TITLE: You Don't Know What You've Got Until It's Gone

AUTHOR: Kylia

DISCLAIMER: Nobody belongs to me, unfortunately. They belong to Pet Fly, and a few other people I don't know.

RATING: R

FANDOM: The Sentinel

PAIRING: Jim/Blair

CATEGORY: Romance; First time; angst

SPOILERS: Up to Crossroads. But contains references to 'Foreign Exchange', 'Night Shift' and 'Neighborhood Watch'

WARNINGS: None really.

SUMMARY: Jim and Blair deal with their new living arrangements and Connor tries to unravel the mystery that is Jim & Blair.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I just watched Crossroads. again, and this wouldn't leave me alone. Also, it's in alternating POV's.

AUTHOR'S NOTES 2: This was intended as a 1 parter but it seems to have gotten away from me.

FEEDBACK: Please. My muses need to be fed, or I'll go play with someone else instead :)

DEDICATION: To Kaite, Liz and everyone who missed me. :)

by Kylia
****

The moment I pull into the parking lot and find his car missing, I feel something inside of me break. It's just a little sliver, of something. Perhaps a warning of things to come. But I refuse to let it get to me.

It is early still. Barely four o'clock. He is probably at the university. He'll be home soon and we can talk. Maybe. Probably. Hopefully. We need to talk. I know that.

I was hoping he'd be here when I got home, so it didn't have to wait but I realize that he has a life. Outside of the station, outside of the loft. Away from me. I know that shouldn't really bother me, but it does. Maybe it's just some sort of reminder that his place in my life is temporary. A day will come when he's done all the research, conducted all the tests, and analyzed all the results. And he will leave.

And with that day, will come the beginning of my own death. I realize that. Now.

I force my thoughts away as I grab my bag and head towards the building. By the time I reach the front door, I've pretty much convinced myself that I'm being paranoid. That feeling sitting in the pit of my stomach is just the chili from lunch making its reappearance.

That belief lasts all of ten seconds.

I walk into the loft and freeze. It's cold. Really cold. Almost as if no one has been here for days. That thought frightens me. Surely, Blair has taken advantage of my absence? Abused some of the house rules? Maybe even brought a date or two here?

I inhale deeply, trying to detect a foreign scent. Nothing. Not the smell of some woman I don't know and have never met. Not the smell of some of Blair's bizarre concoctions. Not even the smell of Blair himself.

Blocking out the fear of what that must mean, I look around the loft, and am struck by its emptiness.

It's empty, completely devoid of life, of the essence, which made this place a home. The furniture is still here, of course, but somehow that doesn't help it feel any less empty.

There are things missing. His things. His masks, and other tribal knick-knacks which have somehow made their way into various places throughout the loft. Even his books and papers seem to be missing.

I enter the kitchen and go directly to the fridge, really hoping to find some sort of disgusting, smelly leftovers that might have been sitting in there too long.

I don't.

In fact the kitchen is about as empty as the rest of the house. It's spotless even. Another point of worry.

My feet seem to be moving of their own free will, towards the small bedroom which he has claimed as his own, although I am suddenly aware of what it is I will find there. Or more accurately, what I won't find.

I open the French doors and step inside, prepared for the sight which greets me. Except I'm not. Not prepared I mean.

The room is cleaner than I think I've ever seen it, even before he moved in. There isn't anything in here, which tells me anyone is living here, or has lived here.

There's the futon, just sitting there. The desk is uncluttered and as I open the drawers, I am keenly aware of how light they feel, now that they have been completely emptied.

My knees buckle and I fall to the ground the weight of what has happened finally hitting me full force. I'm only dimly aware of the tears as they slide down my cheeks.

My mind is starting to fuzz out at the realization of what I have lost and the doubt that I can ever regain it.

I am lost. Really, and truly lost.

****

I sink down into the chair with a sigh. Everyone has left now, and I am alone with my thoughts and the physical culmination of my work with Jim. I knew it would come to this. I always did, in some part of my brain.

But I had hoped, that as I had stopped thinking of him as a research subject, he had stopped thinking of me as a means to an end. I guess I was wrong.

He believes I care only about my tests and research, and I now know how truly tired of me he really is. I guess neither one of us will have to deal with the other any more.

I moved out of the loft as soon as Simon and I returned to Cascade, and I've spent every waking hour since then working on my dissertation. It's finally finished. It didn't really take that long, since it was really the only thing I had to occupy my time and keep my painful thoughts at bay.

The committee loved it.

Yay for them.

So, now, baring some bizarre catastrophe, I am now a Doctor. Doctor Blair Jacab Sandburg.

Of course, what to do now?

I could go on an expedition, leave cascade and all its memories behind. That's what I should do. That's what the years growing up with Naomi has taught me to do.

But, I won't do that.

I must be a masochist.

Because, instead of running to the airport, bags packed, I'm actually *considering* staying here in Cascade. My advisor mentioned a part-time teaching position that might be opening up. One of the Anthro professors is leaving the university.

Maybe I should follow his example. But I'm not.

Sighing heavily, I stand up and make my way out of the room, and away from the building. All I really want to do now is go home and crawl into bed and sleep for a week, maybe my entire life.

But I don't have a home. Not any more. Maybe I never did.

No, instead I've had the spare room of a man I called friend, who I only now realize never was. Now I am left staying in another spare room. The room of another man I call friend. It doesn't feel like home though. Maybe that's good. Maybe that will remind me that I don't have a home. I never did and I probably never will.

I climb into my car and make my way to my friend's house. It isn't quite suburban, but its not exactly the heart of the city either.

After parking on the curb next to the driveway I climb out and make my way to the front door, which is opened before I have a chance to knock.

"Blair!"

I smile wearily at the person who opened the door. "Daryl."

Daryl Banks steps aside to let me into the house and motions towards the living room.

"Hey, Simon." I try to smile as I sit down on the couch across from the captain.

"How'd it go?" He asks me.

"Good." I tell him without much enthusiasm, as I pull out a copy of my dissertation, bound in leather.

"Give this to him, will you?" I ask quietly. "He wanted to read it."

Simon stares at it for a second, not taking it. "Why don't you give it to him yourself?"

I shake my head. "No, Simon. It's over."

Simon looks as if he is going protest but then nods instead, holding out a hand to take my life's work. "What will you do now?"

I shrug. "Not sure. Eli's back and called be about another expedition, but…" I trail off, not really wanting to admit to my weakness.

"But?" Simon prods.

"But, I was thinking of applying for a new position that's opened up at Rainer."

We both remain silent for a second and I find myself wondering what he is thinking and how it is this gruff police captain came to be my friend.

"Have you thought about applying for an official consultant position?" Simon asks quietly.

I look up sharply. I'm not sure what surprises me more. The fact that Simon would suggest it, or the fact that it might actually be an option.

"I don't know, Simon."

He holds up a hand and shakes his head. "Think about it. It wasn't a viable option before, but now that you have your doctorate, it is. And with your history with the department, you'd be ideal."

I grin at his use of words. "Ideal, huh? Man I never thought I'd here you say that about me."

He chuckles. "Yeah well, you repeat it and I'll deny it." He sobers a bit. "You should think about it." He speaks softly.

"What about Jim?" I ask quietly, saying more with the words I haven't spoken aloud than the words I have.

Simon shrugs. "What about him? As an official consultant, you wouldn't *have* to work with him. You could work with Joel, or Rafe or Brown." He pauses a second and this look comes over his face as if he's just gotten an idea. "Or I could put you with my new exchange officer."

I look up at him, confusion on my face. "Exchange officer?"

Simon smiles then. "Yeah. That would be perfect for you." His eyes are twinkling mischievously. "You could explain to her all about our cultural differences." He's laughing now.

I nod. "O-kay." I'm not exactly sure what he's talking about, but I find myself seriously considering it. If I stay in Cascade, I'm going to need a steady job, especially since I have to find a new apartment to live in.

The job at the university is only part-time, and although it pays more than anything I made as a teaching fellow, it may still not be enough. And with a consultant job, I wouldn't end up working with Jim, at least not all the time. Maybe with me being away from the loft and his life in general, he could stand to be around me, at least *some* of the time.

And I have to admit, the idea of being partnered with a cop from another country is intriguing.

"Alright. I'll apply." I tell him and the look on his face is odd. He seems rather pleased with himself, as though he's accomplished something monumental.

I stand up, exhausted all of a sudden. "I'm going to crash. Good night." I make my way towards the stairs that lead to the rooms upstairs and wave.

I take a quick shower in the hall bathroom and then lock myself in Simon's spare bedroom. I'll be forever grateful that he let me stay here this week after we came back from Clayton Falls. I think it was just because he was afraid I would disappear otherwise.

I was really upset after we came back to town. I couldn't see straight, could barely think straight. I asked Simon to give me a ride to a local hotel. I think that's when he realized that I was planning on leaving.

He helped me pile my stuff into his garage. I wanted to take it to a storage area, but again he convinced me otherwise. I think he was afraid that if he couldn't keep an eye on my stuff, and me I'd disappear before Jim made it back.

I don't know why it makes a difference. Jim won't care either way, except in maybe his elation at having his place to himself again.

Still, I'm glad for Simon's friendship. I think without it, I may have just packed a single bag and disappeared. That would have been a mistake. Having a safe place to stay and a friend to talk to gave me some time to think.

And work. I knew that my time with Jim was over, and I didn't need to stall anymore. So I got sat down and wrote my dissertation, leaving out all direct references to my subject, just like Jim wanted.

I hope he appreciates everything I've done for him over the years, and remembers everything I've taught him. I hope he's happy.

One of us should be.

****

I climb out of my truck and move slowly up the walkway. I don't know why I'm so reluctant to come here. Simon's my friend. Probably my best friend, after Blair. When Blair *was* my friend. I see now how good a friend he really was.

It took him leaving, I think, for me to really realize what he has done for me. All the times he helped me through a zone out. All the insight he gave me on various cases. The nights I came home from an exhausting stakeout, or really tough case to find dinner ready.

Even his constant lectures on my eating habits were a sign to how much he cared. A sign I didn't see.

I hesitate before knocking, not sure exactly what it is I'm going to tell Simon. I'm not even sure what the truth is. Blair is gone. Gone from my life and the loft. Maybe even gone from Cascade. I don't know.

I finally scrounge up enough courage to knock at the door. After what seems like an eternity, the door opens and Simon's son Daryl is standing there. From the looks of it, he's on his way out, a backpack slung over one shoulder.

It reminds me of my partner and I am reminded of why exactly I am here.

"Jim! Dad's inside. See ya!"

Before I can comment, Daryl disappears in a flash and that too reminds me of Sandburg.

I walk into the house and to the kitchen, where I can hear Simon moving around. I can smell the scent of freshly brewed coffee, and the lingering scent of warmed butter, and cream cheese from what was obviously someone's morning bagel.

And then I smell it. Just below the surface. Underneath the smell of food and Simon's cigar's, I can smell Sandburg. The herbal shampoo he uses and that shaving gel that proports to be natural and unscented. And the unmistakable essence of Sandburg.

v He's been here, recently too. That realization shocks me. More than I can express.

"Where is he?" I ask quietly as I turn to face my captain.

Simon is staring at me, with a look of understanding that somehow unnerves me more than if he had gotten angry or denied that he knew what I was talking about.

"Jim." Simon begins as he motions for me to sit down.

I don't. I'm too upset to sit.

"Where is he, Simon. He… He left." I tell him, my voice losing some of its strength at the end.

"I know." Simon moves away from me and leaves me alone in the kitchen.

I can hear him moving around his house. He walks into his office and opens a desk drawer, pulls something out and shuts the drawer. Then he is moving back towards me. When he walks back into the kitchen I see he is holding something. It looks like a book, or a binder of some sort, the pages bound tightly, professionally. It's new. I can smell the leather and almost instantly I know what it is.

Simon holds out a hand to me. The hand holding the book. The hand holding my friend's dissertation. I can't bring myself to grab it. I don't want to read it. I don't want to know what that the one thing that kept Blair in my life is now finished.

"Go, take it." Simon steps closer, book in hand. "He wants you to read it."

I take it, but refuse to open it, or even look too closely, although I can feel the softness of the leather binding on my fingertips.

"Where is he?" I ask again, this time my tone is more pleading than demanding.

"The university." Simon answers. "But Jim…" He stops, and I can tell from the tone of his voice as well as his expression that he isn't really certain what he was going to say. When he finally speaks, the words weigh heavy in the air.

"You may not be able to fix this."

*****

"This isn't really necessary." I tell the head of the Anthropology department for the third time.

She just shakes her head at me. "Blair, you've lived in this… this closet for far too long as it is!"

Dr. Emily Richardson stands just inside the door to what has been my office for the past few years. Her face is stern, but I can detect some amusement in her voice and her crystalline green eyes.

"Em, it's only a part-time position. I don't need my own office." I try again to get her to change her mind.

Emily shakes her head. "Blair, you know as well as I do, regardless of how many hours, or classes you're being paid for, you do more than your fair share for this department. You're about the *only* person who deserves an office. Aside from me, of course." She grins at me then.

I grin back, and for the first time in several days it isn't really forced. "Of course."

"Besides, I want you to take that full-time position next year." She steps closer to me. "Even I have to hog-tie you to accept it."

I sigh, knowing that she isn't going to give this up. One of the older Anthro professors is retiring after this year, and Emily Richardson has made it her personal mission in life to see that I take his place.

"Em, you know I can't work full time here, not and keep my consultant work at the station, *and* remain sane."

"Sanity is over-rated." She smirks me. "Someone young and wise said that once. Oh wait, I think it was you."

I can't help but laugh; I remember that conversation well. It was about ten years ago. When I first came to her and told her that I was going to do my dissertation on Sentinels, and I swore up and down that I *would* find one. She just shook her head and said I was insane. I told her sanity was over-rated. "We'll see." She told me.

Despite her hesitancy, and concern for my ability to find a real, live Sentinel, her support never wavered. And in the light of the fact that I did indeed find a Sentinel, that support wasn't unfounded.

The reminder of Jim and what has happened between us sobers my mood. She must sense the change because she places a hand on my shoulder, prompting me to look at her.

"I'm okay." I tell her quietly, wishing I was as positive of that as I sound.

"Maybe working with him isn't such a good idea." She tells me, just as quietly.

I don't pretend to misunderstand. She, probably more than most, knows exactly how close Jim and I have been over the past few years, if not the reason why. Or at least how close we had been. How close I *thought* we were. But his words from that morning in Clayton Falls still reverberate in my skull.

/You've made this sentinel thing work and I appreciate that. I wouldn't change a minute of it, but you're always there, in my face, observing. /

Painful words, filled with things that Jim had obviously been thinking, but was too nice to say.

And then his lie. More words, this time trying to keep me from realizing just what a nuisance I had become.

/Look, get your tails out from between your legs, huh? I love you. I don't want you to go away mad. Let's go have a bite to eat and we'll talk about it and then you can hit the road, okay? /

No, he didn't want me to go away mad, just go away.

And I understood about needing some alone time. I need some of that myself. But his words, they speak more about what it is he needs to get away from. Why he needs the space.

I know I wasn't the only person he mentioned needing time away from, but I can't help but think that there was far more meaning in his words to me than there was about being Simon's "Pit Bull".

I shake my head, forcing away my thoughts. I don't have time to think about it, and I really don't want to, not anymore. I look up at Emily. She's still standing in front of me, waiting patiently for a response to her comment. She waiting so patiently that I'm not even sure any time has passed since she spoke.

"No, Em, it probably isn't. But I won't be working with him."

"Really? Then why…?" She trails off, obviously confused about why it is I will still work with the police, if not with Jim.

I shrug. "Believe it or not, I like it." I tell her honestly. "It's like this whole other universe, you know. Their own civilization. Their own rules, bonding rituals, mating practices. It's like a tribe within a tribe." I grin a little, aware I've got this goofy look on my face. The same one I get when I'm talking about some obscure anthropological find. Only Emily doesn't seem to notice. She just smiles at me and pulls me out of my old office and toward the new one she is forcing me to take.

"So tell, me professor, who will you be working with, if not Mr. Stoic?"

I laugh at her nickname for Jim. It's one she's used behind his back for the past two years.

"She's an exchange officer named Megan Connor. From Australia."

"So you haven't met?" Emily asks curiously as we stop in front of a door.

I'm stunned for a minute. The door is made out of heavy wood and has a plaque in front, reading "Dr. Blair Sandburg, Professor of Anthropology"

It's weird seeing my name like that. Like I've stepped out of the Sandburg zone and into the twilight zone.

"You like it?" She asks and I can tell from the tone of her voice that she really hopes I do.

I hug her. "It's great. Thanks."

We walk inside and she continues our previous line of conversation, as I look the office over. "So, what's your new partner like?"

I turn to face her, confused for a second. "Inspector Connor? I'm not really sure. We haven't met. I have pick her up at the airport tomorrow afternoon."

"Well, good luck." Emily tells me sincerely. "If she's anything like your last partner, you'll need it."

Emily hugs me once more and then disappears out of the door of my new office, leaving me alone. Not wanting to dwell on any of my personal thoughts, I set right to work on moving my files, and other things from my old office.

The activity keeps me busy and from thinking too much on what's supposed to happen tomorrow. Meeting the new exchange officer doesn't really bother me. I'm actually glad for it. I think being partnered with a stranger will be easier than with someone who has known me these past few years. I remember how upset Joel was a few months ago when Finkleman revoked my observer pass and wanted Joel to partner with Jim.

I think that despite the fact that Jim and I aren't really speaking, and I want it this way, it would be too awkward for someone who knows us. So working with Inspector Connor will definitely be a good thing.

What makes me slightly nervous is seeing Jim again. After I pick up Megan Connor at the airport, I'm supposed to bring her to the station, and there's about a fifty percent chance Jim will be there, and not out on some case.

I'm not sure how he'll react to my being there. Despite Jim's obvious desire to have his apartment, and his life to himself, I don't think he'll be too pleased. He'll try and get me to change my mind, even if it isn't what he really wants.

It won't work anyway. I think it might be too late for that. Things have gone on too long. Unresolved things. Things that should have been addressed but weren't. Things that probably never should be addressed. Things that will never be addressed now.

Even so, I think he'll still be angry for my leaving, even if its what he wants. If for no other reason than the principle of the thing, and it was a decision I made, without consulting him, even if it was precipitated by something he said.

When I moved out, I didn't leave any note, or forwarding address, so unless he thinks to ask Simon, he won't know where to find me. Not that he'll be looking. He'll pace around the loft, angry with me and what he considers my 'Sandburg logic'.

Then he'll knock back a couple of beers, watch the Jags came, and forget all about it.

Or, I could be wrong.

****

The entire drive from Simon's house to Rainier University filled me with a zillion questions, no answers, and a deep, gut-clenching fear. I am glad, ecstatic, that Blair is still in Cascade. That he hasn't run so far and so fast that I won't be able to find him.

But Simon's words keep haunting me.

When Simon first spoke, I thought that maybe he was over-reacting. Maybe he was trying to get me to see what kind of mistake I had made, not that it was necessary. I had already realized that I had been way out of line, and completely wrong in everything I had said. Both to Simon and to Blair.

But one look into Simon's dark eyes, and I knew that I was wrong, again. This wouldn't be easy. Still, I had hope. Blair was still in Cascade. Still at the University. He was staying with Simon, which meant that he hadn't found another place to live permanently.

Maybe he knew what I just figured out. Blair's place is with me. In my home, my life. Maybe I still had a chance.

When I reach the door to his office and find it closed, a sudden worry that I have missed him clutches me. I almost leave then, but when I realize that it is still early, especially in Sandburg time, I think I might still be able to catch him.

I open the door and step inside. I think I can hear the door click shut behind me, but it's only a dim sound. The sight of the room shocks me. I don't think I've ever been here when it was anything, but a jumbled, disastrous, mess. Books, papers, artifacts, all littering every available surface.

But not now.

Now it's empty. No desk, no chair, no papers, no books or artifacts. There isn't even anything in here which would confirm that yes, this was Blair's office.

I feel a chill run down my spine and I know with utter clarity that I have lost.

Before anything else in my twisted world can be distorted, I hear the sound of the door opening, and then footsteps as someone enters, accompanied by an unmistakable heartbeat and scent, and then, finally a gasp.

The sound forces me to turn around.

And there, standing there, looking as confused as I feel, is Blair Jacob Sandburg.

"Blair." I breathe, eternally grateful that he's standing there, and not entirely certain it isn't a dream.

"Jim." He straightens and he shuts the door behind him. "What are you doing here?" His voice is soft and I can detect the faintest sound of pain there.

"We need to talk." I tell him as I step closer.

He steps aside, away from me, an action, which cuts to my very soul. "There's nothing to say."

****

"I think there is." I speak quietly, knowing that I am treading a fine line.

Blair looks up at me. "Things aren't always the way we think they are." His words are just as quiet as mine from a moment ago. "I *thought* we were friends."

"We are." I plead, begging him to hear the truth in my words.

"I had thought so. But, Jim…" Blair trails off and I can't bare to see the pain in his eyes.

"So, now what, Blair? You run? You hide?" I ask, aware my voice has grown harsh. I know I'm not helping matters but I can't seem to help it.

Blair's eyes blaze at me for a second. "No, Jim, I'm not running. Or hiding." His words come out as a hiss and I back up slightly, wondering for a second if he's going to hit me.

"But, you left." I tell him, not sure what else to say.

He nods at me. "Yes, I moved out. Like *you* wanted. I'm staying with Simon, for now. Eventually… well I'm not sure where I'll end up."

"Blair, come home." I tell him, needing him to come with me. Needing him to know that I don't want him to leave. "I was wrong. I didn't mean it."

"Really?" Blair asks, as he moves away from me, further across the room, feet that seem like miles. "Because I just don't believe that. I don't believe that you even believe that."

I want to shake him, to make him see reason, but I know that that will not help my case any. In fact it'll probably make it worse. I look around the office and am reminded of how empty it is.

"Are you leaving?" I ask abruptly, changing the subject until I can hopefully come up with something he *will* believe.

"Huh?" Blair looks confused for a minute and then he looks around the room and shakes his head. "No. I got a new office. A real office. My name on the door and everything." And now he's grinning and it's good to see but I am slightly disappointed to find I had nothing to do with it.

"A new office?" I ask. "Why?" It isn't until after I say it that I realize how it sounds. "I mean… uh…"

Blair waves his hand at me to stop my floundering. He walks over to the front door and opens it just before picking up a stack of papers, which were still sitting on the desk. "It's alright, Jim. I know what you mean." He walks out of the room and begins walking down the hall. I follow him, still waiting for the answer to my question.

The walk down the hall and around a corner is made in silence. Eventually we stop in front of a door and I stare at it for a minute. Sure enough, right there on the door, is Blair's name.

"Doctor?" I ask, surprised, although I know I shouldn't be. Simon did give me his dissertation to read, which means that it was finished.

Blair opens the office door and steps inside. "Yeah. Did you read it?"

I shake my head. "No. Simon gave it to me though."

Blair sets the papers down and I notice many of the familiar items that made up his other office. Although this one is much larger, and neat. I wonder how long it will remain that way.

"I figured he would. He told you I was here?"

I nod. "Yeah, I went to go talk to him, and…" I hesitate not really wanting to tell him I sniffed him out. "Anyway, he told me where you were." I pause for a second. "I thought you left. Cascade."

Blair shakes his head. "I didn't run away, Jim. I moved out of the loft. Your loft. The way you wanted." Blair's got this sad expression on his face as he continues. "I'll still work with you, and your senses, if you want, when you need it. I'm still working at the PD, or at least I will be."

My mind is a swirl of information and it takes a couple of minutes to assimilate everything. When his last words finally penetrate my brain, I frown in confusion. "You will? But I thought once you got your doctorate…" I trail off not knowing what exactly I thought.

Blair nods. "Yeah, me too. But Simon told me that as an actual doctor I can get an official consulting position, with pay even."

"Really?" I ask. "That's good." I'm not sure what else to say. Blair is now sitting at his desk and he's turned on his computer and seems to be making notes on a sheet of paper in front of him.

He looks up at me questioningly.

"I thought maybe… we could go out… talk?" I ask, not wanting to leave things, but knowing that I'm not going to leave here, with Blair. Simon was right. I might not be able to fix this, and that thought is frightening.

Blair shakes his head and that sad look is back in his eyes. "Sorry, man. I have to get these lecture notes started. If I don't do it now, who knows when I'll have time."

He looks away from me and for a moment I think that's it, like I've been *dismissed* but then his head pops back up and his glasses on hanging on the bridge of his nose and his hair's in his eyes, and I desperately want to kiss him, but I know that won't go over well. Then he's talking to me and I have to shift my eyes away, just to understand what he's saying.

"But… Simon and I are going to go pick up that new exchange officer, Inspector Connor tomorrow. If you want, you can come. Maybe we can… talk then?"

I nod. "Sure." I begin to leave but then I stop. "Why are you going?"

Blair stops what he's doing and looks back at me. "She's my new partner."

****

This is awkward. Really awkward. I mean, here I am standing next to my two closest friends, at an airport, waiting for the arrival of my new partner. On the surface, that doesn't sound so strange.

Except when you look closer and discover that one of the said friends was my old partner, and not as close a friend as I had thought. It's better this way. I know it. Jim knows it.

Now if I can only start to *feel* it.

"So, Chief…"

I turn to face him, but it seems he doesn't know what to say anymore than I do.

Simon, I think, can see the tension escalating between us and steps forward. "So, where is she?" He asks me.

I shrug. "Her plane's in, but she's not at the gate. She's not at the baggage carousel, so I guess she's probably stuck in customs or something."

"You use the courtesy telephone to page her?" Simon asks me and I think he's kind of trying to avoid looking at Jim, because my former partner is clenching his jaw.

"I told them to tell her that there were three handsome guys waiting by a silver car." I tell them, hoping my joke will ease the mounting tension.

Simon laughs. "Huh. I see two."

Jim seems willing to play along as he responds. "Yeah. That's my count." He turns towards Simon. "Why doesn't she just take a cab?"

Simon sighs audibly. "Well, she's a visiting officer, Jim. It's not proper protocol."

"So when can we expect the marching band?" There was a slight smile on Jim's face, but the sarcasm was not lost on either Simon or me. For a minute I can remember what it was like, before.

"The officer exchange program is vital to the department for upgrading its training." Simon answers, and their banter furthers my momentary delusion.

"I got the memo, Captain." I hear Jim answer as I turn around. There's a woman approaching. She's wearing this coat with pink fur on it.

"The last thing I need are tips from some female Crocodile Dundee out to bust beer-soaked kangaroos. " Jim continues.

The woman stops just behind Jim and I can tell from the look on her face that she heard him and suddenly I realize that *this* is Megan Connor, my new partner.

"The only crocs I've seen are at the Sydney Zoo and the roos I know prefer vodka." The woman smirks slightly at Jim and then turns to Simon. "Inspector Megan Conner, New South Wales Police Services."

Simon straightened ever so slightly, the humor of a few minutes ago giving way to politeness. "Inspector Conner, I'm Captain Simon Banks, Major Crimes Cascade Police Department."

I hold out a hand to her. "Hi. I'm Blair Sandburg."

She looks me over as she shakes my hand. "You must work narcotics."

"No… actually…" I trail off.

"Actually, he would be your new partner." Simon intervenes.

Megan raises an eyebrow and smiles at me before turning to Jim. "And the comedian is?"

After all the introductions are made, things rapidly go from bad to worse as Jim spots something with his eyesight and takes Simon and his new car out to chase the guy. I'm perfectly willing to wait, but Connor has other ideas. Soon we're commandeering a cab and following them.

After the car chase ends, and the bad guys are arrested, we all head back to the station and I find myself in the break room, with Jim, alone. It's weird. We've been in this very room a dozen times before this. We've been alone a dozen times before this. But suddenly, things are very different.

"So, that's your new partner." Jim breaks the silence.

I nod. "I guess so. She's not too bad."

Jim scowls. "She could have gotten you killed."

I roll my eyes. "So her driving isn't so good. I survived three years with you. I'll manage."

Suddenly the slight thread of humor dissipates as we are both reminded that *we* are no longer partners.

"Sandburg… Blair… why?" He asks me, and his voice is pained.

"Why what?" I ask, not exactly sure what it is he is asking.

"Why can't you come back? Be *my* partner?" His voice is quiet, and I know that he really wants an honest answer from me.

"Jim, things were bad. You know they were. Those things you said in Clayton Falls, you meant them."

"No, I didn't, Chief. I said I was wrong. I'm sorry. What more do you want from me?"

I'm getting irritated now because he's practically begging me here, and I really want to just forget everything and let it go, and move back home and be his partner again. But I just *can't*. I can't go on like that, with things in this weird, twisted reality, where he's thinking these things, and feeling these things, but isn't saying anything. And then one day, whamo, goodbye Sandburg. It's better like this. I know it is.

I turn to face him, ready to just tell him to leave me alone, for his own good, but his question echoes in my head, so I answer it. "I want you to admit that everything you said is true. You never wanted to be the subject of my research. You never wanted me in your house, or in your life. Now it's over. You should be happy!"

I can't take any more rebuttals so I storm out of the break room before he can stop me. I run back into the BullPen and step into Simon's office where he is talking to Megan Connor.

"Simon, I've gotta go." I tell him.

Simon nods then looks from me to Connor and back again. "Would you mind giving her a lift to the hotel?"

"No problem, but we gotta leave. Now." I leave the office and make my way towards the elevator, hoping I won't run into Jim again.

I'm lucky because I make it all the way to my car without running into him. Connor must have read my desire to leave quickly because she's climbing into the passenger side before I can even get my key in the ignition.

"You didn't get into too much trouble?" I ask her as we pull onto the road.

"No worries." She tells me with a smile.

After a few more minutes of silence she turns to me. "So, you and your mate, you ended things?"

"Huh?" I sputter.

"Ellison, Sandy." She explains. "You were partners, now you're not. You were flatmates, now you're not."

I nod my agreement, not really sure what else to say, and not entirely certain I want to even discuss this with her.

"So, you're not looking for a roomie are you?"

****

I feel weird. Okay, considering this is me we're talking about I suppose that shouldn't be too surprising. But it isn't the usual 'Sandburg-Zone weirdness'. It's something else entirely. Something… alien almost.

It's been a couple of weeks since I moved out of the loft, and I'm getting used to it. Really, I am. I moved out of the spare room at Simon's, which is good. Sort of. Though while I was there it was almost like I hadn't really left the loft, left *Jim*. But I knew that I had.

From that very first day that I came home and began to pack, I knew that I wouldn't be coming back. That I couldn't come back. Jim didn't need me there. He really didn't *want* me there. So I had to go. Cut off the arm to save the body. Sounds kind of ridiculous. But accurate none-the-less. I had to move out to save the friendship.

Only I didn't. Save the friendship I mean. Sure in theory, we're still friends. Technically we still work in the same department at the PD. We even still live in the same building.

I wasn't kidding when I told him there was a unit on the second floor that was available. It was still available last week, and so I moved in. Well, *we* moved in. Megan Connor and I that is.

And living with her is… odd. But in an okay kind of way.

I didn't think I could stand to live alone after the last couple of years with Jim, so I was kind of stuck in what to do. I couldn't really stay with Simon indefinitely, although he didn't really seem to mind. And I couldn't go back to the loft, although Jim had asked. And I just *couldn't* move into a place of my own, although I could afford it now, with income coming from both the University and the PD.

So, when Connor asked me if I was looking for a roomie, I seriously thought about it, although some part of my brain was sure she wasn't serious. She was. After Bruenell was caught and Simon offered to keep her on in Major Crimes, it seemed like the thing to do, for both of us.

But it's really strange.

I mean, I pull my car into the same parking lot and park in the same space. But I only go up to the second floor now. And I'm living with my partner, who's a cop. Only now, she's a woman. And she isn't an anal-retentive Sentinel, but simply an Aussie inspector with an odd sense of what's tasteful.

It's okay though. Really it is.

I'm not sure whom I'm trying to convince though.

I'm rambling, I know. I think I'm just a little over tired. I haven't slept in *WAY* too long. Connor and I had to work the night shift last night, which was way strange. Not the night shift in general, just last night's night shift.

We had some pretty weird stuff going on, even for Cascade. A bizarre car theft case, a crocodile loose in the station and a man who claimed he was an angel. And that's just for starters.

I went straight to the University afterwards. I have finals coming up and a lot of work to take care of. I spent a good portion of the day trying to remind myself why I didn't do the smart thing and just go home and sleep.

But then I remember. Home. 852 Prospect. Apartment 203.

It's that last part that is keeping me away.

I'm getting used to it, really I am.

It's just… I miss him, I really do.

Last night was weird. He got stuck with the night shift too, and although we were both more or less working together, we weren't. Not really. It seemed… awkward. The one thing working with Jim never was. Only, now it is.

And the week before, Jim, Megan and I got stuck working an undercover assignment. I suppose it was inevitable, really. Us working together, closely. But, things are just so surreal right now.

And Connor and Jim played a married couple, which they just could *not* pull off. Although they argue just like one. But watching them pretend to be a couple was not exactly something I want to repeat.

But I'm not jealous. Really.

****

Married? To Megan Connor? Not in this lifetime. Not in any lifetime. It was strange. Wrong in the most fundamental sense. Sitting in that house, in the suburbs, pretending to be married. Blair was there, and that was nice. It would have been an ideal situation if not for one Australian inspector.

Not that I don't like her. I do. Really.

Okay, that's a lie.

I hate her. I really, really hate her.

But it's not anything she's done. Not really.

Except that she has taken my place.

She lives in my building. With My roommate. Partnered with *MY* partner.

What was it Blair was saying about my territorial imperatives?

Well, it has to stop. Soon. I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do about it though. It's been a couple of weeks since I came home to find him gone. I have hated every second of the time since then.

Every night I would come home from work to an empty loft. Devoid of sounds and clutter and strange foods and… Blair. Devoid of life. I couldn't smell him there anymore and that was awful. I couldn't just reach out with my senses and find his heartbeat. He was just… gone.

Then, a week ago he moved into an apartment on the second floor. I guess he wasn't kidding when he told me there was a unit available. I wonder when, and why he had that checked out. I mean before his unexpected trip to Clayton Falls, he didn't want to move out, did he?

I can now hear his heartbeat again, if I reach out for it. I can even smell him on the floor below mine, and when I come home at night, sometimes I just sit on the couch in the dark, and listen.

I listen to the sounds of the Volvo as it pulls in and parks. I listen to the noises he makes as he rides up in the elevator or more often than not, takes the stairs. I listen to him get off on the second floor, knowing he's on the wrong floor. I listen to him approach his new apartment and go inside.

From there, I can hear him moving around in the apartment, making dinner, showering, working on his laptop, grading papers, and eventually sleeping. Only then can I make myself go to sleep, lulled by the distant sound of his even breathing.

I can take some small comfort from my eavesdropping. In that his life is not the same. He doesn't cook dinner for her, and share his day with her, not like when he lived with me. Oh sure, when they are both home, he talks. A lot. But it's not the same.

I can tell the differences in his speech pattern. The way he moves around the floor as he spinning some tale. The way he explains some new, or old thing. It isn't the same. It's not the same relaxed way in which he used to talk to me. It's almost as if he's filling up the silence, because he has to, not because he really wants to be telling her these things.

He lives with Megan Connor, but that isn't his home. His home is with me. It has been from the moment his warehouse exploded, and I took him, and Larry, the Barbary ape, into my loft. Into my heart.

I know this, with a clarity I have never known before. I know that despite our distance and our present awkward conversations, this is not the end. I know that he will come back. To the loft, and to me.

I know this, and it is up to me to make sure he does too.

****

No worries. That's what I said when Captain Banks told me that I'd be working undercover with Detective Ellison.

It was a lie. I am worried.

I was worried when the captain told me about the case, and now that it's over I'm even more concerned. Watching them together, and even apart just enforced what I already suspected. They really are miserable.

Despite the fact that we've clashed at every turn since my arrival, I kind of like Ellison. And I figure he can't be too bad if he means so much to Sandy.

That's what worries me. Sandy. And Ellison. There's something going on there. And I don't mean the typical problems when a partnership breaks up, or a flatmate moves out.

I thought they were lovers. Sandy says no. It's a pity really. Because they should be. It's obvious to anyone with eyes that they love each other, miss each other. Why Sandy's living with me and not upstairs with Ellison, I'll never know.

When I asked about being flatmates, I was only partially serious. I don't really need a roommate. I get paid enough to afford a place on my own. And even if I didn't, I have money of my own.

When I left New South Wales and came here, I wasn't entirely sure what would happen. I had only applied for the Foreign Exchange Officer position as a means to come to Cascade, and catch Scott Bruenell.

Scott Bruenell was the reason I came to America. Back home he blew up a bridge to get to a payroll transport. He got away with two million Australian dollars, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. I was the lead investigator on the case, and he made things personal.

He assaulted me with threatening phone calls, shots fired through my window, and tampering with the breaks of my car. Before we had enough evidence to arrest him, he disappeared. My superiors considered the case closed. I didn't.

When I heard about the foreign exchange program, I volunteered. So that's how I arrived in rainy Washington. And thanks to the help of Ellison, and my new partner, Bruenell was captured.

I was offered the opportunity to stay on in Cascade, and with a little prodding, I accepted. I wasn't really planning on accepting. Banks and I seems to be at odds constantly, and Ellison really seems to hate me. But I have to be honest; I am intrigued by the relationship between Sandy and Ellison.

I've asked around the station about the two of them. There's no end to the things that people will say about Detective James Ellison. And not all of it's good. Oh, no one can doubt that he's an excellent cop. Completely deserving of his title as Cop of the Year. Two years running.

It's his personality that some people seem to have a problem with. He seems to be like this solid wall. He doesn't give an inch, on anything. In some cases that's a good thing. But in my experience, when dealing with people, that's more of a hindrance than an asset.

But I suppose that's what Sandy was for.

Other people seem to agree. They say that Jim is a completely different person since he hooked up with Sandy. He's still an excellent cop. Better than before even. But he's not such a hard ass.

And Sandy…

He's something else altogether.

How does an anthropologist hook up with a police detective anyway?

He's a police consultant, now. But I've heard that that's a new position. Up until shortly before my arrival he was just an observer. For three years. Usually that kind of observation only lasts a few months.

So why the extended ride-along?

And judging from the stories I've heard, he did much more than observe.

Some of the cops in Major Crimes think very highly of him. Which, coming from someone new to the department, I know that that kind of respect is very hard to come by.

And yet, he has it. And he doesn't even know he has it. Which makes me wonder what kind of person he really is. I don't really know him all that well. Kind of surprising considering in the month I've been in America, I have spent more time with him, than without.

I've noticed something though.

He talks a lot. I mean… a lot. But he doesn't say much. He talks about ancient tribes, and exotic foods, and places his been, cases he's worked. And he seems to know more individual facts than any one person has a right to.

But sometimes I get the feeling he's trying to fill the space with his words. To fill up this empty place inside him, to remind himself that he isn't alone, and that he has all of this… knowledge, and use to impart.

I don't think he realizes that the empty space he's trying to fill isn't inside himself, but in the void he created, maybe unwittingly, when he left a piece of his soul behind.

And the answer to his dilemma is sitting right upstairs… waiting.

****

"Excuse me? I'm looking for Doctor Sandburg."

I look up at from my desk where I've been grading papers. "I'm Blair Sandburg." I stand up and step around my desk.

The woman is looking around my office and I find myself having an odd reaction to her. Though I'm not really certain why. I have plenty of people coming into my office, especially since I became a regular professor, even though I only work here part time.

I think a lot of the students find it easier to talk to me than some of the other professors. Probably due to my age. In any case, having people I don't know coming into my office is not unusual. Still, there is something about this particular woman which is setting off warning bells.

She turns to face me and smiles. "I was told you could help me."

"Help you?" I ask stepping closer. "What exactly is the problem?" I pause, assessing her more closely. "Are you a student here?"

The woman shakes her head, her blond hair falling around her face. "Oh no. I'm an artist."

An artist? What kind of help could I possibly offer her? I take another look at her. She doesn't strike me as an anthropology student. Although to be fair, my students range widely.

She's blonde with blue eyes. She's incredibly beautiful. If I was looking, I might actually think about asking her out. But there is still something about her that's… off somehow.

"How can help you?" I ask her carefully.

"I've been getting these headaches. I was told you might be able to help."

"Headaches?" I crinkle my brow at her. Technically I am a doctor, but not the type that one would go to for headaches, or any other physical ailment.

"Yes. I was told you specialize in… enhanced senses."

I freeze and narrowed my eyes slightly. My work isn't exactly a secret, but I still become suspicious when someone shows an interest. Especially when that someone has no known connection to the University, or Anthropology.

"Enhanced senses?" I ask her cautiously.

"Yes."

"Which ones?"

"Sight, sound, taste, touch, smell." She is staring at me now, searching, although I'm not sure what for.

"All five of them? That's highly unusual." I walk back towards my desk and pull out a notebook.

"You say you've been getting headaches? Is that when you use your senses?" I start making some notes as she begins to speak.

"Yes. Anytime I use them, I get these awful headaches." The woman sits down in the empty chair opposite my desk. "Do you think you can help?"

I look up from my writing and stare at her for a moment. "Maybe. We'll need to do some tests."

She nods at me and I smile.

"What's you're name?"

"Alex. Alex Barnes."

****

I'm going insane.

It's not the first time I've felt that way, nor will it be the last, I'm sure. But it is the first time when I've been really afraid. Really and truly afraid. And I am alone.

My Guide no longer lives with me, or works with me. I know he would come and help me if I asked. But I can't ask. I just can't do that. I think I'm more afraid of what will happen if I ask for his help than I am of what will happen if I don't.

I had a dream last night. It was one of those vision-dreams I get sometimes. I really hate them because they are always trying to tell me something but I can never figure out what it is. This time I was in the jungle, hunting. And there was a wolf and as it ran through the foliage, I followed. That isn't strange in itself. Except that I had this weird disconnected feeling.

I pulled out an arrow and threaded it through the bow. I didn't really *want* to do this, but I couldn't seem to control myself enough to stop.

Then the wolf stopped and turned around, it's blue eyes staring at me, and I swear, I recognized something in those eyes, but before I could identify it, I shot the arrow at the animal.

I didn't mean to, but again, I seemed to have no control.

And to make matters worse, the wolf fell to the ground, dying. And as it did so, it shifted into a person. Into Blair.

I killed Blair. I couldn't believe it. I know it's just a dream. But what if it's not? What if it's trying to tell me something?

And I don't know what to do. I don't know whether I should go to him, ask for his help, demand that he help me, tell me what it is that's driving me crazy *this* time. Or if I should go back home, rearrange the furniture some more. Or maybe I should just go back to the station, do my job and pretend that nothing is wrong.

But before I can even make any sort of decision about which thing I will do, something happens. At first I'm not even entirely certain what it is. It isn't really something I can attribute to one specific sense. It's almost like a warning, just at the edge of my senses. Something telling me there's danger near by.

And considering I'm standing just outside of Hargrove hall, near that fountain that all the students seem to think is the perfect place to make out, I start to move.

Because I'm at the University, and if there is trouble here, I have no doubt that it will somehow find my Guide.

I enter the building and make my way towards his office. I can't hear his heartbeat and that concerns me so I speed up at little, not really caring if I run some poor student down in the process.

Just as I approach the office door, I get that feeling again. The prickling one, going down my spine, alerting me to *something*. I hear a growl nearby but I *know* even without looking that it is not the sound made by my own spirit guide. This one is foreign, and dangerous.

I look through the window and see a spotted jaguar on the other side. It growls at me and leaps across the desk. For a minute I am frozen, and can't seem to get a handle on anything.

When I blink and look back to the room, the jaguar is gone, but not the feeling of danger. There's a woman standing there. Blonde, and she seems almost as disoriented as I am.

Before I can even open my mouth and speak she is moving towards me. She opens the office door and pushes past me. The moment we touch, I can feel the dangerous feeling I have ignite and a growl erupts from my throat. I don't even know if I actually made a sound or not, and by the time I have myself under control, the woman is gone.

"Jim?"

The voice startles me and I turn around swiftly, ready to attack. It isn't until I see the concern in those blue eyes and hear the sound of his familiar heartbeat that I start to calm down.

"What's going on?" Blair asks me as he steps into his office and looks around.

****

I continue to look around the office, trying to find what it is that has spooked Jim. And he is spooked. I can tell by the look on his face. I take a step closer to him and he backs away.

I stop, wondering what's wrong. Despite our recent estrangement, he's never seemed afraid, either of me, or for me. And right now, he's afraid, but I'm not sure why.

"Jim?" I ask quietly, my voice soothing. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Jim looks into my office as if he's never seen it before and I can see his nostrils working, and I'm wondering what it is he smells. It's right then that I remember where I went, and who was in my office when I left.

All at once it hits me and I take a deep breath, trying to weave my mind against all the possible reasons for Jim's reaction.

"Jim?" I ask again, but he doesn't seem to hear me. "Jim?" I take a cautious step towards him and either he doesn't notice or he doesn't mind because this time he doesn't move.

"Jim, why don't you come inside? We can talk about this."

Jim looks at me then, and his eyes are sort of glazed, but I can see them clearing up. He stares at me silently for a second and then takes a deep breath and I can tell he's sniffing again.

"It was Alex, wasn't it?" I ask him as he closes his eyes, taking in all the smells around him.

His eyes snap open and he stares at me for a second before pulling me closer and sniffing me more intimately than ever before. Part of me wants to pull away, for some irrational fear of where this might be going, but another part, the more scientific part, I guess, recognizes it for what it is.

After several long minutes, Jim pulls away. His eyes lock with mine and I become uncomfortable. We really haven't talked about much of anything in the past few weeks. It always seems so awkward.

I'm not sure where we stand in each other's lives in anymore. I don't think he knows any more than I do. We seem to be going on, but it just doesn't feel right. It feels almost as if I'm missing this huge part of myself. A part I'm not sure if I can ever get back.

"Who is she?" Jim asks, breaking me out of my thoughts. "The other Sentinel?"

****

"Who is she?" I ask again.

Blair sighs and flops into the chair behind his desk. "Her name is Alex Barnes. She says she's an artist." He pauses for a second but I can tell he has something more to say, so I wait. "She says she has all five senses enhanced."

"You don't believe her?" I ask, picking up on what he isn't saying.

Blair stands up and begins walking around the room, moving his hands restlessly. "Oh I believe she's a Sentinel, or at the very least that she has all five senses enhanced."

"There's a difference?" I ask confused.

"Yes." Blair nods. "You are a Sentinel. But it's not just about enhanced senses. It's your life. It is who and what you are. You're a watchman. You protect the tribe. Even if you were an ordinary man, you would still do this. You *did* do this, before your senses came back online."

I think about this for a second. It does make a strange kind of sense. According to Sandburg, Sentinel's have a genetic predisposition, but that doesn't necessarily mean that all people with enhanced senses can be Sentinels. Not everyone would take on the responsibility. Not everyone would want it.

I know I don't always want it. But yet, it *is* who I am. Again, my Guide reminds me of how well he knows me. I miss him. It's moments like this when I am reminded of how well we know each other that it stands out the most.

"What does she want?" I finally ask.

Blair shrugs. "Help. Control. Sanity. Take your pick." He turns away from me and towards the small window in his office. "Maybe she wants a guide."

Something in me snaps at his last words. A Guide. She wants a Guide? She wants *my* Guide.

"No." I growl.

*****

I turn away from the window slowly. When I'm facing Jim, he has this fierce, almost feral look on his face.

"No?" I ask. "No what?"

"She can't have you." The words were growled and the tone made me back up a step.

It took me a second to realize what it was he was talking about.

"No, Jim. "It isn't like that." I step forward, now pretty sure I know what's going on, at least at this moment. I place a hand on his chest, my fingers running over the material in his shirt soothingly. "Really."

"She wants a guide." Jim spoke, this time his voice sounded less sure.

"Maybe." I concede. "But even if she does, this one's taken." I look at him and for the first time in weeks, we looked at each other. I mean really *looked*.

We stand here, staring at one another for a really long time. I'm not sure how much time has passed before Jim speaks again, but when he does I can hear the confusion and uncertainty in his voice. And despite whatever control he may have been showing without me this past month, or whatever primal forces are at work here, he still needs me.

"Is he?" Jim asks and my confusion must show on my face because he rephrases the question. "Are you? Taken?"

I blink. "Jim, despite what's happened to us, I'm still your friend, still your Guide."

"Still my partner?" He asks with an eyebrow raised.

I look away, not wanting to see whatever emotion he sees fit to show. Our split is still an open wound.

"Jim…"

"No, Blair. Answer me. Are we friends? Partners? What? Tell me what are we?"

I sigh heavily because I *don't* know the answer to that. "I… I don't know."

"Come home." The words, so softly spoken I have trouble hearing, strike a cord within me.

"I can't." I whisper, and at this moment I'm not even sure why it is I can't, I just know it isn't something I can do at that second.

Jim runs a hand through his thinning hair and takes a step back. "Chief… Blair…" He trails off and turns away from me. I can see the tension in the muscles under his clothes and I want so badly to sooth away those lines of strain but I just *can't*.

"What, Jim?" I ask quietly and as calmly as I can muster although I am aware we are at some sort of crossroads here.

"Come to dinner." He finally says, after moments of silence, his back still to me. "We need to talk."

"About what?" I can't stop myself from asking although I'm not entirely certain I want to hear the answer.

"About nothing. Everything. Us. This Barnes woman. You choose. But we need to talk."

I can almost hear the tremors in his voice as he speaks and I know how difficult it is for him to say these things, to be willing to discuss them, finally. I can't bear to refuse him.

"Okay." I tell him quietly. "Let me finish up here and I'll meet you at the loft in a couple of hours."

Jim turns to face me then, and most people would probably describe his face as expressionless, but I'm not most people and I see the lines of hope there. I'm, not sure what it is he is hoping for, but maybe I can give it to him. And if not, maybe we can at least be better off than we are now.

*****

Something strange is going on. And I don't mean the usual Ellison strangeness, although there is certainly that. But he seems to be loosing his marbles. He threw a fit in the bullpen today, right there in front of everyone. Complaining about people touching his stuff.

Maybe it's me, but I swear he was accusing me of taking something that was his. The weird thing was, I'm not even sure if *he* realized he was doing it. It was down right scary.

When I called the University to tell Sandy about it, he said he'd seen Jim already. He said they were having dinner.

I can't tell you how relieved I was to hear that, really. It's not that I don't like Sandy, I do. And Jimbo, when he's not screaming and being a general ass, he's a good guy. But anyone with eyes can see that those two belong together.

I just hope they can get whatever happened between them settled so we can all move on.

Because if I've learned anything since coming here, it's that Major Crimes isn't the same when Jimbo and Sandy are out of sorts. I'm not so sure what it's like when they're *in sorts*, but it's got to be better than this. Right?

****

This feels incredibly awkward. Here I am standing outside of the elevator on the third floor. It's not as if I haven't been here since moving out of the loft. I have. Just not on this floor. I've had no reason to move beyond the second floor. Until now.

But tonight, I do. Tonight, I'm supposed to have dinner with Jim. I'm not sure whether I'm more elated or terrified. This is the first time we've made plans to meet and talk about something that isn't directly work related.

I know that despite whatever's going on with Jim and his senses, despite the appearance of Alex Barnes, this dinner isn't about any of that. This is about him and I. About us trying to get back some of what we've lost.

It isn't the first time he's asked me to come to the loft, but it is the first time I've agreed to come. I'm not sure what that means. Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Or maybe it means I'm ready to deal with whatever's between us. Or maybe I'm just fooling myself into believe it means something.

I think maybe I'm using Alex and her arrival here as an excuse to see Jim. As if I didn't have a valid reason to accept his offer before. But now, in case things become too tense, or just don't work out, I can always say that I was just coming to talk about her and why she's here.

Even though, we both know that's a lie.

It doesn't matter who Alex Barnes is, or why she's here. I already have a Sentinel, and I don't need another. I'm not even sure if it's healthy to have two of them in the same zip code, much less fighting over a guide. It sounds dangerous, if you ask me.

Not that anyone did. Ask me that is. But if someone was going to ask, I'd be the person they'd ask. Okay, now my rambles aren't making any sense. Even to me.

The bottom line is, Alex Barnes came looking for me. I'm not sure why, but if she has any delusions about me Guiding her, things could get really ugly. It's not that I automatically think something terrible is going to happen. It's just this *feeling* I have.

Like if I left them to their own devices they'd be battling it out like a couple of primal tribesmen, which, in essence is what they are.

And I am just now realizing that the sooner Jim and I settle whatever is between us the better. Maybe if we hadn't been so separated recently she wouldn't have come to me. Maybe she would have *known* this Guide was taken. Maybe.

I guess I'll never know.

Of course I'm taking a lot on faith here. Maybe she doesn't want a guide, and it's all some strange coincidence.

The problem with that theory is I stopped believing in coincidences shortly after I hooked up with Jim.

****

I know he's out there. I can hear the steady beat of his heart, the even tempo of his breathing. I can't hear much else, which tells me that he isn't moving. No scrape of his shoes in the hall, or the rustle of his clothes as he moves.

He's probably having second thoughts about this dinner. I was surprised he agreed to come. It isn't the first time I've asked, but it is the first time he's accepted. What does that mean?

Does it mean anything?

I really don't want to hope for too much. We've been separated these past few weeks, by more than the distance of one floor. I know I was wrong to say the things I did, in Clayton Falls.

I knew it was wrong almost as soon as the words left my mouth, but I couldn't retract them. Not then, and later it was too late. Now I can only show him how wrong I was. How *wrong* this place is without him. How much he's needed.

How much he's loved.

v That's the kicker. I'm not sure when I realized it, or when it became apparent that it wasn't a brotherly type of affection. It's the real deal. Accept no substitutes. Even if he never comes back to me. Even if we don't regain the closeness we had, and he never knows how much I love him. Even then, he is all there is. Now and forever.

I can hear him moving away from the elevator now, towards me. I breathe a sigh of relief. I wasn't sure if he would go through with it. The way he just hesitated outside of elevator, I thought he would change his mind. And I wanted to go out, and convince him to come in. But I couldn't do that. He had to make the choice himself.

And he has. I smile to myself as I open the door and let him inside.

"Hey." Blair smiles slightly, but I can see the tension in the lines around his eyes. He looks around the room and sort of takes in a breath. "You redecorated." He comments noticing the sparseness of the room.

"Not really." I tell him. "Not on purpose at any rate. Things were… confining."

"Your senses?" His hand is reaching out to me and the moment he touches my shoulder, the world seems to tilt on its axis. Everything seems to right it self for a moment. But then his hand is withdrawn and everything is tilted again.

"What's going on, man? You gotta talk to me." He's guiding me to the couch, which is pushed against one wall.

There's nothing I can do but follow, and do as he asks. So I do. I tell him about the weird dreams I've been having. About the claustrophobic feeling in the loft, about the on edge feeling everywhere else, how crazy it made me to see people at my desk, touching my things. Almost as if something was going to reach in and take what's mine. It's creepy. This out of control feeling I've been living with. I've had it for a few weeks, but it seems to be getting worse.

As I speak, he keeps nodding his head as if in understanding, and I think that maybe he does understand. He looks at me with those dark blue eyes, piercing me, promising me that we will figure out what's going on. Together.

*****

After awhile, we sit on the floor and start on dinner. The table, like most of the furniture has disappeared, a victim of Jim's 'claustrophobia'. I don't mind. All I've ever wanted is to make things better for Jim. To make him comfortable. If having furniture is making him uncomfortable, who needs it?

We eat in silence, but it's not an uncomfortable silence. It seems almost familiar although we haven't been in this place for far too long. And never on the barely furnished hardwood floors.

Once dinner is done I help him clean up the trash and wash the few dishes we dirtied and this too seems normal.

He disappears into the bathroom and I make my way towards the balcony and just look out over the city, thinking. About what has changed in these past few weeks, and what hasn't.

I'm comfortable here, in the loft, in a way I never was in the second floor apartment, regardless of the fact that I had a bigger room. That doesn't seem to matter as much. It just wasn't home. Because Jim wasn't there. And for me, Jim *is* home.

"Will you stay?" Jim's voice startles me and through the reflection on the glass I can see him standing behind me.

I turn around slowly and look up into his ice blue eyes. "You need me." I whisper quietly. He nods and I take a leap of faith that I'm not sure is warranted, but I can't stop myself. "You love me?" The words are so softly spoken I'm not even sure he can hear me.

"I do." Jim bends down and presses his lips against mine and I can feel the love in the connection. It's like nothing and everything, all at once.

It's like coming home.

End Part 7