Sequel #3 Building on Ashes by Chrys

[alyburns]

 

Building on Ashes

 by Chrys

 

It was years before Blair Sandburg returned to Cascade.  And by then he was Dr. Blair Sandburg.

 

As he sat in the plane circling over the city, looking down, he could easily see the building where the police station was located.  If he let himself, he could have traced the route he'd driven home every day, found the loft.  But he didn't.  There was no point.

 

It hadn't been that hard to get his doctorate, after all was said and done.  Even after turning down Borneo, Eli Stoddard had been delighted to give Blair a recommendation.  He'd been publishing all along, part of his responsibility as a TA, but also just because of who he was.  He couldn't *not* write, after all, and though most of his focus had been on his sentinel, not all of it had been.  He'd gone east, almost as far from Cascade as he could get and still be in the same country, and the University of Pennsylvania had welcomed him with open arms.

 

So had the Philadelphia police, once his dissertation had been released.  He'd taken notes, gotten interviews and signed releases almost as a matter of course, and had almost written the "thin blue line" dissertation even as he worked on the sentinel paper.  He'd needed a cover, after all.  What would have happened if anyone higher up than Simon Banks had asked for a preview of his work?  He'd been ready, even if that had never happened.

 

Good thing, as it turned out.  He smiled bitterly, turning away from the window as the plane began to straighten out and descend.

 

He'd never meant to return to Cascade.  Never wanted to.  But Rainier had gotten itself on the list of speaking engagements, and when he'd seen it, he'd fought past his initial reaction to the idea.  He wondered, now, if that had been wise.  His heart was pounding, his hands sweating.  No matter, it was too late.

 

He'd only be in the city for a few days.  In and out, after two lectures, one private to the anthropology department, one open to the public. 

 

"He - they'll never know I was here, until long after I'm gone," he murmured to himself.  "If they ever do."  Or care, his mind finished silently.  Or care.

 

**********

 

"Ellison!  My office."  The captain of Major Crimes turned abruptly after issuing his summons, disappearing back into the office he was in the process of packing up.  Soon enough he'd be moving, his promotion to Police Chief taking effect in only two weeks.  Until then, though, the outgoing commander of Cascade's force got to make the rules and issue the orders.

 

Usually, he'd agree with this one.  But he knew a bit more than the Chief did about the situation.  And he dreaded the conversation he was about to have.

 

James Ellison, senior detective and soon to be captain, walked into his office only a few moments later.  Simon looked at the closed, hard face of his most effective man and wished, once again, to be somewhere - anywhere - else.  But.  He was here, and this was his job.

 

"You wanted me, Simon?"

 

"Yeah."  He nodded.  "Close the door and sit down."

 

Jim frowned, but did as he was told.  "What's going on, Captain?"

 

"I just got off the phone with the Chief.  There's a man coming into town to give a lecture at Rainier that the Chief feels would be beneficial to all the captains and senior detectives.  He's worked with the Philadelphia police, revamping their protocols for dealing with witnesses and victims, and his work led to a 35% increase in civilian cooperation with their police department.  He's been setting up similar programs in other cities back east.  This is the first time he's given a lecture this side of the Rockies.  It's quite a coup for Rainier to get him here - apparently in a couple of weeks he's going out of the county for six to eight months."

 

Jim shrugged.  "Sounds like the Chief's right.  Thirty-five percent is a huge improvement."

 

"Yeah, it is."  Simon sighed, then handed over the paper on his desk.  "This is the lecture announcement."

 

Jim took the paper, reading aloud.  "Our Tribal Protectors:  Keeping the Police on Our Side.  A Stoddard Scholar lecture by Dr...."  His voice trailed off and he looked up at his captain.  Simon flinched at the anguish in the eyes of the man who had once been - who still was, somewhere under the cold exterior he'd developed - Simon's closest friend.

 

"Dr. Blair Sandburg," he finished quietly, watching the anguish turn to denial.

 

"No."

 

"Jim."

 

"No.  I will not go to that lecture."

 

"You don't have any choice.  It's mandatory."

 

"Simon.  He left me.  I betrayed him and he left me."  Jim swallowed hard.  "I don't blame him.  If it had been him, sleeping around on me," he shook his head.  "I don't know what I'd have done."  He swallowed again.  "But he left me, and he made it clear that he didn't want to see me again.  Ever."

 

"So you tell me, Simon, how I'm supposed to walk into that lecture and subject him to my presence?  I won't."

 

Simon bowed his head, rubbing at his eyes with one hand.  He hadn't known of Jim and Blair's relationship before it had fallen apart.  In retrospect, he couldn't believe he hadn't seen it.  And he still couldn't believe what Jim had done.  But the man had paid for it, had been paying for it for years.  He hated what he had to say.

 

"Jim, you have to."

 

"I can't!"

 

The words were a tortured cry for understanding.  Simon wished he could give in, but the orders had been clear.  Every senior detective was to attend, no exceptions.  He took a deep breath, and his voice was gentle when he spoke again.

 

"It's a big auditorium, Jim.  We'll sit in the back.  He'll never know that we're there."

 

Jim Ellison's eyes closed in defeat, his voice tired.  "We'll sit in the back?"

 

Simon nodded.  "We'll sit in the back," he promised.

 

**********

 

Blair didn't need to review his notes, but the habit was strong, and for once he welcomed it.  It would take his mind off where he was, after all.

 

Rainier hadn't changed much, in the years since he'd left.  The students were different, but the buildings were the same.  And so were most of the professors - and therein lay the problem.  They knew Blair, knew who he'd been and what he'd wanted to do.  And this, rewarding and ground-breaking as it truly was, wasn't it.

 

Eli, the one of them that he'd looked forward to seeing, was off on an expedition to, ironically enough, Borneo.  He wondered, sometimes, what his life would have been like if he had taken that offer, instead of staying with Jim.  He sighed, putting his notes away.  "If wishes were horses..." he muttered.  That wasn't fair, though, not really.  He loved, truly loved, what he was doing.  He had made such a difference, first in Philadelphia, then in other cities.  And - it was fascinating, watching the development of a culture of interaction and protective trust between the people and their police, rather than the doubt and sometimes outright fear they often started with.

 

Somewhere, somehow, the police organizations - and the people they served - had lost the knowledge of why they existed.  Blair was proud to be able to repair the rift between them.  It was rewarding, it was worthwhile, it was...  He laughed suddenly, the sound shockingly bitter in the empty room behind the stage.  It was his way of trying to recapture how he'd felt when he trusted Jim Ellison.  Even after he'd left, the man had still shaped his life.

 

Not much longer, he thought.  One more lecture, the reception afterward, then back to his hotel and a morning flight back east.  He would be safely away from Cascade, from the memories that had been bombarding him, away from any possibility of seeing Jim.

 

He could hear the auditorium filling, the hum of those who had come to hear him speak echoing off the ceiling.  Soon, he would be introduced.  Even as he thought that, Dr. Phillips came into the room.  "Are you ready, Blair?" he said softly.

 

"Yeah," Blair replied, standing.  "Lead on, Dr. Phillips."

 

"Jake, please.  It's been a long time since you were my student."

 

"So it has.  Jake, then."  Blair smiled at the older man, pushing aside his uneasy thoughts.  Together they walked to the small door hidden behind the stage curtains, and listening for his cue, Blair walked out to be met with wild applause.  He smiled as he reached the podium, laying his notes on it more for effect than anything else.  He began, as he always did, by surveying the room, looking at each section for several moments, long enough to make every person listening to him feel that Blair was speaking directly to him or her, or so he'd been told.

 

He'd always found it to be an effective way to get his audience focused and listening.  But this time, it backfired.  For as he looked toward the back of the auditorium, his heart skipped a beat, then sped, as his eyes fell on two familiar faces.

 

Simon Banks.  And Jim Ellison.

 

**********

 

"He knows we're here."

 

Jim's voice was quiet and he could see Simon strain to hear it, even in the almost silent auditorium.  The big man looked at him in disbelief.

 

"How could he?  And how do you know?"

 

"His heart rate just jumped after he looked in this direction.  He saw us, Simon."

 

"You heard that?  Your senses are back!"

 

Jim shook his head and smiled, the expression sad.  "Just for the moment, Simon.  I spent so long using his heartbeat to ground me, it seems I get to hear it one last time."  The smile faded.  "They'll go away again as soon as he does, I'm sure."

 

"Jim..."

 

"I never had any trouble hearing his heart, Simon.  Just with listening to it."

 

The sentinel - if only for a moment - settled into his seat as the man on the stage began to speak.  His voice was a bit ragged at first, but it steadied as he went on, his obvious enthusiasm for his subject mesmerizing his listeners.  Jim didn't have to worry about what Blair was saying.  Simon had gotten permission to tape the lecture, and Jim knew he'd listen to it over and over until he had it memorized.

 

For now, though, he could just listen to his guide's voice, let it wash over him and into him.  Let it, for the moment, fill the emptiness that had been his constant state since the day he'd realized what he'd done.  The day his betrayal had been discovered, and Blair had left.

 

He didn't deserve this.  He knew that.  But for the moment, he couldn't care.  And he certainly couldn't walk away.

 

**********

 

Finishing his answer to the final question he'd allowed, Blair smiled at his audience and thanked them for their attention.  A wave of applause rose from the previously silent room, and without his willing it, his eyes went to the back of the hall as the noise level rose.  He was in time to catch Jim's flinch, the sentinel's hands rising to cover his ears.

 

'So the senses didn't go away,' Blair thought, watching as Simon leaned over, speaking to Jim.  Jim straightened in his seat, nodding once as the bigger man spoke.  'And Simon's his guide now.  Looks like I wasn't even needed for that.'

 

Pulling his eyes away, he forced his thoughts to do the same, nodding and smiling as he was surrounded by well-wishers and eager students.  Knowing his subject inside and out, he answered a few private questions almost by rote, then gratefully accepted Jake Phillips' shield as the other anthropologist made his excuses to the crowd.

 

Just the reception to go.  A few minutes alone, to block out the memories once more, and he'd be good.  He'd seen Jim, yes.  But he hadn't had to talk to him, hadn't been near him.  The worst was over, and soon enough he'd leave Cascade behind again, this time for forever.

 

**********

 

Jim flinched as a wave of sound hit him, cresting over him and almost rolling him under.  He'd forgotten, almost, what it was like, and for a moment he fumbled with the dials he'd not needed for so long.  He could hear, dimly, Simon's concerned voice and after a moment he straightened in his seat, pulling his hands down to uncover his ears, and nodded reassurance to his friend and captain.  "I'm okay, Simon."

 

"I'd forgotten the downside to those senses."  The big man's voice was gruff.  "You sure you're all right?"

 

"Yeah.  It took me by surprise, that's all."

 

"I could see that.  Come on, let's get out of here."

 

The two cops rose and made their way to the doors, moving slowly with the crowd of chattering people.  They hadn't gotten far when a voice rang out.  "Banks!  And Detective Ellison."

 

"Damnit," Simon hissed under his breath.  "I was hoping to get you out of here - he'll keep us talking."

 

Jim shrugged as the bigger man turned, plastering a smile on his face.  "Sir," Simon greeted.  "We were just headed back to the station."

 

"Nonsense!  At this time of evening?"  The police chief smiled jovially at the two men, his white hairs and long record demanding their respect.  Normally given readily, tonight it was a strain, as both Jim and Simon wanted nothing more than to leave the building before any chance of coming into closer contact with Blair Sandburg.  Nevertheless, it was given.

 

"We had to leave a few things undone in order to make the lecture, sir," Simon said.  "We really should get back and take care of them."

 

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait until tomorrow.  The University is holding a reception at the Arms, and both of you should really attend."  The brown eyes were shrewd as the chief studied the two cops.  "You'll need the connections you can make tonight, Banks.  And as for you, Detective, I play golf with your father.  You can't tell me you don't know the value of networking.  Even if you don't plan to rise above captain, which I doubt."

 

There really was only one possible answer, and almost in unison, they gave it.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

**********

 

The Cascade Arms was a grand old hotel, built in the early 1900's and maintained and modernized lovingly by the same family that had built it originally.  It's restaurant was five-star, and had maintained that rating for as long as it had been open.  Extensive gardens tempted guests to explore them, and those who took up the challenge found unexpected and lovely nooks and hideaways.  Blair had taken a date there once, blowing a month's stipend on the evening, and they had wandered the grounds following a fantastic meal, eventually finding themselves in the heart of a night-blooming flower garden.  He smiled wistfully as he remembered, wishing he could skip the reception and try to find that garden again, even alone.

 

Taking a deep breath, he turned away from the grounds and entered the majestic old building.  He was tired, so tired.  He wondered, as he entered the bright ballroom, if it was the stress of the lecture tour, or just being in Cascade, that had exhausted him so.  It didn't matter, really, he decided, smiling as he was greeted enthusiastically.  This was the last of it, and he would make it through.

 

He believed that, whole-heartedly, for the first half hour.  The police chief, a man Blair vaguely remembered having met once, was surprisingly funny, and Blair was enjoying the evening far more than he'd thought he would.  He had just laughingly refused a truly amazing offer (five camels and a flock of goats) for him to stay in Cascade and set up their civilian relations program when the older man spotted someone across the room.  "Come, Dr. Sandburg, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

 

Having no reason to refuse, Blair walked with him, enjoying their conversation as they crossed the ballroom, paying no attention to their destination.  The chief tapped a shoulder, and Jim Ellison turned around.

 

"This is Detective Jim Ellison, soon to be Captain of Major Crimes."  The chief was oblivious to the tension between the two as blue eyes met for the first time in years.  "He'll be the one most likely to implement your plans, Dr. Sandburg.  Jim, this is Dr. Blair Sandburg, whose amazing lecture you just attended."

 

Blair felt cold as ice as he looked at Jim.  The sentinel's face was blank, impassive as only Jim Ellison could be.  There had been a flicker of - what? - in Jim's eyes when they first looked at each other, but whatever it had been was gone.

 

"Dr. Sandburg," he said.

 

Blair swallowed and lifted his chin.  "Hello, Jim.  It's been a long time."

 

"Yes."

 

"That's right!" the chief exclaimed.  "You two would have met when Dr. Sandburg was doing his research, right?  You must have a lot to catch up on."

 

Before Blair could stop him, he'd made his departure, leaving him alone with Jim in a room full of people.  He'd thought about confronting Jim again, but not for a very long time.  At the beginning he'd planned it, fought it out in raging battles of fiery words, but over time the fire had died, the rage had left behind despair and confusion.  And then he'd moved on.

 

Or thought he had.  Coming to Cascade had stirred up unresolved tension he'd thought he'd let go of long ago.  Coming face to face with Jim had - what?  Rekindled the rage?  No.  But the despair and confusion?  Oh, yes.

 

He had no idea what to say.  And then he did.

 

"Why are you here, Jim?"

 

Ice-blue eyes looked at him, then away.  "I was ordered to be."

 

And that - oh, yes, that brought back the rage.  "I see."  Blair drew in a deep breath.  "It makes perfect sense that it took an order for you to be in the same room with me.  I should have remembered that you never did want to know anything about what I actually did.  Or want me, for that matter."  He shook his head.  "You know what?  I can't deal with this."

 

Turning on his heel, he walked away, no plan, no direction in his mind.  Just - out.  That was all he wanted.  Weaving through the crowd, he ignored calls for his attention, finally reaching the ballroom exit and escaping the room.  Cool air came from open doors facing the gardens and he headed for them, not even noticing the rain falling on him as he walked.

 

Not noticing the figure trailing behind him.

 

**********

 

Not want him? 

 

Jim was shocked into immobility and silence for a crucial moment, and that moment was all it took for Blair to be halfway across the room.  "No," he whispered to himself.  "That's not it at all."

 

He followed, not knowing why, not having any idea what he could or should say.  But he needed Blair to understand what he'd meant, that he wouldn't have made Blair deal with his presence of his own choice.  By the time he'd reached the doors, Blair was disappearing outside into the gardens, and he continued to follow, drawn after him, knowing all the while that he should just turn back, leave the hotel, leave Blair alone like the other man wanted.

 

He couldn't.  But the knowledge that he should kept him from speaking.  He moved silently through the garden, rain-wet leaves no hindrance to a man who could move just as quietly through the jungle.  Blair was muttering angrily to himself, and Jim listened, not hearing the words, just drinking in the intonations.  It had been so long.

 

The ground was soft, weeks of heavy rains soaking the earth and the pungent smell of soil and greenery filled the air.  Too early for most flowers, a few banks of spring bulbs were just starting to send up their perfume.  Jim drank it all in, savoring, storing the memory for later when the senses were gone again.  He'd missed the beauty he'd found, when he'd let himself look past the problems.

 

And wasn't that the trouble all around?  Wasn't that what he'd done with Blair?  He'd seen only the problems of their relationship, and lost the beauty.

 

They were on the edge of the formal gardens, now.  Blair was slowing, his angry stride settling to a steady walk.  Jim walked behind him, soaked to the skin and not caring.  He wouldn't approach Blair, he decided.  It would only be another imposition, after all.  He would just make sure the other man made it back to the hotel safely, and then...

 

Well.  Then, he'd go back to his loft, back to his life.  And let Blair get on with his.

 

It was just as he made that decision that he heard the crack of overloaded timbers below Blair's feet.  Lunging forward, he grabbed the other man's arm just as the ground opened up beneath them both.  Twisting in midair, he put himself below Blair as they fell.

 

**********

 

It happened too quickly for Blair to really know what was happening.  One moment he was walking through the dark, wet gardens, just starting to shiver as the reality of soaking wet clothing hit him.  The next he was falling into the darkness of an open pit, a hard grip on his arm twisting him in the air.  He grunted as a heavy board hit him, rebounding from his shoulder to disappear into the black air surrounding him, then cried out as he and the man beneath him hit bottom, water and mud splashing up at the impact. 

 

He hit hard, despite the cushion of flesh he fell onto.  Dazed, the air knocked out of him, it took him a moment to move.  Once he did, he scrambled off the man below him, wincing at the pained groan his movements caused.

 

"Jim," he said, knowing who it had to be.  "How bad are you hurt?"

 

There was no reply for a moment, only harsh breathing and wet noises as the other man moved slowly, pulling himself out of the mud. 

 

"Jim!"

 

"I'm all right.  How about you, Dr. Sandburg?"

 

"I'm bruised," Blair said impatiently.  "Don't lie to me.  I heard you when I got off you."

 

The sentinel sighed.  "I'll be all right," he amended.  "I got the wind knocked out of me and I think I've got a couple of cracked ribs."  He shifted carefully, hissing as he did so.  Blair wondered what he was doing, then blinked as light flared.  Jim frowned down at the open cell phone in his hand.  "No signal," he said.  "Too far underground."

 

"That's - not good," Blair said.

 

"No.  It isn't.  It's got a full charge, though, so at least we've got a little light."  Jim looked around at their surroundings, what little there was to look at.  "We must be in an old cistern.  Hopefully they still know it's here."

 

"And if they don't?"

 

Jim shrugged, regretting it immediately from the look on his face.  "They'll find us eventually.  It doesn't look like this thing ever fills up anymore, so it's just a matter of waiting it out until they do."  He looked up.  "The cover's mostly intact, so we shouldn't get much wetter if we shift over a bit toward the wall."

 

"What if the rest of it falls in?"

 

"Then we get hit on the head."  The sentinel sighed, gathering himself up carefully, the evident pain the man felt in moving making Blair cringe internally.  "Not much we can do about that, Chi... Dr. Sandburg."

 

Blair followed him, stacking the fallen boards against the driest area he could find to make a more stable platform for them to rest on.  Jim leaned against the wall, his move to help aborted by Blair's glare.  Once the wood was steady, the sentinel lowered himself to sit carefully.  Blair followed suit, his eyes on Jim's face.  Jim looked at him, then away.

 

"You don't have to call me that, you know," Blair said after a moment.

 

"What?  Dr. Sandburg?"  Jim smiled, the expression fleeting in the dim light cast by the cell phone screen.  "You earned it.  And I..." he shrugged, the movement smaller and more careful than before.  "I don't exactly have the right to call you anything else anymore, do I?"

 

Blair rubbed a hand over his face, regretting it as he felt the mud smear even more than it had been already.  "We were friends for a long time, Jim."

 

"Yeah.  We were."  He was silent for a minute, then sighed.  "I didn't want to make you have to deal with seeing me tonight.  That's why I had to be ordered to attend the lecture and the reception."

 

Blair inhaled, letting it out slowly.  "Oh."

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"For what, exactly?"

 

Jim leaned his head against the cistern wall, his eyes closed.  "For tonight.  For - everything."

 

"For cheating on me."

 

"That most of all."

 

No matter how carefully Blair listened, he could hear nothing but utter sincerity in Jim's voice.  And an undertone of pain, the other man hurting more than he was willing to admit to.  He just wasn't sure it meant anything.  Wasn't sure it could.

 

"Why, Jim?"

 

**********

 

He thought about pretending that he didn't know what Blair meant.  But what, exactly, would be the point of that?  He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then sighed.  "I don't know."

 

"Jim..."

 

Raising his hand, the sentinel stopped the other man's words.  "Hear me out.  Please.  I *don't* know.  Not for sure.  But I have a theory."

 

"A theory."

 

"Yeah.  A theory."  He opened his eyes in time to catch Blair's shiver, and frowned.  "I'll share it with you on one condition."

 

"I don't think you're in any place to impose conditions."  Blair's voice was hard, and Jim took a deep breath.

 

"No.  You're right.  I'm sorry."  He shifted slightly.  "But it's cold, and we're both wet.  I was going to say I'd share it if you'd come sit next to me.  We'll both be better off that way."

 

"Oh."  Blair was silent for a minute, then shrugged.  "Yeah.  You're right."  He stood up, pulling his suit jacket off.  "Give me yours."

 

"What?"

 

"I'll button them together and we can wrap them around both of us like a blanket."

 

Jim nodded, moving slowly and trying to ignore the stabbing in his ribs as he pulled the jacket off.  "Good idea."

 

Blair settled next to him, snugging the make-shift blanket around the two of them, his hands gentle as he brushed against Jim.  The sentinel swallowed hard as the scent of Blair, closer than he'd been in years, rose to surround him even in the muddy, wet air of the cistern.  It took a minute, but he pulled back from the edge of the zone, almost reluctantly, to find Blair's eyes on him, his gaze expectant.

 

"Well?"

 

"You know how I was raised," Jim began, the words sticking in his throat, pushed out only because he owed this to Blair.  "I was taught that I was a freak, abnormal."

 

"You aren't a freak, Jim."

 

"I know that, Bl - I know that.  In my head.  But part of me will always believe it."  Jim breathed in through his nose, letting it back out slowly.  "I spent most of my life trying to prove my father wrong.  Trying to be normal."

 

Blair was silent, his eyes dark as he looked at Jim.  The sentinel forced himself to meet them, just as he forced out the rest.  "Us.  Together.  It wasn't normal.  It wasn't..."  He swallowed.  "I couldn't tell anyone.  It couldn't be public.  Because..."

 

He stopped, unable to continue. 

 

"Because Jim Ellison is just your average, straight Joe, right?"

 

Jim nodded, ashamed of himself.  He looked away from Blair, unable to look into those eyes any longer.  "Yeah," he whispered.

 

"And the women.  That was something you could have, could show off.  Could point to and say, 'See, I'm a red-blooded he-man'."

 

"Yes."

 

"Did you care about them at all?  Or were you just using them?"

 

"I liked them," Jim defended himself.  "They were nice women."  He sighed.  "Nicer than I deserved."

 

"I'll agree with that."  Blair was silent for a moment, leaning against Jim's shoulder, the shivers a bit less frequent.  "Fear-based responses," he said eventually.

 

"What?"

 

"I was almost done with the introductory chapters to the sentinel diss.  In one of them I discussed the tendency of my subject - that would be you, in case you don't recall - to respond to threatening situations somewhat irrationally, using fear-based responses to establish a pattern of behavior most likely to ensure survival."

 

Jim bridled, almost instinctively, then deflated almost as quickly as he realized that his reaction only proved what Blair had said.  The other man laughed softly.  "Like I said.  Fear-based responses."

 

Neither man spoke for a little while, their body heat finally combining enough to stop them from shivering.  Jim just breathed, savoring the scents and sounds of Blair, so close to him.  He hoped, selfishly, that it would be a while yet before they were found, even as part of him knew that it would be better if they were found quickly.  They weren't freezing, not yet.  But they were cold.

 

"How many?" Blair said suddenly.

 

"What?"

 

"How many were there?"

 

Jim sighed.  "Three, and then you found out."

 

"And after that?"

 

"That was it."

 

"No one, after I left?  When it would have been okay?"

 

Blair's voice was quiet, honest curiosity filling it.  Jim sighed again.  "It wouldn't have been okay."

 

"Why not?  I was gone.  You had your life and your space back.  You could have been normal, after all.  Well, other than the senses."

 

"They left when you did."  Jim shifted slightly, Blair warm against his shoulder.  "I didn't want to be normal, after that.  I - I wanted you back.  And since I couldn't have that..." he shrugged minutely.  "I didn't want anyone."

 

"Too bad you didn't figure that out before cheating on me."

 

"Yeah."

 

There was silence again, a deep, shadowed quiet filled with regret and guilt.  Jim didn't know what Blair was thinking, he only knew what he felt.  He'd been such a fool.  His self-castigation was broken when Blair spoke again.

 

"Your senses aren't gone.  I saw you react to the applause, after my lecture."

 

There was a faint note of accusation as he spoke.  Jim smiled briefly, bitterly.

 

"Oh, they're gone.  Or they were, until you walked into that auditorium, and I heard your heart beating."

 

"Oh."

 

Jim coughed, pain shooting through him as he did.  "Damn," he hissed, his hand trying to stabilize his ribs, failing as he coughed a second time.  The pain spiked, and he breathed shallowly, trying to wait it out.  "Easy, big guy," he heard, his guide's voice anchoring him even after the years that had passed.  After a moment, he relaxed, leaning back against the dirt wall.  Blair's hand was on his thigh, and he fought to keep himself from falling into the sensation.

 

"I told them," he said abruptly.  "After you left."

 

"Told who what?"

 

"Everyone.  About us.  About - what I did."

 

"Everyone?"  There was disbelief in the question.  Jim nodded once.

 

"Everyone.  My father, Stephen, all of Major Crimes.  I think the rest of the department knew within 24 hours."

 

"Wow."  Blair pulled in on himself, and Jim could feel himself aching at the loss of that touch on his leg.  "And - what was the reaction?"

 

"Not what I expected," Jim said honestly, ruefully.  "Most people already thought we were a couple, so that didn't surprise too many.  Simon was surprised, though."

 

"Huh," Blair said thoughtfully.  "I suspect he was deliberately missing it, in that case."

 

"Could be.  What I did, though - that surprised a lot of people.  Made a lot of people angry, too."

 

"Really?"  Blair seemed disbelieving and Jim nodded.

 

"Oh, yeah.  You have a lot of friends here."  Once again, he bit back the name he wanted to say.  Blair had said he could use it, but - Jim didn't feel he had the right.  He didn't seem to want to be called Dr. Sandburg, so the sentinel had decided not to use a name or a title.  It would be safer that way.  He ignored the question of what he meant by safer.

 

After a minute, he laughed, his hand coming up to rub along his chin.

 

"What?"

 

"Just thinking of Joel's reaction, when he found out why you left."

 

"What did he say?"

 

"It wasn't what he said, it's what he did."

 

"Which was?"

 

"He decked me."

 

"Joel?!"

 

Jim laughed again.  "Oh, yeah.  Had me stretched out on the floor before I even saw him make a fist.  Then he told me to get back up so he could hit me again."

 

Blair stared at him for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed.  Jim drank in the sound, glad he'd thought to tell the other man the story.  Blair deserved to know how he was valued, after all.  After a moment, the laughter subsided.

 

"So what did you do?" Blair asked, his eyes dancing with mirth.

 

"Well, I was about to get up and let him hit me again, when Simon dragged him out of the room.  Joel didn't say a word to me for weeks."  Jim sobered, the smile leaving his face.  "He's still not very fond of me."  He took a deep breath.  "He cares about you."

 

"I care about him," Blair said softly.  "I just couldn't be in touch with anyone here, Jim, no matter how much I wanted to."

 

"Did you want to?" Jim said intently.  "Did you... Was there... I mean..."  He stopped, unable to go on.

 

"What are you trying to say, Jim?"

 

The sentinel took in air, desperately, as if he couldn't breathe at all, despite the expansion of his lungs.  Could he say it?  Did he have the right to say it?  And if he did, what would the response be?

 

And could he live with himself if he didn't try?

 

"Jim?" 

 

"I love you," he blurted out.  "I always will.  I don't deserve it, I know, but - can you forgive me?"

 

The silence stretched for years.

 

"I don't know."

 

**********

 

"I don't know."

 

His words hung in the damp, dark air at the bottom of the cistern.  Blair could feel the stillness of the man at his side, a stillness born of - what?  Pain, from the damage done by the fall?  Blair knew that Jim was hurt more than he'd tried to pretend.  Or was the pain from another source?

 

Blair had been honest.  He truly didn't know if he could forgive Jim.  The sentinel had hurt him, horribly.  Hurt him more than he'd thought another person could do.  He didn't know if he could.  And he certainly didn't know if he wanted to.

 

But.  Jim's voice, so full of despair, begging for something it was clear he didn't think he'd get.  That hurt Blair, too.

 

Which pain was worse?

 

He really, truly, didn't know.

 

And before he had a chance to think about it, their rescuers arrived.

 

"Ellison!  Sandburg!  You down there?"  Simon's voice echoed, even as his footsteps sent clumps of mud down through the darkness.

 

"Stop, Simon!" Blair yelled, his voice mingling with Jim's as the sentinel called the same thing, stopping halfway through the name to hiss in pain, his hand trying to stabilize his side.  Blair glared at him.  "Don't do that again," he ordered. 

 

"Believe me, I won't," Jim gasped, breathing shallowly.  "Tell him to move back.  He's about to cave in the rest of the lid."

 

Not bothering to question how Jim knew that, Blair relayed the command, seeing Jim relax as the big man stepped off the cistern lid onto solid ground.  "That should be far enough," he called upwards.

 

"You okay down there?"  Simon's voice was filled with frustrated concern, and Blair smiled to himself as he hear the familiar tones.

 

"I'm fine," he answered.  "Jim's got at least one broken rib."  He stopped as Jim held up three fingers.  "Make that three."

 

"Damn," Simon swore.  "So if we drop a rope ladder down there, you're not going to be able to climb out?"

 

Jim pointed at him and nodded.  Blair scowled at him.  "No.  Well, I could, but Jim can't.  And I'm not leaving him down here alone."

 

"I'll be fine," the sentinel protested.  "You're cold and wet and hurting some yourself.  You should get out of here as fast as you can."

 

"I'm bruised, Jim.  Not broken."  Blair could feel his lips press together as he glared at the other man.  Jim glared back, then closed his eyes after a moment, leaning his head back against the dirt wall. 

 

"Your choice."

 

"That's right, Jim.  My choice."

 

The brief exchange was interrupted by Simon, shouting down that he'd arranged for a sling and hoist system to be brought up.  It would take a little while to get there, though, he added.  Blair called back their understanding, then leaned against Jim again, shivering as the cold hit him once more.  The sentinel shifted slightly, then relaxed against him.

 

They waited in silence for a few minutes, their combined warmth once more stopping the shivering.  Jim's breathing eased slightly, but Blair was worried about the stress of the ride upward in the sling.  It had been a while since he'd seen someone with broken ribs, even longer since he'd broken his own, and although he remembered the pain vividly, something didn't seem right.

 

"It's not just your ribs, is it?" he asked finally.  Jim shook his head.

 

"No," he said quietly, his voice breathy.  "I think one of them hit my lung."

 

"Shit."

 

"That's about it," Jim agreed, humor in his tone despite the pain.  "It's not that bad.  It's only one side, only one part of the lung, I think, even on that side.  I'll be fine."

 

"Once they get us out of here."

 

"Once they get us out of here."

 

They could hear the faint voices of the rescue workers above, but no indication of the equipment's arrival.  Blair wanted to call up and ask how much longer it would be, but knew it would just make it take that much longer.  He sighed, wanting to get Jim out.  Now.

 

"I'm going to Australia in a couple of weeks," he said suddenly.

 

"Simon mentioned you were leaving the country.  Didn't know where you were going, though.  Or at least didn't say anything."

 

"Megan's arranged for me to do some lectures down there, then have some time at her family's place for a bit of a vacation."

 

"Conner?"  There was surprise in Jim's voice.  "She never said she was still in touch with you."

 

"She wasn't until she went back there.  Called me out of the blue about three weeks after she left here."  Blair paused for a moment.  "She said she didn't feel right about calling me while she was still in Cascade.  Never explained why not, though."

 

"She'd have hit me if Joel hadn't, I think," Jim said thoughtfully.  "I kind of expected her to, anyway."

 

"She's a spitfire," Blair agreed.  He smiled.  "I'm looking forward to seeing her again."

 

"I'd say tell her I said hello, but..." Jim shrugged.  "I doubt she'd welcome it."

 

"She might," Blair disagreed.  He took a deep breath.  "I'll be there for about six months.  I'll give you my answer when I get back."

 

Jim went still again, then drew in a careful breath.

 

"I'll be waiting."

 

**********

 

"Are you going to forgive him?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"Do you still want him?"

 

"Yes.  I always will."

 

"Do you still love him?"

 

"..."

 

**********

 

Blair sat in the car for a long time, staring at the building he'd parked in front of.  It would be easy, he thought, to just drive away, give Jim his answer by never showing up.  If his answer was no, that was.  But what if it was yes?

 

After all the months in Australia, after all the talks with Megan Conner, with Naomi, with his own heart, Blair still didn't know.

 

That had to mean something.  If it was this hard to walk away, wasn't his answer yes?  But it was just as hard to think of staying.  And that was what forgiveness would mean, after all.  Blair knew better than to think he could forgive Jim and still walk away.  It had to be all.  Or nothing.

 

He drew in a long, deep breath, then let it out again abruptly.  Not allowing himself to think it through any longer - after, all, it wasn't getting him anywhere - he got out of the car, closing the door behind him with a sharp click.  Closing his eyes briefly, he headed in to the building, climbing the once familiar stairs steadily until he reached the third floor.  Hesitating for just one second longer, he rapped on the door.

 

It opened after a moment, Jim's eyes, unguarded, showing a flare of joy when he saw Blair.  The emotion was quickly veiled, the sentinel's face a mask as he stepped back to let Blair enter.  Neither the joy nor the mask made Blair's decision any clearer.

 

"You're back.  How was Australia?"  Jim's voice was quiet as he gestured for Blair to sit at the table, pulling a beer out of the fridge and tipping it at Blair inquiringly.  Blair knew he shouldn't, but he nodded anyway.

 

"Busy," he said, smiling slightly as Jim sat across from him with his own bottle, already dewed with beads of water.  The loft was hot, and he suddenly shivered at the sense memory of the cold the last time he'd seen Jim. 

 

"Conner run you off your feet?"

 

"Hmm," Blair agreed.  "Although it wasn't so much her as it was her nieces and nephews.  There was so much they 'just had to show' me.  The two week vacation on her family's place tired me out."

 

Both men were silent for a bit, then Jim took a swallow of his beer.  "Simon said you called to check up on how I was healing," he said, placing the bottle back on the table.  "Thanks."

 

"I wanted to make sure you were all right," Blair replied.  "You got hurt keeping me from getting hurt, after all."

 

"Still.  You didn't have to call."

 

"Yeah.  I did."

 

Silence filled the room again.  Blair fidgeted with his beer bottle, picking at the label.  After a few minutes, Jim sighed.

 

"It's okay," he said, his voice sad, resigned.  "I get it.  You don't have to say it."

 

"Say what?"

 

"That you can't forgive me.  I get it."  Jim stood, walking across the kitchen to put his half-full bottle into the sink.  "What I did - I guess I wouldn't forgive me either."

 

Blair leaned back in his chair, suddenly angry.  "Why should I, Jim?  What would you give - what would you do - for me to forgive you?"

 

The sentinel turned and looked at him.  "Anything," he said simply.

 

"Anything."

 

Jim nodded.  "Anything."

 

"Tell the world you're a sentinel and let me publish my research?"

 

Jim swallowed, hard, then nodded.  "If that's what you want."  His tone was even, but Blair could still hear the dread and fear beneath the words.

 

"No," he said.  "That's not what I want, not anymore."

 

"What do you want, Bl... Dr. Sandburg?"

 

Blair growled as the name was cut off.  "Still can't call me by name, Jim?"

 

"Still don't have that right.  Do I." 

 

It wasn't a question, but Blair wanted it to be.  He growled again, frustrated, still uncertain of what he wanted, what he planned.  Jim moved, sweat-damp clothing outlining his chest and Blair stared at him, suddenly knowing what he wanted to do, at least for the moment.  "Take off your clothes."

 

"What?"  Jim stared at him and Blair smiled, a predator's grin, enjoying the shiver it produced.

 

"Take.  Off.  Your clothes."

 

Jim hesitated for a minute, then nodded once, abruptly.  Stripping his T-shirt over his head, he turned away from Blair as he unsnapped his jeans.  Already in bare feet, he had only to slip the pants and his boxers off before he stood naked in the kitchen, his jaw tight as he turned back to face Blair.

 

The anthropologist swallowed once as he looked at the other man.  Jim was a bit more scarred, fine lines showing against his skin over his right hip and ribcage.  Blair wondered what had happened, how Jim had been injured, then pushed the thought away in favor of appreciating the view.  More scars, maybe.  But the flesh was just as tight and firm, the muscles just as defined as they had ever been.

 

Jim was, still, the most gorgeous man Blair had ever seen.

 

He stood, slowly, his eyes leaving the body to fix upon the face.  Jim looked back at him, his expression blank as Blair walked across the room to stand before him.  The sentinel's eyes, though - Blair took a deep breath as he tried to read the complex swirl of emotions in those eyes.  Tried - and failed.

 

"Go in the living room," he said quietly.  "Bend over the couch."

 

A muscle jumping in his jaw, Jim did as he'd been told without saying a word.  Blair closed his eyes for a moment, the sight of the other man almost too much to bear.  They'd made love in that position many, many times, the couch just the right height for the two of them to fit together perfectly.  And now?  What he was about to do was many things, but he doubted that it would be making love.

 

A large part of him didn't care.  And that was the part that had him walking forward to stand behind Jim, his hand reaching out to trail fingertips over the bowed back before him.  Jim shivered under his touch, experience and memory letting Blair find the most sensitive spots.  He watched as the other man hardened, his legs spread wide enough to give Blair easy access to the tight opening.  He ran a finger over it, smiling as Jim hissed.

 

"Do you want this?"

 

"Would it make any difference if I said no?"

 

Blair pulled back, not touching Jim.  "Yes," he said tightly.  "It would."

 

Jim sighed.  "I'm sorry.  Yes.  I want this.  How could I not?"

 

There was a wealth of despair in the question.  Blair closed his eyes for a moment.  "Jim..."

 

"I know it doesn't - won't - mean anything.  Fucking me won't commit you to anything.  Least of all to forgiving me.  But yes.  I want it."

 

"Fucking you."

 

"Or fucking me over.  Isn't that what this is about, Blair?"

 

His name in Jim's mouth was bitter, a twisted, dark impersonation of how it used to sound, when they were making love, and not even close to what Blair had thought it would be to hear again.  He'd wanted Jim to call him by name.  But now that he had, he wished he hadn't.  But Jim was right, wasn't he?  Fucking, not making love.  Had it ever been making love, or had Blair just deluded himself into believing that?

 

"Lube," he demanded.

 

"In the drawer."

 

Leaning to the side, Blair opened the small drawer at the front of the table next to the couch.  Pulling out the half-used tube he found, he noted absently that it was the same kind they'd kept there.  It was only when he wrapped his hand around it, his fingers falling perfectly into the indentations, that he realized that it was the same tube, not just the same kind.

 

"You really were celibate, weren't you?"

 

Jim turned his head to look at Blair.  "Why else do you think I want this?"

 

His voice was mocking, and the tone sent a rush of anger through Blair again.  He hadn't ever lost it, since the first moment it hit in the kitchen, but it had been banked, cooled a bit in the talking.  Now it was hot and consuming once more.  He drew back his lips in a savage smile, enjoying the barest hint of a flinch the expression produced.

 

Opening the tube, he squeezed a heaping pile of slickness onto his hand, sniffing it once to make sure it hadn't somehow gone off.  Satisfied, he moved behind Jim once more, not bothering to wait for the lube to warm before touching Jim's hole.  Two fingers pushed in without hesitation, and he smiled at the groan of surprise.

 

"Be careful what you wish for," he whispered.  Jim didn't reply, although Blair knew he'd heard him.  Blair pushed deeper, the muscle around his fingers spreading reluctantly.  Twisting his hand, he felt the sentinel relaxing, beginning to push back against the intrusion.

 

He stretched Jim quickly, if carefully.  He didn't want to hurt him, despite the anger, but  felt no desire to take a lot of time with the preliminaries.  He had a condom in his wallet and, after wiping his fingers on the blanket over the back of the couch, he unzipped his pants, breathing a sigh of relief as his aching cock was freed, and rolled the protective sheath on.  Lining himself up with Jim's glistening opening, he pushed forward, entering Jim deeply in one long glide.

 

Jim was breathing heavily, his muscles tense at the invasion, but Blair didn't bother to give him time to adjust before withdrawing and thrusting again.  This was for him, after all, not Jim.  This was what he wanted, what he needed.  What he deserved.  Jim was hot around him, tight, and Blair fucked him hard, burying himself within the other man over and over again.

 

Jim wasn't hard.  He'd lost his erection when Blair entered him, and it hadn't come back yet.  Blair wasn't sure he cared.  He pushed forward, as deeply as he could, and held himself there, feeling the edge of his pants pressing into Jim's skin.  "Fucked over, yeah," he panted.  "Do you feel used, Jim?"

 

"Yes," Jim spat.  "Just like you wanted."

 

"What I wanted?" Blair repeated, the anger suddenly draining from him.  "This was never what I wanted, Jim."

 

He pulled back, changing the angle as he did, feeling the sudden start as he rubbed against Jim's sweet spot.  His strokes slowed, becoming leisurely, slow and deep, nailing the prostate with every one.  Jim groaned, pushing back against each thrust, his cock hardening as Blair fucked him.

 

"I never wanted to make you feel used, Jim," Blair forced out, his throat tight.  "I wanted to make you feel loved."

 

"Blair..."

 

The name was soft, spoken with despair and longing, and Blair thought it almost sounded like it used to.  Before - everything.  When this would have been making love, even the hard, rough parts of it.  He dropped one hand below Jim, catching his erection and stroking it in time with his thrusts.  Jim gasped, moaning, and came in his hand, his spasms pulling Blair with him.  Blair collapsed over Jim's back, his cock pumping out the last drop deep inside the sentinel's body, his heart aching even as his body was satisfied.

 

Long minutes later, he pushed himself up, pulling out of Jim's body, wincing at the other man's flinch.  "No blood," he said, matter-of-factly, heading for the bathroom.  Cleaning himself quickly, he returned with a damp washcloth to find Jim already half dressed.  The sentinel stood in the kitchen, his pants half-zipped, and looked at him.

 

"What happens now?" he asked.  "Was that good-bye?"

 

"Do you want it to be?"

 

Jim took a breath, then let it out slowly.  "No."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because I love you."

 

"Having sex doesn't fix anything, Jim."

 

Jim laughed, the sound short and bitter.  "Do you think I don't know that?"  He finished zipping his pants and reached for his shirt.  "I love you, Blair."  He pulled the shirt over his head.  "But if you can't forgive me, I think it has to be good-bye.  Because I can't take seeing you, being near you, wanting you, and knowing you hate me."

 

"I don't hate you."

 

"Don't you?"

 

Blair shook his head.  "No.  I don't hate you.  It's just... Forgiving what you did, it's hard."

 

"Too hard."

 

"Maybe."

 

Jim's face shut down, the tiny bit of emotion that had been on it wiped clean.  Blair swallowed.

 

"But I want to try."

 

**********

 

It took a couple of years for Blair to realize that it wasn't his forgiveness that Jim had needed to earn, it was his trust.  He'd forgiven the sentinel the moment that the punishing fuck had turned into an act of love, he just hadn't understood that.  Trust, on the other hand...

 

He stood, leaning against the wall, watching Jim dance and flirt with the new Head of Forensics.  "How did they go through so many of those, anyway?' he wondered, before shrugging in dismissal.  She was tall and slender, brilliant if her supporters were right, and sparkling under the lights at the annual Policeman's Ball.  Just Jim's type.

 

"Doesn't that bother you?"

 

Blair turned and smiled at the woman who'd just spoken.  "Hello, Rhonda."

 

Rhonda was still Simon's secretary, having moved with him when he was promoted to Chief.  She rarely got to see the men and women of Major Crime anymore, other than Jim, or their resident consultant, and her eyes were warm with pleasure as she greeted Blair, then cooled as she looked at the dance floor.  "Like I said, doesn't that bother you?"

 

Blair shook his head.  "You're still mad at him?"

 

Jim hadn't exaggerated the response of Major Crime to learning of his betrayal.  Blair was still surprised by the cold shoulder the man got at times.  Rhonda narrowed her eyes, still looking at the dancers.

 

"I was starting not to be," she said acidly.  "But he sure looks like he's having a good time out there."

 

"That's because he is," Blair said mildly.  "He loves to dance."  He pushed away from the wall and stood before his friend, his face serious.  "He's flirting, laughing, having a good time.  And that's okay.  Because at the end of the night, he'll take me home."  He grinned.  "In the meantime, I want to have some fun too.  Shall we?"

 

"Anytime, Blair."

 

They whirled their way onto the dance floor, Blair not at all surprised that Rhonda was an expert dancer.  She was good at anything she chose to do, after all.  Long minutes later, the music ended, and they found themselves standing near Jim and the Forensics Head. 

 

"Hey, Jim," Blair greeted.  The sentinel smiled at him. 

 

"Hey, Chief.  Rhonda.  Have you met Dr. Reynard yet?"

 

"I have not had the pleasure, although I have heard much about you, Dr. Reynard."

 

"Dorilys, please," the woman smiled.  "And I hope they were only good things!"

 

"Of course," Blair assured her, then blinked.  "Were your parents Darkover fans, by any chance?"

 

"Oh, yes," she sighed.  "At least they didn't call me Cleindori."

 

"It's a beautiful name.  And a great set of books.  You've read them, I assume?"

 

They were off and running, Jim and Rhonda standing bemused as the two doctors rattled off names, places, and storylines.  After a moment, the music began again, and Jim touched Blair's arm. 

 

"It's getting late," he said quietly, when Blair turned to look at him inquiringly.  "The two of you clearly are going to have to get together again.  But for now," he smiled down at Blair.  "Dance with me?"

 

"Yes," Blair said simply, making a quick apology to the two women as he moved into Jim's arms.  The band was playing a waltz, and they drifted onto the dance floor, moving in perfect time.  Swaying together, they danced for long moments before Blair lifted his head from Jim's shoulder, looking him straight in the eye as he said something for the first time since he'd come back to Cascade.

 

"I love you."

 

**********

 

Jim could hear Rhonda and Dorilys talking as he and Blair danced.  He smiled to himself as they spoke, well aware of how Rhonda felt about him.  She was in for a surprise, he thought.

 

"Oh, my," Dorilys said as the two men began dancing.  Her voice was a bit faint.

 

"Didn't he tell you he was gay - and with someone?" Rhonda said challengingly.

 

Dorilys laughed.  "Oh, yes," she assured the other woman.  "Right off to both, actually.  I love to dance, though, and so does he.  Knowing it, though, is something completely different from seeing it."

 

Jim could hear the thaw in Rhonda's tone as she replied.  "They do look good together, don't they?"

 

Not bothering to listen to the other woman's answer, Jim turned his attention fully onto the man in his arms.  Blair's body fit against his perfectly, the slow movement of the waltz allowing him to concentrate on his partner rather than the steps.  'We are good together,' he thought.  'I wish...'

 

He stopped the wistful thought before it could go any further.  Blair had come back to him, after he'd done something horrible.  Blair had given him a second chance, and they were working it out.  He wasn't fool enough to risk damaging that, and Blair knew it.  And maybe, someday...

 

He swallowed, locking that thought away too, and focusing on the moment.  And it was then that Blair pulled back just a bit, looked him in the eyes, and said it.

 

"I love you."

 

He stumbled, missing a step.  "What?" he gasped.  Blair laughed, his eyes warm.

 

"I said I love you."

 

"Blair?" 

 

The name was filled with questioning disbelief and the dawn of hope.  Blair smiled, the expression more open than Jim had seen it in years.

 

"Yes, Jim.  I've forgiven you."

End

Back home to Table of Contents