Author's webpage: http://skeeter63.org/dismantle

Author's disclaimer: Not mine, and will never be... *sob*

Author's notes: BIG *smooch* to Nancy, my beta! Any mistakes are mine. This story also mentions/deals with Jim/other and briefly, briefly mentions Blair/other. Just so you know.

Prologue

~September 21, 2004~

852 Prospect. The building loomed over the lone figure as he watched the lights coming out of the windows. He knew he shouldn't be there - he knew he had no right to be there anymore - but still he couldn't bring himself to turn and walk away.

Had it really been five years?

Sighing to himself and laughing a bit at his own memories, the figure turned around to walk away, only to once again find himself turning back to stare at the bright lights for just a little while longer.

And as his gaze was drawn to one window in particular, a tear rolled out of his right eye only to be hastily wiped away.

He refused to cry over the past. He was done crying. He was done shedding tears. Things were different now, he told himself as he fought to hold back his emotions. Questions started to arise in his mind, and they confused him.

What was he supposed to do, now that he was back in Cascade? Should he go up and ring the doorbell, or should he just leave? Should he get out of town after all, or should he stay, like he had originally planned?

Stay in Cascade... The thought was mildly unsettling, and memories washed over him in great waves before he had a chance to force them back.

Finally he decided he was no chicken, and crossed the street on unsteady legs.

Blair Sandburg ran a tired hand over his face before he glanced at his watch. Midnight. Damn. He'd promised both himself and Simon that he wouldn't work too hard or sit up too late, because his still not fully healed injury needed rest.

Of course, that was about five reports and two hundred phone calls earlier.

Wincing slightly as he stood up, the former anthropologist started to make his way towards the bedroom, one hand clutched over his side, when there was a knock on the door. Blair paused, then frowned. He rarely got visitors, and especially not this late. Walking to the door, grabbing his gun along the way, Blair took a deep breath, then opened the door. The sight that met him left him completely speechless.

Out in the hallway, seemingly tired and a bit rough looking with a large bag in his hand, stood Jim Ellison.

Chapter One: Back In Cascade

~June 29, 1999~

"You ready, big guy?"

Jim took a deep breath, then smiled at his partner, Guide and best friend. "As ready as I can be, Chief."

Blair gave him a proud grin, then leaned in and started to straighten Jim's lapels and tie, making sure the diamond pin was placed correctly and brushing away invisible hairs from the older man's shoulders.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"You kidding?" Jim replied incredulously. "I'm about ready to piss myself! Not that I don't want to do this, though," he quickly added, and a soft look spread across his features. "Penny is so... I don't know, Chief - I love her. I love her so goddamn much you have no idea!"

Chuckling, Blair nodded and smiled. "I'm happy for you, man. And I'm honored to be your best man."

"Hey, as if I had any choice," Jim said, then surprised Blair by scooping him up in a tight hug. "Thank you," he told the younger detective. "For everything you've ever done for me."

"You too," Blair replied, "for all the times you've saved my sorry ass from some psycho with a big gun." As they pulled back from the hug, Blair nodded and smiled proudly again. "Now go get 'em, buddy. It's time."

The church was more than crowded - people were practically standing on top of each other. Between everybody Jim had invited, everybody Penny had invited and the entire sixth floor who had decided they'd come, invitation or no invitation, there wasn't room for one more single person. The guests were literally squeezed together in the rows, but they didn't care.

Everybody had decided that seeing Jim Ellison getting married again was worth it.

Jim was standing up by the altar, Blair by his side, both of them looking incredibly handsome, and as the bride appeared at the end of the aisle, everybody could see how detective Ellison's entire being just brightened.

Jim had run into Penny Morgan - literally - one cold January morning they were both on a Sunday morning jog through Rainier park, and it had been love at first sight. One year later, to the day, their engagement was announced after Jim's proposal, and now - one year, five months, two weeks and six days later, they were finally getting married.

Penny's eyes never strayed from Jim as she walked slowly up the aisle, her father by her side. The elderly Mr. Morgan looked proud enough to burst, and Mrs. Morgan didn't look much different.

Jim had his eyes locked on Penny, her beautiful face framed by her dark blonde locks, held in place by the white band that ran around her head and ended in a triangle on her forehead. Her eyes, just as blue as Jim's own, shone brightly with love and excitement, and Ellison felt his heart swell in his chest.

God, how he loved this woman!

So focused on his love was he, that Jim didn't hear the quiet, quiet sound, almost inaudible under the music coming from the organ - a small click. The click of a gun being cocked.

As the shot rang out over the church, the guests screamed and panic spread faster than fire in dry grass. The numerous cops in the place all helped the guests take cover, while looking around frantically for the shooter, and Blair immediately threw himself over his partner, tackling them both to the ground.

But Jim Ellison didn't hear the gunshots or the panicked screams from the guests. All his senses shut down, one by one, leaving only his sight, as he stared wide-eyed at his love.

Penny Morgan was lying on the floor, face down, a bullet hole in her back.

The sun was shining brightly the day Penny was buried, the heavens refusing to cry with all the mourners who had come to bid their farewells to an amazing woman.

The only person who didn't shed a tear was Jim.

The Sentinel stood by the casket as they lowered it into the ground, broken and silent. He had been in a constant zone since she'd been shot, and nobody seemed to be able to bring him out of it - not even Blair.

Two weeks later, Jim turned in his badge.

Three weeks later, he sold the loft to Blair and left Cascade.

Everybody had a pretty good idea of who the shooter was. Only a few days before the wedding, Jim had been a part of a large set-up to take down a couple - Michelle and Dave Murdoc - who lured prostitutes into their bed, then forced out of them who their pimp was, slaughtered them and robbed and killed the pimp afterwards.

During the bust of the couple, Jim had been forced to shoot Michelle. Dave had managed to get away a few seconds after swearing he'd take Jim's life apart, one piece at a time.

Blair figured Penny Morgan was the first piece.

The Cascade PD never caught the shooter, and no more murder attempts were made at Jim, or his family or friends. And after a while, when they figured nobody's lives were threatened anymore, the case was placed aside and hadn't been opened again since.

Blair and Simon figured the threat to Jim and the people he cared about was gone, because Dave had already succeeded in crushing Jim's world, by taking away the only thing detective Ellison cared for more than life itself.

Penny Morgan.

~August 21, 2004~

Blair gaped at his old friend, not really sure if he dared to believe his own eyes. For over four years, nobody had seen or heard from the Sentinel, and some people even figured he was dead.

After Jim had quit the police, Simon had tried again and again to team Blair up with a new partner, but the former anthropologist had refused every time, working solo on 99% of the cases he got. Eventually, the Captain had stopped trying, and allowed Blair the freedom to do as he wanted - most of the time, anyway...

"Hey," Jim greeted quietly.

"Jim!" Blair breathed. Then he blinked, before he pulled the older man to him and hugged him tightly. "Jim! Oh my God, Jim!"

The two friends embraced each other and stayed that way for a long time, both breathing in the scent of the other and savoring the feeling of being back in each other's arms again, after four years. Eventually, Blair realized they both needed air and pulled back, somewhat reluctantly. He did not, however, let Jim go, but tugged at the older man's arm, pulling him inside the loft.

"Don't be a stranger - please, come in! My God, Jim!"'

The former army ranger seemed a bit overwhelmed by Blair's reaction, but he smiled, set down his bag and took off his coat as he followed the smaller man into the apartment.

Practically pushing Jim down onto the couch, Blair immediately gave his friend strict orders to stay put, before he scurried out in the kitchen to make coffee.

Jim took the opportunity to take a good look around the loft. Things looked pretty much the same as when he'd left. The area was far cleaner and neater than he'd ever have given Blair credit for, five years ago, but he guessed the years had changed the younger man.

Lord knows he had changed, so why wouldn't Blair?

The younger man did seem different, now that Jim thought about it. The hair, for one thing. The long curls had been sacrificed when he'd joined the Academy, but now they were grown back to the length they'd been when Jim first met the former anthropologist. He took a moment to wonder how Blair had gotten around Simon on that one.

The smaller man also seemed a bit... Jim searched for the right word. Tougher? Harder around the edges? But on the inside - still the same neo-hippie guy Jim used to know. A bit soft, caring and altogether a wonderful human being and a good cop with a great brain.

Just then, Blair returned to the couch with two cups of coffee, an eager look on his face. Wincing a bit as he sat down, he handed Jim his cup, then settled down.

"My God, Jim, why haven't you called? Or something? Nobody knew where you were? Where have you been, anyway? What have you been doing? Are you here just for a visit, or are you staying?"

Jim chuckled a little and cut Blair's long line of questions off, for the first time actually getting to say something. "Whoa, slow down, Chief. I'll answer your questions if we can take them one by one."

Blair's over-excited look slowly faded, and he took a deep breath instead and sipped his coffee. "I'm sorry, man, I just... It's been a while."

"I know," Jim replied with a barely visible smile. "It's okay, Chief."

A strange look appeared on the smaller man's face and he smiled. "I've missed that."

"What?" Jim asked.

"'Chief,'" Blair explained. "I've missed hearing that. Nobody ever calls me 'Chief' anymore. It's like it's... a nickname reserved for you, y'know? Nobody else dares to use it, because it's... well, it's your nickname for me, and nobody else's, y'know?"

That barely visible smile appeared on Jim's face again, and he sipped his own coffee, but didn't say anything. Instead his eyes wandered to Blair's side. Although the detective appeared to be normal, dressed in an oversized Jags T-shirt and sweatpants, Jim had caught the wince as the younger man sat down, and he'd smelled the vague scent of bandages and blood.

"What happened?" he asked, knowing that Blair would understand what he meant.

"Oh," Blair said, looking down, briefly. "Managed to get myself shot during a kidnapping case. No big deal. It's been a while, and it's healing nicely. I just have to be a little careful for a while, and Simon has me on desk duty 'till the end of this week."

"Simon's still head of the unit?" Jim asked, with a slight raise of his eyebrow. Auburn curls danced around Blair's face as he nodded, and Jim took another sip of his coffee. "Good."

"What, you thinkin' about coming back to the PD or something?" Blair asked.

The question was half joke, half-serious, but when he saw the look on Jim's face, his eyes widened comically. "Seriously?" he asked, sounding hopeful and amazed. "Really, Jim?"

"Maybe," Jim replied with a shrug.

"Whoa, man! That's incredible news!" Blair sank back on the couch and smiled. "So, tell me, man - what have you been doing all these years?"

"You sure you wanna hear it all?" Jim asked with another one of those tiny smiles. "Some of it is pretty boring stuff."

"Of course I wanna hear it!" Blair insisted. "Besides, we've got time, because you will be spending the night here. If you dare to protest, I'm gonna have to do something drastic."

"Whatever you say, Chief," Jim said with a low chuckle, then sighed and leaned back on the couch.

"I moved down to San Diego. Got a P.I. license and did that for about a year and a half or so. Nothing terribly exciting, although I made the papers once."

"You did?" Blair said with a frown.

"Yeah, but the SDPD took all the credit," Jim replied with a shrug that spelled out 'figures' in glowing letters. "I was referred to as 'a brave civilian who prefers to remain anonymous' in a corner of page somethingorother."

Jim paused and sipped his coffee while Blair chuckled quietly. "After a while, the whole Private Investigator thing got old, or I just got tired of it - I'm not sure - and I got a job as a security guard in a bank."

"You traded a P.I. career for a job as a security guard?" the younger man asked incredulously. "Because the *P.I.* job was boring???"

"I never said it was boring, I just said it got old. And actually, I liked working as a security guard better," Jim explained. "I worked night shift, so I had this nice dog named Luna to keep me company, and during most of the day I was free to do pretty much whatever I wanted."

"Sounds relaxing," Blair said.

"You have no idea," Jim replied. "So what's been going on back here?"

"Nothing much," the detective replied and put down his cup of coffee. "Simon's still in charge, nobody we know has died, although we've all been in and out of the ER a couple of times." He paused, thinking. "Daryl's all grown up, Megan's Australia-speak is a lot easier to understand, and..." He paused again. "I guess that's pretty much it."

The men remained in silence for a few moments, before Blair sighed and smiled at the older man. "I can't believe it - you're really coming back?"

Jim shrugged and finished his coffee, placing the cup on the table. "Maybe," he replied. "We'll see."

Blair nodded and a lopsided smile appeared on his face. "You want a beer, man?"

"Sure," Jim replied, glancing over at the curly haired man.

"They're in the fridge," Blair immediately replied, and they both chuckled quietly, both of them remembering Jim's remark from all those years ago when Blair first moved into the loft. When their chuckling died, another moment of silence passed, before Blair's smile faded a bit, his eyes blank. "I've missed you, Jim."

Jim offered a weak smile of his own, before the two men hugged tightly. "I missed you too, Chief." Sighing deeply, he tightened his hold on Blair. "I've missed you too."

Chapter Two: Reunion

The next morning, Jim was awakened by the smell of coffee, peppermint tea, eggs and hash browns. Cracking his eyes open, he yawned once, then stretched on the couch and pushed the blanket away. Glancing at the watch, he groaned quietly. 6:02 am. It would probably take a while before he got used to getting up in the morning again.

Standing up, he toddled towards the kitchen and the food, which seemed to be calling out to him.

"Morning," Blair greeted from behind the stove, as Jim appeared. The young detective was dressed in a green T-shirt which showed off his muscles and faded, black jeans. His hair was braided, Jim noted with slight surprise, and with the hair away from his ears, a third earring was clearly visible where it previously had only been two.

"Morning," Jim greeted back, scratching his stomach. "Food?"

"And coffee," Blair confirmed. "Black. I figured you'd need it to wake up."

"Damn straight," Jim grumbled as he walked over to the pot and poured himself a cup. Once the black coffee started to make its way through his system, he seemed to wake up a bit. "What's the plan for today?" he asked.

"The plan," Blair said as he placed toast, scrambled eggs and hash browns onto two plates, "is to go down to the station, give Simon a heart attack with your homecoming, and then wing it from there."

The younger man handed Jim his plate, then paused. "Jim," he started, taking a deep breath. "I want you to move back in here."

Jim froze for a second, before he peered at Blair over his cup of coffee. "Move... back in here? In...the loft?"

"Yeah," Blair said with a nod. "I mean, I took your bedroom a few months after you left, but you can get it back, man, and we can turn the office back into my room, y'know? Just like before?"

Jim was silent for a long while, and when he looked down, a begging expression appeared on Blair's face. "Please?"

"I don't know," Jim replied, setting his cup down on the kitchen counter. "Things... are complicated."

Turning towards Blair and meeting his eyes, Jim shrugged, and for the first time the former anthropologist noticed all the sorrow and hurt still lying within those blue orbs. When Ellison started talking again, he almost sounded so lost and scared that Blair wanted nothing else than to hug him forever and tell him everything was okay.

"I haven't... been in Cascade for over five years, Chief. And it hurts to be back. And you're all excited and you want me to move back in, and you're already planning to make things the way they were before I left, before..."

He swallowed and paused for a long moment, but didn't look away from Blair's eyes. "It's... scary to be back, Chief... And it might take some adjusting on all parts, before anything can return to something even remotely related to normal. I left you. All of you. And I wanted to call and write every single day, but it just... it hurt too much to even think about Cascade. But that's no excuse, Chief. Just disappearing like that..."

"...is perfectly understandable," Blair said quietly, suddenly realizing how hard it had to be for Jim to be back in the city where the love of his life was shot down before his eyes.

"If anybody can't understand your need to burn all bridges, then to hell with them. And if you're not ready to come down to the station today and face everybody, then you don't have to. We can do it some other time. Tomorrow or next year - I don't care, as long as you're comfortable with it."

Jim was silent for a long while, before he smiled and nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Chief," he said, before he paused and took a deep breath. "I'll go with you today."

"You sure," Blair asked.

"I'm sure. We have to do this sooner or later, so it might as well be sooner. Putting it off will only make it worse, right? I mean, can you imagine Connor if she found out I'd been in town, living with you, for several weeks without telling anybody?"

A lopsided grin spread across Jim's features as Blair winced.

"Ouch!"'

Both men chuckled, before Blair gestured to the plates with food. "Come on, eat up, then go take a shower. We have to leave in about half an hour."

The breakfast was eaten over light small talk about anything and everything, and then Jim headed off to the shower. Blair watched his back as he left the room, then started to do the dishes, his head spinning with thoughts.

Jim had changed a lot over the years. Physically he looked pretty much the same, but if you looked at his eyes, he appeared to he at least twenty years older. He was too quiet and too... modest.

Too not the person Blair knew before.

The younger man couldn't blame him, of course, but instead he felt an ache in his chest for his friend, and he wished - like he'd done every day since the day Penny was shot - that it hadn't happened at all, or at least to someone who wasn't Jim. Anybody but Jim. Jim didn't deserve that pain and sorrow. He didn't deserve to watch his love die.

And now, five years later, it was very obvious that it had changed him.

After about ten minutes, Jim emerged from the shower again, dripping wet, a towel wrapped around his waist. Walking over to the bag he'd been carrying, he opened it and pulled out clean jeans, a shirt and his shaving kit, sending Blair a half-hearted smile as he went back into the bathroom.

Blair returned the smile, then looked down, staring at his hands resting on the kitchen counter. Jim had kept his figure over the years, but he seemed... The younger man didn't even know what to call it.

Jim was different.

Blair hadn't expected anything else, but he had hoped... God, how he'd dreamt about this day. The day when Jim Ellison would walk back into his life and they'd be friends again, as if nothing had happened. It was far from the reality, and Blair had realized that every single time he'd thought about it, but somehow that hadn't prepared him fully for the slight disappointment.

Shaking his head, the detective scowled at himself. What was he thinking? Wasn't Jim allowed to change? After all he'd gone through? No, there were some things Sandburg would just have to accept, no matter how hard it was.

He was brought out of his thoughts when Jim emerged from the bathroom again, this time fully dressed, and two minutes later they were out the door.

"So, have you decided?" Blair asked as they stood in the elevator. "I mean, about moving back in?"

Jim took a deep breath, then nodded. "Yeah, I don't think that should be any problem," he said, and Blair almost had to bite his tongue to keep from squealing in joy. "There's only one thing, though."

"What?"

"You keep the loft, and I'll move into your office," Jim said. "After all, it's your apartment now."

"Hey, it's no problem," Blair said. "Besides, I think it would feel weird - us two living together again, only, y'know, roles reversed when it comes to the rooms." When Jim was about to protest again, the smaller man cut him off. "No, really, it's no problem. It'd make me happy."

Jim didn't reply. He just sighed and nodded. "Great," Blair said. "We can pick up the rest of your stuff from... wherever you've stashed it, on our way home."

"Uh, I don't really have any other stuff," Jim said a bit hesitantly. "I just have my bag, and that's already at the apartment."

Blair's eyebrows shot up at the revelation, and then gaped at Jim as they stepped out of the elevator. "You're kidding me!" he said. "You've got to have more stuff than that!"

"No," Jim said. "Most of it is still in San Diego, because I really don't need it. I mean, the apartment's already furnished, right, so there's no need for another couch or another table."

Jim followed the younger man to a black Harley Davidson, and frowned when the detective picked up a helmet. "What happened to your car?" he asked, before Blair had a chance to comment further on the previous subject.

"Rolled over and played dead, man," Blair replied with a grin. "Seriously, it was sacrificed to the Gods Of Justice so we could catch some drug dealers a couple of years ago. I was still paying down the apartment at the time, so Simon had the guys on the sixth floor chip in on what I was lacking in order to get this bike, and with the joint forces of both Major Crimes and Narcotics, they gathered up a pretty penny. Two months later - voila!" Looking around, Blair frowned. "Where's your truck?"

"Sold it a few months after I left Cascade," Jim explained. "Took a cab here from the airport."

"Oh, well, no problem, man. Climb on," Blair said as he straddled the large bike. When Jim looked insecure, Blair's expression softened and he placed a hand on Jim's arm. "It's okay, man, you didn't know I didn't have a car anymore. And I'm perfectly capable of handling this baby, so climb on. There's no need to be ashamed or scared or... anything, really. And don't worry - I'm sure Simon can forgive you this once, for riding without a helmet."

Giving Blair a tiny smile, Jim climbed onto the bike. When the younger man put on his helmet and started the engine, Jim wrapped his arms around his friend, and then they sped off.

As they wove through the light morning traffic in Cascade, the day still too young for the rush, Jim allowed himself to rest his face against the younger man's back. Inhaling deeply, he smelled the scent that was purely Blair, and he welcomed it as it assaulted his nostrils.

Reluctantly, he had to admit exactly how much he'd missed Cascade and his best friend - his Guide.

They must have looked somewhat stupid, Jim realized - a full grown man snuggling up against the back of a man who was much smaller in size, riding a large Harley Davidson through the streets of Cascade. But he also realized that he didn't give a damn.

The Sentinel was reunited with his Guide, and nobody was going to take that pleasure away from him.

When they arrived at the station, Blair could clearly see the nervousness in Jim's eyes and he sent him a little smile as they entered the elevator. On the way up to the sixth floor, no words were spoken, but Blair still offered his support to Jim through silent looks and small smiles, letting the taller man know that he was still his Guide and that he'd be there for him, no matter what.

The doors opened with a light ping, and Jim couldn't move for a second. His senses almost went on overload as the images, sounds and smells of the Major Crimes unit assaulted him.

It was exactly like he remembered.

People were buzzing lightly about, talking and walking to and from, phones were ringing, he could still smell the cigars Simon liked to smoke, cigarettes and bad coffee, and it was all completed with that scent that belonged to only the Major Crimes unit.

Carefully stepping out of the elevator, Jim followed Blair into the bullpen and towards the younger man's desk, his eyes darting back and forth constantly, recognizing people and wondering how long it would take before someone noticed he was there. And he couldn't stop his heart from pounding in his chest, when Blair lifted a hand and turned his head to his right.

"Hey, Megan," he said to the right, and Megan Connor lifted her head briefly from her paperwork to glance at Blair. Her hair was longer, Jim noted, and tied back just like Blair's. Other than that, she looked exactly like he remembered, and she sent them both a smile.

"Hey, Sandy."

Then she did a double take, obviously having spotted Jim, and her eyes widened. The two men stopped in their tracks as she slowly stood up. "Jim?" she asked, her voice insecure.

Two seconds later, Jim had his arms full of an Australian inspector. "Jim, Jim, Jim, oh my God, Jim!" Megan said, hugging him tightly. "I can't believe it!"

As she pulled back from the hug, she wiped a tear from her eye and blinked several times. The spectacle was giving the three a little attention, now, and one by one, faces spread around in the bullpen lit up as they recognized Jim. And then everything seemed to blur for the Sentinel.

Suddenly he was surrounded by people, hugged by everybody and welcomed back by a hundred voices all at once. Rhonda, Brown, Rafe and Taggart - they were all there, along with everybody else he knew on the sixth floor.

Then, finally, the booming voice he'd missed for over five years could be heard out over the bullpen, and he exchanged a smile with Blair.

"Ellison! Sandburg! My office! Now!"

Making their way through the crowd to cheers and several shouted "Welcome back's", Blair and Jim entered Simon's office, closing the door behind him. The Captain lowered the blinds, then just stared at the ex-detective for several long moments, before the two old friends hugged tightly, clapping each other's backs in a manly way.

"Good to see you again, Ellison," Simon said, releasing Jim from the hug.

"You too, Simon," Jim replied, automatically straightening just the tiniest bit out of old habit. Simon didn't seem to notice, though.

"How have you been these past years?"

"Good," Jim replied shortly, studying the other man's face. He seemed a bit worn around the edges, but otherwise as before. Maybe some people didn't change quite as much as others over five years?

"I'm glad to hear it," Simon replied without asking the Sentinel to explain further. Jim was grateful for it. "So, are you in Cascade to stay? Are you coming back to the unit?" the Captain asked.

Jim shrugged and looked only mildly uncomfortable. "I don't know," he said. "I'm staying in Cascade, but coming back to the PD? Maybe. I've thought about it for a while. I have saved up quite a bit of money in the bank, though, so I don't have to decide right away. I'm just visiting today. Blair wanted to show me off."

"Yeah, figures," Simon said with a pointed look in the younger man's direction, "which is why he's up and about moving around, I suppose, instead of resting like he should be!"

"Aw, man," Blair complained, gesturing with his hands. "It's not like I just could have hid him away, right?"

"That's true," Simon chuckled, then took a serious look and turned to Jim. "He didn't ride here on that bike, did he?"

"Sure did," Ellison replied with a firm nod.

"Damn it, Sandburg!" Simon said with a scowl. "How do you suppose that hole in your side is gonna heal when you never rest like everybody tells you to."

"Because he's an incorrigible, sneaky son-of-a-bitch," Jim dead-panned immediately, causing the two other men in the office to chuckle. "Seriously, sir, I'll try to keep an eye on him."

Raising an eyebrow, Simon peered at them from behind his glasses. "You two moving back in together?"

"Yep," Blair said with a hint of pride in his voice. "Jim's coming back to the loft, man!"

A wide grin spread across Simon's face, and he lit up a cigar in satisfaction. "Well, I'll say this calls for celebration!" Walking to the door, he opened it and shouted out into the bullpen. "The gang's going out tonight, nine p.m., Graham's place! Drinks are on me! We're celebrating the homecoming of the finest man to ever walk the streets of Cascade!"

When the entire bullpen cheered loudly, Simon closed the door and shook Jim's hand firmly, a warm smile on his face.

"Welcome back, Jim," he said. "Welcome home."

Chapter Three: Learning New Things About Old Friends

"You okay?"

Blair nodded and removed his hand from his side, taking a deep breath. "I'm fine, man. How are you holding up?"

Jim lifted his head and looked out over the bullpen. "It's a bit... overwhelming, you know? But I'm doing fine."

The two men exchanged a small smile, before the detective gestured to his desk. "I'm just gonna finish this report, then we're gonna head home, okay?"

"Okay," Jim agreed with a nod.

It had been a busy day. The first three hours, the entire bullpen had been pretty much standing still as they listened to Jim tell them in a quiet voice about what he'd done the past five years, pumping him for info while discretely steering away from sensitive subjects and questions, like 'Have you found a new significant other?' because he so clearly hadn't.

Most of the sixth floor realized he hadn't gone looking, either.

When the Q&A session was done and Simon had told them it was time to get back to work, Blair had originally planned to take Jim home again, but when the older man told him he didn't mind staying for a little while longer, the former anthropologist had decided he might as well type out some reports.

And while Blair worked, Jim was half-sitting on his desk, looking out over the bullpen, leaving his side only once to take a small stroll. Blair had discretely followed him with his eyes and watched as the Sentinel had walked slowly around, pausing for a long time by his old desk.

When Jim returned, Blair pretended he hadn't really bothered to watch him, even though he was pretty sure the older man knew he'd been watching.

"What time is it?" Blair asked as he finished the report and stood up.

"Almost noon," Jim replied. "I'm kinda hungry. Feel like getting something to eat?"

"Sure," Blair said. "Mind if Connor comes along? I owe her a lunch."

"No, no problem."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, no problem," Jim assured his friend with a small smile.

Blair waved Megan over, and ten minutes later, the three were in Connor's car, headed for her favorite caf.

"...or have I told you about the time Sandy tried to disarm a bank robber with a frozen turkey?"

Blair groaned and thumped his head on the table, just barely avoiding hitting his half-eaten bagel with ham and cheese. "Please, please, Jim, just kill me now, and put me out of my misery!"

Jim merely raised an eyebrow, then moved his gaze back to Megan as Blair straightened again. The Australian grinned widely and took a sip of her tea.

"What, you wanna miss this? No way, I enjoy embarrassing you!" she exclaimed, before turning to Jim and continuing her 'Let's-embarrass-Sandy-by-telling-Jim-as-many-stories-about-hairboy-as-possible' moment.

"Well, we were called out the Thanksgiving weekend for a bank robbery where the bank robbers were trapped inside and had taken the bank clerks as hostages. And Sandy, being who he is, managed to get trapped inside, because he was there to pay some bills."

"Down payment on the apartment, actually!" Blair shot in. "And do you have to tell this story?"

"No, I wanna hear it," Jim said with a grin in Blair's direction.

"Anyway," Megan continued, "he'd also been out shopping earlier, because he was this year's selected host. And - God knows why - he was carrying the grocery bags and the turkey with him into the bank."

"Hey, somebody might have stolen it," Blair defended himself. "A turkey is expensive, and it's good food!"

"So we arrive, and Simon gets out the megaphone and tries to reason with the guys, right? And Sandy decides to seize the moment - after all, there were only five of the guys, with machine guns and everything, y'know? No match for Sandy. So the moment they hear the megaphone from outside, Sandy swings the frozen turkey at one of them - and promptly gets knocked over the head. Hard. As usual."

Both Jim and Megan chuckled and another groan came from Blair. "Anyway, we got the robbers and took the still unconscious Sandy to the hospital, and you know what the first thing he says when he wakes up is?"

"What?" Jim asked.

Megan looked at her friend cross-eyed and imitated a groggy Sandburg, before she said in a slurred voice; "'Did the turkey survive?'"

Then she cracked up.

"I swear, the doctors thought he had a concussion the size of Mount Everest!"

Blair grimaced at her. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." Glancing over at Jim, he shrugged and tried to seem nonchalant, despite the blush creeping across his cheeks. "It really wasn't that funny. I'd paid a lot of money for that turkey. And I did get it back. And we did eat it for Thanksgiving. And it was yummy."

Jim chuckled and ruffled Blair's hair. "I bet it was."

"Hey man, watch the hair," the smaller man complained, loosening the tie at the nape of his neck to re-tie his hair. Jim just chuckled again.

Once the laughter had died, Jim took another bite of his sandwich and turned to Megan again. "So, how are you doing?" he asked. "Anything new and exciting I should know about? Like, say... your marriage?"

The female inspector just gaped at him for a second, then set her cup down, smiling shyly. "I should have guessed you'd notice the ring," she said, twisting the gold ring on her right hand a little. "Ever the detective, huh?"

"I guess," Jim said, smiling. When he noticed that his Guide was looking at him, uncertainty in his gaze, he sighed a little.

"Look," he started, a bit insecure. "You guys don't have to avoid the subject with me. I'm not gonna break that easily. If somebody is engaged, I wanna know about it. If somebody has broken up and it's okay that people know about it, I wanna know about it too. You get what I'm saying?"

Smiling and nodding a bit in relief, Blair placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "We get it," he said.

"Good." Then Jim's smile faded. "There are only a few subjects that aren't really up for discussion," he said, making it perfectly clear who he was talking about. "Okay?"

"We get it," Blair said again, offering Jim another small smile.

"Thank you," Jim said, returning the smile, before looking over at the still smiling Connor and moving away from the subject. "So, tell me about this guy? Who is it? Anybody I know?"

"I don't think so," Megan replied as her shy smile grew. "His name is Jake - Jake Graydale - and we met three years ago when I was chasing a car-jacker. I'd stumbled across the car-jacker on my way home, and was chasing him down the street on foot, when Jake saw what was going on and tripped the guy, and...it was love at first sight."

"Was not!" Blair shot in around a mouthful of bagel, with an outrageous look on his face. "She's leaving out all the good stuff!" he complained to Jim. "They totally and completely hated each other!"

When Jim arched a brow at the inspector, she caved and nodded. "Well, fine, yeah, okay, it was. I thought he was a cocky wanker with no sense of humor, and figured he had no right to interrupt in police business."

When Jim arched a brow at her again, she just shrugged. "I had a bad day. Anyway, he figured I was an ungrateful twit who had a brain the size of a flea."

"So how'd you end up marrying the guy?"

"We kept bumping into each other, and eventually he started following me, asking me out. And Sandy," she said with a slight growl, "managed to convince me I actually thought the guy was handsome. So I accepted, and he turned out to be rather nice, and...well, we got married. End of story."

"That's great," Jim said with a large grin, leaning over to hug her. "I'm so happy for you!"

"Thank you," Megan replied with a smile. "It means a lot to me."

"So what's going on with everybody else?" the Sentinel asked. "What did everybody not tell me earlier today?"

"Well," Blair started, quickly swallowing the last of his bagel. "Nothing much, really. Mostly things are pretty much the way they were when you left. Some girlfriends and boyfriends have been exchanged for others, but marriages are still going strong. Connor's the biggest news around here, now that Simon and his girlfriend has broken up."

Jim nearly choked on his coffee. "Simon?"

"Yeah," Connor confirmed with a grin. "The old guy had a girlfriend for a while, but I think that was more of a fling on his part. Then she started getting thoughts about marriage in her head. The old guy got scared, and there goes another relationship out the window! I don't exactly think Simon was too upset about it."

"No," Blair agreed with a chuckle. "He all but danced around the entire sixth floor for weeks afterwards."

Jim chuckled, then fastened his gaze on Blair. "How about you? You got a girlfriend?"

Suddenly Blair blushed and stuttered a little, looking down. "No," he replied, gulping a little. "There haven't really been any girls who..."

His quiet words were interrupted when Megan burst out laughing so most of the people in the caf turned their heads to look at them. Not until the two men had managed to calm Megan slightly so the guests' attention returned to somewhere else, did Megan explain why she had the sudden outburst.

"You didn't know?" she asked, still laughing a little. "Sandy's out, mate!"

This time, Jim really did choke on his coffee. "Huh?" he gasped out.

"Sandy's out," Megan repeated, both of them looking over to where Blair was rapidly shrinking in his seat, his face beet red. "He's out of the closet, Jim!"

Chapter Four: More Changes

Jim tightened his hold around Blair's waist as the Harley went around a corner and then pulled into the garage of 852 Prospect.

As the motorcycle came to a halt, Jim climbed off and placed his hands in his pockets, staring hard at the ground while his brain tried to process the information he'd been presented with only fifteen minutes earlier.

Blair was gay.

Blair Sandburg was gay.

Blair 'Let's-see-how-many-women-I-can-sleep-with-in-one-week' Sandburg was gay.

"Is it that disgusting? You can't even look at me now?"

Blair's quiet voice startled Jim out of his thoughts, and his eyes immediately met Blair's and his hands reached out to land on the smaller man's shoulders in a pure reflex. "No, no, God, no, Chief, don't ever think that! It's not disgusting or sick or anything even remotely connected to those words! Please don't ever think that about me!"

He paused, shrugging a little. "It's just new, y'know. And more than a little strange. Before, you were... with a new girl every other week, but now... you're gay."

"This isn't something sudden," Blair said with a small shrug. "I.... think I've always known I swing that way, too. I've just not been very... open with myself about it. Sort of in denial, you know? But I guess I've changed." Then a small smile spread across his face. "Besides, I think the correct term is 'bisexual,' you know?"

"Nitpicker," Jim mumbled as he offered the detective a grin, before they headed up to #307 together. In the elevator, Blair turned to his friend again.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to stay with me," he said. "I mean, not that I want you somewhere else - I'd love to have you back, man - but you don't have to if you don't want to."

"Chief," Jim said, once again placing his hands on the other's shoulders. "I'll stay." And then he smiled - a friendly smile filled with the love and understanding only a true best friend could give, so what other choice did Sandburg have, than to smile back?

As they stepped out of the elevator together and entered the apartment, Jim noticed how Blair clutched his side carefully and frowned a little bit. "Maybe this thing tonight isn't a good idea for you, Chief. Maybe you should stay home and rest?"

"Nah, I'll be fine," Blair insisted, shrugging off his jacket and walking towards his office. "Just give me a hand in here, and we'll get right on moving this stuff up into my bedroom, okay?"

"We don't have to do that now," Jim said as he took off his own jacket. "We can do it later. You should just rest."

"Nah, it's okay," Blair said. "Might as well do it now, so it's ready for you tonight."

Sighing, Jim followed Blair into what was once the younger man's bedroom, but was now his office. The bed was still there, although it was barely recognizable under the stacks of paper, binders, files and boxes. The desk by the wall was also hidden underneath papers, and the bookshelves along the walls were filled with books.

"How are we gonna fit all this upstairs?" Jim asked as he scratched his head.

"I don't know," Blair replied with a shrug as he started to collect the papers floating over his desk. "We'll do it."

Glancing at the smaller man, Jim shook his head, then placed a hand on his shoulder, halting his movements. "I'll tell you what - you leave most of this stuff down here. We can arrange your office upstairs, but the books and most of the papers can stay where they are. It's not like I have an enormous amount of things I can drag in here."

"You sure?" Blair asked.

"I'm sure," Jim confirmed.

A grateful smile spread across Blair's face, and together they started to collect papers and various files.

It wasn't until four hours later, that the bedroom was cleared of most of Blair's paperwork and random stuff, and the bed was made and practically begging for someone to sleep on it. Getting his bag from where he'd left it the night before, Jim set it down on the bed, starting to unpack.

"You gonna be okay here, now?" Blair asked from the doorway.

"I'll be fine," Jim assured him. "How about some dinner, huh?"

Blair nodded and gave his friend one last smile, before he left the room and closed the door behind him.

Jim continued to unpack, taking out some faded jeans, a pair of dark blue pants for finer occasions, shirts, T-shirts and a couple of basket shirts. He placed them in the dresser that was still there, slowly and thoughtfully as he tried to clear his mind of the mess it currently was.

Some old Jags sweaters were placed next to his sweatpants, and a couple of worn caps were tucked down with them. A pair of sneakers were placed by the door, an alarm clock set on the night table next to a shining semi-automatic - and then he took out the last items in his bag; the pictures.

Each one was carefully framed and neatly tucked in so the glass wouldn't break and they wouldn't get dirty or anything.

There weren't many - five in all - but they summarized his entire life, and made sure he had memories of every single day he'd been alive.

The first one showed him with his father and brother - only fourteen and without a worry in the world except maybe how to get Suzie Lambert in his English class to go out with him. It helped him remember what had been destroyed between the three all those years ago, and was slowly rebuilding even now.

The second was of him and his friends from the army - the ones that had died in Peru when the helicopter went down.

Memories of courage and strong hearts attacked his mind and soul every time he looked at it, reminding him how much he gave for them and how much they gave for him before they died. It was also a reminder of his Sentinel abilities, and the experience that had brought them all forth.

The third showed him at his wedding with Carolyn. At the time they'd thought their marriage would last forever, but it didn't last nearly as long - only a few short years. But those years, he cherished, and he cherished the friendship he'd managed to keep with his wife for a while, even after they'd divorced.

The fourth was of him and Penny, and he couldn't even look at it without crying. His breath caught in his throat and tears started to roll down his cheeks as he looked at the picture. They were in front of his car, arms embracing each other - a love that never really was allowed to bloom fully because of a madman with a gun.

A madman with a gun who was never caught and never brought to justice for everything he'd ruined and destroyed the day he shot Penny Morgan.

The fifth was of him and Blair. Sentinel and Guide. Best friends and partners. Before Jim met Penny. Before the anthropologist died in a fountain and was brought back. Before a lot of things.

The two men were standing next to each other, hands in their pockets, mimicking each other's position and grinning widely at the camera.

Jim placed them all at the top of the dresser, then remained in his room, staring at the pictures and allowing himself to cry over everything he'd lost, everything he'd given up and everything that was taken away from him, until Blair called that dinner was ready.

Only then did Jim Ellison dry his tears, straighten his back and walk out, ready to face the world again.

"What is this place, anyway?" Jim asked as he and Blair headed towards the entrance of Graham's night club, both of them carrying a motorcycle helmet.

Blair had insisted on driving out to buy one for Jim so Simon wouldn't have a fit if he ever saw the former detective riding without one.

"Graham's opened a few months after you left," Blair explained. "It has become one of our most frequent hangouts when we're celebrating something, and although Graham seems to think we're a bit noisy sometimes, he never complains because the bad guys always steer clear of the place since the cops frequent it."

Chuckling a little, Jim shot Blair a glance before they entered.

The place was just like a 'clean' night club was supposed to be; a bit dark, a bit smoke-filled, a couple of pool tables, a dance floor and a bar, with music just loud enough to dance to, and just low enough so you could talk with people without having to shout. The dim light was no problem for Jim as his Sentinel vision was kicked off.

The door hadn't even closed behind the two, before they heard Simon's voice split the noise. "Ellison! Sandburg! Get over here, now!"

The two friends made their way through the light crowd to a large table where all their friends were sitting.

A chorus of "Blair! Jim!" greeted them as they grabbed a chair each and sat down. Small talk and friendly banter flew back and forth over the small table, questions were asked, answers given and more stories about Blair were told, much to the embarrassment of the former anthropologist.

Jim kept quiet while the friendly remarks went back and forth, only speaking when a question was directed towards him specifically. Otherwise, he just listened.

He listened to Banks tell about his ex-girlfriend, about how Daryl was doing in college and how he wanted to be a lawyer, he listened to Brown and Rafe complain about past cases and girlfriends and life in general and he listened to Blair's continuous begging that they'd stop telling stories about his screw-ups.

Connor continued to swoon about her husband, Rhonda kept teasing Simon, and generally things were as if the five years the detectives had managed without Jim never existed and never happened.

It wasn't until Jim winced a couple of hours later, that Blair placed a hand on his shoulder and wondered if he wanted to go home.

"You noticed that, huh?" Jim asked.

"Of course I did," was Sandburg's reply. "Too loud?"

"Yeah, a little," the Sentinel admitted. "A little too loud and a little too much smoke and everything. Gets hard on my senses eventually."

Sending Jim a smile, Blair stood and nodded to the groups of people. "Ladies, gentlemen, I hope you will excuse our departure, but my partner would like to go home, so I'll oblige."

"You drove him here on that bike of yours?" Simon asked with a stern look.

"Yes, I did, Simon," Blair replied, "and I fully intend to drive him home again on that bike of mine."

Sighing and shaking his head, the Captain looked at Jim. "You make sure he doesn't overdo it. He's not allowed to go out on the streets again until this Monday - until then, he's supposed to rest. Monday's still a weekend away," he said. "That's three days, Sandburg. Rest!"

The detective just rolled his eyes in a friendly manner, then waved good bye and led Jim out of the club and towards the bike.

"Three days!" Simon bellowed as they walked out the door, and Blair paused just long enough to flick him off, before they were gone.

"...before she could tell him that it was okay, so he went and decked her date!"

Chuckling at his friend's story, Jim leaned against the wall outside of #307 while Blair started to fumble for his keys. "I bet Kate appreciated the gesture."

"You have no id-"

Blair was suddenly cut off when the Sentinel's hand shot out to clamp over his lips. Sending Jim a questioning look, Blair shrugged.

"Someone's in there," Jim whispered. "I can hear their heartbeats." He listened intensely for a few more seconds. "Three of them."

"Burglars?" Blair whispered from behind Jim's hand.

"I think so," was the reply. Removing his hand, Ellison allowed the detective to draw his ever-present gun from the holster on his side, before the older man did the same thing, releasing his semi-automatic from the holster he had on his back.

Blair arched an eyebrow at that, but didn't say anything about it. What he did say, was, "Maybe you shouldn't? 'Cause, y'know, no longer a detective?"

"Sandburg, there's three of them in there," Jim said, pausing to let his vision zoom in on the lock, "who's picked our lock and might have guns. Now, one against three could maybe work. One gun against three guns does definitely not work."

Sighing and giving in, Sandburg took a deep breath, then opened the door.

Three figures in dark clothing and ski masks froze completely when the door burst open and Sandburg and Ellison ran in, guns aimed and ready. "Freeze!" Sandburg yelled, "Cascade PD!"

Jim felt a small burst of pride in his chest as he heard his friend say those words, but was quickly brought back to reality when one of the figures dove for a gun lying on the table in the living room.

One well-placed bullet had the person lying on the floor, clutching his bleeding ankle, before Jim's gun was brought up to point at the two others. "Any of you gonna try anything?" he asked.

The two figures looked at each other, before they dropped what was in their hands - respectively Jim's photos and all the silverware in the house, and Blair's backup gun and the portable stereo that usually was standing in the kitchen.

When one of the figures dropped the photos carelessly to the floor, the sound of glass breaking seemed to echo in Jim's mind, and he clenched his jaw tightly. "Did I hear you breaking my stuff?" he asked, his voice suddenly tight and cold.

The figure didn't reply.

"Did I just hear you breaking my stuff?" Jim asked again, threateningly, and stepping closer.

"Jim," Blair warned.

"Who the fuck told you that you could break my stuff?" Jim asked, seemingly not hearing his Guide at all.

"Jim!" the younger man repeated, sterner. "Not now, man!"

The detective's warnings were dead to the taller man's ears as Jim lowered his gun and lashed out with his foot, catching the figure in his stomach. The burglar flew backwards and crashed into the steps leading up to the master bedroom.

Blair realized he wouldn't be able to stop Jim, and quickly ran to the living room table, taking the gun lying there, before he went to the phone and picked it up, all the while keeping his gun aimed at the one burglar still standing.

"This is detective Sandburg, I need assistance and an ambulance. Three burglars picked up at apartment 307 in 852 Prospect."

Once the call was done, Blair gritted his teeth, wishing he had his cuffs on him so he could secure the two burglars Jim wasn't whaling on, and stop his friend from killing the third. But since his cuffs were currently lying in his bedroom and he wasn't really up for a physical fight yet, all he could do was keep his gun aimed at the figures in ski masks and continue to shout to the Sentinel - to no use.

Jim didn't hear Blair's shouts as he continued to hit the person lying underneath him on the stairs. His gun was brought down to the masked face, his knee connected with the person's crotch, strong hands grabbed a fistful of hair through the ski mask and banged the burglar's head against the stairs.

Only when the person stopped struggling and signaled that he had slipped into unconsciousness did Jim let go of him and step back. Blair had stopped shouting, and the only sound in the room was Jim's ragged breathing and he walked to where the pictures had fallen, knelt and picked up the one that had broken.

A happy couple standing in front of a car smiled up at him through broken glass.

Chapter Five: Decisions

Simon Banks was not a pretty sight when he was angry - most of the people on the sixth floor could testify to that fact. However, only a very few had experienced the Captain when he was furious.

Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg was about to experience that.

"Would one of you please explain to me what the hell went on here???"

Both men cringed as Banks paced in front of them in the living room of 852 Prospect.

The living room had been cleaned up, the small blood spots on the stairs had been washed away, the burglars were arrested and the stereo, silver and pictures were back in their place.

Once the police officers and paramedics had left, Simon had practically slammed the door shut and let out one of his famous bellows for Sandburg and Ellison to present themselves in the living room immediately.

"I have a hard enough time explaining why one of the burglars was shot with a gun belonging to a civilian when a detective was standing next to him with a gun of his own - but I also have to explain why another was beaten into a bloody pulp and ended up in the hospital with a broken jaw, a concussion, three broken ribs and completely busted genitals!"

"I'm sorry, sir," Jim stammered quietly, "I guess I lost my temper."

Simon stopped his pacing and stared incredulously at him for a moment. "You lost. Your temper?" he asked, his words clipped and short. Then he looked at Blair. "And what about you? Maybe you can explain exactly why someone who was once one of my best detectives ever, goes out and places both our asses on the line, because he claims he 'lost his temper???'"

"No, sir, I can't," Blair replied.

He'd seen the picture - he had to practically wrench it from Jim's grip, the Sentinel in a full zone-out, when the paramedics and other officers arrived. But he figured it wasn't his place to explain it.

The picture was now resting in Blair's back pocket and he intended to keep it there until the two were once again alone.

Realizing he wouldn't get anything out of the two standing in front of him, Banks sighed deeply and some of the anger seemed to leave his body.

"Alright," he said. "Jim, I know you're still thinking about coming back to the unit, but I have to tell you - if anything like this ever happens again, you can forget about it. I might be able to cover this one for you, but that's the only chance you get. You read me?"

"Yes, sir," Jim replied in the same, quiet voice.

"Good," Banks said, before walking towards the door. "Now I expect both of you at the station on Monday, 7:00 am sharp. Got that?"

Both men nodded mutely, and then the door closed behind the Captain.

Once the man was gone, Blair turned to Jim. "Okay, wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?"

"Hm. Didn't Simon just ask me that? Who looped the tape?" was Jim's short reply, before he walked to the kitchen and pulled out a beer from the refrigerator.

"Oh, yeah, great!" Blair said, anger reflected clearly in his voice as he followed the larger man. "Go ahead and get drunk! But I'll tell you something, Jim! I care about you, okay? I care about you enough to worry about that 'little' outburst you had back there, and I suggest you talk to somebody about it before it eats you up completely!"

Jim just remained by the kitchen counter, staring straight ahead.

"Was it because of this?" Blair asked, his voice softer, as he pulled out the somewhat crumpled picture from his back pocket and placed it in front of Jim.

The former detective immediately snatched it up and placed it in his own pocket, but didn't look at Blair. "Go away," he said in a low voice.

"Not gonna happen, buddy," the younger man told him softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, big guy. Talk to me. Please?"

Jim remained silent.

"I care about you," Blair continued, a feeling of despair washing over him. "I care about you a lot. And I know that... it... is still bugging you, but I think you should talk about it. I want to help, and I can't help unless-"

"Since when did you become the staff shrink?" Jim scoffed, taking a swig of his beer.

"Hey, I minored in psychology," Blair said, shrugging a little as he tried desperately to lighten the mood just a little. "Has to be good for something, right?"

Jim just emptied his beer in three large swallows and put the empty bottle down on the kitchen counter. "I'm gonna go to bed now," he informed his friend. "And I really don't want to have this conversation again."

Blair could only nod as Jim walked slowly into his bedroom, the door closing behind him with a silent *click.* Once he was gone, Blair leaned forward and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He could use a beer himself.

Jim stared at the picture, tears coming to his eyes.

It had been five years, damnit! When would the pain start to lessen? A small hitching in his breath made him close his eyes, and he carefully placed the picture down on the night table.

He would have to get a new frame for that tomorrow.

Sniffing slightly, Ellison stubbornly wiped away his tears and opened his eyes again, staring out into space. Blair cared about him and wanted to help him. Wanted him to share his pain and wanted to be there for him.

It was a new feeling. Nobody had 'cared about' the ex-detective for over five years, and now that he was back in Cascade and people suddenly were interested in *him,* it scared him. He was used to getting along on his own. In the army he had friends - close friends - but not the kind of closeness he shared with Simon or Blair.

In Peru he learned to trust only himself and the Chopec people. So when he got out of the jungle and suddenly was surrounded by an entire world again, he reacted the way he knew best - by shutting himself down. He had contact with people, but he didn't let them in. Not really.

Carolyn had managed to get him to open up, but just a little, and in the end it wasn't enough. After they divorced, Ellison continued like he had before, talking to people, but not really letting anybody in. Simon was the person who stood closest to him. Then, his senses suddenly started to act up, and he was slightly scared by it, but didn't know who to turn to.

And then came Blair.

A 'neo-hippie punk' with terrible hair, odd food habits and a theory about everything. He swept into Jim's life and somehow made things work out. He annoyed the hell out of the Sentinel for a long while, but eventually the student grew on him. He learned to open up, learned to deal with his Sentinel abilities, he learned to trust - and he learned to love again.

So when Dave Murdoc tore that love from him, Jim was done trying. He didn't bother opening up anymore, not allowing himself another chance to love, and thus also another chance to get hurt. He didn't want people caring about him, so he left Cascade and everything and everybody he ever knew.

And now he was back.

It was strange to have people asking about him again, asking him how he was doing, what he'd been up to the past years - taking interest in him and his life.

Briefly Jim wondered if maybe Blair was right? Maybe it would get better if he talked about it? But then he rejected the thought and shook his head as if to clear it from a fog. His problems were just that - his problems. And it would stay that way.

No, he decided, some things were just too personal to talk about, even when it came to his Guide.

Sighing deeply, Jim lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, his spinning thoughts finally settling down for the night as he drifted off to sleep.

Jim looked slightly nervous as he and Blair stood in front of Simon in his office.

"Well?" Jim asked.

"Well," Simon repeated, sighing deeply and leaning back in his chair. "It's okay, your name won't come up as to who beat the shit out of the poor guy who broke into your apartment last Friday, but it's the first, final and only chance you're getting!"

A deep breath escaped both men, and Blair placed a hand on Jim's shoulder, sending him a slight smile.

"Thank you, sir," Jim said, the relief clearly evident in his voice.

"So I take it you've decided, then?" Simon asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Yes, I have," Jim informed both his Guide and the Captain. "If my tests come through and everything's okay, I'll be back in Major Crimes before you know it."

Blair didn't think Simon was able to grin that widely.

Blair didn't think he was able to grin that widely.

Seconds later, Jim had his arms full of one happy Guide, and he returned the hug with a smile of his own. Once Blair let go of him, Simon took his place. "I'm so happy to hear it," Simon told Jim as he stepped back from the hug. "I'm sure everything will be fine. And it'll be a pleasure to have you back with us."

"I hope so," Jim said, taking a deep breath as one of his microscopic smiles spread across his face. "I really hope so."

Chapter Six: The Road Back To Normal

Taking a deep breath, Blair checked his watch again, then tapped the seat of his Harley lightly as he whistled a tune under his breath. Suddenly, a deep voice floated directly into his ear and he jumped a little, turning to find Jim grinning at him.

"Hey," he said, "you scared me a little, man."

"I know." The grin grew.

"So," Blair asked, expectantly. "How'd it go?"

Arching an eyebrow at his partner, Jim accepted his helmet as the smaller man held it out towards him, then put it on. "You really have to ask about that?" he asked, his voice muffled by the helmet. "Come on, Chief, it's just a physical test to see if I've still got the strength and reflexes, which I know I do."

"Well, good," Blair said with a nod, putting on his own helmet. "Climb on."

"We going home?" Jim asked as he straddled the bike behind Blair.

"Nope!" the former anthropologist answered, then quickly started the engine and sped off before the older man had a chance to say or do anything at all.

"You gotta be kidding me!"

"You don't like it?"

"Chief, I swear to God I'll rip out your guts and use them for guitar strings if you ever repeat this to anybody, but I've actually missed this place!"

Blair shrugged a little as he watched his best friend's gaze roam across the medium-sized laboratory. Some of the devices Blair had used when testing Jim's Sentinel abilities was there and the taller man recognized it, while other equipment was new to his eyes.

"I know this guy at the U who lets me use this room when the new dean's not looking. Actually, I think the dean is looking, but I think he's opting to stay as far away from me as possible."

"Hm, smart man," Ellison noted. "Because if he had even tried anything with you, I would have to put on my stern face."

"Jim, you're not a cop anymore," the smaller man said with a slight chuckle, smoothing back his ponytail. "You're not allowed to put on your stern face around normal people anymore."

"Which is why I'm joining the force again," Jim added.

Another chuckle came from the other man, and he shook his head. "You're such a dick, man. Come on, let's get this show on the road and see what you remember."

Leading Jim over to a tall stool in the center of the room, Blair pushed him gently down in it and then retrieved a blindfold from one of the tables. Once the blindfold was securely fastened over Jim's eyes, Blair fished out a small, blue rubber ball from his pocket and nodded once.

"Right, let's start easy. Just listen to me, Jim. Concentrate on my voice and concentrate on the senses you can still use. I'm going to do something, and when I do it, you do what falls natural, okay?"

While he was talking, Blair slowly and carefully walked backwards until he was standing close by the door.

Then, he remained completely silent for a few seconds, before he suddenly hurled the small ball towards Jim's head as hard as he could. The blue rubber ball split the air as it headed directly for Jim's forehead, the younger man having thrown it precisely and with great strength. But only a split second before the blue lightning was supposed to connect with the former detective, a strong hand shot up to grip the ball mid-air and stop it.

Blair watched Jim for a second as the Sentinel sat there patiently, waiting for his Guide to tell him he could remove the blindfold, blue rubber ball securely in his hand.

"Wow," Blair finally managed. "That was way cool! I mean, I've seen you do stuff like that before, man, but that was like... five years ago! This is so exciting! Do you have any idea how much could have happened in these five years?"

"Ah... nope," Jim replied, clearly neither impressed nor interested.

"Come on, man!" Blair insisted. "Give me a break here - I'm serious! Even without me or the training or anything at all, there's so much that could have happened. I mean, you're bound to have used your senses at least once or twice, right?"

The Sentinel just stared at his friend for several, long moments before his eyes dropped to the floor.

"Jim?"

Blair arched an eyebrow. "Jim? You have used your senses... right?" he asked again.

"Well..." Jim mumbled. "Sort of..."

"Sort of? What's with the 'sort of?' What kind of 'sort of'? Why do you say 'sort of?'" Blair straightened a bit as Jim mumbled something under his breath. "You haven't. Have you?"

"Well, not really," Jim muttered. "Once or twice, maybe. I mean, there really wasn't a need to, I mean... I was a good cop before the senses kicked back in, and I was a good P.I. without them. And a good security guard."

"But didn't you need them at least once or twice? Your vision? I mean, you mentioned you worked night shift - didn't you need your vision for that?"

"Chief," Jim said, lifting a finger. "There's this great invention called flashlights for that. Plus, I chose to be a security guard because it was relaxing and no stress. Rarely anything I actually had to *do.*"

"Oh," Blair said with understanding. Thinking hard for a second, he sighed deeply, then grinned at Jim. "We'll just get right back on the horse, then, and do some more tests."

"That's what I was afraid of," Jim grumbled as the smaller man walked across the room to set things up for his next experiment. "What's the big deal, anyway, Chief? It's not like you still have a thesis to finish, and I don't really want to use my senses, to be honest."

"Oh, nonsense!" Blair insisted. "I may not have a thesis to finish anymore - I'll give you that one - but that doesn't mean I've lost interest in this whole Sentinel thing. I mean, c'mon, man! I devoted so many years of my life to it! Did you think I was just gonna let it go when you left?"

Blair stopped long enough to raise an eyebrow at the older man, before he continued. "Besides, I'm aware that you don't really want to use your senses, but I really think you should."

Groaning and rubbing his eyes with two of his fingers, Jim sighed deeply. "Come on, Chief. Haven't we been through all this before?"

"Yeah," Blair immediately replied. "And the last time, a bunch of people - including my friend - ended up in the morgue, so shut the hole in your face and let me do these tests. Then we'll go home and I'll make pasta for dinner, okay?"

Sighing and refusing to let the small stab of guilt in his chest bother him, Jim nodded - although somewhat reluctantly - as Blair walked back to him with a pair of earplugs.

"Alright," he agreed, taking the earplugs. "Let's do this, then."

Blair chewed thoughtfully at his bottom lip while his eyes stared sightlessly out into space, his brain working at full speed.

The past few days had been spent testing Jim in various ways, whenever they had a free moment, and the results were fascinating.

It appeared that the Sentinel had not only kept his extra sensitive senses, but it seemed that they had increased. His eyes could see better, his ears could hear better, his touch could be dialed up to a level where Jim couldn't stand the feel of his jacket on his shoulders.

Frowning a little, Blair leaned forward on his bike and adjusted his sunglasses a little. There was a fairly good chance that the extra sensitivity of Jim's senses were an after-effect of being dormant for five years, but the former anthropologist didn't even dare to consider the possibilities of them being permanent.

If - *when,* Blair corrected himself - Jim was accepted back with Major Crimes, it would give him one hell of an edge on the streets. It wasn't as if he didn't have that edge before, but this would be even better. And the best part about it, was that even though the senses were extra effective when Jim dialed them up; they didn't affect him in any way when he kept them dialed down at normal level!

The former anthropologist was startled out of his thoughts when the sound of a motorcycle suddenly closed in on him and a blur of black and brown passed in front of him. His head snapped up and his gaze roamed across the parking lot. Almost immediately he saw what had startled him, and his jaw dropped open a bit.

As Sandburg continued to stare, Jim pulled the black Harley Davidson up next to him, shut off the engine and took off his helmet. "Well, what do you think?" he asked.

"My. God," was all Blair got out. "My God, Jim."

Shrugging a little, the older man looked down a little. "I've saved up a large amount of money in the bank, plus your down payments for the loft. And you can't continue to drive me everywhere, and, well..."

"It looks great!" Blair finally exclaimed when he found his tongue. "It's great, Jim!"

"Really?" the older man smiled a little and Blair nodded with great enthusiasm.

"Really," he confirmed, crouching down to take a closer look at the bike. "Man, this is a true beauty!" Grinning up at his best friend, the younger man winked once. "Bet she took a pretty load out of your savings, huh, big guy?"

"Bet she did," was Jim's response before he put on his helmet again. "Come on, Chief. Let's get back to the loft. I need food."

Sending Jim an impish grin, Blair put on his own helmet and straddled his own bike. "What am I gonna do with you, eh? You just keep eating and eating..."

"Hey, I'm a big guy," Jim replied with a shrug.

"So I trust everything went okay with Claire?"

Even behind the helmet, Jim's arched eyebrow was visible. "Claire?" he asked. "Since when are you and the department's psychologist on a first name basis?"

"Since Ms. Daniels decided it was stupid walking around calling each other Ms. Daniels and Mr. Sandburg after we'd slept together."

Laughing out loud, Jim's smile reached all the way to his eyes for the first time since he'd returned. When he saw the light in the blue eyes, dimmed behind the helmet, Blair was stunned to realize he hadn't even noticed he hadn't been able to see his friend's smiles in the blue orbs, when he had smiled earlier.

But now he did, he reminded himself. So it was a good thing, then.

"So I trust you've been friends for a while, then?" Jim asked, amusement evident in his voice. "Y'know, before you got out and announced your other side? And how did that happen, anyway?"

Pretending to be insulted, the long-haired man shot his nose up and gave a snort. "Hmph, for one thing, that's a story we can deal with back at the loft, and second, I can still get attracted to women - I just get attracted to men *too.*"

His chuckles bubbling forth again, stronger than a few seconds ago, Jim grinned like a madman. "Really? How on earth do you have time for anything at all, Chief? I mean, you were already the busy little beaver when you only did women, but now that you're working double shifts..."

Jim's chuckles ended in a loud roar of laughter as Blair just shook his head, started his bike and sped off.

Taking another couple of seconds to laugh at his friend's expense, Jim started his bike, before he followed the younger man through the streets of Cascade, towards the loft.

"Well?" Jim asked the second the door closed behind the two men.

Frowning, Blair took off his jacket and threw it carelessly over his shoulder. His shoes were kicked off, banging against the wall and Jim had to bite back his remark. It was Blair's place now, he reminded himself.

"What do you mean?" Blair asked, throwing his keys in the basket still standing by the door. At least one habit had remained, Jim mused.

"I mean, I want answers," Jim said, taking off his own jacket and shoes and, unlike Blair, placing them respectively on the coat rack and neatly by the door. "So I know you're out and I know you're not gay, you're bisexual, but there's a story here, and I've been dying to hear it since we were out eating with Connor."

Groaning, Blair turned away and walked into the living room to plop down on the couch. "Aw, man. Really, there's no story. I met a guy, realized I couldn't be in denial anymore, got my ass out of the closet and that's it."

Arching an eyebrow, Jim sat down on the low coffee table in front of the couch. "Why don't I believe you?" he asked. When Blair didn't reply, Jim just shrugged. "So, tell me about this guy? Were you dating?"

"Man!" Straightening, Blair had to chuckle a bit. "What is this fascination with me and my life? I'm the Guide! I'm supposed to ask you questions. I mean, you never seemed interested in my life before. You never cared about my life before, but once I admit I'm bi, I'm the most interesting person on the surface of the earth?"

Blinking a little, Jim was silent for a few moments before he shook his head. "I'm just curious," he said quietly. "And I didn't mean to make you believe I didn't care about you before, because I did. You... you just... You know me. I'm just not a man of many words."

"Got that right," Blair replied with a smirk. "And I didn't mean it like that,." Then he paused and sighed deeply.

"Well, I guess there's no harm in you knowing, huh? About a year after you left, I met this guy while I was working on a case. He was the prime suspect, but then we caught the real bad guy and he and I continued to hang out. Just friends, y'know? But then he started to imply things, and... well, I didn't know if I read him right, but then I... I started thinking, and I started realizing that what I felt for this guy might be more, right?"

"Who was he?" Jim asked, his voice still quiet.

"Richard was his name," Blair said, looking down a brief moment. "He preferred to be called Rick, though. Real nice guy."

"What happened?" Jim asked, praying his friend hadn't experienced a heartache even close to his own. Nobody deserved that.

"It blew over," Blair said casually, smiling a little. "But that was, of course, after I'd confessed to Megan that I might have feelings for Rick, and you know how it is at times on the sixth floor. Man, you don't need Sentinel hearing to be able to hear through the walls. So eventually, the rumor had spread so much that I had to do something about it. And you know me, man - never one for lying. So I stood up and said yeah, I'm bisexual or gay or whatever they wanna call it."

"And it was okay?"

"Sure," Blair replied with a reassuring smile. "I didn't suffer under any homophobic 'pranks' or anything, if that's what you're thinking about. Sure, things were weird at first, with some people, but now I think most people are fine with it."

"Most people?" Jim arched a suspicious eyebrow.

"Well, there's been quite a few odd looks sent my way, and I think Murray in Vice has a problem with it, but he just refused to talk to me on a case we had to co-operate on a couple of years ago. He doesn't do anything, so nobody's really hurt or anything - I can live with it."

The former anthropologist punctuated his sentence with a smile which Jim returned. "I'm glad you're okay, Blair. I mean, I'd have ripped some serious heads if anybody had hurt you because of something you're born with!"

"Yeah, and we've all seen how violent Mr. Jim 'I'm-so-butch' Ellison can be when he gets angry," Blair said, but the humor had disappeared from his voice. "You ready to tell me what that little incident was all about?" he asked, although he really didn't need the answer because he had a pretty good idea. He just needed the older man to talk about it.

Jim's face paled a little bit. He knew what Blair meant. The incident with the burglar had been tucked away, but neither man had forgotten it. Jim had just hoped that Blair would leave it alone.

He shook his head. "Not now, Chief," he finally said before standing and walking into the kitchen. "Not yet."

Blair remained sitting on the couch for a long while, before he joined the Sentinel in the kitchen, and the two proceeded to make dinner and joke as if nothing had ever happened and the five years they'd been apart had never happened.

Pausing for a moment to watch Jim's back as the older man started to scramble eggs - even after five years he still had to get his damn eggs with every meal - Blair smiled to himself. The burglars and the discussion about Jim's violent outburst could wait. For now, the only thing that mattered was that Jim was getting his life back.

In the two weeks Jim had been back in Cascade, Blair had watched the former detective as he slowly became more and more open, more and more like the Ellison he'd used to be, instead of that quiet, almost shy man who had knocked on Blair's door two weeks earlier.

As Jim turned to look at Blair, obviously having felt his gaze on him, the younger man just flashed him a grin before they went back to making dinner.

Maybe things finally were returning to normal?

Chapter Seven: Passion

"Nervous?"

"Naaah."

"Yeah, you are."

"Naaah."

"Don't lie to me, Jim, I can see that you're nervous!"

"Naaah."

"Come on, it's nothing to be ashamed about! You're nervous as hell!"

"Naaah." Pointing to Blair, Jim frowned. "Your heart, on the other hand, is doing a very fast samba beat in your chest. I'd say you're more nervous than me."

"Me?" Blair's eyebrows went up towards his hairline and he stared at Jim incredulously. "Why on earth would I be nervous?"

"Don't know," Jim replied, straightening his jacket for the fifth time since they'd gotten on the elevator. "It's your heartbeat, not mine. I'm just listening in."

"Well, stop that," Blair said, a small scowl settling on his face. "And leave your goddamn jacket alone - who cares how you look? You're back, Jim. That's all that matters."

Taking a deep breath, Jim did as the younger man told him and nodded once. "Yeah, okay, you're right. It's okay."

Grinning smugly up at his friend, the longhaired man drew a large bundle of wild curls behind his ear, the three gold earrings reflecting the light. "Not nervous, huh?"

"Okay, maybe a little," Jim admitted.

And then neither man had the time to say anything before the elevator opened and they stepped out.

Thundering applause met them as the two friends entered the bullpen, and Jim smiled and did a half-bow, raising his arms and accepting the applause like a pro. "Thank you! Thank you very much," he said out loud, much to Blair's amusement.

"All right, Elvis, don't let it get to your head," the shorter man said, grinning as they made their way to Simon's office.

Knocking once before entering, the two were greeted by a grinning Captain who immediately stood and gave Jim a bear-hug. "Good to have you back, Ellison."

Jim smiled as he stepped back from the hug. "Thank you, Simon."

"I trust this calls for a celebration of some sort? Graham's, possibly?" Blair looked pleadingly at Simon and raised both his eyebrows. "Please?" he asked, with an added, "Sir?"

"Yeah, yeah." Simon waved him off. "All right, Sandburg, we'll celebrate tonight. I'll tell the guys later."

"Yes!" Blair half-shouted, pumping a fist in the air, then put up a 'Who? Me?' look when both Jim and Simon arched a skeptical eyebrow in his direction.

Regarding Jim for a few more seconds, Simon smiled, then turned and picked up two things from his desk. "Here you go," he said, handing the items to the Sentinel. "Your badge and your service gun. As of today, September 28, you're officially back on duty with the Major Crimes unit. Now wipe that silly grin off your face and take your partner to do some actual police work."

Raising his hand in a mock salute, Jim's grin only grew, before he and Blair scurried out the door to their desks - Jim's desk placed directly beside Blair's by the wall. "Well, how do you feel?" Blair asked, holding out an imaginary microphone. "Any comments to the press? What are your thoughts about rejoining the Cascade Police Department?"

Jim just sent him a glare, then sat down. "So, what are we working on?"

"This and that," Blair replied with a shrug, sitting down at his own desk. "Our main case at the moment is getting nowhere. A series of banks have been robbed, and they draw a neat line from New York to Cascade."

"Same guys?"

"Probably," Blair said with another shrug. He pulled out a hair band and tied his hair back. "The robberies have too much in common for it not to be. Between three and five masked men enter the bank with semi-automatic rifles, make sure nobody pressed the alarm button and disappear in a waiting car. What's weird is that they always enter the bank when the vault is timed to be opened. They always know the exact date and time."

"How about personnel records? Anything come out suspicious?"

"Nope. All personnel had been employed in the current bank for at least seven months or more. Couldn't have been an inside job." Blair handed Jim a file and the older man studied it for a few moments, his eyes scanning over the pages.

"No prime suspects yet?"

"Nope, not a clue," Blair replied. "Why?"

"Let's go over the personnel records again, huh?" Jim said, closing the file and placing it at his desk. "I have a hunch."

"And knowing Jim Ellison's hunches, we better do what he tells us to," Blair said with an impish grin and a shake of his head.

"Wise-ass," was Jim's only reply before the two partners got to work.

"All right, all right, all right! I've got one! I've got one!"

The laughter around the table was turned down a little and Rafe half-stood. Pointing to Jim with his glass of beer, he continued their round of embarrassing stories about Jim and his career. "Three words for ya: Ellison. Undercover. Ballet instructor."

New fits of laughter went around the table, along with sympathetic pats on Jim's back, as well as shouted "That's four words," to Rafe. Jim, trying to shrink in his chair and vanish into nothing, was beet red and it didn't help matters that Blair was sitting next to him, laughing his ass off with the rest of the guys in Major Crimes.

"Well, I did get the guy!" Jim said lamely, staring hard at his third glass of beer that evening.

"My turn!" Connor announced, rising from her seat when the laughter started to die again.

"Oh no," came a hoarse groan from the embarrassed Sentinel, something which only caused Blair to squeak out a very unmanly bark of laughter.

"Oh yeah!" Megan said, sending Jim a nasty grin. "Jim and me undercover as newlyweds and Blair as Jim's nephew. We're in Simon's office and Simon informs us we're going under as a couple. Jim - obviously not wanting to understand - asks 'A couple of what?' So Simon replied 'Newlyweds,' and I tell you, I would pay money to see that look on Jim's face again! I don't think the man has looked so scared in his entire life!"

"Well, maybe except the time I dropped a spider in his dinner," Blair mumbled.

Unfortunately, the young detective's mumble was more than just a mumble since he himself had consumed at least as much beer as Jim during the evening, and unfortunately, the remark was also picked up by Henry Brown.

"What?" he asked through his laughter? "Spider? Oh, I gotta hear this, man!"

As another groan escaped Jim, his partner couldn't help but giggle drunkenly, before he straightened in his chair, the table turning their attention to him.

"Okay, first off, I swear I didn't do this on purpose, despite what Jim thinks. The story goes like this... We were having dinner one night, right? It was my turn to cook, and I felt guilty about sneaking away from it the past days by ordering out and letting Jim pay, so I'd prepared this great meal, y'know? Lots of stuff I knew Jim liked, including some hamburgers - not too much fat or cholesterol, of course."

A chorus of "Of course" went around the table, before they allowed Blair to continue.

"I'd sworn to be a real waiter for Jim that evening, y'know? So I went to re-fill his plate, went back to the table, placed it in front of him - and then he jumps up, screaming. I'm going like, 'What's going on, man?' and he points down. I look at his plate, and there's a giant spider sitting on top of his food. And we're not talking a cute little crush-under-your-boot spider, we're talkin' full-on, gigantic mama-tarantula, here, except it wasn't really a tarantula, of course."

Blair started to crack up, just like the rest of the detectives, as he told the rest of the story. "Jim almost had a heart attack, and you should have seen the look on his face! I swear, I have no idea how that spider ended up on the food! Neither of us dared to squash it either, so we ended up flushing Jim's entire meal, including the spider, down the toilet!"

"Talk about your brave detectives, huh?" Simon shot in from across the table, and Jim got, if possible, even more red.

"Don't worry, mate," Megan said cheerily, reaching around Blair to pat Jim's shoulder. "If we stay here for a few more hours, everybody will get so drunk that all is forgotten tomorrow."

"Yeah, I wish," Jim muttered.

As the laughter settled again, Megan shrugged. "Well, it looks like the story-telling is over now. So you just go ahead and enjoy yourself now, right? And welcome back to the unit. We missed ya."

"Thanks," Jim replied, sending Megan a half-smile.

They were interrupted when Simon stood up, raising his almost empty glass of beer. "Okay, people! I'd like to propose a toast for a man we've all missed very much. A man we're happy see back in Cascade. A man we've been so honored to have in the Major Crimes unit again. And a man we're damn proud to call our friend. To Jim Ellison!"

The detectives all raised their glasses, and a chorus of "Welcome home," "We missed ya," and "To Jim!" assaulted the Sentinel. Smiling and nodding, he turned to look at Blair who had raised his glass as well, and was now smiling at his best friend.

"You're home again, big guy," he said quietly, his words only audible to Sentinel ears over the music and noise in the club.

Jim returned his gaze to the rest of the men and women seated around the large table, then raised his own glass back to them. But Blair knew the older man really raised his glass to his Guide - and only his Guide.

The thought gave him a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach and, his spirit lifted high enough to last a week, he immediately ordered a new round of drinks on his tab.

Jim watched his Guide carefully for a few moments, a weak smile playing around his mouth as his ears tuned out the sound of the mild nonsense chat around him.

Blair's hair was still tied back, although several wild curls had refused to stay in place through the day. The young man probably had his glasses carefully tucked into their case, in his inner pocket, and whenever somebody spoke, he would listen carefully, chewing slightly on his lower lip every now and then.

The younger man appeared to be exactly like he was when Jim left, but the Sentinel knew that wasn't true. Yes, he was still hyper as hell, he was still cracking wise-ass jokes, and he was still going with some of that new-age bullshit Jim never could understand.

But both as a Sentinel and as Blair's best friend, Ellison had no problems in seeing further beyond, and what he saw told him his friend had changed. A lot.

For one thing, there was Blair's whole attitude towards the job. Before Jim left, the younger man would constantly whine and complain if a bump came along the road, even though he wasn't exactly lacking the brains to figure it out. Now, he had seemed to accept who he was and what he did. It was as if Blair, the anthropologist had never even existed.

What Jim was incredibly grateful for, however, was the fact that his friend *hadn't* turned into another bad-ass cop who didn't give a damn about anybody or anything because of the turns his life had taken and the things he saw at work. And he thanked the higher powers over and over that Blair's heart and his humanity had remained where it was.

And also there was the tiny fact that Blair was bisexual. It didn't bother Jim, not the slightest bit, but it had surprised him. More than just a little. And he couldn't help but wonder if more had happened between Rick and Blair, than his partner let on. He hoped not. It didn't matter how big or small the heartache was, if it hit you. It hurt, period.

So, yes, Sandburg had definitely changed the past five years.

Jim wasn't really sure if he liked the changes yet, or not.

It was two incredibly drunk and giggling detectives who made their way out of a cab and up to apartment #307 of 852 Prospect, after several hours at Graham's. After some fumbling, Blair managed to get out the keys, and with more giggling and fumbling, the two scurried inside, quickly shedding their jackets and shoes.

"Oh man," Blair complained. "I smell like a brewery." His words were slurred and came stumbling out of his mouth.

"Yeah, believe me, you really do," Jim chimed in, his words just as slurred as Blair's. "I can smell it all the way up here!" He trailed a finger up the ridge of his nose and didn't stop until he had reached his forehead. "You go take a shower. Now. Or I won't be able to sleep tonight."

"Silly Sentinel," Blair mumbled, heading for his bedroom. "I'll see you in the morning, Jim."

"Oh no, you don't!"

Practically wobbling after Blair, Jim reached the younger man at the bottom of the stairs and placed two strong arms around his waist. "You're gettin' a shower, man! Can't sleep with that smell!"

"Yes I can," Blair insisted, grabbing the railing by the stairs and holding on as Jim continued to pull.

"Well, I can't, silly!" Jim insisted, dragging hard.

Blair may be strong - surprisingly stronger than he'd been five years earlier, Jim noted - but the former army ranger was without a doubt stronger. Pulling hard, the two men tumbled backwards and ended up in a heap on the floor, Blair on top, Jim's arms still securely wrapped around his waist. Laughing and giggling, the younger detective squirmed, trying to free himself from the steel trap that was Jim.

"Jim, lemme up, man!"

"No, not 'till you shower!" Jim insisted.

"Yeah, so I'm s'posed to shower with you wrapped around me?" Blair snorted. "As if, man!"

Squirming and twisting like an eel, the curly haired man finally managed to turn so he was facing Jim. Placing his hands on either side of Jim's head, he pushed and tried to break free, but the older man still wouldn't budge, laughing through his clenched teeth as he held on with all his might. "Cry uncle," he told Blair. "You're not getting free."

Sighing exhaustedly, Blair flopped down onto Jim's chest to pant harshly for a second, before both men broke out into large fits of laughter.

Neither was sure what really happened, but somehow Blair's lips ended up covering Jim's, and then Blair was kissing Jim - and Jim was kissing Blair back.

His hands coming up to clutch Blair's hair tightly between his fingers, Jim deepened the kiss further, letting his tongue dart out to touch Blair's and coax it into a sensual dance.

His senses were close to overload as every pore of his body was filled with Blair. He could smell Blair's arousal, hear his heavy breaths, taste the taste that was uniquely Blair on his tongue, feel the soft curls in his hand and the warm body on top of his own, and behind his closed eyes, visions of naked Sandburg's teased him.

Thrusting up slightly, Jim let Blair become aware of his erection, and the small movement was responded to with a similar movement from the smaller man.

"Bed," the curly haired man moaned out around Jim's lips, and somehow the two managed to drag their way up the stairs to fall down on the large bed, without breaking their frantic kissing more than necessary.

It wasn't until he felt the Sentinel's fingers at the buttons of his shirt that a tiny piece of sense snuck into Blair's mind, and he reluctantly broke the kiss to stare into Jim's eyes. "Jim?" he asked, not really saying anything else, but at the same time saying more than he'd ever said in his entire life.

Jim stared back, blue meeting blue and mixing to become one, before he lowered his head and captured Blair's lips again, his answer given.

Clothes were quickly shed as the two resumed their frantic kissing, before they were both finally naked, erections moving against each other, hips grinding up and down as they raced each other to the edge, and wondered who would go over first, or if they would go over together.

Muffled groans slowly filled the air as lips continued to kiss, tongues continued to taste and hands continued to explore.

When Blair took Jim in his mouth for the first time, letting his tongue press against the underside of the extra sensitive cock, the Sentinel arched off the bed and had to bite his arm not to come on the spot. He didn't last long, and only a few moments later, he spilled himself into his best friend's mouth.

Blair swallowed it all.

Their coupling continued as Jim returned the favor, inexperienced and somewhat hesitant touches still managing to lift Blair higher and higher until the Guide could no longer take it and soared over the edge with a roar, his hand clutching Jim's shoulder tightly.

But even as they curled up under the covers - spent and exhausted, their drunken state causing waves of tiredness to wash over them - their hands continued to roam over each other's bodies. Gentle touches and feather light caresses continued to be exchanged until the pull of sleep was much too strong to resist for both of them.

And as they pressed their sweaty, sticky bodies together and they drifted off towards the darkness, Blair's last thought was that he hadn't even realized how much he'd longed for this.

Chapter Eight: Never Again

Blair's eyes slowly opened, blue eyes taking a few seconds before adjusting to the light and the new day. He stifled a groan as he moved slightly.

He was covered in dried semen. His every muscle ached. He had a crick in his neck and his arm was asleep. His head was pounding in the worst hangover in man's history. He was sick and felt like barfing up all the beer he'd consumed the night before.

And he'd never felt better in his entire life.

Rolling over and stifling his groan as his head pounded furiously, the detective found that his partner wasn't in bed with him like he'd expected. Frowning a little and checking the watch at the night table, Blair found it to be 8:58 am. He and Jim didn't have to go to work until noon, so he wondered where Jim could be.

Slowly getting out of bed, Blair grabbed his robe and put it on, before walking downstairs. First things first, he decided, going through a list in his head. First, get aspirin to get rid of the god awful hangover! Second, find Jim. Third, get coffee in case the aspirin didn't work.

Digging out the small bottle from the medicine cabinet, Blair noticed that the cap wasn't put back on properly and chuckled a little to himself. It appeared he wasn't the only one with a hangover.

Once two of the small, white pills were swimming comfortably in his stomach, the former anthropologist walked into the living room. "Jim?" he called, looking around. Then he spotted his partner at the balcony, clad in sweatpants and an old sweater, Sentinel eyes looking out over Cascade in the cool September weather.

"Jim?"

Stepping out through the doors, Blair walked to his lover and placed his arms around him from behind, resting his head against one strong shoulder. "Morning," he said quietly, kissing the older man's neck.

When he didn't get a response of any kind, Blair pulled back a little. "Jim?"

Still no reply.

Walking around the Sentinel to face him, Blair looked at him worriedly. "Is there something wrong? Are you zoning, man?"

Jim's blue eyes continued to stare off towards the horizon for a few more moments, before his gaze finally moved to Blair. "Blair."

"Yeah," Blair said. "That's me. Is something wrong?"

When the taller man took a deep, quivering breath, Blair spotted the blankness in his eyes for the first time. His heart skipped a beat as realization hit him. "No..." he whispered in a weak protest, although he didn't know to what.

"No..."

"I'm sorry..." Jim began, but didn't go on because Blair looked so heartbroken the Sentinel was sure he'd break any moment, now.

Stunned, Blair turned away from the other man to face Cascade as his entire body started to grow numb. It started at his feet, which was probably because of the cold. Then the icy feeling crept through him, seeping through his veins and penetrating his skin, leaving him with a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes.

"I'm really sorry, Chief - I really am," he heard Jim tell him from behind him. "I... didn't mean to. And I shouldn't have. We were both drunk. And I don't think..."

He trailed off as Blair remained standing motionless, staring numbly out over the city.

"Blair..."

"I have to take a shower," was all Blair said. And then he simply walked inside, brushing past Jim without looking at him - not really - but at the same time staring him down and seeing straight to the center of his soul.

Once he was within the safe haven that was the bathroom, the curly haired man thanked God for the shower, because the hot water would hide the tears running down his cheeks and the sound of water falling down and hitting his body and the floor, would hide the soft sobs coming from his body, hopefully even from Sentinel hearing.

Jim hadn't meant anything.

There couldn't be anything between them.

Jim still loved Penny.

He had slept with Blair because he had been drunk and happy about being back in Major Crimes.

He hadn't slept with Blair because he wanted to be with Blair.

Blair thought Jim was a real jerk.

And as he cried quietly in the shower, the last traces of his and Jim's semen and sweat being washed off his body, he dimly wondered when it was that he'd realized he was in love with his partner, roommate and best friend.

Link to text version of part two:
http://www.squidge.org/archive/cgi-bin/convert.cgi?filename=1_2000_drama/home_a.html