Upon a Mountain's Edge Parts Three and Four

[laurie_ky]

The heading and Parts One and Two


Part Three

Two weeks later, two burly court enforcers served Blair with a summons while he was working at MIC, and he was indeed listed on Judge Hannity's docket. They took him down to the bail bonds center, a grim place, the gray of its walls a match for the miserable expressions on the prisoners I saw dragged along by enforcers. In order for Blair to stay out of lock-up until his court date, I had to post a hefty amount of credits.

The clerk who handled the transaction was genuinely surprised that I was willing to do this for a bastard.

“Are you sure, Detective Ellison? These bastards can't be trusted. Most of them are dead afraid of coming to court and they try to run. It's why we automatically take them into custody when they're served.”

“Just turn him loose,” I said sourly. “You got anything more for me to sign?” There was, of course. Finally, Blair was released to me, and we went to my vehicle. I started my sweetheart up and headed for our loft apartment.

After fastening the safety belt, Blair slumped against the seat. “Man, I am so craving a shower. I hate being in lock-up; the smell of the place settles into your skin.” Blair sounded so pragmatic, but I knew he was feeling unsettled.

“Want me to scrub your back?” I waggled my eyebrows at him, hoping to make him laugh and relax.

Blair did laugh, but it wasn't a relaxed sound. “Sure. Did you know that only bastards are routinely picked up when they get a court summons? Common class members only have to put up bail if it's a capital crime - murder, rape, serious assault. And your class, and the superior class, don't have to do even that.”

I'd learned that information when I became a protector, but I hadn't really thought about what it meant in terms of prejudice against a whole group of people. Even though I didn't consider myself a man who would discriminate against others, thanks to my partner I had come to realize that I did have 'ingrained expectations relating to the class structure New Rainier culture was based upon.' Or in my own words and not Blair's, I accepted the privileges and restrictions granted to each class, since I'd grown up with it that way. Blair was quite willing to discuss those ingrained expectations when they surfaced. I told him he should talk to Simon about doing sensitivity training with MIC, but he said he wouldn't be listened to if he did. He'd stick to educating one person at a time.

He'd grinned as he'd said that, and I knew he meant me. I'd given him a noogie, but I also told him to call me out whenever I showed my ignorance.

He sighed and told his window to open. It obligingly rolled down, letting in fresh air, moist with the earlier morning shower.

“I don't want you to choke because I stink. And it feels good, you know, to breathe free air after being stuck in a holding cell.” He lifted his hand and let it trail outside the window, feeling the movement of air against his fingers.

I glanced at him. “Who gave you a hard time in there? I could feel that you were annoyed, but not afraid. I listened in but didn't catch what it was about.”

“One of the guards. He offered to send me to the rec area if I gave him a blow job.”

“Son-of-a-space-whore! Did you get his name or badge ID?”

“Yeah, I did. And hey, slow down. We need to talk about this stuff.”

“What stuff?” I eased up so that we were under the speed limit.

“Jim, I might have to do sexual acts to maintain my cover. I know that other undercover people will be in place to pick me for their cash boy for the night, but what if I'm propositioned by the staff, or assaulted? How much should I put up with, how much can you tolerate without grabbing your weapon and breaking down the gates?” Blair's emotions were conflicted.

I felt murderous just thinking about someone taking advantage of him when he would appear as innocent and as naïve as a child.

“Connor's going to be there; she can threaten to break heads if anybody picks on her favorite charge.” Connor lived to kick the ass of deserving thugs and creeps.

“She won't be there all the time, and she won't be at my job assignment. If I'm given any kind of choice I'll say no to sexual advances, but Jim, I think I'm willing to do what I'm asked if I can't wiggle out of it. Can you deal with that? If it happens, that is? Maybe nobody will notice me at all.”

Blair not being noticed was unlikely. He was beautiful, although I knew from the bond we shared that he didn't believe he was that attractive. If anything, he thought his personality was more of a draw to people. Inside Crawford's complex, his personality would be muted. Predators would look at him, though, and want him. Beautiful and powerless, the combination would be irresistible to them.

“Blair, I know you want to do the right thing, and you're willing to lay your body on the line. But I don't want you hurt, and I'm not sure removing ten years from your sentence is worth that. To be honest, I'm going to hate every moment you're so vulnerable, but if you can stand it, I can. We'll need a safe word that you can say out loud, if not telepathically, and if I hear it, I'm sending in the troops, along with me. Even if we haven't got enough evidence to charge any of those assholes.”

“Holy ancestors, I hope it won't come to that. I'd love to see the judge and Crawford and Kincaid get convicted. You could track down anybody who leaves traces of bodily fluids on me, but we can't tell my handlers that you'll go feral on anybody's ass who has sex with me; we want me to be picked to whore for them. I don't know. If you get approved to bond with me, then maybe you can make a deal that my ass is only available to the customers and you and not to the staff? That might help.”

He gazed at me so seriously and I felt his deep concern and caution. “If I'm raped, Jim, it'll be bad, but with your help I can make it. If you hold me responsible because I didn't use the safe word in time, or not at all, then I'll fall apart. I need you on my side, not angry at me. Please, Jim. I don't know if I can do this if you're not going to support me through the bad shit.”

I pulled the vehicle over and unfastened his belt and hauled him over to me so he was on my lap. I buried my face in his curls and breathed in his scent.

I made a vow to myself that I would never make him think I thought he had brought any abuse on himself, if he was assaulted.

Blair experienced my resolution through our bond and heaved a great sigh.

He kissed me then, and slid off my lap. “I'll use 'Quyllur' for my safe word.”

He had been accepted by the Sho'nakan on Quyllur, not judged by his birth status. His adoptive father had given him a family and a place in the tribe. No wonder he associated being there with feeling safe.

I started Sweetheart up, and we drove the rest of the way home in silence.

Words weren't needed.

xxx

The night before we had to be in court was bitter-sweet for both of us. Neither of us wanted to make small talk or watch holos. As the sky darkened outside, Blair took my hand and we went upstairs. We undressed slowly, stopping to touch a cheek, a shoulder, or run a hand down a bare belly.

Sex between us usually involved laughter. We never took ourselves too seriously, and Blair could become downright silly in bed. And mischievous. The night he'd made me promise to turn down my senses and then drizzled dark sugar-sap all over my chest and dick came to mind.

Blair wasn't smiling this night. He was intense, touching me as if he was storing up sense memories of what my body felt like. When he kissed me, he did it reverently, and when he fucked me he was tender and kept our soul bond wide open; he delighted in every jolt of my pleasure from his touch, and then he would make it that much better.

Sex segued into bonding and I could smell the pheromones as they settled on our bodies, sating our mutual addiction. Our orgasms were strong and left us drowsing in each other's arms.

After a while, Blair slipped out of bed and went downstairs. He made his ablutions and came upstairs with a basin and a washcloth and towel.

The water was hot and fragrant with the oil of the Qellu T'iki plant. Blair liked to use it because it reminded him of Quyllur. Never saying a word, but letting me feel how much he loved me, he dipped the cloth into the water and pressed it against my skin, removing the sweat and semen from my body. When he had completed this ritual, he handed me the towel and I sat up and dried myself.

I was honored by Blair's careful attentions. I tossed the towel aside and said telepathically in the language of the Sho'nakan, “Sunqu. I would offer you shelter.” I smiled at him and opened my arms, widened my legs so that he could nestle against me if he so wished.

He stared at me and then crawled across the bed, his long hair loose around his face. I expected him to turn so that he was facing the world with me at his back for support.

But he didn't position himself that way at all. I let myself sink into experiencing his emotions, fully opening myself to him.

He wished for comfort, to hide away for a while from the world. He'd be forced to face so much humiliation and danger when he was sent to Crawford Industries.

He desired a respite, a time for me and him, alone in our own place in the universe.

He slid his legs under my knees, facing me. His eyes riveted on mine and he let me see how much he was afraid. It wasn't just the danger from going undercover. He was also terrified that something would go wrong with the mind-wiping procedure. More than either of those fears, his greatest concern was that this covert operation would damage our relationship.

I thought I'd laid that last fear to rest.

Mind to mind, I spoke to him. “Blair, Sunqu. I can't tell you not to have those fears about us, but to me they're groundless. I will not reject you if you are hurt; I will cherish you. Let it go, okay? I love you, and that's not going to change.”

Blair nodded solemnly and rested his forehead against my chest. I wrapped my legs loosely around his body and let my arms encircle him. I didn't cage him; he could slip out from this embrace easily, but I sensed from him that he didn't want to do that.

We stayed that way for a very long time in the dark, and I hoped that the comfort and protection from this rite of love would sustain him through the difficult days ahead.

xxx

Judge Hannity made a disapproving sound as Blair was called to the front of the courtroom.

Once there, Blair's code was copied into court records and his name and class were announced, as well as the fact that he was currently serving a twenty-five year sentence as a guide to Detective James Joseph Ellison, sentinel.

The charge that Blair Sandburg had violated his probation and had been remanded here for the court's consideration was also read into the record by the D.A.

In less than twenty minutes, it was all over.

Blair's public defender lawyer made a cursory attempt to have the charges dropped due to extenuating circumstances. But even though Blair's actions had resulted in my life being saved, and I was called to testify to that effect, it had no bearing on the judge's decision.

He re-instated Blair's original sentence of twenty-five years of mandatory labor and ordered him to be mind-wiped but sent to Crawford Industries, instead of the original placement with Cyclops Industries.

Blair's lawyer asked for visitation, so that I could bond and avoid withdrawal. The judge looked at Blair with contempt, and then addressed me.

“Detective Ellison, your request for court-ordered visitation for bonding or any other purpose is denied. I advise you to find a more suitable guide.”

Blair appeared stoic, but I could feel his trepidation, even though this was what we had expected. I sent assurances flying to him through our soul bond. If Crawford and his Sun Patriot cronies refused to let us bond, then he'd be pulled out after five or six days.

I wasn't sitting quietly like Blair was, head held high. I made a loud protest and only subsided when the judge threatened me with contempt of court.

It didn't take much acting ability on my part to look stricken when the court enforcers pulled Blair towards the exit behind the judge's platform.

Blair turned around right before he was shoved through the door, and he locked eyes with me. Then he blew me a kiss right before the door was shut.

The judge saw him do it, and his handsome face darkened. All of us in the courtroom were treated to a diatribe on the low qualities of the bastard class.

I walked out in the middle of his ranting. I could still hear Blair's heart beating fast, and I listened as he was placed in a cell with the other poor bastards Judge Hannity had condemned this morning. Their crimes had all been petty, except for a woman who had rolled a john and left him for dead. Most of the people on the docket had been bastards, and all the others who weren't hadn't received anything worse than a slap on the wrist. The exception had been two old bastard men: one who could barely breathe anymore, one with the shaking disease. They'd be dead within a couple of months, I thought. Their charges were dropped. Hannity's deal must have been for bastards who were capable of working.

No wonder the Justice Department had noticed Hannity's behavior; it was so blatantly slanted against the bastard class.

I was preoccupied with how Blair was doing and almost didn't notice the tall, dark-skinned boy waiting outside the courtroom. Simon's kid. I was pretty sure I knew why he was here, and I didn't want to deal with his misguided feelings.

He started calling my name, and I glared at him as I strode past. When I kept ignoring him he began dogging my steps. Finally, exasperated, I turned around.

“Did it feel good to see Blair lose everything, Daryl? How in the Hundred Worlds did you even know he had to be here today? Going to go home and celebrate? Your father won't join you. It took a while but he finally believed Blair when he said he hadn't run Yana.”

I tried to step around him, but he caught my arm. I tried to shake him loose, but he wasn't making it easy.

“You're better off without him, Detective Ellison. He told me himself that he'd made mistakes, and he's just getting what he deserves. I'm glad he's going to lose his mind. My friend lost his and it was all Sandburg's fault. I hate him, the lousy bastard.”

I broke free and stepped away from him. If he kept pushing at me, I would do something I would regret. Simon was my friend and Daryl was his son. And he was just a punk kid who'd been hurt by that damned drug.

But I wasn't going to let him say shit about Blair.

“Blair feels responsible for Yana coming to New Rainier because he's a decent man, but he didn't do anything wrong. What he did was trust that a girl and her brother were who they said they were, and he gave them passage on his bird in return for the brother doing some repair work on it. He didn't know that the brother altered the hold to secretly carry the plants that are made into Yana. He didn't know. He was duped, but he thinks he should have been more careful, less trusting, that he shouldn't have bartered with them. He feels responsible, but he wasn't. He wasn't, Daryl, and from now on you should just stay away from me because I doubt I can hold my temper if you keep accusing him when he's innocent. Sentinel, remember? I know when someone's lying.”

I left him gaping at me and headed for my vehicle. While Blair was waiting to be sent for mind-wiping, I'd be meeting with Connor, my new wife.

Part Four

“Jimbo.” Connor, tall and grinning fiercely, let me in the door and then punched me on the arm. Her normally auburn hair had been dyed a dull brown. She was still a good-looking woman, despite the hack job inflicted on her hair, and once I might have let myself feel an attraction for her. Before I'd met Blair, if I did go for a woman, they had almost always been tall red-heads. We'd have crashed and burned in record time, though.

She never bickered with Blair the way she did with me, although she insisted on calling him “Sandy.” When they'd trained together at the Academy she'd tried to keep him under her wing, but Blair had proved he was capable of fighting his own battles.

I'd appreciated her looking out for him, though, and by end of their Academy training we were all good friends.

Now if we could only get her to stop calling me “Jimbo” and Blair, “Sandy.”

I scanned the shabby little place she would be staying at when she wasn't being a lowly hired caretaker for Crawford Industries.

“We should take a stroll down the street, let the nosy neighbors see my husband so they won't be calling the protectors when you show up on the doorstep in the middle of the night.” She'd started to grin again when the word “husband” had left her lips. It was an amusing concept. Megan Connor and I wouldn't have lasted two weeks as a married couple. We were great friends, but she enjoyed throwing barbs at me, and I liked competing against her too much for a marriage relationship to have ever worked.

“Yes, dear,” I said, deadpan.

She punched me in the arm again, and I winced. Connor hit hard.

Grumbling, I suggested that maybe we should introduce ourselves around in a more believable fashion. We could have an argument out front on the tiny patch of grass and establish our marriage credentials that way.

Connor snickered and offered me her arm. I took it and we stepped outside and walked slowly down the street, waving at the various folks who were sitting on their porches or playing with their dogs or watching their kids play.

This little neighborhood was close enough to where Blair would be living that I could easily reach him by telepathy. If I exerted myself and discarded the sounds of the industrial machinery, I could distinguish the factory workers chatting or singing.

Connor poked me. We had crossed the street to meander back up to our little domain of bliss, and unless there was a sentinel living in this shabby area, nobody could hear us.

“What's going on with Sandy right now?” She had been hiding it pretty well, but I knew from her scent that she was anxious.

I had been aware all along of Blair's emotional state. He was nervous and worried but was handling it okay.

I spoke to him, told him Connor said hi, and asked where he was.

”I'm still in the holding cell at the justice center.”

I took a quick moment and passed that along to Connor as we headed to our new domicile. She had to get ready for her shift as a caretaker, and I had my own errand to run.

After we were in the house, Connor headed into the bathroom to take on the persona of her new cover. The NRIA techs had outfitted her with a false code. It wouldn't pass muster with a high level skimmer, but when she held her tattooed hand up to Crawford Industries' cheap model, it would register her as Meg Cook, middle common class member and a recent immigrant from Uluru. Connor had a fairly strong accent, so that had been kept the same. Blair always did say that the best lies were built around the truth.

Well, it was no lie to say that I was grateful to Connor for leaving her home and coming to help us. Blair would have someone on the inside who would stomp into the ground anyone who tried to hurt him.

I liked that about her.

xxx

Blair was still in the holding cell when I checked in with him later. I asked him what instructions he'd been given.

”They told us that after they'd compiled our records we would be walked to the other side of the building where the medical facilities are located. One stop shopping for Crawford Industries. Condemn us, make us into docile, dumb workers, and then package us up in coveralls and ship us to our new home. We'll work until our sentences are over and then some social worker will decide if we continue working there for our board and a pittance or if we can be sent to a relative's care. Legally, they can't just dump us in the street, but I bet they get around that all the time. I wonder what the average life expectancy is for a mind-wiped worker?”

I didn't like his use of “us” and “we.” “Don't identify too much with your fellow workers. You're not staying there and you won't be incapacitated and unable to take care of yourself.”

”Remember when Joel Taggart had me write that paper comparing our justice system with ancient Earth's way of handling their criminal population? I don't know if it would be better to be mind-wiped or have my faculties intact for the whole twenty-five years and experience the crawl of time and the danger of assaults and being raped. At least if I was mindless, I'd be in a happy sort of daze, and if I was raped I might not even realize what had happened to me. But I wouldn't be me! I won't be me for the next couple of days. What if I end up with bastard's luck and the mind-wipe is permanent? Jim, you don't have to keep me if that happens. Just stick me in a home and get on with your life. I'll understand, I promise.”

“Blair, don't work yourself up into a terror attack. Don't bring attention on yourself that way. We've got people in place at the justice center and they'll make sure you're safe. And I would never turn you away for any reason. After I leave Connor's place I'm going to go and confront Crawford about permission to see you. Connor will be there when you arrive tonight at the dormitory. As a new hire, she gets the new arrivals. I know you feel alone right now, but we've got your back. Do you want to talk about something else? Having a distraction might be a good idea. Why don't you tell me about the plant teachers on Quyllur? What illness do they help and which ones have the potential to be used for new medicines?”

I had the sense that Blair was chuckling at me. “Man, you're asking me to babble about my research? This is a golden opportunity. Usually when I start talking about this stuff, you start snoring.”

”Make the most of it, junior.” If it would help Blair to not panic, I'd listen to him recite anything he wanted.

”Okay. I don't want us to get too tired from using our telepathy, but for a little while, I think I need to hear your voice in my head. So. How about telling me about your experiences with the plant-teachers Incacha taught me help wounds to heal cleanly? Did you ever use the one with the bright blue flowers that smelled so bad?”

We talked for a while until I was ready to leave to go to Crawford's office. He was calmer when we said goodbye, and I made a promise to myself that when this was over, we were going to go to Quyllur for at least a month.

xxx

The office manager of Crawford Industries, a short self-important watch dog, refused to let me talk to his boss. I wasn't surprised. I'd be showing up on Crawford's home doorstep tonight to plead my case. I did leave a voice message. I was assured that Mr. Crawford would certainly give it his full consideration.

That was a load of dung, but I pretended that his words mollified me.

I was restless and with both Blair and Connor out of my orbit for now, I decided to check in at work. I had other cases I was working on, and it would help me to pass the time.

There was no way I would be allowed into the Southside Justice Center's off-limits facilities to check on my partner, but maybe Simon had heard from the operatives assigned there to protect Blair.

Simon called out to enter his office when I knocked on the door, and he rose when I came to stand in front of his desk.

He moved to my side and laid a hand on my shoulder.

“Jim, how are you holding up?”

I shrugged a little. “I don't need to bond yet, but I, uh, I feel unsettled. Have you gotten any reports on how he's doing? I've used telepathy to keep in touch and he's still waiting to get processed.”

“Stop worrying, Detective. We've got eyes on him. He's all right. He's been doing a lot of talking with the other men in his cell, listening to their fears and trying to help them adjust.” Simon let go of my shoulder after one last strong squeeze.

I ran my hand through my hair. “He's a good kid, Simon. I'm not surprised he's reaching out to those other poor bastards. He's a master at hiding his own emotions, though. He's pretty apprehensive about the mind-wiping.”

Simon nodded, and my eye fell upon a 3-D holo of Simon and his son. I winced, remembering my run-in with Daryl earlier today. Might as well let Simon know about it.

“Ummm, Captain?” Simon looked alert. “I got a little rough with Daryl this morning. He showed up at court to watch Blair's sentencing and said some vindictive stuff. Probably it would be better if Blair and I didn't come over for a while. I don't want to make it any more awkward for you.”

“And you don't want to take a chance you'd take a swing at my son.” Banks scrubbed at his mouth with one hand. “Daryl's stubborn. And he's grieving for his friend. I've told him that after considering everything, I don't think that Sandburg was guilty. But you just hold tight to your temper and I'll tell Daryl to keep his opinions to himself, because I still expect you and Blair to come over for poker. I actually think that if Daryl stops blaming Blair, that the two of them would get along pretty well. I wouldn't mind seeing some of Sandburg's work ethic rub off on my son. His mother tends to spoil the boy. If he put a little more work into his studies, he could get into a good school, have a better career than me. Not that I haven't done so badly for someone born in the common class. At least I've been able to raise Daryl's status.”

Simon walked over to his personal kaffee machine, filled a cup, and handed it to me. There was no need to ask if I wanted one. We were both protectors, after all. He filled a mug for himself, too. It smelled wonderful.

“Daryl was here last week waiting for me to finish up a meeting, and he must have overheard someone talking about Sandburg's upcoming court case. There were a lot of people this morning who were upset about the news that Blair would be mind-wiped. That boy's got a way of getting people to like him.”

I gulped the kaffee gratefully. “Yeah, he does. At first, when I was investigating him, I thought maybe it was just a survival skill he'd picked up, and maybe that is part of it, but he's genuinely interested in people and what makes them tick. When he talks to someone, he shows them respect. Well, he does if they deserve it. He's fully capable of taking on bullies and cutting them down to size.”

I took a moment and opened myself to our bond, letting Blair's emotions fill me. He was becoming impatient and in the background his fears would surge and then recede, a constant wave of motion. I had no idea how things would change once he'd been mind-wiped. Would I feel the real Blair, or the artificial contentedness the mind-wiped showed to others?

Simon waved me to a chair and sat down at his desk. I filled him in on Crawford and that I'd be at the guy's door tonight. I mentioned that I might have to wave my badge around to get his attention, in case there was any flack about it.

After I'd sat for a while, brooding, Simon asked, “How about a cup of kaffee to take with you?” I got the message that Simon had work to do and told him that I had to comm a few lowlifes to get some information for the Masters and Lee cases.

I took the kaffee with me and settled down at my own desk. I could use the distraction, at any rate.

Finally, several hours later. Blair telepathically spoke, sounding casual, but I knew how he was feeling. ”They've come for me, Jim. Wish me luck.”

I did, and hoped like hell it wouldn't end up to be bastard's luck.

xxx

“Relax,” said the bald, short, heavy-set man dressed in the practical tunic and pants most medical personal favored.

Relax? Sure. Let's see how relaxed he'd be if it was him locked into the operating chair and about to lose his mind.

The doctor had sent the guards to wait out in the hall when he'd entered the exam room. I didn't know if the guards were undercover or not. For that matter I wasn't sure if this guy was the doctor the task force had sent. They'd promised the doctor would fix it so that I could keep control while working at Crawford Industries. Just a temporary mild-wipe, they'd said. I'd “wake up” within a few days, and the hypno-treatment would take over. I'd still look and act mind-wiped, but I could break out of it, if I wanted.

Doctor Baldy aimed a portable skimmer at the back of my hand. He hummed to himself and then read my name out loud from the holographic image the skimmer formed over my hand.

“Blair Sandburg. Bastard. Guide to sentinel James Ellison, detective, Major Interplanetary Crimes. Oh, my. That's a tough break for him. I'll adjust your neurotransmitters to compensate for the depression that you'll experience when your bond is broken. You aren't going to be seeing him again, are you? Let me check your court records.”

Fiery pits of perdition, didn't this guy know the score? Was he saying that for the benefit of anybody monitoring us?

Telepathically, I yelled for Jim. I described the guy who was looking through my court and medical records and asked if that matched the description of the doctor who was supposed to operate on me. It had been somebody on the task force's bright idea that the doctor's name be kept from me. Apparently they didn't trust me to not go around blabbing it or asking for that doctor . I was afraid that “need to know” philosophy was about to blow up on me. Jim said he'd find out from Simon and for me to stall.

“Uh, hello, what are you doing?” Explaining about the various things he was attaching to my head might buy me a few minutes, although I already knew what they were. I'd done my research.

He ignored me and kept on humming while he rolled my sleeves up and unbuttoned my shirt, then he stuck monitors on my arms and chest.

“Have you done many of these, Doc?”

“Be quiet. If I want you to say something, I'll tell you.” He resumed humming. So much for engaging in small talk. I might have to start yelling, but that could backfire and I might be given a drug to put me out.

Another man entered the room without so much as a polite tap on the door. He shot a worried look at me, then said to Doctor Baldy, “Excuse me, this man was scheduled on my roster.”

Dr. Baldy shrugged. “You were in the restroom and I was done with all of mine. I thought I'd finish up for you. Why don't you call it a day, go on home. This one's going to be a little more interesting to work on since he's a guide and his bond will be broken. I'd enjoy the change of pace.”

My heart was about to beat its way right out of my chest. The second doctor laughed and then came over and clapped Dr. Baldy on the shoulder.

“Thanks for the offer, George, but I've got this one. I've checked his records and I agree he's interesting. Don't often get guides or sentinels coming through here. Look, if you're finished with your list, then you deserve to go home early. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Maybe I'll stay and observe.” Dr. Baldy crossed his arms. “Or contact the director. You've only been here a little over a week, and I've got seniority. I think I want this patient. We can avoid the fuss, though. Just leave him to me and be glad for the time off.”

”Blair, your doctor is taller than me, thin, gray-haired, green eyes. Stall the other one. Simon contacted our man there and he'll set things straight.”

“Umm, say, do you think I could have a bathroom break?”

They both stopped arguing and stared at me. “No,” Dr. Baldy said. “You're already wired up. Just wait.”

“You can use a urinal,” said Dr. Tall-and-Thin.

Pee in front of these guys? Not my first choice, but I would if it would buy more time.

There was a knock on the door and one of the guards who'd brought me to the room stuck his head in and pointed at Dr. Baldy. “Doc, there's a protector outside jacking your vehicle. Have you got tickets that you haven't paid or something?”

Dr. Baldy tore out of the room and the guard winked at me. The tall, thin, gray-haired doctor walked to the door and spoke to him. I heard the guard tell the doctor he'd be waiting and would take me himself to the loading pen.

The doctor, the right doctor, locked the door. He walked over to me and laid his hand on my chest.

“Blair, I'm sorry for the scare. The guard came and got me from the restroom when George decided to take over. And do you need a urinal?”

“No. Just stalling.”

He frowned, and flipped a switch on the chair. Instantly my vitals were flashing in bright colors above me. I couldn't read all of the information but from the look on the doctor's face, he didn't approve of my numbers.

“I'm going to give you something to help you relax. I need you calmer than this to start the deep hypno-treatment.” The doctor walked to a cabinet.

“Wait. Let me meditate and see if I can get things under control.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I had just released my third breath when there was a cool, damp touch to my inner arm and then the prick of a needle. My eyes flew open.

“Fiery perdition, what'd you give me?” I wanted to fuss that I would have calmed down if he'd just given me a minute but it was too late. I already was feeling the effects of the drug.

“Gabatome. It's fast acting and we don't have time to spare. But keep doing your deep breathing. We'll be ready to start the hypno-treatment in a few minutes. In the meantime, imagine a safe place and how you would look there. Make it as rich in detail as you can. Your core personality will be inhabiting that mental space. You're going to realize everything that is happening to you but you won't really experience it in depth. Not unless you chose to override the commands I'll implant in your consciousness.”

“You're going to have me disassociate.” I heard myself say the words slowly. Calmly.

“Yes. Even in ancient times, the ability to disassociate to spare the mind from the worst effects of trauma was well documented. You'll be protected this way.” The doctor's hand were busy, various beeps and clicks emanating from the controls of the chair.

“But my body will feel everything done to it.”

“That's true. But say you are beaten; your body will feel the pain, but it will fade without leaving a scar on your psyche. When this is all over, you might feel as if you'd been in a dream, but you won't have lasting emotional trauma. Believe me, you will be in control. Think of it as holding a switch in your hand. If you decide that your body is in danger, or you have to communicate as yourself, then flip the switch and the disassociation will stop. You'll be normal again, not a mind-wiped person. But don't do it unless you're ready to be pulled out. This is a one-way switch. The hypnosis won't take effect again, unless you were to return here and I gave you another treatment.”

He patted my leg. My skin felt flushed and warm. I was comfortable, a little sleepy. My thoughts wandered to Jim, but it was too much effort to try to talk to him.

“Look at me, and keep your eyes on mine. We're ready to start. First, I'm going to do the deep hypno-treatment, then I'll implant the hearing and vision recording tech, and finally, I'll do the temporary mind-wipe”

He said, leaning over me, “The mind-wipe won't last more than two or three days, but the hypno-treatment can't be activated until it wears off. While you're mind-wiped you won't remember much about your former life. When it's faded and you wake up, you'll be in your safe place, watching everything. When you're ready to record to the chip, just think it and the chip will respond. I'll go over all of this again when you're under.”

“Dim lights, raise room temperature four degrees.” The room grew darker and warmer. I blinked, and then blinked again.

“Keep looking at me, Blair. Watch my eyes.”

He brushed the curls away from my forehead. “Ready to go to your safe place, Blair? Picture yourself there, happy, contented, relaxed.”

I remembered making love with Jim by the waterfall when we had traveled to the spirit plane. I decided I would wait there, lying back on the soft grass, enjoying the sounds and brilliant colors of the jungle birds, the rich scents on the breeze. I would dream of Jim, of how he cherished me, how his touch sensitized my skin, how good it was to feel the bond as we orgasmed.

I could feel myself hardening; there was another wet swipe on my arm, the jab of something sharp, and soft words floating into my ears. His eyes were green, and I blinked again. Keep your eyes on mine echoed in my mind.

“You're feeling very happy now, aren't you? Think about your lover's touch, how good he makes you feel. Can you feel his touch on your skin? Good. You're good. You feel very, very good and very relaxed. Just think of him and your safe place and how he makes you feel when he touches you.”

He brushed his hand over my eyes and they closed obediently. “That's good, Blair. Keep your eyes shut now and be good for me. You're good, and it feels good when you're touched. Picture your safe place, and how good it feels to be there. No one can hurt you there, you're invisible to others, no one knows you're there. It's good to be hidden. You're happy, you're relaxed, and you're there in your safe place. It feels so good to be there, you're safe, you're warm, you're good, you're so good, you're a good boy...”

His voice kept murmuring, but it was Jim's hands on me, touching my belly and groin, and it was his mouth on my dick, so good, and the bond was so wide, so open, filling me, stretching me, and I felt myself shatter.

I fell down and down and down and when I opened my eyes the light was a beautiful blue tint and there was the sound of a waterfall nearby. I was sprawled, legs spread, against a little rise off the path to the waterfall. My shirt was unbuttoned and loose, the breeze a teasing touch on my nipples. The cheap trousers I was wearing were opened wide, inviting me to slide my hand down my belly and cup my balls and dick. I felt drowsy, warm, safe and comfortable - and as aroused as a spacer on shore leave. I knew where I was, but I was pretty sure that the spirit plane wasn't what the doctor had in mind when he had me visualize a safe place.

I closed my eyes and checked the bond; I sensed that Jim was bewildered, but fine, and I sent reassurance back. He'd been flooded with arousal when I orgasmed, and it had confused him. I yearned to talk to him, but the words wouldn't form in my mind.

Dreamily, I wondered where I was in the mundane world. How much time had passed since I'd been in the treatment room?

The last thing I really remembered was that... orgasm. I'd had an orgasm. I think. It sure felt like an orgasm. And if it was, then I'd had it while sitting in that chair, and... I'd had an audience.

I should have been embarrassed. But instead I felt comfortable and safe and the fact that the doctor had seen me like that just didn't seem to matter.

I relaxed my muscles further, using the skills my mother had taught me when I was very small. It was good to be tucked away, safe in the spirit plane. Jim had caught me here and soul-bonded himself to me, anchoring me so that I couldn't choose to die. I had been angry with him when he'd done that because I chose not to live mind-wiped. But he'd claimed me as a guide and saved me and when I'd come to love him we'd both soul-bonded. I loved it here, it was so pleasant, and when Jim found me, we would make love, as we'd done before on the spirit plane.

I was vaguely curious about what was happening to my body. I should try to find out. I closed my eyes, and searched.

I was still in the operating chair, so I hadn't been experiencing disassociation for very long. The doctor was talking to the guard.

“Let me get his records ready for you to take with him. It's strange, I've never seen brain wave patterns like this before in a mind-wiped patient. And yet, the mind-wipe was successful.” He sounded very puzzled. The doctor started taking off the various monitors from my chest and arms. I could feel his touch. It was weird; it... didn't matter. This must be the effects of the disassociation, but he'd said I wouldn't be aware of it until after the mind-wipe had worn off. Looks like the doc was wrong about that.

The guard stepped forward, leaning over me to release my arms and legs and hips from the restraints. He waved at my groin and I followed the movement and saw that I really had experienced an orgasm. My crotch was stained and damp and now that I was checking I could smell my semen.

“I've seen them wet and shit themselves when they get put in this chair, Doc, but I've never seen one do that.” He was smirking. I was disconnected from the emotions I knew I would have felt before, shame, mortification. I should have wanted to cover myself. I should have been blushing, but my skin didn't feel overheated at all.

The guard suddenly looked suspicious. “Did you touch him? Even if he had fairly earned being mind-wiped, I wouldn't have allowed that. And he shouldn't even be here. Do you know what the pretext was that got him back in court?”

The doctor shone a light in my eyes, and then moved it up and down and to the side. I tracked it with my eyes.

The doctor talked over me. “I was told that he'd broken some minor rule about his probation to save the detective who is his sentinel. And no. I didn't molest this boy. He must have been thinking about his sentinel when I began the treatment because he got an erection and I built on that to help him to feel relaxed and safe. I only suggested he think about his lover.”

The doctor pushed a switch and the chair moved, sitting me directly up. He kept on talking to the guard.

“I've never observed anyone orgasm during treatment either. I did some research on guides when I was given this assignment. According to what I read, he shouldn't have even had an erection without his bonded sentinel present. After this case is over, I think I'll ask for permission to do some more testing with him. He's not acting in established parameters at all, and his brain waves are strange.”

The doctor handed the guard my records, a dot in a small case. “My part is done. This room is secured, so satisfy my curiosity. Are you the one who turned in Hannity?”

“Yes. I'm not opposed to mind-wiping when it's called for. I've seen it change some dangerous characters into mild-mannered and manageable people. They're as sweet as they can be when they get up from that chair. But the ones Hannity sends, I couldn't help but notice what they had in common. Poverty, and every last one a bastard. He sent plenty to Crawford's place that should have only had a little time with Community Service. Fair's fair. I got nothing against bastards, so I had a little confidential talk with somebody I trusted up in the Justice office.”

The doctor shook the guard's hand and said to me, “You won't remember me, I'm sure, but goodbye, Blair.”

The guard said, “I've noticed that the mind-wiped don't seem to remember much from day to day, except for instructions on their jobs. They really just live in the present, don't they?”

The doctor nodded, and then walked to the door, “He's all yours. See you tomorrow.” He left then and I wondered if he was right? Would I remember what had happened to me in here when I woke up tomorrow?

The guard moved closer, so that he was standing directly in front of me. He surveyed me up and down, and then he tousled my hair.

I decided to let the real me take a backseat. I retreated into my safe, beautiful forest, but I was also there in that treatment room, aware of what was happening to me. I was mind-wiped, but not... one hundred percent. Strange.

“What's your name?”

I smiled at him, feeling happy that he had spoken to me. “Blair”

“What's your last name?”

“Sandburg”

“What's the name of the judge you saw this morning?”

“I don't know.”

He nodded. “How're you feeling, young man?”

“Happy.”

“Well, that's good. Okay, let's get you cleaned up and changed into your new duds. Do you know you made a mess in your clothes?”

I found myself giggling. That was strange, but I made no effort to stop myself. I was still content to go along for the ride, and I'd let Brainless Blair do what he wanted to do.

“I'm all sticky.”

“Stand up and walk with me. At least the way you are you won't mind when people look at you and see that you had a party in your pants.”

I did as he said, smiling at everybody I met. Some of them smiled back, and that made me happy.

After he'd given me some clean, blue coveralls and taken me to a shower room, I did what he said and undressed, washed myself all over, and put on my new clothes. It made me feel happy to do what he said.

He took me to a room where there were other people sitting on benches, and I sat down, too. We all waited together. Some of them looked familiar, but I didn't know why.

After a while a big vehicle came up to the door, and a woman came inside the room and told us to get up and find a seat inside the vehicle.

It made me happy to do what she said, and it made me happy to wave goodbye to the guard.

I watched out the window as we left that big place. When we came to a new big place the woman told us to leave the vehicle and get in a line because we were at our new home.

I followed the people in front of me and walked inside the building. A man pointed a little machine he held in his hand at my head, and then he looked at it. He took my hand and touched another machine to the shapes on the back of my hand.

He slapped me on my backside when he was finished. He pointed to a tall, pretty woman. “Go stand over by her, boy. She's your new nanny.”

Continued in Part Five