Archive of Our Own ^beta

Author's webpage: http://www.angelfire.com/oh3/SkinnerSanctum

Author's disclaimer: The characters of Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg and ANY of the others that might pop up in this story belong to Petfly Productions, Paramount, and Bilson/DeMeo. No copyright infringement is intended, and it doesn't take Sentinel Senses to realize that NO MONIES are being made from the posting of this story.

TOUCHED

By Jvantheterrible

He got in my face. Again. You know, it's not like he has to try so hard to intimidate me. Christ, he's already got nearly six inches on me in height alone, not to MENTION muscles. I don't know how many fucking times I asked him NOT TO READ MY DISSERTATION...and what does he do? He slinks off to the fucking Men's Room to read my introductory chapter. He actually stole it out of my desk while I was dealing with the REST of the mess going on in the station today; homeless people EVERYWHERE, a fucking alligator loose in the airducts (don't ask), and this guy who witnessed the murder and claimed he was an angel. Gabe was his name...get it? Gabe, short for Gabriel, as in the Angel Gabriel...anyway, it was a wayyy interesting day. And one HELL of a long night.

Once we got home and things had settled down; namely my pulse returning to normal after being held hostage for all of half a minute today (what ELSE is new); we had time to talk. I mean, REALLY talk. And what he told me, well, let's just say he opened up to me more than I ever expected him to. Granted, he didn't show it in a way that was...how shall I put this...CALM, but he did let me know how he felt, in no uncertain terms. Once we walked into the loft, he slammed the door behind us and tossed his keys into the basket on the table, standing with his hands on his hips silently, waiting for me to acknowledge his stance. I don't have Sentinel senses, but I knew he was staring a hole through my back...and reluctantly, I turned to face him as I shed my jacket.

"What is it, Jim," I asked exasperated and exhausted from the night at the station. "I'm really tired, and I don't have much energy for any serious -" I didn't get any further because as I spoke, he stalked over to where I stood and glared down at me. His hands were still on his hips and I could tell he was fighting back the urge to throttle me. Praying silently to any deities that might be listening, I begged them to hold him back so he wouldn't hurt me; apparently, even deities need a break sometimes. Nice timing.

"Intimacy issues, Chief? Fucking fear-based responses based on exceeding paranoia? What the FUCK were you doing interviewing Caroline, Blair?" He spat the words at me, making me cringe to his obvious delight; mission accomplished, Jim. Yes, I'm cowering in front of you - happy now? He certainly appeared pleased with my discomfort as he ranted on, hands now resting threateningly on my shoulders, "What the FUCK did you write that for, Blair? I thought we were friends. I fucking TRUSTED you, Chief...and what do I get for letting you shadow me for three years? Paranoid, fear-based responses? Fucking intimacy issues? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO ME, SANDBURG," he screamed at me, his nose to mine, clutching my shoulders more tightly and shaking me with the force of his words.

My whole body was shaking in earnest now, despite Jim's assistance, and everything was becoming a haze. I couldn't see straight, couldn't think straight; my Blessed Protector wanted to throttle the shit out of me, and all I could do was gaze up at him fearfully, wondering if this was really IT. Was this the last straw? Had he finally had enough of me intruding on his life, marking his every mood and emotion, studying him like the scientist I was? When had I actually lost my objectivity, anyway? So many questions running around in my head while he shook me...damn, my head was starting to hurt.

"Juh-Jih-Jim," I managed to blurt out, between teeth that seemed to be rattling around in my head as his saliva sprayed my face with every word he spat out, "Puh-puh-please," I begged him, pleading with my eyes, trying to catch his gaze and make him let me go. He shoved me bodily into the wall then, letting go of me only when my head made contact with the plaster with a loud 'THUD' that seemed, to me anyway, to echo throughout the loft.

"You're a prick, Sandburg," he said to me as he released me, shaking his head and turning his broad back to me, "Fuck you, Blair. Just fuck you, you little SHIT," he finished violently, taking the steps up to his room two at a time to get away from me as quickly as he could.

I slumped to the floor, the back of my head aching; I didn't even notice it for several minutes as I tried to make sense of the last many minutes of conversation between us. He was THAT angry with me? That he would intentionally hurt me? Was he really THAT put off by my diss that he would resort to physically assaulting me - his Guide, for fuck's sake - and push me away? Apparently so.

I sat there for what felt like hours but had only been so many minutes, my ass finally begging me for respite and forcing me to my feet, and ultimately to my room. I closed the doors behind me wearily, wishing that Jim would at LEAST call down a curt, 'goodnight'. No such luck. He was giving me the silent treatment in a BIG way, and there was no escaping the fact that he was beyond livid with me. Sighing heavily, as though the weight of the world was on my shoulders (and it was, trust me), hoping that he'd hear me (and I KNOW he heard me, dammit), I got naked down to my boxers and climbed into my lumpy futon bed. I pulled the covers up around my shoulders to try and warm my freezing soul, to no avail.

Fingers clasped and resting behind my still-sore head, shivering despite my blankets, I replayed the events of the day in my mind, wishing that Jim had left well enough alone - AND my diss. I had to fucking turn SOMETHING in; didn't he get that? I mean, shit, three years of research had to culminate in SOME kind of production. Never MIND the fact that it had taken every ounce of feeling out of me to write what I had so far. Never MIND the fact that I KNEW he would be pissed if he read it...that's why I had begged him NOT to read it. It wasn't finished. It was merely a...a...shit. It WAS degrading to him. I should've realized that from the beginning. No matter HOW I wrote it, it would make him seem...weak somehow. There was no way James Ellison, Sentinel of the Great City, would acquiesce to being a 'paranoid, weak-willed, fear-based response individual'. SHIT. NOW what was I supposed to do?

Tears welled up in my eyes and I shut them tightly, forcing the salty liquid down my cheeks as I wept silently for myself, and for Jim, and for the entire situation that had brought both of us to this point in our lives. I hadn't meant him any harm; I had merely wanted to study him and his responses. I had NEVER had any intention whatsoever of becoming his Guide, whether Incacha had deemed it necessary or not. I hadn't been ready for the weight of my responsibility in Jim's life; hadn't even thought ONCE about it, let alone TWICE. But now; now, there was no denying it. My words had struck Jim closer to the heart than anything else that he'd experienced in his life, Sentinel or otherwise; it was MY FAULT that he was so upset. And I had no idea how to fix any of it. Tossing and turning beneath my covers, I struggled for hours to reach a sleeping state; no matter how hard I tried, I simply couldn't lose the image of Jim's enraged features glaring DOWN at me. He'd used his only remaining weapon against me...if only he knew how successful he'd truly been.

The next morning was pure, unadulterated Hell. Jim woke up first, as he usually did, and he actually continued our morning ritual - gruffly yelling at me from behind the doors to my room to wake me up. This morning though, there was an added edge to his voice; if it had been a knife, I would surely be cut through and through. Upon waking, I murmured a slight 'thanks, man', despondent when no response, sarcastic or otherwise, was forthcoming.

'I have to start looking for a new place to live', I thought to myself as I grabbed a towel and headed for the shower dismally. My shoulders hunched in obvious defeat, 'He's done with me', I resigned as I entered the still humid room, soaking up Jim's scent as well as I could without his enhanced senses. Goddammit, I missed him already; missed our usual morning comraderie, our usual mutual teasing on the finer points of my leaving a bigger mess in the bathroom than him. I missed HIM, plain and simple...and it hadn't even been 24 hours. Christ, what was wrong with me?

"Coffee, Sandburg?" Jim asked me when I appeared, dressed and ready for the day, joining him in the kitchen as I usually did.

"Uh, yeah, thanks Jim," I answered, hoping that he'd talk to me more...not disappointed when no more words surfaced for the next ten minutes while we both drank our brew silently.

"Gotta' head to the station," Jim said blankly, "Rainier or the station today?" He asked me, no emotion in his words, no 'Chief' or 'Sandburg' gracing his vocabulary.

"Uh, station, Jim. I have a lot of paperwork after yesterday," I stated, attempting a smile that I am sure looked more like my lips were merely stuck on my teeth. Jim grimaced back at me, and all trace of a smile left my face, wishing that he would just get OVER this already, or at LEAST talk about it. But James Ellison was NOT a talker; not by any stretch of the imagination.
"Fine. I'll drive. Finish your coffee, and we'll go," he said, Ellison the Surly Bastard once again rearing his ugly head. I didn't know how much longer I could stand his current treatment, but I was about to find out, in no uncertain terms. Swallowing my last gulp of tepid brew, I nodded at him silently and he locked the loft door behind us as we walked toward the elevator in silence. I was depressed already, and we hadn't even gotten down to the car yet. Shit.

The ride to the station was even MORE humbling; he didn't speak at all, save for his every-so-often mumbled obscenities at the other drivers. I winced at his tone every time he uttered a sound, and I'm pretty sure that he was pleased with my reaction. Every so often, he would spare me a smug glance, until I realized that his main objective was to intimidate me further than he could with his size OR his bulk. His tone and words worked together to accomplish his current mission; I was a nervous wreck by the time we reached the station, all too happy to hop out of the truck and practically sprint to my desk.

I dove into my paperwork while Jim growled at everyone else in the office until Simon beckoned - more like bellowed - for Ellison. Happy to be left alone, I barely even acknowledged the bullpen or anyone in it, not surprised one bit when everyone stared at my partner expectantly as he exited the Captain's office. They all wanted to know what the hell was going on...and so did I. With a gruff, "HMPH," and not much else, Jim sat at his desk across from me, studiously ignoring me as he'd been doing for the last half-day, breaking my heart that much more.

I went to lunch alone - probably the first time in three years that I'd done THAT - and grabbed an Apartment Guide while I was out. I had no idea what I'd be able to afford; Jim had never asked me for rent in the three years I'd lived with him, so I'd had enough time to save some money. It was time I looked after myself, time that I left Jim to the loft, as he'd been so used to things before I popped unceremoniously into his life. By the time my lunch hour was over, I had arranged appointments at three different properties.

I was late getting home that night, and completely worn out from my day of paperwork and apartment site-visits. The last place I'd seen had looked pretty good; granted, it wasn't the loft, but it would make a suitable home for me and my things. Small and compact, I was able to envision all of my artifacts and books and things within its walls...but more importantly, I could move in in just a few days.

I'd be out of Jim's hair, out of his space, out of his life within one week. Seven fucking days until my dream ended; my dream that I'd so often had of Jim and I becoming MUCH more than friends and roommates, more than partners with the Cascade PD. More than Sentinel and Guide, as Incacha had so delicately put it as he lay dying on our - no, Jim's - couch in the loft. Further depressed by THAT memory, I swallowed the giant lump in my throat as I headed upstairs to the loft in the fading sunlight, my hopes and dreams receding with the daylight into darkness.

Upon entering the loft, complete blackness set in; there were boxes littering the floor, and as I looked around in stunned surprise, I realized that the only things missing were...MY things. Jim was still hurriedly packing as I walked slowly to him, noting the fact that he was out of breath and more cautiously attuned than usual. "Jim, uh, what're you doing, man?" I asked him as calmly as I could, certain that he'd catch onto my panic by my heartbeat within seconds.

"I need some space, Chief. I'm getting fucking claustrophobia in here...I just need to be alone right now, Sandburg." He stopped packing the current box and headed for the coat rack on the wall by the front door. I watched him, still in shock, as he put his coat on and said - without bothering to look at me - "I want you out of here by the time I get home." Period. End of discussion. I watched the door shut behind him, my jaw still resting on my chest, as I tried to absorb what had just happened; he was kicking me out! Three years, no warning, everything...OVER. Ended. Just. Like. That.

All of my things were packed; the only reason he had left that last box was in case he had missed something, allowing me to pack it up with everything else. Christ, what the HELL was going on here? My clothes, my artifacts...ALL of it had been carefully boxed up by my erstwhile roommate. I stumbled slowly around the loft, shaking my head even as my entire body vibrated with the aftershocks of the last hour's events. He had truly gotten all of my things. I was ready to go...well, figuratively speaking, anyway.

I sank to my knees in the middle of the living room...what HAD been OUR living room...but was now reverted back to JIM'S living room. I wrapped my arms around my middle and I sobbed, whole-heartedly, realizing that this wasn't just me losing my fucking SUBJECT. I had come to fucking LOVE this man...this Jim Ellison, this...this Sentinel. MY Sentinel. My partner...my friend...my...Blessed Protector was shutting me out, well and truly, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I don't know how long I knelt there, tears streaming down my face, hoping at one and the same time that Jim WOULD come home and WOULDN'T come home to see me like this...but then, this was no longer MY home, was it? That made me cry harder, and I finally managed to get to my feet and act like a man, for God's sake, despite the fact that my tears continued to fall.

I loaded as many boxes as I could into the Volvo, carrying the rest grudgingly down to the storage area in the basement of the building; I simply had no room for anything else, and I WAS going to be in a hotel for a few days. Resigned to picking up the rest of my things without Jim's knowledge in another week or so, I left the loft. I left my life, as I'd known it for the last three years, locking the door on my way out and putting my key under the mat, knowing that he'd find it there as soon as he stepped on it.

"Jim," I sobbed as I walked down the stairs and out of the building at 852 Prospect towards my over-loaded Volvo. "I love you, man," I managed, climbing into my car and heading for whatever rat-infested motel I could find and afford at the last minute; my paycheck from Rainier would come in two days. "I fucking love you," I said again, my voice breaking into nothing more than quiet sobs as I reluctantly drove away from my best friend and my life as I knew it.

Sleep was not EVEN forthcoming; I realized early on that without knowing that Jim Ellison was sleeping above me, no doubt listening to my heartbeat and other vitals, I was doomed to be an insomniac. It had taken me over an hour to unload the few precious possessions that HAD fit into the Volvo into my motel room, and I was way winded by the time I realized that I could finally TRY to relax. Of course, that was simply not possible, but I shed my clothes down to my boxers and tried anyway.

Pulling the covers up over me, I attempted to pretend that I was at home...my home...OUR home, and failed miserably. I could no more catch 40 winks here than I could breathe in outer space without oxygen. The mattress beneath me was NOT a lumpy futon; the air around me did NOT hold the spice of my processing candles mixed with Jim's scent; there was NO indication that ANYONE was watching out for me. Abandoned and alone, I realized that I felt like I was back with Naomi - twelve years old and co-dependent. That only made me begin to cry again, and I wondered where my mother was, wondered if she'd even care that her 30-year-old son was needing his 'mommy'.

When I finally awoke the next morning, it was nearly 11:00 am, and I was late for Rainier. Cursing myself and my situation - despite the fact that I'd only gained about two hours of sleep since yesterday - I got up, showered, and dressed in the space of twenty minutes. I raced to the university, only to be met by some sexy blonde woman waiting for me in my office. I had no fucking idea what she wanted with me, but whatever it was, she could have it.

I grinned at her seductively, taking a seat behind my desk as she paced impatiently, "I hear that you are the man to talk to about certain...um...Burton-related things," she finished, catching not only my eye but my entire being as I realized her implication.

"Uh, Richard Burton? The writer, not the-" I started, chuckling aloud when she helped me finish, "not the actor, no," she said, her blue eyes slicing through me and making me feel like so much 'Silly Putty'.

"Yeah," I agreed aloud, instantly forgetting all of the bad karma that had accrued in the past 24 hours. "The specialist on Sentinel behavior," I finished, delighted at the light in her gaze, forgetting for however brief an instant the pain that my roommate had caused me less than 12 hours ago.

"Exactly," she practically purred; funny, that noise reminded me of some kind of large cat..."I heard you were the first and foremost expert on Sentinel-based behavior," she continued, shuffling her feet on the tile floor in my office. "I mean, behavior that might be construed as being Sentinel-like," she corrected herself, piquing my interest.

"Uh, yeah, I hear that," I told her dumbly, mentally kicking myself at being taken in so easily by her charms...how in the hell did she know about my studies? I mean, NO ONE had read my diss...save for Jim, and just look what HE thought of it so far...but she seemed to really KNOW what I was interested in. Hell, she seemed to CARE about what I was interested in, where Jim had just...kicked me to the proverbial curb.

Straightening my shoulders and standing just a bit straighter, I met her too-blue eyes and resigned myself to helping her. Jim may have kicked me out, and I may be out ONE study subject, but this lady seemed to be more than willing to take his place. I suppose my judgment was just conveniently WAY out of whack at the time, but all the same...

I had a new fucking research subject. Damned if I hadn't managed to stumble onto a whole new Sentinel project. Alex Barnes was my new Holy Grail; my old one having dumped me like so much garbage into the community dumpster.

She'd exhibited all the signs and downfalls of her condition, and I was able to assist her, within mere hours, in attacking the horrible headaches that plagued her every time she tried to utilize her 'gift', as I'd called it. I taught her all about dials, and focusing in on just one sense, and she responded wonderfully.

After she left my office that first afternoon, I'd exploded verbally into my tape recorder, going on and on about my new subject, while inside I was still dying at losing my first one...the most important one...the one that I'd fallen in love with three years ago at first sight. Shaking off my feelings for James Ellison, I tried in vain to concentrate solely on my newly found She-Sentinel; no matter how hard I tried to focus just on Alex, I found myself wondering how she would interact with Jim.

What would happen when that territorial imperative was screwed with, in no uncertain terms? My mind boggled as I weighed the possibilities, wondering if there was any way that I might be able to get Jim to come and see me while SHE was here, wondering what effect she would have on him, and he on her. Would they fall into one another's arms in relief at finding another just like each of them? Or would they tear one another to pieces, duelling to the death for whatever property they could hold onto...and would I figure in there? Shaman and Guide, fought over by two Sentinels that could no more handle their gifts without me than breathe air into their lungs...shit, I was giving myself too much credit here.

Shaking that last thought off, I smiled up at Alex as she strode into my office, happy to see her sans headache for a change. It had only been three days, but we'd made such progress; she'd learned dials like it was second nature to her, and she eagerly awaited more tests - no surly sarcasm like Jim had shown me each time I'd suggested a new idea.

"Blair, I need to talk to you about something," she said, her voice wavering somewhere between nervous and hysterical, "Something's come up."

"Yeah, what is it?"

"This, Blair," she said, brandishing a gun from within the confines of her black leather jacket, pointing it directly at me. FUCK!

"Uh, Alex, what's going on?" I asked her innocently, holding my hands up in the air out of sheer habit, knowing that that was what Jim would've told me to do.

"You know what I am, Blair. I'm so sorry; you've been such a great help to me, and I never wanted it to come to this...but it's time. I have to go, and I can't let you live...I'm sorry, Blair," she said as she released the safety from her weapon and aimed it once again at my heart.

I closed my eyes then, certain that this was it; Jim had abandoned me, and now my newfound research subject was ready to shoot me. How appropriate, my mind raced, searching for some way - ANY way - out of this, and I suddenly realized that without Ellison, without my partner, nothing really mattered anymore anyway. Resigned to my fate, I allowed her to do whatever she felt she had to in order to leave the city. I prayed that she hadn't already discovered Jim, hoped desperately that she hadn't gone after him first and then come for me. Here was my payback for helping a stranger, for getting sucked in once more by a woman...one with the gift that I'd studied for so long. My selfish quest for information was now going to be my downfall, and I wondered if this was how Jim felt when he told me that he was suffocating under my scrutiny. 'Jim', I thought internally as I felt the butt of the gun smack into my skull, 'I love you, Jim, always have and always will, man.' Darkness descended quickly, and from there - well, there was nothing.

The only thing I vaguely remember is being dropped into some kind of water; it was cold, and I immediately went numb. I never COULD stand to be chilly...Jim knew that, and he was always bringing me an extra blanket or jacket, throwing an extra log on the fire...but I digress.

I was trying to breathe, but there was this force pushing me back down under the water, and no matter how hard I tried to push back and take a breath of air, that force pushed me back under, into the frigid depths of the liquid surrounding me.

Eventually, I gave up and just went to sleep; I was cold, I was wayyy tired, and I missed Jim so much - and he hadn't called, or even tried to find me - so I just gave in and rested. After many minutes had passed, I wasn't even cold anymore, and all I could see was Jim and me. Moments later, we faded into the wolf and the jaguar. Curled into one another for a moment...but then something was wrong; the jaguar was hissing and growling at the wolf, but the wolf refused to move.

The wolf was on its side, not moving while the jaguar paced restlessly off to the side, stopping every so often to lick its apparent friend on the snout. There was no response from the gray and white beast lying on the ground - except to curl a slight bit further in on itself, avoiding the big cat's attentions, its once ice-blue eyes giving way to a lifeless shade of unseeing black onyx as each moment passed. Eyes glazed and glassy, the wolf finally lay entirely still as the jaguar gave a guttural roar into the air surrounding them both, pawing at the lifeless furry body in vain.

Consciousness turned out to be a bitch. I hadn't realized how hard dying truly was on the body until I attempted my first breath some three days after being admitted to the hospital. The tube down my throat made the effort truly unbearable, but I had no choice; I had been lingering SO long on the edge without my own facilities that it had become impossible for me to deny my own body's order to wake.

Struggling against the plastic tubing, and fighting all the while to open my eyes at the same time, I managed to accomplish both feats simultaneously. The gasp that came from the air next to me surprised me even more than my own efforts. My eyes opened to reveal my Blessed Protector off to my left, his own baby-blues bloodshot beyond recognition, the smell of him causing me to gag almost as much as the tube in my throat.

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a slight clicking sound, making me wince even as Jim spoke to me. "Oh Jesus Chief, thank God," he murmured over and over again, grabbing my left hand in both of his and holding it to his heart. "Goddammit, Blair, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry," he said over and over again, my confusion at his confession all too obvious in my pale features.

Still unable to voice my meager thoughts, I had no choice but to listen to Jim grovel whole-heartedly while he clutched my hand to his chest with both of his large calloused hands. He refused to release my extremity even when the doctors came in to scratch their heads at my so-called miraculous recovery. I'd been dead for half an hour, they'd claimed; by all rights, I should not be lying here with my eyes open. I should most certainly NOT be lying here pondering the finer points of my ex-best friend holding my hand to his chest like some kind of lifeline with tears in his eyes. I should DEFINITELY not have survived being cold-cocked with the butt of a gun and then held down in freezing water until I was clinically dead...only to wake here, with my self-proclaimed ex-best-friend apologizing and taking the blame. I, Blair Jacob Sandburg, am supposed to be dead. What if I'm a vegetable when I really wake up? That was my last thought before I succumbed once again to blessed unconsciousness, my concerns - and my Sentinel - left behind once again.

I have no idea how much more time passed before I opened my eyes again. Things seemed a little clearer this time, although it still hurt like a motherfucker to try and take a deep breath. It was about that time that I realized my inner monologue would suggest a high improbability of me being brain damaged by my experience. I guess I'm okay, despite the pain in my chest...and then I realized that Jim was still there. He was still holding my hand, sleeping at the side of my bed, his head down on the bed with my left hand still clutched firmly in his sleeping grasp.

As I tried to pull my hand back - it had fallen asleep when he did, apparently - his head snapped up and he grabbed me so tight it hurt. "Ow," I croaked, my voice still drowned somewhere deep inside of me.

"Blair," Jim said, his tired and red-rimmed eyes gray with exhaustion, their usual azure richness lost in his exhausted state. "I've been waiting for you to wake up, Chief," he said softly, almost in a whisper. He released his death grip on my hand and placed it gently back down on the bed at my side, standing up to stretch; I didn't need his Senses to hear just about every bone in his knees and his back crack with his movements.

"Hhh...how luh-long," I whispered to him, knowing he'd heard me despite my lacking of vocal skills.

"Four days, Chief. Four long, long fucking days. Goddammit, I missed you, buddy." He sat back down and regarded me even as I took in his haggard appearance. His face looked gaunt; I was willing to bet that he hadn't eaten since I'd been brought here. Covered with four days' worth of beard, and more lines in his face than I'd ever seen, even after the worst cases we'd worked. Did he really care that much about me, after the way he'd acted before? How could he sit here like everything was fine between us, acting like the concerned partner when mere days ago he'd told me he...he'd called me...a prick...a...a shit!

"Suh...some..times...shit floats," I rasped to him as harshly as I could sans voice, and he stiffened in his seat next to me; it gave me quite a bit of pleasure to see him tense and worried. After what he'd done to me - throwing me out like that, the things he'd said...was I just supposed to welcome him with open arms? Maybe that was what dying did to you; made you stronger, able to tell people what you really thought of them when you were too weak to do it before. Or when you just fucking CARED too much before. Or maybe I was just tired. But selfish? You bet your ass, man. He had let me fucking DIE! Threw me out like so much TRASH, and never even said he was sorry.

If the look on Detective James Ellison's face was any indication, I might as well have gone ahead and shot him; shocked just about covered it. I turned my head away from him and faced the wall, studied the instruments screwed in place there rather than meet his crushed gaze.

"I...I didn't mean that, Blair, you have to know that I never meant...I was just angry, frustrated...Chief, please look at me here, this is fucking hard, okay?" He pleaded with me, and I slowly turned my head to stare at him once again, making sure my eyes held no emotion as they met his, despite the fact that it was killing me all over again on the inside. His hands were trembling as he continued, "I knew that something was wrong. I was having these dreams...about you...and you were hurt and I couldn't save you and...I was afraid, Blair. I was afraid I was going to lose you, Sandburg, and I couldn't stand that. I would never...survive that." I heard his throat click when he swallowed, as he sat there and waited for me to say something, ANYTHING.

Clearly exasperated at my lack of response, Jim continued, "I thought that if I made you leave you'd be alright. I knew that something bad was going on, even though I didn't know exactly what...and my, what do you call that shit, territorial imperative? Well, I sensed there was another one like me around, and that was what was screwing with my head - I couldn't handle it, Chief. I threw you out when I needed you the most, and I'll never be able to forgive myself for that. I just wanted you to know that, okay, buddy?"

"G...go huh-ome, Jim," I croaked at him as I rolled over onto my side and faced away from him. I didn't want to give him the pleasure of seeing me cry at his words. I didn't want him to see the love in my heart that threated to show in my eyes. I couldn't hide it anymore, but I didn't want him to know that I'd still give him all of me so freely, even after everything that had happened.

"It's late. I'll be back tomorrow, Chief," he said softly, and his voice broke off at the end of his affectionate nickname for me. I barely caught him sniffle before I heard the door close behind me. I quietly sobbed myself back to sleep, pissed off that my chest hurt too much to let loose and scream - like I'd wanted to from the moment he'd told me to leave.

It wasn't Jim who I awoke to the next morning, but Captain Simon Banks. "Hey Sandburg," he smiled down at me, this being the only time I could ever remember seeing him without a cigar clenched between his teeth, "You scared the shit out of everyone, kid," he said as he sat down in the chair next to my bed.

"Sorry," I whispered up at him with a weak smile, happy to see him.

"Jim called me last night and told me that you were awake and talking - well, sort of talking, so I decided to come and see you this morning while you were bright-eyed and bushy-haired," he quipped, making me chuckle a little, before I broke into a harsh coughing fit. "Should I get a doctor?" Simon asked, concern spread across his dark features, and I shook my head at him while I got my lungs back under control.

"S'okay," I croaked at him, "Can't laugh," I finished, and he apologized to me and patted me on the shoulder. I reached up and patted his hand before he pulled away, making his smile even bigger.

"Where's Jim? I figured he'd be here all night again; he's spent the entire time here, you know that?" Simon asked me, and he must have seen the pain in my eyes, because he faltered a bit before he went on, "Are you two okay, Sandburg? I mean, I know things weren't all that great there for a bit, but you're still partners, right?"

I shook my head at Simon, unsuccessfully fighting the tears that came from out of nowhere. Goddammit, I didn't want the fucking Captain to see me crying, of ALL people. I turned my head away quickly, but not before he'd busted me.

"Aw Sandburg, come on now, you two go together like peas and carrots," he said, "You KNOW Ellison is a stubborn son of a bitch, but he can't handle his senses without you, kid. He needs you, you know...and I'm willing to bet you need him, too."

My head whipped back around to meet his chocolate-brown gaze, and he just smiled at me as he ignored the tears that trickled down my face AND my outraged expression.

"Come on, Blair. I didn't get to be a Captain by NOT being observant. I've seen the way you look at him, like he's your goddamned hero."

I shook my head, but he kept right on, and I held on to his next words, "And I've seen the way he looks at you, too." He winked at me and patted me on the shoulder again as he stood up. "Everyone at the station is excited to come and visit you, Blair, so you'd better be up to a lot of visitors these next couple of days, okay?" I nodded at him and whispered, "Thank you, Captain," to him before he left. He gave me one of his most winning smiles and exited. I realized that at some point during my 'conversation' with Simon, I'd stopped feeling like I'd lost my best friend. For the first time in weeks, the depression that had dragged me down, almost as deep as Alex had, was lifting.

Over the course of the next day and a half, Megan, Rafe, Joel, H, and even the damned bagel cart girl came to visit; my room looked like Hallmark had fucking exploded in it, and I really didn't mind all that much. The only thing that was missing was...Jim. He hadn't come back like he'd promised, and by the end of the second day's Visiting Hours, I was frustrated, pissed, and hurt. I decided to do something about it.

I picked up the phone and dialed, forgetting that my voice was still pretty much non-existent, then nearly smacked my forehead as I realized that it didn't matter; he'd be able to hear my heartbeat. He'd know it was me, probably before he even answered the phone. The only problem was, that he didn't answer the phone - not the number at the loft, and not his cellphone.

Worried, I called Simon. "Banks," he answered his cellphone, and it took all of my energy to muster the air out of my lungs to grunt, "Simon, where's Jim?" I exhaled painfully, then struggled to get more oxygen so I could answer his reply of, "Blair, is that you? He took a few days off...I figured he was with you at the hospital. Hasn't he been there?" Simon asked, then waited patiently for me to respond.

"No, Simon. Not since two days ago," I managed, even more worried now than I was before.

"Shit," Simon said, and I murmured a quiet, "Yeah man, shit."

"Relax, Sandburg, I'll head over to the loft and see what's going on. I'm sure he's fine, kid. I'll call you as soon as I find him." Simon hung up and I set the phone back down in its cradle, knowing deep down that everything was not fine. As surely as I was - am - Jim's partner and best friend, I am also my Sentinel's Guide...and I couldn't stop the dread that filled me now from curls to toes.

"Absolutely not, Mr. Sandburg, you are in no condition whatsoever to just waltz out of here. You can't even breathe properly yet, and you have physical therapy to think about," the burly nurse scolded me as she ignored my barely audible arguments.

"My partner is in trouble," I pleaded with her softly as I tried to sit up and ignored the pain that it still caused me to speak, "I am the only one that can help him, you don't understand..ahhh, God," I moaned and flopped back down onto my pillows. If I didn't pull it together, she'd never let me leave.

"I'm not a fucking prisoner," I moaned to her, "Get my paperwork, please," I told her, and she just stood there with her hands on her beefy hips as she shook her head. "I'll come right back, I promise...I have to help him, ma'am, I'm the only one...the only one," my voice trailed off. I was so frustrated with my body that I couldn't stand it anymore; I pulled the IV out of my right arm with my left hand and fought once again to sit up...and I actually managed to do it. Hooray adrenalin, I thought dizzily.

"Mr. Sandburg, lie back down this instant," she yelled at me. I drew the line when she actually tried to push me back down on the bed. "Let go of me, you COW," I gasped, "I've got to get to Jim." She stormed out of my room, and I felt pretty bad about having called her a cow, but man, she had pissed me off something fierce.

By the time she found a doctor to complain to, I had been able to get dressed, and I hobbled down the hall slowly towards the elevators. As fate would have it, the doors slid open just as I reached for the button on the wall, and I boarded the empty car, already exhausted but determined to make it to Jim. I talked to the gods as the elevator descended and begged them to let me make it back to the loft before I collapsed.

Someone somewhere had been listening to me, because when I got to the front doors of the hospital, already winded and sweating, there was a taxi just sitting there. I patted my back jean pocket and breathed a shallow sigh of relief when I found my wallet.

I paid the driver and sank into the back seat of the car. I urged him to drive as fast as he could while I struggled to relax my chest muscles; they'd already seized up on me, and I fought for every breath. The only thing that kept me going was thinking of Jim, pretty sure of what I'd find when I got back to the loft.

I managed to nod off on the way to Jim's, and I woke to the sound of the driver's voice, "Dude, you don't look so good, man. Should I take you back to the hospital?" I shook my head at him as sweat poured down my face with the effort, and I croaked up at him, using my last reserves of strength, "I'll...give yuh-you..a great tip...if you can...help me upstairs, man," I trailed off, and he nodded at me as he reached into the backseat and helped me out of the car and up the stairs.

The incredibly kind driver handed me my wallet, which had fallen out of my hands during our trek up to the loft with his arm around my shoulders for support. I reached into it shakily and handed him the rest of the bills inside. He just shook his head and refused to take my money as he told me, "Dude, I just hope that whatever's behind that door is worth it." He smiled at me and leaned me against the wall and walked back up the hall to get on the elevator. He waved at me once, but I couldn't even lift my hand to return the gesture.

I gathered up what little steam I had left and managed to face the heavy metal and knock once on the door; that was all it took before the barrier flew open, one very pissed-off Captain standing in front of me. His mouth opened, and he probably would have yelled at me - if I hadn't collapsed into his arms at that same moment.

Simon scooped me up in his arms and sat me down on the couch, the anger that had been his expression now faded to concern. I gasped for air that simply wouldn't come, while I gazed around the loft, searching for Jim. I didn't find him, and Simon left me for a moment to get a towel from the kitchen. He dampened it with cold water from the faucet and brought it back to me, pressed it to my forehead and clucked over me.

"Goddammit, Sandburg, what the hell did you think you were doing, leaving the fucking hospital in this condition? Are you trying to get kil...oh never mind," he groused as he swabbed at my face and neck.

"Juh..Jim," I gasped, then closed my eyes because the room had started to spin.

"I was going to tell the hospital to have an ambulance transport you here, kid...imagine my surprise when I called them, only to have them tell me that you were gone. If you weren't already out of it, I'd kick your sorry ass, Sandburg."

He hadn't answered my question, and although I was fairly out of it, there was no way I was going to let him avoid the issue here. "Jim," I whispered again, certain that my instincts had been correct.

"He's upstairs, Blair," Simon told me, wincing behind his glasses as he finished, "He's zoned...I'm assuming that you knew that already, and that's why you pulled this little stunt. I tried to get through to him, but he won't come back for me...that only works with you." Banks shook his head and followed my gaze as I stared up towards Jim's room.

"Up...stairs...puh-lease," I begged Simon, more with my eyes than my voice, "Help...Jim," I sputtered, unable to do anything more than open my mouth and let out the silent scream, my tortured body prepared to give out; I had to get to Jim. Even if it was the last thing I did, I had to get him out.

"You'd better not get used to me carrying you around, Sandburg. You're heavier than you look," Simon chided as he lay me on the bed next to where Jim rested, eyes open and unseeing, nearly dried up and staring towards the ceiling. I would have to be blind to miss the fact that he held one of my shirts in the hand that rested on the pillow next to his head.

"Christ, Sandburg, he zoned on YOU?" Simon asked disbelieving, shaking his head again as he headed down the stairs to the living room. "I'll be down here if you need anything, Blair. The paramedics are on their way for you, too, and you ARE going back to the hospital," Simon's voice trailed off with a stream of obscenities that I barely heard; I was much too busy touching Jim's face with my fingertips. I'd managed to roll over onto my side so that I faced him, and reached out to caress his face. I prayed that my touch would be enough, because my voice refused to cooperate any longer.

Unable to take a deep breath, I steeled myself against the excruciating throb centered in my lungs and gasped, "Jim...come back, Jim." Tears rolled down my cheeks; I was so fucking frustrated. My 'Guide Voice' would bring him out in a heartbeat, but that was not an option this time.

I stroked his face with both hands, using everything that I had left within me to stay awake long enough to make sure he was okay. I had to wait...couldn't pass out...had to make sure he came out...felt like there was a goddamned elephant sitting on my chest.

"Love...you," I whispered in his ear as I touched his face with the caress that I used on my lovers, "Jim," I gasped, no more air left to give. His eyes blinked once, then again, and I let go of him and drifted away with a small smile on my face. There was no pain anymore.

"Are you ready to go, Chief," Jim asked me, and I nodded enthusiastically, smiling brightly at him as he picked up my backpack and hefted it over his shoulder. It was heavy with all the gifts and cards that I'd received during my extended hospital stay.

After I'd gotten Jim out of his Zone, they'd carted me back to the hospital, where I spent an entire week in Intensive Care. I had pneumonia from my little adventure, and it was touch and go there for a long while. Jim stayed at the hospital the entire time, having bullied the entire staff into giving him a room of his own - the same room that I was moved into once I was over the worst of my illness.

He stayed next to my bed the entire time that I recuperated, touched me constantly, murmured words of encouragement to me while I went through some extremely painful breathing exercises. I had enough scar tissue in my lungs that it would be a good year before they healed all the way, from what the doctors said. At least breathing was finally tolerable, and I'd gotten my strength back in record time.

"Yeah, Jim, wayyy ready, man. Let's go-," he cut me off as I stood up from the chair I was sitting in to sign my paperwork, "Uh-uh, Darwin, you know the rules - you have to ride in the chair." I frowned at him and crossed my arms over my chest, pouting.

"You KNOW that doesn't work on me, Sandburg," he growled, and I couldn't help but smile and agree with him. "I know, but I still like to try. So," I started nervously, "Um, do you want to drop me off at the motel?"

He just looked at me, his blue eyes shimmering, and he swallowed harshly before he said, "Do you WANT to go to the motel? I was kind of hoping that you'd...you know...come home with me, Chief."

"What about my things, Jim? I mean, I have a room full of stuff at the motel, and shit, my car has probably been towed from Rainier by now, and..." My voice trailed off again, but not from lack of air; this time it was because Jim had placed his right index finger over my lips.

"It's okay. I took care of all of that. I just want to take you home, Chief." He stood there for a moment longer, finally moving his finger from my lips so that I could speak.

"Home," I said, unable to stop the tears that formed in my eyes at his gesture, and not caring one bit when they began to run down my face. Once more Jim's hand moved to my face, this time to brush the salty drops from my cheeks tenderly, "Yeah, home," he said, and smiled at me. The nurse came in with the chair and cleared her throat loudly - I thought Jim would pull away from me as though he'd been stung, but he just put one arm around my shoulders and steered me towards the chair. He shooed the nurse away so he could wheel me to the elevators and then out to the truck. Once I was safely loaded and buckled up, he got in on his side and strapped himself in, turning the truck towards home.

I think I spent most of the trip home just staring at Jim, wondering when in the hell this change of attitude had occurred. There had to be more to this than just my dying. And nearly dying after I'd gotten him out of the 'Super-Zone'. Then it dawned on me; what I had said to him...had he heard me tell him that I loved him?

I WAS half out of my mind that day, and I'm sure that I could explain it away as concern for my partner - or some such bullshit. The wheels must have been turning pretty loudly in my head, because he chuckled all of a sudden, "You alright, Chief?" He asked me, glancing over at me as we turned down our street.

"Yeah, fine Jim," I told him, and I could feel the blush rise in my cheeks. I looked out the window, trying to hide my embarassment at being busted in mid-reverie. "Home," I said aloud, and he nodded in agreement as he parked and hopped out, coming to my door and opening it for me, grabbing my backpack out of the bed of the truck as he gave me a hand out of the cab.

"Thanks man," I told him, surprised when his hand lingered on mine just a moment longer than was needed. I stood there and gazed up at him, watching him watch me. Undoubtedly, he was listening to my heartbeat and had noticed that it raced when he touched me. Shit, there really was no hiding this anymore - and he didn't seem to be too put off by my response to his touch.

"Come on, Chief. Let's get you upstairs so you can relax," he said, putting an arm around my shoulder and ushering me slowly up the steps and into the lobby. He pressed the button to call the slowest elevator in the universe, and caught me staring at him again. I just couldn't get over this...was this the same man that had thrown me out of the loft? Who had told me that I was a prick, and that he no longer wanted me around?

"Blair, your eyes are going to pop out of your skull if you open them any wider," he laughed, and the sound was tinged with nervousness. As the elevator doors swished open, I jumped a little - lost in my own thoughts again, and wondering if maybe his heart was racing a little, too.

He opened the door for me, placing one of his hands on my lower back and guiding me gently into the loft. I was tired already, but it was so fucking good to be...home. As I walked to the couch, I looked around and noticed that all of the things that Jim had packed up had been painstakingly put back in their proper places.

I sat down on the couch and sighed deeply, glad that I could do so without pain for a change. "Jim," I started, but he had already busied himself in the kitchen; I could hear the sounds of pots and pans coming from behind me, and I twisted around on the couch so I could watch him.

"Are you hungry, Sandburg? I was going to fix us something to eat, and then I figured you might be tired and want to lie down or something, and do you want me to make a fire for -"

"STOP! Jim, please, just stop it," I said, starting with a shout and finishing softly as I got up from the sofa and walked slowly towards where he stood in the kitchen. He had a wooden spoon in his hand and a 'deer in the headlights' look on his face. I stopped mere inches away from him, tears in my eyes despite my attempts to quash them before they started. I couldn't take his overt kindness any longer without knowing what was going through his head.

I mirrored his move from earlier in the hospital, placing my right index finger over his lips gently, stopping him before he could say anything. He just stared at me, so many emotions crossing his face that I had to close my eyes for a moment for respite from the onslaught. When I opened them again, I saw that he was also choked up and struggling not to give in to his feelings.

"Jim, I...goddammit, this is way fucking harder than I thought it would be - you know, man?" I kept my finger on his lips while I fought with the thoughts racing around in my head, trying to just pick ONE to start with. He nodded at me silently, and I finally found some words. "I don't want you to feel guilty about what happened, Jim. I don't want you to let me stay here out of some misguided guilt complex, okay? I mean, you wanted me to go, and I went. Everything that happened after that, well...it's just irony, or fate, or some spiritual shit like that." He shook his head at me, and I pulled my hand back from his face so he could speak.

A single tear dripped down his left cheek, and he cleared his throat before putting the spoon down on the counter and placing his hands on my shoulders. Trembling just a little, he spoke, "Blair, I...I never meant to...I never wanted you to...I care about...I love you, Chief. Goddammit, there's just no other way for me to say it," he blurted out, pulling me to him and wrapping his huge, warm arms around me. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so - safe.

He nuzzled into my hair, whispering apologies like a mantra into my ear, "So sorry, Blair, god I'm so fucking sorry, Chief, I thought I'd lost you and I'm so sorry, never again..." and on and on until I finally got over my initial shock and returned his embrace.

"I love you too, my Blessed Protector," I murmured back to him, and he actually started to cry. He sobbed into my hair and I couldn't have cared less if he blew his nose there. He loved me, and he was holding me, and he didn't want me to leave. I gripped him harder and we clutched one another in the middle of the kitchen, crying like babies and not caring one bit. We both had a lot of healing to do, and it started right here, right now.

I pulled away from him first, not too far away, but far enough that we could look at each other. We both laughed a little at first, both of us with our puffy eyes and sniffles - and then I leaned towards him and he closed his eyes and met my lips with his own. His hands trailed up my back and wound their way into my hair, grabbing two fistfuls of it and pulling me closer still, deepening the kiss.

I parted my lips and he slid his tongue in, mapping out my mouth like he was recording it, studying it, filing it away in his brain for future reference. I slid my own tongue into his mouth in response, and we stood in the kitchen and kissed like that until I had to break away, nearly panting for breath.

"Are you okay, Blair? Do you need to sit down? Do you-"

"Shut up, Ellison. We've got to come up for air SOMEtime you know," I grinned up at him, and he pulled me into another suffocating embrace.

"I almost lost you, Blair," he whispered to me, and I pushed him away so that I could look at him again, "Jim, I almost lost you, too. Let's move onto something else here, okay? We have all the time in the world to discuss these things. I think I want to lie down for a while now. How about you?" I asked him, unable and not wanting to hide the gleam in my eyes.

Feigning a yawn, my Sentinel grinned down at me and said, "Wow, I'm sort of beat here, Chief. How about we go upstairs and take a load off for a while?"

"Why didn't I think of that," I said sarcastically, and let out a slight whoop when he smacked my ass after I'd turned and headed for the stairs. He followed closely behind me, partially wanting to make sure I made it UP the stairs in one piece, and partially because neither of us wanted to be very far away from the other right now. Or ever again.

"Here Chief, have a seat," he said, motioning towards the bed, "Let me help you with that shirt." He waggled his eyebrows at me and I snorted at him, quickly sobering when he pulled the Henley up and over my head, running his hands over my chest and toying with the hair there. He caressed me with his fingers, all of his attention focused on his task. I was afraid at first that he would Zone on touch, but he seemed to be doing fine, and I was definitely feeling fine.

He dropped to his knees in front of me, scooting closer to the bed until his waist rested between my legs, still caressing me with his hands. He traced patterns on my chest, then moved around to my back and smoothed the flesh there, effectively petting me while he once again plundered my mouth with his tongue. I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him everything I had, which wasn't even CLOSE to what I would have when I was all healed up, but it was plenty for this moment.

He murmured into my mouth, then moved so that he could kiss my cheek, and my chin, and my forehead, and along my jawline. He didn't miss one spot, gently pressing his lips over every inch of skin and then moved lower to my neck, flicking his tongue out every so often to taste me. I groaned softly at his ministrations, thrusting gently against his waist, frustrated with the knowledge that I wouldn't be able to do what I wanted to; no strenous activity for at least 6 weeks, the doctor had said.

"Jim," I panted as he worked lower still, his tongue tracing across my abdomen, flicking in and out of my belly button - the sensation went straight to my cock and I gasped, "Wait...Jim, doctor said...ohhh yeah," I moaned as he unzipped my jeans slowly, making sure that he grazed the stiff heat there with the back of his knuckles.

"I know what the doctor said, Darwin," Jim growled at me, looking up at me with undisguised lust and love in his azure eyes. "And YOU are not going to be doing anything strenuous...except donating some bodily fluids for a test," he smirked at me. He pushed me back on the bed so he could stand up and slide my jeans down and pull them off, along with my boxers and shoes and socks. He extended a hand to me and pulled me back up to a sitting position, grinning at me like the Cheshire cat; yeah, I thought fleetingly, more like a big sleek powerful black Cheshire Jaguar. I bit my tongue to keep from giggling at that idea.

"Test?" I asked him, "Uh, what kind of test, Jim?" I feigned nervousness and actually did laugh when he stood up and undid his own jeans as he replied, "A taste test, Chief. This is my chance to test YOU for a change," he leered at me, and I stopped laughing and groaned with need as I saw the bulge in his boxers. He pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the floor along with his jeans.

He kneeled back down between my now naked legs, clad only in his black silk boxers, and placed his hands on my hips, kissing the insides of my thighs until I was squirming with need. He pinched my nipples and made me cry out his name once, then began in earnest on my extremely rigid cock.

He swirled his talented tongue around the tip, holding my balls in his palm as he worked me deeper into his hot throat, moaning and humming and making little slurpy noises that drove me absolutely insane. The vibrations that his humming caused felt like little shocks along my erection, and I moaned his name over and over as he worked me. First deep into his throat, swallowing me whole, and then releasing me almost fully, so that the chilled air of the room made me shiver just a bit, until he'd suck me back in.

"Fffuck," I moaned, "Sssooo good, Jim, god yeah, suck me babe, please...more, deeper," I begged him, and he did, opening his throat to take me all the way in. He had to release my balls then, and he used his hands to stroke me in tandem with his lips. "God, Jim, I'm gonna...Jesus, so good, fuckkkk," I trailed off, thrusting harder into the warm cavern that he was so willingly offering.

Suddenly, he let me fall from his lips and I could have cried at the loss of contact. He looked up at me then, a deadly serious look on his face, and he said, "Do you want to come for me, Blair?"

"Uhhh..yeah, god Jim, don't stop, please," I groaned, and he still didn't put me back in his mouth. Instead, he used his hands, sliding up and down my well-lubed dick as he spoke to me again, "Come on, Blair, tell me what you want. Do you want to come for me? I want you to come, Blair. I want to feel you shoot down my throat so I can drink all of you, take you inside of me. Would you like that, baby?"

"Yes, oh god Jim yes do it do it do it...gonna come," I warned him, and he had no sooner put me back in his mouth, his throat muscles contracting around my spasming prick..."FFFFUCKKKK," I screamed out, thrusting one final time into his face and shooting my load forcefully between his lips and down his welcoming throat. "JIM," I cried out, and he merely grabbed my hips and pulled me further into his mouth - so far that I couldn't even imagine he was able to breathe - swallowing everything that I gave him. He even licked me clean when I was done, and then tucked us both underneath the covers. He spooned himself around me, my back against his smooth muscular chest, his arms wrapped protectively around me. As I drifted off into sated slumber, I could swear I heard purring...

The. End. Thanks for reading!