MIGA-V: SPIRIT WALK
by Nancy Taylor
July 2000

"Way to go, Love! You've got this dial thing down pretty good now." Jim beamed his approval.

"This is just so cool, man!" Blair said, smiling back. "I haven't had a full-fledged migraine in the past two weeks!" He rubbed his temples lightly, marveling at how quickly the incipient throbbing had eased to a tolerable level.

"Or the epilepsy that goes with them," Jim added. "I think you've finally got this thing licked. Incacha was right. You *can* control the seizures."

"All right! Maybe now I can go off the Klonopin and ditch this!" He pulled the medic alert dog tag from beneath his shirt.

"Not so fast!" Jim's hand closed over Blair's, keeping him from pulling the chain over his head. "It's too early for that, Chief. Until we know what's really going on inside that crazy head of yours, you're going to continue to follow your doctor's orders."

"But, Jim...."

"No 'But, Jim's'. You're playing with my sanity here."

Blair dropped his hand. "Well, we wouldn't want to mess with your sanity, man. It's screwed up enough already." Laughing, he dodged the awkward lunge of his lover.

"You're gonna pay for that, Sandburg!" Jim snarled playfully.

"You'll have to catch me first," Blair teased, enjoying the game. He scrambled to his feet, darting up the stairs to their bedroom. He could hear Jim's footsteps close behind him. He turned just in time to see his sentinel make a flying leap, tackling him and knocking him onto the mattress. He struggled, but the bigger man had him pinned to the bed.

"Question *my* sanity, will you, you little imp?" His hands roamed Blair's body, seeking out his most ticklish places.

"Cut it out, man! I surrender! I surrender!" Blair squirmed and twisted, but couldn't escape the practiced hands. "I'll let you go on one condition," the sentinel proposed.

"And that is...?"

"You apologize for that remark about my sanity."

Strong hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him down. Warm lips pressed against his, and a silky tongue demanded entry.

Blair drank in the taste of his lover, reveling in sensory experiences that could only be shared between a sentinel and his guide. He marvelled at the sensations, wondering how much more so
they must be for his lover. When he finally released Jim, both men were breathless.

"You're forgiven." Jim smiled down on the man he'd come to love so deeply. Blair's hand rested against his cheek, cradling it. He leaned into the caress, unwilling to break contact with that life-giving warmth.

Studying his guide's face more closely, Jim's smile turned to a frown. "You look beat."

"I *am* a little tired," Blair admitted. He'd been fighting migraines off and on all day, and the battle had taken its toll on his resources.

Jim began methodically undressing his life-partner, then tucked him into bed. Stripping to his underwear, he climbed in next to Blair, gathering him into his arms.

Resting his head on Jim's chest, cuddled up beneath his chin, Blair let his eyes drift shut.

Jim listened as his guide's heartbeat slowed to the steady rhythm of sleep. He found himself drifting off as well, lulled by the gentle sound.

==|+|==|+|==|+|==

The gray wolf trotted through the jungle, searching. The scent was faint, and he was losing the trail. Keen eyesight pierced through the undergrowth, but his quarry was nowhere to be seen. He stopped to get his bearings. Turning slowly, he tried to pick up the elusive scent once more, but it was masked by a pervasive stench of death and decay. Panting as exhaustion threatened to overtake him, the wolf took off once more, desperation dogging his every step.

==|+|==|+|==|+|==

Blair woke up in a cold sweat. His eyes focused slowly, and he looked around, seeing nothing but the familiar walls of the room he shared with Jim, and the empty place beside him on the mattress. Taking several deep breaths, he attempted to calm himself. Damn! Was that a dream? Since he'd learned to control his migraine attacks, he hadn't had any more visions. But this dream, if that's what it was, was too real.

As he lay processing his thoughts, Jim appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Are you all right?" Concern was written in every line of his face.

"Yeah, Jim. Everything's okay."

"Why don't I believe you?" he asked, suspicion clouding his face. He walked over to the bed and sat down. Reaching out to brush the hair from Blair's face, he tucked it behind an ear. Bending down, he placed a light kiss against trembling lips. "Wanna talk about it?"

Blair took a deep breath then let it out in a rush. "No. I don't think so. Not now. Thanks anyway," he said with a shake of his head.

"How about coming downstairs and having some breakfast?"

"Sounds good. I'll be right down." Blair watched as Jim descended to the kitchen. He pulled on his jeans, layered on a couple shirts and went downstairs to join him.

Jim shoveled the scrambled eggs onto two plates and carried them to the table. Blair grabbed the pile of toast, setting it down between them.

"Are you going to be able to join me at the precinct today, Chief?" Jim asked between mouthfuls of his breakfast.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to today, Jim. Sorry." Blair sipped at his morning coffee. "I've got a class this morning, followed by a meeting with my advisor. This afternoon is filled with conferencing and a ton of papers that need grading." He looked up to notice Jim eyeing him with disappointment. "I might be able to get away for an hour around noon, if you'd like to get some lunch," he added.

"That sounds great. I've got a feeling this is going to be a hectic day, and I may need to touch base ... you know."

Blair knew exactly what he meant. Under most circumstances, Jim was now able to control his senses without Blair's help, but during particularly stressful days, he needed to ground himself with his guide's presence. "I'll make it a point to be there, then."

They finished their breakfast and cleared the table. Jim grabbed his jacket as Blair turned to the chore of doing the dishes. "See you at noon, then."

"You bet, Jim. I'll be there." Blair waved a soapy hand at his departing friend.

**************************

Simon looked up as Blair walked through the bullpen, obviously searching for Jim. "Sandburg! Get in here. Now!"

Blair hustled into the Captain's office. "What's up? Where's Jim? I was supposed to meet him for lunch."

"That's the problem. He went out on a case this morning and hasn't checked in. No one seems to know where he's gone."

"Well, that's not too unusual for Jim, you know," Blair pointed out. "He always has liked working alone." Still, he would've called me to say he'd be late, Blair worried. He wouldn't just take off. "Who was he after?"

"Ever hear of Don Calisimo?"

"The West Side crime lord? Shit! He didn't go out after him *alone*, did he? Without backup?" Running a hand through his thick hair, Blair paced the office. "He could be hurt ... dying
somewhere!"

"Calm down, Sandburg. You know how unlikely that is. Jim's a good detective. He's careful, cunning and has the best training for this sort of thing of anyone on the force."

"I'm worried, Captain."

"I know you are, kid. We're doing everything we can to locate him."

"I'm going out."

"Like hell you are! Sandburg, you're still just an observer. I don't care how much experience you've got or how much you've helped this department. *Officially* you're still just an
observer. I can't take the risk of letting you go out and getting yourself killed."

"Well, I can't just sit here and do nothing!" Blair raged.

"Look. I want you to go home, you'll just be in the way around here. Besides, maybe Jim will show up at the loft or call."

"Yeah, right."

"Blair, you've got to do this. Think how Jim would feel if you got yourself hurt or killed, and all the while he was perfectly safe?"

"I don't like this. Jim needs me. I should've been there for him."

"Go home, Blair. I'll call you if anything comes up."

"'Go home, Blair,'" he peevishly mocked the Captain under his breath. "'Be safe like all the other little children while the big, bad cops go out and find your very best friend in the whole world.'"

"*SANDBURG*!!" The Captain's voice held both irritation and sympathy. He knew how close these two were, knew the bonds of friendship and love that tied them together, but he couldn't allow the kid to rush blindly into a situation he knew nothing about, possibly getting himself killed.

"I'm going," Blair answered with a defeated sigh. "Call me?"

"You know I will," Banks answered sincerely. "Try not to worry, okay? It's only been a few hours. It's probably nothing at all." He watched as the door closed behind Sandburg, and the
young man made his way out of Major Crimes.

*

The hours passed slowly. The afternoon sun was lowering in the sky as Blair felt the beginnings of a headache forming behind his eyes, beating time in his temples to the pulse of blood through his arteries. Jim? Where are you, man? Why haven't you called?

The phone rang, causing Blair to jump. He scrambled to reach it before the second ring. "Hello? Jim?" he asked anxiously.

"Blair, it's Captain Banks. We need you back down here at the station."

"What is it? Did you find Jim? Is he all right?"

"Slow down, Sandburg! Just get down here as quickly as you can. We're in need of your expert assistance."

"My expert...?" Blair stuttered, but was interrupted.

"Will you just get *down* *here*, Sandburg? Now!" Banks left no room for argument.

"Sure, Simon. On my way." Blair hung up the phone, grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

*

Captain Simon Banks was waiting when the whirlwind of activity he knew as Blair Sandburg blew into Major Crimes. "My office, Sandburg. Now!"

Worry lining his face, Blair followed the Captain into his office. Too nervous to sit, he paced the floor. "What's the news about Jim?"

"We still haven't heard anything. No one has been able to track his whereabouts." It was obvious that the Captain was concerned. He chewed mercilessly on the end of a ragged cigar as he filled Blair in on the little they knew. "I'm down to my last card in this game, Sandburg."

"And that would be...?" the nervous police observer asked.

"You," the Captain said pointedly.

"Me?" Blair was incredulous. "You sent me home earlier. Said there wasn't anything I could do. What use am I now?"

"You have a unique bond with Jim. That's what I'm counting on. Now, I can't claim to understand any of this mystical mumbo-jumbo you two try to explain to me, but right now I'm willing to try just about anything.

"Blair, I've got to ask you.... Jim says you can control your visions now. Can you go into a trance, or whatever it is you do, and get us some information that will help us find him?"

"Uh ... Captain...?" Blair looked a bit perplexed. "Jim and I have worked on *controlling* my migraines and seizures. We've been pretty successful. I haven't had an attack in over two weeks. But all that does is *prevent* the visions. I've never tried to actually bring one on. I don't know if I can do it."

"Blair, I don't know what else to try right now. If there's any hope of finding Jim...."

"I'll try. I'll try. Dammit, Captain! Why this? Why now?"

Blair was on the verge of breaking down. Banks could see it in the trembling lips, the moisture-filled eyes. Walking over to stand next to the young man, he placed an arm around his shoulders. "You can do this, Blair. I know you can. Just tell me what I have to do to help."

Blair looked at the Captain. "I'm gonna need some room on the floor," he began. Grabbing a chair, he pulled it out of his way. Banks followed suit, clearing a large area of his office floor.

Blair sank down, assuming his meditative half-lotus position in front of Simon's desk. "If this works, I'm going to be having a seizure. All you need to do is keep me from knocking my head
when I fall. Roll me onto my side, and just let the convulsions run their course. It's frightening, according to Jim, but relatively harmless."

"Okay. That sounds easy enough. Anything else?" Simon tried to hide his nervousness as he quizzed Jim's guide.

"Well, I'll be pretty much out of it when the seizure ends. Just talk me back to consciousness. I may not remember where I am or how I got here, so be prepared to explain what's going on."
Blair looked intently into the chocolate-brown eyes of his Captain. "It'll be okay, Simon. Don't worry."

"Will you remember the vision? Will you be able to tell us anything?"

"If I have a vision, I should be able to recall it. Whether or not it will be of any help...." The rest of the thought died on his lips. He couldn't stand the idea of this *not* helping.

Already the pounding in his temples that had been present most of the afternoon began to grow. Closing his eyes, Blair attempted to relax, to not interfere with the pain growing more relentless
with every passing minute.

Simon sat on the floor next to the young guide, concern written across his large features as he watched the tension build on Blair's face.

Unaware of his own actions, awash in agony, Blair pressed his palms against the sides of his head and began rocking. A low moan issued from his lips, a continuing mantra of pain. Then, as Simon looked on, the rocking stopped. The moaning stopped.

Everything stopped. The Captain held his breath, waiting. After an eternity consisting of no more than a handful of seconds Blair fell forward, convulsing.

==|+|==|+|==|+|==

//You are back, young Shaman. Why do you come?//

Blair whirled to face Incacha. "Jim's missing. You've got to help me find him!"

//You have learned control. You come by free will on a vision quest.//

"Yes! Yes! To find Jim! To find Enqueri! Can you help?"

//You do not need me, young Shaman. Follow your spirit guide. Follow your heart.//

Blair's gaze tracked in the direction the Chopec shaman pointed. He spied the wolf as it headed out into the jungle. Pausing briefly, it looked over its shoulder at the Guide as though to say, "Follow me." Blair stumbled after the fleeing animal, running to keep up.

The jungle parted to reveal a large clearing. The stench of death and decay surrounded him, making him ill. As he followed the wolf into the open area, reality shifted. He found himself
running through a maze of refuse and debris. The tainted air was occasionally blessed by a salt-scented breeze, and seagulls whirled overhead.

Keeping an eye on his canine guide, Blair picked up his pace. His heart was racing, but not with exertion ... with fear.

He rounded a particularly large mountain of garbage to be faced by a deep pit. Abandoned equipment was poised to fill the hole with the refuse.

Barely able to stop before he, himself, fell in, Blair teetered on the edge, looking down. What he saw made his eyes widen. At the bottom lay a large black cat, a panther, broken and bleeding, but still alive. It looked up at Blair with pleading golden eyes.

"JIIIIMMMM...!!!"

==|+|==|+|==|+|==

"JIIIIMMMM...!!!" The cry ripped from Blair's throat as the last of the convulsions shook his body.

Simon cradled his head and began talking softly. "Sandburg, wake up. C'mon, dammit, wake up and talk to me." He took a deep breath. That final, agonized scream had shaken him deeply. He had to know what the kid had seen, and he had to know now.

Blair's eyelids fluttered open and he stared, uncomprehendingly, at the large black man who held him. "What...? Where...?"

"Welcome back to the living, Sandburg," Simon greeted him.

"You're okay. You're in my office at the precinct."

"So tired...." Blair's eyes slid closed as he tried to obtain the oblivion of sleep.

"Sandburg! Wake up!" Frustrated, Simon shook the somnolent anthropologist. When that failed to rouse him, he slapped Blair lightly across the cheeks. "Goddammit, Sandburg! I need you! Wake up!"

Slowly, as though his eyelids were lead weights, Blair opened his eyes. "Simon?"

"Yeah, kid. Wake up. We've got work to do here, and you're an essential part of it."

Understanding dawned, and Blair sat up. "Did I ... did I have a seizure?"

"You sure as hell did! Now I know what Jim means when he says they scare a year off his life every time you have one! My God, Sandburg, I've never seen anything like it!" Simon tried to
control the fear growing in the pit of his stomach. Fear for what he'd just witnessed. Fear for Jim.

"I'm sorry. I should have warned you...."

"You *did* warn me! Will you just cut the crap and tell me what you saw?" the Captain demanded.

"A landfill. He's at the bottom of a pit in a landfill...."

Simon was up in an instant, leaving Blair sitting on the floor. "Taggart, Rafe, Brown! Get your butts in here, NOW!" The trio of detectives showed up almost instantly.

"Get maps of the city. Ellison's at a landfill. We've got to find out how many and where they're located."

"Simon?" The soft voice from behind him made the Captain turn around. "It was near the water. I could smell the sea breeze, and there were seagulls overhead."

"Sounds like the Harborside Landfill over on the West Side," Rafe commented. "Closest one to the water that I know about."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Simon asked, surging toward the exit.

"I'm coming with you!" Blair raced up behind the Captain, slowing his exit with a hand placed firmly on the larger man's shoulder.

"No way, Sandburg! If Calisimo is involved with this, it could be too dangerous. You stay put."

"No! The only chance you have of finding Jim in time is to take me with you. Now stop arguing and get moving!" He pushed past the startled Captain, heading for the elevators.

He was going to have to have a talk with Blair one of these days, Simon thought. He needs to learn some discipline and respect for those in charge. But for now, Ellison's life was on the line, and Captain Banks was not about to argue authority issues with the young shaman. He entered the elevator and pushed the button for the basement level garage.

*

Captain Banks' car careened through the landfill's gates, followed closely by another vehicle containing Taggart, Rafe and Brown.

"Call for an ambulance," the Captain ordered, getting out of his car, "and get some backup here just in case Calisimo's still around."

"Yes, sir!" Brown was on the radio immediately.

Taggart and Rafe took off in opposite directions, scouting the area for any signs of Calisimo or his henchmen.

Blair climbed out of the Captain's car and looked around.

"This smells worse than I remember!"

"Stop complaining and start guiding. That's what you do, right?" The gruffness of the Captain's voice did nothing to hide his fear from the younger man.

"This way ... I think," Blair said, motioning with his arm for the Captain to follow.

"You *think*?" The Captain sounded incredulous. "You're not sure?"

"As sure as I can be. It was a *vision*, Simon, not a roadmap!"

Banks shook his head. He would never begin to understand the mystical connection between guide and sentinel. He wasn't even sure he wanted to. Falling into step behind Jim's partner, he
prayed that Blair would be able to find his friend in time.

They wove their way through the maze of garbage, stopping periodically for Blair to look around and get his bearings.

"That's it!" Blair pointed to a mountain of refuse just ahead and to their right. "Just around that pile of garbage!" He took off at a run, Simon following close behind.

Rounding the pile, they were confronted by a huge pit.

Without hesitation, Blair slipped over the edge, sliding and tumbling in a barely controlled fall toward the bottom where Jim lay in a crumpled heap.

Henri Brown appeared from around the mound of garbage to see his captain bending over the deep pit, shouting something down into its recesses. "Cap? Jim down there?" He edged closer to the hole.

"Get the paramedics! Quick!" Banks ordered without turning to look at his detective. Brown hurried back the way he came, soon returning with the paramedics.

*

At the bottom of the landfill, Blair carefully ran his hands over Jim's body, trying to assess the damage. It was obvious, even to the untrained observer, that Jim had been shot ... several times. There was too much blood to ascertain exactly how many times or where. Too much blood....

"Jim?" he whispered, caressing his lover's face with his hands. "Jim, it's Blair. I'm here. I'm here. Everything's going to be all right. I'm here now." His voice caught in his throat, and he sobbed. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Usually, their roles were reversed, with Blair the injured party. He wondered now how Jim managed. He was just barely holding himself together.

He wanted to pull Jim into his arms and just hold on forever, but fear of doing injury prevented more than a heartfelt caress.

He looked up as the paramedics arrived. With great reluctance, he allowed himself to be pushed back, out of the way, while the medics triaged the injured detective and began to treat him. A backboard was lowered once the bleeding had been brought under control, and Jim was stabilized. The unconscious detective was pulled from the pit, while Blair scrambled up a rope behind him.

Blair followed the team to the ambulance. They loaded Jim in the back, and climbed in. Blair started to follow, but was pushed back. "Sorry. There's no room back here for ride-alongs. You'll have to follow in another vehicle."

"No. You don't understand!" Blair begged, trying once again to climb into the ambulance. "He needs me. I have to stay with him!"

At just that moment, Jim moaned and opened his eyes.

"Blair?" His voice was a ragged mockery of his usual firm, strong tones.

"Right here, Jim," Blair answered, climbing aboard with no more resistance from the medics. He settled down next to the stretcher and took Jim's hand. "Everything's going to be okay now, Jim. You just rest and let the medics take care of you."

The detective let his eyelids slide closed, feeling safe now in the presence of his guide and friend. One medic climbed out to take the driver's seat, while the other pulled the doors closed. With sirens wailing and lights flashing, the ambulance sped toward the hospital.

*

Simon Banks sat next to one anthropologist-cum-police observer--partner, friend and lover to one James J. Ellison, detective of the Cascade Police Department. He knew how difficult the waiting could be. How many times had he been in this exact situation with one or the other of this unusual partnership?

Hospital waiting rooms were beginning to feel like a home-away-from-home.

Blair Sandburg was weary ... weary to his very bones. How long had they sat in this abysmal waiting room? When would someone come to apprise them of Jim's condition? With his arms
crossed on his knees and his forehead resting on those arms, he fought off the beginnings of another migraine with all the strength he had left. He could feel Simon rubbing his back in sympathy, but had no energy to spare for the Captain.

Henri Brown walked up to the waiting pair, touching the Captain gently on the shoulder to get his attention. "I thought you'd like to know, Sir..." He waited until the Captain looked up. "Taggart and Rafe caught Calisimo. He and his men were holed up in a warehouse less than half a mile from the landfill. Looked like quite an operation they had there. We've got enough evidence to put them away for a *l-o-n-g* time. Add on attempted murder of a police detective, and Calisimo won't be seeing the light of day for at least fifty years."

"Thanks, Henri. That's good news ... great news." The Captain sighed and looked over at the young man seated next to him. "But it won't be enough if Jim doesn't make it through this."

"Heard anything yet?" Brown wondered.

"No. He's still in surgery. One of the doctors came out earlier to tell us it was still touch-and-go and that there were probably several hours' worth of surgery left. One bullet pierced his left lung, another grazed his heart. The third went through soft tissue in his shoulder. He's lucky to be alive."

"Damn! How's the kid?"

"How'd you expect? Exhausted. Worried. That's his best friend in there."

Blair looked up with bloodshot eyes. "You don't have to talk about me like I'm not here."

"Sorry, kid. You just looked totally out of it." Brown was sympathetic.

Blair leaned back in his chair, allowing his head to fall backward. For several long moments, he simply stared at the ceiling, then he scrubbed his face with his hands, knuckling the sleep from his eyes. "I *am* pretty out of it. Sorry if I sounded snappish."

"Hey, I understand. If it were my partner in there, I'd feel the same way."

Simon grasped Brown's arm. "Tell Taggart and Rafe thanks for us, okay?"

"You bet, Cap. They said to tell you they'd be down here as soon as they got the paperwork done."

"Thanks, H." Blair whispered before closing his eyes once more.

"You're welcome, kid. Take care of yourself." Blair nodded absently as Brown turned to head toward the elevators.

Minutes dragged into hours. "Why don't you go to the visitor's lounge and lie down for a while?" Simon suggested to the exhausted anthropologist. "I'll come wake you when there's
some news."

"No. Thanks, Simon, but no. I'd rather wait here."

Simon couldn't blame him. Blair and Jim were tighter than any two partners he'd ever seen. Even considering what he knew about their relationship, this amount of devotion was incredible.
Looking up, he saw a doctor in green surgical scrubs coming toward them. He nudged Sandburg, who opened his eyes, instantly alert.

"Captain Banks? Mr. Sandburg?" The doctor reached out to shake their hands. "I'm Theo Parkinson, Jim Ellison's surgeon."

"How is he? How's Jim?" Blair's words tumbled out.

"It was a little touchy there for a while, I'll be honest with you, but Mr. Ellison's a fighter. He came through just fine. His generally excellent physical condition certainly contributed to our success. He's a very lucky man." The doctor smiled.

"How soon can we see him?" Simon asked.

"Well, he's in recovery now, then he'll be moved up to the ICU. I'm terribly sorry, but for the first few days only family will be allowed to visit." The desperate look on Blair's face did not escape the doctor's notice. Before he could say anything, Simon jumped in.

"Blair is the closest thing to family Jim's got. He's *closer*, actually. I can assure you, Ellison will recover more quickly if Blair is allowed to visit."

Blair looked gratefully at the Captain, then turned to Dr. Parkinson, waiting for his response.

"Well, considering that Mr. Ellison has Mr. Sandburg listed as his Power of Attorney, I suppose we can make an exception in his case."

Blair's face lit up, the tiredness dropping away with the anticipation of seeing Jim. "When can I visit?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to continue to be patient.

He'll be in recovery another hour or so, where the nurses can keep a close eye on him. When he's moved into his room in Intensive Care, you can visit for a little while. No more than five minutes."

"Five minutes?" Blair was incredulous. "Oh no. No, no, nononono.... I've gotta stay with him. Doctor, I have to be there when he wakes up!"

"Mr. Sandburg, your friend was gravely injured. We almost lost him, more than once, during the surgery. I'm sure you understand that he needs his rest."

Blair looked on the verge of losing it when Simon Banks stepped in. "Doctor, please. These men are partners. I've never seen a closer relationship. What they have is rare and unusual. I can assure you that Sandburg won't be disturbing Ellison. On the contrary ... his presence is *required* if you want to see any significant improve in Ellison's condition."

"You'll forgive me if I find that statement a little out in left field, Captain Banks," Parkinson argued.

"I know how it sounds, Doctor. Believe me, I know.... But give them chance. Check Ellison's medical records ... or Sandburg's. You'll see that they're regulars here. Talk with the other doctors. I'm sure they'll tell you the same things I am."

"All right," Parkinson conceded. "I'll allow longer visitation, but if there's any sign of stress in the patient...."

"Thank you, Doctor," Banks said with sincerity.

"Don't make me regret this," Parkinson said sternly to Blair. The young man shook his head, a smile spreading across his face.

"Thanks, Simon!" Blair said, turning to the Captain after the doctor had left.

"Don't mention it, kid. It was as much for Jim as it was for you." He sat back down and patted the chair next to him. "Might as well take a load off. It's going to be a while yet."

*

"Chief?"

The sound of Jim's voice, soft and gravelly, woke Blair from a light doze. He had been sitting watch over the sleeping sentinel for the past couple of hours, and the activities and excitement of the day had finally caught up with him.

"Jim? How're ya feeling, man?"

"Like a Mack truck hit me, then backed up and ran me down again."

Blair chuckled. "Yeah ... it was something like that, all right. You'll tell me the whole story when you're feeling better?"

"I'm feeling better already," his lover replied, wrapping his fingers around one of Blair's hands and squeezing lightly.

"Just having you nearby is the best medicine."

"You should've heard Simon." Blair smiled. "He really let that doctor have it when he was going to limit my visitation to five minutes."

"Good thing, too," Jim commented, "or it probably would have been *you* letting him have it. Then Simon'd have to explain to me why you were in lock-up on assault charges." He smiled weakly and squeezed Blair's hand again.

"Yeah, you're probably right there." Blair caressed Jim's forehead, then stroked his fingers through his lover's short hair. "Man, you sure had us worried. When you disappeared ... no
one could find you...." He sighed and sat back in the chair as memories of the harrowing day just past sifted through his mind.

"How *did* you find me, anyway? Last thing I remember was a gunfight with Calisimo's men at the landfill."

"That was the weirdest part of the day, man! When Simon and the guys couldn't find you, he decided that I needed to go on a spirit walk, induce a vision-seizure, to find you."

"You didn't! Not after all that work we went through to teach you how to control those damn things!" Jim couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Calm down, Jim! Take some deep breaths." Blair mimed the deep meditative breathing technique he had taught Jim early on in their association. "If you start spiking your monitors, the
doctor'll throw me out of here!"

Jim took a few deep breaths, then turned back to his friend.

"Okay. Now you're telling me you *deliberately* brought on a seizure in order to find me?"

"That pretty much sums it up, yeah."

"And it worked."

"Obviously." Blair's grin couldn't have gotten any wider.

"You're here, aren't you? Alive, and mostly in one piece?"

"Mm-hmm," Jim reluctantly agreed.

"Well, learning to *stop* the seizures was only half the equation in controlling them, Jim. I learned the other half today. Today, for the first time, I feel as though I deserve the title 'Shaman of the Great City.' "

"You always deserved it in my eyes, Chief." Jim smiled, then closed his eyes, exhaustion finally catching up to him.

*

It was a red-letter day, two weeks later, when Detective James J. Ellison was released from Cascade General. Surrounded by his Captain and an army of detectives from Major Crimes, he made his way triumphantly from his room to the discharge area, guided by the most important person in his life.

"Well, here we are!" Blair exclaimed, setting the brake on the wheelchair. Jim's truck was parked just outside the doors.

"Your chariot awaits!"

Jim pushed up from the chair, favoring his left arm which was still in a sling, and teetered for a second before gaining his balance. Blair stood on his right, steadying him as their friends gathered around to say good-bye and wish Jim well.

Once safely ensconced in the passenger seat, Jim heaved a sigh of relief. "It is *so* good to be going home! You have no idea!"

"Oh, I think I do," Blair teased. "Our positions have been reversed often enough." He paused, risking a brief glance at his sentinel. "You know, I think I prefer it when it's the other way
around."

"Don't say that, Chief! Don't ever think that way! Now you know how I feel when it's *you* in that hospital bed, fighting for your life."

"You scared me. You scared all of us. Why didn't you call for backup?"

"I couldn't. It all went down so fast. I was casing the warehouse...."

"From *where*?" Blair interrupted.

"The landfill," Jim answered a bit sheepishly. "I was concentrating on a conversation and...."

"You *zoned*!" Blair interrupted again. "You zoned, didn't you, man? Damn!"

"Yeah, I think I probably did. Next thing I knew, Calisimo's men had the drop on me. The gunfire brought me back to reality, but not fast enough. Next thing I remember is your voice telling me everything was going to be all right." He smiled across the cab of the truck at the young man driving. "So, you really induced a vision to find me?"

"It was probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do," Blair admitted. "It was terrifying, but the thought of losing you frightened me even more. I had to try."

"Incacha would be proud of you. *I'm* proud of you. A man couldn't ask for a better partner or friend."

Blair blushed and stared out the windshield at the afternoon traffic. "Let's just try not to make a habit of this, okay? I'm not up to losing you. That's how this whole mess started in the first place ... my worrying about losing you."

"Guess we've come full circle, eh, Chief?" Jim grinned.

"That we have," Blair agreed. Then in a softer voice, "I love you, man."

"Love you, too," Jim whispered. "I love you, too."

EPILOGUE:

Blair Sandburg was exhausted. He had spent the day at Rainier covering for another Teaching Fellow who was out with the flu. On top of that, he had papers to grade and student conferences to attend. It had been an incredibly long day.

Shifting the heavy backpack on his shoulder, he trudged up the stairs to the third floor, fumbling to put the key in the lock.

As the door swung open, he stumbled in to be greeted by a sight that brought him up short. Dropping his backpack near the entrance and his keys on the table, he stared. "Where's the
party, man?" he asked, confused.

Before him stood a small knot of men, all dressed in formal dark suits. Simon Banks, Captain of Major Crimes, stood near the staircase to the upper level of the loft. To his right stood Captain Joel Taggart and Detectives Rafe and Brown. To his left stood Jim Ellison, decked out in a tux, his arm resting in a formal black sling, grinning widely at him.

"Right here. Right now," Jim informed him. "Your change of clothes is on the bed." He indicated the stairs to the upper level. "Hurry up and get dressed."

Crossing the room toward the stairs, he gave Jim a questioning look as his lover made shooing motions to get him moving. Curiosity won out over exhaustion, and he trotted up the stairs. A tuxedo was carefully laid out on their bed. Blair groaned. He *was* tired, and getting into one of those things was a major commitment of energy.

"Don't take all night, Sandburg," Simon called up to him.

"Some of us have work to do, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," Blair mumbled. "Keep your pants on. I'm coming."

As quickly as he could manage, he donned the tux, fastened the cummerbund and tied his hair back into a ponytail. As he descended to the main floor, all eyes in the room focused on him.
"So, what gives, man?" he asked, stepping off the bottom stair.

Jim slid an arm around his waist and turned him to face their guests. Pulling a small velvet box from the recesses of his pocket, he took a deep breath. "The laws of the State of Washington don't recognize same-sex marriages," he began, smiling when he saw Blair's jaw drop at the statement, "so I've decided I want the next best thing." He opened the box and extracted a gold wedding band. "You represent our closest friends," he addressed the gathering. "And as such, I ask that you be our witnesses."

He knelt in front of Blair. Taking his left hand, he slipped the band on the third finger. "Blair, with this ring I pledge to you my love and loyalty through whatever adversities might try to separate us, for as long as we live. Will you consent to be my life partner, now and forever?"

Blair stared numbly at the gold band before lifting his eyes to look at his lover. His lips trembled, but managed to form the words, "I will."

"In that case," Simon spoke up, "as the official presiding over this little ceremony, I now pronounce you official domestic partners." With a flourish, he produced a certificate he'd had
specially printed for the occasion, handing it to Jim, who endorsed and dated it.

Jim passed it to Blair who stood, still a bit nonplussed, next to him. "Sign the paper," he whispered to his partner. Blair took the pen in shaking hands and signed his name.

Simon signed next, followed by Taggart, Rafe and Brown.

Blair tugged at the sleeve of Jim's tux. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" He paused to look around at their smiling friends.

"Alone?" he added.

"Yeah, sure," Jim agreed, shrugging to their guests and following Blair into his old bedroom.

"*What* was *that* all about? I thought we weren't telling *anyone*, except Simon!" Blair struggled to keep his voice muted.

"Our little adventure got me thinking. I don't ever want to live without you, love. Hell, I'd prefer to never let you out of my sight," Jim admitted. "I guess I'm just tired of hiding my feelings for you, that's all."

"You could have *warned* me, man!"

"Blair, I love you. There are times at work where all I want to do is hold your hand or put my arm around you. Times when you deserve to be kissed for some brilliant insight. I don't want to
have to hold back on that anymore."

"Jim ... these men are our friends. They understand. But what about the rest of the people in the department? There are some real homophobes out there. This is going to really mess with your reputation, man."

"You really think they're going to want to take on an ex-Army Ranger with covert ops training?" Jim grinned wickedly.

"Maybe not, but they wouldn't think twice about messing with an anthropology grad student with observer status."

"Anyone messes with you, Babe, answers to *me*. And they *know* it."

"But...."

"Are you really uncomfortable with this, Blair? 'Cause if you are, it doesn't have to go any further than this circle of our friends."

"Someone's going to notice the ring, man."

"So? Wear it on the chain with your medic alert tag. I don't care. I just want to know that you're mine. Officially. Now and forever."

"Uh-huh," Blair deadpanned. "Like your property? I don't *think* so, big guy. You're mine!" Grabbing satin lapels in his fists, Blair pulled Jim down into a hard, passionate kiss. "And I don't care *who* knows it!" he added once he had come up for air.

There was a light rap on the doorframe. "Ah, gentlemen?"

Simon's voice interrupted. "It's getting late. We're just going to let ourselves out. See you in the morning?"

"G'night, Simon," came the sound of two voices through the door.

"Oh, and congratulations," the Captain added, chuckling as he retreated to gather up his tiny flock of detectives and leave.

"Think they heard us talking?" Blair asked.

"I *know* they did!" Jim laughed. "At least we're alone now."

"On our wedding night."

Jim's eyes sparkled. "Yeah, Babe."

"Did the doctor release you for strenuous physical activity?" Blair asked slyly as they made their way up the stairs to their bedroom.

"Just this afternoon, as a matter of fact," Jim answered. He reached up with his good arm to ruffle Blair's hair. "And I plan on fucking you into next Tuesday."

"Love you, too, big guy...."

THE END