Author's webpage: http://www.ejai.org/Chryssalys/

Author's notes: I'm not sure this really qualifies as NC-17 - it might be R. And the song lyric? Itty-bitty teeny one. This is the first in a series, but I have no idea what to call the series yet.

Warnings: post TSbBS, m/m (not that that should be a warning), one itty-bitty song lyric, lots of angst

Disclaimers: If you recognize it, it's not mine. It should be, though. Pet Fly, etc. own The Sentinel, the Backstreet Boys own the song.

Not beta'd except for BethB screaming NONONO, BADBADBAD at a crucial point. <g> Love you, Beth!

Comments: If you're ever in Pittsburgh, do try to see the places that Blair visits. They are truly magnificent.

Summary: Following the events of TSbBS, Blair tries to find peace elsewhere. Jim tries to let him go.

A Sense of Home

by Chrys

Lying sprawled face-down across the large bed, Detective Jim Ellison tried desperately to go to sleep. It was late, he was exhausted, it should have been easy, right? As he turned over, flipping his pillow to get the illusion of coolness from the other side, he tried again to ignore reality.

Just like he'd been trying every night for months.

Finally he sighed, acknowledging that it wouldn't work tonight either. He opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling, searching for any feature that he hadn't already memorized. Anything, he thought, that might prevent what would happen next. But he already knew his search would be in vain.

The familiar ceiling blurred, giving way to a more wanted sight. Or maybe that was feared, Jim thought. Or maybe both. A well-known face looked back at him, its expressions changing from second to second.

He closed his eyes, attempting to shut out the vision, refusing to dwell upon it. Some nights it worked. Some nights he could forget, eventually, how long it had been, and having seen the face, finally fall asleep. Some nights.

Other nights he watched as the face moved before his eyes, smiles and laughter filling his empty soul with longing. Then the face would change again, fear, anger, determination all visible, as it slowly faded from his sight, leaving only despair.

He wasn't sure which was worse, the longing or the despair. They seemed all swirled together, and if he looked deeper, they were bound together with something much larger. But he never let himself look deeper. He was an Ellison, after all.

This night seems different somehow, Jim thought, his eyes opening to stare upwards again. The longing seemed bigger than the despair, as if it was more important. With a stifled sob, he began to call back the images he'd banished for so long. The vision moved before him, clearer than ever before. The face, eyes glowing, was shrouded by reddish hair which cascaded down to lie on the broad shoulders. Eyes that had seen more clearly than even the Sentinel knew built the shape of the powerful body until the whole man stood in front of him. The longing rose and rose, building to a crescendo of desire and love that the Sentinel had denied until this moment.

He moaned, his hands moving over his body almost without his knowledge. His mind focused on the image before him, feeling the touch as if it were the other's. As he watched the lush mouth move, he rolled his nipples between his fingers, imagining that mouth on his flesh. One hand moved lower, delicately stroking the rapidly hardening organ that lay between his legs until it jutted firm and weeping within his grasp.

Drawing his legs up, he released the shaft, moving to cradle his testicles. One finger brushed across his opening and he gasped, eyes still fixed on the vision before him. His cock jerked, and the other hand slid across his abdomen to wrap around his shaft, thumb rubbing across the dripping head. Long strokes swelled his cock even more, and he moaned again as one finger pressed upon his opening. As the finger slipped inside, he came in long spurts, crying out the vision's name.

He lay there, taking in long, shuddering breaths. After his breathing settled, he moved long enough to grab a cloth and clean himself up, then lay back down. His mind raced as he tried to process what had just happened. Finally he laughed, harsh and ugly. "Great time to figure out you love him, Ellison."

He turned over again, trying to burrow into the bed, trying to make reality go away long enough to fall asleep. But he watched the sunlight creep into the sky, as he sought in vain for the sound of Blair's heart.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Reaching out, he hit the alarm before it had a chance to ring. Pulling himself to a sitting position, he thought about calling off, then shook his head. It wasn't like he'd get any sleep today either. At least at work he could be doing something.

After showering and dressing, he thought about breakfast. Then he shrugged, and headed out the door. Eating wasn't something he did much of these days, any more than sleeping was. Closing the loft door behind him, he took the stairs down. Almost out of the building, he was stopped by a worried voice.

"Jim? Are you okay?"

Finding a smile, he turned to face his neighbor. "I'm fine, Mrs. Thomas. Why?"

The older woman studied his face. "You tell me, Jim. You leave so early, I never see you come home, and I know you've been losing weight. From the shadows under your eyes, you're not sleeping well. Blair would be very upset with you, you know. When is he coming home?"

The smile disappeared. "I don't know if he's coming back, Mrs. Thomas."

"Oh. Well, all the more reason to take care of yourself."

Jim forced the smile to return. "I'll be home early tonight."

The woman looked skeptically at him. He raised his hand. "Promise."

"I'm sorry to be nosy, Jim. But I worry about you."

The smile became real. "I know. Thanks. But I will be home early."

She smiled back, watching him head out the door. He continued speaking as he walked away, knowing she wouldn't hear. "Blair said he'd call tonight."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

He sighed, staring at the phone, and bit his lip. Then, decisively, he picked up the receiver and punched in the number. He waited through the first ring, knowing the answer would come during the second. Smiling sadly, he heard the greeting.

//Ellison.//

"Hey, big guy."

//Blair!//

Blair Sandburg winced as he heard the buried relief and fear in Jim's tone. "Yeah, Jim. It's me," he said gently.

//Are you okay?//

"I'm fine." 'Typical,' he thought, 'for Jim's first thought to be of his safety. Even now, he was the Blessed Protector.' "How are you doing?"

//Doing great, Chief. No worries.//

Blair laughed. "You've been spending too much time with Megan, Jim."

//What? Oh... well, she's been riding with me.//

"Simon put you two as partners, huh? That makes sense."

//Yeah.//

Blair closed his eyes briefly at the flat statement. Underneath Jim's agreement were layers of pain and betrayal that he wasn't ready to deal with, that he might never be ready to deal with.

Forcing his mind back to the reason he'd made the call, he asked briskly, "Any zone-outs?"

//A couple,// Jim admitted. //They were pretty minor.//

"Megan pulled you out okay? What were they on?" Blair asked, worried. This was the first time Jim had told him of any zone-outs in the three months that he'd been gone.

//They were minor, Sandburg. You don't need to worry about me.// Jim's voice was full of annoyance.

"Okay, man. I'll call you next week." Blair started to hang up, then stopped as he heard Jim's voice again.

//No, Blair, wait! I'm sorry. Just... talk for a while, all right?//

"What about, Jim? You know I'm not going to tell you where I am."

//I know.// Jim's voice lowered, and Blair could hear the uncertainty. //I just need to hear you talk, okay?//

Blair rubbed a hand across his face. "I hear you, big guy. Hey, I saw the most amazing sunset the other day. It was one of the ones where the sun is a bright red ball, and the sky around it is orange, and pink, and the other side of the sky is black and velvety. It was amazing, Jim. I think I watched it for at least half an hour. The clouds just kept bouncing the light and..."

He kept talking, knowing that at the other end of the phone line his Sentinel was listening to his Guide's voice and heartbeat, using this once a week phone call to ground himself.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Finally Blair's voice began to crack, and he stopped to take a sip of tea. "I'm sorry, Jim. I gotta go now."

Jim's reply was so quiet that Blair had to strain to hear it. //I'm sorry too, Blair. I shouldn't have kept you talking so long.//

"S'okay, big guy. Remember me? The guy you couldn't shut up?"

//Yeah.// Jim paused for a minute, then continued, the words seemingly dragged out of him. //You'll call next week?//

"Yes, Jim. I'll call next week." Blair blinked angrily, as moisture threatened to blur his vision.

//Okay. Good night, Chief. Take care of yourself.//

"You too, Jim."

Blair wiped at his face as the line went dead, then gently replaced the receiver in its cradle. Leaning back against the hard back of the loveseat in his cheap apartment, he stared at the ceiling and sighed. I hate this, he thought, but I can't go back. Not now. Maybe not ever, but definitely not until I figure out where my life is going.

Looking back, he could see exactly where it had all started to fall apart. Jim blamed it on Alex, he knew, and the damage she'd done to their relationship. But Blair knew it had started earlier than that. It had started when Jim read the first part of Blair's dissertation after Blair had told him not to. That was what had started the destruction of the trust they had had for each other. Alex had just put the icing on, and with the premature release of the diss, well, there'd been nothing left.

"Nothing left," he said to himself, wincing at the raspiness to his voice. "Nothing left of me."

He had tried, by all that was holy he had tried. For Jim's sake he had attempted to put a life together out of the shards of what he had once had. But those shards were razor-sharp, and he could only take being cut so many times. The looks of pity or disgust, he could take. The anger and resentment from everyone at the Police Academy, yeah, he could take that too. Knowing that being Jim's partner would put Jim in danger because of that disgust and resentment - that was unbearable. Waking up every day with lesson plans running through his brain only to realize once more that he would never teach again - that was slowly driving him insane.

So he'd packed and left. Jim had tried to talk him out of it. Simon had just looked at him sadly, and told him to keep in touch. The bleakness in the Captain's eyes, mixed with mute agreement and respect, had told Blair that Simon expected that he'd never be back. His own eyes, he knew, had held the same bleak gaze. What would he do in Cascade, after all? For that matter, what would he do anywhere?

He'd just driven, for a long time. His only commitment was a promise he'd made Jim that he would call once a week. He knew Jim thought it was so he'd know Blair was safe. The truth was that without that call, Blair suspected that the Sentinel would have been lost long ago. The desperation in Jim's voice when he said good-bye told him that.

For the past month he'd been here, in a small suburb near Pittsburgh. He was working on a large, family-run, organic wanna-be farm. It had its own market, the produce was fresh, and the people were nice. But he still had no idea of where he was going. So much of him yearned to be back in Cascade. But what was the point?

He drifted to sleep, curled up on the hard loveseat, to wake, sobbing, from dreams of Jim.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Simon Banks wondered if he was going to be able to convince Jim to actually eat lunch today. Most days, he or Connor, or sometimes both, watched the big detective push food around, then discard it. He'd discovered, though, that on Fridays Jim would often have an appetite. He knew it was because Sandburg called on Thursday nights. He dreaded the week the kid didn't call.

There were days when he would happily have strangled Blair. But on Fridays, all he could do was be thankful he hadn't disappeared entirely, at least not yet. On Fridays, there was a hint of life visible in Jim Ellison's eyes.

It made for interesting scheduling, but Simon was very careful to make sure that Jim was home early on Thursday nights.

Sipping at the fragrant brew, he stiffened minutely as he saw Jim heading through the bullpen doors. Then he relaxed as he saw his detective's face. The shadows under his eyes were a bit lighter than the day before, and the tightness in his eyes was a little less. Sandburg had called. Simon wondered what he would do, when the time came that Sandburg didn't call. He suspected that he'd bury a friend.

It might come to that anyway. The chiseled planes of Ellison's face were sunken now, hollows underneath the cheekbones only accentuating the tired eyes. He was still spending hours at the gym, Simon knew, but no amount of exercise could make up for not eating, and the muscled frame was slowly wasting.

"Damn it, Sandburg!" the police Captain growled. "It may have been the right thing for you, but if I'd known what it would do to Jim, I'd have tossed you in lock-up rather than let you leave."

Guiltily he peered out at Jim, breathing a sigh of relief that the detective wasn't looking back. James Ellison, king of denial, refused to admit that anything was wrong. But Major Crime personnel no longer mentioned Blair Sandburg where Jim Ellison could hear. None of them could stand to see the naked pain in those eyes, before the shutters came down.

Since most of them knew that Jim could hear pretty damn far, Sandburg's name wasn't mentioned at all most of the time.

Was that good or bad? Simon didn't know. He only knew that he was as incapable of causing Jim that pain as the rest of them were. But he made damn sure that Jim was home on Thursday nights. It had caused hard feelings a couple of times, he knew, early on, when he sent Jim home from a scene and kept another detective on. Megan had been the first to figure out why, of course, asking Jim one Thursday to 'tell Sandy I said hi'. The look on Jim's face had been all the confirmation she'd needed. The complaints had dried up immediately.

Simon studied his detective through the glass. Is it because they care about you, Jim, or because you're easier to live with on Fridays? Oh, hell, maybe it's both! Noting the loose shirt that Jim wore, and remembering that it had been a too-small Christmas present, Simon felt his eyes narrow. Pasta, he decided. Lots and lots of pasta for lunch, with steak or chicken. And Jim would take the leftovers home. Maybe Simon would invite himself over for dinner, too.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Jim jerked minutely as he heard Simon's voice. It hadn't registered until he heard Sandburg's name. Flicking a glance toward the Captain's office, he turned his eyes back to his work before Simon could realize he'd been overheard. "Wasn't Sandburg's fault," he muttered to himself. "It was mine."

He wondered what food Simon would force down him today. It was pretty obvious early on after Blair left that Simon thought he wasn't eating enough. Jim had to admit that he was probably right. But he just wasn't hungry. Now sleep - he did crave sleep. The five hours he'd gotten after Blair had hung up the phone was the most he'd had in a week. He hadn't even had to fight to get to sleep, the recently heard heartbeat keeping away the images he both dreaded and longed for.

He swayed suddenly as Blair's face swam before his eyes as if conjured up by his thoughts. Sinking into his chair, he mentally traced the image, his mind's eye running over it lovingly. He'd thought a lot the day before, and the long sleepless night that had preceded it. He loved Blair. He had always loved Blair, was in love with Blair. And his inability to accept that love was ultimately what had driven Blair away. Jim was certain of that.

If he had been able to accept and express his love for Blair, he wasn't sure what Blair's reaction would have been. But Jim knew now that the distrust that had led to the whole sorry mess had been a product of that inability. If he had only trusted Blair... He sighed. It was too late now. Blair's image before him, the Sentinel zoned.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"So this is your last summer with us, is it, John?"

Blair smiled as he heard the voice behind him. Mrs. Scheram no longer ran the farm she and her husband had started so many years ago, but she was there every day. Content to let her second son and his wife take over the business aspects, she still made certain that the place lived up to her standards. And that included knowing the help.

"That's right, Mrs. S." There was honest regret in the young man's voice. "I'll be staying in the city next summer, since I got accepted into CMU's doctoral program."

The old woman smiled back at him. "Well, don't you go forgetting us!"

"As if I could," Blair's co-worker laughed, hefting a large sack of sweet corn onto his shoulder. "I've been working here since I was fifteen, and one of my earliest memories is picking out pumpkins for Halloween in the field behind the store. You all are in my blood!"

"Your daddy worked here, too, you know. Before he went off to fight." The woman's voice was sad.

"I didn't know that."

"He met your mother here. Then he got that draft notice and they got married right before he left. I don't think I've ever seen anyone sadder than your mother the day she got that telegram."

"No wonder she looked so strange when I told her I was going to be working here. I wonder why she never told me that."

Mrs. Scheram shook her head. "People get notions sometimes, John. Likely she thought you'd ask all kinds of questions she wasn't ready to answer. Your daddy would have been proud of you, boy. I know I am, you getting in at CMU and all. That's a mighty fine school."

The young blond smiled at her again. "Thanks, Mrs. S. I appreciate you saying that."

"It's the truth, John. Now what about you?" she asked, turning her attention to Blair. "What are you going to do this fall?"

Blair shook his head. "I'm not sure yet."

"A young man ought to have a plan for his life, Blair," Mrs. Scheram said gently.

"I know."

"But you need to put some things straight in your mind, right? I've seen it all, boy," she said to his surprised look. "I knew when my son hired you that you had troubles. It'll work out, Blair. Life always does, one way or the other."

"Yeah."

The old woman chuckled, spinning her wheelchair to go. "Now you humor an old woman and say that like you believe it!"

"Yes, Mrs. S," Blair replied affectionately. She's a spunky lady, for over eighty, he thought, watching her go.

"She's right, you know."

He turned to John, startled. "What?"

"Things work out. Look at me, two years ago, I was failing college, and now I'm going into a doctoral program at Carnegie Mellon, man! I never would have thought I'd be doing that, you know? Here I had my life all mapped out, and then whammy! I'm taking a completely different direction."

"I hear that," Blair said softly.

"I mean, I always thought I'd go into the Army like my dad did. I know he died over there, but at least it was something I could do. Then I met this g - somebody, and I got convinced that I could do more than that. It's incredible what happens, man!"

"So what are you doing now?" Blair asked, genuinely interested. John was a good kid.

"I'm studying criminal psychology. I'm going to learn how to figure out a crook's mindset, and then figure out how to catch them. Mi - my roommate is a cop, and I'm going to see if I can work with him while I write my dissertation."

Blair froze, the parallel pounding into his brain. Before he could react, John continued. "You ought to think about college, Blair. CMU has some great programs for adult education."

Blair smiled thinly, ducking his head. "I don't think so, John."

"You gotta do something. Why not college?"

Blair was silent.

"Look," John said. "I'm going down tonight to get some papers I need for the PhD program. Why don't you come with me and have a look around the campus? I'm meeting my roommate afterwards for a bite to eat before he goes on a stake-out. You can come along - he won't mind."

Blair hesitated, then nodded as the lure of companionship sucked him in. It would be nice to spend time with a friend for once, he thought.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Pushing back from the table, Blair groaned as he felt his full stomach protest. "Man, I ate too much," he said.

His companions looked pointedly at his nearly half-full plate. He shrugged. "I don't eat a lot."

"You should," John said, snagging a piece of garlic bread off Michael's plate. The cop growled at him, but made no effort to stop him. Blair felt a twinge of pain as he watched this. They could have been he and Jim, a year ago.

Michael's eyes watched the restaurant closely, doing random sweeps of the area surrounding their table. It was familiar to Blair. But so was the frequent looks at John, making sure that he was comfortable, was eating, was safe. He didn't look like Jim, and that was a good thing, because he acted all too much like Jim.

Blair picked up his glass and took a sip of water, suddenly choking as he put two and two together. Michael and John were in love, that was plain, despite their efforts to hide it. And Michael treated John exactly the way that Jim had treated Blair. Was it possible that... No, Blair decided. Jim couldn't love Blair. Not the way Michael and John loved each other. Not the way that Blair loved Jim.

"Wait a minute," he said, suddenly focusing on the other men's conversation. "What was that?"

Michael shrugged. "I said the department's hiring some consultant. I guess he's some big hotshot on how police departments function. He's going to be setting up support groups for the spouses and all that, in addition to helping with cases. The Chief thinks it will be helpful. I think it'll be a waste of time, myself."

"No, it won't. If the people who support the guys out on the line of fire fall apart, who's going to keep the cops together? We all need support mechanisms, man, you cops more than most. The things you see on a daily basis..." Blair shuddered, vivid memories pouring through his mind.

"Yeah, maybe," Michael said thoughtfully. "Anyway, he got his degree here in town, right at CMU. I hear he might be doing some teaching, too." He smiled teasingly at John. "I better get good report cards, you hear?"

John rolled his eyes. "Yes, Dad!"

Michael obviously forgot Blair's presence momentarily. "I'm not your father," he said silkily. "And I don't want to be."

The two men swayed toward each other, only to pull apart at Blair's small cough. Turning red, Michael said good night, and headed off to his stake-out, leaving John to stare at Blair in dismay.

"Look, Blair, I would have told you, but I didn't know how you'd feel about it."

Blair's head shook, gentle amusement dancing through his eyes. "It's not like I didn't figure it out as soon as I saw you two together. It's cool, John."

"Really?" John's voice betrayed his relief.

"Yeah, man. Copacetic. Now tell me again about CMU's programs..." Blair wondered if the idea running through his brain was proof that he'd finally gone mad. But what the hell, he'd run with it.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Damn it, Jim! What the hell do you expect me to do?"

Jim Ellison looked steadily at his Captain's desk, refusing to look up at the man as Simon continued his tirade. He had no answer for Simon, no other plan. No other choice.

Finally, Simon's words ground to a halt, as the big man sat down and looked at Jim. Jim knew that there would be the same sadness in his eyes as there was in the voice.

"This can't go on, Jim. You know it as well as I do."

Slowly, the detective's head came up and he met his friend's eyes. He nodded once.

"They want your resignation."

Jim's eyes closed briefly in pain. Then he nodded again and reached for his shield.

Simon's sharp voice stopped the motion. "I said they want your resignation, not me! I'm going to fight for you, Jim. You're a good detective, and more than that, you're my friend." The Captain's voice hardened. "But you've got to realize that I need some ammunition. You zoned out, Jim, and that cost a child his life. The parents, the press, the mayor... they all want your head, and I can't explain why they can't have it. Not the real reason, anyway."

"They can," Jim said listlessly.

"No. Unacceptable. Officially you collapsed in the stress of the situation, due to an undiagnosed illness. The doctors are attempting to determine the cause. You're off the streets and driving a desk until further notice. You are not resigning. Is that clear?"

"Simon..."

"No."

"You know as well as I do there's no 'illness'... I killed that little boy, Simon. I killed him as surely as if I'd been the one to pull the trigger."

"No, Jim." Simon's voice gentled. "You didn't."

Jim felt his jaw stubbornly clench.

Simon sighed exasperatedly. "Devon Mintel was killed by a psychopathic bastard that took joy in doing it. Just like he killed five other little boys in Seattle last year. You didn't kill him, Jim."

"I didn't save him, either, Simon. I could have."

"So fix the reason you didn't. Get back your control. But you're not resigning, Jim. Get that through your head. That's an order."

Eyes met and struggled, until a pair turned away. "Yes, sir."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Ellison."

//Hey, Jim.//

Fighting the rush of warmth through him, Jim exhaled slowly. I shouldn't need this so much, he thought.

"Hey, Chief."

//So how are things going?//

"Pretty good," Jim said carefully. "Been kind of slow."

//Hey, that's nice. You and Megan getting a break, then?//

"I haven't seen too much of Megan lately."

//Why not?// Blair's voice was worried. //Simon got you working with someone else?//

"No. I've been staying in the station, Chief, so I'm good on my own."

//What's wrong?//

"Nothing." Jim laughed, wincing at the false note. "I'm fine, Sandburg. I've been a little under the weather lately, so Simon put me on desk duty until I feel better."

//What is it? You don't sound like you've got a cold.//

"Don't worry about it, Chief. It's pretty much cleared up."

//If you say so.//

The residual worry in Blair's voice made Jim smile. Oh, Chief. If you only knew. He settled in to listen to his Guide's voice, interjecting comments here and there as they seemed required. Toward the end of the conversation, he interrupted Blair's monologue abruptly.

"Chief?"

//Yeah, Jim?//

Jim swallowed hard. He didn't want to ask more of Blair, but he had to.

"Do you think... Could you maybe... call more often? A couple times a week? Just sometimes. It wouldn't have to be every week."

//Oh, Jim.//

The pain and dismay in Blair's voice made Jim flinch. "It's okay, Sandburg. Never mind. Forget I asked."

//No, it's all right. You need to hear me, don't you? That's why you're on desk duty. You've been having trouble with your senses.//

Jim nodded. "Yeah, some," he said tightly.

He heard Blair draw in a long breath. //Okay. I'll try. It might not be every week, but I'll try. Are Sundays still good?//

"Yeah."

//All right. I'll try to call on Sunday nights, too, then. Jim?//

"Chief."

//Why didn't you tell me earlier?//

"Couldn't."

//Why not?//

Jim felt the answer being dragged out by that insistent voice. "Not fair," he said reluctantly. "To you."

Blair sighed. //I'm your Guide, Jim. I can't be there, but I'm still your Guide. You have to tell me these things.//

Jim was silent.

//Okay, big guy.// Blair's voice was gentle. //I know it's rough, with me here and you there. Just, don't hold out on me, all right?//

"I'll try."

//Good. Have you eaten yet?//

"No."

//Me neither. I'm starved. Get some dinner, Jim, and so will I. I'll talk to you soon.//

Jim set the receiver down, and headed into the kitchen, actually hungry for once. Pulling a bag of Chinese take-out from the fridge, he popped it into the microwave, silently thanking Simon for insisting he buy it that evening. As it heated, he reran the conversation with Blair in his mind, savoring the tones and subtleties to his Guide's voice. The memory of Blair's heartbeat pounded in his brain, drowning out the chaos that so often filled his ears these days. As the microwave beeped, he frowned. There was something else there. Concentrating, he picked up the sound of a second heart. Blair hadn't been alone when he called. For the first time since he'd left, Blair was with someone else.

Mechanically, he pulled the warm food out, his appetite gone. It didn't matter, he ate it anyway. His Guide had told him to. But for the first Thursday night since Blair had left, Jim didn't sleep.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Blair stared at the phone, just barely stopping himself from calling and getting tickets for the first flight to Cascade. The pull he felt was unbearable. His Sentinel needed him, and he couldn't go. Not yet. Pulling his eyes away, he looked across the room. John sat comfortably curled on the couch, his nose in a book. The blond looked up, feeling Blair's glance.

"There's stew," he offered. "I know you haven't eaten, and I made something that could sit and still be good when Michael gets home."

Blair flashed a tired grin at his roommate. "Thanks, man."

John closed his book, and sat up, watching Blair dish out some stew. "This was a good idea, you know."

"What?" Blair carried his bowl into the living room, settling into the easy chair.

"Moving in together. I mean, Michael could probably afford a place like this, but I sure couldn't. Neither could you. But you and I can afford a third of the rent, and that way I don't have to feel that Michael's supporting me."

"I hear that," Blair said wryly, thinking of every time he'd wished he could give Jim more toward rent. He didn't think Michael would have a problem with supporting his lover while John was in school, but he knew that John would mind. Idly he wondered why Jim had never seemed to mind.

"You've got it bad, Blair."

Surprised, Blair looked up at John's knowing eyes. The blond smiled sadly. "Was he the reason you left Rainier?"

Blair hissed in shock.

"C'mon, Blair! It was pretty easy to figure out that you left for a reason. And it doesn't seem to be academic. The whole criminology department welcomed you with open arms, except for old Sorenson, and he doesn't like anyone. Rumor is you'll have your PhD in a few months, and you don't get a PhD from CMU that fast without some pretty good credentials. And good recommendations from your previous advisor. So you left Rainier for a reason. And you're so obviously in love with this guy that it hurts to look at you when you are talking to him. So was he the reason?"

Blair swallowed, then nodded. "In a weird, convoluted way, yeah."

John laughed bitterly. "Isn't it always that way? Look, Blair, Michael and I both know you belong back with him. I think you know it too. So why are you here?"

"There's something I gotta do." Blair thought of the endless hours he'd spent pleading, begging, and finally demanding that Rainier transfer his records with no reference to the fiasco regarding his first dissertation. Only a threat to take legal action based on discrimination had gotten the records released the way Blair had wanted them. But since he'd never actually submitted the first diss, the University had had no choice.

Once the records had reached CMU, he'd spent more time finding a faculty member willing to take on another student, even one with a dissertation already in first draft. He had been lucky that he'd kept all the data from the closed society diss he'd been working on, for fun, really, during the time he'd worked with Jim. Including the signed releases allowing him to use the information. Finally, he had chanced upon Lee Matheson, a forensic psychologist who had found Blair's data fascinating. She had agreed to add a fifth PhD candidate to her workload. Blair would have his doctorate within another few months, if all went well. And then...

He met John's eyes, seeing only curiosity and affectionate worry in them. His lips curved slightly upwards, and he nodded. "Then I'm going home."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Glancing through the open door of his office, Simon watched Jim come into the bullpen. The detective headed over to his desk, acknowledging the good mornings from Henry and Rafe along the way. Settling in, he stared at the stack of paperwork on his desk, heaved a sigh, and pulled the first file off the stack.

Something is different, Simon thought, unable to put a finger on it. Or on when the change had occurred, for that matter. It was a subtle change, and for several weeks Simon had been unsure that there was anything different at all. Now he was convinced of it. Jim Ellison's downhill slide had stopped, maybe even reversed a little.

Maybe.

Jim was obviously eating more, that much was plain to see. From the way his face looked, he was sleeping better too. Yet the indefinable sadness that had been visible in Jim's eyes since the day Blair Sandburg had left Cascade was still there. It actually seemed to have deepened, even as Jim's physical condition had improved.

Simon was every bit as worried about his friend now as he had been two months ago, and still had no idea of what he could do to help. Chewing on the cigar that dangled from the corner of his mouth, he debated options, finding none that seemed to go anywhere. Finally, he shrugged and set the cigar down. Standing, he moved to the door of his office and called Jim's name.

The look of surprised relief on Jim's face as he quickly deserted his paperwork made Simon chuckle. That at least hadn't changed. He doubted it ever would. Jim Ellison would always hate filling out forms.

Waving the detective to a seat, Simon closed the office door. Settling in his own chair, he studied Jim for a moment. The Sentinel looked back calmly, his eyes puzzled.

"You look better, Jim."

He shrugged.

"Are you?"

Jim's jaw muscles jumped. "Some. I guess."

"Do you know why?"

His only answer was a tight nod.

Simon sighed. "Look, Jim, I'd like to put you back out there if I can, but I can't justify it if this improvement is temporary. Or if it's due to the reduced stress since you're not on the streets."

"It's not that, Simon." Jim's voice was strained.

"Then what is it?"

Jim's eyes leapt to Simon's at the hard tone. Simon kept his gaze as hard and steady as the Sentinel's, until Jim sighed, wiping his hand across his face.

"I asked Blair to call more often. Most weeks he can manage to call on Sundays, too." The detective's words were full of defeat and pain. "Don't put me back out there, Simon. I don't know how long he'll be able to keep doing that, and once he stops..."

"You'll be right back to where you were." Simon bit his lip, then decided to go for it. "Jim, have you thought about asking him to come back?"

He flinched at the agony in the ice-blue eyes that met his own, matched by that in the tortured whisper he heard.

"I think about that every day, Simon."

"Then why..."

"I can't. He's happy, Simon. I won't hurt him again."

"Has he told you that he's happy?" Simon's voice was full of disbelief.

Jim laughed harshly. "He doesn't have to. I can tell. Remember how quiet he was, before he left? He was still like that, until a couple of months ago. Now, his voice... I can't describe it, Simon. He's found something that he loves again. Or maybe..."

Jim looked down, then back up at his friend. Simon stopped breathing at the utter despair and hopeless emotion plainly visible on Jim's face. "Or maybe it's someone he loves. He's living with someone, Simon. He hasn't said anything, but I can tell that there's someone there when he calls. And every time I talk to him, he's happier. How could I ask him to give that up? He's given up so much for me already."

"Oh, God," Simon breathed, the pieces finally clicking together. "You love him."

Jim nodded slowly. "Yes. I do. And that's why I can't ask him to come back. That's why I've got..." Jim swallowed hard. Simon stared in awe at the unshed tears glittering in his detective's eyes. Those eyes met his with absolute conviction. "I've got to let him go, all the way."

Simon knew what Jim meant. "Even if it kills you?" he asked evenly.

"Even then." Jim rose, turning to leave the office. Stopping at the door, he turned back to look at Simon. The luminescence of his smile broke Simon's heart. "He gave his life for me already. Now I need to give it back."

"How?" Simon croaked thickly.

"I've got an idea." Jim's smile warmed. "Don't worry, Simon. I won't eat my gun, or anything like that. I'll be surprised as hell if I make it through this, but I'm going to try."

"Jim..."

"No, Simon." The tone was final. "You can't change my mind."

Simon watched his friend walk calmly back to his desk and settle down to work. His eyes burned as he turned to his own desk, letters blurring as he tried to read. Giving up, he reached into his desk, pulling out a thick sheaf of papers from the lowest drawer. His vision cleared as he focused on the text, intently searching through the only remaining copy of Blair Sandburg's Sentinel studies. Blair had given it to him before he left, so that he and Megan would have the information they might need to help Jim. Simon read desperately, searching for hope.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Jim kept his tone as light as he could, taking advantage of Blair's pause for breath. "Hey, Chief, you don't need to try to call on Sunday. I'm not going to be here."

//What? Is something going on?//

"No, I'm just going to be out. With someone."

//Oh.// The voice was flat, then picked up normal intonation. //That's great, Jim! She anyone I know?//

Be kind of strange if you did, since she doesn't exist, Jim thought wryly. "Nope. Met her a couple of weeks ago. She's great, Chief. I think you'd really like her."

//Yeah, I'm sure I would.// There was a pause, then Blair continued. //So I'll call next Thursday, then.//

"Okay. Sounds good." Jim kept his voice as unemotional as he could.

//Right. Good night, Jim.//

"Night, Sandburg." Jim hung up right after he finished the words. His heart aching, he turned to stare out the balcony window, wondering how he was going to fill the seven long days ahead of him. Wondering if he would have the strength to carry out his plan.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Blair listened to the dial tone in disbelief. Jim had hung up on him. Jim never hung up on him. And he'd sounded so... distant, cold. There'd been no warmth in that voice, except... Blair winced. Except when Jim had mentioned this girl.

Pain rocketed through him, and he curled up on the couch, wrapping his arms tightly around his body. His eyes stared blankly as his body rocked back and forth. Every hope and dream he'd cherished about his triumphant return to Cascade paraded before him, mocking him with a faceless addition to every scene. Jim's face, previously filled with love for Blair in all his dreams, now held only disinterested curiosity and mild welcome. The passionate reunion Blair yearned for seemed a fool's goal. How he could ever have thought that Jim might love him?

Suddenly warm arms held him, stopping the rocking and forcing him to unfold from the fetal position he'd curled himself into. "Blair? Blair, what's wrong?" he heard dimly.

Looking up into familiar, concerned eyes, Blair let his misery show.

"Oh, Blair," he heard John say, as the younger man pulled Blair closer. "What did he do that hurt you so?"

Blair shook his head. "Not his fault," he protested. "Mine. I should have known he couldn't love me."

"Why not?"

"He's straight, John. And he's found someone. He told me not to call Sunday. He's going to be out with her."

"Oh, God, Blair."

"Yeah, I know. Stupid of me, huh? Falling for a straight guy?"

John shook his head, pulling Blair to rest comfortably by his side, keeping his arms wrapped around him. "Not stupid, Blair. Human." The blond ran his hands up and down Blair's back soothingly. "We all make mistakes, Blair."

Blair laughed creakily. "You gotta admit, this one's a doozy."

"Well, yes." There was gentle amusement in John's voice. Blair relaxed against him, feeling comforted by his friend's nearness.

"John?" he asked quietly, a few minutes later.

"Yeah?"

"What am I going to do?"

"I don't know." The other student shifted, turning slightly to face Blair. "You still love him?"

Blair nodded. "I'll always love him."

John smiled sadly. "Then you either decide to go on, alone, without him, or you fight for him."

Blair shook his head, "I don't think I can do that."

"Which one?"

"Either." Blair's voice held desperation.

"Shhh," John soothed, smoothing Blair's hair with a long, gentle stroke. "You don't have to make any decisions now."

For long moments, the two men sat together on the couch, John cradling his hurting friend, slender hands circling calmingly across the shaking back. Finally, Blair lifted his head and looked at John. "It hurts so bad."

"I know," John replied, "I wish I could take the pain away."

He hesitated, then continued carefully. "You wouldn't have to be alone, you know."

"What?" Blair's face showed only confusion.

John bit his lip. "If you decide not to fight for him. Michael and I... we love you, Blair. You could stay, here, with us."

Blair pulled away, feeling John's arms let him go with no resistance. His confused eyes searched the other man's face, seeing a wistful longing that felt all too familiar. He shook his head. "I... don't know what to say."

John smiled. "You don't have to say anything. Blair, we've felt this way for a long time. Now," he shrugged. "Now you know about it. It doesn't change anything."

"Yes, it does."

"It doesn't have to. Look, Blair, which way our friendship goes is up to you. We're not going to pressure you, or treat you any differently, and if you decide to fight for him we'll be cheering for you. But if you decide not to, well, we'll be here. If you want us."

The blond grinned at Blair. "In the meantime, Michael will be home soon, and I need to get dinner going. Pierogies sound good?"

Blair relaxed at the casual tone to the question. "Yeah, man. Need any help?"

John headed into kitchen. "Sure! You can cut up the onions."

"Great," Blair said sourly, following the younger man. "Why'd I ask?"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Over the next two days, Blair gradually got over his surprise. Neither John or Michael treated him any differently, with the sole exception of a comforting hug from Michael after his lover told him what had happened. And even that wasn't really any different - it was the act of a friend.

He woke up on Sunday morning feeling incredibly dismal. It took him half an hour to make up his mind to get out of bed. There was nothing Blair wanted more than to crawl back into the cocoon of his blankets and sleep the day away. Eventually he sighed, and trudged to the bathroom.

Coming out later, hair damp and slightly less bleary-eyed, he was greeted by John, who slipped a large mug, steaming with the fragrant aroma of coffee, into his hand and pulled him to the table. Michael looked up from his breakfast, smiling, and with a flourish uncovered the plate they had waiting for Blair. He looked at them in puzzlement.

"What is this, guys?"

"Eat up."

Blair glared at John, who was one of those strange people who can wake up and function before coffee. The blond just grinned back. Michael laughed and finished his own cup.

"Don't bother fighting it," he advised, standing and getting a refill. "He's got plans for the day, and they can't get started until you've eaten. So either do what he says, or he'll bounce around the table until you do."

Knowing that Michael was absolutely right, Blair sullenly sat and began eating. By the time he'd finished the waffles, and was on his third cup of coffee, he was feeling more charitable.

"Thanks, John," he smiled at the blond man. "But what did my eating breakfast have to do with your plans?"

"Well," the other student said, suddenly hesitant, "I figured you'd be kind of upset today, and I didn't want that." He corrected himself, with a fond look at his dish-washing partner. "We didn't want that. So we're taking you out today."

"John..."

"Blair." The blond looked steadily at him, blue eyes clear. "We've talked about doing the town before. Haven't we? You know there are a lot of places all three of us want to see. We just thought that today might be a good day to start."

Blair looked back at his friend, then nodded his head. "You're right," he said decisively. "Where are we going first?"

John's smile blazed, and his voice took on a tone of awe, "The Cathedral of Learning, man."

~~~~&~~~~

Blair stared upwards, mouth open. John and Michael watched him, then smiled at each other. They had known that the magnificent Cathedral, with its Nationality Rooms full of ethnic exhibits, and its soaring spaces, would enthrall their friend. Now if only the rest of the day went as they had planned...

~~~~&~~~~

The sound of birdsong rang across his ears as he studied the many inhabitants of the flight cage at the Pittsburgh Aviary. He turned, excitedly drawing his friends' attention to the startling colors of the exotic birds housed here. The tour guide smiled, wishing all her days were this easy, as Blair pointed out species after species...

~~~~&~~~~

Breathing in the warmly fragrant air, Blair feasted his eyes on the thriving flowers and vivid greenery within Phipps Conservatory. The trickle of water in the many tiny waterfalls filled the air with music, and butterflies moved effortlessly through the great room. He wandered, almost drunk on the beauty before him...

~~~~&~~~~

Blair felt his stomach rumble, stimulated by the overwhelming scent of incredible food, as the maitre-de waved them to their table...

~~~~&~~~~

Curled happily beneath his blankets, Blair could hear John and Michael talking quietly in the living room. Falling asleep, he wondered muzzily if Jim had had a good day, too.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Jim Ellison moved restlessly around the loft. Finally collapsing on the couch, he stared at the phone, then looked away. Pushing himself to his feet, he headed into the kitchen. There had to be something left to clean!

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

//Ellison. Leave a message. beeeeeeeep//

Blair stared at the receiver in shock. This was Thursday. Jim knew he'd be calling. So why was he getting the answering machine? Hanging up and dialing again, he fully expected to hear Jim's voice on the other end - in person, this time.

//beeeeeeeeeep//

"Jim? It's Blair. Are you there? No, of course you're not there, you're incapable of not answering the phone if you're there. I guess you're working late or something. I'll try again later."

He looked up as the door opened and Michael backed in carrying an huge load of groceries. Setting down the phone, he stood up and crossed the room, getting a grateful smile as he eased a bag out of the overloaded arms.

"Thanks a lot, Blair. One of these days I'm going to break down and start getting things delivered."

Blair laughed. "But then you'd miss out on all the fun at the Giant Eagle."

"Oh, right," Michael said wryly, wrinkling his nose. "Guess I can't do that, then. I'll just have to stick to breaking my back lugging this stuff up the stairs." Moving into the kitchen, he put his load on the counter and began unpacking.

"Hey, how come you aren't on the phone? Isn't this the time you usually call Jim?"

"Yeah." Blair frowned. "He wasn't home. I got the machine."

"He's probably just working late or something."

"That's what I figured. I'll try again in an hour or so."

"Mmm," Michael agreed absently, packing cans into the cupboard. "John still at the library?"

"He's working on that paper, he said," Blair agreed. "He told me he should be home about eight."

"Perfect," Michael declared, pulling a cake and a large bouquet of flowers from a bag. "That gives me enough time to get dinner ready and set the stage."

"This isn't your anniversary or something, is it?" Blair asked in dismay, watching the other man pull a bottle of wine from another bag. "Because I can make myself scarce."

"Oh, no," Michael said immediately. "It's not a special day or anything, and even if it were, there'd be no reason for you to go anywhere. No," he grinned happily, "I just wanted to surprise him."

Looking at the cake, decorated with rainbows and reading 'John, I love you', Blair chuckled. "I think you got that part right."

"Do you think he'll like it? I was wondering if the rainbows were a bit over the top."

"I think he'll love it. He's lucky to have you, Michael."

Michael shook his head. "No," he corrected. "I'm the lucky one."

"Okay, you're both lucky," Blair agreed amiably. "Need any help getting dinner ready?"

"Nope." Michael shooed him out of the kitchen. "You cooked last night. It's my turn."

Blair danced out of the way of the playfully flicked towel, laughing and holding his hands up in surrender. "I give, man. I'll stay out of your kitchen!"

"Good," Michael growled, his eyes crinkled with laughter. "Me chef, you student. I stay here, cook. You go, study."

"Oh, it's a bad sign when your language regresses. We're having beef, aren't we?"

"Six-inch steaks," Michael answered. "With baked potatoes, lots of butter, and sour cream."

Blair shook his head as he continued into his room. "Man, I can feel my arteries giving up the ghost already. This is revenge for the vegetarian casserole last night, isn't it?"

Michael just laughed as he turned the oven on.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Jim, man, it's been another hour and you're still not home? Something big must have come up. I'll try again after dinner, I guess."

~~~~&~~~~

"Hey, big guy, I'm really starting to get worried here. You're still on desk duty, right? You didn't tell me Simon had put you on the streets again, so I'm thinking you're not being shot at or anything, but it's been two and a half hours since my first call, and I really hope nothing's wrong. Okay, I'm sure you're fine, just not home for some reason."

~~~~&~~~~

"This is starting to freak me out, Jim. Four hours ago, I thought you were just a little late, now I'm thinking about hospitals, and shootouts, and the station being taken over, and you being caught in a zone-out, and I've got to stop coming up with these things. You're fine, right? The next time I call, you'll be there. I'll call again in an hour, and you'll be there."

~~~~&~~~~

"Jim? Never mind, I've figured it out. I'll call you next week, and maybe you can make an effort to be there. Hope you had a nice date."

Slamming the phone down, Blair breathed deeply. "I am letting go... I am letting go... " He turned, sitting down on his bed. Suddenly he punched the pillow savagely, feeling the impact of his knuckles on the headboard behind it. "I am so not letting go of this! Who the hell does he think he is!"

He stood, pacing angrily. "I give up... everything I am for him, and he does this to me. He can't even bother to fucking be there when he knows damn well I'm going to call. Well, I've had it. I've had enough of rearranging my life to fit Jim Ellison's needs. He obviously has someone else to take care of those now. It's time I took care of my needs!"

The anger combined with the pain, and Blair sat heavily on his bed again. "Why wasn't it me, Jim?" he whispered brokenly. "It should have been me." He curled up on his bed, wrapped around the abused pillow, trying to shut off the images in his mind. Jim with Laura, with Lila, with Veronica, with - Alex, all paraded before him, followed by Jim and some composite figure, made up of the worst of all of them. He moaned, desperately looking for another ending, another possibility. But there wasn't one, and he knew it.

Wave after wave of loneliness crashed down upon him. He felt like he was drowning again, this time in hopeless despair. He had known it would never work when he left Cascade, but then came CMU and the chance for a doctorate that would allow him to once again work with Jim without destroying him, and maybe, just maybe, Jim would grow to love him. He laughed bitterly at his stupidity. Jim would never love him.

Blair turned to lie flat on his back, staring upwards. Jim would - never - love him. It was time he accepted that. It was time he moved on.

Faintly he heard music coming from Michael and John's bedroom, followed by low voices. He couldn't make out the words, but the tenderness rang clear as a bell in the low murmuring. I want that, he thought. I want what they have.

The anger surged again, and he sat up. "And why shouldn't I have it?" he asked himself. "Jim may not want me, but John and Michael do."

Not stopping to think about what he was doing, Blair stood and moved to the door of his room. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out, crossed the hall, and knocked on the door to the other bedroom. A startled voice answered. "Blair?"

"Yeah," he said. "Can I come in?"

The door opened, revealing Michael in a hastily thrown on robe. John stood behind him. Blair bit his lip, shaking his head. "Never mind."

"No." John reached out and pulled him into the room. "Blair, what's wrong?"

He just looked at the other two, unable to speak for a minute. Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath. "I think Jim's out with her again."

"Oh, Blair." Michael folded his arms around Blair, compassion and pain evident in his voice. Blair leaned into his grasp, shaking, then turned to look up at him.

"What John said the other day..."

"About us loving you?"

Blair nodded.

Michael smiled. "We do. Blair, you are very special to us."

Blair wet his lips. "Show me?"

He heard John gasp behind him as Michael searched his eyes. "Are you sure, Blair? You love Jim."

Blair closed his eyes in pain, then opened them to smile shakily up at Michael. John moved to stand by his lover, looking intently at Blair. Blair shook his head sadly. "He doesn't love me. And I - need - to feel loved right now."

He felt Michael's arms tighten as John added his own. The younger man's voice was balm to Blair's wounded soul. "You are loved, Blair. More than you can ever know." For a moment he rested safe and warm in their embrace. Then he felt Michael's finger under his chin, lifting his face to look up at the taller man. Hazel eyes held his own, then Michael's mouth descended to tenderly touch his own.

Tentatively, Blair returned Michael's kiss, feeling the warm pressure turn to gentle caressing. Michael nibbled lightly along his mouth, then retraced the path with the tip of his tongue. Blair opened his mouth in response to the silent question, deepening the kiss. As Michael tasted him, he felt John's warm hands move caressingly over his shoulders and back, sliding down to the hem of his shirt, then slipping under the cloth to slide along his skin.

Part of Blair cried out against this. But that part was quickly submerged by the need to be cherished, to be held and touched, as John's knowing hands moved around to stroke across his stomach. He moaned into Michael's mouth and arched as those hands circled around his nipples, teasing them into aching hardness. Pulling away briefly, Michael helped John pull Blair's shirt over his head, then returned his attention to Blair's lips. John began to kiss his back as Michael trailed kisses down his jaw line onto his neck, nibbling and licking at the corded muscles there. Blair gasped as that mouth continued down to fasten on one nipple, to be joined by John's mouth on the other. Biting, then licking away the sting, the two men tormented him, stopping only when his knees threatened to buckle. Gently, they guided him backwards to sit on the bed, then kissed each other lightly.

Blair's eyes were dilated and his breath came fast as he watched the two men undress each other, then kiss again. Suddenly his attention was caught by the almost forgotten radio, as words slammed into his brain. {Show me the meaning of being lonely/ Is this the feeling I need to walk with/ Tell me why I can't be there where you are/ There's something missing in my heart} Arousal fading, he looked back at Michael and John, seeing the utter fitness of their being together - and knowing that he didn't belong with them.

They broke their kiss, turning back toward Blair. Michael's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Blair?" he questioned.

Blair's head shook slowly. "I'm sorry," he whispered miserably. "I just... there's something missing. I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Shhhh." John climbed onto the bed behind him, hugging him comfortingly. "It's okay."

"It's not..."

"It's not us. It's that we're not who you want." Michael's voice was matter-of-fact, but his tone was understanding. "John's right, Blair. It's okay."

Blair looked at the men who had been making love to him a few minutes earlier. "How can you not be upset?"

Michael chuckled, sitting on the bed beside him, taking John's hand for a moment and kissing it, then replacing it on Blair's shoulder. "I won't say it's not frustrating. But, Blair, if it isn't what you want, then it wouldn't be very good for us either."

"You love Jim, Blair," John said quietly. "That's not going to go away, is it?"

"No."

"Then fight for him. Do what you have to to be with him."

"Be with him," Blair echoed. "Yeah. I can do that." It may not be the way I want, he thought, but I'll know he's okay.

John and Michael hugged him, then stood, pulling him to his feet. "Call him again," Michael said, his eyes intent.

Blair nodded. Awkwardly, he headed to the door, then turned. "Hey, guys? Thanks."

They looked at him, smiling. "Shoo! Call Jim," John said.

Blair retreated, laughing, as Michael threatened him with a pillow. Ducking into his own room, he settled himself on his bed, and picked up the phone. One ring, tw...

//Ellison.//

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Jim's fingers twitched as the phone rang. But a look at the clock and he suppressed the urge to pick it up. Listening to Blair's voice, he paced, biting back a sardonic laugh at Blair's statement that he was incapable of letting the machine take his calls. "Close, but no cigar, Chief," he said, listening to the click as Blair hung up. "But it's hard."

The next message was short enough that he was easily able to keep from picking up the receiver. The third and fourth calls, though, as he listened to Blair's worried voice - those hurt him. Blair was worried - he had worried Blair. It was all he could do to keep from racing to answer, to reassure his Guide. Only his absolute conviction that he had to let Blair go kept his feet still.

The anger of the fifth call was almost a relief. Blair had come to the conclusion Jim intended. He collapsed, breath coming harshly, to sit on the edge of the couch. Bending forward, he held his hands over his face, knowing that he ought to be happy. Knowing that he would be miserable for the rest of his life.

Blair's face glowed in his memory, an endless procession of images showing him the absolute wonder of what he had once held within his grasp, and had thrown away, not even seeing the beauty of it. How could he live, without ever seeing Blair again? He'd promised Simon he wouldn't eat his gun. Dully, Jim knew that what he was doing was just a slower, more painful, version of suicide. Sinking back on the couch, Jim Ellison gave in, for the first and he swore only time, to absolute grief. Despair washed over his eyes as tears could not, and he wished, desperately, that he'd never made that promise to Simon. Alone, as a Sentinel should never be, he wondered how long it would take him to die.

The shrill ringing of the phone pulled him to awareness. Not really caring who was calling him this late, he reached for the receiver. "Ellison."

//Hey, Jim.//

He jerked as if hit as the voice washed through him. "Blair," he breathed.

//Yeah, it's me.// Blair's voice was tired. //Finally get home?//

"No. I mean... Chief, I wasn't out."

//What? How come you didn't pick up the phone, then?// Blair's voice hovered between anger and concern.

Jim went with a version of the truth. "I couldn't, Chief."

Blair settled on concerned. //Why not? Were you zoned?//

"Something like that."

//Oh, man, Jim. That's why I started calling twice a week in the first place! This has got to be because we didn't talk on Sunday.//

Jim winced. "Yeah, maybe."

//No maybe about it! How many times have you zoned this week?//

"Couple, I guess."

Blair sighed. //Jim, from now on we talk on Sundays, too. No matter what.//

Jim hesitated, trying to stay with his plan, but Blair's beautiful voice demanded. //No matter what, Jim. I mean that, big guy.//

Good intentions vanished, pushed away by Blair's insistence and his own desire. "Yeah, Chief. No matter what."

Blair's warm approval rewarded him. I can't let you go, Chief, he thought, his Guide's rich tones pulling him into balance. I thought I could, but I can't. I'm sorry. Even as he gave in to his need, however, he renewed his determination to ask as little of Blair as he could.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Barking his name in acknowledgement, Simon almost dropped the phone in shock as he recognized the voice that replied. Jerking his head up, he scanned the bullpen, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn't spot Jim.

"Sandburg, is something wrong?" he demanded.

Blair laughed, an honesty in the tone that Simon hadn't heard since before the whole disaster began. //No, Simon, nothing's wrong. Everything's going pretty well, in fact. Is Jim there?//

"No. I think he just went to lunch."

//Good. I was hoping he would be out.//

Simon began to get a headache. "Sandburg, what's going on?" he growled, rubbing at his temples.

There was a pause from the other end, then Blair spoke. //Getting a headache, Simon?// he teased gently. //I recognize that growl.//

"Sandburg..." Simon warned.

//Okay.// Blair's voice turned serious. //Do you remember, way back, we had a conversation about what I would do after I got my doctorate? You told me you and the Chief had agreed that there would be a position open as a consultant to the department, setting up and running community interaction and departmental support groups.//

"I remember," Simon said quietly, his headache doubling. He'd wanted those groups, damnit, and Blair would have been the perfect person to head them. Most of the force knew and respected him, and so did their families. But then... The plans had been swept under the table, and as much as Simon thought it was something the department needed, he hadn't had the heart to fight for it.

//Is it still there?//

"Blair..."

//Is the position still there, Simon?//

Simon sighed. "I don't know. The idea got dropped. Why?"

//Because,// Blair's voice almost lilted, //you are talking to Dr. Blair Sandburg, PhD from Carnegie Mellon University in criminological and societal anthropology.// He laughed at Simon's gasp. //I'd like to come home, Simon. Can I?//

Simon stared blankly ahead for a second, processing what he'd just heard. "God, yes," he finally said. "How...?"

//Long story. You think you can get that program on the table again?//

"If I can't - hell, Sandburg, I'll create a job for you myself! When can you get here?"

//Jim that hard to deal with?// Blair's voice was only half teasing. //I can be there,// he stopped for a moment, and Simon heard muffled voices in the background, //in two weeks.//

Simon closed his eyes, tension lifting off him that he hadn't even known he carried. "Good," he said.

//Great, then. I'll call next week to see how things are going and let you know what day I'll be there.//

The phone went dead in Simon's hand, and absently he replaced it in its cradle. Staring across the bullpen, he watched as Jim Ellison wandered back into the room. He half-stood to let him in on the good news, then sat down again. Blair hadn't wanted Jim to be there when he spoke to Simon, for some reason. Simon watched his friend, at one time his best detective, stare blankly at the open file on his desk. If he thinks Sandburg is on his way, and something happens to prevent it, it'll be the last straw, he thought. I can't tell him.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Ellison. My office," Simon called, beckoning to Jim, who stood and stretched, then walked over. Settling into the chair in front of his Captain's desk, he looked at the other man, obviously expecting to hear anything but what Simon said next.

"This is straight from the top, Jim. You may not like it, but it's the way it's going to be."

Simon watched Jim's eyes narrow as he fussed with a cigar. Looking directly at the detective, he winced inwardly as he recognized the stubborn tilt to the man's head.

"The department's hired a consultant. He's going to be working with all of the divisions, setting up programs to improve community relations and so forth." Jim stiffened as Simon went on. "Because Major Crime has worked with a civilian consultant in the past, he'll be starting with us. You'll be his liason, show him the ropes."

"Simon..." Jim's eruption was stopped by Simon's cold voice.

"No choice, Jim. He'll be here tomorrow. Nine am." His voice softened. "I'm sorry, Jim."

Standing, Jim nodded distantly, then turned and left the office to return to his desk. Simon chewed viciously at his cigar, wondering why Sandburg had insisted it be handled this way. The kid had even told Simon to get him a hotel room, and that made no sense. Surely he knew Jim would want him back at the loft.

Well, it would all sort itself out tomorrow. With that comforting thought, Simon went back to work.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Blair chewed nervously at his lower lip, wishing it was over with. The past two months, all he'd been able to think of was seeing Jim's face when he walked into the bullpen, and now... he could think of nothing scarier. Why - why hadn't he told Jim he was coming back? Why had he made Simon keep it a secret?

He'd wanted to surprise Jim, that was why. But he should have remembered that the Sentinel didn't do well with surprises.

Staring into the mirror in the hotel bathroom, he picked up a tie and began to place it around his neck. Then he threw it aside. I might be a PhD now, but I still hate those things, he thought. What am I doing?

Pulling his hair back, he peered into the mirror, then let the curly mass go. "No," he said out loud. "I am going to walk in there like the Blair Sandburg I was before, not like some stuffy academic." Stripping off the suit vest, he unbuttoned the cuffs of the shirt beneath and shrugged out of it. Poking around in his bags, he pulled out smoothly worn pants and a silk shirt in matching blue. Slipping into the more accustomed clothing, he immediately felt himself relax somewhat. He wanted Jim to see him, not a suit and tie.

Looking at his watch, he swore, feeling his stomach tighten again. Had he made the right decision, coming back to Cascade? Didn't really matter, did it? There was no way to change his mind now.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Pulling into the police garage, Blair looked around, seeing no one he knew. Taking a deep breath, he got out of the car and headed for the elevator. A uniformed officer hailed him, but waved him on as Blair explained that he was a new consultant, there to work with Major Crime. Stepping into the elevator, he hit the button that would deliver him to the right place. At least, he hoped it was the right place.

As the elevator doors hissed open, he squared his shoulders and stepped off the car. Rafe was the first to spot him, the blank look and open mouth cueing his partner to look over his shoulder. A wide grin split H's face, as he spun his chair around. "Hairboy!"

Blair smiled absently at Henry and Rafe, his gaze going over the two detectives' heads, seeking Jim. His desk was empty. Blair's eyes skipped to Simon's office, then stopped, held by the pale fire that was the only color in Jim Ellison's face. The Sentinel held onto the doorjamb, leaning against it, his eyes blazing as he stared at Blair. He staggered, to be caught by Simon, then collapsed to sit in the chair the Captain shoved beneath him at the last second. His eyes never left Blair's face.

"Jim," Blair whispered, so softly he could barely hear it. But the look on the Sentinel's face made it clear that he had heard. Disbelieving joy flashed, followed by absolute denial and rage. The color drained from Blair's own face as Jim turned deliberately away from him and spoke to Simon.

"If this is the consultant I'm supposed to work with, Sir, I refuse." He spoke clearly, obviously wanting Blair to hear him. "I can't work with someone I can't trust to tell me what's going on."

"Jim," Blair repeated, despair replacing the hope and happiness that had been in the name the first time. He saw the Sentinel's shoulders twitch, but the head didn't turn. Unable to breathe, he turned, stabbing at the elevator buttons. When the doors didn't open, he headed into the stairwell, needing to get away. Gasping for air, he started down the steps, almost tripping in his haste to leave. Catching himself with a hand on the railing, he hung there for a moment, wondering why he'd bothered.

"It was all for nothing," he moaned, the time away allowing him to forget the nearness of the Sentinel's ears. "I might as well have stayed with Michael and John. They loved me - he never will. He won't even look at me." Sinking down to sit on the steps, he shook with the effort not to cry. He never heard the stairwell door open. But his head shot up as a strangled voice hit his ears.

"Who are Michael and John, Chief?"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Jim paced restlessly in Simon's office. The damn consultant was late. If he had to work with someone, couldn't he be on time? On edge, the detective prowled back and forth. The hiss of the elevator broke into his low muttering, and he moved slowly to the door, not wanting to seem too eager to meet the man. As he reached the doorway, he heard H's jubilant voice. Catching onto the edge, he felt his heart stop as he met the eyes he'd dreamed of for so many months. Leaning against the door, he staggered, his knees buckling as he heard Blair's voice.

Absolute joy rushed through him, his hearing automatically seeking the drumbeat of Blair's heart. Then his mind began to race. Blair was here. Why was Blair here? Putting it together, he felt the pain of betrayal again. Blair had set him up, not even bothering to let him know he was in Cascade. Had he been in Cascade all this time?

Forcing himself to turn away, to shut out the sight that hurt him so, he spoke to Simon, knowing as he spoke that Simon had known Blair was coming. "If this is the consultant I'm supposed to work with, Sir, I refuse." He felt satisfaction as Simon paled at his next statement. "I can't work with someone I can't trust to tell me what's going on."

He heard Blair's heart skip a beat, then start up, even faster than before. The strangled breaths, the quickly moving feet, rang through his head. He turned as the stair door closed, longing plain enough on his face that Rafe gasped.

Dimly he heard Simon's voice. "What the hell are you doing, Ellison?"

Not answering, he stood, moving toward the stairs as if pulled. Stopping at the door, he listened, muscles twitching as Blair slipped and caught himself. Blair's voice pounded through his skull, words leaping out at him. "...all for nothing...stayed...Michael and John...loved me...He never will." Someone else loved his Blair? He smiled, eyes glittering. Of course someone else loved Blair. How could they not?

He tried, desperately, to stay where he was, but found himself pushing through the door anyway. Blair's figure huddled on the steps below him, shaking. He opened his mouth, no sound coming out, then tried again. He had to know who these men were, had to know that they could take care of Blair.

"Who are Michael and John, Chief?"

With dismay he felt the damning 'Chief' slip through his lips. He'd meant to be impersonal, to keep Blair from knowing that he cared. But his voice cracked as he spoke the nickname that had become a term of endearment. Blair's head jerked up to reveal the white face, the beloved eyes glittering with moisture.

"Friends of mine, Jim," he said sarcastically. "I do still have friends, you know, who can trust me."

Jim felt his defenses crumble at the pain and anger in his Guide's voice. "I trust you, Blair."

"Oh, really? Didn't sound like it back there."

Jim stepped down to sit on the step above Blair. "I know. I'm sorry."

"And that's supposed to make it better?"

Jim swallowed, then met Blair's eyes. "No. I shouldn't have said that. I was surprised, and hurt, Chief. You were here, in Cascade. I was going to be working with you again, and you couldn't be bothered to let me know that. Neither could Simon."

"He wanted to," Blair surprised him by saying. "I wouldn't let him. I wanted to surprise you." The younger man laughed bitterly. "Guess I got my wish, huh?"

"I guess so." Jim let his eyes rest on the averted face, feasting them on the curve of cheek and brow. Suddenly the eyes were on his, widening with surprise. Jim turned his face away, to be drawn back by Blair's low voice.

"Look at me, Jim."

Reluctantly, Jim looked back at Blair's eyes, seeing new knowledge in them. "I would work with you any day, Chief," he said huskily.

Blair nodded, still holding his gaze. "Why?"

"Because you're a good partner."

"Thanks. Why?"

"Because you're my Guide."

"Yes, I am. But it's more than that, isn't it, Jim?" Blair's tone was gentle. "Why did you ask about Michael and John, Jim?"

"I wanted to make sure you'd be okay, if you went back to them." Jim wanted to stop talking, but knew he'd answer any question Blair asked.

"Why would I do that, Jim?"

He swallowed. "Because they love you."

"Yeah, they do. So should I go back to them, Jim?"

He forced himself to say what he should, pulling his eyes away from Blair's. "Yes."

Blair laughed, a bit painfully. "Really? You think I should, Jim?"

He shuddered, drawing in the breath that would send Blair away. Before he could get the word out, he felt Blair's hand on his face, turning it to look at him again. Drowning in those eyes, Jim couldn't say it. He shook his head, mutely.

"Say it, Jim."

"No!"

Blair's face was intent. "Why not?"

"Because I love you!"

Blair smiled, his eyes warm. "I love you, too, Jim."

"Oh, God, Blair," Jim groaned as he bumped down a step and pulled the smaller man to him. Blair came eagerly, wrapping his arms around Jim and holding tightly. Eyes held as their lips met for the first time, fastening together easily in the perfect position, the taste of Blair overwhelming Jim, pulling him toward oblivion. He felt a sharp pain in his lower lip and drew back. "Ow! You bit me!"

"No zoning while you're kissing me, Jim!" Blair warned, laughter filling his voice.

"Oh. I guess not." Jim couldn't keep from smiling. It felt like the first real smile he'd had since Blair left. It probably is, he thought. His eyes met Blair's again, and he grinned wider at the happiness he saw within them. "So," he stood, pulling his partner to his feet. "Shouldn't we be getting to work, Dr. Sandburg? I have to show you the ropes around here, you know."

Blair laughed joyfully. "Oh, yeah. I can see you've still got delusions."

"Hey," Jim protested. "That's my assignment!" The two men started to climb slowly back up the stairs. Jim stopped as they reached the top and turned to Blair, concern in his voice, but his eyes laughing. "You did really get that doctorate, didn't you? I'd hate to have to break in a new civilian." He winced, his hand covering his arm. "You didn't have to punch me that hard, Chief!"

Blair just laughed, pushing the door open. "Oh, yes, I did, Jim!"

Relieved faces greeted their entrance. Simon turned to them and attempted to hand them a file. He scowled as Jim pushed it away.

"This is you and your partner's first case, Ellison!"

"Tomorrow, Simon."

"What's wrong with today?" the Captain growled, his attempt at menace failing miserable as Jim just grinned at him.

"Rhonda told me our new consultant was staying at the Cascade Arms, sir. I know a much better housing situation for him, so we're going to get that straightened out." Jim elbowed Blair, who was quietly convulsing with laughter beside him.

"Oh." Simon considered, then grinned back at Jim. "That'll take all day, I suppose."

"And all night, sir," Jim replied quickly.

Simon harrumphed. "Well. I expect to see you both back here bright and early in the morning."

"Thank you, sir," Jim said, as they turned to go.

"Oh, and Sandburg?"

Blair looked back over his shoulder, "Yes, Simon?"

"That's Captain to you! And... welcome home."

Blair looked back at Jim, who was waiting at the elevator. "Thanks, Simon," he answered quietly. "It's good to be here."