Notes: A huge thank you and a big TeddyBlair BurgiHug to Tate who did a great job of betareading! I'm totally grateful for her wonderful
suggestions and for her brilliant English :-).

Manu, my friend, thanks for the relaxing week! How's Jerry doing?
 

They had never talked about it. Never mentioned the name or the case again. It had happened, they had survived, end of story. No need to talk about it. Justice had proven itself, and although they were both well aware of the constant danger that someone else knew and might someday reveal their secret, the subject never came up again. Blair had once tried to bring it up but Jim had just shrugged dismissing Blair's thoughts as much ado about nothing. And too proud or stubborn to admit his inner fears to even himself, the Sentinel kept his feelings locked inside like a precious pearl nobody should ever see.

It was funny that Jim Ellison didn't sense any fear noe as he stared into the cold, yet satisfied eyes of Lee Brackett, the only other person in the world besides Blair and his captain who knew of Jim's extraordinary sensory abilities. The always present fear had become a face.

"It's been a long time," Brackett's smile didn't quite reach his eyes when he spoke.

"What to you want, Brackett?" Jim asked while three men strapped him down onto something resembling an examination table. Metal cuffs restrained his wrists and ankles, and soon his head was also immobilized.

Disappointed by the lack of fear despite the threatening situation Jim was in, Brackett stepped a little closer.

"Oh, I don't want anything, Mr. Ellison." Brackett checked the cuffs on Jim's wrists and, apparently satisfied, sat down on the edge of the table. "I'm just fulfilling my part of the contract," he explained.

"What contract?" Ellison insisted, moving his arms and legs to determine the strength of his bonds. Unfortunately, they didn't give much.

"Save your strength," Brackett suggested and patted Jim's arm like he was an old friend.

"What did they promise you?" A fearful thought came to mind and Jim suddenly knew what was going on. The Sentinel - the lab rat. What had only seemed to be an exciting story from a top-rated TV series, now was about to become a terrible reality.

Brackett nodded in confirmation and said: "*I* promised them a great piece merchandise if they dropped the charges against me."

"Merchandise?" Jim repeated, somewhat unbelieving. "You mean me?" God, the man was colder than he had ever thought.

"Don't worry, they want to research the extent of your Sentinel powers, just like your friend Mr. Sandburg does. Then they'll probably hire you." Brackett chuckled. He reached into his pocket and produced something Jim couldn't recognize from his point of view.

A distant sound from somewhere outside caught Jim's attention and he turned up his hearing to identify the somewhat familiar noise. 'Oh, god!' Jim thought when his ears picked up the voice of his guide. Blair must be there too, and Jim strained to hear what was going on. Yes, it was definitely Sandburg, and Jim tried to decipher the words. The young man was babbling, maybe trying to hide his fear or to distract his captors. Listening more carefully, it sounded more like Blair was giving a lecture about tribal cultures. -- It almost sounded like a...tape. When Jim realized that he'd just walked into a trap, he rushed to turn down his enhanced hearing. Too late!

An unbearable pain shot through his ears, raging through his head until Jim thought he was ready to burst! He pulled at the restraints holding his arms and legs in place trying to throw his head from one side to the other to ease the pain. Just doing something! Agonizing moments passed leaving the Sentinel breathing ragged and his heartbeat racing. While the excruciating sensation slowly faded, his vision caught a small item Lee Brackett was holding in his hands.

"You know, Mr. Ellison, I was eager to see how a simple dog whistle would affect you. It was a stunning performance I must say." Brackett stowed the instrument of torture away. "By the way, you may have noticed that we played a tape of one of the lectures Mr. Sandburg gave to make sure you'd open your incredible sense of hearing."

His ears still hurting from the ordeal, Jim remembered one of Blair's breathing techniques and forced himself to calm down. He turned the level of his sensory input as far down as absolutely possible. He could probably avoid more pain by maintaining this level. At least he hadn't granted Brackett the satisfaction of hearing him screaming.

'Concentrate on your breathing, Jim," he reminded himself, recalling Sandburg soft voice when he did.

As if reading his mind, Brackett spoke again. "I'm pretty sure your ingenious friend taught you some exercises to prevent things like this from happening but I'm also confident that Dr. Jusick here can come up with an equally brilliant counter-measure." He nodded at a man who had just entered the room. The physician, wearing a lab coat and glasses, came over to where Jim was bound.

"It won't work," Jim promised, his ice-blue eyes shifting between the men.

The so-called doctor pulled out a syringe while he was already working at Jim's shirt sleeve.

"Don't be such a pessimist, Detective," Jusick said, swabbing a spot on Jim's exposed arm. "This little cocktail'll help you relax and enjoy the ride." The needle pierced through the skin of Jim's right arm, and he almost instantly felt a burning, and began loosing control over his senses and body.

No, please, Jim bit his lip when his vision blurred and his sense of touch suddenly registered the cold air brushing over his arms. The drug multiplied his sensory awareness and he could do nothing to avoid it!

Jim tore at the restraints, yelling harsh words and fighting the drug as it worked its way through his blood stream.

All of a sudden, however, his arms were free and he thrashed around, frantically struggling to escape Brackett's trading game. HE HAD TO GET OUT OF THERE!

With all his strength, and sheer will power, Jim grabbed the arm that seemed to try to hold him and threw himself at the threatening figure in front of him. HE HAD TO GET OUT OF THERE!

The body gave way and Jim rolled off the table, nailing the man to the floor. His hands, free of all cuffs now, grabbed the man by the collar and pointed a set of hard blows to the his ribcage. Someone - obviously someone in pain that Jim happily registered - shouted his name.

"I'm not your willing lab rat, pal," he hissed and felt the body beneath him tensing up and grasping at his shirt.

"JIM!"

Someone was calling his name over and over again. Assuming it was Brackett Jim didn't listen.

"JIM!"

A warm familiarity reached Ellison's scared mind. Jim. That...that was him, wasn't it? Jim. The sound of his own name reverberated in his ears. With the sound, recognition set in and Jim snapped out of his frightening nightmare!

Blair was pinned down by Jim's heavy body. The struggle had sent them both to the floor of Jim's bedroom. Blair clutched his left side where Jim's punches had left their marks only seconds ago.

"J--Jim!" The Sentinel stared into Sandburg's panic-stricken eyes when reality hit him.

"Oh, my god," Jim groaned and immediately let go of his hurting friend.

"Oh, my god. Oh dear Lord." Jim repeated the word like an mantra, to chase the devil of Lee Brackett away. He didn't stir when Blair cautiously shifted himself into a sitting position, moaning in pain.

Gently, the anthropologist touched Jim's arm.

"Jim? You...you had a dream." Blair said slowly.

Jim turned towards his guide's voice and shook his head. "That was no dream," he whispered, still shaken by the terror and helplessness he'd felt before.

Blair moved a little closer, wincing again when his bruised ribs protested. He had never seen his friend like this, so frightened...and so fragile.

"Wanna tell me about the nightmare, Jim?" Blair asked gently, placing a comforting arm around Jim's trembling shoulders. The man flinched at the touch, but Blair started a subtle stroking.

"It's okay, my friend." He soothed. "It's okay, no one's gonna hurt you. I'm here."

Slowly, Jim seemed to recognize his surroundings and when he did, he suddenly slumped against Sandburg's smaller body replacing the horrible images of the dream with Blair's scent and heatbeat.

"Jim?" Blair asked after a few minutes of silence, still stroking Jim's strong back.

"Did...did I hurt you?" Jim murmured into Blair's clothes.

The young man shook his head although his left side told him otherwise. "I'm fine, Jim." He waited a moment before he asked again:

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

He felt Jim starting to shake again and Blair's hand tenderly brushed over his partner's short hair. "Easy, buddy. I'm here to help you, and everything'll be okay."

It took another long minutes before Jim found the strength and courage to talk again. It was just one single sentence but it sent shivers down Blair's spine.

"Chief, I'm so...scared."

Jim buried his face in Sandburg's unruly bunch of curls, seeking the warmth, comfort and peace he had just lost.

The End.