Bought

One perfect hour, that's what Blair had had with his Sentinel. He still felt the shadow of that touch now. Jim had held him, taken him, loved him, and it had been so right. He remembered every caress, every stroke and thrust. Blair had fallen asleep in Jim's arms.



Then had followed ten days of hell. The first hour of that hell, Jim had made demands that Blair reveal who had given him the tablets, then once William had told Jim just who had provided them, a frosty distance had started between Guide and Sentinel. That was worse than all the yelling and rage.



Blair had heard part of the Sentinels' debate before he was moved out of the main building. Outraged Sentinels demanded an explanation, accusing William and Jim of being law-breakers. Were they above the Laws? Did they think they were? Blair shuddered as he recalled the accusations.



Even during the worst of it Blair had not been alone. He was afraid, but not the bone deep, physical fear that he'd felt when the pirates had taken him. Always at his side, huge and forbidding was a Guardian Sentinel, Captain Rathe or one of his men. And if any looked ready to approach or question Blair, the Guardian had discouraged them.



Blair wiped at his brimming eyes.



He had not been permitted to nurse his children since that day. Jim called his milk poison and wouldn't allow it. Blair hung his head. He was permitted to see them, hold them, but not to nurse them. He was watched at all times when he sat with them.



The fear was the worst. Not that Jim would hit him. Though the Sentinel had had his fists clenched, his face going red, and his entire body shaking with rage, not once did Blair think he was going to be hit. Rathe had been there only minutes after the shouting began. Between Jim and Blair. He didn't interfere in any other way other than being there. After a time Jim changed, he grew quiet, cold. The fear that possessed Blair was that he had lost Jim.



Blair understood Jim's distance; he had been betrayed, his trust in his Guide had been violated and shaken. Blair's desperate act had cut him deeply. He'd looked at Blair in utter disbelief and then he turned away, and for a week Blair hadn't seen him at all.



Rafe was around from time to time. Watching, helping him care for the babies. But they exchanged few words and fewer touches. The incident, as Blair thought of it, though it was so much more, seemed to have shocked his system to the point he was numb. All but for the ache that never went away, lodged deep in his chest. Blair wanted nothing, no sex, no touches, no love, nothing but the safety of his children. He refused to entertain the dreams that woke him, dreams he savagely repressed; dreams that had him back in Jim's arms, held and loved.



Rathe had come to stand between him and Jim, and foolishly, Blair had begged for his help. His protection. And now, here he was, in an out-building on the campus of William Ellison's compound, his children nearby, in a new nursery, being bottle-fed. With Guardians Blair's only companions day in and day out, but for the short visits of Rafe and thrice, William Ellison himself.



Blair was covered head to foot, heavy robes and heavy veil insulating him from the outside world as much as his new living situation. He had wrapped bands of cloth around his chest to catch the dripping milk; he could hardly wait for the flow to stop. He kept hearing Jim's words. "Poison. Not fit for any child. You will not nurse them. Or I will take them from your care. If you want to keep them...." And Blair couldn't blame Jim for the threats. He had no reason to trust Blair's promises any longer.



William came the second day with the news that Dr. Miller had been arrested and confined under guard. They were unable to put her in prison once the nature of her crime had been made public. She was kept alone, isolated, not even in the prison proper, but in a location that was undisclosed. In prison any Sentinel who could have reached her would have killed her for her crime.



"Why, Blair?" William had asked. "Can you imagine any violation greater? Jim supported you; he fought for you, why didn't you tell him what you needed? That you needed more time instead of resorting to...this?" William looked years older. His face was sad. Ravaged. His mouth was tense and Blair couldn't miss the distaste in his eyes. William, too, had lost faith in him.



Blair stayed silent. He had no answer for the pain he saw in William's eyes.



The reforms William had battled so hard for came close to collapsing when the news of what Blair had done became known. William redoubled his efforts, refusing to accept the defeat that seemed inevitable. He would not gracefully surrender. He made a point to denounce the actions taken both by Dr. Miller and Blair. Through sheer force of personality the ruler of Cascade kept the talks going and he was relieved to earn a weak vote of support from enough of the attendees to move forward. But it wasn't a rousing endorsement, not the success it had looked to be only ten days ago.



Blair wanted to explain but there was no one who was willing to listen. Looking back on his decision he wasn't sure why he'd made the choice. If he'd known these were to be the consequences he wouldn't have. Not if he'd foreseen all of this, the loss of his Sentinel, all the pain he'd caused, perhaps, even the failure of laws to protect other Guides.



Dr. Miller was arrested on an anonymous tip she was providing birth control to Guides. Blair had no idea how that had been discovered. He'd kept his word and never named her. He prayed she knew he had not been the source of her being found out and arrested.



Rafe, when he visited, was mostly silent, their only exchanges about the babies. Handling the infants with loving care, his face as sad as William's. His body was stiff when he moved, and Blair felt his distress. He smelled of Jim. As if Jim wouldn't permit him to wash his scent off. He wanted the world to know Rafe was his. Blair no longer had such a mark of ownership on him. No scent of a Sentinel. Jim no longer came to wash him. No longer came to see the babies.



Blair waited, day in and day out. Caring for the needs of his small family. Waiting for some decision to be made, for something to give. He longed for the chance to fall on his knees and tell Jim he was sorry. He needed to tell Jim why. He wanted to make him understand, make him believe it would never happen again.



Blair hung his head, tears running down his face and dripping off the tip of his nose. He wiped them with a corner of his veil. He would wait as long as he had to. He would make Jim understand. The alternative was unthinkable.



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Rathe stood in the meeting, the first Guardian to attend. He had been able to hear all that was being said from the more promising beginning to now, the last day. When grievances and concerns were to be aired one last time in the wake of the vote.



William was seated at the head of the table. Jim to his right. Christopher to his left. A new thing, putting Christopher at the table instead of behind William. Under the table their knees touched, stayed in contact. William needing the support. To Jim's right sat Rafe. And they too touched, more blatantly than William and Christopher. Rafe's hand resting on Jim's wrist, fingers curled over the thick muscle and bone.



Rathe had stepped into the room before the doors were closed, and no one had challenged him. They flowed to their seats, a grim bunch of men, drained of energy, each feeling the trial of the last few days. The whole story had come out. And not one had taken it well.



The first to stand and speak was not William. The ruler of Cascade held his head up, but his mouth remained closed, the gaunt, pale face stoic, his lips a bloodless line. It was William's son, Stephen, who stood. Stephen who spoke, a hand resting on the shoulder of his own, atypically quiet junior.



"My fellow Sentinels. We are doing the right thing. Reform is needed, we need new laws. And the events of the last few days only underline that need." He paused, looking around. No one nodded, no one smiled, no one responded. They only listened, faces grim, hard and humorless.



"Let me tell you my thoughts." Stephen took a moment, then resumed. "A Guide was faced with a choice that we forced on him. By Law he couldn't seek the kind of help he felt he had to have. There was no legal means he might use. So he was left with the tragic choice that has caused all of this." Stephen waved his hand around the room, palm up. Not a murmur sounded.



"What should he have done? Not this surely. We all agree on that. But should there have been an alternative available for him? One not so drastic? His body was ready to breed before his mind could cope. Do we righteously ignore that fact? Say he is Guide and thus his feelings on the matter are not important? Should he have no say?"



"He is no Guide." Someone muttered. Stephen lifted his chin.



"No, you are wrong. He is an extraordinary Guide." The blond man waited to have that challenged. Another silence.



"The fate of Sentinels rests on the number of Guides born." Jim's rock hard voice broke in, minutes later. He looked past his brother, meeting no one's eyes. "Interfering with the birth of Guides is a crime and has been for as long as any here can remember. For all of the recorded history we are taught growing up."



At last Jim's eyes met Stephen's. "My Guide chose to take that poison into his body to rob future generations of Sentinels of the Guides that he could conceive. He made a decision that was not his to make. It is the right of the Sentinel, the responsibility of the Sentinel to sense, to know when the time to breed is ripe. He was in Heat. He had received no chemicals, no false fertility drugs to make him come into his Heat early. Nature determined it was his time. And he fought it. He committed a crime. And only because he is a Guide is he not under arrest awaiting prosecution. He broke one of our most fundamental and sacred Laws."



Stephen stared right back. "I know your pain. I feel it. I have spoken for years of Guide rights. You know I am considered by many to be too far out on the fringe. But never think I don't know your pain. We all long for a time when Guides are not scarce. When we won't have the worry that our children will have fewer even than we do to chose from. If my own Guide, who I love did this? What would I do? I would feel anger. I would feel betrayed. I would feel ill. I wouldn't want to believe he could do it." Stephen shook his head.



"Even so I hold to my position. This is not the result of Laws that are too lax. It is a result of Laws that are too restrictive. A Guide is not a farm animal to breed without thought to the emotional and social impact. The Laws that permit fertility drugs and castration, but deny the right to other drugs to space out conception and promote healthier mothers and healthier babies, those Laws are wrong. Those laws caused this."



The resultant shouting could be heard all throughout the compound.



Rathe smiled, not at all unhappy with the way things were progressing. No one noticed the unusual expression on his normally impassive face.



"My Guide stole from all of us, from me. He stole his fertility from us. In so doing he stole the future. I don't think it was maliciously done. He never meant for any harm." Jim said into the brief pause that followed all the noise. This time there were shouts of agreement. "What he did require was a strong Sentinel. I made the mistake, it was not his. I dealt with him as I would have with any Sentinel, any mundane man I trusted or respected. I trusted him. I forgot he was a Guide. I was too permissive. He needed me to make the decision for him, and I didn't. I failed him. The fault for all of this debacle is mine and mine alone."



Jim now met all the eyes that were fastened on him. His jaw was hard, rigid as if hewn from a granite slab.



"I am aware of the accusations from our detractors that the Ellisons consider themselves above the law. We are not. We never have been and never will be. The Law rules us all. For that reason I will send Blair to a Guide House tomorrow morning. Where he will remain until he is impregnated. Until his place as a Guide of this house, of my family is redeemed."



Stephen's voice was heard. Raised above the loud approval from around the table. Fists pounded down. Mugs rattled. "I think you are making a grave error, brother. Your Guide may see that as a rejection. Is it your intention to surrender your Guide to breeding in a Guide House? To remove his children from his care?"



"No." Jim spat out. "I do not surrender him. I do not gift him to any House but my own. But, as his body sees fit, it is time for him to carry again, and so, he will."



William spoke, weary to the bone. "I hear you and we will respect your decision. Is this your final word on the subject?" Jim nodded sharply. "Then it will be so. This meeting is at an end. If anyone else has more to say, send it to me in writing and it will be added to the meetings minutes, unchanged. I thank you for your attendance."



And William rose from his seat, signaling the end of the conference.



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Rathe was first out of the room as he'd been closest to the door.



Ellison's statement that he was sending Blair to the Guide House for breeding had been the final straw for him. The Guardians had long objected to the manner of breeding that the modern facilities employed. Strangers, men who did not know the Guides being put to breed with them. As if no Guide had feelings, or might have reason to object.



He made his way to his temporary quarters and lifted his phone from its cradle. He dialed. Once he heard the voice of the head of the Guardians answer he began to speak.



"Rathe here. The meeting has adjourned. The reforms will be put through, but the actions of the Ellison Guide, Blair has stirred up far more controversy. He is to be put to breed at a Guide House immediately."



The muted roar coming across the phone line would have deafened him if Rathe didn't know the man well enough to dial down his hearing before making his statement. He listened. Listened some more.



"Yes, sir." He agreed. "Yes, sir. It is time. I agree. Do you wish me to request time with Ruler Ellison?"



"NO. I will call him. He can't put me off like he can you." The man's voice had modulated to a dull rumble. "You will remain with the Guide. And for the sake of all that is holy, keep that odious man, that interfering Veterinarian away from the House Guide Ellison is sent to. He has caused enough trouble, it is time he had trouble himself. Subpoena him and have someone keep him busy. We need information for the case we will be presenting to ruler Ellison. Have Jannis get it for me. Under no circumstances do I want that man to get his hands on the Guide."



"Sir." Rathe replied in the affirmative. But he was talking to a dial tone. He put the second call through. Spoke to Lieutenant Peirs Jannis. Laid out his instructions. By the time he hung up, this time the first to do so, the plan was in action.



Blair could not be taken to a House until the morning. Rathe had to keep an eye on him until then. The men he had with him at the Ruler's compound would keep the Guide in sight at all times. The last thing James Joseph Ellison would dare to do was be alone with his Guide. Rathe smiled a little sadly. Ellison was now aware of the power Blair held over him, and he was afraid of it. Afraid of the attachment he had formed.



Rathe stepped out of his quarters. The moon had risen high in the sky already. It looked down on him, shrouded in the clouds that rarely deserted Cascade. The night was both quiet, no men were outside, and loud, crickets and bugs chirped and whirred in the air. The temperature was cool, but not cold. Rathe headed across the compound towards Blair's residence.



The scent of flowers, of fresh greenery, of dirt newly turned filled the air. It was pleasant, being above the city. Mist dewed on the exposed skin of his hands and face, his throat.



A small sound alerted him to the fact he was not alone out in the gardens. He shifted his direction, focusing his senses in the direction from which the sound had come. He automatically eliminated the sounds of insects, of mice scurrying, of a single feline stalking her prey in the underbrush.



He was left with the sound of a human heart beating. The sound of breathing less than a hundred feet away. He dialed in scent on his target, too many trees and shrubs between him and the target to use sight yet. The scent was alluring. Intoxicating. He inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled. Licked his lips to catch the molecules of scent on his tongue and taste them.



Then he started to stalk his prey, unwilling to stop himself. He had to reach that heartbeat, that scent before any rival did. He padded towards the unsuspecting prey, one soundless step after another.