Chapter 9

"That is Edgar Nester," Blair leaned over and whispered to Jim, even though the action wasn’t necessary with the Sentinel who could hear a pin drop in the next state.

"Okay, Chief. Who's Edgar Nester?" Ellison looked over at the man in question. He also leaned over unnecessarily, although any excuse to get closer to his Guide was necessary in his book.

"One of the three explorers who disappeared 56 years ago," Blair reminded him with an arched eyebrow.

"Oh yeah, I remember that name now."

Jim eyed the 30-something man and shook his head. He was a non-descript looking person, somewhere around Blair’s height, with light brown hair. There was nothing particularly noticeable about him, until he smiled. The smile lit up the room, or in this case the town square, and gave you a good feeling inside. He would be hard to ignore or forget.

"That has to be his son or grandson or something, Chief. There's no way it can be the same guy."

"That's what I thought," Blair admitted. "But what about them?"

He pointed to the man's two companions, both taller, blond men, who were flanking their smaller friend. Nester said something, obviously humorous, and soon all three of them began laughing, drawing the attention of more than one passing woman…and man.

"They look exactly like the other two missing scientists, Benedict Masters and Jonathon Spirous. They can't all have kids who look just like them."

"Hmmm. No, the odds on that have to be pretty high."

"No kidding," Blair agreed.

"Hello, new friends."

Rhonda strode briskly up to them. Even for what was a combination picnic and small town carnival, the blond mayor was dressed in a tailored, mint-green, linen dress.

‘Geez, this place certainly is wild about picnics,’ Jim thought wryly. This was the culmination of a three-day affair, but still a bit much in the Sentinel’s opinion.

The man who caught up with the mayor just a few seconds later, was also dressed nicely, if not as polished looking as Rhonda was. He was several inches taller than the blond woman and a little rounded. Not fat, mind you, just a little extra flesh on the man.

"I'm glad you were able to join us this evening. I heard that you were injured coming through The Whirl, Mr. Sandburg. I hope you are feeling better now." She smiled politely and gave Blair a quick look over.

“Yes, I am. Thank you for asking.” He smiled back, just as politely.

"The Whirl?" Jim asked.

"Yes, that's our unofficial nickname for the whirlpool that guards the entrance to our world," Rhonda’s companion stated.

"Oh, forgive me. This is my husband, Whitney." Rhonda blushed as she remembered to introduce him. The faux pas had embarrassed the ever-correct politician.

Jim, and then Blair, shook his hand. Ellison recognized Whitney Taylor. In their world, Taylor was a high-priced lawyer. During the few times that he and Rhonda had met, when Taylor had come to the station to help defend one of his ritzy clients, there had been sparks...of the negative kind. It had been hate at first sight and had only degenerated from there into loathing.

Listening to Blair talk with the couple--and wasn't that about par, that the anthropologist could get anyone to spill their guts only minutes after meeting them--Jim was able to deduce that in this reality Taylor was a farmer. That just boggled the Sentinel's mind. He couldn't imagine the lawyer from his time, with his thousand dollar suits, two-hundred dollar ties and four-hundred dollar shoes...digging in the dirt.

Ellison reached out a hand and helped ease Blair down onto the bench in front of their picnic table. Blair smiled his thanks and leaned closer to whisper. "That is them."

"The missing exploration team?" Jim looked over at the trio of men, the same ones that Blair had just spent the last 30 minutes chatting with.

"Yeah, man. My theory is that time moves differently here, because, according to Jonathon Spirous, they've been living here for several hundred years, not just the 56 they've been missing."

"But they haven't aged a day," Jim said in disbelief. Ellison narrowed his eyes, focusing his enhanced eyesight on the men.

"No, they haven't. And Benny says that only one person has died of old age during all of these years, and Mrs. Davis was old beyond belief. People get hurt and almost always get better. Even a really bad accident only slows the injured person down for a while. It's...it's like paradise here, man."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. He watched as several couples, of all orientations, strolled by holding hands. "The people here seem really tolerant as well,” he said, thinking of Simon and Rafe.

Blair nodded, his mahogany locks dancing in the waning light. "I know. Isn't it great." He whispered the last sentence wistfully. His eyes followed two men who were snuggling close and holding hands. Blair didn’t turn away to give them their privacy when they lovingly kissed one another. On the contrary, he looked sad and got a melancholy expression on his face.

Jim gave him a quick, searching look and watched happily as Blair blushed under the scrutiny. Ellison decided to risk his heart. "Yes, it is. I think people should be able to love who they want."

The anthropologist's eyes lit up at Jim’s admission. He took hold of his bottom lip between two sharp, white teeth and Jim swallowed at the unconsciously erotic display. Blair's mouth fell open when he realized Jim was admiring him.

“I couldn’t agree more. I…” Blair hesitated, and then took a deep breath and plunged in. “I enjoyed dating my boyfriends just as much as I did my girlfriends.”

Blair’s blue eyes were wide and unblinking. It was easy to see that he was afraid he’d ‘outted’ himself out of a home and his friendship with Ellison.

“So have I,” the Sentinel whispered in agreement.

The anthropologist sighed in relief and leaned closer to Jim. Ellison put an arm around Blair’s back and pulled him in even closer. The hand slid down until it rested just above Blair’s behind, and began to rub circles on his lower back.

“Dance with me?” he asked seriously.

“Wow,” Blair sounded and looked stunned. “I just, I mean, I’d…wow. I’d love to,” Blair admitted with a small grin.

Jim took hold of the younger man’s hand and pulled him to his feet. They wandered out onto the edge of the “dance floor”, which was really a cleared spot on the corner of one field next to the town square. Taking Blair into his arms, Ellison began dancing with the music.

The Sentinel kept one hand on Blair’s back and relished the feel of the younger man’s muscles moving underneath his shirt as he swayed to the beat. Jim decided to risk a little more of his battered and oft-abused heart.

“I heard you and Rafe talking the other day,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” Blair didn’t seem too upset at the eavesdropping.

Jim nodded. “I wish we were together too.”

Cerulean eyes bore into his, looking for any kind of hesitation at all. Jim let all he felt and wanted into his own blue eyes, knowing that Blair’s heart had been beaten up several times in the past himself.

Ellison could tell when Blair really and truly believed what he was saying. There was a subtle lessening of a tension that the Sentinel hadn’t even realized was running through his Guide’s body. The compact frame relaxed and settled deeper into his arms. Their bodies brushed against one another as they followed the lure of the music.

“I love you.” There, he’d said it out loud. There was no turning back now, not even if he’d wanted to.

“Oh…Jim, I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you in the examination room at the hospital.”

Jim smiled, remembering Blair in his too big lab coat and dirty tennis shoes. The fancy talking had been all he’d concentrated on then. But later, after Blair taught him how, the Sentinel had used his sensory memories to go back and remember his first scent of his beloved Guide.

“I’m afraid it took me a little longer,” Jim admitted. “It was when I saw you in Lash’s chair.” He let go of Blair’s hand and wrapped both arms around the observer, who’d gone pale and winced at the mention of that psycho’s name. “Sorry, Chief.”

“That’s okay, man.” Blair took a shuddering breath and smiled. “Go on with your story.”

“After I killed him and climbed back up the stairs, you were slumped there, sitting so still and unmoving. I was afraid that Lash had given you an overdose and you were dead after all.”

This time it was Blair’s turn to support him. His strong hands rubbed circles on Jim’s tense back, offering comfort and the knowledge that he was still alive.

“I think we just went off the market.” Jim’s statement asked, as much as it told.

Blair nodded. “Yes, we have,” he said decisively.

Ellison stopped dancing and extended his hand. “I don’t know about you, Chief, but I’m ready to head back to the cabin.”

Blair took Jim’s hand. “Let’s go, Big Guy.”