Archive of Our Own ^beta

Out Of The Woods

Date: September 2nd, 2001
Author: Jvantheterrible
Disclaimer: Give me a break, huh? Not mine, no monies, and so on and so forth.

Pairing: J/B, Rated 'R' for language and angst.

Summary: CHALLENGE...answering Green Woman's masterpiece, 'Treeline', and trying to keep up with Silk and the others who've ALL written excellent pieces in response.

WEEKS, and I missed it. Thank you all.

Feedback: [email protected], not beta'd, no flames please...this is from the heart!

This story is a sequel to: Treeline

Simon watched Blair in the rearview mirror as he drove slowly away, the lump in his throat receding only a tiny bit. The young man was still standing in the doorway of the tiny cabin, still clutching Jim's unopened letter in his hands, still looking morose as ever as he gradually faded from the police captain's sight.

Shaking his head, Simon gave the SUV a little more gas as he steered towards the main road; like Blair had said, it wouldn't be long until the roads were impassible. Simon didn't want to get stuck out in the middle of nowhere...especially since it would ruin his last ditch effort at saving his two best detectives. As Banks rounded the last stretch of dirt road before the highway, he waved once at the old blue and white truck that sat just off the pavement.

Jim Ellison - a mere shell of the Detective of the Year that he had been months before - waved once, weakly, in response as he headed up the road that Simon had just come down. It had already started to snow, and the wind was whipping around so hard that it actually made the large vehicle rock a bit on its tires. Jim shivered as his cellphone rang, and he had expected this; his final report from Simon on Blair's condition. "Yes, sir," Jim answered, "How was he, Simon?"

"Bad, Jim. Looks worse than ever. Almost as bad as you," Simon said as he ground his cigar between his teeth.

"Thank you, sir. I'll be sure and pass that along to Blair. You didn't tell him, did you?"

"Hell no, Jim. A promise is a promise. As far as I know, you followed me up here all on your own. By the way...he didn't read - "

"I didn't think he would, sir. It's all right. I'll just tell him myself in a minute. Wish me luck."

"Luck, Ellison. Just bring him back. And make sure you bring yourself back with him." Jim gave a short 'hmph' before ending the call, and turned his concentration back to driving. The weather was getting worse every second, and with his senses offline as they'd been much of the time that Blair had been gone, he had no chance in hell of finding anything if he waited too much longer. Come to think of it, he didn't have too much longer himself; his collapse at the station two days before had been the last straw. Simon Banks had placed Jim on administrative leave that very afternoon, walking Ellison down to the parking garage himself to make sure he made it to the truck.

As Jim drove slowly up the potholed road that led to his partner's new home, he recalled the conversation that he'd shared with his captain two days earlier.

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"Dammit, Jim. You look like shit. You're not doing either of you any good like this. When's the last time you ate anything?" Banks asked concernedly.

"I don't remember, sir," Jim sneered at the bigger man, "I didn't realize it was your job to play mommy."

"Jesus, man, just take a look at yourself, will you?" Simon shouted into Jim's face, making the detective wince, "That's right, you'd better make a face, detective, because you're losing it! You've been falling downhill ever since Sandburg left, and this is IT, do you hear me? I can't stand this shit anymore...being the go-between for you two...it's making me just as crazy as you and Blair."

"With all due respect, sir -" and Jim hadn't even been able to finish his sentence because he'd nearly dropped to the ground before Simon had caught him. Ellison had snapped then, lost the tiniest semblance of control that he'd had left and sobbed into his captain's chest, unable to fight anymore, unwilling to take even one more step without Blair at his side.

Simon had taken a deep breath then and simply enfolded Jim in a loose embrace and let the now-bony frame shiver in his arms. "No more," Simon had whispered in Jim's nearly deaf ears, "No more, Jim. You have to go with me Saturday. You have to go see Sandburg...I don't give a rat's ass whether he wants you there or not. I don't know what kind of voodoo shit this Sentinel thing has done to the two of you, but I'm not going to watch EITHER of you kill yourselves over this A-N-Y-M-O-R-E. Do you hear me, Ellison?"

"Yes sir," Jim's muffled reply came quietly, and he managed to pull himself away from Simon and get himself strapped into the truck.

"Go get something to eat, and go back to the loft and rest. It's a long haul up that hill, Jim, and it's going to take all your strength to make the trip...and I don't just mean the drive," Simon winked once at Jim and walked back towards the elevators.

Jim shook his head to clear the memory of the discussion, wishing it could be that easy to erase the last eight months of all of their lives. He clenched his jaw stubbornly, realizing that a long road still lay ahead - even as at that moment the small stone cabin came into view ever so faintly from behind a wall of madly swirling white.

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Blair stood in the doorway and watched Simon until the SUV was out of sight, letting the freezing cold air blow right through him, seemingly through his bones. He ignored his body's shivering and looked down forlornly at the letter in his soon to be numb hands. Just that one word - CHIEF - was enough to make him lose his mind all over again, the unwanted memories surging rudely in. The Begelman Trial. The Sentinel diss. Being shot in the leg (and permanently wounded) as he left the courthouse two weeks later. The abuse in prison from being a cop's partner. His ill-fated attempt to extinguish his own life.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," Blair screamed out into the woods, crumpling the envelope in his hands and bringing it close to his chest, holding it against his heart where he wished it were Jim instead. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the frigid air that embraced him instead of the warm body that he'd dreamt of so many times, wishing against all wishes, hoping against all hope that once - just once - Jim would ignore Blair's self-issued warnings to stay away. Forever.

His tears nearly became ice in his eyes with the drop in temperature, but Blair continued to stand in the open doorway, letting the cold numb every part of him that it could reach. After several moments had passed, Blair allowed himself to open the envelope; it was difficult, having already lost the feeling in his extremities, but he managed. His nose was hurting from the cold, his lips already tinged with blue, but still he stood in the wind, fighting to blink against the occasional snow that blew into his face. He steeled himself one final time and, shaking uncontrollably, opened the letter. The same letter that Simon had been trying to deliver since Blair's very first month of self-imposed exile. The same letter that had been sent back to Jim unopened each time that Simon returned to Cascade. The same letter that the Sentinel cried himself to sleep over each time it was returned to him, stuffing it beneath his pillow where it would remain until Simon's next venture up the mountain.

Dearest Blair:

I can't tell you what it's been like here without you these last few weeks. This time, it's not like you're in...I mean, it's not like I can come and visit you, Chief. You told me to stay away, and I want to respect your wishes, but CHRIST it's hard. I miss you so fucking much, Blair. I miss your smile...even though I know I haven't given you much reason to do so these last couple months. I miss waking up and hearing you puttering around in the bathroom, getting up and having a cup of coffee that you've made. I miss you riding with me in the truck, and I miss the way that you always...shit, Blair, you know I'm no good at this...but I'm trying. For you, I'll try anything, Chief. Honest, I will.

The senses are 'offline' as you would say, but you probably know that already. I couldn't do a damn thing with 'em without you anyway, so it's probably for the best. Simon's got me riding a desk at the moment...if I get much worse, he says he's going to put me in the filing clerk position. How's that for the big bad protector of the tribe, huh?

Blair had to stop reading because, despite the cold, the tears slid down his cheeks, warming each rosy surface briefly before freezing along with his heart and everything else around and inside of him. With a half-sobbed sigh, Blair limped out onto the porch of the cabin, leaving the front door wide open behind him. He looked out into the endlessly blowing white flakes that fell from the sky for a moment, lost in the beauty, before he realized that - oddly enough - he was no longer shaking, and then his gaze traveled back down to the paper.

I need you, Blair. I need you with me. Beside me in the truck, with me on the job, next to me in the loft. I can't do this without you...I can't LIVE without you. Ever since that first day we met...what was that I called you? "Neo-hippie witchdoctor punk," Blair said aloud as he read along with Jim's words. I was a fool, Chief. Even then, I realized how much you meant to me, and I ignored it. Just like I've ignored you ever since the Begelman Trial, and the diss coming out, and everything else that's happened. I told you I didn't trust you. I let you get shot, and I let you go to prison, and I didn't do anything to stop it because I was hurt. Selfish, stupid, insensitive prick that I was, I let you go through all of that alone because my pride was a little injured.

I'm sorry, Blair. I'm so...FUCKING sorry for all of it. I want to take it all back, and I know I can't. I owe you so much...I owe you my LIFE, for god's sake. You've saved mine more times that I can count. Please, let me save yours now. I want you, Blair. I want you with me. I love you, Chief. More than anything. More than anyone else in my life. Ever. And you know better than anyone how long that's been for me. Please don't shut me out anymore, I'm begging you. I've never begged for anything in my life, you know that. But I'm begging you now...please, Blair Jacob Sandburg, please...I need you. I want you. I miss you. I love you.

Yours (in every sense of the word),

Jim

"No," Blair whispered to no one as he let the paper drop to his feet and limped unsteadily down the stairs and into the first inch of snow that had already coated the ground, "No, it can't be. He told me...he didn't...didn't trust me, didn't want me...he said," Blair babbled aloud, the wind howling in his ears, biting at every bit of exposed flesh that it could sink its invisible razor sharp teeth into. As he stumbled into the woods, Blair Sandburg shouted aloud to no one and nothing every last thing that he'd wanted to say for so long. The snow continued to deepen as the ex-professor-cum-detective limped through the bare, scraggly branches and limbs that scraped his face and his hands and pulled at his hair as he attempted to run from the letter, and the cabin, and everything else that his failed life had become.

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Jim pulled up to the cabin and parked his truck, turned it off, and just sat in the cab for several minutes, watching the flakes hit the windshield and melt, until eventually the heat faded and they began to stick. He might have sat there another few minutes if he hadn't caught something entirely out of place in the scene before him. The cabin's front door was wide open, and with Blair's propensity towards perpetual coldness, Jim realized that he had to hurry. Hopping out of the truck with an energy he hadn't felt in weeks - scratch that - months, Jim hurried through the snow and up the steps to the door. "Blair?" Jim yelled, taking a deep breath and steeling himself against whatever might await him inside as he crossed the threshold and entered Blair's sanctuary. It didn't take the detective longer than five minutes to search the entire structure before he realized that his partner, his best friend, his other half, was not inside. "Blair?" Jim yelled again, louder this time, a certain degree of urgency entering his tone. Simon had only left Blair half an hour or so before, Jim thought to himself, 'where the hell did he go, in this weath-'.

Cutting off his own inner monologue, Jim ran back out onto the porch and looked frantically around for any sign of his Guide. No hints were forthcoming until a particularly brutal gust of wind nearly knocked Jim to his knees; he caught himself on one of the posts holding up the front porch and nearly missed the corner of a piece of paper that seemed to reach towards him from the floor. Reaching down, Jim brushed away some of the rapidly falling snow and uncovered a sheet of paper with some all-too-familiar words printed on it. "Oh my God," Jim said aloud, "Chief, you finally read it...oh, God...Blair!" Jim screamed, searching wildly around for any sign of which way his friend might have traveled. Head whipping left and then right, Jim found himself suddenly back online - with a vengeance.

The shock of all the sounds of the weather around him bouncing off the trees and being able to see each and every snowflake until he nearly zoned alerted him to two things; one (thankfully), Blair was closeby, and two, he desperately needed to dial down. Taking care of number two quickly, Jim resigned himself to immediately taking care of the only thing that mattered in the universe...finding Blair Sandburg. His partner. His best friend. His Guide. His love.

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Blair was not prepared for the storm by any stretch of the imagination. Subconsciously, he supposed he'd known that from the moment he'd found himself unable to close the door of the cabin and warm himself up. It was simply not feasible for Blair Sandburg to be warm anymore. Even if he could warm his hands and feet, it would be a far cry from the chill that permeated every part of him to the core of his very soul. That same chill had managed to stick with him every day of the last eight months, even when it had been warm outdoors, and it was most certainly not going to go away now.

Without Jim Ellison, his erstwhile partner, roommate, best friend, and Sentinel, there simply was nothing left for Blair Jacob Sandburg. His entire existence had depended on Jim's for so long that, without the closeness of the other man, Blair had simply ceased to exist, at least in the spiritual sense of the word. Of course, in Blair's mind, spirit was the be-all end-all of existence, so technically, there was nothing left. The young man chuckled to himself as he continued to limp through the snow with his thoughts, slower and slower with each step as the cold began to physically weigh him down more than even his own guilt could.

With no idea how far he'd traveled, or in which direction, Sandburg finally gave up what passed for running for him these days and dropped to his ass under a particularly tall spruce pine. Leaning back against the firm trunk, Blair found himself wet and shivering, hands and feet numb, unable to feel any given part of himself. "I d-d-deserv-ve this-s-s-s," he said aloud as he smiled to himself, teeth chattering as the wind continued to assault his now prone form. "A f-f-fitting end-d-d," he laughed cruelly to the tree as he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to take him. Blair sat under the tree and allowed the snow to land on his face and in his hair, coating him rapidly from head to toe with the same frigid punishment on the outside that he'd bestowed on his insides for the last eight tired months.

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Jim stumbled through the tireless wind and snow, each tree looking the same as the last, until he managed to find one single clue. The only clue that he would need to track his Guide. A lone strand of curly auburn hair blew wildly from a low-hanging branch, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was on the right track. "Blair," Jim cried into the wind, not surprised that no answer was forthcoming, but he tried again, "Chief? Sandburg, where are you?"

Realizing darkly that he would most likely not receive a response even if the younger man could hear him, Jim stopped where he stood and listened. He turned his hearing up as far as it would go, then filtered out the wind, and the snow falling, and the pines scratching, just as the young anthropologist had taught him to do years ago. The detective found the sound that he had yearned for so long to hear, instantly distressed as he realized that it was slowing with each beat...the thump of Blair's heart was the only telltale sign that his Guide was indeed close. Jim picked up his pace, ignoring his own fatigue as he fixed his lips into a grim line and forged on, following the ever-waning heartbeat of the man that he loved.

"Sandburg," the older man screamed into the wind, his voice carried off in ten different directions with the accompanying swirling snow, "Blair? Come on, Chief, help me out here," Jim yelled, then found himself near tears as he whispered, "Help me..."

As if in answer to his plea, Jim managed to dial up his sight at that very moment and saw the slightest bit of red sticking up out of the rapidly building snow about fifty yards ahead. "Blair," Jim cried as he sprinted towards the base of the huge spruce pine in front of him, "Oh Jesus Christ Chief, NO," Ellison moaned, taking in his Guide's appearance as he hurried to brush the snow off of the younger man.

Uncovering Blair's face first, Jim paled more than he already had as he took in the purple lips, sheet-white face, and tightly-shut eyes that met his initial efforts. "Chief," Jim cried as he pulled Sandburg's lifeless body against his own, "You can't do this again, Blair, you have to stay with me here," the older man cried. He lifted the younger man bodily into his arms and headed back towards the cabin as fast as his exhausted body would take him, vision and sound invisibly directing the way as his voice and soul willed his young charge to stay with him.

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Jim was ready to collapse as he reached the steps that led up to the cabin's porch, but he pushed himself that much harder so that he could get both of them inside. Carrying Blair as close to his chest as he could, Ellison kicked the heavy door shut behind him and laid Blair down on the raggedy sofa that faced the cold fireplace.

He grabbed three good-sized logs that rested on the hearth and tossed them quickly into the pit, then squirted a fair amount of kerosene on them from the glass bottle that sat next to the opening. He stuffed some paper underneath the logs and gave them a healthy dose of kerosene as well before he lit up a match and ignited the hastily-built mass - which thankfully caught and blazed intensely within two minutes.

Turning quickly back to his Guide, Jim began to strip the wet and still-freezing clothing from the younger man even as he undressed himself. Another minute and both men were naked, and Jim raced into the bedroom to retrieve the goosedown quilt from Blair's bed. Wrapping it around his own shoulders, Jim bent over the sofa and once again gathered the still unresponsive young man into his arms, settling them both on the floor on top of the quilt and directly in front of the fire.

"Come on, Chief, come on baby, please," Jim murmured into Blair's still-frozen ear. He pulled the other half of the quilt over the top of both of them, "Come back to me, Blair, I swear, I'll take such good care of you from now on," Ellison nearly sobbed, but still no response. He took a deep breath and let it blow warmly over his Guide's pale face as he rubbed Blair's arms and sides and legs in turn, trying to revive circulation and warm the prone body that now lay fully beneath his own.

The fire crackled and spit beside them as Jim continued to try and warm his Guide; the younger man's lips were no longer blue, but he still hadn't regained consciousness, and Ellison was at the end of his proverbial rope. He'd done everything that he knew to do from his Ranger training, and still Blair refused to wake, despite the fact that his beautifully lithe form both appeared and felt defrosted.

The fire roared just off to both their sides, and Jim let loose a strangled sound that could have been mistaken for the roar of a jungle cat...before he lowered his body fully onto the young man beneath his. He pressed his lips reverently against the full pink lips that beckoned, despite their owners' lack of consciousness, and the Sentinel's tears trickled from his eyes to land on the cheeks of his unresponsive Guide...and then it happened.

The dazed indigo gaze was unmistakable as Blair's eyes fluttered open and he peered into Jim's equally beautiful orbs, his lips meeting the kiss fully and without hesitation. The younger man's now-scrawny arms came up and enclosed the equally-scrawny Sentinel within an embrace so close, so heartfelt, so loving, that Jim refused to stop his tears; tears that were now tears of bitter joy. Blair was back. But was he really and truly back?

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Many more minutes passed before Jim could bring himself to separate from Blair's taste, but he managed to roll off to the side and gather his bearings so they could both catch their breath. Blair panted slightly, both from the kiss and the heat that enveloped both men as they lay so close to the fire, and Jim let out a small groan of disappointment as he settled onto his back next to his Guide, already mourning the loss of contact.

"Jim," Blair whispered roughly in the firelight, "You...you came, man," the young man managed.

"Well, I was trying, Blair," Jim answered as he feigned snottiness, and met Blair's gaze with a wide smile. The smile faded as Ellison immediately sobered and offered Sandburg an apologetic glance, "Sorry, Chief. I've just...missed you so fucking much," he said, and Blair didn't even bat an eyelash at the words, merely continued to stare at his Sentinel with all the love and warmth that had recently been administered to him. "You read my letter," Jim said.

"Yeah, man, I read it after Simon left. Oh, man...poor Simon. I hope he got out of here before the storm hit. Speaking of which...how the hell did you find me, man?" Blair asked, his eyes lightening with their usually inquisitive nature.

"See, Blair, I have these heightened senses, you little neo-hippie witch-doctor punk, and..." Jim trailed off, his smile fading once again as he watched Blair's still somber expression.

"Jim, man, we have a lot to talk about," Blair said quietly, acquiescing when Jim's fingertips lightly grazed his lips to gently seal them.

"I know, baby, I know," Jim answered, and Blair raised one eyebrow at his partner, exclaiming from beneath the fingertips, "Baby? Baby, Jim? What the hell, man?"

"Ssssshhh, Sandburg," Jim said, pressing his index finger a bit harder against his partner's lips, "We'll talk about it later. You're still chilled, and I want to warm you up," Ellison finished.

Blair chuckled as he looked up at the Sentinel that hovered over him, and then his smile faded. Jim frowned a bit as he watched Sandburg's reaction, then allowed the younger man to pull his hair-thinned head down so that it rested against the Guide's chest. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump...Jim was nearly hypnotized by the sound until Blair spoke.

"I thought you hated me, Jim. I...I thought you didn't trust me, and didn't want me, and...and..." Sandburg's voice broke then, and tears flooded his azure eyes, trickling down his cheeks as Jim leaned down to kiss them away.

"Ssssshhh, Chief, it's going to be all right, okay? I promise you...from now on, it's all going to be okay. I'm here. We're not out of the woods yet, but we will be, soon. Soon, babe, I promise," Ellison stated matter-of-factly, and Blair simply nodded and returned the tight embrace.

Both men watched the fire as it burned down to ashes, both men revelling in the warmth of one another, both men making silent promises in the waning light. It would take time, but they would get there. Back together. The way they were meant to be. Eventually.

End Out Of The Woods by Jvantheterrible: [email protected]

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