Bought

Blair peeked over the rail of the loft, his head low to the bed, trying not to be too obvious and cause one of his Sentinels to run upstairs and pull him away from the edge. He was sent upstairs now whenever Jim or Brian heard anyone coming up the elevator or the outside stairwell. If he weren't so hugely pregnant it would be a simple task, just a dash up the stairs. But it took both of them to get him up them quickly now. Blair felt his whole morning so far was spent going up and down. Jim had not forgiven his father the ambush entrance of the previous day, and both of the Sentinels were on edge, unable to relax. Rafe spent the majority of his morning in front of the door, on guard.



Blair was bored out of his mind, stuck up in the room, not even a television or music for distraction. And certainly not able to ask one of the men with hyper senses to turn up either downstairs loud enough that he could hear them up in the loft room. He had paper and pen, an unexpected concession, but nothing tickled his fancy when he thought about writing. He did appreciate that the crayons of last month were nowhere in evidence. He was given a real, honest to god ink pen.



He could just imagine what would happen if he started writing his thoughts, impressions and experiences as a Guide down. That would get a quick veto once they saw what his views on the place Guides had in this current Sentinel dominated culture. Funny, that much of his Anthropology work for his thesis had focused on how Sentinels fit into and aided in the survival of primitive societies. And how Sentinels depended on the members of those societies. Not a lot of help now.



Blair had briefly considered what was different in the way modern Sentinels served their territories. That was one factor that didn't change. Sentinels had territories, and would not consider giving them up. They protected, policed and ran the territories with governments that functioned beside the Mundane governments. Sentinel law was different, sometimes subtly and sometimes blatantly, from Mundane law. Sentinels could not be tried or convicted in a Mundane court. However Mundanes were not extended the same immunity from Sentinel law. A Mundane breaking Sentinel law, might expect to be hunted down and punished. A bone of contention, but one no Mundane court had ever won an argument on.



Blair smiled, wryly. How strange was it that he had not found the time or inclination to look into the role and position of Guides. He was a Guide, always had been, and in the back of his mind he'd known it. Yet, he hadn't spent much brainpower on the way Guides were forced to live, the system of virtual slavery that made up their lives. He intellectually knew the reason he'd failed to look into Guides. Part of it was because he was always secretly attracted to Sentinels. Another was he didn't want to draw attention to himself by the controversial study path. Guides weren't studied, except by Sentinels. He gave it a pass.



A big mistake on his part, he thought ruefully. There he was, one of the most recognized new talents on the scene, specializing in Sentinel Anthropology and the closed society of Sentinels, mostly in tribal cultures, and he'd lost his chance to look into Guides, to make a difference where it would have made so much more of an impact. Where it might have changed his own life. Maybe. Or he might just have been found out earlier.



Instead....he drew his head in from the rail, shifted on the bed, uncomfortable, his belly making it hard to find many positions he could tolerate for long. He plumped the pillows, at least three of which were brand new and were used every night to help his sleep, propping arms and legs and head so sleeping on his side was possible.



He smiled in relief once he found a semi tolerable position. If he began to write about Guides, if he began to pen down his thoughts and conclusions taken from his less than one year as a Guide....would Jim or Rafe feel compelled to destroy his work? They still hadn't let him near a computer, not that he'd asked outright. When he got near to one, they headed him off, almost as if they feared he would break it, something like that. Get jam on it. He shook his head, if they only knew. He could run circles around them when it came to computers. Even pregnant and standing on his head. The thought caused another twinge in his back. He shifted.



Rafe kept looking up at him, as if sensing the Guide's discontent. Blair was almost giddy with relief when finally a set of footsteps stopped at the door instead of continuing past. The knock was anticlimactic. Jim went to the door, Rafe stood at the base of the stairs to the loft bedroom, and Blair looked out over the railing, refusing to hide.



The Doctor was slim, graceful, about fifty years old, and one of the rare female Sentinels. Blair was immediately intrigued. She held out a hand towards Jim. Blair heard the suspicious sniff of his Senior owner, all the way up where he craned his neck down. Jim circled the woman, who stood very still as he did. Then Jim took her hand. Shook it. They each took a cautious step closer, the female bending her head so Ellison, the higher-ranking Sentinel, could access her unprotected throat. Blair had not seen a Sentinel get his throat torn out, but he knew it did happen on occasion. He held his breath. The Doctor made it through the greeting unscathed.



Blair liked her, she felt right to him, small and birdlike quick in her movement. Energetic, and yet, oddly not threatening. Blair wanted her to be his Doctor. Jim was not going to send her away just because he was mad at his father. Blair crawled to the edge of the bed, stood up balancing his ungainly weight, and headed for the steps as fast as he could and not risk a tumble. He held on to the railing as he went, encountering Rafe partway down, the younger Sentinel hovering anxiously, eyes dilated. If Blair tripped, he'd be caught, he wouldn't fall.



But if he had more than one rail to hang onto, then there would not be any risk of falling. Blair reached out and grabbed Rafe's arm. Brain stiffened, but didn't pull away, knowing it would make Blair fall for sure. He kept all of his attention focused on getting Blair safely down the stairs. Which took almost no time at all with help and with Blair in such a hurry. And then Blair darted, well, made his best effort at darting, straight at the woman standing next to a glowering Ellison.



Jim cut him off at the last possible moment. Catching Blair under the arms and stopping his forward progress. Blair tilted his head backward and peered up through his veil, trying to read his Sentinel accurately. Then, exasperated, he flipped it up and off of his face so he could see his Sentinel. Jim was instantly shocked as their eyes locked.



"My Doctor," Blair said, his hands fastened onto Jim's upper arms. "I want her to be my Doctor." He was positive of it. He felt the rightness of it. Caring and compassion poured off of her. Best of all she wasn't a man, wasn't male. He trusted her. Her eyes were a faded, jade green and kindly. Her greyed hair short and neat.



Jim stared at Blair, his face going thoughtful. It was the longest sentence his Guide had put together in the whole time since he'd been with them, since his rescue in fact. Rafe glided past, positioning himself to defend his Senior and his Guide if necessary. The Sentinel woman held her place, waiting patiently for permission to move further into the room. She put her hands behind her back; making it obvious she was not going to try to touch Blair without permission. She smiled at Blair.



"Hello." He said. "You are going to be my Doctor, aren't you?" He wanted someone to agree with him. Jim was apparently speechless, in full possessive mode, and Rafe wouldn't dare speak up on something like this. He was standing turned sideways to present a smaller target, his hands up, aggressively defensive. Jim started to back Blair up.



"I would like to be." She answered him. "If your Sentinels will permit me." Jim's shoulders relaxed a fraction at that, he stopped moving. He liked being asked, not told. His father had taken the wrong tack, telling him, making it all but an order. Now the Doctor was asking, not telling. It was an olive branch, it gave him an out, put the decision in his hands. He turned and regarded her, putting Blair firmly behind him as he did so. Blair peered around his side, determined to see what happened as it unfolded.



"Sentinel Doctor Miller." Jim said at last, when his gaze had seen all there was to see.



"Senior Sentinel Ellison." She inclined her head; let her eyes rest on her feet for a few beats to show she recognized his status. The she looked back up. Now that he was speaking she kept her gaze fastened on his face, respectful, not to be misinterpreted as aggressive. Her stance was submissive, but relaxed.



"My father wants you to tend to my Guide." Jim stated. "I have a Vet, he has been seeing our Guide, has cared for him since his arrival here. Why should I change that now?"



"Because I will do everything in my power to see your Guide comes through this with his full health, and with healthy infants. And I have been doing this a long, long time. I love my work and I am very good at it." She answered him softly, her expression open and sincere.



Jim scented her as she answered, testing her veracity. His eyes narrowed, but he found no duplicity, no deception in her words, she believed what she said. Blair inched up behind him hopefully.



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The exam was different this time. One change was that Rafe was there, at his side, facing towards Blair's head, not looking down or back. Rather he sat rigidly staring ahead, but he was there and Blair could feel the comfort of not being alone. Rafe sat, uncomfortably, putting on a brave face, his hearing supplying all the information he needed to follow what was happening. His jaw was locked. His eyes unblinking.



In contrast Jim was watching every move the Doctor made, and Blair's reaction to it. Her touch was gentle, respectful, and she kept up a pattering of speech as she went on, letting the Guide know what was happening, what she was doing or about to do, and why. She explained his body to him, described what she felt and what it meant. Blair made a small sound and she asked him what he was feeling.



"Pressure, right...there." He said in a hushed voice. "Feels weird."



"Your cervix." Dr Miller said. "The infants are pushing down on it, and it is starting to thin. To stretch a little even now. Though I doubt you will go into labor for a week or more at least. Stay off your feet, rest up. Take the time now to relax and do a few less strenuous things, you are going to be very busy after the birth. You will need your energy."



"What kinds of things?" Blair asked, before he thought better of it. "I don't have any books, or a computer, you know what kind of stuff is on television." Blair turned and looked over at the movement at his side. Rafe was staring at him, mouth hanging open. "What? I can use a computer, I wrote my thesis on one." Rafe's gaze left his, snapping around to look out over the rail again.



Dr. Miller frowned. Her hand rested on Blair's bulging stomach. "Blair," she said, as if his name was just registering with her, her forehead wrinkled. "Doctor Blair Sandburg?" As if she was only just figuring out who he was. That he wasn't a Guide, hadn't always been a Guide and nothing more. "My god, you are Doctor Sandburg aren't you? Your veil, may I look at your face again?"



Jim growled, suspiciously, putting an arm across Blair's middle, blocking her from touching Blair above the waist. She flinched, blinked at him. But she tried to explain, bravely Blair thought.



"Don't you know who your Guide is? He wrote the latest and most insightful work on Sentinel instinct in tribal cultures in the last 100 years." Her voice was admiring, disbelieving. Blair fought not to look away, not to cover his face with his hands under it's filmy veil. Both his Sentinels were looking at him now. Rafe's dark eyes were puzzled, not able to understand how a Guide could do the things the Doctor was saying he'd done. And Jim's eyes, ice blue. Chilled. Angry. Possessive. As if Blair had played a trick on him. Ellison growled.



Dr. Miller left shortly after that. Blair was miserable. He curled up on the bedspread and cried.



@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@



His water breaking the next morning was a surprise.



He sat up in the grey dawn, rubbing at the ache in his back, not looking forward to the solitary trip down the steps to the bathroom. First he had to scoot down to the end of the bed, because he couldn't, didn't dare, take the shorter route and climb over Ellison who had stationed himself between Blair and the stairs to sleep.



He got to his feet, and his back cramped again, harder...he groaned, bending over, bracing his hands on his knees, oh, God. And fluid splashed down his legs.



Big hands had his arms, kept him from falling. If he fell he knew he'd never get up on his own. He moaned. Digging his own fingers into the arms that held him upright. The top of his draped head pushing into Jim's stomach as Blair stayed bent over, panting. Then the pressure eased. And he had to pee, urgently. So urgently he almost couldn't hold it in.



"Bathroom." He said. "Now."



He heard Jim's careful sniff. Jim would be noting the smell of the liquid that had come from Blair's body. "Did you...?"



"No. I need to go to the bathroom, now."



Jim helped him to the top of the stairs, meeting Rafe who was coming up, knuckling his heavy lidded eyes, sheet creases still on his face. Between the two of them they got the Guide into the bathroom, and once business had been addressed, into the shower.



"This is...?" Jim began, holding the sopping robes by thumb and forefinger before he dropped them into the laundry hamper.



"It is not urine. My water broke." Blair said in a small, emphatic voice. It was too dark in the bathroom to see the Sentinel's expression; Jim always bathed him in the dark. Suddenly the door was flung open, light streaming inside. Blair naked, under the flowing water in the bright light.



"Companion!" Jim barked out. "Call Dr. Miller. The Guide's water broke." Jim looked at Blair, his lips pursed unhappily. "Half an hour ago."