I gave up Borneo!

It was his worst nightmare. Jim kidnapped and the unit having no clue as to who, what, or why. Simon had tried to get him settled as they combed the truck for evidence, some clue as to what might have happened. But there was precious little. By the time the call came in, the Guide was frustrated beyond belief. He just wanted to find his Sentinel and go home, just go home and make him feel better. Because it was a sure bet that Jim was hurting, his senses out of control. And no Guide to make it all better.

Sitting in Simon’s Chrysler, holding his hands between his thighs to keep from pulling his hair out, Blair watched the Captain discuss options and make plans to move into the warehouse that they were told was where their missing Detective had been stashed. In the end it didn’t matter to him which door they wanted to watch as they entered the building, it didn’t matter to him that there might be bombs, traps, and dangers. He just wanted to go, get inside, get his partner. Finally he had waited for too long, in his mind, and exited the vehicle, intent on getting inside that warehouse and getting to Jim.

It was deceptively easy; there were no guards at the doors, any infrared indicators or warnings about intruders inside the brightly lit hallways. It was cold, but inviting. The place was empty. For a moment, he panicked, thinking that the mysterious voice on the line had lied. But then he heard the faint hum from a doorway in the middle of the building. Simon was still yelling at him to be careful, but he wasn’t hearing it. He paced the hallway, watching for any tricks, but his eyes, and heart, were on the prize before him.

Opening the door without any other thought, his first impression was that of horror. The layout was purely meant to terrify the victim. A straight backed chair sat in the middle of the room, its sole occupant trussed up like a Thanksgiving Turkey to the wooden slats. The room it’s self alternated between too hot and too cold. There was a pungent odor that wafted in from the vents, changing from sweet to sour to smoke at odd intervals. Lights flickered and flashed, changing colors and speeds. And there was a piercing whistle that changed in frequency. All in all, a Sentinel’s worst nightmares come true. Blair nearly sobbed in frustration.

Rushing to the chair, he pulled his knife from his pocket to free his Sentinel’s hands and arms. There was no acknowledgement from the big man and Blair felt a keen distress at the silence from his partner. Simon walked in at that moment and cursed softly. Within moments he was off, searching for a control to shut off the fun house theatrics and give them all some peace. Meanwhile, Blair began checking Jim’s vitals. He was not happy with what he was seeing. Jim was zoned out of his mind.

“Jim? Come on man, give me a sign here. Damn, all this stimulus has got to have driven you mad.” Blair muttered on as he loosened Jim’s shirt at the collar and sleeves. At least the man wasn’t naked. But Blair was still having a bit of trouble, his fingers trembling with terror as he tried to bring his friend back to earth. He could have lost his friend, and this thought was wrecking havoc on his ability to move usefully. He needed to reach Jim, but he also needed to burn off the excess energy in his vibrating body. Normally he would pace, but this was neither the time nor place.

Suddenly, the lights in the room went off, as did the sounds and the smells. The air coming out of the vents trickled to a soft breeze. It was obvious that Simon had found the controls. Blair looked over his shoulder at the closed door, weighing his options. He was not physically strong enough to drag his partner out of the room. And no one was coming in to help him. Limited options with no clear solution in sight. Jim was zoned on everything… but taste… and Blair had nothing to use to break the hold of the zone using taste. Nothing but…

Blair decided that the risks were worth it to save his Sentinel. And he was running out of time. Lifting the man’s chin with one hand, he straddled the lap of his partner, fastened his lips to unresponsive softness, and gently pushed his tongue past the barrier to the sweet inner recesses of his partner’s mouth.

---

The Sentinel felt lost. Too many sights, sounds and smells vied for his attention, causing him to zone completely. He was in pain, torment and frustration. And he was alone. He had no idea how long he floated in this lonely emptiness. He only knew that his Guide was not there to help him. He was despairing of rescue.

And then he tasted it. Sweet richness. Smooth texture with a hint of mint. Delicious and cool. He craved more of it, straining to the edges of himself to reach more of it. His sense of smell joined with taste, as was its want, and took in the familiar aromas of safety and comfort. He knew that this being that held his mouth was safe. He reveled in the taste and smell, adding touch and hearing to the mix when it was clear that the way around him was safe again. He felt the muscles of the body… yes it was a body within his grasp, a warm and inviting body with strength and softness in it that gave him something solid to hold on to.

Something in the back of his mind was screaming that this wasn’t right, that he was doing something wrong. But he firmly ignored it in favor of savoring and enjoying this sweet, rich, soft and loving body in his arms. His fingers stole up to entangle themselves in the soft, luxurious curls that fell just so. He was captured and capturing all the warmth and love that this gentle being was giving him.

And then he opened his eyes.

“What the hell?” Jim swore as he suddenly stood, tossing Sandburg to the ground. “Sandburg, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

"What I always do Jim, look out for my Sentinel.” Sandburg said, still sitting on the ground, staring up at Jim with a totally stoic face, not giving Jim a clue as to what was going on in that oversized brain.

"Nobody asked you to kiss me," snarled Jim.

"Well Jim, you know you just looked so pretty sitting there with all your wits missing - just like Sleeping Beauty, I thought maybe the same thing that woke her up would wake you up as well.” The man snarked as he hauled himself off the floor and turned back to Jim, a seriously hard glint in his eye. "It’s not like you have all that a discriminating taste - just look at the women you have dated."

Jim sneered, "The women I have dated? Oh Sandburg, I don't think you want to be criticizing my taste in women, from where I'm standing you can't afford to throw any stones from your glass house buddy.”

But Sandburg wasn’t interested in playing this game with his partner and turned away for a moment. “You know Jim," he said tightly, “Somehow it's easy for a love life to resemble a train wreck when you are always settling and never getting what you actually want. Yours or my dating history isn't really what we are talking about here, is it?

Jim stopped abruptly, his next snark dying in his throat. His thoughts shifted around, back to the reason for the argument in the first place. This was not something he wanted to get into. Sandburg glanced back over his shoulder and met his gaze steadily.

"Yeah,” he said with narrowed eyes, "I think you know what I am talking about."

“Stop it, just hold it right there Chief. What, are you trying to say that you and I have the hots for each other or something?” Jim knew he was striking out first, his standard reaction to things he didn’t want to deal with. But he didn’t care. This couldn’t be happening, shouldn’t be happening. “Well how about we just nip this right here in the bud, eh? Even if I were remotely interested in you, I don’t want to be another notch on your bedpost, you savvy?”

The reaction on the other man’s face told Jim that he had struck deeply with that remark and he almost wished he could take it back. But he was standing his ground, making it plain that he was not going to just stand by and be used by the Casanova of Cascade.

Sandburg, on the other hand, was also standing his ground. His voice was easy and calm as he stared Jim in the eye, his face reflecting the coolness of Jim’s own attitude back at him.

“For years you have made some disparaging remarks on my love life and how I conduct my nocturnal affairs, Ellison. But I’ll have you know that when it comes to commitment, I can do that. I’m not my mother.” Jim winced at this last part, but Sandburg was far from finished. His arms crossed over his chest, and with one hip cocked out for stability, he looked the very picture of a man who had had enough of the kid brother routine.

“I have stuck with you for four years, man. Four years and turned down countless invitations to move elsewhere. Why? Because you needed me. When I went to Christine after the Lash affair, she offered me a place to stay so that we could spend more time together out from under, and I quote, ‘Your overbearing and oppressive roommate.’ But I said no thank you. Why do you think that could be, Jim?”

“When Laura came along, I was all set to find a new place, but I held back. And it’s a good thing I did, too. Don’t you think? There have been countless other times I could have left, and countless other people who would have been happy to help me get back out there, or have a family, a place to live. But I turned them all down.”

Jim stood like a stone statue, trying with all his might not to react to the words from his partner. Yes he remembered hearing the invitations from many women and men for Blair to come and join them, for sex, for love… for a family. But Sandburg had always turned them down, returning to the loft when the day was done. And Jim had always wondered when the axe was going to fall. He waited for the day when Blair finally said that he’d had enough.

“Man, I came back after Barnes and Mexico. Because you needed me… Hell, I gave up Borneo for you! My chance of a life time! I could have had a different life! But you needed me to stay, and I couldn’t leave you! I can’t leave you! I love you too much to try and start over now.”

And that was it. The quiet storm had passed and Sandburg was turning, heading out the door, leaving him behind because he couldn’t stand anymore. Jim reached out to stop him, to call him back. But it was too little too late and the man was gone. Just as Jim got to the door, he was halted by the looming presence of Simon, his captain and his friend.

The black man stared down his best detective, an unlit cigar clamped between his grinding teeth. He snarled at Jim, his thoughts plain on his face. But lest Jim have missed it, Simon whapped him upside the head and said five words.

“Jim, you are an ass.”

Finis