Archive of Our Own ^beta

Author's disclaimer: Jim and Blair don't belong to us, but if they did, we'd make sure they were happy all day (and night!) long.

Bad News/Good News
by Shanny Girl & Rayden Star

It was Karaoke night at The Den, a popular hangout for Rainier students. Tonight, Blair was there with some friends, hoping to take the edge off of a troublesome night. There was nothing in particular that was bothering him, it had just been one of those days. Ever since Alex, there'd been a lot of those. It didn't help that Jim refused to talk to him. If they passed in the street, Blair felt invisible. Tonight, he wanted to forget about that. He wanted to forget about everything and become numb.

There was a lull in the 'performers', then a familiar figure got up on-stage. Blair stared in amazement as one Jim Ellison, Detective of the Cascade PD Major Crimes unit stood before the audience, then made eye contact with him. The music started to play and Blair felt his world come crashing down around him.

I said hello I think I'm broken/And I thought I was only jokin'
It took me by surprise when you agreed
I was tryin' to be clever/For the life of me I never
Would have guessed how far the simple truth would lead
You knew all my lines/You knew all my tricks
You knew how to heal that pain/No medicine can fix

And I bless the day I met you/And I thank God that He let you
Lay beside me for a moment that lives on
And the good news is I'm better/For the time we spent together
And the bad news is you're gone

Lookin' back it's still suprisin'/I was sinking you were rising
With a look you caught me in mid-air
Now I know God has His reasons/But sometimes it's hard to see them
When I awake and find that you're not there
You found hope in hopeless/You made crazy sane
You became the missing link/That helped me break my chains

And I bless the day I met you/And I thank God that He let you
Lay beside me for a moment that lives on
And the good news is I'm better/For the time we spent together
And the bad news is you're gone/The bad news is you're gone

While the voice was unstable, the meaning behind it was crystal clear. Blair sat at the table in stunned silence as he watched the Detective lower his head. For a brief second, it appeared Jim was walking toward him, but all Blair could do was stare, dumbfounded, the maelstrom of emotions running through him never breaking the surface. Then Jim abruptly changed direction and walked toward the door, pinching the bridge of his nose. Blair didn't know what to do. It took him all of ten seconds to come to a decision, then he bolted for the door without explaining anything, leaving his friends wondering what was going on.

Thirty minutes later and very much out of breath from running, he stood next to Jim's empty truck outside the loft. He looked into the window and his mouth dropped open. There, in the passenger seat, sat an empty Jack Daniel's bottle. Hoping Jim wasn't drunk out of his mind, he ran up the stairs and stood outside the loft. He pounded on the door, calling Jim's name. Only silence replied. Blair pressed his ear against the door, wishing once again for Jim's hearing, if even only a fraction of it. He cursed under his breath and then began to fish around in his jacket pockets. Coming up with the spare key he was glad he never mailed back to his former partner, he unlocked the door and walked in.

Inside the once pristine loft, chaos reigned. Broken glass littered the floor everywhere. Blair looked in disbelief as a curl of smoke rose from the busted TV screen. He ran up the stairs to Jim's bedroom to find it empty, but in the same state at the rest of the loft. Dresser drawers were pulled from the dresser, clothes scattered all over. The closet stood ajar, clothes hung at odd angles or were pulled off the hangers completely. The wire baker's racks that had been extra storage space were literally torn apart as if someone had ripped them out in a fit of rage. Swallowing hard, Blair turned and descended the stairs and walked through the partially open doors into his old bedroom.

Jim lay on the daybed, as if asleep, what clothes remained on his body were torn and covered with blood. Blood also covered his hands and his bare legs were full of scratches. As Blair approached, he noticed Jim's strange, shallow breathing. In one hand, there was a Jack Daniel's bottle, partially full. The other fell off of the bed, and from the still hand fell an empty prescription bottle.

/Blair is gone...forever. I've lost my Guide, my center, my life. I couldn't protect him; I drove him away; ... and I love him. But he's gone, never coming back. What's left is nothing but existing; existing until I die. Enough!/ The words kept circling his mind, creating a whirlpool that was dragging him down into the utter depths of darkness. Hoping pain, destruction, anything, would make him feel again, Jim destroyed the last thing that he and Blair had shared together - the loft, their home. But even broken glass and broken memories weren't enough to pain to cause sufficient suffering; weren't even enough to break through the rage that consumed him. This was it, this was the end. No more suffering, no more pain, no more Blair. He picked up the prescription bottle and swallowed the pills down, followed by a good fourth of the bottle of whiskey. He laid down on his Guide's bed and inhaled the lingering smell of his friend; he wanted it to be the last thing he sensed as he spiraled down toward the welcoming nothingness. /Forgive me./

Blair sat by Jim's bedside at the hospital, never leaving his friend's side. A suicide note had been found, asking Blair to forgive Jim for the way he'd acted and not to hate him too much. It also told of Jim's love for him, how he had wanted nothing more than to find Blair and beg him to come home. If it hadn't been for his foolish pride, he'd have done just that. Now, Blair prayed that help hadn't come too late for the big man. Evidently, he'd taken some of the pills before he'd shown up at the bar, then chased them down with whiskey. Upon arriving at the loft, he'd apparently gone on a rampage and destroyed the place. Following that, the rest of the pills and more liquor had found its way into his body.

Blair couldn't remember many details, only that he'd called Simon and then 911. He'd tried to get Jim to vomit by sticking his fingers down his throat, but feared it wouldn't be enough. By that time, paramedics had arrived and taken over the task of keeping Jim alive.

The younger man stared at his friend who had somehow become the love of his life. The heart monitor showed a slow heartbeat, but nothing dangerous. Somehow, Blair situated himself on the bed and curled up next to Jim. Laying his head on the big man's chest, he whispered five words. "I love you too, Jim"

The heartbeat quickened.

Blair walked into his old room, looking at his friend. Jim was 'sleeping' on his old bed. /God, he's okay.../ Jim's breathing registered with Blair, then he watched as the bigger man's hand moved in slow motion and a prescription bottle floated down to the floor. He heard the hollow noise an empty plastic bottle makes, echoing in his ears. The smell of whiskey assaulted his nose, and the air felt still all around him. He realized Jim was lying there, pills and liquor combining in his system, trying to end his short life. Blair tasted the bile that rose in his throat. /Oh God, no...nonononono! Not Jim! Please, he wouldn't do this./ He ran to Jim's side just as the Detective took his last breath. Screaming, Blair awoke.

Confusion and fear slammed around in his brain until he noticed Jim sitting in a chair by the window. The big man looked ridiculous in the hospital gown, but Blair knew the staff wouldn't let him wear anything else. The room itself was sparsely furnished so there was virtually nothing the Detective could use to hurt himself. Blair wanted to laugh because he knew Jim could make a deadly weapon out of almost anything. But there was no laughter inside of him. Instead, there was only anger.

He stood and stared at Jim. His breathing began coming in short gasps, his body was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, and Jim just sat there. Tears threatened to form in his eyes, the thought of what Jim had tried to do manifesting itself physically as his hands went to his head, fingers threading through his hair, finally closing in fists over the curly strands and Jim just sat there. A sound that was part scream part sob found its way from the bottom of his soul to his constricted throat making it no more than an agonized hiss...and Jim just sat there. He couldn't take anymore.

He rose from the bed and went to stand before his former partner, anger in his eyes. Without thinking, he raised his right hand and brought it alongside Jim's face in a hard slap. He was too angry to be shocked by his display of physical violence.

"How dare you do this! How fucking dare you do this to me, then try to leave me with a God damned note telling me that you loved me. Who the FUCK do you think you are?"

Jim looked up at him and whispered two words that undid all the hurt he'd caused. "I'm sorry." A tear escaped the stoic exterior, mirroring the one that balanced on the edge in Blair's eye. The younger man dropped to his knees and sat there in front of Jim, and for once in his life, words were not forthcoming. Jim kneeled with him, gently wrapping his arms around the smaller figure and pulling him close. Over and over, he whispered his mantra "I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry. Please, forgive me. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

The nurses came and went, not bothering either of them. The doctor stood by the door for a moment, then decided to take care of his other patients before bothering with Mr. Ellison. Simon walked in then turned on his heel and walked right back out. Rafe, Brown, and Megan did the same.

Finally, Jim's words stopped, and they held each other and rocked back and forth on the floor. Sometime later, neither was sure when, they moved to the bed and Blair held Jim.

"Can you tell me why? Why you came to the bar? Why you trashed the place...why you tried to...?" The words died on Blair's lips. Jim pulled away from him and seriously thought about his answer.

"I planned to do that song then tell you I was sorry...but I upset you, I could tell by the look in your eye. I hurt you again, and I couldn't stand it anymore. First, I thought I was protecting you by sending you away from me, but instead I sent you right into Alex's hands. Then, whenever I was near you, I felt so...horrible. I would look at you and think 'My God, not only couldn't I protect you, but I ended up destroying our friendship too,' and I just couldn't handle that. About a week after you got out of the hospital, I started zoning big time, so Simon put me behind a desk all day. I felt so fucking useless! I started drinking...a lot. I didn't go in a couple of times...never even called Simon. He came over once and found me drunk as hell and it wasn't even ten in the morning."

Jim paused as the weight of what had happened, what he had done to himself and to Blair, hit him. It was hard for him to face what he'd become, how he'd treated people. He remembered calling Megan a slut, then telling Rafe he should keep his mind on his work and out of his partner's ass, but he couldn't remember why he'd said those things. He leaned his head back against the pillows, wishing that Blair had taken five more minutes to get to the loft. Then, he wouldn't have to deal with all of this shit. Five more minutes and his hell on earth could have become permanent...

"Why couldn't you call me? Come talk to me? Why-"

"Because I didn't have the right! I lost that when I let that bitch get a hold of you! Don't you understand? Blair, I KILLED you! I let some psycho bitch get to you, and she...she..." Jim couldn't finish the sentence. His heart broke in a million pieces, then the pieces shattered into smaller fragments. When he kicked Blair out of their home, the loft had reverted back into the ice palace it had been before. Sterile, clean...no more mess...no more clutter...no more life. Jim had reverted back to behind the wall he had so carefully erected after Peru; no one in, no one out. A loner, emotionless, hating that he'd survived, yet again.

"You didn't know what would happen. You thought you were doing the right thing. Jim, I don't blame you for what happened! I don't know how I can convince you, but I'm willing to try anything. When I walked into the loft...oh God, I didn't know what was going on. I never thought you'd actually try to kill yourself! Everything was destroyed. It looked as if a hurricane had ripped the place apart. I walked into my room...and there you were. I was so thrilled that you were there, sleeping. I was afraid that you'd gone out to get something more to drink. Then, I noticed you were breathing funny...then, I saw your hand. My heart dropped when I saw the bottle. I couldn't get you to move, I couldn't pull you up! I barely got you on your side. When you threw up, all these pills came out, but you still wouldn't wake up! Oh God, you wouldn't wake up..." Blair stopped his story, not able to speak around the sobs that threatened to overtake him. He'd worried all night by Jim's bedside; worried that Jim wouldn't wake up, that he hadn't been in time. He'd worried himself to sleep curled next to the big man, reliving the nightmare over and over, each time, he was too late...

The two men again held onto each other as if the other man was a lifeline to sanity, to reality. Just having the younger man here, in his arms and not hating him, that was enough. Jim inhaled the familiar scent, pleased that he could filter out the hospital smells. He heard the comforting sound of the younger man's heart as it beat in time with his own, and the feel of Blair's skin under his hands...he couldn't describe it.

"Jim...did you mean what you said in that note?" Blair's voice was a mere whisper.

"Every word Chief...every word." The Sentinel's words were soft and quiet.

"I told you last night, but you were still sleeping. I want to tell you now, when you're awake...I love you. I've loved you for a while now. I love you so much, and I don't ever want to be separated again. My best times without you weren't half as good as my worst times with you. Please Jim, can I come home?"

Jim stared, not daring to believe the gift God had given him. A second chance...not only a second chance with his life, but maybe, just maybe a second chance with the person who meant more than anything to him.

"No. You can't come home. At least not until we get that place fixed up. From what I remember, I gave it a good going over. But we'll fix it up, make it a home again...together."

The Guide rewarded his Sentinel with a mega smile and gently pressed his forehead to the other man's. Eventually, Blair pulled away to look at Jim's face. He placed a gentle kiss against the older man's forehead, then moved down to each eye. Jim's cheeks were next, then his nose. Finally, Blair put a finger under Jim's chin, tilting his head up. When their lips met they both saw fireworks. Jim parted his lips to allow Blair's tongue in, then captured the velvet invader and suckled. He tasted a myriad of things that was simply 'Blair', promising himself to sample this flavor as often as possible.

The Doctor walked into Jim's room, then turned and walked out. It looked like his patient would get better, but there was still a great deal to do. Not only did the Detective need a leave of absence while he sought counseling, but the pills he'd taken were still in his system. The older man wouldn't be driving anytime soon, and he'd probably have trouble keeping food down. The Doctor smiled in spite of himself. /I have a feeling if his friend has anything to say about it, Mr. Ellison is going to pay his dues and then some./ Checking on another patient, the Doctor considered what he'd seen to be the best news he'd gotten all day, and he wished them all the luck in the world.

If only their world could have stayed the way it was in the hospital; it was not meant to be.

Needless to say, therapy and Jim Ellison did not mix. Normally a very private man, he was finding it extremely difficult to open himself up to a total stranger. And being a man not of words but of actions, compounded the problem. Jim did find that it was very therapeutic to fix the loft with Blair; physical exertion and tangible results helped heal the rift that had threatened to rip them both apart. He still felt a wall between them; a thin one, but a wall nevertheless. They would need to talk, talk about their past, talk about their future, but later, one of these days. But for now, they were back to the way they were before; his Guide was back, in his room, and Jim could sleep now, the sound of the steady heartbeat becoming a security blanket.

The main problem now was getting back to work. He could not get it through the counselor's head that he was fine now; fine because his Guide was back at his side, that any thoughts of suicide or hurting himself or anyone else had been banished. The counselor could not get through the tough exterior, and Jim wasn't letting her in. After two months she gave up, signing off on him with reservation, and with stipulation that he follow up with the police department's own psychiatrist at least once every two weeks.

Home life was back to a tolerable level, although neither man mentioned what had transpired either before or during Jim's hospital stay. Blair continued his work at the university and at Major Crimes, Jim was back to full-time detective work. But Jim noticed Blair remained distant, aloof almost, as if he needed his space, time to figure things out, and Jim respected that. Gone were the 'innocent' touches on the shoulder or back, gone was the minor intimacy they both shared at the hospital. It was as if that time was another reality, another time and place, not to be repeated or discussed. It wasn't for Jim's lack of trying; each time he wanted to tell Blair he loved him, that he needed him, that he thanked God for their second chance, he stopped short, suddenly seeing the lifeless form of his Guide by the fountain, tell-all proof that he didn't deserve to love, didn't deserve to have him, the failure to protect his Guide all too clear to him.

Blair couldn't figure out what was wrong with his Sentinel. The Jim he knew was gone; his Jim would touch him, even in a non-sexual way; his Jim would talk to him. This Jim went out of his way to keep his distance, to stay away. This Jim had no life behind his eyes, no sparkle. At first, Blair thought Jim just needed time to work out the changing dynamics of their relationship; a relationship Blair thought would never occur and now seemed to be destined to fail even before it got started. After a particularly trying week of nothing more than mono-syllabic words and brief sentences, Blair couldn't take it any longer.

"Hey, Jim." Blair walked into the loft and settled his coat on the hook by the door. /Why does this seem so final?/ He had just began to regard the loft as home again, but it wasn't the same and he didn't want to go on like this.

Jim looked up from the television to acknowledge his partner. "Hi." Jim felt rather than saw Blair sit down on the couch next to him.

The two men sat in silence for a few minutes, the news cast dissolving from local affairs to world affairs to the weather. After listening to his own heart pound in his chest, Blair knew it was now or never.

"Jim, we need to talk."

The finality of Blair's voice stung him to the core. They had tried, but it had been too much; Blair had seen him at his weakest; a Sentinel can't be weak. A Sentinel must protect, and he failed in that as well. /He's leaving; I've driven him away again. I won't go through this again. This time I'll eat my gun; no mistakes this time; there won't be another chance./ He fought to keep control of his voice. "Yes?"

"I love you."

Jim blinked, twice. That was not what he expected to hear. But quickly, dark thoughts took over. /He's softening you up, Jimmy boy. Hoping it won't hurt as much./

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes, I heard you."

"And how does that make you feel?"

Jim jumped off the couch, that same sentence had nearly driven him over the edge each time his counselor said it. "What do you mean, 'how does that make me feel'? What are you now, playing amateur psychiatrist?"

"No, I just want to know how you feel. Do you feel anything? Anything for me?"

/Just that I love you. I love you with my entire being. You own it all Chief, you own it all. I just wish I knew where you were going with this./ "Of course I feel something for you. You're my partner, my Guide. And I love you." /I hope that was non-threatening enough for you./

"Okay, we've established that we love each other. Now, are you in love with me?"

This conversation was not where he wanted to be. Hell, this planet was not where he wanted to be. "What if I was?" /Where did that come from?/

"Well you've got a pretty funny way of showing it. No wonder your marriage hit the rocks." /Low blow, Sandburg. Good thing you didn't unpack all the way yet./

"My marriage is none of your concern. Keep my marriage and my love life out of that damn dissertation, Sandburg!" /So that's where he's going; his stupid dissertation. Wonder what he'll write on a Sentinel's suicide?/

"I told you, I took that stuff out, man! And this is so not about my dissertation. This is about us, you and me, a couple."

"A couple of what? Screw-ups? One of us can't even get a suicide right." /Oh God, no, his eyes. The pain's back and I've put it there. I've hurt him again. Not again./

Blair sat in stunned silence. He had no reply to that. What if what happened at the hospital was just over-stimulated emotions brought on by severe emotional trauma? Jim obviously wasn't thinking a 'couple' like he was, hell, he hadn't even hugged him more than twice in the entire three months since then. It hit Blair like a bath of ice water; Jim didn't want him that way, didn't need him that way, and Jim was driving him off ... again. He got up and grabbed his jacket, heading for the door.

"I need to take a walk. I'll be back in an hour or so." Blair walked out of the loft, taking Jim's heart and his life with him.

Jim slowly walked up to his bedroom. Blair probably hadn't noticed, but Jim had picked out Blair's favorite colors for all the new stuff he'd bought to replace the damaged ones. New comforter, new curtains, new paint. All in Blair's colors, all so this would be their room, from now until forever. But that wasn't to be the case. /Once again Ellison, you've screwed up. How many screw-ups you going to go through before you realize enough is enough?/ Jim pulled out his backup service revolver from the night table. He stared at it, feeling the cold metal, feeling the heavy weight in his hands. Feeling the power and destruction it held within its chambers, knowing it would be enough this time. This time, there would be no rescue. He looked at the clock. Blair would probably be gone another forty-five minutes. He reached for the phone, calling to make sure an ambulance would find him before Blair did. No way was he going to let Blair find him. This was going to be messy, and Jim knew Blair didn't like the sight of blood.

Hanging up on the dispatcher who was valiantly trying to stop him, to make him listen, to tell him there's another way, he brought his attention back to the gun. He immersed himself in it, the black exterior shined to a high gloss, the sharp scent of blue. His world became just the gun and himself, nothing else was there, nothing else mattered. He closed his eyes and placed the gun in his mouth.

Blair circled the block, wondering just where it all went wrong. He knew Jim didn't mean the hurtful things he said, didn't mean to hurt him, but dammit, those words did hurt, they stung to right to the core. He looked up at the sky, wondering where he should walk to next, when a voice called out to him.

"Go back to your Sentinel."

Blair spun around, trying to find the source of the voice. The entire block was deserted.

"Go back to him now!" The voice held more urgency.

Blair felt panic and fear run through his body and he took off in a full run back to the loft. Once inside, it didn't take him long to locate the form of Jim up in his bedroom. He breathed a sigh of relief and started up the stairs, wondering what the hell he was doing listening to disembodied voices. It wasn't until he was in full view of the front of Jim that absolute terror took over.

Knowing that any sudden movement or noise would cause Jim to jerk and fire, Blair carefully walked toward him, willing Jim to not squeeze the trigger, not yet. Jim's hand was shaking slightly, the muscles in his fingers twitching. Five feet, four feet.../Please Jim, don't do it, please oh please, don't do it./...Three feet, two feet, one foot. Blair reached out and hoped the trick he saw once in a movie would save his Sentinel's life. He gently placed his thumb between the hammer and the barrel just as Jim squeezed the trigger, the hammer slamming violently down on his thumb, the pain causing him to grab and jerk the gun away from Jim. Jim opened his eyes to see his partner clicking the safety on the gun that just seconds ago had been in his mouth. Blair laid the gun down and started to shake his hand, hoping to numb the pain in his thumb. Blue eyes met blue eyes, stillness and silence overtaking them.

"No man, nothing happening here. Must've been a prank call." Blair ushered the paramedics out of the loft. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, wondering what the hell to do next. He had left Jim upstairs on the bed in a nearly catatonic state; the backup revolver and Jim's main weapon were safely hidden in Blair's room.

/No time like the present, man./ Blair took in a deep breath to center him, then slowly let it out as he climbed the stairs to face what remained of his future. He found Jim hadn't moved; his eyes closed, his arm across his eyes, lying on the bed. The only proof that he was still alive was the slowly rising and falling chest. Blair took a step towards him when words came from the still form.

"Why did you come back?"

Blair stopped in his tracks, his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. "I told you I was just going out for a walk."

"No, I mean before. After the bar."

/Now's the time for the truth, all of it./ "Because I realized I loved you. I do love you. And I need you, just as much as you need me. Don't push me away. Don't push me away, ever again!" Anger was beginning to take over. Anger at the situation one Jim Ellison had put him in once again.

Jim sat up and leaned against the railing, his eyes not meeting his Guide's. "I love you. But I'm scared."

Blair heard the fear behind those words and he sat down on the bed. "Scared of what? Loving me? I know it's gotta be strange, loving a man and all..."

"NO! Never scared of loving you. Scared of not protecting you. Scared of being too weak. I don't deserve you...this..." Jim waved his hand out, his eyes finally meeting Blair's.

Blair caught Jim's hand and intertwined the fingers with his own, not letting go even when Jim pulled back. "Jim, you are the strongest person I know, and I don't mean that just physically. You've taken it upon yourself to protect not only me, but an entire city. You can't not protect; it's in your genes. And you are worthy of love, of loving. You have no idea how good it makes me feel to know that you, the great Sentinel of Cascade, chose me to love. And that I love you back? That's just icing on the cake, man." Blair felt a small tug on his arm and he allowed himself to fall into the Sentinel's embrace. The two men held each other as the shadows fell along the wall.

It was dark out when Jim felt Blair stir against him. They had fallen asleep, the emotions of the day taking their toll on the two men. A sleepy blue eye looked up at him, love and devotion shining through clearly.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself."

Blair maneuvered himself into a half-way sitting position, never letting go of the strong body beneath him. He stared the Sentinel in the eye.

"Promise me something."

"Anything."

"You'll go back to the counselor, talk this stuff out with her?" Blair felt Jim stiffen at the thought. "Come on, after today, there are still some issues up here that need to be resolved." Blair poked at Jim's head with his finger.

Jim looked down for a few seconds, then met Blair's eye once again. "Okay."

"You mean I won? Without much of a struggle? Wow!"

"Don't get too cocky Sandburg, I was thinking about seeing her anyway."

Blair put his arms around his new lover. "Have I told you recently that I love you?"

Jim looked at the clock. "Not in the past two hours."

"I love you. And I'm not going anywhere. 'Fraid you're stuck with me, Big Guy."

"I love you too. Guess I'll just have to put up with you for say, another fifty, sixty years or so."

Blair kissed Jim, long, slow, passionately, a kiss that held all promises for the future.

Two months later...

"You coming to bed, Chief?" Jim waited at the bottom of the stairs while Blair put his book down on the coffee table and laid his glasses on top of it.

"Sure." The two men had an easy friendship and a growing intimate relationship, but they had yet to go past kissing and sleeping in the same bed with each other. Blair was making damn sure his Sentinel could handle their past before attempting a future. He slid up next to his partner and put his hand around the Sentinel's waist. "Did you have a good day today?" Blair kissed him on the cheek as they both walked up the stairs together. He knew Jim had seen his counselor today.

"Actually, one of the better ones. She's impressed with my improvement; said we can cut our visits down to one every two weeks. I think I've finally come to terms with what happened in the past and put it behind me, put it behind us." Jim sat down on the bed and watched Blair take his clothes off, allowing him the guilty pleasure of admiring his Guide's body. Blair tossed his shirt and jeans into a nearby chair, then pulled his socks off before sitting next to Jim clad only in his boxers.

"That's great Jim!" Blair leaned into kiss him and felt Jim open up to him. They both parted and looked at each other with their foreheads touching.

"And I was thinking, well..."

/Was that a blush that just crept up his neck?/ "What Jim?"

"I think we can take our relationship onto a more intimate level."

"Only if you're ready, Big Guy. Slow and easy, we've got the rest of our lives."

"Yeah, and I really believe that now."

"Believe what?" Blair knew, but he needed to hear it; he had to hear it before he'd let them go any farther.

"That you're here for the duration. That you won't leave and that I won't drive you away because of my fears. Now I know things aren't always going to be rosy, especially when you leave a huge mess in the bathroom then run out like a runaway freight train..."

Blair punched him playfully in the shoulder. "Hey, I made it up to you when I got home. Who cleaned out the fridge, including the vegetable bin where you left a head of lettuce to rot?"

"Touch Chief. I'm just saying I don't expect us to live 'happily ever after;' that doesn't exist. But I know now that no matter what problems we may encounter, we, as a couple, can work through them."

Blair reached up and pulled Jim down to hover over his lips. "You betcha. You and me, we're a team, partners."

/One more hurdle, Ellison./ "Uh, life partners?"

Blair gave him one of his 'mega-watt' smiles. "Life partners, Jim. Life partners. Always." Blair claimed that mouth once again, and allowed his hands to roam freely over his partner. Under the shirt, up and over the hard pecs, then back down with feather-light touches over the rigid abdomen. He swiftly pulled the shirt of his lover, then leaned over Jim, pushing Jim gently back onto the bed. Their bare chests touched, sending almost electric shocks between them. Neither man was going to last very long tonight, but there would be many, many nights to come where they could take time to pleasure one another. Blair reached down to unbutton his lover's jeans, sliding his hand in to find his reward as he trailed kisses up and down the strong jawline. Jim bucked his hips up in time with Blair's strokes. Jim groaned audibly when Blair withdrew his hand.

/He can't do it./ Doubts began to form in the Sentinel's mind.

Blair saw the doubts in Jim's eye and leaned down to kiss them away. "Sorry, but we need to get these clothes off you to do this properly." Blair began to softly kiss his way down the broad chest and abdomen, stopping only to help Jim out of the rest of his clothes and to strip his own boxers away. He lay back down upon his lover, aligning their bodies so their heated, straining erections touched. Taking command of that wonderful mouth again, the two men began a heated duel with their tongues, both straining to taste, to feel, as their bodies started the blissful climb to completion. Flesh upon flesh, sweat pooling between their bodies, their cocks sliding back and forth causing the needed stimulation and friction to bring them both to the precipice.

Jim felt his orgasm begin and he pulled Blair to him, stilling the smaller body that was above his and thrust his hips up twice sharply, his seed spilling between their bodies as he moaned loudly. Blair thought it was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen; the cords of the Sentinel's neck standing out, the flush of his face, his eyes shut tight as his body shuddered with his climax. Blair held on tight and road out his lover's completion. Only when the body beneath him calmed did he begin to thrust again, feeling the incredible sensation of his cock sliding in the semen that lay between them.

Jim watched his lover, Blair's eyes closed in perfect bliss, lost in the sensation. His hands drifted down the strong and slender arms, coming up to flitter across the hairs on his lover's chest, then reaching around to caress his back, sending long strokes down to the fleshy buttcheeks and back up to the shoulders. He felt the hard cock slide up and down his groin, feeling every bump, every vein it held. He felt his lover's pulse through that heated erection, a pulse that started to quicken with his partner's eminent climax. The long, smooth thrusts turned into short, jerky ones and Blair came, throwing his head back, his long hair cascading around his neck and shoulders. Jim felt the hot, sticky semen hit his stomach and chest and held his lover close, reveling in the passion of the moment.

Blair collapsed onto Jim, his head resting on Jim's shoulder. It took a few minutes for him to speak.

"Wow."

/It must have been good; he isn't talking a mile a minute./ "Wow, Chief?"

"Yeah, wow. I've never experienced anything like that before."

"It was kinda nice, wasn't it?"

Blair slowly struggled to look into his lover's eye. "Nice?!"

"Okay, bad choice of words. How about incredible, magnificent, sensational, extraordinary..."

Blair kissed him lightly. "I get the picture. Same here."

Jim reached up and smoothed some of the stray locks from Blair's face. "And you know what the best part is?"

"No, what?"

"It only gets better."

"So true, so true. Love ya."

"Love ya." Jim collected his Guide in his arms and pulled a blanket around them, ignoring the sticky mess between their bodies. It didn't matter. Sentinel and Guide were one.

End