Title: Dark Approach

Author/pseudonym: Silk

Email address: silkn1@worldnet.att.net

Rating: NC-17

Fandom: The Sentinel, La Femme Nikita

Pairings: J/B

Status: Complete

Date: 11/17/00

Archive: Yes

Series/Sequel: There might be another one of these in the near future, but who knows?

Category: First Times, Crossovers, Drama

Author's website:

Disclaimer: All things LFN belong to WB, USA, Fireworks, and LFN Productions. All things Sentinel belong to Paramount and Pet Fly. I don't own 'em. Wish I did. I don't get paid for this either. Ditto.

Notes: This is a crossover with La Femme Nikita, but while Michael and Nikita are important to the story, the focus is Jim and Blair.

Summary: Jim takes a secret meeting. Blair follows. What he discovers changes everything between them.

Warnings: m/m, crossovers, angst



Dark Approach
By Silk


"Do you mean it?"
"Do you mean it?"
"Do you mean it?"
"Why don't you mean it?"
"Why do I follow you and
Where do you go?"
--March of the Black Queen by Queen

He'd been following him for over an hour now. Jim showed no signs of tiring yet. He wanted to know where Jim was headed. Just yesterday, Jim swore that he wasn't holding back anything.

Ha!

Then, this morning, he took off for parts unknown. Alone. Without back-up. That would be him. **Blair**. AKA: the Guide, the partner, the best friend, the man hopelessly, desperately, and, lest he forget, unrequitedly, in love with Jim.

Blair stopped for a moment to catch his breath, noting Jim's superior staying power. God, what stamina. Just like his animal spirit, the black jaguar. In fact, if Blair weren't already so damn preoccupied with where Jim was going and why, he would be happily trotting after him, admiring the view from the back. All those sinuous muscles moving up and down in splendid
unison. His back, his ass, his thighs.

Fuck, for a second there, he was getting dangerously distracted. He needed to stay focused. If he lost Jim, he might never get to the bottom of this.

The weird thing was, Jim never out and out lied to him. He might omit certain details, ostensibly for Blair's protection; he might even refuse to tell him something when directly questioned. But he didn't lie.

Sigh. Was it only yesterday that Jim said, "What? Chief? You think I'm not telling you something here? We don't have any secrets, you and me."

Oh, yes, we do, Jim. The biggest one is what's driving me to stalk you like a perp in search of a victim. I love you. But if there's one thing I know you don't need to hear right now, it's that.

Otherwise, we'd be on the same side. Otherwise, you wouldn't be running away from me just as fast as your feet can carry you.

Be careful not to stand too long in one place, Jim. You might enter the Sandburg Zone. Blair huffed, the gentle puff of air he exhaled catching an errant curl of dark auburn hair.

Christ, Jim, there are easily three hundred thousand people living in this city, more than half of them women. Some of them think I'm cute. Some of them even think I'm beautiful.

Why can't you look at me that way, man? I'm not asking you to change your life drastically. I know you love me like a friend, like a brother, like a partner. That's already a helluva lot closer than some married couples. So why, Jim?

Blair's attention was drawn by a tall, dark, charismatic man across the street. He seemed to be waiting for something or someone. Dressed all in black, he blended perfectly with the gathering afternoon shadows. His eyes covered by dark glass, it was impossible to tell what color they were or to read the expression in them.

Perhaps that was for the best.

Because Jim was headed his way.

And the man inclined his head in Jim's direction. A nod so nearly imperceptible that had Blair not been looking for it, he would have missed it.

His heart in his mouth, Blair watched as the scene played out, seemingly in slow motion. Jim and the enigmatic stranger were on a collision course. Suddenly the man smiled, and the way he wore that smile told Blair that smiles were a rare and precious commodity in his world.

Jim greeted the man like a long lost lover. All at once Blair couldn't catch his breath. He felt like he'd been sucker-punched in the chest. So...when push came to shove, it wasn't that Jim couldn't love him because he wasn't attracted to men.

It was worse. Jim wasn't attracted to **Blair**.

Because the way he was greeting the mysterious man left no doubt in Blair's mind. Jim had run away to meet someone. But it wasn't a female someone.

Suddenly Blair saw his future. Saw himself standing on another street corner, impatiently waiting for Jim and someone else. And he knew, right then and there, that someone else was never going to be him.

He closed his eyes, the smoky heat of his blue eyes dampened by incipient tears.

And so it was that he missed the grateful but platonic hug that the man gave Jim, opening his eyes just as Jim flashed a beatific smile back at the cryptic stranger.

Oh, fuck, that hurt. He didn't know it was going to hurt this much. Blair leaned over, trying to quell the burgeoning nausea roiling within, his hands spread wide across muscular thighs.

There was something else that Blair didn't know. That his distress was so intense, it telegraphed itself across the street, homing in on the one man who could decipher its signal.

Chief. Blair blinked. He didn't hear that. He couldn't have. Nevertheless, he felt the word form itself inside his head.

Jim's head swung around. Their eyes met. Blair flushed. Jim gave him a look that Blair interpreted as a series of emotions in quick succession: surprise, fear, angst, and rage.

Wait a minute! What was that again? Fear? Angst? Jim was afraid? Dismayed by Blair's presence? Then what he was doing **was** dangerous, and all of this backtracking was for Blair's benefit. To keep him from discovering who he was meeting, yes.

But to protect him from...

...what?

Part 2

"I'm glad you could come on such short-" Noticing Jim's distraction, Michael followed his line of sight across the street to the young man standing there.

Michael was Michael Samuelle, one of, if not, the best anti-terrorist operatives in Section One, a covert agency hidden even to the government it protected. Several years ago, when Jim was in Covert Ops doing intelligence work for the Army, he met and befriended Michael. They were an unlikely combination, their personalities in some ways too similar, and yet, that became the essence of their friendship.

Michael had few people he could call friends. Experience had taught him not to trust anyone. Including some of the people inside Section. Including some of the people he cared for most. Now he needed someone who knew intelligence work, someone who wouldn't require extensive breaking in, someone he **could** trust to work outside the system he was forced to use.

That person was Jim.

"Problem?" he asked, his eyes flickering to the side, indicating Blair.

"No," Jim replied, a little too quickly, a little too loudly.

"You know him?"

"I-yes. I know him."

"You trust him?"

"With my life," Jim swore, realizing that it was not only true, but he had done just that thing, over and over again.

"That was your first mistake."

"Trusting him?" Jim asked incredulously.

Michael shook his head. "If you trust him, why is he following you? If you trust him, why didn't you tell him?"

"You told me not to tell anyone," Jim said slowly. "I-"

"Do you trust my judgment over his?"

"Yes, no, I don't know." Jim raked a hand through his short brown hair.

With a meaningful glance at the older man, Michael said tersely, "You need to find out."

"I don't want him involved in this. It's too dangerous. He could get-"

"Hurt?" Michael almost smiled. "Not trusting him enough to tell him is what led to him following you to me. *That* was dangerous. For all of us." Michael carefully tucked his hands into the roomy pockets of his long black coat.

He sighed. He liked Jim. But for all of his abilities, sometimes Jim didn't use half the perception God gave him.

"You care about him." That, in true Michael fashion, wasn't a question.

"Yes," Jim admitted. But he didn't realize how telling his facial expression (yearning) or his body language (protective) was.

Michael kept his eyes on Blair while speaking to Jim, noting how Jim's own gaze kept darting back to Blair every so often, as if checking on him. "And...he cares about you."

For some inexplicable reason, Jim colored. Michael nodded, as if confirming some piece of intel meant for his eyes only. "Is this going to be a complication?"

"No. No, I'll, er, I'll handle it."

"See that you do," Michael commanded.

And to Jim's surprise, he did. He reacted in the time-honored tradition of so many men before him. He strode across the street with purpose, and Blair searched in vain for a place to hide.

"J-Jimmm, I can explain," stammered Blair.

"Spare me the obfuscation, Chief. Just hit the road and don't look back."

"Hit the road? You take off without a word and **I** should hit the fucking road? I don't think so, man. I don't thi-"

It came out of nowhere. The kiss. Whether it was because Jim couldn't think of any other way to stop Blair's imminent tirade or because he had suddenly decided to confess his feelings and take his chances was impossible to tell.

It was almost dusk. The street was almost deserted. That was why Michael had picked Cascade for his meet with Jim. If there were people following him, and he was fairly certain there were, or would be, he needed to blend into the background.

But here was Jim. Kissing another man. In public.

He wasn't sure who was more stunned. Blair...or Jim.

Blair didn't even close his eyes, those heartstopping blue eyes that tormented Jim every waking moment. He was so startled, he let Jim kiss him, his full, supple mouth opening under the sensual onslaught.

When Jim broke away, he looked almost frightened by the intensity of the feelings he unleashed. But that emotion was rapidly chased away by the almost desperate need to keep Blair safe.

His thumb rubbing absently at the corner of Blair's mouth, Jim stared at the man who meant more to him than his own life. "You have to go."

"Now?" Blair squeaked. "Oh, no, Jim, you can't do this to me! You can't-"

Jim's mouth swallowed whatever words Blair had been about to say, and this kiss was even more heartfelt than the first. Because it was tinged with the thought of losing that beautiful spirit in his life.

"Please."

Blair couldn't let Jim beg for his cooperation. It wasn't in his nature. But he couldn't abandon him either. He loved him too much to simply let him go.

"Okay."

Blair stared after Jim as he walked back across the street to where Michael waited. No explanation. For the meet. Or for the kiss.

But that was all right. Blair had the patience of a man who had suffered long and hard for something. And damned if he wasn't going to get it.

Part 3

Michael could be difficult to read at the best of times. What surprised Jim was the cryptic half-smile. "What? I got him off our backs."

If it were in Michael's nature to roll his eyes, he would have. "*That* was not what I call taking care of things."

Jim looked at the tall, lean field operative helplessly. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Kissing him senseless in the middle of the street was...ill-advised."

Jim had a feeling that Michael was often disappointed and even more rarely satisfied. An impish grin traced its way across the Sentinel's mouth. "It shut him up."

"Is that why you did it?"

Jim's smile faded. "No," he whispered. "I'm doing this for him. Everything I do is to protect him."

"You might not survive this mission," Michael declared flatly. "Where will that leave him?"

"As long as he's alive, nothing else matters."

***

Blair watched the two men walk away, the disparity in their physical appearance so striking that he couldn't understand how anyone could possibly think they belonged together.

He didn't.

His hands curling into fists at his sides, Blair could only heave great breaths in response to the tension that filled his body. He had been too far away to hear what they were saying, but the casual way Michael draped his arm around Jim's shoulders made him jealous. Yes, he admitted it, he was fucking jealous.

How could he kiss him like that and leave him?

How could he give him hope, only to crush his feelings?

***

"You haven't told me what the mission is yet," Jim reminded Michael.

Michael finally gave in to the aberrant urge to smile. "I wondered when you would ask."

"You're not going to tell me."

"Discretion is part of it. You've failed before you begin."

"That's not fair."

Michael's eyes darkened to a dull pewter gray. "Life isn't fair. Get over it."

***

What is this about, Jim?

Blair didn't feel like he was abusing Jim's trust by continuing to follow him. The moment Jim walked away from him, after delivering those heart-stopping kisses, he forfeited the right to expect Blair to honor his plea to stay away.

He would find him.

He *would* find him.

It turned into a chant, vibrating throughout his heart, his soul, his very being.

He could not stop.

He hadn't found him yet.

***

"You're being even more cryptic than usual, Michael. When are you going to tell me about the rest of this mission?"

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe..." Michael paused as he circled the reluctantly-drafted field op. "...the mission's already started?"

"What the fuck does that mean? Michael! Michael, come back here!" The operative took two steps and pivoted sharply on his heel, waiting expectantly.

Jim cursed. Loudly. "Does this have anything to do with Blair?"

Michael pondered before explaining in a painstaking manner, "For *you*, everything has to do with Blair." At Jim's stupefied look, he continued, "Doesn't it?"

The question was rhetorical.

Jim couldn't answer. It was as if a two-ton elephant had taken up residence in his chest. Why did it take something potentially life-threatening for him to realize just what Blair meant to him? He freely admitted that protecting Blair was a necessity of life. *His* life. But what about the rest? What about the...feelings? Feelings he kept hidden from Blair. Feelings he kept hidden from himself.

"Michael?" Jim was standing on a precipice, waiting for a signal. But not from Michael.

"Blair..." He exhaled his partner's name on a long breath he hadn't even realized that he was holding.

Michael nodded imperceptibly in Jim's direction, knowing that the Sentinel would be able to see the gesture. Removing his cell phone from inside his black jacket, he snapped it open and pressed #1. When a voice answered on the other end, he said only one word.

"Josephine."

Jim's hearing automatically picked up the background noise on the phone call, his mind filing away the intel for closer examination later.

Michael snapped the phone case shut and stared intently into Jim's eyes. "Were you able to trace where the call was routed to?"

"I-I think so," Jim replied, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. He had never realized just how much he depended on Blair. His input, his backup, his guidance.

"Good. Let's go."

"Who are we looking for?"

Michael's changeable gray-green eyes looked bleak. "Nikita."

Jim hid his shock at the unusual pallor of Michael's face. "Michael..." He reached out to touch Michael's arm, and Michael all but flinched, a visible shudder passing through him. "Why did you bring me in?"

Silence.

"Does Section know that she's been abducted?"

The silence grew and lengthened, like their shadows in what was left of the afternoon light.

"Why isn't *Section* helping you with this?"

"Section took her."

"Why?"

Michael looked away from those all-seeing eyes. "They took her away from me."

"But why?"

Michael's head swung back around, his own eyes troubled yet deeply menacing. "Together we're too powerful."

It was as if a switch clicked on inside Jim's head, illuminating the darkness there. "You love her."

"Yes," came the terse, sibilant response.

Michael closed his eyes for a moment, letting the waves of pain wash over him, through him, around him. "Without her-" He took a shaky breath. "I *can't* live without her."

His eyes opened, the color and the clarity of his eyes such a brilliant green, it startled Jim. "You're the only one who can help me find her. You...understand."

Damned if that didn't hit Jim right in the center of his chest. It was like finding out that he was in love with Blair all over again.

In love with Blair?

I'm in love with Blair?

With a soft noise, he offered his hand to the field operative. This time Michael held onto Jim's hand, squeezing it hard.

They were so different...and yet they were so much alike.

***

Blair managed to hoist himself up the fire escape ladder, peering inside the small, cracked window that overlooked the room where Michael and Jim stood, locked in embrace.

So this is your secret meeting, Jim? Blair was careful to keep his thoughts to himself, knowing that the Sentinel was more than capable of hearing him if he spoke out loud.

I won't let him do this to us.

Part 4

Initially distracted by what Michael had told him, Jim was not so distracted that he couldn't recognize his Guide's heartbeat. Blair was here. Somewhere. He could tell. But before he could warn either Blair or Michael of the other's presence...

...a shot was fired.

"No!" Jim felt the stutter in Blair's heartbeat as it leaped into high gear, then just as suddenly slowed down.

He made it through the door to see Michael standing over Blair, his gun still drawn. Jim's anguished cry echoed throughout the dilapidated building, sending coarse vibrations into the crumbling walls. As a fine patina of bright white powder settled on the shoulders of the two men, Michael could only watch as Jim in turn drew his gun. On Michael.

Risking a brief glance at the unmoving younger man, Jim growled, "If he's dead, you'll never make it out of here, Michael."

Before Michael could protest, Blair stirred, wincing as he moved incautiously. "Where are you hurt, Chief?" Jim queried.

"My ribs, man."

"Y-your ribs? I don't see any blood, Chief."

Finally Michael saw a chance to interject. "There isn't. I didn't shoot him."

Once again Jim was taken by surprise. If he didn't know better, he would swear that the sleekly attired operative with the elegantly impassive façade was exasperated with him.

"You didn't?" Jim lowered his gun, smiling sheepishly.

"No, I didn't," Michael repeated.

Rapidly fitting his gun into its space at the back of his waist, Jim took a closer look at his partner, who even now was rubbing his ribs. "Does it hurt, Chief?"

Blair would have shrugged, but the entire middle of his body felt like it was on fire. "Yeah, Jim. What the hell just happened?" Up close, Michael looked far more formidable. Blair had to wonder if he was going to regret his decision to confront the two men.

Jim swung around to face Michael, a pensive look on his handsome face. "Yeah, what did happen?"

"I saw him coming, right before I took my shot. I fired into that wall over there. You can look if you like. *You* should be able to see the entry point."

His Sentinel vision confirmed that Michael was telling the truth. But even if it hadn't, he would have known that Michael wasn't lying. His heartbeat was strong and steady, never varying, as if the mere suggestion of arrhythmia was somehow impolite.

Puzzled, Jim leaned over and reached for Blair's hand, pulling him to his feet again. "If you weren't shot, why do your ribs hurt?"

Blair cast a dark look at the equally saturnine operative. "Ask him."

"I pushed him out of the way."

Jim's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his receding hairline. "You pushed him hard enough to knock him off his feet?"

Michael's expression never changed. "It would seem that way."

"Remind me to return the favor when we find-"

"Don't!" came the harsh cry. "*He* doesn't need to know any of this."

"*He* means as much to me as Nikita does to you, and you know it."

Michael cocked his head interestedly. "Perhaps you should tell him that before you get him killed."

Blair suddenly jumped between the two men, arms waving energetically like a bantam rooster on a rampage. "Both of you can stop talking about me like I'm not even here, okay?"

But he quickly zeroed in on the man he wanted, index finger wagging warningly in Jim's face. "I have nothing to say to *him*, but *you* are another story altogether! What the fuck is wrong with you, man? You can't treat me like that and get away with it!"

Jim had seen Blair angry before, of course, but this was a whole other level of anger. He wanted to say something, but he doubted Blair would let him.

Michael laid his leather-gloved hand on Jim's shoulder, and Blair wanted to scream bloody murder. Instead he centered himself, gathering his thoughts and feelings, which even now were ricocheting around inside him like moths sacrificing themselves to the flame.

In a voice that was utterly calm, Blair declared, "I need to talk to you, Jim. *Now*."

Jim glanced at Michael. A slow downsweep of sooty eyelashes bespoke Michael's acquiescence. "Five minutes. Inside. I'm on point."

***

Jim didn't know that Blair was capable of just about anything right now. He could barely see straight. Partly from anger. Partly from fear. Anger because Jim dared to look at someone else, in particular a very male someone else, when Blair had been waiting, both patiently and impatiently, for him to see *him* that way. Fear because he thought he was *this* close to losing Jim. If not to Michael...to death.

Once inside the ramshackle room, Blair lost no time in asserting his advantage. Without any warning, he shoved Jim up against a very old, very discolored refrigerator. Jim couldn't believe it. That the smaller man even thought he could manhandle Jim amazed him.

"You think *you* can control *me*?" Jim asked, laughter not far behind the question.

"Shut up!" Blair shouted, fisting the collar of Jim's jacket, tightly enough that Jim felt slightly uncomfortable.

"You have nothing to say about-"

"About what, Chief?" Jim asked quietly.

"You have no right-" Blair began again, emotion suddenly choking him.

"Is this about the kiss?"

"Yes! No! It's about...*him*. *Us*. How could you be with *him* when you never even gave *us* a goddamn chance, Jim?"

Jim was dumbstruck. "You're jealous!"

Blair looked as if he could shake apart, he was trembling so hard. "You belong to *me*, you stupid fuck."

Oh, God, yes.

Part 5

He had always been the strong one, the Blessed Protector. But suddenly here he was, at the mercy of his younger partner, being forced to relinquish control for once, being held by those arms as if he were the only thing that mattered.

If Blair weren't so overpoweringly jealous, he might never have said what he did.

But he was.

And he did.

"This is mine!" Blair pressed his palm flat against Jim's chest. Jim's heart was pounding so hard that the vibrations tickled Blair's fingertips, causing him to freeze for a moment, causing him to ponder whether it was fear or anger or-

He raised his head slightly, to gaze intently into Jim's eyes, to gauge his reaction to his literal claim of possession, and promptly lost his breath.

Surrender. That's what he saw. Complete and utter surrender.

"Jim?"

All the tension left Jim's body in one fluid movement, leaving him helplessly hoping that Blair didn't lose his grip. "Is this what you want, Chief?" he rasped.

Blair shook his head silently, his long brown curls bouncing back and forth on the back of his neck and shoulders. "*This* is what I want." Framing Jim's face with both hands, Blair kissed him with all the love he had been saving for over three years.

Too stunned to respond, Jim let go of everything. Anger inexplicably intertwined with despair, fear, anxiety. No one had ever successfully scaled the defenses Jim constructed around his heart. Not even Carolyn.

But here was Blair, settling comfortably inside Jim's carefully-guarded perimeters. Long, slender fingers caressed his cheeks even as that sweet mouth sought his, again and again.

It was the tenderness that was Jim's undoing.

Anything else he could have fought. But not that. No one had ever touched him as if he were the most valuable thing in the universe. No one but Blair.

"Love you, Jim," Blair murmured against his lips.

Jim buried his face in that hair, the silken curls parting for his mouth to find an ear. "I love you, too, Chief."

Blair pulled back sharply, a puzzled look creasing his brows. "Then how could you-"

A peremptory knock sounded at the door, followed by Michael's entrance. "We need to go," he said urgently.

"Say goodbye," he commanded Jim.

"But-" Blair protested.

"Sorry, Chief," Jim said apologetically. "It's safer this way."

"For who? Not for you. You're putting yourself in harm's way, Jim. You need me out there. By your side."

Jim turned to face Michael, one hand absently stroking the back of Blair's neck. "He's right. I need him with me."

"He'll slow us down. He doesn't have the same training that you and I-"

"He goes or I stay. Your choice." Jim's voice was adamant.

Michael raised a well-shaped eyebrow in response. No one had ever seen Michael lose his temper. He had no need to raise his voice. His facial expression rarely grew animated. So how did a man like that indicate that he had reached the end of his proverbial rope?

"Is he always this stubborn?" Michael asked of no one in particular.

Blair unconsciously leaned on his partner, sending his own visual cues to Michael about his relationship with Jim. "Worse. But don't worry, man. I'm the *only* one who can control him. Isn't that right, Jim?" Blair looked up, asking his Sentinel for confirmation.

"The *only* one, Chief," Jim echoed dreamily.

Michael cast a suspicious glance at Blair, his changeable eyes scanning, categorizing, and filing in an obvious attempt to understand the attraction between the strong, silent Sentinel and his compact, effusive Guide. "I'll have to take your word on that," Michael commented dryly.

"Just follow me and stay out of the way," he told Blair.

Blair whirled around, a mass of arms and legs flailing. "What is it with you hero types?"

Jim smiled at the man who was destined to become his mate. "It's your world, Chief. We just live in it."

The change in Blair was remarkable. His body melting languidly against Jim's, he purred, "You know, if you'd said anything that remotely sounded like "Be a good little sidekick, Chief, and shut up," I'd have been forced to kill you."

Every inch of Jim's skin below the waist was alive with sensation as Blair lightly brushed his fingertips across Jim's burgeoning arousal. At Jim's gasp and subsequent involuntary arching of his lower body, Michael looked almost amused.

"Perhaps you *would* have made a good Valentine operative," he mused aloud.

Now it was Blair's turn to shake his head vehemently. "No...there can be only one."

Drawing Jim's head down to his level for one last kiss, Blair added breathlessly, "And I'm looking right at him."

Part 6

Nikita was being hidden behind the best of Section's firewalls. The only way that Michael would ever find her was if Section wanted him to. For a brief moment, Michael suffered a pang of regret at Birkoff's passing. If the young Comm op were still alive, he would gladly risk anything to save Nikita. He...*loved*...her. In fact, in the end, it became more than apparent that Birkoff loved *all* of them. Including Michael.

That gave him pause. What was there, even deep inside him, left for anyone to love? His steps slowed, his gun hand dropped slightly. Losing oneself to preoccupation during a mission could get someone killed. Maybe...maybe it was time to let Nikita go. Maybe...she would have a better life without him.

Suddenly uncharacteristically hesitant, Michael stopped. Jim glanced at him quickly, sensing somehow that Michael would not tolerate being touched. Trading a sympathetic look with his Guide, Jim inclined his head towards Michael. Blair raised an expressive eyebrow, as if to say, "Who, me?"

Blair cleared his throat, and Michael looked up. Without his carefully-constructed mask, Michael looked years younger. Softer. More vulnerable. Lost. "I'm sorry. I had no right," he uttered in his terse, sibilant whisper.

"Hey, man. It's not like you kidnapped us, y'know."

Michael's now-grey eyes shifted away almost anxiously. "If I had to...I think I would have."

Blair nodded cheerfully. "Of course you would. You're just doing what you've gotta do, man."

Michael shook his head as if to clear it, a frown marring his handsome features. "You believe that?"

For a long moment, Blair held Michael's intent gaze, something intangible passing between them. "I understand desperation, man."

When Blair did look away finally, it was to re-connect with Jim. His voice husky with emotion, Blair never took his eyes off Jim's face as he continued to speak, the line between friends and lovers blurring until it was barely visible at all. "I understand what it feels like to know that you can't live one more day without him being the first thing you see when you wake up, or the last thing you see when you go to sleep, and the only thing that matters during all the hours in between."

That was more than a declaration of love. It was the fucking Pledge of Allegiance to the city, state, and country that was Jim Ellison.

Jim's lips parted imperceptibly, but he couldn't find a single thing to say that could come close to the eloquence of Blair Sandburg. But damned if he didn't feel as though they had passed over some important threshold. Merely staying alive had lost its appeal. He was going to save himself for something better. The tiniest of smiles quirking his sensual mouth, Jim said, "Come home with me, Chief." Marry me. Live with me for the rest of my sorry days and make me regret nothing.

Blair reached up and kissed the corner of his lover's mouth almost chastely. "Can I stay with you?"

"Forever," Jim answered, his thumb stroking the side of the younger man's face.

Some people were meant to be together. No matter what. He should have felt like the intruder he was. Instead he learned the lesson Blair meant to teach him. Michael took a deep breath, gradually seizing control of his mind and spirit. How could he have contemplated giving up so easily?

Nikita was out there. Somewhere. She needed him.

They would be together again. He would find a way.

"I won't let them do this."

Part 7

In the end, it turned out to be surprisingly easy to find Nikita. Michael's renewed determination coupled with Jim's hyperactive senses made short work of locating her behind Section's carefully-erected firewalls. Added to this was the fact that Birkoff, even in death, continued to protect the people he had come to know as family.

In an effort to safeguard himself and the others he cared about, Birkoff made Section vulnerable by creating a backdoor only he could access. With Birkoff dead, the task of finding the chink in Section's armor became more difficult, but not impossible.

It was raining steadily. Paris in the rain could have been beautiful in the eyes of the right beholder. But Michael's group trudged wearily through the streets of a rather bad neighborhood, searching for the substation that would gain them entry into Section.

Blair pulled his sodden curls away from his face, knowing that it was futile to wish that they could find someplace dry to hole up temporarily. Time was once again of the essence. He could feel Michael's urgency. What's more, he understood it. In a way he never thought he could.

Suddenly a voice hissed, "Viens ici!"

Jim and Blair turned as one in the direction of the sound, audible even to Blair's non-Sentinel ears. "What the--?"

"Get down!" Michael shouted.

Jim and Blair hit the wet pavement with a thud, echoed moments later by a much louder noise. Explosion. Jim pressed both hands to his ears, squeezing his eyes shut with the effort of keeping the sound to a tolerable level.

"Dial it down, Jim. Just listen to my voice." Despite the clamor that surrounded them, Jim found his focus in Blair's fierce whisper. There. The pain was easing up. He blinked a few times, then opened his eyes.

"Blair?"

"I'm here, Jim," Blair answered, rubbing one of Jim's wrists with his fingers.

"It's *not* just the Guide voice," Jim said incredulously.

"Huh? You lost me, Jim."

"I thought that I always came back because you used that voice, because you were the Guide. But that's *not* all there is to it."

"It's not?"

"No...it's like you're the only one who cares."

Blair shook his head, the effect rather comical, like a wet dog shaking himself dry. "Other people care about you, Jim. Simon, Joel, Conner..."

"Not like you do, Chief. You care more about me than about *yourself*."

Blair dipped his head to hide the furious color that suddenly stained his cheeks. "Yeah, well, I'm in love with you."

"If we get ever get out of here, I'm going to make you prove it to me."

"When."

"When what?"

"*When* we get out of here, Jim. We *will* be together."

Jim found his new lover's mouth, sealing the promise with a kiss. "From your mouth to God's ear, Chief."

***

Recovery was quick and uneventful. Michael assumed that the voice was part of a trap to bring them closer to the source of the explosion. If they had moved, even a fraction of an inch in its direction, they all might have been killed. Instead, Michael's field experience stood him in good stead.

The rain continued. It was growing dark. Their visibility cut down to almost nothing, Michael was glad that the Sentinel was part of his team. With Jim's senses, the rain and impending darkness were not deterrents to their search.

Suddenly Jim stopped dead in his tracks, nostrils flaring. "Jim, what is it? Are you getting something?"

Jim held out a protective arm across Blair's chest. "Ssh...there's someone here."

"But no one knows we're coming."

"Someone does. That bomb wasn't a random act of violence." Michael's instincts were thrumming wildly. There *was* someone here.

"But even we don't know exactly what we're looking for-" Jim protested.

"I do."

That voice. Out of the gaping hole that was night.

Michael gasped. "You!"

Part 8

The figure strode out of the darkness like an avenging angel. No, make that like Michael's bright angel.

"Nikita!"

The figure threw back the hood of its jacket to reveal Nikita's pale blonde hair.

"Michael!"

"I thought I might never see you again," he said in a choked voice. The words came hard to him, but they needed to be said. Admitting that he was vulnerable to anything was more than difficult for Michael. It was virtually impossible. But for Nikita...he would risk anything.

"They issued cancellation orders on you, Michael. You can't go back in. Operations wants you dead."

"The feeling's mutual," he snapped bitterly. "How did you get out?"

"I had to warn you. I-I can't stay long, Michael. They'll miss me."

She hung her head in despair, knowing she was voluntarily giving up the man she loved. And for what? For a life lived in constant fear. A living death.

"'Kita, come with me," he entreated. His black leather gloved palm outstretched, he beckoned to her. "Please."

"Michael, please don't make this harder," she responded. He winced at the sound of tears he could not see.

There had to be something that would make the difference. Blair poked Michael in the ribs. "Tell her," he hissed.

For a moment, Michael looked pained, then his face cleared. Suddenly he looked years younger. As if he had given his lifelong burden to someone better able to bear it. "I love you."

She sighed. "I love you, too, Michael. But-"

Michael looked at Blair anxiously. The younger man nodded silently, and Michael turned back to face his soulmate. "You don't understand, 'Kita. I can't live without you."

It was obvious that the words took Nikita by surprise. "Michael-"

Michael drew his gun, clicked off the safety and pointed it at his temple. Nikita gasped in horror. "No!"

"Life without you is worse than no life at all."

"Please, Michael! Don't!" Nikita alone knew what Michael was capable of. Hadn't she been there for him when he lost Simone? Elena? Adam? Her heart wept bitter tears at the thought of Michael preferring death to life without her. How could his protective instincts have gone so astray?

There was only one thing to say. The truth.

"I don't want to go back, Michael. But if I don't, they'll hunt you down and kill you. I couldn't bear to live if I didn't know you were out there, somewhere, finally enjoying the freedom you deserve."

Michael abruptly lowered the gun. "We are halves of one whole, 'Kita. We cannot survive apart. Either of us."

All at once, Jim's Sentinel senses warned him that someone was coming. Probably the same someone who planted the bomb that nearly blew all of them to Kingdom Come. "They're coming. In force. If we don't go now, we're all dead."

Nikita had never seen such an expression on Michael's face. "'Kita, if you won't come, there's no point in my going."

"They'll find us. They'll kill us anyway, Michael."

"Since when did you give up playing the odds, 'Kita?"

Suddenly Nikita smiled. There were worse things to gamble on than your life. As long as they drew breath, they would love one another. That would be enough. It had to be.

She put her hand in Michael's.

As one, they began to run.

***

Cascade, Washington
One Month Later

Blair took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes absently. Jim would be home soon. They were meeting friends for dinner. They were a couple now. For now, Simon was the only one who knew about the change in their relationship. But eventually, all of the significant people in their lives would know.

They were invited to the wedding.

Blair heard a key in the lock, and shortly after, Jim Ellison, Detective Extraordinaire, stood there, lounging as though he had all the time in the world.

"Jim!"

"Blair!"

Blair wrapped his arms around Jim's neck and kissed him. "I missed you."

"I can tell," Jim said, a smile in his pale blue eyes.

"We got more RSVP's back." God, it was good to hear that enthusiasm back in Blair's husky voice.

"We did, huh? You having second thoughts about marrying a cop, Chief?"

Blair shook his head slowly. "We've got time before we have to meet Michael and Nikita," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Jim pretended to be appalled, but in his heart of hearts, he was thrilled. He was so desperate for a taste of his lover, he would do almost anything.

"Do me on the floor, Jim."

"Too hard."

"Do me on the couch, then."

"Too soft."

"Bed?"

"Just right, Chief."

As they walked upstairs, Blair patted Jim's butt, chuckling the entire length of the stairway. "I like the way you rewrote "The Three Bears", Jim."

Jim gave him that amiable grin that drove Blair completely crazy without even touching him. "You're just a slut for the classics, Chief."

"Oh, yeah?" Blair gave Jim his infamous "I'm a wiseass and I know it, but you love me anyway" look. "Here's another classic for you, Jim."

Leaping onto their bed, Blair pulled Jim down to him. Draping himself across his lover's chest, he stared intently into Jim's eyes, not wanting to miss a single flicker or change of expression. "I love you, Jim," he vowed, his face suddenly sober.

Jim kissed him, his hands automatically tangling themselves in Blair's dark curls. "Not half as much as I love you, Blair."

"Promise me forever, Jim."

"I can't promise you that, Chief. But I can promise you all the rest of the days I have left."

"Fair enough."

***

After they were well-sated, after they took their time in the shower, ostensibly to get clean, and after they collected their housewarming gifts...they finally made it to the restaurant.

"So...you think Michael got a good table?"

Jim did a reasonably good imitation of the blank stare.

"Jeesh. A guy could ask, Jim. Don't do that again, okay?"

They giggled like children all the way to the back of the restaurant, where Michael and Nikita waited.

At Michael's inquiring look, Jim said, "Don't ask."

Once they were seated at the table, Blair eagerly handed their gifts to Nikita. "Oh, Blair, you shouldn't have."

"I wanted to. You know me. Hopeless romantic."

Nikita laughed throatily. "Yeah, well...you must know my husband. He's a twisted romantic."

Michael leaned over and kissed Nikita. Right there in front of Jim and Blair. Right there in the back of the restaurant. Right there in Cascade, Washington.

Where they all lived now.

It was as close to happily ever after as any of them would ever get.



End