Title: Here Comes Mr. Sandburg
Author/pseudonym: Tinnean
Fandom: The Sentinel/Here Comes Mr.
Pairing: Blair Sandburg/Jim Ellison
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They still belong to Petfly, or maybe
SciFi owns them, or maybe… Never mind. Here Comes Mr. Jordan belongs to Columbia/Tristar Studios. L
Status: new/complete
Date: 9/03
Series/Sequel: no
Summary: During a mission that was slated to fail,
Special Ops Jim Ellison is pulled from his body prematurely. Before he can be
returned to it by the Heavenly Director of Souls, Blair Sandburg, it has been
cremated.
Warnings: spoilers for the movie, but rather minor
ones, and for The Sentinel pilot, Switchman.
Notes: This first appeared in The Many, Many More Movies of the Sentinel. Mr. Softee was a brand of ice cream; the trucks used to drive through the neighborhoods on summer evenings. Thanks to PattRose1 and the ladies of MME for their help in this one. It was greatly appreciated! Thanks also to Gail, for her invaluable advice, as well as the fantastic beta.
Here Comes Mr. Sandburg
Part 1/1
I had always loved my job, and if I said so myself, I was da… darn
good at it.
My Boss thought so too. That's why I had been promoted after only a
couple of millennia, the youngest angel to become Director of Souls in the
history of … well, of history.
Once a soul had crossed over into the light, it was my job to check
their records, and then send them on, to Heaven, to Purgatory, to Hell.
At first they would make the journey to their final destination on foot.
As time passed, it was on horseback, carriage, and then things moved more
quickly. Lighter-than-air ships, airplanes, and most recently, jets. I knew one
day soon they would be arriving in heaven via spaceship.
Progress was a truly amazing thing.
Collecting souls was a task delegated to the older angels. They had
learned patience, and as difficult as it could be to watch one of His beloved
children struggling with the massive fear of the unknown that dying represented,
they waited until the body had ceased functioning, and the soul was once more
free.
We had learned, through sad experience, that the younger angels tried to
spare the mortal psyche, and too often retrieved the soul before its time. That
was why there had been that massive spate of 'out-of-body experiences'. The
cherubim would take a soul too soon. And I was the one who would have to send
them back.
****
"Mr. Sandburg."
Everyone expected The Supreme Being to have this deep, resonating voice,
like James Earl Jones, maybe, but actually, it was a light tenor. That didn't
stop it from grabbing your attention when it was addressed to you.
"Sir?" I snapped to attention, when all I wanted was to crawl
into bed and sleep for a couple of centuries.
"We have a problem, I am afraid." At His side was St. Peter,
who stood there with his hands fisted on his hips.
I cast my mind over the latest contretemps with the opposing team. We
had won that one. That made us 6 and 0 for this season, and St. Michael, the
"No, nothing like that." Sometimes it helped having a Boss who
could read your mind.
Other times it was just a holy pain in the keister.
"I don't understand then, Sir."
"It's you, Blair," St. Peter interjected. "You are one of
His best, and we do not want to see you burn yourself out."
"I'm fine, Sir," I hastened to assure the Lord. "I love
my job."
"I am aware of that. However, when was the last time you took some
time off?"
"Why it was just…" I cast my mind back over time.
"Er…"
"Exactly."
"You never pay a visit to any of the alternative Heavens." St.
Peter again. "You need to get naked and sweaty. I am sure a Valkyrie or an
Odalisque would put the spring back in your step immediately, if not
sooner."
I could feel heat in my cheeks. The Valkyrie and Odalisques, while all
lovely ladies, I was sure, were not exactly who I would want to get… er…
naked and sweaty with. This was one of those times when I wished He could not
see into my mind. I risked a peek into His face, but all I could see was love
and acceptance.
"There are alternatives to those Heavens also, Mr. Sandburg. Find
one to your liking, and spend an eon or two there."
One did not say 'no' to the Lord God. However, "Will You send for
me if I'm needed, Sir?"
"Of course." He rested His hand on my hair. "And Blair,
lighten up. Have some fun."
****
My first vacation in forever had been… interesting… but a waste of
time as far as I was concerned. None of the beings had attracted me enough to
want to get naked, much less sweaty, and so I had spent most of the time
fretting about my job.
I had cut the trip short and was in my quarters unpacking when I
received an urgent message that my presence was required at the Way Station.
Not even taking the time to change into my formal robes, I flashed
there, to be greeted by a concerned Angel in Charge.
"Mr. Sandburg! Oh, thank…!" He hastily cleared his throat.
"Sir, I'm so sorry, I don't know what's wrong!"
A mortal was curled up in the corner, his hands over his ears,
shuddering in distress.
I waved the Angel back to his duties.
Normally, I would have gone right to the angel who had escorted this
soul to demand an explanation, but there was something about the mortal. I
crossed the cloud cover and crouched beside him and raised his chin so his eyes
met mine.
His ice-blue eyes were clouded with pain.
"It's all right…" I searched his mind for his name, wincing
as I experienced the level of noise and chaos that was bombarding his senses.
"… Jim. Dial it down." With mental pictures, I demonstrated what I
wanted him to do, and gradually his color became more normal, and he looked
relieved.
"Thanks, Chief. I don't know why the sound was getting to me."
Neither did I, and I frowned, becoming concerned.
One of the side effects of a soul taken too soon was that with the
physical body still functioning, the soul didn't realize its problems should be
left behind. Whatever was bothering Jim seemed too much like that.
If this wasn't explained to my satisfaction, someone was going to find
my size 8 ½ shoe up his butt. Or her butt. I was an equal opportunity
ass-kicker. I had implemented programs that would make the initial arrival as
untraumatic as possible, and this was unacceptable.
I obfuscated. "Well, the transition can be a little
unexpected." I was getting lost in those eyes, and I forced myself to look
away. "If you're better now, I'm afraid I'll have to leave you."
He looked disappointed, then nodded and gave a rueful smile. "I'll
be fine."
Usually, I didn't touch mortals, but there was something about this
one… I stroked his hair. It was short, a brush cut that felt … I was at a
loss. I'd never felt anything like it before, and I found myself lingering.
"I'm Blair."
Jim rose to his feet. "Hi, Blair." He was taller than I
expected, and I had to gaze up at him. "Um… transition? What transition
would that be?"
My brows snapped together. "Didn’t your escort explain all this
to you?
"Escort? Oh, you mean that idiot dressed like the ice-cream man
over there?" He pointed to an angel I was unfamiliar with. The angel was
wearing blindingly white formal wear including a top hat, which he carried under
his arm.
He must have been very new. It was usually the rookies who went
overboard making a fashion statement.
The formal robes we all wore were much more sedate, and the casual suit
I had on now appeared to be an ordinary white. That is, until I stood in the
sun, when the rainbow of colors woven into the material became evident. I made
my own fashion statement.
As soon as he saw me look over at him, the angel bustled to where we
stood. "Jessups, sir. I've just been assigned your section. And may I say
how very proud I am to be working under you!"
"Did you explain to Mr…. er…"
"Ellison, Chief."
"Thank you." My underlings complained that I tended to be too
formal, but it seemed to ease the anxiety of the new arrivals. I turned my head
to smile at him, and my breath snagged in my throat when I saw how he was
regarding me. No one ever looked at me as if they wanted to cover me with
raspberry sauce and whipped cream and eat me, spoon optional.
I coughed lightly, swallowed, and forced a smile. "Uh, yes, thank
you. Jessups, did you explain to Mr. Ellison why he's here?"
Jessups glared at Jim… Mr. Ellison, then faced me, his expression
earnest. "I tried, sir, truly I did. But every time I told him he was
deceased, he would say a bad word and demand to be returned to … er…"
"
"How many times must I tell you my name is 'Jessups'?
Mortals!" he huffed.
"Yeah, well, if you'd kept your hands off me, I could have kept
that chopper from crashing."
I was suddenly getting that feeling that usually signified Lucifer was
about to dance the Macarena, naked, before a group of silver-haired church
ladies.
"That 'helicopter' was going to crash, and you were going to wind
up burned to Special Ops cinders!"
"Oh, yeah? Well…"
"Excuse me." I touched Jim Ellison's shoulder. I really didn't
have to, but… "Jessups, did you take this man before he had passed?"
"Mr. Sandburg, there was no way he could have survived. He wasn't
even the pilot! That copter was going to crash!" He was
becoming agitated.
"Listen, you…" Jim grabbed him by the collar and dragged him
up on his toes. "I'm a Special Ops, as you were so kind as to mention. I'm
trained to deal with situations like that!"
"Put him down please, Mr. Ellison."
He looked over at me and raised his eyebrow. "Call me 'Jim'."
I smiled at him. "Jim?"
He returned the smile and dropped the angel. Jessups fussed with his
collar, smoothing out the wrinkles and muttering under his breath.
"Thank you. Now, all this can be cleared up quite easily." I
walked to the nearest jet where boarding was taking place. "Frank!" I
slapped the skin of the jet, and the pilot poked his head out the window and
grinned down at me.
"Hey! Blair! We missed you last weekend! It was a good game! We on
for next week?"
Behind me I felt Jim stiffen, and I glanced back at him. He was scowling
up at the pilot, which was rather odd.
"Uh… sure." I was startled when Jim turned his scowl on me.
I raised an eyebrow, even more startled when his hand began kneading my
shoulder. The feeling was interesting. "Uh… do me a favor, Frank, and
check the stats for James Ellison?"
"Sure thing, Short-stuff." He put in a call to Records. Jim
was still on Earth time, so he didn't realize how slow the time really passed.
Finally, Frank received a response and called down, "James Ellison, middle
name Joseph?"
Jim nodded and dropped his hand, tension starting to radiate from him. I
missed his touch. "That's me."
Frank ran interested eyes over the man at my side, and I began to
bristle. "What did you learn?"
"James Ellison, middle name Joseph, son of William and Mary
Margaret, is scheduled to arrive here
"There, you see, Mr. Softee! Asshole!" Jim glowered at
Jessups, who backed up a few steps.
"Well, really!" the angel humphed. "There's no need to be
rude."
Unable to resist, I rubbed Jim's shoulder comfortingly. "I'll see
that you're returned to the time and place of your retrieval."
"Thanks." He leaned into my touch, then straightened with
obvious reluctance and shook himself. "Uh… I guess I'll see you in fifty
years, Chief."
"Mr. Sandburg!" Jessups corrected sharply. "These
mortals! No sense of decorum whatsoever! If you'll come this way, please?"
I stood watching them leave, wondering why I felt bereft. I touched the
spot on my shoulder where his hand had been.
In this place time passed at its own rate of speed. There was no rush,
for we had all the time in the universe. I would see James Ellison again.
I just didn't realize how very soon.
****
I needed something to distract myself from thoughts of the mortal, Jim
Ellison, so when Michael mentioned he needed some help in getting his newest
recruits online, I volunteered.
"All right. No wings, you lot. Practice can be grueling, and if you
break a wing, you're going to be benched for the season. He'll forgive
you. I won't. And you definitely don't want to see me unhappy!
Okay, break!"
The archangels were standing around the field, regarding the action
intently. Gabriel had a stopwatch in his hand. Raphael was scribbling
alternative moves on a chalk board that hovered at a convenient height for him.
And Michael-- "C'mon,
Sandburg, shag it!" he shouted.
I raced down the field, a horde of seraphim thundering, as much as
angels could be said to thunder, after me.
And then something on the sidelines caught my attention. I skidded to a
halt and checked my watch. It was still 1988. Jim Ellison should not have
returned so soon.
With a howl of 'Dog pile on the angel!', I was buried under a pile of
weightless bodies.
"Chief!" There were squeaks of surprise as angels were flung
every which way, and abruptly, I found myself free of them. "Chief! Are you
okay?" Jim Ellison was on his knees beside me, running his hands over my
body.
Oh! I liked that. I arched under his hands, almost purring in pleasure
until I gagged and choked and spit out a feather that had gotten in my mouth.
"Never mind me. What are you doing here?" His expression became
stubborn. I held my hand up, and Jim pulled me to my feet. I liked that too.
"Oh, all right, I'm fine. Now, what are you doing here?"
"Bright boy over here," he jerked a thumb, indicating Jessups,
"screwed things up royally."
"I did not screw up," the angel sniffed. He was looking a bit
frazzled, his white tails rumpled.
"Michael?"
The archangel nodded to indicate he was aware this was work-related and
studied the players who were seated on the sidelines. "Paul! You're going
in for Sandburg!"
The apostle bounced to his feet and hurried onto the field.
"Nice moves." Michael joined us. I didn't care for the way he
was looking Jim over. I stepped closer to the mortal, angling my body so that it
stood between the archangel and him. Michael smiled at my action, and I frowned.
I failed to see the humor. "Whose division do you belong to? I want to see
about having you transferred to mine."
"Michael!" Raphael was almost shimmering with excitement.
"Look at this! If we switch to this play, we are so going to kick old
Smokey's ass!"
"That's what I like to hear." He smiled at Jim. "Get in
touch with me," and he trotted to the other archangel's side, all business.
He did not take Lucifer lightly.
"All right, now suppose one of you tell me what happened?"
Jim folded his arms across his chest and stared at Jessups stonily.
"It was not my fault!" His voice was almost shrill. My
foot began to beat out an impatient tattoo. "Well, it wasn't," he said
sullenly. "And how come you're siding with him? He's just a mortal."
"Jessups, need I remind you that…" I snapped my mouth shut
before I gave him a dressing down in front of the very mortal he was sneering
at. I pushed my hair behind my ears. "Speak."
"My body is gone!" Jim burst out.
"Say again?"
"Cremated. The Chopecs don't believe in consigning their dead to
the soil."
"They leave them exposed to the elements on a raised
platform." I was familiar with various burial rites and customs.
"Yeah, well, my men and I aren't Chopec. We were all
cremated!" He slumped in defeat, and I raised my hand to stroke his back
comfortingly, but let it drop down to my side. What was it about the man that
made me want to touch him? "What do we do, Chief?"
"I'll find another body for you, Jim."
"I don't want another body, I want my body!" He
scrubbed his face. "Sorry, that sounds really childish. It's just… I had
that body thirty years, Chief. I was kind of used to it."
This time I permitted myself to pat his back. "You can have your
choice of any body on the planet. I promise I won't stop looking until we find
one you're happy with. Let's check out the mug shots." I began to lead him
off the field.
"Do you smell chocolate, Chief?"
I nearly stumbled. That was the scent I gave off when I was aroused. How
could he… I hunched a shoulder and gave him a weak smile.
"Mr. Sandburg, what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"
"Jessups, I believe you're a collector of souls? Go find some souls
to collect."
****
"Take my seat, please." I pulled out the big book of Souls
Who Will Cross Over Today and placed it on my desk. Jim leaned forward and
began thumbing through it. "I'm a little sweaty from practice. If you'll
excuse me, I'll just get cleaned up."
"No, it's fine, Chief. You don't know what whiff is until you've
bivouacked with a squad of Rangers for two weeks."
"In that case…" I leaned over his shoulder. I would have
sworn I could feel the air between us move with each of his inhalations, and my
body hardened. I cleared my throat and began pointing out various body types and
occupations I thought might interest him.
He turned them all down.
"All right. Not a problem, Jim." I was half sprawled across my
desk, and I ran a hand through my hair, trying to tidy it. "I'll just get
the book of Souls Who Will Cross Over Tomorrow…"
He leaned forward, and I found his lips a breath away from mine. I
couldn't drag my eyes away from his mouth.
"I'm sorry, Chief. You can show me souls who'll cross over from now
till Judgment Day, and it wouldn't matter. All I can think about is…"
His hand curled around my neck and gently brought our mouths together.
My lips parted, and I swallowed his sigh. Or maybe he swallowed mine.
The next thing I knew, I was straddling his lap.
Jim inhaled sharply. "Chocolate!"
****
I'd never felt so relaxed. Jim was sprawled beneath me on that chair,
his hands under my shredded shirt. One hand stroked over my shoulder blades,
wandered down over my vertebrae, while the palm of his other hand cupped my
buttock, the fingers caressing the slick spot where we had been joined, pressing
a tip in to penetrate me once more. I shivered and wriggled against him, my
essence cooling between us.
"Why didn't you tell me you'd never done this before?"
"You could tell? I was that bad?"
"You were that tight, Chief!" He turned my face toward his and took my
lips in tiny, nipping kisses. "If you were any better, you'd have killed
me!"
I sighed into his mouth, then trailed my lips over his face. The stubble
on his cheek and neck made my lips tingle. I liked it.
"We still need to find you a new body," I whispered as I
worked my way down to his neck.
"No rush, Chief. I have no problem with staying like this
for a couple of centuries."
There was a tap on my door. "Mr. Sandburg?"
"Go away."
"Mr. Sandburg, please, this is important."
I'd been enjoying this interlude. "Jessups…"
"I'm sorry, sir."
"Very well. What is it?"
"Regarding Captain Ellison? There… er… there appears to be a
survivor."
"What?" Jim sat up so abruptly that it was only his grip on my
hips that kept me from spilling onto the floor.
The door opened cautiously, and Jessups poked his head in. He blushed
when he saw my state of disarray and cleared his throat. "Only seven of the
bodies in Captain Ellison's squad were cremated."
"Someone's survived? Why didn't you tell me sooner?" For a
second I thought he was going to lunge at the young angel, even if it meant
dropping me. Instead, his grip tightened.
"Really, Captain Ellison, there was no need…
"Jessups, please wait for us outside. And close the door, if you
don't mind." I waited for him to obey my instructions, then climbed off
Jim's lap. "Jim. Time moves differently here." I was tempted to beg
him not to begrudge the short hours we had spent together.
"I should have been there; I wasn't. Chief, I want to see
him." He stood up and fastened his trousers.
"Of course, Jim. Just let me get dressed."
He took in my torn shirt and lack of trousers, the love bite I'd allowed
him to place on my collarbone, and he flushed. "I'm sorry, Chief. I've
never… You were so… that was the best… " He took a deep breath.
"I don't want this to end, but…" He closed his eyes. "I'm
sorry."
"Don't be." I snapped my fingers, and there was a subdued
'pop'. I shrugged my shoulders, and the suit I now wore settled nicely into
place.
Jim would have fallen onto his backside from the shock, but I caught him
in time. "Sorry. Next time I'll warn you." 'Next time'? What was I
thinking?
We left my office. Jessups was just outside the door, almost hopping
from one foot to the other in impatience, and he fell in behind us.
"We'd better hurry. Lieutenant Carson will not last much
longer."
"Kit's the one who survived?" Jim asked.
"Yes, but I'm afraid he's very badly burned. If he lived, he'd need
plastic surgery and extensive rehabilitation on his hands." I spoke to
distract him. Mortals didn't deal well with our method of transportation, and I
could move us even faster than Jessups. "Here we are."
He gazed around in disbelief, stunned to be back in the Peruvian jungle.
"Uh… Chief, aren't they going to be upset if we just walk into
their village?"
I opened my mouth to reassure him, but Jessups jumped in.
"They won't see us. We are ephemeral, and you..."
"Jessups."
He subsided, but I could see him sulking out of the corner of my eye.
His lower lip jutted out, and I heard him muttering, "… not supposed to
play favorites."
I pretended I hadn't heard him. Angels were supposed to neither sulk nor
pout. Nor play favorites.
We entered the Shaman's hut.
On a pallet on the ground was the badly burned man. Shivers wracked his
body, and his breath spilled from cracked lips in hitches and gasps. The Shaman
squatted beside him, chanting. In one hand were smoldering feathers, which he
waved over the body, letting the smoke drift over the injured man in hopes of
soothing him. In his other hand was a mixture of ash and ground herbs, and he
sprinkled that over the man's flesh.
Surrounding the Shaman were a number of men and women who would
periodically shake gourd rattles and add their voices to the chant. They
radiated concern.
I sighed. Christopher Carson didn't have much time left.
"Can't we take him now, sir?"
"No, Jessups. You know better than that."
"Incacha." Jim was staring at the Shaman. "He's the man
we were supposed to get in contact with," he whispered. His breath was warm
and caressing in my ear.
The Shaman's head jerked up, and he stared around the hut, his body
almost thrumming with tension. After a moment, he went back to his chanting.
"Oh, fuck. Kit." Jim crouched down beside him and tried to
brush the singed hair back from a brow wrinkled in pain, but of course he
couldn't. "He was our pilot. He has nobody, you know? His family wrote him
off when he came out to them. I'm his…" He swallowed. "I was the
only one in the squad he told."
The dying man opened his eyes, hazel and filled with pain. "Jim? Is
that you, buddy?" The voice was ruined from smoke inhalation.
"Kit." Jim's voice cracked.
"Sorry, Cap. Guess I really fucked up." His body began
seizing, and when the tremors finally stopped, there was blood dribbling from
the corner of his mouth.
Jim blinked rapidly, his lower lip quivered just once, and then the
anguish in his face vanished. If I hadn't been watching him, I would have missed
it completely.
"Can't you save him?"
I shook my head.
"Well, can you take him; at least spare him the pain?" he
demanded.
As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn't. Suddenly I realized the
Shaman was staring directly at me.
He made a gesture, and the other Chopecs quietly left the hut. His eyes
moved to the man beside me, who he should not have been able to see.
"Enqueri."
Unless… "Would you be willing to accept this body, Jim?"
"What are you saying?"
"You said you wanted your own body. I can't give you that, but I
can give you the next best thing, the opportunity to return to the world as Jim
Ellison…"
The Shaman sat back on his heels.
"Mr. Sandburg! This is highly irregular."
"Jessups, shut up. I can do that for you, Jim."
"Sir!"
"Chief, how?"
"
"His eyes."
"They're the window of the soul. Gradually they'll change to
reflect the soul contained within this body."
"Mr. Sandburg!"
"Jessups, am I or am I not Director?"
He quieted, but continued fidgeting. I ignored him.
"Blair, I don't want you to get in trouble."
I waved away that possibility. "I can release his soul early, I can
give you this body. If this is your wish."
"Kit won't be in this agony any more?" He didn't hesitate.
"I'm his captain. Yes."
"Very well."
"Just a second. What about you, Chief? I'll remember you, won't I?
My lashes shielded my eyes. I smiled but didn't answer him. I ran my
hand over his hair, over the back of his neck, then over his cheek.
"Chief?"
"Time to go, Jim. Jessups?"
The two souls passed each other,
"Mr. Carson?" The soul that stood beside Jessups wavered for a
moment, then steadied. "If you'll come with me? I'll take you home."
The soul looked down at what had once been his body. "Thank you,
Jim. You always were a good captain. Thank you."
I was alone in the hut with the Shaman and the man who would be known as
James Ellison.
His eyes opened. Pain was there, swamping his memory, and I sent him
into a deep sleep.
As Incacha looked on, I caused the burns to heal. The scars would remain
until he was rescued and returned to the
When he recovered, he would have no recall of the time he spent out of
his body.
He would have no memory of me. Which was as it should be.
Fifty years. "Have a good life, Jim."
****
****
"Mr. Sandburg."
"Sir?" I snapped to attention.
"We have a problem, I am afraid."
"Again, Sir? I don't need another vacation! Truly!"
Time to think? To dwell on how much I missed the man I had spent such a short
amount of time with? I'd had years to do that, would have even more years.
The Boss smiled. At His side was Jessups, the rookie angel who was
shaping up to be a more than competent collector of souls.
"Actually, this is something that is coming back to … er… bite
us in the ass, if you'll forgive me for saying so, Sir." There was a smirk
on Jessups' lips.
"Of course, Jessups. Is not forgiveness one of My many attributes?
I have a mission for you, Mr. Sandburg. If you choose to accept it."
"Certainly, Sir." No matter what, one did not say 'no' to the
Lord.
"Good." His smile broadened. "Jessups will fill you in on
the details. I will see you in forty years or so."
"Sir?" But I was talking to His back. "All right,
Jessups, would you mind telling me what this is all about?"
His expression was bland, but his eyes were laughing. "Do you
remember my royal screw-up eight years ago, Earth time?"
"Yes," I said cautiously.
"It was a set-up. He felt you were working too hard, and He was
unhappy with the results of that mini vacation you took. He asked me if I would
mind stepping in and taking the heat for an error that even a novice collector
wouldn't make."
"Are you telling me you're a ringer?"
"'Fraid so. I'll be filling in for you while you go deal with that
'screw-up'."
"That was dealt with. Satisfactorily."
"Not quite."
"What are you talking about? Jim Ellison was given a body that
would pass as his own, no one has questioned it. The plastic surgery needed to
repair the scars explained the fact that he didn't look exactly like himself.
His lack of fingerprints was accepted as a result of the burns he sustained in
the copter crash."
"That's true."
"And as Jim said, Christopher Carson's family had disowned him, so
they never thought twice about that urn of ashes that the Army presented to
them."
Jessups eyes grew sad. "I don't understand how they could do that
to him. He's the best… the most…"
"And how long have you been in love with him?"
He blushed but didn't deny it. "Would you believe since that little
hut in the jungle, when he looked up at his captain and apologized for fucking
up? He was in such pain, and yet…"
It had been a three millennia wonder throughout Heaven, how the former
mortal had chased after the angel who had collected his soul until he allowed
the angel to catch him.
Michael had been annoyed. He'd wanted to recruit the one-time Ranger for
his Army. The battles with the Other Side were never-ending. The Boss had
finally stepped in and promised Michael he could have him one weekend a month
and two weeks in the summer.
"Tell me something, Mr. Sandburg."
"Oh, for St. Peter's sake, we're colleagues, Jessups. Call me
'Blair'."
"Blair. Have you been checking up on your favorite mortal
recently?"
"What do you mean?" I thought I'd been discreet about it. In
the beginning I hadn't been able to resist keeping tabs on him, visiting him in
his dreams, an act which could have seen me sent to limbo for a stretch of time
that would have been long, even by Heaven's standards. Oddly enough, I had never
been called to task over it.
But I realized that after those nocturnal visits Jim would be restless
and unhappy. I couldn't do that to him, so I stopped.
After he'd been rescued and returned to the States; after the successful
surgery to 'restore' his face; after he'd moved out to Washington State and
joined the Cascade PD; after he'd become a vice cop; I'd watched him search,
watched him go from one woman to another, from one man to another…
I just stopped.
"I mean that Jim Ellison is having some problems. Blair, you've
been assigned to clean up the mess."
"What mess? What's going on? What's wrong with Jim?"
"His senses have gone haywire."
"His senses have what?"
He shrugged. "You'll see when you get there."
"Get where?" I frowned. I was starting to sound like an echo.
"Cascade."
****
I looked around, disoriented. What was I doing on this street? Shouldn't
I have been… I couldn't remember where I should have been.
And then abruptly, I remembered and bounced on the balls of my feet. Eli
Stoddard, my mentor, had been to see me in my tiny office in the basement of
"Blair, you're in the running for funding for your research into
the topic of your dissertation."
"I'll be able to go to
"Don't get too excited, Blair. I just said you're in the running.
Chancellor Edwards will make the final decision on who gets the money."
But I had no doubt she would award it to me. Ever since I had discovered
that monograph by Sir Richard Burton, the explorer, I'd known my life would
revolve around the search for a sentinel, an individual with hyper active
senses, who protected the tribe.
I looked around again. I hadn't been in this part of Cascade before.
Although it was reputed to be alternative-lifestyle friendly, word was that gays
were being attacked here. I must have been so wrapped up in plans for my diss
that I'd lost track of where I was going.
I must have lost track of the time as well. I was positive it had been
mid-afternoon when I'd started out. Now street lights illuminated the damp
sidewalks, and streamers of fog drifted knee high.
For a second I was sure that this was what walking through clouds was
like.
Suddenly the pounding of footsteps disturbed the quiet night, and two
hulking figures came barreling out of an alley.
"Fucking fag!" "Get him!" "Gonna whip his
little pansy-ass!"
Ham-sized fists reached for me, swung at me, and then they were in a
mound on the sidewalk, moaning. One cradled his balls in pain, while the other
cupped a hand over his mouth.
I was impressed with myself. I hadn't realized I could react so quickly.
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed.
"This is
"I'd like to report an …er… accident."
She took down the information I gave her. "That doesn't exactly
sound like an accident. Will you be needing an ambulance?"
"No, thank you. I'm fine."
"Very well, Mr. Sandburg. A car has been dispatched to your
location and should be there in…"
"It's here!" The light on the roof of the unmarked car circled
lazily, sending splashes of red onto the street, the sidewalk, the surrounding
buildings.
"Cascade's finest at their finest." I could hear the smile in
her voice. "Good evening, sir."
Two plainclothes detectives got out of the car. One was a black man,
tall and stocky. The other was…
"Detective Jim Ellison." About six feet tall, close-cropped
brown hair, and eyes that were the perfect color. I wanted to lose myself in
those ice-blue eyes. "This is my partner, Joel Taggert."
"Blair Sandburg."
"You called in an assault?"
"Oh, er… Yes. I'm surprised they sent detectives. I mean, I would
have thought a uniformed officer…"
Detective Ellison flipped open a pad. "We've been getting reports
of gay-bashing in this neighborhood." He observed his partner checking out
the two men on the ground. "Looks like they were the ones who got
bashed." He turned those blue eyes on me, and they seemed to stroke over my
body. I was startled to feel myself harden. His nose twitched, and he became
very still.
"Jim?" His partner looked up from the two men.
"Oh, right, big guy." He shook himself and glanced back down
at the pad. "According to dispatch, epithets were tossed around. That makes
it a hate crime. Major Crimes has been working on this."
"We wanna preth chargeth!" one of the men complained through a
mouthful of missing teeth. "We wathn't doin' anything. Thith guy
over-reacted! We jutht wanted a match."
"A match? How about your face and my ass?" I muttered under my
breath.
Jim gave a sputter of laughter, then cleared his throat. I hadn't spoken
loud enough for him to have heard what I'd said, and I wondered what he found so
amusing.
"Yeah, we wanna press charges," the other man insisted.
"He's dangerous!"
Jim looked from them to me to Detective Taggert. The men were both over
six feet tall and over two hundred pounds.
"Yep," he told his partner. "5' 7", 150 wringing
wet, I'll bet. I can see he's a real tough cookie. What'd you two do, trip over
your own big feet? Radio for an ambulance, okay, Joel?"
"Got it." He went to the car.
"He broke my dose. And I think my balls are in my mouth." The
one beside him punched his arm. "Oww! What'd you do that for?"
"Do you know how faggy that thounded?" he lisped.
He turned green in the light of the street lamp. "Uh… I
mean…"
"Y'know, you two match the descriptions of the perps who've been
attacking members of the gay community."
"Wasn't us! We weren't even near Blanche!"
"Now how did you know that was where the assaults took place?"
"We didn't! You're tryin' to railroad uth! We're upthtanding,
thraight thitithenth!"
Detective Taggert had returned in time to hear that. "Oh, Jimbo,
these straight citizens are gonna enjoy jail so much. I bet they'll have no
trouble filling their dance cards." He lowered his voice, but I was close
enough to overhear. "You doing okay, Jim? You're not seeing weird shit, or
hearing weird shit again, are you?"
"I'm fine, Joel. I just need to… I need to dial it down!"
Jim's smile was incandescent, as if he remembered something that made him very
happy. He seized the big man in a bear hug, actually lifting him up off his
feet.
I had to clench my fists to keep from yanking Detective Taggert away
from his partner. He misread the glare I sent his way, no doubt thinking I
prudishly disapproved of police officers displaying affection on the streets of
Cascade.
He patted Jim awkwardly on the shoulder and stepped away from him.
"Uh… glad to hear that, Jim."
Somehow, Jim was aware of my reaction. He raised an eyebrow, then sent a
little smile my way, and that flash of desire arrowed down to my groin.
The two men looked uncomfortable. "You can't put uth in a thell
full of queerth!"
"You don't think so? Well, you just contemplate the error of your
ways. Here's the ambulance. The paramedics will take a look at you and see if
you need to go to the ER, or if you'll be going directly to jail."
The paramedics squatted beside the two men and examined them cursorily,
cleaned the blood from their faces, and picked up the teeth that were scattered
on the pavement.
"This one's nose is broken."
"I told you!"
"His septum may be deviated."
"Who you callin' deviated?"
They ignored him. "We'll take them to Cascade General for X-rays.
If there's an orthodontic specialist on call, maybe he can put this guy's teeth
back in. Which one of you will be riding along with us?"
Detective Taggert glanced at
me, then smiled at Jim. "I'll take this one, but you're gonna owe me,
Jim."
The ambulance drove off into the night. I could feel Jim watching me.
"So, where do you live, Chief?" Was he going to ask me out?
"I need the information for my report."
My shoulders sagged.
And then I panicked. I couldn't remember where I lived.
"Chief?"
A picture of the warehouse I rented flashed through my mind, and I blew
out a relieved breath. Of course. I gave Jim the address
"What were you doing in this neighborhood anyway, Chief? Looking
for companionship?"
"No."
"Oh. You have someone at home." It was his turn to look
unhappy.
"No. I live alone."
That cheered him up. "So, what were you doing here?"
"I guess I just wasn't paying attention to where I was walking. Eli
Stoddard…"
"Who's Stoddard?" Jim asked sharply, looking up from his
notebook.
"Eli's my mentor. Anyway, he told me earlier that I'm a front
runner for funding for a research project in
"Sentinel abilities, Chief?"
"Yes. Hyper-acute senses. The men and women who exhibited these
traits protected the tribe. They tracked game, weather, enemies. I've found
records of one or two senses being online, but not all five." I stared up
into his ice-blue eyes.
"Yeah?"
"Mmm hmmm. Each sentinel had a guide who helped him control his
senses, watched his back, kept him from zoning out."
"Zoning out, Chief?"
"Mmm hmmm. Losing himself in the sight or sound or… " I
realized I was in danger of zoning out. I was leaning toward him, encroaching on
his personal space, and I stepped back. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling, and you
probably couldn't care less."
"Actually, I find that interesting. I stayed with the Chopec for
about eighteen months. I've been having some problems with my senses lately.
Might you… Oh, no. You said you're going to
"We can't let fear control us, stop us from doing what we know is
right."
"I like you, Blair Sandburg." He extended his hand.
"I like you too, Jim
Ellison." We shook hands. The feel of his palm against mine was …
familiar.
"Listen, Blair. By the time you're done swearing out the complaint,
my shift will be over. What would you say to having a cup of coffee with
me?"
I ran my tongue over my lips and smiled at him. "I'd say I'd love
to."
Two weeks later he asked me to move in with him. And Jim being a
sentinel had nothing to do with me saying 'yes'.
****
Diffuse sunlight was shining through the window of the loft onto my
closed eyelids. I mumbled a sleepy complaint, turned my head and buried it under
my pillow.
My pillow went sailing over the railing of the loft to the living room
below. Strong arms pulled me back against a hard-muscled chest.
"Morning, Jim," I mumbled and wriggled my ass closer to his
groin. I suddenly realized those muscles banding my torso were hard because they
were tense, and woke completely. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Chief."
"Jim," I prodded.
"Always the Guide?" He sighed. "It was just a dream. A
strange dream."
"You want to tell me about it?"
His arms tightened around me, and after a few minutes he began to speak.
"I had no control of my senses, and I thought I was losing my mind. I went
to a hospital to have some tests run, and you were there in a white lab coat.
You told me your name was Dr. McKay, and when I said your nametag said 'McCoy',
you told me that McKay was the correct Gaelic pronunciation."
I couldn't prevent a spurt of laughter.
"Admit it, Chief. That's so you. Anyway, you told me I didn't need
medicine, I needed information, gave me a business card with your name on it… your
name, Blair Sandburg. You said, 'You're a cop, see the man.' For a minute I
thought I was dreaming Adam 12."
He became quiet, and I turned my head to nip his chin. "Well, it's
just…"
"I'm not done. I tracked down the address on the business card, and
it turned out to be this ratty little office in the basement of
"That's cold, Jim." But my shoulders were shaking, and he
laughed a little too before growing serious again.
"I stormed out of there, but once I was outside, I was distracted
by some kids tossing a red Frisbee. I zoned on it. I stood in the middle of the
street. I could hear you shouting, I could hear a horn blaring, but it was as if
I was hearing it from a distance. My whole world was centered on that Frisbee.
And then you were on top of me…
"Oh, yeah, I like that dream, Jim!"
He pinched my ass. "Let me finish, Sigmund. You were on top of me,
and a garbage truck passed over us. You saved my life, Chief."
"Good thing. I couldn't live without you, you know. So, what else
happened in this dream?"
"Oh, not much more. We became partners and tracked down a bomber
who called herself the Switchman."
I shifted around until I was facing him. "Forget about it, Jim;
none of that happened. It was just a dream." I ran my fingers over the buzz
cut of his hair, then brought his mouth down to mine and kissed him.
Jim reached down and tickled the back of my knee, then slid his hand up
my thigh and stroked my ass cheek. Warm lips caressed the curve of my neck up to
the hinge of my jaw.
He rolled onto his back, taking me with him, and I settled on him like a
blanket. He spread his legs, and our dicks lined up together, jerking as they
slid in the pre come we were both leaking.
"Blair, I want you to fuck me."
"Don't I always, Jim?" I licked my lips and brushed them over
his cheek, then braced an arm on the bed while I reached for the night stand
drawer where we kept the lube.
Jim's big hands grasped and kneaded the taut muscles of my buttocks,
parting them. I always felt so exposed when he did that.
A wet finger circled the rim and dipped in, and I shivered, almost
forgetting that I was supposed to be getting him ready for my dick.
I squeezed some lube onto my fingers and began working them past the
tight ring of muscle that guarded his hole.
"Like that, Chief," he gasped as I pressed up against his
prostate. His hips rocked up and twisted, trying to get me to touch that spot
again.
"I'll give you what you want, babe."
He whimpered as I found it again and again. His dick was hard against my
groin, leaving a trail of pre come to my navel.
I was sweating by the time I removed my fingers and sat back on my
heels.
Jim breathed deeply. "Chocolate!"
I laughed, but it was a ragged sound. Jim teased that he always knew
when I was aroused; my scent was like dark, bittersweet chocolate.
Quickly I lubed my dick, then parted his cheeks and set my dick against
his hole. "Okay, Jim. Relax and breathe."
"Hey, Chief, I'm not the one who was a virgin!"
I pinched his ass. "Smile when you call me that, partner!"
"I'm smiling! I'm smi…" His words changed to a groan as I
pushed into him. "Fuck, babe!"
"That's… that's what I'm doing!"
He rocked back and locked his ankles around my waist, keeping his hips
angled so I could pound into him. "You talk too much!"
I didn't bother telling him that he was the one who was always carrying
on a conversation while I was trying to… I panted and drove my dick deeper in
that passage that was like heated velvet.
"More! Harder! Fuck, Chief, harder! I'm almost there!"
He clamped down on me, then howled as I squeezed the base of his dick, slowing
his need to come. "What the fuck are you doing?"
I braced my weight on my hands and plunged into him again and again,
six, eight, ten times, and with a gasp I was coming, pouring my semen into him,
filling him.
"Chief!"
"Shhh, babe. I'll take care of you." I was still half-hard as
I pulled out of him carefully, then swooped down and swallowed his dick to the
root.
This time he really howled. I sucked strongly while my tongue
massaged that spot under the head of his dick, the spot that drove him insane. I
slid a finger back into his slicked hole and rubbed his prostate.
"Chief, I'm…" But he didn't even have time to warn me before
his dick quivered and began spurting the slightly bitter liquid down my throat,
and I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed.
****
"Chief?"
"Yeah, Jim?"
"Nothing. Just… Chief." He pulled me closer to his body and
hooked his leg over mine. Our sated dicks were trapped between us. "You
know, angel, I have no problem with staying like this for a couple of
centuries."
"What?"
"I said, 'Babe, did I ever tell you, the first time I saw you I was
positive we had met before?'"
"Really, Jim?" Of course that was what he said. Loving Jim
always left me boneless and mindless. I smiled against his neck, and flicked out
my tongue for a lick. "What a nice thought."
But of course, we never had.
~End~
