STORM SIGN

Lightning

Chapter 11

I can’t even begin to guess what Simon Banks thought as he turned to find the four of us — burned, bloody, battle worn, and hanging onto each other because none of us could stand alone — standing in Jim’s loft where no one had been a second before. He had started toward us, grin already blossoming, arms going open, when our condition sunk in, I think. His arms dropped, hands going for his pocket and his holster.

Quickly, Jim stopped him saying, "It’s okay, Simon, it’s okay. I know we look bad, but no one is after us — right now, anyway. But no calls, no ambulance, nothing! So it can stay that way. Please. "

I wanted to add something, anything to reassure him and the others; I *knew* we were safe. But I was so tired, I couldn’t even lift my head, let alone speak. Already it was as though I was looking at them through the wrong end of a telescope.

Blair added, "Please?" using the most incredibly gentle voice, and putting everything he had left into it.

Al’s quiet moaning broke the paralysis holding Banks. Without preamble Simon started toward a pair of French doors. "Mattresses are still here, stashed in your old room. Start cleaning up as best as you can while I run for bandages and stuff. Try and hang in there; I won’t be long."

Cautiously we started forward, Simon adding his support to our weaving steps. "The pack I’m carrying has medical supplies," Blair told Simon through gritted teeth. I could sympathize with him. Personally I was trying not to pass out from pain and didn’t really hear or see anything else until I was lowered to the floor.

When I was about eleven or twelve, I fell asleep at a poolside. For some reason, no one noticed I’d been lying in the sun for hours. That sunburn had nothing on the one roasting me from the inside out. My skin felt two sizes too small and ready to split if I so much as twitched. Through slitted eyes, I could see Blair bustling around the small space as if it had never occurred to him how exhausted he should be. His face carefully blank, Simon assisted him without comment, taking Blair’s commands without hesitation.

The remnants of Jim’s shirt were sliced away, and Blair grabbed a stethoscope and listened, I knew, for sounds of damage to Jim’s lungs, then sighed in relief. Obviously having drawn on Jim’s expertise as a medic, he looked to me, having done all they could do. Concentrating on what he needed, ignoring the agony that had replaced my skin, I found my voice and prompted him, while he cleaned, bandaged, and injected Jim.

All the while he worked on his kneeling partner, Blair murmured, "It’s okay, hang in there, dial it down, dial it down, you can let go in a bit, but for now I need you to concentrate so I can get what I need. Hang in there, babe."

"Stoic" has a picture of Jim Ellison beside it in the dictionary. His only reactions to Blair’s work and encouragement were the muscles tensing and relaxing in his jaw. As soon as he was done, Blair left Jim and zipped over to Al, running knowing hands over my lover’s still body. "No internal injuries, no sign of internal bleeding, cracked ribs, broken upper arm, dislocated shoulder…." At the last, he put his foot into Al’s armpit, held the arm above the break, and put the shoulder back into place. All I could do was be grateful Al had passed out.

Stripping, taping, setting and splinting were done very quickly. There was something about the way Blair used his hands that told me it wasn’t only knowledge he was taking from his partner. Then it was my turn, and he took one look at me and hissed, fingers hovering without touching. "Man, oh, man, oh, man, where have you been, Death Valley? Hasn’t anyone told you about the virtues of Sun Block?"

"I’ll remember that the next time I dive into accelerator beam set a few Giga Joules high of normal, I think." I muttered harshly, barely moving raw lips, forced now to think about my own condition. "I must have been manipulating it directly, somehow bleeding off the excess."

"All right, I can spray a topical on you and give you a shot. But, it’s gonna hurt like crazy while I get what’s left of your clothes out of the way. Once I’m through, it’ll be better. You ready?"

He and Simon tried really hard, but the second they laid a finger on me, I screamed, then blacked out.

When I came to again, the sun had slanted long into the small room, and I knew it had been hours since we arrived. Simon Banks sat opposite us, leaning against the wall. His knees were drawn up, wrists crossed loosely over them, his gun hanging carefully from one hand. Staring at his friends, he had a look in his eyes that was a mix of fear and relief. Quickly I looked over at them myself; Jim didn’t look too bad, though too pale and his bandages were stained with blood. He was sleeping on his good side, arm curled over Blair’s back, his gun in hand. Blair slept tucked in a ball, head on Jim’s upper arm, bandages on both hands and another wrapped around his head, covering his eyes. I sighed, realizing just then that jumping into the fire to help Al must have damaged them, as they had been in Chief's original history. He had to have been using Jim’s sight when we arrived, probably not even knowing it until he finally released his sentinel into rest.

Banks heard me, turning my way, and I offered what I hoped was a friendly smile. Either the smile was less than convincing or he was that upset; his expression didn’t change. Before he could speak, I asked, "What day is this?"

Confusion chased over his features for a second, then he answered, "You haven’t been out that long. It’s still Tuesday."

Patiently, though the pain was trying to push away the medicine Blair must have given me, I asked again trying to strengthen my weak smile, "No, Simon, I mean what is the date, including the year?"

This time the confusion stayed to keep his fear and relief company, but he told me readily enough. It was four years to the day after Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg disappeared from Cascade Airport, and nearly a year *after* we had entered the back door to Stallion’s Gate. Somehow, all of us had jumped forward in time, something I hadn’t thought could happen while they were with me.

"Oh, boy," I murmured, and blinked. That was a serious mistake; the painkiller sat on my lids, thinking its battle with my over-cooked skin would be a lot easier if I went back under. I forced them up and mumbled, "What happened to Senator Weisman?"

Pushing aside his glasses to rub at his face, apparently deciding that it was the drugs talking, Banks said patiently, "Thanks to that police commissioner and his son — damn, I can’t remember their names…."

"McNab," I put in quietly.

"The ex-senator will be lucky not to spend the rest of his life in a maximum security prison. That admiral who died because of Weissman’s contractor kickbacks had some serious friends inside the beltway, including Jim’s friend Tom Beckett. He went after him in a major way, even got included in the arrest, somehow.

"Now, can you tell me what the latest Capitol Hill scandal has to do with anything?"

"He was behind what happened to us," I said, not sure I could be heard. Again my will, my eyelids were drifting down, and deep inside, I felt the call of a Leap building. It wasn’t demanding yet, telling me by that there was still something I could do here. "You don’t have to guard over us, now, Simon. It’s over. They really are safe."

"You’re sure?" he asked, wanting to trust.

I forced open my eyes to hold his. "Yes. At least until Jim goes back to work, or one of his old cases comes back to haunt him, or, or Blair…."

"Leaves the loft for five minutes," Banks added with a chuckle of his own.

I wanted to laugh, too, but instead the pain jolted a moan out of me. Then, something squeezed my wrist; for the first time since I gained consciousness, I was aware of Al’s fingers wrapped lightly around it. I turned my head to him, and saw he wasn’t really awake. His color was good, and he was breathing well, if shallowly from the broken ribs. He was on his uninjured side, turned toward me, those fingers on my pulse our only contact with each other.

I don’t know why that made me want to laugh again, knowing it would hurt, so I closed my eyes to stifle the urge.

When I lifted them again, the room was dark with early evening light graying what I could see of the twilight sky. Groggy, the painkiller still clutching to pull me back under, I glanced around to see what had been powerful enough to defy it.

Captain Banks was gone; both Jim and Al were in the same position, sleeping deeply. Only Blair had moved. He sat where Simon had been, as wrapped around himself as he had when lying beside Jim. Except now he was rocking, and after a moment I could hear the hitch in his breath that betrayed smothered crying.

I wanted very badly to tell him that the blindness wasn’t permanent. I wanted to tell him that he *was* a shaman now, and that all people of great power have to sacrifice something of themselves for their gifts. That most give up any chance at love or companionship, but he would never walk alone. I wanted to tell him that it really was over, that he really was home, that he could stay, finish his work, teach, and be a part of the academic life he loved so much.

I didn’t say anything. Some things have to be faced alone, or not in the company of near strangers anyway. The accumulated changes, all that had been lost or gained — such an enormous load for such slender shoulders and he deserved the privacy to begin the process of living with it. I blinked, again falling prey to the medicine, but before my eyes were all the way shut, I dimly heard Jim call Blair’s name lovingly.

* * *

I was clear-headed and mostly pain free when I woke the last time during that long night. My skin was complaining, but it felt no worse than your average sunburn, thanks to the enhanced healing ability Leaps seemed to give. The discomfort was easily being over-shadowed by the desire to Leap. And by another desire.

I checked quickly to see our friends knotted together again under a pile of blankets, Jim’s good hand buried up to the wrist in Blair’s long curls. Gingerly I turned myself so that I was on my side, facing Al, our hands entwined from earlier. Light blankets had been pulled over us, and I pushed his down so that I could check his injuries. No sentinel, my own sense of touch was still enough that I could tell the arm had been set neatly, and the socket for his shoulder was undamaged. Through my ministrations, he slowly worked his own way toward wakefulness, sighing softly under my hands.

When at last I knew the extent of his injuries and how much they were likely to bother him, I scooted down and began to lick delicately at his throat and shoulder. Immediately he started making tiny pleased noises deep in his chest and restlessly threw back his head, offering me better access.

I’d always known Al was a hedonist. His honest enjoyment of all life’s sensual pleasures, whether food, good clothes or partying didn’t make it hard to figure that out. And I couldn’t lie to myself and say that I had never wondered before my Leaps what kind of lover he was. After all, he never had any trouble capturing the ladies he wanted, despite his reputation. Or maybe because of it. Either way, he had been on a casual drop-in-and-make-love basis with a dozen women in our time, which meant he had to have something going for him.

His secret was simple; he not only enjoyed making love more than anyone I’d ever known, he wanted his partner to enjoy it just as much and went out of his way to encourage that. From the encouraging noises to his utter devotion to making it as good as possible, he gave unselfishly, freely and very enthusiastically. Even mostly asleep he reached for me, tangling his free hand in my hair and blowing a soft whisper of air over my ear.

I hummed my own approval and worked lower, finding one of his nipples peeking out over the bandage holding his shoulder and arm immobile. Laving it thoroughly, I gave it a parting nibble and sought out its twin and treated it the same. Under me, he moved hungrily, then froze, fighting to keep a pained cry inside.

"Hold still, Al," I cautioned, lifting my head enough to taste his lips fleetingly, my own too tender to do more. "Let me touch you; you don’t have to do anything but lie there and let me pleasure you. Please?"

His eyelids fluttered up, and I stared into the dark velvet of his eyes, cloudy with drugs and desire. "Beautiful," I murmured, and tasted, hummingbird quick, again. "So beautiful."

"*Caro,*" he rumbled sleepily. "You need to be looking into a mirror when you say that."

I brushed the knuckle of my first finger over his cheek, teased his lips with the tip of it, and then asked, "Have you been awake at all since we got here?"

Biting my fingertip gently, he answered, "Yeah, when Blair sent their friend home. They were both afraid that Banks staying here too long would attract attention we’re not up to handling."

I looked away for a second to gauge the pull for Leaping and to search my thoughts. "I guess it’s going to take a while for it to soak in that it’s really over," I said distractedly. "Ow!"

The nibble on my finger had turned into a bite, and I looked down at my lover in surprise. "That’s better," he said firmly, adding to my confusion, then reached up to lick tentatively at my lips. The fire tingled through me had nothing to do with the abuse my skin had taken.

Nuzzling at my ear, he added, "I don’t have much choice but to lay here, *caro.* I can’t think of a way to caress you that wouldn’t hurt. Don’t know how well the ole’ one-eyed pants monster is going to behave, either."

"Don’t care," I muttered, angling my head so he could play with my other ear. "Just want to love you."

"Ahhhhh, Sammy," he breathed. "Go ahead, do it. Whatever you want."

The few days we’d had in the desert had given me more than a passing acquaintance with Al’s body; I already had a pretty good idea of where to caress him and how. It didn’t take me long to work him up to the point he was swallowing little passionate cries, trying not to wake our roommates. I wouldn’t have cared if he had, or if Jim and Blair had sold tickets and popcorn for the show.

Though my goal had been to excite him past the point where his injuries or the drugs could bother him, it worked pretty well on me, too. I had never been so hard and randy by the time I gave his swollen arousal a last suck and raised my head. He *was* beautiful, sprawled out in abandon in front of me, head back and throat working.

A quick glance found the lotion I’d expected Blair to leave for my burn. Keeping Al occupied with random brushes of my tongue, I opened and lubed myself, pushing away the strange feelings doing so caused. As awkward as I found doing that, it was worse when I straddled my lover’s hips, taking him in hand. His eyes flew open, mouth agape, and I touched the center of his lower lip with a shaking finger.

"I want this, Al! I can’t even begin to tell you how much or what it means to me." I felt him throb in my grip, and he simply relaxed under me utterly, nudging up the hand near his mouth so he could kiss the palm.

Even expecting the pain, it was powerful enough to drive every bit of air out of me, leaving me gasping when I pressed down on the head so that it breached me. "Sammy," I heard, faintly, and Al’s voice was filled with worry. But I didn’t answer him or stop either, inching my way down his length until I sat on him, completely filled.

Lungs working overtime, I waited until I could control the fiery pressure ripping at me. Bad as it was for me, it must have been great for Al. He shivered and shook under me, hands clenching and unclenching, moaning almost continuously. My own hard-on had fled, but as I had told him, it didn’t matter. It was the connection I wanted, the feeling of being a part of him and him a part of me. It was a small comfort to carry through the rest of my life, but it was at least, all mine.

Hesitantly, I moved, and that actually helped, relieving the ache some. Startlingly, after a minute it even began to feel pretty good, and I was able to ride with something resembling enthusiasm. Then Al rocked up into me, deeper than he’d been before, and a blast of pleasure slammed through me, nearly making me black out. Before I could recover from it, he did it again, then again, and I was moving on him wildly, frantic to keep the sensation.

We were both in too bad a shape to go like that for very long. I felt a tremor in him, knew he was close, and grabbed my own newly hard erection to pump it so we could finish together.

"Jeez, oh...oh...oh..." Al groaned, back arching nearly off the mattress. There was a flood of a different kind of heat in me, his seed was inside me, and that triggered my own flood. It had never been so intense, and it went on forever. The only thing that kept me from collapsing completely was fear for Al’s battered body, and I locked my elbows while I turned into Jell-O everywhere else.

Finally the ecstasy subsided enough so I could think, sort of, and I rolled to my side. There was a second of fumbling, then Al cleaned us up with something, mumbling lover’s nonsense as he did. When his hand found mine, and he cuddled as close as he dared, I whispered, "Love you, Al."

His "Love you, too, Sammy," followed me into sleep.

* * *

The smell of coffee, fresh dripped and ready to be poured, teased me awake the next morning, and I grumbled at myself for falling for its lure. A Leap was coming soon, very soon, and I wasn’t ready to leave, yet. Being honest with myself, I realized I had never been less willing to go, not even when I had Leaped home.

But once my nose informed on me, my bladder added its complaints to my general condition, and I was up, willing or not. The first few seconds were ugly; I wouldn’t have been surprised to see myself shedding like a snake, I felt so tight and dry. Once I started moving, though, things improved, and I found my way to the bathroom almost by instinct.

Thinking a shower would be nice, I wandered back out, toward the kitchen, intending to ask if there were towels. Blair was there, dressed in jeans and flannel shirt, making some kind of breakfast and working effortlessly — despite the bandage over his eyes. Jim was where I had seen him a thousand times while watching over them; standing in front of the French doors of the balcony, staring out over the water. Wearing only his jeans and the bandages on his back and shoulder, he had his arms crossed over his chest, giving off a serious ‘don’t talk to me’ signal.

Resisting the call to act was impossible. I wished helplessly that I had taken a second to say good-bye to Al, and went to stand beside Jim, looking out over the same view, ignoring his body language. He didn’t move, simply stood there like a mannequin until my patience wore at him and he ground out, "How?"

"What were you thinking when you stepped into the accelerator with me?" I countered.

Reluctantly, he answered, "Here."

"And Blair?"

From behind us, I heard quietly, "The same thing."

I shrugged. "That’s your answer. You both wanted to be in the loft, powerfully enough that you took control of the Leap."

"That isn’t an answer, Sam," he said flatly.

Knowing he wasn’t ready to hear all of it, yet, I asked instead, "You really hated being Panther, didn’t you?"

If my abrupt change of subject matter bothered Jim, he didn’t let it show. As flatly as before, he replied, "What’s to like or not like? It’s what was."

Not sure how to circumvent his barriers, I was saved from trying by Blair patiently pressing issue for me, "You really hated being Panther, didn’t you?" He slid past me, coming to stand in front of his partner, putting one capable hand on the bigger man’s forearm, being careful of the bandages on his chest. That telltale muscle of Jim’s began to jump, but he didn’t say anything.

"Jim," I asked, trying another angle, "why didn’t you kill DeLacourte when he had to get past us to get to Ziggy?"

For the first time Jim looked at me, his head was tilted to one side as if to ask me if I was insane. But he replied mildly enough, "Too risky. I didn’t know he had locked everybody in the control room. If I’d shot him, I’d have had to hide the body; that would have taken time we didn’t have. Besides, it might have been found. Safer to let him pass."

Shaking my head slowly, I challenged him. "All that may be true, but you were ready to fire until the last possible second. What really made you change your mind?"

The knuckles where Blair touched Jim were turning white, but I had no sense of them ‘speaking’ to one another silently. Blair waited, as did I, and I think the weight of my question, as much as any thing else, forced Jim to blurt, "It would have been wrong! I’m not judge, jury, nor executioner! And you’re right, I did hate being Panther, hated all the sneaking around, the hiding, staying in the shadows, playing at all three." Gradually his voice rose. "I’m a protector, a guardian, a *sentinel,* dammit! I belong in the daylight. *He* belongs in the daylight!"

He shouted the last, but I didn’t really hear it. The eerie silence and rush of a Leap along my bones drowned him out. But before their world faded around me, I said calmly, "That’s why you’re home, Jim. That’s why you’re both home."

The Leap took me. I only had long enough to realize it was different, off-balance somehow, before I materialized with Al’s arms securely around me. As always, knowledge swept through me, and I braced myself, enduring it easier this time because of the sturdy strength behind me. When my head stopped spinning, I turned, catching at Al’s hand as I did, not sure if I was going to punch him or kiss him for coming with me. I settled for glaring at him, refusing to admit how glad I was he was with me and absently admiring how he looked. Seemingly about the age he had been when I met him, he was in full navy whites, cigar in hand, staring at our surroundings bemusedly, and that mollified my anger more, almost against my will.

"Looks like being in the middle of the aurora borealis," he mused, "except it sounds a lot better."

Tuning into the fragmented music, mixed laughter, and whispering voices, I couldn’t help but say, "If you listen hard enough, you can hear a song or conversation that happened centuries ago. Once I listened to Mozart composing."

He looked at me, went back to studying the flowing colors and light, then did a double take. Still fuming slightly, I let him check me out and see for himself I was fully healed and comfortably dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. "We’re outside of time here; none of the regular rules apply. We look the way we do because this is how we see ourselves," I explained grudgingly.

Al glanced down at himself, shrugged. "Self image, huh." Gesturing at the area around us, he asked, "Is there where you always come between Leaps?"

"Since the very first time," I affirmed. "I didn’t remember then, but after I started Leaping as myself, part of it stays with me, now. What did you think you were doing following me here? You have no idea what you’re risking!"

"The exact same thing you’ve been risking from the first," he answered mildly, eyes and face so full of love for me that the rest of my ire evaporated despite my attempt to hold onto it.

"You should have asked me!" I tried, anyway.

"You would have said no." I couldn’t argue with that, and while I tried to think of a decent rebuttal, he asked, waving at the nearest shimmer, "What’s it for?"

Automatically I reached out and plunged my hand into one of the colors streaming past, knowing without looking whose lives it was. "It’s how I know what’s happening, what has happened, and sometimes what will happen. See?"

* * *

Jim had been subliminally aware of Calavicci silently coming up behind Sam, working his arm free of the sling holding it in place as he did. But intent on the other man’s words, and his own the anger and frustration, Jim didn’t really think about it or even look at the admiral as he came close. Then Sam pricked Jim where he’d been hurting for so long he didn’t even remember what it felt like not to ache there, and he roared at his friend, hardly hearing his own words, forgetting Al completely.

"...He belongs in the daylight!"

In the midst of it all, Sam seemed to gather the sunshine into himself, taking on its radiance. Al rushed forward, locking his arms around his companion’s waist and they both exploded from the inside out. As the light fell in upon itself and the visage that had once been Sam and Al disappeared, the sentinel heard, "That’s why you’re home, Jim. That’s why both of you are home."

"It’s not that easy!" he yelled at the after-image of them, swinging to pound on the doorframe.

Before the motion could be completed, Blair caught his fist in burnt palms, and held it sturdily. "Yes it is," he said serenely. "Deciding to stand in the light, to admit that you need your home, your friends, your *place;* that’s the hard part, Jim. The rest of it," and he nodded at the empty loft and the world in general, "is just details that we can work out."

Trembling with anger, Jim honestly didn’t know if he could let it go and believe that it was over. That their journey was done and all he had to do was accept it. Far away a gull squalled its protest to another bird, horns and tires of traffic on the street below drummed an irregular pattern, and Blair’s heartbeat pounded on steadily, evenly, fitting precisely into place in his memories of home and hearth.

With a tired sigh he capitulated, and lowered his head until his cheek brushed his partner’s, so that Blair would know through the bandages he was smiling — and crying. "So help me, Sandburg," he muttered thickly, "if you tell anybody I was homesick, I’ll, I’ll…." He floundered for a minute, not sure what threat was dire enough to keep the irrepressible man down. Suddenly he grinned and finished, "I’ll lay a lip-lock on you so hard Simon will be able to dust for prints!"

Laughing, Blair leaned into him gingerly, taking him into a loose hug. "I hate to tell you this, man, but your are sooo my type...you’d better be careful!"

Hugging him back, Jim laughed as well, stropping his damp cheek over Blair’s bandages. "Okay, but I get to lead, right, partner?" All the smaller man seemed to be able to do was laugh harder, tightening his arms as he did.

The flint knife in its sheath at the small of Blair’s back nudged Jim’s arm and on impulse he drew it. Stepping back, one hand resting comfortably on his partner’s chest, Jim held it up a second to admire it.

"Jim?" Blair questioned.

"I don’t know if it’s too much TV or if it’s actually true, but do you know the concept of ‘blood brothers?’" Jim asked slowly.

As if he could see him, Blair tilted his head and offered up his hand. "In this day and age, when someone else’s blood can literally kill you," he answered, "it means even more. You’re right, Jim. We need to mark this ending/beginning. Go ahead."

Concentrating, Jim closed his eyes to let his fingers search out to find the nearly imperceptible mark left by the knife the first time Blair had seen it. Deliberately, holding the flesh in a tight pinch to deaden the sting, he nicked that same place. Finding the same scar on his own finger, he cut himself, then pressed the two small wounds together.

There didn’t seem to be anything to say, and, he realized with huge relief, there was nothing more that needed to be said.

Tentatively he brought the fingers up to his mouth and kissed Blair’s, tasting the salt and copper zing of the blood overlaying the sweeter flesh of his lover. To be able to touch Blair so intimately was so new to Jim, so strange on many levels he was always hesitant about it, nearly expecting to be rejected by his guide.

He was also helpless to resist the desire to do so. From the wounded digit, he moved timidly to Blair’s mouth to find him waiting eagerly. Turning his hand so that he held the bristled jaw, the rasp of the stubble there enhancing the satin of the skin underneath, he savored the flavor and fragrance of his lover. Dragging his lips away, he tongued over a bedecked ear, murmuring, "Did Simon say when he’d be back when he dropped off the groceries earlier?"

"Nmmhmmm?" Blair’s reply made no sense, and the compact body stretched up taller so he could take Jim’s mouth back.

"Sandburg, when is Simon coming back?" Jim pulled far enough away that Blair wouldn’t be too distracted to answer, privately thrilled he *could* distract him so thoroughly.

"Got to see about getting that Federal Warrant cancelled, and he said something about a meeting with the mayor. Not for hours yet," Blair answered huskily.

"Good." He almost purred the word, and drew his guide with him to the nest he had made next to the fire earlier, anticipating his warmth-loving partner’s need for it. There was a momentary bobble when he pulled at his shoulder on the way down, and Blair was the one to ease back, cautiously testing the bandage.

"Um, maybe we shouldn’t, um," Blair paused, not certain suddenly exactly what they were going to do.

"It’s no picnic," Jim told him honestly. "But I have it dialed down, and it’s not as bad as it should be. Maybe some of Sam’s work? I didn’t recognize half the drugs in his kit." He took his lover’s lips again, lingering over their rich fullness and letting his hands rove indiscriminately over Blair’s slender form. Coming up for air, he teased, "And, frankly, you’re a wonderful diversion from it."

"In that case," Blair said breathlessly, and he finished the statement by wiggling against Jim’s lower body enticingly.

Hesitantly, but with growing confidence, Jim delved into the welcoming heat and warmth of Blair’s mouth again, taking his time with the kiss. After their brief encounter in the desert, neither had been ready for more than loving strokes and innocent explorations. In truth, though he knew Blair’s body as well as his own, he had never looked at it as belonging to a potential mate until that time, and still found it odd to do so.

And very arousing. Taking his time, he divested both of them of their clothes, setting aside the knife and his gun with surety for the first time since they left Cascade. Not hampered by his lack of sight, Blair used his blindness as an excuse to taste Jim everywhere, letting his mouth go where his hands could not.

At one point, he found himself on his stomach with his hips in the air, Blair’s hot tongue whipping and swirling over his buttocks. Amazingly, he was close to orgasm from that simple caress, and when he tried to warn his partner, Blair merely bit him gently and went where Jim had never willingly allowed another person to touch.

Helplessly he reared back into the limber probe, hurting his wound and not giving a damn. "Oh...oh, god...unh! Babe, wa...GOD!" Shaking, he released his seed in hard pulses that came and went with the wet invader at his opening. Feeling Blair’s hunger, he kept himself limp and open, not caring about anything but satisfying his mate.

Blair nudged him over onto his back instead and crawled over him, keeping his weight on his forearms. After dragging his need through the wetness on Jim’s belly, Blair pushed into the crease between the hard thighs and began to thrust, gasping. Jim went with it, doing his best to drive his lover crazy. Freeing Blair’s hair from the long braid, Jim worked his fingers through the clinging strands, draping them over the two of them like a sensual blanket.

It was like a hundred more kisses floating over him, and he groaned, feeling himself harden again. Meeting Blair’s shoves more energetically, he reached for a kiss, feeling a fleeting disappointment and worry when his companion twisted away his head. Realizing it was because Blair was sparing him the lingering residue of his own scents and tastes, he merely dialed it down and claimed the full lips anyway.

With a stifled cry, Blair came, jerking with each spurt of fluid from him. When the last spasm had coursed through him, Jim gently turned them to their sides, keeping their mouths sealed. Breaking away finally with a sigh, Blair put his face in the center of Jim’s chest, and bit at the bandage circling it. "I smell blood."

Amused, Jim mumbled, "Which of us is the sentinel here, babe? Yeah, I tore the bullet hole in my back open again. Can’t even begin to feel it. We can add cleaning up the blood to taking care of the rest of this, this…." His words trailed off as he tried to find a word for the sticky semen all over both of them.

With a half snort of laughter, Blair snuggled in as much as he could. "Going to take me a while to get use to how much more messy it is with you than a woman."

For some reasons the words reminded Jim of all that had changed, and he said slowly, "So many differences."

Leaning up on one elbow, Blair shook his head. "Different isn’t bad. Would you really go back to how it was? Parts of getting here may have sucked, big time, but do you *want* to undo this," and he poked Jim solidly on the sternum, "or this," — a thump to the forehead — "or this?" — a suggestive grind of hips.

"I love you, too, babe," Jim smiled, tapping Blair’s chest lightly, "I would miss having you in my head." Pecking a kiss onto the broad brow under the curls, he finished, re-introducing his semi-erect penis to Blair’s with a bump, "And I can’t imagine never making love to you again." His fingertips fluttered uneasily over the wrapping hiding Blair’s eyes, saying without the words what he did regret.

"Jim, there’s no reason to think it’s permanent," Blair said steadily, repeating some of the promises Jim had made to him in the cold hours before dawn. "And if it is…." He had to stop and suck in a huge breath to fuel his honesty. "Well, I’m going to spend a lot of time pissed and re-learning things, but it’s not as though I’m never going to be able to see again, which is more than every other blind person can say."

Holding Jim’s face on the tips of his fingers, Blair finished calmly, lovingly, serenely. "I can live with spending the rest of my life seeing through Jim-colored eyes."

* * *

Removing my hand from the flow as Jim cut his own hand, I grinned at Al, watching the shock and pleasure in his face as the images he’d been seeing faded. After a moment he blinked, then reached for the same history himself, but I gently blocked his hand.

"Hey," he protested, "It was just getting interesting!"

I had to laugh. "Al, this place was made for you, you know that?"

"Better than that imaging chamber," he shot back smugly. "And I don’t have to argue with Ziggy or Gooshie to see the juicy parts." Leering exaggeratedly, he peered at another life, as if he could see it by simply looking at it. "I don’t suppose you know which of these belong to Playboy Playmates, do you?"

Because he expected it, I gave him my long-suffering prude look, but didn’t say anything. It seemed to me the easiest way to explain things was to let him find out for himself, as I had on my first Leap, and I trusted his natural curiosity to lead him on. Without my prompting, he selected a history and visually followed it, going thankfully in the ‘right’ direction.

Determinedly, I kept my back to what he would see, not wanting to look myself. It wasn’t necessary; the incredible beckoning brilliance was indelibly imprinted on my mind, its siren call as clear as ever. I saw the awe in Al’s expression, knew my own reflected it, felt the urge to kneel in worship as he did. What kept us on our feet was the simple knowledge that this was only a pale shadow cast by the true Presence, and to worship it would not be right.

Breathing, "Tru...Trudy? Dear Lord, is that you?" Al stepped forward, but I intercepted him, blocking his vision with my own body. For a second his disappointment was tremendous, but then he wiped his face with a shaking hand. "Sam, what I saw...do, do you know what I saw?"

"Your father, and your sister." My voice was as loving as I could make it. "You can join them, if you want, Al. You’ve been called, and it’s your choice if you want to go."

Looking at me without seeing me, he stood stunned, then, as if by instinct, he slowly turned, tracing another life in the other direction. This time, I did too, uselessly trying to prepare myself for its endpoint.

Like a negative print of a thunderstorm, the black limned *something* seethed and rolled with jagged tears of darker blackness ripping through it. It snatched at everything in reach, ripping and distorting all the lives around it, obliterating some, merely mangling others. The storm raged through countless histories, and Al reached reflexively toward the nearest to help.

Again I blocked him, tugging him away. "No, not so close. You can’t change one so close to it. Find a snarl of strings and try to find the linchpin for it." His gaze focused on one; Panther’s and Chief’s, which was no surprise since we were so close to it still. "Good, now backtrack...more, there, do you see it?"

A wave of motion sparkled down the wavering history, wiping away the damaged areas, recreating it whole and strong again. Blinding flashes darted from it, and I murmured in relief, "Their children being born." I had never seen children cease to exist because of my Leaps, but that had not been much comfort to the mercenaries when I persuaded them to let me re-do time for them.

When the change reached the devastation, their lives slithered free of the other trapped histories, and rose away, carrying many with it, but leaving many more ensnared. It reduced the power of the "wrongness," more than I had dared hope and I made a sound of satisfaction.

"That’s why you keep Leaping."

Al sounded positive, but I confirmed it anyway. "Yes, though I never remember that during a Leap. I’m not sure why." A second later I added frankly, "And I have to choose every time I come back here whether to Leap again or walk into the light. Sometimes, I swear I’m done, I’m ready to go on, but then I get caught up in another person’s life, another opportunity to fix what that destroyed."

"Are those my choices, too, Sam?" Al’s voice was neutral, and I held my own needs close, not wanting him to read me.

"You have another choice. You can go back to your own life, leaping back in only a few days after Jim and Blair returned to Cascade."

Al didn’t answer me, but put his cigar in his mouth and stared at the destruction in front of us, carefully keeping the better view to his back. I understood that, since I did it myself to gain strength when I faced its enemy.

After a while he muttered, "Beth and the girls — they’ve already grieved for me, gotten on with their lives."

Playing the devil’s advocate, I countered, "You’ve been returned to her before, and your daughters are young enough to be resilient. All they’ll care about is that you’re back."

"They’re used to me being gone; that’s the reality of being a Navy family."

"You could retire now, be there for them. Aw, hell, Al, the only reason you’ve been holding on was to spite Weisman; we both know that."

"Weisman...that damn son-of-a…." Not argumentative this time, he sounded reflective. "DeLacourte, their cronies and henchmen…."

"Jim, Blair, the McNabs, Tom."

"Still so many doing wrong, and not as many to right it." Abruptly he spun to face me, coming in close enough to almost be nose to nose. "What do you want from me, Sam?"

Keeping my face blank hurt, but I did it. "This is your decision, Al. No one can make it for you."

"Well, it’s not much of a decision, now is it?" he yelled, genuinely angry. "How the hell can you expect me to snuggle back down into my nice, comfy home, complete with wife and kids — none of which I would have ever had, if it weren’t for you — and leave you bouncing all over creation all by yourself, no one to watch your back or kick you in the butt when you need it!"

There was only one answer to that, and because I had to lie to give it, I looked down at my shoes. "Because I want you to, Al."

He didn’t let me get away with it. "Look me and say that, Sam. Sam! Look at me!"

With all I had I tried not to, but I couldn’t deny his demand or his right to make it. I raised my head, working to force the words to my lips and could not do it. Even if he hadn’t been looking at me with compassion and tenderness, even if he didn’t know me better than I know myself, even if it was the only way to send him home, I could not lie to the person who owned my heart.

Not giving me the opportunity to try, he let me off the hook and chuckled uneasily, anger almost gone. "I wouldn’t go anyway, you know. How could I? Besides," and his eyes were twinkling. "Why should you have all the fun?" Backing off a bit, he rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. "Tell me, Sam, can I look in on the girls once in a while, like you did for me? Watch over them, make sure they’re okay and stuff?"

Relief and delight made me dizzy, and all I could do was stand there shaking my head and marveling at my lover. Through my grin, I assured him, "No problem, Al. You can check on them all you want."

"Great, Sam, that’s great! Hey," he enthused, "can I learn to do your whammy, too? Change things?"

Suddenly wary, I admitted, "Yeah, with some practice."

I had reason to be cautious; his eyes lit up. "Hot damn! Beth plays the lottery sometimes, so she won’t have to worry about money…."

"Al," I warned.

"The baby wants to be an astronaut. Let’s see, who do I know that can make the right contacts for her…."

"Al!"

"Boyfriends! I finally don’t have to worry about what kind of nozzles are trying their sneaky, loathsome…."

"ALLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!"

finis

sequel