Pet Fly say they own them. I disagree. As do we all. No money being made. No infringement intended.

Thanks to all for the wonderful encouragement. Please don't kill me for this one--I love them, reely I do--

Extra warning: sadness alert

"Hey, Jim. Jim wake up. I have to leave soon. Yeah, I know that it's early, but come on, man - it's time."

Time? Time for what, dammit?

I peel my sleep filled eyes open and blink. And then I look up and my heart pounds with terror. The ceiling is gone. Hell, the whole room is gone. Instead of the comforting familiarity of the bedroom back at the loft, my gaze travels up through a seemingly infinite festoon of vines and dark canopied branches, until it finally settles on the soft velvet face of a peaceful night sky.

I draw a deep bracing lungful of air. What a breathtaking vista. And as for that air.. I am willing to swear that the air itself is in bloom - laced with delicate scents and exotic aromas, rich with lush, earthy smells and half familiar perfumes that put me in mind of my times in Peru.

More than three parts convinced that I'm dreaming, I blow my senses wide open and indulge myself shamelessly, caught in its thrall..

Until the world crashes in from all sides and destroys the illusion.

Well, the sky might be peaceful, but the night is alive - with tumultuous birdsong, the chatter of monkeys, and the ear splitting squeals of a pair of small ..somethings.. at play on the ground.

At least I think they're at play.

Nope, this is no dream. But somebody sure has a weird sense of humor. Because right at that moment, precisely on cue, I hear the blood curdling scream of a very large predator stalking its prey. I clap my hands to my ears and dial down my hearing before I am deafened by the cacophony of sound.

So. This isn't Cascade.

Oh, good work, detective. You're here on vacation - or don't you remember? my inner voice chides. Remember the flight? The Enesi hotel? Sandburg's 'tryst' with the waitress?

Of course you do, Ellison.

Right.

So then why are we..

A little more prompting and my sleep impaired mind is persuaded to focus. With my eyelids half closed I spend a long lazy minute cataloguing events from the last seven days; reviewing the highlights and reliving each one in a pleasurable haze. I am just reconstructing that hilarious farce with the fish and the mai-tai, when it is stolen away - and abruptly replaced by the scene that took place less than two days ago.

It's so clear in my mind, that excuse for an airstrip. Hell, looking back now, it's a wonder that Cherokee landed at all. But the thing that stood out, the thing that blew me away, was Blair's altercation with the hapless young pilot - which, as strange as it seems, almost finished in blows.

Sure, the guy had been careless - okay, maybe even reckless. And at a pinch he just might be described as a little gung-ho. But he'd also come cheap and had promised discretion. And, true to his word, he'd brought us down in one piece - in spite of his 'primitive crate', and it's 'clapped out old engine.'

But Blair had lost it completely.

I can still hear his furious words, feel that cold, cutting fury. What was it he'd thrown at him? "Fucking with destiny?" "Risking Jim's life?" The first brings on a grin - not because of the content, but because the expletive had rendered that loudmouth effectively speechless. Guess he wasn't expecting that kind of abuse from such a "sweet little guy."

But "risking 'Jim's' life?" That last makes me wince. Because he'd done it again. Abrogated himself. Disregarded himself and denied his own worth in favor of what he perceives to be mine. And though I deplore it, I am forced to admit that it's also a very large part of what makes him unique. The fact that he always considers me first is so typically Blair.

A trickle of warmth works its way through my being. It's a comforting thought that Jim Ellison, too, has been granted the aid of a Blessed Protector.

Though my shoulders are sore and my back hurts like hell, this whole trip has been worth it. I yawn and roll over, completely content, almost on the brink of a smile.

Until my glance falls on Blair and the nightmare slams in.

Oh, sweet Jesus. No.

He lies a stone's throw away, head propped up on one elbow; his expression is patient, a little concerned, sympathetic and kind. And he's wearing that smile - that high voltage smile. The one that's a few thousand notches ahead of his habitual grin. It's such a rarity now, I should rejoice in its presence. And under normal conditions I know that I would.

But not this time. Not now.

Nice touch there, though, Chief. A courageous attempt. But with me it falls woefully short of the desired effect. Because it doesn't sit true. At least not when coupled with the light of defiance that lurks deep in those eyes.

Those blue eyes are wary - have good reason to be - and when my gaze touches his, I feel my countenance harden as the shutters come down in automatic response.

Because now I remember the details of last night's charade.

And the night's before that - and those on previous days.. Dear God in heaven, so many hours locked in conflict. I'm beginning to feel I'm in imminent danger of losing my mind.

And that's not all I could lose.

Last night we reached stalemate again, but I won't be conceding. The stakes are too high. And I don't have a choice; I just can't let him win. Blair can be a formidable opponent but even he has his limits. I can only pray that his own are in sight because I've almost reached mine.

And I have to break through.

"Chief, listen.."

His eyes narrow slightly. Goddamn it, he's ready.

He cuts me off like a knife.

"I'm not listening, Jim." He thrusts out his hands, erecting a wall, a flesh colored barricade right here between us. "I am not gonna hear this. No - this time you listen. You listen to me."

Each new word is a struggle, a test of endurance. Hell his voice sounds as rough - no, it sounds even worse - than the rasp in my own. He sounds so close to the edge, so near the point of exhaustion that despite my resolve I very nearly cave in.

"Blair, please.."

A slight hesitation.

And then, suddenly, strength.

"We are so not gonna do this again, man," He enunciates firmly. "I've already told you. I've made up my mind."

Yeah. - Right, Sandburg. So you've already said. As if I don't have a say. Well, that's not good enough, Chief. I thought we had an agreement. We make decisions together. You taught me that, right?

"I can't let you go, Chief.." I force out the words, and then I falter, surprised. For such inflammatory words they sound remarkably calm - and that's quite a plus for a desperate guy who is running on empty. I draw a breath to continue but am an instant too late, because he juts out that chin, his head thrown back in challenge, his lips sealed together in a thin, stubborn line.

An expression that's become all too familiar these last couple of days.

Oh, Chief. Not again.

"No, Jim.." He forestalls me, "Don't you dare try and follow. Not this time - you're staying." "Jim, you're staying right here."

His eyes gleam in the darkness: two bright glowing embers. And in those blazing blue depths, to my blank consternation, I encounter - regret.

Surprise an instant of..

..Fear?

I watch his fingers reach out.

And find myself wary.

Wary. Of Blair.

"C'mon now, just relax for me, Jim. Now I want you to focus. Just work with me here. We can finish this, easy. Just follow my lead."

Damn, his voice sounds so.. different. It's almost.. hypnotic.

The earth shifts beneath me.. ..dissolving around me....And I am helpless to stop it. Slowly, inexorably, drifting away..

"That's great, Jim, just great. Man, you're doin' just fine. Now concentrate on my voice, Jim. Concentrate on the words. There's something I need you to do - and it's important, okay?"

What the hell is he..?

"Jim? I. want. you. to. stay."

So this is Sandburg's last stand.

With a gasp I back away from those fingers, block the aural invasion; tear my stricken gaze free from that ardent blue fire. In all the years we've been partnered, I have never refused him; I have never resisted - never needed to try. But up until now he has never employed these as weapons of war.

And it pierces my soul.

"I can't do that," I whisper in horror. "Christ, don't try and make me! I won't do it.. can't."

He drops his gaze to the ground, his cheeks flaming in answer.

For a long time we sit there in silence. Both drowning in anguish.

Unable to speak.

At last he raises his head, and as I think this can't possibly get more surreal, he's beginning to..

..smile..?

How the hell can he smile? Is he trying to deny it? That ..thing.. that just happened?

Reassure me?

Or is this just one more feeble attempt at reassuring himself?

His words scatter like gunfire.

"I'm gonna be fine. Just think of it, Jim! It's every scientist's dream. It's, well, a right of passage, man..." He barely pauses for breath. "..No--no. Wrong choice of words, there....This is life's great adventure..."

He spreads his hands in entreaty.

"..And you know how much I love adventures, Jim."

Whatever his goal, that faint frisson of fear is now verging on panic. Christ, that pulse is too thready, that breathing too shallow, that heart rate too weak to sustain this kind of intensity for long. With each passing moment I sense his essence receding; feel each delicate thread of the bond that sustains us stretching out to infinity, slipping..

...away...

He's right. It is time. I have to finish this.

Now.

He flushes red as a beet beneath my clinical stare, but I ignore his discomfort; thrust the guilt to one side.

To hell with you Sandburg; I can fight dirty, too.

"You're not convincing me, Chief."

His face subtly changes - just the twitch of a nerve. But it tells me the truth; the pain is driving him now. It's almost all he has left, and it's an incoming tide - and it's fast; all consuming. I see the first wisps of shadow stealing into his eyes.

But he still won't give in to me, damn him.

"I have to do this alone, man." There's a new edge to his voice. The words are rough, low, beseeching. "Oh Jim, can't you see? It wouldn't be right."

Oh, God, he's resorted to pleading. Well, it's not gonna work, kid. This thing goes both ways..

"You know I can't let you go, Chief.." I reiterate, gently. "..At least not by yourself." I venture a smile. "You'll only end up in trouble. God only knows what kind of mess you're gonna get yourself in if you do this alone."

"No, man! Jesus! No!"

At last the panic breaks free and sheers into the open. Oh, it is gone in an instant; his control is superb. But he can't hold it long. He jerks his head to one side, but his whole frame is shaking, and when he finally speaks it comes out as a harsh, strangled torrent of sound.

"I'm dying here, man. It's not a trip to the store. You're not listening to me, Jim. You don't understand!"

"I don't.. Jesus, Blair! That's enough!"

I lurch to his side and clamp my hands to his shoulders. Turn him gently towards me. Recapture his eyes.

I hold them fast with my own.

He stiffens at first, but that first faint resistance is only a token. I recognize that now, and now he knows it too. Taking his face between both of my hands I track each breathless sob, absorb each choking whisper. Inhale every shuddering breath as it fans on my cheek, until we're breathing as one. When at last I release him, he collapses against me.

Boneless. Exhausted.

I haul him into my arms.

"I am so sorry, Jim - Jim, I must have been crazy. Jim you know I would never.. Oh, God, you have to believe.." The sentence breaks off, and my throat aches with grief as I witness his torment.

"It's just that it's true, Jim - you don't .."

"..Understand?" Swallowing hard, I reach out a hand and trace the line of his jaw with the tip of one finger. "No way, Chief - it's you. It's been you all along....Chief, you don't understand."

I bury my face in that soft mass of curls. The moonlight is kind and enhances the silver. Even here in the dark, I can see every follicle, count every strand..

I inch in a little and gather him closer, filter everything out until there is nothing but Blair.. A whole world filled with Blair: the touch of his hands, and his scent, and his hair; the cadence of his breathing. There is so much more to see, a whole different universe for us to explore..

And we will see it all.

I've been expecting this moment. And I've prepared for it, too. Trained myself night and day now, for more than a year.

Ever since I have known.

You can't deny me this, Blair.

"Come back to me, Jim - oh, Jesus, you're zoning! Oh God he's zoning on me! Oh Jim, please not now!"

His fingers claw at my arm, his voice hitching with panic, and it's with sheer will alone that he wrenches me, desperately, back from the edge. I choke on a gasp as the energy courses like flame through his fingers.

I look down in amazement.

Almost three decades on and he still has that skill, still holds the power to astound me. But then this is my Guide, the other half of my soul. I should know better by now.

Hell, two years ago he was still doing research out in the field...

Why, I remember the time.. when.. he took on ..

..that..

"Jim! Come back to me.. Jesus! I can't believe this is happening. You haven't zoned in five years, man! You have to follow my voice. Please Jim, follow my.."

"I am following, Sandburg," I admonish him softly. "So quit yelling and lead."

His eyes widen with fear, and then realization. "Oh, no, Jim, please, no.." he finally breathes in my ear. "It just isn't your time, man. It isn't your...."

Time..

At least he got that part right.

"This isn't just about you, Chief. It's our time now, buddy. Both your time and mine, so please stop fighting me, Blair."

And now the sound of him processing shatters the silence.

"Blair, whither thou goest. You said that; remember?"

A heartbeat. Then two..

Then.. "Oh, God, Jim," he whispers.

I send a short prayer of thanks.

Capitulation at last.

With a soft, broken cry, he burrows in close and rests his cheek on my shoulder, his hand splayed over my heart. My arms tighten about him and the tears on his face intermingle with mine.

Tears of joy. Tears of grief. Tears of laughter. We've had them all in abundance; we've always been blessed. Because in twenty-eight years we have never been forced to endure them alone.

I plan to keep it that way.

With the last of his strength he breathes out on a sigh and lifts the hand to my cheek, his eyes shining like sapphires.

"You are one stubborn son of a bitch, man. I want you to know that."

I kiss the salt from his fingers.

"Aw, come on, Chief, get real. You know we both love adventures .. Did you honestly think I would let you go off and do this on your own?"

End Rights by Lace: wobbinhood@ihug.com.au

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