Blest be the Tie that Binds

by Chopecdar

(Dar Hutson Scally)

Somewhere in the distance I can hear a buzzing sound, but it's so far away that I can ignore it. I'm too deep into my dreams to let a little noise pull me away. But even as I determine to stay asleep, I feel a sudden cold dragging me up from the depths. It's Jim. He has pulled my covers off in an attempt to wake me up.

"Go 'way!" I grumble, reaching down to try to get my blanket back. But he has pulled the covers away onto the floor where I can't reach them.

"Up NOW, Chief !" He has a hint of mischief in his voice that warns me I'd better show some signs of moving. Last time I ignored that sound in his voice, I found myself at the business end of a water pistol full of ice water. And I do mean ice water. He put the damn thing in the freezer for a half hour before he used it on me. That got me up pretty fast. But it did make me grumpy for half the day.

"Blairrrrr," he cajoles. "I'm thinking about some nice cold water."

Oh well. I guess there's no reprieve. I start sliding off the bed, eyes still closed. It seems way too early to be starting the day.

"I'm up. I'm up," I gripe. "I'm not happy about it, but I'm up."

He seems satisfied, at least for the moment, cause I hear him heading off to the kitchen. I rub my eyes and pry them open, stumbling unsteadily toward a warm shower. I feel like I can't even remember the last time I got enough sleep. What I really need is a day to just sleep in. Oh well, not likely to happen any time soon.

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

I really hated waking him up this morning. I know he was up late last night and he really could have used a few more hours of sleep. But, he asked me to make sure he got up when his alarm went off, said it was important, something about an important test this morning. I don't know if he's giving it or taking it, but he has to be there on time either way. So, I teased him about the cold water. I only had to actually use it on him one time. Since then, he takes no chances. That ice water can be a real shock in the morning.

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

I come out of the shower feeling a bit more awake; although I am just realizing that the scratchy throat I noticed when I first woke up hasn't gotten any better. I hope it's not a cold coming on. I don't have time to be sick.

I get dressed quickly, not because I'm in that much of a hurry; I have plenty of time to get to my class, but just because I'm freezing to death here and anxious to get warm. A few layers of shirts topped off by a nice warm flannel and a cup of steaming coffee ought to fix me up just fine.

Jim studies me as I sit down at the table with my coffee and toast. I smile at him.

"Good morning," I offer.

He looks away for a second, then back and that appraising look is gone, replaced by a casual smile. I decide I'd better take a quick look at myself in the mirror before I leave. Maybe my hair is sticking up funny or something.

"Hey Chief." He takes a sip of his coffee. "Coming to the station today?"

I nod, having just taken a bite of my toast and not wanting to spit crumbs. The toast is like a hard lump in the back of my throat as I take a drink of coffee to make it slide down. That's enough of that. I put the remaining toast down, hoping that this doesn't develop into a full-fledged sore throat.

Looking up at Jim, I notice he is studying me again. "I should be there around lunch time."

He nods. "Good. We can go out and grab some lunch when you get there."

"Okay." I get up, dumping my barely touched toast in the trash and putting my coffee cup in the sink, and head toward the door to get my jacket on.

Jim finishes his coffee and puts the cup in the sink, then heads over to the coat rack. As I grab my backpack and open the door, he touches my shoulder. I look at him and see a hint of Blessed Protector concern in his eyes.

"Take something for that sore throat before it gets any worse, okay?"

I smile before I can stop myself. It feels good to have someone caring about me, but it also fascinates me that he has picked up on my having a sore throat, which I am only just beginning to admit to myself, and I wonder how much of his observation was Sentinel senses and how much just plain detective work. I doubt he'd even be able to tell me himself.

"Okay Jim." I say, knowing there's no use denying that he's right. I resolve to get some throat lozenges on my way to class.

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

Sometimes, like this morning, I feel like there is some kind of bond between me and Sandburg. I don't mean just a bond of friendship, not something so common as that. It's more like this feeling that we are tied together with an invisible string. And sometimes, when he's in trouble or stressed, I feel a bit of a tug on this string, like it's trying to get my attention.

I felt like that this morning, like every time I looked at him, the string was being yanked, and something was telling me to pay attention. So, I did. And what I noticed was that he had trouble swallowing his toast and he looked really tired. I tuned into his breathing, thinking maybe he had a cold coming on, but I didn't hear any congestion in his lungs and I didn't sense any fever. Still, I felt that little tug, pulling at me telling me something wasn't right. I guess I'll just pay close attention for the next few days. I know from past experience that he's the last person to admit he's sick and go to a doctor, so I'll just make sure this time, that if he needs to see a doctor he won't put it off so long that he ends up with pneumonia or something.

I smile as I think about it. Before I met Blair Sandburg, I would have denied to the end that I ever 'needed' anyone, but now I realize that I do need him, and what's just as important is that he needs me. It feels good to be cared about and needed and it took Sandburg, my 'guide,' to make me understand that.

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

The morning drags by and I drag myself through it. I feel so worn out and tired, and with this scratchy throat it makes me wonder if I'm getting ready to get the flu or something. I hear some of my students talking about the strep-throat epidemic that has recently hit Rainier. Maybe that's what I'm getting. I decide if my sore throat gets any worse I'll stop by the campus clinic and at least have them do a strep test.

I had a friend when I was a kid who had strep and didn't know it so it didn't get treated, and he eventually ended up in the hospital for two weeks. The last thing I heard was that he might have heart damage, but I never found out what happened to him. We moved to another country that week so I never saw him again.

Of course, that wasn't unusual for me. I spent my whole childhood making new friends and then disappearing from their lives with no warning. When Naomi decided it was time to move on, she meant it was time to move on, not time to get ready and tie up loose ends and say goodbye to friends and then move on.

There were times when I came home from school and found our bags packed and was given maybe a half hour to make a few phone calls and say goodbye. But I never learned. Anyone else would have realized that they shouldn't keep making new friends and getting all involved in other people's lives; that they should distance themselves from other people, knowing that they would always have to leave them behind.

But I just kept going around making friends, getting to like people, sometimes even love people, only to abruptly leave them behind at Naomi's whim. Not that I hold it against her. My mom just never could stay in one place very long, still can't. She's like a bird, flying free, not to be caged. She flies into a place, visits awhile, then flies on her way. The only thing that's changed is that she used to take her baby bird along with her and now she leaves him in his nest and just flies in to visit him once in awhile.

And her baby bird wouldn't have it any other way. The nest he has found for himself came complete with Sentinel, partner, and best friend all rolled into one. I laugh as I think about it. Jim Ellison has taken better care of me since we've met than my mother ever did. Don't get me wrong. I mean, she did her best and, what's most important, she loved me and I always knew it without a doubt.

But she was no Blessed Protector Sentinel. Her senses were nowhere near enhanced and her common sense could have used a little work. I was pretty much on my own from the time I could walk. I mean, she was there, but we were more like partners on the road of life, not mother and child. She expected me to be independent and self sufficient, and because she expected it, I was.

Now I have Jim and, although he respects me as an independent, responsible adult, he also looks out for me like a big brother would. And he doesn't do it out of some sense of responsibility. He does it because he really cares about me and he worries about me.

Like this morning, when he noticed I had a bit of a sore throat. I saw him checking me out. I knew he was noticing something about me. It's like whenever I'm not feeling right or I'm upset or worried about something, he's right there tuned into me.

I would never mention it to Jim, but I think we have some kind of Sentinel/Guide connection, maybe some kind of genetic link that ties us together. I always seem to feel some kind of pull whenever he needs me. I can be in another room and if he zones, I feel this little yank from him like he needs me and I go to him and pull him back.

Things like this little connection are the kind of things I just keep to myself. I think Jim must feel it too. Otherwise, how would he keep showing up to save my butt all the time? But I will never confront him with it and make him admit to it. He's just not the type of guy to go for any mystical stuff.

Jim was raised in a traditional 60's environment; no mysticism or weird stuff allowed. The fact that he's a sentinel is enough for him to deal with. It was really hard work just getting him to believe that he wasn't some kind of freak. I finally have him feeling like a valuable human being, one who just happens to have a little extra edge that he can use to help people. I wouldn't want to ruin that self-image with any 'weird' stuff like a psychic bond with his neo-hippie witch doctor punk roommate.

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

I can hear his heart beat from the elevator on its way up. I could probably have heard it out on the street before he even walked into the building if I had been paying attention. But by the time he's on the elevator, it's impossible not to notice him. It's not even really the heartbeat, but more like the 'sense' of him, of my guide getting close that snaps my attention away from the report I'm working on.

I look up at the doorway as I listen to him step off the elevator and head my way. He's such a friendly person. If I didn't already know this, it would be evident in how long it takes him to get from the elevator down the short hallway to the Major Crimes bullpen. No less than seven people stop him to say hello, two of them having longer conversations, one of them even asks him if he's feeling all right and I know he must be looking worse then he was this morning for someone else to notice.

I grab onto the arm of my chair to keep from hopping up and going to him. In spite of my in depth changes in basic attitude since coming to terms with this whole sentinel thing, I still will not give up my mask of indifference in front of my co-workers. Some of them probably see right through me, but the majority still keep their distance and wonder how Sandburg can stand to spend so much time with Icy Ellison.

If I used to be Icy Ellison, then Sandburg would be Butane Blair cause he melted the ice the first day he got near me. And I guess you could say he's been keeping me from freezing back up all this time. If he ever leaves me I think I'll be Icy Ellison again pretty quick. Not that I think he will ever leave me. I've gotten over my insecurity, since the drowning. I knew then, when he came back for me, that he would never leave me as long as it was his choice.

Some day I'll have to tell him that I would have followed him if he hadn't come back.

We've never really talked about it. I know he knows that I am grateful that he's here with me. He seems to think I did some great thing by coming over into the spirit world to call him back. But I know it wasn't me calling him that was the great thing. It was him forgiving everything and coming back to me. That was the great thing, that he can have such absolute forgiveness that he could still trust me enough to come back with me.

I think that's when I started believing that we have a bond. I felt it when he came back. It was like we were together in a single body for a few minutes. I knew him totally. I could feel his feelings, his total love and devotion to his sentinel, but before I could even begin to feel the guilt for my rejection, I felt his total forgiveness, and I knew he wouldn't put up with me living in guilt.

He could feel me too. I sensed him tapping into my thoughts and I had no choice but to open up to him and let him swim through me, feeling my feelings, seeing how I saw. It only lasted a few short minutes, but every time I think about it I remember some other aspect of the experience. I think just for that bit of time we were together as one person, and even though I think we probably had already been developing this Sentinel/Guide bond thing even before, that it was strengthened that day, and that we both became more aware of it. I wonder if I'll ever be able to admit to it. Maybe soon. I guess admitting it to myself would be the first step, right?

***********

He's looking at me as I walk into the bullpen, not just looking at me; staring at me. I can tell he's been aware of my approach, probably heard me coming up in the elevator. For a second I feel like a bug under a microscope, but then I remember he's only worrying about me and it makes me feel all warm inside.

"Hey, Chief. How're you feeling?"

I should have known that would be the first thing he would ask me.

"I'm fine, Jim. Just a little sore throat, nothing major."

I bounce over to the chair next to his and sit down, trying to prove that I'm fine. I don't bounce when I'm really sick. I don't really feel like bouncing right now either but I don't want to worry my sentinel.

"Feel like getting some lunch?" He asks me.

"Sure, where do you want to go?"

"How about Mama Rosa's?"

"Okay."

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

I picked Mama Rosa's cause they make a really good vegetable noodle soup that I know Sandburg likes when he's got a cold. I figured he'd go right for it, but when he orders he surprises me and orders a turkey breast sandwich on rye. It makes me wonder if he's trying to get me to ease up on my overprotective attitude. Maybe I'm smothering him. I know he'd have rather had the soup. He's just trying to make me believe he's not sick. Oh well, I guess I'd better just take the hint and back off a little.

He doesn't say anything when I can't finish my sandwich. As much as I am determined not to admit it, my throat is feeling worse all the time. I'll be surprised if it's not strep. At least I can just get the test done at the clinic on campus tomorrow and if it's positive, they'll give me an antibiotic that'll clear it right up. Strep is a lot easier to deal with than flu or even a bad cold. I keep telling myself that as I force the iced tea down my throat. I should have gotten the hot tea. It would have gone down easier.

I can't believe the strep test was negative. They were so busy, I didn't wait around to see the doctor. I would have been there all day. But I can't believe I don't have strep. This sore throat is just too bad for an ordinary cold. Maybe my tonsils grew back. I've heard of that happening. I just feel so totally dragged out and just plain rotten. I think I could lie down and sleep for a week. And I must be getting some congestion in my lung or something cause now the left side of my chest kind of hurts when I breathe, not bad or anything, just a little twinge when I take a breath. But I don't have a cough or anything.

Oh well, as Naomi always used to say, it'll either get better or it'll get worse, and if it gets worse I'm sure I'll find out what it is. If it gets better, then it won't matter what it was. I smile at the thought of my mom's logic.

Jim's at the station when I get done at the campus clinic. I briefly think about joining him there, but it's almost four in the afternoon already. He'll be heading home soon anyway. I decide to go on home and work on fixing some dinner.

I turn the heat up a little when I walk into the loft. Even though it's only October, there's been a chill in the air the last few days. A cup of tea would be nice. I put the kettle of water on the stove and crank the flame on high. I could just nuke a cup in the microwave, but I think I'm going to want more than one cup so I go the old fashioned way. I get the tea bags out and put them in the teapot, ready for the hot water. Then I go into my bedroom to change into some comfortable sweats.

Man I'm so sleepy. Maybe just a few minutes stretched out on the bed will perk me up a bit so I can at least make it through dinner. I guess I should go to bed early tonight and see if I can catch up on my sleep. I lie down on my stomach and hug the pillow under my head. I just need to close my eyes for a couple of minutes.

**********

I smell this terrible smell as I enter the building. Smells like somebody's burning plastic or rubber. The closer I get to my own door, the worse the smell gets, and I burst through the door. My eyes burn as I follow the smoke to the stove and turn off the flame. The handle on the kettle is dripping down the sides and onto the burner.

"Sandburg!" I yell, trying to calm the anger down. How irresponsible can you get, leaving a kettle to boil away on the stove to the point of melting the handle. The whole building could have ended up burning down. The kid's got to start being more careful.

"Sandburg!"

Where is he? I don't get any answer. Why am I wondering where he is? All I have to do is listen for his heartbeat and breathing. I can always hear that. Usually I can sniff my way to him. I can pick his smell out of a crowd. But not with this burnt stench in here.

There, he's in his room. It sounds like he's asleep. I go in and find him sacked out on the bed, totally oblivious to the fact that he almost burned the place down. God, what if he had done this back when he used to live alone in that warehouse? The whole place would have burned down with him in it.

He doesn't look right. I go over and touch his face checking for a fever. Feels normal. But, still, he looks pale, not himself. I decide to let him sleep and yell at him later. That little invisible string that runs between us is vibrating. I don't know what's wrong, but something just isn't right.

I clean up the mess and air out the place, but the smell will linger for a few days at least. I guess we'll just have to keep the windows open and the fan running whenever we're home for a few days.

At midnight, I'm ready to go to bed. I've cleaned and I've eaten and I've checked on Blair at least a few times. He's still sleeping soundly and I don't want to wake him, knowing he hasn't been feeling all that well lately.

I go in and check on him one last time before going to bed. He's still lying in the same position he's been in all evening. I listen to him breathing, checking for any sign of congestion, knowing he's more prone to it since the drowning, but his lungs sound clear. He doesn't have a fever. Maybe he's just exhausted. He has been working pretty hard lately, stretching himself between school and the station. What do I mean, lately? He's always stretched himself pretty thin ever since I've known him.

I take one last look at him before I leave his room. My blessed protector gut tells me to keep an eye on him. I think maybe a doctor visit is in order.

I go to bed knowing I'm going to have one ear tuned to the downstairs bedroom all night long.

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

Sunlight coming in the bedroom window confuses me. It was already getting dark when I came home. How can it be light? Then the smell seeps in to me. It's a combination of freshly brewed coffee and something awful, something burnt.

Coffee tells me it must be morning. How could I have slept all evening and into the next morning? Wouldn't Jim have woken me up? I push myself up out of bed and dart to the bathroom. I don't care what anybody says, there's no way Rip Van Winkle slept for a hundred years. His bladder would have burst long before that.

Jim's waiting for me when I walk out toward the coffee pot.

"Feeling any better?" He asks.

"I'm fine, Jim," I say, thinking my throat actually does feel a little better. I pour myself some coffee and sit down at the table. Jim freshens up his cup and joins me, looking at me as I take a sip.

"What?" I ask. He's looking at me like he's waiting to hear something and I don't have a clue what it is.

"Do you smell anything?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I don't know what it is."

He gets up and goes to the balcony, stepping outside for a minute, then comes back inside, carrying the remains of the kettle, the kettle that I only just this moment remember filling with water and putting on the stove, over the high flame. The handle is melted and warped looking.

"Oh, Jim man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep. I just went in to change."

Jim puts the kettle back out on the balcony and comes back to the table. He drinks some coffee, eyeing me the whole time.

"I think it's about time you see a doctor for that sore throat," He says finally.

"I went to the clinic at school yesterday." I say, failing to mention the fact that I just had a strep test and didn't actually see a doctor. "I just needed some extra sleep. I feel better today."

"You look pale."

"Well, that's probably from sleeping so long. I'm fine, really."

"Okay, but I think you should take the day off and rest today."

"I really can't, Jim. I have a test to give today and you know how disappointed my students would be if I failed to show up to give a test. Beside, I feel a lot better. I think I just needed some extra sleep."

He looks like he doesn't believe me.

"All right, but when you're done with your test, don't come in to the station. Just come home and take it easy the rest of the day."

"Okay, but only if you promise you'll call me if you need me."

He nods, not exactly a promise but I'll take what I can get. Besides, I don't really have any intention of coming home when I'm done at school anyway. I'll go by the station and see if anything's going on first, maybe get Jim to go out for lunch.

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

Jim told me about Sandburg almost burning the place down last night. But it surprised me. He didn't seem upset or mad at the kid as much as he seemed worried. Says the kid's been feeling bad, has a sore throat and is tired all the time. So, he told him not to come into the station today.

So, when Jim needs to go out to follow up on a lead, I grab my jacket and go with him. I won't allow any of my men to go out without proper backup, but when it comes to Jim, I don't feel right just sending anybody with him. None of them know about the sentinel thing. I may not know what to do about it if he has any problems but at least I'll have a clue what's going on. And I do know where to find the expert in case I need him, in case Jim needs him.

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

I know he's here waiting for me as soon as we get on the elevator to head back up to Major Crimes. I told him not to come in today. I wish he'd listen to me.

"Chief, I thought you were going to go home."

He's sitting at my desk, trying not to look sick. I can tell though that he still isn't feeling all that great. He smiles and looks back at the computer screen where he's in the middle of typing up one of my reports.

"Yeah, but I feel fine, Jim. I'd have been bored at home. So, where were you?" He asks, making a point of looking at Simon.

"I just went out to interview a witness, Chief. Nothing dangerous about it and Simon went with me."

"Okay." He says, like I asked for his approval. "I have the Benson report almost ready to print out."

"Great." I've been putting off finishing that thing for days. Nothing more tedious than typing up a report on a simple fraud case. That case shouldn't have even been sent up to Major Crimes.

"You do good work, Sandburg." Simon chimes in. "I've been trying to get that report out of Jim for two days."

"Thanks." He says, watching as Simon heads off to his office.

"So how do you really feel, Chief? You still don't look right."

"I'm okay, better. I'm sure it was just some kind of bug or something and it's going away now."

"You need to get more rest."

He looks at me and I think I'm about to hear a protest but then he smiles and nods.

"You're probably right."

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

Another day. Another sleepy day to trudge through. When am I going to feel better?

Where's my energy? I feel like I'm about a hundred years old. The sore throat's still there, but maybe not as bad. But I still have that little twinge in the left side of my chest and I have to admit I'm starting to wonder what it is. I don't feel congested or anything. Maybe I pulled a muscle or something.

I'm free from school today so I'm going to work with Jim. That is, if he lets me. I have to appear chipper so he won't think I need to stay home and rest. Man, sometimes having a blessed protector gets a little old. Naomi never kept me home if I said I felt well enough to go out. She trusted me to know how I felt and to stay home if I needed to. Sometimes, Jim treats me like I don't have the sense to come in out of the rain.

I splash cold water on my face, then get dressed in bright cheerful colors, new blue jeans and a multicolored sweater that I've always been told by my female friends makes me look radiant. That should make me look healthy enough to get by even a sentinel's scrutiny.

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

He thinks he's passing one over on me but I know he's still feeling bad. I can't make him stay home though. I know if I don't take him with me, he'll just follow along later in his own car. It's probably better that I keep him close where I can keep an eye on him anyway. Every time I look at him I'm getting that feeling like something's not right. Our connection is buzzing. I wonder if he can feel it too.

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

You would think that the office of Major Crimes in the Police building would be a pretty safe place to be. I mean I always felt pretty safe here, surrounded by co-workers, all well trained armed professionals. It's the suspects you fail to take into account. How many felons have been brought through here, sitting by a detective's desk giving a statement, being escorted through to an interview room. I've always felt safe here. And I've always felt that Sandburg was safe here. Well, that illusion just fell pretty hard.

I'm just walking out of Simon's office when I see it happen. Blair's walking back in from the break room, a cup of coffee in each hand. The suspect is sitting in the chair by Brown's desk being questioned. His name is Harry Burkit. I've seen him in here before, so I don't think much about it when I see him. He's just a run of the mill crackhead, doesn't even look all that strung out at the moment.

But just as Blair starts to walk by him, he jumps up and throws the kid over Brown's desk, then takes off. A room full of cops take off after him and for once I don't feel the need to be the hero. I just jump around the desk to check on my partner. He's a little slow to get up and it worries me.

Simon comes out in the bullpen to see what the excitements about. I'm helping Blair up. He's gotten the wind knocked out of him. I move him into Brown's seat.

"He all right?" Simon asks.

I ignore the question; don't really know the answer yet. "Can you get him a glass of water?"

Simon nods and heads out to the break room.

"You okay, Chief?"

He looks at me, his eyes taking a moment to focus, and he takes a deep breath. It looks painful and I listen to his lungs again. They sound fine. He must have gotten bruised.

"I'm okay." He wheezes. "Just need to catch my breath."

Simon hands me a cup of water and I hold it out to Blair.

"Here, Chief, take a drink of this."

He takes it and sips a little water, then hands it back, smiling. He looks up at Simon.

"Thanks, Simon." He says.

"I'm okay, really." He looks back at me and gives me a big smile. It's supposed to be reassuring. I don't know why, but I just don't believe it.

"Let me help you up." I take his hands and pull and he stands a little shakily and heads slowly back over to my desk.

"Sorry about the coffee." He says, and I notice the two cups of coffee decorating the floor.

"Not your fault, Chief. Thanks for the coffee anyway."

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

Brown comes trudging back in, followed by the other detectives who had run out on the mad chase. The suspect is nowhere in sight.

"He didn't" I start.

"Get away? No way." Brown said. "He's down in lockup, for his own protection."

He smiles at me. "How's Sandburg?"

"He's okay, I think." I look at him, sitting quietly in my chair, trying to act like he's fine. He's too quiet.

"Hey Chief." I walk over to him. "You want to go get checked out at the ER?"

He gives me a nasty face full of disgust. "No way, Jim. I'm fine."

I notice the nervous look on his face as he looks beyond me and I realize everyone in the room, that would include at least six other detectives, is looking at him. I glance up at Simon.

"All right, people." Simon roars. "Back to work."

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

It catches me totally off guard. I mean my mind is on one thing: getting to Jim's desk with two cups of coffee without spilling any of it. I filled them up a bit too high so I'm being really careful. Then the next thing I know I'm flying across the room. Well, maybe not across the room exactly, but over a desk.

I feel the side of the desk hit me right in the side of my chest that's been sore and for a minute I can't breathe. It feels kind of like I've been stabbed, not that I've ever been stabbed so I can't really say I know how it feels, but how I would imagine it to feel. Anyway, I'm just getting the shock under control when Jim gets to me, his face full of concern.

I ignore the pain and pretend I'm fine. I mean it's just a bruise or two. I don't want to look like a wimp in front of all of Major Crimes. I'm sure some of them already think Jim's crazy for letting me hang around, don't need to provide any fuel for the fire.

The next hour passes slowly. I just sit there in Jim's chair, feeling kind of spacey, and a little bit nauseous. Finally Jim decides it's time to go home. I follow him to the truck. On the way down the street, he asks me again if I need to go see a doctor and I smile and say no way, I'm fine.

I think a cup of tea and an early bedtime are just what I need. I certainly don't feel like sitting around in an emergency room for a couple of hours only to have a doctor eventually tell me I'm bruised and I'll be a little sore for a few days, like I need to be told that.

When we get home I go in and change into sweats. I look at the area that feels sore, expecting to see some pretty evil looking bruises, but there's nothing there. It feels pretty tender, but no bruises.

I go toward the kitchen to make myself some tea, but Jim is already there and hands me a cup as I walk out.

"Thought you might like some tea." He smiles as I take it and sit down at the table.

"Thanks Jim."

"Want something to eat?"

"No, I think I'll just have the tea and go to bed early."

He nods, looking me over, and backs off. I guess he finally realized he was overdoing the blessed protector thing a little bit. I hear him making a sandwich and just the thought of it makes me feel like throwing up. I take another sip of my tea and head of to my room.

"Goodnight, Jim." I throw over my shoulder as I go through the door.

"Night, Chief."

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

The middle of the night can be a scary time. I've always thought that. But tonight I think is the scariest middle of the night I've ever faced. I wake up to a pain more intense than anything I've ever felt. I must be dying. Nobody could live through a pain like this. There is something majorly wrong here. I try to get a breath but I can't move. Here it comes. I feel my stomach tense up and I try to roll on my side at least before I start throwing up, but I can't move. It just hurts too bad and suddenly I'm spewing all over myself and it's trying to choke me. I'm dying here. I just know I'm dying.

I manage to lift my arm and knock the lamp over, hoping the noise will alert Jim that I need him. At least I want to see him again before I die. I don't know what's wrong but it hurts too bad to not be something terrible. I feel the tears streaming out of the corners of my eyes. I don't want to die yet. Jim. Jim, I need you.

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

A noise wakes me up from a disquieting sleep. I was dreaming that someone was pulling Blair away from me. I kept reaching for him and just touching the tips of his fingers but couldn't get a good enough hold on him to pull him back.

Then the noise of something falling downstairs filtered through my troubled sleep. Sandburg's room. I know something is wrong with him as soon as I wake up. Even if I couldn't smell the vomit, his heartbeat is wrong. I run down and burst through his door.

He's on his back on the bed. Another few minutes and he'd have choked to death. I turn him onto his side and wipe his mouth out. He seems conscious but I can see the pain twisting up his face.

"Chief." I say. I get a moan in response. I don't think he can talk through the pain.

"I'm going to grab the phone." I say, leaving him propped on his side with a pillow behind him.

I grab the phone and dial 911. They tell me to unlock the door and then stay with him and keep his airway clear. They offer to stay on the phone with me but I tell them I'll be okay, I used to be a medic in the army. They assure me help is on the way. I thank them, unlock the door and go back to Blair. I grab a towel and wipe him off, talking to him all the time.

"It's okay, Chief. You're going to be okay."

"Jim." He says. His voice is weak but I can hear him.

"Jim." He says again, looking at me with a sadness I can't bear to see. Tears are falling from his eyes and I suddenly realize he's afraid he's dying.

"No!" I practically yell at him. "You're going to be okay, Chief!" I wipe the tears from his face. "You're going to be fine." I grab his hand in mine and hold on tight.

"Can't you feel it?" I demand. "I'm giving you my strength here. Take it. You're going to be okay. Whatever this is, we'll be okay because we're together, you hear me? I'm your sentinel and you're my guide. We belong together and nothing is going to change that, you got me Chief?"

"Got you." He says. He smiles and I feel him squeeze my hand gently just before he passes out.

I don't let go of that hand until we get to the ER and they make me wait in the waiting room. As soon as they wheel him out of sight, I pull out my cell phone and call Simon. As the phone rings I realize it's four o'clock in the morning, but I know Simon will understand. He'd probably give me hell if I didn't call him.

I don't know how long it is before a doctor finally comes out to talk to me. Simon is just walking in and stands next to me.

The doctor doesn't waste any words.

"Your friend has a ruptured spleen. We're prepping him for surgery now."

"How.?"

"We believe from what he's told us and what we've found, that he's been walking around with mono for about a week. This causes the spleen to be enlarged and vulnerable to damage. Apparently he was thrown over a desk yesterday afternoon?"

I nod. Oh God, He shouldn't have been there. I never should have let him come to work with me. I should have made him see a doctor. But wait a minute, he said he had gone to the clinic.

"He said he went to the clinic at school. Shouldn't they have picked up on this?"

"He went to the clinic. He had a strep test there. When the test was negative, he figured he didn't need to see the doctor, so he left." The doctor says.

"Is he going to be okay, doc?" Simon asks the question I'm afraid to ask.

"We'll know more after the surgery." He says. Not a very reassuring answer. And he walks off.

I sit down hard in the blue plastic chair and think, 'My life is in your hands, doc, just as surely as Sandburg's is.'

I am vaguely aware of Simon sitting down next to me. I feel that string being pulled and I wonder where it was yesterday. Why didn't I know that he was hurt yesterday. Why didn't I bring him to the emergency room right away. I remember, my gut feeling told me I should, but I backed off cause I knew Sandburg was feeling smothered. Never again, Chief. Feel smothered all you want, but I will never back off again. Your blessed protector is going to be in full swing from now on, no matter what you say. Just give me the chance. Just be okay this time, and give me the chance.

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

I wake up knowing something has changed. I feel different, weak and weary, but feeling no pain. The bright lights hit me in the eye and I know from that and the background sounds I hear, that I'm in the hospital. I crack my eyes open again, a little more hesitantly this time, and look for Jim. I know he's here somewhere. I can feel him nearby.

Within moments, his face is leaning over me. He looks relieved so I guess I'm okay. I try to say something but my mouth is really dry and I end up sounding more like a frog croaking than anything else.

"You're going to be okay, Chief." Jim says. "Let me get you some ice chips."

I don't even see him move and suddenly I feel a tiny cold in my mouth. It feels good but it's gone too soon.

"More?"

He gives me another piece. "This is all until after the doctor checks you out."

"What happened?" I ask, my voice back. I still sound hoarse and not myself but at least I'm communicating.

"Your spleen ruptured."

What? How could my spleen rupture? I guess the shock of the idea comes across on my face.

"You've been walking around with Mono."

"Mono?" I can't believe it.

"You know, what they used to call the kissing disease." Jim smiles and I think back to his table leg comment from so long ago.

"I guess that explains why I've been so tired."

"It doesn't explain why you led me to believe you had seen a doctor when all you did was have a strep test."

"Hey, man, I'm sorry. I just didn't think it was anything. My strep test was negative and they were so busy if I'd have stayed to see a doctor I'd have been there all day."

Jim gets this strange serious look on his face and I start to wonder if I'm about to get chewed out. I know I screwed up, but really can't he wait till I'm feeling better to yell at me. But he looks like he's going to cry and it sort of scares me. I mean; I know he has some pretty deep feelings, but usually they stay just that, deep. He never lets them get to the surface. He clears his throat and takes my hand, holding it tight, and I remember him doing that at home when I thought I was dying. It comes back to me how he told me to take his strength and I actually did feel like he was infusing me with extra strength. Now he looks directly at me and I pay close attention 'cause I know he's getting ready to say something important.

"You know, you scared the hell out of me, Chief. I didn't know what was wrong, but I knew it was my fault. I should have been paying better attention. I shouldn't have backed off when I knew something wasn't right."

"Jim"

"No, let me finish. I've been feeling for a long time like we have some kind of connection. I think it's time I admit to it. I feel like we're tied to opposite ends of the same string and when something's not right with you, I feel it pulling me."

I nod. "I feel it too, Jim. I have for a long time."

"Well, this time, I felt the string pulling at me, but I could tell you thought I was smothering you, so I backed off. I'm not going to do that again. If I feel that string tugging at me, I'm going to pay close attention to you from now on. I'm not missing anything like this again."

"Hey, I can be stubborn. I'm the one who insisted I was fine. It's not your fault you believed me." I smile for him and squeeze his hand.

I can feel the connection between us. It's like the string is glowing. And somehow I feel like we're not only connected to each other as Sentinel and Guide but we're connected to all the other Sentinels and Guides throughout history. It's like by admitting to each other that we belong together, we've gained something. We've become stronger. We will never be just two people again, because together we are Sentinel and Guide, a force to be reckoned with.

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

I walk into Sandburg's hospital room, expecting to see a sick man in bed and a worn out tired man sitting on the chair beside him. After all, this was the scene I left when I went out to get sandwiches and coffee just thirty minutes ago.

What I see is a miraculously well-looking Sandburg in the bed, smiling with a warm glow in his eyes, and a rejuvenated looking Jim standing beside him. They both look so happy and at peace, I realize I am witnessing a Sentinel moment. I don't normally want to know any more than I have to about this sentinel stuff, but after spending the early morning hours with a Jim who paced like a caged tiger, it's great to see him looking so relaxed and content now. They are so caught up in this moment together, they don't even seem to have noticed me coming in. I set the coffee and bag of sandwiches on the table and head out, taking one more look at them before going through the door.

As much as I hate to admit there's anything mystical going on with those two, it's impossible to deny what I just saw. That was more than Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg in that room just now. That was some ancient power, something formidable, something I'm glad is on my side. That was a Sentinel and his Guide.

Blest be the Tie that Binds

Blest be the tie that binds

Our hearts in Christian love;

The fellowship of kindred minds

Is like to that above.

The End