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The Jamie Series #1 Finding. Day one. Morning. Jim rubbed at his eyes wearily, wondering if he could slip out just a little early. It had been a long tiring week and for the first time in a long time he was feeling every one of his forty years. Admit it, Ellison, he chided himself. Without Blair by your side to keep you on your toes, the job has been getting you down. With a flick Jim shut the file he had been studying, covering the grim images and harsh details of his latest case. It was with an almost guilty pleasure that he tugged Blair's latest letter out of his breast pocket and smoothed it open in front of him. The hand-writing was bold and sure, slanting across the page, and Jim had no trouble at all picturing Blair earnestly scribbling this letter by lamp-light in his tent, strands of fine tawny hair drifting into his eyes, glasses perched on the end of his nose. The image made Jim smile even as his heart ached a little for all the distance and time between them. Five weeks could seem like a life-time, but it had been a while since the kid had participated in a project like this, and his big blue eyes had lit up with pleasure when his old teacher, Dr. Teresa Stamp, invited him to take the place of a researcher who had flown home due to a family emergency. Blair had looked so happy about the chance to work on an archeological dig, how could Jim throw cold water on his pleasure? After all, 'I'll miss you' was hardly a convincing argument. "Jim!" Simon's customary bellow made him jump with surprise. Lifting his hands from the page in front of him, he realized he had been tracing the minute grooves in the paper caused by the pressure of Blair's pen. "Can I see you in my office?" Blinking warily, Jim folded the letter and tucked it back next to his heart. Simon had called him Jim and phrased the order in the form of a request. Something was up. "I think you should see this." The captain closed the door behind the detective and gestured to the tiny TV set perched on the book shelf. "Repeating our headlines," the slick voice of a TV reporter said briskly. "The South American republic of San Leon is under threat from revolutionary forces today. Rebels have already seized the tiny country's capitol, Socoraba, in what is being described as a bold and unexpected move. The State Department has yet to comment on this news, and it is not known at this time whether any US citizens are in danger. On the local front..." Jim tuned out the next blurb, his mind spinning with shock. "Except we know that there are US citizens in danger," Simon said tightly, turning down the volume on the news program. "How far away from Socoraba are Sandburg and his people?" Jim's thought's scrambled in his head and he turned a blank face to his captain at the question. It couldn't be possible that Blair was in danger from this. A few moments ago he had been alive in Jim's thoughts, as close to him as his next breath, despite the miles between them he had just been mourning. And now... Every terrible image he had ever seen of the aftermath of an invading army crowded into his mind's eye, every twisted body and mangled corpse and rotting- "Ellison!" Simon bellowed and Jim jumped again, eyes refocusing on his captains face. "Don't you do that zone-out thing on me now, you hear? I need you to stay focused here!" Shaking his head dully Jim stood up a little straighter, his expression becoming more alert. "Sorry, sir." His hand rubbed at his chest, feeling the crisp paper of Blair's letter against the tips of his fingers, and taking comfort in it. Simon's face softened and he gave a quick nod of understanding. "How far away from Socoraba is Sandburg's camp?" "I... I'm not sure, a fair distance I think. But that doesn't mean much, the whole country is under threat, and them being US citizens is no guarantee of protection. Simon, I have to make some calls, I've still got contacts in South America, maybe they can give me some more up to date news." Simon nodded his agreement and Jim left the office, scrambling in his desk drawer for his organizer, full of old names, each one bringing a different memory to his minds eye. Grimly he worked his way through the book, crossing off names of men who no longer worked where they had, or who no longer seemed to exist to the people they had worked for. After an hour he hit pay-dirt. "Simon?" Jim knocked quickly on the door to the captain's office and let himself in. "Anything?" "Yeah, buddy of mine works for the consulate in Cayenna, that's right next door to San Leon, he says the latest news is that the US embassy in San Leon is closed up tight, but that there has been no threat against it. Looks like the rebels are trying to stay on the good side of the US Government." "Well, that's good, isn't it? If they don't want to piss off the US they're not likely to hurt US citizens." Jim rubbed wearily at his eyes. "That's the best case scenario, but in the heat of battle..." He trailed off grimly. Simon stood up and pushed his detective into a chair, then headed over and poured a couple of cups of coffee. "Look, Jim, you've done all you can, now it's time to play the waiting game." He handed a cup to Jim. "Odds are Sandburg and the rest of his university friends are still out in the jungle and have no idea this has even happened. By the time they find out, things will have settled down." "That's pure guess work." Jim put the untouched coffee down on Simon's desk. "That's all we can do now," Simon pointed out. Jim set his jaw. "The hell it is," he said quietly. Simon leaned back in his chair and surveyed his friend suspiciously. "Jim," he said warningly. "Stay out of this. I cannot have a police detective tearing off to a foreign country on some kind of commando mission." "Like we did for you and your son?" Jim challenged. "I knew you were going to bring that up," Simon said in exasperation. "Look, Jim, this is a whole different set of circumstances, San Leon is in the middle of a war!" "Well, all the automatic weapons and C4 those drug barons had sure made Peru seem like a war-zone to me," Jim defended, standing up and looking Simon in the eye. "And just because it was those goons shooting at us instead of revolutionaries wouldn't have made us any less dead if we'd been hit." Jim swung for the door but Simon was on his feet facing him before he could open it. "Jim, this is crazy, you can't do this." "Yes I can." Jim said with deadly force. "Of all people I can. I spent half my life as a soldier, Simon, fighting and killing for my country, and by the time I was through with all that I had to wonder if I had been doing the right thing all those years. In Black Ops I did things..." Jim trailed away, his eyes cast down for a moment. "But now it's all a bit clearer to me," his voice got firmer and his eyes met his captain's again. "I don't have to sit home wringing my hands like the family of those other students, or like the family of any American at risk in a foreign country. I can do something about it. I am going in to get Blair." Simon met the determination in Jim's eyes evenly. "I guess you are," he murmured. "For god's sake be careful." Jim's tense expression faded a little. "I will." Day one. Evening. Many hours later, Jim lay on his back in bed, staring up at the shadows on his ceiling. He knew he had to get some sleep, tomorrow he flew down to Cayenna, and once he was there things were likely to get hot quickly. But still his mind would not quiet, it swirled with all the details he had taken care of and all the myriad things he had to do before he stepped aboard the plane tomorrow. And images of Blair. Jim pulled the spare pillow to his chest and hugged it tightly, trying to find some scent of his lover on it. An impossible task, Blair had been gone 3 weeks already, this pillow had been well washed since Blair's curly head nestled upon it last. With a groan Jim closed his eyes and summoned the image of Blair beside him. It was all too easy, the younger man had made his presence felt in Jim's bed just as easily as in the rest of his life. And that last night before he had flown away... 3 weeks earlier.
Jim groaned and rolled over onto his belly. It was going to be a long night. Day two. Afternoon. Jim stepped off the plane into the sunlight of a South American summer. The smell of diesel fuel vied with the cloying scent of the jungle, never far away no matter where you were. Exhausted by the long flight, Jim scanned the area tiredly, searching for a familiar face. A hand raised and Jim recognized his long time friend, Richard Cleveland. Jim followed the line of people along the tarmac until he was level with Richard, then the older man lifted a cordon and gestured him through. Jim found himself engulfed in a hug, drawn to the huge man's broad chest. He wrapped his arms around his friend and returned the hug enthusiastically. "Man, it is good to see you!" Rich grinned, pulling back and taking Jim's hand luggage from him. "You don't know how glad I am to see you," Jim returned fervently. "I cannot imagine how you ended up in this place, but it was the best news I had all day yesterday. Or was it the day before?" Jim rubbed tired eyes. Rich laughed and gestured through a door on the side of the airports main building. The building itself wasn't much more than a big shed, but Customs was out in force, as well as a large number of khaki clad soldiers nursing automatic weapons. "Things are a little hairy here at the moment," Rich said as he followed Jim through the door into a dusty corridor. "Most of us have been expecting the trouble with the San Leon rebels for some time, but the attack still came as a shock to a lot of people." "Are you in danger?" Rich shrugged, massive shoulders moving under the casual light blue polo shirt. "In this country? Who the hell knows. But in my opinion the rebels have enough on their plate taking and holding San Leon. There are still a lot of government troops out there." They arrived at a little ante-room and Rich pointed to a coffee machine and asked Jim for his papers and passport. Within minutes he was back with the documents stamped. He sat opposite Jim at a cracked old table and sipped gratefully at a steaming cup. "This is why I stay," he joked. "The great coffee." He shared a smile with Jim then sobered. "There's been some news while you were enroute." Jim sat forward alertly. "The embassy in San Leon got word that a team of researchers near a village called Pelota had been taken into 'custody' by the rebels. In the spirit of mutual friendship the rebels are going to turn them over to the embassy." "But?" Jim said cautiously, sensing the reserve in his friends voice. "But Blair Sandburg is not on the list of names sent with the announcement." Jim clenched his jaw. Of course not. It couldn't be that easy. "Blair Sandburg, Andrew Bergman and a local guide are not on the list." "Any information at all on their whereabouts?" Rich shook his head. "Sorry, Jim." Jim shook his head. "I'm just grateful for everything you are doing for us," he said sincerely. "No need for gratitude, Jim. Not with the debt I owe you." "Rich," Jim shook his head. "Man, there are no debts between us from those days." "I know better," Rich said gently. "Then this will make us even." Rich laughed. "Not hardly, buddy. We'll be even when I say so. You ready to go?" Jim picked up his backpack from the spare chair. "You can get started first thing in the morning," Rich said as he led the way out of the room, down a corridor and out of the building into a dirt parking lot. "I can't wait that long." Jim caught Rich's arm as he unlocked the door of a dusty sedan. "Jim, you need to rest," Rich said in concern, studying the strain on Jim's face. "I'll have plenty of time to rest when I've found Blair," Jim insisted stubbornly. "Still as bullheaded as ever, I see," Rich slapped him on the back. "Well, I have what you asked for in the trunk, we might as well get started." They rattled out of the car park and along the roughly surfaced road. "Check out the map in the glove box," The big man directed, and Jim unfolded it. "The project's camp site is marked, so is the town where they went to every week for supplies, Pelota. It was taken by the rebels within hours of Socaraba, apparently there was little resistance." "And this information comes from the rebels in power trying to suck up to the US Government?" Jim asked cynically. Rich could only shrug. "How many days travel to Pelota?" Jim studied the unfamiliar region marked on the map. "On foot, if you follow the road, two days. It may be less across country. The trouble is that the rebel troops have gained most of the ground they need and are now spreading out trying to flush out the last of the government troops. This is going to make cross country travel tough, to say the least. Check out that folder." "What's this?" Jim pulled the folder from the glove-box, and opened it, revealing grainy black and white aerial photographs. "Latest satellite shots. As far as I can tell the rebels are moving south, pretty damned rapidly. So that even if you can make it to the project camp and you find these guys, it's going to be impossible to return via the same route." "So this is the alternate route?" Jim traced a thin red line with his finger, it ran along the border of San Leon and crossed into Mato Chaco. "Mato Chaco? Is that any safer than San Leon?" Jim asked doubtfully. "Less volatile. And I have contacts there, if you can get to one of them, they will get a message to me." Jim studied the last piece of paper in the folder, it contained a hand drawn map and some names. "I'd appreciate it if you would get rid of that when you have memorized it," Rich gestured to the paper. "Rich?" Jim began. "I mean it, man. I can never repay you for this-" Rich flashed a white toothed grin at him. "Funny, I remember saying the same thing to you fifteen years ago." An hour later they pulled up by the side of a deserted road. Jim climbed out of the vehicle, stretching his stiff body. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" Rich unlocked the trunk and pulled out a wrapped bundle. With a flick of the wrist he pulled the cloth away to reveal a wicked looking rifle. Jim was already unbuttoning his traveling shirt. Rich went over the gear in the pack while Jim pulled on the camouflage gear and sturdy boots. With a final stomp of his foot in the unfamiliar boots Jim took the pack off Rich and buckled it on, then quickly checked the gun and slung it over his shoulder. He looked out into the thick jungle encroaching onto the rough road, and then back into his friends eyes. Rich didn't say good luck, that just wasn't done between men going into combat. But his fine dark eyes conveyed all he wanted to say to his younger friend. Bring 'em back alive, buddy. I will. And then, without a backward glance, Jim headed off into the jungle. Jim set an easy pace, his travel weary body sparking back into new life as he stretched it to meet his needs. The uneven jungle floor presented little problem, he simply used his sight to scan the area directly ahead of him as he ran, while sending his hearing ahead like an advance scout, making sure no human obstacles could get in his way. Faster than any computer man could build, Jim's brain sorted and measured and tested, his expertise increasing with every step until after the first few hours it had become almost second nature to him, and he could pick up a little speed. Now and then he would pause to replenish his body, sipping carefully from his canteen, wringing out the sweat from the bandanna tied above his brow, ridding himself of waste. But then he would pick the pace back up, mind and body working seamlessly, as if his strong masculine body was morphing into the sleek tawny beauty of his spirit guide. When night fell he climbed a sturdy tree and braced himself against the trunk, stretched out on a broad branch. He closed his eyes and dozed, on the edge of sleep but still alert and listening, as only an old soldier can. Day three. Night. It was dark when Jim approached the site of the project's camp. He had passed by the small village of Pelota a few hours back and then followed the road he knew would lead here, staying parallel to the road all the way. From the edge of the jungle he scanned the area, his keen sight picking up the flattened patches of grass where the tents must have been set up, and easily making out the fire ring of the cooking area off to the left. The site was deserted. Slipping the strap of his gun over his arm, Jim cautiously approached the area, all his senses on full alert. Everything was gone, presumably taken away by the rebels when they seized the project members and took them hostage. Some small fraction of tension dissolved in the cop's stomach. His first and greatest fear was that he would find Blair's body here along with the bodies of the other missing men, that they had been killed when the others were taken. But there was no sign of a struggle here and Jim could not detect a hint of blood. Jim stood in the center of the clearing and closed his eyes, opening his olfactory senses wider than he ever had, automatically filtering out the scents of the jungle, now as familiar to him after the last day and a half as they had been seven years ago when he had been stranded in Peru. Blair's scent came to him, faint and distant, and for a moment Jim thought he had detected where the younger man's tent had been set up. Then he realized the scent was beyond the perimeter of the camp, in the trees opposite. Opening his eyes Jim centered his vision on the scent, detecting a hint of bright blue a few feet in. All his weariness forgotten Jim pushed past a tangle of creepers and vines and grabbed the blue cloth tied to the tree. It was a sweater, the sleeves knotted around a thick branch at eye level. Burying his nose in the damp fabric Jim again closed his eyes, feeling love well up in his chest. Blair's sweater, imbued with his scent, tied like a beacon for his senses to follow. Jim quickly calculated in his head. Three days. Three days since Simon had called him into his office and told him the news, which was then only hours old. Three days since the rebel forces had taken San Leon. In a few hours it would be dawn and then it would be four days exactly. Inhaling Blair's unique scent Jim let himself get lost for a moment in memory.
No more than a day, Jim thought to himself, relief making him dizzy. In the last twenty-four hours Blair had been here, alive and well. *After* the rebel attack on San Leon, *after* the rebel forces had seized the project members on this very site. Blair was alive. But you still haven't found him, Jim reminded himself. He slipped off his pack and tucked the sweater into the top, buckling it closed and putting it back on. Now he had to ignore the enticing scent on that particular item of clothing. His task was to find its owner. Again he gave his senses full rein, closing his eyes and concentrating on smell and hearing, making himself the central point of a great circle in his minds eye, his senses spread out around him, seeping further and further towards the edges of that circle. Scents assaulted him now, some strong like the scent of the great heavy burden of frangipani's on a nearby tree, its stubby gray branches twisted like dead men's fingers. Some faint, like the subtle traces of night creatures flitting through the trees and slithering near his feet. And some just plain overpowering, like the smell from the latrine the campers must have dug on the far side of the clearing, amongst the trees. Blair's scent was here too, mixed in among the others, old and new. With a muffled cry of frustration Jim sunk to his haunches on the damp layer of leaf mold covering the jungle floor. This was so hard! He was tired and aching and he knew Blair was close by, but he just couldn't do this alone. No-one in the world but Blair knew how scary this was, how desperately frightening it could be to let himself go like that, to bury his conscious waking mind beneath the primitive drive of his senses. There was no-one in the world but Blair that he could trust to stand beside him when he needed to do something like this, and to call him back if he ventured too far. And now, when his guide needed him most, he could not do this alone. Weariness overtook his aching body and he laid his head on his knees, actually falling into a fitful kind of slumber crouched on the jungle floor. Jim was running so swiftly it felt as if his feet barely touched the forest floor, as if with just the right move he could lift off, treading on the air itself to make his way. Then the forest opened up before him and he was facing a place that had become familiar to him, old walls of ancient stone half buried in the green. A low growl sounded and then his spirit guide bounded onto moss covered stone. Even before the leap was completed he was changing, reforming before Jim's eyes. This time he wore Blair's face. "What do you seek?" The voice was Blair's and not Blair's, just as the face and form assumed by the spirit guide was Blair's and not Blair's. Hair longer than Blair's had ever been was twined with creepers and vines, skin the color of warm honey, eyes impossibly blue, eerily calm. "What do you seek?" "My guide," Jim answered openly. The spirit guides face was impossibly patient. "What do you seek?" "The other half of my soul," Jim said swiftly, without another thought. "Will I find it?" A slow nod was his answer. "And much more besides. Nothing happens without a reason, Sentinel." Jim started awake. Day four. Morning. Jim came aware quickly, his senses instantly tracking the approach of another human being. Uncurling from his crouched position he silently pulled a knife from the sheath in his boot, but it had barely cleared the leather when realization came crashing down onto him. It was not just another human heartbeat approaching, it was Blair's heartbeat, Blair's scent wafting toward him on a dawn breeze, the hesitant crunch of Blair's boots on the dirt path. The last of the tension that had crowded his stomach and haunted his few hours of sleep over the last four days melted away. Blair was alive. He was moving slowly along the tree line, eyes sweeping the area, obviously looking for some sign that someone had been there besides himself. Finally his eyes reached the spot where he had tied his marker, where Jim stood soundlessly waiting, camouflaged in the dappled early morning sun. Blair squinted for a moment and then stepped back in surprise, a flicker of fear crossing his face. It was the fear that jerked Jim out of a near zone-out. "Blair." He stepped forward, lifting the vines out of his way with a sweep of his broad forearm. Blair put his hand over his heart for a moment. "You scared the crap outta me, man," he said forcefully, then he was crossing the clearing at light speed, headed for Jim's arms. The bigger man met him halfway. "Jim, Jim," Blair was saying over and over. "I knew you'd come." "Thankyouthankyouthankyou," Jim muttered into tangled brown curls, inhaling days old sweat and fear and savoring it. His knees gave way under him and he sank to the grass, Blair still clutched tightly to him. "Thank me?" Blair muttered huskily, pulling back a little to gaze into his lovers face. He cupped stubbled cheeks and swiped his thumbs under dark shadowed eyes, smearing the tears into damp arcs. "You're the one who must've run all the way here from Cascade, man. Don't thank me!" "But I do," Jim said simply, using his callused thumb to wipe at the tears running down his lovers cheeks. "For your message to me." He pointed back over his shoulder with his chin at the spot where Blair had tied his sweater as a signal. "I got to the end of the trail without finding you, if it hadn't been for the sign you left me I don't know what I would have done. Gone nuts probably." "Oh, Jim." Blair wrapped his arms around the older man protectively. "All I could think of was to stay alive long enough for you to find me. In my darkest moments I wondered if anyone outside this crap-hole of a country even knew what was going on, if you even knew I needed you." "In my darkest moments..." Jim couldn't say aloud what he had feared most, it didn't matter, Blair must have felt the shiver that ran through him, for he held him closer and pressed his warm living body to Jim's strong frame. "But... where are the others?" Jim asked as he pulled away and looked around the clearing, his keen sight piercing the gloom to the dawn lit jungle beyond. "Bergman and your guide?" The glow that had lit up Blair's face at the sight of his lover faded away, grief mantling his features with lines older than his years warranted. "Andy is dead," he said baldly. "I don't know where Armando is." Then he blinked a few times, realization crossing his face. "But how did you know I was with them? Did Dr. Stamp tell you? Are they alive, the rest of the team?" His voice was eager now. "Did you see them?" "Whoa, Chief, hold up. Last I heard they were alive, but I didn't see them. They are hostages of the rebels and there was talk of trading them to the US." "Hostages?" Blair repeated. He crossed his legs underneath him and settled his chin on his hand. "Well at least they're alive, which is better than I hoped when I got back here and found the place deserted. But, hostages! People have been held hostage for years on end." Tears stood in Blair's eyes and Jim laid a consoling hand on his arm. "I'm guessing it will all depend on how quickly the rebels take complete control. If this doesn't degenerate into a long messy civil war then the new government will want to make peace with the US as quickly as possible, to try and gain some kind of international standing." "So the best I can hope for is that the bastards who killed Andy win the war," Blair said bitterly, the tears overflowing down his already damp cheeks. "I'm sorry, man." He scrubbed at his face. "Don't be," Jim said comfortingly. "Do you want to tell me what happened? How the three of you came to be separated from the rest of the team?" Blair sniffed, rubbing at his nose, and Jim pulled his backpack around and unbuckled it. Blair smiled damply as the bigger man lifted the blue sweater from the top of the pack and began to rummage around inside it. "What have you got in there anyway?" Jim produced a square of cloth and handed it to Blair. "Just a few basic tools of survival." He pulled out some sealed bags and laid them out. "You hungry?" On cue Blair's stomach rumbled. "It's been a long time since I ate," he confessed, accepting a bag of trail mix from Jim. "But I don't know if I can eat and tell this story." "Try," Jim urged, crossing his legs and digging into his bag of high energy food. His own stomach was telling him how long it had been since he had eaten. "You need to keep your strength up." "Well, it was no big deal, us being separated from the team," Blair began, chewing slowly on a handful of the mix. "Every week a couple of us would drive the jeep into Pelota to pick up supplies and fuel, post letters and stuff. We would drive in with our local guide, Armando." He trailed off, staring into the distance, bag forgotten in his hand. "Blair, eat," Jim reminded him, tapping at the bag gently. "Oh, yeah. Anyway, we hadn't been in town long when things got real crazy, people started running around, and there was screaming and stuff. I think Armando knew what was going on straight away, he'd certainly been talking about the possibility of an uprising for weeks." "He said this might happen?" Jim took the now empty bag from Blair's hand and replaced it with the canteen. Blair drank deeply and wiped his mouth. "Yeah, he had family in San Leon, so I guess he was keeping a close eye on the situation. Anyway the next thing Andy and I see is Armando jumping in the jeep and speeding off. He just left us there." "Was he heading toward the capitol?" Blair nodded. "We didn't know what to do so we started walking back here. We were maybe halfway back when from behind us come all these jeeps and trucks, man, they scared us to death! I don't know why but we started running toward the jungle and they started shooting." Blair's hands clenched tightly around the canteen. "Maybe if we hadn't run..." "Then you'd probably both be dead," Jim said quietly. "They were either government troops fleeing for their lives, or else they were rebels. Either way they would have been too pumped to listen to any explanations from you." "I guess. We made it to the trees and I thought we were safe, and then Andy just dropped like a stone. I stopped to help him but... half his head was gone." Blair buried his face in his hands and Jim gathered him close, rocking him gently, absorbing the feel of his lover warm and alive in his arms. "Why him and not me?" Blair breathed against Jim's chest. "Why am I alive when he's dead?" "I don't know. It's a question I've asked myself many times in my life." Nothing happens without a reason, Sentinel. After a few more minutes rocking Blair drew back and looked into Jim's face. "I knew you'd come," he said simply. With eyes wide open he laid a soft kiss on Jim's lips, and they sat motionless for a long time, just breathing each others breath. 000 Jim opened his map and laid it out on the grass. Blair was clipping at his beard with a tiny pair of scissors from Jim's versatile pack. He was determined to shave. "Man I hate a beard in the jungle!" he rubbed at the impressive bristle with distaste. "It's damn hot and itchy!" "Wet your face well," Jim counseled, frowning at the map. "Soften the beard before you try using the straight razor." "I have used one before you know." Blair unfolded the razor carefully. "Where are we going?" He eyed the map. "West. To the Mato Chaco border. It's a tough three day hike through the jungle, avoiding the roads." "Mato Chaco? Is that wise, I mean, the military there isn't exactly friendly either." "I know, and with this mess going on they're going to have their border on full alert," Jim agreed. "But we can't go back the way we came, that's for sure, and if we can cross the border I've got a couple of contacts in town that can help us." "You got contacts in Mato Chaco?" Blair flicked the blade under his nose cautiously. "My contact in Cayenna has contacts in Mato Chaco," Jim admitted. "Which reminds me..." He unbuttoned his top pocket and pulled out a piece of note paper. "Memorize that and then destroy it." Blair studied the list. "Should I eat it?" he joked. "If you're hungry enough." Jim refolded the map. "That's my list of contacts in Mato Chaco. If anything happens to me, get to one of them, they'll know what to do." Blair stared down at the list and then looked solemnly up at Jim. The big man met the grave gaze squarely and then cupped Blair's smooth chin in his hand. "Nothing is going to happen to me, Chief," he promised. "Okay." Blair accepted the vow. "I believe you because you've never lied to me." "We better get started," Jim said gruffly. "We're burning daylight." Jim set a brisk pace, but not a punishing one. The first leg of their journey had them cutting through the jungle parallel to the country's main road which bisected the small nation. It was busy and therefore dangerous, but they had no choice but to follow it by day. Jim judged their distance from the road to be safe, far enough to be undetectable to anyone using it, but within sight. His sight at least. "It will also give me an idea of the way the wind is blowing with this war," he told Blair that evening as they spread a thin ground-sheet out between the roots of a great tree. "I should be able to tell from troop movements how things are going." Blair collapsed onto the ground sheet, groaning as he stretched aching muscles. "Man, I thought I was fit after all these weeks out here," he sighed. "One of the reasons I was so keen to take part in an archeological dig after so long was because I used to enjoy the physical aspect of it." "You were a lot younger back then, Chief," Jim joked laying a hand flat on Blair's head. Blair opened his eyes sleepily. "I'm too tired to take offense at that," he said with dignity. "Hey, relax, man, you must be even more exhausted than I am." Jim sat and leaned back against the tree, opening his pack and doling out some more of the meager rations. "I could eat everything in that pack," Blair observed, chewing on an energy bar. "I'm afraid it's short rations for a while, Chief. It will last us, no doubt of that, but if we have to hole up somewhere the last thing I want is to run out of food." Blair looked at the bar he was munching on. "I guess this counts as food," he murmured. "Aren't you going to rest?" Blair finished his meal and took a sip of some water from the canteen. "I can't afford to sleep too deeply, Blair." Jim patted his thigh and Blair lay down, pillowing his head on the muscled leg. "You need to sleep, Jim." Blair's voice was quiet, concerned. Jim stroked his young lovers hair. "I will sleep. Just not too deeply. Old soldiers trick," he added when Blair twisted to peer at him in disbelief. Blair lay on his back and stared up at the night sky through the trees, his eyes half closed in pleasure as Jim's sensitive fingers stroked his scalp. "All those nights we were apart," he said dreamily. "All I wanted was to get you alone in the jungle under that moon. And now here we are and I'm so tired I couldn't be a lover to you no matter how hard I tried." Jim's fingers stroked the smooth brow, slightly stubbled cheeks, soft sensual lips. "You'll always be a lover to me, sweetheart," he murmured. "When we're both so old we've forgotten what sex is, you'll wheel me to bed and we'll cuddle up warm and safe together with our teeth in the same glass on the bedside table." He looked down with a gentle smile. Sandburg was fast asleep, head still pillowed comfortably on Jim's thigh. The ex-soldier bent over and pressed a soft kiss to the smooth brow. "I love you, Blair." Day five. Dawn Jim woke from his light doze to the sound of gunshots in the distance. Blair, who had been curled up next to him, stirred and raised his head. "Is that shooting?" He rubbed his eyes, coughing a little. Jim nodded, eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the sounds. Suddenly the volley of shots ended. "It's pretty far away though, isn't it?" Blair cocked his head as though he too could trace the sounds with his hearing. "Yes. But it's also in the direction we're going in." They exchanged a glance and then Jim stood and stretched, prodding his partner gently with the toe of his boot. "Don't go back to sleep. If you want to shave and eat, now is the time. Daylight's-" "-burning. I know." Blair groaned and sat up. "You okay?" Jim knelt and cupped his beloved's bristly chin. "Yeah." Blair pressed a kiss into the palm of Jim's hand. "I told you, I'm pretty fit after three weeks on site." He pushed up one sleeve to reveal hairy muscled biceps. "Hmmm." Jim playfully squeezed the admittedly impressive bulge and then poked gently at the younger man's flat belly. "Maybe we should start working out together when we get home," he joked, standing up and turning to relieve himself at the edge of their camp. "Oh, we'll get a workout," Blair promised silkily, pinching one of Jim's tight buns. Yelping playfully Jim tilted his head and grinned. "All talk and no action, Chief." Blair grinned back then stretched and groaned again. "At the moment I'd have to agree. But when I get you home and between some clean sheets..." "We'll sleep for two days straight," Jim finished. They shared a laugh. Day five. Afternoon. They kept up the pace of the day before, stopping only briefly at noon to rest and munch on some more of their meager rations. Blair lounged on the ground-sheet but Jim sat up straight, scanning the surrounding jungle, senses on full. He could feel the younger man's eyes on him but was unable to explain how he was functioning now. It was if he was drawing on reserves of energy he didn't know he had, all his concentration geared towards getting them out of this situation alive. Or maybe it was the jungle he was drawing his energy from, he mused. Surrounded by the myriad life of the jungle, was he drawing his energy from that well spring? His nostrils flared as a horribly familiar scent reached him. He stopped dead so suddenly Blair walked into him. "What is it?" Blair's voice was hushed. "Do you hear something?" "I smell... burning oil. Blood. Death," Jim finished grimly. He could have catalogued for his guide just exactly what death smelt like, but Blair didn't ask, he just touched his hand to the small of Jim's back. "What do we do?" Jim frowned. He knew what he should do. Circle the area, find a way around whatever was ahead, and continue their journey. But something, some instinct, was telling him to investigate. Jim had survived a long time listening to his instincts, sometimes when everything else was telling him they were wrong. He slanted a look down at the biggest gamble he had ever taken on his instincts and tried to smile into wide blue eyes, shining with trust and courage. "Stay close, I have to see what's ahead." Blair nodded and took Jim literally, keeping his hand on his back as the big man took careful steps closer to the road ahead, until even the guide could smell the burning oil. The black shadows of big birds crossed the sun above them, and Jim felt the shiver go through Blair's body. Carrion eaters. He was prepared for what he would find but even so it hit him hard as they crouched at the edge of the jungle and peered out onto the pitted road. It had been a long time since he had seen this face of war. If his tolerance levels were way down, Blair's were nonexistent. Behind him the young man emitted a low cry of distress. "Oh, my god, Jim. They aren't soldiers." Jim turned and caught him as he swayed, his knees impacting with the dirt. "Oh, god." Blair turned away and Jim felt him dry heaving, heard his panting distress as he tried to keep control of his stomach. "Wait here, Blair, I need to look around." "No, Jim," Blair grabbed at the bigger man's arm. "Let's just get out of here!" "Someone might still be alive," Jim laid a calming hand over Blair's where it clutched at his sleeve. "Just wait here for me." "No." Blair rose and set his face. "I'm not leaving you again. I can do this." "Blair," Jim began, then gave up as he saw the stubborn look on the younger man's face. "Try not to look," he counseled. "I'll be able to pick up on heartbeats if there are any survivors." Glad that Blair was too distracted to ask why he didn't just listen for heartbeats from here, Jim held his rifle at the ready and stepped out onto the road. There were two old trucks slewed on the far side of the road, World War Two surplus from the look of them. And there were maybe a dozen bodies scattered around, ripped and bloody from what looked like automatic weapon fire. "Why?" Blair was whispering, hand firmly clenched on Jim's arm. "My god, what threat could these people have been to them?" Bundles of blankets and smashed crockery littered the ground by the back of the trucks and Blair stepped over a cracked cooking pot. "They were refugees for god's sake!" "This is what war does to men," Jim said somberly, studying the sad scene. "Ordinary men with guns, filled with anger and vengeance. And fear, because they learn first-hand just how close death truly is." Blair turned his pale face to Jim's. "Have you been in that place, Jim?" Jim met the eyes of the man he loved and confessed quietly. "I've been close." His vision sharpened then, on a point just over Blair's shoulder. A low hanging vine at the jungles edge, smudged with drying blood. Without another word he set off toward it, Blair close at his shoulder. "Jim?" he said quietly. Jim was focused on the blood, and then his vision was focusing on another splatter, a few yards further. But there was something more leading him on, something besides the blood trail. A flash of silken black fur streaked through the trees off to his right and he swung his head around. A few feet away lay another corpse, this one a woman with long blue black hair. The smell of death was all around her, but there was another scent as well, and another sound beating just at the edge of his hearing. Blair cursed when he saw the woman's corpse, but he did not question Jim stepping over to her until the bigger man reached down and grabbed a fragile shoulder, turning her over. "Jim!" he cried in shock, and then a ragged gasp escaped him, for laying on the ground shielded by her body was a tiny child, a baby. Blood smeared the round brown cheeks, but the tiny body was unmarked by any wound, and under the two men's horrified gaze the infant opened tear swollen eyes and issued a plaintive cry. "God!" Without hesitation Blair dropped to his knees and tucked gentle hands under the baby's arms, lifting him off the blood-soaked ground. "Oh my god," Blair said brokenly as he gathered the tiny body to his chest, wrapping both arms around the solid little form and cradling it close. "It's okay," he soothed tearfully as the baby wailed thinly. "It's okay, Blair's got you, Blair's got you. You're safe now." Jim resisted the urge to wrap both arms around his weeping lover and the waif. All of a sudden he was overcome by an urgent need to get them all away from here. He realized with a start that his overwhelming urge to investigate this place was gone, wiped clean by this find. Nothing happens without a reason. Quickly and efficiently he checked the woman's corpse and then gently turned her back over, tugging up her shawl and covering her head with it. Then he laid a gentle hand on his lover's head. Blair had stopped weeping, but he was still on his knees, rocking the calming child and crooning to him. "Come on, Chief, we've got to get moving." Blair turned dazed eyes up to Jim. "But, Jim. What are we supposed to do now?" "Get away from here," Jim urged grimly, taking Blair's arm and lifting him to his feet. "Can you manage him?" Blair nodded blankly, following Jim as he trekked back through the vines and onto the road. He pressed the baby's head into his neck as they crossed the road, and Jim paused only long enough to grab a few blankets from the pitiful tangle of scattered possessions before hustling them into the trees. "I want to get away from the road now, Blair," Jim explained, taking the lead and choosing the easiest way through the thick undergrowth so that Blair could follow him. "I don't care how much time it adds to our journey, these clowns are way too trigger happy for my liking." Blair did not answer and Jim looked back to see him patting the baby's back rhythmically. Jim could tell by the child's breathing he was dozing, but he could also see the gentle pats were as much for Blair's sake as for the child's. "Okay, I think we can stop for a while," Jim announced some time later. He tugged the ground-sheet out and tossed it one handed, so that it unrolled. "Blair," he said gently to his bewildered partner. "Come on, buddy, sit down, lay the baby down. We need to check him over." As he had suspected, that spurred the younger man to action and he dropped to his knees and carefully laid the child down, supporting his neck. His tear swollen eyes were still closed and Blair smothered a cry of distress. "Is he-?" "No," Jim hastened to assure him, taking one of Blair's hands and laying it on the tiny chest that was rising and falling rhythmically. "He's breathing, he's alive. And he needs us now, Chief. I need you, okay?" Blair let his hand rest on the baby's chest, closing his eyes and letting out a long puff of breath. "Yeah," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm all right," he said, "I'm okay." "I know you are," Jim laid his hand over his lovers and together they felt the shallow rise and fall of the baby's tiny lungs. "Jim," Blair murmured quietly. "If we hadn't been there, if you hadn't heard him..." "But I did," Jim interrupted, before Blair could wander too far into that nightmare of thought again. But did you? Did you really hear him until you were almost on top of him? What led you to that place? "I need to clean him up," Blair said suddenly, as if just noticing the dried blood on the child's skin and clothes. He pulled out the square of cloth Jim had given him to wipe his face the day before and accepted the canteen from Jim. Carefully he doused the cloth until it was damp and stoppered the bottle. He gingerly applied the cloth to the soft skin on the baby's brow, wiping until the blood came off. Halfway through the procedure the baby opened his eyes and gazed solemnly at him. "It's okay," Blair crooned as he had when they found him. "Blair's here, you're okay." The baby made no sound as Blair lifted his once white shirt over his head and unknotted the cloth around his hips. "Oh, dear," he soothed. "That must be uncomfortable." Turning down his sense of smell Jim rummaged through his pack, at a loss as to what they could use for a diaper. Finally he pulled his knife from his boot and sliced Blair's blue jersey up the side seams. He handed it to Blair who looked at it dumbfounded for a moment, and then efficiently wrapped it around the now clean bottom. He knotted the sleeves around the fragile body and patted the huge spur-of-the-moment nappy. "Well, it's not very elegant," he said softly, lifting the baby up in his arms and cradling him close. "And I don't know how absorbent it will be, but it beats the heck out of that smelly old rag, hmm?" Jim carefully picked up the offending rag and dug a quick hole with his knife at the edge of the camp, dropping the diaper in and covering it quickly. "We might as well stay here for the night now that we're settled," he pronounced, sitting down on the ground-sheet next to Blair. "Are we safe?" Blair said quietly, cupping the back of the child's downy head. "We're pretty far in," Jim peered back the way they came. "And I'll hear anyone long before they can get near us. We're as safe as we can get out here." "Are we going to be able to do this?" Blair crossed his legs and leaned against Jim's shoulder wearily. "My god, Jim, how are we going to get ourselves and an infant through this?" "What choice do we have, Chief? We'll do it one step at a time." Jim wrapped an arm around his lover. "Do you think you can eat?" "My gut says no, but my stomach is threatening a walk-out if I don't fill 'er up soon." "What about the baby? What do we have that he could eat?" Jim surveyed the dried health bars and energy rations doubtfully. "How old would you say he is, anyway? Old enough for solid food?" "And I'd know?" Blair shrugged one shoulder. "I figure you've seen babies in your work right? Studying tribes?" "I guess. I don't know, maybe a year old? Probably younger, he's pretty small. So I guess his mother was still feeding him, but he could probably take solids if we had anything to give him." Jim pulled out a package of dried reconstituted stew and sniffed at it. "Maybe if I put some water in this and let it soak?" he pondered. "It would be like a beef stew baby food. Hmm?" Blair shrugged again. "I'll try to get some water down him." He unstoppered the canteen and sat the baby up in his arms. The serious eyes followed him solemnly as he held the opening of the bottle to the little lips and dribbled some water onto the baby's mouth. "Come on, baby," he coaxed. "You gotta have water." He gently touched the tip of his finger to the pink bow of the infants bottom lip and tugged. This time when he dribbled the water in most of it stayed down. "Clever boy," Blair praised, dabbing up the stray dribbles from the corners of the baby's mouth with a dangling diaper sleeve. "How's that stew going?" Jim poked at it with his finger. "It's getting softer," he reported, watching his partners absorption with the child gratefully. Blair had been in full blown shock as he stumbled away from the nightmare scene of the massacre. Coming as it had after the death of his friend and his isolation in the jungle, it had all been too much for him. But he was so engrossed now in the child's care he had no time to dwell on the trauma, and Jim was grateful for it. He dismissed his own odd actions for the moment. That brief flash of his spirit guide was enough to stop all questions. Once a firm skeptic when it came to anything he could not touch and feel, Jim had long ago been forced to abandon his cynicism when it came to this stuff. If his spirit guide had chosen to lead him to this child, then he could not help but be grateful for it. Like Sandburg he was horribly aware of what the infant's fate would have been if they had not found him. Finally Jim declared the stew soft enough, and Blair fed the baby, one fingertip scoop at a time because Jim didn't have anything remotely resembling a spoon in his versatile pack. Jim munched on his own food as he watched his partner coax tiny bits into the baby's mouth, praising him with words and strokes when he gummed the concoction and swallowed it. Eventually he had had enough and Blair rubbed his back while Jim finished off the rest of the stew with a few bites. Finally the baby was asleep, laying on his back with his arms above his head, tiny fists unclenching as he slipped deeper into rest. "Whew." Blair breathed out and collapsed back against a tree trunk next to Jim. "Ready to feed yourself, Chief?" Jim handed over an energy bar. "As long as I don't have to eat cold dried stew." Blair shuddered. "How could you put that in your mouth?" "Waste not, want not, " Jim quoted. "Besides, I've eaten a lot worse." "I do not want to know." Blair chewed slowly, gazing thoughtfully at the sleeping child. "How much longer, Jim?" "Two days. Maybe a bit less if we don't run into any problems." Jim spread the map out on his lap, even though he had pretty much memorized all their routes by now. The baby stirred in his sleep and Blair laid a gentle hand on his tummy, stroking gently." Poor little tyke," he whispered, before being overcome by a huge yawn. "Lay down and sleep, Chief." Jim stroked back his lover's hair and kissed his brow. "You've done all you can for him now, and we have another hard day tomorrow. I'll take the pack, but you'll have to carry him. Think you can manage?" Blair curled up around the child with his head on Jim's thigh. "Like you said, what choice do we have? Besides," he yawned again. "I have an idea about that." Jim listened to Blair's heart beat slow as he slid into sleep, picking up the child's beating alongside it. He focused on the two sounds as he slipped into his alert-doze mode. Day six. Morning. The next morning Blair demonstrated his method of carrying the baby. "See I got the idea from the people of the Sudan," he said, securely knotting the corners of the blanket and slipping it over one arm like a sling. He folded the other two corners in and picked the baby up, laying him in the hammock like device. The baby was resting securely against his chest, most of his small weight now supported by Blair's broad shoulders. "See, I can cradle him, but my hands are free if I need them," he said triumphantly. "Genius at work." Jim buckled on the pack and picked up the rifle. "Ready?" "Lead on." Day six. Evening They were glad to collapse that evening. Blair carefully extracted the baby from the blanket and handed him to Jim, who automatically took him. The young man slipped the make-shift sling off and stretched his shoulders with a groan. "Man, I'm glad to get that off." He looked over to Jim and grinned. "He's not a live grenade, Jim. He won't go off in your hands." Jim was holding the baby under his little arms, just resting his padded bottom gingerly on one knee. "If only I could be sure of that, Chief. How many diapers have we gone through now?" Blair sighed. His sweatshirt was long gone, and the baby was now wearing the last of his T-shirt wrapped around his skinny hips. Blair lovingly stroked the khaki fabric of the button shirt he was wearing. "It's your turn to donate next, man." "We'll be naked before we reach Mato Chaco," Jim grumbled playfully. Reaching out Blair lifted the child from Jim's grasp and held him close. "Don't listen to him, Jamie. You've been a good boy all day." Jim stopped dead, fingers frozen in the act of unbuckling his pack. "What did you call him?" "Jamie. I've named him after his Blessed Protector, his and mine." Jim shook his head in bemusement. "Don't you think there are enough Jims in the world?" he asked dryly, digging around in his pack. "But I didn't call him Jim. I called him Jamie. It suits him, don't you think?" "Whatever you say, Chief," Jim said with a laugh, tossing over some packets. "Well, he likes it, don't you, Jamie?" The baby's big solemn eyes clung to Blair's as he spoke. "Oh, this kid's sad face is going to destroy me. I'd give a lot to see him smile. Hmm, Jamie? Smile for Blair. Can you say Blair? Blair?" Jamie's eyes blinked, never wavering from Blair's. "Give him time, Chief. The world's gotta be a pretty weird place anyway when you're just one year old. And now he's lost his mother, the only constant in his life. Let him get over that." "I know." Blair pressed a soft kiss on the smooth brow. "I've spent my whole life with half my heritage missing, but Jamie... We don't even know his real name. That's going to be tough for him." "We'll make sure whoever takes care of him knows to tell him what happened when the time's right. How his mother died protecting him, shielding him with her body." Jim unbuttoned his top pocket and fished around in it. "Whoever takes care of him," Blair whispered. Jim pulled a small silver chain out of his pocket. It had a simple cross attached that caught the last of the evening sun. "This was around his mother's neck." He offered it to Blair who caught hold of it with careful fingers. "There are probably a million crosses just like this is this country," Blair murmured, studying the simple design. "I know. But this one belonged to his mother. That's going to mean something to him one day." "It'll mean the world to him," Blair predicted huskily. He held out his hand and Jim clasped it tightly, the silver chain tangling in their fingers. "Thank you for thinking of it. I guess I kinda lost it yesterday." "Understandable, Chief." Jim tucked the chain away safely. "Your first instinct was to grab hold of the baby and help him. There's nothing wrong with a reaction like that. I've just got more experience in that kind of situation, that's all." "I wish you didn't have those memories, Jim," Blair said quietly. "Everything I've seen and done is part of who I am now, Blair. The man I am today." "The kind of man who would run into the middle of a war to save his lover," Blair said huskily. "To bring home the other half of his soul," Jim corrected him. And much more besides. With a frown Jim recalled the animal spirit's words. Just what had he meant by that? Nothing happens without a reason, Sentinel. Day seven. Afternoon. The suns shadows were long as Jim shimmied up a tall tree and clambered to the end of a branch, peering through the foliage. "Glad it's you in the tree instead of me, for a change," Blair muttered from beneath him. A moment later Jim slithered down. "Well?" "I can see the border and it's pretty heavily patrolled, as I figured." "Damn." Blair sat down on the ground, rhythmically patting the baby's back. Jamie had been quiet all day, content in between naps to gaze up at Blair with his wide brown eyes. "I don't think we'll have a problem getting across, though. Those guys are on the look-out for an army, not individuals." "After dark, then?" Jim unbuckled his pack and sat down with a sigh. "Yeah. We'll slip over when the sun goes down. For now we might as well rest and catch our breath." They gratefully relaxed for a few hours, munching on the last of their food and draining the canteen. Jamie was officially down to his last diaper, or to be more accurate, the last scrap of Jim's soft T-shirt. And Blair was beginning to worry about the baby not getting any milk. Things were getting desperate. When it finally got dark they moved out, and the border crossing was ridiculously easy. They crossed the wide road stealthily, and almost immediately they left the thickness of the jungle behind. Cleared and cultivated fields now lay ahead of them, roads cut between them. They clung to the roads edge, every now and then ducking for cover as Jim's sight and hearing picked up approaching vehicles. The moon was well up by the time they reached the outskirts of town. The first thing Jim did was wrap his rifle in Jamie's sling and stow it under some old garbage bins in an alley. "Let's hope we don't need it again later," he said grimly. He then pulled a pistol from his pack and checked it over thoroughly before tucking it into the back of his pants. Jim had memorized the route to the first contact on the now destroyed list, and he led the way along dark streets and alleys. By the time he called a halt even he could feel a weary drag in his bones. He turned to look at Blair who was white with exhaustion, dark circles under his eyes. The younger man was staring up at the sign over a door across the street. Jim followed the stare and found himself looking at a buzzing Coca Cola sign. "Wow," Blair said numbly. "I think I'm in culture shock." Jim steered him down an alley and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Okay, Chief, now this is the tough part. I want you to stay here with the baby and wait for me." "Oh, no," Blair said fiercely, grabbing Jim's forearm with his free hand and holding tight. "You are not leaving us alone here!" "Blair, listen to me for a minute. Our contact is in that bar." Jim indicated a faded sign of a red stallion rearing up on its hind legs. It was hanging just below the flickering Coke sign across the road. "The bartender, Edmundo," Blair said, recalling the list he had memorized. "Right. Blair, the most important thing now is to keep a low profile. We are out of San Leon but we are still in a potentially hostile country, and we entered it illegally. Now, no-one is looking for us and I want to keep it that way." "But, Jim," Blair began miserably. "You are too conspicuous." Jim pressed a kiss to his lovers forehead. "And you and a baby add up to memorable. No-one will look twice at me. Okay?" Blair hitched the baby higher in his arms and laid his cheek on the downy head, his face a study in misery. It was obvious from the expressions flickering across his face that he was searching for an alternative. It was also obvious when he came to the conclusion that there were none. "Okay." Jim tilted his chin and gazed down into weary blue eyes. "You've done everything right so far, Chief. You'll be fine here." He pressed a gentle kiss to parted lips, letting it deepen until he felt the edge of a month of frustrated passion. Blair returned the kiss wildly, his free arm clutching the nape of Jim's neck. Finally their mouths parted and Blair rested his forehead on Jim's shoulder. "Now he rediscovers his passion for me," he grumbled hoarsely. "Oh, I never lost it," Jim assured him, breathing in the scent of his lover and imprinting it all over again on his heart. "Never never. And when we get the chance, and we don't have a chaperone, I'll prove it." He stepped back, reluctantly releasing his lover. "Take care of him, Jamie," Jim laid a gentle kiss on the baby's brown wavy hair. "I'll be as quick as I can." Jim crossed the road and then turned back, his Sentinel vision easily making Blair out as he slunk back into the shadows against the wall, sliding down until he was crouching in the dark, the baby in his arms. He nodded slightly, knowing Blair could see him in the reflected light from the sign, then he pushed open the door and entered the bar. Immediately the sounds and smells assaulted him, so strongly he almost backed out of the room. He reeled to the side and leaned against the rough wall, trying desperately to get a handle on his runaway senses. Wide open as they had been for all the days in the jungle, Jim hadn't realized how exposed he would be to a more normal level of life. Slowly he bought his senses under control, muffling his responses until he was able to straighten up and open his eyes warily. No-one in the crowded bar was paying him any attention, and from the stench of alcohol and marijuana wafting around the area it was hardly surprising. Men crowded the room, leaning against the walls, sitting around the room, perched on stools along the scarred wooden bar on the opposite side. Each step Jim took closer to the bar and closer to total control of his senses. The bartender was young and fit, a torn muscle shirt hugging his lean curves. His hair was dyed straw blonde, and three earrings and a nose stud completed the picture. With a jolt of comprehension Jim scanned the bar again and had to smother a laugh. This was a gay bar. How apt, Jim thought to himself, suppressing a grin. After a few minutes he caught the waiter's eye and smiled at the man as he hurried over. "I'm looking for a friend of mine," Jim said as loudly as he needed to be heard over the din. "I understand you know him. Richard C?" The young man eyed Jim more closely, taking in his travel weary appearance. "Remind me what he looks like?" "Big black guy," Jim said helpfully, holding his hands a few feet apart. "Shoulders like this." Amusement glittered in the bartender's eyes and he nodded over Jim's shoulder to a waiter who crossed the room and took his place behind the bar. Then he led the way through a door into a back room, piled high with crates and boxes. A back door on the far wall was locked and bolted against the night. "What do you want?" His voice was wary, but not hostile. "Rich thought you might be able to contact him." The young man frowned and then nodded. "There are three of us, and we need a safe place until we can get back to him." Jim listened carefully to the man's heart rate, it was fast but steady. He didn't appear unduly concerned by Jim's presence. "There's a place. Owned by my sister, Rosalita. But you'll need money, I have my own arrangement with Rich, but Rosa doesn't." "Okay," Jim agreed, and the young man grabbed a scrap of paper and scribbled out directions. "Tell her I sent you, and that I will contact her when I hear back from Rich." "Thank you." Jim took the paper and glanced at it, taking all the details in quickly. The man disappeared back out into the bar and Jim breathed out a sigh of relief. Suddenly his senses went on alert as a familiar sound reached him. With a muffled curse he pushed past the hanging curtain dividing the room from the main area. Blair was pushing through the laughing crowd of men, the screaming child pressed close to his chest, his eyes wild with panic. "Blair!" Jim forgot his own decree about keeping a low profile and pushed through the crowd to Blair's side, wrapping an arm around shaking shoulders, scanning the crowd behind him for danger. "Jim, we have to get out of here, now!" Blair demanded urgently, and without further question Jim led the way to the back room. He twisted the locks on the outer door and they tumbled out into a dingy alley. Following his nose Jim led the way, keeping to the shadows until Blair finally put a hand on the small of his back. "Jim, we have to stop," he sobbed with exhaustion, sinking to his knees and laying the baby on the ground. "Help me," he said desperately, pulling the child's little shirt, still stained with his mother's blood, over his head and running urgent fingers over his body. Jim laid his hands over Blair's trembling ones. "Enough, Blair. Tell me what happened." "Two men," Blair managed, breath hitching as if at the onset of an asthma attack. "They were drunk, and Jamie was crying, I couldn't quiet him. Jim, check him, please. One of them pulled him from my arms, dropped him on the ground." Jim responded to the urgent fear in his lover's voice and ran questing fingers over the child's body. "There's no swelling, no heat," he reported. The baby's cries had dissolved into thin wails and Blair scooped him up and cuddled him close. "I'm sorry, Jamie. I promised no-one would hurt you. I'm sorry." Jim cupped his lover's nape and maintained contact with him as Blair's breathing eased and he slowly calmed down. "How did you get away from them?" "One grabbed me," Blair said huskily. "I turned around and kneed his balls up to his breakfast." "Ouch." Jim responded more to the vicious tone in Blair's voice than to the mental image. "And the other one?" "Jamie was screaming, that's why I freaked." Blair laid a kiss on the dozing child's head. "When the second one saw what I did to his friend he dropped Jamie, just dropped him! Can you believe that? Christ, if I live to be a hundred I will never understand people. They were calling me names, I'm pretty sure they were calling me the Spanish equivalent of a faggot, but I don't know why, just because I was holding a baby?" Jim explained about The Stallion being a gay bar and Blair swore. "That explains it." "What did you do to the one who dropped Jamie?" Jim asked curiously, relieved to see some color back in the younger man's cheeks. "The same thing I did to his friend, only harder. I hope I ruined him for life." "I guess fatherhood brings out the killer instinct in you," Jim joked as he helped Blair to his feet. "Fatherhood," Blair mused, opening his light jacket and covering the baby with the lapels. "I don't know about that, but I do know if I'd had a gun I would have killed that guy. Never felt that way before. Oh, Jim," He said in sudden dismay. "I lost our pack." "Don't worry about it, Chief," Jim assured him. "There wasn't that much left anyway, and there's nothing to ID us. We have a little walking to do now, but we have a safe place to stay until we have contact with Rich. Do you want me to take the baby?" "Jim, I'll be honest," Blair laughed shakily. "I don't think anyone could pry this baby out of my arms with a crow bar." "Okay, I won't try then." Jim kissed Blair's cheek softly. "Nearly there, Chief." The next few hours became a nightmare of streets and alleys, dodging people and cars, keeping to the shadows. Jim's incredible sense of direction led them unerringly to the address scrawled on the scrap of paper, but exhaustion had overtaken all of them by the time they found the green door on the leafy street, marked with the number the bartender had indicated. Jim cast a glance over at Blair, leaning wearily against the porch railing, and rapped quietly. For agonizingly long moments nothing happened, and Jim rapped again. Finally a light flared in a room above them and Jim easily made out a light tread on the stairs. "Come back tomorrow," a woman called out in Spanish. "Your brother sent us," Jim called softly. There was silence. "So?" The woman drawled out. Jim exchanged a worried glance with Blair. "He said we could stay here. We have money." There was another silence. "It's late tonight," she said finally. "Come back in the morning." "Please." Blair stepped forward and leaned against the grilled screen of the door. "We really need a place tonight, and the baby needs milk. Please." "Baby?" The inner door opened and a young, curvy woman peered out through the locked metal grill, the dim light of a shaded lamp back lighting her. Blair opened his coat to reveal the child, brown head tucked under the young man's chin. "We're refugees," Jim said quietly. "Please." The woman surveyed the picture the three travelers made with a suspicious expression, but she finally relented and unlocked the door. "That boy sends me nothing but trouble," she grumbled. "Come in, but be quiet. He might have tried to call me, but the phones are out again. There is a double room at the top of the stairs, you can share it." She locked the doors behind them and led the way up the stairs, extinguishing the lamp on the way. Jim's nostrils flared as he followed her, Blair behind him. The place reeked of sex and alcohol and Jim picked up the scent of at least four distinct men in the air. Out of the corner of his eye he studied the young woman, wondering if she was running her own business from home. He could detect no other heartbeats in the small apartment, and concluded that if she was she was finished for the night. The door to their room was open and Jim saw with relief that it was empty, the bed freshly made up. "You said you had money?" Jim unbuttoned his top pocket and pulled out some bills. "It's US cash." The woman took the folded bills and surveyed them. "How long are you staying?" "Until your brother contacts us." Blair edged past him into the room and lay down on the covers, the baby tucked next to him. Within moments he was asleep. "Will that be enough?" Jim was well aware how much what he had given her was worth. He held his breath to see if she would try to cheat them. Rosalita nodded. "It's enough. Food is more expensive at the moment, hell, everything is more expensive. But it will buy you safety and food till my brother contacts you. Rest." She indicated Blair and the child sleeping peacefully. "I will be at the market early, but you might as well sleep as long as you want. I'd rather no-one saw you around the place by daylight anyway." She turned and closed the door behind her. Jim stood listening as she walked the landing to her own room and closed the door, but she did no more than climb into her bed and click off the lamp. Rubbing his face wearily he unlaced his boots and pulled them off, then started on Blair's. Curled up behind his young lover he closed his eyes and waited for sleep. The house was quiet around him, settling into the last hours before dawn. Blair's heartbeat was familiar, Jamie's was becoming almost as well known after these last days. Further away the woman turned over and moaned in her sleep, and over in the next alley a pair of cats yowled at each other then settled down to sing. "Jim?" Blair murmured huskily. "Go back to sleep, love." Blair dropped a kiss on the sleeping baby's head and carefully lifted him until he lay between them. "Can't sleep?" Jim shrugged. "I'm tired enough. I just can't seem to... wind down." "Of course not," Blair shook his head at his own thoughtlessness. "You've been 'up' for what? A week now? More? Of course you can't relax now." "I just need time." "Lay back," Blair said with the authoritative voice Jim rarely argued with. "Close your eyes and go to your center. You know the place, where all your senses converge, where you are in control of all your perceptions." Jim obeyed, relaxing back on the bed with a sigh. "Now come down, Jim, come off full alert. We're safe now, Jim," Blair crooned, his tone of voice pitched to the exact same level he always used when he guided Jim through one of these sensory challenges. "We're as safe as you can make us. We're safe." Jim listened drowsily as Blair repeated his whispering reassurances, not even realizing he was slipping into sleep until he was gone. Day eight. Morning. Jim cracked open one eye, awake long before he was in any way aware. He found himself looking right into the solemn brown eyes of one of his bed companions. A small hand patted the end of his nose. "I'm awake," Jim groaned as quietly as he could, stretching his limbs along the cool smoothness of the bed covers. A sound at the door attracted his attention and he sat up quickly as Rosalita pushed the door open. "Ahh, somebody's awake," she said quietly. Blair stirred and muttered in his sleep. "I was going to start cooking, and I picked up a baby bottle and some fresh milk. Do you want to clean up first? There's a bathroom down the hall, although there's never much hot water." "Bath?" Blair said clearly, and then opened his eyes. "I would kill for a bath." Rosa laughed, taking in the picture Blair made with his tumbled curls and blue bearded face. "Well, if you can get yourselves moving I can have a meal up here in half an hour." With one final raking glance that took in his open shirt and shining blue eyes she left the room, leaving the door ajar. "Who was that?" Blair said shook his head blearily. "I have vague memories of arriving here last night, but for the life of me I don't remember that woman." Jim swung his legs to the floor and ran his hand through his short hair. "You're the one who got us past her, Chief. I think you made another conquest there." "I have all I can handle in this bed," Blair joked, swinging the baby up into his arms. "You are getting heavier, Jamie. And, whoo-boy, you need changing." Jim's nose agreed. "Let's find that bathroom." A quick exploration revealed the small old fashioned bathroom at the end of the short hall, its tiles and fixtures a revolting shade of avocado. But all was forgiven when Blair spotted the huge claw foot bath, also the spectacular ugly green. He immediately dropped the plug into the drain hole and twisted the dull silver taps, sending a gushing stream into the old porcelain tub. "Okay," Blair said eagerly, pulling off the baby's soiled diaper and bundling it up. "We are on a schedule here, so I suggest we all jump in together. Stay there," he ordered Jamie, keeping one hand on the baby's chest while he pulled his own shirt off. Jim was arrested in mid step. "Excuse me?" Blair dropped his shirt carelessly and undid his pants. "Saves water and time, man," he explained. Jamie squirmed and Blair held him still on the counter as he dropped his boxers. Jim looked nervously from the naked baby to the naked man. "Umm," he said. "Come on, Jim," Blair picked up the baby. "You were in the army, for god's sake! You've done the community bathing thing for years, what's the problem?" "Other men," Jim explained. "Not a baby." "Pretend we're in Japan," Blair said with little sympathy. He handed the naked squirming infant over and Jim grasped him gingerly. "Pass him to me once I'm in," he ordered, twisting the taps off and trying the water. "Oh, it's perfect." Jim watched his young lover climb into the huge tub, settling into the lightly steaming water with a blissful expression on his face. He held out his arms and Jim handed him the child. Of course it was silly to be bothered by this, Jim told himself, pulling off his shirt. The kid was a year old, if that, he was hardly likely to care who was in the tub with him. "Jim!" Blair said excitedly, and the big man turned quickly. Blair was lowering the baby into the water, automatically mimicking the surprised 'o' the baby was making as his legs were engulfed by the warm silk. As the water reached his hips Jamie gave a sudden strong kick, his hands coming down to slap the surface of the bath water, a big smile cracking open the solemn expression on his face. "He's smiling, Jim," Blair said triumphantly, resting the baby on his knee in the water. "Look." "I see." Jim crouched by the bath and returned Jamie's gleeful smile. He kicked again, tiny toes pointing as he arched his back. "He loves it." "I never thought I'd see him smile." Blair pressed a kiss to a tiny nose, wrinkled by his smile. "Kids are tough, Blair," Jim said seriously. "In this world they have to be." "Beh! Beh!" Jamie suddenly shouted. "Yeah, Jamie," Blair agreed, huge smile on his face. "Bath. Bath." "I don't think that's bath," Jim stood and stripped off, all discomfort forgotten as he settled down in the opposite end of the tub with a sigh. "I think 'Beh' is 'Blair'." Blair's mouth opened in surprise. "You think?" "Beh! Beh!" Jamie called imperiously, arching his back and kicking water all over a surprised Blair. "Yep." Jim watched as surprise melted into a look of such pure shining joy that he had to look away for a moment. "Blair is here, Jamie," the young man said with sudden decision. "Okay?" He lifted the soaking wet baby up and blew a raspberry to his round middle, causing Jamie to convulse in giggles. "Blair is here." They bathed themselves, each one taking turns holding the squirming child while the other washed. Jim ended up with the most time with the baby as Blair's hair took considerably longer to wash and rinse than his own. He found he didn't really mind though, now that Jamie had rediscovered his feelings he was indulging them all, kicking and laughing and even making shocked faces when he managed to kick water into his own face once or twice. He was especially vocal when Blair climbed out and wrapped a towel around his waist before he reached down and plucked him from the tub. "I think he wants to stay in the bath," Jim said thoughtfully as Jamie arched his back and screamed, face red. "It's just bad temper," Blair judged, swathing him in a towel and rubbing him gently. He laid him on the counter and dried him carefully, before blowing another raspberry on his belly. "Beh, Beh," Jamie said tearfully, clutching at Blair's wet curls. "What a tasty baby," Blair said, gazing into wet brown eyes. "I think I better eat him all up." He blew a line of bubbles from navel to chin, until Jamie's tears turned to reluctant giggles. Jim dried himself and wrapped a towel around his own waist, disinclined to don the dirty clothes again. He watched the two of them with a feeling not unlike dismay curling in his stomach. They had done their best for the child, as any decent human beings would have done in the same circumstances, but looking back Jim realized Blair's reaction had never been quite on track when it came to the infant. From the first moment he had seen him he had been attached to him, heart and mind devoted to the child's care, easily taking on the small burden and never complaining. Of course, a lot of that was just Blair's personality, he saw what had to be done and got on with it. Blair was leaning over the baby now, damp curls framing the picture they made gazing into each others eyes. Jamie explored Blair's face with tiny hands, as if imprinting him in his child's memory, and Blair pressed passing kisses to little pink-nailed finger tips. With a sigh Jim admitted to himself that he was looking at trouble. Rosa came up the stairs bearing a tray of breakfast and a bottle for the baby. She immediately offered them some fresh clothes to replace their discarded travel stained garments. "Lots of stuff left behind over the years," she said easily, laying the tray on the bed. Blair raised an interrogative brow at Jim as he sat on the bed in his towel, perching the towel clad Jamie on his knee. "I think she's running her own business from home," Jim confided quietly as Rosa disappeared down the hall. Blair frowned for a moment and then formed a silent 'o' of understanding, so like little Jamie's expression of surprise that Jim had to smile. Blair gazed at the feast spread out on the tray, an enthusiastic gleam in his eye. "To each his own, man," he said easily, picking up a crispy piece of bacon and popping it into his mouth. "Bliss." With Jamie nursing ardently on the bottle in the crook of Blair's arm the two men set about demolishing the eggs and bacon and sausages, accompanied by golden squares of toast. "Rosa, this is superb," Blair mumbled around some delicious marmalade when the woman appeared in the doorway, a pile of clothing in her arms. "How can we ever thank you?" "Hmm," Rosa's expression was cynical but there was a spark in her eyes Jim recognized from old. "These should fit you, but I don't have anything for the baby except for some old towels I can make into diapers." "That would be great." Blair smiled sweetly and the lady actually blushed. "Any word from your brother?" Jim interjected, accepting the bundle of washed out garments gratefully. "The telephones are still out." Rosa shrugged. "That's not unusual, especially if there's trouble. San Leon..." Rosa trailed away, looking shrewdly from the baby, his brown eyes half closed in pleasure, his dusky skin flushed from his recent bath, still slurping on the bottle, to Blair, his pale skin showing just a little tan after his weeks on the dig. "I don't have to tell you about San Leon." "No," Blair agreed quietly. Rosa left them alone to finish their meal, which they did, clearing their plates down to the last morsel. Jim brushed off his hands and jumped up to try on the garments Rosa had given them. A pair of white pants, faded and threadbare from many washings seemed his best bet, with a white cotton shirt which hung loosely on his strong frame. Blair was left with faded red drawstring pants, washed to a dull pink color. He was also the fortunate recipient of a t-shirt with a faded slogan, 'Viva 89' spelled out in on it wrinkled gold letters. "Oh, it's definitely you," Jim insisted, holding back his grin manfully. "Beats the heck out of my week old smellies," Blair said fervently. He carefully wrapped a dry towel around the dozing baby and laid him in the center of the bed. The now empty bottle was still firmly attached to his mouth, and as Blair eased it away Jamie made small sucking noises, pursing the little bow of his lips automatically. "Shh," Blair soothed, stroking the little round belly until Jamie snuffled into a deeper sleep. "Blair, don't," Jim blurted out before he even realized he was going to speak. Blair cast a sad look over his shoulder, not even pretending to misunderstand. "Too late, Jim," he said ruefully. "It was probably too late the minute I took him into my arms." "But that was the circumstances," Jim said reasonably, as Blair reached out a hand for his. "Anyone would have grown close to a baby after all we've been through." "Are you that close to him?" Blair asked shrewdly. "How will you feel when we have to leave him in some orphanage in Cayenna?" Jim could not deny that he was quite prepared to leave the child in a safe place as soon as they could. He would miss the little fellow of course, but... "I already feel as if I am going to be losing a part of myself," Blair said hoarsely, a sheen of tears in his eyes. "It breaks my heart to think of leaving him in this country, next door to a war zone, for god's sake!" "We could maybe try to find someone to adopt him," Jim suggested evenly. "Foreign adoptions do happen, maybe Rich could help." Blair looked down at the smooth bed cover, idly tracing one finger over a faded flower picked out in blue thread. "That's just what I was thinking, Jim," he said quietly. "No, Blair," Jim tried to protest before Blair could say it aloud, make it real between them, but it was already too late. "I want Jamie, Jim. I want us to adopt him." Blair spoke the words clearly, meeting Jim's eyes squarely as he did. "Blair," Jim said helplessly, at a loss for words. "Well, why not?" Blair rushed into speech as if he had been saving it all up for this moment. "Other gay couples adopt kids, it happens all the time. And I know you wanted kids with Carolyn, you told me you guys were trying even before you got married. That part of the reason you broke up was because it didn't happen fast enough. And I want kids too, I never made any secret of that, did I?" "No, you never did," Jim admitted quietly. "So I always figured adoption was somewhere down the track for us, didn't you?" Jim was stricken with silence. How could he explain how he had felt every time Blair mentioned children? How he had flashed back to Carolyn and the look on her face when she told him time and again that she wasn't pregnant. How he had just figured, somewhere in the back of his mind, that when Blair got tired of their childless state he would simply walk away, as Carolyn had done. "Jim?" Blair scooted around the bed and wrapped an arm around Jim's waist, holding him tightly. "Honey? I know this is right out of left field for you, but-" "No, it isn't," Jim interrupted quietly. "I've known this was coming for a while now. Hell, anyone looking at you with Jamie can see he's... a part of your heart." "A part of my heart," Blair mused. "Yeah. But you are the other half of my soul, remember? This has got to be a decision we make together." "And if I decide it's not what I want?" Jim ventured. Blair's hand at Jim's waist clenched convulsively, then relaxed. "Then we do what you said. We make sure he's safe with people who love him." His voice was even, but the sheen in his eyes betrayed him. "The way you already love him," Jim stated. "And if I make you give him up, how long before you come to hate me, as Carolyn came to hate me when I couldn't give her a baby?" Jim studied the horrified expression on his lover's face for as long as he could bear before he stood up abruptly and turned away. "Jim," Blair's voice was soft and gentle. "I could never hate you. I don't know any words that could convince you of that. I want us to have Jamie to enrich our lives together, man, not drive a wedge between us. I'm going about this all wrong. I'm sorry." His hand was a loving pressure against the small of Jim's back. "No, I'm sorry," Jim said hoarsely, he turned and Blair's arms were waiting for him as they always were as they always would be no matter how he screwed up. "I'm letting old demons come between us, something I swore I would never do." "And this is the man who just got through telling me how all his experiences have made him the man he is today?" Blair teased tenderly, stroking the nape of his lovers neck. "Just my luck to find a lover who throws my words back at me," Jim joked, pulling back and turning away to wipe his eyes. Blair sat back on the bed, and Jim turned and smiled at him, grateful for the sensitivity Blair showed in letting him have a moment to gather his composure. "Enrich our lives, huh?" Blair smiled as Jim took a turn and threw his words back at him. "Look at him, Jim," Blair said quietly. Jamie had turned onto his side and was snuffling against the bedspread, bottom in the air, tiny starfish hands clutching the faded cotton. "He's precious and vulnerable, and we have had his life in our hands for the last few days. I don't know if I'm a great believer in fate, man, but it sure felt like something was leading us to him, you know? Like, for all the lives we couldn't save, for Andy who died instead of me, for Jamie's parents lost on that jungle track, we got this life." Jim laid a hand on Jamie's back, feeling the rush of air through his lungs, the heartbeat pushing the blood around his body, the delicate web of life that surrounded him. "Don't try to decide now," Blair urged, covering Jim's hand with his own, so that the three of them were joined for a few precious moments. "Just think about it, okay?" Jim closed his eyes and nodded. Day eight. Afternoon. Over the next few hours as they dozed the day away, Jim did as Blair had asked, he thought about what it would mean to their lives to adopt a child. A baby. For one thing, they were both working, involved in careers that claimed a large part of their lives. But he and Carolyn had both had careers when they decided to have a family, they had agreed that sacrifices would have to be made on both sides, but that they could do it. Could they make those sacrifices? And, Jim had to ask himself, did he really want to? Honest with himself over this for the first time in a long time, Jim admitted that he hadn't been one hundred percent convinced that he had wanted a child with Carolyn either, he had let himself be carried along by her enthusiasm, sure that many men were uncertain about starting a family until actually faced with a fait accompli. When they hadn't conceived, his guilt at that ambivalence had driven a wedge between them that he could never really explain. Was he willing to let that happen again? "I can hear the wheels in your brain grinding from here," Blair teased. He was sitting cross-legged on the bare wooden floor, Jamie standing in front of him, supported by two hands, the baby demonstrating his method of bending his knees and bobbing up and down. He had already sucked down a second bottle of milk and munched on some crusts of toast left from breakfast. The afternoon was hotter in the city than in the jungle, and even with the windows wide open the room was uncomfortably warm. "You told me to think," Jim reminded him. Blair raised defensive eyebrows. "Don't let me stop you." "Beh!" Jamie demanded Blair's attention and rewarded him with a juicy grin when he got it, revealing rosy gums with one tiny pearly tooth. "Who's a clever boy then?" Blair nuzzled a small nose with his own, cleverly ducking that agile mouth with its one lethal tooth when it tried to playfully taste his nose. Jim had to smile at the picture they made, then his smile froze and he tilted his head in a listening attitude. "What is it?" Blair asked, recognizing the expression of old. "Rosa's coming, and someone's with her." Jim took up position behind the door, gun in hand as Blair scrambled to his feet and stood a safe distance behind him, Jamie in his arms. "I think it's Edmundo, the bartender from last night," Jim murmured. The door opened and Rosa's brother stood in the opening, willingly exposing himself as a target in the doorway. "It's just me," he called out reassuringly. Jim cocked the gun and tucked it out of sight in the back of his waistband, stepping around the door and revealing himself. "You have news for us?" Jim asked baldly. "Better, I have a plane for you," the young man said amiably, stepping into the room. "Hi," Blair sketched a wave with his free hand, keeping his position until Jim told him otherwise. "You got through to Rich?" Jim demanded. "The telephone lines were working again by noon," the young man said laconically, surveying Blair and Jamie. "By one Rich had arranged your trip out. There's a private airfield I'm to take you to, the pilot is flying machine parts to Cayenna, and he is willing to take three extra passengers." "When?" "Now." The young man cocked a brow at the three of them, now standing together. "When you said there were three of you, I wasn't expecting one to be a baby. You caused quite a stir at The Stallion last night." Jim shot him a look. "Serious?" "Nah, the police aren't exactly our friends, no-one was likely to let them know if anything suspicious goes on there. Besides, you'd be surprised what goes on in a place like that." He studied them again through narrowed eyes. "Or maybe you wouldn't." Rosa was waiting for them by the front door, and both Jim and Blair kissed her cheek and shook her hand in thanks. The afternoon shadows were lengthening by the time Edmundo's jeep rattled down the dirt track to the airfield, which resembled nothing so much as a paddock with a couple of shacks on it. A small aircraft was idling by the shed, and without further ado Edmundo hustled them up the stairs into the body of the plane. A huge crate dominated the area, but there were also two seats complete with worn seat belts. "Good luck," Edmundo said cheerfully, climbing out of the plane. Someone climbed into the cockpit and the plane started up, the vibration stirring Jamie awake in Blair's arms. "Do you think the pilot knows we're here?" Blair yelled in Jim's ear as the plane rocked down the pitted field to the runway. At that moment the pilot turned around and sketched a small wave at them from under his peaked hat. The two men returned it. "I guess so," Jim yelled back, his ears already aching from the din. Blair left him alone for a few minutes while he turned down his hearing as much as he could. His hands were full soothing the crying baby anyway. Jamie, as it turned out, did not like flying. The short journey seemed very long indeed as he wailed his misery at his woeful condition, competing with the small planes engine noise for dominance. By the time they landed Jim's hearing was turned down so far he could barely hear his own heartbeat. It was full dark when they landed, and the scorching day had given way to the cool night breezes. They were surrounded by jungle again, it's borders encroaching on the edge of the cultivated field. The two men climbed stiffly out, the first sight greeting them was a dark limousine on the road leading to the field, a big black man in dark wrap-around sunglasses leaning against the bonnet. "I hope that's your friend," Blair said nervously, while Jim shook his head, trying to restore his hearing to normal levels. They made their way over to the limo, and the big man pulled off his glasses and surveyed the picture they made as they approached. "Two and a half fashion victims," he drawled, then reached out and hauled Jim in for a hug. Jim returned it enthusiastically, slapping the broad back joyfully. "How can we ever thank you?" Jim said. "Now, Jim, I'm the one that owes you, remember." "Come on, man," Jim grinned. "All debts are over between us, surely." "Ah ah, " Rich said playfully. "My debt to you is paid when I say it is, and not before." They exchanged a grin and hugged hugely again. Jim caught sight of Blair's face and threw his head back with a laugh. "Don't you get it? It's over, Blair," Jim said in an exhilarated tone. "Over?" Blair said dazedly, arms tightening around the baby in his arms. "You're safe," Rich supplied. "And with quite a story to tell I see." He eyed the tearful child. "Hop in, it's a long trip to the embassy, and we all have a lot of talking to do." The back of the limo was cool and luxurious and with a tap from Rich on the smoky glass separating the passengers from the driver it jolted into motion. "How do we rate the special treatment?" Jim relaxed back into the supple leather seat. "It seemed the best way to get past the press," Rich supplied. "They are prowling the town, and they have the embassy staked out." "The press?" Blair said in a puzzled tone, and then shook his head. "Of course, Dr. Stamp's team. Are they okay?" "Negotiation's are still proceeding," Rich quoted. "Which basically means the rebels are holding onto them like a trump card. By the way, we haven't been introduced yet, I'm Rich Cleveland." Jim shook his head. "Sorry, Rich, my manners always deteriorate when I spend time in war zones." "Excuses, excuses," Rich joked. "This is Blair Sandburg, my partner. In all things," Jim added deliberately, meeting the look Rich shot him evenly. "Pleased to meet you, Blair," Rich smiled. "And this little guy?" He took one of Jamie's waving hands and tickled it. The baby stared at him and then graced him with a gummy smile. "Beh," he informed Rich condescendingly. "This is Jamie," Blair said proudly. Rich shot Jim another glance. "Your namesake?" Jim answered with a smile. "Now to business," Rich said briskly. "This must be a slow news week world wide, because the world press jumped on this story like a duck on a June-bug." Now it was Blair's turn to raise quizzical brows, but he kept silent. "Officially Blair Sandburg, Andrew Bergman and Armando Sanchez are still missing, and so far I haven't told anyone except my immediate superiors different." Blair sobered, nestling Jamie against him and dropping a kiss on his head. "Andy is dead," he said baldly. "Sorry to hear that," Rich returned, dark eyes taking in everything. Blair told his story, eyes misting over as he spoke of his friends senseless death. When he was done Rich held out his hand again, taking Blair's free one and squeezing it. "I'm very sorry," he repeated. Blair nodded, blinking on fresh tears. "This is a potential mess for the State Department, guys," Rich said quietly. "So far the vultures of the press have been focusing on Stamp's team, but the minute word of a survivor gets out they are going to be hounding for the truth. If it comes out that we sent out an armed ex black-op in a rescue bid it could stall our negotiations with the rebels for the release of Stamp and her people. Hell, it could cause an international incident." "You didn't send me," Jim argued. "You think they'll believe that? Besides, I armed you, that's all they need to know before this is an ugly mess smeared all over the front page." "So what do we do?" "Don't worry, for one thing. No-one knows about you yet, Jim, and I plan to keep it that way. For the moment we'll bury you in the embassy, until we can come up with a plausible escape for Blair." "And Andy's parents?" Blair asked huskily. "They are already here in Cayenna, Blair, along with quite a few other family members. I will inform them myself." "Family? Is my mom here?" "No, but I have spoken to her on the phone myself. I'm not sure how she got my number," Rich added in a puzzled tone. "Apparently she contacted your captain in Cascade when she couldn't reach you, Jim. She seemed quite reassured by your presence here, and promised to keep her silence on the subject." Jamie chose that moment to let everyone know he was not receiving enough attention, arching in Blair's arms and starting to wail. "He's hungry," Blair cuddled the baby closely. "We all are." "That's another story I need to hear," Rich nodded in the baby's direction. Jim filled him in over Jamie's wails, editing his special senses out of the tale. "That's one lucky baby," Rich whistled. "May I?" he asked Blair, reaching over and lifting the child from Blair's grasp. Surprised at his sudden change in venue Jamie stopped his wailing and surveyed this new person with interest. The two studied each other for long moments, then Rich produced a jangling bunch of keys from his pocket, dangling them in front of a suddenly interested Jamie. He reached out for the shiny toy, grasping the small black rubber torch attached as a key ring and immediately stuffing it into his mouth, gumming it happily. "As it happens the Embassy is unofficially associated with a children's home in town," Rich informed them. "It's run by the Christian Mission, and they do good work. Some of us go down and help out when we can, and it's amazing how a few Yankee dollars now and then can ease their lives." Jim detected the speeding up of Blair's heart when Rich mentioned the children's home. He shot his young lover a look, feeling the blue eyes fixed on him. "We've even been involved in the legalities of a few foreign adoptions," Rich continued evenly, stirring the dangling keys with the tip of his finger, smiling as Jamie twisted the bunch around in his fist, searching for the source of this interesting new noise. Rich looked up into Blair's startled eyes, now fixed firmly on him. "How did you know?" Blair blurted out. "I didn't," Rich grinned smugly. "I do now. Are you guys serious about this?" Blair swallowed and looked to Jim, Rich also turned to his friend. Feeling a bit like a suspect under interrogation Jim turned and looked at Blair, letting long moments pass as he gazed into anxious blue eyes. "We're sure," he said finally. Blair's hand reached out and grabbed his, squeezing convulsively. Of course, Jim knew, and he knew Blair knew, that he was far from sure. But the one thing he was sure of was that he would never cause his lover pain, and he could think of no surer way of doing that right now than denying that longing in his eyes. "Right then," Rich said briskly. "I'll do what I can to get the ball rolling. Now, we are nearly at the Embassy, don't worry, the glass is one way, they can't see you." The limo cruised up to the front gate and was quickly passed by the security, flashbulbs popped and Blair automatically turned Jamie's head into his neck. The car glided to a halt by a side door and the four passengers got out. "I'm going to have to ask you to stay in your suite until we get some things sorted," Rich said apologetically, leading the way up a back staircase and down an ornately decorated hall. "As you can imagine we have a great many details to iron out, not least of which involves this little fellow." He tousled Jamie's brown locks. Jim and Blair once again found themselves ensconced in a room with their tiny charge. Rich closed the door behind himself on the way out after promising to have food and a baby bottle delivered as soon as possible. "Hmm," Blair said, surveying the rooms. "Nicer than the last one." "And air-conditioned," Jim added helpfully. "So," Blair deposited Jamie on the thick carpet. "We're safe?" Jim smiled at his young lover, opening his arms wide and gathering him close for a world class hug. "We're safe, and together," Jim murmured into Blair's ear. "That's all that matters." Jamie patted the soft carpet a few times, and then rolled efficiently onto one side and onto his knees. He crawled off at a fast pace. "Wow, look at that," Blair marveled. "I never even realized he hasn't been free to crawl around since we found him. Bet he's glad to stretch his legs." "He's fast," Jim said in admiration. "Go, Jamie. Ramming speed." Jamie had reached a low chair and proceeded to minutely examine the gold tassels hanging off it. Blair reached up and laid a kiss on Jim's cheek. "Thank you, Jim. For Jamie. I know I'm rushing you into this." "Well, yeah, kinda. But I know it's not exactly your fault. This is an occasion that calls for some quick decisions. I understand that." "But you still have concerns about whether it's the right thing to do." "Well, yeah. Don't you?" Blair averted his eyes for a moment, then his sober expression dissolved into a rueful grin. "Only about a million, man." Jim hugged him close again. "We've got a lot to talk about," he said cheerfully. "But you know what? We're safe and we're together and I can already smell something delicious being carried down the hall. What else matters beside that?" Blair's smile got wider and wider until he began to laugh. He squeezed Jim tightly. From his position on the floor Jamie must have noticed their antics because he dropped the soggy tassel he was gumming and began calling imperiously. "Beh, Beh." But it was Jim who swooped down on the demanding baby, hoisting him high and then tucking him against his chest so that they were eye to eye. "You're going to have to get over this jealousy, Jamie my boy. He belongs to both of us." Jamie regarded him with a lowering brow before deliberately poking one finger at a blue eye. Blair was laughing his ass off when he opened the door for the food. Jamie, who was getting quite proficient at this bottle business, managed to hold onto his meal with both hands while he enthusiastically sucked it down. This allowed Jim and Blair two free hands to eat the quick meal of soup and salad the embassy kitchen had prepared for them. After supper they bathed in the ensuite, this time Jamie had the first bath all to himself while Blair struggled to wash him without ending up soaked. For a while Jim just sat on the closed toilet seat and enjoyed the show, but once the baby was bathed and settled down to play with the collection of guest sponges shaped like fruit, he got serious. "So tell me what you have figured out?" he asked mildly. "How two men with demanding careers are going to raise a child?" Blair wiped a particularly accurate splash out of one eye, raising a brow. "You're so sure I have something worked out?" "Oh, yeah. My boyfriend the scientist," Jim joked, ruffling damp curls. "I know if you'd had a note pad handy you'd already have a complete list of options for us." Sheepishly Blair wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, yeah. Well, as it happens I did come up with a few things. Turns out one of the people running the child-minding center at the university is a friend of mine. I'm sure I can get Jamie in." Jim nodded. "That could work. We can drop him off every morning regardless of your schedule. What about at night? If we get called out on a case?" Blair snaffled a sopping washer Jamie was waving around and replaced it with a considerably drier sponge. He sighed. "Yeah, well, that's where the sacrifice part comes in. I might not always be able to drop everything and head off with you." They both absorbed this in silence while Jamie babbled nonsense talk at his banana shaped sponge. "I guess that's a sacrifice we both make," Jim said finally. "But it's not like it happens too often." "We can't kid ourselves, Jim. This is going to have a huge impact on our lives." "It already has, Chief. Because right now all I want to do is throw you over my shoulder and carry you to that big fancy bed. But I guess that's not going to happen with our little chaperone, is it." Blair's cheeks flushed and Jim clearly made out the sound of his increased heart rate. "Um, I guess not," he said breathlessly. Jim held his eyes. "It's been a long month, hasn't it, Chief?" "Uh huh." Their eyes held as Jim leaned over and touched his lips gently to his lover's, feeling them soften and part just a little. A soft smacking sound caught their attention and they turned as one. Jamie was gazing at them, smacking his lips together happily. "I think someone wants some kisses," Blair said huskily, a bright spot of color on each cheek. He grabbed a thick towel from the rack and lifted the baby out of the water, engulfing him in the thick folds. "I know someone that does," Jim sighed, but he couldn't hold his minor irritation. The sight of Blair peppering the flushed giggling baby with smooching kisses washed it away. Blair was safe. They had all the time in the world. Day eight. Midnight. Jim leapt up from his armchair and opened the door to their suite just as Rich was about to knock. "Shh," he whispered, gesturing to the sleeping baby and an exhausted Blair stretched out in an armchair. "Jamie was overtired," Jim explained quietly, gesturing to one of the armchairs. "Are you sure you guys know what you're getting into?" Rich asked, half seriously. "We're finding out," Blair smiled wearily. "Well, I have a few things sorted. I got definite word, all being well the hostage hand-over will take place tomorrow morning. This news has not yet been made public." "Thank god," Blair said fervently. "What about Blair? When will you release the news about his survival? And Andy's fate?" Rich took a deep breath. "The plan is to announce it at the press conference the hostages will be holding within hours of their release. By then you two will be in the air, and incommunicado." Jim and Blair stared at him. "In the air?" "It will dilute some of the impact of the news. The press will have plenty of hostages to distract them. We're hoping that by the time they focus on you the impact of the whole thing will have died." "But..." Blair stood up and began to pace. "How can we leave? We have too much to sort out." "I'm sorry, Blair," Rich said firmly. "There is too much at stake here, not the least being my neck which I put at risk when I helped Jim. It only takes one intrepid reporter to start digging and Jim's presence here will come out. There are too many questions that I can't afford to answer, too many loose ends left dangling." "They'll still be dangling when we're back in Cascade," Blair pointed out, sitting back down. "But you will be back in Cascade," Rich said laconically. "And it will be your problem, not mine. A bunch of long distance speculation." "But what about Jamie?" Blair finally asked. "I have some news on that front too," Rich continued. "At this stage I'm assuming you want this done as quickly as possible, right?" "But legal," Blair said swiftly. "We don't want any problems with the law later." "Blair," Rich said in tones of mock offense. "As if I would bend the law. Really." Jim hid a smile as Blair narrowed his eyes and shot them both suspicious glares. "No, seriously, Blair. We are the US law in this part of the world, and we know just how to make it work. The Christian Mission has a private adoption intermediary who is acceptable by most states of the Union, including Washington. He assures me that your best bet is a 'simple' adoption." "'Simple' adoption?" "Basically an adoption that doesn't terminate the pre-existing parent child relationship. When you're back in Washington and you eventually go through the formality of a legal adoption there, it's simply a matter of converting to a full adoption." "But Jamie is an orphan," Blair protested. "He has no legal parents." "But is he an orphan?" Rich asked shrewdly. "You don't even know for sure the people you found him with were his family. Maybe his family is out there somewhere, looking for him?" Stricken, Blair subsided back into his seat. "He had no ID, we don't even know where in San Leon he's from," Jim interjected quietly. "Even if this war ended tomorrow, what would be our chances of ever locating his family, even supposing they exist?" "That's why a 'simple' adoption is best. If at any stage someone comes forward claiming him you've done the right thing. Removed him from danger and into a loving family environment, everything the Intercountry Adoption Laws were created for." Blair glanced over at the sleeping child, his hands clenching on the arms of his chair. Instinctively Jim reached over and laid a tender hand over one of the fists. Fearful blue eyes met a loving blue gaze and slowly calmed. Jim recalled Blair's concern that Jamie would never know his heritage and knew Blair was thinking of it too. The look they exchanged shared the acceptance that if it happened, if Jamie had family that sought him, that the Christian Mission would do the right thing. And so would they. "Do you still want to go through with this?" Rich asked, taking in every part of the exchange. Eyes still locked, Jim nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Yes," Blair said clearly. "Then now comes the hard part. Sister Fidelma from the Mission is coming by tomorrow to take custody of Jamie." "Tomorrow," Blair repeated in a ghostly tone. "You'll be gone barely an hour later," Rich said comfortingly. "I gave you as long with him as I could. I will sort out everything as quickly as I can, and let you know when you can come back to get him." Blair stood up again and moved away from the lamplight, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed next to the sleeping infant. Jim watched him with worried eyes, and Rich stood up, exchanging a glance with his friend. "I'll make sure your breakfast is sent up, with some new clothes," he said quietly. "Jim?" Jim patted his friends shoulder. "We really do appreciate everything you've done, Rich. You have no idea. I know Blair will tell you himself..." "Jim, it's okay." Rich headed quietly for the door. "I completely understand. He really loves that kid, doesn't he." "Even I'm only just realizing how much," Jim said thoughtfully. Waiting until he heard his friend's footstep disappear down the hall, Jim went and sat opposite Blair. "Blair?" The young man looked up from his absorption in the sleeping infant. "Jim?" He looked around in surprise. "Has Rich gone?" "Yeah." Blair shook his head. "I meant to thank him for all he's done." "I did it for both of us. You okay, Chief?" "Jim? Do you think he'll forget me? Like he did..." "His mother? Blair, you've helped him get over his mother's loss, but no way has he forgotten her. I guarantee if she walked back in that door now his face would light up." A tear streaked down Blair's cheek and he swiped it away. "But what if he has family like Rich says? What if we have to give him up all over again?" Jim reached out for Blair's hand and held it tight, so that they were linked over the sleeping child. "Blair, none of us can know how much time we have together. We might have only these few days with Jamie, or we might be lucky enough to have him for the rest of his life and watch him grow into a wonderful man. Either way we know we've done what's right for him. We've given him love and kept him safe." Blair nodded sadly. "I know. Jim. I love you." Day nine. Morning. Breakfast awoke them early, and after Jamie decided he liked the look of the scrambled eggs and scoffed down a tummy full, Blair washed him and combed his hair with a soft guest brush. He spent their last hour together playing with the squirming child. Jamie soaked up the attention, listening wide eyed to the nursery songs Blair dredged up from his memory. He adored 'Round and round the garden like a teddy bear,' and Blair was forced into performing it five times before he introduced him to 'This little piggy.' Finally Jim heard footsteps in the corridor and nodded a warning at Blair. Sister Fidelma was tall and thin, and her smile when she saw Jamie was warm. Rich introduced them. Blair cupped Jamie's head in one hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his brow. "We'll see you soon, Jamie," he promised. Jim leaned over and kissed the crown of his head, before gently removing him from Blair's arms and handing him to Sister Fidelma. She picked up her rosary and dangled the wooden cross in front of him, instantly captivating him. "We'll take good care of Jamie," she promised. Rich stepped back from the door and let her proceed him into the hallway. "A car will come for you in thirty minutes," he said to Jim quietly. "If I don't see you again, good luck. You know I will be taking care of everything here." Jim shook his friend's hand. "I will never forget what you've done for us," he said sincerely. Rich looked over at Blair's still form, his jaw set tight, both arms wrapped around himself. "I..." He shook his head and followed the nun down the hall. Jim spent the next thirty minutes just holding Blair in silence, sensing that his heart was too heavy to talk about it all now. Curled up in the big arm chair they held each other and waited for their summons to leave. A stranger eventually came to the door with a bundle of new clothes and the two men changed quickly. He then led them back out the side door and into a waiting car. No limo this time, although the dark sedan had tinted windows that were probably also bullet proof. No reporters waited at the gate, and Jim recalled with a start that at this moment the hostages were probably being released. He was more concerned with his silent lover. He squeezed Blair's hand, and gratefully felt the pressure returned. "I'm okay, Jim," he assured his considerate lover. "Just sad. He was in my arms for such a short time, but they still feel very empty. I just feel so... lost." "We will get him back," Jim vowed. "No matter how long it takes." The embassy employee badged them into the airport and they were given a private waiting room to sit in while Blair's temporary papers were processed, along with Jim's passport. With a start of surprise Jim realized it was the same room he had sat in with Rich, how many days ago? A week? How on earth could so much change in their lives so quickly? They had found one another, but they had found so much more, just as his animal spirit had foretold. A click at the door caught his attention and he looked up in surprise, unused to being taken unawares. He had been so wrapped up in Blair's brave misery he hadn't heard a thing. Rich stood framed in the doorway, a huge smile on his face and a blue wrapped bundle in his arms. The bundle stirred and a head appeared. "Beh! Beh!" it shouted imperiously and Blair jerked around as if shot. "Jamie?" Blair jumped up and Rich gently transferred his charge to Blair's arms. "Jamie, Jamie," he muttered into the soft skin of the baby's neck. "Rich?" Jim shook his head in bewilderment. "I am so sorry I had to put you through that good-bye at the embassy," Rich unhooked a carry bag from his shoulder and dumped it on the table. "But I was awaiting a few vital signatures and I didn't want to get your hopes up." "Our hopes?" Blair asked tearfully. Rich produced a folder from his coat pocket. "These are for you," he said with a grin, handing them to Jim. 'All signed sealed and delivered. Legal and binding, although you have a ton of stuff you have to sort out back in Washington." Jim stared at the thick bundle in his hand. "You did this is ten hours?" he asked incredulously. Disbelievingly. "Never underestimate the power of a few favors owed," Rich said smugly. "My god, Rich!" Jim curled his fingers tightly around the all important documents. "How can we ever thank you?" Rich grinned hugely. "I have been waiting to say this for a long time." He held up a single finger. "Now... we are even." With a last grin and a wink he was gone. "Jim," Blair was weeping openly, and Jamie decided he would join him, crying miserably on his shoulder. Now it was Jim's turn to grin hugely, as he wrapped both arms around his family and gathered them close to his heart. The End. |
