Archive of Our Own ^beta

Remembrances

by M&M

Authors' Note: This is our response to our Love, Love Me Do challenge (actually, it was the impetus). It's high on sap and angst, and *real* low on sex. (For those of you out there who think Kim can *only* write smut; hopefully this will change those thoughts (g).) Just an additional note, the point of view on this story shifts around; we've tried to compensate for it by noting at the top of each section who's telling the story. It's mostly Jim's story, though.

WARNING: As far as warnings go, not much to warn off here. We're giving it a PG-13. There is implied sex, but nothing graphic; as well as the (obvious) m/m relationship, and a little bit of language (probably less than you'll find on the show...).

DISCLAIMER: Pet Fly Productions owns the rights to the characters and the idea of The Sentinel. Copyright for the song The Flame (intro) is held by Cheap Trick (lyrics by Robin Zander). Copyright for the song, Candle In The Wind is held by Elton John. The poetry quoted in here is from a book titled "I Promise You My Love", a collection of poems on love, Edited by Susan Polis Schutz. Credit also to "The Case for Same-Sex Marriage" by William N. Eskridge, Jr., for assistance in setting up the wedding scenes. Neither one of us is making any money off of this project; we ask that you don't either. Feel free to pass around, share, whatever; just be sure to keep the headers and our names attached.

Remembrances

(A Sen Valentine)
by Kim Gasper and Mercury
Copyright Feb. 1997

JIM

Simon had sent him home--as if that were where he wanted to be. But he had to admit, his Captain and long-time friend was correct. He wasn't in any frame of mind to concentrate on work today. He climbed into the truck, and popped a tape into the tape deck. He'd discovered this song by accident, and had spent several days hunting down the group, title and album. Cheap Trick. Not what he normally listened to...but life hadn't felt normal in a long time. After he fiddled with the selection, and backed the truck out of the parking space he turned the volume up, and sang along.

Another night slowly closes in
And I feel so lonely
Touching heat, freezing on my skin
I pretend you still hold me.

First Chorus:
I'm going crazy
I'm losing sleep
I'm in too far
I'm in way too deep
Over You

Second Chorus:
You were the first, you'll be the last
Wherever you go, I'll be with you
Whatever you want, I'll give it to you
Whenever you need someone
To lay your heart and head upon
Remember, after the fire
After the rain
I will be the flame
I will be the flame

Watching shadows move across the wall
Feels so frightening
I want to run to you
I want to crawl
But I've been hit by lightening
Just can't stand up for falling apart
Can't see through this veil across my heart
Over You
You'll always be the one

First Chorus
Second Chorus
Wherever you go, I'll be with you
Whatever you want, I'll give it to you
Whenever you need someone
To lay your heart and head upon

I will be the flame
I will be the flame.

The song was appropriate, Jim reflected grimly; not for the first time. He noticed that the sky mirrored his dark feelings exactly. It had been appropriate for a long time. He didn't want to go home, but there was no where else to go. Simon had made it clear he didn't want to see him back at the station for a couple of days. He sighed deeply, knowing what was going to happen when he got in the apartment; but knew also it needed to be done. The first raindrops began falling as he guided the truck into the parking garage. The sky was going to cry for him.

Thunder cracked in the distance, and lightening flashed off the walls. The sound of rain streaming down walls and roofs was audible even to those without enhanced senses. At 4:45 pm, it was dark already--would have been even without the bad weather. February was still winter, even if it wasn't behaving like it.

Jim lay in the dark; staring with open, unseeing eyes at the ceiling. His hands were folded over his chest, and his right hand worried at the simple gold band he wore on his left. Tomorrow was a year. A year since that hideous day when the report came in that Blair's plane from Brazil had been shot down; had exploded shortly after crashing into the jungles of the Amazon Basin. No survivors had been found. What was left of the bodies found could have been carried in a lunchbox. Even now, after all this time, those thoughts still felt like a knife stabbing into his heart. Blair. He said the word silently, then aloud; "Blair", tasting it--remembering the man behind the name; and all of the memories attached to him. Guide first. Then friend, lover, mate. Soul-mate.

He needed to remember; to go over the memories, and savor them. Look for holes, for blanks. Those memories had been his only source of sanity for the last year; everyone else was so certain that Blair was dead, and now he was going to have to face it, too. He'd told Naomi--and himself--that he'd give it a year; then he'd deal with it. Several friends and acquaintances had called him a fool to his face. No one had survived that crash-- why was he so insistent upon denying the truth? *Because,* his heart had cried, *It hurts too much to consider otherwise. Blair can't be dead, because then I'd be alone...*

The beginning was a good place to start, those memories were the oldest, and likely to hurt the least. He could even smile a little, despite the pain in his heart. Jim closed his eyes and was immediately whisked to the past. His first meeting with the irascible anthropologist had been seeped in subterfuge.

Jim was buttoning his shirt when the doctor walked in.

Through detective's eyes, Jim did his own examination of the physician. The man was short and wore glasses. But it was the hair that had caught his attention. The curly mane was pulled back into a ponytail. That, and the blue jeans set off alarm bells in the detective's head. He didn't look like any doctor Jim had ever seen.

The young man spoke, "Detective Ellison? I'm Dr. McKay."

Jim's suspicion went up a notch. "Your name tag says McCoy."

The doctor appeared flustered. "Um...yeah. But the correct Gaelic pronunciation of my family name is McKay."

Jim decided to test the waters. "You have the results?"

The doctor looked blank. "Of?"

"The tests." Jim knew the kid wasn't a doctor.

Pause. "Forget the test. You don't need medicine. You need information."

"W-what are you? An intern?" Who did this kid think he was fooling. Jim straightened his collar and continued. "Go get the doctor will you, please." Jim indicated the door.

"Now, what a minute. Hear me out here." The kid moved around him. Jim turned to follow him. "Loud noises that shouldn't be loud. Smelling things that no else can smell. Weird visuals. Taste buds off the map, right?"

Jim frowned. "That's all on my chart."

"Yeah. But I bet I could add one thing--a hyperactive tactile response."

"A what?"

"Uh, " the young man floundered for a definition. "extra-sensitive touchy-feely, lately?"

"Hey, man, that's none of your business. And who the hell are you, anyway?" Jim was just a little irritated.

"Hey. I'm no one. But this man, he is." Jim took the card that was handed to him. "The only one who could truly help you. You're too far ahead of the curve for any of this techno-trash. You're a cop, see the man." With that, Dr. McKay pushed passed Jim and left the room.

Jim's second meeting hadn't gone much better. Jim had found the pseudo-doctor in an artifact closet masquerading as an office at the Rainier University. The young man was sitting in a chair, back to the door, dancing to the music blasting from the speakers of a portable stereo.

Jim had already begun to regret coming. He was *desperately* regretting it when the little fool had practically called him a caveman.

The detective had grabbed the shorter man with two fistfuls of shirt and had thrust him up against the wall. Their faces were inches away when Jim threatened Blair Sandburg with arrest.

Jim had been surprised that the anthropologist had bit back. Jim had seen the fear in his eyes. Nevertheless, he yelled right back at Jim. "Whoa, hey. Joe Friday, relax. Okay?" The anthropologist alternately pushed at Jim's shoulders and grabbed at Jim's sports jacket. With sudden nerve, he said, "Look, you mess with me, man, and you're never gonna find out what's up with you."

Jim had let him go after that.

Their conversation wrapped soon after and that would have been the extent of their interaction. When Jim had walked out that door, he had no intention of ever returning, of ever seeing Blair Sandburg again.

That had all changed when this long-haired, young man had saved his life. With no thought of himself, the anthropologist had grabbed him and pulled him to the ground. The garbage truck had run harmlessly over them. The college student had told him he had zoned out. Maybe there was more to this long-haired, neo-hippie freak then met the eye.

A bolt of lightening dissolved Jim's memory like a popped bubble. He got off the bed and began pacing the floor of the room. Meeting Blair for the first time was an experience unlike any other. And, it was just the beginning. Blair had constantly surprised him throughout their friendship. Jim's melancholy was momentarily lifted when he remembered that he'd called Blair "Chief", for the first time in that cluttered office. Of course, at the time, it had been a derogatory term. The nickname stuck though, and over the years had become a loving endearment.

He thought that the early memories wouldn't hurt as much. He was wrong. Everything associated with Blair was just too painful, too hard for him to deal with. White-hot pain knifed through his skull then, and Jim collapsed to his knees, the palms of his hands hitting the floor. His senses were on overload. Blair's presence/absence assaulted them, pulling him in different directions. He pressed to the floor in agony as his senses were over-stimulated.

He lay there trying to control his breathing as Blair had taught him. This was the fourth time in three months. Blair would have labeled it stress-related. In fact, he had. When his friend Danny had been shot and died in his arms, Jim had lost control of his senses. His sense of touch gone. It would fade in and out. He'd cared for Danny and his physical response to his death had frightened him. But Jim loved Blair and his senses reacted much worse. The blinding, white-hot pain attacked his senses in waves when he thought of Blair.

When the pain began to recede, and his senses began to fade back to normal, Jim rose to his feet. He wiped his sweaty brow with a trembling hand, and headed on shaky legs toward the bathroom, where he stripped down and climbed into the shower. The Sentinel hoped a hot shower would wash away the residual pain his senses had caused.

As the water sluiced over him, his thoughts turned again to Blair. They had shared many showers together. Jim could almost feel the sensual hands of his lover easing over his aching shoulder muscles, rubbing over his back, skimming up over his stomach to reach up and tease at his raw, aching nipples. His sense of touch amplified as he felt Blair's soft, wet curls tickle his back as Blair planted small kisses down his spine. Blair knew how to touch him in just the right way.

Jim groaned as he felt his body tense, then explode. He opened his eyes. That memory had been so real...and so had his body's reaction to it. He could still feel Blair's hands, his lips, his heat... He felt his body responding again, and sighed. "Geez, Chief. You're not even here and you're turning me on, " he said, aloud. He rinsed off quickly, then wrapped a towel around his waist and headed back for their--his--bedroom.

Jim pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. Looking toward the bathroom, he realized that even the shower wasn't safe from his memories, his heart. He buried his face in his hands. Blair was his love, his life. He couldn't go on thinking like this. He decided to move on to something a little less hurtful. He smiled then, thinking about the mess his apartment had been in--always, after Blair moved in with him. He'd learned to live with it, after a while; it had been easier to capitulate on that than to housebreak the kid, as he'd discovered. He had allowed Blair to move in, on the condition that it was temporary, when Blair's warehouse apartment blew up from a drug-deal gone bad. "Just until something else comes up, Chief." 'Something else' had turned into a lifetime commitment when the kid wiggled his way past his defenses and into his heart.

Kid. He snorted out loud. Blair had died just two weeks after his 36th birthday. When he first met Blair Sandburg, the kid had just turned 26; and sometimes acted like he was sixteen. Jim had been 38 then, and often felt a lot older, some days. Now he was getting close to 50; and he was without the one person who'd gotten past all his defenses--and made him love him. The smile wavered, and Jim took a deep breath against the pain that always came with that thought. So much for things less hurtful...

He felt his eyes stinging, and reached up to wipe the moisture away. He hadn't cried once in the last year, except for the first time he'd heard the news. Just that once, then he'd locked the feelings away; too painful to deal with. In fact, until yesterday, he'd been willing to believe that it was all just a bad dream; that Blair would be back from that trip any time now...that the heart that had beat in time with his for so long would echo once again through the silence of the apartment. More moisture; flowing down his cheeks. Jim groaned, despair and heartache welling up inside him. "Blair...oh, God, Chief;...why'd you leave me..." He gave up pretending to no one that he wasn't crying, and let the sobs take hold of him.

Some time later he regained his composure, and rolled off the bed. He wandered over to the window and stared outside at the storm, watching the rain fall; feeling the memories rolling down like the raindrops.

This one was okay, though. It brought a smile to his face now, though at the time he'd been pissed.

Obviously, Blair knew about his Sentinel abilities. The grad student was there to help him, teach him.... They were in the kitchen, and Blair had another test for him. He blindfolded Jim and placed some cups filled with liquid in front of the Sentinel. He then explained that each cup contained a minute amount of a substance in water that the Sentinel was supposed to try to identify with his sense of taste. The experiment had barely begun when the phone rang. While Blair answered the call, Jim went ahead with the experiment. It didn't take him long at all to identify the substances and he was excited about it, although he'd never tell Blair.

He was happily running through the test, thinking that it was too easy, when he took a swig out of one of the glasses. The nastiest, vilest taste he'd ever experienced filled his mouth. Jim ripped the blindfold off and spit the substance into the sink, sticking his mouth under the faucet to clear it of the remnants of whatever was in that cup. Blair had come out of the room just then and had nearly laughed when he chided Jim for drinking the spoiled milk he was going to throw out.

It was amazing how quickly he had come to depend on the young anthropologist in such a short time. Sure, he was Sandburg's Blessed Protector--and he really needed one--but Blair, too, looked out for him. He'd nearly lost Blair more times than he could count, simply because the anthropologist attracted trouble like gold attracted Leprechauns. Jim stopped trying to remember all the different times Blair had put his life in danger to rescue Jim--and not always by physical means, but just by *being* there, with him.

He remembered the time Brackett had made him cross that bridge. One false move, and the whole thing would go up in flames. Jim had to concentrate on his sense of hearing to determine changes in the patterns of the squares. Navigating had become a real effort, and, with Blair behind him, it wasn't just his life that depended on it. Halfway across, Jim had zoned-out. If Blair hadn't been there...Jim shook his head at the memory. They had made it and a lot of lives were saved that day.

Jim's memories were slipping through his mind like a forty-five on a jukebox. He shuffled to the next one.

It was dark and they were on a train. Jim had been entrusted with the safety of a witness. Unfortunately, he'd had a real bad cold. Not being able to function any longer, he'd taken cold medicine. Big mistake. His senses were bombarded with stimuli. He'd been so upset that he'd grabbed Sandburg and thrown him up against a wall. That had been the second time that he'd done that out of fear and desperation. He'd done it many times since...for other reasons.

At the time of the cold medicine incident--that's what he'd come to call it--he and Blair hadn't tested his senses that much. Thank God they'd covered multiple stimuli, though. When Jim found himself under the train, hanging on for dear life, it was Blair's voice in his head, telling him what to do. It worked and Blair saved him yet again.

He'd saved Blair from psychopathic killers and gun smugglers from Chile. But it was the memory of Zeller that often had a stranglehold on Jim.

He recalled vividly, standing on the stairway, listening to the conversation in the suite. Jim's hearing had been tuned to his partner and Amber. When he heard the shots and Amber screaming in hysteria, he'd felt the cold shroud of fear blanket his heart. It was irrational, he knew, the kid was wearing a bulletproof vest. Most likely it had saved him. Still, it took every ounce of Jim's control to school the fear out of is voice when he told backup to go ahead and enter the building. Even so, his voice had trembled ever so slightly. Only another Sentinel could have heard it.

He'd been so relieved when Blair had come to, but Blair kept going on and on about Amber, and Jim had no thought for Zeller or the girl. He was more preoccupied with keeping his partner breathing.

Blair had survived Zeller, had survived Lash.

Jim's gut tightened at the thought of all the dangerous situations he'd gotten Blair out of. At least in these memories Jim saved him every time. By thinking of them, he could ignore the one where he failed. "Damn it!" Jim's shout reverberated throughout the room. "Chief, why didn't you survive this?! Why did you leave me, Blair? Why?"

In the present, Jim shook his head. Since the beginning, Blair was always trying to help him. And how had he returned the favor? How many times had the kid nearly gotten himself killed-- or worse--just because he was associated with Ellison? In spite of it all, Blair had stuck with him, slowly showing Jim that he cared more about Jim than he did about the Sentinel project.

He could pinpoint almost to the minute when his feelings for Blair had turned from 'just friends' to a deeper kind of emotion. It took quite some time after that before he was willing to admit to himself, or to Blair that what he felt was love--romantic love--and desire. He'd always been a "straight" guy; enjoyed women and had been married. He and Blair had gone out chasing women together and had sometimes vied for the same woman's attention. But at some point this long-haired college grad student, with an earring and strange ways of viewing the world; this kid had wiggled past his defenses, and captured his heart. He knew it'd always come as a shock to Blair too, although Blair had been with men a few times in his past. Whatever the magnet that had drawn them together, and he knew that Blair had always thought it was the bond between Sentinel and Guide; it was a strong one.

The memory connected to this was a strong and painful one. Jim shut his eyes and clenched the windowsill in his hands as the memories assaulted him...

He could still remember his feelings when Blair had first told him about the project--a trip to Borneo, and the year's worth of time it would require. He'd felt...shock, disappointment, hurt. But he'd pasted a fake smile on his face, and told Blair to go ahead and do it. Then came the message about Simon being lost in the jungles, and they left without talking about it anymore. But the thoughts stayed in Jim's mind through the entire trip; underscored by the lose of his sentinel senses.

They returned from Peru, after a grueling trip rescuing Simon and Daryl from the hands of drug manufacturers. The professor who wanted Blair to accompany him to Borneo had called one last time to see if he were interested. Jim had come into the room, beer in hand, another for Blair, and heard the message playing. He looked at Blair, wondering if it would hurt this bad forever.

"Guess you should call them back."

Blair looked at him with eyes trusting and open; indescribable feelings shining there. "Well, actually...I've already decided not to go." Jim had felt his heart jump, and gave Blair a questioning look. The younger man continued, "This Sentinel thing...it's more than just a research project. It's about friendship. I just didn't get it before." A smile appeared on Blair's face that could have eclipsed the sun.

Jim had stared at Blair for a minute, a smile breaking across his face to match the one on Blair's. "Okay." He'd never mentioned it to Blair again; in fact, never had told him how bad that had hurt--and how good he felt when Blair told him of his decision to stay. It had been a warm glow that stayed with him...until it coalesced into a burning brilliance about six months later.

Jim pulled out of his reverie when thunder boomed loud enough to force him to turn the dial down on his hearing. The irony was that Jim felt safe with Blair. He'd always felt solace in their friendship. Jim trusted Blair. He never really said it; at least not in the early years of their friendship, but he did. He was forced to admit to himself what that trust meant--the stronger emotion behind it--when he lost his eyesight from a vicious street drug called Golden. With nothing but a Golden haze in front of his eyes, it was the perfect excuse to touch Blair and to have Blair's hands on him. Not only was he able to depend on his friend to be his eyes, but to be his backup as well. His heart still swelled with pride when he recalled Blair's ingenious method of dissuading the drug dealers from shooting Jim. Using the laser pointer to convince the bad guys it was a laser sight had impressed him. Blair had guided him, helped him...cared for him. Until Blair had been drugged as well. Sitting at Blair's hospital bedside, faced with the prospect of losing him, Jim had been forced to begin thinking about what he felt--and what it meant to their relationship. Without Blair, his life was shattered, incomplete. Luckily, Blair had come home safe and sound.

He came to the realization of what it could mean to them one night when they were both home, both dateless for some long forgotten reason. They were watching TV. He'd taken the couch to stretch out, and Blair stretched alongside, on the floor. He made a comment about something on the TV show, and Blair retaliated--as usual. He'd sat up and turned around, in order to emphasize his point; and that brought their faces close--so close, only inches separating them. Their eyes met; clear blue meeting smokey blue, and then Blair, answering an unspoken plea in Jim's eyes; had opened his mouth--that beautiful, sensual mouth with the pouty lower lip--and kissed him. Jim could still feel the electric shock that had rocked him to his core...

He pulled back in shock, the taste of Blair lingering on his lips. "Why'd you do that?"

Blair shrugged. "I don't know. It felt right...didn't it?"

Jim shook his head. "Dammed if I know, any more." He drew back against the couch, unwilling to take it any further. Blair watched him for a minute longer, then turned back to the TV without a word; but this time he sat up against the couch, his head resting lightly against the cushions as he tipped it back slightly.

They sat that way, neither one speaking, for at least ten minutes. Blair would shift restlessly, and Jim would echo the shift. He tried watching the show on the tube, but found himself staring at the back of Blair's head, visualizing how those curls would feel against his hand. Without conscious thought his hand drifted down, and his fingers gently wove themselves into the soft hair. Blair sighed, and leaned his head even further back, and Jim shifted so he was closer to the edge of the couch. There was still no speech between them; but the intimacy of the moment could not be denied. It was when he noticed that his hand had drifted downward, and was gently stroking Blair's neck, that he realized what he felt for this man went way beyond friendship. He tugged Blair's curls gently, pulling the younger man around toward him, and pressed his lips to Blair's. Blair didn't pull away from him, but he didn't respond either; it was all going to be up to him, then. Accepting the challenge, he deepened the kiss, savoring the flavor of Blair's mouth. He tasted like beer, with an underlying flavor of the smoked chicken and cheese casserole they'd had for dinner; along with an otherwise undefinable flavor that was just *Blair*: sometimes sweet, a little salty; a hint of bitterness that spoke of the herb teas that Blair liked. It all combined into a heady brew that Jim was willing to taste over and over again. He flicked his tongue into Blair's mouth, and was rewarded by a groan, and Blair's tongue pushing back toward him. They kissed for long, endless minutes; Jim's senses speeding toward overload from all the tastes and smells and tactile sensations. He'd rolled himself off the couch, and onto the floor, pinning Blair beneath him. They lay on the floor, making out like teenagers, until Jim's senses became aware of the barely-controlled pressure in Blair's body, echoed by his own. They'd gone upstairs then, and Blair had given him the gift of his body for the first time; which he then returned with his.

The tears started again then, and Jim didn't even bother to wipe them away. He leaned his head against the window, the tears flowing down his face like the rain outside. He and Blair had made love through the night; and the night after that, and the next.

That first morning they woke up in bed together had been a revealing one. No words had been spoken the night before; after they made love they'd both fallen asleep, wrapped in each other's arms. Jim woke first and propped himself up on his elbow in order to study Blair a moment. It wasn't often he saw his Guide so perfectly still, at rest. Usually he was in manic-hyper mode, tiring out anyone who tried to watch him. Jim smiled, and reached out a finger to gently trace the outline of Blair's lips. At the first touch Blair's mouth opened slightly, and Jim felt his body stir at the sight; remembering how those lips tasted beneath his, and what they had done last night. He leaned over Blair, and lowered his mouth until it was just above Blair's, touching, but not quite touching. "Morning, Chief."

Blair stirred in his sleep, then stretched. He opened his eyes to find Jim hovering over him, then smiled. "Morning yourself, lover."

Jim felt a thrill race through him. *Lover*. His eyes narrowed as the tip of Blair's tongue darted out to moisten his lips. The breath caught in his throat then as that tongue moistened his own lips; and he threw himself willingly into the abyss that opened up before him.

Afterward they lay in each other's arms, talking. Jim wanted so desperately to tell Blair how he felt, but found himself hesitating for once. Why? Fear. Did Blair feel the same way about him? Or was this just a casual thing for the younger man? Blair's life had been a lot different than his; he'd been brought up by a woman who claimed no place as her home, and who embraced the "free love" lifestyle with a passion. What sort of an effect would that have had on Blair?

"Jim!"

"Huh?"

"Man, you zoned! Where were you?"

Jim grinned sheepishly at him. "In my head."

"No, really? Duh. Whatcha thinking, man?"

"I was thinking about you, actually."

"Yeah? Well, I was *talking* about us. Pay attention." Blair leaned in and nipped at Jim's lips, which earned him a hard kiss in return. "Okay, you've been paying attention. Jim."

"What?"

"What was last night all about?"

"What do you mean, Chief?"

Blair rolled his eyes at him. "For a man who's such a good detective...or are you just playing dumb? I'm talking about this, man...about us."

"Is there an us?"

"I--think so. I'd like there to be."

"So would I." Jim spoke softly, unsure of where this was leading, but hoping Blair was saying what he thought he was saying.

"I've had...feelings...for you for a while, man. I just didn't know...I wasn't sure about what to do about them."

Curious, Jim asked, "Why do you say that?"

"Well, hell, man...You're about as straight as they come! Me? I go with the flow. But you, lover," Blair looked in his eyes, and ran a hand down his chest, "You are *so* not like that. At least I didn't think so."

Jim felt the pull of Blair's words; felt his body and soul responding to them. "It doesn't matter what I used to be like, Chief. I love you...I have for a while now."

Blair sighed. "God, Jim...I've been hoping to hear you say that for...well, for so long I don't even remember any more."

"Was that what the kiss last night was all about?"

"I was hoping to stir things up a bit.

Jim gave a snort of laughter. "I'd say it worked, Chief."

"I'd say so, too."

Jim felt his chest tighten again, and took a deep breath. Things had been so different after that morning; and yet stayed so much the same. He turned around, looking at the room--their room--and headed for the stairs. Time to change the scenery.

Scenery. Jim shook his head. God, even words were going to torture him now. Images of camping trips--making love in the forest, sheltered by nothing more than the trees and grasses; of sailing together on the harbor; Blair standing over him, body naked and ready for him... Scenery. Jim slapped his hands against the window panes in supplication, then turned and left the room.

He wandered downstairs, looking at the pictures hanging on the walls; smiling as some of them evoked pleasant memories, but feeling the pain that washed out everything. He stopped by a picture of him, Blair and Simon; Blair holding up a certificate with victory in his eyes. That had been the day he'd received his doctorate. *That* was a good memory, one Jim loved to think about. The pain of loss didn't touch this one...

Blair had been on him for several months about his dissertation. His time to complete the project was winding down; and he needed for Jim to decide if he was going to approve releasing his name, or not. He'd left the decision up to Jim; after all, it was Jim who would potentially suffer the effects if his abilities were made public knowledge. Jim dithered about on this issue; part of him wanted to acknowledge to the world who he was, and what he could do--for Blair's sake. If he chose anonymity, Blair stood the chance of having his dissertation turned down. If he chose to go public, he stood the chance of never having a normal life again. It actually turned out to be an easy choice; he'd do anything for Blair.

"Are you sure, man?" They'd been laying in bed when Jim told Blair, and his lover's eyes had lit up, glowing from within with excitement and joy.

"Positive." Jim leaned down to softly kiss Blair, pressing their mouths together, then pulling back. "I love you, babe. I'll do whatever you need me to do."

"You realize what could happen if the general public learns what you can do. I'll do what I can to ensure that your privacy is protected, but--" Blair's eyes had telegraphed concern to him over those possibilities.

"I know. I'm willing to take the risk." He tilted Blair's face up to his. "Okay? Trust me, Chief. I really am okay with this."

"All right. I trust you." Blair had drawn him into a tight hug. "I really get to do it...to tell someone..." Jim smiled to himself. Whatever happened, it was worth it to make Blair so happy. Blair surprised him then, rolling away from him, and pulling so that Jim was sprawled on top of him. He looked up into Jim's face, making eye contact. Holding that contact he pulled Jim's face down to his, until their lips touched, then melded; igniting a flame that spread and burned until it culminated in a fireball burst of heat and energy through them.

Blair had received his diploma several months later. He and Simon had taken the younger man out to celebrate, making a show of calling him Dr. Sandburg at every opportunity. Blair had laughed and preened, enjoying his momentary notoriety. Daryl had been at home that week, visiting his father; and had taken a picture of the three of them when they stopped to drop Simon off at his house. Then Jim and Blair had gone home; to celebrate in a more private setting, just between them. Jim had communicated his pride and love for Blair with his body. He took him with consummate gentleness; loving the way his body felt under his, the contrast of tastes and textures; the smells and sounds; the heat that all combined to make up Blair...

He thudded his fist against the wall. There wasn't a single memory of Blair that wasn't going to set off tears tonight, obviously. God, he hated life right now. Hated it as much as he'd hated it the day they told him Blair was dead. The only thing keeping him sane anymore was remembering...living in those memories; protecting himself against the outside world.

Jim returned to their bed--no, his alone now, and lay back down on it, feeling worn out from the emotions flowing through him. He had no choice at this point--it was go on, or burst from the pressure bearing down on his heart. He'd go insane if he didn't let it all out now...he'd held it in for too long. Deciding that some of the memories were going to hurt like a bitch no matter how long he waited, he plunged in with the next one; felt the sting of tears even as he called to mind the happiness and joy that was bound up in it...

He'd been thinking about it for a long time--several months, in fact--but Blair beat him to it. His Guide was very intuitive toward him; another piece of evidence, to Blair's thinking, showing the bond between them.

"Let's get married."

Jim choked on the bite of fish he'd just taken. "*What* did you just say?" He'd asked, when he could talk again.

"Let's get married." Blair'd looked at him, eyes wide with unspoken emotion. "It's not like we haven't made a commitment, but...y'know..."

Jim had studied his lover carefully, trying to figure out what had made him bring it up. Sure, he'd been thinking it-- mostly trying to figure out how to sell it to his free-spirited lover. "What brings this up?" He'd felt like teasing then, to lighten the mood a little. "Are you pregnant?"

"And if I was?" Blair shot back, seeming unwilling to back down. "Would you marry me then?"

Jim shook his head, amusement warring with irritation. "I don't believe in getting married just for that reason. Which it wouldn't be...Yeah, I'd make an honest man out of you. But it's a moot point, anyway--unless you've suddenly grown organs I didn't know about?" Blair shook his head, an odd expression on his face. "Well, then." Jim pushed his chair back, and headed for the living room. "Come over here for a minute, Chief."

"What for?" Blair had a suspicious look on his face.

Jim sighed. "Just come over here, would you? Please?"

Blair got up and walked over to stand next to Jim. He had a questioning look on his face, but didn't say anything. His eyes grew even wider than usual though, when Jim dropped to one knee. "Oh, no... oh, man..."

Jim reached up and took one of Blair's hands in his, and said, "Blair Sandburg, would you marry me?"

Blair had laughed, a shaky tone in his voice. "Man, this is *so* weird...I wasn't thinking..."

"Well?"

A tender look had softened Blair's face, and he tugged on Jim's hand until he'd stood up, standing right next to him. "Yeah. I will. If you'll marry *me*." He'd gazed up at Jim, a look of such intensity pouring out of his eyes that Jim found his heart speeding up.

"Oh, baby..." He leaned in to gather Blair into his embrace, and they melded into one kiss after another, sealing their promise with the promise of their bodies.

Blair had called Naomi the next day, and she showed up by the end of the week. Jim had joked with Blair about it, but he really wanted to get Naomi's permission to marry Blair--it seemed important to him somehow. Naomi had given that permission readily. Although she was rather surprised that her son was marrying a man it hadn't phased her; she told Jim and Blair both that she didn't really consider gender to be an important issue-- who you loved was who you loved, and that was all there should be to it.

That *wasn't* all there was to it, however, as they found out in the weeks to come. The only place that two men could get married--legally, in a civil ceremony--was Hawaii. And that was the only place that recognized that marriage.

"Well, what about a religious ceremony then? You know...symbolic." Blair asked him one night when they were laying in bed discussing it.

"What, a church ceremony?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

Jim thought about it. It frankly hadn't occurred to him--he and Carolyn had done the JP thing; however the problems involved in marrying another man precluded that. "Okay...who?"

"Let me ask around a bit, but I have some friends who go to a temple downtown where the rabbi is a lot more liberal than most. Maybe he'd do it."

"Rabbi...you mean, a Jewish wedding?"

"Any problems with that?"

"I'm not Jewish."

"Yeah, but I am. And since we're breaking all the rules anyway...seems fitting, don't you think?" Blair had grinned at him then, that seductive grin that sucked the breath right out of his body. "Well, Jim?" A questing hand moved along his ribcage, slowly moving down his abdomen, and Jim found he'd forgotten the question.

"Yeah...whatever. You take care of it." A minute later he'd forgotten the entire thread of conversation as Blair drew him closer and covered his mouth with his own.

They met with the rabbi later that week, and spoke with him at length. Rabbi Abram Cohen was a very bright, outspoken man who crusaded for gay rights all over Washington state. He was thrilled that Blair and Jim wanted to "sanctify" their union, as he put it, and offered his assistance in doing so. Blair had brought up the issue of Jim's not being Jewish--and not particularly wishing to convert, either. Abram had assured them it wouldn't be a problem, and had set up appointments for each of them to do individual counseling with him.

They went through three months of counseling sessions with Rabbi Cohen, to be sure that all thoughts, doubts, concerns and expectations as were reasonable had been addressed. Then they set a date.

His mind flashed back then to that day nearly five years ago when he and Blair had stood up together in front of that liberal rabbi and had exchanged vows. It was a simple ceremony; attended only by Naomi, Simon and Daryl, and a few other close friends. He turned his head, eyes seeking the picture by his bedside of him and Blair, decked out in suits; looking both uncomfortable and ridiculously happy all at the same time. That picture and the ring that Blair had given him were all he had left of that day now...

The 19th of March was cold and damp, but clear. A good omen for a wedding. Jim stood at the back of the temple and watched as the few people they'd invited entered and found a seat. Simon was there with Daryl; Naomi, Taggert, Lewis, Jackson. Blair popped up beside him then, and smiled at him.

"Hey, lover. Almost time. Nervous?"

Jim ignored the question, dwelling instead on how good Blair looked. He had his hair down, but it had been tamed for a change. Dark charcoal grey suit, with a white shirt and vivid blue tie with checkered black, white and grey pattern. "You look absolutely gorgeous, Chief."

Blair smiled. Jim was avoiding the question. "Thank you-- so do you, lover. Everyone here yet?" Blair peered around Jim, trying to see the worship area.

"A few more still not here. Blair...are *you* nervous?"

Blair looked at him for a minute, then said softly, "Yes."

Jim exhaled loudly. "God, I'm glad to hear that. You haven't acted nervous..."

"Well, I am. This is...man, this is for real. Not like it wasn't before, but..."

"Yeah, I know." Jim opened his mouth to say more, but Rabbi Cohen entered the area.

"It's time. You two ready?" They nodded. "Then follow me."

They stood in front of the Rabbi, in the center of the temple. He asked them to face each other, and join hands. Jim could feel both their hands shaking slightly, and heard Blair's accelerated heartbeat. He squeezed Blair's fingers slightly, and allowed himself to be drawn into Blair's gaze; found himself sinking into the smoky-blue depths... through the cocoon he'd wrapped himself in Jim heard Rabbi Cohen speaking:

"Jim and Blair came to me almost six months ago, asking to be married. I don't marry people without seeing evidence of a commitment, and made no exception with these two. What I have seen between them is a strong, deep abiding love. They have decided to dispense with the traditional vows, and will exchange their own pledges now. Jim, will you pledge yourself to Blair?"

"I will." Jim took a deep breath, and locked his gaze back onto Blair's. They hadn't shared with the other what they'd picked out. He could only pray it was appropriate.

"I am in the world
to love you...
to love you and to want you.
To need you, to feel you, to touch you,
to be with you.
I love you in the morning,
in the middle of the day
in the hours we are together,
and the hours you are away.
I love the old and the new,
the sunlight and the shade,
the warmth and the cool,
the smiles and the tears...
for it is only because I love you
that any of these things exist.
I love you because I was searching
for the true meanings of love
that I did not know until
I found them in you.
Those things I have learned
through and because of you.

You are all I love
You are my love."

He squeezed Blair's hands with his, and felt the reassuring pressure returned. Blair turned slightly as the Rabbi addressed him.

"Blair, will you pledge yourself to Jim?"

"I will." Blair smiled at Jim then, a soft, dreamy smile, and began to speak:

"I promise you
my love,
For today
and tomorrow;
I promise you
as much happiness
as I can give;
I promise not
to doubt
or mistrust you,
But to grow
and add to your life
of content.
I promise
never to try to
change you,
But will accept
the changes you make
in yourself;
And I will accept
your love for me
without fear
of tomorrow;
knowing that
tomorrow,
I'll love you more
than I do today."**

"Gentlemen, do you have the rings?" Jim nodded and handed the Rabbi two identical slender gold rings. "Okay. Blair," He handed the ring to Blair, "Place the ring on Jim's finger, and repeat after me:

"I give you this ring as a token of our commitment to each other, vowing to live in friendship and love and to care for you and about you above all others. I pledge myself to love you regardless of worldly trials, until death we part."

Blair slid the cool metal on his finger, repeating the words after the rabbi. Jim felt himself on the brink of a zone out as he watched Blair's lips form the words, felt the spell being woven around him. He came back with a slight start as he realized that Rabbi Cohen was handing him Blair's ring. He took it and placed it against Blair's finger, and repeated the vows that had just been said to him. When he slid the ring onto Blair's finger he almost heard the little as all the pieces fell into place. Then Rabbi Cohen's voice was speaking above, around and through him...

" For as much as Jim and Blair have consented together in Holy Union and witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their vows, each to the other, and have declared the same by exchanging rings and joining hands, I declare that they are joined together in the name of God the Creator, Amen. May God bless, preserve and keep you." Jim would've sworn he saw a twinkle in Abram's eyes when he turned back to the couple and said, "You can kiss each other now."

Afterward, after a short reception to toast the couple, they'd gone to the mountains north of Cascade, and spent a quiet week camping in the mountains, enjoying the time they had to spend with each other.

The picture blurred then as tears overtook him; great, gasping sobs that left him feeling drained and empty. He was alone now...alone forever...

He was vulnerable too, his mind told him later. Helpless now to stem the flow, Jim watched as memory after memory flooded him: He and Blair on stakeout; he and Blair in high speed chases; quiet evenings spent at home, cuddling in front of the fireplace; their first date 'out'. Blair's excitement over a position as faculty on Rainier U; his own excitement over getting his promotion to D-3. The times--too numerous to even begin counting--that they'd shared of themselves with each other; making love from dusk 'til dawn. The quiet beauty of the man who completed him and made him whole.

His mind was working against him now, remembering the things he hadn't thought of at all in a year's time. Most of the rest of the memories he'd touched on at some time or another; but this one...this one had felt physically blocked from him, and he hadn't tried to access it, knowing he'd be incapable of dealing with it...

Tomorrow was the day Blair was going to leave for the Amazon, and six months of studies, with some of his grad students. Jim had been adamant that he make the trip; but that didn't mean he was happy Blair was going. Still, Blair had assured him he'd find a way to get in touch with him at least once a month--that was the best he could do. He tried to remember that Blair was an anthropologist now; not just the student he'd lived with for so long, and needed to do field research like this from time to time. Really, he couldn't complain since this was their first separation in four years, since they'd gotten married.

He'd been determined to make their last evening a quiet, romantic one--and had set about taking care of it: dinner, wine, candles, the whole works.

Blair had come in from some last minute meeting, and stood; arms folded across his chest, just watching Jim--a small smile playing on his lips. Jim looked up and saw him watching, and smiled back, then asked, "What?"

"Just thinking how gorgeous you are, lover. How'd I get so lucky? Not only did I get you, but the women of Cascade didn't declare a 'Kill Blair Sandburg' day."

Jim took a few more steps toward him, eyes gone hot. "I'm not gorgeous, Chief. You are."

Blair shook his head. "You have a...a look, Jim. Broad; well-sculpted planes, muscles in places most of us don't even realize we have...and you have the most beautiful mouth..." Blair had closed the slight distance remaining between them, and reached up to stroke a finger across Jim's lips. "Extremely kissable, Wildcat..." Blair pulled his head down and kissed him; Jim growling softly like the namesake Blair called him.

It was a lush, seductive kiss...tongues like hot wet silk caressed each other; hot breath fanned across the other's sensitive skin...when they broke apart the only sound in the apartment was harsh breathing. Jim held Blair to him, bending slightly so their foreheads rested against each other. "I'm gonna miss you, Chief."

"I'm gonna miss you, too, Jim." Blair's voice sounded subdued, and Jim pulled back to see tears building in those huge eyes.

"Hey, what's this?" He caressed Blair's cheekbones with his thumbs.

Blair shrugged slightly. "I'm just feeling...I'm going to miss you so bad..." His lips tightened, narrowed. "What am I doing? Am I *nuts*? Leave you here for six months while I go roam around the jungles?" He buried his face in Jim's chest, and the bigger man brought his hands around to stroke the silky curls that Blair still wore long.

"Shh, Babe." Jim closed his arms around Blair, enveloping him, and continued to stroke his hair. "You need to do this, Chief. God knows I don't want you to go--but you need to." He pulled back slightly and brushed the hair out of Blair's face. "You'll be back in six months, and I'll be here, waiting for you." He leaned back in, closing the distance between their faces, and breathed across Blair's lips, "I'll wait for you always," then he kissed him; searching, tasting...memorizing...until he felt the tension in Blair's body subside, to be replaced by a different kind of tension. He pulled away then, savoring the moment and the look on Blair's face. "Hey, Babe...want some dinner?"

"No," Blair said, running his hands across Jim's chest, then under his T-shirt. "I want *you*. Now." Jim looked into Blair's eyes and saw echoed there the heat he felt in his own.

"Yes," was all he could manage, before Blair's mouth engulfed his own. When they finally separated Blair took the initiative and drew Jim upstairs where he undressed him and made love to him slowly, tenderly, thoroughly; until both men were shaking from exhaustion and spent emotion.

He dropped Blair off at the airport the next morning; on his way to work. Blair would have to group with his students, and deal with customs; and didn't want Jim to have to wait. They'd said their goodbyes that morning at home; now, with a quick kiss and one last, lingering look, Blair turned into the airport terminal, and was gone. That was the last time he'd seen him. The next morning his world exploded.

Oh, God...this was going to be the worst one. He hadn't thought about this day since...since it'd happened. It was too painful then, and it was still too painful. But if he was ever going to exorcise the pain, it would have to be dealt with...

"Ellison--in my office."

Simon had stuck his face out his door, and there was a very strange expression on it that made Jim uneasy. He'd been feeling uneasy anyway, for reasons beyond his understanding; and this made it worse. "Yes Sir?"

"Jim...sit down." Simon gestured to one of his chairs, and Jim moved to take a seat.

"What's up, Captain?"

"You haven't had the radio on lately, have you?"

Jim shook his head, puzzled; but aware of a panicked feeling growing in the depths of his body. "No--I don't, generally. Why?" *Please don't tell me what I think you're going to say...please...I don't know if I can stand it...*

Simon took a deep breath. "Jim--a plane went down in Brazil early this morning. Terrorist attack. They don't believe there were any survivors."

Jim sat there, stunned. It was worse than he'd thought. He looked up at his Captain, hoping by some chance that he'd heard the wrong words; that he was mistaken. Surely not...And then he felt it...a wave of raw, savage anger...a primal feeling; it rose up from the depths of his soul, and unleashed itself on the world...He threw himself out of the chair, lunging toward Simon. "NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" He crashed his hands down on Simon's desk; trying to understand why someone would be this cruel to him. The door to Simon's office flew open, and three uniforms were standing there, weapons drawn. Simon had motioned them back, and come around the desk.

"Jim?" His long-time friend gently uprighted the chair he'd thrown over when he surged out of it, and guided him into it. "Jim--is there anyone I can call for you? Anyone I should call? Jim?"

Then Jim was no longer hearing or seeing him, Sentinel senses pushed to the point of overload from the deep sense of loss he was feeling...

He'd cried afterward, deep racking sobs that Simon told him later had hurt to listen to. His friend had drawn him into an embrace, and held him tightly while he sobbed out his misery; letting him go only when the sobbing abated somewhat. He couldn't believe Blair was gone...that he'd been taken from him. What Deity could be that cruel? To take from him that which mattered most in the world? How in the hell was he supposed to make it without the man who meant more to him than his own life? Guide; friend; lover, mate. Soul mate. Blair had told him that once; when they were talking about astrology, and other mystical stuff that his partner had interests in...

"It's said that there's someone for everyone--that we have a soul mate. The ancient Greeks believed that human souls were once perfect; whole, round, circular. The angels were jealous of this perfection, and caused those wholes to be split into two halves. A soul-mate is the other half of that circle. Someone unique for us, to us; no male or female--it's a concept that transcends gender. Our soul mate isn't always in our present life though...some lives we don't find them."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, in reincarnation the same souls are generally with us, as different people--although not all of them, all of the time. But soul-mates tend to find one another, if they're in the same life together. You and I are soul-mates, Jim. It was written in the stars long before we existed--we're fated to be together."

"You mean because of the Sentinel abilities."

"Partially. But that only strengthens the bond, lover. The bond was there before. We belong to each other; our souls are halves of a whole." Blair's voice had dropped until it was a husky whisper; and Jim felt his body tighten and thrum in response to spell his mate was weaving with words, touches, sounds.

"You're mine, Chief."

"Yes. And you're mine."

"Yes. I love you...now, and forever."

"I'll love you until I die--and beyond. Jim..." Blair had pulled his head down, and captured his mouth in a scorching kiss that left them breathless.

Jim shook himself again. That conversation had taken place just a few weeks before Blair's trip to Brazil; and had haunted him since; popping up at odd moments when his defenses were down. Had Blair known something? Subconsciously, perhaps? He was so intuitive he'd spooked Jim sometimes. *And beyond.* Was that why it didn't seem like Blair could be gone? Because he was still loving him, from another spiritual plane? Jim didn't usually buy into all that mystical stuff; but his mate had, so he at least didn't reject it outright. The room--the whole apartment--suddenly seemed stuffy then, and the urge to bolt was overwhelmingly strong. A drive maybe. He got off the bed, and headed downstairs.

BLAIR

Early morning dawned on the banks of the Amazon river; deep into the steaming jungle, in a place very few white men had ever seen. The hunters of the Xhiun-hau tribe moved out for the hunt for the upcoming manhood ceremony. Among the short, dark-haired, dark-eyed natives was another man; his skin lighter, his hair light brown and curly. He was dressed like the rest of the men, but for a few small differences; they adorned their bodies with tattoos, his was bare. Their jewelry consisted of shells, small bones, pebbles. He wore a single gold band on one finger of his left hand, and two small gold hoop earrings in one ear.

Blair--that was the only name he could remember, other than a few memories of someone calling him 'Chief'--moved nimbly across the rocks in the river; a part of this group. They were hunting today for a special kill; three boys in the tribe were going to cross the threshold tonight from childhood to manhood. He got flashes of memory--sound, picture, light--but none of it made sense. He'd been having these memory flashes for almost a year now, and very little of it had made sense yet. He knew there were things--important things--that he should remember. He remembered a tall man--the one who called him Chief--and knew he was important to him somehow; but couldn't recall why. The only things he recalled for certain were his name, and the fact that he was married. He knew that was what the gold band meant. But to who? Just another mystery he hoped would be solved someday for him.

There was movement within the tangle of jungle vines and branches, and the hunters dropped into crouches, spears and arrows poised for the kill. Blair had a spot at the front of the group, so he was among the first to see the tribe's symbol of good luck and prosperity emerge: A Black Panther.

The large cat moved languidly through the underbrush; it sensed that these men were not a threat to it. It stopped, tail flicking through the warm, humid air; and made eye contact with the man closest to it: Blair. He stared back at the cat, feeling a communication of sorts pass between them; then saw pictures begin to flash through his mind at high speed: His Sentinel studies; meeting Jim Ellison; his duties as a Sentinel Guide...his relationship with his Sentinel; the plane crash. Oh, God. The large cat growled low in it's throat, and flicked it tail back and forth. Blair nodded at it, and it leveled a gaze at him before vanishing back into the undergrowth.

The tribal elders were very understanding when Blair explained everything to them. They understood the Sentinel concept, although had never heard that word for it; and more importantly, they knew how important it was for a Sentinel to have his or her Guide. The fact that the panther; whom they revered, and their strange friend claimed was the spirit guide for his Sentinel; had chosen that moment to show itself and communicate with Blair they considered to be nothing less than an important omen. Of course they would help Blair out in any way they could. They agreed to have several of the hunters lead Blair out of the jungle, to where he could pick up a main road, and begin the long journey toward civilization.

After a year of living in the jungle, the open space of the roadways--nearly non-existent compared to Cascade, but still better than no road--was intoxicating. Jim. Oh, God, Jim. Blair wondered if his Sentinel had given up on him. Sentinel. No, he was much more than that--so much more. Blair twisted the ring on his finger, playing with it as he walked. They were soul-mates. Jim would have known if something had happened to him; wouldn't he? Then again, his scholar's mind retorted; without your memories, without knowing you loved him, some of the connection was degraded. He shuddered, wondering what Jim's reaction would be to him. Happy? Angry? Sad? Would he still want him? He'd been gone a long time now. Somehow, he instinctively knew the answer would be yes--Jim would always want him. His feet--already tired from hours on the road--picked up their pace, hurrying him onward.

SIMON

Simon sat at his desk, the radio humming quietly in the background. Most everyone had gone home. The darkening clouds that had threatened to burst all day, finally had. The sky opened up like a firecracker, showering rain everywhere.

Simon was drawn to it. He rose from his chair and stood gazing at the rain pummeling his window. He wanted to stand outside in it, wanted the rain to wash away his pain. He wanted to cleanse the hurt in his soul. Not just for himself, but for Jim. Especially for Jim. It hurt to see his friend these past few months. Hurt so much that Simon exploded one day.

It had been a particularly trying week. There had been four homicides and the commissioner was breathing down his neck. He was having trouble with Daryl, too. Didn't matter that his son was now in his twenties. They still argued. It was the same argument they'd been having for months. Daryl wanted to drop out of college. He didn't think it was worth it. Simon had been adamant that he stay in, finish, make something of himself. At the time, Simon couldn't understand his son's attitude. He'd been so excited about school....It hadn't been until Simon saw Jim that he fully understood why his son was acting so foolishly.

When Blair had died, it had been hard for Daryl. Harder then he'd cared to admit. A bond had been formed between the two when Blair and Daryl had helped Simon and Jim escape the drug compound in Peru. Whenever Daryl needed help with the academic side of life, he always went to Blair. There had also been times when Blair's perpetual youthfulness gave him an advantage when Daryl was suffering from teenage angst.

When Jim entered the squad room that day, wearing his ever present cloak of gloom, something in Simon snapped. He felt for his friend and grieved for his loss. But Jim's refusal to let his friend die in peace made it hard for the people around him who wanted to lay the man to rest. Jim was a festering sore who refused to even begin the healing process. He was contaminating his friends--Blair's friends--along the way.

So, on that fateful day, Simon yanked Jim and pulled him out of the station and into the parking garage. He knew what he had to say to Jim wasn't appropriate at the office.

They had gone to Jim's loft where Blair's presence still lingered like Caesar's ghost.

"Jim," he'd said, "You got to let this go, man. Let Blair go."

Jim had stiffened and his voice had lowered. "No, sir. I can't." Simon hated when Jim resorted to calling him sir. It was meant to keep him at a distance.

"You've got to let the poor man rest in peace, Jim. He deserves that much."

"Simon," Jim said, his voice sounding tired, "Can you just leave? I don't want to talk about it."

"Dammit, Jim," Simon had finally exploded, "You're such a selfish bastard! Do you think you're the only one who cared about him?" Simon began pacing as Jim's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Do you know how much it hurts to look at you and notice the empty spot at your side? No, you don't. You're wrapped safe in your cocoon of denial, using your pain as a shield to keep others out." Jim stared at his captain, shock on his face. Simon shook his head and continued. "Looking at you makes us relive the hurt all over again. Except we mourn for you, too, Jim. Because we've lost you." Simon's anger was all spent and sadness was the only thing which lingered in his eyes.

Jim placed a hand on Simon's shoulder. He spoke, softly, "I'm sorry, Simon. I had no idea..." For the first time since Blair had disappeared eight months ago, he thought of someone else. Blair may not have had a badge, but he was one of them. Jim, in his own world of hurt, hadn't considered what Blair's absence--he refused to say death--would mean to the men in blue of Cascade.

"Yeah, well. It's tearing Daryl up." Simon managed to interject a last shred of anger into his voice.

*You, too*, came the unbidden thought in Jim's head.

"Simon, I can't let it go. Blair's not dead."

Simon sighed, "Jim, you have to deal--"

Jim interrupted, "I know he's still alive. I'd feel it in here if he wasn't." Jim thumped his chest with a clenched fist. "Wouldn't I?" Jim's uncertainty surfaced.

"I don't know, man. All I know is that this can't be good for you. Maybe you should consult the department's psychologist? If you don't want to see him, maybe he could recommend somebody."

Jim was already shaking his head no.

Simon came hurtling back to the present.

"...like a candle in the wind..." Elton John's crystal tones drifted from the radio.

'Candle in the wind,' thought Simon. 'Just like Sandburg.'

Simon cursed under his breath. If he felt this way, Lord only knew how Jim was doing. Maybe it would be a good idea to go over there. Jim probably shouldn't be alone, not on the anniversary of Blair's death. Simon cursed himself this time. This should have occurred to him sooner. He shouldn't have just sent Jim home like that. Alone.

'I'll just call him and tell him I'm on my way.' Simon placed his hand on the receiver. He was momentarily startled when it rang. He snatched up the receiver. "Banks."

"Simon?" came a familiar, if somewhat uncertain, voice. "I need help...."

JIM

Jim slammed the truck door and stared out the windshield. He just couldn't take it anymore. He had to get out of the loft. It occurred to him that maybe he was going to have to sell the loft. The memories were just too great. Everywhere he turned, there was Blair--talking to him, helping him, loving him....

Jim sighed. Blair's presence in the loft was the precise reason that he couldn't leave. It was the only place that kept him anchored to Blair. It was their home.

He allowed a brief bittersweet smile to touch his lips.

"Come on, Jim," the beautiful voice of his love sang in his mind. "It will only be for a couple of weeks. I swear." "All right, Sandburg, but one false move, and you and the monkey are history." Jim had replied. "He's not a monkey, Jim. He's an ape..." And with that, the kid had moved in, and never moved out again...

He inserted the key into the ignition, but didn't start the truck. He didn't know where he wanted to go. He leaned back in his seat. Suppose Simon was right? Maybe it was time to let go. His heart screamed in protest. He had to take a step forward, at least make the effort. I

n sudden decision, Jim turned the key and the engine roared to life. Putting the truck in gear, he headed for the cemetery where Blair's empty casket was buried. It was about time he went.

As he drove he was reminded yet again of another painful memory; this one involving the force behind that empty casket...

A month after Blair's death, Jim got a phone call. Could Jim come down to the university to clear Dr. Sandburg's office? Another professor had been hired to take his place and they needed the space.

Jim's jaw tightened at the memory. He'd already had a run-in with the university. The anthropology department had wanted to have a memorial service. Blair had been one of their best professors and a favorite among the students. Jim had flat out refused. Blair wasn't dead. No service. It was a good thing that Simon had been with him. Simon had had to forcibly remove him from the premises. He hadn't returned to Rainier since.

Now, they wanted him to go and clean out Blair's office. No way. He couldn't do it. On the other hand, he was afraid if he didn't do it, they'd get rid of Blair's stuff. Research that his love had been dedicated to most of his life. Jim just couldn't let them destroy everything that was Blair. Still, Jim knew he couldn't go to the university. Jim had considered the problem for almost a week before asking Simon and Daryl to do it. Both had been subdued when they agreed. It wouldn't be easy for either of them, but they understood what toll it would take on Jim. And Simon, for one, remembered Jim's reaction to having a memorial service at the university for Blair.

Jim still couldn't go to the University. He tried to drive by it once this week and even that had been sheer agony. It was the place that was Blair's life. It was the place where they had become grudging partners. It was the place Jim's life had started. Jim closed his eyes and wondered if he'd ever be able to go to the university.

He returned to the present with a crash of thunder overhead, heralding his arrival at the cemetery. He parked the truck, then got out, then stood there in the rain for a minute, debating his decision to do this before deciding it was necessary. Turning up his collar, he headed into the wind and rain.

He slogged down the muddied trails of the cemetery. He knew where the plot was even though he'd never been there. Jim had refused to visit the cemetery and had left the country at the time of the services. Blair wasn't here; not in this cemetery, not in Cascade. Blair was somewhere in the Amazon Basin. Jim had gone to look for him. Spent several weeks down there, in fact. But he came home older; an embittered man. Blair's Blessed Protector had failed. He had failed....

Jim stood gazing at the grave. The rain hadn't let up. It was actually worse.

Shaky hands reached out and touched the headstone. Jim closed his eyes and willed his sense of touch to enhance the feeling of the carved rock. It was as if he was hoping to be able to touch Blair, to reach him.

There was a growl behind him and Jim opened his eyes. He spun around at the sound and nearly lost his balance in the mud. The rain was so heavy that visibility was practically nil. The Sentinel, however, had no such problems with his sight.

Stunned, Jim gazed into the fathomless pools of the eyes of the panther.

SIMON

Simon hung up the phone; and sat down in his chair, hands shaking. Blair Sandburg. For the love of Jesus, that had been Blair. He was alive, and coming home.

BLAIR

His hands were shaking. He noted this clinically, without examining it. Most of his body was shaking; although whether from sleep deprivation, nervousness, excitement or hunger he couldn't tell. A plane thundered over head, and Blair wished he could "dial down" his hearing like Jim could. After so long in the jungles of the Amazon, the sounds of civilization were deafening. The flight from Sea-Tac airport wouldn't take more than about 30 minutes; he had maybe an hour to get ready to see Simon again...And Jim.

Simon wouldn't say much on the phone, and Blair hadn't had time to get into much. All Simon *would* tell him was that Jim was fine; and would be glad to see him again. Blair snorted with dark amusement. *Like that says a lot.* Blair would be glad to Simon again, but not like he'd be glad to see Jim. He shook his head, and tightened the seatbelt...the plane was vibrating in preparation for take-off. Another hour...maybe a little longer. He leaned his head back against the seat, and closed his eyes. If he could fall asleep, that would make the time go that much quicker...

SIMON/BLAIR:

Simon scanned the crowd anxiously, hoping he'd recognize Blair when he saw him. How much could a person change, after all, in just a year. *Yeah, but where's he been for that year?* Blair hadn't had time to tell him much...just said that he'd been living with some natives who'd taken him in when they found him wandering the jungles. He'd had a severe concussion and probably a skull fracture, and resultant amnesia. The amnesia had lifted suddenly after an incident in the jungle, leaving Blair with full memory intact.

"Simon!" A low pitched, familiar voice called to him.

"Blair! God, it's good to see you again!" Simon felt an impulsive urge to wrap the younger man in a hug, and gave in to it. He held Blair to him for a moment, then let go and stepped back to get a better look. "You've changed, Sandburg."

"Yeah, well...So have you." Blair noticed how *old* Simon looked. Simon was looking at him in much the same manner.

Blair was thinner than before; although his frame seemed more wiry--probably a lot of physical work living in the wilds of the Amazon rainforest, Simon mused. His hair was longer--easily by several inches--than when he'd left here, a year ago. There were also some streaks of gray sprinkled through the light brown. The eyes...Sandburg's eyes had always seemed old somehow...wise and knowing. Now they appeared almost ancient. As if he'd seen things he didn't want to see, and wouldn't ever forget. Simon realized he was standing in the middle of an airport terminal, gaping. "Well, Come on, man. Let's get you home to the big guy." He clapped a hand on to Blair's shoulder, and guided him out of the terminal.

JIM

The panther. Jesus, it was back. The big cat stood there, staring at him, tail flicking impatiently. Jim got the feeling it was trying to tell him something...but he wasn't sure what that something was supposed to be. He stared at the animal. The animal which had been in and out of his life, his dreams, almost as long as Blair had. The panther had first appeared to Jim when he and Blair were in Peru in search of Simon and Daryl. The panther had metamorphisized into his Spirit Guide and Jim had been given a choice: return to "normal" or stay as a Sentinel. Jim had chosen to remain a Sentinel.

The panther/Spirit Guide had periodically appeared to Jim throughout the passed years. Normally, the panther appeared during times of extreme hardship. Seeing the panther didn't startle him, it shocked him. He hadn't seen the panther since before Blair disappeared. And if that wasn't extreme hardship, Jim didn't want know what was.

The panther circled him, slowly. Jim still had his hands pressed to Blair's headstone. The panther nudged him away and, without regard to the mud and rain, curled up on Blair's grave.

The panther looked at him steadily. The voice that suddenly flowed through his mind warmed him. He had missed the animal. 'Go now, Sentinel. You have done what must be done. Time to seal the past and move toward the future." The panther's tail flicked toward the truck, and it growled low in his throat.

Jim stood there, uncomprehending, not sure what he was supposed to do.

It growled again at him; raw power echoing in the emptiness of the night, issuing a challenge. Jim had the impression of barely checked strength as it rushed past him and disappeared into the night. He stood staring after it for several long minutes, until he realized he was soaked through and shaking with the cold. Jim automatically glanced toward the Explorer. When he looked back, the panther was nowhere in sight. Jim stood a moment, deep in thought. What had the Guide meant? What did the visit mean? Why, after all these months of pain, did he show up now? Jim pondered these questions, barely noticing that the rain had slowed to a trickle.

Jim sighed. He was tired. So very tired. He was past crying. His body felt like one huge anvil, heavy and immovable. He shook his head, trying to figure out what was going on, and headed back to the truck to try and warm up. It was too late, too dark, too cold to do anything here tonight; tomorrow he would come back and put some flowers on the grave, and try to make peace with it--and with himself.

The cab of the truck was warm, and dry. Jim turned the heater up full strength, and leaned back against the seat. He glanced down at his watch, and noted that it was just past midnight. One year. His throat tightened as he choked back the sobs that were still hovering near the surface. One year. He couldn't give up...that would be like giving up on himself. Blair was still alive; would come back to him someday. A flash of thought occurred to him then--what if the panther's appearance was somehow linked to Blair? That the panther had been sent to tell him that his guide was still alive, somewhere. He could go back down to Brazil, and look for him some more. The Amazon Basin was a huge area--it could take years to explore all of it; he'd only spent a couple of weeks down there. But to go down again, and risk not finding him again...could he do that? Renew hope, only to have it dashed to pieces again? "No...God, someone please help me...tell me what to do..." He buried his head in his hands for a few minutes, trying to think. Finally, feeling tired and frustrated, he decided to go home, and try to sleep. Maybe he'd be able to think more clearly once he was rested. With movements slow and deliberate, Jim popped the Cheap Trick cassette he'd been listening to earlier into the tape deck. The melodic sounds of The Flame once again encompassed him, weaving a spell around him.

"Blair," Jim whispered, "I miss you."

It was time to go home.

He put the truck in gear, and pulled out of the cemetery.

BLAIR

"Are you sure you don't want to come in, Simon?" Blair asked for the umpteenth time as Simon fumbled for the extra key that he kept to the loft.

"Positive, Sandburg. Jim's not home--but he probably will be soon. You two will need some time together." Key in lock, open door. Simon pushed Blair through, gently.

*Yeah*, Blair thought, *But that's part of the problem. I haven't seen Jim in so long...* "Okay, Simon. Thanks so much for everything...for getting me at the airport."

"It's good to have you back, Blair. You have no idea." Simon smiled at him, then turned to walk away. Over his shoulder he told Blair, "Tell Ellison he's got the next week off."

Blair stood there in the dark loft for a few minutes, just taking in the atmosphere. Nothing had changed, and everything had changed. Physically, the place looked the same--that much he could tell from the light streaming through the windows. The rain had stopped, he noted idly. There was a negative energy here though. Once upon a time, he used to think with amusement of Naomi's descriptions of negative and positive energies. He'd grown up listening to her, and believing her--to a point. But 11 months in the jungles of the Amazon River Basin had left him with a clear knowledge of positive and negative energies. There was so much anger, so much sadness...pain...in this room. Blair's heart ached just from standing there. Was this what Jim had been living with for the last year? No wonder Simon had said what he had.

Blair began moving around the loft, touching things here and there. Under the negative energies he could still feel the presence of the love he and Jim shared. That could never be washed away--they'd made their impact on the world and the universe.

He walked upstairs. In some ways he felt like he'd just left; in other ways he felt as though he'd been gone forever. The feelings were stronger up here, if that were possible. His eyes fell on the picture next to the bed, and he felt a smile break across his lips. Blair walked over to the side of the bed and sat down, and reached for the picture. He held it in his hands for a moment, clasped against his heart. Jim. He'd see Jim soon. He set the picture back on the nightstand, and stretched out on the bed. It had been a long time since he'd felt as at peace as he suddenly felt; and the sudden lack of tension reminded him how tired he was. Not even bothering to suppress the yawn that nearly split his face, Blair rolled onto his side, and fell asleep.

JIM/BLAIR

The rain stopped on the drive home. Jim almost laughed with the irony. He'd exhausted his memories, and his tears...so, apparently, had the angels. *Is that where you are, Chief? With the angels? Or on another plane? I don't know what to believe anymore...where ever you are, I hope you're more at peace than I am...*

He pulled into his parking space, and sat slumped against the wheel for a minute. God, he felt like he hardly had the energy to drag himself upstairs. He got out of the truck, and turned to lock the door. A faint growl reached his ears, and he spun around to see the tail of the panther disappearing into the building...

There was a strange scent here. There was a familiar one too...Simon had been here. But why? Unless he was having second thoughts about leaving Jim home alone on this particular night. He wasn't here now--the scent was already fading, as was the unfamiliar one. He couldn't place it--although it smelled herbal in nature. Maybe one of the neighbors? He could just make out the tail of his spirit guide in front of him, and wondered again at it's appearance. He stopped at his front door then, sensing the strange scent through his door; stronger...and overlaid on a human scent of sweat and fear and excitement. He drew his gun, and cautiously tested the door. It was locked. Holding his gun still at ready, he unlocked the door, and darted inside.

The scent was a lot stronger in here than in the hallway. It was unrecognizable...strange odors he couldn't define. Almost like...herbs of some kind. He heard a rustling noise, and brought his gun back up in front of him. Whoever had broken into his loft was going to get a surprise...

He crept quietly toward the stairs, listening for heartbeat and respirations. He stopped dead in front of the steps as the familiar sound of the heartbeat he was hearing washed over him. No. It absolutely couldn't be. Was he going to start having auditory hallucinations, on top of everything else? But it sounded so strong...so close... Jim holstered his weapon, and put his foot on the first step. He was almost...afraid...to go upstairs; afraid of what he would and wouldn't find. He took a deep breath, and began climbing.

As he stood on the top step, looking at the figure laying on the bed, it occurred to him he should find out if insanity ran in the family. There was no way that could be Blair...was there? He crept toward the bed, half afraid that the illusion would vanish before he could touch it. A sob worked its way up from his throat. All he wanted was to touch Blair again...to hold him. Surely this apparition would understand... He sank to his knees next to the bed, and reached a shaking hand out toward the figure. His fingers contacted with warm, solid flesh and soft, curly hair.

"Oh, God..." Jim closed his eyes then, and jumped when he felt warm fingers close over his.

"Jim..."

"Oh my God...Blair?" He opened his eyes to see the familiar smoky-blue ones regarding him intently. "Jesus Christ, Chief...is it really you?" He could feel the tears overflowing, running down his cheeks.

"Yes...oh, yes, Jim..." Blair pushed himself into a sitting position, and reached out to wipe the tears from Jim's face. "Shh, lover, don't cry..." Blair pulled on Jim's shoulders to get him closer, and Jim moved up to sit on the bed. Blair wrapped him in a hug, which Jim returned. "Shh....it's okay...I'm here now, Shh..." He rocked them back and forth, holding the bigger man, waiting for the sobs to stop.

When the sobbing stopped, Jim raised his head and asked, "How...?" He was still holding on to Blair like a lifeline, afraid now to let go.

"It's a long story, lover, and I don't think you're up to it right now." Blair considered what he'd missed; what Jim had been through in the last year. "Oh, Jim...God...to hold you again..."

"I love you, Blair. I never stopped believing in you...believing you were alive... Everyone told me you were gone, but I couldn't believe them. That would've been giving up on you...and I couldn't." Jim couldn't stem the words that were flowing from his mouth; he felt like his heart was going to burst from happiness, and he had to let pressure off somehow.

"Shh...I know. I love you, too, Jim...so much..." Blair was still gently rocking them, content to just sit and hold on for the rest of his life. He did stop though, and pull away from Jim slightly, gazing at him. "It's been a hard year for you..."

"I hope to God you never know how hard, Chief." Jim looked down at him. "The panther led you back, didn't he?"

Blair gaped at him in surprise. "How'd you know that?"

"You're the panther, Blair. I haven't seen him since you left--since the crash."

"I saw him in the jungle. We were out, and he was just...there."

"He's the spiritual form of my Guide...you're the physical. You *are* him. That's why you're back now."

Blair smiled as he ran his hands over Jim's face, anxious now to touch him and make sure this was really happening. "You could be right. I'm not going to say it's not possible. I've learned that there's a lot more possible than we'd ever have thought." He tilted his face up to Jim's, and snagged those clear eyes with his own. Jim brought his face down and gently kissed Blair, nearly crying again over the sweetness there. Their lips met, then melded...blending together tastes and textures. Tongues played with each other, exploring territory that was at once familiar and unknown. With a flash the pain of the last year was exorcised, and Jim felt healed. As long as Blair was with him, he was whole once again.

They lay back on the bed, arms around each other, fingers entwined. Both were too charged, too anxious still to engage in any type of lovemaking, but the holding seemed necessary. They'd been separated for so long they needed a chance to re-connect, and grow strong from the other. Blair dozed off, the events of the last several days finally catching up to him. Jim remained awake, watching Blair's sleeping form. He played with the gold band on his finger and smiled. Today would have been one year, and the day he'd have had to give up. That something as impossible as this had happened was nothing short of miraculous. He shifted his position, to bring Blair's body closer against him, and bent to whisper softly in his ear.

"Happy Valentine's day, Chief."

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