Author's webpage: http://www.catmoran.com/warning.htm

Author's disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. I don't own the canon characters or concept; I do own this story.

Author's notes: Ok, so there are four stories to 'Dark Days, Cold Nights'. Complaints, anyone?

Warning: Angst.

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By CatMoran : catmoran@catmoran.com

He crouched on the bed, nude except for a light sheet draped across his back. The sheet was sufficient to block most of the annoying touch of air currents against his skin. Besides, he'd discovered that the others' insistence that he clothe himself was a fairly reliable signal that the Other was on his way.

He scanned his territory once more. Satisfied that everything was in its proper place, he left his perch to retrieve the meal tray the others had placed just inside the door. He moved so silently that he did not disturb the small insect that approached from the other direction. With a casual glance in its direction in the dimly lit room, he could see the beautiful colors that shimmered within the surface of the creature's brown shell. He did not mind sharing his territory with the alien creature and its family, but he was careful not to leave them too much food. It wouldn't do for their family to grow too large, they upset the Other.

Blair looked up and down the length of the solitary unit of the Washington State Penitentiary in confusion. At one end of the hall, two guards worked together delivering dinner trays. He had always been escorted and closely watched inside the prison, yet the guards ignored him. Stranger still, he couldn't remember how he'd gotten here.

Maybe he was dreaming. Or maybe this was a spirit journey. Either way, he decided that there was no point in wasting time with irrelevant questions. He approached the reinforced steel door of Jim's cell and passed inside. He started as a roach, oblivious to his presence, scurried past him in the dim space.

Blair studied the nude man crouched over a meal tray on the cot. A sheet that lay half on and half off the cot was the only sign of disorder in the small space. The man ate with his fingers, eschewing the spoon and fork that were provided. Despite his primitive table manners and nudity he maintained an odd air of dignity.

Blair blamed himself for Jim's condition. He'd discovered too late that his flirting with Sam, coupled with leaving Jim's bed for the small room downstairs, had resulted in something far worse than the expected jealously. It had signaled refusal to the sentinel. Jim had literally gone insane, which led directly to his desperate and instinctual attempt to reclaim his guide.

The aftermath of his attack on Blair had temporarily driven twin daggers of sanity and guilt into Jim's fevered brain. Blair suspected that if they had been allowed constant contact while he recovered, both the sentinel and their relationship might have also healed.

However, the State of Washington felt that Jim must be punished, and Jim's guilt agreed. Ironically, the temporary healing of his mind unraveled too late for an insanity plea. Not that it really mattered. Blair thought that the quiet of solitary confinement was probably better for Jim's uncontrolled and overloaded senses than the busy atmosphere of even the calmest psychiatric ward.

Secure in his anonymity in the spirit journey, Blair approached the cot. He stopped just a short stride away, and pondered the possibility of making contact in spirit form. The guards had not permitted contact between prisoner and visitor and he missed the touch of his former partner nearly as much as he missed the man's mind.

He dug into his meal with relish. He gradually became aware that someone was watching him. He carefully scanned his surroundings as he continued to eat. There were no sounds or scents out of place, but the watched feeling persisted and grew more intense. As it dissipated for an instant, he flicked his eyes to the side.

Impossible.

He stopped eating and stared at his food, trying to sort out the contradictory information his senses provided. He checked sound and smell again; according to those senses, he and the little family in the corner were still the only creatures within the room. He turned and stared boldly at the image of the Other, then he reached out a hand to verify his sight with touch.

"Jim?" Blair stared in amazement. Surely Jim couldn't see him? But he must, he'd reached a hand out and nearly touched Blair, before the sound of Blair's voice startled him.

He pulled his hand back. Jim pulled his hand back. The Other had come, bringing with him labels from a half-remembered world, outside of this space. Except for the voice, he still could not hear the Other. Nor had he felt any heat when his hand drew close, although he had felt a faint change in air pressure that indicated he had been about to touch something.

He thought for a moment, then again reached toward the Other. As their hands made contact, Jim searched his mind for the appropriate label for the Other.

"Love?"

The End
(c) CatMoran 2000