled his eyebrows and shook his head, catching Jim's eye. Simon said, "We need your services, Mr. Ellison. Blair needs your protection."

Blair laughed merrily and a husky black man entered the room, striding to Blair's side. Blair said, "I have Henri. He's been protecting me quite adequately for many years, Simon. But Jim may remain as long as he heeds my protocols and doesn't disrupt the household. He may install whatever security system he likes, but I don't want his presence to alter our work here." Blair smiled affectionately at Henri before he introduced the two men. "Jim Ellison. Henri Brown."

Jim tensed at Blair's words, but he did shake hands with Blair's protector. "Mr. Brown."

Simon cleared his throat and introduced several more people in the room. "This is Gina Mays, Blair's publisher. Ian Sandburg, Blair's cousin and personal assistant."

After acknowledging each introduction, Jim said tersely, "Doctor. Simon. I'll see myself out." He turned on his heels and headed for the front door.

Simon sighed exasperatedly at Blair. "Damn it, Blair. You need more security. When are you going to listen to me? We need Ellison!" Simon followed Jim quickly. "Ellison, wait!"

Jim didn't slow until he reached his truck where he stopped to fish for his keys. He looked up at Simon's call and glared at the man. "You told me he had asked for me and that he knew he was in danger. You are a damned liar!" Jim pulled the door open and climbed in, slamming it hard.

Simon clamped his hands on the window ledge. "Please, Ellison. I need to show you a couple of things. Then I think you'll agree with me that Blair needs your protection."

Gina had followed the men and she called out, "Simon, we don't need him. We've been doing just fine without his help."

Simon glared over the roof of the car at the woman. "You know that we haven't had any experience with this kind of thing! Keep out of this, Gina! Blair's life is at stake."

Gina shrugged. "I think you're overreacting," she groused.

Simon leaned into the car window. At Jim's stoic face, Simon begged, "Please. He needs you; he just doesn’t know it yet. I'll talk to him. Please."

Jim nodded curtly once and followed Simon back into the house with Gina trailing behind. When they reached the large, richly appointed master bedroom, Jim gave a low whistle. "Nice. Very nice." He admired the large hand-carved wooden four poster bed covered in a brightly-striped blanket that was obviously hand-woven. Guatemalan, it looked like to Jim. Artifacts from every culture decorated the walls and every empty space on the desk, dresser and chest of drawers. He walked from window to window, peering out after sweeping back the heavy curtains of matching material. "And so?" Jim said, turning to Simon, who stood silently next to the bed while Gina sauntered around the room, admiring the work she had helped create.

"Don't be fooled by this room, Ellison. Blair sleeps in a modest bedroom on the other side of the house. This room was decorated for the televised biography of Blair's life. Appearances must be maintained." Simon smiled, thinking of his charge, but then he became serious once again. "You must understand something, Ellison. Blair is one of the youngest people to attain a Ph.D. in Anthropology. He was a child prodigy and graduated college by 18. By 20, he had his Master's and he defended his dissertation on ancient guardians at age 23. In the last six years, Blair has made several of the anthropological world's greatest discoveries, including the Temple of the Sentinels on the Yucatán Peninsula. He has had four best selling non-fiction books and a successful series of meditation and self-help tapes. He also has a trilogy of fantasy novels that have sold hundreds of thousands of copies and are now optioned for a series of movies." Simon stopped to take a breath.

"What does that have to do with me, Banks?"

"While Blair is well-off and well known, the fame and fortune hasn't gone to his head. He is still the outgoing, exuberant individual that I met almost ten years ago. He loves people. He loves his life. I didn't want to destroy the innocence that he still has in spite of his worldwide fame." Simon's voice became low and frightened. "Ellison, someone broke into the house three nights ago. Someone who is obsessed with Blair. Someone who has threatened him." Simon grimaced before he said, "Someone who jacked off on this bed in Blair's home."

Realization dawned on Jim and he snorted. "You haven't told him."

"No."

"The e-mails?"

"No."

"Damn it! Banks, I refuse to work under these conditions. My clients know that they need my protection. They work with me, not against me. They are willing to pay so that they remain alive! Unless you tell Sandburg and he agrees, I refuse the position. Am I making myself clear?"

"What about…?"

"He must be told and he must agree. Those are my conditions," Jim stated adamantly.

Simon sighed. "You're right, of course. I'll tell him tonight. I give you my word. Please, Ellison, stay and help Blair. He needs you. I need you." When it seemed that Gina would protest yet again, Simon's warning glare caused her to back off. She shrugged and left the room.

Ignoring the retreating woman, Jim lightly scanned Banks' vitals. The man was sincere. Jim nodded. "We'll take it on a week by week basis and see how it goes."

Relief flowed from the man and he grinned heartily. "Thank you, Ellison." He clamped a strong hand on Jim's shoulder. "Thank you."

Jim nodded curtly. "Now let's take a quick tour of the house and grounds. I want to see the security system and get a layout of the land."

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Jim moved onto the grounds and spent the next few days updating the old security system in the house and the surrounding acreage. He had a new gate with remote control access and camera monitors installed. He had the lawn service cut back the overgrown bushes so that he had a clear view of the perimeter of the land from his bedroom over the garage. From its flat roof he could overlook the grounds easily, sending his senses in small increments over the two-acre parcel.

For Jim, the most intriguing aspect of this current job was that he noticed his senses were more under control than they had been for many years. He pondered this fact while he prowled the grounds making his nightly rounds. He knew that Blair played a part in his newfound control. Jim sighed. He felt drawn to Blair Sandburg for some inexplicable reason and he hated himself for it. Jim prided himself on his ability to remain aloof from all people. He avoided personal entanglements and he moved from job to job for the very reason that he refused to take a personal interest in his clients. They were just that, 'clients', and nothing more. He acknowledged that he was attracted to Blair on many levels, but he buried his feelings deep and put on a cold front to 'the client'. Even mentally he forced himself to refer to Blair in this manner, keeping him as nameless and faceless as possible. His job was to keep the client alive, not become buddies with him.

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Jim was walking around the North side of the large house a few evenings later when one of the French doors leading into the yard opened. Ian Sandburg walked out and smiled at him.

"Come in, Mr. Ellison. I've just made fresh coffee."

"Thanks." Jim followed the young man into his private quarters and sat on the sofa after Ian waved him to a seat. "Nice place," Jim observed, and catalogued the man, noticing that while his size and coloring were quite like his cousin's, his personality was very different. Ian was close-mouthed and cautious, even a bit sad, Jim realized.

"Thank you. Blair is very generous." Ian poured coffee into two mugs. "How do you take it?"

"Black, please."

Ian handed a cup to Jim who nodded his thanks. Smiling, he sat opposite him on an overstuffed armchair. "I'm happy you're here. Blair is much too complacent about his safety. He is very naïve in the ways of the world."

Jim sipped the coffee and scanned the man's vitals. He noted that while Ian did seem a bit nervous, he didn't sense any kind of danger or fear from him. "He seems like a nice guy."

"Oh, yes. He's great. After my folks died, I moved in with Blair and Naomi. That's Blair's mother. Blair went off to college and I stayed with Aunt Naomi until I graduated from high school. Blair is the brain of the family. I had a hard time keeping up with him." Ian rose and walked to the mantel, looking at the framed pictures lined there.

Jim stood and joined him, pointing to one in particular. "Is that Blair's mother?"

"Yeah."

Jim picked another. "Your college graduation?"

"Yup. I graduated with a degree in Anthropology, just like my genius cousin. I followed in his footsteps. I have my MA, but that elusive Ph.D. never quite happened."

"Why not?"

"Oh, this and that. Blair was smart enough for both of us. Then he needed somebody to help with his scheduling and his book tours. That sort of thing. I needed a job, so here I am." Ian shrugged. "It's a living."

Jim nodded, placing the picture back in its place. "Thanks for the coffee. Good night."

"'night," Ian called as Jim let himself out.

Jim stopped at the bottom of the steps and watched Ian for several seconds. He honed in his sight slightly and saw the unhappy face of the man as he stared at the photographs. He felt his concentration start to slip and he abruptly pulled back before he zoned. After a quick sweep of the grounds, Jim went to his room for the evening.

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The first weeks went fairly smooth. Blair was outgoing and friendly, but he clearly was not going to let Jim's new rules and regulations interfere with his life. Blair left the scheduling to Gina, and he came and went at her whim. Jim questioned Gina relentlessly regarding Blair's schedule and they had more than one disagreement over the activities and the safety protocols.

One bright Thursday morning Blair headed out the door without a second glance at Jim, who was watching from the corner of the large library, book in hand. He dropped the book and raced out behind Blair.

"Chief, where are you going?" Jim demanded when he saw Blair fish car keys from the small glass bowl by the front door.

"I'm going shopping."

"Shopping? That's not on the schedule."

Blair sighed. "I'm going shopping," he repeated, a bit exasperated. "You may come along if you wish."

"Sandburg, let's get this straight. You don't ask me to come along. You ask me if you can go," Jim growled.

Blair's response was to laugh merrily. "Yeah, right. Come on, man, get a life. You want to follow me around, that's cool. You want to tell me what to do, you can take a hike. There's the highway."

Blair climbed into the Expedition and cranked the engine. When Jim swore under his breath and climbed into the passenger seat, Blair shot him an engaging smile and drove away.

The first stop was at Office Max. Blair bought three packs of yellow pads, two boxes of black ink pens, fine tip, and a pack of neon green highlighters.

"Here, Jim. Hold these, please?" Blair tried to hand Jim a stack of notebooks.

Jim crossed his arms. "I'm here to keep you alive, Chief, not help you shop."

Blair chuckled and shifted the books in his arm. "You don't like me, do you, Jim?"

Jim shrugged. "It's not my job to like you or dislike you, Sandburg."

Blair headed to the cash register. "We could have fun, Jim, if you didn't act like you had a broomstick up your ass," he muttered under his breath.

Jim's jaw twitched and he watched over his charge with his arms still crossed, a stone-faced guardian. While Blair paid for his purchases, Jim observed the long-haired man. His eyes were drawn to the neck where it curved under the ponytail and the Blairscent reached Jim's nostrils. He breathed in deeply and was rewarded with the pleasant hum he was now almost used to feeling whenever Blair was close. Although his face remained passive, his entire body tingled with electricity and he allowed himself a few seconds of pleasure before he viciously tamped down the feelings.

"Jim? Jim, are you okay?"

Jim shook his head and pinched his nose with his fingers. "Sorry, Chief. I was distracted for a second." He fumbled in his pocket for the small box that was never far from his hand. He dry-swallowed two of the pills.

Blair moved closer. "Fuck that shit. Something's definitely wrong. Talk to me, Ellison. What's going on?" Blair's bright blue eyes inspected Jim's face intently.

Jim took a step back and shook his head. "Nothing."

Blair waited, but when Jim ignored his silent plea, he finally sighed and grabbed the sacks of purchases. "Sure, man. Whatever. And I'm paying for this?" Blair waved his expressive hand expansively down Jim's body in obvious disapproval.

Jim heard the mumbled words and he clenched his jaw tightly. He fought the urge to grab Blair and pull him close, to protect him and hold him, to kiss him and… Jim growled at himself and, realizing that Blair had left without him, he followed quickly.

The drive home was uneventful but Jim felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He kept glancing in the outside mirror, but whoever was following kept well back. Jim tried to narrow his vision several times to pick out the elusive tail, but several sharp spikes of pain stopped his perusal. Once again, he was angry with himself and his often-irritating, uncooperative senses. Tonight he would make it a point to use the relaxation tapes he frequently relied upon. It had been too many days since he had practiced the exercises to control his senses.

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Late the next afternoon, while holding a mirror taped on the end of a long pole and a flashlight, Jim knelt on the ground beside the Ford Expedition.

"What are you doing?" said the curious voice.

Jim looked up into the questioning face of Blair Sandburg. "I'm checking for explosives."

"You're kidding." For a second Blair looked unsettled, but then the look vanished, replaced by curiosity.

"No." Jim returned to his inspection and after a few minutes he rose and clicked off the light. "All clear." He took in Blair's tidy appearance. Blair was wearing a tan sports jacket, open collared light blue button down shirt and beige slacks. "Are you planning on going somewhere, Chief?"

"Yes, I have a book signing in thirty minutes at The Tattered Cover. I'm going to be late if you don't get out from under my car." Blair smiled, bouncing on his toes.

"You need to tell me these things. This wasn't on the schedule. I haven't had a chance to lay out a route or to check out the destination. You'll have to cancel," Jim said adamantly.

"Simon!" Blair called over his shoulder to his mentor who had arrived carrying a large stack of boxes. Blair pulled one of the cartons from the top of the stack and after Jim opened the hatch, he dropped the box into the cargo area. He pulled the other boxes from Simon's arms, stacking them neatly one on top of the other. "Jim thinks we should cancel the book signing."

Gina Mays trotted down the stairs and joined the group at the back of the vehicle, adding another two boxes to the pile. "Hurry up, Blair. You're going to be late. I just called the shop and there's already a line forming. Your public will be looking for you."

"He's not going anywhere," Jim practically growled.

Gina bristled. "Who the hell do you think you are? You're the bodyguard. You follow along and keep quiet. This is what Blair does. He has a book signing. He has people who pay good money for his books and they expect the author to be present. This signing has been in the works for months!"

Simon put a hand on Jim's arm. "Ellison, take it easy. I'm sorry. I should have informed you, but Gina's right. This is what Blair does. Please, just come along and keep an eye on things. Okay?"

Against his better judgment and irritated at the lack of communication, Jim nodded tersely. He had no choice.

They all climbed into the vehicle, Jim in the front passenger seat, Simon in the driver's seat, and Gina and Blair in the rear, where Henri joined the duo. Simon was quiet during the drive and Jim sat stonily beside him. The three in the rear laughed and talked while Blair signed a stack of books that would be left at the store for sale after the evening's event.

Simon glanced sideways at Jim several times, but he finally gave up when Jim refused to meet his eyes. Simon was beginning to realize that when Jim's jaw muscle twitched, it meant he was very pissed.

Blair was laughing and talking, and Jim didn't think much about it when Blair pulled out his laptop and powered it up. The device chimed, alerting the user to the unread mail. It was Blair's sharp intake of breath and his rapid heartbeat that had Jim swiveling in his seat.

"Chief, what's wrong?" Jim demanded.

Blair stared at the screen, his face pale in the light reflected there. "Oh, shit."

Both Gina and Henri leaned over and stared at the screen. Jim turned to Simon. "Pull over, Simon. Now."

Simon guided the vehicle into a vacant parking lot and cut the engine. Jim reached back, plucked the computer from Blair's still hands, and when he looked at the screen he said, "Fuck."

Simon craned his neck over and grimaced. "Damn. Another one."

Blair sat up straight. "What? Another one? Do you mean there have been others?"

The silence was deafening. Gina squirmed uncomfortably and Henri found something interesting to look at out the side window.

Simon cleared his throat before he spoke. "Blair, I've been meaning to tell you, but the timing just wasn't right. There have been six other e-mails. I've, ah, I've always managed to delete them before you got to your messages."

Blair ran his hand over his face. "Wait just a minute. You're telling me that I've been receiving threatening e-mails for a while now." The proverbial light bulb came on over his head. "So that's why you insisted that I hire Jim; why you felt I needed a bodyguard." He glanced at his seatmates, further realization dawning. "Everybody else knows about this but me, I take it. What else aren't you telling me, Simon? I'm not a fucking kid. You'd better tell me right now." Blair glared at his mentor.

Simon sighed and nodded. He glanced at Jim and saw the muscle in his jaw twitch. "Ellison said you should have been told immediately. I'm sorry, Blair, that I didn't take his advice. I was trying to protect you."

"Damn it, Simon, I trusted you. Now tell me what's going on!" Blair ordered harshly.

"Besides the e-mails, someone broke into the house and masturbated on the bed in the master bedroom." Simon cringed when he said the words.

"What?! Oh, my God. Simon, you're telling me someone's been in my house?"

Jim put a hand on Blair's leg. "Calm down, Sandburg. Nobody's getting close to you, but you have to cooperate with me. Now you know why I've been such a hardass about your comings and goings. Simon should have told you immediately."

"No shit," Blair groused. "You didn't call the police, did you, Simon?"

Gina answered this time. "No, no police. I know you didn't want the bad press. Besides, I thought it'd give the nutcase more reason to bother you. I didn't want this spread in the tabloids."

"Smart thinking," Jim said. "I agree. No police. Rules and regulations hamper them. My hands aren't tied in the same way theirs are." Jim picked up the scent of fear from Blair's body and he felt the shiver under his hand. He patted the knee. "Let's go home, Chief."

Blair's head popped up. "Do you think he's going to be at the bookstore, Jim?"

Jim answered, "I don't know, Blair. He could be."

Blair sat quietly for a long minute before he straightened his shoulders. "I can't let this kind of thing stop me, Jim. You have to understand. I like my life. I enjoy meeting people and interacting. I need to do this." At Jim's stoic face, Blair continued. "Please, Jim. You can protect me. Henri's here. Simon and Gina, too. With all of you watching out for me, what can happen?"

Blair waited while Jim thought over his request. Gina fidgeted and looked at her watch, but Simon's glare stilled her restlessness. Henri put an arm across Blair's shoulders and Blair smiled quickly at his friend. All eyes turned to Jim and when he nodded his acquiescence, everybody breathed sighs of relief.

"We do this my way," Jim said. "Henri, you stay next to Blair at all times. Simon, you stand about twenty feet away and keep an eye out. Gina, you sit next to him and keep alert. I'll patrol the perimeter. Are we clear?"

Everybody acknowledged their duties before they proceeded to their destination. When the Expedition pulled into the unloading zone in front of the upscale bookstore, a crowd of fans converged on the vehicle. After a concerned glance at Simon, Jim opened his door and waded through the crowd to Blair's side. He and Henri escorted the well-liked man through the people and into the overcrowded bookstore without incident. Jim felt a bit better about the setup when the proprietor directed Blair to a table set on a dais toward the back of the bookstore.

Jim scanned the area, and while he was still unhappy about the circumstances, at least the position of the table kept a good three feet of space between Blair and the crowd. Once Blair and Gina were safely ensconced behind the table, Jim growled at Henri, "Watch him."

Ignoring Henri's look of irritation, Jim made a sweep of the bookstore and the front sidewalk. He then patrolled the alley and entered the unlocked rear door, making sure that the departure route was clear. Jim circled back through the people and came up behind Simon.

"Banks, move the car to the rear door and keep it running."

Simon scowled. "Why? Blair's scheduled to be here for two hours. You want me to keep it running the entire time? That's ridiculous."

Jim sighed. "Will you please stop questioning each and every request I make and just do it!?"

Simon shrugged. "Calm down. Okay. Okay." After a quick glance at Blair and Gina, who were busy chatting with fans, and after a nod to Henri who was keeping a close eye on the proceedings, Simon went to move the Ford.

About forty-five minutes into the session, the fire alarm suddenly screeched to life. The crowd surged back and forth in alarm, and when the sprinkler system kicked on, the people screamed and started running in all directions. Henri pulled Blair out from behind the table and with an arm around his shoulders, guided him down one of the aisles between the bookshelves. A group of people came running down the same aisle in the opposite direction and, in their panic, plowed right into Blair and Henri. Henri lost his hold on his friend. More people packed into the aisle and Blair was knocked from his feet. He disappeared under the crowd.

Jim turned up his hearing and immediately located Blair's frantic cries for help. Several sets of shelves loaded with books toppled onto the crowd, burying Blair along with some of the public. He raced through the people, directing the panicked ones toward the door with shouts to move. He yanked the wooden shelves from several others and helped them to their feet, likewise directing them toward the nearest exit.

Jim dug through the fallen books until he finally located Blair lying under the mess. He scanned him quickly while he turned him over and brushed the hair from his face. Even though he was unconscious, with a large red welt on his right temple, he appeared otherwise unhurt. Jim breathed a small sigh of relief and scooped him up carefully.

Jim searched the room quickly and he finally saw Henri heading toward the front door, calling and searching frantically for Blair. Henri turned around and saw Jim carrying Blair. He shouted and waved Jim in his direction, not knowing that the car had been moved to the rear of the building. Jim glanced toward the rear of the aisle and saw Simon helping people move toward the back. Jim moved in his direction and when Simon saw that Jim was carrying Blair, he pushed his way through the crowd, leading Jim out the door to where he had moved the Expedition earlier.

Simon threw open the back door and helped Jim lay Blair on the seat.

"Go!" Jim shouted at Simon. "Now, Simon. Let's get him out of here."

At Simon's hesitation, Jim yelled, "It was a false alarm, Banks. There's no fire. The police and EMTs will be here in seconds. Now move!"

Simon nodded and raced around to the driver's seat. He threw the vehicle in drive and, after blaring the horn to move a few of the milling spectators out of their path, he gunned the engine and raced toward home.

Henri and Gina finally made their way to the head of the alley just in time to see the brake lights of the Expedition blink once as it stopped quickly before disappearing around the corner, leaving them both behind to make their own way home.

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The police and firefighters had dispersed the crowd. Two or three people were treated for minor cuts and bruises and thankfully no one was hurt beyond that. The storeowner stood amidst the ruins of his store, shaking his head, while his employees tried to straighten out some of the mess. One of the employees, a heavyset, quiet man, reached down and plucked a copy of Blair's latest book from the messy floor. He reverently smoothed the rumpled pages and ran a finger over the signature that Blair had placed on the inside of the front cover. He furtively glanced around and, when he realized no one was paying any attention to his actions, he slipped the book inside his shirt and possessively patted it. He worked for several more minutes before the owner dismissed him for the evening with an admonition to return early in the morning in old work clothes. He acknowledged the request and wandered nonchalantly toward the back of the store and out into the alley.

It took only minutes for the man to reach the back stairs to his apartment located barely a block from the bookstore where he worked. He unlocked his door and slid in, quickly pulling out the purloined book. He found an old rag and lovingly wiped the book until it was as clean as possible. He then placed the item on one of the many shelves that lined the wall of the studio apartment. He stepped back and admired the placement of the book, moved forward and turned it a quarter of an inch to the right. Pleased, he smiled and sat in the comfortable chair in the center of the room. He looked around, enjoying the hundreds of pictures of Blair Sandburg that covered the walls, along with every article ever written by and about the anthropologist. It was a shrine to Blair and the man worshipped the object of his adoration.

He sighed, a bit frustrated that his distraction with the fire alarm hadn't gone as he had hoped. He had planned on being in just the right spot to offer aid to Dr. Sandburg and thereby gain the man's attention and gratitude. He had dreamed of their conversation many times, going over it again and again in his head. Blair would be grateful for his quick assistance and he would be humble in his receipt of Dr. Sandburg's warm praise of his heroism. He sighed again and then shrugged. This time, the plan had been thwarted when someone in the crowd of people had pushed him aside in the panic. There would be another chance, he knew. He was a patient man.

The man rose and went over to the stereo unit on the far wall and, after sliding in a CD, he picked up the remote and went back to his chair. He hit the play button, leaned back, and let the deep, warm, comforting voice of Blair Sandburg wash over him, leading him through his meditation exercises. This was his favorite part of his day.

-------------------------------------------------

"Blair?" Jim called softly. He popped open the top of the first aid kit that he had stowed under the seat and ripped open the cool pack with his teeth. He kneaded the pack quickly and pressed the cold plastic envelope to Blair's forehead while he scanned Blair's vitals.

"Should we go to the emergency room, Ellison?" Banks called back.

"He's coming around now. I think he'll be okay. He just had a bump to the head." Jim placed one hand in the center of Blair's chest while the other held the pack against his head. Under his palm, Jim felt the tingling when he pressed his hand against Blair's body and his senses jumped before settling down. He tested them quickly and was surprised to note that each seemed sharper, clearer, more in control. He started to contemplate this change when he felt Blair shudder under his hand.

"Doctor, come on, wake up for me. You'll be all right," Jim said quietly. "I've got you." Jim patted Blair's shoulder comfortingly.

Blair groaned and after his eyelids fluttered several times, he opened them and found Jim watching him intently. "Oh, man."

"Hey, take it easy. You're going to be okay. How do you feel?"

"My head hurts."

"I bet." When Blair tried to sit up, Jim's strong hands held him down. "Whoa, Chief. Take it easy. Just lie back until we get you home."

Blair breathed in and out several times, nodding gingerly. "Sounds good. I feel a little dizzy."

"Just relax, Blair. We'll be home in a few minutes."

Blair closed his eyes and when he opened them again he was in his room, lying on his bed, with Jim, his bodyguard, taking off his shoes.

"Welcome back, Chief," Jim said with a smile.

"Uh-huh," Blair muttered sleepily.

"Talk to me, Blair. I want to make sure you don't have a concussion."

"I'm sleepy. I need to pee."

Jim chuckled. "Come on then, I'll give you a hand."

"Been going to the bathroom alone for years, man," Blair grumbled. He struggled to sit up.

Jim shook his head. "Are you always this pig-headed?"

"Yeah."

Jim laughed and put an arm around Blair's shoulders, helping him to his feet and steering him in the direction of the bathroom. "Do you feel dizzy or sick?"

Blair shook his head, then grimaced. "Nah. Just a headache. I need some aspirin."

Jim hovered next to Blair. "Let me help you, Professor. I don't want you fainting and cracking that hard head again."

Blair gave a quick smile. "Okay, man. Thanks. I do feel a bit out of it."

Jim put a hand under Blair's elbow and together they went to the bathroom where Blair allowed Jim to strip him to his boxers. After he swallowed the two aspirins that Jim fetched from the medicine cabinet, he shushed Jim from the room.

"Out, Ellison. Give a guy a few minutes of privacy, will you?"

Jim chuckled and left, but he stood guard right outside the bathroom door just in case.

When Blair emerged a few minutes later, he smiled tiredly at his bodyguard. "Are you still here, Jim?"

"Yeah, Chief. I'm still on duty. I'm going to tuck you into bed and then I'm off duty, so quit wasting time and get into that bed."

Blair yawned and nodded. He climbed in and after Jim pulled up the covers to his chin, he closed his eyes. "Thanks, Jim. I was scared for a second there."

"It's okay, Sandburg. Just doing my job."

"Good night, Jim," he mumbled sleepily.

"Good night, Blair."

-------------------------------------------------

Once Blair was sleeping soundly, Jim went to his room and showered quickly. He turned out the lights after lighting several small candles, and arranged himself comfortably in a meditation position. With the remote control, he hit 'play' and was rewarded with the sound of Dr. Blair Sandburg leading him through the process of controlling his body and mind. He sighed gratefully and played two of the tapes in the set before he felt relaxed enough to sleep.

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It was just after sunset a few days later, when a rustling in the brush caught Jim's attention. He stood, nostrils flaring, before he called out, "Sandburg, what are you doing?"

Blair emerged from the bushes with a grin on his face. "Hey, Jim. You knew it was me, didn't you?" When Jim ignored Blair's inquiry, Blair quietly observed his companion before he spoke. "I needed some quiet time so I was taking a walk. I love this time of night, right after the sun goes down. Things are hazy and the sights and sounds of the night awaking are intriguing."

Jim smiled. "Come on, then, let's take a walk."

They walked down the path side by side. Blair talked about everything in general and nothing in particular, waving his hands and plucking at Jim's sleeve occasionally when making a point. Jim walked at his side, hands clasped behind his back, listening and cataloging the entire being that was Blair Sandburg, occasionally offering a few words here and there. Generally, though, Jim just enjoyed Blair being beside him. That is when Jim was very surprised to realize that he thoroughly enjoyed the fact that Blair had a calming influence on his senses.

Blair stopped and when Jim stopped also, Blair moved close and fiddled with a button on Jim's shirt. "Say, I was thinking."

Jim chuckled. "You were thinking? Is this news, Sandburg?"

Blair laughed. "What do you say about you and me doing something together? After all, I've been cooped up in the house for days now. You've been worse than a damned warden since the other night."

"Do you blame me?"

Blair bounced on his toes. "No."

Jim gazed at his companion. "What is it?" he asked, sensing the spike in Blair's heart rate and the rise in his respiration.

"Well… I've been wondering…" Blair grinned and rocked back and forth on his feet.

"Sandburg, just spit it out."

"Okay. I want to go out. You need to protect me. So, why don't we go out together?"

Jim scowled. "You and me?"

Blair sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you and me. Us. Ah, oh, shit. You don't date guys, huh?"

"No, I don't date guys. Do you?"

Blair shrugged. "Not yet I don't," he mumbled.

Jim shook his head. "Let me get this straight. You want to go out. You think that if I take you out you'll be safe."

"And…" Blair encouraged.

"And?"

Another exasperated sigh. "Man, it will be fun! You do know what fun is, don't you, Jim?" Blue eyes sparkled.

Jim found himself grinning. "Yes, Sandburg, I do know what fun is. Okay, tonight. Nine o'clock."

"Cool." Blair turned on his heels and after a quick wave over his shoulder, he trotted down the path back toward the house.

-------------------------------------------------

When Jim met Blair at the front door at nine on the dot, he was greeted with a vision. Blair looked positively delicious and Jim almost groaned aloud at the sight. Blair was dressed simply. He had on nicely worn blue jeans that hugged his body in just the right places. A royal blue v-neck t-shirt clung to his slim chest and left a wonderfully enticing triangle of chest hair curling above the knitted band. A light brown, linen sports coat and brown Birkenstock sandals completed the ensemble. But it was Blair's hair that had Jim's throat dry. It had been washed and combed and it was a shining controlled chaos of reddish-brown curls. Jim had to fight the urge to reach out and touch the silken strands. He settled for opening his senses to enjoy the sights and scents of his companion's body.

Blair grinned approvingly at his bodyguard. Jim looked impeccable in pressed dark blue slacks and a cream colored long-sleeved buttoned-up shirt with the collar undone and the sleeves rolled up neatly. He carried a black leather jacket over his arm and looked so cool and composed that Blair had the urge to stick his tongue down his throat right then and there to see what kind of reaction he would elicit. He chuckled at his silliness and smiled at Jim, his appreciation for Jim's appearance radiating from his eyes.

"Hi, Jim," Blair said happily.

"Sandburg." Jim nodded, smiling.

They stood for a brief second before Jim opened the door and motioned Blair through. "You ready, Chief?"

"Oh, yes," Blair blurted out before chuckling again as he slid past Jim.

Jim followed. "What?"

"Nothing." Blair shrugged. "This is going to be great!" Blair trotted down the steps and hopped into Jim's waiting truck.

Jim climbed in and turned the engine. "So where to, Sandburg?"

Blair smiled. "You pick. I haven't been out in a long while so I want to have fun. Pick something fun, Jim."

"Okay, Chief. Fun it is."

As the truck drove off, neither man saw the pair of eyes watching them from behind the row of shrubs running along the driveway.

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"Oh, man, what a cool movie!" Blair blurted out excitedly as they left the small, local indy movie house that specialized in showing the classics from the last fifty or sixty years.

"Glad you liked it, Chief. It's a particular favorite of mine."

Blair laughed. "I can see why. It has everything! Intrigue. Rivalry." Blair pretended to wield a sword and made swooshing noises. "Good guys. Bad guys. Good versus evil. Thanks for bringing me."

"Sandburg, I find it hard to believe that you've never seen 'The Seven Samurai' before. Where have you been the last twenty-some years?"

Blair laughed pleasantly, making Jim smile. "I was in school for most of my life and that movie was made before I was born. Of course, I've heard of 'The Seven Samurai'. I do live on the Planet Earth, Jim. I just never saw it before tonight. It was awesome!" Blair walked backwards, watching Jim who was smiling at his antics. "Say, Jim, just how many times have you seen that movie?"

"Oh, twenty or thirty, I guess." Jim shrugged. "It made a big impact on me as a kid. I think I first saw it when I was ten or twelve."

"I understand your being drawn to the movie, Jim. It's a reflection of your own life. You live the life of a warrior. I can't say that I envy you." Blair looked at Jim with admiration. "You're willing to die for your client. Jim, man, on one hand I understand the whole thing, but on the other, it's hard to believe." Blair walked beside Jim for a few more feet. "Is it true?"

"What's that, Sandburg?"

"That you'd take a bullet for me. For any of your clients."

"Yes, it's true. It's my job. I've accepted that as a possibility." Jim shrugged. "It's how I want to die, in the line of duty."

Blair stopped. "You really mean that, don't you? Geez, Jim, you must have a pretty sucky life to be willing to die that easily and for somebody you hardly know."

"Sandburg, my life has nothing to do with it. Didn't you learn anything from the movie? The samurai didn't know the villagers personally, but they were willing to die defending them."

Blair nodded. "Yeah, I see your point. I do understand, Jim. More than you know. I find the study of man fascinating. After all, I am an anthropologist." Blair grinned and bounced beside Jim. "As a man once said 'All warfare is based on deception'."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Didn't that man also say that, 'The valiant fight, but the cautious defend and the wise counsel'?"

Blair smiled. "So, you know Sun Tzu. That's very good. I didn't know a bodyguard would be familiar with him."

Jim feigned indignation. "You know him and you're an anthropologist."

Blair laughed deeply. "Ah, but Jim, the study of people also includes the study of their actions. The philosophy of war is something that every good anthropologist should study."

When Jim threw up his hands to admit defeat, Blair chuckled before he asked, "Have you ever read Miyamoto Musashi?"

Jim nodded. "The Five Ways of Strategy -- it's a favorite of mine -- ground, water, wind, fire and void."

"Excellent! Have you mastered them?"

"No, not completely. But my studies have helped me learn to accept my life."

"I understand the art of war and I've often wondered what kind of warrior I was in ancient times," Blair mused. "To Sun Tzu, life was war. One was either in battle or training for it. Miyamoto believed that the way of the warrior is acceptance of death in the cause of duty."

"Yes, but we can't forget what Gandhi said: 'The true warrior does not die killing'."

Blair cocked his head and watched his companion. "Gandhi? You don't seem like a man who'd practice nonviolence."

Jim shrugged. "Well, in life, I'm a pragmatist -- in my heart, an idealist."

Blair nodded. "You are an enigma, Jim Ellison."

"And what are you, Blair Sandburg?" Jim asked seriously.

Blair grinned. "Me? Hell, I'm starving, that's what I am." He turned on his heels.

Jim laughed out loud. "Is that a hint?"

"Hint? No, that's an order. Feed me, Seymour, feed me." Blair said in a deep voice.

Jim sighed in mock exasperation. "Come on, Chief. One dinner coming up."

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The English-style pub was darkly paneled and dimly lit. Jim picked a booth in the far back corner, away from the bar and the Friday night crowd. They shared a pitcher of Newcastle Brown, along with a double order of fish and chips and a large, fresh green salad. Blair insisted on vitamins along with the alcohol and fatty foods. They ate with gusto, pleased to realize that they both liked extra malt vinegar on their food. They laughed and talked, and Jim was surprised at how easy it was to be with Blair.

"So Jim, tell me, man. Why aren't you married with a couple of kids running around?" Blair looked up from his food and was surprised to see that while Jim was looking right at him, his eyes were unfocused and his face was blank. Blair rose and went around the table, sliding into the booth next to Jim. "Hey, Jim, come on. What's wrong?" Blair rubbed Jim's arm. "Focus, man. Listen to my voice. I need you to listen and concentrate. Come on back, Jim."

Jim shuddered and shook his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose and, after breathing heavily for a few seconds, he sighed deeply. "Sorry, Chief." Jim pulled the pill case from his pocket, but Blair plucked it from his fingers before he could protest.

"What the hell was that, Jim? Come on, something's up with you. I've seen the way you focus sometimes. I've seen you hone in on things no one else could possibly see. I know that you hear things that nobody else could hear. I know what's going on here, so you'd better start talking."

"What the hell are you doing, Sandburg? Give that back. I need those." Jim reached out but Blair held the small silver box just out of his reach. Jim looked around, uncomfortable at making a scene. "I'm asking you to give it back, Chief," he said with clenched teeth.

Blair took one look at Jim's unhappy scowl and he immediately felt contrite. "Geez, Jim, I'm sorry," he said sincerely, handing back the case. "But I'm worried about you. I think I have a clue what's going on with you. Why don't we go somewhere quiet so we can talk?"

Jim looked into the concerned blue eyes. He felt the connection to this man deep in his soul. He shivered and swallowed hard. When Blair slid his hand discreetly under the table and rested it on his knee, he centered his sense of touch on the heat of Blair's palm touching his leg. Jim nodded and Blair slid from the booth with Jim following closely. Jim was quiet as he paid the check. He was quiet when he led Blair to his truck and drove to his own small house on the East Side of town. When he pulled up in front of his place, he killed the engine and sat without moving for several seconds before he spoke.

"Here we are, Chief. Home sweet home."

"Cool. This is a nice place."

"Yeah, right. It's an old house, Sandburg."

Blair shook his head. "No, it's not old. It's got character. I like it. Show me around?"

"Sure." Jim opened the front door and led the way, flipping on lights in the modest bungalow.

Blair looked around, noticing that the imprint of its owner was missing from the house. The house was spotless, the hardwood gleamed, and everything was bland. Anybody could have lived here. Blair desperately wanted to see the man's life and understand. He was a trained observer and what he had been observing from Jim for days now was that he had hyperactive senses. He hid his excitement at the possibility of finding his Holy Grail and managed to follow Jim through the house and down the stairs into the finished basement.

When Jim turned on the light, Blair walked into the center of the room and turned several times.

"Wow." Blair smiled at his companion. "Now this is more like it."

"More like what, Chief? Beer?"

"Yeah, man, thanks." Blair accepted the cold bottle that Jim had fetched from a refrigerator located behind the small bar along one wall. "Your personality, Jim. The private side of James Ellison, Macho Bodyguard."

Jim shook his head and rolled his eyes, spreading himself gracefully across one end of the large comfortable sofa and taking a swig of his beer.

Blair grinned at Jim and, for a few seconds, enjoyed the sight of the handsome man lounging before him before he started on a trek around the room. The far wall held a wide array of weapons. Several antique swords from the Civil War era decorated the wall, along with a relatively new katana and an impressive array of throwing stars. An old musket and powder horn hung neatly among the items, and there was a collection of photographs. Some were old, yellowed photographs of soldiers in full dress. When Blair peered at the pictures, he knew that the era was the late 1800s. Others portrayed a trip through the last century.

"Cool, Jim. Are there members of your family in those pictures?"

"Yeah. Civil War. World War I and II. Korean War and Vietnam."

Blair put on his glasses and studied one photo in particular. "That's you, Jim."

"Yes it is, Chief. In the Gulf."

Blair nodded. "When did you become a bodyguard?"

"After I left Special Forces. 1994."

Blair's next examination took him to the wall of books. He scanned the titles and smiled. "You have good taste, Jim. I've read a lot of these myself."

Jim took a pull of his beer. "When I have down time, I like to read."

Blair's fingers trailed over the spines of the books and his eyes lit on the small stereo sitting on a small table in the corner. "May I?" he asked, hitting the play button.

"Wait." Jim rose suddenly, making Blair freeze mid-motion. He turned to look at Jim and barely had time to register the shocked look on Jim's face when the sound of Blair's own voice came from the speakers of the stereo. Surprised, he turned and quickly flipped through the CDs sitting in a small pile on the table. Blair turned to Jim.

"These are my meditation tapes, Jim."

Jim was silent and his eyes refused to meet Blair's. Blair hit the stop button and said quietly, "You have my tapes. You knew who I was before you took the job as my bodyguard, didn't you, Jim?" Blair crossed the room and stood in front of the still man. "Jim?"

Jim dragged his eyes down to gaze into Blair's. "Yes," he whispered.

"You knew I studied Sentinels, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Why do you listen to the tapes, Jim?"

Jim fidgeted before he cleared his throat. He felt compelled to answer the quiet but firm request. "They help me concentrate."

Blair put a hand on Jim's sleeve. "Do they help control your senses, Jim? Is that what the herbal medicine is for, to help control your senses?"

Jim closed his eyes before he once again looked at his companion. "It's the only thing that helps, sometimes, Chief. Other than your voice…" Jim stopped, unable to explain the power Blair's voice had over him.

"Is it better since you've known me? Do you have more control?" Blair moved closer so that their bodies were almost touching.

"I read your book, Chief. I know about Sentinels and Guides." Jim stood very still and tentatively opened his senses to Blair. He allowed the comforting scent waft over his body and he allowed the sound of the man's heartbeat to center his screaming senses. "Yes," he finally answered. "It helped a lot. I can't explain it."

Blair's hands grasped Jim's upper arms and he intently studied Jim's face. When Jim closed his eyes at Blair's nearness and trembled, Blair moved one hand to grab a handful of Jim's shirt and the other slipped across the back of his neck. "I can, Jim. I can explain it." Blair pulled and Jim came willingly. Blair's lips crushed Jim's in a blindingly hot, sweet kiss. When Jim's arms slid around Blair's shoulders, Blair kissed him harder and parted his mouth, touching Jim's lips with his tongue.

When Jim moaned and opened his mouth, giving Blair access, he slid his tongue into the warm depths of that mouth and explored the hidden recesses enthusiastically. Blair guided Jim back two steps and pressed him down onto the sofa, never breaking the kiss. Jim's fingers dug frantically into Blair's back while Blair covered Jim's body with his and continued his conquering of Jim's mouth. Only when Jim was shaking and almost unable to breathe did Blair allow him a gulp of air.

Jim panted harshly and his pale blue eyes locked onto Blair's. "What… I… Oh, God," he blurted out incoherently.

Blair smiled and placed the palm of his hand against Jim's face. "You are a Sentinel, Jim, and I am your Guide. It's Karma, man." Blair nodded at Jim's questioning glance. When Jim licked his lips, Blair's body responded to the sight of the pink tongue and he dove onto Jim's waiting mouth, sucking his tongue fiercely.

Jim's body responded to Blair's and his senses almost overloaded at the sights, smells and tastes of his lover. His erection was hard and full and he groaned when Blair's groin rubbed against his. Blair's kisses were passionate and deep and Jim gave himself over to the white heat that started at his toes and traveled through his body, ending up in his brain and turning it into a pile of mush.

Afterwards, he didn't remember how he had gotten undressed, nor did he remember how Blair had gotten naked. He didn't remember how the sofa was transformed into the pull-out bed or how he was laid out in the middle, panting and needy. He did remember Blair's mouth on his body, licking his nipples, biting his neck, sucking his earlobes, and tonguing his navel. He also remembered the fingers that tickled his balls and the hand that grasped his throbbing dick, mercilessly stroking until he was screaming wordlessly and coming in hot, sticky spurts over his stomach and Blair's hand. He didn't remember much, but he did remember watching Blair lick his essence from his hand, making small sounds of appreciation, and he remembered watching him stroke his own dick while Jim looked on, wide-eyed and panting, unable to move. He remembered the look on Blair's face when he came, head thrown back, tongue between his teeth, breathing harshly and shaking when he spurted hot come on Jim's chest. The scent of Blair's semen sent Jim spiraling away and he remembered the feeling of being complete and content before his eyes slid close and everything faded into black.

-------------------------------------------------

Jim felt warm. He pried open his eyes and stared down onto the curly head cradled on his shoulder. His arms were wound around the shoulders of the sturdy body and his fingers were tangled in the long, silky tresses. He sighed contentedly, pleased at the feel of Blair's strong hand lying pressed against his chest.

Blair stirred when he felt Jim awaken and he raised his head, smiling. "Hey," he murmured.

"Hey, yourself, Chief," Jim said, his voice still groggy with sleep. He ran his fingers through the wild mess of curls.

Blair pulled himself up just enough to brush his lips against Jim's in a gentle touch. "I feel really safe with you, Jim. I know you'd protect me through anything. Nobody can get to me with you as my bodyguard." Blair snuggled back down and nestled his head again on the willing shoulder.

Jim's hand automatically petted his head and he chuckled softly. "Right now, I couldn't fight off a six year old with a water pistol." Jim sighed again. "God, Blair, that was wonderful."

Blair laughed lightly. "Yeah, it was." Blair yawned and wiggled just a bit, settling in. "Jim?"

"Hmmm?"

"I belong with you," Blair murmured before dropping off.

Jim felt his body sliding into sleep and the words barely registered in his consciousness. "I'll protect you," Jim reassured his love before drifting off once again.

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A hand on his shoulder woke Blair.

"Come on, Chief. We need to get you home."

Blair woke slowly and stretched. He looked at his lover and a wide smile crossed his face. "Morning, Jim. Come back over here and lie down."

Jim ignored Blair's come-hither glance and pulled on his pants quickly. He buttoned his shirt, yanked on his socks, and slipped into his shoes in seconds.

Blair sat up, puzzled at the emotionless face before him. "Jim? Hey, how about a good morning kiss?"

Jim stood and buttoned his pants. "Get dressed," he said tersely.

Blair looked into the stoic face. "Jim, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Jim tossed Blair's clothes in a pile on his lap, all the while avoiding looking directly at him.

Blair rose and stood, hands on hips. "Nothing my ass. What's wrong, Jim? Talk to me."

Blair moved closer and his enticing body and warm fragrance sent Jim's senses spiraling. Jim clenched his teeth and struggled to regain control. "Damn it, Sandburg, get dressed now!" He spoke harshly and shoved Blair back a step.

Blair stood very still, eyes wide and frightened. "What did I do wrong? Tell me. I'm a big boy, in case you haven't noticed."

Jim turned angry eyes on Blair and stalked a couple of steps closer. "I can't do this," he hissed between clenched teeth.

Blair backed up a step and grabbed his pants, pulling them on quickly, suddenly feeling vulnerable in his nakedness. "Can't do what, Jim? Can't love me? Why? What did I do wrong?"

Jim looked at the floor, at the ceiling, everywhere but at Blair. "Don't you understand? I can't protect you if I'm personally involved! I don't work this way."

Blair tugged his shirt on, his irritation growing. "Oh, so that's what this was? A work fuck? That's all it was to you?"

Jim fidgeted with his belt buckle. "Yes, that's all it was to me. You're a client, that's all."

Blair stood, shoulders back, and tipped his chin defiantly. "Look at me, Jim, and tell me that's all I am to you. A buddy fuck. Look at me, damn you!" Blair yelled.

Jim turned cold blue eyes on Blair and his heart screamed at the pain that tore through him. He steeled his resolve and said menacingly, "That's all you'll ever be, Sandburg. Nothing else."

Blair felt his chest tighten and his eyes involuntarily teared. He bit his lip fiercely, refusing to do anything as embarrassing as cry in front of the man who just told him he was nothing more than a pleasure fuck. He quickly dressed, ran up the stairs and out the front door.

Jim followed, yelling at the figure that hurried down the street. "Sandburg? Get the fuck back here this minute!" The retreating figure never slowed and Jim started to panic. He fished his keys out of his pocket and ran to the truck. He pulled out of the driveway and threw the gearshift into drive, laying a good foot of rubber when he angrily stomped on the gas. When he drew up alongside the angry man, he pleaded, "Sandburg, please. Get in the truck. I'll take you home."

"Fuck off, you prick," Blair shouted.

"Are you firing me?"

"Yes!"

"Fine." Jim stepped on the gas and started to pull away, but after just a few yards, he stomped on the brakes. Blair never stopped but walked past Jim's truck in a blaze of anger. Jim threw the truck into park and raced after Blair, grabbing his arms. "If you don't get in the truck this instant, I swear I will pick you up and throw you in."

Blair pressed his hands against Jim's chest and pushed for all he was worth. "Leave me alone before I call the cops!"

Jim growled and in one swoop, grabbed Blair around the waist and tossed him over his shoulder.

Blair pounded on Jim's back and kicked his legs. Jim struggled with the fighting man and walked the few yards to his truck, opening the passenger door and tossing Blair bodily into the truck, grateful that the street was deserted. He slammed the door hard and pointed a finger at Blair. "I will take you home. Then you're free to do whatever the fuck you like!"

Blair sat with his arms crossed, but didn't attempt to escape. The ride back to Blair's house was made in total silence. Jim kept glancing at the angry man, but the waves of irritation and unhappiness radiating from his companion had him afraid to speak. He knew what he should do. He should apologize. Tell Blair that he hadn't meant to hurt him. That he liked what they had done and that he wanted to do it again, but he couldn't do it. It was too dangerous for him to fall in love. He had a job to do and that job came before his own personal desires. He couldn't tell Blair how he had fallen in love with him. He buried his feelings behind an icy wall and let Blair believe that what had happened between then meant nothing more to him than a few minutes of mutual pleasure that would never happen again.

The second they reached his home, Blair was out of the truck and through the front door, slamming it hard behind him. Jim stood stonily in the driveway, listening to the angry mutters and slamming doors until he was certain Blair made it to his room. He heard other doors opening. He heard Ian's insistent tapping on the door to Blair's room, the murmur of voices, and he knew that Blair relayed what had happened between them to his cousin and confidante. Jim pulled back, knowing that he could listen if he chose to, but angry that he would even dare to eavesdrop into Blair's private conversation. Whatever Sandburg had to say about him was true, he knew. He was a bastard and he deserved Blair's anger. What he had done was unconscionable. He had used his client for his own pleasure and now he had hurt the man deeply. Worse, he had allowed himself to fall in love and he hated himself for his weakness.

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Jim retreated to his room over the garage to pack, sure that he had been dismissed. Simon knocked at the door and at Jim's call, opened it and walked in.

"Ellison."

"Don't start with me," Jim barked.

Simon threw up his hands. "Whoa, Ellison. I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm here to see if we can work this out."

Jim paced. "There isn't anything to work out, Banks. I fucked up. I can't do my job this way." Jim stopped and his shoulders sagged. "Who am I kidding? I can't leave." He sighed. "Give me until morning, Simon. I just need some down time. I'll be back on the job in the morning as long as Blair is still agreeable to my conditions."

"Okay, Jim. He will be. I'll talk to him. Thanks." Simon left quietly.

Jim cursed himself soundly and went to shower.

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The next few weeks were hell. Blair was cold and distant. Jim could see the hurt radiating from his body at every glance, but he couldn't breach the distance between them. Blair deserved better. He deserved a warm, loving companion, not a hard-assed, unyielding one. Jim couldn't offer Blair what he deserved so he remained as cold as ice to the unhappy man. Jim did his job. He shadowed Blair almost constantly, hardly taking any down time except when Blair was sound asleep. Even then, Jim subjected himself to long, vigorous workouts. He ran for miles and lifted more weights than he ever thought possible. But the ache in his body wouldn't leave. The ache in his heart tore a hole though his soul. Still, he did the only thing he could. He did his job.

The entire entourage moved to Portland as part of a two week speaking tour that covered all of the major cities of the Northwest. Blair was constantly in demand and his schedule was full. Jim made all the necessary arrangements and so far, no other unsettling incidents had occurred. The night of the reception for Dr. Blair Sandburg at Portland State University was a perfect fall evening.

Jim prowled the gathering restlessly, scanning the crowd ruthlessly but never taking his senses from Blair. He turned them up and focused on the enticing man.

Blair looked beautiful. He had taken extra care in his appearance because of the interview and photo layout with The Oregonian, Portland's largest newspaper. His hair was loose and it flowed over his shoulders in a shiny chestnut cascade. He had on a powder blue shirt with tiny white and darker blue squares scattered over its surface, a pair of dark blue Dockers, and a soft, brown suede jacket. He had two silver rings in his left ear, and a silver chain with a dark blue stone hanging from the center encircled his neck. The blue orb nestled in the hollow of this throat and Jim had never seen anything so desirable in his life as Blair. His eyes sparkled and his deep laugh filled Jim's ears until he thought he would scream his desires to the entire room. Jim was miserable but not a single eyelash was out of place on the impassive man's face. He guarded his charge like the strongest cat in the jungle and not once did anyone realize the turmoil that he felt inside. Anyone but Blair, that is.

Blair never looked directly at his bodyguard, but he knew that Jim hovered just out of reach. All Blair had to do was whisper his name and he would be at his side instantly. Blair reined himself in fiercely and refused to allow Jim close to him again. He had been rejected once and that hurt was still deep and painful. He knew that Jim lusted after him, but until the bodyguard made amends for the wounds that now bled on Blair's heart, Blair would have nothing to do with Jim beyond the bare tolerance he now displayed. Lust was not what Blair wanted. He wanted Jim, that much was true, but he wanted to hear those lips whisper words of love and passion. Until then, Blair ignored the bodyguard except to issue orders regarding his protection.

Every man in the room watched the young woman cross the threshold, and they all admired her young, firm body and beautiful face. She plucked a glass of champagne from the tray that passed by and scanned the room. Her eyes lit on Jim Ellison and she approvingly undressed the handsome man with her eyes. She stood, sipping, until Jim's eyes met hers. She smiled slightly and then pouted sexily when his steel blue eyes traveled from the top of her head, down to her feet and back up again. His eyes slid away and she made the mistake of taking his smoldering glance as an invitation instead of the cataloguing of her as a possible threat to his charge. He had dismissed her from his mind instantly, but she had other ideas.

The woman slid close and the scent of her perfume tickled his nasal passages somewhat pleasantly. "I've been watching you from across the room," she purred into Jim's ear.

He glanced down at the woman who pressed her body against his leg. While he admitted her beauty to himself, he felt nothing for her other than a minor flash of irritation at her interruption. He dismissed her with a cold glare. "Why don't you go back and watch a bit longer before you leave?"

Her eyes narrowed and she turned quickly. "Bastard." Jim ignored the muttered word and the second she walked away, he forgot about her.

Blair's rich laughter cut through the room like the pleasant tinkle of wind chimes on a breezy afternoon. Jim's head came up and he saw the same woman he had dismissed just minutes earlier clinging possessively to Blair's arm. He watched while Blair leaned down and whispered in her ear and she laughed, showing small, white teeth. Then he saw red when Blair tugged her arm and led her to a door that opened into a small, private sitting room. Blair looked up and his eyes met Jim's. He tipped his head defiantly and with a look, conveyed his thoughts. You don't want me, but others do. The couple slipped through the door and it closed with the click of a lock. Jim clenched his fists and turned, stalking from the room.

Jim plowed headlong into a guest. "Excuse me. I'm very sorry,"

"Jim Ellison, you old dog!" came the deep voice.

Jim forced his focus from Blair and the laughing woman and onto the man standing in front of him. A strong hand held his upper arm and when Jim looked into the face, he smiled. "Dale! You son-of-a-bitch! Long time no see!" Jim greeted the lanky, brown-haired man.

Dale punched Jim's arm hard and grinned. "Yeah, what's it been? Three years?"

"At least." Jim automatically scanned the crowd. "What are you doing here, Dale?"

Dale Stern smiled, showing crooked teeth, his brown eyes friendly. "I'm here working. You?"

"Yeah." Jim shrugged. "The guest of honor."

"No! Good gig. I bet he pays well." Dale sipped his drink.

Jim smelled Jack Daniels and raised an eyebrow at the fact that Dale was drinking on duty. He didn't comment but asked, "Who are you shadowing?"

"Her majesty herself, Chancellor O'Brien. Seems she's had a bit of trouble with some ex-lover. I'm just doing preliminary recon." He held up his glass. "Hence the liquor. I'm not on duty until tomorrow."

Jim smiled at his old buddy. "It's great seeing you again, Dale." The sounds from behind the closed door assailed his ears and his head pounded. "Say, buddy. I've got to do a perimeter check. I'll catch you later."

"Sure, sure, Jim. Great seeing you." They shook hands and parted company. Jim dismissed his old Special Forces buddy from his mind and left after almost biting Henri's head off, warning him to watch out for Blair and curtly telling him that he was off duty for the rest of the evening.

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Blair felt lightheaded from the champagne and from the woman running her hands over his body. She smelled nice and he buried his nose in her blond hair, sniffing deeply. She turned her face up to his and they kissed. She purred and ran a hand down his chest. With nimble fingers, she unzipped his slacks. Blair froze.

"No. Stop." He tried to back up a step but her fingers gripped the waistband of his pants.

"Come on, let's have some fun," she invited, using her other hand to unbutton the top few buttons of her blouse.

Blair's head started to spin and he suddenly wanted out of the room. "I'm sorry. I can't do this."

She dropped her hand and glared. "What's wrong with you? You some sort of weirdo or what? I thought you were cute but you're surely acting like a bastard."

Blair backed up several steps and straightened his clothes, pulling up his zipper. "Sorry," he mumbled again and fled from the room. He slipped out the door and leaned back against it, breathing shakily. His eyes scanned the room as he searched for Jim. His body ached for his lover and he almost sobbed.

Simon saw Blair leaning against the door with a stricken look on his face. He crossed to his friend quickly. "Blair, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Blair straightened up and cleared his throat. "Yeah, Simon. Give me a minute." Blair smiled tentatively at his friend's concerned face. "When can we leave?"

Simon glanced at his watch. "You've put in your time, Blair. You look tired. Let's go back to the hotel." Simon signaled Henri who stood on guard a few feet away. Henri nodded and he led the way.

"Where's Jim?"

Simon shrugged. "He left a bit ago, told Henri he was off duty for the evening. Did you two go another round?"

"No. He saw… Nothing. Let's go."

The next morning in Blair's hotel suite was terrible. Jim had seen Blair go into the room with the woman the previous night, but he didn't stay around long enough to see that Blair had abandoned her within minutes. Jim assumed the worst. He was furious with Blair for what he felt was a huge transgression, but he was even angrier with himself. Why wouldn't Blair have sex with another person? He wasn't Jim's property. Hadn't Jim told him that nothing would ever happen between them again and that what they had shared had been just a passing fuck? Jim had told Blair to his face that it meant nothing and now he was pissed when Blair took Jim's word for their tryst. Even when he tried to reason with himself, Jim failed miserably.

Blair came from his room looking a bit worse for wear. His t-shirt hung from one shoulder, his sweats were rumpled and one leg was bunched around his knee. His hair was in tangles. He rubbed his forehead and moaned. "God, I know better than to drink champagne." He poured coffee and sat at the table across from Jim.

"Rough night, Sandburg?" Jim growled.