Author's webpage: http://www.escape.ca/~sin

Author's notes: This story originally appeared in the zine 852 Prospect in the spring of 1998.

Upon A Star
by Rrain Prior
sin@escape.ca
J/B, NC-17

Jim brushed his fingers softly over Blair's wrist, getting the younger man's attention. He turned and smiled and for that moment he was the most beautiful thing that Jim had ever seen. "Penny for your thoughts."

Blair laughed. "I think you've vastly overestimated their worth, man," he said. "I wasn't thinking about much of anything." Jim came up behind his lover and slipped his arms around his waist. "You can see the bay from here, huh?"

"So can you if you know where to look," he replied, lifting an arm to point out across the cityscape. "Just to your left a little, over those warehouses. Do you see?"

"Yeah, kinda," he said dubiously, squinting.

"Maybe you should put your glasses on, Chief," he teased.

"I don't think that'll work this time," he said with a sigh. "I'm gonna have to take your word for it. But the city does look gorgeous in the evening, doesn't it?"

"I think I like the colors best," mused Jim.

"Colors?"

"I wish you could see it--there must be a hundred different colors in the sky alone. Reds and pinks, and even grays. And the city, the way the light reflects off of everything. It's just incredible."

Blair smiled, perhaps a little sadly. "At least I get to see it through you, man. That's more than most people get." He turned around in Jim's arms and kissed him softly. "You enjoy the sunset," he said. "I'm going to go back inside. Do you want me to start a pot of coffee?"

"That would be nice," Jim said, entranced by the twilight sky. "I'll only be a few more minutes." Blair's absence saddened him more than he could adequately express. He'd never really been someone who could express his feelings well, and sometimes the only way to let someone know how he felt about something was to let them feel it with him.

Maybe it was the fact that he was getting used to his senses, using them like anyone else would use their regular senses. The times when it hit him the hardest were when he didn't realize that Blair wasn't experiencing the same thing as he was. At least, not until afterwards, when they were talking or having dinner or any one of the hundred mundane things they did together. It made him--maybe made both of them--feel so alone.

Just once, if Blair could see what he saw, hear what he heard, taste what he tasted, then he would know. He would forever understand. Jim sighed as he watched the sky darken, searching out the faint glimmer of the moon.

And as the first star appeared to him in the evening sky, Jim made a wish.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Blair rested his head against Jim's shoulder, his coffee long since gone.

"Time to call it a night?" asked Jim.

Blair nodded sleepily. "Yeah, I don't think I'll make it through Letterman, man. Guess all those sleepless nights are catching up with me."

Jim grinned, remembering why those nights had been sleepless. "Go ahead and get washed up. I'm just gonna--"

"--clean up," finished Blair for him, smiling indulgently. "I know. I'll just be a couple of minutes."

It had been a nice quiet evening at home--the kind of evening that was routine for most but more often than not was a luxury for them. Jim wished he could have enjoyed it more, but tonight he'd been hyper-aware of the difference between his and Blair's worlds. The anthropologist wasn't envious--he'd seen the private hells that Jim went through some days--but there were brief moments when Jim thought he could see something akin to it in Blair's eyes. A longing.

"Bathroom's all yours," said Blair as Jim put the last of the dishes in the sink. "I'll be upstairs."

"The bed had better by nice and toasty warm when I get up there," he teased, wiping off the counter before disappearing into the bathroom.

It was natural for Jim to curl his body around Blair when he crawled into the bed. Despite his dire warning, he knew he was always the warmer of the two. And it was normal for him to begin kissing Blair's neck, begin caressing his skin with roving fingers.

Blair groaned. "Not tonight, Jim," he said apologetically. "I really am exhausted." He did consent to a kiss, though. A long, slow, deep kiss.

"That's okay," said Jim, patting Blair's hip affectionately. "You get your rest; there'll always be other nights." He kissed Blair's cheek softly and settled in behind him. He felt Blair's body begin to relax, still shifting a little bit every couple of minutes before falling gradually into a heavy, boneless slumber.

Jim's thoughts were still running full tilt. What did Blair see? Or hear? Or feel? _Does he realize what I see when I look at him? How beautiful he is to me?_ Even having had brief bouts without his senses, Jim couldn't imagine anymore not being able to use them when he needed to. Wanted to. Some days it was as natural to him as breathing.

He brushed his fingers along Blair's cheek, feeling the smoothness of the skin contrasted with the sharpness of barely-grown-in stubble. "I love you," he whispered, so softly that, even awake, Blair never would have heard him.

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Blair woke and ran a tongue disgustedly around his mouth. "Oh, man," he said to his lover's barely-moving form. "I'm gonna go brush my teeth. You do not wanna be kissing me like this." Jim mumbled something incoherent and rolled over onto the warm spot Blair had left. Small noises outside the loft might wake him, but Blair's comings and goings didn't register at all.

Blair stopped next to the bed and wiggled his toes in the throw rug for a moment, a strange look crossing his face, then proceeded down the stairs.

Jim tossed and turned for a couple more minutes more before giving up and opening his eyes, slowly getting up out of the bed. He started down the stairs, clad only in his boxers, intent on making himself a cup of morning coffee. "Hey, Blair," he called out. "Did the light burn out or something?"

"Jim!" Blair's words were hoarsely whispered, but so full of tightness and anxiety--panic--that Jim flew down the rest of the stairs and was at the bathroom door before he knew it. "Jim!" Louder this time. Frightened.

Jim threw open the bathroom door and stepped inside. Blair was looking at himself in the mirror, his pupils dilated and his hands trembling. Jim reached out to him, and Blair flinched at the touch. "Blair?"

_It can't be_, thought Jim frantically. _This just cannot be happening._ "Blair?" he said again, trying to provoke a response in his Guide. Blair swallowed and nodded. Why...now...would that wish--any wish--come true?

"Blair," he said a third time. "Uh, just relax. Breathe deep and relax. Okay? Can you do that?" Blair suddenly took a deep, shuddery breath. Jim reached out again and grasped his forearm, giving Blair the contact he needed, or that he thought he needed. Blair's next breath was much more controlled, and Jim could literally feel him relaxing.

"I don't know what's going on here, Chief," he said. "But try doing what you tell me to do. Dial it down, Blair. Dial it down until it feels normal."

For a long while, there were only the sounds of the two men breathing. Jim didn't know what else to do, and Blair was unable to do anything else.

Finally, Blair turned and was able to really see his partner. "What the hell is going on here? I never read about anything like this in any of my books. Sympathetic Sentinel senses? Not possible, man."

"That's not--" began Jim, then realized he had no rational, justifiable explanation for this. "I don't know what it is, I'm sorry."

"Just give me a minute." Blair turned away and grasped the sides of the sink with both hands to steady himself. Turning on the cold water, he splashed some on his face and gasped in shock as the severe cold hit him. "Oh, man!"

Jim let go of Blair's arm and backed away a step, regaining his perspective. "Can you tell me what's happening?" _Like I don't know. Like I can't feel every single sensation with you. Like I can't remember._

Blair threw his hands up in surrender. "Damned if I know," he said, then covered his ears with his hands, cringing. "Do you have to breathe so damn loud?"

"Just dial it down," said Jim again, soothingly, running through everything Blair had ever done for him in his mind. "Concentrate, Blair. Concentrate on my voice. Remember what it sounds like." Blair's hands gradually came down again and Jim took the opportunity to snatch one of them into his own, holding it to his chest. "Are you all right now?"

Blair nodded, a little hesitantly. "I'm all right."

Jim took a deep breath. "This is my fault." _Here's where you ask why. Here's where I have to explain._

"What, did you poison my food or something? How can this be your fault?" Blair pulled a towel off the rack and dried his face and neck with it, dropping it to the floor when he was done.

"I wished for it." _And I'll never know quite what I was thinking when I did that._

"Come on, Jim, we're not ten years old. So what if you wished for it?"

"I mean it, Blair. Last night, when the first star came out...I wished for it."

Blair was silent. "That's ridiculous," he said finally. "It has to be something else. I think I'm going to do some reading today, find out if there's any mention of this sort of thing happening before."

"Blair...don't you think the time might be better spent...you know...trying to control what's happening?" _You're not going to find out anything I don't already know._

"Right now I don't even want to think about what's happening," Jim said emphatically. He still held his hand and Blair made no motion to break away, but Jim could feel his muscles twitching, as though he felt trapped. Bringing the hand to his lips and kissing the knuckles gently, he let go.

Blair bolted.

Heaving a resigned and rather unsettled sigh, Jim left the bathroom and went back upstairs to put some clothes on. Blair was already there, half-dressed and standing in front of the mirror. Jim didn't say anything at first, leaving Blair alone--clearly what he wanted. He never noticed when Blair turned away from the mirror and started staring at him.

"I can see every thread in that sweater, you know," said Blair softly.

Jim started, then looked toward his lover. "Can you?"

Blair nodded. "It's pretty amazing. But it's hard to stay focused. To not go too far inside, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," said Jim hesitantly, not knowing where Blair was going with this, or if it wasn't just another one of the tangents his mind seemed to constantly go on.

"I'm still bringing some books to the station with me."

"Why don't we skip the station this morning," suggested Jim unexpectedly, "and go somewhere else. Sort of...try out these abilities of yours."

"Why?"

Jim looked at him incredulously. "What do you mean, 'why'?" _What's going through your head, buddy?_

"I mean, why should we do that?"

It had to be shock. For a man whose life was now devoted to studying these abilities in other people, Blair was being disturbingly uninterested in the whole phenomena. Then again, studying other people was one thing. Finding those things you were studying in yourself was quite another--especially if those 'things' had the potential to turn your life upside down.

"Because I insist," he said finally. Blair just looked at him steadily. "I...I wished for this so that you could share with me what I experience, Blair. Not to hurt you. Never to hurt you. We can go out and do things, and experience things..."

"The world must be so amazing to you." The statement was bland, almost uninterested.

"I'll say this much for it--it becomes a much bigger place."

Blair pulled the rest of his clothes on without another word, checking himself in the mirror and combing out his curls. "I need to shave," he said.

"Don't bother. I like you this way." Jim approached him cautiously, careful not to do anything that might trigger another flare of his senses, and ran a hand over Blair's rough cheek. "And you really don't need to be worrying about something like that right now."

Blair reached up and felt his own cheek. "Where are we going?"

"I guess we'll know when we get there," said Jim with a shrug.

"No way, man. You are, like, Mr. Anal. What do you mean you don't have a whole itinerary worked up for us right now?"

_That's a spark in his voice. A spark of Blair._ "The only thing on my itinerary is to figure out what's going on with you and figure out what to do about it. All right? No backing out of this, Blair--if you step back from yourself for just one moment, you'll know that I'm right."

"Jim, you're not getting this. I'm here to study you. To help you. Whatever is going on with me is just a temporary thing, you know? We can just sorta ignore it."

"I tried that," said Jim, remembering his first days in the jungle, alone with no one to talk to, trying to ignore the sensory input flooding his brain. "It nearly drove me crazy."

Blair was quiet. "That was different, Jim. That was the awakening of your Sentinel senses, not some freak occurrence. All right?"

"It's okay to be scared."

"I'm not fucking scared!" he shouted, then shuddered and fell to his knees on the floor, covering his face with his hands. Jim could hear the quiet sobs that wracked his body and felt, not pity, but relief. Finally, a normal reaction to what was happening. He crouched down and took Blair into his arms, holding him until the sobs subsided.

"Let's see if we can't get you a little more excited about your new world, huh?" said Jim, not feeling quite as confident as he was trying to sound.

Blair rubbed at his eyes with the wrist of his sweater and nodded. "Let's get out of here," he said, smiling. "I wonder if having worked as your guide for the past couple of years will have any effect on how my subconscious reacts to the situation...?"

Jim grinned. "Come on, Chief, let's roll. I think I've come up with just the place."

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Blair sat on the beach, barefoot, feeling the waves roll up over his toes and listening to the sounds from the boats in the harbor. The air was chilly, but not painfully so, and his thick sweater kept the wind from getting at his body.

He'd already spent long moments running the gritty sand through his hands and feeling each tiny pebble roll across his skin. Jim was behind him, standing, breathing heavily as he always did in the thick sea air. Even before, Blair had noticed that--but now it sounded fuller, closer, more intimate.

It was as though everything was more intimate, more a part of him. It became harder and harder to distance himself from things that were constantly invading his personal space. He just started to acknowledge them in the ways that he could--touching the sand, smelling the breeze, listening to the heartbeat of the man standing behind him. Blair swiveled his head a little and held a hand up for Jim to take, which he did without hesitation.

"How are you doing?" Jim's voice was soft, but tight, as though dreading the answer that Blair might give. Blair could see his feelings of guilt written all over his expression, and did his best to dispel that belief. Jim simply could not be responsible for what was happening, no matter what he thought he'd done.

"I love you," he blurted out, not caring that the scattering of other people on the beach could see them holding hands or even hear the endearment that he'd just shared.

Jim smiled. "I love you, too...but that doesn't quite answer my question."

"Yeah, I'm doing okay," he said finally, turning his head back to look over the water. "It's kinda cool, being able to sense all this stuff. But, Jim--"

"Yeah?"

"How can you stand to be around people, man? I mean, when we were out on the sidewalk and people were all around us--all the jostling and the flashes of color and the smells and the sounds...how can you stand it, day after day?"

Jim shrugged and sat down next to him. "Some days it's harder than others. Once you helped me get everything under control, well, I wasn't any different than anyone else."

"Your senses aren't under control all the time."

"Yeah, those are the days I stay at home," he said, the memory of those days putting a rueful note in his voice.

"But you can't always do that."

Jim looked at him speculatively. "What are you getting at?"

"I mean, how do you deal with it when you have to be out there?" _Come on, Jim, get the picture here. How am I going to deal with this, man? What the hell am I gonna do?_

"I just do," said Jim, his voice strained. "Blair, I don't want you worrying about that right now. Just...do what you were doing. Feel things, smell things, taste things. Things will fall into place if you let them."

"Yeah, maybe you're right," said Blair, using Jim's body to hoist himself up and get to his feet. "I just wish there was somewhere I could look up all the answers."

"There never was."

"You don't have to tell me that. Jim...you're the Sentinel and I'm here to guide you...and that's the way things were meant to be. What's happening right now...it just isn't right. I'm supposed to be helping you, not trying to deal with my own problems."

"I thought you'd be excited."

"You thought I'd be what?" _Excited? Maybe if it weren't so damn disturbing..._

"Excited. You were always going on and on about what I can do, and you were always so thrilled with learning new things about it, learning new ways to use it. Hell, I'd get pissed off at you for using me as a guinea pig but I could never stay mad because you were always so eager about the results. So I thought you'd be...you know...excited."

"You really do believe you did this to me, don't you?"

"Look, I don't know. All right? All I know is what I did, and what happened, and if you want me to feel like a shit about it then great, because I do, but no matter what else the fact remains that it happened."

"I don't blame you."

"Well, you should."

"Jim, just stop it. Please? I need you to stop feeling so damn guilty and just help me here."

"How can I help you any more than you can help yourself? You're the guy who knows all there is about Sentinels."

"Yeah, but I've never been one, Jim. That's the difference." He dug a hole in the sand with his toe as he waited for his partner to say something. _Come on...please...you've got to know how much I need you right now. I never asked for this, but damned if I'm gonna let it take over my life._

Jim never did answer the question. "Do you want to get something to eat?"

"I'm not hungry." _Oh, Jim...not now..._

"Yeah, you are. I can hear your stomach just begging for it."

"And I can hear that yours isn't. Don't change the subject, man. Why don't we just head for the station now, if that's all you're gonna do."

"I can take the whole day off."

"Like hell you can, Jim. Look at me, would you? I'm fine."

Jim got to his own feet and put an arm around Blair's tense body. "If you're fine, then why are you so angry?"

"Don't bother with the pop psychology nonsense, man, cause I got you beat hands down. I'm angry--your word not mine--because you won't stop treating me like some fragile creature. Yeah, sure, I'm a little freaked. Who wouldn't be? But I'm not going to break."

Jim nodded slowly. "All right then," he said. "First test. See those two guys sitting on the rocks over there? What are they talking about?"

"Test? You want me to eavesdrop?"

Jim grinned. "What goes around comes around, Chief. You want me to stop worrying, so I will. What are they talking about?"

Blair almost reluctantly released the tight control he had over his hearing and let the sense expand. It was hard to focus in on just one conversation when there was so much else going on around him, so he let himself go a little deeper under, blocking out everything else. The moment he though he had them isolated, though, a sharp pain brought him back out again.

"What the hell...?"

He came back to find himself looking into Jim's Ellison's extremely concerned eyes. "Blair?"

Blair shook off the uncomfortable feeling as he began to get input from all five senses again. "What?"

"You with me here, buddy?"

"Where else would I be?"

"I don't know where you were, but you sure weren't here. I was trying everything but you just weren't responding to me."

Blair took in the words and mulled them over. "I was zoning out."

"Yeah," said Jim, "I think you were. Are you all right?"

Blair shook his head again and blinked his eyes a few times. "Yeah, I'm fine. But, uh, I didn't hear what they were saying."

"That's okay, we'll try something else. Your choice."

"My choice?"

"Yeah, isn't there anything you've ever wanted to see, or taste, more of? Haven't you ever wanted it?"

"Of course I have," said Blair quietly. "But I always knew the reality was going to be a far cry from the fantasy, man. I've been in bed, making love with you and wondering what it would be like to really taste you, to feel the heat coming off your body the way you feel it coming off of mine. But I've also watched you go through some serious hell when your senses go haywire on you, or you lose them completely. It's a double-edged sword, man. You're the man to handle that one, not me."

Jim nodded, looking almost distracted.

_He's thinking_, realized Blair, watching Jim's jaw clench and unclench in time with one of his fists. _And he's not happy._ "Let's go for a walk."

"Huh?"

"A walk, Jim. Up the beach. Forget about your little tests--you'll never beat the master at them." He took Jim's hand into his own, not taking 'no' for an answer.

"Don't give up."

Blair rolled his eyes. "I'm not giving up; I'm trying to have a good time here. I'm not forgetting about anything, Jim." Holding tight to Jim's hand, he looked around him--at the sky, at the sand, at the water, and at everything else he could see. "Your world really can be a pretty amazing place, you know."

"Our world," corrected Jim. "Even when you couldn't see it, we were still together in it." Blair's hand tightened on his for a moment. "I love you," he said again in wonder.

Blair smiled. "Yeah, you really do, don't you." Starting out along the shore he pulled Jim into step with him. The inevitable stares were beneath their notice, or at least Blair's. Cautiously, he let the sensations flow over him again. He was getting used to clamping down hard on his senses already; regulating them was another thing entirely.

The breeze blew strands of hair across Blair's face, and he could feel each individual hair stroking his cheek. The sensation was overwhelming, and he tried to trace the path of each one. With Jim's hand tangled through his keeping him from losing himself, he managed pretty well.

"They're talking about someone named Donna," he said abruptly.

"What?"

"Those two guys ahead of us on the rocks. They're talking about someone named Donna. Wondering what she's gonna do about the kid." He flashed a grin at Jim and kept walking.

"Hey, that's great!"

"Well, I'm sure you've already heard the entire conversation, counted all their freckles and know what kind of cologne they're wearing. But hey, it's a start." Blair looked at his toes as he kicked up bits of wet sand in front of him.

"It's more than a start," said Jim.

"It's getting late. We need to go to the station."

"Not yet," whispered Jim, stopping and pulling Blair's body back to him like a spring. "You need this time, on our own."

"You mean you need this time on our own."

"Whatever."

Damning the consequences, Jim leaned over and kissed Blair full on the lips, savoring the taste of sea mist on Blair's lips.

_Jim's kissing me on the beach_, was Blair's only thought as he leaned into the kiss, tasting Jim as thoroughly as he always dreamed he could. _Jim's kissing me here. Maybe this isn't such a bad thing at all..._

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It was hard to resist taking hold of Jim's hand as they walked into the station, not only because they'd just spent the whole morning being together, but because he wanted some way to keep himself centered and grounded. His newly heightened senses were still under too tenuous a control for either of their comfort.

The bullpen was full of noises, little things that Blair had never noticed before--grinding, slapping, murmuring, ringing, laughing, pounding, scraping noises. The sights weren't so bad--the drab colors helped--but the sounds were just hammering into him.

"Relax," whispered Jim. "Do you want to go home?"

Blair shook his head fiercely, determined to last the day. It wasn't easy. Even after settling down at Jim's desk and starting in on the work piled up there, it was hard to stay focused. Even the tiniest things caught his attention, the minute scratches on the glass, the sound of a fly buzzing on the other side of the room. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't even finish reading a single document.

"Just leave those for me this time," said Jim, gently taking them away and setting them on the edge of the desk.

"I'm not a child and I'm not useless," protested Blair, quietly but firmly. Jim took one look at him and knew just how serious he was. He handed the pages back.

"Ellison!"

The bellow was hard on Jim's ears; it had to have been torture for Blair's barely controlled sense of hearing. "What is it, Simon?"

"Get in here!"

Jim was in the office moments later, with Blair right on his heels.

"What's the meaning of you taking off all morning and doing whatever the hell it was you were off doing?" his captain demanded.

"I had something important to take care of, sir."

"What?"

Jim looked at his partner. "Blair," he said simply.

Simon looked from one man to the other and shook his head. "Forget I asked," he said ruefully. "Sandburg, are you all right?"

Blair nodded, his face pale and his hands trembling just slightly.

"Oh, hell," said Jim and took both of Blair's hands into his own. "What's up, Chief?" He tried to keep his tone light for Simon's sake, but he wasn't fooling anyone.

"I'm fine, Jim," he said, swallowing and taking a deep breath. Jim swore he could see Blair's thought processes. _Turn it down...yeah...like that...only let through what you want to let through...all it takes is practice..._

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Listen, Jim, maybe the kid should go home--"

"The kid," interrupted Blair, "is staying. You both know you can use me here." His voice was softer than normal, and Jim could see that he was still having trouble with his hearing.

"Fine," said Simon, "but you're not going to like this."

"Like what?" asked Jim.

Simon reached over and handed him a pair of pictures. "It's about the Baird kidnapping."

"The Baird kidnapping?" said Jim curiously. "We were taken off that case months ago..." He felt a slight motion of air as Blair leaned over to see the pictures he had yet to glance at, then a breathy moan and thump as he fell back into one of Simon's chairs.

"They found her, Jim," he explained as Jim first looked at Blair with concern, then at the photographs. "Dead." Even Jim had to shudder at the picture of the partially decomposed body.

"I'll go alone."

"You will not," said Blair, his eyes closed, his breath shuddery. "You'll need me, especially there."

"Blair, you can't..." Jim almost said more, but a look at Simon stopped that cold. "You just can't."

"I can and I will. Where's the body, Simon?"

Simon paused. "This is where it gets worse. It's at the city dump." Jim wrinkled his nose. "You gonna handle that, Ellison?"

"I handle everything you throw at me, sir."

Simon nodded. "The ME is still there, and a team from Forensics. There's a puzzle to be put together here, Jim, and you're the man to do it."

"Is that all?"

"That's all," confirmed Simon, "and take care of yourself, Sandburg. The last thing I need is for my whole department to be coming down with something."

Blair nodded as he got up out of his seat and opened his eyes, still looking pale. Jim raised an eyebrow at him as if to ask if he was ready to go back out to the bullpen. Blair nodded and followed him through the door. "Blair," repeated Jim. "You can't come along on this one. Hell, I wouldn't want to expose you to this on a good day."

"No, Jim. We're both living with what's happened, and that means getting used to me still being with you. No matter what the hell's going on with me." Blair sat down on the corner of Jim's desk and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at him with a determined expression. "You make me come along on cases where I'd much rather be doing something else; remember you have to deal with me coming along when I think I ought to."

"I'm not going to win this one, am I," said Jim quietly, picking his coat up off the rack.

"Nope."

Jim handed Blair his jacket. "All right. Let's go. The sooner this is done with, the better."

"I couldn't have said it better myself, man."

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Jim's beloved truck was the only vehicle that looked even remotely in place on the scene. A brand-spanking-new ME's van and two blue, gray and silver squad cars did not belong at the city dump, that was for sure. "Wait here," said Jim as he got out and started walking over to where everyone seemed to be milling around.

Blair, of course, did not. "Am I your partner or not?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically, as he jogged a little to catch up to him.

Jim didn't answer, all his attention focused on the scene ahead. He was just barely aware of Blair at his side; his absence would have been more remarkable than his presence at this point. Despite what was happening, despite everything, Jim had gone into his crime scene evaluative mode and nothing was going to shake it.

Blair just sighed. "All right, what are you sensing, Jim?" The smell from the refuse washed over him and he tried not to gag as he clamped down on the sense entirely and waited for Jim's answer.

Jim again didn't say anything, just wore a look of intense concentration on his face as he moved closer and closer to the scene. Blair grabbed his elbow, trying to maintain some sort of contact, and kept up as best he could in the face of Jim's single-minded stride.

"Talk to me, man," he insisted, adding a squeeze to Jim's elbow.

"Something's isn't right..." he murmured.

"If you're trying to smell anything, then there's a lot of stuff that just 'isn't right' here, Jim." Blair shuddered involuntarily. "I never noticed how damn disgusting this place is."

"It's garbage," said Jim absently, as though that explained everything.

Blair quickly realized Jim had to be using his sight and not his sense of smell. "What do you see?"

Jim turned to him and opened his mouth to reply, then twisted his lips into half a smile. "Look for yourself," he said simply, glad for the physical contact that they were able to maintain despite being around his colleagues.

Blair looked startled for a moment, then shook his head. "I think I'll pass on that, man. What is it?"

"I don't know," said Jim, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Maybe you're right. It just feels odd here."

Blair nudged him to go forward again. "Yeah, well we're in the midst of the waste of the world, man. I don't think there's such a thing as feeling good here. Let's go take a closer look."

"No."

"No?"

"Blair...I know I've taken you through some pretty intensive stuff before, but can you trust me that you really don't want to be looking at this one?"

"Look; don't look. Try this; don't try this. Use your senses; ignore 'em. I believe you think you know what's 'best' for me, Jim, but why don't you let me be the judge of that for once, okay? We need to go closer." Blair turned his head away and refused to let Jim convince him otherwise. His hand came off of Jim's elbow, but Jim didn't know if it was an intentional move.

"Just...brace yourself, Chief," he said before proceeding forward with him again.

To Blair's credit, he managed to keep from vomiting when he saw the decomposing corpse, but it was a close call. The bile stung his throat as he quickly looked away again. "How the hell did we get a positive ID out of that?"

"Dental records," said Jim.

"Wrong." Cassie Wells came up behind them and pointed. "We haven't had time to do those yet. The ID came from her jewelry--it was described in the kidnapping report. Mind you, the jewelry could have been taken off her and put onto someone else, but why? And it all seems to have fit perfectly, including the rings. Not easy to find a perfect match for everything."

"So it's not a positive ID yet."

Cassie crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him levelly. "No, it's not a positive ID yet."

"Let me know when it is," he said dismissively. "Chief, I want to look over there for a moment." He gestured a short distance away at something that didn't seem to have any significance at all.

Blair nodded and followed. "What's over here, Jim?"

"Nothing," he said. "Just wanted to put a bit of distance between us."

"Cassie?" said Blair teasingly, "or the corpse?"

Jim grinned and didn't answer. "I don't think there's anything here for us," he said. "Once we get a positive ID, I think the case is going to be closed."

"And you'll never know who did it."

Jim shrugged. "I hate to admit it, but sometimes that's just the way it is."

Jim turned back to the scene as Blair mumbled his reluctant acceptance, therefore not seeing the glazed look in Blair's eyes as he began to let his senses go, trying to find something, anything, that would help them out here. At first it was sight, then smell took over, sweeping him further and further inside himself.

"Blair?" When the other man didn't respond, all Jim did was call him again. It wasn't until the third time that he looked around, to see his partner deep inside what appeared to be a zone-out. "Shit!" He tried to keep the curse quiet, but it was hard.

Blair stood motionless, his brow creased and his eyes now closed. The occasional whimper escaped his lips. Jim put an arm around his shoulders and brushed the hair off his face tenderly. "Blair," he said. "Blair, come back to me, I know you can hear me. It's Jim. It's...your lover. I need you, Blair, you've got to come back, just listen to the sound of my voice..."

Jim never really remembered what Blair said to him when he was trying to bring him out, just remembered that it always had certain feelings associated with it--calm, security, needfulness. That is, when he wasn't slamming him onto streets, walls, or sidewalks to get his attention. It was a couple more minutes before Blair began to respond, and Jim was beginning to wonder if just hitting him would have been the solution after all.

Blair's first act after coming back was to cough to the point of retching, then cover his nose and mouth with his sleeve. "God," he said, his voice muffled. "That sucked!"

"I'll take you home," said Jim.

Blair almost--almost--agreed, but, sadly, he shook his head. "You've got to get back to the station; there's work to do. I'll be all right."

"You've told me that all day...but not this time."

"Just trust me--let's go back to the station. There's nothing to find here." Blair began walking, trusting that Jim would follow. He wasn't disappointed.

"All right," Jim capitulated. "The station. But we're not staying here."

"No argument from me, man."

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Blair looked around the loft as they stepped through the door, hearing the sound of metal grinding on metal as Jim pulled the key from the lock. "What a day," he muttered, more than a little redundantly.

Shutting the door behind them, Jim tossed his keys into the basket, drawing a slight wince from Blair. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," lied Blair. "I just want a hot bath and a soft bed for the night. I can't be bothered dealing with this anymore." He dumped his bag to the floor unceremoniously and stalked off to the bathroom without another word. After a moment of stunned hesitation, Jim followed him.

He tapped on the door with his knuckles. "Blair?"

"Dammit, I'll be out in a minute."

"I'm sorry."

Blair paused. "I know," he said finally.

Jim nodded to himself and walked away from the closed door, into the kitchen. He was thankful that they hadn't had to stop for food or anything today. Taking Blair out into public after what had happened would be nothing short of torture. He thought about just reheating something for them to eat, but then reconsidered. The smell of something cooking might actually be a pleasant experience for his lover.

As he pulled the first bunch of fresh vegetables out of the fridge, the bathroom door opened. Blair came partway into the kitchen, then turned back. A moment later, they both heard the sound of the bathroom fan grind to a halt as Blair flipped the switch. Jim had become so used to its hum that it was the absence of sound that unsettled him.

"Was it bothering you?"

"Everything bothers me," snapped Blair instantly. "Everything, Jim!"

"I know."

"I know you know, damn you. You've got this whole deal under control."

"Because of you," clarified Jim. "Before you came along I was a wreck, Blair. A complete wreck. I thought I was going crazy!"

"Then why the hell did you wish them on me, huh?"

Jim froze. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I just didn't think... Oh, Blair." He made a motion to take Blair into his arms but the other man backed away. "I just wanted you to know. Like last night, when you couldn't see. I wanted you to know."

"Well, now I do."

"I'm sorry," he said softly, ironically forgetting that Blair would hear him no matter how much he lowered his volume.

Blair shook his head. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," he said. "I have a headache."

"Come here, then," said Jim, reaching his hand out invitingly.

Blair took it and moved closer, feeling Jim's hands move up his arms and neck to his temples where they lingered, caressing the flesh tenderly as he spoke to him in hushed tones. For a moment he wondered if this was going to be what it was like, them speaking to one another in whispers for the rest of their lives.

"That feels good," he said, closing his eyes to block out even the filtered light that was coming into the loft through the blinds. He barely even noticed as Jim's hands trailed downward again to unbutton his shirt and let it fall off of his shoulders.

"Just relax," he said softly. "Relax, and I'll show you something beautiful." He led a willing Blair up the stairs into their bedroom and slowly pulled off the rest of their clothing, never stopping his gentle caresses to Blair's body that seemed to soothe him and take the pain away.

"Look at me."

"Jim, I..."

Jim reached out and caressed his partner's bare shoulders. "Don't be afraid, I won't let anything happen to you. Now just...look at me."

Blair looked, allowing his sense of sight to expand. Never before had he come so close to literally losing himself in someone's eyes, swimming in their icy-teal and drowning in the pool of black at their center. Jim's hands on his shoulders kept him from going all the way, kept him focused on his lover and the love they were sharing.

Jim's eyelashes glinted in the pale light that illuminated the bedroom, sparkling with each tiny flutter that they made. "Now," said Jim softly, barely raising his voice above a breath, "turn around and look at yourself." Blair moved as though in slow motion, hardly able to bear tearing his eyes away from Jim.

The image facing him in the mirror was hardly what he'd been expecting to see. "You see this," said Jim, his lips against Blair's ear, running his fingers through a lock of Blair's hair and holding it up. "See the way it shines in the light, the way each strand of hair twines around the others in such an intricate pattern? And these," he said, running the back of his fingers lightly across Blair's cheek, under his eyes. "Look at how deep they are, how swirling with life. It's like looking into a storm, crackling with energy."

His hands reached over Blair's shoulders and pulled his hair back, pushing Blair's chin up gently with his fingertips. "And your lips," he said. "Look at them, so full, so soft..." He brushed a finger over them and his eyes locked with Blair's in the mirror.

It was both men's undoing.

Blair whirled around quickly and they both tumbled onto the bed, wrapped around one another like this was their first, frantic time all over again. "Jim," gasped Blair, making it clear that he still knew where he was and who he was with, despite the fact that he seemed to be receiving waves of sensory input from all five sources.

Jim was glad there were no more clothes to remove--the state he was in now, he didn't think he could manage it without just tearing them off. Blair's lips were all over him, tasting his skin, his hands exploring Jim's body as though he'd never felt it before. Jim let himself feel every minute touch, reveling in the wondrous opportunity they'd been granted.

"Yeah, there," he breathed as Blair's lips touched the peak of his nipple. He moaned loudly as waves of sensation threatened to take him quickly over the edge. "So close..."

"Noooo," groaned Blair. "You can't...you have to make love to me, Jim. I have to feel it." He flicked his tongue out over Jim's nipple and continued downwards, grazing his navel and pressing his lips to the tip of Jim's cock. "You taste...so good..." he mumbled just before he slid about an inch into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Jim moaned again, incoherently, and Blair slid a little more inside, wetting it thoroughly as well.

"Blair...I won't last." The heat and wetness were almost too much for him, but he was still sorry when, a few moments later, Blair's lips slid off of him and the breeze of his motion blew cold air across his erection.

"Fuck me," said Blair simply as his face became level with Jim's once more. "We're ready." Jim kissed the expectant lips, allowing himself to explore their heat and texture, just as he knew Blair was exploring his. "Now, Jim," he said breathlessly. "I can't wait."

Jim nodded, his body insisting that he, too, was more than ready. He reached around Blair's waist and gently pulled his cheeks apart, fingering the hole hidden between them. He licked his lips and pressed the tip of his finger inside. "I want you," he said. "I always want you."

"Then dammit, Jim, take me because I don't know how much longer I'm going to last!"

Jim's response was to turn Blair onto his other side so that they were spooned against one another and grab the lubricant from under his pillow. Moments later he slid smoothly into his lover, resting there with his arms tightly around him for a moment as Blair became used to the sensation.

"God, it feels..."

"Like nothing else," finished Jim for him as he shifted his hips and started an almost imperceptible in and out motion. "I know, love. I know." The motions became stronger, the moans louder as they rocked against one another in an ever-increasing rhythm. As one of his thrusts grazed the other man's prostate, Blair cried out and began slamming back against him just as hard. The sheer power of the sensation had been...overwhelming.

Blair was not long in coming, clamping down hard on Jim as he made one final thrust into Blair's body. Panting, they collapsed against the bed, all energy gone out of their limbs, every thought gone out of their heads. Slowly, carefully, Jim pulled out of Blair's body and, kissing his way down Blair's back, soothed the reddened area with his tongue.

Blair's moan was breathless, and didn't cease until Jim had given him one last, tiny kiss down there and returned to his side. "This is what it's like for you," whispered Blair incredulously. "Having your senses up like this, feeling, like, everything."

"I turn them down," said Jim quietly, brushing his lips against Blair's cheekbone.

"You what?" Blair pulled away just a hair.

"I turn them down," repeated Jim, "I don't want to come the first time you touch me, or because the sheets are soft, or because there's a stiff breeze coming from the window. I want to come because we're making love, you and me."

"But how can you resist...?"

Jim silenced his lover with a swift kiss on his lips. "I look at you all the time," he said. "When we're at work, or when we're watching TV, or when you're busy in the kitchen. I can listen to the lullaby of your heartbeat and know that you're nearby and that we're both safe. I watch the droplets of water run down your body as you step out of the shower, and I can smell your arousal when you see me sometimes, before we ever touch. You're always beautiful to me. But these moments--I don't need my senses to enjoy you, Blair. I don't need to be a sentinel to love you."

"Do you know what you look like to me right now?" said Blair, his awe at Jim's words apparent in his voice. "My God, Jim, your eyes alone..." Blair became lost in them again, barely inches away.

"Blair...Blair..." Jim pulled him into a harsh kiss that broke the trance-like state he was falling into. "Thank you."

Blair curled his body against Jim's and closed his eyes, basking in the heat that was coming off of them. "No, Jim. Thank you."

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

The sun was going down by the time they dragged themselves out of the bed and back down to the kitchen, dressed in matching white bathrobes. Jim cooked up the dinner he'd been planning and, true to his expectations, Blair was pleased by the delicious smells.

They ate in the living room and left their dishes in the sink, unwashed, breaking nearly half of Jim's house rules in the process. Not that those rules had been enforced in a dog's age. As the stars came out, sparkling in the dark sky, Jim opened the balcony doors and let in some of the cool, night air.

He held out a hand to Blair. "Come on," he encouraged him.

"Jim," he laughed, "come on. We aren't dressed!"

"Who's gonna see us?" He waited until Blair took hold of his outstretched hand, then led him out onto the balcony. Pulling him closer, he wrapped his arms around him and held him close. "Look at the sky, love," he whispered.

The barest traces of light were still visible, and Blair could see them all--all the hundreds of colors that Jim had raved about. All the tiny twinkling stars that he'd never seen before. The whole city was alight, almost glowing. "Oh," he said simply, staring out at it, transfixed.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

"Somehow I think you could make anything beautiful, Jim. I know I've said some awful things to you today...but I still love you, you know."

Jim squeezed him gently. "I know you do. I do, too. We'll get through this, Blair."

"I never knew how scary it could be," he admitted. "All those times I was telling you what to do...I never realized how scary it could feel, for you."

Jim nodded. "It got better," he said. "You made it better; we can do it again."

Blair looked up at the darkened sky as Jim gently stroked his hair, watched the brilliance of each star as it appeared. He felt his eyes tearing up, though not a drop fell. He could feel Jim's warm breath tousling his hair, feel his fingertips gently caress his sides. The night breeze chilled them both a little, but in each others' arms they were warm.

"See that?" said Jim, pointing out towards the bay.

Blair sighed, but smiled as he did. "No, I don't."

"You don't?"

"They're gone, Jim."

"What do you mean, they're gone?"

"I mean," said Blair, turning around to face his lover, "that the senses are gone again." He looked into Jim's crestfallen face and caressed his cheek lightly. "It's okay...I like it this way. You as Sentinel and me as Guide. We're both made for what we do." He tilted his head upwards to kiss him deeply, convincingly.

"I think you're right," said Jim, as he looked out towards the bay again. And even though Blair couldn't see it, he knew he wasn't experiencing it alone.

--END--