Author's disclaimer: Pet Fly still owns Jim, Blair, and Simon. I just play with them occasionally, but I always put them back.

Author's notes: This story first appeared in 'Come To Your Senses #8' and is posted here with Mysti Frank's kind permission. Constructive criticism (both for and against) is gratefully appreciated. Flames? Well, I can always use a good laugh.

The void was absolute...no light, no sanity. It fed on him, fueling his panic and making it hard to catch his breath. Slowly, at an infinitesimal pace, thought and sensation crept back within reach. Overjoyed, he grabbed for it, only to sob as rationality slid from his too-eager grasp. Taking a deep breath, he deliberately coaxed it back to him, offering it the same gentle, tender care he would give to any wounded wild creature. `At last, at last!' he cried as he caught onto it and held it firmly in both hands. The blackness lifted a little, not enough to be really measurable, but he was confident it had. He frowned, deeply puzzled. Cold...wet... `Why am I cold and wet?' He dimly recalled loathing this state. His puzzlement only grew as, from seemingly miles away, he heard an anguished cry, "No! This is not happening! Sandburg!"

`Jim.' Without conscious volition, the name came to him. `Jim.' He somehow knew this name was of immense importance to him. That was why his heart felt like it was being shredded into microscopic pieces as he listened to the pain-wracked pleading, "No! No! This isn't real! It's not happening!" Abruptly, it all became crystal-clear to him. Jim meant warmth and comfort and friendship. Jim meant caring and safety. Jim meant home. Jim meant... "Jim," he sighed.

"Yeah, Chief, it's me. C'mon now, buddy. Open those baby blues of yours." The normally even voice sounded rough and strained.

"Jim?" Fighting the lead weights on his eyelids, Sandburg forced his fuzzy vision into focusing. The sight of Ellison's haggard face with its light dusting of beard did nothing to ease the confusion in his mind. "W-What's wrong, man?" he croaked, his throat feeling desert-dry. "Are you okay?"

Something indefinable flickered in the Sentinel's eyes, then was gone. "I'm fine, Chief," reassured the older man. "You're the one who's been sick."

"Sick? Me?" Blair struggled to process this astounding information, but his memory was patchy at best. Last thing he clearly remembered was being in Simon's office, working on the captain's computer. "Where are we, Jim? What's happening?" He raised himself up onto a trembling elbow and looked down at himself. "What am I doing in a strange bed and why am I all wet?"

"Easy there, buddy," soothed Ellison, using a towel to gently wipe off the heavy perspiration pouring down the expressive face. "You had a hell of a fever, Chief. It just broke a little while ago. We're in Clayton Falls, remember?" he continued gravely. "Simon's here, too. While we were having breakfast at the diner, you ate some ice that had a toxin in it. It made you and a lot of the townspeople very sick." Ellison watched the mercurial face closely, frowning as the ashen face went even paler.

Gazing around wildly, Sandburg took in the crowded tent lined with occupied cots, the khaki-clad figures moving among the ill. "Jim, Jim, we've gotta get out of here, man," he hissed urgently, grabbing at his friend's arm. "This isn't really the Army and there really isn't a toxin. They're thieves who've poisoned the town's water supply so they could hold up the treasury train that's coming through. That's why we can't communicate with the outside world."

A bemused look in his eyes, Ellison tried to calm the agitated grad student. "That must have been some fever dream, Chief. These men really are from the CDC and Army...I served with Colonel Garner before my tour in Peru. No one's tried to stop us from calling out of town; they just won't let any people out until they're sure the toxin is contained. It's all on the up and up, buddy; it really was some stupid government virus that got loose just as you claimed."

"What!?" Blair blinked at him, more confused than ever. These guys weren't thieves...all that business with the train never happened? A random thought flitted across his mind, and he looked at his partner with sudden hope. "What about Megan Connor, then?"

"Who?" Confused, but willing to play along for now, Ellison wracked his brain. "Oh, you mean the exchange detective from Sydney?" At Sandburg's tight nod, the cop said, "She's not due to arrive for another couple of weeks. You know that. Simon told us both on Monday."

"A second chance." Blair collapsed back against the pillow. "Thank god, thank god."

Bewildered by the statement and more than a little shocked at the tears welling up in his Guide's smoky blue eyes, Ellison asked, concerned, "Chief? What's wrong?"

Still weak from the fever, distracted by the joyous relief coursing through him, Blair told him all about his fever dream. Told Ellison about the growing coolness between them, how angry and hurt Jim had been after reading the introduction to Sandburg's dissertation; told him about the final straw, Alex Barnes, and what had so catastrophically come to pass after Jim had thrown him out of the loft and his life. When he'd finished and there still had been no comment from the detective, even after several minutes of silence, Blair looked up into Ellison's carved-from-stone face. "Jim?"

Mind whirling, Ellison barely heard him. He'd known that Blair had been puzzled by the abrupt demand for some vacation time alone, seen the hurt in the guileless blue eyes when he'd accused the younger man of only treating him like a lab rat, but this... The pain knifed through his soul that Blair could have--even in his fever dreams--believed that Jim would just throw him away like so much useless, discarded trash. He shook his head; innate honesty forced him to acknowledge full responsibility for Blair's subconscious feelings of abandonment. `All I wanted was some time to myself to come to grips with this huge change in my life, to find the courage to tell him how I feel. But what did I actually do? I ended up hurting the one person who has always been there for me, the only one on this whole god-forsaken planet that cares about me more than his own life.'

"Jim?" Sandburg was getting worried at the long silence and the blank look on his partner's face. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, Chief; I'm fine." Taking a deep breath, Ellison looked into the troubled face. "Blair, you do know that I wouldn't...couldn't...ever treat you that way, don't you?"

Seeing the distressed look in the sky blue eyes, Sandburg shoved the lingering hurt from the past two days into the farthest reaches of his mind. "Sure, Jim; I know that," he assured the cop.

"The real reason I wanted to come up here alone was that I needed to think. I should have just come out and told you that. I'm sorry."

"Jim, it's okay, man. I understand." Regardless of his own pain, it tore Sandburg apart to see the normally confident Ellison this unsure.

"What I needed to think about was..." The words lodged in his throat. Taking another deep breath, Ellison forged on, "It just happened, Chief. One day it was just there and it scared the hell out of me. I mean, I... God, I wish I had your way with words!" Ellison trailed off in frustration.

"Jim, it's okay. Tell me," prompted Sandburg. He gazed upward, striving to keep the shocking hope from showing on his face.

"Okay." Losing himself in the deep blue pools looking at him so solemnly, Ellison said softly, "I love you, Chief. I think I always have, and I know I always will."

"Oh, Jim." Unable to say anything further around the boulder lodged in his throat, Blair reached up with a shaky hand. Curling his fingers around the strong neck, he pulled his Sentinel down for their first kiss. As the warm, sensuous lips opened under his, Blair had time for one thought before he lost himself in the hot delight of Ellison's mouth.

He'd been right all along. Jim did mean love.