The Commitment

This story first appeared in the zine "The Sentry Post Vol 2"
To obtain more details of how to purchase this excellent zine please visit the web site below:
http://members.aol.com/lhgraphics/index.htm
Publisher of Highland Blades, a Highlander gen fanzine and The Sentry Post, a Sentinel gen fanzine.
The site is well worth a visit:-)

Now on with the story.


Blair climbed slowly to consciousness and groaned. The pain was intense, and he discovered with a growing sense of terror that he was not able to move his lower body. Fighting against the dizziness that lifting his head caused, he tried to see what was holding him down.

He slumped back with a gasp, wincing as his head encountered the hard, rocky surface. He realised that he would not be going anywhere for a while; the rocks lying across his upper legs made sure of that, and rescue would be a long time in coming - if at all... His argument with Jim made sure of that.

As he lay there, gasping with every breath, the pain settled upon him and he let his mind drift back to how he had come to be in such a deadly position....

***

It had been such a silly thing to argue about, but to Blair it had been the last straw that had come sharply down upon his particular camel's back.

He had been in a rush for the last few weeks, juggling the extra lesson he had to teach because of another teacher's illness with grading papers for three classes for the end of term exams, and also covering with Jim at the station on a particularly nasty group of murders. During this period, he had discovered that the best way to cover these commitments was by getting by with less and less sleep, catching up on his shut-eye whenever he got the opportunity.

Then, to make matters worse, his car had decided to put itself out of its misery and had refused to start... leaving Blair jumping about the University car-park with an armful of papers to be graded and the sure knowledge that Jim would be pacing from his desk to Simon's office, while he waited for his totally late guide to turn up.

Sure enough, when Blair had finally found his mobile phone, the battery was dead and he had had to walk all the way back to his office to use his office phone. Jim had been scathing in his opinion of Blair's ability to be relied upon.

Blair had just stood by his desk, eyes closed, lips drawn tight, while he waited for Jim's tirade to end. There were no words that Ellison could have said that would have made the young man feel any worse than he already did, and being informed that the killer had more than likely escaped to kill again, because of him, was not exactly what Blair had wanted to hear... nor the acid tone telling him to get his car sorted out and not to bother coming to the station until he was prepared to do some proper work and give his attention - all his attention - to the case at hand.

Holding the phone away from his ear as Jim slammed the receiver down, Blair told himself that Jim hadn't meant what he'd said; he was angry because they were due to interview a suspect and Jim had specially asked Blair to be there, as he wanted to use his full Sentinel abilities to check the man's house, and needed Blair to cover for him just in case he zoned out from the pressure of interviewing a suspect and checking the surrounding environment.

Sandburg looked at the phone, then at the pile of papers that needed to be checked and graded. Slowly, as if to mock him, he watched in horror as the papers toppled and spilled off his desk to land in an untidy heap on the floor; it would take hours to sort them back into order by their respective authors. Blair bit his bottom lip and felt tears of frustration suddenly well up in his eyes, but he bravely took a deep breath and fought against the feelings of total worthlessness that were welling within his body. He was not going to let them control him; he was past that kind of thing... wasn't he?

Even as he ripped the phone off the desk and hurled it across the room, then swept his arm across the surface of the desk, dumping what remained of the papers on the floor, he knew that he was losing it.

His mother had always told him that to stay in one place would destroy him... his body and soul. He was a child of the universe and needed to keep moving, to feel the air change about him every few months, if he wanted to stay sane and free, and now... now he was being smothered - by the teaching, the learning and, mostly, by being Jim's guide. The pressure of always having to have the answer, of the nagging feeling that Ellison was wanting a firmer commitment to their work, their partnership, was starting to crumble the young man's ability to see life as a challenge and an adventure.

When he had begun the task of guiding Jim, he had not considered the life-long commitment that it required; he had seriously only considered it a short term project until he own thesis was complete. But now, as time passed, he began to see that even if Jim did learn to control his senses, he would never learn to live with them without his guide's continuous input, and it was this growing certainty that was causing Blair the most pain. Could he give another human being that much guarantee and, if he didn't, would Jim survive his decision to leave?

He slumped down on the floor and began to sob; it was a deep, wrenching sound that would have caused Sandburg to investigate if he had heard it, but no-one came to his office door, no-one enquired if he was all right as he clutched his shaking hand across his stomach and slowly began to rock back and forth. No-one cared.

Several hours later, Blair came back to himself. He was sitting in his darkened office, the papers strewn all about him, and the phone was buzzing angrily in the corner where he had thrown it, demanding attention. Slowly, as if in great pain, Blair crawled over to it and placed the receiver back on the cradle. Then he began to clamber about, hopelessly trying to pick up the stuff that he had swept from his desk. Glancing at the clock, he was surprised to see that it was now after eight in the evening.

The phone suddenly burst into life and he started violently before he snatched it up. As soon as he had it to his ear, he could hear the anger in Jim's tone. "Where the hell have you been, Sandburg? I've been trying to reach you for hours," he snapped.

Licking at dry lips, his voice as cheerful as he could make it - though even he could hear the chipped ice that lay within his words - Blair lied, "Hey man... I just got back in... the phone had fallen off the desk." He forced the fabrication out. "I did as you asked and had the car looked at, and they took hours to get here - and then, when they finally arrived, they tell me that it was beyond the repair mark, man."

The silence at the other end of the phone was so thick that Blair scrunched up his face and concentrated on his breathing, just in case Jim picked up on the fact that he was lying to him by his heartbeat. Finally Ellison asked dryly, his even tone indicating that he didn't really believe a word that Sandburg had spoken, "Do you want a lift?"

"No..." Blair blurted out, before he pulled back and answered in a calmer tone, "No sweat, man... I'm going to be a while yet." He desperately looked about the room; he needed a reason to delay his return to the loft. His tear-streaked face and wild-eyed look would not get past the 'Ellison concern factor', nor his 'let's talk about it, Chief'. "I've got..." his eyes fell on the mess that he'd scooped up and placed on his desk. He barked out a false laugh and said in an incredibly bright tone that held the edge of truth, "I have got sooo many papers to mark here, man - end of term and all that - so I thought I'd just stick it out here tonight and get them finished in one fell swoop.

"You know..." he paused again, as his mind frantically searched for the words that would seem right to his Sentinel, "once this term is over... I'll be able to spend more time with you at the station... commit to the partnership and all that," he gushed, remembering the discussion of a few nights before; the discussion that had started his downward spiral. "Two more days," he continued, "and the term is over and I'm out of here, man." Even as he spoke the final words, he knew that he'd made up his mind; Jim would believe that he was talking about the University, but Blair now knew that he was talking about the whole deal. Just two more days and he was gone, leaving Cascade, his anthropology degree, and Jim as far behind as he possibly could. It had always worked for his mother, and he was nothing if not his mother's son.

"Have you eaten?" The question pulled him back from his horror, as he sat there finally understanding why his mother always moved on. How easy it suddenly looked to just gather up his few possessions and disappear.

"What?" he asked at a sudden loss, his mind still recovering from the shock of his revelation.

"Have you eaten?" Jim was keeping his tone low and light, although it barely concealed his concern for his young friend; a sure sign that he realised that he should not have shouted earlier on, during their last conversation.

Blair felt his lips tremble and knew that if he didn't finish this conversation soon, then he would be blabbering down the phone line. He turned to defence. "Give me a break here, man... in case you hadn't noticed, the position of mother is filled in my life." He snapped the words out and waited for the reply to come. He didn't have long to wait.

"Believe me, Chief, that is one position that I wouldn't take on for all the tea in Cascade...." There was a long pause before Jim finally added, unable to restrain himself, "Don't leave it too long, Chief." Jim's tone was quiet, but laced with just the right amount of concern to make Blair feel like a heel for talking to him the way that he had. "And give me a call when you're finished." A slight pause before he continued, "No matter what the time."

"Sure, Jim," he agreed with an apology in his defeated tone, "I'll give you a call as soon as I'm finished." He replaced the receiver quickly, unwilling to continue the conversation while his stomach was churning in such a fierce manner.

He stumbled over to his chair and sank down, his legs threatening to fail under him. He took a deep, steadying breath and slowly let it out. What the hell was going on here? He had been fine a few days ago, and the weeks before that. He had been happy with his University teaching, living and working with Jim, but today... today it was like he'd just woken up and realised that he was trapped. Ellison had spoken the dreaded word: commitment. He wanted their friendship to be firmer; he spoke now to Blair as if he were a younger brother, rather than a close friend. Since his return from Peru, Ellison seemed to have made a decision that Blair had not taken part in, and was urging Blair to consider his options after his thesis was finished.

Sandburg swallowed hard and leant further back in his chair; was he trapped? He had been working with Jim for quite a while now, and they had a friendship that many would envy. He trusted Ellison with his life and knew that Jim felt the same; the man moaned and groaned, but he was always there for Blair. Sure, he might lay it on a bit thick sometimes, like he had earlier on the phone - that was mainly because he was still unsure of his own ability, where his sentinel powers were concerned, and at times wanted Blair by his side continuously... like some kind of human security blanket - and it was that thought that frightened the young anthropologist. He had never been needed before, not to that extent. In the past he had always had the ability to just up stakes and move on without causing much, if any, pain. Yet now he knew that, if he left, he would wound Jim to the core.

Blair needed to get out; that much was clear to the young anthropologist. He was starting to feel trapped and, like any wild animal, he was sitting in his office considering chewing off the trapped limb, when all he really needed to do was take some time out, get back to nature, feel mother earth under his bare feet and communicate with himself. He needed to put his life back into proportion. He sat up straighter as the solution to his problem seemed to shine before him. He would take a few days off and go camping by himself; that had always worked in the past, and he felt sure it would work again.

Decision made, he stood and began to clean his office with renewed vigour. Settling back at his desk, he pulled the papers before him and began to sort and grade them with a vengeance. By four the next morning, he pushed the last paper aside and, leaning back, he stretched and eyed the completed pile before him.

A knock at his door shook him out of his contemplation and he yelled that it was open. A frown marred his handsome features as he wondered who would be calling on him at this time of the morning.

The door flew open and Jim Ellison stalked into the room, a frown on his face as he spotted his young friend sitting behind a huge pile of papers. "You should keep this door locked when you're here on your own at this time of night." His tone carried an edge of anger, and Blair was once more the small child who had been caught doing wrong.

Blair suddenly looked guilty and dragged up a weak smile. "Sorry, man, guess I got carried away with the grading and everything." He motioned to the pile in front of him, determined not to be the one to start the argument this time.

"Do you know what time it is?" Jim asked, moving to stand in front of Blair's desk, using his height and posture to intimidate Blair.

Sandburg blinked owlishly a couple of times, then looked at the large old clock that ticked in the corner. "Just past four," he supplied, his tone carrying his confusion; what had he done wrong now?

"Just past four," Jim agreed, before he added in a tone of ice, "and I've been waiting for you to call...." Ellison emphasised the word waiting, before adding in a disgusted tone, "Christ, Sandburg, don't you ever consider anyone else, or is it just you, you and more you?"

Before Ellison could get into full swing, Blair leapt up and butted in, his own tone angry and annoyed, "Give me a break here, Jim. I told you I was going to make a night of it... you're the one who demanded that I call you when I'd finished." He stopped and gathered a quick breath. "Well, for your information, I've only just finished and I would have called you...."

He never got to end his sentence as Jim interrupted, his face almost purple with rage, "Well forgive me for caring a damn about you.... You know, Sandburg, I sometimes wonder just how committed you really are to this Sentinel/Guide relationship... I mean, you want something and I drop everything and come running; need a place to live and you move in; want some money until grant day swings by and I hand it over to you; but you... oh no, when I need you there to help me interview a suspect - hey, what a surprise... you're way too busy with your academic life to even bother turning up. Do you notice the scales of this relationship being a little too light on one side, Chief?" Ellison stopped, out of breath; lack of sleep and hours worrying about his young friend were clearly showing in his eyes, but Blair chose to ignore that and ranted back, all his feelings of dread and anger sweeping to the fore.

"You come running.... Man, I hear that along with every groan, moan and smart-mouthed retort that always accompany it. As for my living with you..." Blair was on a roll and could hardly believe the words he heard coming out of his mouth, but he was also unable to stop them as he tore on, "you're not doing me such a big favour there, either... By the time I get by your stupid house rules and do your cooking, laundry and anything else that comes under 'Sandburg's chores for the week', I feel that you should be paying me as a live-in housekeeper... and believe me, man, you're never, ever going to have to worry about me borrowing another cent off you ever again, 'cause you never let the fact go... do you, Ellison? And you moan about me being unable to sustain a relationship... man, now I know why Caroline pulled up stakes...." He stopped, suddenly unwilling to go in that direction when he saw the flash of pain that crossed the other man's face. Instead he changed pathway and hurried on, "And as for you ever condescending to do one of my tests for me... I would get blood out of a stone sooner than have you help me with my academic life." He spat the last words and knew from the cold, hard look that entered Jim's face that he had said far too much.

"You don't like my house rules, Chief, or the way we split the chores," Jim offered in a deceptively mild tone, "you know where the door is.... Try paying a full rent and see how far you get. And you don't think I'm giving you a fair deal as far as my sentinel abilities are concerned...? You can always pull out and get yourself another test subject; we didn't sign no contract here, Sandburg - you've made that damned clear over the last few days... and, as far Caroline and me are concerned," Ellison pointed a strong finger at the man across the desk and punctuated each word with a stab of it, "that has nothing to do with you, but at least I've got the guts to try to form a relationship; I'm not some emotional cripple who runs from the thought of a permanent commitment... even one based on friendship."

Blair felt the colour seep from his face and knew that his eyes were wide as he snarled back with quiet fury, "Fuck you, Ellison."

Jim stopped all motion. Nobody, but nobody, told James Ellison to fuck himself and then walked away, but this one time Sandburg did, as Jim fought to gather his rage close. Slowly turning, he walked towards the door; as he reached it, he turned slightly and threw back over his shoulder, his words hard and bitter, "No, Sandburg, that's what you've been figuratively doing to me since we met. Well, the free ride's over, Chief; either you're at the station by nine this morning with a total commitment to this Sentinel/Guide relationship, or you're out of the loft by nightfall." Then he was gone. The whole wall shook from the door slamming shut, and objects rattled precariously on the bookcase that was leant against it.

Blair forgot how to breathe for several long moments. He just stood there, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. What had possessed him to talk to Jim in that way... was he totally out of his mind? Jim had been the brother he'd never had; the man had shown every indication that he would walk over hot coals for him, would back him in any situation, and what had Blair done...? He'd alienated the only real friend he had in the whole world.

Blair's legs gave out and he slipped to the floor, missing the chair by inches. He gulped in a breath and then another, and fairly soon he was hyperventilating. He had what he wanted, didn't he...? He was free; all he had to do was walk away. Jim had given him that option. So why did he feel so sick?

He felt so sick because Jim was right; he was an emotional cripple. He couldn't handle commitment, that was obvious from the number of girlfriends he waded his way through - even his relationship with his own mother only worked because he only saw her once or twice a year... he was unable to let anyone get close to him. Hell, he'd even preferred living in a warehouse to having other people around him. Jim was the only one he'd let near him, and it looked like he'd screwed that up very effectively, thank you.

A little voice told him that all he had to do was turn up at the police station by nine and Jim would forgive him. Ellison wouldn't tell anyone about their argument, that wasn't Jim's way, but he would demand an explanation for the way that Blair had been acting over the last few days. He would want to know why he was now suddenly so afraid of continuing their friendship... and, Blair shuddered, he didn't know that he had an answer for him.

Sandburg knew that he desperately did need to get away, that his instinct to flee had been right. If he'd left there and then, the argument would not have taken place and he would have had a few days to gather himself and sort his emotions out before being confronted by Jim.

Slowly he clambered up from the floor, his mind made up. He moved to his desk and scribbled out a quick note about having received a call about a family tragedy and the need to get away. Then he gathered up the graded papers and dropped them, along with the note, off in the office of a fellow grad student who would be able to pass them along. Blair was finished for the term, that part had been true. He could disappear for the next three weeks and still have a job with the University when he got back.

Heading out to the car park, he detoured by the security office and explained that his car was out of service and would have to remain in the car park for the next few days, up to a week at the latest, until he could get it moved. At first they hadn't been too impressed, but he fell back on the family problem fabrication and they had finally agreed to keep an eye on it, but only for the week.

Next came the hardest part. He needed to return to the loft to gather his stuff together. He knew that he wouldn't be able to clear the loft by nightfall as Jim had requested, but he hoped that Ellison would give him a little breathing space and allow his stuff to remain until he could return and make alternative arrangements. He was working through his problems as if from a great distance... this wasn't really happening to him; it had an air of unreality to it.

He called a taxi and had it drop him off a few blocks from the loft. He glanced at his watch; it was nearly seven in the morning and Jim would be leaving for the station soon. As soon as Ellison left, he was going to throw some of his gear together and head out of the city for a few days' camping. His one major problem was transport, but he had a friend, Jack Duncan, who was out of town for an extended period while he attended an archaeological dig in South America. He had left Blair his keys so he that he could give the car the occasional drive, so it would still be in working order when he got home. His friend had not intended for Blair to use the car on a full time basis, but Jack was cool and Sandburg was sure that he would understand his need to get away.

He slipped back into an alleyway as he saw Jim's truck turn the corner and disappear from view. Glancing at his watch, he winced when he noted that Jim was right on time. Blair didn't need sentinel abilities to knew that Ellison's face would be carved from stone at that moment.

The loft was silent when he entered, and he resisted the urge to rush to the toilet and toss up his stomach's contents, which wasn't much. He felt like he was breaking in, and was determined to spend as little time as possible in the loft. Quickly he moved about the two rooms, gathering up his stuff. He deposited it in his bedroom and then packed a few days' change of clothes in his larger back-pack, then he dug out his small tent and camping equipment, and hunted about for the maps he would need. Once he had his stuff gathered, he took one last long look about the loft before moving over to quickly write a note informing Jim that he had been right, and that he, Blair, was sorry and was heading out for a few days' quiet camping to gather his thoughts, and that he would move out of the loft as soon as he got back. His hand shook as he signed the paper, and he used both hands to place it on the dining table with a glass on top to keep it in place.

Then, quickly gathering up his stuff, he stumbled out of the loft, leaving the keys in the basket where they were always kept. Moving to the coffee shop below, he called another taxi and headed over to Jack's place to pick up the car.

***

Jim was furious as he left the University and Blair's office behind. How could the kid talk to him like that and expect to get away with it?

By the time he reached his car, he had calmed down slightly and almost turned back towards the building, but clenching his jaw, he straightened his back and climbed resolutely into the cab of his truck. The last few days had not been easy. Ever since Jim had raised the issue of what Blair was planning to do once his dissertation was finished, the kid had thrown himself into his teaching, his university life, even his love life, and had detached himself more and more from Jim's life. It was almost like he was getting ready to break the bond that existed between them, as if he had suddenly realised that it was there.

Ellison took a deep breath and slowly let it out, a breathing technique that Blair had taught him. He knew that he had either just pushed the kid out of his life entirely, or given him the yank that was needed to pull him back to his side.

Starting the car, Jim slowly turned the wheel and headed back to the loft. He was unable to shake the feeling that he had just done something terribly wrong, and yet he also knew that he could not continue to live with the not knowing if this was just a passing fad for Blair. He needed some sign of commitment to their friendship from Blair, some small acknowledgement that, once his paper was finished, he would not disappear from Jim's life.

The loft was empty, and it reminded Jim starkly how lonely he had felt the previous night as he had stayed up hour after hour, waiting for Blair to call him and say that he needed him as much as the sentinel depended on him. The wait had been in vain, and the man had finally run out of patience and had driven to the University with every intention of pulling the younger man out of his office and back to the loft to get some much-needed sleep before the start of another day.

But he had entered Blair's office to see him sitting there, door unlocked and with a distant expression on his face. It was this expression that had scared Jim the most and caused him to lose his temper. Sandburg wanted to leave, that was now clear to the other man, and it terrified him beyond reason. To be left alone with his senses, unable to control them, was one of Jim's worst nightmares.

Slamming his fist against the kitchen counter, Ellison realised that he had just given Blair the opportunity to make his worst nightmare come true, and there was nothing, nothing, that he, Jim Ellison could do. If he wanted to hold Blair by his side, it had to be out of friendship and brotherly love, not because he felt pity for the weak Sentinel who could not bear to be without his guide.

Moving like an automaton, Jim got undressed, showered and ready for work. As he left the loft, he took one long last look about and wondered if he would return to this place with his guide or alone. Sighing against the fear that welled again, he slammed the door and hurried out of the building as if he could outrun his fears.

***

The sound of a wild bird screeching overhead caused Blair to jerk awake, and he cried out in pain as his body violently protested the sudden movement. He licked at dry, cracked lips and wished that the twenty foot fall had killed him outright, instead of bringing part of the mountain down upon his legs so that he was unable to move.

His mind drifted as fever began to climb through his torn body. With a sigh, he remembered earlier when he had first arrived at the camp site.

He had made it to the camping area safely; it was one that Jim had brought him to many months ago. Roughly pushing that thought aside, he'd set up his tent, glad to note that the late time of year had discouraged other campers from trying the area. He had the place to himself. The little tent had looked so natural amongst the backdrop of tall trees, and nearby the river gurgled happily along, having an instant calming effect upon the guide's shattered nerves. It had been so quiet and secluded that Blair had felt immediately at home.

He had spent the remainder of the morning near the river, hiking along a narrow animal path that criss-crossed along the water's edge, but by the afternoon he'd decided to venture further up the mountain. The call of the wild birds had been too strong a sound of freedom for him to ignore. He'd made good time; the trees that surrounded him had lulled him into a false sense of security and he'd not been aware of how high he'd actually climbed, nor how steep the hillside had become - not until a stone had twisted under his ankle and he'd tumbled down, amid a growing number of stones and boulders which he'd dislodged in his tumble. His cry of terror had only been returned by the territorial cry of the bird that had lured him up so high.

Now here he lay, unable to move because of his trapped legs, which he felt sure were broken. Every effort he made to free himself was defeated when he was plunged into darkness as the pain overtook him. Upon returning to consciousness, other parts of his body protested any further movement, so now he lay gasping on the ground, unable to move or even attempt to free himself. All he could do was lie there and think back over the recent events that had led him to this place.

He had not seen another person since he'd turned off the road and down the narrow drive that led to the small secluded campsite. He was alone and he was going to die, and to Blair that now seemed a fitting epitaph. Jim was right, he was unable to commit himself, even to a surrogate brother, so what the hell use was he to anyone on this planet, anyway? With that thought swirling about his mind, he slipped once more into the darkness..

***

Jim watched the large hands of the clock as they slowly climbed their way up to touch nine o'clock. The deadline came and went with no sign of his errant guide. As ten o'clock approached, Simon came out of his office to gather some papers from Brown's desk and frowned, seeing that his best detective had not moved since entering the bull pen two hours before. In fact, the man seemed to have 'zoned out' while staring at the clock. He shot a quick look around to see if Sandburg was in the room, but not seeing the man he approached Ellison, ready to help him as best he could if he had zoned out.

"Jim," he began cautiously, then leaped back as the man in question snapped around to glare at him. "Sorry, Jim, I thought you were... you know... zoned or whatever the hell it is Sandburg calls it," he offered weakly. Then he got a good look at the man and knew that there was something wrong... desperately wrong. "In my office, now," he ordered, then spinning about he didn't wait to see if Ellison complied. He knew he would.

As he entered, he made his way to his coffee machine and held the pot up as he offered Ellison a drink. The man in question shook his head and slumped down in the seat in front of Simon's desk, saying, "I blew it, Simon... I really, really blew it... Blair's gone," he finished, unable to meet his friend's shocked look.

Simon slowly poured himself a drink as he considered Jim's words, and sat down in his own chair before he asked, "Gone... gone where?"

"Damned if I know." Jim sighed deeply, as if the act of breathing was becoming a chore, and then, reaching up, he rubbed at his forehead, unable to push away the headache that had begun shortly after his last confrontation with Blair. Slowly, haltingly, he began to explain what had happened the night before. Finishing, he concluded dryly, "So I told him to either be here by nine, or out of the loft by this evening."

As Ellison unfolded the sorry tale, Simon had felt his jaw dropping further and further open. He was not sure what shocked him the most; Jim acting like a tyrannical father and pushing Blair too far, or Sandburg for talking to Ellison the way he had.

"And this all came about because Blair's car broke down yesterday?" Simon ventured, once he was sure that Jim had finished.

"Yes...No... no..." Ellison began, then he stopped and nodded. "Well, sorta... but it's deeper than that... far deeper...." Ellison wondered if he would be able to explain. Taking another breath, he tried to slowly place his jumbled thoughts into words. "Blair has a problem... with..." he paused again, as if saying the words would make them hurt even more, "he has a problem with commitment."

He looked up to see how his captain reacted to his words; Simon just raised an eyebrow which demanded further explanation. Trying another approach, Jim began again, "Blair has always burned the candle at both ends, trying to push too much into too little time, but lately it's almost as if he was trying to build a gap between us... he makes excuses, any excuse not to be here, or pleads prior engagement to his university teaching." Ellison threw up his arms and offered, "I know... I know he does have a job to do there, but like I said, it went deeper than that....and I just wanted a sign, some slight indication that he wasn't about to just bail out once his dissertation was finished." He stopped, unable to continue as he realised just how much he'd now lost. He'd spent the last few hours wanting to go back to Blair's office and beg his forgiveness, wanted to tell the young man that they would play the game by his rules, do whatever he felt comfortable with doing, but he hadn't. One part of him wanted to be in control... and that meant not letting the younger man see just how much he needed him, if he was going to continue living with his Sentinel ability.

Simon looked at the cold cup of coffee that he was still nursing and said, "Jim, we both know that Blair's as skittish about relationships and what they entail as a day-old foal. Hell, we both know his upbringing didn't encourage him to make any lasting commitment, and pushing him into making a decision is the fastest way of pushing him out of your life. If you want to keep him as a friend, you've got to go with his boundaries - not his rules," he stated, when he saw Jim's head snap up at his words, "his boundaries.... Jim, we both know that that kid would walk through fire for you, and over the last few months he's settled down incredibly well - so much so that his mother was nervous of your influence when she met you - but you've got to expect him to want to test the saddle once in a while, and the last few weeks have been pretty tough on both of you...." Simon sat back and wondered how he was ever going to get the two men communicating again. "You know," he began, an idea forming even as he spoke the words. "When me and Daryl have a set-to, we usually find that getting away from it all, just the two of us, can have a very communicating effect."

Jim smiled slightly and offered, "Just like you did in Peru?"

Simon smiled along with his friend and offered, "Well, that held just a little bit more excitement than I was actually intending for that particular trip... but something like that. Maybe the same thing applies to a Sentinel and his Guide... you said yourself that you came back from Peru with a deeper understanding of what was happening to you... but I don't remember you ever passing that titbit of information along to Sandburg."

Jim grimaced as he remembered the long night's drinking session that he'd gone on after a good bust, and the conversation that he'd had with his captain concerning their adventure in Peru. He rubbed guiltily at his jaw as he offered, "Things just kinda overtook us after that."

"My point exactly..." Simon emphasised. "You two need to get away every once in a while and just... well, just talk I guess. And maybe try a few of those tests that the kid is always bugging you about... after all, he needs a reason to be here, just as much as you need him to be here."

"I don't know, Simon... if I give in now..." Jim began, then stopped. Banks was giving him the best advice that he'd had all day, and here he was squirming because one part of him didn't want to be seen backing down.

Simon leant forward in his chair and offered in a quiet tone, "You don't give in to family, Jim, you just compromise - and let's be honest here; Blair's the nearest thing you've got to a brother at the moment... pushing Steven aside, that is," he finished with a smile. He knew that, while Jim's relationship with his brother was improving, it was nowhere near as solid as his ties and commitments to Blair.

Ellison realised that his friend and captain was right. He'd had an argument with Blair that morning and the words had been vicious and nasty, but the one thing about a family was the ability to forgive. "You're right, Simon," Jim finally conceded, "I shouldn't have let the argument get so far out of hand; I should have seen that Blair was feeling trapped and done something to help him, instead of... of losing my temper and demanding that he conform to my ideas of what our relationship should be." He stopped, then added, "The only problem is that I'm not much better at this commitment thing than he is, and I've got the arrogance to call him an emotional cripple."

Simon leant back in his chair, knowing that if something wasn't done - and done soon - he would lose not only his best detective, but also a very good friend. With this in mind, he offered, "That suspect you brought in yesterday is looking good; his confession seems to be holding water. You typed up your report last night, so why don't you take a few days off, gather up Sandburg and get this little matter straightened out?"

"I can't just..." Jim began, but then stopped as Simon held up a hand.

"The hell you can. This is a family crisis, Jim, so take the time and use it wisely."

"Hell, Simon, I don't even know where he might be," Jim said, wiping a tired hand across his face, the enormity of the situation sweeping down on him once more.

Simon threw him a dirty look and offered in a dry southern drawl, "Well, gee, DETECTIVE Ellison... why don't you try guessing?"

Jim needed no more urging and, rising, he gave his captain a grateful smile and offered weakly, "Now I know why you're the captain and I'm just the lowly detective."

"Yes," Simon shot back as his friend left the room, "and that's just the way I like it."

***

Arriving home, Jim was distressed to see the note that Blair had left, but pleased that the young man hadn't decided to move his stuff out of the loft right away. Sandburg's note also gave the Sentinel hope that the young man was still undecided about his feelings and only wanted space to think.

Now Jim's next decision was, did he give him that space? After twenty minutes of waiting and pacing the loft, Ellison knew that he was not going to be able to just wait and see if Blair decided to come back, which meant that he would have to go out and find the young man.

Four hours later, Jim returned to the loft not much wiser than when he had left it. He had been to the University and spoken to some of Blair's colleagues, who had been able to give him little information except that Blair was finished for the term. His next port of call had been to the campus security about Blair's car. Then he'd gone over and checked Jack Duncan's apartment block and seen that his car was missing, so now at least he knew how Blair had got to wherever he had decided to go. Now all that Jim had to do was find out where that place was.

He moved about the loft, trying to glean some indication of where his wayward partner might have gone. Suddenly he spun back to his bookcase; a book was missing - it was a guide book for the local National Park. He had purchased it the last time he'd taken Blair up to the small campsite he'd found a few years before.

He now began to move about the loft with a purpose. He was almost certain he knew where Blair was. Once he had everything he needed, he paused as he made his way out of the door, his attention having been caught by Blair's keys as they sat in the basket by the door. Reaching out, he struggled with his other equipment and snatched them up, determining that when they returned, it would be Blair who opened the door to let himself back in the loft.

***

Blair blinked up at the sun; it was now well on its downward path and soon night would fall across the mountain. Sandburg had spent the last hour or so just slipping in and out of consciousness, and it seemed that the gods were tricking him into believing that Jim was there with him as he relived parts of their past life together. He started to get angry. He didn't want to think about Jim, didn't want to remember how good their friendship had been, how right it had felt, and how much he was going to miss the taller man who had become the brother he'd never had, never known he'd needed until he'd lost him. The whole point of his fleeing Cascade was to try to forget that Jim was that close to him, that Jim had been prepared to make a lasting commitment to their Sentinel/Guide relationship. And all he'd asked for in return was for Blair to state that he was not going to blow Cascade the day after his dissertation was finished, and Blair had blown it. Once again he'd let fear rule his life and direct his actions, and once more he was on his own. Were the words really that hard to say?

He tried to take a deep breath and whimpered as pain again flared across his chest. He was sorry that he wasn't going to get the chance to say goodbye to Naomi or Jim; he would have given anything just to see them one last time and let them know that he did love them, and that he didn't want to die alone on this mountainside. 'Please God,' he prayed, 'let them realise that it was an accident and that I didn't do this on purpose." He felt a tear trickle down from the corner of his eyes as he realised that Jim would never forgive himself if he thought that.

The build-up of emotion caused him to fight for breath, which in turn caused pain to flash through his body. He wanted the pain to stop, and yet it was the only thing that was keeping him coherent... and he now didn't want to die without someone finding him, so that he could tell them to tell Jim that this wasn't his fault, that he was stupid and childish and that he did want to stay with him. He now knew that there was nothing that could drag him away from his friend's side, short of death. He knew how it would sound to anyone who came across him, as he babbled about commitment to another man, but he didn't care, as long as they passed his message on to Jim, who would understand what he was talking about, would know that he was talking about their Sentinel/Guide relationship. He didn't give a damn what anyone else thought; he was only interested in Jim realising that he was a fool to run from the love and affection, the caring that Ellison offered. Blair had never known his father, but he at least had one chance to savour the warmth, devotion and respect of a beloved brother - and for that he would always be grateful.

He began to talk, just to hear the sound of a voice. He practised what he would say to the person who found him, the words he would use to get them to pass the message on to Jim. It became the most important thing in his life, the only remaining meaning to his breathing; he had to let Jim know that he finally understood what Ellison had been trying to teach him since solving their first case together, about being able to depend upon your family, to be able to say and do anything and still be accepted, loved and protected. That commitment wasn't just a word to be used only to get what you wanted from someone, nor was it something to be feared, much as Naomi had, to see it as a leaving word where, once it had been spoken, there was no going back. No, to Jim it had been a few words saying that what they shared went beyond an account written on a piece of paper, and that Blair would not just disappear with the next offer to go to Borneo, or wherever. He had only wanted to be allowed to partake in any discussion before the younger man up and disappeared.

Slowly the fever and delirium overcame him, and he called out to his friend in growing terror as he felt himself slipping further and further away, without having passed his words on. His last conscious thought was to wonder, without fear, at the presence of the black cat that had come to sit a short distance away.

***

The moment Jim pulled into the campsite he knew that something was wrong. The air was still about him and he felt cold, too cold for the layers of clothes he had on. Moving about the campsite, he could find no reason for his growing concern, apart from the fact that it was starting to get dark and there was still no sign of Sandburg. Then, using his Sentinel ability, he was quickly able to pick up the trail his friend had travelled several hours before. He pushed his hearing out in front of him and stopped only once when he thought he heard the sound of a wild cat's cry up ahead. For some inexplicable reason, the sound gave him more speed, and soon he was travelling up higher into the mountain. Then he heard it, the babbling tone of his guide, but the resonance was off, too breathless. Jim concentrated on the familiar heartbeat, and sucked in his breath when he realised how weak and irregular it was.

With little thought to his own safety, he broke into a run and soon found the spot where Blair had tumbled down the side of the mountain. Uncaringly, he threw himself down the same slope and slipped and slid down until he landed next to his friend.

"Blair," he cried out, fearful when he saw the torn and bloodied figure of his guide. Reaching out, he gently touched the fever-hot face, carefully tilting it towards him. "Oh God, Blair..." he breathed as Blair slowly opened his eyes, blinking in confusion at the vision that was kneeling beside him, the terror in the Sentinel's eyes, which he could barely see from the light of the full moon, his only indication that this was not another fever dream.

"Jim...." Blair licked at cracked, bleeding lips as he fought to get the words out, his relief almost palpable. His sentinel had found him, now he could tell Jim what he desperately wanted him to hear, then he could rest, could sleep. "You... were right," he gasped, frantic to get the words out before his strength failed him completely. "Never... wanted to... leave you... never... you're my bro...." His eyes slid closed before he could finish, and his head grew heavy within Jim's gentle grasp.

"Blair... Blair!" Jim cried, sudden horror overtaking him, then the slow beat of his guide's heart crashed upon his senses and he knew that, while the younger man was still alive, he would not be for long unless Jim started to act in a rational manner and got him out of there.

Moving swiftly down his friend's body, he used his ability to check the extent of his injuries. Ellison's main concern was his guide's trapped legs; this was followed by the bleeding wound that he could just make out under the fallen boulder. It looked to Jim's medically trained eye that, while the large rock had done most of the damage, it had also saved his young friend's life by trapping his legs in such a manner that he had not bled to death.

Then Jim's shaking fingers revealed Blair's cracked ribs; two at least, maybe three. The gash on his forehead also gave the Sentinel some concern, along with the exposure from the sun, and now the cold of the night which was fast deepening around them. He knew that he would have to get Blair off the mountain and to safety if he wanted his friend to survive.

Grabbing for the mobile phone which he had brought with him, Jim closed his eyes and prayed that they were high enough to allow the signal to at least reach the local police. They could, in turn, inform the nearby Rangers' station - which he knew was only a few miles further into the park - of their position and predicament.

Although the connection was bad and the crackling made it nearly impossible to understand the whole conversation, he was able to get across his details and where they were. He was grateful that he'd only been up here a few months before, and was therefore able to give an almost-exact description of their location.

Ellison placed the phone beside him and then removed his coat to lay over his shaking friend, knowing that - with the loss of the sun - the temperature on the mountains had fallen dramatically, and Blair was in very real danger of dying from exposure.

He had to fight against the urge to begin removing the rocks from his friend's body, but he knew that - if he did so without the proper medical aid - he could just as easily kill him as if he'd shot him. Instead, he set about trying to make Blair as comfortable as possible, while being very aware that any further movement of his friend could cause permanent spinal injury.

Reaching out, he gently ran his fingers over the parts of Blair's body that he could reach, and was able to determine that he had broken at least three ribs and had a nasty bump on his forehead. While he was concerned about concussion and Blair's unconscious state, he seemed to be breathing easier since his arrival.

Blair gasped and slowly fought his way back to consciousness. He was cold and hurt and alone.... Slowly he opened his eyes, blinking... when had it become so dark? Then he realised with a shock that Jim was beside him. Sitting, holding his hand, clasping it so tight that Blair believed that he would never let it go. He gasped out his friend's name; it was barely a whisper - more a slight hiss of breath - but Jim heard it and slipped closer to Blair, smiling gently as he offered, "Take it easy, buddy... I've called for help and they're on their way... just try to relax and let me worry about getting you out of here." As he spoke, Jim reached out and ever so carefully moved a stray lock of Blair's long hair from his dirt-smudged face.

"I'm sorry..." Blair gasped, fighting for breath, his agitation rising but determined to get his well-rehearsed speech out before he died. "You were right... I should never have...." He groaned as pain flared again and discovered that he wanted to just curl up and die, but he was unable to do so... not now. So he just hung on to Jim's hand as the other man leant over him and tried to calm him with his tone.

"Ride it out, Blair, just ride it out and go with it. That's it... relax... breathe..." Jim urged, seeing that his friend was beginning to relax again as the pain subsided. "Blair," he spoke again, this time his tone carrying the edge of urgency within it. "I want you to stay awake... do you think you can do that for me, buddy?" he asked, gently reaching out and just barely touching the other's face, turning it slightly so that when Blair opened his eyes he could look directly into Jim's.

"I'll try," Blair gasped, taking shallow breaths and fighting to force a smile to his lips.

The sight wrenched at Jim's heart and he began to speak, his tone low, but also slightly choked as he confessed, "I'm sorry, Blair... I'm sorry that I've been such a bastard over the last few weeks.... But I just get so... so scared, sometimes."

Sandburg looked at Jim as if he'd just sprouted horns and gasped, "Scared...? You?" He tried to say more, but instead fought against the urge to cough, knowing that if he did he would slip back into the arms of unconsciousness, and he knew that it was very important that he listen to what Jim had to say.

Jim frowned slightly, feeling the utter terror he had felt before beginning to build within him. Never taking his eyes from those of his friend, he answered honestly, "Yeah, scared...." He paused as he considered his next words, knowing that they needed to be said, but also realising that they were going to be the hardest words he'd ever spoken. "Blair...." He looked at his friend, seeing the terror that lay just beneath the surface, the pain. Reaching out he gently touched Sandburg's face, needing the contact if he was going to be brave enough to continue. "Blair... I should never... should never have called you an emotional cripple.... That is such a joke..." Sandburg opened his mouth to object, but Jim reached out and gently laid two fingers across his lips, preventing him from speaking. "I need to say this and I need to say it now, Blair...." He stopped and took a deep, steadying breath. "I have no right to call you that... no right at all.... I haven't seen my father since the day I walked out and joined the army... Christ, I don't even want to see him and Steven! Steven lived in the same city, and I never even saw him for over fifteen years... and when I did see him, what's the first thing I did...? Class him as a murder suspect."

"Jim...." Blair struggled to reach up and attract Jim's attention from his painful memories, knowing that he would do anything to save this man from further pain. "You don't need to..." he began, but the agony of his actions caught at him and he slipped back with a grunt of distress.

"Blair," Jim spoke, his voice filled with concern and barely-hidden fear. "Please just lie still; help will be here soon." Even as he said the words, he let his senses flare outwards, listening for signs of rescue. Hearing nothing, he ventured on, "I'm sorry, Blair; I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I'm the emotional cripple, not you... I'm the one that needs you beside me, that has... had panic attacks when I think that you're not going to be there." Seeing the surprised look that Blair was giving him, he offered weakly, "Yes, I had...panic attacks... that's why I've been trying to keep you by my side - my very own walking security blanket... taking on cases that I knew would need you there, putting pressure on you to voice your commitment... but, Blair," he again reached out and gently wiped his hand down his friend's cheek, "I don't need you to voice your commitment any longer, because I know it's there. I know it in here." He pointed to his heart. "Simon said something this morning..." he glanced at the moon and saw that it was well past midnight, so he reiterated, "yesterday... that made a lot of sense. He said that you don't give in to family, you just compromise - and that's what we are now, Blair... we're family. And if you don't think that you can... can handle this... if your being my guide is... too much, then we'll find a way round it... just...." He stopped, the words having to fight their way past the blockage in his throat. "Just don't shut me out. Move out of the loft if you have to..." Even as Jim said the words, he knew that he would fight heaven and earth to keep Blair in the loft, but he pushed that feeling aside and continued, "Don't ever help me again with my sense... but, Blair... please, just don't shut me out of your life."

"Jim," Blair said, swallowing past his own swell of emotion, "I couldn't do that." Even as he said the words, he realised how they sounded and saw the raw pain flare within Jim's eyes, so he hurried to explain himself further. "I can no more shut you out of my life than I can stop breathing... I realise that now. I... was a fool this morning." He paused, fighting for breath against the pain, but he battled to continue, "I let my past fears come forward and endanger my future.... You were right; you've... always been there for me, and I... I... never want to... leave...." He wanted to say more, desperately wanted to continue the conversation, but the agony within his body demanded more energy than he had, and still fighting to say the words he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Blair... Blair..." Jim called as he saw his friend's eyes slip closed and his head go slack in his grasp.

As if on cue, Ellison heard the approach of the rescue team and began to shout frantically, wanting to direct them over towards Blair and himself.

Within minutes the team was beside him. "How long has he been out?" the medic asked as he began to run checks on his patient, while the other five members began to assess how best to release Blair from his entrapment.

"He was out when I got here," Ellison explained, unable to stop his own teeth from chattering as shock suddenly began to set in, "but then he woke up. He managed to stay awake until just before you got here," Jim supplied as he was gently but firmly moved out of the way for the other members of the team to set to work. They knew their tasks and, working as an effective team, they soon had Blair released from the rocks that held him, strapping him firmly into a gurney, taking great care to ensure that no further damage would be sustained from his injuries.

Jim, meanwhile, was led a short distance away and held back when he fought to approach by another member of the team. "Don't worry... I'm sure he'll be fine. Here," the younger man said, holding out a thermal blanket, then - seeing that Ellison's attention was firmly fixed upon his team - he gently wrapped it about Jim's shaking body and pressed a steaming cup of coffee into his hands. Jim drank absentmindedly as he watched Blair's rescue.

"We have a helicopter waiting to come in for an airlift," the leader explained to Ellison as he pulled out his radio.

"Will he make it?" Jim asked, moving to stand beside the medic who was just checking the drip that he'd attached to Blair's arm.

The older man looked at Ellison, seeing the concern clearly written across his face. He nodded, saying, "He's got some nasty injuries; his leg is broken, some blood lost, but once we get him to hospital they'll be able to tell you more."

Jim waited and watched as the helicopter approached and Blair was lifted upwards to safety, grateful for once that Sandburg was unconscious and not aware of the ride as he had been once before. Then turning, he suddenly felt the world tilt, and a steady hand slipped under his arm held him upright.

"Come on, lad." Jim looked at the man who assisted him; it was the leader of the rescue team. "You're out on your feet, son. Let's get you off this damned mountain, and then you can go check on your friend."

Ellison smiled at the term 'son', then offered, "He's not my friend... he's family."

The man sadly nodded and offered, "Those are the worst ones to see hurt, son, the worst ones."

Jim closed his eyes and pictured Blair just before they airlifted him out, and silently agreed with him.

***

Jim paced from one side of the hospital waiting room to the other. It was exactly fifteen steps in one direction, then twelve to the window, and then fifteen back to the door. He felt as if he had been pacing for days, but in fact had only been shown to the room three hours before.

He felt drained, both emotionally and physically. He had not had any sleep in the last forty-eight hours, and it was now well on the way towards dawn and it looked as if another night was going to pass without sleep. Yet, through it all, he clung to those final words that Blair had spoken to him before he'd passed out: "Never wanted to leave..." Did he mean what he had said, or was it only the pain that was speaking?

He was lost in thought when the young woman entered the room and paused for a few moments, watching the pacing man. "Mr Ellison?" she finally asked.

"Detective," he corrected, out of habit, then he smiled his apology and asked, "Have you any news on Blair... I mean Mr Sandburg?"

She smiled and nodded and, holding out her hand, she offered, "I'm Doctor Becker, and I've been assigned as his doctor for his stay here." Moving further into the room, she swiped her long blonde hair back behind one ear as she continued, "His right leg is broken in two places, and we were a little concerned about the bleeding, but the bandage the rescue team applied was very effective, and the pressure of the boulder slowed his bleeding down so the loss was less than it might have been." She stopped again, then added, "But he did need eighteen stitches." Waiting while this information sank in, she watched the man who stood before her. Seeing that he was ready for her to continue, she carried on, "He has two cracked ribs; nothing to be too bothered about. He's not moving with that leg, so his ribs will be well-healed before he's up and about. He was suffering from slight exposure and from where the sun got to him." She smiled and offered, "Poor thing; he gets baked during the afternoon by the sun, and then freezes at night from the cold." She again looked at the handsome man, noting that he was not smiling - in fact, there was very little humour in his whole attitude. Coughing slightly to cover her slip, she continued, "We are keeping him in for at least the next few days, if not the week... the head wound not withstanding. We suspect a concussion, but he is awake and seems to be coherent."

"He's awake?" Jim asked in some surprise.

She smiled and nodded, adding with mild reproach, "He really kicked up a stink when we tried to put him out to do his stitches and set his leg. In the end we just gave him a local - which, to be honest, is better for him with his head wound. But, well, he's totally refusing to get any sleep until after he's spoken to you," she finished with an apologetic shrug of her shoulders.

Jim broke into the widest smile possible, and then broke out in laughter in relief. "He can be a pain at times, when he wants to get his own way, can't he?" he said as he followed the doctor down the corridor.

"Well, that's one reason why you're going to get five minuets with him, and then he's going to rest... even if I have to use my biggest needle to do so," the doctor threatened as she stopped by the door, and then pushed it open, saying in a serious tone, "Five minutes, Mr... I mean, Detective Ellison - then I want him to go to sleep. And, if you don't mind some professional advice, you look like you could use some shut-eye yourself."

He smiled his thanks to the woman, but his main attention was on the small figure that lay in the large white hospital bed. Blair's leg was suspended above him, off the bed, by a set of complicated pulleys, the plaster looking heavy and bulky, but he was awake and smiled weakly when he saw Jim enter his room.

"Hi," Jim said, as he moved to sit on the chair by Blair's bed.

"Hi, yourself," Blair returned, suddenly looking anywhere but at his friend as he stammered on, "Jim, I am so sorry, man.... I never should have acted... I mean, you were right... I was acting like a jerk... and I should have... realised that you were... well...." He stopped as Jim's hand came to rest on his own, which lay upon the bedcovers.

"Being a member of a family means that sometimes you don't have to apologise," Jim intoned softly.

Blair shot him a sideways glance of affection as he asked, "It doesn't, eh...?"

Jim smiled; it was warm and filled with affection too as he looked slightly shame-faced himself and offered, "Because if it didn't, I'd owe you the biggest apology in history, Chief...." He swallowed hard and fought the sudden tide of emotion that swept over him as he realised how close he'd come to driving his friend away. "I should never have pushed you for an firmer commitment to what we have, Blair. You never signed on for the long haul, and it's selfish of me to expect you to remain once your dissertation is finished. I... I...." He stopped, unable to put his feelings and fears into words.

Blair, seeing the pain his friend was suffering, and remembering Jim's confession whilst he was trapped on the mountain, rushed to reassure him, saying, "I might not have signed on for the long haul, Jim, but judging from last night's performance I'm in for it... and you know what? It feels right. And you were right; this partnership is the most important thing in my life - that's one thing I sorted out while I was laying up there, waiting for you. I would be a fool to throw it all away just because I'm scared. I mean...." He stopped and, seeing Jim's confused expression, he waited until Ellison asked the question.

"Last night's performance?" Jim asked in some confusion. "Waiting for me?" He wondered what Blair was referring to and why the younger man was looking so excited. "What exactly do you mean, Blair?" "Jim... don't you get it?" Blair began, his tone taking on an element of his excitement. "You found me, man - in the middle of the wilderness and you found me.... I was praying that you'd find me before I died, and you did... you knew where to look." He tried to sit up, then decided against it as he slipped back and announced, "That old Sentinel/Guide magic working in overdrive, man... this is something that we're going to have to look into... maybe do some tests?" he finished hesitantly as he cast Jim a look from under his hair.

Ellison opened his mouth to deny that it had been nothing more than good detective work, but the assertion died on his lips as he remembered Simon's words. Smiling back, he nodded. "Okay, but next time I get to choose the campsite, and then we are going to have a talk... a long talk... about what you want from this relationship, about what I want... and Peru... everything."

"Peru?" Blair questioned, slightly losing track of where Jim's thoughts were leading. Then he pushed that thought aside when he realised that Jim had just agreed to undergo some tests. "All right," Blair enthused, suddenly realising that for once he was not feeling the fear he usually felt when confronted with a serious talk scenario; he knew that not talking had really been at the root of their problem, and he was determined not to let his relationship with Jim get so out of control again. Suddenly, as if to remind him of the seriousness of his injuries, his energy level peaked and he paled considerably before slipping further down on the pillows as his wounds made themselves felt again. Jim, seeing his guide fighting against the pain and drugs that he'd been given, made to stand, but stopped as a hand suddenly sneaked out and grabbed his own. "Don't go... please." The plea was quiet, but heartfelt as Blair continued in a small voice, "I guess I need my walking security blanket, too... sometimes."

Tossing a look towards the closed door, Jim resumed his seat, saying, "It's a two way street, Blair... it's a two way street." And he sat holding his Guide/friend/ brother's hand until he drifted off to asleep.

Twenty minutes later, a nurse peeked her head about the door and saw both men asleep; one comfortable in the bed, while the other was hunched over the clasped hands, head resting on the covers. The nurse motioned for Dr Becker to look in. She winced when she saw Detective Ellison's positioning; she knew that he was going to wake up with bad backache. Sighing, she quietly departed, hearing the nurse mumbling beside her, "Families... they are always the hardest to get out of a patient's room."

Back inside the room in question, Detective Ellison let an easy smile slip across his face as he made himself more comfortable for the long vigil. He wasn't even aware when he fell asleep.

THE END


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