Home     The Sentinel     Stargate SG-1     NCIS     Supernatural     SVU     Firefly    Awards

Overboard              
by Kikkimax
 

"Sorry, Chief, there's just no way to work you in on this one," Ellison stated firmly to his petulant partner.

"Jim, you might need me. You can't run off for four days out on the OPEN SEA without some kind of backup." Sandburg emphasized the part about the ocean to play upon his partner's fear of deep water. Underhanded, yes. But Blair was loosing the argument and he had to get the upper hand somehow. It was his job to back up the Sentinel and he was gonna do it in spite of said Sentinel. "Maybe I can get a job on board or something."

"Sandburg, I just don't see you as the longshoreman type," Captain Banks said with a chuckle.

"I've done it before, Simon." Blair turned indignant eyes to the still snickering man.

"There's no time to provide a cover story. I can get by without you for four days. I promise," Jim stated. In reality he would have liked to have Blair along, but the detail had come up so fast, no one had thought to include Blair in the cover. The narcotics officer who was suppose to pull the detail had had an emergency appendectomy less than 24 hours ago. A mad scramble was made to find a last minute stand in and Jim had fit the bill perfectly. Fake ID's were quickly made up this morning before Blair had come to the station to point out that Jim needed him. Jim stared at his new passport. William Greene, it read .

"I am coming," Blair insisted. "One way or the other."

"Oh, really?" Simon raised an eyebrow to the police observer. "Without a cover story? Just climb on board?"

"If I have to."

Jim frowned, knowing very well his hardheaded friend would try. "Chief..."

"You don't think I can get on the boat?" Blair challenged the Captain.

"It's a ship," Simon corrected.

"Whatever. You don't think I can find my own way to go along?"

"Ok. If you can legally board the ship, that means no stowing away, Sandburg, then you can go," Simon smiled.

Jim's frown turned into a grimace. "Simon..." he warned.

"That's redundant, Simon. If I can get on the boat of course I'll be going. I'll already be onboard." Blair stood and placed both hands flat on the table in front of him.

"It's a ship," Simon answered loudly, causing several people out in the bullpen to jump.

"Guys, come on," Jim said trying to settle his friends down. "Sir, are you saying that Sandburg can come?" Jim questioned.

Simon turned to Jim and laughed. "It's a free country, Jim. If he can find his way to Mexico and finagle his way onto a rusty old cargo ship, who am I to stop him."

"That's right," Blair agreed.

"I'll just say that he doesn't stand a chance in hell of getting on that boat. Dammit, I mean ship."

"Sounds like there's a bet in there somewhere." Blair reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Removing the hundred dollar bill that he kept hidden for emergencies he waggled it under the now grinning police Captain's nose.

Jim picked up his duffle and strode up the gang plank. "Can I help you?" The tough looking older man who stood at the top asked a little gruffly.

"I'm William Greene. I've booked passage to Cascade Washington on this vessel," Jim explained as he took out his passport and tried to hand it to the man. "I have some cargo on the loading dock as well."

The man ignored the passport and looked over the papers he held on a clipboard. "Yeah, I got 'cha. I understand the cargo is, let's say discreet."

Jim smiled. "Why else would I be getting on this bucket of bolts?"

The man smirked and walked away. "Wait here. I'll check on your arrangements."

Jim dropped his bag to the deck and leaned against the rail on his elbows. Assuming the arrogance of a gun runner, he watched the comings and goings in the busy little port. One particular fishing boat caught his eye. It was coming from the river side of the harbor. He zoomed in on the bridge of the boat. The driver wasn't what had caught his attention. It was the long brown hair blowing in the breeze next to him. He hadn't seen Blair since yesterday afternoon when they arrived together at the airport. A group of friendly Mexican men had approached and gathered up his partner and whisked him away with them. "Old friends, Jim," Blair had assured him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"What are you up to, Chief?" Jim asked under his breath as the small boat docked briefly across from the "Lombardy". Blair climbed the ladder to the pier and waved exuberantly back to the crew as the boat sped away.

The anthropologist shouldered his backpack and made his way toward the little shack that served as harbormaster and Mexican customs office. From here another set of eyes, these slate gray, had watched the young man's arrival through the plate glass window.

Blair entered the building and smiled at the two men talking at the counter. The heavyset Hispanic man standing behind the counter looked Blair over disapprovingly, almost with despair. The slightly older Caucasian man smiled at him and stood up straight to face him as he entered.

"Hello," Blair said to the rotund harbormaster. "My Spanish isn't so great. Do you speak English?"

"He doesn't, but I'd be glad to translate for you." The gray haired man held out a hand and said, "I'm Adam Whitaker."

"Blair Sandburg." Blair smiled and shook the tall man's hand enthusiastically. "That would be great. Could you ask him if that's the ship that's going to Washington state?"

Whitaker chuckled. "I can tell you that it is. Why?"

"I was hoping to catch a ride." Blair grinned sheepishly. "I'm sort of short on funds and it's almost time for the new semester to start."

"You're kind of old for a college student aren't you?"

"Actually, I'm a grad student, and teaching fellow. I took off for the summer to join a new dig near Macha Pechu. I should have left weeks ago, but I cashed in my plane ticket so I could travel around a little. You know, see the sights. Now I've got to find a way home. One of the guides at the dig suggested I come here. He said there is a ship with a regular route north."

Whitaker stared in amazement at the amount of words per breath the young man could get out. "You're in luck, my friend. I think I can get you on board. Is that all you have with you?"

"Yeah, the rest of my stuff went back with the other students."

The harbormaster spoke tersely to the man in Spanish. Blair caught some of the words, but they didn't make sense. Something about 'God knows your deeds' and 'all things will return to you in time'. Slapping Blair on the shoulder Whitaker steered him to the door, but Blair didn't miss the glare he shot the other man.

"Let's go, my boy."

Blair looked at the grim Mexican on his way out. "God be with you," the man said in perfect English.

"So you're an archeologist?" Adam asked conversationally.

"Anthropologist," Blair corrected.

"That must be very interesting."

"Oh, it is..." Blair launched into lecture mode and began to tell the man all about his beloved profession. Truth be told, he couldn't have had a better cover story. By the time they reached the ship the man was a fan of one Blair Sandburg, anthropologist extraordinaire.

"We're all set, Captain," A hard looking man said as they passed the cargo loading area.

"Good, good. Carry on then."

"Captain? You're the captain of the ship?" Blair asked in amazement and stopped to face the man.

"That's right," Whitaker grinned at him. "I told you I could get you on the ship. Please be my guest on the "Lombardy".

"Thanks, Captain Whitaker. I really appreciate this," Blair laughed.

"Call me Adam," the Captain said as he threw an arm around his new friend and lead him toward the gang plank.

The gruff old man returned with forms for 'William Greene' to fill out. Jim read over the documents and wrote in the proper spaces all the information that was required. He kept one eye on the rundown shed that his partner had disappeared into a few minutes before. The door opened at last and Blair was ushered out by a distinguished looking man a few years older than Jim. Together they walked towards the ship, Blair gesturing as he spoke. Both men laughed and the older man casually draped an arm around Sandburg's shoulder as they continued side by side to the foot of the gang way. They stopped and Blair continued talking for several seconds. The other man smiled and listened attentively.

Jim let his hearing open up just in time to catch the end of one of Blair's favorite stories. It involved a Zimbabwe princess, a drunk monkey, and a spear. Jim chuckled as Blair pulled up his shirt to show the scar that proved the veracity of the story. The older man laughed uproariously, and Jim could see a twinkle as he locked eyes with Blair for half a second before the two men began climbing the steep ramp towards him. Simon had made a sucker's bet. Ellison had never doubted that Blair would be able to talk his way on board, that was his strong suit. Jim wondered what menial job Blair would end up doing while he himself was a paying passenger.

"Martin, this is Blair Sandburg. He's going to be my guest for the run up to Washington. See to it that he has everything that he needs," the gray haired man said to the gruff one standing next to Jim.

"Yes sir, Captain. This is William Greene," Martin said before turning to Blair. "This way Mr. Sandburg. I'll show you to your cabin." Blair glanced back and smiled at Jim and the Captain. Jim caught the 'I told you so' smirk as he turned away.

"Mr. Greene." Whitaker nodded at Jim, all warmth now gone from his face. He walked past Jim's outstretched hand and left him standing alone at the top of the gang way.

Jim leaned against the bulk head and sighed. He listened to his partner's laughter. It brought a small smile to his face. When the other man laughed as well, Ellison frowned. A strange feeling clutched at his chest. Jim had laughed it off when he found out that Blair had a large stateroom next to Captain Whitaker's own room while he had been put in a spartan cabin well below the waterline. It didn't even bother him that he had eaten shit-on-a-shingle with the crew while Blair was dining on - Jim sniffed the air - prime rib in the Captain's private dining room. What bothered him was that Blair was laughing and telling stories and drinking waaaay too much wine with the man who wouldn't even shake his hand. Apparently the Captain didn't think too much of the smugglers, gun runners, and drug lords that he ferried about on his ship. Jim would never, ever admit it out loud, but he was jealous. Not that Blair was being treated like a king. In his mind Blair was a king. It was the fact that Blair was having a good time, make that a great time, without Jim. And that someone else was enjoying the company that he so often took for granted.

Blair pushed away from the elegant table still clutching his half full wine glass and followed Adam to the sitting area. Both men continued to chuckle as they settled on the expensive leather couch. Whitaker refilled Blair's goblet with the last of the third bottle of wine.

"I want to show you something." Whitaker rose and went to the well stocked book shelf that Blair had already perused when he first came in. "I think you can appreciate this." He pulled out an old leather bound volume and reverently placed it in the young man's eager hands.

Blair opened the book and ran his fingers over the hand written text. "What is this?" he asked pulling his glasses out of his pocket and sliding them on. Adam moved to stand behind the anthropologist to read over his shoulder.

"It's one of Blackbeard's manuscripts. Or it's suppose to be anyway. It better be as much money as I paid for it." Adam smiled as Blair carefully examined the prized treasure.

"A pirate, huh? Judging from the parchment and the language I'd say the time period is right." Blair nodded as he turned page after page. His words slurred slightly, but his examination of the old book was stone cold sober. If he had looked up he would have seen the adoring gaze the older man rested on him. When Adam gently touched an errant strand of hair, Blair's eyebrows knit together, but he kept his head down and gave no outward indication of his sudden discomfort. His fears were confirmed as what Blair had hoped was an accidental brush become a sensual caress of his hair.

Blair chugged the remaining wine in his glass and swallowed. Hard. "Adam..." he began as he leaned forward and placed his glass on the coffee table.

"Shhh. Relax, Blair. You've had a long day." Adam tugged gently on the curls between his fingers until Blair's back rested against the couch. Strong hands kneaded at tense shoulders. Blair closed his eyes and held the manuscript against his chest. His mind raced, searching for a way out of the corner he had unknowingly painted himself into. He forced his body to relax and leaned his head back. Neither man spoke as the Captain continued to massage Blair's neck and shoulders. Suddenly three more days seemed like an awfully long time to be on the ship. Whitaker thought he was drunk. Well, he was drunk. In fact, now he was sure that that had been Whitaker's intent all along. That might actually buy him some time. Blair slowed his breathing, relaxed his muscles and feigned sleep.

Whitaker moved around the couch and gently relieved Blair of the old book. He looked so peaceful in sleep. So beautiful. He removed Blair's glasses and laid them on the coffee table with the manuscript. He had wanted to seduce the tender young thing from the minute he saw him and was delighted that Blair had accepted his invitation to travel with him. Attractive young man, no one really knew where he was, off in a foreign land. A familiar scenario to the Captain. One he had gotten away with many times before. But this one was different. This one wasn't so young as to be easily fooled. He was intelligent, educated and well traveled. Whitaker touched Blair's face, slightly roughened by five o'clock shadow. As he moved his hand down to unbutton Blair's shirt the 'sleeping' man moaned and shifted away. Suddenly there was a loud banging in the hallway.

Jim was about to quit wallowing in self pity and continue his search of the ship, which is what he had been doing when he was drawn in by his Guide's laughter. Suddenly the laughter stopped. There were a few minutes of quiet talking then Blair's heart rate had gone through the roof. Something was up. Something bad. Jim moved down the corridor towards the Captain's quarters. Instead of busting in like he wanted to do, he stopped in front of Blair's door and knocked loudly.

Whitaker crossed the room and snatched the door open. "What the hell are you doing?" he snapped as 'Greene' turned confused blue eyes to him. The man stood in front of Sandburg's door with his fist paused to knock again.

"I was looking for Sandburg. I'm sorry if I bothered you."

Blair appeared groggily in the door behind the Captain. "What's wrong? What do you want with me?" he asked.

"I'd like a word with you, if you don't mind."

"Anything you have to say to him you can say to me," Whitaker said protectively, which raised Jim's hackles just on principle, and pushed the smaller man back into the stateroom. Blair hovered right behind him, never leaving Jim's line of sight.

"Captain Whitaker, my business is sensitive. I don't like the fact that you pick up strays along the way," Jim said, trying to appear stern as he ignored the amused mock-shock on his drunken partner's face. Blair mouthed 'strays?' behind Whitaker's back. "I have a lot of money on the line. I'd like to check the man out, if you don't mind."

"You don't..."

"It's ok, Adam. I don't have anything to hide. Here." Blair pushed his wallet out the door under Whitaker's arm. Jim snatched it and backed up a few steps to open it. He studied the driver's license and held it up to compare the picture to Blair's face. Blair giggled and turned left, then right to show profiles.

"Very funny," Jim said dryly as he continued to dig. He pulled out a social security card, a student ID, a library card, a ticket stub to a Jags game from last season, a condom, and an overdue parking ticket. Jim stopped briefly to wonder when Blair had gotten the ticket and why he hadn't paid it. When he tried to hand the wallet back to Blair, Whitaker intercepted and glanced at the documents briefly under the pretense of sliding the contents back into the leather folds.

"Are you satisfied?" Whitaker asked roughly as he handed the wallet back to his guest.

"Hey, man. Don't lose that condom." Blair slurred, nearly dropping the wallet on the floor.

"No," Jim said, once again ignoring Blair's drunken antics. "I'd like to check his room, too."

"Absolutely not!" Whitaker stormed loudly. "This is ridiculous. You can't come on my ship and start ordering people around."

"Look, I made a deal with the owner of this tug and I want security maintained," Jim threatened just as loud.

Blair pushed past the Captain and staggered into the hall. "He can look if he wants to. Like I said, I don't have anything to hide. Come on in," he said as he pushed the door to his cabin open and went straight to the bed to sit down. "Help yourself." He gestured to the backpack sitting on the only chair in the room.

Jim moved into the room with Whitaker close on his heels. Jim upended the bag and shook everything out of it onto the large bunk. A shaving kit along with some toiletries, underwear, socks, and a couple changes of clothes fell out. The outside pocket contained Blair's passport, Mexican money, a book, and several journals. Jim picked up the light jacket and went through the pockets. He pulled out a small zip lock with some seeds in it.

"Hey, be careful with that, my roommate would kill me if something happened to those seeds. That's the only thing he asked me to bring him back from Mexico." Blair exclaimed as he grabbed the bag.

"Pot?" Jim asked incredulously.

"Hardly," Blair huffed. "That's econachia. I thought I'd try to start some seedlings for him. He loves the stuff. I'd do anything for Jim. My roommate," Blair rambled.

Jim studied his partner carefully. Either Blair was extremely drunk, which he obviously was, or he was trying to tell him something.

Whitaker had grown quiet at the mention of a roommate. And Greene's presence had certainly upset his plans. Time to fall back and regroup. "If you're all right, Blair, I'll head up to the bridge for a final check with the watch captain."

"I'm fine, Adam. Thanks for dinner." Blair brightened up almost imperceptibly. If Jim hadn't known him so well, he wouldn't have noticed.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight." The now red faced Captain walked out of the room without looking back. "Mr. Greene," he said as an afterthought.

Jim listened to the footsteps echo down the hall and pushed the door shut when they started up the stairs at the end of the corridor. Blair sighed and fell back onto the bed.

"What was that all about?" Jim asked.

"Oh, God. You don't want to know," Blair moaned.

"Yes, I do," the now concerned Sentinel insisted.

"Yeah, well. I don't want to tell you. Besides the room is spinning."

Jim moved to the foot of the bed and began to take off his shit-faced partner's hiking boots. "That's what you get for drinking so much. Why on earth would you do that?"

"He was really pushing the wine and I didn't want to be rude," Blair explained. After a thoughtful pause he asked "Do you remember that old bumper sticker? Gas, grass or ass, nobody rides for free?"

"Yeah," Jim looked at his friend as he dropped the boots on the floor.

"Well he didn't want gas or grass for the ride to Cascade."

Jim stared dumbfounded for a minute, then quietly began to refill the back pack with the contents that Blair now lay in the middle of. Blair pulled a pillow over his head.

"He made a pass at you?" Jim asked finally, still not fully grasping the situation.

"No." Blair's muffled voice came from behind the pillow. "He got me drunk and tried to take advantage of me. There's a difference, you know. With a pass I would have had a choice in the matter. If I was passed out drunk I wouldn't have."

Jim sat down on the edge of the bed. "I knew I shouldn't have let you come."

"Let me?" Blair yanked the pillow off his face and glared at Ellison. "You didn't let me do anything. I got myself into this. I can take care of it without blowing our covers if that's what you're worried about," he added defensively.

"That's NOT what I'm worried about. I'm worried about..." Jim sighed. "What would you have done if I hadn't come along?"

"I had a plan." Blair grinned wickedly. "I was gonna throw up on him."

"That would definitely ruin the mood," Jim agreed with a snort. "Are you gonna be ok? Next door to him, I mean. We've still got three days to go, you know."

"I think so. He backed off when I mentioned a male roommate. Maybe I'll tell him my partner is an ex covert ops ranger. What do you think?"

"Nah, he'd never buy that," Jim teased.

"Pro wrestler?" Sandburg offered groggily.

"Yeah, go with that one." Jim grinned as he pulled the edge of the blanket over his friend. Walking to the door he added "Meet me in the crew mess around ten in the morning for coffee. We can compare notes. I found some stuff."

"Ok. 'Night, Jim."

Jim stopped at the door before opening it. "If you need me just call. Ok?"

"I guess you don't mean on your cell phone, huh?" Blair giggled.

"Go to sleep, you damn drunk," Jim whispered affectionately. As he opened the door a surprised Captain Whitaker removed his outstretched hand from the other side of the door handle. Jim flipped the lock and pulled the door shut behind him as he exited the cabin.

"What are you doing back so soon, Captain?" Jim asked innocently.

"I, uh, just wanted to check on Blair. Why are you still here?" Whitaker countered suspiciously.

"Oh, he's fine. A little nauseous maybe. We were just talking. He really is a nice kid, I was wrong about him. I did apologize to him, by the way. He tells a good story, doesn't he?" Jim laughed a little. "Did he tell you his roommate is a professional wrestler?"

"No. He didn't. Good night, Mr. Greene." The Captain entered his own cabin. When Jim was sure he wasn't going to come right back he decided to check out the rest of the deck. He wanted to stay close for a while. Just in case.

When Blair entered the mess hall all activity stopped and everyone stared at him. He nodded to the room in general and procured a cup of coffee. "Good morning," he said as he slipped into the chair across from Jim who was sipping coffee and doing a cross word puzzle.

"Any nocturnal visitors last night?" Jim asked quietly, already knowing the answer. He hoped Blair wouldn't notice the dark circles under his eyes due to his lack of sleep. He spent most of the night listening out for his Guide.

"No," Blair said, taking solace in his coffee. "But there's an entire marching band visiting inside of my head this morning."

Jim smiled and looked up into the bloodshot eyes of his partner. "Everyone is looking at us," he said softly.

"I noticed that. I guess they think you're messing with the Captain's new boy toy, huh?" Blair smirked.

"Doesn't look like we're gonna be able to talk here. We need to come up with a more private spot to meet."

"Ok," Blair agreed. "Where?"

Thinking for a minute, the detective finally answered. "There's a supply closet two decks down. It's on the right just under the stairs. Be there around noon, ok?"

"Sure. I'm going to try to look around Whitaker's cabin. I'll see you later," Blair said then drained the rest of his coffee and headed for the door.

"Blair..." Jim called a little too loudly causing several heads to turn in their direction. Much quieter he added, "Be careful." Blair smiled and waved before disappearing into the corridor. Jim studied the worried glances some of the crew gave each other and then lowered his head back to the puzzle book. He also opened up his hearing.

"Looks like the Captain has some competition on this trip."

"Yeah, but the kid's really his type. Cap'll put up a fight."

"Why can't they just fuck each other and leave the kid alone?"

Blair grimaced and turned the VCR off and closed the cabinet. The Captain had a large collection of male porn. None of the participants seemed to know that they were being taped, and judging by the backgrounds, some of the tapes were taken on this ship or one much like it. Moving to the desk Blair opened a ledger and browsed through it. There were dates of shipments and unscheduled stops listed. Wishing he had a spy camera, Blair quickly copied down the last few entries to show to Jim, and made a few notes about other interesting data on the page. Whitaker fancied himself quite the pirate. Maybe that's what he was.

Blair pushed the small notepad back into his pocket and went back to the sitting area, closing the bedroom door behind him. He bent to retrieve his glasses from the coffee table just as the door opened.

"Adam. Hi. I knocked, but no one answered. I forgot my glasses last night," Blair explained a little nervously.

"It's all right, son. You're always welcome here. Please sit down. You are going to join me for lunch, aren't you?" Whitaker replied amicably.

Blair smiled self consciously and sat on the couch. "I don't think I want any lunch," he said.

"Oh, a little sea sick maybe."

"Hangover, I think. I want to apologize for last night, by the way. I'm not much of a drinker. I guess you found that out." Blair played absently with a string hanging from the hole on the knee of his jeans.

Whitaker laughed and joined him on the couch. Too close for Blair's comfort. "It's quite all right. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard." He put his hand over Blair's hand on his knee. "You are very good company."

"Thanks." Blair stood abruptly and moved toward the door. "If you don't mind I think I'll lay down for a little while."

Whitaker followed Blair to the door. "Greene didn't bother you last night after I left did he?"

"Oh, no, not at all. He's ok. He reminds me a lot of my roommate."

"The professional wrestler?" Whitaker asked, going for light and amused. Coming off as jealous and jaded.

"Did I tell you about him?" Blair exclaimed. "I was drunker than I thought!"

Whitaker looked stunned for a minute. "I see," he finally managed. He opened the door and let Blair pass him. "I'll see you for dinner?"

"Sure." Blair smiled and walked toward his room.

Whitaker shut the door and leaned against it while he gathered his thoughts. Unfortunately, he was finding Blair to be great company. His keen intellect was certainly stimulating, as was his biting sense of humor. The Captain hated to admit it but he was developing feelings for the boy. Of course, he wasn't really a boy. His energy and innocent appearance gave him that aura of youth. But in fact, he was a mature adult. He would be a perfect companion to a lonely man of the sea, though. He had heard about Blair talking with Greene in the mess hall. If he had anything to do with it, Greene wouldn't get near Blair again. And neither would the wrestler.

Blair passed his cabin and headed for the stairs. If Adam came looking for him, he wasn't going to be there. He decided to go to the storage closest and wait for Jim. He found it easily enough and made himself a comfortable seat by dumping out a box onto the floor. Settling in, he promptly fell asleep.

Some time later Jim closed the door and zeroed in on the slow, steady heart beat that he had been tracking all the way down the hall. "Chief?" he called out as he opened up his eyesight and focused on the lump in the floor. Blair was snuggled down into somewhere around a hundred rolls of toilet paper, sound asleep. Jim chuckled at the sight. He knew the grad student could sleep anywhere, but this was great blackmail material.

"Come on, sleepyhead. Time to wake up." Jim pulled his friend into a sitting position.

Blair groggily rubbed his eyes. "Did you find anything?" he asked.

"Yeah, this ship is heavily into surveillance. There are cameras everywhere, even most of the cabins. Whitaker must be really paranoid."

"Uh, I don't think that's it. I found the tapes. Whitaker has a serious porn collection, man. I even recognized a couple of the crew on some of the tapes."

"Oh," Jim replied.

Blair pulled himself up to a standing position by using Jim as leverage. "So do you think the crew knows that he tapes them?"

"I doubt it. This stuff is pretty well hidden. There's a camera in my room and I'll bet there's one in your cabin, too."

"Oh, thanks. How am I suppose to sleep now knowing I'm being spied on?" Blair asked.

Jim laughed, "You could always come back down here and sleep with the toilet paper."

"Funny. Here." Blair pulled the notebook from his pocket and handed it to Jim. "I copied down the last few entries in a ledger I found in Whitaker's quarters. There's a stop just outside of the Cascade harbor on every trip."

"Great. I'll..." Jim stopped and turned his head slightly.

"What is it?" Blair asked, knowing Jim was listening to something he couldn't hear himself.

"Shit. Someone's coming. They're looking for you."

"Why?"

Jim cocked his head and listened for a minute. "Whitaker couldn't find you and sent out a search party. They're checking all the doors and they're getting close," Jim supplied.

"It's gonna look awfully suspicious if they catch us talking in a supply closet. We've got to hide." Blair glanced around desperately, visions of walking the plank dancing in his head.

"There's no where to hide in here. They are right out side."

Looking up suddenly Blair blurted out "Kiss me!"

"What!?"

"Don't think about it. Just do it." Blair launched himself at the Sentinel and threw his arms around the bigger man's neck. Jim stared for a second and then bent his head to meet his partner's lips. As he wrapped his arms around Blair's back the door flew open. They both jumped back as if caught, their breathing rapid and their cheeks flushed with real embarrassment.

"Sorry," Martin said looking away. "Mr. Sandburg, Captain Whitaker wants to see you."

"Thanks, Martin," Blair said. He looked at Jim, but Jim wouldn't make eye contact with him.

Martin caught Blair by the arm and spoke to him urgently. "If you go right now, I won't tell the Captain how I found you. Tell him you were sea sick and went up on deck to get some fresh air. Go on."

Blair nodded and said "Ok." He unconsciously wiped at his mouth as he pushed past Martin and the leering crewman watching from the doorway. With one last look at Jim he headed for the Captain's quarters.

"Blair..." Jim called out and moved to follow his partner.

"Let him go," Martin admonished as he threw a beefy arm across the door way, blocking the detective's escape. "I think you'd better look somewhere else for your jollies on this trip, my friend. Captain Whitaker is a powerful man. And he's jealous. He's got a jones on for the kid and he always gets what he wants. If you try to get in the way, someone might get hurt."

"I can take care of myself," Jim growled dangerously.

"I'll bet you can." Martin dropped his arm and let the big man pass. "Take my advice. Stay away from the kid."

"Adam?" Blair knocked on the door as he pushed it open.

"Get in here," Whitaker snapped. Blair entered the room with a frown on his face. He stopped in the middle of the room and placed his hands defiantly on his hips.

"Where have you been? I thought you were going to lay down?" the Captain asked accusingly from the couch.

"I went up for some air because I felt a little queasy. I wasn't aware I needed permission. I'm so sorry to have upset you," Blair countered sarcastically, his scowl matching Whitaker's, his blue eyes blazing with indignation.

Whitaker blinked. He had honestly thought that he would be able to intimidate the younger man into submission. Obviously, he was wrong. His anger slowly turned to intrigue. Despite appearances, this wasn't someone he could push around. "I see," he said, softening his tone. "How do you feel now?"

"Fine," Blair lied. He was pissed at the man's attitude AND he had a hangover from hell. Both showed on his face.

"You're a poor liar, my boy," Whitaker laughed as he rose from his seat. He went to the wet bar and poured a glass of water. Opening a cabinet he produced a bottle of aspirin. Handing the glass to Blair he shook out a couple of the tablets into his hand. "Take these."

"Thanks," Blair murmured and swallowed the medicine without an argument. Handing the empty glass back to the Captain he sank to the couch and dropped his head into his hands to rest for a minute.

"Come on, get up." Whitaker pulled Blair up by the arm and tried to lead him to the bedroom. Blair balked and pulled away.

"Captain Whitaker, I think the price for this free ride is more than I'm willing to pay. I'm sorry. I didn't know there were strings attached." The words flew out of Blair's mouth.

"Blair, calm down. I just wanted you to lie down for a little while where I can keep an eye on you. This is the best bed on the ship. I won't bother you, I promise."

"Oh," Blair said, still unsure. He hoped that Jim was somewhere close if he got in over his head.

"I'll admit that I'm attracted to you," Whitaker said. Blair felt his cheeks grow warm and he knew he was blushing. But I won't force myself on you. I like you too much for that. You really are good company." Whitaker sighed. "I'm a lonely man, Blair. All I ask is for your friendship. Ok?"

Blair smiled a little. He felt like a jerk. Not that he really believed the man, but he knew, in all probability, that he would be testifying against this man in court someday soon. "Ok," he said at last.

"Now, come on. I want you feeling better before dinner. We're having lobster tonight."

"I love lobster." Blair tried to sound enthusiastic, but fell a little flat. He meekly followed the Captain into his stateroom and watched the other man pull back the covers on the bed. With a sense of trepidation he undid his boots and stepped out of them.

"Good. Now lay down," Whitaker ordered gently and smiled as Blair complied. "Close your eyes and relax." He pulled the covers up over Blair's shoulders and tucked him in. Whitaker laid a hand on the soft brown curls for a second before retreating from the room.

Blair gave in to the comfort and warmth and relaxed a little when the door closed. Not trusting that Whitaker wouldn't come back after he fell asleep, he tried to stay awake. He thought about the quick kiss that had passed between Jim and himself. Even though it didn't mean anything, it was just a way for them to save their asses, Jim wouldn't look at him afterward. Blair decided to try to get Jim to talk about it later. They would get past it. It wouldn't change anything, right? Blair continued to think about it as he slipped into a troubled sleep.

Jim sat in the crew's mess and drank a cup of coffee after he finished a late lunch. He had picked up plenty of information just sitting here and listening in on various conversations. Other than 'Greene's' phony shipment of guns, the ship was carrying designer drugs and an illegal shipment of artifacts being smuggled out of Mexico. Either would be a righteous bust. Together, along with any other goodies they might find, they would put this ship out of business for good and make a dent in the drug influx in Cascade at the same time. Which was the whole point of this little adventure. The ledger Blair had found would come in handy in court. Not only that, but it showed an unregistered stop that the ship made every trip at a point just prior to arrival at Cascade. Tonight Jim would radio ahead and set the bust up at the point instead of the harbor. All he had to do was keep Blair out of Whitaker's clutches for another two days.

Chuckling to himself he thought about his quick thinking partner. Only Blair would have the balls to pull that one off. Jim knew that there wasn't one cop that he worked with that would have gone through with kissing him to protect his cover. Maybe Meagan, but even she was iffy. It would have had to have been her idea. Jim had had to think about it himself for a second before he let it happen. Kissing Blair was better than getting beaten, killed and fed to the sharks. Barely, he laughed again to himself. He thought briefly of his partner alone with Whitaker and about Martin's cryptic warning that 'someone' would get hurt. He decided to finish his coffee and check on Blair.

Martin had kept his word and not said anything to the Captain about the kiss, but word had gotten around the small crew none the less. Jim looked up and found himself staring into the grizzled face of an old woman.

"I'm Dorene," she said and grinned toothlessly at him.

"Bill," Jim grunted back.

"I hear you got caught makin' out with that purty little youngun' Cap brought on board," she laughed.

"What's it to you?" Jim asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Ain't nothin to me," she cackled. "But you might just get that boy kilt. Cap beats one real bad ever once in a while. He's got a bad temper, you know. Rumor is he kilt one a few years back. Course this one's a lot older than most of 'em. Cap likes 'em young..."

Jim was already moving for the door, Martin's warning ringing in his head. It suddenly occurred to him that the 'someone' to get hurt just might be Blair. When he reached the right deck, he was already registering his partner's heart beat. He passed Blair's door and slammed into Whitaker's. It banged open easily, since it wasn't locked. Whitaker jumped up in shock and angry surprise from the table where he sat.

"Where is he?" Jim asked unnecessarily as he headed for the closed door behind Whitaker. "Blair..." he called out.

"Leave him alone!" Whitaker spat out and moved to stand in front of the door, not knowing that getting in the way of an angry Sentinel searching for his Guide was akin to getting between a mother grizzly and her offspring. "He's resting."

"What have you done to him?" Jim didn't even try to keep the anger and concern out of his voice. Cover be damned. "If you have hurt him I swear I'll kill you." Jim shoved the man hard against the door which promptly gave way, leaving Whitaker on the floor at the foot of the bed.

Blair woke from a dead sleep, startled by the crash. He sat up and called out "Jim?" before he was awake enough to realize his mistake. Jim froze in the doorway.

"It's ok, everything's fine," Whitaker soothed as he pulled himself up onto the bed and crawled over to Blair, never turning his back to the large, angry man as he went. "That must have been quite a scare. You called me Jim. Is that your roommate's name?" he asked, talking gently as if to a terrified child.

Blair realized his mistake and nodded. "What's going on?" He looked up and caught Jim's eyes with his impossibly large frightened ones.

"Are you all right?" Jim asked, somewhat calmer just being in closer proximity to Blair.

Blair nodded again and pulled out of Whitaker's 'comforting' embrace and stood up. Jim relaxed visibly when he realized that his friend was fully dressed, though a little rumpled.

"What's going on?" Blair repeated, aiming the question at Whitaker this time. He picked up his boots and started putting them on.

Whitaker glared at Ellison and moved on him menacingly. "Mr. Greene was just leaving."

"Not without Blair I'm not. I've heard how you treat your guests." Jim glared back at the Captain, whose face fell a little.

"I don't know what you've heard, but Blair is special to me. I would never hurt him," he stammered.

"Get out," Jim snapped.

"Blair, I'm calling for help. Don't worry, son. I'll take care of you." Whitaker stepped through the door and Jim closed it after him.

"We've got to get you out of here, Chief. Whitaker has an ugly history of abusing his 'guests'. We'll move you to my room."

"Jim, we can't just blow your cover like that," Blair insisted.

"We won't. Kiss me."

"What!?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "The whole damn crew thinks this is a messed up lover's triangle anyway. We'll just go with it. Don't think about it. Just do it." He grabbed Blair's shoulders and lowered his head...

"Wait," Blair said and moved away. "Are you sure about this? I mean, we're not talking about one little kiss here. We'll have to play this thing out for two more days, you know."

"I can handle it. Now come here." Jim pursued his moving partner.

Blair ducked away. "Let's just talk about it for a minute. This might change things between us. I couldn't handle losing your friendship over something like this."

"Chief?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

Blair stopped moving and faced Jim. "I never thought I'd hear those words from you, big guy." He clumsily put his hands on Jim's shoulders and Jim slipped his arms around Blair's back. "You could try to relax, man," Blair chided.

"You're the one who's stiff as a board," Jim accused.

"God! I hope not!" Blair grinned wickedly and looked down at himself. The baleful glare that Jim gave him shut down his antics. He closed his eyes as he turned his face up to his taller partner. This time he didn't even try to make eye contact. Jim gently brushed his lips against Blair's. They both swallowed and pulled back a little.

"I'm the guy," Blair whispered, eyes still closed.

"You're the girl," Jim answered and closed his eyes and went for it. He took Blair's mouth with his own. It actually wasn't that different from kissing a woman. He was surprised how soft and warm his partner's lips were. His covert ops training overtook his discomfort. Whitaker had to believe that they were sharing a passionate kiss. He deepened the kiss and when Blair's lips parted he let his tongue slide into Blair's mouth. They both relaxed a little when the world didn't come crashing to a halt.

Their lips lingered for a moment longer when Whitaker burst back into the room with reinforcements. He glared at them angrily and Blair lowered his head to Jim's chest. Jim encompassed him lovingly, while staring dispassionately at Whitaker over the top of his head.

"He's coming with me," Jim whispered huskily.

"Blair, you don't have to go with him if you don't want to." Whitaker ignored Jim and spoke softly to Blair, hopefully.

"I want to go with him," Blair sighed into Jim's chest, not raising his head.

"Oh, what do you think Jim would say?" Whitaker asked sarcastically, unable to keep the hurt and rejection out of his voice.

Blair smiled to himself into the massive chest. "Somehow, I think he would understand."

"There's not going to be any more business between us!" Whitaker shouted to Greene. "I have more pull with the owner than you do. He's a gun runner, Blair. Did you know that?"

Jim ushered Blair past the enraged man. Blair didn't speak and he didn't look at Whitaker. He was relieved and fearful at the same time. It occurred to him somewhat belatedly that two men had been fighting over him. Martin caught Jim's eye with an unreadable look. He seemed surprised that the gun runner had stood up for the young man's safety. Apparently that hadn't ever happened on this ship before. Martin looked almost ashamed.

They stopped briefly in Blair's cabin to gather his things. Whitaker did not follow them into the hall, but Jim could hear the temper tantrum being thrown in the other cabin. Jim knew that they had made the right decision and vowed not to let his friend near the man again. He hustled his thankfully unhurt partner down the corridor and away from danger.

They spent the rest of the day in Jim's cabin, keeping a low profile. Dorene snuck some sandwiches and bottled water in to them in the evening. Even with two naps during the day Blair felt exhausted. He offered to sleep on the floor, but Jim insisted that if Whitaker broke in on them during the night it wouldn't look right. So they went to bed together in the narrow bunk.

Jim woke up slightly confused by the gray wall that his face was pressed into. The warm weight in the middle of his back shifted a little, giving him slightly more room. He rolled over with some effort to face the mass of curls protruding from under the blanket. With no where else to put his arm, he draped it over Blair, who snuggled into his embrace in his sleep. Jim sighed and closed his eyes. Before sleep could reclaim him he heard movement above him. He focused his hearing and easily heard a heartbeat, a lot of mumbled curses and the whirl of a video camera.

When Blair stirred in his arms, Jim lowered his head into Blair's hair near his ear. "We've got a problem, Chief."

Blair stiffened slightly. "Relax, Buddy. It's ok. Whitaker just activated the surveillance camera. No big deal," Jim whispered.

Blair asked Sentinel soft from inside of the blanket "You think he's on to us?"

"No. I think he wants to add to his video collection," Jim answered softly. "Go back to sleep. It's still early. We'll figure something out later."

With complete trust Blair did what he was told. Jim kissed him once on the top of the head, just to piss Whitaker off. He settled back and rested his eyes. Listening to Blair's breathing he drifted back to sleep himself.

As soon as the breathing pattern changed Jim woke and knew his partner was awake, too, even though he didn't move or speak. After a few minutes Blair asked "Are we still on candid camera?"

"Um hum," Jim answered.

"Where is it?" Blair asked, burrowing out from under the blanket.

Jim hugged his partner, turning his face into Blair's neck so that the camera wouldn't catch the movement of his lips. "Directly over the bed. It's that thing that looks like a button. See it?"

Blair cast a quick glance skyward and caught sight of the inconspicuous object. He dropped his head a little so that Jim's meaty bicep was between his mouth and the camera. "Yeah, I see it. You sure it was Whitaker? It doesn't seem like he would do his own dirty work."

"Oh yeah, it was him. He was mumbling some pretty uncomplimentary things about me. He's really pissed that I messed up his action. I guess he's not so pissed that he doesn't want to watch, though."

"Sick bastard," Blair grumbled.

"What did the videos look like?"

"You don't really want to know, do you?"

Jim sighed. "The picture, Chief. What did the picture look like?"

"Oh. Black and white, grainy. You know like a convenience store would have."

"Sound?"

"No."

"That's about what I thought looking at the equipment," Jim said a bit louder. "We still have to watch what we say, just in case he reads something on our lips."

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

Blair sighed. After a long silence he said "He's expecting us to entertain him. How long until he figures out that this is a sham?" Blair pulled back from Jim's embrace to look him in the face.

Jim, ever conscious of the camera, smiled and placed a hand on Blair's face. "I don't know, Chief. We treat it like any other undercover operation and play the game. Up to a point, I mean."

Blair looked over his shoulder and back to Jim. "Is the bathroom clear?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Come on." Blair jumped up and pulled Jim by the arm into the bathroom. Pulling off his shirt he threw it at the bed.

"What are you doing?" Jim asked as Blair turned on the shower and adjusted the water temperature.

"Taking a shower," Blair grinned mischievously.

"And why am I here?"

"Jim, imagination is a powerful thing. It can fill in the blanks nicely in certain situations," Blair explained slipping unconsciously into his teacher voice. He dropped his boxers and tossed them to the bed as he jumped into the shower.

"You are an evil genius. I'm glad you're on my side." Jim smiled and pulled off his own T-shirt and lobed it just into camera range. He peed and then brushed his teeth and began to shave while he waited for Blair to finish his shower. "Just leave the water on when you're done," he said.

"Ok, so how are we going to play this?" Blair asked as he lathered up his hair.

"I don't think we have to do anything outside of the cabin. The crew already has their own ideas about what's going on," Jim said thoughtfully. "Inside the cabin is going to be the hard part. I guess we'll have to venture out into the ship more to cut down on camera time."

"At least this might distract everyone until the bust," Blair offered.

"Yeah, maybe. We're just going to have to be careful." He handed Blair a towel as he came out of the shower. Dropping his own boxers he stepped into the stream of hot water. Blair draped the towel around his waist and brushed his teeth. He decided to wait to shave due to the steamed up mirror, although Jim had had no problem. Of course his eye sight was remarkable. When Jim was through with his shower Blair wandered over to the bed and pulled on his boxers before dropping the towel. Sitting on the edge of the bed he used the towel roughly on his hair. Strong hands pulled the towel away and began to dry the hair firmly, but gently.

Blair smiled up at Jim. "Nice touch, man. Whitaker will have a stroke. I think he has a thing for the hair."

"Yeah, well. Don't get used to it," Jim grumbled good naturally. He let his fingers sink deep into the curls, soaking up the silkiness of the strands. He ran his hand down to Blair's cheek to the considerable stubble. "Planning on shaving today?"

"Let the steam clear, Mom. Not all of us have Sentinel sight," Blair huffed as he stood.

"I think we ought to kiss again," Jim said hesitantly placing his arms gently around the smaller man.

Blair smiled at the grimace on his friend's face. "That's reasonable after all that shower sex," he said, causing Jim to wince even more. "Come on, Jim. It's not that bad. I just brushed my teeth, you know." He slipped an arm around Jim's neck. "Just think of something else, man. I'll just think about some boring lecture in my head."

"None of your lectures are boring, Blair," Jim said softly.

He lowered his head and kissed Blair lightly on the forehead once before seeking out the full lips. The kiss was soft, but deep. Jim tasted Blair easily beneath the minty toothpaste. He could now identify his Guide using any one of his five senses. Sometimes he felt that Blair was an extension of himself. Blair had long ago dispelled any notion of personal space between them, somehow it didn't seem too far of a stretch to be comfortable kissing him. All homophobia aside, he loved Blair. He would do what he had to do to protect him.

Blair pulled away, a little breathlessly. "What were you thinking about?" he asked.

"Baseball," Jim lied. He planted one more quick kiss on the wet head then turned his partner toward the bathroom. "You really need to shave." He rubbed his chin to indicate the whisker burn there.

"Wimp," Blair laughed as he ducked the wet towel sailing his way.

When they entered the mess hall it was almost empty. They sauntered up to the serving line. "Sorry," Dorene said to Jim. "Cap ordered me not to feed you." She smiled apologetically.

Jim and Blair looked at each other briefly and turned to go without a word. The bust would go down in less than 24 hours now. That was still a long time to go without food.

"Not you, Honey," Dorene called out after Blair. "He didn't say nothing about you."

For a minute Jim thought his stubborn partner would refuse food because Jim wouldn't be served any. For a minute he forgot how his partner's mind worked. But only for a minute. Before Jim could urge his partner to eat something, Blair turned his best Sandburg smile on the woman. "Thanks, Dorene. I'll have a double helping of everything," he said.

Jim grinned and went to fill two mugs with coffee. Dorene melted under Sandburg's charm and loaded up a huge plate for him.

They sat side by side, Blair picked up the spoon, so Jim took the fork. Together they made short work of the overloaded plate. "Whitaker's coming," Jim announced as he sat back and sipped at his mug. Blair shot him a questioning gaze. "After shave," Jim supplied.

Pulling the empty plate to sit in front of him, Blair looked up just as the Captain entered the room. Blair nibbled on the last piece of toast. "Adam," he said easily.

"Good morning, Blair," Whitaker answered icily. "I trust you slept well."

Blair smiled pleasantly. "Fine, thanks."

Whitaker walked around the table and stood behind the two men. He softly stroked Blair's hair. Longingly. Lovingly. Jim pushed the hand away and protectively placed his arm around the back of Blair's chair. Whitaker dropped his hand to his side and stood staring at the back of the young man's head. He couldn't get Blair out of his mind. He hadn't slept at all, spending all night thinking about him. This had never happened before. He knew what he would find when he watched the tape, and he knew it would drive him crazy. But he would watch it. He would probably watch it until the tape wore out.

"If you change your mind, you know where to find me," Whitaker said at last before walking away.

"He won't," Jim assured the man without ever looking at him. He kept his cool blue eyes straight ahead. He didn't have to look to feel the hatred roll off of the man before he left.

They spent the rest of the day up on deck. Whitaker had not come around again. In fact most of the crew had left them alone. Dorene sent a basket of food with Blair's name on it up to them. If the other man ate some too it wasn't her fault.

Whitaker paced his cabin all day. It had taken him that long to make his decision. Although he had wanted this time to be different, he knew what he had to do now. If he was going to have Blair he would have to take him. He had wanted Blair to come to him on his own and was fairly certain he would have eventually. He couldn't deal with Blair choosing Greene over him, on his own ship no less. And Greene, the smug son of a bitch, acted like he was some sort of protector to the young man. Acted like he gave a damn. Greene had crossed him for the last time. When Martin got here he would give him explicit instructions of what to do with William Greene. Where the hell was Martin, anyway?

Blair turned off the light and climbed into the bunk where the large detective was already lying down. "Jim?"

"Yeah, Chief?" Jim looked up to meet his partner's questioning blue eyes. Even in the dark he could see the concerned look on the expressive face.

"We gonna be ok?" Blair asked tentatively.

"Sure. All we have to do is wait eight more hours, then we're home free. I sent word to Simon to send the task force to the point instead of the harbor. Everything else will go down as planned," Jim explained.

"I know all that." Blair sounded a little annoyed. "I mean us. Are we going to have problems later because of the way our covers turned out on this one?"

"Of course not," Jim grunted and turned on his side, away from Blair.

"How do you feel about it?" Blair persisted.

"Sandburg, shut up and go to sleep," Jim muttered and closed his eyes.

Blair was silent for several minutes then began to chuckle quietly to himself.

"What?" Jim asked, opening his eyes.

"Nothing."

Jim rolled back over to face his Guide. "No. Tell me what you're laughing at."

"Just you, man." This time Blair turned away from Jim.

"What about me?" Jim growled.

"We just spent the last two days playing tonsil hockey with each other, and you're ok with that. As long as you don't have to talk about it," Blair explained.

"So?" Jim asked defiantly.

"So, nothing."

"Look, Chief. You know that I would take a bullet for you, don't you..."

"Don't say that, Jim."

"...so why do you find it so hard to believe that I could act like I'm in love with you if it keeps you safe?" The answer shut Blair up as expected. After a long pause Jim added, "By the way, the Volvo needs new windshield wipers."

Blair thought about that for a few minutes. To Jim it was all the same, kissing him or making sure that his car was in good driving condition. He was just keeping his Guide safe. "Thanks, Jim," he said at last.

"No problem." Jim closed his eyes for a minute then suppressed a giggle. "Besides, you are kind of cute. Come here, Honey." He threw an arm and a leg around his startled partner.

"Oh, Jim. That is sooo not funny," Blair moaned, trapped beneath the weight of the laughing detective.

Jim woke with a start to the insistent pounding on the door. He crawled over the lump hidden in the covers and picked up his gun that he had retrieved earlier along with the radio transmitter from the carton of 'guns' down in the storage hold. "Who is it?" he growled.

"It's Martin. Open the door, I need to talk to you."

"What do you want?" Jim asked as Blair sat up bleary eyed in the bed.

"I need to warn you. Now open the damn door," Martin urged.

Jim opened the door and stepped back to stand between Blair and the man who entered hurriedly and closed the door behind him. Martin glanced briefly at the weapon in Jim's hand. "Good, you have some protection," he said approvingly not seeming to notice that he himself was in the cross hairs at the moment, so to speak.

"What's wrong, Martin?" Blair asked in a soft, sleep filled voice. The man had seemed almost fatherly to Blair for the whole trip and had even told him what to tell the irate Captain when he had 'caught' him with Jim.

"Whitaker is up to something, and it can't be good." Martin said quickly. "I trust you to protect the boy. You've got to hide him. I've never seen the Captain this way. He's obsessed. He'll kill the boy for sure." Martin spoke desperately to Jim, his voice broke. "I can't watch another innocent die and do nothing."

"Martin, I'm not a boy." Blair stood and went to the man, circumventing his alarmed Sentinel with practiced steps. Martin looked at Blair as if for the first time.

"There have been so many others. Carlos, and Jason, and Juan, and Sammy... They just disappeared after a while. One by one. Whitaker never cared, he would just pick up another one. I would hear them cry out at night, then one night silence. He either got tired of them, or got too rough with them, or... I don't know. It's got to end. I can't live with this anymore." Martin sank to his knees and threw his arms around Blair's waist as he cried. "I don't want you to suffer," he sobbed. "I don't want you to die."

Jim tried to free his Guide from the grasp of the man seemingly disintegrating right in front of them, but Blair held on to the sobbing man in his arms.

"Martin," Blair asked gently after several minutes as the sobs abetted, "how do you know he's up to something?"

"He sent for me a few minutes ago. When he calls for me in the middle of the night it's usually something bad. I know how he works," Martin sniffled.

"You'd better go and see what he wants then," Blair told the man. He pulled him to his feet, Jim hovering very close. "Wash your face first," Blair instructed as he lead the man to the bathroom door.

Martin did as he was told. He put on a stern face while he studied his reflection intently in the mirror.

"Go find out what the Captain wants," Blair urged. "We'll try to find someplace to hide until we reach the point. By the time the sun comes up everything will be ok."

"You're really not a boy at all, are you?" Martin asked as he turned to face Blair with fascination clearly showing in his eyes.

"I guess youth is like beauty. It's in the eye of the beholder, man," Blair answered wisely.

The old man nodded and headed for the door. "I'll do what I can," he said as he left.

"Get dressed, Chief. We'll leave everything here and go to the hold of the ship. I don't think they'll find us there. All we have to do is keep out of the way until dawn. Then we'll be knee deep in feds and coast guard."

"Sounds like a plan," Blair agreed and pulled on a pair of jeans.

Blair followed close behind Jim, mostly because he couldn't see all that well in the dark, but also because that's where he belonged, watching the Sentinel's back. It was natural. It was what he did, when he wasn't told to stay in the truck, and sometimes even when he was. They found a nice hollow area between some large crates. It was defendable and escapable and no one without really good eye sight would ever see it unless they knew it was there. They settled in and waited for the cavalry.

Jim listened carefully around them for any sign that they had been detected. Blair sat with his arms around his legs and fidgeted for a little while before he lowered his head to rest on his knees.

Jim patted him on the head. "Rest for a little while," he told his partner quietly.

When Blair drifted off to sleep Jim eased him to the floor and placed his thin jacket under the anthropologist's head. Everything was quiet so Jim decided to have a look around. He didn't hear anything and Blair was sleeping peacefully. It might expedite things if he already knew where the drug shipment and the artifacts were when the feds arrived. Turning up his sense of smell, he left his Guide in the sheltered little area and went to look for the contraband. He tucked his gun into the back of his pants under his shirt so that he could climb around without having to carry it in his hand.

Following the faint chemical odor Jim climbed out of the hold and up one then two flights of narrow metal stairs. The smell was familiar somehow, and growing stronger. If he could just...

Forty minutes later Whitaker's goons found him still standing on the deck in a zone out. They were unconcerned that the man didn't move when they tied his hands behind his back. Then they began to beat him. Four against one. After the first blow he seemed to wake up suddenly. He fought back valiantly. His gun fell from it's hiding place and it was kicked away in the scuffle. Unseen by the others Martin pocketed the gun and eased back into the shadows. He heard the large man hit the floor at last and the fight was finally over.

Blair was suddenly awaken when a hand roughly closed around his ankle and yanked him from behind the crate. "Got him, Cap!"

"Hey!" Blair shouted and began to kick and pull away.

Two men grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. When he struggled against them one of them punched him hard in the face.

"Stop it!" Whitaker shouted and shoved his way in between them. "Nobody touches him! Do you understand? If I ever find a mark on him I'll kill you."

"Yes, sir," Both men stammered and released their hold on the smaller man.

"Where is..." Blair had to clear his head for a second..."William."

"I'll take you to him," Whitaker said, much too easily.

He clamped onto Blair's arm and pulled him toward the steep stairs. They climbed up two flights when Blair spotted his partner. Jim lay on the floor, unmoving except for the uneven rise and fall of his chest, his hands bound behind his back. His face was bloodied and bruised, his eyes open, but unseeing.

"What have you done to him?" Blair shouted at his captor and tried to pull away to go to his friend.

Jim felt his Guide nearby and tried to followed his voice. He knew something was wrong but didn't have the strength to investigate. He couldn't seem to lift his head. Everything was dark and his head hurt. Everything hurt. He let the darkness take him back into sweet oblivion.

"I don't know why I put up with him for as long as I did," Whitaker said smugly. "Jones, slit his throat and throw him to the sharks. No body. No crime. I doubt anyone will miss him. Things happen to criminals all the time. Sometimes they just disappear."

"Are you going to kill me, too?" Blair challenged. "I won't keep quiet, you know."

"You won't have the opportunity to say anything, because I have a special place in the ship's cargo hold where I can keep you. Ironically, you were sleeping right next to it. You are going to stay with me. Forever. Got that? Unless you're with me you'll be in your cell. Believe me, you'll want to spend as much time with me as possible. In time, you'll forget all about him." Whitaker spoke as if he believed his words. As if he weren't completely crazy. "Watch while they kill him. I think you need to see this."

"No!" Blair screamed. "Please, Adam. Don't kill him. Please."

Jim forced himself awake when he heard the desperation in his partner's tone. He woke feeling much worse for wear. He had trouble focusing his eyes, his eyelids were almost swollen shut. "Blair..." he managed to whisper through split lips.

"Adam, please," Blair continued a little quieter, sighing because his partner was awake. He was ecstatic that he was still alive, but sorry that he would hear what Blair would have to do in exchange for his life.

"That's right, Blair. Beg for his life. I rather like this. I never thought you'd do it."

"I'll do whatever you want me to do. Just please don't kill him." Blair dropped down on his knees, playing up to the man's obvious delusion of grandeur. After all, this was Jim. When it came to his partner's life he had no pride.

"Why shouldn't I kill him?" Whitaker asked with sneer.

"Because I love him," Blair stated plainly. "If you kill him I'll hate you forever. You'll have to kill me too, because if you don't, the first time you turn your back on me I'll try my damnedest to kill you. If you let him live, I'll...I'll do what ever you want."

Whitaker listened intently. He could see that Blair was telling the truth by his body language, by the fear in the deep blue eyes, by the intensity of the pleas. "If I let him live you'll come to me willingly?" he asked.

"Yes," Blair whispered as he bent his head.

"No!" Jim screamed as he tried to get up.

"Just let me tend to him first," Blair said, knowing that he was pushing his luck.

"Blair..." Jim cried out.

"No. If you come with me right now I'll let him live," the Captain promised.

"Ok," Blair sighed softly.

"Blair! No! Don't do it, Chief. Whitaker, I'll kill you! I swear to God, you're a dead man. Blair! Blair..." Tears came to Blair's eyes as Jim's shouts turned to sobs. Jim was left struggling in a puddle of his own blood as Blair obediently followed Whitaker to his quarters.

Blair didn't even bother to look at the man who talked softly to him all the way up to his cabin. He made promises and painted pretty pictures of the way things would be. Blair didn't flinch when he patted and caressed him. His mind was on his Sentinel. In his mind he could still hear Jim's cries. He knew his friend's penchant for guilt. He also knew that if he went through with this that things would never be the same between them. While Blair would get over it eventually, it might very well destroy Jim. By the time they reached the Captain's quarters Blair realized that if he gave in to Whitaker's demands that he might as well let him kill Jim. The results would be the same in the end. He would lose his best friend. To death or to guilt. Time was getting short now anyway and soon they would make anchor at the point. The sun was already coming up. All he had to do now was stall. And pray that his stubborn partner didn't get himself killed trying to escape and free his Guide.

"I said take off your shirt," Whitaker ordered harshly, the tender moments gone. Apparently he had had to ask more than once. Blair eyed him coolly, but didn't move.
"We had a deal, either you cooperate or he dies," Whitaker threatened.

Blair unbuttoned his cuffs and then started at the top and unbuttoned his shirt slowly. Whitaker watched every movement with great interest. Blair could read the lust in the older man's soulless eyes. As he watched Blair remove his shirt he undid his belt and pulled it from his pants. Holding it by the buckle he let the length of it fall to the floor.

"Come over here," he said in a softer tone, now that Blair was cooperating again. "Stand behind the chair. Put your hands on the back of it."

"What are you doing?" Blair asked half-heartedly.

"You made me look foolish in front of my crew. I can't just let that go. I have to punish you. I don't want to hurt you, but I have to. For your own sake. After this we can move on," Whitaker explained, once again as if to a child. He did enjoy this part, but the best was after, when the crying slowly eased and he could comfort. He knew that Blair was stubborn and it would have to be a terrible beating before he would allow him to get near him. He licked his lips in anticipation. He had waited a long time.

"Right," Blair smiled sarcastically. "The old 'This is gonna hurt me more than it's gonna hurt you' bit. I get it." He threw his shirt over the chair, but leaned against it facing Whitaker and crossing his arms over his chest. The ship was no longer moving and he could see land out the portal.

"Turn around."

"No."

"You promised," Whitaker hissed between clenched teeth.

"I lied. Just like you did. Any minute now your ship is going to be overrun with a federal task force. The illegal cargo along with your little ledger over there will put you away for a while, but I'm going to dig until I find out more about the little boys and young men that keep disappearing off of your ship. I know I'm older than your usual fare, but I'll be an old man when you get out of prison. If you ever do. Pedophiles don't usually fare too well in the joint."

"You're a fed?" Whitaker asked, unbelieving.

"No. I'm an anthropologist. My partner Jim is a cop. He was undercover. I just came along for the ride."

"William Greene is Jim," Whitaker said, not a question.

"Yes."

"I knew you couldn't fall in love that fast."

"I'm not 'in love' with Jim. But I do love him. He's like the brother I never had. We're connected in a way that you would never understand. Spiritually. Not physically."

"He's in love with you. You can't fake that kind of tenderness. A man like him would never be able to pull it off."

"You don't have any idea what kind of man James Ellison is, you sick bastard. Did you really think that you could get away with this? You thought I'd just forget my life and ride off into the sunset with you? You were going to kill Jim anyway," Blair accused.

"Lean against the chair," Whitaker said as he raised the leather strap , ready to strike out. It was a well practiced maneuver.

"No," Blair stated again calmly.

As the belt whipped toward him Blair grabbed it in the middle just as it connected to his shoulder with a snap. Blair yanked it away from the older man's grip, causing the buckle to snag on the man's hand. It came away with a jerk and a sizable chunk of Whitaker's flesh. Blood dripped into the expensive cream colored carpet. The man gasped in pain and shock.

"He's already dead," Whitaker intoned viciously.

Blair didn't bother to answer. He dropped the belt and bolted from the room. He had to get to his partner. Whitaker grabbed the first thing he found to wrap around his bleeding hand. Blair's shirt. He cinched it tightly in place and sank to the floor. He raised the shirt to his face and took in the odor of the man that he would have done anything to have. The man who had rejected him for another. His blood and tears saturated the cloth. In the background a bull horn sounded. Clamoring to his feet, he found the ledger and started for the door. After a seconds hesitation he went to the VCR and ejected the tape in it and took it with him as he fled to safety.

Running all the way Blair went to the deck where he had last seen his partner. Finding nothing but a pool of congealing blood he went white with worry. He followed the trail of blood up the metal stairs in a near panic, stumbling as he went. Just as he reached the upper deck he watched in horror as two men hefted his partner over the rail and into a long fall into the ocean below. Blair raced to the rail and hurled himself over it without the slightest hesitation. The men attempted to catch him but were seconds too late. In a instant Blair's fear of heights and Jim's fear of deep water were fused into a single waking nightmare.

Blair hit the water like it was a brick wall. The force knocked the breath out of him as he sank into the foam of pink bubbles that Jim had left in his wake. Further into the water he struck something solid. Blair shook off the shock of the fall, the impact, and the icy water. He grabbed a handful of bloody shirt and kicked toward the surface with all his strength. After an eternity when he was sure his empty lungs would burst he broke the surface of the water and drew his friend up with him.

"Breath, Jim. Come on, big guy," he pleaded breathlessly trying in vain to determine if there was any sign of life.

Jim woke with a start and instinctively began to struggle causing both of them to dunk in and out of the water.

"Easy, Jim. I've got ya." Blair's voice cut through the big man's momentary panic. "Relax. I've got you."

"Chief..." Jim gasped as he spit out a mouthful of sea water and blood. "You...Ok?"

"Peachy, Jim. Just relax. I've got you."

Blair struggled to keep himself and his much larger partner afloat as he looked around for any sign of help. Jim tried valiantly not to drown them both and managed to kick his legs in time with Sandburg's. Blair noted the growing circle of discoloration in the water and watched for sharks which might be drawn by the blood. When he looked up he saw Whitaker's concerned face high above him. The man lobed something over the rail and then disappeared. The life buoy landed a few feet away and Blair kicked hard a couple of times to reach it. Using it for balance, he untied Jim's shredded wrists and placed the life saver over the big man's head.

Blair carefully checked his partner's injuries as he struggled to get his own breathing under control. Aside from the mince meat face and wrists, Blair assumed that there were some broken ribs and probably bruised kidneys. Bruises and cuts. Throat not slit. No bullet wounds. Nothing appeared immediately life threatening. Jim seemed to be taking the deep, cold water in stride. His gaze was slightly dazed and focused intently on his Guide's face.

"You didn't..." Jim finally asked, wincing at the effort it took to speak.

"Of course not," Blair soothed a little shakily. His body began to feel numb in the cold water, and he began to shiver in earnest. "You think I'm easy or something?"

Jim managed a small smile. "Chief, you.. are any...thing but easy."

Blair laughed and still holding on to the life buoy with one hand turned his body to scan for danger or help. Sensitive eyes caught sight of the whelp on Blair's bare shoulder.

"What did he.. do to you?" Jim asked angrily, reaching out with a sore hand and gently touching the now purple stripe of swelling flesh.

Glancing down briefly at the offending mark with unconcerned eyes, Blair shook his head. "You're a piece of work, man. Look in a mirror," he said with affection.

After what seemed like several lifetimes the pair was rescued from the water by a coast guard cruiser. They were taken directly to the point where Simon waited with the rest of the brass while the task force searched the ship and contained the crew. According to Simon, Whitaker was no where to be found and there was one unidentified body on board. Jim was loaded into an ambulance protesting all the way. Blair climbed aboard with him after collecting his and Jim's things and a crisp hundred dollar bill from Simon. Holding a blanket around his own shoulders he commiserated with his water logged, dead tired, beaten up friend. However, as he agreed quietly with each and every protest, he did not allow the medics to give in and let the detective out of the ambulance. They were half way to the hospital when Jim realized that his friend had duped him and they were indeed going to the emergency room.

Blair picked up his backpack from where he had dropped it the night before to retrieve his shaving kit. By the time they had gotten back from the hospital he was so tired that after he had gotten Jim settled, he had just fallen into bed himself. He emptied the bag onto his unmade bed and rambled around in the contents until he found the kit. He had to give his statement at the station in a few hours. He knew Jim was going to need some help so he thought he would go ahead and get ready now to save time later. A VCR tape caught his eye as he turned to go to the bathroom.

Dropping the shaving kit he picked up the tape and took it to the living room. He turned the sound down all the way and turned the TV on. Flipping on the VCR he slid the tape in. After a second of fuzzy static the picture cleared. He and Jim lay snuggled together in the narrow bunk, apparently asleep. He fast forwarded the tape until he noticed the empty bed with his T-shirt and boxers on the bed. He hit play just as Jim's shirt came sailing into view, missing the bed by inches. He chuckled to himself, yeah, that worked. He gave himself a mental pat on the back. As he moved to cut off the tape, his own image caught his attention. He watched with morbid fascination as his image pulled on boxers and sat on the edge of the bed to dry his hair. Jim entered the room and took the towel from his hands and began to dry his hair. As he watched Jim kiss his forehead and then his mouth on the tape he heard his partner's real life grunts as each step jarred his broken ribs as he came down the stairs.

Jim stopped on the bottom step as he realized what Blair was looking at. "Where did you get that?" he asked softly.

Blair turned to face him with an expression of mild shock. "You didn't put it in my bag?"

"Of course not. That's evidence."

Blair blinked. "You mean we have to turn it in?" he asked. "What good would it do? I mean, there's some pretty incriminating stuff on this tape. It looks exactly like we wanted it to look. Whitaker certainly believed it. Do you know what they'll think at the station? They'll think all those old rumors about us are true."

"It doesn't matter, Chief. It has to go with the other tapes," Jim continued to watch the tape as he moved closer to his roommate.

"Whatever you say, man." Blair clicked off the tape and went back to his room to get the forgotten shave kit. When he came back through the living room Jim had rewound the tape and was watching it from the beginning.

"I just wanted to see exactly what we're up against here," Jim explained to his partner's back as he passed through.

"It's your call, Jim," Blair said as he shut the bathroom door. "I just hope you know what you're doing," he added softly from the other side of the door.

The phone rang twice before Jim could get to it. "Ellison," he said as he picked it up and hit pause on the VCR. He heard the shower come on in the bathroom as he listened intently to what his boss was saying, with the appropriate grunts and a muttered thanks before hanging up the phone. When he went back to the TV he and Blair were frozen in a kiss on the screen. Moving carefully to avoid as much pain as possible he ejected the tape and moved over to the fireplace. Settling himself in front of it he lit some paper and started a small fire with the wood already in it. When the blaze was to his satisfaction he broke open the plastic cover and pulled the tape from it's casing. Just as Blair emerged from the bathroom he tossed the ribbon of tape onto the fire.

"Jim?" Blair asked, eyes wide.

"Whitaker's body washed up on shore this morning," Jim said quietly. "He was shot in the head. Probably with my gun. We'll know more when forensics is finished."

Blair threw a towel over his shoulder and walked over to his partner. "He saved us, you know," he said.

"What do you mean?" Jim tried to squint, but it hurt too much.

"When we were in the water. I looked up and he threw the life buoy down to us," Blair explained.

He saved you, Jim thought and was for once thankful that the man had been so fascinated with his partner that he couldn't let him drown. Jim managed to get to his knees and Blair pulled him to his feet. "So he was alive the last time you saw him. We were already in the water. That's good."

"You lost me." Blair sat on the edge of the coffee table and began to dry his hair.

Jim absently took the towel from an amused Blair and squeezed the water gently from the curls. "Simon said that some of the crew reported that there was some type of lover's triangle and that you probably killed him because of what he did to me. Of course, every one on the task force knows that we were undercover and there wasn't really anything going on."

"Jim," Blair said solemnly. "You destroyed evidence that would have supported the crew's theory in court."

"We both know what really happened between us, Blair. I don't want anyone trying to prove otherwise because of that stupid tape. I know that you didn't kill Whitaker. That's good enough for me. Besides, I think forensics will prove that Martin did it."

"Why do you think that?"

"They also found Martin shot in the head. Self inflicted. I think that he shot Whitaker, threw him over board, put the tape in your bag and then shot himself."

"What are we going to do?" Blair questioned.

Jim shrugged. "We'll tell the truth. Simon wants us at the station within the hour. The feds are going to handle the interviews. No one at the station will be privy to the information. No one knew about the video except for you, me and two dead men. It won't even come up, but if it somehow does I want you to tell them that you saw me burn it. I don't want you liable for that. It was my decision."

Blair sat quietly for a minute while his friend finished drying his hair. At last he asked "Why do you think after all this time that Martin finally decided to try to stop Whitaker?"

"I don't think he liked what he saw when he looked in the mirror. Everyone has their limits, Chief."

"Yeah, I guess." Blair contemplated something for a few seconds then pulled the towel away from Jim's hand so that he could look him in the face. "You're not going to try to kiss me this time are you?" he teased.

Jim covered Blair's head with the towel and chuckled as he hobbled towards the bathroom. "No way, kid. I don't like razor burn."

"Aw, come on, Honey, I already shaved," Blair laughed as he followed his Sentinel to the bathroom. He laughed even harder when Jim slammed the door in his face and locked it.

The End

Disclaimer - Images, characters, and settings taken from various television shows are the property of their respective owners, producers, etc.  No copyright infringement intended, I'm just having a little fun.