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The Sentinel Conspiracy         
by  Kikkimax

 

"Whoa, hey, backup," Henri said as he browsed the want ads over Ellison's shoulder. "Look at that one. Wow."

"There's more to being a Guide than good looks. Think Joey," Jim admonished as he backed the screen up one page and brought up the picture once again. He had to agree though. Wow. This kid put Joey to shame. Jim didn't bother to tell Henri that he had already perused this particular Guide's file. A couple of times.

"Yeah, but Jim, come on. This guy is gorgeous. He'd really brighten up the Guide's locker room. Things have been kind of bleak around here since Joey left, ya know."

"I beg your pardon?" Rafe huffed indignantly as he entered the office from the living quarters.

"Sorry, babe. No offense," Brown laughed as his Sentinel cuffed him playfully on the head. Jim shook his head at the pair's antics, secretly glad that he didn't have to put up with a Guide all the time like poor Rafe did. Especially one like Henri.

"Let Jim get back to work, would ya?" Rafe urged as he crossed the room and switched off the hologram that Brown had once again left running. "H, you know we're supposed to be conserving energy."

"I think the Alliance can afford a few kilowatts for their premier Sentinel team," Henri scoffed.

"We're only the premier team because Ellison refuses to bond with a Guide," Rafe said.

"Oh, so you're saying that if Jim was bonded to any Guide at all that they would be a better team than us," Henri scoffed.

"I'm saying that if Jim was bonded with a goldfish that they would be a better team than us," Rafe retorted, then added before Henri could respond, "Heads up, Simon's coming."

Jim frowned slightly as he turned up his hearing. Sure enough, Simon was on his way. He was usually the first to know when someone was approaching. Still, he had to admit that since Rafe had bonded with Henri his hearing and sense of smell had improved by leaps and bounds. So much so that it would be difficult to tell that Rafe was almost completely blind if you didn't already know. Still, Rafe's abilities were far below Jim's natural gifts when he let go with them. Unfortunately, to do so he did have to have someone with him, usually a temp Guide. He found that anyone would really do, but probably not a goldfish. Although Joey had been close, beautiful, but not too bright. Sadly, he'd had to throw that one back.

The door slid open and Simon was caught momentarily in a beam of light until his DNA was analyzed and he was approved for entry. No expense had been spared in the security for the complex, a fact that Jim found laughable since no one could sneak up on any decent Sentinel anyway. He supposed it could be to protect the Guides. Either way, in Jim's humble opinion, it was a waste.

"Hey, Simon," Rafe said cheerfully as he settled at his desk. Brown sat on the edge of it and waved a hand at Simon, humming distractingly, once again flipping on the hologram.

"Rafe, Henri," Simon said acknowledging them briefly before turning his attention to Ellison. "Robert and Ellen Hall haven't reported in yet. Headquarters fears the worst," he informed Jim solemnly.

Jim looked up and his frown deepened. "They're only overdue by a day, sir. They'll be back."

Simon shook his head unhappily. "We have intel that says they went down in a battle. I'm sorry."

Henri grew quiet and flicked the hologram off. Rafe sighed and turned away. It hurt to lose any team, but Robert and Ellen were good people, friends to all. Worse, they had children together. Children that were now orphans, thanks to the unending civil war.

"Excuse me," Rafe said and headed for the back, Henri close on his heels.

"Jim," Simon said softly. "Things aren't going well. Now more than ever I need you to pick a Guide and bond. HQ set down new rules. No unbonded Sentinels in the field."

"Damn it, Simon. No one ever proved that a bonded Sentinel has any advantage over an unbonded one. That's something that the Guide's Guild came up with to push their people," Jim argued. "Robert and Ellen were bonded and look where it got them."

"There are rumors that the Rebels have genetically enhanced Guides that can bond with unbonded Sentinels and use them without their knowledge."

"That's science fiction and you know it. Those rumors come around every couple of years."

"Never the less, I don't make up the rules and you know it. This came down from the Commissioner this morning. This is your last chance to bond. It you're not successful this time, he's going to put you down as unbondable."

"And that would be so bad?"

"Look, Ellison. Pick a Guide. Now. Or I'll pick one for you. Better yet, I'll bring back Meagan. I know for certain that she's still in the Guide pool." Simon rounded the desk and was surprised to see that Jim already had the Guide page up on the screen.

"Oh, God. Not Meagan," Jim groaned in protest. "I can still smell her, and it's three months and two Guides later."

"Then pick someone else. You've got ten minutes, and this time, you're going to try your damnedest to bond. You got me?" Simon fumed. He sighed and leaned heavily against the desk. "Jim, we're down four teams now, and what with Rafe's accident with the neural device, I can't send him back in the field no matter how well he gets around. I need you to promise me that you'll try."

"Yes, sir," Jim answered resolutely. "I promise."

"Good. Make a decision and I'll have your choice here by nightfall."

"What if I choose someone who's not local?" Jim stalled.

Simon sighed again. "Pick whoever you want. But choose well. This is your last chance," he warned as he moved back to the door. "If I don't have a signal from you in ten minutes, Meagan is coming back and it'll be 'til death do you part."

"That won't take long," Jim deadpanned. "I'm just not sure if it would be her death or mine."

Jim scanned the ads for the next nine and a half minutes. When the young male Guide with the deep blue eyes popped up for the third time Jim didn't hesitate to hit the send button, and not just because he was out of time. He didn't think he could stomach a life sentence with Meagan, who he had formed a partial bond with, but couldn't stand to be around. He studied his choice again, relatively pleased with himself.

Not only was this man positively sensual with his creamy skin, pouty lips and abundance of curly brown hair, it was unusual for one so young to have so much experience. His Sentinel had been killed, leaving the kid alone for over a year now. It was almost unheard of for a bonded Guide to live so long after losing his Sentinel. What actually caught Jim's eye was the fact that apparently this Guide refused to bond again, and was strong enough to fight off any advances made on him by at least three other Sentinels. It didn't actually say that in the text, but Jim was an expert on ad-speak, having browsed them frequently in the past couple of years. Three failed bondings was inconceivable. For a Guide.

Jim himself had lost count of the Guides that he had chosen and then discarded, but then again, he never really tried. He figured that a true bond would just happen, and as of yet, it hadn't. A plan formed in Ellison's mind. If things didn't work out this time, it wouldn't be his fault. After all, if the Guide wouldn't bond, there was nothing he could do about it. And if he was listed as unbondable, didn't that make him immune to any advances by genetically engineered Guides in the field? Good argument. He'd have to remember that one.

"Sandburg, front and center," the foreman said as he entered the sensitive data area.

"Sir?" Blair muttered as if annoyed at the interruption. He never looked up from his computer.

"Pack up, you've been selected."

"What! Again!" Blair swore, jumping up from his desk and rounding on his boss. "Who would be dumb enough to pick me? Sir, I've got work to do. I'm right in the middle of something important here. I don't have time to go running off to play house with some love lorn Sentinel right now. I swear I'm going to change that damned picture on the net, and don't think I don't know how...."

"Turn whatever you're working on over to Simkins," the man ordered evenly. "And don't worry. This Sentinel works for the National Security Institute. You're going back to the front lines, kid," he added with a grin.

"Oh," Blair said, his anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. "I'll go pack."

Jim sat in the work area with the lights turned all the way down. He read the file on his latest intended as he waited. It was getting late. Sandburg definitely wasn't local, but Simon had arraigned for the Guide to be shipped same day.

This one was college educated, again almost unheard of anymore. In spite of the long list on the Guide page, good Guide's were few and far between, especially experienced ones. However, anyone who held a spot for as long as this one had in the classifieds wasn't worth the time of day, as far as Jim was concerned. Perfect for his little passive aggressive plan.

Guides had to be trained from a young age to get the best results. Since the war began there was no time to send them to school for anything other than the basic three R's and then intense Guide training. Now steps were skipped, things were rushed. This resulted in a lot of empathic non-Guides going through the program before being sorted out by real life with a Sentinel. And yet Blair Sandburg held a Masters degree in anthropology of all things. Jim couldn't think of a less likely subject for an operative to study. Good thing that the Sentinel was in charge of all operations in the field. It wouldn't do to get killed, or even to get the Guide killed. Not this one. He really was spectacular, as if that mattered a hill of beans to the Alliance.

All Jim really had to do was try to bond, sincerely this time, not just go through the motions. When he failed, they would list him as unbondable and he would be free to operate as he always had, but without the hassle from the Guide conscious brass. He rubbed a thumb over the face on the 3-D screen. The younger man's skin was supple under his sensitive touch. He might actually enjoy trying to bond this time.

Jim hit the play button again and listened to the warm tone as the hologram gave it's spiel as if for the first time. "Hello. My name is Blair Sandburg...." The kid definitely had the Guide voice down. Jim thought he could listen to it forever. It was soothing and lulled him into closing his eyes for a minute before he remembered he could look at the hologram as well. A sound from the hall startled him into turning off the display and shutting down the computer. He waited silently in the dark, realizing that the sound he had heard had in fact come from street level, far above. His hearing was turned way up tonight, he mused. Strange. As was the unaccustomed feeling of apprehension, or more accurately anticipation of meeting his new Guide.

"Get a hold of yourself, Ellison," he whispered, feeling like a school boy on a first date. "He's not even here yet and he's already affecting you." That thought scared him. Is this what a real bond felt like? Was it possible that he was about to bond in spite of himself? Maybe he should have chosen better, because he was about to find out.

Simon entered first, trapped in the beam for a split second. As he moved away, the Guide stepped confidently inside to be held for much longer. "Just relax," Simon coached. "It'll take a minute to read your DNA and compare it to the chip we've already scanned on you. After this first time, it won't take long at all to read you."

"No shit," came the sarcastic reply from within the halo of light. He certainly didn't sound like an academic. "I'm not a rookie, sir," he added without even a touch of respect in his voice.

Jim took the opportunity to study the man, remaining in the shadows. The Guide was dressed in civilian clothes, although his file said that he worked for the Department of Data Assimilation when he wasn't being bartered off with one Sentinel or another. Even in the eerie screening beam, Jim realized that the hologram didn't do the kid justice. The cream colored Henley was tight across his chest and tucked into an equally tight pair of jeans. Nobody was able to get jeans anymore. This kid had connections. A leather bomber jacket and hiking boots rounded out the ensemble. He could have stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine, back when the world had time for that nonsense. When he was released, he stepped forward and shook out his hands before reaching up and undoing the band on his hair. Jim stared as the long hair fell around the smaller man's shoulders.

"Nice place," Blair muttered unconvincingly as Simon commanded the lights to come on. Blue eyes met blue eyes for the first time, and Jim was surprised to find that the Guide was not the least bit startled by his presence.

"Jesus, Jim," Simon stuttered as he turned and all but ran into the Sentinel. "Do you have to do that?"

"Sorry, sir. I was waiting for you," Jim said, never taking his eyes off his intended. His gaze was steadily returned, and the Guide seemed to appreciate what he saw. "How did you know I was here?"

"I've been working with Sentinels for a long time," Sandburg explained. "You're all like little kids waiting up for Santa Claus."

"He's all yours," Simon sighed and moved to the door. "I hope you have better luck with him than I did. I'll send his bag down," he added as the door slid open.

"Night, Santa," Blair called out before the door could fully close.

"What did you do to Simon?" Jim asked, hiding a grin. "He brought you from the station. That's like ten blocks." He had never seen his boss so rattled by a Guide.

Sandburg shrugged and moved around the room, examining first one thing and then another. "This is our desk?" he asked at last, coming to stand in front of Jim.

"Our desk?" Jim asked with a disbelieving tone.

"I'll need some memory space on the main disc."

The cargo panel buzzed and Jim moved to it to pull out a large bag. "Oomph. What have you got in here? Bricks?" he asked, confused by the weight of the bag. He hadn't counted on getting a clothes horse.

"Books," Sandburg said offhandedly. "This way?"

"Yeah, down that hall. We've got everything ever written on the computer library. This is a modern facility."

"I know. I like books. I like to put my hands on things, you know?" the kid said innocently as he led the way down the hall leaving his new Sentinel to struggle with the overstuffed bag.

Jim swallowed. He got the feeling he was in way over his head with this one.

For all the excitement he felt, this was the most subdued meeting Jim had ever had with a new Guide. Sandburg offered no information, nor did he ask for any. It's not that he didn't talk, but the conversation was guarded.

"Do I get a drawer?" Sandburg asked when they reached their quarters.

"Yeah, I cleaned one out for you," Jim said, indicating the one he meant.

"Oh. The bottom one," the Guide said coyly. "Figures." He made no move to unpack, but took off his jacket and hung it up as the closet door slid open.

Jim reached out and touched the sleeve of the Henley. It had been a long time since he had seen anyone wear anything other than the olive drab Alliance uniform inside of the complex. "This is nice," he said as he lost himself in the small, baby-soft squares of the fabric.

"Thanks, my mom sent it to me," Sandburg explained, giving the first real glimpse of any feelings as his eyes lit up briefly.

Jim was mesmerized and reached up to stroke a smooth cheek.

"Go ahead," Sandburg said with a sigh. "Get it over with."

"What?" Jim asked, taken aback.

"Kiss me. That's what you were going to do, right?"

"No, I wasn't," Jim lied and dropped his hand as he moved away.

For the first time Sandburg looked unsure. "You don't really want to bond, do you?" He began to pace at the foot of the bed. "It makes sense now. I couldn't figure out what a front line Sentinel would want with me. I mean, my record speaks for itself."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Blair stopped pacing and the hardness was back. "You need to be honest with me, Sentinel. This can work out for both of us."

Jim failed to hide his surprise. "Keep your voice down. There are three other Sentinels in residence here."

"Yeah, but it's late. They'll have their white noise generators on now if their Guides are worth their salt. Listen to me. You don't want to bond with a Guide, I don't want another Sentinel. But you need someone to watch your back, and I need to get back into the action. We can make a difference here."

"But how? If we don't bond, they're gonna send you right back to data processing."

"Data processing? That's what you think I do?" Sandburg all but shouted.

"Quiet!" Jim shushed. "Go on. What do we do?" he asked after a long pause.

"We fake it."

"Never work," Jim said with certainty.

"Why not? 'Cause unless someone's come up with a bond detector that I don't know about, which I would have picked up in data processing by the way, they'll never know. All they have to go by is our say so. We're the only ones who would know for sure."

"Fake it? Can you pull it off?"

"You'd be surprised," Sandburg said coolly. "But..."

"Oh, here it comes," Jim moaned.

"You treat me with anything less than dignity, and I'm out of here. Now, I've had a long day. I'd like a shower."

Jim tried not to stare as the Guide stripped off his shirt and bent to remove his boots. "Okay, the Guide locker room is down the hall, and two flights down. There are sonic showers there."

"Oh, I see. The Guide's get the sonic showers while the Sentinel's get to use water. Par." Sandburg unzipped his jeans and stepped out of the them. Of course he was commando.

"We're on a water conservation kick around here," Jim offered guiltily. "War effort. Even the Sentinels only get a couple real showers a week."

"I need a shower, not a lecture, man." Sandburg stepped into the bathroom and wrapped one of Jim's towels around his waist. "Don't wait up," he muttered as he left the room.

Blair found his way to the locker room easily enough. When he stepped inside, he realized that it was really more of a Guide's lounge. And soundproof. Okay, that raised his opinion of the place immeasurably. They provided a sanctuary for Guides away from prying Sentinel eyes and ears. Togetherness was one thing, joined at the hip with no respite was quite another.

The upper area was plush with white carpet and a grouping of fat, comfortable couches. There was a faux fireplace and an entertainment center. Stairs led down to the more utilitarian workout-type room and there were doors marked male and female, certainly a rarity as sexual divisions of restrooms had been all but wiped out for years.

As Blair ordered the lights to fifty percent, he noticed a lone figure half-seated, half-sprawled in the corner of one of the couches. The attractive, dark haired man lifted his head and sniffed, barely perceptibly, unless you knew what to look for.

"I don't know you," the man said cautiously.

"I just got here," Sandburg explained as he studied the man closely. "I'm Ellison's new Guide."

"Oh, I didn't realized he.... I'm Rafe. I'm sorry, I know I'm not supposed to be in here. It's just so quiet."

"It's okay. I'm Blair. You're in pain. Where's your Guide?"

"How did you know I was a Sentinel?"

"Years of practice. Close your eyes and try to relax," Blair instructed as he moved closer. He could see the man had been crying. "Did you fight with your Guide?" Sandburg asked gently as he reached out and touched Rafe's temple with two fingers and began a simple massage.

Rafe jumped slightly at the unexpected touch. "No, um, nothing like that. One of our teams was declared dead today. We took it hard, me and Henri. He's sleeping now, I didn't want to bother him."

"How noble," Sandburg teased.

"You're not wearing any clothes," Rafe ventured, leaning slightly into the touch.

Blair laughed. "You're sensing the heat from my body?" he guessed.

"Yeah."

"I was on my way to the shower. I didn't really expect to make a new friend. How did you lose your sight?"

"Accident," Rafe offered vaguely. "I thought I hid it pretty well. How could you tell?"

"I told you, man. Practice. Rafe, I want you to do something for me. Picture a dial in your head, like an old fashioned radio dial. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"I think so. My grandmother had a radio a long time ago."

"Good. We're gonna call this dial 'pain', okay?" Blair asked, never stopping his hands from ghosting over the other man's face. Rafe merely nodded. "The dial is set all the way at the top right now. We're going to inch it down, one notch at a time," Sandburg used his almost hypnotic voice to soothe and Rafe followed his instructions without question. "Nine... eight..... seven.... you should be feeling much better now... six... five.... so much better.... four.... you're going to sleep now, that's it. Drift off to a peaceful sleep. When you wake, you will feel rested and the pain will be gone."

Sandburg eased the sleeping man down on the couch and pulled his legs up. He found a blanket in a storage bin along the wall and used it to cover all but Rafe's head. With a final stroke of the dark hair, Blair trotted down the stairs to the long awaited shower. Even if it was only a sonic shower, he knew he would feel a lot better. As big a pain in the ass as Sentinels could be, he couldn't stand to see one suffer.

Just as Jim considered mounting a search for his already wayward Guide, he heard the door to the locker room, two floors down open. He had almost given in and told the kid to use the water shower, but now he was glad he didn't because apparently his new Guide knew nothing about moderation. Nobody takes a thirty minute sonic shower, fifteen minutes would make skin come off. He listened as his soon to be partner in crime, i.e., the faking of the bond, approached, taking the stairs instead of the hydrolift. As the door slid open, Ellison feigned sleep, for almost a full thirty seconds.

"You've been with Rafe," he said mater of factly as he leaned up on an elbow to better see his new roommate in the dim light that he left on.

"Yeah, he was in the lounge. Nice guy, for a Sentinel."

"The lounge?"

"You know, the locker room."

"Shit. Sorry about that. We're not supposed to go in there, but he had a rough day. I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"No, hey, don't do that," Blair said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "He was just looking for a quiet place. He was in a lot of pain. Headache."

"Did you wake his Guide?"

"Why would I do that? I'm perfectly capable of handling a distressed Sentinel. Despite my record, I know what I'm doing. I'm a very good Guide."

"Where is he now?"

"He's sleeping on the couch in the lounge. He's fine. He'll feel great when he wakes up, don't worry about it. I used some relaxation techniques on him. Tomorrow, we'll go through them with you. You're tense as hell."

"I am not," Jim argued.

"Yes you are. I think you keep your baseline too high. If we can notch them down just a little you'll be a lot happier, I promise," Blair lectured off the cuff as he stood back up.

"I don't need some snot-nosed kid to tell me where to keep my baselines," Jim said angrily.

"WhatEVER," Sandburg said as he dropped his towel and started to pull back the covers to slide into the bed beside Jim.

"I thought you might rather sleep on the couch, since we're not actually planning to bond," Ellison said and pointed towards the wall where he had already placed a pillow and blanket.

"Look, even if we're not bonded, we've still got to keep up appearances. Besides, why should I be the one to sleep on the couch? It's my bed, too."

"Excuse me?"

"Look, you've been here longer, but at least for now, I'm your partner. It's fifty-fifty, or it's no deal. If you're uncomfortable with this arrangement, then you sleep on the couch," Sandburg declared as he got into the bed and rolled over so that his back was to the other occupant. "Lights out," he commanded and the room went black.

"I was just thinking of your modesty," Jim grumbled to the ceiling in the dark.

Blair chuckled at that, and Jim smiled in spite of himself at the rich, deep sound. "Look, Sentinel, use your brain. I've just been wandering around a strange base in the middle of the night in a towel. Plus, you saw me naked within half an hour of meeting me. Do the math. I'm not all that modest."

"Do you have to keep calling me Sentinel?" Jim asked in a contemptuous tone.

"What do you want me to call you? Ellison?"

"Try Jim."

"Jim," Blair sounded the word out. "Okay. Works for me. Goodnight, Jim."

After a couple minutes of silence, Ellison rolled on his side to face the flawless back that he could see perfectly well without any light. "What do you want me to call you?" he asked.

"I don't care. Whatever you want."

"You got it, Chief." He was rewarded with another chuckle and smiled as he burrowed a little deeper into his pillow. Without conscious thought, he filtered out Rafe's familiar smell and began to catalogue and store the unique scent of the Guide, finding it pleasant and comfortable.

"You don't use a white noise generator," Blair said after another brief lull in the conversation.

"No, I never could get used to one. I was always afraid that I would miss something, some danger if I slept too deeply."

"That's why you need a Guide you can trust," Blair preached.

"That's the rhetoric anyway," Jim goaded.

Blair snorted and rolled over to face the stubborn Sentinel, although he couldn't really see him. But Jim got the whole picture, and the look of utter outrage on Sandburg's face was priceless.

"Nothing personal," Jim assuaged with a smile. "I just don't like being saddled with someone I have to take care of."

Sandburg schooled his features to cool indifference. "So you don't sleep well. That can make you cranky. We'll work on that," he said and rolled back over.

"How?" Jim asked at last, unable to resist the carrot Sandburg had dangled over him. He was a chronic insomniac and a good nights sleep sounded wonderful.

Blair sighed softly, and Jim realized how tired he really was. Instead of the verbal abuse Jim expected, Blair started to speak with his Guide voice. "Scoot over here behind me. But don't get any bright ideas."

Jim did as he was instructed without comment and spooned up next to the smooth warm skin.

"Now, put your hand on my back or shoulder. I want you to register the touch and use it to anchor yourself so you don't zone on me. Do you understand what I want you to do?"

"Yeah, got it," Jim answered and placed a hand on Sandburg's bare shoulder, suppressing a shudder as he did.

"That's good there. Okay, man, open up your hearing and find my heartbeat. Concentrate on it. That's your white noise. Now go to sleep," Blair's voice steadily dropped as he spoke and he was asleep almost before he got the final words out.

Jim experimented with his hearing until the staccato rhythm was at a soothing level. The smooth skin was fine, but Jim felt he needed more stimuli. He wrapped his arm around the front of the Guide and buried his hand in the fuzzy chest hair. To his surprise, Sandburg covered his hand with one of his own. As he drifted off to sleep a stray thought passed through his head. Maybe it would be worthwhile to try to work out something with this Guide, even if he was difficult, hardheaded, argumentative..... He was keeping this one.

Jim woke up warm and feeling rested for the first time in his recent memory. He caressed the soft hair under his hand and drew his hearing from the heartbeat to the gentle respirations of the man sleeping in his arms. Heaven. It had never been like this. He didn't make a habit of sleeping with his Guides, no matter what public opinion seemed to think. There was a reason he had worn out two couches in six years and it wasn't the one that everyone assumed. Not once in all that time had a Guide ever refused to sleep on the couch. In fact, with the exception of Meagan, all had been eager to please and most were disappointed that Jim wanted nothing to do with them.

But Sandburg, whoa. What an attitude. No wonder he got bounced more times than a rubber ball. If Jim didn't know better, he would swear that the kid had never been to Guide school. There wasn't a hint of the usual subservience in him. Jim kept expecting to hear "my way or the highway" out of him. A line Jim had used himself on more than one occasion. If he remembered right, that was the line that had made Joey cry the first time.

Jim sighed contentedly and refused to even glance in the direction of the chronometer. Sandburg began to stir and stretched luxuriously within the Sentinel's encompassing arms. Jim didn't bother to let go, and much to his delight, Blair didn't complain. Instead he rolled over and sleepily blinked at his bedmate.

"How did you sleep?" Sandburg asked sincerely, looking a little rumpled but sweet, free of his usual defensive demeanor.

"Great," Jim smiled. "You?"

"Yeah, good. I was wiped, man.... So," he added as he settled cozily next to Jim and smiled almost shyly.

Jim thought he might melt. So many contradictions, yet he felt so drawn to this man. "So?"

"So are you ready to willfully participate in a campaign of disinformation?"

"Just say lie, Sandburg," Jim said moodily as his smile vanished.

"Why does this bother you so much?" Blair inquired gently. "It gets both of us what we want."

"It's conspiracy," Jim whispered urgently.

"No one will ever know but you and I. If you think about it, that's kind of a bond in itself."

"Oh, you're good," Jim mocked.

"Hey, I worked in data processing, remember. Disinformation is my middle name."

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to imply that your job wasn't important."

"It's okay," Blair shrugged. "Military Intelligence is an oxymoron anyway."

Jim laughed and thought about trying to kiss Sandburg again, who seemed a little more receptive than he had been when he arrived, when a tentative knock sounded at the door.

"Ready?" Blair mouthed and snuggled deeper into the loose embrace.

Jim closed his eyes for a second before nodding. He couldn't believe he could be so easily swayed. Still, he couldn't really see the harm. He would never have to worry about bonding again, and he would get to keep Sandburg. "Come in," he said loud enough to activate the door lock.

"Oh, uh. Sorry," Simon said and turned to face the wall. "I, um. Well. This certainly answers my question."

"What question is that, sir?" Jim asked ingenuously.

"Well, um..."

"You want to know if we did it?" Blair piped up.

"Did it?" Simon asked with a horrified expression on his face.

"Yeah, bonded," Blair explained, his lip curling into an evil grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief at Simon' obvious discomfort.

Simon sighed in exasperation. Guides. This one was going to drive him crazy in record time. He thought briefly of early retirement. "Did you?"

"Of course. I mean who could resist this guy," Blair babbled. "I mean he's so, so.... hot. Ya know?"

"It's almost time for breakfast, Chief," Jim said, snatching a quick look at the chronometer. "If you'll excuse us, sir."

"Right, right. I'll, uh, see you at breakfast," Simon bolted from the room and Blair burst into laughter.

"You enjoyed that a little too much," Jim scolded his now official Guide.

"Yeah, I did," Blair grinned and put his hands behind his head.

"Hot?"

"Oh yeah, hot!" Blair assured as he briefly ogled Jim's chest and let his hand take a walking tour over it. Just as Jim decided to reciprocate, Sandburg climbed out of the bed and unashamedly paraded around the room in his birthday suit. He grabbed his bag and threw it onto the bunk, making Jim hastily pull his feet out of the way. "Sorry, man. Can I have a shelf? They do seem to be empty."

"Help yourself," Jim said as he settled back to watch the younger man enthusiastically unpack. He'd have to wait a minute before getting out from under the covers now anyway, but the show wasn't exactly helping. "Listen, you can have my shower this morning if you want," Jim offered, trying to soothe any left over hurt feelings from the night before.

Blair stopped and sniffed each pit. "Nah, you go ahead. You need it more than I do," he said. "Besides, I'd hate to waste water on a Guide."

"It's not like that, Chief."

Instantly, the sweetness was gone and Jim swore he saw a spark. "Isn't it? It's always been like that. And unless someone does something about it, it always will be like that. That's kind of what the war is about isn't it? Freedom for all people? All races, all genders, Sentinels, Guides..."

"Don't preach to me, Sandburg," Jim snapped. "I'm one of the good guys, remember?"

"Just because you're on the right side, doesn't mean you're not a bigot. There's a reason you won't bond. You think you're too good to be burdened with a Guide," Blair accused righteously.

"What? What just happened here? We were getting along so well," Jim shook with annoyance. "Do you have a dual personality or something? I'll speak to Simon if it means that much to you. It's not worth getting worked up over. It doesn't matter."

"Look at me!" Blair demanded as if he wasn't exactly what Jim had been looking at since the second his feet hit the floor.

"What? You're beautiful. You're perfect."

"Jim. Really look at me," Blair all but pleaded, throwing his arms out and away from his chest. "You've had almost twelve hours and I've given you every opportunity to see it. You had your hand on top of it all night, for piss sake."

Jim's eyes widened as he examined the overlapping double triangles nestled neatly in the hair on the right side of his Guide's chest. "Is that what I think it is?" he gasped.

"It's a brand. I was somebody's fucking property. So don't tell me it doesn't matter. It matters to me," Blair said bitterly.

"God, Chief. I'm sorry. I didn't know. It didn't say anything about that in your bio," Jim offered with honest remorse.

"If it had, you would have passed right on by me. The people who write those know what they're doing. They know how to move product."

"How can you say that?"

Blair ran a hand through his hair and bit his lip as if in thought. "How much choice did I have about coming here? Do you think anyone asked me if I wanted to come? Ever? Do you think it's easy to get thrown out time and time again. I work hard at it. Of course, you wouldn't understand that, you go through Guides like toilet paper."

"What?"

"Oh, right," Blair laughed suddenly, giving credence to the dual personality theory. "You wouldn't understand. It's something we had to use in the Guide camp. You wipe your ass with it."

"Ew."

"Yeah."

"So, you're calm again. That's good. I'm sure everyone is enjoying this conversation immensely."

"Nah, they all turned their dials down when we started shouting," Blair assured. "Look, forget I said anything."

"No, let me just say one more thing," Jim said absently holding up a finger.

Sandburg settled on the foot of the bed and listlessly motioned for him to go on, still upset, but only a Sentinel would notice.

"When a Guide puts himself onto the net page, he agrees to go with whoever agrees to bond with him or her. I mean that is the arrangement. Correct?"

"Incorrect," Blair said, slowly shaking his head. "Is that what you think? That's just sad."

"What?"

"Jim. Listen to me. Guides don't put themselves on the page. They are put on the page. They don't have a choice. We are in essence slaves. Only we're not owned by individuals, we are owned by the government, as if somehow that's different. It's the same with Sentinels, only no one seems to recognize that fact."

"Sentinels are not slaves," Jim stated tightly. "We're treasured resources."

"So, you chose this job?"

"It's a great job."

"But did you chose it? No. You were given it because you're so damned good. I read your bio, too. Not all Sentinels are kept as well as you."

"Resources are used where they are most needed," Jim reasoned, trying to sound as unflustered as Sandburg did. "It's a Sentinel's duty to serve wherever they are told just like any other member of the armed service."

"Did you know that the Alliance is running out of Sentinels? Numbers are lower than ever because they keep sending them out there and getting them killed. Now they are using old and infirm Sentinels. Injured ones. Soldiers get to retire. Sentinels don't. You don't have any more choice than I do. Think about it, man. You think you're one of the good guys. You're actually a victim. Just like me."

"No, I don't believe that," Jim said and crawled out from under the covers, his problem long gone. "Are we going to have a major confrontation first thing every morning?"

"Hey, at least you don't have to take a cold shower now," Blair said breezily as he turned back to the shelf to finish unpacking his books. When Jim went into the bathroom, Blair found the civvies he had arrived in, mysteriously folded and in his drawer, and put them on. He wanted to stir things up at breakfast.

"Breakfast is over," Henri teased as Jim and Blair finally came into the dining facility. All eyes rested on Sandburg, a fact that Jim found he didn't really like.

"Blair," Rafe said with a smile, wiping the grin completely off Henri's face.

"How ya doin' today, Rafe? Feel any better?" Blair asked with concern, stopping to clasp the Sentinel fondly on the shoulder.

Everyone at the table froze in an inaudible gasp. "I do. Thanks so much for your help," Rafe said sincerely, patting Blair's hand.

"Listen up, people," Simon said, taking charge of the situation. "This is Jim's new and permanent Guide, Blair Sandburg."

Jim put a hand in the small of Blair's back and eased him down the table and away from Rafe. Sandburg allowed himself to be moved, but didn't sit down.

"Hi," Blair said and nodded to the group. "You guys are gonna catch flies if you don't close your mouths," he advised sweetly.

Rafe laughed. "We're not used to a lot of touching outside of bonds around here," he explained.

"Yeah, see, that's where Guide training is wrong. Touch is very therapeutic," Blair argued.

"Hey, you made a believer out of me," Rafe said, ignoring the others. "Oh, this is Henri Brown, my Guide," he added pointing to his sulking partner.

"Henri, nice to meet you. Can I shake his hand, or will everybody freak? Guides can touch Guides right? Maybe we can all touch later."

"Sandburg," Jim growled.

"Sorry, man. You guys are so uptight."

"Hi, I'm Ronald, and this is John," an older Sentinel spoke up. "And I think you're right about touch. In the old days...."

"Ronald," John complained. "No one wants to hear about the old days."

"I would love to hear about the old days," Blair insisted, turning from snippy to sincere in a heartbeat. "I haven't had much contact with older Sentinels. Maybe we can meet later and I can take some notes."

"That would be fine," Ronald agreed pleasantly. John looked unhappy in the extreme.

"Whoa," Blair said, turning to the last couple sitting at the table.

Sentinel and Guide alike glared at the interloper. "I'm Evers and this is Roger. I'm telling you now, don't ever put your hands on my Sentinel."

"Me-ow!"

"Sandburg, Christ. Don't start anything over breakfast," Jim pleaded.

"Breakfast is over, man."

Simon cleared his throat. "I saw an interesting article on the science web this morning."

"Really? About what?" Jim asked, grateful for the change of topic, seating his uncooperative Guide not so gently.

"About genetically engineering Sentinels. They think it will be possible in the near future."

"It won't happen soon enough to help in the war," Rafe said sadly.

"The Rebels have been engineering Guides for years," Roger said earnestly. "Why would it be harder to make a Sentinel?"

"It's actually pretty easy," Blair replied casually as he captured the last biscuit and stuck a piece of sausage inside it. "Just take a normal guy and suppress all higher brain function," he said and smiled disarmingly through a mouthful of biscuit.

Henri snickered nervously, then Rafe and Ronald began to laugh. Simon looked like he just might lose his breakfast. Jim shook his head and went back to his room.

"Still mad at me?" Blair asked as he entered the room with a maddening grin that said he didn't care if Jim was mad or not.

"So you made it through breakfast alive, did you?"

"Tough room," Blair replied as he quickly perused his bookshelf and selected a tome. "Evers isn't even a real Guide. Talk about faking it."

"I wouldn't know, seeing as how I've got no higher brain function."

"I wasn't talking about you personally," Blair said, dripping saccharine and kissing Jim on the forehead as he passed him. Jim pulled back for show, but he didn't want to, he realized. It felt really good when Sandburg touched him.

"Where are you going now?" Jim asked as Blair grabbed the book and a towel and headed out the door. Simon stood poised to knock. Sandburg ignored him and turned back to the Sentinel.

"I thought I'd hang out in the lounge for awhile. Maybe get a nice brisk sonic blast," he said with an exaggerated shudder. "Then I thought I'd talk to Ronald for awhile, if that's all right with you, Master Jim." He brushed by Simon, not waiting for an answer.

"The lounge?" Simon asked in confusion.

"Come on in, Simon. He means the Guide's locker room," Jim explained. "Long story."

"Strange kid."

"Yeah. And he's volatile, too."

"No kidding. I can't believe that out of thirty-seven tries, you bond with the Guide most likely to give me an ulcer."

"Thirty-seven?" Jim asked with a grimace.

"Yep. So you're a little finicky," Simon teased. "You think you two are going to get along ok? Not that we can do anything about it now."

Jim crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. "I don't know anything anymore. I want to strangle him at times, but mostly I just want to.... Never mind."

Simon smiled knowingly. "You're just a little shook up from the newness of the bond. You'll get used to it. Plus, he's such a strong personality. That's bound to make things more difficult."

"Sure," Jim said and sat on the couch. He hated lying to Simon, even a lie of omission, letting him believe what he wanted to believe.

"Maybe that's why you're so drawn to him, because he's not docile like most Guides."

"Meagan wasn't docile."

"Exactly. You bonded with her. Or you would have."

Jim looked thoughtful for a minute before answering. "I think you're right. Sandburg drives me crazy, just like Meagan did. But there's got to be more to it than that."

"Maybe you couldn't bond with somebody you didn't respect. Thirty-six times."

Jim grimaced, but didn't answer.

"This is why that damned bag was so heavy," Simon proclaimed as he moved over to the once barren shelves that now overflowed with real books. "Wow. Do you think he's really read all of these?"

"I'm sure he has."

"Shakespeare. I've seen holographs on this one," Simon said with a hushed, reverent tone as he pulled the large book down and gently thumbed through the pages. "I talked to Sandburg's supervisor over at the data banks. Apparently our boy is something of a wonderkin. Computers, languages... a regular friggin' genius."

"Really? 'Cause so far, I don't see it. First I think he's one thing, and then he turns into something else completely," Jim complained. "Strong personality is just a polite way of saying he's a pain in the ass. What else do you know about him that wasn't in his bio?"

"Uh, let's see. He comes from money. That's how he managed to go to university. He wrote his thesis on Sentinels. Some consider it the reference for Sentinels and Guides, others think it's hypocrisy."

"I don't understand, he said..." Jim started and then stopped suddenly, realizing he didn't have enough information to get upset just yet. There was probably a good reason for the seeming incongruity that was Sandburg. He'd save his questions for round two.

"Said what?"

"Nothing," Jim stalled. "Simon? Why aren't the Guides allowed to use the water showers?"

"What? Why do you care?"

"I just want to know why."

"I'm not really sure, it's been the rule as long as I've been here. Do they want to use them?"

"Sandburg does. He thinks that Guides are still considered second-class citizens. He called me a bigot."

"Oh come on. That's a bunch of crap. There's only so much water to go around and the water is easier on the Sentinels than the sonic showers. I think that's the reason. It sounds reasonable, right?"

"No, not really. I mean, it doesn't make any difference to me, and you know how sensitive my sense of touch is."

"Oh, this just keeps getting better and better," Simon seethed, regretting for a minute that he'd pushed Jim so hard to take a Guide. "Fine, one real shower a week for everyone, but if the water use goes up too much, I'm cutting it out for everybody. We don't need Sandburg starting something over this. I'll pass the word."

"Thanks, sir," Jim smiled a little.

"Damn, this is worse than I thought. You really are smitten, aren't you?"

"I don't think that's it. He just makes me look at things differently."

"Here. Read this. It might come in handy," Simon said and presented Jim with the open book.

"What is it?"

"It's called 'The Taming of the Shrew'. You, my friend, are Petruchio."

"Hello, Katherina," Jim drawled as Blair slipped up behind him at the desk. He was disappointed to realize that the Guide had changed into the usual olive-drab one piece uniform that everyone else wore and tied his hair back.

"Oooh, I don't think so," Blair laughed. "I'm way worse than any shrew."

"I hope you're not expecting an argument from me," Jim grumbled. He was surprised when Blair absently began to rub his shoulders. He closed his eyes and relaxed into the the touch.

"Sorry about breakfast. I guess Sentinel baiting has become second nature to me. I get carried away," Blair stopped the massage and bumped Jim with his hip. "Slide over."

Jim did as he was told and Sandburg crouched in front of the computer, not bothering to find a chair. "There's not a lot of free space," Jim told him, almost apologetically.

"No problem," Blair said with a grin as he placed his hand on the globe. Within a few clicks the main database began flashing by, a dozen screens a second.

"What are you doing?"

"Making space. Don't worry, I won't touch your porn."

Jim snorted. "The only porn in my life is sharing living quarters with an exhibitionist."

"Ooops. Guide page gone. That frees up tons of space. I think you've actually worn a grove into the hardrive on that one," Blair said smugly as Jim glared. "Over the river and through the woods and right in the back door," Blair singsonged as the screen settled down.

Jim tried to make sense of it, but it looked like gibberish. "What the hell is that?"

"It's coded," Blair said absently as he scanned the page. "There's a mission coming up. Looks like we're going on a field trip."

"What? When? We're on a mandatory seventy-two hour stand down after," he paused and looked around, "bonding."

"I think they'll wave it. This looks important," Blair said and changed the screen to read something else. "Who else are they going to send? Rafe is not going back in the field, not unless he gets some help, and Henri is woefully lacking on that front. Ronald is a hip fracture looking for a place to happen."

"What about Roger?"

"Mm. Looks like he's leaving in the morning for another recon. Pity he doesn't have a Guide."

"Evers is a Guide."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." Blair read another page before suddenly shutting down the computer. He stood to pace beside the desk, his hand over his mouth.

"What?" Jim asked, concerned.

"Um, nothing important. I'll tell you later. Right now we should get ready for the mission. I want to put you through your paces. See what you can do." Sandburg was all business now, but his eyes were troubled.

"No, Sandburg. No. I don't want to do it again."

Blair threw himself down on the bed. "Okay, take five."

"No. We're done," Jim stated firmly.

"All right, take ten. But don't expect me to go easy on you this time."

"That was easy? Shit." Jim got off the couch and stretched. "You're worse than my first drill sergeant."

"You really are very good, Ellison," Blair said and propped himself up on an elbow. "I can't imagine what kind of range you would have if you had bonded with a decent Guide when you were younger."

"I'm not that old," Jim grumbled and swatted at the mass of curls as he passed the bed and went into the bathroom.

"Yeah, for a special ops, recon Sentinel, you are," Blair continued in the same tone of voice even though his audience had left the room. "Way over that hill, man. Now get your butt back in here and let's get back to work."

"You haven't heard the word NO much, have you, Chief?" Jim asked from the door. "It means negative, not, never, nada..."

"Okay, okay, I get it. Spare me your massive vocabulary," Blair pouted, seductively sticking out his lower lip ever so slightly and glancing up at Jim through his lashes.

"That's not gonna work either," Jim laughed. "Although I can see how it might affect a weaker man than me. What's plan C?"

The pout disappeared and Blair smiled the shy smile again, the one that Jim was coming to realize was the real Sandburg. Blair looked away. "No, I might need plan C later. Too soon to clue you in to all my tricks."

"Guide tricks. Was that a course title in school?"

"Oh yeah. I aced that class," Blair boasted. "I can get a Sentinel to do damn near anything."

"I believe it, but that probably has more to do with your looks than your wiles."

"Well, sure. I mean that's all part of the genetic makeup. I have theorized that Guides are attractive to foster an attitude of protection from the Sentinel."

"Oh that's some theory. Prove it," Jim challenged as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Have you ever seen an ugly Guide? I'm serious and don't even mention Evers. This just adds fuel to my argument that he's not really a Guide."

"Of course he's a Guide. He's been bonded with Roger for almost ten years. Why would they still be together if they're not bonded?"

"They're in love."

"That's just part of the bond," Jim disputed.

"Not necessarily. I mean you managed to form a partial bond with that female Guide, and from what I hear, you couldn't stand her."

"How did you know that?" Jim frowned and lay down on his side, propping himself up in a mirror image of his quarrelsome roommate.

"It's amazing what you can learn hanging out in the Guide's lounge."

"Henri has a big mouth. And it's a locker room, Sandburg."

"Have you ever been in there?" Blair asked with a tilt of his head. "I didn't think so. Believe me, it's a lounge. They just call it a locker room so the Sentinels won't want one. Ask Rafe."

Jim shook his head and admitted defeat on the locker room debate. "I don't suppose you ever took a class called 'obeying the Sentinel'?"

Blair pretended to think hard for a minute then shook his head. "No, I must have missed that class."

"Sandburg, you missed that whole year."

Flopping onto his back, Blair stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. Jim moved closer to him and began to unzip his jumpsuit. Blair looked at him and raised an eyebrow but didn't otherwise protest. When the zipper neared Blair's belly, Jim tugged the material away to examine the brand. He traced it tenderly with a finger.

"What?" Blair asked softly.

"I couldn't find this one. I tried to look it up, but the double triangle wasn't there," Jim explained.

"It's just supposed to be one. The branding machine isn't supposed to hurt, but it does. I flinched which made it kind of stutter."

Jim swallowed, surprised by the emotions that the thought of the actual branding caused him. "Simon says that you came from a rich family. How did you become a slave? Couldn't they hide you?"

"Jim?" Blair's eyes begged don't do this.

"Please."

Sandburg puffed out his cheeks and then slowly blew the air out. When he spoke, his voice was childlike and low, almost a whisper. "How old were you when you knew that you were a Sentinel?"

"I don't know, eight or nine I guess," Jim answered, matching Blair's hushed tone.

"I always knew that I was a Guide. Grade I, all natural, first generation offspring of a Sentinel and a Guide. No drugs, no fiddling with my DNA."

"Go on."

Sandburg sighed and closed his eyes. "Okay, let's do the short version. I'm from the Eastern Sector."

"What?"

"Right. The enemy. The slave mongers. They say the same about Westerners, by the way. It just happens to be more blatantly true over there."

"That can't be right. How could you get such a high security clearance?"

"I was a naturalized citizen long before the war started. Do you want to hear this or not?"

"I'd really like to."

"Okay, then shut up for a minute. Don't say anything until I'm done or I won't be able to get through this."

Jim nodded agreement and rested a hand on Blair's chest for moral support.

"My Guide mother got pregnant by a Sentinel with whom she was not bonded. Big deal back East. She was shunned and raised me alone in a little town where no one knew about us. Someone found out about me right after I turned twelve and I was taken from my home, bought, branded, and stuck into a camp for training. By the time I was fourteen my," Blair paused and cleared his throat, "master decided I was too pretty to waste on a Sentinel. My mentor helped me escape and I came here with my mom. She opened a profitable little black market operation and sent me to college. Not rich, just comfortable. When the war started, I volunteered my services as a Guide. So you're right, actually. I did get myself into this. It just seemed like the thing to do at the time."

"How could your mother have sex with a Sentinel and not bond with him."

"He was already bonded to someone else, but that's not really the point." Blair shifted into lecture mode. "I realize that everyone thinks that sex is how the bond works. That's just a myth."

"It is?" Jim asked skeptically.

"Yes. You can bond without sex. You can have sex without bonding."

"Okay, I'm confused." Jim absently stroked Blair's chest as he tried to decide whether he believed him or not.

"Both Sentinel and Guide have to be in the right mindset to bond. Accepting. Open. It doesn't require intercourse. Although a lot of people achieve the right disposition after sex. That's probably where everyone got the idea. But even that doesn't always work."

"Can you bond with just a kiss?" Jim asked unexpectedly pensive.

"Sorry to blow your celibate little mind here. You can bond with a handshake if you are both in the right frame of mind."

Jim jerked his hand away. "What makes you think I'm celibate?" he asked to cover his over- reaction.

"Come on, man. You're terrified to bond with a Guide, and you think sex is the way to do that. So unless you're making it with Simon?"

"No, but I could go out."

"But you don't because it's not allowed and you always do what you're told. So apart from opportunities to get your brains blown out and Guides that you don't sleep with, you live your life alone in this cavern."

"Why are you so cynical?"

Blair shrugged and rolled away, a strong clue that the conversation was over.

Jim lay back and sighed. He had a few more questions in his mind that he needed to clear up. He didn't want to push, but Sandburg might not be willing to talk like this again. "Your Sentinel?"

Blair groaned. He didn't speak right away. When Jim was sure he wouldn't answer, he did. "Alex."

"Did you love him?"

"Her."

"Oh."

"No. I didn't love her. But we did bond."

"So your theories about bonds..."

"Proven, man. Personally."

Dinner was interesting. All eyes were on Blair throughout the meal. The Sentinels loved him, with the possible exception of Roger, who never the less hung on his every word. The Guides on the other hand, well, it threatened to get ugly. Sandburg played it for all he was worth, clearly working the room. Jim took in the spectacle with good natured amusement as if he had the prettiest date at the prom and he knew he was gettin' some later. However, Blair noted with some dismay, he kept his hands to himself. There was suddenly none of the benign touching that Sandburg thought he could get very used to. No playful pats on the cheek or tugs on his hair. When Blair tried to touch Jim, he subtly moved away.

Having spent a good hour and a half at the computer after his little chat with Jim, he had been able to run not just a full bio on every one at the table, but peek into all their files as well. Although he had already suspected by everyone's initial reaction to his presence, Blair found definitive proof that he was indeed the strongest Guide of the lot. The Sentinels couldn't help it. They were, bonded or not, drawn to him.

Of the rest of the Guides, Henri was the strongest, a fifth generation Guide, but the bloodline had been watered down considerably over time. He had nothing beyond the basic focusing of, and keeping from zoning in the field, type training. He gave no thought to the comfort and general well being of his Sentinel. Not that he wasn't a nice guy, he just didn't know what to do, a victim of his education, or lack thereof. Rafe deserved better, so Blair decided to take Henri under his wing and make a real Guide out of him.

John was old school all the way. He treated his Sentinel like a child, coddling him and spoiling him, acting more like a concubine than a Guide. They were like an old married couple, thirty-five years along in their lives together. Although they were no longer active operatives, they would remain in service just in case they were needed until one of them died and the other soon followed. They argued only slightly less than Jim and Blair, but they were much better at it, given the years of practice.

And Evers of course, was not a Guide. His file classified him as a grade III Guide, i.e. not a Guide, but an empath trained to take care of a Sentinel. An honorary Guide. Which upon reflection made Roger an unbonded Sentinel. This happened from time to time, but it wasn't common knowledge. Whether or not Roger knew he had an imitation wasn't clear, but somehow, they functioned.

Simon had the most interesting bio, Blair thought. He'd been administrator of this facility for eleven years. With a family history of at least one Guide somewhere along the way, and a military history of working with Sentinels on black ops missions, he was uniquely qualified for the position. He had seen an army of Sentinels and Guides come and go. Now nine people sat scattered around the table that had in years past held twenty. There were only two viable teams left, and not much chance of replacements anytime soon, if ever. Of the two, one team had an apparently burned out, already lost one Sentinel in the field Guide, and the other had no Guide at all. Blair didn't envy Simon his job.

As things wound down, no thanks to Sandburg, and everyone began to go their separate ways, Simon motioned for Jim and Blair to remain. There was simply no way to ensure a completely private conversation when surrounded by Sentinels except to soundproof the whole complex. Since that was economically unfeasible, Simon had long ago relied on the integrity of his people, and held conferences wherever and whenever convenient.

"...and no matter what Rafe says, I just can't send him out in his condition. So you see, Jim, my hands are tied. I'm waving the initial stand down period and sending you and Sandburg."

Jim glanced to his left briefly. He didn't want to miss the 'I told you so' look that he knew was coming. Instead he found a subdued Sandburg staring at his feet. "Chief?"

"Fine, sir," Blair said unpretentiously to Simon. Now Jim was worried.

"I understand if you're a little apprehensive, Sandburg," Simon said softly.

"I'll do my best to protect you," Jim assured, placing an arm around the back of his Guide's chair, carefully avoiding any real contact.

"Oh, I know. I trust you, Jim." When Blair looked up, his recalcitrance was back full force. "I'll go."

"Good man," Simon said, glad for once of the stubborn streak that already had him pulling his hair out. "We'll get you fitted for a chip this evening."

Sandburg raised his right hand, palm forward. "Already got one," he said. "Remember, I was born Eastern."

Simon did a double take and looked at Jim. "You knew about this?"

"What? You didn't know?" Blair asked incredulously. "It's in my file."

"No. It's not," Simon argued.

"It doesn't make any difference," Jim stated calmly.

"It might," Simon growled, staring across the table at what he considered the enemy.

Blair calmly unzipped his jumpsuit and displayed his brand. Simon's mouth fell open. "I'm loyal to the Alliance, Simon. I'm a runaway slave."

After a long moment of indecision, Simon finally shook his head. "You're on stand down until I can talk to someone with more authority," he said firmly.

Sandburg bolted from his chair and disappeared down the hall.

"I can't believe you. Blair was right. You can be on the right side and still be a bigot," Jim spat at his boss and followed.

To his surprise, Blair didn't go to their room or even the 'lounge'. He headed straight for the office and was already on the computer when Jim got there.

"How'd you get into your file? That should be locked."

"I can't believe this. Someone's been editing," Blair said, slightly short of breath. He leaned back in his chair, a shocked expression on his face.

"What did they change?" Jim asked, taking the opportunity to read his Guide's official file. Something he should have never had access to.

"Well, they didn't really add anything, but they took a lot of stuff out. Hell, this file makes me look like a home-grown hero. No wonder Simon thought I was a rich kid."

"How do you know it hasn't always been like this?" Jim asked and regretted it immediately at the 'how dumb are you' look Blair shot him. "Okay, strike that. What do you think it means?"

"I'm not sure," Blair said and bit his lip as he continued to read to the bottom of the screen. "I'm being set up," he announced when he finished.

"That doesn't make any sense. It looks like somebody did you a favor."

"Jim, the only person who could possibly benefit from this is me. It looks like I did it myself," Blair challenged. "I have motive, know how, and opportunity," he counted off on his fingers. "I'll make some discrete inquiries later, but there's nothing I can do about it right now. I'm going to the lounge. I need to think."

Jim started to reach out, pulling back at the last minute, unprepared for the pain that swept through the expressive blue eyes at the slight. He would have to explain himself later, if Blair would let him. When Sandburg left, Jim read the rest of the file, wondering what had been taken out other than the location of his birth and his time as a slave. Still, if nothing misleading had been added, Blair was an incredible asset to the Alliance. But conspiracy was punishable by death, and of that, they were both guilty. Now Simon was suspicious and would go to his boss who would no doubt want the matter looked into. If an investigation got too close.... Jim didn't want to think about it.

He'd let Sandburg calm down for a while, then they would have to have a serious conversation. In the meantime he scanned the Comprehensive Listing of Eastern Guide Markings and quickly located the single triangle. The entry read like a travelogue from hell.

"Your mission is a go at 0700," Simon said as soon as he was released from the beam. Jim hadn't spoken to him when he left the complex earlier and now he felt a little guilty about it. Simon had a job to do, he told himself. He was just being cautious.

"That was fast," Jim replied, clicking off the computer.

"We need the information, it can't wait. I convinced the Commissioner that since you have bonded, that you would know if Sandburg was a spy. I trust your instincts, Jim."

"Right," Jim muttered. He hadn't thought of that. Simon was relying on him to know if Sandburg was a danger, something he was only judging by instinct, not because he knew.

"I still want you to keep an eye on him."

"Don't worry, sir. I plan to."

"There will probably be an inquiry when you get back. Sandburg's file has been tampered with."

Jim nodded. "If there's nothing else, my Guide needs me."

Simon waited until Jim was long gone before he hit the intercom. "Rafe, I need to see you, please."

Within a few minutes, the tall Sentinel came into the work area. "Sir?"

"Not here," Simon said. "Let's go to my office."

"Okay," Rafe agreed hesitantly. While just down the hall, Simon's office was outside of the complex. It was only used for very personal or very serious matters.

Sandburg was already in their quarters when Jim got back. He was sprawled on the bed with the lights out, but he wasn't asleep. Jim turned up the lights a little and put a finger to his lips. "Shh," he hissed softly. He moved to the entertainment console and within a second, the room was filled with a strange music with a strong beat.

"What is that?" Blair sat up and listened with interest.

"It's called rock and roll. It's very old. This is just a re-creation of course. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, I do," Sandburg agreed, but looked at the Sentinel questioningly.

"I do too, but no one else does," Jim said with a twinkle in his eyes as he turned it up a little louder.

"Very clever," Blair approved with some semblance of a smile.

"We need to talk."

"Yeah. Okay."

"Tell me that you're not a spy."

Blair licked his lips nervously. "What?"

"I know that you're not. I just need to hear you say it," Jim insisted.

"I'm not a spy," Blair ground out. "Per se..."

"What!?"

"Easy, big guy, I'm not a Rebel. I just fight the war in my own way. I've done some things that might be construed as anti-Alliance, but in fact helped along the war effort. Most of them were even sanctioned. Some of them were. A few."

"You're a double agent," Ellison accused and ran a hand quickly over his hair.

Blair winced. "Not officially. I just occasionally work that way."

"Disinformation is my middle name," Jim recalled. "Shit. How much trouble are you in?"

"A lot, I think. It looks like someone traced my little hacking job back to me this afternoon."

"Yeah, you shut down that computer in record time."

"Look, Jim. All we have to do is tell Simon that the bond didn't work. I mean, we're still within the test period, right?"

"What good will that do?"

"It'll get you off the hook. Jim, in spite of what I said, you are definitely one of the good guys. I could be goin' down in flames here, man. I don't want to take you with me."

"No. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. You're not leaving me."

"Jim, you can't protect me from myself," Blair said patiently.

"We've got a mission at 0700. Get some rest." Jim gathered a pillow and a blanket and moved to the couch. He shut off the music on the way. "Lights out." Before he could settle, he was aware of footsteps in the hall. Rafe. A disc slid under the door and Rafe quickly retreated. Jim retrieved the disc and placed it into the small bedside reader, aware of the sudden warmth at his back as Blair looked over his shoulder.

"I don't like this," Jim complained.

Jim crossed his arms over his chest and did not look happy as he leaned against the wall. It was almost midnight. "Don't be long," he said.

Blair opened the door and glanced over his shoulder. Jim hovered like a mother hen. "Getting kind of possessive, aren't you?" he teased.

"I want to come with you."

"You trust Rafe, don't you?"

"No reason not to. I've known him for a long time."

"You trust me?"

"Yeah, sure. I guess."

"Then why?"

"Something is going on and I'm concerned for you. This could be some kind of trap. And honestly, I don't know who to trust."

"Fair enough. Come on then," Blair said, trying to reconcile the over protective behavior with the man who was treating him physically like he had some strange, contagious disease when suddenly it all made sense. "I was just kidding about the handshake," Blair said. "We're not going to touch and accidentally bond. I promise."

He headed down the hall and reached the top of the stairs before he realized he was alone. "Jim?"

In a couple of minutes Jim joined him. He didn't say anything, but he placed a hand on the small of Blair's back as they made their way down the stairs in the semi-darkness. Bingo. Another mystery solved. Blair couldn't help but smile, so he carefully kept his back to the Sentinel.

"Rafe?" Blair called out as he entered the lounge, Jim right behind him.

Jim stared in wonder. It really was much more than a locker room. Way nicer than the locker room the Sentinels used. Dammit. Sandburg was right again.

"Blair, I'm glad you came. Hi, Jim." Rafe waited on one of the couches. "We're alone."

"What's up?" Blair asked softly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm great. I haven't actually felt this good since the accident. The techniques that you showed Henri are working. Thank you."

"You're welcome. But that's not why we're here, is it?"

"They're watching you, Blair. They want me to spy on you, listen to you. I can't do it. You've been too good to me."

"Who does?" Jim asked.

"Simon took me to his office. The Commissioner was there. I also sensed someone else, but I think he was shielded somehow. They told me that if I didn't do what they wanted, they would take Henri away from me. They said a blind Sentinel didn't need a Guide anyway and that it was a waste of resources for me to have one. I can't lose him, Jim."

"That's a hell of a way to treat 'treasured resources'," Blair muttered with disgust. "Spy on them and threaten them."

"Listen to me, Rafe. They're not gonna take Henri. Go ahead and do what they tell you to."

"But...."

"It's okay. We won't say or do anything to make them suspicious. We don't have anything to hide," Blair assured with a glance at Jim who nodded silently.

"Thanks anyway for the warning," Jim said. He herded Sandburg towards the door and then stopped. "Which side of the fence is Simon on?" he asked.

"He put in a formal protest," Rafe supplied. "Said his people are being harassed."

"Good," Jim sighed with relief. They needed someone influential on their side. And he had always considered Simon a friend.

"You're a lucky man, Jim." Rafe murmured as they left him alone in the dark.

When they got back to the room, Blair shucked his clothes and crawled wearily under the covers. Jim ignored the couch and slipped into the bed right along side him. Without a word he snuggled up and found the chest hair to ground himself and focused on the cadence of his Guide's heart. Blair didn't comment, but gave a contented sigh and dropped off like a stone. In spite of the unpleasantness of the day and the promise of more of the same to come, they both slept peacefully through the night.

All too soon, the lights began to gradually come on to signal the start of the day. Reluctantly, Jim released his sleeping partner, but not before stealing a guilty kiss. He marveled at the fullness of the lips, grateful that Blair hadn't woken due to his indulgence. He wondered at his own unwillingness to bond. Somehow it didn't seem like such a bad thing anymore. The pain in Rafe's voice when he spoke of losing Henri had been palpable. Even now the thought of losing Sandburg seem to hurt physically. Would it be worse if they were actually bonded?

Simon had been right. He was smitten, and it only got worse with each passing hour that he shared with his impossible, complicated, beautiful Guide. Within little more than a day, he wanted to take away all the bad things from the world and make it safe for this man. He couldn't do anything about the past, but he was giving new thought to the future. Before he had been content to live his life and do his duty, existing only to serve. Did he dare dream for something more? Where was this freedom that Sandburg longed for? And how much would it cost?

Brushing his lips across the sleeping man's forehead, he disentangled himself and sat on the side of the bed. He readjusted the covers and decided to let Blair sleep a few minutes more. It was going to be a long day.

He dropped to the floor and let his mind recap the events of the hours since Sandburg had breezed in and taken over his every waking thought. Ten quick pushups did nothing to ease the frustration of being afraid to do what his raging hormones demanded of him, so he pushed against the floor until sweat was dripping into his eyes and his breathing was harsh. When his arms ached with fatigue he levered himself into a sitting position and rested his back against the wall.

When he looked up, he realized that amused blue eyes were watching him. "Morning," he said, startled by the huskiness of his voice.

"What a waste of energy," Blair sighed dreamily as he practically stroked Jim's skin with a glance.

"Bond with me," Jim whispered before he knew that he was going to say it.

"Jim, no," Blair breathed, the dreamy continence wiped from his face, replaced by a look of horror.

"I don't want this to be a lie," Jim said, drawing a circle in the air to connect the two of them.

"We talked about this," Blair argued, suddenly angry.

"I know, I wasn't ready then. I am now. I want to be with you forever."

"We can be together without a bond."

"It's not another form of slavery, Blair. We can be together and still be free."

"Jim.... I.... you don't understand. This changes everything."

Jim moved to the side of the bed and swept the hair from Blair's eyes. "Bond with me," he said again and grazed Blair's lips with his own.

Blair pulled back and got out of the bed, taking the sheet with him and wrapping it around his waist. Jim followed him into the bathroom and watched as he brushed his teeth, the only sound between them the whirl of the toothbrush. Jim waited until it stopped.

"Blair."

"I don't do soul searching before breakfast," Blair insisted and pushed past the Sentinel and back into the bedroom.

"Bullshit," Jim said, remaining in the door.

"We have a mission, Jim. Only one leap of faith at a time, okay?"

"Kiss me?"

Blair looked lost and lonely and hungry all at the same time. "Why?" he asked with barely any voice at all.

"You make me want more than I've got."

Jim stepped forward and placed his hands gently on either side of the smaller man's face. Blair closed his eyes and lifted his face, surrendering his parted lips to his Sentinel. Jim's heart swelled as he took the sweetness of Blair's mouth with tender pressure, slowly deepening into passion. He allowed his soul to soar and opened himself to his Guide. He never felt so free.

When they finally broke the kiss, Blair's face was hot and wet with tears. Jim pulled him into his chest and rocked him slowly to the rhythm of his heart. "Thank you," he sighed into Blair's hair, shedding a tear or two himself. "Thank you."

"Don't we have to work today?" Blair asked after a while.

"Shit, we're late. Get dressed," Jim ordered abruptly. He moved two steps away before he was back, gathering Blair into his arms once again. He showered his head with kisses and released him again. "What are you waiting for? Chop chop, Sandburg. We haven't got all day."

If anyone had had any doubts about the bonding, they were quickly erased when the newest team missed breakfast for the second day in a row. Ellison practically glowed when they arrived for the mission briefing. Sandburg was all business, attentive to instructions, concise in observations and so intense it was almost scary. They dressed in the dark gray coveralls and boots favored by the freelance roustabouts who scavenged the burned out cities for raw material which they processed and sold to the highest bidders. Rebel and Alliance forces alike relied on these resources.

"Intel suggests that troops are gathering here," Simon began, indicating an area on the map that until recently had been well within Alliance territory. "If you position yourselves here in this bombed out business district you'll have maximum visibility. I don't have to tell you how uncomfortably close to home this is."

Jim nodded and automatically moved closer to his Guide. The war had a whole new meaning now. It was personal. He allowed himself a moment of thought to what could be when the war was over. White sand and blue water came to mind along with tanned skin and a hammock for two...

"Yo, Jim. You with me?" Blair asked as he tied on his do-rag.

"I am," Jim assured with a smile. "Unzip your coverall. Let's fit you for a holster."

"Uhhh.... no."

"Why not? Where are you going to put your gun?"

Blair glance from Jim to Simon and back to Jim. "No gun, man. And no locator."

"Are you crazy," Simon asked. "I can't send you out unarmed."

"Like this, I'm a scavenger. Stick a gun on me and I'm a spy. Like this, if I'm captured, they read my chip, rough me up a little and let me go. If they find a gun and a locator, they torture me for information and kill me. Thanks but no thanks. Besides, I don't need a gun. I've got all the protection I need," he said and patted his Sentinel on the back.

"Sandburg."

"I guess you hadn't noticed before. I'm actually quite stubborn."

"Oh, we noticed," Simon snarked. "We just didn't want to say anything."

"I won't carry a weapon."

"Fine," Jim said as he grabbed his cap and put it on. "At least this way, I don't have to worry about getting shot in the ass."

"Rest assured, Sentinel, if I shot you in the ass, it would be because I was aiming at it."

"Enough," Simon growled. "Update your chips. You first Sandburg."

Blair placed his hand on the pad on the desk and waited until he felt the familiar tingle in the tiny foreign body implanted at the base of his palm. "I still hate that," he said as he moved away, shaking his hand.

Simon reset the machine for Jim and motioned him over. "You do have your locator," he mocked.

"Never leave home without it," Jim replied as his chip was scanned and updated.

"Good luck, gentlemen. God speed."

Blair brushed away some crumbling mortar from the brick in his hand before he placed it in the half-full hovercart. "Patrol coming," he muttered and continued the mindless tune he was humming so his Sentinel could easily locate him. He stopped to rest and watched as the enemy patrol marched by with barely a nod in his direction. Taking a swig from his canteen, he let his mind drift back to the kiss. He had never wanted anything so badly, or ached so hard in his heart but for the two things he couldn't have. His freedom and Jim.

Freedom he had known. As a boy he took it for granted until his very childhood was stolen from him. Later, he used his emancipation to learn all that he could to fight the enslavers, hoping someday to help others. He became a human sponge, soaking in as much information as he could, learning to use the tools that he needed to free his people; computers, languages, weapons, Sentinels. He mastered these subjects over the years, all the while hiding what he was. Building on the Guide training he had received as a child, he studied and experimented and discovered until he knew more about Sentinels than anyone else. And no one believed him. Not at first. Not until he painstakingly took apart one myth at a time and laid them open for the world to see. Then came war and to free his people he revealed himself to be a Guide and his choices were taken from him for the greater good.

Then Alex chose him. Charming and beautiful on the outside, cold and brutal within. Blair realized his mistake as soon as he allowed her to join with his soul. She soiled him, turned what should have been a warm and spiritual unity into something ugly. She desired him not for himself, but because a strong Guide made a powerful Sentinel. She drew from his strength, but gave nothing in return. It was a solid bond, and she used it to suck him dry, take his energy, drain him of his very soul. Then she left him alone. She betrayed the Alliance and joined the Rebel cause, leaving him behind. He would always hate her for that. The bond became a void. A life sentence, darker than death. A need never to be filled.

But he had overcome the connection. In fact, he used it to his own advantage. Having an enemy within cut both ways. Eventually, Blair discovered how strong he really was. He could manipulate her without her knowledge. Suddenly she made mistakes that she couldn't understand. Her rank began to slip as her senses became uncontrollable and useless. Finally, she was reduced to a foot soldier. When she lost her power base, she lost her arrogance and realized the source of her frustration. When she tracked him down, Blair had no choice. Knowing he would die as well, he tried his best to destroy her.

After the initial shock of being alive passed, Blair settled back into the task of fighting the Rebels with every ounce of his being. He was allowed to continue his work analyzing and decoding the information that filtered in from the front line units, but Guides were still in big demand. The powers that be couldn't see past the fact that he was a Guide long enough to realize how much they needed his other talents. More often than not he was chosen for his 'luminous eyes' rather than his brains, a fact that irritated him to no end. After the first failed bond he came to realize with a sense of dread that it wasn't that he wouldn't bond, but that he couldn't. While this offered him a certain protection from another unwanted bond, he tried not to think about the reason.

And now there was Jim. Mr. Thirty-seven and counting. Mr. don't want no bond, no how, no way. Seemed like a safe bet. How could Blair have known that this inflexible, obstinate, die-hard loner would be on his knees begging for a bond? Or that Blair would want even for a second to give it to him? They had a deal, dammit. Blair couldn't offer what he didn't have to give. But oh how he wanted to.

Footsteps sounded on the debris strewn ground which brought Blair back from his painful reflections. He expected to see his Sentinel, come to find out why the Guide was suddenly quiet. Instead he found himself cornered by a Rebel guard, dressed head to toe in black, including helmet and face shield. "Hello," he offered unassumingly, reaching behind him with his left hand to grasp a brick.

Much to his surprise, the soldier raised his visor and smiled. "Hi. I noticed you when we passed by before. I'm off duty now."

"Oh, was that you?" Blair asked and removed his bandana to wipe his forehead. "Hard to tell. You all look alike, ya know."

"Right. Yeah, I was in the last row."

"Oh."

The silence grew uneasy and Blair glanced around for any other sign of trouble.

"What do you want?" he asked at last and indicated that he needed to get back to work.

The guard cleared his throat and smiled wolfishly, but didn't make eye contact for more than a second or two. "I, uh, have some extra rations," he said.

"And?"

"And I thought maybe you would like them. You know, for a favor."

Blair shook his head with repulsion, cursing his looks not for the first time before looking up with a smile. "Sure. Sounds good. But we have to be careful, my supervisor is around somewhere."

"Great," the guy hefted his pack and looked at Blair expectantly.

"After you," Blair said and waved the guard over to the still standing, but probably not for long, doorway. As the guard started to move Jim came out of the building.

"Are you about done, Sandburg?" he asked as he eyed the soldier.

"Half-way, sir," Blair replied and put the brick in his hand back in the cart.

"Then I suggest you get busy," Jim said, dismissing the guard with a glare.

"Um, thanks for the directions," the man said as he snapped his visor back into place and trotted back the way he had come.

"Anytime, man. Anytime."

"So," Jim said as he rummaged through what was left over from lunch. "I had no idea that you liked Rebel rations so much. What will you do for extra rats?" He found an unopened meal and tossed it at Sandburg suggestively.

"You are so funny, man," Blair smirked, almost dropping the package. "And for you, the price is double."

"What were you going to do?" Jim laughed, "Hit him with a brick?"

"As a matter of fact, I swing a mean brick. If you don't stop making fun of me, you'll find out first hand."

"Is that so?" Jim said and cuffed Sandburg on the head. "You could have called me, you know," he added more seriously. "Things could have gone bad."

"I didn't have to call you. I knew you would come," Blair said with certainly. "Did you find out anything?"

"Other than my partner's a cheap date?" Jim grinned and captured the smaller man in a head lock.

"Fuck you, man." Blair tried to get away, just not too hard.

"God, I hope so," Jim breathed. Blair felt the color rise to his cheeks, which made Jim smile all the more. "Let's get out of here."

"Hello, Rafe," the Commissioner said cheerily. "Have a seat. Did you think about what I asked you to do for me?"

"Yes," Rafe answered plainly as he found a chair and sat in it. He was certain there was someone else in the room, but once again, they seemed to be indistinct to his ears and nose.

"And did you do it?"

"They're on a mission today," Rafe stalled, feeling incomplete and unsteady with his Guide locked away on the inside of the complex.

"What about this morning? Did you listen this morning."

Rafe felt sick and put his head in his hands. "Yes."

"What did they say? And don't lie to me. Henri would hate it if you lied to me."

"They had a fight. They kissed and made up."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"He's lying," a familiar voice said from this midst of the sensory brown out. "His heart rate just shot up, he's starting to perspire."

"Why don't you just get him to listen in for you?" Rafe shouted, jerking himself out of the chair.

"Because he's not nearly as good as you. His hearing is only good in the same room. You can hear through walls. But he is good enough to know that you're not telling me the truth."

"I am," Rafe protested and prowled in front of the large desk, trailing a hand along the edge, not quite touching it.

"Then you're not telling me everything. I swear to you Sentinel, I'll have Henri gone in half an hour. What'll you do then?"

"Please don't make me do this," Rafe pleaded. "Roger, please. Help me."

"Sit down, Rafe."

Rafe did as he was told. Why did Blair insist they didn't have anything to hide? This was obviously important. But surely they would have been more careful if they didn't want the Commissioner to know. "They haven't really bonded," he blurted out. "They just want everyone to think that they have. Jim wants to. Blair doesn't."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask them?" Rafe snarled, furious with himself.

By the time they entered the complex, it was already getting late. The insertion and extraction time actually took longer than the surveillance. All Jim wanted to do was debrief and get it over with, because he had something else on his mind. The mission was a success as far as a recon goes. He counted troops, noted locations and even managed to eaves drop on a few official and not so official conversations. The fact that he and his Guide came off the mission without so much as a scratch was the real success. They were a good team, and he had been impressed with Sandburg's cool bearing in the face of the Rebel soldier. And knowing that Sandburg trusted him enough to take care of things without even calling out to him touched him. Many times in tense situations he had escaped by the hair of his teeth because a Guide panicked. With Blair, it wasn't even an issue. And now that they had bonded, Jim had never been happier.

While they waited in the office for Simon, they began a wordless dance of subtle flirting. Blair rubbed a grubby hand across his face, leaving a trail of dirt along his cheek. He grinned sleepily which made him look so much like a kid that Jim's heart did a flip-flop. Jim licked his thumb and used it to clean the smudge. Blair rolled his eyes, but they flashed with affection. As Jim started to comment Simon entered the room and he was clearly not happy.

"I need to know something," Simon asked without preamble. "Do you or do you not have a Sentinel/Guide bond."

"We do," Jim answered evenly. "What's this all about?"

"He's telling the truth, sir," Roger said as he strolled in through the open hallway from the living quarters.

Sandburg looked confused as he glanced around, his eyes coming to rest on Jim. "What's going on?" he echoed his partner.

The Commissioner entered the room followed by a small group of soldiers. "Place this man under arrest," he said as he pointed at Blair.

"No!" Jim was on his feet and had his weapon in his hand, the need to protect his Guide instinctive and fierce, regardless of the short time they had been together.

In an instant Blair was behind him. "Jim, what are you doing?" he asked urgently.

"If that's not the reaction of a bonded Sentinel, I don't know what is," Simon reasoned.

"Ellison, surrender your Guide," the Commissioner ordered.

"Over your dead body," Ellison breathed dangerously. "What do you want with him? He didn't do anything."

"Just someone please tell us what's going on," Blair urged. "Easy, Jim. Don't do anything rash."

"Sandburg is under arrest for collusion with the enemy. This little incident is not helping him any."

"Jim, I won't let them take him from the complex," Simon promised. "We turned one of the empty state rooms into a holding cell. They can question him there while you debrief the mission."

Ellison turned cold eyes to his former friend. "If this is the way you treat your people, I won't tell you anything," he growled.

"We need that information."

"Go to hell."

"Arrest Ellison, too," the commissioner said. "Put them in separate cells. As far apart as possible."

The soldiers were wearing battle gear and surged forward with weapons drawn. Jim put up a struggle and was struck in the head, the last thing he heard was his Guide calling his name. Even as the darkness descended he reached out for him.