
Disclaimer: The characters depicted within this story do not belong to us, but are the property of Pet Fly, UPN, Paramount and The SciFi Channel. No money has been made from the writing of this story.
Note from the Authors: In our Sentinel universe, the events depicted in "The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg" did not occur. Therefore, any "canonical" references that may be found in this story are related to episodes up to and including "Most Wanted."
Dedication: This series is dedicated to friendship, for only through caring for others can we truly find a sense of peace and belonging.
Fathers and SonsPart Eight of the "Progressions" Seriesby Beth Manz <mailto:bethmanz@flash.net> and Shiloh <mailto:sandyb26@juno.com>
Jim Ellison pushed open the door to the loft and stepped aside to usher his brother into the apartment. "Just have a seat, Stephen," he directed as he dropped his keys into the basket by the door. "I'll get us something to drink while we're waiting for Dad."
He looked up at the touch of his brother's hand against his arm. Stephen had a finger placed across his lips and when Jim's gaze met his, Stephen smiled and inclined his head toward the couches in the living area. Peering around his brother, Jim smiled himself. Blair lay on the couch, asleep. A book lay open across his chest, Blair's arm draped over the thick tome.
Jim pushed the door closed quietly, then motioned for Stephen to wait in the kitchen. Moving around his brother, he walked over to where Blair lay sleeping. Shaking his head, he stared down fondly at his friend. The kid had been exhausted lately, putting in the usual long hours at both the station and the university. Jim leaned over and gently pulled Blair's glasses from his face and lay them in the middle of the coffee table, safely out of danger of being knocked to the floor. Turning back, he lifted Sandburg's wrist and gingerly withdrew the book from beneath his arm, reaching around to place it on the coffee table as well. Placing Blair's arm against his chest, Jim straightened.
He glanced over at Stephen, who was thumbing through a magazine one of the men had inadvertently left on the kitchen counter. As Jim crossed to him, he heard the elevator arrive on their floor. Changing directions, he opened the door before their father could knock and immediately held his finger to his lips.
William scowled at him as he crossed into the loft.
"You guys head out to the balcony," he whispered to his father and brother. "I'll grab us some beers and join you in a second."
William's gaze shifted from Jim to Blair's sleeping form and back again. "Fine," he bit out, following Stephen across the loft and outside.
Jim shook his head. His father was obviously not in the best of moods. This dinner should be fun, he thought wryly as he grabbed the beers from the refrigerator.
Stepping outside, he passed out the drinks and said, "We still have about twenty minutes before its time to go. Until then, I thought we could just enjoy the view and talk."
"Don't you think this is a bit awkward?" William complained. "Standing out here like this when we could be relaxing inside?" He gestured impatiently in Blair's direction. "Can't you just wake him?"
"I'd rather let him sleep," Jim said, working hard to keep the sudden irritation he felt toward his father from slipping into his voice. "He's been working a lot of hours lately. It's finals at Rainier and he's had tons of papers to go through. His workload there is even heavier now that he's a professor."
"Well then, maybe he should stay home tonight," William suggested. "He could get the sleep he so obviously needs."
Jim waved a hand, dismissing the idea. "He's been looking forward to this. All he's done lately is work. I really think he could use the break."
"Whatever," William ground out, taking a long drink of his beer.
Jim frowned. "What, Dad?"
"I didn't say anything."
"No, but it's pretty obvious you have something on your mind. What?"
"All right, Jimmy. It's just that he's always here." William shot a quick glance in Blair's direction, then returned his gaze to his son. Shaking his head, he continued, "I just don't understand why he still lives with you. I know you told me once that he moved in because he lost his place and didn't have a lot of money to find another one. But all that's changed. He has two jobs now, plenty of money to get his own apartment... but he's still living here."
"I like having him here," Jim said. "This works for us and I don't see a reason to change it." He folded his arms over his chest. "I don't understand where this is suddenly coming from. I thought you liked Sandburg."
William glanced inside again, staring at Blair, obviously debating whether he wanted to continue the conversation or not. "It's never just the three of us," he said after a time.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Your brother and I feel-"
"You've talked about this before? Both of you?" Jim turned toward Stephen. "Why haven't you ever said anything to me?"
"Because it's not that big a deal," Stephen replied, his expression apologetic. "Dad, please, can we not talk about this now?" He turned back to Jim. "Let's just all go out to dinner and-"
"No, I want to talk about this now," Jim cut in. "What do you mean it's never just the three of us?" he asked his father.
"I mean that Blair goes everywhere with us and I'm getting a little tired of it." He set his beer down on the table with a resounding thud. "Don't you think that once in a while it could just be the three of us? That maybe you could take the time to get to know your own brother."
"I am getting to know Stephen!"
"Jim, when we go out, you always tend to talk more with Blair than with either one of us." William stepped closer, his eyes locking with Jim's. "You remember the last time I invited you to go camping? It was right around the time when Blair was going to graduate. I thought we were finally going to get a chance to go off alone--that Blair would stay behind to graduate and you would come with us. But no, you chose to stay home with him instead."
Jim let out a short, humorless laugh. "You thought I would go camping rather than watch him graduate?"
"You hate that kind of thing," William countered.
"Dad, do you have any idea how hard he worked for that degree? How many years he put it off because of his work with me?"
"He is not your responsibility, Jimmy."
"You think that's how I see him? As a responsibility? Dad, he's my friend. My partner."
"Partner," William scoffed. "An academic who doesn't even carry a weapon? I still can't believe the department would risk my son's life by hooking him up with someone like that."
"You have no idea how many times he's been in trouble because of me, how lucky I am to have him as my partner."
"Lucky? You nearly got killed because of him." He took a step closer. "How do you think I felt when I got home from that camping trip and found out you were shot while we were gone? If you had just come with us rather than staying with him, none of that would have happened."
"And Blair would be dead," Jim bit out.
"You don't know that."
"I do know that. He didn't hear the gunman. I did."
"So you stepped in front of Blair and took a bullet meant for him, which proves you feel responsible for him."
"Dad, this is pointless. I'm not going to argue about this with you."
"Because you know I'm right. He nearly got you killed!"
"Blair saved my life that day! He's the one who took down the hit man, not me."
"After you were already shot," William said, his voice rising in frustration. "Maybe if he were a real partner, he could have prevented the shooting." He gripped Jim by the arms. "Don't you see? He's a liability to you. He can't really back you up the way he's supposed to. And one of these days, the fact that he's not a cop is going to get you killed."
Jim shook his head but before he could say anything, a familiar sound registered in his mind--a fast, furious pounding. Blair's heartbeat.
His gaze shifted inside. Blair still lay on the couch in the same position, but Jim knew--He's awake. And he's been listening. "Damn!"
"What?" Stephen asked uncomfortably.
"Blair's awake." Jim ran a hand over his hair. How much did he hear?
William looked inside. "He's still sleeping," he said irritably.
Jim moved toward the doors. "No, he's not. He's awake." He glanced back at his dad and added, "And I'm sure he heard everything you just said." Pushing through the glass doors, he crossed to his partner. Blair lay just as he had before, eyes closed, arm draped over his chest. But Jim could hear his fast beating heart.
"Chief?"
Blair didn't move.
"C'mon, Chief," Jim said softly, crouching down beside his friend, "I know you're awake."
Blair opened his eyes and looked at Jim. Hurt gave way to anger as he pushed himself up into a seated position. He ran his hands back through his tousled hair. Jim sat down across from him on the coffee table, using his body to block Blair's view of his father and brother, who had remained on the balcony. Reaching over, he placed a gentle hand on his guide's knee. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."
"Not your fault, man." Blair glanced at him for a brief second, then looked down at his lap, his discomfort obvious. Suddenly he pushed himself up. "I think I'm going to pass on dinner tonight."
Jim stood with him. "What? No, that's not-"
"I have some stuff I should do down at the library."
He turned to leave, but Jim caught him by the arm, stopping him. "Blair, you don't have to do this. Come on to dinner with us. Everything will be fine."
Blair looked up at Jim, then glanced out at William and Stephen. William had his back to the loft, but Stephen was watching and he gave him an apologetic look.
Blair shifted his attention back to Jim. "Another night," he said softly, offering a weary smile. With that, he pulled away from Jim and moved to the coat rack where he pushed his feet into a pair of worn loafers he kept there.
Jim crossed to him as Blair pulled on his jacket and scooped up his keys. "Don't let my father run you off like this."
Blair turned and gazed up at him. "How can I go now, Jim? I'd feel like I was horning in."
"Chief, you are never horning in. I want you there. So does Stephen."
"But your dad doesn't," he reminded his partner, his voice calm. "I got that message loud and clear and I can take a hint." He reached out and lay his hand gently against Jim's chest. "It's all right, really. I can understand how he feels. I'm not his son. You are, and he wants to spend some time with you alone. That's not unreasonable."
"You're sure?" Jim asked, feeling completely unsure himself.
Blair pulled open the front door. "I'll be fine."
"Sandburg?" Jim called as he stepped out into the hallway.
Blair turned toward him, his eyebrows raised in question.
"The other things my father said... about you not being a cop... you know I don't feel that way, right?"
A sad smile crossed his lips. "I know you don't, Jim," he whispered. "But you have to admit, he does have a point." With that, Blair pulled the door closed behind him and left.
///
Blair shoved open the front door of the apartment complex and stepped out into the crisp night air. On the way down the stairs he'd realized--too late--that he'd left his backpack behind in the loft. Dammit! He really did have some things he needed to get done at the library, but he needed his pack to do them.
He looked up at the lighted windows of the loft three stories above. There was no way he was going back up until Jim and his family had gone to dinner. Sighing deeply, he hugged himself as the night wind blew over him. Well, he hadn't had dinner. Maybe he'd run up to the deli on the corner, have something to eat, then come back for his pack.
He rubbed his eyes. His plans tonight--eating alone at the deli, working in the library--reminded him of how he used to live... before he met Jim.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Sandburg. Jim needs to spend time with his family... without you there. Get used to it.
He pulled his coat closer around him in an attempt to keep out the cold and started down the street toward the deli.
"Blair?"
He turned, surprised to see that Stephen had come out of the building and that he was carrying his backpack.
"Jim thought you might need this," he explained, holding the bag out to him.
Blair accepted the pack and swung it effortlessly over his shoulder. "Thanks, man. I do."
"But you weren't going to come back up and get it, were you?" Stephen shivered against the cold, outside without his coat and obviously regretting it.
"Let's just say it wasn't high on a list of things I wanted to do." Blair nodded toward the building. "You'd better get back inside before you freeze to death."
Stephen nodded but did not step away. "Come to dinner with us, Blair," he offered instead. "You were planning on going. It's not right that you're left high and dry."
Blair shook his head. "Not this time. You three need to talk." Again, Blair glanced up at the lighted loft. "Your dad is right about one thing--I am always there." He shifted his attention back to Stephen. "Maybe I should back off where you guys are concerned. At least for a while."
///
Jim stood at the balcony door, watching his brother and his partner below. Briefly, he'd thought of listening in on their conversation, but quickly dismissed the idea.
Blair can handle himself.
He had been reluctant at first to allow Stephen to take Blair his backpack, unsure how his brother would treat his guide. But as he'd stared into Stephen's earnest expression, Jim knew he didn't feel the same anger toward Blair that their father did. He knew he could trust him with Blair.
"Why is that kid really here?" William's annoyed voice, coming from the dining area, washed over Jim. "What is it exactly that Sandburg gives you?"
Jim stiffened at the words and the manner in which they were spoken. There was no doubt what his father was implying. Turning, he pinned the older man with a cold glare. "You want to know what he gives me, Dad? He gives me a sense of home and family that you never could."
William huffed out a cynical laugh. "And when did you become so sentimental?"
Jim stalked toward him. "Sandburg has helped me through some tough times, Dad. He's been there for me when no one else was."
"You mean when I wasn't." William stared at his son, his expression and posture challenging. But before Jim could answer, the door opened and Stephen stepped back inside.
"I managed to catch Blair and give him his backpack," he said. "But I couldn't convince him to come with us." He glanced at his father. "He was too uncomfortable."
"I really don't think I should be made to feel like the bad guy just because I want to spend some time alone with my sons," William reasoned, his voice rising. "Because I want to have my sons get to know each other better." He turned to Jim. "And you damn well know that's not going to happen as long as Blair is in the picture."
Jim's own anger surfaced. "You know what, Dad? It's your fault Stephen and I even have to get to know each other. You're the reason we didn't talk for so long. Not Blair."
At Jim's words, something changed in the older man's face. The anger that had been driving him seemed to drain away with the accusation. "I know that," he said softly. "And I regret it." He stepped closer to Jim. "I've made mistakes, Jimmy. But I want to correct them, to fix things between you and Stephen. The trip this weekend... I thought if it could just be the three of us, that we could really get to know one another."
Jim stared down at his father, his own anger waning. "You're asking me to take back Blair's invitation, aren't you?"
"I'm asking you to think about what I'm saying, that's all. Just think about it."
"I won't ask Blair not to come," Jim said finally. "But to be honest, I really don't think he will. Sandburg isn't going to go where he's not wanted, and right now he knows he's not wanted by you."
///
Blair steered his Volvo through the darkened streets of Cascade. It was later than he had planned to be out. He'd gone to the deli for dinner, then worked at the library until it closed. After that he'd stopped at a coffeehouse, staying late, not wanting to come home too early and have to face William again.
"Blair's a liability to you. He can't really back you up the way he's supposed to. And one of these days, the fact that he's not a cop is going to get you killed."
Blair chewed absently at his lower lip as William's words came back to haunt him. They'd been with him all night--intruding into his studying, clouding his mood. In all the years he'd been with Jim, they'd never once discussed the fact that Blair was not a cop, that the detective's backup was nothing more than an anthropologist who could think on his feet. But now... now Blair couldn't help but think about it.
Was William right? Could he end up getting Jim killed because he didn't carry a gun? Because he wasn't a trained police officer?
He rubbed at his temple, pressing against the headache that was pounding just below the surface. He'd spent hours thinking about all this, but had only come to one conclusion--he was not going to go on the camping trip they'd planned for day after tomorrow. He knew it was probably best if he just kept a low profile for a while. Let Jim spend some time with his brother and father without him around. After all, William did have a point. Seeing his sons alone was not too much to ask. Besides, having the weekend to himself would give Blair some time to think.
Pulling up in front of the loft, he shut off the Volvo and grabbed his backpack. As he headed inside and rode the elevator to the third floor, he went through his arguments in his mind, determined to convince Jim that he should stay behind. He stepped off the elevator and strode to the loft. But as he crossed inside the apartment, he frowned. The loft was dark, no lights on at all. But Jim's here. I saw his truck outside. He closed the door, his gaze shifting upward to his partner's bedroom. It was late, but Blair didn't think Jim would be in bed already.
Turning on the light, he dropped his keys in the basket by the door and hung up his coat. "Jim?" he called out softly, not wanting to wake him if he was sleeping. He started toward the stairs but stopped halfway there, his gaze finally locating Jim. The sentinel stood out on the balcony, staring out at the city.
Blair changed directions slightly and headed toward the balcony. Stepping outside, he moved beside his partner. "Hey, man," he said softly, glancing up at him.
Jim did not respond, just continued to stare out at the lights of the office buildings across the bay.
"You been home long?"
The wind kicked up, blowing across Blair, making him shiver. Still, Jim did not move.
"Jim?" He reached out and touched his arm. The sentinel's skin was ice cold. His eyes stared out, unseeing. "Oh, man," Blair breathed as realization spread through him. He's zoning!
A combination of guilt and fear pumped through Blair. How long has he been out here?
"Jim," he said, grabbing his partner by the upper arms, moving up close. "Jim, listen to my voice. Follow it back from wherever you are. It's time to come back, man. Just follow my voice back."
Finally, after several long moments, Jim took a gasping breath and his eyes blinked rapidly. Seconds later, his knees buckled and he would have fallen to the ground if not for the tight hold Blair had on his arms.
"Easy, Jim, easy."
"Chief? What happened?" Jim's eyes locked with Blair's, the blue depths searching for understanding.
"You're okay, man. Let's just get inside."
///
Jim sat on the couch, cocooned in the blanket Blair had draped around his shoulders. He shivered, still unable to overcome the cold from being out on the balcony for nearly two hours. Zoning. I was zoning. When he'd first come back to himself, he couldn't remember anything. Just a feeling of panic when he'd looked into Blair's worried eyes. He'd thought at first that something had happened to his partner. But that worry had been for me.
Jim looked up as Blair came into the living area and stopped in front of him.
"Drink this," he ordered, shoving a mug of hot tea into Jim's hands.
"Sandburg-"
"Don't hassle me, man. Just drink it." Blair's hands went to his hips. "You're freezing. That will warm you up."
Jim took a sip before giving Blair his best 'are you happy now' face.
Blair sat on the coffee table before Jim. "What happened? What were you doing out there?"
"I was trying to meditate," Jim answered simply.
"Meditate? Jim, why-"
"I was thinking about my dad," he cut in. "I was getting angrier and angrier. So I tried to do what you always tell me to do. I was trying to let it go, to meditate. And then I noticed how the wind sounded and.... that's the last thing I remember until you were there."
Blair nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he thought about what Jim had just told him. "Okay, the last time you zoned was when Eddie Rostin showed up." Pushing to his feet, he began pacing, his hands gesturing as he moved. "Eddie was triggering forgotten memories from your past and that's what caused your zone-outs." He reached the kitchen, turned, and paced back to the couch. "But this is different. This seems to be coming from stress." He turned again. "But you've been stressed before and not zoned, so what's so different about this?" He stopped and looked down at Jim, hands on his hips, waiting for an answer.
The sentinel shook his head, taken off guard by the sudden question directed at him. "I don't know, Chief."
"Well, I don't either." Blair thought for a moment, then a determined expression appeared on his face. "Okay, new house rule, Jim. Until we get this figured out, you're not allowed to go out on the balcony and meditate in below freezing temperatures unless I'm home."
Jim snorted. "Why? You afraid I'll freeze solid out on the balcony?"
"This is not funny," Blair lectured. "You could have gotten frostbite out there. What if I hadn't come home tonight?"
Jim pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. "You always come home, Sandburg."
"You don't know that. What if I'd met someone at the library and gone home with her for the night?"
Jim stared up at him, a smug grin pulling up the corners of his mouth. "You always come home, Sandburg," he repeated dryly.
Blair stared down at him for a few seconds. "Thanks a lot, man," he said at last, grinning down at his partner. "Seriously, Jim. You're okay?"
"I'm okay." He let out a long breath. "This thing tonight with my dad... it really took me off guard."
"I know. But you have to admit he made some good points."
"Is that what you think?" Jim stood, letting the blanket fall to the floor and stepped up to Blair. Gripping him by the upper arms, holding tightly, he locked his gaze with Blair's and said, "You are my partner. I have never seen you as a liability. Never."
Blair stared up at him, his eyes wide, vulnerable. "There was a time when you wanted me to carry a weapon," he reminded Jim softly. "I refused."
Jim let out a short laugh. "Sandburg, we were out on... what? Our third case together? I didn't really know you then. And I'll be honest, at first I couldn't see how you would be able to back me up without a gun. But you've proven time and time again that you don't need one."
"You're sure?"
"In all the years we've been together, have I ever asked you again to learn how to use a weapon?"
"No," Blair muttered.
"There you go," Jim said simply, releasing his guide and stepping back from him. "Besides, do you really think Simon would continue to let you work with me if he thought you were a liability?" Jim bit back a smile. "The captain's always liked me more than he likes you. He'd toss you out in a second if he thought you were a threat to my safety."
Blair laughed. "Oh, thanks a lot, man."
Jim smiled down at his partner before laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Seriously, Blair. This is not a problem for us. It never has been, and I don't want it suddenly becoming one. All right?"
Blair nodded. "All right."
Jim squeezed the shoulder he still held. "Good."
"But that doesn't solve the other issue your father brought up," Blair said before Jim could move away.
"Chief-"
"He wants to spend time alone with his sons," Blair said, cutting off Jim's protest before it could be voiced. "And I want you to know that I understand where he's coming from. And that, honestly, I don't have a problem with it."
Jim stared at him for a long moment. "You're not going to come on the camping trip with us this weekend, are you?"
"I don't think I should. I think it would be better if just the three of you went. Maybe if I back off a little now, things will be better in the long run."
"Yeah, maybe," he agreed with more than a little reluctance. "But I gotta be honest with you, Chief. I have this horrible fear that my dad just wants to get Stephen and me alone so he can finally give us that father-son talk he never gave us when we were boys."
Blair laughed as the meaning behind Jim's words settled over him. "Oh, man! Now I know I've made the right decision."
The bullpen hummed with the usual mid-morning activity--detectives questioning suspects, typing up reports, answering phones, searching out leads.
Blair adjusted his glasses on his face before rereading the paragraph he'd just typed into his computer. He was catching up on some interview notes he and Jim had taken earlier that week but hadn't gotten around to putting into a formal report. Somehow, he always seemed to get stuck with the paperwork. But since Jim's typing abilities were of the hunt and peck variety, it was probably for the best. He didn't relish the idea of having to work late every night while Jim tried to type a one-page report.
"Sandburg, where's your partner?"
Blair looked up at the sound of Simon's voice. The captain stood in the doorway of his office, his gaze shifting slowly around the bullpen.
"Down in Records."
"As soon as he's back up here, I want you both in my office. If you're going to be gone for the next three days, I want to know where you two stand with your case load." With that, Simon stepped back into his office and closed his door.
Blair stared at it for several seconds. Jim will be gone for the next three days. I won't. He hadn't bothered to tell Simon about the change in plans. There was no point and he really didn't feel like having to explain why he was staying behind. So instead, he'd take the three days and catch up on his reading, grade some papers, relax at home.
And hope that this trip would satisfy William Ellison.
The phone on his desk rang. Blair snatched it up, glad for the temporary diversion. "Blair Sandburg."
"Blair, it's Hannah, down in Records."
Blair smiled. Hannah Merrick never failed to identify herself as "Hannah, down in Records," even though the woman had been working at the station for months and everyone knew her. "What can I do for you, Hannah?"
"Well, um, it's Jim."
Blair stiffened in his seat. There was something in her tone. Something... "What about Jim? Did something happen to him?"
"I... I don't know," she said softly. "He went back into the file room and he was back there a long time, so I thought I'd go help him. I thought maybe he couldn't find what he was looking for, but when I found him... Blair, he's just staring straight ahead. I... I tried to talk to him, but he's not responding. It's like... it's like he's not there."
Blair shoved to his feet. Dammit, he's zoning again! "Hannah, I'll be right down. Keep everyone else out of that area, okay? Don't let anyone approach Jim."
"Okay, Blair. Just hurry, okay?"
You can count on it. He slammed the receiver down and rushed out of the bullpen. He didn't wait for the elevator, instead taking the stairs, pounding down the steps two at a time. Pushing through the door to Records, he skidded to a stop in front of the counter.
"Where is he?" he asked Hannah.
She stared at him, her eyes wide. "I'll show you."
Blair slipped behind the counter and followed her into the large room that served as the station's file archive. They found Jim three rows back. He stood stock still, arms at his sides, his gaze vacant, his breathing slow, regular. Blair moved in front of him and stared up into his unseeing eyes.
"What's wrong with him, Blair?" Hannah asked from beside him, her voice uncertain.
He turned toward the records clerk. She was staring up at Jim, chewing on her lower lip in worry. He needed to get rid of her so he could work with Jim, bring him out of the zone.
"Hannah," he said as an idea hit him. "Can you get me a glass of water?"
"Water?"
"I need it... for Jim," he added hastily.
She nodded but didn't leave. "Is he going to be all right?" Stepping closer to Jim, she placed a hand on his arm. "I know some first aid. I could-"
"He'll be fine," Blair interrupted. "Just... I need the water."
"Oh! I'm sorry!" She turned and rushed from the room.
Blair knew he didn't have much time. Gripping Jim by the arms, he moved in close. "Jim," he said, pitching his voice low. "Listen to the sound of my voice... listen and follow it back."
There was no change. Blair moved closer, increased the pressure of his grip.
"Jim, man, Hannah is going to be back any second and if you don't come out of this before she gets here, I think she's going to throw you over her shoulder and carry you off somewhere so she can nurse you back to health."
Suddenly Jim took a gasping breath and his eyes rolled up in his head. Blair tightened his hold, struggling to keep the larger man upright as the sentinel's knees buckled.
"Come on, man," he managed through gritted teeth. "Give me some help here."
"Sandburg?" Jim mumbled, his gaze still unfocused.
"Yeah, it's me. And if you don't get your legs under you, we're both going to be on the floor in a second."
Jim's weight eased off Blair as the sentinel blinked several times, his gaze sweeping over the room around him. "Thanks, Chief," he said, patting absently at the younger man's shoulder, his voice still far away.
Blair stared up at him, concern creasing his brow. "You know where you are?"
The sentinel nodded. "I'm fine. Just have a headache." Closing his eyes, he rubbed at his temple. "Zoning again, right?"
"Right. And Hannah-"
But his words cut off as the clerk came around the corner of the filing shelf, a paper cup in her hand. "I got the water!" She stopped in front of Jim, her large eyes taking him in. "Are you all right now, Jim?"
He dropped his hand from his forehead and smiled down at her. "Yes, thank you. I'm fine."
"Blair asked me to get you some water." She held the cup out to him.
He stared down into the clear liquid before shifting his attention to Blair. Sandburg shrugged one shoulder, trying to indicate to Jim that it was the best thing he could come up with at the moment.
"Thank you, Hannah," Jim said, taking the cup and downing the contents in one gulp. "That helped a lot."
She nodded, her face a mask of concern. "I want to help. I mean, right when I saw you, I knew something was wrong and-"
"Hannah," Jim cut in. "I need to ask you a favor."
Blair tensed, knowing what Jim was going to request, what they needed her to do for them.
"Anything, Jim," Hannah replied breathlessly.
"What happened here today? I need that to stay just between us."
Blair watched the young woman's face, holding his breath. He knew she had a thing for Jim. Hell, everyone knew it. But would that attraction be enough to keep her quiet?
"Of course," she breathed, nodding her head. "I would never tell a soul. Not a soul! I only called Blair because he's your partner and I thought-"
"Calling Blair was the right thing to do." Stepping to her, Jim slipped an arm around Hannah's shoulders and began leading her toward the exit. "Thank you, Hannah. For calling Blair and for keeping this between us."
She only nodded up at him, her eyes never leaving his. And as Blair followed behind them, he knew this incident would never leave the room. Hannah would never betray Jim's confidence that way.
///
"I'm fine, Sandburg." Jim gave his partner a sidelong glance as they rode up the elevator toward the bullpen. "I still have a headache, but I'm fine."
"Except for the fact that you zoned again." Blair ran his hands through his hair. "What is going on?" Reaching out, he punched the emergency stop button on the elevator, bringing the car to a sudden halt. "What were you doing before you zoned?"
"Sandburg!" Jim reached toward the button to start the elevator again.
Blair batted his hand away. "You want to talk about this in the bullpen?"
Jim crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. "Fine."
"What were you doing before you zoned?" Blair asked again.
"Looking for a file," Jim said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to remember exactly what was going through his mind just before he zoned. "Then I started thinking about this camping trip and the fact that you're not going because of my father and..." He shook his head. "That's it. Next thing I knew, you were holding me up."
"So, just like last night, you were thinking about your dad again." Blair rubbed his eyes. "Well, obviously this thing with your father has you more freaked out than either of us realized."
Jim raised an eyebrow, considering his guide's words. "You think I'm zoning because of what's happening with my father." It was a statement more than a question.
"Yes, Jim, I do."
"C'mon, Chief. My father has been pushing my buttons all my life. Why would I all of a sudden begin zoning over his attitude?"
"I'm not sure. All I know is we have to find a way to work around it."
The sentinel considered that, then shrugged. "So, what do I do?"
"You have to resolve the problem with your dad," Blair said simply. "I think that until you do, you're going to keep zoning."
"Oh well, gee, Sandburg," Jim bit out sarcastically. "I'll just call him right up and fix everything."
Blair held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Hey, man, I'm just telling you what I think. Don't jump all over me."
Jim inhaled and then let out a long breath. "I'm sorry, Chief. I'm just frustrated here."
"I know." Blair hit the button on the elevator and the car started upward again. "At least we know the trigger. Now we just need a solution. But Jim, there is no way I'm letting you go on that trip tomorrow without me. I'm not risking you zoning while I'm a hundred miles away." He glanced up at Jim. "Did you already tell your dad I wasn't going?"
Jim grimaced and nodded. "I called him this morning."
"Great," Blair grumbled. "He'll be thrilled to hear I changed my mind."
"Do you want me to cancel the whole thing?"
"No, your father would just blame me and that would be even worse." Blair shook his head. "I don't see any other choice here, man. I have to go."
Suddenly Jim smiled widely, clapping him on the back. "Good. I wanted you to go anyway."
///
Why am I awake?
Jim sat up in bed, blinking into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to adjust. An unsettling feeling wrapped itself around him, tightening his chest. Something's wrong. The two words flashed through his mind even as he realized what it was--Blair was not in his room. He could hear his guide's heartbeat--strong, calm--but it wasn't coming from the room beneath his.
Leaning over, he glanced down into the shadowy living area below. Blair sat on the couch facing the balcony doors, staring out at the blackness beyond the glass.
"Chief?"
Blair jumped, his gaze shifting upward. "Jeez, Jim. You scared the hell out of me."
Jim's glanced quickly at the clock beside his bed. Three a.m. "What are you doing up? It's the middle of the night."
"Just thinking." His gaze shifted away from Jim.
"Sandburg, we leave for the mountains in two hours. You need your sleep. Go to bed."
Blair looked up at his friend. "Jim? About this weekend? Don't try to involve me in anything, okay?"
Jim frowned. "Don't involve you? What are you talking about?"
"I've been sitting down here trying to come up with a way of going with you guys tomorrow-"
"In two hours," Jim corrected.
"In two hours," Blair repeated. "And not bugging the hell out of your dad, and I think I figured out how."
Jim looked down at him, and even in the dim lighting, the sentinel could make out the hope on Sandburg's face.
"Just let me play tour guide," he suggested softly. "I map out our trail, keep ahead of you guys while we hike--like a scout or something. Generally just stay out of the way."
"That doesn't sound like much fun for you," Jim said
"I'm not worried about having fun. I'm worried about getting through this trip without your father ending up hating me even more than he does right now."
"My father does not hate you, Blair."
"Yeah, he just has an intense dislike of me," he offered quietly. "I heard you on the phone, man. I know he's not happy that I decided to come after all."
"This is ridiculous," Jim ground out, sitting up straighter and reaching for the phone on his night stand. "I'm just going to cancel this whole thing-"
"No, Jim." Blair pushed to his feet, his eyes holding a pleading look. "Just let me do this my way. Let me show your dad that I'm not the intrusion he thinks I am."
Jim withdrew his hand from the phone and frowned down at his partner. "If I agree to this, will you go back to bed?"
"Yes."
"Done." Jim fell back against his mattress and closed his eyes. "And Sandburg?"
"Yeah?"
"If I lay here awake for the next two hours because you woke me up, I'm going to make you carry all my gear tomorrow."
He heard Blair's soft chuckling as his guide padded back to his room.
Jim carried his backpack down the stairs and dumped it by the front door with the rest of his gear. He could hear his partner moving around in his bedroom, packing the last of his things. Within minutes Blair emerged from the back room, his camping backpack slung over his right shoulder, his fishing gear in his left hand. His hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and he wore the standard Sandburg camping fare--jeans, hiking boots and a flannel shirt buttoned over a white tee.
He looked tired to Jim. Dark circles dusted the skin beneath his eyes and his face was pale, drawn. Jim couldn't help but wonder if the kid had slept at all last night. As Blair dumped his gear by the door, he glanced briefly at Jim, his gaze weary.
"That's all of it, man."
Usually when they took a trip like this, Blair was energized, talkative. This morning, he had barely said two words. Had only asked one question--when would they be back on Sunday?
"You sure you want to go?" Jim asked.
Blair reached into his back pocket and withdrew a map. "Hey, man, I spent all last night charting out our trail. I'm not letting all that work go for nothing." He smacked Jim on the arm with the map before slipping it back in his pocket. "Don't worry, Jim. It'll be fine. I'll just stay out of the way and keep my mouth shut."
Jim smiled down at his guide. "I still don't like this idea of yours..."
"Jim-"
"But I promise to let you do this your way," he finished before Blair could protest further. The sound of the elevator doors opening reached him. "My dad's here," he said, crossing to the door and pulling it wide.
William stepped inside, his gaze shifting over the pile of gear by the door before locking on Jim. "Stephen's waiting downstairs," he announced coolly.
Jim grabbed up his backpack before turning to Blair. "You ready to go, Chief?"
William's gaze flicked to Blair. "Yes, Chief, are you ready?"
Blair, who had been in the process of lifting his own gear, hesitated, his gaze cutting briefly to Jim. The sentinel could see the embarrassment in his eyes.
"C'mon, buddy," Jim encouraged softly, moving over beside Blair and lifting Sandburg's pack with his free hand. He gave his partner a warm smile. "I'll carry these. You get the fishing gear, okay?"
"Sure," Blair muttered.
The three men rode the elevator to the lobby in silence. As they stepped outside, Jim was surprised to see Stephen leaning against a fully loaded Jeep Cherokee.
"What's this, Dad?" he asked, dropping the gear by the back tailgate.
"I rented it for the weekend," William said, opening the back hatch. "Thought it would be more appropriate than my Lincoln."
Jim and Blair added their camping equipment to the packs already in the back of the new Jeep.
"Hey, Blair. Why don't you sit in back with me?" Stephen suggested, sliding into the Jeep.
"Sure." Blair glanced briefly at Jim before slipping inside and slamming his door shut.
William got in behind the wheel and Jim took the passenger seat, his partner seated directly behind him.
The first hour of the journey was spent in relative silence, broken only by the occasional comment about the weather or the ongoing Jags season from one of the four men. Finally, Stephen turned to Blair and asked, "So, is my brother still a neatness freak?"
Jim turned slightly in his seat so he could see his brother. "A neatness freak?" He shook his head and shot him a challenging glare. "I was never a neatness freak."
"Oh, please." Stephen rolled his eyes before returning his attention to Blair, who had not answered the question. "You should have seen his sock drawer when we were kids. It was a thing to behold--all his socks rolled up and sorted by color."
Jim heard his father chuckle, the first warmth the man had shown all morning. "Don't you encourage him," he scolded his dad teasingly.
"Come on, Jimmy. You have to admit that sock drawer really was something."
"It was just organized," Jim complained.
"Jim, face it," Stephen kept up from the back seat. "Sally used to come to you for cleaning tips."
Blair laughed and reached up to slap Jim on the shoulder. "Hey, man, he's got you so pegged!"
"Come on, Blair," Stephen coaxed. "Give. Is he still like that?"
"He's not so bad," Blair said, shrugging one shoulder. "It's the Tupperware that gets me more than anything else."
"Tupperware?" Stephen said, raising one eyebrow. "What about Tupperware?"
"Jim bought color-coded Tupperware so that our food won't get mixed up."
"Hey, that's only because I ate this... this thing Sandburg made once." Jim turned a bit further in his seat so he could see both of the men behind him. "I'm telling you, Stephen, he cooks up the worst smelling... stuff."
"It's exotic, Jim," Blair defended himself.
"It's disgusting," Jim countered. "And you make up the places you say they're from."
"I do not."
"Zihaya? Come on, Chief. I checked that one. You made it up."
"Zihaya is in Africa," Blair explained to Stephen. "I spent two weeks there once-"
"I went on-line and looked for it!" Jim interrupted, chuckling. "You're lying!"
Blair let out a short laugh. "You went on-line? Now who's lying?"
"Oh, you think I don't know how to get on-line?"
"You have no clue-" Blair's words ended abruptly as his gaze shifted from Jim to William. He sat back in his seat, the smile slowly fading from his face. "You know, I should really check the maps again to see if I can scout out a trail for today."
Jim frowned. But as he glanced at his father, he could see William watching Blair in the rear view mirror, his eyes cold, angry. Jim turned his attention back to Blair as his guide pulled out the map and made a big show of checking their trail, clearly uncomfortable under William's scrutiny.
Jim turned back around and stared out the windshield. He exhaled a long sigh. It was going to be a long weekend.
///
William parked the Jeep in an approved area for hikers and the four men quickly unloaded their gear. The three younger men carried the majority of it as they set off into the woods.
Following his plan, Blair spent most of the morning hiking ahead of the rest of them--so far ahead at times that Jim could only keep track of him by listening for his heartbeat. The only time he'd actually talked to his partner all morning was when they stopped for lunch. They ate sandwiches his father had packed and made small talk about the area they were hiking through and their hopes that the weatherman had been correct about his forecast of no rain.
They were headed for a spot Blair had found on the map, a location he felt would be the perfect area for them to use as a campsite for the next two nights. It was half a mile from a lake where they could fish, two miles from a group of caves the anthropologist thought might prove interesting to explore, and three miles from a Federal Wildlife Preserve that Stephen had shown a special interest in visiting.
Now, as they stepped out of a stand of trees, Jim saw his guide. Blair sat on downed tree, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth.
"What do you think?" he asked as the men approached, standing and spreading his arms dramatically. He stood in a clearing, large enough to pitch both tents. "I thought we could set up camp here."
Jim crossed to him, returning the grin. "Good job, Chief."
Stephen dropped his pack. "I have to agree, Blair. You found us a great spot."
William moved forward, his gaze sweeping the area, doubt evident in his eyes. "You're sure this clearing is big enough for both tents?" he asked, not looking at Blair.
"There's plenty of room," Blair answered. "We'll put them side by side and set up the campfire over here." He indicated an area by the log he'd been sitting on when they first arrived.
William looked at Jim. "What do you think, Jimmy?"
"It'll be fine, Dad," he ground out.
"If you're sure."
"Dad--"
"Why don't you guys go check out the lake while I put up the tents," Blair suggested, cutting Jim off.
"You can't put up the tents by yourself, Chief."
"Sure I can," Blair assured him confidently.
Jim let out a short laugh. "Sandburg, you can barely get your tent up when I help you. What makes you think you can put up both of these by yourself?"
"I'll stay and help," Stephen volunteered.
"No, Stephen," Blair said, turning toward him. "You go with your dad and Jim. I can do this."
"I want to stay and help." He glanced at Jim. "You guys check out the fishing. We'll put up the tents."
Jim stared at his brother and his partner, his eyes narrowing slightly. "We'll go check out the lake... then come back and help you put up the tents."
///
Stephen stood back and admired the tent he and Blair had just finished setting up. "Not bad for two city boys," he said, turning to the younger man beside him, grinning widely.
Blair clapped him on the back. "And Jim thought we couldn't do this." He nodded toward the second tent. "Okay, Stephen, grab that main pole there and we'll get started on number two."
"This one here?" Stephen grabbed up the pole, swung around and smacked Blair solidly in the left temple. The anthropologist let out a grunt of pain and collapsed to his knees.
"Oh, god!" Stephen tossed the pole aside and dropped down in front of Blair. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were standing that close. Are you okay?"
"Ow," Blair muttered, reaching up and touching gingerly at the wound on his head.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Stephen leaned in, trying to see how deep the cut was. "Don't move. I'll get the first aid kit."
"Stephen, it's okay." Blair waved his hand, dismissing his concern. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."
"You're not fine. You're bleeding. Just stay put." Stephen rushed to where they had dumped their packs earlier and dug through Jim's. Pulling out the first aid kit, he moved back to Blair, who was now sitting on the ground cross-legged, eyes closed, his chin resting against his chest. Stephen knelt down in front of him, his gaze taking in the thin trail of blood that ran down the left side of Blair's face. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe I did this. Jim's going to kill me."
Blair looked up at him, smiling easily. "It was an accident. It's no big deal."
Stephen spun the cap off the disinfectant and poured some onto a cotton pad. Dabbing lightly, he touched it to Blair's head. Sandburg hissed out through gritted teeth, flinching away from the light ministrations.
"You know what?" he said, pushing Stephen's hand away. "That hurts more than the whole hitting me with the pole thing did."
"Blair, I have to clean it out." Stephen came at him again but Blair pushed his hand away before he could touch him.
"It's clean," he said firmly. "Just put a bandage on it and let's get back to work."
Stephen opened a butterfly bandage and applied it to Blair's head, pulling the cut closed in the process. "I am so sorry about this. I didn't--"
"Stephen," Blair held his hand up, stopping his words. "I'm fine. Really. Let's just get this other tent up, okay?"
Stephen stood and, reaching down, helped Blair to his feet.
"See?" Blair said, stepping away from Stephen and spreading his arms wide. "I can stand on my own and everything."
Stephen laughed lightly. "I guess that's a good sign."
Blair reached out and patted him on the arm. "Let's get back to work." He turned away, but Stephen reached out and caught his arm, stopping him before he could move.
"Blair," he began hesitantly. "I just... I want you to know that I don't feel the same way my father does. I'm glad you changed your mind and decided to come on this trip."
"Thanks, but you don't have to-"
"I'm not," he interrupted. "I know the only reason Jim even talks to me is because of you and I'm grateful for it."
"You give me too much credit," Blair replied softly.
"I don't think so," Stephen answered just as softly. "Blair, it's obvious Jim thinks of you as more of a brother than he does me."
Blair shook his head. "Stephen, no-"
"It's okay," he cut in. "I don't resent it. I admit I feel a bit envious sometimes, but I don't resent it."
"Stephen, you're Jim's brother. Nothing and no one can ever change that."
"I know." Stephen dropped his gaze to ground, shifting uncomfortably where he stood. "But I gave up on Jim a long time ago," he said quietly, regret winding through him at the admission. Exhaling a long breath, he looked up at Blair again. "Jim had erected this wall around himself that no one could get past. He was really good at keeping everyone at arms length." He studied Blair, his eyes filled with admiration. "Until you came along. Somehow you got through to him. You stuck with him even though I know it probably hasn't always been easy." Stephen moved closer, his voice dropping in pitch. "Not many people have done that for my brother. But you did and I'm grateful for it."
"Thank you," Blair said, his voice low with emotion. "I appreciate that. I really do." He pushed at a few stray hairs that had escaped his ponytail. "But it doesn't change how your father feels. Jim is just getting to know his dad... I don't want to be responsible for pulling them apart again."
"You're not," Stephen assured him. "Our father will come around, Blair. I'm sure of that. He's just..."
"Stubborn, obstinate, hard-headed?" Blair supplied the terms, bouncing up on his toes, a smile lighting his eyes. "Kind of like Jim?"
"Exactly," Stephen laughed out. "Come on, let's get back to work."
///
Jim walked beside his father as they headed back toward camp. They'd spent nearly an hour at the lake but hadn't caught even one fish. And it wasn't because they were being too loud and scaring them off. The two men had not spoken the entire time.
At first, Jim had told himself that it was because they were fishing and needed to be quiet. But now, as they hiked through the woods in continued silence, he knew that wasn't true. They weren't talking because they simply had nothing to say to each other.
"Your friend is certainly doing a good job of making you and Stephen feel sorry for him," William said at last, his bitter voice cutting through the silence.
Jim gave his father a sidelong look. "Blair is not trying to make anyone feel sorry for him."
"Oh come on, Jim. He plays you. Walks ahead of all of us. Volunteers to put up the tents all by himself."
"He's only acting like that because he thinks that's the best way to make you happy. He's just trying to stay out of your way."
"Right," William ground out.
"Believe me, if Sandburg felt he had a choice, he would have come fishing with us. Not only does he hate putting up tents, he's horrible at it." He glanced at his father but the older man's expression had not changed. "Blair wanted the three of us to go off fishing together," he insisted. "That was his plan."
William stopped walking and turned angrily on Jim. "Except your brother stayed behind because he felt sorry for him."
"Stephen stayed behind because you need two people to put up the tents," Jim countered, his own anger rising. "Dad, Blair is my friend. He's not going anywhere. No matter what you say, no matter how you treat him, he's not going to go away. If you would just accept that, we could put an end to all this nonsense and have a good time this weekend."
William stared up at Jim, his jaw set. "He's your friend, Jim. Not mine. I don't have to accept anything about him." Turning, he started toward camp again.
Jim hesitated only a second before following. Ahead, he could see Stephen and Blair struggling to get the second tent up. Jim moved faster, walking past his father.
"Want some help?" he asked, dropping his fishing gear and crossing to the two men, stopping behind Blair's crouched form.
"I think we might be missing a pole for this one," Blair said, standing and turning to face Jim.
The sentinel's eyes widened as he took in the bandage on his guide's left temple, the skin around it bruised and swollen.
"What the hell happened to you?" Reaching out, he caught Blair by the chin and turned his head so he could look at the wound more closely.
"I whacked him with one of the tent poles," Stephen said sheepishly. "It was an accident," he added as an afterthought.
Jim's gaze shifted to his brother, who stood on the other side of the half-finished tent. "Well, I didn't think you'd hit him on purpose." Satisfied the damage was just superficial, Jim released Blair. "You're okay?" he asked, looking into his eyes.
"I'm fine," he said reassuringly.
Jim nodded, his gaze sweeping the area. "Okay, you Boy Scout rejects," he said dryly, "Let's see if we can get this other tent up without causing any additional bodily harm."
///
Blair lay awake, his unblinking gaze focused on the roof of the small tent. A merging of painful sensations washed through him--anger, hurt, sadness, fear--the same emotions that had been haunting him since he'd overheard William's comments at the loft. Only now, regret had been added into the mix... I wish I had never come on this camping trip.
He swallowed against the swell of emotions and purposely turned his attention to the soothing sound of the wind. Ever since he and Naomi had visited the flat, seemingly endless plains of Nebraska when he was a child, he had loved to listen to the wind blowing. He and his mother had stayed at an uncle's farm, tucked away at night in an upstairs bedroom. The two of them had nestled together beneath a pile of homemade quilts as the wind whined and whirled its way around the sturdy farmhouse, the sound of it lulling them to sleep night after night...
He closed his eyes and concentrated on the gusts that pushed stubbornly at the sides of the tent, causing the nylon fabric to billow then recoil back into place with a sharp, snapping sound. He listened for several moments, finding familiar comfort in the wind, in the realization that he and Jim were tucked safely within the shelter of the tent, warm and secure in their sleeping bags.
The two men had retired well over an hour ago, but Blair had been unable to fall asleep. He didn't know if Jim was sleeping or not, had been afraid to disturb him in case he was. From time to time he'd been able to hear William and Stephen's muted voices as they conversed quietly in their tent just a few feet away, and he had wondered what they were talking about... Me? My involvement with Jim? He had, after a time, decided it was better that he not know and had stopped trying to listen.
Blair turned his head and gazed over at his partner, who lay only inches away from him. The full moon was bright and cast enough illumination through the thin fabric of the tent to bathe the interior in a soft, soothing light. Blair could easily distinguish Jim's outline--the sentinel lay on his back, the strong facial features cast in perfect profile against the backdrop of the tent side. Jim's chest rose and fell softly with each breath he took and, if Blair listened closely between gusts of wind, he could hear the sound of Jim's gentle breathing.
He bit back a frustrated sigh as he watched his partner. He hated to think that he might be a stumbling block in Jim's path toward continued reconciliation with his father. The rejection William had cast Blair's way was sharp and painful, but it paled in comparison to the thought that he might be hindering Jim in the rebuilding of his relationship with his dad.
Was what William had said the truth? Am I in the way? Should I leave? If I don't, will Jim ever have a relationship with his father?
He swallowed against a sudden rush of emotions. Leaving Jim... leaving the loft... That wasn't something he thought about much. His place in the loft--and at Jim's side--had become second nature. It just was. Leaving their home--leaving Jim--wasn't something he wanted to do.
But... maybe I should. Maybe I'll have to.
His attention was caught by a small rustling sound, and he looked over to see Jim shifting onto his side. The sentinel faced him but didn't speak, and Blair held his breath, wondering if Jim was awake. If he was awake, then did he know he was upset? Most likely so. Jim could hear everything--the slightest change in Blair's heart rate, the smallest nuance in his breathing. He probably--
"Sandburg, why are you still awake?" Jim asked softly, cutting into Blair's thoughts.
Blair let out a long breath. "Sorry, Jim. I didn't mean to wake you."
"I didn't say you woke me. I asked why you're still awake."
Blair hesitated, unsure what to say. He finally settled on... "I just can't sleep, man."
There was another rustle of fabric and he saw Jim push himself up on one elbow. The sentinel peered over at him and there was a moment of silence in which Blair knew he was being scrutinized. "You all right? Is your head bothering you?"
Blair hesitated for the briefest of moments. "No, I'm fine," he whispered back. Jim was silent for another long moment and Blair could almost sense his friend tensing, could almost see his brow creasing in concern.
"Come on, Chief. Tell me what's wrong..." Jim's voice was tinged with concern, but there was no mistaking the silent command that ran beneath the words. Jim wanted to know what was bothering Blair, and no tap-dancing around the situation would be tolerated.
Blair sighed deeply and flopped onto his back. Turning his head, he looked over at Jim, fully aware that the sentinel could see him just as clearly as if they were standing in full daylight. "I shouldn't be here, Jim," he admitted softly. "I should have stayed at home. I mean, you haven't zoned all day and if you did zone, it would be because I'm here making things tense." He sighed deeply. "I'm just making everyone uncomfortable."
"That's not true," Jim answered softly. The detective shifted again and leaned over, closer to Blair. "First, whether I need you or not doesn't matter. I wanted you to come. I was disappointed when you said you were staying behind. And second, you are not making everyone uncomfortable, my father is. He's bullied his way through his entire life and people have let him. I've let him. But not this time."
"But he doesn't want me here..."
"Did you hear anything I said?" Jim whispered out fiercely. "I want you here. And so does Stephen." Blair felt Jim's hand come to rest against his arm for a brief moment, then the warm touch was gone. "And that's the end of it, so stop worrying."
Blair rubbed at tired eyes. "Jim, I had no idea how uncomfortable this would be. I mean, I've been out with you guys tons of times and it was always fine. I thought if I came, your dad would lighten up. But he hasn't. Not at all." He shifted, curling onto his side again, facing his partner. "Your dad will hardly look at me, and when he does it's with contempt. And conversation?" He let out a breath of disdain. "Non-existent, man! He resents the fact that I said I wasn't going then changed my mind. That's obvious."
Jim exhaled a deep sigh--a long, weary sound. "I know, buddy, and I'm sorry. I've tried to talk with him, but he won't listen. But that doesn't change the fact that you have every right to be here. He's the one with the problem, Chief, not you."
Blair remained silent. He knew Jim was probably right--that it was William who had the problem. But even that realization didn't change the fact that Blair felt immensely uncomfortable beneath William's disapproving gaze, that he felt like he was walking on eggshells in the man's presence...
"Did you hear me?" Jim prompted, jarring him from his thoughts. There was an underlying trace of affectionate humor in Jim's voice, and Blair found himself smiling in spite of the circumstances.
"Yeah," he said in mock exasperation. "I heard you."
Jim's reached over and tapped him playfully on the forehead. "Good," the sentinel said as he lay down again. "Now I want you to stop worrying and let me handle my dad. Okay?"
Blair smiled. "Yeah. Okay."
"Besides," Jim continued, "If you weren't here I'd be stuck in this tent all by myself, just like I always used to be when I camped with Dad and Stephen. It's much more fun when I have you here with me. Gives me someone to pick on."
"Oh, thanks," Blair said, laughing lightly. "Glad I can provide such comedy relief for you." He quieted, then, as a thought occurred to him. "Jim, why were you by yourself when you guys used to camp? Didn't your dad bring a big enough tent for all three of you?"
Again, he heard Jim sigh. "No. My dad always brought two two-man tents. He and Stephen would take one and I would be stuck in the other one."
"He made you stay alone? You were just a kid. Why didn't he take the tent alone and let you and Stephen bunk together?"
"I don't know, Sandburg," Jim answered, and Blair could hear a slight tinge of bitterness beneath the words. "Maybe he thought being alone would make a man of me. Or maybe it was just another attempt to erect walls between Stephen and me." Blair saw Jim shake his head against his pillow. "I don't know what he was thinking, and I really don't care anymore. But all my memories of camping were of being alone in my tent at night. It's just nice to have a bunk mate... even if he does snore..."
Blair laughed. "Hey, man, I do not snore. And even if I did--which I don't--you could always dial it down."
"The dial doesn't go that low, Sandburg."
"Oh, very funny," he ground out sarcastically, pleased at the sound of Jim's answering chuckle.
The two men fell silent, the quiet deep and comfortable, accompanied only by the blowing wind and the rustling of the tent fabric. Blair peered over at his partner, trying to see if he had fallen asleep, but even in the relative darkness of the tent, he could tell that Jim's eyes were still open... and his head was cocked in that distinctive position that always indicated he was listening to something...
"Stop it," he whispered as he realized what Jim was doing.
"What?" the sentinel shot back innocently.
"You're listening to your brother and father. Stop it."
"I heard our names. I just want to know what they're saying."
"Well, I don't," Blair said with finality. Rolling on his side, facing away from Jim, he reached down and pulled his sleeping bag up around his neck. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it isn't good and I don't want to know about it."
"Then I just won't tell you, okay?"
"No, Jim," Blair replied, "It's not okay. I'll be able to tell what they're saying by the look on your face."
"You can't see my face, Sandburg."
"Small detail." Looking over his shoulder, Blair said, "Seriously, Jim. I don't want to know what they're saying."
Jim was silent for a moment, then he whispered, "No, you don't want to know." His head was still cocked as though he was listening to the conversation in the other tent, but his words held a barely restrained tinge of amusement.
"What?" Blair asked, suddenly intrigued. "What is it?"
"Well I only heard a snatch of the conversation, but I think my dad expects you to quiet down over here or he's going to ask me to kick you out and make you go sleep with the bears."
Blair rolled his eyes at Jim's obvious teasing. "You're a riot, man." He shifted back onto his side, facing away from Jim again. "You should do a comedy routine at the next police talent show."
Jim chuckled, nestling down into his own sleeping bag before reaching over and briefly laying a hand against the top of Blair's head. "Get some rest, Chief." His voice had become soft and soothing, serious. "You can't change my dad, and you just have to trust that things will get better. Can you do that?"
Blair closed his eyes and burrowed deeper into his sleeping bag. "Yeah," he whispered. "I can do that."
"Good. Now, go to sleep or I really will kick you out and let the bears snack on you."
///
William Ellison rolled onto his side and impatiently rearranged his pillow before laying his head on it again. An exasperated sigh escaped his lips.
Stephen watched him, surprised by his sudden restlessness. Everything had seemed fine with him a few minutes ago. "Dad?" he finally asked. "What's wrong?"
William shifted again. "You'd think they could keep the noise down," he ground out.
"What?" Stephen laughed out. "They're just talking, Dad. We were talking earlier."
"Doesn't matter," he grumbled. "It's late. You'd think Jim would have a least some consideration for us and quiet down!"
Stephen bit his lip, resisting the urge to argue further with his dad. He knew it was pointless. His father was angry because Blair had come on this trip. Everyone knew it... especially Blair.
At first, Stephen had been surprised at how quiet the anthropologist had been all morning. He'd barely said two words on the drive up, then scouted ahead of them as they began the hike. It wasn't until Blair offered to put up the tents alone that Stephen had finally realized what he was doing--keeping out of William Ellison's way.
But Stephen was not going to allow Blair to spend this entire weekend as the outsider just because his father was pigheaded. As he rolled over on his side and closed his eyes, Stephen determined to do everything he could to keep Blair involved in the group.
Blair spread the hiking map across the top of a flat rock and bent over it. Jim stood behind him, looking over his shoulder, studying the lines and characters.
They'd spent the morning fishing. Blair had tried to make an excuse to stay behind at the camp, saying something about plotting their route for the day, but Stephen had insisted he go. Jim smiled as he thought about his brother's prodding of Blair that morning. He'd told him that if Blair was staying behind so would he. The declaration had thrown his guide for a loop. He simply hadn't expected it.
Neither had Jim. But now, looking back, Jim realized what his brother had been doing. He had obviously seen through Blair's plan to stay out of the way and was thwarting his attempts at every turn. As determined as Blair was to keep himself away from the little group, Stephen seemed even more determined to make sure he stayed involved.
And Jim couldn't be happier about the turn of events... or prouder of his brother.
"Right here," Blair said, pulling Jim away from his thoughts. He looked again at the map and the area Blair was pointing to. The spot was marked with small diamond-shaped symbols. "This group of caves looks interesting." Blair glanced up at him with wide eyes. "And they're only about a quarter mile from here. Easy hiking."
"Sounds good to me, Chief." Jim clapped him on the shoulder before turning to his brother and father. "You guys up to exploring a few caves?"
William's only response was a small grunt, but Stephen was more enthusiastic. "You bet!"
"Okay then." Blair refolded the map, tucked it into his hiking pack, then swung the pack onto his shoulders again. "I'll scout up ahead, try to find the easiest path in." He gave Jim a brief smile before turning and heading off alone.
"Hey, Blair," Stephen said, catching up to him and falling in step beside him. "Did Jim ever tell you about the caves he and I explored at the Oregon coast?" He glanced over his shoulder at his brother. "You remember?"
Jim laughed out loud. "How could I forget? All that clay and bat guano? I thought Sally was going to have our heads on a platter for bringing our clothes home in such bad condition."
"No kidding! I remember that that was one of the few times you got in trouble for something," Stephen said good-naturedly.
"Yeah, you were always the troublemaker," Jim said, casting a sly grin at Stephen.
Stephen snorted. "You were just as bad as me, but you were quicker." He turned back to Blair. "I swear it was like he could hear Sally coming a mile away. He'd be long gone and I'd be left holding the bag."
"Yeah, I hear you, man. He does that to me now with Simon."
"You're both imagining things," Jim defended himself confidently. He smiled happily as he watched his brother and his friend walking just ahead of him.
They hiked the quarter of a mile as a group--William walking beside Jim, Stephen staying with Blair, not allowing him to move off ahead, engaging him in conversation every time he tried to.
When they finally reached the caves, Blair pulled Jim aside.
"Did you say something to Stephen?" he whispered fiercely, his gaze shifting from Jim to Stephen and William who stood just a few feet away, pulling their flashlights from their packs.
"Say something about what?"
"About me," Blair pressed. "I've been trying all morning to get away from you guys and he's not letting me. He keeps talking to me, offers to stay behind with me. Come on! You had to have said something to him."
Jim reached out and laid a hand on Blair's shoulder. "I didn't say anything. I didn't have to. He likes you, Sandburg. Simple as that."
"Yeah simple." Blair swung his pack from his shoulders, dropping it on the ground. "This is not going well, Jim. Your father is more pissed off at me now than ever."
Jim glanced over at the two men. His brother was already at the mouth of the cave, shining his light inside, his eyes wide with anticipation. His father was sitting on a rock, arms crossed, scowling. Jim turned back to Blair. "I gotta agree with you there, Chief."
"Thanks for the reassurance," Blair said dryly.
"You want me to lie?"
"No," Blair muttered. Digging into his pack, he pulled out his flashlight and clicked it on, checking the batteries before swinging his pack over his shoulders again. "Hey, man, you better use a flashlight too or they're going to wonder about you in there."
"Good thinking." Jim pulled out his own light before heading back toward his father and brother. "Just don't get too close to any ledges," he whispered to Blair as they walked. "My father might see that as an opportunity he couldn't resist."
Sandburg glared up at him. "Funny, man. You're really funny."
"Who's trying to be funny?" Jim finished softly just as they reached William. "So," he began, ignoring the look his partner shot his way, "Are we ready?"
The four men entered the caves, Jim in front. Although he had his flashlight on for show, his sentinel vision extended far beyond the beam. His partner had managed to find great caves for exploring. The ceilings were high enough in most places for them to walk upright and the caverns were rich with mineral deposits, the cave sides gleaming in a multitude of colors.
They'd been walking for nearly half an hour when Blair stopped, his light shining to their left. "Look at this." He moved to the wall and ran his fingers gently across the rock. "Do you see this rich brown color?" He glanced over his shoulder at the other men in the group, his voice and expression excited. "That's caused by a heavy iron content. These rocks must be filled with it." He flashed his light ahead. "Do you know what that could mean?"
Stephen moved up beside him and ran his fingers over the same area. "No, what?" he asked excitedly.
"Listen," Blair whispered. Silence descended as the men did as Blair instructed. After a few seconds, Blair said, "Hear the water dripping? That forms stalactite. I was in a cave once that was rich with iron content. It had this delicate curtain of stalactites and when they were tapped, they produced different tones, like musical chimes."
"You think we could find that here?" Stephen asked.
"You never know."
"Then let's go," Stephen said enthusiastically.
They walked a few more feet before coming to a fork in the caves. Jim moved out in front, shining his light down each tunnel, his sentinel eyesight able to see far into the darkness beyond.
"How do they look?" Blair asked from beside him, adding his light to Jim's.
"Both look clear to me," he said, knowing Blair would understand just how far he was seeing.
"Do they hook up again?"
"Can't tell from here."
Blair looked up at him. "So which do we choose?"
"Both," Stephen said from behind them.
Jim glanced at his brother. "Both?"
"You and dad take the tunnel on the left and Blair and I will take the tunnel on the right. We'll each walk for half an hour and if the caves don't meet up by then, we'll turn around and come back here. At that point, we can compare notes on what we saw and choose the best route."
Jim looked at his dad, who had been virtually silent since they entered the cave. "What do you think, Dad?"
"I really don't see the point in splitting up," he snapped. "As far as I'm concerned, a cave is a cave. If you've seen one, you've seen them all."
"That's not really true, Mr. Ellison," Blair countered softly. "Each of these caves is distinctive. We could find formations in one that are breathtaking and absolutely nothing down another. It's just-"
"Fine," William broke in sharply. "Let's just go. I'm tired of standing around debating this." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and marched down the left tunnel.
"Are we having fun yet?" Jim quipped dryly, watching his father's retreating back.
"Let's just all go with him." Blair started toward the left tunnel but Jim grabbed his arm stopping him.
"No. We do what Stephen suggested. You two take the right tunnel and we'll all meet back here in an hour."
"Jim-"
"One hour, Chief. And don't make me come looking for you." With that, Jim jogged away, leaving his guide and his brother behind. It took him only a few seconds to catch up to his father. He easily fell into step beside him.
"You're just bound and determined to make this trip miserable for everyone, aren't you?"
William glared at him out of the corner of his eye. "So are you getting to know your brother? Feeling closer to him?"
"Don't start, Dad."
"Don't start what, Jim? Don't start telling the truth?" He stopped walking and turned to face Jim head-on. "This is exactly the kind of thing I was worried would happen, only I expected Stephen to be with me, not you." He shook his head in obvious disgust. "Instead of you getting to know Stephen, your brother is getting to know Blair."
"Good. I'm glad he is," Jim shot back. "I'm glad my brother and my best friend like each other."
"Fine. Then maybe when this trip is over, Blair can move in with Stephen and freeload off him for a while."
"Freeload?" Jim bit back the venomous response that came to mind. Keeping his voice as level as possible, he replied, "Blair pays me rent. He has since the first day he moved in. But even if he didn't, that would be my business, not yours!"
"So I should just stand by, watch my son be taken advantage of, and say nothing?"
"How am I being taken advantage of?"
"That kid is a master at manipulation. You just can't see it."
"You've got to be kidding! Blair is the most open and honest person I know. If you would just-" He stopped speaking, because as he stared into his father's angry eyes, he knew there would be no changing his mind. "This is pointless. Let's just see where this thing goes and hook back up with the others." He started walking again, leaving his father to make his way after him.
Blair trailed his light ahead, moving the beam over the uneven ground. "I think we got the better deal," he said, his light picking up small amounts of water trickling down the sides of the cave walls. "I think we might just run into those stalactite I was telling you about."
"That'd be great," Stephen said from beside him. They walked a few more feet, then Stephen suddenly spoke again. "Blair, can I ask you something?"
Blair glanced at Stephen out of the corner of his eye, uncertainty churning through him. What does he want to ask? Something about his father? Jim? He really didn't want to get into some deep conversation right now, but couldn't see an easy way out. "Sure," he finally said, trying his best to sound upbeat.
"Um, do you really make up the names of the places you've visited?"
Blair laughed, relieved by the innocuous question. "Only when it comes to my cooking." He gave Stephen a conspiratorial grin. "Some of the things I cook are from recipes I've picked up in my travels. But others are just things I've always wanted to try and--well, some of the spices and things can be very... potent."
"In other words, you sometimes stink up the loft."
"On a pretty rather regular basis actually. And your brother has always wanted to kill me when I do." He shrugged one shoulder. "But then, when I started to tell him the stuff was from some exotic location and I put a story to it, he seemed to get less upset about the smell. So I just kind of kept it up. I figured he knew I was lying about some of the stuff I told him. I just didn't know he was checking up on me." Blair smiled and backhanded Stephen on the arm. "I can tell you right now, he's never going to hear the end of that!"
Stephen chuckled. "So, is that what you guys were talking and laughing about last night?"
Blair's heart lurched in his chest as he thought about some of the things he and Jim had discussed. "You could hear us?"
"Not what you were saying. Just your voices." He smiled at Blair. "I was happy Jim had someone to share his tent with for a change."
"Yeah, Jim told me the same thing," Blair said softly. "I just can't believe you guys didn't get to share a tent as kids."
"I know it probably sounds silly but I wish--just once--that I could have shared a tent with Jim. You know--big brother and little brother facing the wilderness together." He shook his head. "Too late now, right?" Glancing down at his watch he said, "We've hit the time limit. Let's head back."
The two men walked back together but to Blair, something had changed. Stephen had changed. His admission to Blair had seemed to bring on a despondent mood. He didn't seem as excited about the caves or the things Blair pointed out as he had been only minutes before.
He's thinking about Jim. Thinking about everything he missed out on.
Blair knew he was right. But he also knew that it wasn't too late. Jim wanted a relationship with his brother and it was now crystal clear to him that Stephen wanted the same thing.
They arrived at the meeting place but Jim and William were nowhere in sight.
"You know, Stephen," Blair said as they stood waiting. "You and Jim could bunk together tonight if you'd like. I could share the tent with your father."
Stephen laughed, clapping Blair on the back. "Now I know you're a good friend to my brother," he responded, smiling widely. "Offering to stay with our dad after how he's been treating you? Now that's friendship!"
"Hey, man, it's a legitimate offer. One night in a tent with your father won't kill me... unless he smothers me with his pillow while I sleep." He raised an eyebrow at Stephen. "Maybe I should rethink this."
"No need. I'm not going to take you up on the offer."
"Stephen-"
"It's okay, Blair. Really. You stay with Jim. I'm sure there'll be other camping trips. Besides, I'm not eight years old anymore. I think the time for that whole 'tent sharing fantasy' has passed." He glanced at his watch before shining his light down the left tunnel. "They're late."
"Yeah, I noticed that, too" Blair said, adding his light to Stephen's. "Jim!" he called out, taking a few steps into the tunnel. His voice echoed around them briefly, then it was gone, replaced by silence. "Jim!" he tried a second time, even louder. Still, no answer...
Stephen looked at his watch again. "They're not that late. I guess we shouldn't really worry yet."
Blair nodded, but as he continued to stare down the dark tunnel, he couldn't help but worry. Because Jim was late and that just wasn't like him. He's been zoning for the last two days. You should have gone with him, watched his back. Blair bit his lip at the thought and turned to face Stephen.
"Listen, I'm just going to take a quick jog down this tunnel, see if I can find them." He swung his pack from his shoulder and dropped it at his feet. "You wait here in case they show up from some other direction."
"You think they found a side tunnel or something?"
"Could be," Blair said, truly hoping that's all it was. "But I want to be sure nothing happened. I won't go too far." He turned to leave, but Stephen caught his arm before he could step away.
"Blair," he began, his expression solemn. His gaze flicked beyond Blair, to the black tunnel Jim and William had taken. Concern furrowed his brow. "Just... be careful," he said finally, locking his gaze on Blair.
Sandburg smiled reassuringly at him. "Don't worry. I'll find your dad and your brother."
Stephen nodded. "If you're not back in half an hour-"
"Then go for help," Blair finished for him. "Don't come find us. Go for help."
Uncertainty clouded Stephen's eyes. "Just leave you guys here?"
"It's the best thing you could do," Blair said simply. "But believe me, Stephen, it won't come to that. I'm sure it won't. Jim and your father... they probably just lost track of time or got sidetracked. I'm sure they're fine."
"You're probably right."
"I know I am." Blair flashed his light down the tunnel again. Still nothing. He glanced at Stephen one last time. "A half hour," he said and started jogging in the direction he had last seen William and Jim.
He moved as quickly as he could through the oppressive darkness of the cave, using the light to scout the ground ahead, looking for flaws in the flooring that might trip him up. His heart pounded heavily in his ears as he ran, not so much from the workout but from the fear that now threatened to choke him. With each pounding step he took, he became more and more convinced that something horrible had happened to the two men.
Then he heard it--William's frantic voice calling to Jim. Dammit! Blair increased his stride and ran around a corner, finally finding what he'd been looking for. Jim and William stood just a few feet away. William's flashlight lay on the ground, uselessly pointing away from them, obviously discarded in haste. His hands gripped his son's upper arms and his eyes were wide with fear. He shook Jim, called to him, pleaded with him. But Jim didn't move.
Jim was zoning.
The sentinel stood stiff, his flashlight still gripped in one hand. His gaze stared off beyond William, at a point only he could see. His breathing was slow, almost non-existent.
Blair approached the two men slowly, not wanting to startle William. "Mr. Ellison?" he whispered, stopping beside Jim.
The man's wild gaze shifted to Blair. "Something's wrong with Jim," he said, his voice rushed, panicked.
"I know," Blair said simply. "But I can help him."
William's brow creased in confusion. "What? No." He shook his head. "He's been like this for almost half an hour. It's like he can't see me or hear me. I think-"
"Mr. Ellison," Blair cut in, drawing the older man's attention away from Jim. "I can handle this. I can."
William stepped back from his son, slow realization dawning on his face. "You know what's wrong with him. You're not surprised by this!" He took a step closer to Blair, and even in the dim illumination afforded by the flashlights, Blair could see the anger in the older man's eyes. "What have you done to him?"
"Nothing," Blair breathed out, surprised at William's accusation. "I didn't do anything to him." Blair glanced up at Jim briefly before returning his attention to William. He had no time for the man's anger or paranoia. "Go back to Stephen," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "He's waiting at our rendezvous point and he's going to go for help if someone doesn't show up soon. I'll take care of Jim."
"What's wrong with my son!" William demanded, ignoring Blair's instructions.
"Please, Mr. Ellison! Just go! I can help Jim, but I need you to go!"
William took one last look at Jim before scooping up his discarded light and starting down the tunnel, heading back toward Stephen.
Blair waited until William Ellison's light had completely disappeared from sight before he turned his attention back to his partner. Setting his flashlight on the floor, aiming it upward to give him some light, he moved in close. Jim stood just as he had been since Blair first found him, barely breathing, not moving.
"Jim," he said, pitching his voice low. "Come on, man, I need you to come back." He gripped his partner's arms, holding tightly. "Your father thinks I did something to you and I think he's going for the cops right now. So unless you want to see me in jail, you'll come back."
The light Jim held slipped from his hand and thudded noisily on the packed earth floor of the cave. The sentinel took a deep, gasping breath. His legs buckled and both men went to the cave floor, landing hard on their knees, Blair barely managing to keep Jim upright.
"You're okay, man. You're okay," Blair soothed as Jim looked around him warily. "We're in the caves... hiking, remember?"
Recognition flooded Jim's expression. "Chief?"
"Yep, it's me."
"My dad--"
"He's gone. I sent him back to meet up with Stephen. But he was with you when you zoned, Jim. He saw you zone, man."
Jim looked down at his partner, confusion creasing his brow. "Where'd you come from? How'd you know I needed your help?"
"You guys were late coming back. After the last few days, I just figured..." But the words trailed off as a slight movement caught his eye. A second later, William Ellison stepped from where he had hidden himself in the shadows just a few feet from where Jim and Blair now knelt. His gaze locked briefly with Blair's, and in that single look, in that fleeting instant, Blair saw all the man's fear for his son. And all his hatred for him. Then he turned, the moment broken, and walked away.
"Oh man," Blair breathed.
"What is it?"
Blair looked up at his partner, his throat suddenly dry. "Your dad," he said thickly. "He never left. He's been here the whole time...watching us."
///
Jim moved quickly through the tunnel, trying to catch up to his father. But William had a good head start and still wasn't in sight.
"What were you doing, Jim, when you zoned? Were you and your dad arguing?" Blair asked from beside him, working hard to keep up with the fast pace the sentinel had set through the dark tunnel. "Was it about me again?"
"We'll talk about it later," Jim answered shortly, straining to listen, trying to see.
"No, now. Tell me now." Blair stumbled over the uneven flooring.
Jim reached out and caught his arm, keeping him upright. "Sandburg, stop looking at me and start watching where you're going. You're going to fall and break your neck."
Blair pulled out of his grip. "Then stop chasing your father and tell me what happened."
Jim stared down at him. "Yes," he bit out. "We were arguing about you. Happy? My dad was going on and on and I didn't want to hear it anymore, so I tried to tune it out. I focused on the sound of water dripping in the distance and then...I was gone."
"Great. That's just great!" Blair shook his head, his voice strained. "Jim, we have to solve this problem with your father. This is not going to just go away."
"I know that. And I will. As soon as I catch him, I'm going to talk to him. Explain what happened."
"How? How are you going to explain what he just saw?" Blair stared up at Jim, his eyes wide, anxious.
"I don't know yet," he admitted reluctantly. "Let's just catch up to him and I'll figure it out."
They started walking again, their pace more manageable for Blair. Soon, they came to the place where Stephen waited--alone.
"What's going on?" he asked. "Dad came back here and just walked right past me. I think he's leaving."
"Dammit," Jim ground out. "Come on. Let's go."
The three men made their way out of the cave and headed back to the camp. Jim took the lead, allowing no time to rest or even slow up over some of the more difficult terrain. However, when they finally arrived back at their campsite, they found that William had packed his gear and taken off.
"You two wait here," Jim said. He turned and jogged down the trail his father had taken--the trail that led back to the parking area and the rented Jeep.
He caught up to his father easily, William moving slowly through the woods as he picked his way back to the Cherokee. Jim ran around him and stopped in front of him, blocking his way.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded.
"Leaving," William bit out.
He tried to move around Jim, but the sentinel moved with him, preventing his escape. "Don't do this, Dad. Talk to me."
"Jim, I don't know what's going on with you and Sandburg and frankly, I don't think I want to know anymore. I'm going to go to a local motel, stay there for the night and try to sort things out in my head. I'll pick the three of you up tomorrow at the original time we planned."
"Dad--"
"Get out of my way, son," William said, his tone making clear that there would be no further discussion.
Quietly, Jim stepped to the side of the trail and allowed his father to brush by him.
Jim watched him go, knowing there was nothing he could say to change his father's mind. How can I explain what happened in the cave without telling him exactly what I am? What Blair is to me? Turning, he started back to the camp, his pace slower this time, his heart filled with renewed anger at his stubborn father. When he arrived, he was surprised to find Stephen and Blair packing up the gear.
"What's going on?"
Stephen looked up from what he was doing. "We figured we were leaving."
"We're not," Jim said, marching into the camp. "Dad left. We're not."
"We can't just let him leave like this." Blair's gaze shifted from Jim to Stephen and back again. "Come on! He's your dad!"
"He'll be fine," Jim said matter-of-factly. "He's staying in town tonight and tomorrow he's going to pick us up as scheduled. Until then, we're going to relax and fish and have a good time... just like we planned."
"Jim's right," Stephen said after a time. "I think we should stay."
"Then it's settled." Jim could see the uncertainty that lingered in Blair's eyes, but the younger man didn't protest any more. Instead, he began setting the gear out again. "Let's get a fire going," Jim suggested. "I'm starving."
///
Jim lay on his back, listening to Blair's soft, even breathing, his slowed heart rate coming from the next tent over. Clearly, his guide was already asleep. He smiled as he thought about the dinner the three of them had shared around the campfire.
Stephen had cooked the fish they'd caught earlier while Blair told them about a trip he'd once taken to Mexico with his mother when he was only nine. It was a story Jim had never heard before involving three horses, a chicken and a moving van. He rolled his eyes even now, thinking about it.
When it was finally time to turn in, Blair had insisted Jim and Stephen share a tent. It had seemed a bit silly to Jim at the time, but he had to admit that part of him was grateful to his friend for making the gesture.
Jim glanced at Stephen as he heard soft chuckling coming from beside him. "What?"
"Sorry, Jim," his brother whispered, immediately quieting down. But seconds later, he was chuckling again.
"What's so funny?" Jim asked, smiling himself.
"It's nothing really, it's just... I'm lying here thinking that I'm almost forty years old and I'm positively thrilled that I'm finally sharing a tent with my big brother." He laughed again. "How ridiculous does that make me?"
Jim reached out and put a hand on Stephen's shoulder, squeezing gently. "It's not ridiculous at all. It's something that's long overdue."
"I'm just sorry I had to displace Blair to do it."
"Don't worry," Jim said softly. "He's already asleep."
Stephen stared at him, and even in the dim light Jim could see the sudden furrow in his brow. "How do you know?"
"Because he was dead tired." He patted his brother's arm. "He's fine, Stephen. He wanted it this way."
Both men fell silent for a moment. The wind that had picked up after dinner played now over the tent fabric, rippling and tugging. Jim listened to it move gently over the tent, to his brother's soft breathing beside him, to Blair's calm heartbeat beyond that... and felt content. His father's anger and disapproval still clung to him, but he was determined to not let it overshadow the good parts of this trip.
He closed his eyes and settled down for the night, exhaling a long, satisfied breath.
"Jim?" Stephen whispered into the darkness.
"Hmmm?"
"Why do you think dad left so abruptly?"
Jim let out a weary sigh, opening his eyes again. He really didn't want to talk about their father, but he could tell from his brother's voice that what had happened was bothering him. And he didn't like the idea of Stephen being up half the night worrying.
"I don't know," he began softly. "I think when Blair came looking for us, it made dad angry."
"But you guys were late," Stephen reasoned, his voice tinged with impatience. "We were worried something had happened to you. I don't understand how Blair going to find you could make him so angry."
Frustration cut through Jim. He couldn't tell Stephen all that had happened, yet he needed to give him some kind of answer, something that would satisfy him. In the end, he told his brother what he believed was the truth. "Stephen, I don't think the 'why' behind what Blair does matters to dad anymore. He resents Sandburg's involvement with our family. Period."
"He should be grateful," Stephen muttered.
"What's that?"
"To Blair. Dad should be grateful to Blair." Stephen shifted until he was on his side, facing Jim. "You've changed since you met him, Jim. You're more open, at ease. I don't know what it is exactly, but even when we were kids I felt like you were looking for something, looking for yourself." He narrowed his eyes as he looked at Jim, almost as if he were studying him. "I think... I think somehow Blair helped you find what you were looking for. It's like you're comfortable in your own skin now. Comfortable with who you are."
Jim stared at his brother, surprised at his insight. Because Stephen was right. When Blair explained his sentinel abilities to him and began actually working to help him control them, Jim had slowly achieved a sense of peace he'd never thought imaginable. He'd always known that he was different, he just didn't know why... until Blair.
"It's like he centers you," Stephen continued softly. "Blair has this way about him... I can't really explain it, but it's like this calmness... and it's almost as if he's given some of that to you."
Jim smiled as he thought about his brother's words. And about his partner. Sending out his hearing, he listened again to Blair's soft breathing. A sense of gratitude stole over him as he did so--gratitude for his brother, who despite all the problems they'd had growing up, still wanted to get to know him; for his life in Cascade that was better than he could have ever imagined; and for Blair, a young man who had come into his life without warning and ended up saving his sanity and giving him a sense of peace and family he'd never known before.
"Sandburg, put down that book and get in this water and fish with us."
Blair looked up from the book in his lap and glared at Jim. The sentinel stood a few feet from shore, his fishing line cast out before him. Stephen was beside him, Blair's lucky fishing hat perched on his head. Blair shifted his gaze to him.
"Stephen, your brother doesn't seem to understand that some people like to read for pleasure, that reading can be just as enjoyable as fishing." He looked at Jim again. "I never get this opportunity, so just leave me alone."
"What are you reading?" Stephen asked as Jim shook his head and turned his attention back to his fishing line.
Blair held up the book. "It's called, The Proper Study of Mankind: An Anthology of Essays."
Stephen's eyes widened. "That's what you read for pleasure?"
Jim laughed. "You see, Chief, I'm not the only one who thinks your reading choices leave something to be desired."
"Maybe if you tried reading my books instead of making fun of them, you'd realize how interesting they are," Blair countered.
"Sandburg, I'll read your books when I have insomnia and need a cure," Jim shot back.
"I'm telling you, Jim, you really are funny, man. Seriously, you should think about doing some stand up. I think--"
"I got another one!" Stephen called out suddenly as his line jerked then pulled taut.
Jim grabbed up the net and waded to him. "I can't believe it. That's your third one in the last hour!"
"It's the hat, man," Blair offered enthusiastically as he watched the two men reel in the large trout. "I always out-fish your brother when I wear that hat."
Stephen beamed at him and reached up to reposition the hat on his head. "I think you may be right."
"I know I'm right... and so does Jim." He gave his partner a smug grin. "I'm telling you, Stephen, I have to hide that hat from Jim when we're home. He secretly covets it."
Jim snorted. "Sandburg, I don't covet anything of yours, secretly or otherwise."
"You just keep telling yourself that," Blair said smugly.
The three men spent another hour at the lake before heading back to their camp. They ate a leisurely lunch, Blair preparing the fish this time. As they finally got ready to leave, packing up their tents and fishing gear, Blair was glad they had decided to stay. He'd enjoyed this morning... and had slept well the night before, knowing that Jim and Stephen were finally getting some time together.
"You ready to go, Chief?" Jim asked, his hand coming to rest comfortably at the center of Blair's back.
He looked up at his partner and nodded. "Jim?" he said before the sentinel could move away. "Despite everything that happened, I'm glad I came. I had a good time."
Jim's hand slid to the back of his neck and squeezed gently. "So did I."
The three men hiked out of the woods, moving at a casual pace. They had left themselves plenty of time to make it to the parking lot where they would be picked up. Relief spread through Blair at the sight of William Ellison waiting for them at the arranged area. Down deep, he had worried that the man would not come back for them. That they'd be left to find a way home on their own.
It wasn't until they began loading the Cherokee that Blair began to regret his presence on this trip again. If William Ellison had been cold to him before, he was downright hostile now. They drove back to the city in uncomfortable silence, Blair simply counting off the miles until they arrived home. Stephen was dropped off at his place first, and as he slid out of the truck, his gaze locked with Blair's.
"You're sure I can't buy that hat from you?"
Blair smiled, shaking his head. "Not for sale, man. My mom gave me that hat."
Reaching inside, he slapped him on the arm. "Can't blame a guy for trying." He slammed the door shut and moved to Jim's window. "I had a good time," he told his brother. "Thanks."
Jim smiled at him. "So did I."
Blair watched the exchange from the back seat, pleased by the obvious warmth the two brothers felt for each other, a warmth that had not existed just a few short months ago. But as he shifted his attention forward, he realized William was watching him in the rearview mirror, his eyes hard and icy. Blair dropped his gaze to his lap... and wished they were home.
///
William steered the Cherokee to the curb outside the loft and cut the engine. "Well, it was a great weekend, wasn't it?" His voice dripped with sarcasm as he turned to look at Jim.
"It could have been, Dad," Jim said softly. "If you had let it."
"I know... everything's my fault. It's always my fault." His angry gaze shifted to Blair. "How is it that you came through all this smelling like a rose and I turned into a heel?"
"I'm going to get our stuff," Blair said, pushing open his door. He moved to the rear of the truck, opened the hatch and took out as much gear as he could carry.
"That was rude," William muttered as Blair entered the building.
"He was rude? Come on! You were baiting him. What did you expect?"
"From him... not much."
Jim rubbed a hand over his face. "Okay, Dad, you know what? That's it. I'm not doing this anymore. I want you to come upstairs with me so we can talk... all three of us."
"Jimmy, I don't see the point."
"You don't see the point?" Jim repeated, his voice terse. "You like this tension between us? Because until this thing with Sandburg is resolved, it's not going to go away."
"Fine. We'll talk." William released his seat belt and pushed his door open. "But I'm warning you right now, you might not want to hear what I have to say."
Jim followed his father inside and the two men rode up the elevator in silence. As they
stepped into the loft, Jim's gaze fell on the gear Blair had left just inside the door. But Blair himself was no where in sight. Jim realized a moment later that he could hear his partner moving around in his back bedroom, putting his things away.
"Jim?" Sandburg called out from inside the small room. "I really think your dad hates me, man. I was worried he was going to back over me with the car when I-" His statement cut off mid-sentence as he stepped from his room and saw the two men standing at the doorway. "Mr. Ellison, I... I'm sorry" he stammered. "I didn't know you were here."
"Obviously," William grated out.
"Really, I'm sorry." He moved toward them, his face a mask of embarrassment. "I shouldn't have said that. I-"
"It's okay, Chief," Jim said, his voice overriding Blair's. "You didn't do anything wrong." Crossing to his partner, he laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "My dad is here because I want the three of us to talk. Specifically, I want my dad to talk." He looked at William again. "I want to know where all this hostility is coming from. And don't give me that crap about him not being a cop. You never worried about me doing the job before. I find it hard to believe you do now."
William shook his head. "How can you say that, Jimmy? You're my son. I worry about you every day." He flicked a cold gaze to Blair. "Even more since you met him."
Jim paced back to his father. "See, Dad? This is what I don't understand. Why do you worry more since I met Blair?"
"Because he encourages your problem," William spat out, his steely gaze locked with Jim's.
"My problem?"
Tentatively, William reached out and laid a hand on Jim's arm. "Jimmy," he began softly, his eyes taking on a pained look. "When you were a little boy, you sometimes heard things or saw things that you shouldn't have been able to."
Jim tensed as his father's words settled over him. He had always suspected that his father knew more about his heightened senses than he let on, but this was the first time he'd openly admitted it. "Dad-"
"Let me finish," William said, his hand tightening on the arm he still held. "I thought if I just ignored this problem, then in time whatever was wrong with you would just go away. And I think for a long time it did. Until you met him." He glanced briefly at Blair, any warmth that had been in his eyes slipping away as he looked at the anthropologist. "He encourages you. I didn't realize it at first, but the more time we spent together, the more I began to realize that your problem was back. And that Blair is the reason."
"Dad, I don't have a problem," Jim said, his voice cool, curt. "I have heightened senses. It's nothing Blair did to me. I was just born with them. All Blair has done is teach me how to control them."
William shook his head. "He encourages you. If he had just left you alone, you'd be normal."
"He is normal, Mr. Ellison," Blair said from behind Jim, his voice low, firm.
William shifted his attention to Blair. "You!" He stalked to him, his eyes dark with anger. "You tell my son these lies to keep control over him. I saw how you manipulated him in that cave."
"No, you're wrong." Blair held his ground, staring up at William unflinchingly. "I was helping him."
"You were controlling him!" William shouted, the harshness in his tone making the younger man draw back slightly.
"Mr. Ellison," he began again, holding out his hands in a placating manner. "All I was doing--"
"Don't explain it to him, Chief." Jim moved over beside Blair and dropped a hand on his shoulder. "You don't owe him any kind of explanation."
William's eyes narrowed as he looked at Jim. "Don't you see what he's done? He convinced you that you have these heightened senses, then he convinced you that you can't handle them without him. Don't you see the control he has over you? He's manipulating you, Jimmy. He has been for years! But not anymore." His gaze locked on Blair again, rage burning behind his eyes. "Your free ride is over because someone has finally figured you out." He took a step toward him, towering over him. "Someone finally sees you for what you really are!"
"Dad, stop!" Jim stepped in front of Blair, blocking him from his father. "You don't know what you're talking about and you're making a fool of yourself."
"You're the fool, Jim. His fool!"
Jaw clenched tight, Jim turned toward Blair. "Chief, I need to have some time alone with my father."
Blair looked up at Jim, his eyes wide, unblinking. "Alone? Why?"
"Because I need to explain some things to him." Taking Blair by the arm, he escorted him to the door. He took out his wallet and pressed a five-dollar bill into Blair's palm. "Buy yourself a cup of coffee at the diner. Just give us an hour. Okay?"
"What are you going to tell him?" Blair asked, and Jim could hear the worry beneath the words, knew his guide already suspected the answer.
"I'm going to tell him the truth, Sandburg. All of it."
Blair paled slightly. "Oh man, Jim. Are you sure?" He glanced at William before returning his attention to his partner. "I don't even think he'll believe you. I mean, you tell him you're a sentinel and-"
"Blair," Jim said, his voice low but firm. "I'll make him believe me."
///
Blair hunched his shoulders against the cold as the walked back toward the loft. He'd spent the last hour in the coffee shop around the corner, sipping hot coffee, chatting with the waitress, and trying not to think about what Jim and his father had been discussing... and how William would react.
Now, as he turned the corner, he could see Jim's truck parked in front of the loft. William's rented Jeep was gone. He raised an eyebrow, unsure if it was a sign good or bad that Jim's dad had left already.
He bypassed the elevator and used the stairs instead, taking them two at a time. As he pushed through the front door of the loft and turned to deposit his keys in the basket by the door, he called out, "So, Jim--how'd it go?" But as he started toward the living area, it was William, not Jim, who rose from the couch to face him. He stopped abruptly. "Mr. Ellison, I thought-""
"You thought I'd left," William finished the sentence. "That's what I wanted you to think." He stepped around the couch and approached him. "Jim went out to pick up some dinner. I asked him to take the Jeep. I thought if you saw my Jeep rather than Jim's truck, you'd stay away." He stopped in front of Blair. "Was I right?"
"Yes," Blair admitted honestly.
"Well, I can't blame you there." William took a long breath and let it out slowly. "Blair, I don't really know what to say. Jim explained some things to me... about... about what he is." He rubbed at his eyes. "It's going to take me a while to absorb all he said, but one thing is clear--you've helped my son when no one else could have. And now, when I think about some of the things I said to you--"
"Mr. Ellison." Blair held up a hand, stopping him. "You don't have to say anything. It's okay. You thought I was hurting Jim and you wanted it to stop. I can understand that. You don't have to apologize or explain yourself."
William stepped nearer to him, closing the distance between them. "I need to say this, Blair." His tone had softened, become apologetic. "I've suspected since Jim was a boy that something was different about him. Not just the fact that his hearing and sight were enhanced. It was more than that. But I didn't want to accept it. Didn't want to deal with it." He dropped his gaze. "I was too busy. Too angry." Turning, he paced away from Blair, his back stiff, his hands clenched at his sides.
Blair watched the man's pensive movement but said nothing. It was clear William Ellison needed to talk, to release some of his past demons.
"For a long time after my wife left me," he began again, his voice low, "I looked at the boys as the reason for that happening. I resented them," he whispered in shame. "And looking back now, I realize that I took that resentment out on them. Ended up making them enemies. And I completely ignored what was happening with Jim." He paused, raising a trembling hand to his face and rubbing at his eyes. "The things he told me, what he was like when he first met you..." He looked at Blair again, the pain in his eyes haunting. "It scares me to think what would have happened to him if you hadn't found him."
"Mr. Ellison-"
"I'm grateful to you, Blair." He crossed to him in three quick strides, stopping inches away. "More grateful than I can ever express." He dropped his gaze for a moment before lifting it again to Blair. "Can you... can you forgive an old man for being so stubborn and close-minded? For being so inexcusably rude?"
Blair stared up at him evenly. "There's nothing to forgive. We all tend to fight against the things we don't understand--the things that threaten us. I'm just happy that you and Jim had a chance to talk."
William smiled--the first genuine smile Blair had seen from the man all weekend. "This... sentinel thing... it's going to take some adjusting to."
Blair laughed. "Believe me, I understand. It took Jim quite a while to come to terms with it. Actually, if I remember correctly, his first response to my explanation was 'are you out of your mind'?"
William chuckled softly. "That sounds like my practical son."
Blair smiled at William's observance regarding Jim.
"So," the older man said a moment later, his voice tentative, "Am I allowed a little bit of time to accept all of this?"
"You're allowed all the time you need. Just as long as you don't let it come between you and Jim any longer. He's really trying, Mr. Ellison..." Blair paused, suddenly afraid he'd stepped over the line, said too much.
But William's hand on his shoulder and the understanding in his eyes banished his fears. "I know he's trying, Blair. And I'm going to try, too. Much harder than I have been."
"I'm sure everything will work out, sir," Blair offered.
William withdrew his hand and moved back a step. Folding his arms across his chest, he cocked his head and frowned down at Blair. "There's just one thing we still need to fix..."
Blair swallowed and asked hesitantly, "What's that?"
"Well," William said, allowing a smile to light his features, "If you and I are going to be friends, then we can't have you calling me 'sir' or 'Mr. Ellison' any longer, can we?" He extended his hand to Blair. "Please, would you call me William?"
Blair grasped the offered hand and held on tightly. "Yes. Thank you... William."
Behind them, the loft door opened and Jim stepped through, carrying two large bags of Chinese carry-out. "Everything okay here?" he asked, placing the bags on the kitchen table.
"Everything's fine," William answered his son. "I'm going to clean up before we eat." He looked down at Blair and raised his eyebrows. "That is, if I'm welcome to stay for dinner?"
"Always," Blair assured him.
"Well, good, because I'm hungry." He smiled over at Jim before crossing to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Blair moved to the cupboards and pulled down three plates, setting them out on the table as Jim brought the silverware and napkins. "I don't know what you said to your dad," he muttered as he opened each of the food containers, "But whatever it was, it sure as hell made a difference."
"I just told him the truth, Chief," Jim said softly. "I told him that if we hadn't met, I would be dead."
Blair looked up at him, surprised by the words. "You told him what?"
Jim stood on the other side of the table, his gaze locked on Sandburg. "It's true, Blair. That day you showed up at the hospital, pretending to be a doctor--you saved my life. I know I've never really said it out loud, but you and I both know that's the truth."
"Jim--"
"You saved my life, Chief," Jim insisted, not allowing Blair to halt his words, needing to say them. "You knew what I was and even though I didn't believe you--didn't want to believe you--you persisted. You not only explained who I was to me, but you taught me that what I am is a gift rather than a curse." He crossed to Blair and, dropping his hands on his friend's shoulders, stared down into his eyes. "That's what I told my dad," he finished softly.
Blair blinked several times as he stared up at Jim. "I... I don't know what to say," he whispered after a time, his voice rough.
Jim chuckled. "Now, there's a first."
The door to the bathroom opened and William Ellison stepped out. Jim glanced toward him briefly before returning his gaze to Blair. "Come on, buddy. Let's eat."
Blair nodded. "Great. I'm starving." He sat down across from father and son, exchanging small talk as the three of them passed containers of food back and forth. The atmosphere of tenseness and hostility that had permeated the loft just a couple hours before was no longer present--banished completely because of William Ellison's willingness to try to come to grips with what--with who--his eldest son really was.
Jim turned off the TV as the Jags game ended, his gaze shifting to Blair's room. His guide had been holed up in there since dinner, not even coming out to refill his coffee cup. Jim frowned as he crossed to the VCR and popped out the tape he'd recorded. It was of a program Blair had been waiting to watch. One he'd talked about for the last three days straight. Yet the kid hadn't even bothered to come out and tape it or ask Jim if he could watch it in lieu of the game.
Slipping the tape into its case, he crossed to Blair's door, knocked once, then stepped inside. "Hey, Chief."
Blair sat cross-legged on his bed, his back against the wall, making notes in his journal. "Hey, man." He removed his glasses and lay them carefully atop his book, then looked up at Jim. "Something wrong?" he asked, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ears.
"No, nothing's wrong." Jim held up the tape he'd made for him. "I taped that Travel Channel special you've been wanting to see." Crossing to the bed, Jim perched himself on the edge, facing his partner. "I thought maybe you'd forgotten about it being on tonight." He handed it to him.
"Oh, man, thanks!" Blair said, smiling brightly. "And you're right, I'd forgotten all about it." Blair held the tape in his hands, studying it for a long moment.
Jim scrutinized his friend. The bright smile was gone, replaced by the pensive distraction that had colored Blair's expressions for the past couple of days. "Blair," Jim spoke softly, "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah," Sandburg answered quickly, lifting his gaze to Jim. "Why?"
Jim shrugged. "You've just been awfully quiet lately, ever since we got back from the trip." He gave Blair a small grin. "Just worrying me a little, I guess. I thought everything was fine."
"Everything is fine," Blair answered quietly, diverting his eyes to the tape again. "I'm just a little tired, that's all."
"Uh huh." Jim nodded silently, then pinned Sandburg with a knowing look. "You're slipping there, Professor," he teased warmly. "You of all people should know that a sentinel can always tell when someone is lying."
"Good point," Blair muttered.
"I'm right, then? Something is wrong?"
"Yeah," Blair replied sentinel-soft. "Something's wrong."
"So what is it, Chief? What's bugging you?"
"This, I guess," Blair answered, gesturing slowly around his room and toward the living area. "My being here." The young man swallowed and, looking at Jim, offered him a sad smile. "If you should ever want me to go--to move out--you can tell me, Jim. I mean that."
"That's what this is all about? You think you aren't welcome here?"
"No, I know I'm welcome... but... if I'm crowding you at all--"
"Blair, you are not crowding me! You should know that by now."
"But my stuff--it's all over. I could--"
"Of course your stuff is all over. It should be. This is your house, your home. Our home."
"I know," Blair drawled out, but it was obvious that he was still not convinced.
"This all has to do with my father, doesn't it? With the things he said about us still living together."
It was Blair's turn to shrug. "I guess it just sort of got me to thinking... I mean, everything's okay with me and your dad, really it is. I guess I just started thinking too much about some of the stuff he said and when you really look at it, he did have a point about my being here..."
"Blair," Jim intercepted, his voice soft. "Do you remember when I was having those dreams about Lash last month? About you... being gone?"
Blair huffed out a short breath of cheerless laughter. "Kind of hard to forget, Jim."
"Well, you know what really stands out for me, even today?"
Blair shook his head.
"How empty the loft was without you here. I lived alone a long time, Sandburg. I know how that feels and I don't want to go back to it. I admit when you first moved in, it was an adjustment. But that was a long time ago and now... now when I think of home, I think of you." Reaching out, he gave Blair's shoulder a quick squeeze. "This is your home, Chief. For as long as you want it to be."
"But still, Jim... your father did have a point. I do make enough money--"
"My father didn't have the faintest idea what he was talking about," Jim said, giving Blair a conspiratorial grin. But the uncertainty did not leave his partner's eyes. "Listen Chief," he said, trying another tactic, "When all this began and we realized that I was zoning because of the tension with my father, what confused me the most was the fact that I'd argued with my father my whole life and never zoned before. So why was this so different? Well, I finally figured out what was making me zone. It was you."
Blair's eyes widened. "Me?"
"My dad was questioning your place with me. And deep down, I knew you would eventually question it too... just like you are now. That's what was making me zone, Chief. The idea that my dad was making you feel like you didn't have a place in my life, that you didn't belong with me. And that's just not true." Reaching out, he tapped two fingers against Blair's forehead. "So do me a favor--forget about what he said. The only thing that matters is whether or not this living arrangement works for us. And I happen to think it does." He lowered his voice. "And I've always thought that you felt it worked for you, too."
"It does," Blair confirmed quickly. "I just don't want you to feel--"
Jim waved his friend's concerns away with one hand, halting Blair's speech. "Let's just forget about what I feel or what I want for a minute. What do you want, Chief? Deep down inside, what do you want?"
Blair stared at him for a moment, opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. His gaze dropped to his hands where they rested together in his lap. When he looked up at Jim, there was a hopeful look in his eyes, barely disguising the tiniest glint of fear. "I want to stay," he answered at last.
Jim reached out and patted his leg. "Then stay, Blair. It's that simple."
"No doubts on your part?"
Jim shook his head. "None at all. I want things to stay just the way they are. I want you here with me."
The End

