This is my attempt at an AU story. I'm using a lot of Susan Foster's ideas. Jim is still a detective. Blair is a student, but not a TA. Jim is a Sentinel and Blair is an empath and they have both just recently acquired their abilities. I'm using Susan's idea about the biological and genetic bond between Sentinel and Guide. Blair is an Anthro major but has only read about Sentinels in passing.

I'm well into the second (and I hope last) story in this universe. Thanks to Shallan for her usual wonderful and patient beta job and to Deborah for her flattery and advice. Thanks to MaryLynne for her encouragement.

Disclaimer: They're still not mine. And I'm still mad at SciFi.

FORCES OF LIGHT AND DARK

Java Head

Blair Sandburg sat in the library trying to ignore the pressure that had been building in his head for the last several days. He dropped his head down on the open book in front of him, his unruly hair covering the pages. The flu. A week before finals and he had the flu. Great. But then, the flu was just the cherry on top of everything else.

With a ridiculous amount of effort, Blair lifted his head. He closed his book and tucked it into his backpack. He decided to get some hot tea and soup at a nearby diner then go home. Home. He laughed without humor. Home on wheels.

As the young man passed the check out desk, he was startled when he felt a sensation of excitement. Where...? He turned his head in the direction of the librarian. The pretty young woman met his gaze and gave him a dazzling smile.

"Blair! Look! Isn't it wonderful?" She wiggled slim fingers to show off a diamond ring. In spite of his condition, Blair flashed her a smile.

"Bruce finally popped the question?"

"Yes," she whispered happily. Then she noticed his pale skin and the dark circles under his eyes. "Hey, Blair. Are you okay?"

He gave her a forced smile. "Ask me after finals." Lifting his hand in a small wave, he left the building.

As Blair descended the steep library steps, he vaguely noticed another student coming up the steps. As the other man got closer, Blair was hit with what he could only describe as waves of anger. Stunned, he looked up at the man and he got a strong impression of a red cloud rolling off him. Blair stopped short, trying to make sense of what he was experiencing.

Without warning, the student bumped Blair's shoulder. At the contact, pain exploded in Blair's brain. The pain and shock caused his knees to buckle and he'd have fallen down the steps if the other student hadn't grabbed his arm. Though the grip prevented a serious fall, it felt to Blair like hot metal pinchers were burning his arm.

Through a haze of agony, Blair heard a faraway voice. "Sandburg! Hey, man. What's wrong?" The student lowered Blair to sit down on the steps. As soon as he let go of Blair's arm, Blair felt the fire disappear. He huddled in a tight ball, gasping for breath. As the pain receded to a bearable level, he became aware of a figure hovering beside him.

"Hey, Sandburg. You okay? You need a doctor or..." He started to put his hand back on the sick man's arm then stopped when Blair flinched.

"Sorry, man. It... hurts when you... sorry," Blair ended lamely.

"You sick or something?"

"'M okay. Really," Blair said unconvincingly.

"Maybe you'd better go home, Sandburg."

"Yeah. That's where I'm headed." With great effort, Blair pushed himself to his feet. He shakily picked up his backpack, which he'd dropped, and made his way carefully down the stairs.

The other student watched until Blair reached the bottom, then he turned and went into the library. "Man, and I thought I had problems."

Detective Jim Ellison leaned his head against the steering wheel of his truck. The painful sound waves which had threatened to crush his skull were almost gone. Damn, that had been a bad one. He had been on his way home when some joker had flashed his brights and blared his horn, sending white fire and agony through the Detective's brain. Thankfully, Jim had had no one right behind him as he slammed on his brakes and was able, through instinct more than anything else, to pull onto the shoulder.

When the strange spells had first started, Jim thought he was having a stroke of some kind. Now he was convinced he was losing his mind.

Jim raised his head slowly and squinted his eyes against the oncoming headlights. His head and eyes ached from the 'spell', but it seemed to have passed for now. Finally, deciding he could see and respond well enough to drive safely, Ellison pulled the truck back into traffic and resumed his trip home.

He had already seen his doctor, as well as all the doctor's partners. He'd had a battery of tests sure to freak out his insurance company and had found out pretty much what he suspected he would. The doctors didn't know what was wrong with him. They could find no reason for his condition. No reason for his senses to be going haywire. When the doctor recommended a psychiatrist, Ellison had told him in very creative terms, what he could do with his advice and left.

Ellison was angry and worried. He was a control freak. He admitted it. Too much crap had happened in his life for him to let his guard down or trust anyone or anything completely. He didn't like to leave anything to chance and he wanted complete control of every situation that concerned him. But this... condition. It was a total loss of control. It was plain crazy. And not only did nobody know what was wrong with him, but Jim got the feeling that they didn't really believe him.

One thing was for certain. If this didn't get fixed soon, he'd be out of a job. Probably taking up permanent residence in an asylum. Couldn't have a Detective running around who was hearing and smelling things that nobody else did. Come to think of it, Jim Ellison was downright scared.

Blair was trying to concentrate on the very difficult job in front of him. Trying to decide which kind of soup he wanted. Oh yeah. The cheapest one. Since losing his job as Dr. Stoddard's assistant, he was letting Mr. Schroeder 'carry' his tab for awhile. Blair hated depending on the kind old man, but he had to eat. And the store owner knew it was important to Blair not to take charity. Blair trusted Mr. Schroeder to be honest about what Blair owed him. He'd pay him back when he was able.

Having chosen his hot soup and tea from the deli section in the back of the store, Blair moved to the front to have his purchases added to his tab. He rounded the corner of the aisle and stopped short. Mr. Schroeder was being held at gun point by a man wearing a ski mask. Blair stepped back, hiding behind a shelf of cans. Normally he would be scared, but he was just too sick and exhausted to be scared. All he could think about was how perfectly this was fitting into the rest of his recent life.

Reacting instead of thinking, Blair's hand wrapped around a can of spaghetti sauce. He pulled his arm back in a pitcher's stance. Then slowly stepped around the shelf. Using all the energy he had left, Blair let go with a smooth but powerful aim as the missile skimmed through the air and neatly hit the gun man in the forehead. Never knowing what hit him, the man dropped to the ground, out cold.

Blair's moment of triumph was shattered when he heard shots and saw Mr. Schroeder's chest explode before the old man was thrown to the floor. Blair screamed and ran to his friend, unmindful of his own safety. As he dropped to his knees near Mr. Schroeder, he heard a voice. "Stop right there, hippie." Blair looked up at the second robber who'd been hiding behind another aisle. The man held a gun on Blair and Mr. Schroeder.

"Come on, man. You have to let me help him!"

"Shut up! Get away from him."

"He's dying!"

"I don't care! I said move away."

"Then you're going to have to shoot me, because I'm going to help him." Defiantly, Blair looked away from the masked man and closed the rest of the distance between him and the old man. The gunman decided to ignore Blair and Mr. Schroeder and started cleaning out the cash register.

Painfully aware of the waves of fear rolling off the old man, Blair gritted his teeth against the expected pain and lifted the bleeding body and sat, holding him against him. "Mr. Schroeder. Mr. Schroeder, it's Blair. Can you hear me?" Blair gasped at the shock of emotions coming off the man.

The old eyes opened and looked at the young face above him. Mr. Schroeder's mouth opened a couple of times before sound finally came out. "Blair," he said weakly.

Ignoring the tears running down his face, Blair held onto the old man and talked to him. "It's okay, Mr. Schroeder. Don't talk right now. We'll get you to a hospital. Don't talk."

The old hand patted Blair's arm in understanding. "It's alright, my young friend. I... my time... come."

"No. No, we'll get you help." Desperately, Blair pulled him tighter to him.

"Blair... I need... tell you... dreamed about... you."

"Dreamed?" Blair asked, confused.

"...Last night... God told... me... you'll be... okay."

"Okay?"

"Your friend... help... you... help... be... right." The old man's eyes slid shut and his hand fell limply from Blair's arm.

Knowing Mr. Schroeder was dead, Blair buried his face in the old man's neck and cried. He was so immersed in the waves of pain and emotion from his friend's moment of death that he was completely oblivious to the sudden gunfire around him.

Ellison sighed in exasperation when he got the call. He had been only about a mile from his home. Turning his truck around, he headed for the little grocery store and deli where the reported robbery was taking place.

By the time he reached the scene, there were already about half a dozen other police cars in the lot. Cops and spectators were all over the place and the police were having a difficult time keeping people clear of the chaos. One of the robbers had been taken out and at least one person had been shot.

Squinting against the bright lights of the parking lot and store, Ellison focused carefully on the scene inside the store. He couldn't see anyone except the second perp, a heavy man in a ski mask who was scooping money out of the cash register. The thief finished collecting the money, then aimed his gun toward the floor on the other side of the cash register. Carefully focusing on the scene, Ellison realized there was another, smaller man kneeling on the floor and the perp was going to shoot him. Ignoring everything around him, Jim took careful aim with his gun and squeezed the trigger. The plate glass window shattered with the force of the bullets and the perp was thrown backward as more bullets hit him square in the chest, killing him.

Carefully, he and the other officers entered the store. Jim noticed a young, long-haired man sitting on the floor holding a blood-covered body. Letting the other officers check out the rest of the scene, Jim crouched beside the young man. Carefully, he moved his hand toward the smaller figure, meaning to touch the trembling shoulder. He halted his movement when he saw the shoulder flinch. Blue, pain-filled eyes looked up at him. "Hey, kid. You alright?"

"He's dead," the young man whispered. "...hurts."

Jim let his hand carefully cover the shoulder. Blair looked into Ellison's eyes as he realized that the larger man's touch didn't hurt him. If anything, it shielded him from the pain he'd been feeling since he first touched Mr. Schroeder.

Jim didn't have time to wonder about the strange vibration that flowed from the kid's shoulder to his arm because Blair passed out.

Blair looked around the hospital examining room and pulled his coat tighter around him. He had been given a surgical scrub shirt to wear because his own had been covered with blood. He noticed, thankfully, that someone had brought his back pack in when they transported him to the hospital. He checked it and found that everything was still in there.

Blair sighed. How the heck was he gonna pay for this? Sure, there had been nothing actually wrong with him, but there was the cost of the ambulance and the emergency room check up. Maybe his student insurance would cover this. Good thing he paid for the whole year. Course, it would give Chancellor Edwards something else to gripe about. Not that she needed a reason.

Dear God, he felt awful. He couldn't bear to think about Mr. Schroeder. The old man had been one of those rare human beings who proved he cared about the world by actually showing it. The world would truly miss him. Blair knew he surely would. And not just because he made sure Blair didn't starve. Just as the tears started to well up in his eyes again, the door opened. Quickly, Blair swiped the wetness from his face as he looked up to see who walked in.

The tall man with pale blue eyes looked familiar. He certainly wasn't a doctor. Blair had a sudden memory of those blue eyes looking at him as he held Mr. Schroeder's still-warm dead body. Right before he'd passed out.

"How are you feeling?" The concerned voice didn't match the seemingly expressionless face.

Blair shrugged. "Like I was in the middle of a gun fight and passed out. Can I leave?" Blair was suddenly anxious to leave. He hated hospitals. They were dens of misery. He could feel the despair these walls held inside them. He really could.

"The doctor said you're free to go. Shock is the only reason they can find that caused you to pass out. That and low blood sugar. I need to ask a few questions first." The man pulled a chair over and sat down in front of Blair.

"Are you a cop?"

"Yes. I'm Detective James Ellison."

"Blair Sandburg." Blair stuck out his hand. Ellison seemed surprised. Shock victims usually weren't too concerned with etiquette. Jim took the smaller hand in a firm handshake.

"Are you okay, Mr. Sandburg?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Have you looked in the mirror today? You look sick."

"I've got the flu."

Ellison nodded. "Do you live around here, Mr. Sandburg?"

"I'm a student at Rainier." Suddenly he lifted his head and looked into Ellison's eyes. "Is Mr. Schroeder really dead?" His voice was full of misery.

Jim swallowed. "Yes. I'm afraid so. Was he a friend?" Blair nodded. Jim understood Blair's pain. Had been there himself. "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry. Two words that were usually flung around without any sorrow or understanding. But Blair knew that wasn't the case here. Somehow, he knew Ellison wasn't a man who used insincere or unnecessary words. Blair squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard, pushing down the lump that threatened to choke him.

Ellison noticed the young man's struggle to hold himself together. "Look, why don't we do this tomorrow?"

Blair started to slide off the table. "Yeah, thanks man."

Jim stepped forward quickly and caught Blair's elbow as his knees buckled and he started to crumple. "Easy, Kid. Why don't I give you a ride home?"

"No, man. That's okay. I've got it covered."

"Listen, kid. You can barely stand. Besides, you were brought here by ambulance. You don't have your car."

"I'll catch a bus," he assured Ellison, knowing full well that he didn't have money for a bus. Blair carefully extricated himself from Ellison's grip (which he noticed, by the way, didn't hurt), picked up his back pack and walked out of the room. He saw that Ellison was following him.

"I need your address, Sandburg. I'll have to get your statement from you tomorrow."

"I can be contacted at Rainier. Usually in the Anthropology Department."

"I need your address for police records. You were a witness."

Blair stopped and turned around to face the detective. "Look, I don't like to give out my address."

"I'm a cop."

"Yeah, you said that."

"I need your address."

"I'm... between addresses."

"Where are you living?"

"With a friend," he lied.

"I need an address."

"1400 Rainier Drive."

Ellison didn't even skip a beat. "That's the University's address. Where are you living?"

Blair turned around and continued walking down the hallway. Ellison followed him. The two men walked through the exit doors into the night air. Jim reached out and grabbed Blair's arm and turned him around. "Where are you living, Sandburg?"

"In my car. Okay? Is that legal?" He turned around and walked down the sidewalk. Ellison followed him. The man was tenacious.

"You're living in your car, but going to the University?"

"I lost my job. I owed back rent and lost my place. But I'm at Rainier on a full scholarship. It's temporary. I'll get another job. Satisfied?"

"Chief, do you realize how many muggings go on in University parking lots after dark?"

"What's it to you? Besides, I lock my doors."

"It gets down to freezing at night this time of year."

"I have blankets."

"You passed the bus stop, Sandburg."

Blair continued walking. Ellison continued following him.

"You don't have money for a bus, do you?" Blair kept walking. "Sandburg, will you stop for a minute and look at me?" The man was starting to get seriously irritated.

Blair stopped and turned around. "What?"

"Don't you have anyone you can call? Parents?"

"No."

"Well, at least let me drive you to the University."

"Why? Why are you following me?"

"You're sick. You passed out. I'm worried about you."

Blair was silent a moment, assessing the man in front of him. He truly seemed to care. Blair couldn't see anything false about the man. "All right. You can give me a ride to the U."

Jim gestured with his head. "Good. Follow me." He headed toward the hospital parking lot with Blair in tow. Jim stopped in front of a dark green Ford Explorer and unlocked the passenger door for Blair. The two men got in and Jim pulled the truck onto the highway in the direction of the University.

They rode in silence for a moment. Suddenly, Jim started hearing a sound like a loud, heavy drum, keeping a steady rhythm. Great. Just great. Just what he needed. An audience while he lost his mind.

Blair whipped his head around to look at Ellison with wide eyes. Oh no. It was happening again. He could feel waves of fear emanating from the man beside him.

Jim heard the drums increase their speed. What the...? He looked at Blair. The sound was coming from the kid! Blair was staring at Jim, his eyes wide with terror. "Sandburg, what's wr..." Realization hit him like cold water. He was hearing the kid's heartbeat!

Jim hit the brakes and pulled roughly to the shoulder, stopping the vehicle. The two men looked at one another in shocked silence. Jim reached toward Blair. "Chief, what's wrong?" Blair pulled his arm away from him. "Sandburg, it's okay. I'm not going to..."

"Every time I feel... that, it hurts when someone... touches me." His voice was shaking.

"Feel what?" Ellison asked softly. He saw the younger man trembling visibly. "Feel what?" he asked again when Blair didn't answer him.

Blair shook his head. "I can't tell you. You'll think..." Blair looked away.

Jim finished for him. "That you're crazy?" Blair nodded. "What did you feel? I need to know."

Blair looked back at him. "Why? Why do you need to know?"

Jim rubbed his hand across his face and took a deep breath. "Look, Sandburg, I don't usually help people with their personal problems. I do my job and leave the emotional stuff to someone else. I don't know why I felt compelled to want to help you tonight, but I think it may have something to do with what just happened to me."

"To you? What happened to you?" Blair asked suspiciously.

Instead of answering him, Jim asked him again, "Tell me what you felt."

Blair took a shaky breath and wrapped his arms tight around his chest. "Something scared you," he said quietly. "You were scared and... and angry."

"How did you know?" Jim narrowed his eyes.

Blair closed his eyes and whispered, "I felt it."

"Felt it? Felt what?"

"Your fear. I felt your fear. It was almost like I could see it. Rolling off you like waves." Blair looked up and saw disbelief in Ellison's eyes. Grabbing up his backpack, he opened the truck door. "Forget it, man. I'm outta here." Angrily he got out of the truck and started walking along the shoulder of the highway.

Jim got out on his side and ran after Blair. "Sandburg! Sandburg, wait!" He ran and caught up with the younger man. Reaching out, he grabbed Blair's arm then remembered Blair pulling away from him and let the arm go. Blair didn't stop so Jim ran around him and stopped in front of him. "Blair, stop please!"

Blair stopped and looked at the tall man with eyes full of pain and anger. "What do you want with me, man? I knew you wouldn't believe me. Let me go!"

Jim held his hand out toward Blair in an imploring gesture. "Blair, I believe you. I do! It's just so... after what happened to me, it's..."

Blair watched fascinated, as Ellison struggled for the words to express himself. "Freaky?"

"Yeah! Freaky. Not a work I'd pick, but it fits. Freaky."

"Jim, what happened to you?" Blair asked quietly.

Ellison's hands dropped to his sides. After a long pause, he said in a flat voice, "I heard your heart beating."

Blair rolled his eyes and turned back around, and resumed walking.

"No! Blair!" Jim called desperately. "I'm not making fun of you!" He caught up with Blair again, once again stepping in front of him. Blair looked up at him, anger simmering in his eyes. "Sandburg, I swear to you, I am not lying. I've been hearing and seeing things nobody else can and it's driving me crazy. In the truck I could hear your heart beating. And when you looked at me, it started beating faster, like you were scared."

The anger in Blair's eyes was replaced by fear and awe. "I was. Because I could feel your fear and anger and I was scared because it was happening again."

Taking a deep breath, Jim held out his hand, careful not to touch the young man. "Come on, Chief. Let's get back in the truck. It's cold out here."

When they were back in the truck, Jim turned again to Blair. "Sandburg, I'd like for you to stay at my place. For tonight at least."

"Why?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Because you're sleeping in your car. Because it's cold tonight. Because you're sick. Because we need to talk about this." And because he had been feeling uncharacteristically protective toward the kid since he first laid eyes on him and he didn't want to let him out of his sight.

"You mean 'you' need to talk about this."

"Listen, Chief. We are both experiencing something that only happens in science fiction movies, and though I've seen too much weird stuff to discount something unexplainable happening to one person, I think it's very strange that it's happening to both of us. There's something else to all of this and I think it's really important that we figure out what it is."

"I have class in the morning."

"I'll give you a ride."

Having used up all of his arguments, he waited for Blair to make a decision. Cripes, the kid was stubborn!

Finally, Blair relented. "Okay. But just for tonight." As though relieved, Blair leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Satisfied, Jim started the truck and once again swung into traffic. "We'll see," he said quietly.

In Ellison's condominium, Jim watched Blair eat. The doctor had said that Blair had a low blood sugar level when he was brought in to the hospital. Guessing correctly that the young man had eaten nothing that day, Jim insisted on feeding him. He heated up some soup, since it was fast. Jim waited until Blair was eating before continuing his questions.

"Chief, in the truck, you said that when you felt... emotions from other people, that it hurt when you were touched."

Blair nodded. "Yeah. Some guy bumped against me at the library earlier tonight and it felt like my arm was on fire. And my head felt like it was gonna explode."

"And when Mr. Schroeder died in your arms."

Blair stopped eating and lowered his eyes. "It hurt when I touched him. I knew it would, but I had to. He was dying. I couldn't let him..." His voice drifted off to a whisper. He lifted his eyes again. "When he died, it was like ice in my brain. Like the biggest ice cream headache you ever had and it wouldn't let go." Setting the almost empty bowl on the table in front of him, he buried his face in his hands. Suddenly, sobs tore out of him.

Without thinking, Jim left his chair and knelt beside the hurting young man, gathering him in his arms. When Blair didn't pull away, Jim held him tighter, holding the back of his head and rubbing light circles on his back, comforting him. It seemed the most natural thing in the world, to hold this young man whom he'd only known for a few hours.

When Blair's tears were spent, he pulled away from Ellison, embarrassed. "Sorry, man," he mumbled, not meeting the older man's eyes.

Refusing to let Blair close himself off just yet, Jim stayed beside him and laid his hand on Blair's shoulder. "It's alright, Chief. And I know you're exhausted, but I need to know one more thing."

Leaning his heavy head to rest on his open palm, Blair looked patiently at Jim. "What?"

"Did it hurt you when I touched you at the store? When I found you after Mr. Schroeder died?"

Blair lifted his head and looked at him in amazement. "No," he whispered. He spoke again, his voice stronger. "No, it didn't. But it should have. I was hurting from Mr. Schroeder's touch and it should have hurt when you touched me, but it didn't. In fact, I remember now, that it... it felt better. No, it felt good!" He looked down at the large hand on his shoulder, then back up at Ellison. "It doesn't hurt when you touch me, Jim. What does that mean?"

Blair was walking down the sidewalk with Jim following him. "Come on, Chief. Hold up! We need to talk about this."

"I don't want to talk about anything. Just leave me alone, man. What do you want from me?"

Jim stepped around and stopped in front of Blair. Laying his hand on Blair's arm, he looked at him with hunger in his eyes. "I need you, Chief."

Suddenly another hand reached out from behind Blair and grabbed his other arm, roughly turning him around. Blair cried out with pain. The hand belonged to a tall blond woman. "No, you're mine!" she said.

Blair woke up suddenly, his heart pounding in his chest. Geez, what was that? Kind of a bad dream, he guessed. Wait a minute! He jumped out of the bed in Ellison's extra room. It had been so late when they went to bed, that Jim had just pulled out a sleeping bag for Blair rather than get out clean sheets and such. Blair went to his back pack and pulled out his appointment book.

A figure appeared in the dark doorway, making Blair jump. He slumped in relief when he recognized the shape as Ellison. "You scared me, man."

"You alright, Chief? I heard your..."

"Heart beating?"

"Yeah. Really fast. Nightmare?"

"Uhh, sort of, I guess. Wasn't really scary in itself, but it must mean something bad."

"What?"

"I don't know yet, but I'm about to figure it out, I think." Blair sat down on the bed and patted the space beside him. Jim sat down.

Blair flipped through pages until he found the one he was looking for. "My dream reminded me of something extremely weird that happened about a week ago. And right now, I'm betting that anything even remotely weird is somehow connected to all the really big weirdness that's going on with us right now."

Jim raised his eyebrow at the word, 'us'.

Blair pushed his long hair away from his face and pointed to an entry in his book. Jim looked at the page. Written in the fine script of an artist, were the words: Pick up Aztec arti./Dr. Stoddard 3 pm. Jim waited patiently for Blair to explain.

"Okay, this is the day my life started to go to Hell. I was at the Aztec museum to pick up an artifact for Dr. Stoddard. Until a couple of weeks ago, I was his assistant. Dr. Stoddard teaches Anthropology at the U. Anyway, I had picked up the item and was carrying it out to my car. I felt this buzzing in my head."

"Buzzing?"

"Yeah. It felt like when you touch something electrical that's not grounded with wet hands. A mild but definitely unpleasant electric current running through your body. Really weird. So, anyway, I turned around, wondering what could be the cause of it. This woman is walking toward me. Really gorgeous woman. Any other time, I'd have been totally turned on. Tall, blond, blue eyes. Really intense gaze. Definitely a chick who would turn every male head for blocks around. But she seemed really mad about something. And she was walking right toward me. Not a good thing, I figured. So I started to unlock my car door, but by that time she was right next to me. I stopped and looked up at her, trying to think of a way to diffuse the situation, when she reached out and grabbed my wrist." Blair looked at Jim with panic in his eyes, breathing like he'd just run a marathon.

Jim rested his hand on Blair's arm, calming him. "Then what happened, Chief?"

"Exactly what has happened every time since then, when I've been around someone throwing off strong emotion. Except this was a whole lot worse. My wrist felt like it was burning. No, it felt like the skin was melting. My brain felt like it was on fire. I think I screamed and next thing I knew I was lying on the pavement with a bunch of people around me. The woman was gone. That's what started it. It was her."

"Who was she?"

"I've never seen her before or since. But I definitely would remember if I saw her again. Oh yeah. I dreamed about her. Just now. That's what woke me up."

"Let's go make some coffee. You can tell me about the dream while I fix breakfast.

Actually, Jim fixed breakfast while Blair took a shower. Then Blair told Jim about the dream while they ate. Blair started to refuse breakfast, but Jim insisted. The man could be very persuasive.

"So, Chief. You remember her face well enough for us to do a composite of her? Maybe she's on file."

Blair nodded, swallowing a mouthful of egg. "Definitely. Not a face anyone could easily forget."

"How about after class? What time can I pick you up?"

Blair rolled his eyes. "I have class 'til noon. I'll meet you. I can drive, you know."

"Okay, how about we meet for lunch? My treat, then we can go to the station. We'll do the composite and take your statement. Get them both out of the way."

Blair started to protest. "Jim, I don't need for you to buy my--"

Jim interrupted him. "Sandburg, let's get practical here. You have no money. I know it's driving you crazy to depend on someone, so let's just say that after you get back on your feet, you'll pay me back. I'll even save all the receipts. Okay?"

Blair stared hard at the tall man for a minute. "Okay. Thanks. Again."

Jim looked at the younger man for a moment. "You alright this morning, Chief? Last night was pretty bad."

Blair was silent for a few seconds. "The robbery... that'll take awhile to process and deal with. But physically, I feel a lot better. It probably has a lot to do with you feeding me. You'll make someone a great mother someday." Jim laughed.

Blair checked his watch. "Listen, Jim. I gotta get to class. Can you still give me a ride?"

"No problem, Chief. Lemme grab my coat."

When Ellison dropped Blair off at the University, he had to admit the kid looked much better than he had last night. He didn't look sick anymore and he was talking a mile a minute. Ellison had a feeling that this was the 'real' Sandburg. The one that wasn't shell-shocked or half-starved. Now that he was getting back to 'normal', the kid was a wellspring of opinion and information.

"Okay, Jim. We've talked all about me and my bizarre problems. Later, we'll deal with yours. You need to think about this today. Try to figure out when this started and the circumstances leading up to it. Where were you? What were you doing? What was the weather like? Seemingly irrelevant stuff like that. Write it down if you have time. How many 'episodes' have you had? What happened? Explain how it felt. How long did it last? Was anything effected besides your hearing and vision?"

Jim interrupted him. "Breathe, Chief. You're gonna be late."

Blair looked at Jim with a funny look on his face. "Why do you keep calling me that?"

"What?"

"'Chief'. You keep calling me 'Chief'."

Jim looked surprised. "I don't know. I didn't even realize I was doing it." He was thoughtful. "It was a name someone called me when I was a kid."

"I hope it was a good thing?"

Jim grinned. "Yeah. It was a good thing."

Ellison leaned against the side of his truck waiting for Sandburg. They'd agreed to meet for lunch at a little family cafe called Doc's Diner. Mainly because the diner was in between the University and the Police Station. Jim looked at his watch. The kid was ten minutes late. He tried not to worry about him.

Jim hadn't had time in his busy morning to write anything down as Blair had suggested, but he'd thought about it a lot. He had no trouble recalling each and every 'episode' he'd had. They had been painfully clear and were forever embedded in his memory. He'd been terrified each time it had happened.

Blair's suspicion that his other senses were also affected had been correct. Now that he thought about it, his taste buds had been totally out of whack. Everything was too spicy or sweet. His food choices had been very bland lately. He ate only until his hunger was satisfied. Food held no pleasure for him since this started. He'd also noticed that most perfumes and after shave odors were strong enough to give him a headache.

Jim's thoughts were interrupted when he heard the distant sound of a car badly in need of a tune up turning into the diner parking lot. He guessed right when he saw that it was, indeed, Sandburg. The student was driving a beat up, light blue Corvair. Jim figured it probably got lousy gas mileage, too.

Blair parked beside the truck and stepped out of the Corvair. "Sorry I'm late, man. It's been a... difficult morning."

Jim took in the pale skin and troubled eyes, but said nothing. Gesturing toward the diner, he said. "It's okay, Chief. Let's get some lunch."

They went inside the diner and were quickly seated. Blair looked halfheartedly at his menu then dropped it to the table. "I'll just have the soup and salad."

"What's up, Sandburg? You don't look very good."

Blair looked up, dark blue eyes meeting Ellison's lighter blue ones. "I was okay this morning. Last night I thought I was coming down with the flu, but this morning I felt pretty good, considering. I just figured it was because of you feeding me and letting me sleep in a warm bed, you know?" Blair paused, trying to pull his thoughts together to communicate them to Jim.

Jim was quiet, encouraging Sandburg with his silence. Blair continued. "Anyway, things were pretty tense all day. The Chancellor had heard about last night's robbery and my involvement in it. I guess after the way I lost my job last week, my name was mud and any negative attention is seen as a black mark on the University. I spent an entire class in her office telling what happened, like it's any of her business. It didn't involve the U in any way at all. It's not like it was my fault or anything!" Jim put his hand gently on Blair's wrist. Blair cut off his tirade when he realized that he was ranting and was getting pretty loud about it. "Sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay, Chief," Jim said kindly. He gestured to the waitress and quickly gave her their orders. With a wary glance at Blair, she hurried away.

"Okay, Chief. What else happened?" Jim had removed his hand from Blair's wrist, but kept his hand on the table near the young man's hand.

"The whole time I was in her office, I could literally 'feel' her anger toward me. It felt like pulses of energy hitting me. Over and over. She's never liked me, and I think she's just waiting for a reason to kick me out. By the time I left her office, I had a monster headache and I felt weak. Like when I go all day without eating. Since then, I've been picking up on emotions from everyone around me. Just like last night before the robbery. I finished the rest of my morning classes, but I've been very careful not to come in bodily contact with anyone."

"How do you do that in a crowded hallway?"

"You get to class late and wait until everyone has gone before leaving the room."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. I'm just glad I don't have anymore classes today."

Just then the waitress returned with their orders. Blair leaned slightly away from her as she set his plate in front of him, careful not to let her touch him. After she set Jim's order down, he nodded his thanks to her and she left.

Jim started eating then noticed that Blair hadn't moved yet. Touching the student's hand lightly, he said, "Try to eat, Chief. We'll get this figured out." Slowly, Blair picked up his spoon and started to eat.

"Why does the Chancellor want to get rid of you, Chief?"

"I don't really know why. I follow the rules, but, I have a big mouth, I guess. I'm always protesting, arguing with teachers, stuff like that. I suppose I like to rock the boat."

"Does this have something to do with how you lost your job?"

"You remember I told you about that artifact I picked up from the museum?" Jim nodded. "Well, when that blond grabbed me, I dropped it. It broke." Jim winced. "Obviously, I don't have the money to pay for it. Besides, legally the U is responsible, since I was working for them when I picked it up. Since it had nothing to do with my position as a student, I couldn't be kicked out because of it. So, I got fired. Dr. Stoddard defended me, saying it wasn't my fault. I was attacked, etc. But it didn't matter." Blair stabbed angrily at his salad. "My rent was a couple months overdue when I got fired. I had to make a choice between rent or a car payment and decided I needed my car worse than my apartment. I've been using the last of my money for food and gas, just trying to hang on until I found another job. So here I am."

"And now the Chancellor is trying to make something out of last night's robbery." Jim noticed that Blair was no longer eating. "You finished, Chief?" Blair nodded, though his food was only half eaten. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Blair waited beside the front door while Jim paid for the meal. Jim tried to throw the receipt into the trash can, but Blair caught him and held his hand out, palm up. With a resigned sigh, Jim laid the receipt in Blair's hand.

As they walked through the door, a large man resembling a grizzly bear was coming through the door in the opposite direction and rudely shoved Sandburg out of his way. Blair gasped as he grabbed his head, sparks of light filling his vision. Before he realized what he was doing, Jim grabbed the man by the neck and threw him up against the wall. Inches from the man's face, Jim gritted his teeth and practically growled at him. "I think you'd better work on your manners a little bit before you get hurt, Bluto. Why don't you go pick on someone your own size?"

When the pain and the sparks cleared from Blair's brain, he saw what was going on. He grabbed Jim's arm and tried to pull the cop away from the man. "Jim. Jim, I'm okay. Let him go, man." He spoke in a low, calm voice. It had been his experience that mad or upset people heard you better when you used a quiet voice. It seemed to do the trick. A rational light returned to Jim's eyes and he slowly set the man down. He let him go and the man took off.

Blair tightened his grip on Jim's arm. "Hey, Jim. You okay? Come on, big guy. You're making me kind of nervous. Are you okay?" He looked around them and was relieved to noticed that the parking lot was vacant of witnesses.

Jim looked down at the student. "I'm alright, Blair. But are you? I... I heard your heartbeat after that gorilla shoved you. You sounded like you were having a heart attack."

"It hurt," Blair admitted. "Talk about 'loud' emotions. Definitely someone I'll steer clear of in the future. But it passed. I'm better now," he assured Ellison.

Jim wrapped his hands around Blair's arms. "You're shaking, Chief. And you're skin is colder."

His discomfort forgotten for a moment, Blair looked up, amazed. "You can feel my skin temperature? Through two shirts and a coat?"

Jim was stunned at the implication. "Uh... yeah. I guess so."

"Wow. That's another one!"

"Another what?"

"Vision, hearing and now, touch!"

"Add taste and smell to that, Chief." Blair swayed a little and Jim tightened his grip on his arm. "Come on, let's sit in the truck for a minute. You're a little shaky."

Jim held the passenger door open for Blair and waited for him to climb into the seat, then walked around and got in on his side. He started the truck and reached over to flip on the heater, flooding the cab with warm air. Blair relaxed visibly and his tremors disappeared.

"Better?" Jim asked.

"Much. Thanks." Blair was quiet a moment. "It's weird having a guardian angel," he said almost jokingly.

"It's weird being one. I never even felt this protective about my ex-wife." Jim thought about his feelings toward this mouthy kid that he'd met not even 24 hours ago and what it must mean. Not in the mood for such strenuous brain activity, he pushed his thoughts back. He'd ponder them later.

"Are you finished with classes for the day?" Jim looked over at Blair. The young man's head rested against the back of the seat and his eyes were closed. Blair simply nodded. "You falling asleep, Chief?"

Blair turned his head and cracked open his eyes to look at Jim. He smiled. "Maybe."

"Tell you what. Why don't we go to the station, do the composite and you can give your statement, then we can go back to the loft."

"The 'loft'?"

"It's what I call my place. 'The Loft'. Like in a barn. Up in the sky. You know, a loft?"

"I get it, man. I get it." Blair's smile disappeared and he sighed. "Look, Jim. I feel really funny about you taking care of me."

"Blair-"

"This is all too weird, man. You and me and your senses and this thing with me and everyone else's emotions pounding at my brain and you wanting to help me out and me... wanting... you to." Blair's words drifted and he looked up at Jim, eyes full of confusion and fear and -- Jim couldn't figure out what else it was exactly, but he got a strong impression of wanting in those dark blue eyes. "It's just..."

"Weird," Jim finished for him. "Okay, let's try this. We go with my plan. Then you go back home with me. You stay with me for now -- no commitments on this from either of us. You leave when you want to. If I want you to leave, I'll give you fair warning. We work on this together. No pressure, Blair. But, like, who else is either of us going to go to about any of this? Right now, we need each other."

Blair's smile returned. "Okay, Jim. For now." He started to open the door. "I'll just follow you to the station."

"Are you sure you're up to driving, Chief?"

"Yeah, I'm a lot better, Jim. I know my way to the P.D. I'll meet you there."

Jim grinned. "Just don't get lost."

Jim directed Blair to the interrogation room to give his statement. He figured it'd be better to get that out of the way first.

"Are you going to take my statement?" Blair asked Jim as they walked down the hallway. Blair noticed a lot of people staring at him and it was making him nervous. He was also starting to pick up strong emotional vibes all around him. He realized that what he had been experiencing was 'empathy'. The ability to pick up or draw upon another person's emotions or even their personality. He was starting to get headachy and weak again. He really hoped Jim wasn't going to leave him alone in here.

"Yes, but there'll be another officer observing. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah. Let's get this over with."

"You feeling sick again, Sandburg? Your heart's..."

Blair looked sharply at him.

Jim looked embarrassed. "Sorry, Chief."

Blair softened his expression. "No, that's okay, Jim. It's just... kind of hard to get used to."

"Okay, so?"

"It's happening again. I'm getting hit with a lot of negative emotions here. I guess I'm the stereotype of a trouble maker."

"Mmm... yeah, maybe a little. Relax. You're with me. Nobody'll bother you."

"My guardian angel."

Jim escorted Blair into the interrogation room. They had stopped at the break room and gotten coffee. Blair sat down at the bare table clutching his styrofoam cup, looking all around the stark room. "So, this is what the inside of an interrogation room looks like." He gestured toward the mirror high up on a wall. "You guys think you're fooling anyone with the two-way mirror?"

Jim grinned. "Hollywood gives away all our secrets." He sat down opposite Blair and set a small tape recorder on the table in front of Blair. "We just have to wait for Simon. He'll be here any minute."

"Who's Simon?"

"Captain Simon Banks."

As if on cue, the door opened and a tall, black man entered. He was even taller than Jim. Neither man was abnormally tall, but they were on the top of the 'tall' scale. To Blair's 5'7" frame, just about anybody was tall. But Jim and Simon were 'really' tall.

"Captain, this is Blair Sandburg. Blair, Captain Simon Banks."

The Captain reached his hand out toward Blair. Blair gripped the large hand in a solid handshake. "Nice to meet you, Captain."

"Same here, Mr. Sandburg. Last night was pretty rough. How are you today?" The Captain pushed his wire framed glassed up on his nose.

Blair shifted uncomfortably under the unaccustomed concern. "Okay. Thank you, Sir."

"Okay, Chief," Jim took over. Simon raised his eyebrows at Jim's use of a nickname toward this kid he barely knew. "You just tell what happened as well as you remember. Take your time. I may ask questions from time to time to clarify something. Ready?" Blair nodded. Jim pushed the record button.

Jim sat beside Blair as the young man worked with the station's artist. He watched Blair carefully, ready to haul him out of the station the minute he suspected the kid had reached the end of his endurance. Giving his statement had been hard on him in his already weakened state. Once in awhile, Jim would catch Blair wince in pain or lift his fingers lightly to his head, as though he was suffering from a headache.

Jim caught himself falling in close beside Blair, as though shielding him from any harm, physical or emotional. Strange. But he didn't resist it. He noticed how Blair had a natural, easy camaraderie toward everyone he dealt with. Tired and sick as he was, he was at ease and comfortable with people.

With interest, the Detective watched the creation of the face that disturbed Blair's sleep. Blair was right. She was gorgeous. Striking blue eyes, slightly tilted at the edges, the way most women wish their eyes were. Straight, classic nose. Full lips. High cheekbones. Flawless, creamy complexion. Strawberry blond hair. The woman could be a model. Sandburg had said she was taller than he was. Maybe 5'10".

The artist downloaded the picture into the computer. "If her picture is on file, we should have her I.D. in just a couple of minutes." Then he left for coffee.

Jim and Blair both leaned back, facing each other. Blair took a sip of his coffee. "Man, all this caffeine should keep me up all night, but I don't think it's gonna matter tonight."

"You're a growing boy, Chief. You need lots of sleep. How are you feeling?"

"Holding up. It's probably psychological, but I feel better -- more stable -- when you're beside me."

"Chief, after the past 20 hours, I'll believe anything. Concerning you and me, anyway."

They were interrupted by loud, annoying noises coming from the computer. They watched spellbound, as a police file came up on the screen. "That's her," whispered Blair.

Jim read aloud as he skimmed the file. "Alex Barnes. AKA Alicia Bannister. Armed robbery; suspected murder; assault with a deadly weapon; and all the etceteras. Served time in maximum security. PLUS a little time in an asylum. Diagnosed with schizophrenia and dementia." Here, Jim's voice dropped to a whisper. "She claimed she heard voices. Saw things nobody else could see." He stopped reading and looked at Blair, who was, in turn, looking at him.

"Jim." Blair licked his lips.

"I think it's time to go home, Chief." Blair nodded and they left.

Jim had wanted for Blair to follow him to the Loft, but Blair wanted to go to the University, instead. "I have an idea, Jim and I need to check some stuff out at the library." He put his hand reassuringly on Jim's arm. "I'm alright for now. I know exactly where my information is and I promise I won't be long. A couple hours max."

"Okay, Chief. I have a few errands to run before I go home anyway. Here." Jim pressed a piece of paper into Blair's hand. It had his cell phone number on it. It also had a five dollar bill folded into it.

Blair started to argue. "Jim."

"Humor me, Chief. If you don't need it, give it back. But I'll feel better knowing you can get something if you need it. I trust you to keep track of what you owe me. And call me if you need anything. Anything. Okay?"

Blair smiled. "Thanks, Jim. I'll see you in a few."

The errand Jim had to run was to go talk to his boss, Captain Simon Banks. He knew Simon was suspicious of the entire thing. Jim couldn't tell him all of it. Couldn't tell him much at all. Right now, at least. But Jim had to tell him a little. The two men were friends and Simon would trust whatever Jim told him.

In the Bullpen, Jim knocked at the Police Chief's office door. Simon's no-nonsense, deep voice resonated from inside. "Enter." Simon looked up from his computer when Jim walked through the door. "Well, Detective. I'm honored that you could grace us with your presence this afternoon," he said sarcastically. He watched as Jim dropped into one of the chairs across from the desk. "You wanna tell me what's going on with you today? I've barely seen you except when you were baby-sitting that kid Sandburg."

Jim took a deep breath. "Sorry, Simon. I had some things I needed to take care of."

"The kid have anything to do with it?"

"Well, actually, yes he does." Simon waited impatiently. "It's kind of hard to explain, Sir. In fact, I really can't tell you much at this point." He looked up and saw the brown eyes narrow in suspicion. He continued hurriedly. "Nothing illegal or even immoral, here, Simon. And it doesn't have anything to do with last night's robbery, either."

Simon's face relaxed a little. "Well, come on, Jim. I'm not very good at mind reading."

"Simon, to tell the truth, I can't tell you anything right now. But hopefully, I can soon."

"It involves Sandburg."

"Yes."

"Nothing illegal."

"Correct."

"Will this affect your work in any way?"

"No, Sir. It shouldn't."

Simon thought hard for a moment. "Does it have anything to do with your... 'spells'?"

Jim looked admiringly at his boss. The man was sharp. No doubt about that. "Yes, Sir."

"And it involves Sandburg. Jim, you'd never laid eyes on the kid before last night, right?" Jim nodded. Simon looked doubtful. "Jim."

"Simon, the kid's clean. I checked him out. He's an orphan, but he entered college at age 16 on a full scholarship. Straight A's all three years he's attended Rainier. He's taken part in a lot of demonstrations and protests, but has always stayed within his legal rights to do so. Sometimes riding the line of the law, but never crossing it. No drugs, no DUI, no nothing. Clean slate. He's just down on his luck right now."

"But it involves you."

"On a personal level." Simon raised one eyebrow at this. "Not that personal, Sir."

Simon sighed. "What do you need, Jim?"

"Can I have a couple of days off, Sir? Sandburg needs some help and maybe we can get these 'issues' solved."

Simon looked shocked. "Jim -- 'I don't need vacations' -- Ellison wants a couple of days off? Now I've heard everything." Jim opened his mouth to speak, but Simon held his hand up. "Yes, you can take two days off. You have them coming to you. But since this is such short notice, I'll have to have you on call. Good enough?"

Jim flashed him a relieved smile. "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

Simon waved him away and Jim opened the door to leave. "Jim."

"Simon?"

"I'm counting on you giving me a lot more information when you come back."

"Me too, Sir. Me too."

Jim was in the loft cooking supper. He wasn't sure about the state of Blair's general health, so he'd decided to keep it simple, but nourishing. Nana Ellison's chicken vegetable stew. Low on the spices. Suddenly, he heard kicking at the door. Alarmed, he hurried to open it. Blair all but fell through the doorway in a storm of books and papers.

"Jim. Sorry about kicking, but once I got to the door, I realized that there was no way I could free up a hand to knock. Man, I'm glad you're home. Although your hallway is sure to be warmer and more comfy than my car, I probably would have made your neighbors suspicious if I'd had to wait around for you."

Jim grinned as he relieved Blair of some of his burden. Setting the armload of books on the coffee table, Jim returned to the stove to stir the stew. "I cleared the rest of the junk out of the extra room, Chief. Why don't you put your stuff in there and I'll finish supper. You hungry?"

"Starved." He walked into the small room where he'd spent the night before, then stopped in surprise. Jim had done more than just clear out the junk. He'd cleaned it. Dusted, cleared cobwebs, swept and mopped. He'd put clean, fresh bedding on the bed and a thick throw rug on the floor beside it. He'd moved in a book shelf and a desk and put a small, brass reading lamp on the desk. Blair was certain none of this had been here this morning.

Jim appeared in the doorway. "It was a real mess in here. I can't do anything halfway. Once I got started, I just couldn't stop," he said sheepishly.

Blair recovered from his shock. "Yeah, that goes with your personality profile. Obsessive compulsive Alpha male. I was kinda worried for a minute. It looked like you had some kind of 'nesting thing' going on." Jim glared at Blair who answered with a cheeky grin.

"If you're finished analyzing me, Professor, we can eat. Supper's ready." Blair dropped his load on the bed and followed Jim to the kitchen.

Jim filled two bowls with stew and set them on the table where glasses of tea and hot french bread were already placed. "I take it you found what you were looking for."

"I think I know what's going on with you. All this stuff with your senses being in such a heightened state reminded me of something I read about last year. In my studies in Anthropology, I learn about primitive cultures. Have you ever heard of Richard Burton -- the explorer, not the actor?" Jim shook his head no. "Okay, here's the gist of it. In many primitive cultures, there are reports of warriors with heightened senses, called Sentinels. Roughly a hundred years ago, Burton reported to have actually discovered Sentinels in tribal villages in Peru. Because of their hyperactive senses, they were the tribe's guardians or watchmen. They were able to detect changes in weather, or the approach of enemies. Even in modern society, there are reports of people with one or two heightened senses, such as taste and smell. People who work for perfume or coffee companies, for example. But there have been no documented reports of anyone with all five heightened senses. We've determined that you have heightened abilities in all five of yours. Sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch." Blair looked excitedly at Jim, breathless with excitement. "Jim, you could be the real thing!"

Jim looked incredulously at the long-haired student sitting across from him. "Next thing I know, you're gonna tell me about unicorns and the Loch Ness Monster."

Blair grinned at him. "Jim, I believe in 'Nessie'." Then he gave the detective an irritable scowl. "And you're telling me that this is harder to believe than what's been happening to your senses? Jim, this is a very logical explanation. It's not hocus-pocus. It's biological! Burton did further research and determined that the Sentinel senses were passed on from generation to generation. I'll bet that if you researched your own genealogical history far enough, you'd find a history of mental illness or schizophrenia. Just like with Alex Barnes, Sentinel abilities can be misconstrued as insanity." His voice dropped in tone. "Which is probably what would happen to a Sentinel anyway, if he doesn't know what's happening or if he doesn't learn how to control it."

Jim looked fearfully at Blair. "What do you mean, Chief?'

"Burton talks about 'sensory spikes'. Your senses are at such a heightened state, that unexpected stimuli, such as sudden loud or sharp noises, can be so overwhelming that they paralyze you, leave you helpless and vulnerable."

"Yeah. Yeah, that keeps happening."

"Obviously, if that continues to happen, it'll overload your brain, destroy your ability to cope, etcetera. Heck, Jim, who knows how many mental patients are, in truth, Sentinels. For thousands of years, mental illnesses have been misunderstood and misdiagnosed."

"I hate to interrupt your lecture, Professor, but you're not putting me at ease, here."

"Sorry, Jim. This is just all so fascinating."

"Okay, so what can I do about this? How do I get rid of it?"

"Get rid of it! Are you crazy? First of all, I don't know how to get rid of it. Second, if you learn how to use your heightened senses, how to control them, you'll be amazing! You're a detective. This is a cop's dream come true! Super Sherlock, man! You're a walking crime lab! You're a monster, man!"

Jim pressed his lips in a hard, thin line. "How? How do I control them?"

Blair looked suddenly shy and hesitant. "Burton mentions that the Tribal Sentinel had a partner. A guide. A constant companion. His job was to watch the Sentinel's back. Someone to help him control his senses. He helped guard against sensory spikes, etcetera." Blair dropped his eyes and busied himself with the chore of eating.

Jim looked at him intently for a moment. "Blair," he spoke quietly. Blair looked up, almost afraid of what he'd see in the older man's eyes. "Is that what you think you are? My guide?"

"Well, I... um... I really don't know, Jim. But, aside from the fact that I know about this obscure, little known ability that seems to exist only among almost unknown primitive cultures, you and I have each, just recently, developed two different, totally unbelievable... um... abilities at roughly the same time, and have basically, completely by chance, run into each other."

Jim put his hand on Blair's arm to stop his tirade. "Tell me about the guides, Chief."

"I can't find anything on the guides. The manuscripts refer to them as Shamans. Teachers." Blair shrugged helplessly. "That's about it."

"There's got to be more. We just have to keep looking. Meanwhile, I think we know enough to get us started."

"Started?"

"Yeah. Figuring this thing out. This Sentinel thing." Jim looked pointedly at Blair. "And the Guide thing."

Blair sat on the floor in front of the coffee table with his legs crossed, his fingers flying over the keyboard of his laptop computer. The laptop had been the reward of many overtime hours of a summer job he'd had a couple years ago. Though more costly than a conventional computer, it was the wiser choice being more suited to his nomadic lifestyle.

Jim stood with his back to Blair, in front of the glass balcony doors, overlooking the city of Cascade. Earlier, he'd felt a pressure in the air around him, making him feel slightly anxious. He relaxed when he saw and heard a distant storm, finally recognizing the sensation as a change in air pressure. Now he watched as the storm moved toward the city, fascinated that he could see and hear it long before anyone else would be able to.

As he stood, he concentrated on Blair, silently monitoring his breathing and heart beat. Partly as an exercise, just to see if he could do it. But he discovered that it was oddly comforting to him, putting him at ease. It had always been Jim Ellison's nature to be a loner. Uncomfortable with the casual companionship of other people, he preferred his own company. Therefore, he wondered at the ease with which he accepted Sandburg's company. Not just accepted it, but longed for it. Letting Blair stay with him was more than just helping the kid out of a tough situation. He wanted Blair with him. The feeling of wanting the young man with him was so strong that he had little trouble accepting the Sentinel/Guide theory that he and Blair had danced around, but weren't ready to voice just yet.

He knew that Blair was scared of the 'Guide' theory for some reason. Maybe because it hinted at a long-term commitment of some kind. Jim could very well understand the fear of commitment. It wasn't a fear of being responsible for someone else. It was a fear of being hurt and betrayed. Of giving of yourself and then to be rejected. Blair had been alone almost all of his life. He'd learned as a young child, just as Jim had, that it was safer to be alone. After a lifetime of self-induced isolation, both men were naturally suspicious of the mysterious connection they felt to each other. But the bigger mystery was that they didn't fight it.

Jim focused his concentration once again on Blair. The student had become still, his fingers no longer running a race on the keyboard. Jim smiled when he recognized the sound of Blair's long hair brushing across flannel and knew that Blair was looking at him.

Blair was noticing how very much Jim looked like a guard or sentry as he stood statue-still in front of the balcony doors. The younger man smiled as he felt an odd twinge of pride, then turned back to resume his work.

Not wanting to lose Blair's attention, Jim announced, "There's a storm coming."

Blair looked back over his shoulder. He could see nothing outside the glass doors. Curious, he got up and went to stand beside Jim. "How do you know?"

"I can see and hear it now. But earlier I could feel it."

"Feel it?"

"I felt the change of air pressure. Couldn't figure out what it was at first. Then when I finally saw the lightning, I knew what it was." Jim looked down at Blair and had to laugh. The student was looking at him with such an open expression of awe.

Blair answered Jim's laugh with a grin. Then he looked outside again. Quietly he instructed, "Tell me."

Jim stepped to the wall and flipped off the light switch and moved back to stand beside Blair. "Wait for it, Chief."

Blair silently watched the distant sky, waiting patiently. After about a minute, he saw a faint flicker of light in the sky. He smiled. "I see it. How long have you been seeing it?"

Jim shrugged. "About twenty, maybe thirty minutes."

"How about the thunder?"

"About five minutes after that. Did you ever realize that you can feel thunder before you can hear it?"

Blair considered that for a moment as he watched the storm move swiftly closer. If he listened carefully, he could hear faint rumbles of thunder. He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. And you're not talking about the vibrations either, are you? It's more... subtle. Subliminal. A sensation that humans are aware of if we're attuned to it, but most of the time we ignore it. I'll bet farmers feel it. I'll bet most people could before we started relying so much on meteorologists. I'll bet that's what animals feel before a storm." Though his voice was soft, Jim could tell Blair was excited.

The wind was picking up, bringing the storm in quickly. Standing shoulder to shoulder, the two men were so caught up in sharing the experience of Jim's senses that they vaguely noticed the arrival of the storm.

Jim's senses were wide open and focused on the smaller man beside him, when he suddenly felt a sharp, prickling sensation on his skin and a painful popping in his ears. Before he could process it and take action, a tree just outside the loft exploded when a shaft of lightning struck it.

The force of the small, intense blast threw both men to the floor. When Blair's hearing and vision cleared, he realized that Jim was in trouble. The older man was hunched over in a tight ball, his hands gripping his head as though trying to rip it off. As much pain that Jim must be in, Blair figured that was exactly what he was trying to do.

Stumbling to his feet, Blair quickly pulled the balcony shades down to block out the fierce light show outside. Then he dropped to his knees beside Jim and hesitantly reached out to touch the trembling shoulder. Careless in the illusion of safety in his own home, Jim had probably had all his senses wide open. His entire being was caught up in a sensory overload of agony. Unsure of what his touch would do, Blair held his hand above Jim's shoulder, but didn't make contact.

All Blair knew for sure was that Jim was in pain. Desperate to help his benefactor, whom he was beginning to think of as a friend, the student decided that all he could do was to operate on instinct. Blair leaned in close until his lips were nearly touching Jim's ear. Knowing that the slightest noise would cause severe pain, Blair spoke in a low voice, hardly more than a whisper. "Jim. Jim, it's Blair. I know you're hurting, man. But you need to listen to my voice. Just listen to the sound of my voice until you hear nothing else."

Jim didn't change his posture, but Blair was aware that his body relaxed a little, so he kept talking. "That's it, big guy. Listen to my voice. Just relax and breathe. In. Out. One. Two. Just me and you. Jim, I'm going to touch your arm, okay?" The young man saw the slight flinch of Jim's arm. "I won't hurt you, Jim. It'll be okay. Just listen to my voice." Gently, Blair laid his hand on Jim's biceps. Instead of flinching, the older man relaxed. Encouraged, Blair rested his other hand on the side of Jim's face. Alarmed by the iciness of the other man's face, Blair was encouraged nonetheless, when he felt Jim's body relax under his hands.

Closing his eyes, he rested his head against Jim's and whispered, "It's okay, Jim. It's okay to come back. Just focus on the sound of my voice. I'm here and I won't let anything else hurt you." Blair felt a mysterious warmth growing inside him. It started in his stomach and chest then moved to his head, making him drowsy. Then it traveled down his arms and into his hands. Startled, he opened his eyes in time to see a faint glow move from his hands into Jim's arm and face where Blair's hands were. The glow spread quickly but gently over the rest of Jim's body. Jim's body uncurled from its knotted up position and he relaxed against Blair, who noticed that the once icy skin beneath his palm was warm.

Blair took in Jim's peaceful features and even breathing and realized that the bigger man had fallen asleep. With his own body feeling like a wet noodle, Blair knew he was going nowhere. Sliding the rest of the way to the floor, the student followed Jim into sleep.

Jim hovered on the edge of wakefulness for a few minutes trying to figure out what had happened. Pain. Oh, yeah, he definitely remembered the pain. He'd been watching the storm with Sandburg when lightning struck a tree right outside the loft. Then a fireball of agony had overtaken him, surrounding and filling him. He had been paralyzed. White fire had filled his eyes and a continuous shrieking blast had filled his ears.

Then he remembered Sandburg's voice and... presence. He'd felt the younger man as well as heard him. It had been the only thing that had not hurt. He'd felt like he was frozen, then he'd felt Blair's hands on his arm and face. Hands that provided warmth and comfort to his mind and body. Then nothing. He must have fallen asleep.

Suddenly alert, he wondered what had happened to Sandburg. Immediately following that thought, he was aware of a warm pressure along the side of his body.

Remembering the painful brightness that had assaulted his vision earlier, he cautiously cracked open his eyes to reveal only soft darkness. He heard steadily falling rain, but detected no evidence of the thunderstorm. Jim slowly turned his head in the direction of the warmth and came nearly nose to nose with Blair. The young man was lying on his side, resting against him, looking for all the world like a sleeping kid. Which he was -- sleeping that is.

What had happened? What did Sandburg do? And why were they both on the floor? Asleep.

Slowly, testing muscles that remembered all too well the recent ordeal, Jim sat up, careful not to disturb Blair. He was weak and shaky, the way one might feel after an adrenaline rush or suffering from low blood sugar. Other than that, he felt okay.

He eased himself to his feet and stepped toward the kitchen, but stopped. He felt strangely empty. Disconnected. He felt it as soon as he stepped away from Sandburg. Slowly, Jim turned back toward Blair. Looking down on the young man's sleeping form, he felt a flash of affection and protectiveness. He'd liked the kid and had felt strangely protective toward him since they first met, but it was stronger now. Deeper.

Jim moved back to Blair and knelt beside him. He felt it again. That... connection. It seemed to 'pull' him to Sandburg. Ellison reached out his hand and held it about six inches above Blair's heart. Yes, it was there. The connection hummed and vibrated with life and power.

Blair stirred and Jim pulled his hand back. Dark blue eyes fluttered open and gazed into lighter blue ones. For a moment the younger man looked fuzzy and confused. Then his eyes widened in alarm as a memory hit him. "Oh man, Jim! Are you okay?" He lifted his hand toward the older man, but he felt sluggish and weak.

Jim gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Chief. But what are you doing on the floor?"

The confused look returned. "What happened?" Blair started to get up, but he seemed so be moving in slow motion, so Jim gripped his hands and pulled him to his feet.

Just then, Blair felt the connection thrumming through their clasped hands. They stood still, both looking at their hands. There was nothing to see. Nothing visible. But it was so powerful, it seemed to both men that they should see light or sparks or something coming from their hands.

They looked up at the same time. Jim's eyes held a look of grim acceptance. And possessiveness. His eyes were so deep, so intense, that Blair could have gotten lost in them. Breathlessly, he asked, "What happened, Jim? What did we do?"

Jim and Blair sat side by side on one of Jim's matching cream-colored sofas, each one nursing a mug of hot tea. They wanted to talk about the last couple of days, but Blair refused to until he had something hot to hold onto. "Besides your hands," he joked.

Blair took a deep breath and plunged in. "Okay, Jim. Tell me what happened."

"I was watching the storm come in and trying to describe it all to you. Then, when that lightning bolt hit," he paused, trying to find words to fully describe the world of agony he'd been in.

Blair touched Jim's hand with his fingertips. "It was close enough to knock me to the floor, Jim. You had all five senses assaulted. I can imagine what it did to you. What were you doing before that? Before you were describing the storm to me?"

Jim thought out loud. "I was standing at the balcony doors looking out. I was listening to you behind me."

Curious, Blair leaned forward. "What did you hear?"

Jim glanced at the younger man then peered intently into his mug. "Your fingers typing, the paper crinkling, your breathing, your hair rustling when you moved your head, your heartbeat."

Blair wasn't sure what he was feeling, knowing that Jim had been so deeply focused on him. It was weird, to be sure. He was a little embarrassed by it. But a warmth slowly spread through him, filling him and making him flush. It felt pretty good. Shyly, he prodded, "Anything else?"

Suddenly, Jim looked a little embarrassed himself. "Your scent," he said quietly.

Blair looked at him wide-eyed. "Scent?" Now he really was embarrassed.

Jim gave him an expression that begged him not to misunderstand. "Look, Chief. You're the professor here. It's logical, scientific. Each person has his or her own scent. Right?" Blair nodded. "Okay. It was nice and quiet in here. I was relaxed. Listening to you. Focusing on you." Jim shrugged. "Then I... caught your scent."

Blair's face relaxed and he smiled a little. "Okay. Uh, what was it like?"

Jim thought a moment. "Mmm... sorta woodsy... like dried flowers... herbs... with sort of a musky..." he waggled his fingers in the air. "...flair... something like that."

Blair pursed his lips and looked through narrowed eyes. "Musky, herbal woods."

"Woodsy, herbal musk," Jim corrected.

Blair snorted through his nose then burst out laughing. "Oh man. This is too wild. I cannot believe this!"

"It's very distinctive. It may take me a couple of days to determine exactly what it is."

Blair patted Jim's arm and tried to get serious again. "Okay. So you were listening to me breathe and smelling me. Then what?"

"I told you there was a storm coming, you got up and stood beside me, I was telling you about it, then the lightning hit."

Blair's voice jumped in. "Okay, so you were watching the storm, but not really paying attention to it except to share it with me. You were focused on me. It was quiet and seemingly safe in here, therefore you had all of your senses wide open. Describe what happened to you when the lightning struck."

"My vision was filled with white fire. Like I'd looked directly at the sun and couldn't look away. And I kept hearing the explosion in my ears. Not over and over but one long, continuous blast." Jim grimaced at the remembered pain. "And... uh... a sharp, burning odor suffocating me, like burning chemicals. In my mouth, too, burning my tongue... and my skin... hell, Chief. It felt like I was trapped in a ball of fire and I couldn't get away from it. Then you pulled me out, I guess."

"You heard my voice."

"Not at first. I felt you."

"You felt my hands on your face and arm."

"Yeah, but not until later," Jim patiently explained. "At first, I felt your... presence. I felt you. Then I heard your voice." Jim looked deep in Blair's eyes. "Then the pain and fire were gone and I was cold. That was when I felt you touch me."

Blair waited, holding his breath.

Jim continued. "I felt the warmth leave your hands and spread through my body. Then I guess I fell asleep."

"You felt that?" Blair asked incredulously. "I thought I'd imagined it!"

"So what happened to you? How'd you do that, Chief?"

"I don't know. I was scared. I knew you were in pain and that I needed to bring you out of it. I was worried and I just had to reach you somehow. It just... I put one hand on your arm and one on your face and... and then I rested my forehead against yours and whispered. I said--"

"You said to focus on your voice and that you wouldn't let anything hurt me."

"Yeah," Blair whispered. Then he said, "Then that thing with the warm vibes happened and I knew you were okay because you fell asleep. But I was all weak and tired and so I fell asleep, too."

"On the floor?"

"It seemed like too much trouble to move."

"So, I had a bad sensory episode--"

"Spike."

"--sensory spike. And you got into my head and pulled me out, which took so much energy that you did a sleeping beauty on the floor."

"That about sums it up."

"So, how are you able to do this? Deal with my Sentinel senses?"

"Probably anyone with the information could help you with the senses, Jim."

"Yeah, Chief, but I felt you in my head. And what about that cool heat pad thing you did with your hands?"

Blair just shrugged and looked lost.

"This thing you've been doing -- feeling other people's emotions. There's a word for that, isn't there?"

"Yeah. Empathy."

"That's it. Like that chick on Star Trek."

"Deanna Troi."

"That's the one! You've even got the hair." Jim grinned.

"It's kind of hard to accept, man."

"Oh, and being a Sentinel isn't?"

"So why is this happening? You're a Sentinel and I'm an empath and we..." Blair waved his hands around helplessly. "And what about this thing with my hands -- whoa. Hold on, wait a minute."

"What?"

"When I woke up on the floor, something... I woke up because I felt -- okay, you remember when you pulled me up and there was some kind of current running through our hands?" Jim nodded. "Okay, that's what woke me up. That current. I felt it pulling at me. It was you, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. I woke up and when I got up to walk into the kitchen, it felt like something disconnected. Like something was missing. I went back to you, knelt down, and held my hand above your heart and I felt it... the current. The connection."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's it! That's what woke me up? What is it, Ellison? What's going on?"

Jim was silent in the face of Blair's demands for an answer. He looked into the young man's eyes and saw fear as well as anger. Poor kid. He hadn't asked for this. But then, neither had he. Jim held his hand out toward Blair, noting that the student pulled back a little.

"What are you afraid of, Chief?" he asked kindly.

"Nothing," Blair said in a small voice.

"Do you really think all of this is chance? Coincidence?"

Blair swallowed and averted his eyes away from Jim. "No," he whispered.

Jim dropped his hand. "Why is it that my touch doesn't hurt you when other's do? How is it you pulled me out of the worst sensory overload I've had yet," Jim leaned closer and this time Blair didn't move away.

"I touched your hand a couple minutes ago, Jim. Why didn't we feel the current then?"

"Maybe it has to be intentional. Maybe we have to 'will' it." Jim held his hand out again. "Maybe this is our destiny, Blair. Maybe we're meant to be together."

"As determined by whom?" His voice was desperate, almost angry.

Jim pulled his hand back again. "Fate. The hand of God."

"I refuse to be a puppet!" Blair jumped up from the sofa and stalked to the kitchen island. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his back to the Sentinel.

Slowly, Jim got up and moved to stand behind him. "Look, Chief. I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me. I shouldn't have... I don't know why I'm being this pushy."

Blair still didn't move, but Jim noticed the tense set of his shoulders relax a little. Carefully, he focused and picked up the young man's heartbeat, relieved that it, too, was relaxing. Taking a chance, he lightly patted the thin shoulder. "It's okay, Blair. I won't pressure you again. We'd better go to bed. It's late." He dropped his hand and headed toward the stairs leading to his room. "Good night, Chief."

Halfway up the steps, Jim heard a near-silent, "'Night, Jim."

When the Sentinel reached the top, Blair went into 'his' room. Quietly, he undressed and crawled under the heavy blankets.

It wasn't cold, but he shivered all the same. He was tired, but sleep was impossible. Jim was right -- he was scared. Ever since Barnes had wrapped her poison hand around him, his life had spiraled out of control. It was like he'd been cursed. The last day and a half with Jim had been largely good. The cop was straight and honest and was seemingly determined to help Blair out. But the good was all twisted up with the Twilight Zone. Their lives seemed destined to be together. Blair knew Jim was right about that, too. Part of Blair wanted that. Being with Jim called to his soul, satisfied the emptiness in Blair's heart. But what else was required? Would he be able to give up what was demanded of him in this bond? Just how entwined were their lives?

Blair buried his face in the pillow and his hands clenched knots of blankets as he tried to ride out the wave of fear and frustration that threatened to suffocate him.

Ellison couldn't sleep either. He was furious with himself. He'd scared the kid to death, practically obsessing over him. This possessive behavior was so unlike him. But it was so strong and natural. Instinctive. The thought of him and Sandburg being together just felt so... right.

Jim mentally shook his head. He wouldn't blame Blair if he left. The whole situation was freaky beyond belief. But he didn't think the kid would leave. Jim had been a cop for five years and had been an Army Ranger before that. He'd learned to read people. And he'd seen the look in Blair's eyes. Behind the fear and the anger, he'd seen the burning need that answered his own. It was as though their entire lives had been leading up to this. It was undeniable. Blair would stay. At that thought, the Sentinel felt joy and relief. But Jim Ellison, the man, felt sorrow for the young empath.

The bond called to him. He was tired and weak and he could ignore or defy it no longer. It drew him with a hunger that he'd never felt before. It called to his very soul. It was his destiny. He went to meet it.

Blair stepped into the living room and his eyes went to the sofa where he knew Jim was waiting for him. The student wrapped his arms around himself as fear gripped him again, looking away from the Sentinel.

"Guide," came the low voice in front of him. "Why are you afraid of me?"

"I'm afraid of losing myself."

"That'll never happen, Blair."

Blair lifted his head to look at Ellison, a last-ditch attempt at defiance. "How do you know, Jim? How can you be so sure?"

"I know, Chief. I promise."

For a long moment, Blair regarded the older man, as though measuring his worth. Then, dropping his arms as though lowering a shield, he gave a slow nod.

Silently, Jim got up and stood in front of Blair. His eyes met the unwavering gaze of the empath. "Sure, Chief?"

"I've never been so sure of anything before. That's why I'm scared. I have a feeling this is forever, man."

"We're not animals, Blair. There is the matter of free will." Jim paused. "Is this what you want?"

"Being scared and not wanting are not necessarily the same thing, Jim. I'm through running. The answer is still 'yes'."

The two men stood looking uncomfortable at each other, unsure of what to do next. Making a decision, Blair dropped to the floor, crossing his legs in front of him. "I'm sitting down, man. Last time, my legs turned to jello."

Following Blair's example, Jim sat down facing the younger man.

"Last chance to back out, Chief," Jim said seriously, knowing he wouldn't.

In answer, Blair moved his left hand toward the Sentinel, his palm held outward. Jim lifted his right hand and held it in the same position, moving it toward Blair. When their palms were still inches apart, they felt crackles of energy snap between them. Fascinated, Blair watched their hands, still expecting to see light pulsing from them. He felt strong fingers on his chin as Jim's other hand tilted his face up to look at him.

The Sentinel's eyes were intense and hungry. He moved his hand to cup the back of Blair's head. Blair could feel the low humming beneath Jim's fingers.

"Relax, Chief. It's okay."

Suddenly aware of his nervous respiration, Blair took a slow, deep inhalation to calm his breathing down. Their palms moved together, and as their skin touched, the bond flared, sending a rush of heat up their arms. Startled, Blair jerked and Jim clenched his fingers, threading them through Blair's smaller ones before the empath could break away. Quickly, Blair laid his free hand on the side of Jim's neck, increasing the connection between them. The student closed his eyes and tilted his head back in response to the current that ran through his body like a fever. He felt Jim's hand leave his jaw and slide around to the back of his neck, pulling his head forward until their foreheads were touching. Blair heard the Sentinel's voice whisper, "Let down your guard, Blair. I won't hurt you." Letting the last of his fear drift away like seeds in the wind, Blair let the barriers he'd built around his mind and emotions drop away. And gasped. Suddenly Jim was in his mind. The hands that gripped Jim's hand and neck clenched tighter because Blair felt himself being swept away by the raging river of Jim Ellison's emotions. Blair had been right. He was losing himself. Not in being over shadowed by the Sentinel, but because he was afraid that he would drown in the swirling, vibrant and even violent emotions that filled this complex man. Blair's mind felt burnt and raw. The way his lungs felt when he'd run beyond his endurance.

Higher and higher he went in a whirlwind of tapestry rich sensations until he was desperate for release, terrified that me must die or lose his mind. Then Jim was there. In control. Easing Blair's fear and wrapping around him, assuring him that he was safe and bringing him softly back to awareness.

Blair felt like he was waking up from a heavy sleep. He realized that he had emerged from the connection... the bond... whatever it was... what the heck was it? He was definitely going to have to do more research. Wow. They hadn't known what was going to happen. Just that they were Connected somehow. But... this... wow. He had been scared. Out of control. Jim's emotions were so turbulent, but then his presence -- the in-control, protective personality that Blair had come to know -- had been there, had caught him, saved him.

Even now, Blair could still feel Jim's warm, caring presence enfolding him... wait a minute. Feeling something solid against his back, he cracked open his eyes and, looking down, saw that Jim's arms were, indeed, enfolding him.

Aware of the change in Blair's respiration, Jim shifted to peer down at Blair who looked a little embarrassed. Remembering the intensity of the connection, Jim was a little embarrassed himself. Quietly he asked, "You alright there, Chief?"

"Uh... Jim? How come you're wrapped around me? Not that you don't make a swell security blanket."

"I was losing you. It felt like you were falling. Scared me."

"Scared me, too. Thanks for catching me."

Jim clutched him tighter in answer. He thought that maybe he should let Sandburg go. But the student didn't seem ready to move just yet, so he stayed where he was. "That was weird, Chief. What happened?"

"You told me to let down my guard. I guess that's what I did. I never thought about having mental barriers around my emotions, but I guess it makes sense. Being an empath, I subconsciously protected myself from other people's emotions. Anyway, I dropped my... barriers. Then you were there. I felt you in my mind." Blair's voice got very quiet. "You're a very... emotional man, Jim."

"Did I hurt you?" Jim asked.

Blair shook his head. "Naw, man. Just wore me out."

"So, we touched minds?"

Blair nodded. His eyes were getting heavy again. "I'd say we did more than just 'touch'. That was the wildest roller coaster ride I've ever been on." The young man was quiet a moment. He was so relaxed against Jim that the Sentinel thought he'd fallen asleep. Then he spoke again. "You've got some heavy stuff going on in your head, Ellison."

"I could always control my emotions before. But I've never done a Vulcan Mind Meld before. I guess I lost control."

"We just weren't prepared. It's not like we've ever done this before. We lost control because it surprised us. Next time we'll know what to expect."

"Next time? Why would we do that again? What's it good for?"

Blair shrugged. "Dunno. Most of Burton's stuff just tells about the Sentinel. Any info about the Guide is vague. There are other sources about Sentinels, but they're very obscure. I'll have to do some digging. Maybe I can find something on the internet."

Jim noticed that Blair's words were beginning to slur. "Ready for bed, Chief?"

"Yeah, I could sleep." Neither man moved. "Is it my imagination, or are we kinda clingy here?" Blair asked.

"You're probably right, Chief. But I'm too tired to analyze it tonight." Leaning Blair forward and away from him, he stood up again, feeling a loss that was almost physical. Stepping around to face Blair, he put out his hand.

Blair hesitated, remembering what had happened the last time Jim helped him up like this. He put his hand in Jim's and pulled himself up. Yes, the connection was still there, but the sensation was lighter, more like a residual presence. Not as intense as before. Experimentally, Blair reached a hand up and brushed Jim's jaw with his fingertips. Soft tingles flared between them. "Wow," he whispered.

Breaking the contact, Jim threw his arm around Blair's shoulders and pulled him gently to his side, steering him toward the small bedroom. "C'mon, Chief. Let's get you to bed."

"Is that a proposition?"

"Don't get cute."

"Say, Jim?"

"What?"

"I don't even know your favorite color."

"Blue."

"Figures. No imagination -- ow!" he complained as Jim bopped him on the head.

End

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