Chapter Two: Jim

THE SOUND OF THE BREEZES THAT BLOW

I don't fit in here. I'm convinced that everyone is staring at me but every time I turn around, all eyes are focused straight ahead. Kurali sits in the chair next to me, stoic and silent.

Blair stands in the front of the lecture hall, leaning against a long, black table. Even though I can't hear what he's talking about, I can read his enthusiasm in his gestures, in the way his eyes sparkle. He looks at me and smiles. Everyone is looking at him, listening to whatever he's saying -- and he singles me out for a smile.

He's beautiful. God, he's so beautiful.

Vaughan thinks so, too. He's back again. The bastard just can't stay dead....

I start to stand up, but I can't move. Kurali glances over at me. "You cannot do anything yet."

Blair doesn't know Vaughan is behind him. He keeps lecturing, but I can't hear his voice. All I can hear is the steady beating of his heart.

I can hear Vaughan's voice, though. He looks at me and grins. "I said you couldn't keep him, Ellison. You're going to lose him. One way...."

He twists his hand in Blair's long hair, yanking him back and spinning him around, laying him face down on the table. "...Or another."

Blair screams. I can't hear him, but I can see his face contort, and I can feel the sound waves slapping me in the face.

My legs freeze and I can't stand up. I can't move. Kurali glances at me, pity in his face. "Vaughan is mad. You cannot act against him yet."

Vaughan reaches into his pocket and pulls out his severed penis. Oh, God, no -- I saw Kurali throw that into the undergrowth when he killed Vaughan. How'd he get it back?

It doesn't really matter how or why it's happening, does it? All I can do is watch as he trails the ragged handful of flesh down Blair's back. It turns into a knife. Blair's clothes melt away, and the knife changes back into a hard, pulsing cock.

"See? You can't do anything, Ellison." Vaughan rests the penis at the back of Blair's neck. As he drags it down, it slices Blair open right along his spine. He doesn't bleed until the cock / knife reaches the small of his back and stops. Then the blood starts pouring out of his body in sheets, like a river crashing over a waterfall. I've never seen anything so red. The heat and scent of his blood rises from Blair's body like a mist, shrouding the lecture hall. It coats my skin. I know it'll never come off.

Blair twists his head around to look at me. He's not screaming anymore. I wish he was... at least then I'd know he was alive. His eyes get bigger and bigger as first the cock, then the knife, plunges into him. He never screams again. I hear his heart pounding louder, beating against me, almost battering me with its force --

I awaken with a start, clutching Blair to my side instinctively. He stirs and mutters something irritable-sounding but he doesn't wake up. His heart continues its steady, sleepy rhythm. Outside our hut, I can't hear anything but the sounds of the village at rest and the wind blowing through the trees.

Shaking, I loosen my grip and run a hand down his naked back. I feel smooth, warm skin covered by a thin sheen of perspiration... no blood. It was just another dream. He's all right. I got there in time; I stopped Vaughan from finishing what he started.

Wrapping my arms around Blair's slender, sturdy body, I pull him against my chest, more gently this time. He sighs and molds himself against me, snuggling his head more securely into the crook of my shoulder. I've never been able to get over the way our bodies respond to each other, awake or asleep, making love or just talking.

Sometimes I wonder... would all this have happened between us if we'd met in some other time or place? It's pretty sick to be grateful that both our lives were turned inside out this way, but I don't think I can entirely regret anything that brought Blair into my life.

I rest my hand on the side of his neck. Sometimes, when he thinks I'm not looking, I see his fingers go to this spot, tracing the two shallow cuts that Vaughan left there. They're healing quickly; in a few months, no one will be able to see them but me.

My fingers slide from his neck to his shoulder. It's no trouble at all to trace the pattern of the tattoo there. It's still hard for me to deliberately use my senses -- we're working on it -- but I barely need to concentrate to feel the pattern of the ink beneath his skin.

God, I wish I couldn't feel it. I wish he hadn't decided to mark himself for me. I don't think he understands what it means -- and what's going to happen when I finally get him out of here? He can't realize it now, but it's going to be hard to explain. And how can he just tell half the story?

He didn't have any choice when Vaughan marked him, but the tattoo was entirely his idea. His idea, his choice, his decision. Is that why he got the tattoo without talking to me first? Was he trying to tell the Direma that in spite of what happened with Vaughan, he really belongs to me? Or maybe he was trying to convince me -- or himself -- that he has some control over what his life's become.

I could have lost him. That's what most of my nightmares have been about ever since it happened -- loss. Even when Blair's not in my dreams, his absence is all I can feel. Blair's absence and Vaughan's presence... why?

It's hard to admit, even to myself, but I wonder sometimes if I hated Vaughan because of the way he treated Blair, or because he dared to lay a hand on what was mine. I don't mean that I feel like I own him -- I never felt that. But the first time I saw him, I felt like I'd found something I never realized I was missing.

Vaughan wanted to take that away from me, but Vaughan is dead. I heard his heart stop, I saw his blood pumping from the gashes Kurali left in his throat and his crotch. He's dead. Why won't he stay dead in my dreams?

What if Kurali and I hadn't gotten there in time? What would my dreams be like then?

Sometimes, I think Blair's getting over it a lot better than I am. That doesn't mean it's easy on him. The bruises and the marks around his wrists and throat have finally started to fade, but even in the dark, I can still feel the slight difference in the texture of his skin on all the places Vaughan hurt him. He doesn't mention any pain in his ankle, but I can see the slight hitch in his step when he's been standing or walking too long. And he never complains of any nightmares of his own, but I've held him through long nights as he stares silently into the darkness.

Blair did the hard part. He went with Vaughan to protect the village. He must have known what was in store for him -- rape, torture, and eventually, whenever that sadist got bored with him, death -- but he went anyway. He went, and he managed to keep himself alive. I should have been there to protect him, but all I could do was follow, and listen to the things Vaughan taunted him with, and pray that I wouldn't be too late.

It can't happen again. I don't care what I have to do, I don't know how I can promise this even to myself, but I can't ever let anything happen to him. No one is ever going to hurt him again.

Not even me.

Especially not me.

"So. Tomorrow's the big day."

"That's right."

"Have you decided yet?"

"What do you think?" Blair doesn't look up from his notebook. Mura raises her eyebrows as she hears the English words, but she doesn't object as she continues grinding herbs. In fact, she smiles a little. She probably thinks we're exchanging lovers' secrets.

I guess we are. Turning my attention back to the baby sitting on my chest, I extend my arms and hold him up above me. He crows and kicks, waving his pudgy arms and legs in the air. I feel a slight pulling across my shoulders -- it took a lot of work, but we've got the new village almost established. The main buildings are finished. I'd promised Kurali that I'd go with him to check the rivers, see what kind of fish are most common here, but neither of us wants to go while it's so hot.

That's fine. It gives me a chance to rest, and to play with Blair's almost-godson. "Come on, you must have some idea what you're going to name him." I flip the baby around so he's hanging upside down, and he squeals in delight.

"Whatever happened to 'no pressure'?"

I lower the baby slowly, then lift him again as I make airplane noises. He crows and kicks -- this is one of his favorite games, even if he probably won't ever know what an airplane is.... "I'd hate to see what would happen if you don't think of a name. We'll have to call him 'Hey, You' for the rest of his life. Doesn't sound too impressive: Hey, You, the mightiest of all the -- "

"Shecky," Blair mutters. "If you ask me one more time, Jim, I swear I'm going to name him Shecky."

"Funny. He doesn't look like a -- " An expression that I've come to know well crosses the baby's face, and I carefully sit up and hold him upright. I do it in time for a change, and he doesn't spit up. Laying him on the bed, I get up and look over Blair's shoulder at the notes he's scribbling. "Kurali's not going to be happy if you don't have a name ready by tomorrow night -- "

Mura calmly sets down the mortar and pestle. "You were discussing my baby. Now you are discussing my father. If you decide to discuss me, please speak so I can understand you."

Blair grins at her, switching from English to Direma with an ease that took me over a year to accomplish. "Of course. But I thought you wanted his name to be a surprise?"

"I want him to have a name." The elder's daughter bites back her own smile, trying to look solemn and motherly beyond her years. She's barely seventeen. But ever since Chirigua was killed, Mura's been trying to take the herbalist's place. She'll probably be able to pull it off -- someday. Right now, she and Blair are trying to piece together what the old woman told them.

Walking away from the table, she picks up her son and balances him on one hip. Nodding toward the pile of herbs, she tells Blair, "That should be enough. We can start boiling them down this evening."

Blair flips through his notebook. "Do you think so? Chirigua never told me -- how long does this medicine keep?"

"Several moons. What we have here will last until the rains come again." Mura looks down at the baby as he squawks and tries to latch onto a breast. "Again, little one? How many stomachs do you have?"

I sit down across from Blair. "It looks like he wants something."

"All men do." Smiling fondly at her son, she nods in farewell and leaves our hut.

When she's gone, I turn back to Blair. "Shecky?"

Shrugging, Blair closes his notebook and sets it carefully aside. "I'm at a loss, man. I know how important names are in tribal societies -- most groups believe that the name doesn't simply reflect the individual. In a sense, the individual becomes the name. It can influence the kind of person that the child will grow into." He falls silent for a few seconds, staring down at the table. When he speaks again, his voice is low, even though no one in the village understands English. "I feel like... Jim, I think I'm being tested. I've got to do this right. If I blow this, I don't know what -- "

"Hey. Stop doing this to yourself." Reaching across the table, I put my hand on his wrist. I wait until he looks at me before I go on. "First of all, if the name is as important as you think it is, they wouldn't give the job to someone who they didn't think could handle it. Right?"

"Well...."

Some of the tension leaves Blair's body -- not entirely, but it reassures me a little. Shifting my grip, I take his hand in mine. "Second, no one here is testing you. They don't have any reason to test you. What, you really think Kurali would let just any bozo name his first grandchild?"

Smiling a little, Blair finally relaxes. "I guess you have a point."

"Of course I do. You're a very special bozo."

"Thanks a lot." But there's no irritation in his voice, no stiffness in his posture as he threads his fingers through mine. "You really know how to make a guy feel wanted."

"Good." I pull him closer. "Because that's exactly what you are, Blair. Wanted."

He comes to my arms without resisting. "Really?" He probably doesn't know how easy it is for me to read the wistfulness in his voice and eyes. After everything he's been through, he still has trouble believing that he has a place with the Direma... a place with me.

I can't think of any words that would reassure him, so I kiss him. I wish I was as quick to think of the right thing to say as he is. But I'm not, so all I can do is show him how much he's wanted -- how much he's needed -- and hope that it's enough.

Blair seems to think so. His arms go around my neck as he leans into the kiss, sucking my tongue into his mouth. He's so warm and relaxed in my embrace. There's no hesitation, no reluctance at all. There should be. How can he trust me so much? How can he give himself to me so freely?

If I had any brains -- if I had anything like a sense of honor left after so long in the jungle -- I'd walk away from him. But my brain turns to putty as he rubs against me. My head is filled with his scent; arousal and sweat and the herbs he's been working with combine in the air around us, leaving me drunk and helpless in his hands.

Breaking the kiss, Blair pulls me to my feet. "Come on. Kurali's not going to need you for a while, is he?"

I'm beyond even wanting to resist as I start pulling off the few clothes we're wearing. "He can manage without me. All of the building is done, there's plenty to eat -- "

"Good." Blair steers me to the bed. "Because I've got something in mind that you'll enjoy a lot more than hunting or construction work."

Sitting down, I pull him forward until he's straddling my hips. He settles on top of me. As I run a finger up and down his cock, I hook an arm around his waist to hold him against my chest. "I don't know... looks like you're doing some erecting of your own."

"You think so? Just what do you call this?" Easing a hand between our bodies, he clasps his fingers loosely around my own swelling shaft, nibbling on the side of my neck at the same time. His kisses start moving down, warm and moist against my collarbone.

Gently holding the back of his neck, I guide his face back up and kiss him deeply, running my tongue across his. This is how I want him -- face to face with me. I don't want him thinking that he has to service me, or, well, do things to make me happy. Really, if I never had another orgasm in my life, it'd be enough for me to hold him like this. But I think he wants a little more than just holding; I can't help gasping as he pushes me on my back, and my hands slide down to cup his ass.

Blair groans and moves against me. "Ohhh, God. Yeah, Jim, right there, please...." His words trail off in a wordless sigh as I carefully start probing him. He moves back against my hands, then forward against my cock. His hand tightens on me, sliding up and down. In spite of myself, I start to imagine that I'm inside him, buried in that hidden, tender flesh. I imgine that he's mine in every conceivable way -- mine --

I feel the edge of my orgasm starting to overtake me, and my hips thrust against Blair's. I run my lips wildly over his face, trying to taste every part of him. His free hand moves up to cup my face and hold me still for a kiss; his tongue brushes against mine, darting in and out of my mouth as he urges me on. I run a finger up and down the cleft of his ass, carefully tracing the entrance to his body. Blair's fist grips me tightly as his straining body surges against mine.

Time holds still for me as the world blurs around the edges. Right now, all I can feel is the explosion of our shared climax sealing our bodies together, and a warm, sweet mouth pressed to mine, blending my cry into his.

Breathing hard, Blair sags against my chest. "Wow."

"Yeah." I fumble for something to clean off with. We finally end up lying spooned together, my arms around Blair. I run a hand through his hair. He was right... it does grow fast. It's only a little shorter now than the very first time I saw him. The first time I saw him --

I don't want to think about that right now, or about why his hair is shorter. I just want to close my eyes and hold this boneless, drowsy figure for a little while longer and pretend that nothing exists beyond our bed.

He wriggles back against me with a contented sigh. At least, it sounds contented. There are times when I can almost imagine that I can feel what he feels. That can't be true, though; it doesn't make any sense. It's probably just something I pick up with my senses and my brain can't really process it. That, and wishful thinking.

Just when I think he's on the verge of falling asleep, he lifts a hand to cover mine. "How are you doing back there?" Rather than answering, I run my tongue around the curve of his ear. He chuckles sleepily. "I'm glad we finally have a bed. I mean, the hammock was fun and all, but I was always afraid of falling out of it."

"That's why I kept it," I murmur into his thick curls. I feel him raising his head to look over in the corner, where the hammock we slept in the first few nights still hangs. "Practice makes perfect, right?"

"I think we need lots of practice," he says around a yawn. He falls asleep while I'm trying to think of an answer. Smiling against his neck, I hold him a little closer and make myself comfortable. The fishing will be better this evening, anyway.

Kurali kneels by the river, staring into its slow-moving depths with a practiced eye. Without looking at me, he asks, "Has he decided?"

"Yes," I lie easily. Well, it might not be a lie. Not necessarily. I know Blair has narrowed down the list to a handful of names. He won't have any trouble deciding on one before tomorrow night. I hope he won't have any trouble....

"Good." Nodding sharply, Kurali stands and moves downstream a few yards. "Does he sleep?"

I smile. Kurali's worried about Blair, but he'd sooner die than let anyone but me know. Picking up the fishing spear he left behind, I follow him. "Yes, he sleeps. He's doing well."

"Do you sleep?" he asks abruptly. When I don't answer, he looks at me over his shoulder. "I killed Vaughan twice. Was it enough?"

"It was enough." I try to think of something besides Vaughan's bleeding body sprawled on the jungle floor. His throat slit to stop the words he'd been torturing Blair with... castrated to punish him for his planned rape.

Kurali sighs and stares back at the river. I know what he's thinking. He feels as guilty as I do. Blair doesn't know, but I threatened to kill Vaughan before he was allowed to "escape." That was a compromise. Kurali had no objections to seeing Vaughan dead -- not so much for what he was saying to Blair, as for the disruption he'd been causing in the village -- but he couldn't allow me to kill someone who was obviously mad.

No, we couldn't do anything to Vaughan just for the things he said. And we couldn't risk waiting until he'd actually done something to harm Blair, or someone else... so we let Vaughan think he'd finally managed to slip away from the guards. We hadn't counted on him coming back to kill three people and abduct Blair. There's a difference between madness and evil. I guess Kurali and I learned that too late.

I should have seen it coming. The day before Vaughan left, I cornered him and told him to never touch Blair, speak to Blair, look at Blair, think of Blair. He'd just smiled calmly and started telling me, in sickening detail, precisely how he intended to touch Blair. Kurali had needed to call three men to pull me off him.

And, of course, I hadn't told Blair. He had enough to worry about, I thought. God, if I had just been honest with him, he might have been prepared -- we all could have been prepared.

I shake myself back to the present as Kurali speaks to me. "You are still afraid."

"There's nothing to be afraid of."

"You fear losing Blair," he says, and my heart turns over. "Do you fear someone else taking him away? Or do you think he wants to leave you?"

Leaning against a tree, I close my eyes. "If he wants to leave, I can't stop him."

Kurali stands up and walks over to me. Taking the spear from my hand, he examines the barbs at the end. "You could. There is a way."

"No." We've discussed this before, and I know what he's going to say.

He says it again anyway, obviously striving for patience. "You did not do it right. Claim him again, but this time, he must remain bound."

"No."

"Jim -- he is the one who decided to wear your mark. He wants to belong to you... he knows he belongs to you. You need to know it."

I just shake my head. Muttering impatiently, Kurali turns and heads back to the village. After a few moments, I sit down and stare over the river to the other side.

Claim Blair again. It's so simple, at least as far as Kurali is concerned. He didn't see everything that happened that night, just the beginning. He saw the sex, and he saw the way our bodies responded to each other. He saw me and Blair both climax. That was all he needed to see, and that was when he left.

What he didn't see was Blair collapsing in tears afterward, trying to find some way to deal with what had happened between us. He didn't see me struggling to beat back the mixture of desire and shame I felt over what I'd done. Kurali wasn't the one who had to spend two months of agonized waiting while Blair decided whether or not he wanted me to touch him again.

Kurali said that Blair belongs to me. Yeah, right. By their laws, he does. That was the only way I could keep him alive. But I told him from the beginning that all of that "belonging" business was just as far as the Direma were concerned. Between the two of us, when we're alone, I want us to be equals. Owning him... my God, how can I expect that of him? If he ever found out that I'd seriously considered enforcing that part of our relationship, he'd hate me forever. And I wouldn't blame him at all.

I think back to that first night, when Blair and Vaughan were brought to the village. I didn't understand it then, and I don't understand it now, but from the first moment I saw Blair, I wanted him. Kneeling there, struggling to remain calm in spite of his fear, trying to pay attention as firelight and shadows slipped across his skin like a lover's fingers.... If I'd let myself, I'd have been more than content to fall on him right there by the fire, pushing him down and tearing his clothes away, laying every inch of flesh bare, all of it mine....

And that's precisely why, when he was shoved into my hut, the first thing I did was cut him free. As much as I wanted him, I knew I couldn't force him. I still don't want to force him. As much as I need him, I can't stand the thought of him fearing me... I really think that would kill me. I don't want him to endure my touch, I want him to welcome it. And, if I can trust my senses, that's exactly what he does. I can read how aroused he is by the dilation of his eyes and his scent. Unless he's the greatest actor ever born, he wants me as desperately as I want him.

That doesn't reassure me, though. I'm still convinced that the first chance he gets, he'll leave me. He can't stay here in the jungle for the rest of his life. Me, I've adapted. If I die here, well, then I'll die here. But Blair deserves so much more.... I know that sooner or later, I'll have to get him back to civilization. And I have no reason to believe that he'll want our relationship to continue once he gets back to reality. Why would he want me to go with him? Here, I can offer him protection, safety, an established position in the tribe -- I don't know what I can possibly offer him back in civilization.

An animal screams somewhere in the jungle, and I automatically try to register just how far away it is. It's a lot easier to do now. Before Blair came into my life, my senses were something I couldn't manage at all. I could never deliberately try to listen for something -- sounds and sights and smells assaulted me, and left as suddenly as they'd come. It was enough to keep me alive, and then to make myself useful enough to the Direma that they allowed me to join their tribe, but it wasn't something I could control.

Now, for the first time, I can use my senses on purpose. Blair -- God, he understands. I thought I was crazy at first. Then I thought I was a freak. But when he told me that there have been other people like me, that he thinks he can figure out what I am.... He's been coming up with ways to test my senses, to see just how far I can extend them.

I don't mind being his guinea pig. Anything to make him feel needed. Anything to keep him with me just a little while longer. Afraid of losing him.... Hell. How can I lose him when he's not really mine?

Mura and Kurali stand side by side by the fire, their faces elaborately painted. Neither one shows any expression as they wait.

Blair looks up at me. "Now?" He looks as calm as everyone watching him, but I can read his nervousness in his rapid heartrate and quick breathing. He carefully shifts the baby he's holding into a more comfortable position.

"Now." My hand drops away from his shoulder as he walks forward and places the squirming baby in Kurali's arms. Everyone falls silent, listening expectantly.

I hear Blair's heart above everything else. He takes a deep breath and looks Kurali in the eye. Speaking clearly, he says, "His name is Joramo."

"Joramo," Kurali repeats as he places his grandson in Mura's waiting arms. She looks at her baby, then up at Blair, and her impartial mask slips long enough to give him a brilliant smile, full of pleasure and relief. Then she disappears into the crowd of villagers who surround her to formally welcome the baby as a full member of the tribe.

Walking forward, I drape my arm around Blair's shoulder. He leans against my side. "That's it? It's over? That's all I had to do?"

"That's it. Your work here is done, Kemo Sabe." I lead him back to our seats by the fire.

He doesn't resist as I pull him down to sit beside me. "That's what I was worried about?"

Reaching for a cup, I hand it to him. "Bet you feel pretty stupid now."

"Maybe a little...." Staring into the cup, Blair lowers his voice. "So how did I do?"

I smile at him. "You did great. 'Sunrise' -- it was a good choice. Kurali was pleased."

"Well, that's certainly a relief. I'd hate to be banished or something. And I couldn't think of any cultures where a sunrise is a bad omen -- man, she looks happy, doesn't she?"

We both fall silent as we watch Mura preen discreetly under the attention of several of the Direma's finest hunters. She doesn't miss Hamo any less, but she doesn't want to be alone, either. And she's quite a catch -- intelligent, pretty, an elder's daughter, well on her way to being named the tribe's healer, and proven to be fertile. Kurali's going to be beating her suitors off with a stick. He and Mura will have plenty of candidates to choose from, to find the best husband for her and the best father for her child.

The night wears on. By Direma standards, it's quite a party. Both the increased security of the new location and the abundance of game and edible plants have changed things for them. Kurali hasn't eased the need for constant guards around the village, but even he has time to worry about something more than just survival.

We're recovering well from the fever that took out so many of our enemies. Mura's baby -- guess I'd better start using his name now that he has one -- Joramo was the first child born after the epidemic, but there are three other pregnant women right now. And, judging by the couples who slip away from the gathering, there'll be others soon enough.

Realizing with a start that I haven't seen him for a while, I look around for Blair. He's across the clearing, talking to two of the hunters, Manamo and Hisi. Turning up my hearing, I listen to their conversation for a few seconds. It's something about Ojibway fishing techniques -- it's nothing I understand, but they all seem absorbed by the subject. I'm glad. Blair was so worried that people just accepted him because of his relationship with me, but he's building friendships of his own here.

But even in the midst of their conversation, I can tell that Blair's keeping part of his mind separate. His eyes flicker all over the village, mentally taking notes on patterns of interaction and body language and whatever else it is that anthropoligists look for. I don't know how he manages to keep it all straight, but sooner or later, everything he sees will be written down in one of his notebooks.

Gradually, the sky starts to lighten. Everyone heads off to their beds to sleep off the previous night, or to make it last just a little while longer.

When we enter the hut, Blair and I both have every intention of doing just that. As we lie down, though, we realize at the same moment that we're just too tired to want to do much more than hold each other.

The corner of Blair's mouth quirks up in a smile. "Later?"

I lean forward to kiss him lightly. "Later. That's a promise."

"It'd better be, man." Wrapping his arms and legs around me, he's asleep in seconds. As I stroke his hair and wait for sleep to take me as well, I try to figure out just what I did to deserve this kind of love and trust.

How did this happen? For God's sake, I raped him. I'd like to be able to call it something else, but I can't think of another name for what I did. It doesn't matter that he never said no, and it doesn't matter that I had no more choice than he did; it wasn't his idea, and as far as I'm concerned, that makes it rape.

Even before I knew his name, I did what Vaughan wanted to do -- why doesn't that bother him? Sometimes, I can't believe that Blair can even stand to look at me, let alone allow me to touch him.

He says he loves me. He says it's not just fear, or dependence, or trying to make the best of a bad situation; and when I look in his eyes, I know he believes it.

I hope I'll be given enough time with him to make myself believe it.