Not written for profit, standard disclaimers apply.

The following was written in response to a challenge on Senad; to write a conclusion to Greenwoman's story "Treeline". Thank you to Sue (SRoush) for her skill and patience in beta-ing this. Thank you to Greenwoman for allowing others to write their own ending to her story. My ending strays from the original challenge.

This story is a sequel to: TREELINE

Blair looked down at the envelope in his hands, running his shaking fingers over the printed letters.

"Chief," he said, softly.

He thought of better times, when Jim's utterance of that nickname made him feel he was home...safe... loved.

"Hurry up, Chief. Simon wants to see us first thing this morning."

"Come on Chief, you're with me."

"It's okay. I've got you, Chief."

Pain sliced through him as he remembered the last time he had heard it -- from behind an ER curtain, while doctors were quickly and efficiently stitching up his slashed wrists. Outside the cubicle, there was shouting and a noisy scuffle, as hospital security guards forcibly removed Jim Ellison from the premises.

The frantic words echoed in his head.

"I love you, Chief! Please don't shut me out!"

Biting his lip, Blair savagely crumpled the envelope and angrily flung it toward the rusted-out garbage can that sat beside the yard light's pole. The paper ball bounced off the rim and went in.

"Three points," Blair whispered bitterly. He turned and limped into the cabin, head down, shoulders slumped, unaware of the pair of eyes that had been watching him.

One hundred feet away, in the descending darkness, Jim Ellison crouched behind a small outcropping of rocks. Jim exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, as he saw Simon get into his SUV and drive away after successfully delivering the letter that Blair had rejected so many times before. Blair now had the letter clutched in his hands. Jim waited, watching the conflicting emotions that flitted across Blair's expressive face. Would Blair come back to him? Could he get another chance? Hope turned to anguish when he saw the balled up letter arc through the air and land in the trash.

Jim Ellison had his answer. Wearily, he got to his feet and headed past the cabin to the path that would take him down the mountain.

He had chosen the closed logging road on the back side of the mountain for two reasons: first, to avoid being seen by Simon and second, for seclusion. It would be months or even years before anyone would have a reason to come up here. He arrived at the turquoise and white truck where it sat hidden in the stand of evergreens.

Climbing into his truck, Jim reached for his battered army kit bag, and set it on the seat next to a leather-bound photo album. He turned on the dome light and started paging through the album.

In the tiny cabin, Blair was nervous and jumpy. Simon's visits usually upset him, but this time it was far worse. Finding it too painful to pace, he sunk down in his overstuffed armchair -- his only luxury in the spartan cabin -- and began going through the new bag of books that Simon brought. It was difficult to choose reading material that didn't bring back the past crashing back. Newspapers and magazines were out -- the articles reminded him too much of the trial; his failure. He could no longer bear to read his beloved anthropology books. Mysteries and crime drama were definitely out, as were any books that focused on love or romance. Blair settled on a large, hard covered book entitled, "Trees and Plantlife of the Pacific Northwest". On the inside cover was a map of the Cascade Mountains. Various colored bands indicated the vegetation according to altitude. Higher elevations were in shades of blues, gradually flowing into warmer shades of pinks, golds, and yellows as the elevation decreased.

His eyes moved from the ice blue zone on the map to the color key at the side of the page.

Treeline -- A zone where the normal growth of trees is limited. Cold temperatures often combined with drought form the upper or arctic treeline. Species that grow as an erect, single-stemmed tree at lower elevations are characterized by a dwarfed growth pattern due to desiccation and physical damage caused by wind and blowing ice crystals.

He thought of the trees around the cabin, bent and twisted from the harsh winds, trying to survive in soil leached of nutrients. The images of the stunted trees faded, as he remembered other trees; green, tall, alive. Suddenly he was back in the jungle, under a canopy of trees that touched the sky. Moist heat surrounded him, and the rich scent of the soil filled his nostrils as he breathed the warm air. A rustling of leaves captured his attention, as far off in the distance, a lean, muscular figure appeared. The man approached, dressed in a muscle shirt and camo pants, a crossbow gripped in strong fingers. Blair eyes were drawn to the orange and black warpaint in stark contrast with the tawny skin. Standing before Blair, he said one word, "Chief".

Blair's eyes snapped open, and he was once again within the four walls of his drafty little cabin. "No!" he shouted, and with all his strength, threw the book at the wall. The book bounced off the wall with a loud crack, and fell to the dusty floor.

"Don'tthinkaboutjim, don'tthinkaboutjim, don'tthinkaboutjim..." Blair chanted, as he hugged himself tightly, rocking back and forth. It was no use.

Stepping over the destroyed book, Blair tore his jacket from the hook, and hobbled outside to the trashcan. With his ribs protesting the awkward movement, he reached in the bin, grabbed the discarded letter and tore it open. Under the sickly yellow glow of the yard light, he unfolded the sheet of paper and read the single word printed on the page.

Goodbye.

He stared helplessly at the road Simon had taken only minutes ago, silently willing him to come back. Horror set in as Blair realized that once he accepted the letter, he had sealed Jim's fate. Cursing the injuries that slowed him down, Blair ran to his Jeep Eagle, hoping that the ancient vehicle would start. Joel insisted that Blair have a vehicle in case of emergencies, even if the younger man refused to leave the area. The engine caught on the fifth try, and Blair turned the vehicle towards the road. He was about to follow Simon's route, when he remembered the old logging road. Having fewer switchbacks, it was shorter than the main road and more treacherous, especially at night. Blair reasoned that if he didn't get to Jim quickly, there would be no point in worrying about his own safety. Dust and rocks flew as he swung the car in a tight circle and headed for the back of the mountain.

Jim turned to the final page of the photo album. Of all the photos of Blair he had, this was his favorite. The Rainier Anthropological Society had organized a car wash to help raise funds for an expedition. After a lonely day at work, Jim had brought his truck over, enjoying the look of surprise and delight on Blair's face as he pulled into the line. Jim waited on the curb, laughing, as Blair and his students seemed to be getting more soap and water on each other than on the truck. At the end of a long, tiring day, Blair's students had decided to ambush him. Jim looked on as they sneaked up behind the T.A. and drenched him with buckets of water. A student, who had been taking photos of the event for the University's newspaper, managed to snap a picture of the laughing, soaking wet Blair. Jim tracked the young lady down, and ordered a copy of the photo for his own collection. The memory of that day made him smile for the first time in many months.

Carefully setting the photo album aside, Jim reached for his kit bag. The canvas was worn and cracked; the black letters spelling out Cpt. J.J. Ellison were faded. Opening the bag, he was dismayed to find the contents of the medical kit had spilled. He dug through the bottom of the bag, finally locating a cellophane packet, containing two white tablets. Tearing open the packet, he removed one pill, put it between his teeth, and bit down. Jim leaned back against the truck seat, closing his eyes. Extending his senses, he could almost hear Blair's heartbeat over the howling wind.

Frantic pounding on the passenger door startled Jim. He looked up and saw Blair's ashen face at the window. Jim reached over and pulled up the lock. Blair leaped into the vehicle.

"Jim!" he cried.

Jim regarded the younger man with pain and sadness. "Sorry, Chief, it's too late."

With a look of confusion, Blair followed Jim's gaze to the packet on the truck seat. Both men lunged for the remaining pill, but Blair was quicker. He fought off Jim, grabbed the tablet, popped it in his mouth and swallowed.

The older man seemed to visibly deflate, slumping back against the seat. "I never meant for any of this..."

Blair interrupted, "How long?"

"Less than a minute," Jim replied, his voice toneless.

"Kiss me goodbye?" Blair asked with a hopeful expression, tears in his eyes threatening to fall.

They reached for each other, Blair climbing over to straddle Jim's legs. Their lips came together, tentatively at first, then hungrily as Jim wound his fingers through Blair's hair. Tears mingled as they they deepened the kiss, tongues caressing and exploring. Blair reached for the buttons on Jim's shirt, pulling it open, his cold hands seeking out the warm flesh.

"Blair..." Jim gasped.

Blair moaned and burrowed in closer to Jim's chest, not wanting to end what would be their first and last kiss.

Jim's voice became more insistent. "Blair. Stop."

His fingers tightened in the younger man's hair, as he pulled away. Blair sat back, with eyes red-rimmed, hair sticking out wildly, and his lips reddened from kissing, the hurt showing clearly in his eyes.

"Chief, no, it's not you. The pills didn't work. They must have been too old. I had them with me in Peru. I just don't want you to do anything..." he indicated his open shirt, "...anything you might regret later. Now that you know there's going to be a later."

"Maybe they just take longer? It hasn't been that long since we took them..."

Jim shook his head.

Silently, Blair climbed off Jim's lap. His trembling fingers reached for the discarded packet. Squinting in the dim light, he read the black lettering, and doubled over in a fit of bitter laughter bordering on hysteria.

"What?" Jim asked.

"My Spanish is a bit rusty, but I'm sure that 'agua' means 'water'."

Jim groaned. "Water purification tablets?"

Blair nodded and reached for the kit bag, searching desperately. "There must be something else..."

"Don't bother, Chief. Those were the only pills in there. Simon must have gone through it, too. He went through everything at the loft, took away all my guns and went through the medicine cabinet. Anything with a sharp edge is gone. I couldn't even find a knife if I wanted to slice a sandwich in half. Not that I feel like eating."

Blair carefully studied the older man, noting with concern his sickly pallor. "You have to take care of yourself, now that I can't." With a sigh of resignation, Blair patted Jim on the shoulder and said, "Go home, Jim." He reached for the door handle.

"Wait. Don't leave. Come home with me, please?" Jim pleaded. "I miss you. It's... bad for your lungs, being up here."

"I've cheated death three times, now. I'll manage. Hell, I'm indestructible," Blair snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He saw Jim wince at the harsh words. In a softer voice, he added, "I...I can't. Not after what's happened. Not after..." he looked away, "...after what they did."

"I failed you. Your 'watchman of the tribe', your 'Blessed Protector' couldn't keep you safe."

"Jim," Blair protested, "You couldn't have known that there would be a prison riot. That the men you paid to look out for me would be killed."

"It's my fault you ended up there," Jim said softly.

"Look, Jim, a lot of stuff happened. I've hurt a lot of people; I've let our friends down. But we can't go back and change any of it. So just...go home."

"I won't live without you." His voice was ice cold.

"Jim. I can't. I just can't. I get nervous around people. I can't stand being touched. I could never...I'm not even sure if I could kiss you again..."

"Just come home with me, Chief. You're in charge. Whatever you want, whatever you need, we'll do. If you need to leave Cascade, we'll leave together. I want you with me, whether that's in my bed or in a separate room. I love you. I just want you with me. We'll work it out from there." Jim held his breath as the younger man considered the offer.

Biting his lip, Blair nodded.

Jim slowly reached for the seatbelt, fastening it securely over Blair. Gently he squeezed Blair's hand and then released it.

Jim put the truck in gear, and they left the treeline for the valley below.

End Kiss Me Goodbye by ciarra: ciarra@ureach.com

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