alyjude's basement

Bakari Part 1

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 00:32:16 GMT

Bakari

The young woman clutched the small child to her breast. The plane was going down and everyone knew it. It was amazingly quiet on board as one hundred and twenty people came to terms with the truth and prayed. The young mother was no different, but all her prayers were centered on just one person; her baby son. She was praying to a God she wasn't sure she even believed in, let alone trusted; praying that he would spare her boy.

A tiny but remarkably strong hand grasped a bit of her hair and tugged until she tore her gaze from the horrific view out the window in order to look into her baby's wide, blue eyes. He was wearing that small baby frown, the one that said everything he couldn't yet verbalize, namely asking what was wrong.

She closed her eyes and sent up another plea. "Please, please, spare him, he's so special, please, save him."

Tears pooled in her son's eyes and he whimpered before tucking his head under her chin even as he started to pat her cheek in comfort. That truly undid her as she began to pray out loud. "Please, save him."

A thunderous noise assaulted the passengers of the Kisoro AirFlight Electrojet as its metal met treetops at an alarming rate. The left wing was sheared off and, as the plane listed sickeningly to the right, air rushed into the gaping hole left by the loss of the wing. Suddenly the young woman's arms were horribly, terrifyingly empty.

As the right wing hit the ground, her terrifying scream of, "No!" was swallowed up by the gigantic explosion.

***

The jungle quiet was broken by the sound of man's invention. Engines coughed and sputtered as the great silver-winged bird tried to gain height and failed. Monkeys stopped their frantic flights through the dense trees; birds skittered away from the path of the huge monstrosity that was far too low, dangerously low.

The plane lurched almost as if drunk before dipping down, twisting until its nose was down and, like a missile, aimed straight for the ground. At the last minute, it veered right and lifted ever so slightly - one final attempt to avoid the inevitable. But it wasn't enough, not nearly enough. The wing sliced through trees and was severed from the silver body.

Great, lumbering beasts below heard a high, shrill, penetrating scream immediately followed by what sounded like one of their own, crying in panic.

The silver monster continued its destructive path through the forest until it gave one final, heaving glide to the right, the only wing left digging into ground and ripping the jet apart.

The explosion lit up the jungle, the sound spreading out, almost deafening in its intensity.

Fire - burning flames in blue, orange and yellow, engulfed the silver machine and the screams. Finally, there was silence. Deadly silence.

The more curious of the jungle inhabitants moved forward, sniffing, twittering or slithering, but the residual heat soon had them backing off.

Several large, dark shapes moved quietly through the trees to make their way through the debris. Dark, nimble fingers plucked up bits and pieces of clothing as the brighter colors caught their eyes. They lifted the materials to their faces and smoothed them over their dark fur. Loose objects were pilfered, kept and hidden to inspect and play with at a later date.

Ears still ringing, one dark shape stayed back to search for the one sound that had enticed her to the scene - the sound of a baby, of one of them.

The great she-beast, so recently bereft of her own small baby, started moving quickly through the trees, nose quivering, eyes searching....

***

The baby boy was dropped in the middle of a patch of dense undergrowth, his landing greatly softened by mounds of moss, leaves, and branches that were suspended between great tall trees, growing so closely together, they served as a canopy.

For a moment, he lay stunned, the air having been knocked out of his tiny lungs. The velocity of his travel from his mother's arms to this nest had literally torn his blue jumper from his small body, but the jungle was warm and comforting, like his own crib at home.

Soon, breathing was easy again and his natural curiosity took over. He rolled over, pushed himself to his crawling position and swayed over to the edge of his nest. Unfortunately, the movement was just enough to dislodge him from his safe perch and he tumbled down the short distance to the jungle floor. He landed with a soft, "oof", shook his head and, having only recently learned to stand and take shaky steps, he immediately reached out with one tiny hand for purchase and found it in the trunk of a tree. Using its rough surface, he pulled himself up, a bit unsteadily, but up nevertheless.

The area he occupied was lush with greenery and bits of sunlight streaking the ground, all of which caught his attention. He reached out, almost fell, but before he could try again, the light was suddenly gone, blocked out by a huge shadow. The baby looked up and into soft brown eyes.

***

The she-gorilla had finally pinpointed the source of the smell. There, on the ground, a baby, and yet, not.

The creature took her warring stance by getting down and resting her arms on her knuckles, brow furrowed, teeth barred.

The baby watched, fascinated, before he too got down on his hands and knees and then squished up his features in a semblance of the funny face opposite him. Then he fell back, legs kicking wildly as the jungle was filled with the sound of his giggling.

The she-gorilla's eyes grew round, her mouth dropped opened - but then she smiled a gorilla smile. She rocked back on her rear, legs out in front of her as small sounds issued from her throat - sounds that were soft and inviting to the baby. His giggles stopped as he rolled clumsily onto his stomach and back up on hands and knees. He waited, unsure, but the sounds were so like his mother's that he was urged forward, his little diapered butt swaying with his movements. The gorilla put out one large hand, black fingers wiggling in invitation and, as he latched onto one, he started giggling again.

Slowly the she-gorilla let her hand rise, the baby holding on as his body rose with the hand. He kicked his legs and grinned at the fun ride. Then she brought him to her breast, cupping his small frame with one large hand, fingers drifting over hair that was so much softer than her own. His skin was so smooth, but warm and alive. His heart beat like her own and, in that moment, she claimed him as hers.

***

The fire was long out, the scavengers long since gone, satisfied in their hunger. The mountain gorillas had moved back into the deepest recesses of their forest home, their trophies wrapped around massive shoulders and necks, or laid out in soft jungle grass to sleep on and then play with come the new morning.

Three she-gorillas lay in nests, their babes playing gently about them, sleep not far away. Several feet from the domestic scene, two young male gorillas, not yet of breeding age, played a game of roughhouse and, on a small rise overlooking his domain, sat the great silverback, their leader and guardian.

His attention was suddenly riveted to the stand of trees just south of his family. He didn't need to move because he could smell the scent of his mate, but he frowned at the very different scent that clung to her. The trees parted and she moved forward, a small object held protectively to her breast.

Taking notice, her brothers and sisters sat up and moved to her side, their curiosity stronger than their need for sleep. The giant leader remained aloof, seemingly uninterested.

Slowly she let her hand drop down enough to show her family her treasure.

Snorts, huffing air and stamping feet greeted the vision of the small, mostly hairless creature curled up in the crook of her arm, sleeping serenely, small hands fisted, exhausted legs twitching.

One she-gorilla tentatively reached out with a finger and ran it down the vulnerable back and then up to feel the downy soft hair on the small head. She snuffed in delight and another she-gorilla sniffed and gave a low chitter. The two males just shrugged and moved off for another round of play before a nap.

The new mother moved slowly toward her mate as he waited patiently, eyes fixed on the white blur against her dark chest. When she was a few feet from his position, she cradled the babe across her arms and held them out for his inspection. He sniffed, touched, frowned, then looked into her eyes, saw the need, but was uncertain. At that moment, the bundle moved and stretched out, its tiny fists opening. Eyes blinked up at the fierce brown eyes of the silverback.

The sky blue of the innocent eyes touched the silverback in the deepest corner of his mind. He drew back, almost afraid, but then the baby grinned and chortled as his fingers reached for him. He moved in, sniffed again, and hesitantly stuck one finger against the baby's tummy, which tickled and gave rise to giggles that seemed to swirl around the great beast, ensnaring his heart and soul. He looked at his mate, nodded as if unconcerned, then turned his back, the protector once again.

She sighed in relief, brought her child back to her breast and let him feed. She lumbered to her own nest where she settled in, baby resting on her chest and suckling, its small sounds of contentment reverberating through her body.

She was a mother again. And this baby was hers. Safe.

The jungle closed its arms around the machine of man - the night deepened - and the gorillas slept, safe in the knowledge that their protector watched.

***

Present Day - British Airways Flight 307

The man sat, his body still, eyes fixed on the view from his window seat. In one hour, he would be landing at Entebbe Airport and then it would be a forty minute drive to Kampala, the Ugandan capitol - his ultimate destination: the Biwandi Impenetrable Forest National Park.

To anyone interested enough to look, he would appear calm, easygoing and assured - but that was far from the case. He was exhausted, in pain, and fear was a constant companion.

From his early childhood, he'd carried a dream of someday visiting Africa, specifically, the mountainous regions of Uganda where he wanted nothing more than to sit deep in the rainforest and wait for a glimpse of a gorilla. A lifelong wish about to come true - he hoped.

He could be a patient man and the thought of waiting for hours, for just one glimpse, brought peace to his troubled soul.

His life was in shambles, his mind a puzzle he'd yet to solve, so, on the advice of friends, he'd given in, taken a leave of absence and booked the necessary flights. First up had been the American Airlines flight from his home in Cascade, Washington to New York - then, the British Airways leg to Gatwick and, from there, the final leg on British Airways to Entebbe.

A car would be waiting for him at the airport and he was actually looking forward to the two days and nights he'd spend in Kambala. He was booked into the Speke Hotel, where he hoped to enjoy rest and relaxation before beginning his journey into the mountains - a journey that might have no end.

His future was in jeopardy and, while he would never have consciously acknowledge this fact, the truth was that if peace escaped him, if the burning in his gut could not be assuaged, then there was a corner of his mind that told him Africa was a good place to disappear.

The pilot announced the descent into Entebbe, the seatbelt sign flashed, and the man wondered what the next few weeks would hold. Salvation or death. And did he care?

***

The difference in the air was the first thing he noticed as he stepped out of the Entebbe International Airport. He'd been expecting the heat and dryness since t was January, the middle of the dry season. But air had the potential to cause him pain, even the Washington State air. But this, this air caressed him, welcomed him, brushed over him like the softest silk imaginable.

The potential for noise that was unusual, and therefore again, potentially dangerous, had also worried him - and the airport hadn't disappointed him. He'd girded himself for the hustle and bustle of moving bodies, the different pitch pitch of so many voices in too many languages - even for the loudspeaker announcing incoming and outgoing. He'd readied himself for the bodies with all their various scents, knowing they'd bombard him. But now, outside - and as compared to inside - there was only blessed silence, which was weird because nothing was completely silent for Jim Ellison.

And yet....like the air moving gently around him, these sounds were welcome, different and, oddly enough, non-intrusive.

Without realizing it, he'd begun to smile, his body relaxing as his muscles unwound.

Jim Ellison hadn't looked forward to anything in weeks, but now, with his body responding to this country and his pain ebbing, he found himself actually jogging to the waiting rental car, eager to begin his 'vacation'.

Jim could easily have driven directly into Bwindi, but his plans didn't include the typical "Gorilla Tracking" packages offered to tourists. He'd obtained a special permit that would allow him access into the deeper regions of the Impenetrable Forest in order to track un-chartered gorilla families. The man, Ebo, who'd made this possible lived in Kambala and was a friend of Jim's boss, Captain Simon Banks and, with his connections, had managed to secure the limited pass that would open the doors for Jim's adventure.

Gorilla Tracking parties had begun in 1993, but only two gorilla families were tracked; the Mubare and Habinyanja groups. Tracking parties consisted of no more than six individuals per day, per group - but no way was Jim going to go the tourist route. He wanted to experience his meeting alone, as much do to with his difficulty with so many sights and sounds as with his need for privacy when facing the great beasts.

The world was full of exceptions and, thankfully so, because for the right price, the Ugandan government would - and could - grant private tracking permits. In this case, the price had been double what he would have spent for a typical gorilla package, but he didn't mind paying more, as he'd been assured by Ebo, in one of several emails, that the additional money was used to protect the gorillas of Bwindi, which, he'd learned, housed almost half the entire world's gorilla population.

Finally on his way, in a car that was a bit too small for him, he took in the scenic drive along Lake Victoria. Once again, Jim was surprised to find the view obviously pleasing, but also incredibly soothing. The directions provided by Ebo were perfect and, less than forty minutes later, he was pulling up in front of the Speke Hotel, a beautiful, sprawling, colonial-style building that immediately conveyed its European background. When he pulled up to the front, his luggage was taken out and rolled inside where he was guided to registration.
He had only three things on his mind as he was shown his room; shower, change and meet Ebo on the famous Speke Terrace.

The transition from Cascade to Africa was almost too easy. He felt immediately welcome, immediately home. The cultural shock should have been intense but, instead, he experienced a tingly sensation and found himself looking at the people he passed as if he should know one of them, as if....someone were waiting for him. He felt an excitement in the pit of his stomach, almost like butterflies, an excitement that said something was close and if he could just reach out and touch it, he'd never know pain again.

As he walked out onto the Terrace, catching his first glimpse of an African sunset, he felt it again, even stronger, as if someone else were seeing the same sunset, at the same time, and this person knew, knew he was here, watching as well.

He couldn't help it, his eyes left the spectacle in front of him and began to search, hoping he would know when his eyes found--

"Detective Ellison?"

The voice was low and with a distinct British accent. He turned to face a man about his height with short, black hair - and a huge grin.

"Ebo?"

He nodded and extended his hand. "Yes, Jambo! Welcome to my country, Detective Ellison. Your flight was pleasant?"

They shook, both smiling as Jim nodded. "It was very pleasant." He cocked his head and asked, "Jambo?"

"A word with many meanings, Detective, but in this case, a greeting."

"Well, then, Jambo!"

Ebo laughed, delighted at his new friends embrace of his language. He indicated a nearby table and said, "Please, shall we sit and enjoy the remainder of our sunset? I ordered it especially for my guest."

"I'm honored and you've definitely outdone yourself - it's spectacular."

Ebo guided him to the table he'd already secured, next to the rail where the view was even more spectacular. He ordered a drink for each of them and then sat back to study his "charge". He was surprised at how relaxed the man appeared, as he'd been warned by his good friend, Simon Banks, that Jim Ellison was ill and suffering greatly. And while he was very pale and the shadows under his eyes rather pronounced, he nevertheless appeared truly relaxed.

"I'm very glad you did not object to my request that you come to Kambala first. One must see my city when one comes to Uganda and I could not permit otherwise."

"For the miracle you accomplished, I would gladly have driven to hell. But this," he waved his arm to encompass everything he could see, "is definitely worth it."

Ebo leaned forward and said softly, careful that no one else would hear, "Simon mentioned that you have been unwell?"

Good old Simon. Trust him to watch out for his detective even half way across the world.

"Not ill. Just....tired." It was the only word he could come up with and, while not exactly a lie, after all, pain and fear can definitely tire a man out, it wasn't the whole truth either.

"So, I will make sure this adventure gives you all you desire, Rafiki."
At Jim's raised eyebrow, Ebo grinned and added, "Rafiki - friend."

Friend. Yes, Jim already felt a kinship with the man who would be his guide. Grinning, he said, "Rafiki."

Ebo nodded and both men turned their attention back to the glory unfolding in front of them.

***

When the sun had finished its slow and beautiful glide below the horizon, Ebo suggested an early dinner at the Rock Garden Cafe and now, after an excellent meal of rack of lamb, they sat once again gazing out over the city, sipping brandy and enjoying the peace.

Eventually Jim's curiosity got the better of him and he had to quiz his guide and new friend. "So tell me, what exactly happens tomorrow?"

"Ah, yes, the detective surfaces." His smile softened the words as he added, "We shall begin our journey early, at sunrise, which here in Uganda is always at six. We shall travel the difficult path to Bwindi, which is why I suggested you rent a four-wheel drive. We will be taking the eastern route, to Ruhija, where we will stay one night before beginning our trek into the jungle. Our accommodations will be minimal at best, as you requested. The route I have chosen is long and steep but, in my opinion, provides the best possible views of our forest."

"Sounds perfect. I take it we're on foot once we reach Ruhija?"

"Yes. We will travel for one day up the mountain and you can expect to see gorillas late on that first day. We will be in what my people call the "ghost" land."

"Ghost land? Sounds intriguing."

Ebo laughed outright, the deep sound bringing others around in their seats, smiles on their faces. "Foolish, but not intriguing," he finally said. "You have undoubtedly read Tarzan?" At Jim's nod, he said, "Well, the myth is alive and well in our forest in the form of a ghost man who walks with the gorillas. I travel throughout the region and have never seen so much as a glimpse of this creature - walking or swinging. But it makes for interesting tourist propaganda and if it preserves our National Forest by bringing in the tourist dollar, thus protecting its inhabitants, than I approve."

"I feel like I should be taking notes...watch for gorillas and man swinging through trees."
"There is, however, one myth that is real. A tribe that co-exists with the gorillas and are never seen by outsiders. They are named for dusk, thus they are called the Magharibi. Their name is most apt as they do not come out until the sun has set and they can melt into the night. Perhaps our 'ghost man' lives among them."

"They sound almost...magical."

Ebo seemed surprised by Jim's choice of words, but not disappointed. "Yes, that is a good word for them. Magical. There is one white man living with them - a priest, Father Benjamin - and a better man never lived. Perhaps I can arrange a meeting?"

"If the meeting includes a visit with the Magharibi, than yes, I would be honored."

"It shall happen, Rafiki."

***

As darkness fell over the mountain, the night creatures came out to scavenge and hunting. The sounds of the jungle changed as howls filled the air. Above the jungle floor, a dark shape moved gracefully through the trees, using the creepers and parasitic vines of the mistletoe and orchid to fuel his flight over the ground below.

The shape landed, a sturdy branch his perch. He gazed down at the beasts below him; his family. They moved slowly through the bamboo and he smiled but did not join them. Instead his gaze seemed to move beyond his jungle as if he could see something - or someone - beyond the boundaries that marked his home. He felt the presence, believed it to be moving towards him. For the first time in his many seasons, he felt restless, earning for something he could not guess, but knew, knew that it was coming.

Bright blue eyes blinked rapidly as he brought himself back to the present. He shook his head, long hair whipping about him before dropping effortlessly down to the floor. It was time to join his family.

But he could smell the change that was coming - and he wasn't altogether certain whether it would bode well - or not.

***

Twenty miles from Bwindi, just outside its borders, men gathered. Soldiers of fortune, hired to bring death and destruction to the National Forest in order to force the closure of the park. A huge consortium funded the "army", men whose only desire was the death of the mountain gorilla because of the wealth their poaching would bring them.

The soldiers sat around the camp, weapons on their laps, cleaning, planning, giving no thought to the beauty they'd been hired to destroy, no thought to the majesty, the greatness of the creatures they sought to wipe from this earth.
Nor did they give a thought to anyone that might exist in the jungles of the Impenetrable Forest that could stop them.

***

Jim Ellison slept deep and undisturbed, a rarity for him of late. Seconds before his alarm went off, his eyes opened. Today, the Impenetrable Forest and gorillas. He scrambled out of bed, eager to begin, the excitement of the day rooted again in his chest.

He grinned foolishly through his morning ritual, his eyes continually going back to his veranda, to the vista beyond. He felt like he should say something to someone, but he didn't have a clue what to say, or who he should say it to.

Finally, as he walked out of the bathroom, a towel around his neck, he said,
"I'm coming. Stay, don't leave until I get there." Then he laughed at the absurdity of the words, but as he moved out to his patio, he repeated them, almost as a prayer. "I'm coming. Stay, don't leave until I get there."

***

The journey to Ruhija was just as Ebo promised and Jim was glad he'd turned over the task of driving to his guide. He simply drank in every thing in sight, completely unprepared the lush, mysterious land around him, full of every shade of green imaginable. Medicine for his soul.

It was late afternoon when they arrived at the pre-planned campsite and, by the time they'd set it up, Jim was. Their supper consisted of a delicious stew, the ingredients of which Ebo refused to divulge, saying only that Jim would be better off not knowing. Jim smiled, wickedly, as he realized that he was eating a simple but exotic version of beef stew. Ebo didn't know that the man sitting with him at the campfire was able to taste beyond the normal range and that, while his sensory abilities were often agony to him, there were times, like now, when they came in very handy.

"Um, yes, I'm sure you're right, Ebo, but we have beef in America, you know," he said slyly.

Ebo squinted at his new friend, then grinned as he realized his charge had not been fooled. He gave an elegant shrug. "I tried, Rafiki, I tried. But have you ever tasted such a stew?"

"You have me there. Many of the herbs and spices are new to me, but I'm pretty sure I taste cinnamon and...thyme?"

"Perhaps you are the ghost man of whom they speak?"

Jim laughed heartily, enjoying his sense of taste for the first time that he could remember. What was it about the air here? Every sense seemed to be as heightened as usual, but without the accompanying pain and confusion. "No, Ebo, no ghost man here. Just a policeman from America."

Ebo looked as if he doubted Jim's words, but was content to allow their journey to unveil his secrets.

They agreed to turn in early and went to their respective tents, but once settled, Jim found himself needing to be outside, the confines of his small tent keeping him from this new world. He picked up his sleeping bag and took it out and over to the campfire. But instead of crawling in, he remained standing while drinking in the night and finding himself amazed at the silence of the jungle.
He was so close now, so close that the hairs on his arm were standing straight up, as if he were electrically charged. He let his hearing take center stage and only then could he make out the sounds of the jungle. Everything around him was crystal clear, every sound separate and to be enjoyed. He let the jungle envelope him, caress him, much as he would a lover, and, as the minutes passed, he still didn't move. A shadow seemed to glide around him, not yet touching, not close enough to touch, but there, comforting and real.

Was he going insane? Had his mind finally caved under the pressure of his senses? Was any of this real?

Euphoria was certainly a symptom of insanity, but if that's what he was experiencing, so be it. It beat anything else he'd gone through so he'd keep it.

He finally dropped onto his bag, lay back, hands behind his head and gazed up at the brilliant night sky. Would whatever he was moving toward - come tomorrow or maybe Saturday? He didn't know, but then again, he was a patient man.

He rolled over and slept.

TBC in Part 2

Bakari, Part 2

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 00:30:24 GMT

Four dark shapes moved toward the small stream, one shape lighter in color. Suddenly, the lighter shape stood straight. The gorillas with him stopped their forward movement, heads tilted, snuffling in the night air, waiting.
The man made a few low noises, then gestured a warning with his hands. He moved swiftly to a nearby tree, climbed easily and rapidly until he reached a top branch. Once again he took to the sky, flying across his land, knowing there was danger, but uncertain of its cause.

As he faded from their sight, the others went quickly to warn the rest of their family. It was time to move up, to move deeper into their mountain.

***

They were late by two hours in breaking camp, but by eight, they'd breakfasted, packed and were finally headed up into heart of Bwindi. As they traveled, Jim was once again struck by the sounds of silence. He knew that life was all around him, in the trees, the brush and underfoot, and yet - so much quiet.

The air was thick with life as small winged insects zipped about him, never quite landing, their hum the first sound he was conscious of as they moved out and up. Ebo had given him a natural insect repellent that neither irritated his skin nor his sensitive sense of smell, and it worked.

He could feel the heat, the life of this land thrumming in his blood as an excitement built around his heart and mind. He'd never felt so alive, so in tune with the world. A world that just a few days ago was an obstacle course for the detective. A world of traps; sounds that could devastate him, send his head reeling, or lights that could brighten, sparkle and fracture, intense and painful. Or the feel of materials that could suddenly drive his skin insane. But since his arrival, he'd been in complete relief, even daring to try to let his senses work for him instead of against him. So far, he'd only been marginally successful, but even that bit of success gave him hope.

They traveled easily, Jim having no trouble keeping up with Ebo's pace. He was used to the jungle, even if that jungle had been in South America. He was in excellent shape and more than once had caught Ebo looking at him in wonder, but pleased that Jim was able to equal Ebo in stamina.

As they moved up, Ebo pointed out the many and varied species of jungle life and it didn't take long for Jim to begin to actually see and hear them. The most prominent "noisemakers" were the monkeys swinging above their heads, chattering as they flew, sometimes even in anger at what they undoubtedly perceived as an invasion of their territory. The Colobus were the most prevalent, but as they went higher, Ebo would go off the path, pulling Jim with him, to suddenly stop and point out a family of chimpanzees foraging, and not just a bit hostile and sometimes downright nasty.

Jim was constantly amazed at the color of this world. At first glance, one saw only green and snatches of brown. And while it was every variation of green and brown imaginable, it was still, just green and brown... However, as Jim's jaded American eyes grew more accustomed to the jungle and, as his senses went quietly and faithfully to work, he really began to peer into the growth and was amazed at the amount of color that literally jumped out at him. He found himself almost mesmerized by the deep, rich purples of the jungle orchids; the fuchsia and intense blues and pinks of many and varied butterflies; and finally, how often he found himself entranced by a flower of incredible color - only to have it fly off, wings incandescent in flight.

Then there were the birds - of every color and color combination possible. They had no fear of man so dipped low, twittering at the two men and chattering up a storm.

The amount of water in the form of streams and waterfalls became another source of amazement for Jim. It was every jungle movie he'd ever seen, and more. They were moving along one of the streams, just before noon, when they reached the second waterfall of the day, a fall so enticing, Jim immediately requested they stop and take a break. Ebo agreed and added that this would be a perfect spot for lunch.

Their noonday meal was simple, consisting of some fruit, pungent cheeses, crackers and bits of dried, lightly seasoned meat, but unlike any jerky Jim had ever had.

When their lunch had settled, Jim decided it was time for that swim. There was no way to ignore the waterfall and the sparkling blue depths of the pool of water. He just hoped it was safe to swim - and since there was only one way to find out - he asked.

"Ebo, is swimming in this stream safe?"

"Ah, it is inviting, isn't it? But at this level, no, I would not recommend it. The water snakes and parasites are highly dangerous. But later, as we climb higher, yes, there will be amble opportunity for a swim in an even more lush part of our mountain."

Now Jim had both the anticipation of seeing gorillas as well as a swim to occupy his mind as they packed up and moved out.

***

It was after two when Ebo stopped suddenly, concern in every line of his body.

"What is it?", Jim asked.

"There is something wrong. We should have seen signs of gorilla foraging by now. Bent reeds, broken bamboo, indentations on the jungle floor - but so far, nothing. Our gorillas have an uncanny knack of sensing danger and moving deeper into the forest for protection. I'm very afraid that may be the case here. They have not even ventured down today. I am worried."

"What should we do? Keep going or head back down?"

"The danger could be as simple as a crazed cat on the rampage - or something more sinister." He looked up at Jim quizzically. "You know of our history, of the rebel uprising two years ago?"

"I'm aware of the tourists who were killed, yes. They closed the park if I recall correctly. Several gorillas perished as well."

Ebo nodded sadly. "We lost eight during the war."

"So you think we could be dealing with another insurrection?"

"No, absolutely not. But...something has kept our gorillas away."

"Well, if I have any say in what we do - I'd like to keep going."

Ebo smiled at his friend's words, not in the least surprised at his choice.
"Then we go forward. I believe we can handle anything we might find. You are a good man to travel with, I can see this. So we continue."

Jim didn't tell Ebo that, while he too felt the unease of the jungle around them, he also felt that tingling again, so strong now that he could no more have turned back than he could have sprouted wings and lifted off the jungle floor.

***

The man glided silently through the trees, moving steadily down the mountain even as he appeared to be climbing. Trouble was coming; he sensed it - and it was his job to find it before it found his family.

As he moved quickly and quietly, exchanging vines, climbing up, higher, ever higher, skimming the very tops of trees, taking a route he knew by heart, his strong hands propelling him, he felt more than danger, he felt a sense of - homecoming. As if the danger - and the thing he'd been waiting for - were, while not one and the same, entwined somehow.

He was close now, close to the tourists he'd spotted earlier in the week - the ones who came with cameras for capturing his gorillas.

***

Jim and Ebo traveled another hour with still no sign of gorillas. For Jim, it was a disappointment, but at the same time, he'd begun to feel as though they were being watched. Maybe the apes were around them after all - or it was some other animal? But then the tingling feeling returned and he found himself looking up and around him, trying to find something he couldn't quantify. Thirty minutes ago, he could have sworn he'd seen a flash of white high above him, but he'd shaken his head and smiled as Ebo's words about a ghost man came back to him.

No ghost man, he was sure. He just hoped it wasn't his mind playing tricks on him.

Suddenly he jerked his head up at a sound he knew could be heard by no one but him - and yes, there it was again, that brief glimpse of streaking paleness... gone before he could get a fix. But it seemed to be moving ahead of them now so maybe there'd be another chance to get a better look later.

***

There were two men below him - one he recognized, a friend to his family, but the other was a stranger - and yet, somehow - not. As he'd swung above them, the stranger glanced up, his intense blue eyes seeming capable of seeing so much more than anyone else. It was a good thing that he, himself, was so adept at blending into his mountain or otherwise, he knew the stranger would have spotted him. He wanted to stay, to watch him, but the danger was close now. Unfortunately, the stranger was moving toward it, not away from it.

***

The stench hit him so hard, it almost drove him to his knees.

"Jim? What is it?"

Features etched with concern, Ebo stood by him as he remained doubled over and retching.

"Blood," he finally whispered. "So much blood. I can't - breathe. Can't you smell it?"

Ebo could smell nothing out of the ordinary, but somehow he didn't doubt for a minute that his friend could.

Eventually Jim straightened as the sour, coppery scent faded, or he was simply becoming immune to it. Without a thought, he began walking straight ahead, knowing that Ebo would follow.

Fifteen minutes later they entered a clearing - and the sight that greeted them sent Ebo off to the edge in order to give his lunch back to the jungle.

Four people. Three men, one woman. All dead, their bodies hacked to pieces, the blood covering the jungle floor even now, still wet and slippery.

Their cameras, clothing, sleeping bags, food and water were scattered about, torn, ripped and dismembered - just like their owners - so obviously nothing had been taken.

A shaken, pale Ebo returned to Jim's side, his head moving in denial. "No creature would do this, Rafiki, I know this."

"I agree. This was the work of man. The wounds are from a sharp weapon, a machete perhaps. But why?"

Even as he asked, Jim moved about the perimeter of the clearing, his eyes clued to the ground. "Six, no seven, men - in combat boots."

Ebo watched the detective at work and, as he heard those words, fear struck.

Finally Jim straightened. "Ebo, this wasn't a rebel attack - too quick and efficient. Once they were done, they moved out almost immediately, taking nothing with them. They meant to kill as destructively as possible and nothing more."

As Jim talked, his senses still focused too heavily on the carnage around him, he was unaware of the man several feet above them, kneeling on a tree branch, hand on a vine, watching.

At Jim's words, he lifted his head, tilted it, then rapidly stood and propelled himself off the branch. As he soared through the air, he could see the men who'd done the killing and they were coming back down the mountain - and headed straight for the two at the site of the massacre.

He could not allow the stranger to be hurt. It must not happen.

He changed direction, hoping he'd be in time.

***

The soldiers moved stealthily forward, rifles held in front of them. A scout had returned to tell of two more on the mountain; a guide and tourist, just below their previous position. They had only one objective - to kill these two as well.

***

Jim grabbed Ebo's arm and whispered, "Men just ahead. Our killers, I think."

"We must move swiftly, Rafiki." But before either man could move, two armed men burst through the underbrush, ready to kill.

Jim didn't pause, he simply pushed Ebo out of the way and launched himself at the nearest of the two. The mercenary was unprepared for such a move so Jim landed heavily against him and they both went down.

As Ebo was shoved from Jim's side, the other mercenary fired, the bullet passing harmlessly through the air - where a moment before, Ebo had stood. Seeing that he couldn't get to Jim - and that the other man was readying to fire again, Ebo scrambled through the jungle as bullets flew past.

The man quickly raced after Ebo, not realizing he didn't have a chance, that this was Ebo's world and there were very few who could so successfully disappear.

Meanwhile, Jim was still fighting the other man, trying desperately to get the weapon. He managed to land a brutal kick to the man's stomach which allowed Jim to roll away from him. At the same time, the mercenary recovered quickly and reached for his knife. He was good and he was fast - and the knife cut through the air, found Jim's arm and sliced through soft flesh. The man then dropped the weapon and swung up the rifle, but now Jim was ready and, in spite of the slash to his arm, dove for the protection of the jungle.

***

From high above, the young man witnessed the fight, saw the tall, blue-eyed man dive for cover and, at the same time, observed more of the killers moving into a position that would soon trap the stranger. He must make his move now.

***

Jim scrambled through the brush, vines whipping at him, slapping his skin. Unfortunately, he now knew that running was pointless - his senses told him that he was surrounded, escape impossible.

He stopped and, while catching his breath, listened. They were all around him and moving in for the kill.

He had only one choice. To fight.

Jim stood tall - ready and waiting.

Brushes rustled, footsteps moving closer. To his right there were at least two about to breakthrough to his position. Sure enough, a moment later, they did just that. He knew how he must look to them: tall, bleeding, but ready to fight.

They simply raised their rifles.

At the same time, the air above them came alive with movement. A whooshing sound behind Jim captured not only his attention, but that of the men as well. Jim whirled around and looked up, expecting to see more men about to descend upon him, but instead, found himself staring at the impossible.

A man - wearing little to nothing - was bearing down on him from the air, one hand outstretched, offering rescue from certain death. Jim had the fleeting impression of flying brown hair and startling sea-blue eyes before reaching up toward safety. Flesh touched flesh, wrists gripping hard - and he felt himself lifted miraculously off the ground. He raised his left arm, grasped a part of the vine and, the next thing he knew, he was flying.

Jim felt a strong arm encircle his waist, anchoring him until his purchase was solid, and then they were moving up and away from the stunned men below; men so shocked, they couldn't even fire their weapons. Mouths agape, they watched as the two men disappeared into the canopy of green above them.

***

Jim was in excellent shape and agile in his own right, but nothing could have prepared him for the Tarzan act that went hand in hand with flying from tree to tree. The exchange of vines made by his savior happened so fast and with such agility, Jim barely had a chance to register it. As they flew, he found himself unable to concentrate on the man, to get some sense of him other than warm skin. The only thing Jim was sure of now, was that his rescuer wasn't completely naked but he'd be damned if he could describe the tan blur of cloth that flapped a bit in the wind they created as they moved through the trees.

Just when Jim thought they'd never stop even though they had to be miles from the killers, they landed on another tree - and there they remained. Maybe now, after he caught his breath, Jim would have the chance check out the person who'd rescued him - but just as he turned to him, the man rested a finger against his lips, pointed down, and then lowered himself easily and lightly to the ground. Once there, he motioned for Jim to follow his lead.

More than a little wary, Jim looked down and thought this might not be the best time to decide he suffered from a fear of heights. No, he could do this - after all, he was a cop and an ex-Ranger and could slide down the vine just like his ghost man.

So he did. Maybe not as graceful, but he got there, and so what if he landed on his butt?

Trying to look as if that had been his intention all along, he casually shifted so that his back was resting against the tree he'd just exited. Meanwhile, his weird Tarzan simply looked at him, one eyebrow arched. Jim decided to ignore the implication - namely that he needed to rest when they should be moving - and stay right where he was. At that moment, his rescuer noticed the gash in Jim's arm and immediately started searching the ground for something.

Puzzled, Jim watched the man as he plucked leaves and flowers from around them and then brought them over to him. The man squatted down, wrapped his hand around a nearby rock and used it to pound the plants he'd gathered together - and while Jim had no idea what he was doing, at least he had his chance to truly observe him. The first thing he noticed was that Ebo's ghost man was young, at least ten years younger than Jim, which put him in his mid-twenties. He had a broad forehead, high cheekbones, a strong chin and lush, full lips. He was also shorter than Jim, but lean and muscular, every movement economized and graceful. His hair was indeed brown, a rich auburn with streaks of light in it and, yes, it was long and - curly.

Smiling, Jim would have to make sure the history books were changed. Tarzan definitely had curly hair - even on his chest, where the soft mat of it went from shoulder to shoulder and then downward, the hair narrowing as it approached his stomach. It thinned to a fine point that disappeared below the piece of cloth that barely covered the man's genitals.

In Jim's world, this man would have been considered beautiful, but here, in the jungle, he was exotic, dazzling in his grace, agility and beauty.

Jim studied the 'loincloth' and confirmed that, just like in the movies, it was made up of a thin piece of leather holding an irregular patch of stretched, dried animal skin in front and back.

As he squatted, doing his work, Jim could trace the outline of his right ass cheek, see a tantalizing bit of pale skin, all of which caused a sharp intake of breath. That brought the ghost man's head up, his eyes asking if Jim was all right. Jim could only nod as he forced his eyes back to watching the slender, strong hands work their magic on the plants.

After pulverizing the leaves and flowers into a kind of paste, the man moved to Jim's side, knelt down, caught Jim's eyes, silently requested permission to help - so Jim again nodded. The man tore carefully at the bloodstained shirt to reveal a very nasty gash, still oozing blood. He smeared the paste liberally over the wound, from top to bottom and then, once again, mutely requested permission. Jim nodded, not sure what he was giving permission for but figuring the ghost man had done good by him so far. That's when his savior leaned across Jim, curls brushing lightly against Jim's face and neck. The man's scent rose up and Jim inhaled deeply, reveling in the mixture of earthiness, maleness and the salty mix of sweat and adrenaline.

The man tore a bit of cloth from the bottom of Jim's shirt and used it to quickly and efficiently bind the paste to the wound. When he was done, he stood, looked about him and, with a signal telling Jim to remain seated, he moved about, stooping every so often to pick up small pebbles and bits of wood. When he was satisfied, he returned to Jim's side, took Jim's left hand and poured the pebbles into it. He straightened, motioned upward, indicating that he was about to go back up. He then mimed that Jim should drop a pebble as he held up five fingers.

The light dawned for the older man. It was a timing device. The ghost man was telling him that he was leaving, but that by the time the pebbles were gone, he'd be back. Jim could only nod as it was evident that the man didn't speak and undoubtedly wouldn't understand Jim's words.

A moment later, with one worried look back, the ghost man disappeared from view and Jim was alone.

With the exit of his Tarzan, Jim felt so bereft, it was frightening. But at least he understood why he felt the way he did. Ebo's ghost man was what Jim had been moving toward. In his presence he'd felt complete, his senses calm. The man's touch had soothed the tingling and the excitement had faded to a quiet, comforting buzz.

Jim was no stranger to the delights of the male form, but his reaction to this man, to this particular male form, went beyond anything he'd experienced before. Questions began to assault him. Who was this guy? How had he come to be here? Did he truly live in the wild?

He pictured the young man again and his detective's mind told him something was wrong with the vision. Tarzan's hair wasn't exactly a straggly mess and its scent had been clean and natural. His heightened eyesight had also caught the fact that it was trimmed regularly - and not roughly either. Then there was his face with its two day growth of stubble - which meant the guy shaved. Nothing like a regularly groomed Tarzan - one that supposedly lived with gorillas.

Jim wasn't buying it. Not entirely. Then Jim remembered the tribe Ebo had talked about, the Magharibi. Perhaps he lived with them? And if so, he had to understand Swahili, right? Jim's shoulders slumped. That wouldn't do Jim much good since his knowledge of the language was limited to the basics, like name, asking about the time, where was he and 'I'll take a beer'. On the other hand, they'd had no difficulty understanding each other, no trouble at all, and Jim hadn't missed the keen intelligence in those sparkling blue eyes.

A real puzzle, this ghost man. But hell, Jim was a detective.

***

He glided through the trees, covering as much area as possible, making certain that the enemy was no longer a threat to the stranger. He knew his family was safe and, as he moved silently over his land, felt stirrings that had long been squelched. The tall man had moved him as no other and he understood that he'd found what he'd been looking for all his life.

Unfortunately, with that knowledge came a bittersweet truth; what good was finding this man when he never felt so apart from the world outside his home than now? The tall, blue-eyed stranger came from another world and would return to it while he, Bakari, would remain here.

He scanned the area below, looking for signs of Ebo and, thankfully, found them. Ebo was safe, the body of one of the mercenaries on the ground below him told him that - and of course, Ebo knew the way to the village. He could return to the stranger knowing that Ebo and the villagers were safe - for now.

***

Jim looked at his empty hand - he'd just dropped the last pebble. He glanced up and the young man stood there, quiet, watching, studying him as he'd been studied not so very long ago.

How long had he been there and why hadn't Jim sensed him?

He got to his feet as the man moved silently toward him, his eyes never leaving Jim's. When he stood inches away, he pointed up.

Of course - it was obviously time to take to the skies again. Oh, goody.

When they landed this time, it was actually on the ground, thank God, and in an area that Jim could only describe as paradise. It was lighter here, with more room for the sun to slide between the trees. A nearby rushing sound told him they were near water. Jim's flying partner moved off and Jim followed, watching the play of muscles along the slender back and the sway of the back piece of the tan cloth.

They emerged into what would be considered a glen back home, one that bordered a small lake and waterfall. The beauty of it stole Jim's breath away. As he gasped at the sight, his ghost man glanced over his shoulder at him, caught the wonder on Jim's face - and smiled - a genuine, cover-to- cover grin that transformed him from an exotic creature to someone very real. Jim was left breathless.

Then, with an impatient wave of his hand, the ghost man indicated that Jim should remove his clothes - but before Jim could say a word or do a thing, the man climbed the rocks to the top of the falls and, with barely a pause, dove in, his body slicing through the water with the barest splash.

That was all it took to convince Jim to strip down to his boxers and join his ghost man.

The water was cool, refreshing and invigorating. Jim swam somewhat clumsily, his arm hampering him a bit, but not really interfering with his enjoyment.

Many times in the next several minutes, he caught his ghost man staring with what Jim could only describe as approval. They swam, dove, but oddly enough, stayed several feet apart, their behavior reminding Jim of a species of bird that did some kind of dance ritual prior to mating. Was that what was happening here?

They were certainly dancing around each other...and he was sure his ghost man was as much aware of this as Jim, the occasional glimmer of a smile told him that.

By mutual, albeit silent, agreement, both men climbed out and dropped onto the soft, lush grass to dry.

The afternoon was almost gone and a sweet lethargy overtook Jim and, before he knew it, he was asleep.

***

Bakari rolled onto his side and took in his fill of his stranger. He took in every inch of the well muscled form and, with some hesitation, reached out and touched the still wet, smooth chest, so unlike his own.

This stranger was his. He knew it and, yes, he belonged to him in return. The how and why of it were a mystery to him as was the reason for allowing them to find each other when staying together was impossible - but for now, he'd look his fill, accept this and enjoy it for as long as it lasted. He glanced upward and frowned. It was time to wake him, to take him to the Magharibi. A battle to remove a cancer from his jungle was coming - and it was time to prepare.

***

Only two of the mercenaries made it back to the camp and the story they told of the flying white man caused quite a bit of concern among the men. Only one man seemed unconcerned and, in fact, voiced an interest in the 'flying white man'. As his men talked, he listened and smiled.

So, the Ghost Man was real...which meant if caught...would bring a fortune on the open market, not to mention that once he was gone, the gorillas would be easy targets.

The man, George Akiris, turned to his 2IC, murmured new orders and watched as more of his men moved out - this time more heavily armed than the first group and led by his best.

***

Jim was awakened by a trickle of water sliding down his face. He opened his eyes to see his jungle-man gazing down at him, a small bit of water sliding through his fisted hand to land on Jim's face. Well, what do you know, it seemed Blue-Eyes had a sense of humor. Before he could even think of a suitable retaliation the young man was pointing through the jungle growth and Jim instinctively knew he was being told to get up, that it was time to move on.

He'd assumed they would take to the trees again, but he was wrong. His jungle-man headed straight for the bush instead.

As he kept easy pace with the man, he found himself hungering for the sound of a human voice, even if it was his own. He was not a talker by nature but these circumstances were pretty unique.

"I figure you don't speak English, so won't understand me, but...."

His voice trailed off when the younger man stopped, tilted his head a bit and waited.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Jim stammered out a, "Uh, I just...well--"

This time he was stopped by the young man's sudden lack of attention. Instead of listening, he was searching the ground for something - which evidently he spotted because he bent down, picked up a small twig, swept aside the leaves and jungle growth and began to make figures in the ground.

Jim watched in fascination as what appeared to be a village began to take shape in the wet earth. When satisfied, Blue-eyes pointed the stick at Jim, then down to the "village" in the dirt, then back to Jim.

"I get it, you're taking me here." He indicated the 'drawing' When the man nodded, Jim decided to find out if this was the village Ebo had told him about, so said simply, "The Magharibi?"

The man's eyes widened at the word, but he nevertheless nodded. Great, so he'd understood the word and what Jim had been asking. That meant there was hope for communication. He pointed to himself and said, "Jim." After a minute passed, he pointed again and repeated his name.

It took two more tries before his Tarzan rewarded him with a dazzling smile and said "Jim" while touching Jim's chest. Jim was so excited, he nearly jumped for joy. He smiled back in return and took another step towards foreign relations. He touched the younger man's chest, cocked his head and waited. When nothing happened, he did it again - and then again.

He was about to try for a third time when Tarzan spoke.

"Bakari".

Bakari. Damn, he'd actually been hoping he'd say 'Tarzan'. Then he grinned. He felt as though he'd just discovered the atom or at least sliced bread. He repeated the name and, for the next two minutes, the men went back and forth, saying each others names as if it were the greatest accomplishment in the world - and for them, maybe it was.

Jim could have stayed right there, exchanging more, listening to Bakari's voice as he said his name, but it was soon obvious that they needed to get going.

They started up again and he realized they were gradually climbing higher. The afternoon waned and dusk fell but Bakari showed no signs of slowing. Which left Jim wanted to hear human voices again, so he started talking.

Bakari slowed, allowed Jim to catch up so that they were now walking side by side and, to Jim, it seemed he was actually listening even though he couldn't possibly understand a single word. Which worked well for Jim - it allowed him to tell the man things he'd told no one for years. He talked of his years in the military, his enforced eighteen months in the jungles of Peru with the Chopec - and how his senses had come online, overwhelming him until one of the Chopec, their shaman, Incacha, had helped to harness them and use them to keep the pass. Then he spoke of his rescue and subsequent years as a detective for the Cascade Police Department. He talked about how his senses had seemed to go away, then told Bakari of his friends back home as they climbed higher through the Bwinidi Forest. Even as he spoke, a part of Jim was acknowledging the fact that he was probably now in an area never seen by any tourist.

As they continued their trek, he talked of his home; the loft, his sanctuary - and finally about the return of his senses in a recent bombing incident.

Through all his revelations, Bakari seemed to listen and Jim had the absurd feeling that Bakari somehow understood, which was ridiculous - but comforting. Sharing like this seemed right - but then, that was probably because he knew Bakari couldn't understand him, which made it safe.

Jim finally wound down and took stock of his surroundings only to find it was now almost completely dark. His sight wasn't hampered by the loss of daylight and he'd barely noticed how his vision just seemed to compensate on its own. Bakari certainly had no difficulty seeing either, but then Jim would wager that the young man knew every inch of this forest.

Jim was so involved with his own thoughts that it didn't register that Bakari had stopped until Jim almost bumped into him. Jim watched the younger man's face, noticed the cocked head and realized how much he looked the way Jim did when he was trying to focus one of his senses.

Jim concentrated...and was able to identify movement ahead - slow, lumbering movement - but before he could guess at what it was, Bakari rested his hand on Jim's chest and pointed to the ground with his other hand. Jim got it. He was to stay put. He nodded his understanding and Bakari moved off.

Jim waited but, when the waiting seemed to go on and on, he started to worry. He was a patient man, but he was also a detective. He focused his hearing again and, with a start, realized that Bakari was only a few hundred feet to Jim's right...and he wasn't alone.

Jim started walking, following the sounds. He maneuvered through the jungle until he was close enough to see, parted some leaves - and caught his breath at the sight before him.

Three gorillas and Bakari.

The gorillas were seated, Bakari in front of them on his hands and knees, all skin and hair, locks hiding his face as he seemingly acted out their own recent adventures. Occasionally, he'd make signs with his hands as a soft whooshing sound came from his mouth - soon followed by other strange and exotic sounds that signified communication with the gorillas.

The animals sat and watched, snorting softly at times, their liquid brown eyes watching Bakari's every move. Jim could have sworn they even laughed a couple of times.

He found himself thoroughly entranced and charmed in spite of the fact that he was a spy, observing that which he'd not been invited to witness.

Suddenly Bakari stood and faced him - as if he could see him through the brush of the forest. Suddenly he smiled and beckoned. Jim stepped sheepishly through the brush and, just as he cleared it, stopped.

Bakari used two fingers to point to his own eyes, then Jim's, then down to the ground, telling Jim that it was all right to approach, but only with eyes downcast. Jim did as instructed until he was even with the man. Bakari squatted and pulled at Jim's shirt, bringing him down to the gorillas level.

Once there, Bakari took Jim's hand gently in his own and held it out to the nearest gorilla and said, "Orantu". A large, brown hand moved toward Jim's and he felt his heart clamor into his throat as he realized he was about to touch a gorilla. Their fingers made gentle contact and remained until the large, gentle beast leaned forward and did some snuffling. At that point, Bakari repeated, "Orantu" and signaled for Jim to raise his eyes.

At the moment his blue eyes connected with the soft brown ones, his whole world shifted.

He saw intelligence, life, history, eons of gorillas, all in that one gaze. His heart was overwhelmed with the beauty, innocence, and ancientness of the animal in front of him. He wanted to grin madly, but something reminded him not to show his teeth, so he let his eyes do his smiling for him.

Bakari moved behind the large gorilla, who was now running his large hand over Jim's clothing and hair, to take something from one of the smaller gorillas. He came back to squat at Jim's side and show him what he now cradled in his arms.

A baby gorilla.

Jim gasped in delight as small black fingers, curious fingers, began to wrap around Bakari's hair, curling around one chunk and yanking hard enough to pull Bakari's head down, where upon the small gorilla gave what could only be described as a raspberry. This gave Jim his third surprise of the day; Bakari's laughter. It seemed to bubble up and burst forth, silvery and low. It immediately crawled inside him and made itself at home.

***

Jim didn't know how long they remained with the gorillas, playing with them, watching them groom each other and then observing as they took turns grooming Bakari, but eventually, all good things had to end and Bakari finally got to his feet. He signaled with his hands again and, with obvious reluctance, the gorillas moved off, giving one final - sad - backward glance before disappearing into the forest.

It was just the two of them once more as they stood side by side, listening in their own way to the sounds of the gorillas moving up to safety. Jim wanted to thank Bakari for this night, for the miracle he'd been party to...but the words would be meaningless to Bakari, so he contented himself with a smile and received the same back. Then they were on the move again themselves.

***

The mercenaries had their orders. They were to lay a trap for a gorilla and hope to bait the Ghost Man to a rescue. They had dart guns, nets, and a cage for their eventual prize. Now all they needed was a gorilla. They lucked out. A baby had wandered off from the pack and the men captured it easily.

Now time for the trap.

They looked forward to this, specifically to their portion of the money the so-called 'ghost man' would bring.

***

Jim heard the village before he saw it. He smelled their cooking, heard the activity and, less than an hour after leaving the gorillas, finally entered a clearing and Jim got his first glimpse of the Magharibi.

Activity stopped as the two men entered the outer perimeter, but Jim could detect no fear, only curiosity. Suddenly, Jim heard his own name and saw Ebo coming toward him, arms outstretched.

"Ebo, you're alive!"

"Yes, Rafiki, but I can not say the same for the soldier who came after me. I am pleased you are well."

"I seemed to have received a bit of help."

Ebo smiled slyly and added, "Ah, yes, our Ghost Man. You have met Bakari I see?"

Jim shook his head in disgust as it became apparent that Ebo had known about Bakari all along. "I do believe you conned me, Ebo."

"Why Rafiki, me? Not at all." But his smile said very differently.

During the exchange between Ebo and Jim, Bakari had simply stood quietly watching. But soon, another man came up beside Ebo, a tall, white man, dressed in the black cossack of a priest.

Ebo guided him to Jim and, with a huge smile, introduced them. "Jim, this is Father Benjamin. The only other white man besides Bakari to live with the Magharibi. Father Benjamin, this is Detective James Ellison of Cascade in America."

The priest put out a strong hand and, as they shook, Jim found himself looking into eyes almost as ancient as the gorillas. Father Benjamin appeared to be in his early sixties with a shock of snow white hair and eyes so light brown, they appeared almost golden.

"Detective Ellison, I'm very glad Bakari found you and was able to bring you to us." As Father Benjamin spoke, his eyes went to Bakari. His forehead was creased by a small frown, but then he smiled and gave Bakari a nod. He took Jim's arm and started to lead him to a small hut. "You must be hungry and your arm needs to be re-bandaged. Come with me and, after a good meal, we will talk of what must be done to protect our mountain."

There seemed to be no question that Jim and Ebo would indeed be a part of whatever was necessary to protect the forest, and Jim couldn't have agreed more even if he'd been asked. He turned to see Bakari but instead, watched in shock as he moved swiftly back into the jungle, two tribesmen close behind him.

"Ebo? Where's he going?"

"There is another tourist party on its way up. He will use the Magharibi to warn and protect them. Do not worry, he will soon be back. There is much to plan."

***

Bakari took to the air, the Magharibi traveling swiftly below him, following his lead. It didn't take long to reach the other tracking party and, as Bakari stayed above and out of sight, the men made a few bird calls.

Below Bakari, four men and two women sat around a campfire while a fifth man, their guide, discussed tomorrow's adventure. As the calls from the Magharibi filled the night air, the guide looked up and around, excused himself and melted into the night.

A few minutes later, after a rapid discussion with the tribesmen, the guide moved back into camp and quickly began giving orders. Bakari watched as the tribesmen moved away, but he remained, waiting. He would follow the party a bit, ensure their safety, before making his way back to the village.

The men and women below were questioning, but the guide's words assured them of the urgency and soon the camp was dismantled, the party moving quickly down the mountain.

For three hours, Bakari followed - until the group meant up with two officers of the Ugandan Wildlife Authority on their evening patrol. The guide took the two men aside and, after much gesturing, one officer began to speak into a two-way radio.

Certain that the authorities now knew of the danger and that the people were safe, Bakari began his journey back to the village - back to his Jim.

He had traveled half the distance when a cry pierced the air. He recognized it immediately. It was the cry of Nusu, the baby that only hours before he'd been cradling in his arms. Nusu was obviously terrified and clearly in danger.

Bakari's speed through the air increased as he barely allowed himself to land before taking flight again. His body moved almost of its own accord, finely tuned muscles working automatically as strong hands grasped vines that no one else would even see - and lean legs wrapped themselves around the strong ropes that carried him.

As the cries grew louder, more frantic, he flew faster and faster still, hair flying behind him, blue eyes seeing what only one other pair of blue eyes would have been able to see.

When he was close to the terrified gorilla, he dropped to the jungle floor, ran swiftly for several hundred feet before once again grabbing a vine in order to take a few shorter flights over the jungle, lower now, following Nusu's cries.

He sped confidently up and down branches, silently closing in on the frightened animal, eyes and ears alert for the danger, but unprepared for the camouflaged soldiers hiding below him, guns ready.

When he reached Nusu's location, he stopped, knelt on a branch, looked down, and spotted the baby apparently trapped in some vines, arms and legs thrashing in panic, cries splitting the air. He waited just a moment, to be sure it was safe and, when satisfied, dropped down and moved silently forward.

He never saw the man stand and take aim, but he most certainly felt the sharp jab of the dart as it penetrated his neck. He reached a hand up, grasped the feathered dart, but before he could pull it out, he pitched forward to land face down on the jungle floor.

The men moved in on the prone man, wicked smiles of satisfaction on each face. The net hadn't been unnecessary after all. A cage was brought out from behind a large tree and the man was lifted and unceremoniously stuffed inside. Poles were fitted through each side and the cage was lifted by two of the soldiers. One man walked over to the baby, pulled out his sidearm and took aim.

A hand on the soldier's arm stopped him from firing. "No. It can be sold alive. Put it in the cage with our Ghost Man."

The mercenary looked as though he might disobey, the thought of killing the small beast an excitement running through his blood, but eventually he holstered his gun, grabbed the beast, opened the cage door, and tossed it in with the unconscious man. The small gorilla immediately curled up against Bakari's chest, its fingers fisting around now damp curls. It turned its head away from the men, snuffled miserably, and wound in on itself, the beating heart of Bakari keeping him quiet.

The men moved out, the cage swaying with their pace.

***

The Magharibi were curious about this new white man and were gathered around Father Benjamin's quarters, peering inside, watching, pointing, and whispering amongst themselves. Jim, seated with the priest and Ebo, couldn't help but catch one word being repeated by the tribesmen: Dingane. He'd ask about it later - but for now, his appetite was taking front and center, not to mention the opportunity to quiz the priest and Ebo. As he sopped up fragrant stew juices with chunks of spicy flat bread, he bombarded the two men with his queries until Father Benjamin laughingly held up one hand in surrender.

"Please, I can not possible answer everything. Why don't I have leave Ebo here with you while you finish your meal and he can share what he knows while I attend to a couple of issues with the Magharibi?"

A quick, secretive look passed between Ebo and the priest as Ebo nodded and Father Benjamin took his leave.

"So, you wish to know about our Bakari?"

"I do. For instance - what does 'Bakari' mean?"

"It was the gift of the Magharibi and means, "One with Great Promise". They chose it based on a prophecy made over fifty years ago by Kamau, the Magharibi spiritual leader - or as you might say," he grinned, "witch doctor. But let me start with Bakari's beginning as I know it." Ebo reached for the mug of wine, took a sip, then began.

"In late 1969, a plane crashed on our mountain and all but a single baby perished. This child was taken into one of gorilla families and raised by them. As he grew, so grew the legends. He eventually became their protector. The Magharibi revered him as they revere the gorilla and, together, theykeep our mountain safe."

"He actually lives with the gorillas?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes here."

"But he shaves."

One eyebrow rose humorously. "This is a bad thing, Rafiki? Or perhaps, in your world, there is a law that says Tarzan shall not shave?"

"Actually, now that I think about it, all the movies showed a very clean-shaven Tarzan." They both laughed but then Jim asked, "Did anyone try to find surviving family?"

"I know that Father Benjamin made inquiries, but as to the results, you will have to ask him."

"All right - so then tell me more about this prophecy you mentioned."

"Ah, yes. Kamau predicted that a child would come to our mountain from the sky and live with the gorillas. He also predicted a great battle with many lives lost, but that the child grown to manhood would prevail with aid from his Dingane. The mountain and the gorillas would then be safe from that day forward."

Jim had sat up at the same word he'd heard the Magharibi whispering outside. "Dingane?"

"Kamau said the protector would have a mate he called, One Who Searches or 'Dingane'. Together, they would emerge victorious." Ebo lowered his head and added, "The Magharibi believe that you are Dingane." Ebo raised his eyes to his friend, seemed to search his face, then asked, hesitantly, "Does this...bother you?"

Jim sat back with a whoosh of escaping air.

Mate.

Dingane.

In all honesty, the only thing he didn't like was the fact that he was pretty sure he wasn't this Dingane guy. Although - he could certainly recognize how appropriate the name was when applied to him. Hadn't he been searching for something all his life? Could any phrase better describe him?

"No, Ebo, I am not bothered. I felt a connection to this place since my arrival. One that only grew with my first glimpse of Bakari. I can't deny it. Nor do I wish to. I feel...at home with him. But I don't believe I'm this Dingane - nor do I think Bakari feels as I do."

Ebo smiled even as he hastened to reassure him. "I believe you have no need to fear on that account. I too felt the connection between you. It was electric."

Ebo's words alleviated some of Jim's worries, but until Bakari's return, Jim could only wait to find out for sure. In the meantime, he had more questions to ask. "How is it that no one knows the truth about Bakari? You yourself did nothing to hide the mystery."

"That's exactly why. Mystery. We have worked hard to create just that feeling - as well as a degree of fear. Oh, not to the tourists, but to those who would destroy this mountain and the lives it protects. So, a legend was born. A legend of of a people who move unseen and of he who flies through the skies. I am pleased to say...it works."

"Until now?"

Ebo's face darkened in rage. "Yes, until now. The battle was foretold, as was its conclusion. These men have made a grave error and the conclusion will be bloody. The Magharibi will destroy those who seek to destroy. Does being a part of this worry you?"

Jim's own face hardened as his mind conjured up the visions of the destroyed camp and, in a voice steel hard, said, "No. This is one battle I'll gladly join."

Both men were quiet in their contemplation of the men who dared come to this mountain to kill. But a memory surfaced for Jim, a memory that left him cold and shaking. "Ebo, the soldiers today - they saw Bakari. They saw him!"

Ebo shook his head, puzzled, "I don't understand, what--"

But then horror spread across his handsome features as understanding dawned. But before he could say more, Jim was already moving quickly outside.

"Jim, wait...what can you do?"

Jim didn't pause, he simply said over his shoulder, "I'm going after him, that's what."

***

Awareness came sluggishly as Bakari struggled back to consciousness. His mouth was horribly dry, his head pounding. He tried to move, but two things happened at once; he hit something metallic and heard a small whimper. He forced his eyes open - and the first thing he saw was Nusu, peering intently back at him while, at the same time, trying to literally crawl inside Bakari. In an effort to comfort the baby, he made a low humming sound in his chest and Nusu snuffled a bit and then quieted.

Bakari moved his head slightly and found the source of the metal.

He'd been caged.

"I see our Apeman is awake."

Bakari lifted his head, experienced a sharp pain with the action - and found himself staring at smiling brown eyes

"I do hope your accommodations are adequate? I wouldn't want our prize to suffer."

Bakari simply stared up at the man, giving nothing away. His captor's eyes narrowed in return as he leaned back on his haunches. Then he gave a quick shake of his head and the evil smile returned.

"You're much younger than your legend would suggest and I must confess that I'm surprised by your appearance." Brown eyes traveled down the trapped man's body, then back up to the expressionless face. The intrusive scrutiny continued, taking in his hair, mouth, and eyes. The man's gaze took in the threaded leather cord around Bakari's neck and then he frowned as he concentrated on Bakari as he gently stroked the frightened baby gorilla. His interest was neither on the hand nor the gorilla, but rather the multi-layered, multi-colored braided leather circlet around Bakari's wrist.

The man slipped his hand between the bars and stroked the leather in wonder.

It took everything Bakari had not to move, to fight or slap the offending hand away. He held his revulsion in check and continued to comfort Nusu.

The man continued to finger the bracelets as he finally said, "This is magnificent work and not by gorillas. The design is unique and new to me." He locked gazes with Bakari again. "Perhaps you are not the only myth to see the light of day."

He reached lower then, his finger tracing the slender leather thread that hugged one hip and, as he touched skin and moved down, a different expression took over the man's features as he ran his tongue slowly across his bottom lip.

"I was considering selling you to a less than reputable university, but now...now I believe there may be another market...oh, yes, you'll bring much more on the block. In fact, perhaps I shall sample the wares myself...."

He was interrupted by the arrival of the rest of his mercenaries. He pulled away and quickly got to his feet. With a final look down, he said easily, "Now don't go anywhere, we have much to discuss."

As the man strode away, Bakari let out a long breath. Now that he was alone, he took valuable minutes to look around him. He spotted the crates marked Ammo, noted the number of men moving about the camp and then he sat back against the bars and simply listened - and learned.

They were here to destroy, to do the bidding of the men who lived in riches but wanted more. Their leader was a man called George Akiris; the man who'd just left his side.

Fools - all of them. Not only would they fail, but many would not leave this mountain alive.

Bakari began to study his cage.

***

As Jim attempted to leave the village, Ebo caught his sleeve and maneuvered himself to stand in front of him. "You can not go alone. If he is in danger, the Magharibi must help. Please wait and allow me get their assistance."

Everything in Jim said to hurry, but a small part of him understood the wisdom of Ebo's words - so he nodded, but his blood was boiling and the heat would not wait long.

As Ebo turned, the two men who'd accompanied Bakari into the forest returned. Jim waited while Ebo talked and gestured wildly, while Father Benjamin joined them, his own face suddenly paling as Ebo spoke to him - but still - Jim waited.

Finally, just when Jim could wait no longer, Ebo and fifteen Magharibi joined him. Ebo held out a rifle and a knife. Jim took both as he looked at the natives. They carried spears, bows, knives. They were armed to the teeth, but their weapons were no match for the mercenaries.

"Ebo, there's no way they can--"

"Trust me when I tell you that the killers are no match for the Magharibi." Ebo looked at his companions and smiled. "We are ready."

For some reason, Jim believed him. He nodded and, as they moved out, a rustling in the bush just ahead stopped them. As Jim watched, utterly amazed, a huge silverback gorilla came through the brush. The great beast knelt, eyes searching, as Ebo breathed out, "Orantu".

The gorilla's search came to a halt as his eyes landed on Jim. The great head moved and the gorilla disappeared back into the bush - his message clear. They were to follow.

They followed.

As the Magharibi army left the village, led by Jim and Orantu, Father Benjamin prayed.

End Part 2 - tbc in the Conclusion

Bakari - Conclusion

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 00:28:41 GMT

Bakari had been routinely testing the strength of his prison and had, so far, found no weakness. Nusu was awake, shivering and whimpering in hunger. Behind the cage stood a stand of tall reeds, undoubtedly full of insects. Bakari maneuvered his severely cramped body around, biting back a groan as his muscles complained. He wiggled an arm through the narrow space between the bars and managed to snag several of the precious reeds. He pulled them in and Nusu grabbed them immediately. Using fingers and tongue, he began to strip them bare, to pry for the insects buried deep within their green depths.

Bakari put his arm through again, to snag more, but stinging leather flicked down, lashing at his forearm, leaving a long, thin stream of red on the exposed skin. He quickly retracted his arm and jerked his head up, looking for his tormentor.

One of the mercenaries stood a few feet away recoiling the black whip he'd just used. He watched Bakari with such contempt, a blast of cold spread through the younger man. The man moved to the front of the cage and, as he did, he unfurled the whip, raised his arm and, with amazing speed and accuracy, flicked the whip down so that it slid easily through the bars and connected with Bakari's left shoulder.

The action was repeated again and again as Bakari tried to curl his body protectively around Nusu. More often than not, the biting leather found its mark on an arm, bare back, legs, neck and even one slight flick to Bakari's left cheek. Through it all, Bakari made no sound, just lay curled around the shaking bundle of fur.

"Halt!"

George Akiris ran forward and roughly grabbed the man's arm before another downward motion could inflict more damage.

"Are you deliberately trying to rob us of a fortune by marking up our treasure?" He then spoke tersely in French and the soldier stalked off, but not before giving one last, hate-filled glance at Bakari.

Akiris moved to the cage, taking in the many thin lines of red. He stood for several seconds, eyes unreadable. Bakari stared back, expression equally unreadable.

"He thinks you're the devil - but he's my best so I put up with a great deal. But trust me, he will not come near you again. I promise." Akiris continued to stare as Bakari absently stroked the shivering Nusu. He watched as the man quieted the animal with the constant stroking and small, reassuring sounds.

Akiris gave himself a mental shake and, without another glance, walked away.

Bakari's eyes followed the man's movement across the camp until a movement to his right captured his attention. He peered into the darkness and spotted a pair of brown eyes looking back at him.

Orantu.

He smiled.

***

Jim and the Magharibi had traveled over two hours, a full moon lighting their way. Orantu stayed well ahead, somehow knowing that Jim could keep him within hearing range.

After another twenty minutes, Jim stopped and held up one hand. The camp was not far, he could already hear the men, their movements and talk. He turned to Ebo. "They're just ahead and there are about twenty of them - and yes, they have him."

Ebo nodded and translated. One native stepped forward and spoke quickly. Again Ebo nodded. "Abasi believes that he and his men can provide a distraction that would allow you to free him. Will that work for you?"

Jim heard, but did not take in Ebo's words. He could smell blood and knew it was Bakari's.

"Jim?"

"He's hurt," Jim said, his voice sounding far away. "There's blood."

Ebo didn't question Jim's words, simply spoke again to Abasi and, soon after, the men broke into three groups and disappeared into the jungle.

"Go. We will give you what you need to free him. Take him. We will protect and stop the soldiers. Go."

Jim nodded and moved just as silently into the jungle, slinging the rifle back over his shoulder and drawing out the knife. He was focused on only one thing, the scent of Bakari's blood.

The Chopec warrior he'd once been - had returned.

***

Strange noises suddenly filled the night air. Loud, blood curdling wails, roars and ear-splitting howls. The mercenaries stopped whatever they were doing to stand and listen, tendrils of fear moving through them. Frightened faces turned to each other, questions unasked but visible in their eyes.

Suddenly there was a whir and a whoosh...and one man fell dead, a small arrow buried in his neck.

Panic quickly ensued as men ran while reaching for their weapons, but there were more whirs and whooshing and more men fell. Meanwhile the sounds around the camp increased. The screams pierced their brains, the wailing crawled under their skin until the well-trained men fumbled and scrambled for cover, weapons dropped and forgotten.

A brave few knelt, powerful weapons of destruction raised and aimed, but they never had the chance to fire as each man fell silently, all with small, colorful arrows protruding from their necks.

Jim moved silently through it all, having spotted the cage with Bakari and Nusu.

***

Bakari clutched Nusu to his chest as he noted Jim's stealthy movement in his direction. He was ready.

***

George Akiris stood just outside his tent, watching as his highly paid soldiers fell apart and - fell. He looked across the camp to the cage, his brown eyes meeting triumphant blues.

A single shot suddenly rang out and the lock on the cage fell to the ground.

***

On the opposite side of the compound, hidden behind a tower of crates, the whip-wielding soldier watched as their captive crawled from the cage to stand, albeit painfully - gorilla still in his arms. He then watched as a tall white man stepped from the shadows of the jungle.

The soldier no longer cared about money - he wanted the freakish ghost man dead. He raised his gun, took careful aim on the bare, vulnerable back...and squeezed the trigger.

***

George Akiris walked through the center of his camp, heedless of the destruction occurring all around him and unaware that one of his men was taking aim on his prisoner. Akiris had only one thought: stop the escape of his treasure.

His.

He stepped between his 2IC and Bakari and lifted his weapon to take aim at the tall man who was in the process of taking his prize.

***

The air was suddenly pierced by the single crack of a rifle. As Jim and Bakari turned toward him, Akiris' rifle dropped from his hand as he gazed down in surprise at the spreading red stain on his shirt front. The bullet meant for Bakari - had struck him instead.

He fell forward, dead as he hit the ground.

Jim searched for the new danger and quickly spotted the mercenary who'd just fired - a man who was, even now, preparing to fire again. Jim pushed Bakari aside, knelt, took aim and fired. The bullet entered the soldier's left eye, killing him instantly.

As his body hit the ground, Jim, Bakari and Nusu disappeared into the night.

The Magharibi melted away and the compound was still and quiet - with only the dead remaining.

Slowly, a large dark shape moved into the center of the camp...stood up and, fists beating his chest, Orantu yelled his superiority.

***

In spite of his hours cramped in a cage that was barely large enough for a small child - and the wounds inflicted by the whip - Bakari moved swiftly through the dark, dense growth, Nusu shivering against his chest, a worried Jim hurrying to catch up. As Jim moved up alongside Bakari, his eyes took in the angry red lines that crisscrossed his back, shoulders, arms and legs, and his anger rose again, anger at anyone that could harm him.

They had traveled two or three miles by Jim's reckoning when Bakari came to a stop. The farther they'd moved from the camp, the more alert Nusu had become - but now he was still, his furry round head peeking over Bakari's protective arm, chocolate brown eyes widening. He began to sniff and, a moment later, started bouncing in Bakari's arms while making small chittering sounds.

Figuring that Nusu knew something Jim didn't, he focused his hearing and...sure enough, heard two gorillas approaching. Minutes later, two females broke through the brush. Bakari stepped forward as the larger of the two joined him.

He watched with surprise as she reached out and actually cuffed Bakari behind his ear. At the same time, Nusu scrambled from Bakari's arms to the female's, at which time, she loped back to the second gorilla. It was to her that Nusu made his final jump and, once there, began to suckle. Evidently, Nusu was home and in his mother's embrace.

The larger female returned to Bakari's side and, for a moment they gazed at each other before she touched one of his wounds and made a clucking noise as her cheeks poofed out. Bakari smiled and shook his head fondly, the way a son would at an overprotective mother. They moved together then, the gorilla resting her forehead against Bakari's chest as her long arms wound around him. They remained in that position for several minutes until the female, who Jim now realized must be the gorilla who'd raised Bakari, turned her sad, ancient eyes to him. He held his breath as she pulled away from her son, turned him around and, with a gentle huff, pushed him to Jim.

Jim recognized it for what it was: a blessing - a strange one, but a blessing nevertheless.

The gorillas then turned and moved into the darkness, but not before Bakari's 'mother' gave one last, sad look at her son.

***

The two men stood in front of each other, Bakari looking up at Jim. The gesture made by Bakari's 'mother' said so much and left Jim wondering if this was what he'd been searching for all these years. Was the man standing before him, everything he'd needed and desired?

And if so, how did Bakari feel about him?

"Jim."

His name, coming from Bakari and spoken roughly, shocked Jim, but the manner in which Bakari had managed to say it filled Jim with joy. He grinned and held out his hand.

A slow, easy smile spread over Bakari's face as he slipped his hand into Jim's.

Now that the question of how Bakari felt about him had been answered, hand-holding wasn't nearly enough. He wanted more, so he pulled the man closer and, not knowing what Bakari had experienced in the area of physical relationships, let his lips hover over Bakari's. The next move had to be Bakari's.

A moment later - Bakari rested his lips against Jim's.

With that simple touch - and the acceptance it represented - the jungle night exploded for Jim. He ran his tongue across the inviting bottom lip, then pushed gently. Bakari's lips parted and Jim moved in even as he pulled Bakari closer. He let his fingers dance down his spine, ghosting over the wounds to rest against the soft, silken flesh barely hidden by the loincloth.

In the middle of the kiss, Jim was surprised when Bakari hurriedly, albeit clumsily, began to pull at the zipper of his jeans. He pulled away and smiled at the deep, animalistic groan from Bakari as he covered Bakari's hand with his own to assist him with his zipper.

It didn't take long to get Jim naked and the two of them on the ground despite their continued attention to the whole exploration thing and the kissing - oh, yeah, the kissing thing. Their moans, mixed with the night sounds of the Bwindi Impentetrable Forest, acted like a potent drink for Jim and he fastened his mouth on the soft, fleshy juncture between Bakari's neck and shoulder. When he bit down lightly, Bakari wrapped a leg around him to, Jim thought, hold him in place. But he was wrong. A moment later, he was the one on his back. Bakari straddled him and, with hair falling forward to brush Jim's sensitive skin, kissed him long and hard.

The slightly damp but still soft jungle grass beneath him seemed to be part of a sexual conspiracy against him. He felt everything, heard everything, smelled everything - with nothing overpowering him. Instead, they blended like the finest orchestra to produce a series of sensations that played through him. He arched to every touch of Bakari's and, when the younger man finally released his mouth and began to travel downward, Jim had the fleeting thought that this...musical...could lead to a very embarrassing replay of his first time, one that had ended with a premature crescendo, so to speak. But then, miraculously, Bakari slowed, giving Jim a chance to catch his breath and even grin at his own musically inspired romantic thoughts.

Just when Jim was starting to grow impatient, though, Bakari reached his cock. All thoughts of forests, music, orchestras or anything else were scattered to the winds as he almost convulsed in shock, his fingers digging into Bakari's hair. He just had time to wonder if Jane enjoyed her Tarzan nearly as much as Jim was enjoying his - when Bakari took his cock into his mouth. Jesus, he was going to explode....

***

Complete silence. Absolute.

Jim, his senses dulled by his orgasm, could hear nothing, and he couldn't have cared less.

The first sound he finally recognized was the steady, slow, beat of Bakari's heart. He shifted his head enough so that he was resting directly over the rhythmic thrumming - a sound now so necessary to his very being. The next thing he was conscious of was Bakari's hand, stroking through his short, cropped hair. Then he noticed another sound - this one coming from Bakari as well. He was - humming. All right, not exactly humming, not in the traditional sense, but whatever it was - it soothed him and seemed to resonate with him, like the forest surrounding them and all the creatures who lived within its heart.

He lifted his head to look at Bakari, took in his hair, which was a tousled mess, full of leaves and twigs - his thick, kissed-bruised lips, which were slightly parted, and he knew there was no sight he'd ever see that could do to him - what the sight of this man, after love, was doing to him. He wanted to ask about the non-humming - how he was creating it, but he decided that could wait. Right now, he just wanted to take in every exposed inch of Bakari - and then he remembered the wounds.

He stumbled to his feet, looked around for his clothing, grabbed up his shorts and then looked down at Bakari, but what he saw in his face stopped him in his tracks.

Bakari suddenly seemed to close down, as if a shutter had been lowered. As Jim stared at him, he got slowly to his feet and moved backward. He looked quickly to right, then his left and, to Jim, looked as if about to bolt. That's when it hit Jim. Of course - one minute they'd been experiencing post-coital bliss and the next, Jim had jumped up to get dressed - and to Bakari's thinking - leave.

In an effort to show him how wrong he was, Jim reached out a hand and smiled tenderly but Bakari simply took another step back, his face still expressionless.

Jim pointed to Bakari's wounds, took a careful step forward. Bakari stayed where he was. Jim took another step, and another. When Bakari remained where he was, Jim took two more steps and was now within reach. He ran one finger carefully down Bakari's arm, right next to one of the longer lash marks.

"Bakari." Jim spoke the name softly even as his finger hovered over another lash mark before pointing down to where they'd made love - and then back to the wound.

Understanding dawned and Bakari gave him a sheepish grin even as his face flushed a deep red. Jim brought his hand to Bakari's chin and tilted his head up enough to kiss him - deep and loving, letting all his feelings pass through him to Bakari; praying that the kiss said all that he could not, would succeed where words could not be understood.

When he lifted his lips from Bakari's and looked into his eyes, he was overjoyed to find the understanding he sought - and the returned love. They both smiled then but before Jim had a chance to even attempt to take care of Bakari's injuries - not that he had a clue how he would - Bakari pointed up at the trees and vines. Looked as though they were about to be airborn again.

Jim quickly donned the rest of his clothes and had just buttoned the last button when Bakari started climbing the tree behind him and, with a shrug, Jim followed. Moments later, they were flying through the night sky, moving in complete unison. After several swings and exchanges, Jim could see a large tree ahead, one of the largest he'd seen to date. At the same time, Bakari changed their direction, making it obvious the tree was their destination.

They landed surefooted and, once more, Bakari pointed upward, indicating they still had some climbing to do. Jim followed him as they walked over moss- covered limbs, the moon giving the tree a glittery life of its own. Jim fell slightly behind, so enthralled was he by the play of silver and shadows as they crossed Bakari's lean, strong body. Suddenly, Bakari stopped, turned, and faced Jim, a look of uncertainty crossing his features as he waved an arm around them.

Ah, Jim got it. This was Bakari's home.

Okay, once again, the movies got it wrong. There were no rails, no furniture. On the other hand, there was no 'Jane' to add those nice comforts of home, either. But nevertheless, this was Bakari's home.

Several strong branches were interwoven to form a broad 'cup', and it was here that Bakari had created his retreat. There was protection above, as he'd apparently taken fronds and latticed them across the limbs that stretched above his home to make a roof. The 'floor' was simply more fronds, grasses and reeds, spread out and piled up to provide padding. Jim sensed that Bakari was waiting for his approval so Jim grinned broadly and held out his hand again. Bakari's returning smile nearly eclipsed the full moon with its brightness. He led Jim into the shelter.

***

Morning came and, with it, Jim's awareness of the warm body next to him. He opened his eyes and glanced down, but all he could see was a mass of brown curls. He frowned when he realized that Bakari's skin was far too warm. He lifted his head and, as his eyes adjusted, could now see that some of the welts were an angry, swollen red. Bakari woke then, saw the worry and the concern - and pulled gently away.

It was obvious that Bakari was in pain, his face slightly flushed with fever, but Bakari made a movement indicating that Jim should follow him. They climbed down the tree and moved maybe twenty yards or so away and Jim finally heard what he should have heard much sooner: water.

Bakari parted the brush and there it was - the very waterfall and stream they'd first visited. Bakari moved slowly and painfully to the water's edge before carefully slipping in. Jim started to remove his clothes, but their smell decided him against it. They needed washing as much as he did so he plunged in just as he was.

This time, there was no swimming or playing since it was obvious to Jim that Bakari was using the water as a starting point for tending his injuries. He moved gently through the water and over to the falls where he let the sluicing liquid cleanse and purify the lash marks. Jim joined him, but only to stand in the waist-deep water and watch. After several pounding minutes, with some wounds opening and bleeding again, Bakari motioned to an array of flowers that bordered one side of the stream, indicating that Jim should gather some of them up. He swam over, plucked several of them from their stems, and brought them back.

Bakari immediately began to tear them into pieces and, as he did, and the water met the sap, it started to foam. Jim smiled at the jungle soap and swam back for more.

Minutes later both men were lathering, rinsing and lathering again. Bakari let Jim gently soap some of the deeper lashes, then his hair. When Bakari was rinsed a final time, he turned to Jim and began to strip him. Once his clothes were removed, Bakari laid them out on a flat, dry rock and returned to the water.

They remained in the cool, soothing depths for another hour, swimming lazily and floating as the water helped to defeat Bakari's fever and keep the pain at bay.

Eventually, Bakari climbed out and Jim followed every move, watched from the water as Bakari gathered some leaves, one plant in particular, whose thick stems were snapped and added to Bakari's pile.

Curious, Jim swam over to his clothes, which were now dry, climbed out and quickly slipped into them. With a nod, Bakari headed back to the tree, his treasures resting safely in Jim's pockets. As they walked, Bakari took a detour, disappeared for a moment, but when he returned, it was with his arms full of fruit. Smiling, Jim thought he couldn't get a better looking chef/waiter anywhere.

***

Both men sat cross-legged, several pieces of fruit between them. Jim followed Bakari's lead and tore chunks of the succulent, fleshy fruit and plopped it into his mouth. A line of juice was running down Jim's chin, but before he could capture it, Bakari caught it with his own finger - at which time, Jim caught the finger and gently pulled it into his mouth. The taste was perfect.

When they'd arrived back at the tree, Bakari had once again done his medical miracle by taking several of the collected leaves and flowers and making another paste, this time more gel-like in nature. He'd then allowed Jim to apply it to each open wound. The gel disappeared into the skin and Jim could see that its properties were immediately soothing as well as providing a protective coating.

Now, with Bakari obviously feeling better, they fed each other while birds darted overhead and the sounds of the jungle serenaded them. For Jim, it was pure heaven. A heaven that ended too soon because when the last piece of fruit disappeared, Bakari stood and looked at him expectantly. Jim just assumed they'd stay awhile, that he'd have a chance to learn more about Bakari's world, but evidently, Bakari had something else in mind. Jim had no choice but to get to his feet as well - and follow Bakari's lead. He wasn't surprised when they ended up back at the village.

Ebo and Father Benjamin came out to greet them and when the priest got a look at Bakari's wounds, he took him to his quarters, which left a very confused Jim standing with Ebo.

"So, Rafiki, we were successful, were we not?"

Jim watched as the priest and Bakari disappeared into the hut before turning his attention to Ebo. "Yes, but for how long?"

"I have no worries on that score. We will not be bothered again."

Jim smiled wryly as he asked, "Because of the prophecy?"

"That and more." Ebo deliberately left it vague, delighting in Jim's puzzled expression. "And speaking of the prophecy? Are you...Dingane?"

Jim glanced back at the hut and shrugged. He still had no answer to that. After all, he'd nothing more than help.

Ebo's eyes were full of understanding. "It is difficult to accept that which is so far removed from all you've ever known. But I have no doubt that all questions will be answered - just not at a time we could wish." He followed Jim's gaze to the hut and added, "I am surprised you came back so early. You have over two weeks left of your time with us and I thought you might have spent them Bakari."

"So did I, Ebo. Returning now wasn't my idea."

Before Ebo could comment, Father Benjamin and Bakari came out. The priest walked toward them while Bakari remained where he was, his face a mask, giving away nothing.

Father Benjamin placed a hand on Jim's arm and said, "May I have a word with you?"

Jim looked from Father Benjamin to Bakari and back. He had a very bad feeling about this.

"Please, Bakari wishes this. Will you come with me?"

Surrendering against his better judgment, Jim nodded and followed the priest to another hut. Inside, he found a bed, a small chest at its foot, a desk in the corner - covered with books and notebooks - and above it, a small book shelf holding about ten more books.

Father Benjamin walked over to the shelf and extricated a very old, very used book, opened it, thumbed to a specific page and then turned to Jim. "Bakari wishes me to show you this. He indicated to me that it would be of use to you." He held it out and, as Jim took it, added, "It's a monogram by Sir Richard Burton. In it, he discusses South American tribes and their guardians, men he called sentinels. Men who have such heightened senses, they are able to protect their tribe from competing tribes. Bakari believes you are such an individual."

Clutching the book, Jim said, "A sentinel? Me?"

"Yes, you." The priest indicated the other books. "These belonged to a young man who studied anthropology. Sentinels were his dream and Bakari knows this. He has studied you, as have I and, yes, I believe Bakari is correct; you are a sentinel with all five heightened senses." Father Benjamin retrieved a notebook from a drawer and handed that to Jim as well. "Here are the young man's notes. I suggest you study them. Bakari has already returned to the forest - he wishes to spend some time with his family, but will return in two days. This is his wish."

The notebook was full of a large, sprawling handwriting, the words in English. On the front was a name; Blair Sandburg. Jim looked at the priest, so many questions in his eyes.

"Please, just read and study and we'll talk as you need."

Jim tapped the notebook. "Who was this young man?"

Eyes clouding over, Father Benjamin said, "He was my...son, but he is...gone. Will you take the two days as Bakari wishes?"

"It looks as though I have no choice - so yeah, I'll read all of this."

The priest smiled, indicated that Jim should make himself comfortable on the bed, then left him to the books and notes of Blair Sandburg.

Jim sat down and looked around him, searching for some sign of the man who'd lived here, something more personal than the books. He even checked the chest - but found, of course, more books. There were no clues to be found, other than his own hand-written words in a notebook.

It was obvious that Father Benjamin kept this hut clean, kept as it had been for the man he'd called his son.

Curiosity a fire in his belly, Jim opened the notebook and began to read - and as he did, he came to know Blair Sandburg. His notes were full of observations, excitement, humor and flashes of brilliant insights. Jim was suddenly overwhelmed by a strange sadness that he'd missed meeting this man, a man now dead. The sadness constricted his throat, nearly closing it down - and he felt an unaccustomed wetness filling his eyes and spilling over onto his cheeks.

But he read on.

***

The two days passed swiftly and Jim learned who and what he was. A Sentinel who must protect his tribe. The days were easier than he thought they'd be, thanks in part to the fact that Blair Sandburg was his companion. He could almost hear the man's voice when reading his words, feel the excitement Sandburg would have experienced if he'd come face-to-face with Jim, a real sentinel. He learned a great deal, thanks to the fact that Sandburg's entire thought process about sentinels were in his notes.

Jim also recognized one other fact: his tribe was in Cascade. He was bound to his city, to its people. If he'd any doubts left that he wasn't 'Dingane' - this was it.

So where did that leave him and Bakari? And who was Dingane?

By mid-day of the second day, all his questions about himself had been answered, but he had so many more about Blair Sandburg. He didn't feel he could ask Father Benjamin - he didn't want to add to the man's pain - but maybe Ebo, who'd left with a few tribesmen at the same time as Bakari, could help upon his return. Jim couldn't help feeling that somehow he and the anthropologist were somehow connected.

As it happened, Ebo and the others returned just before sunset.

***

Jim sat with the others around a blazing fire as the tribe celebrated. They beat their drums and raised their voices in such beautiful chanting that Jim was immediately reminded of Bakari. The sounds and percussion all served to bring back the feel of having him in his arms, feeling his skin, breathing him in, tasting him.

Bakari was this mountain.

With that thought came his answer as to what could happen to the two of them. Bakari was the mountain - Jim was Cascade. With a heavy heart, Jim realized that was precisely why Bakari had left him for the last two days. It wasn't just to show Jim who he really was, but to show him the full truth.

***

For Bakari the two days spent with his family, foraging with them, playing, teaching the young ones, and helping Nusu return to his playful, mischievous self, all passed too quickly.

Now Kaleefa, Bakari's gorilla mother, watched in sadness as her son moved with his brothers, groomed and was groomed, and cavorted with the young ones. She knew he was troubled, understood that he was facing a great loss. She could feel it in the heat of his body, in the great emptiness in his eyes - yet she could do nothing other than love him, as she had always done.

His wounds were almost healed, but she feared there was another, deeper wound, and it would never heal.

At the moment, Nusu was playing a game of hide and seek on Orantu and Bakari sat quietly by her side - so she reached out one hand and laid it on his heart. He turned to her and nodded his head, then gave a sign, taking his two hands and miming the breaking of twig. She gave a sad huff and drew him to her breast, holding him as he shook.

***

On the morning of the third day, Bakari entered the village to find Jim waiting for him - as he'd known he would be. He'd have heard his approach long before anyone else.

They stood in front of each other, bodies leaning forward, almost unconsciously, but not touching. Bakari pointed up to the sky and raised one eyebrow. Jim understood he was asking when would he leave. He checked the ground, found a twig and drew seven suns in the dirt. Bakari nodded and reached out his hand.

Jim took it and the two men left the village.

They had seven days left and they would spend it together, in Bakari's tree house.

***

It was their last day together and Jim sat quietly - and as unobtrusively as possible - while he watched the gorillas come. They moved in slowly, uncertain, but following Bakari's lead and soon the small jungle meadow was filled with an entire family. Only Kaleefa and Orantu remained near the edge of the meadow while watching indulgently as Bakari introduced each of the others to Jim.

As Jim met each one, he thought enviously of Doctor Doolittle and his ability to 'talk to the animals' - but in spite of not being Doctor Doolittle, the next several hours were simply a miracle for Jim. With Nusu glued to his side, he watched in wonder and delight at the interaction between the apes, their playfulness, and even the loving discipline bestowed on naughty young ones by their mothers.

Now, two young males were apparently challenging Bakari to something and while at first he refused to be baited, eventually they won because he nodded, tapped his fist to his chest and the next thing Jim knew, the two gorillas and Bakari were tumbling and flipping each other. Bakari was obviously very adept at the game and Jim was seeing a whole new side to him - a youthfulness and playfulness he'd not seen before.

Grinning, he watched as Bakari did a tumbling move toward one of the gorillas, his face contorted into the wild, scary visage of an ape. He made wildly funny and threatening sounds deep in his chest, causing the other two to scurry off, only to tumble back, legs kicking out, arms wrapping around Bakari's neck to take him down. Finally Bakari's laughter rang out as he jumped away, dropped down on his knees and fingers, looking for all the world like a football player ready for the snap. The two apes followed suit and, in a face-off, they all snarled, moved from side to side...and then, in a flash, Bakari thrust himself forward and took both apes down, all three now rolling with Bakari using his feet to connect with their chests. They were both sent flying over his head.

Bakari then stood, raised his head and gave a deep, blood-burning yell, a sound so strange, so intoxicating, Jim felt the heat rise in his body as his blood scorched his veins.

The two apes loped forward and, when they reached Bakari, they took turns touching their chests to Bakari's before scrambling off to find another playmate.

Bakari walked to Jim's side, and Nusu, who'd been watching the 'fight' with great interest, immediately threw himself from Jim's arms to Bakari's. He then scrunched up his face while trying to mimic the sound Bakari had made a moment before - only it came out like a soft, rumbling moo than a roar. Bakari answered back with a softer, lighter version of the yell and Nusu chittered happily, pulling on Bakari's curls as he bounced.

The sun was setting and, with great sadness, Jim realized their day of play with the apes was at an end. The great beasts moved out, some stopping to touch Bakari lightly, some even bold enough to touch Jim. Kaleefa was last and, once again, she touched her forehead to his chest - but this time - she did the same to Jim. His heart swelled at the gesture.

***

As Jim and Bakari moved through the jungle, Jim was suddenly struck by a mischievous devil. He let Bakari get a few feet ahead...and then he pounced.

Soon they were repeating their own version of the game Bakari had played with the gorillas earlier; tumbling and wrestling and then coming apart long enough to bare their teeth at each other before leaping at each other again. Jim's strength and learned combat techniques made him an equal match for Bakari's agility and size. Where Jim had the muscles, Bakari had the moves and the wrestling match would have gone on indefinitely if Jim hadn't - finally - gotten Bakari under him. Wrestling was suddenly the last thing on his mind.

As he balanced himself above his captive, holding Bakari's outstretched wrists, he watched with satisfaction as Bakari's laughter stopped and his humorous expression was replaced by lust. At that moment, Jim wanted nothing more than to be as close to Bakari as humanly possible. He lowered himself until their lips could meet and, when Bakari's lips parted, Jim dove in with his tongue.

But it wasn't enough for either of them. Bakari broke the kiss first, pushing up, wanting to move and Jim followed. They made fast work of returning to the tree, where they fell onto the soft, fragrant grasses, arms and legs entwining, gentle moans driving them on as their tongues battled for dominance.

It didn't take Bakari long to get Jim unclothed, his own bit of cloth no barrier to their lovemaking. They rolled and wrestled, laughing, kissing, exploring.

Their passion grew, doubled and tripled as their sweat mingled and their moans grew more harsh as needs escalated.

Bakari wound his legs around Jim's waist, clinging with all his strength, needing something he could only express with his eyes. His movement brought Jim's cock into perfect alignment with his ass and Jim shuddered at the touch. But Bakari could not know what was needed to make this happen, to make it safe for him, so Jim started to pull away - until he spotted the plants Bakari had used to make the healing gel. He looked down at the panting face below and tried to sign his needs.

Bakari seemed to understand and, without moving from under Jim's body, reached out and grasped a handful of the heavy stalks he'd collected but never used. He crushed them in his hand and out poured a white, thick sap which smelled like spice, into Jim's palm.

Jim used it to prepare them both before moving slowly and lovingly into Bakari, his senses telling him everything he needed to know. As Bakari shuddered with passion and his eyes turned from cornflower blue to midnight velvet, Jim entered him.

For a moment...time froze...but then Bakari jerked upward with his hips and demanded movement from Jim - who happily complied. Soon both were moving in a rhythm as old as time.

Bakari gripped Jim's hips, pulling hard, wanting more, so Jim moved faster and harder even as his lips locked onto Bakari's. Their lovemaking took on a desperate edge, both men trying to create a memory that would have to last a lifetime.

***

The moonlight snuck through the branches, a few lines of light crisscrossing their 'bed'. They held each other, their bodies covered in sweat. Around them, the creatures of the jungle went about their business.

***

It was time to return Jim to the Magharibi village, where Ebo waited to take him down the mountain, to civilization and back to his own world.

Standing next to the tree, Bakari said his goodbye by removing one of the leather braids from around his wrist and sliding it over Jim's. Then he took his hand and together, they started for the village.

***

Jim stood in the middle of the village, looking at the Magharibi who ringed him, their expressions sad at his going. Bakari and Father Benjamin stood next to each other but even to Jim, Bakari's face was strangely unreadable. He knew the pain of leaving was almost unbearable for him - and knew damn well that no matter how Bakari looked now - among the tribesmen of the Magharibi - he felt the same. Jim walked to Bakari's side and did two things. First he placed his forehead against Bakari's chest - then placed Bakari's hand on his own heart. Face pale - and with unshed tears waiting for privacy to fall, Bakari repeated the gesture...and then Jim and Ebo left the village.

***

Jim had been gone for several over four hours and Bakari had not left the small precipice that overlooked his forest.

Father Benjamin placed a hand on the trembling shoulder. "It is time, Bakari."

The man didn't move so the priest gently tugged at one arm.

***

Jim's flight was already boarding when Ebo got them to the airport, so they said their good-byes next to the gate.

"Thank you for everything, Ebo. You've given me a gift I can never repay," Jim said as people moved past them to board.

Ebo shook his head. "I am not so sure I have done my best for you, Rafiki."

Jim held out his hand. "How this ends doesn't change all that I was given - trust me on that. I have no regrets."

Ebo searched his friend's face and found, yes, sorrow and loss, but also truth. He took the extended hand but, instead of shaking it - used it to pull Jim into a hug. "Thank you, Dingane." Then, with a wave, he melted into the crowd and Jim was alone.

Or at least as alone as possible in a busy airport. Thanks to the journals of Blair Sandburg, the noises of the airport were of no significance - he had no trouble 'dialing' down his hearing.

Jim pulled out his ticket and gave it the woman at the gate. She smiled and waved him through the door and down the ramp to the plane where he settled into his window seat. As he gazed out onto the tarmac, he idly wondered if, when aloft, he'd actually be able to see the Bwindi Forest and Bakari....

"I believe this is my seat?"

Jim turned his head, eyes slightly downcast so the first thing he saw were a pair of faded blue jeans. He looked up a bit, saw a tucked-in white oxford shirt that was open at the collar, showing a tantalizing bit of chest hair. The man was also wearing a faded brown leather bomber jacket. Finally Jim looked up at the face of the man who'd be his seat mate for the trip home...and his jaw dropped open.

His seatmate had a strong, handsome, almost beautiful face with wide sapphire blue eyes crinkled in mirth. Lush lips were formed into a smile and long curly hair was pulled back and held together by a leather thong. Slung over the man's shoulder was a well-worn duffel bag, which, after a shocked nod by Jim, was stored in the overhead compartment - right next to Jim's. After closing it, the young man looked back down at his flight companion and stuck out a strong, tanned hand. The sleeve of his shirt road up a bit to reveal a wrist encircled by braided leather band - a perfect match to the one on Jim's wrist.

"Hi, my name is Blair Sandburg. And you?"

Jim could only blink rapidly as Bakari took the seat next to him. Once the rapid eye blinking stopped he could only stare.

Bakari/Blair put on his seatbelt and, when he noticed that Jim wasn't wearing his yet, reached over and buckled him in, his smile reaching epic proportions as he asked, "Is it a long flight to London? And how much longer to Washington? That's where I'm going, by the way. Cascade, Washington. I'm meeting my lover. He lives there, you know. Hey, you're not much of a talker, I see. But that's okay, I am. Some tell me I talk too much."

Jim went back to rapid eye blinking.

"You know, I've led a pretty interesting life." He took off his jacket and got settled in. "When I was a baby, my mother was traveling to Nairobi with me but our plane went down. This part is sad, because everyone on board died except me. She's buried in the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. Have you ever been there? Well, anyway, I was actually raised by gorillas. Yes, I'm serious, gorillas. When I was ten, I was found by a priest who'd come to work with Dian Fossey, you know, the gorilla lady? Gorillas in the Mist? Anyway, Father Benjamin raised me from that point after finding out who I was and that I had no family. He schooled me and, when I was sixteen, I tested for college. I was immensely interested in Anthropology, especially a warrior of ancient tribes called a Sentinel. Anyway, I was accepted at Oxford University...ah, I see you look surprised, but yes, I mean the Oxford University. I received my Master's in Anthropology, but trouble was brewing on my mountain and the gorillas were in danger so I returned."

With a beautiful smile on his face, Jim settled back in his seat. It would be a long flight, but with Bakari - no - with Blair - by his side, he knew it would pass quickly and enjoyably.

He went back to listening, a habit for which he would become very proficient.

"Once I returned, I decided to stay but I can't explain why except that, somehow, I knew my destiny was on his way and may I say, he took his own damn sweet time about getting there?"

The plane took off, but neither man noticed. Below them, the Impenetrable Forest remained impenetrable and safe.

***

Cascade, Washington - two weeks after Jim's return -

Jim pulled his Ford into the underground parking lot and parked in his space. He and his companion got out and began to walk to the elevator.

"Let's go over it again, it's still not working."

"Aw, man, what's wrong with it?"

"For one thing, you've got to drop the thin blue line thing."

"No, no, no...that's some of my best stuff, Jim."

"Just drop it, Chief, okay?"

"Hey, I may be the rookie in your jungle, but when it comes to thesis-speak, I'm a pro."

"You're an anthropologist and closet Tarzan and our job is to get Simon Banks to believe you're studying police science so we can get him to let you ride along with me." Jim stopped then and cocked his head.

Curious, Blair asked, "What's up?"

"I smell blood."

Almost bouncing with excitement, Blair said, "Oh, man, this is terrific, I cut my finger this morning slicing your bagel."

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to play with knives?"

"Jim, my mother didn't even know what a knife was."

***

In the next several days, several wealthy and less than reputable men received strange packages in the mail from Uganda. Upon opening them, they discovered contents so grisly, they all went into hiding.

The End

To Be Continued in Bakari & Dingane

Bakari & Dingane Part 1

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 00:25:44 GMT

BAKARI AND DINGANE

Blair trudged up the stairs, each leg weighing a ton. His shoulders were slumped, head lowered, book bag and jacket hanging from his hand and dragging against the ground - all of which said a great deal about his current mood. Weather wise, he and Cascade didn't get along, thanks to having been raised in the jungles of Uganda. He was constantly cold and hated the eternal rain of the Pacific Northwest. Yet, today, with temperatures in the 30's, he was carrying his jacket instead of wearing it - another sign of his unhappiness.

For the last eighteen months, Blair had been living with Jim in Cascade, Washington. In that time, Blair had also been riding with him as he went about his duty as a detective with Major Crime and Sentinel of the Great City, acting as kind of teacher and semi-guide for Jim, helping him with his senses. When not doing that, he'd been attending Rainier University in hopes of completing an education that had been put on hold a few years earlier.

Of course, living and working with Jim wasn't the only thing Blair shared - he also shared Jim's bed and heart - which was one of the primary reasons that living in the Pacific Northwest was bearable.

Blair pushed open the loft door, slung his book bag onto the dining room table and swore under his breath at the weight of the bag. Just how many books did he have in there with his new laptop, anyway? Not to mention how in the hell had he let Jim talk him into going back to school in the first place? True, it was only part time, a couple of evenings a week, but still, in his mind, those nights had been wasted in class when he could have been with Jim at home or maybe on an important stakeout. Wasn't he his official, unofficial partner?

Looking around, Blair searched the loft for some sign that Jim had been here since they'd parted at the station four hours ago. Then he grinned. Jim wouldn't leave any signs - not with Mr. Neat Freak. Amazing the things you discovered about your lover when you moved in with them. He supposed it was Jim's years in the military and the whole, "everything in its place and a place for everything" training. Jim's bed was always 'quarter bounce' worthy, with precisely folded corners done just so and in the kitchen and bathroom, everything was actually organized both alphabetically and, in the kitchen, by color.

Now, as he stood alone in the loft, he wondered if Jim thought of Blair the way he did his Tupperware. A specific place for him, and him in his place?

Okay, that was unfair and beneath him. It was also a total mood buster.

He hung up his jacket and dropped his keys into the tribal basket he'd received from Ebo a few months back. He grinned as he stared at the object, wondering how in the hell his friend had known Blair would constantly lose his keys. But he supposed the answer was obvious. When you grow up in the jungle wearing nothing but a loincloth, well, you definitely had no need for keys let alone a place to keep them. Not that this was the only time out in the so-called civilized world, but at Oxford, he hadn't needed keys either.

Driving hadn't been necessary there either, but had become the first thing Jim taught him once they'd arrived in Cascade. And wow, talk about readjustments. He still couldn't get used to the traffic, which was just another item among many on Jim's list that brought forth the inevitable, "Get used to it, Chief." Yeah, Jim had a list - but the one he hated the most was not being able to display any kind of affection toward Jim in public - or tell anyone about their relationship.

Another mood buster.

He supposed if he had a real problem with the move from Uganda to Cascade, besides missing his family - that was it - the inability to be who he was and the freedom to show how he felt about the man he loved.

Hell, the word 'freedom' summed everything up perfectly, now that he thought about it. Oh, sure, he had it, just not in ways that really mattered to him. He sometimes wondered if the caged feeling that living in the city gave him ...might ultimately kill him...which was ridiculous.

But really, who knew he'd turn out to be such a demonstrative kind of guy, anyway? Not him, that was for sure. Here in Cascade, he had to constantly fight his desire to touch Jim. The only thing that saved him was that in the field, Jim actually needed the occasional hand on the back or arm to aid him in grounding his senses. But Blair wanted the freedom to do more. He didn't think it was asking too much to be allowed the same right to physically demonstrate his love for Jim that heterosexual couples had. Like holding hands in a restaurant, kissing hello and good-bye at the station, nuzzling Jim's neck in a movie or making out in the underground garage at the PD. Those were the kind of things reserved for couples of the opposite sex - not him and Jim.

He wanted to walk down a street in Cascade, Jim's hand held firmly in his own, or Jim's arm around his waist, or Blair's hand, warm inside Jim's back pocket. Simple things to want, but all impossible, which made this wonderful world of Jim's - a prison.

All right, he supposed his four years at Oxford should have prepared him for the homophobia that ran rampant in the land of opportunity - at least that's what Jim kept saying. But come on, the years in those hallowed halls had been miserable and fairly cloistered. He'd been alone, unwanted and uncared for because, quite simply, he'd been a freak; the campus weirdo. Hence, noticing a little something like homophobia hadn't even registered. On the other hand, knowing that those miserable years at the university had been responsible for sending him running back to his mountain home, to shed all things civilized, should have clued him in to the misery he was experiencing now. Those years had created a total disdain for anything even considered civilized and he'd learned that nothing was more real than his home in the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest.

When he'd returned, he'd been silent, withdrawn and insecure - and it had taken Father Benjamin, the tribe and his mother to finally bring Bakari back.

Now, here he was, in another world that was supposedly civilized and yet, it just as unforgiving and hateful toward anything or anyone who was different as Oxford. A great and good man like Jim couldn't walk down the street of his city, holding the hand of the man he loved - couldn't tell the world what he was. Of course, there was a difference between Jim and him. Jim didn't seem to mind the shackles of civilization. Where Blair was unhappy, Jim was accepting. Where Blair felt the injustice and pain of it, Jim understood and, in some cases, actually seemed relieved. A fact that was probably a heavy contributor to Blair's present mood. If Jim seemed relieved, well, the only conclusion that fit was that Jim wasn't exactly thrilled about his abilities. He might have been accepting on Blair's mountain, but here - in his own world - not so much. And maybe - just maybe - Jim wasn't comfortable with Blair - or rather with the man he'd become in order to leave Bwindi.

Blair knew being a sentinel wasn't easy, but he was helping as much as he could. And yeah, he understood that he was hardly an average guy by anyone's standards. But surely there was enough of Bakari left after eighteen months for Jim to love? Hadn't he refused to cut his hair? Wasn't he still wearing most of his tribal jewelry? He'd even put the nipple ring back - no easy feat considering he'd had it done while at Oxford.

And damn it, wasn't he putting up with his share of shit at the station, like the ridiculous nickname, 'Hairboy' that Brown had come up with? Damn right, he was. He was always the first to laugh at the jokes made at his expense, to accept their teasing remarks about how he dressed. And God forbid the subject of his beliefs should come up. And okay, sure, he supposed he could say there was a kind of weird affection behind the joking, but still, the whole thing simply added to his feeling of being a fish out of water - and maybe someone who was making life even more difficult for Jim.

If he were honest with himself, more and more of Bakari had slipped away in the last months to be supplanted by Blair Sandburg. He was trying hard to be what Jim wanted - needed - but had a feeling he was failing - miserably.

Blair fingered the earring in his ear and thought that maybe it was time to remove it. He glanced at his wrist and the whisper of a pale circle that reminded him of the leather bracelet he'd removed five months ago when he'd watched Jim remove his. They'd just parked in the underground parking lot and, after locking the car, Jim had suddenly pulled the band from his wrist and tucked it into his pocket. Blair hadn't seen it since.

Yeah, the removal of the leather circlet had hurt - big time - but he thought he understood. Jim realized how it might look for two men who were living and working together to be wearing matching bracelets.

Blair plopped down on the couch, resting his now shoeless feet on the coffee table. He was thinking way too much. Time to shut it off. Which reminded him - he hadn't checked for phone messages. He twisted around and, with a sigh, acknowledged that the little red light was on. He hauled himself up, walked over and punched the button. After the tape rewound, he listened to two unimportant messages...but then Jim's voice filled the room.

"Hey, Blair, met up with an old buddy that I served with in the Army and we're meeting for dinner so don't wait up. You missed the drug bust, pal. Went down smooth as silk. Catch you when I get home. And I mean - catch you."

Blair smiled as he rewound the tape and reset it for new messages. Then he realized how long he'd been at the University library so checked his watch, another concession to urban living. Wow, it was after eleven. Jim must be having a really good time with his old friend. He yawned and, at the same time, decided to save his homework for the weekend. He was exhausted and not even the prospect of waiting up for Jim could keep him from heading upstairs, undressing and getting into bed.

Besides - Jim could always wake him when he did get home. With that cheerful thought, Blair headed up to the bedroom.

***

Bwindi, Uganda -

The tribal elder stood on the escarpment overlooking the jungle below. His dream had been disturbing since it foretold yet another war full of death and destruction. They'd been wrong, he realized now. The last war had been but a skirmish; a warm-up for the real thing. The real battle was still to come - but they no longer had Bakari.

He must seek out Father Benjamin.

Bakari and Dingane must return to the mountain.

***

Cascade, Washinging -

Blair felt the bed dip as Jim sat down on the edge and quietly removed his shoes and socks.

"Hey, you're home," Blair asked between yawns.

"Yep."

He rolled over onto his side and slipped a hand under Jim's shirt in order to stroke his back, but Jim got up, pulled the shirt off and removed his slacks. When he finally slipped under the covers, Blair frowned even as he asked, "How was the dinner with...Alan, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, Alan, and it was fine."

When no more words were forthcoming, Blair scooted over to Jim's side and draped an arm over the older man's chest. As he rested his head against Jim's shoulder he wrinkled his nose at the scent clinging to him.

Perfume.

Quietly he asked, "How fine, Jim?"

"Alan wasn't alone. His wife, Veronica, joined us, and later, they invited me back to their place. When we arrived, we discovered it had been burglarized. That's why I'm so late."

"I take it Alan wasn't married when you two were buddies in the Army?"

"No."

"But - Veronica isn't a stranger?"

"No, all three of us used to pal around back then but it was still a surprise to find them married."

Slowly Jim turned away from him, forcing Blair's arm to slip off and leaving him staring at Jim's back. He started to wrap his arms around the man, but the undercurrent of emotions in Jim's words stopped him. Instead, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the skylight.

It was a clear night so he watched the stars in silence, knowing full well Jim wasn't asleep.

Was this it - the beginning of the end? Was his novelty wearing off - especially in the face of a man from Jim's past?

Blair rolled onto his other side and found that he couldn't stop his mind from traveling back to Oxford and...Kelly.

***

tbc in Part 2

Bakari & Dingane Part 2

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 00:23:42 GMT

Oxford University -

It seemed since arriving in England, he was always running, hair flying behind him, coattails flapping. Of course, since he was always late to class - like now - running was his only option. He was in his second year and still managed to be late.

As he ran around a corner, looking up at the great clock, he slammed into another rushing body. They bounced off each other and fell to the ground.

"Well fuck!"

Blair glanced over at the individual he'd just run down and found himself struck dumb. The person from whom the expletive exploded was a woman, a beautiful woman with long blonde hair, dazzling green eyes and the palest skin Blair had ever seen. She scrambled up, brushed herself off and then picked up her books. Blair remained where he was - on the ground - staring up at her in rapture.

She finally noticed him and smirked. It was a delightful smirk.

"So you're the idiot who couldn't watch where he was going?"

He nodded and stuck out his hand. "'Fraid so. Blair Sandburg, aka, the idiot." Hand still out, he watched as her green eyes went wide in shock.

"Blair Sandburg? Oh, my gosh, I can't believe it. You're Father Benjamin's protégé, aren't you?"

Blair frowned as he got to his feet. How did she know that? He picked his own books up and when he straightened, found that she was no longer looking at him in amazement, but wonder.

"I can't believe this, I'm actually meeting a man who was raised by gorillas. This is so cool!"

"Excuse me, but I'm not sure what you're talking about--"

"Oh, don't bother, Blair. My father is the one who arranged your studies. He's a good friend of Father Benjamin's so I know all about you. My name is Kelly, by the way. Kelly Wagner." She stuck out her hand and, when he didn't immediately take it, reached down and grabbed it. At that point, Blair could honestly say their relationship was off and running - even though it took him two whole days to actually fall in love with her.

He was eighteen years old, already in his second year studying Anthropology and going for his Masters. He was also the youngest student at Balliol College. He hadn't had a date since his arrival, which made sense since he was, on the average, three years younger than his counterparts - not to mention different. And yes, he was a virgin. But now, suddenly, a very beautiful, twenty-one year old woman seemed interested in him.

His life took a radical left turn.

Within days, he was experiencing the real Oxford - the nightlife, parties and pubs. She took him everywhere, introduced him to more people than he could ever keep straight - and he was in love.

His mountain home seemed suddenly distant and unreal.

***

"Hey, can't you stop studying for two minutes?"

He looked up from his books to find Kelly regarding him from under a wave of blonde hair, eyes dark, sultry and inviting.

"We're both supposed to be studying. Isn't this a study date?" he teased.

"It is, but maybe I should have been more honest about what I wanted to study."

He turned at his desk, pencil tapping against his thumb. "Which would be?"

"I'm a burgeoning artist, I want to study you, you git."

He swiveled back and bent his head to his studies as he laughed. "Fine - so study and draw. I even have a title for you: 'Man Studying Hard So He Won't Be Kicked Out Of Oxford.' It could make you famous."

She got up from his bed where she'd been working, stepped up behind him and, with her hands moving down his chest and inside his shirt, brought her mouth to his ear, nuzzled his long curls to the side, and whispered, "But I want to draw you in the nude."

His breath caught, then whooshed out as her hands went lower...and her lips trailed down his neck.

"Come on, lover, let's study each other."

She turned his chair around to face her and straddled his lap even as she began unbuttoning his shirt. "I want to see my man naked, my jungle man."

He should have caught the words, the meaning, but he didn't. He was too wrapped up in her hands and mouth.

It didn't take her long to get him to the bed, flat on his back, gazing up at her as her hair lingered on his face, then trailed down his chest with her kisses. Her fingers fumbled with his belt but eventually got his slacks undone, zipper down. Then she was tearing at her own clothes and he was helping, his breath coming in harsh pants...and he was hard, already so hard.

As they got each other out of their clothes, he couldn't seem to get enough of her soft skin, the curves and dips of her body. When they were both finally naked, he ran his hands over her breasts, rubbed his thumbs against dusty pink nubs, amazed as always at how they hardened at his touch. When she put it against his mouth, he sucked it in and, while listening to her moans of pleasure, enjoyed the taste and feel of her. His hands skirted her back, moved down, smoothing over soft, round globes to knead them - but then, even before he was barely aware of it, she'd impaled herself on his cock - and he almost bit her, the shock was so great. They'd done the whole 'foreplay' thing before, but never had they gone...never had she....

Thank God for books, he managed to think as he bucked upward....

She laughed at the shocked - and lustful - expression on his face, but then their eyes locked and, at that moment, she knew what he was, knew that she was his first. She smiled, took his mouth, sucked on his tongue and, as he started thrusting, she realized he was whispering, so she turned her head to hear....

"...for you, what do I do...all for you...."

For a moment, she was stunned that this man, in the throes of passion, need and lust, would think of her...but then she shook her head, plunged down harder...and it was enough. He came with a deep, guttural sound and, surprised, she came almost simultaneously before collapsing over his body. She was breathing hard even as her hands smoothed over his moist skin, lips raining light kisses over his neck and jaw.

Eventually she caught her breath enough to ask, "So, how do you like my method of studying?"

"Superior methodology," he murmured.

Kelly lifted herself up to gaze down on him, taking in the smoky blue eyes, dark, heavy lashes and full lips. She wrapped her fingers around his curls and wondered if he'd done it with a gorilla and if so, she had to be far superior. She couldn't wait to tell Mike. He'd get a real kick out of her and the gorilla man. And oh, god, what a beautiful gorilla man he was. And he was a man... not a boy. She dropped her head back down and attacked that luscious mouth again - then grinned as she realized he was hard again.

***

Kelly slipped carefully out of Blair's small bed and pulled on her jeans, careful not to wake him. Just as she was putting into her sweater, he stirred, snaked out a hand and caught her wrist. "Don't go," he entreated.

"Have to. I've got to get back and get ready for tonight - or have you forgotten about Camilla's party?"

"Damn." He checked the clock on his nightstand and winced. It was already after six. He sat up and pulled her close, nuzzling her neck. "We have a little time."

"No, we don't, silly. All men have to do is put on a suit and a tie - but women have to do a great deal more to look beautiful for you."

He stroked her face gently and laid a kiss against her temple as he murmured, "You look beautiful right now."

She disentangled herself and stepped back, smiling. "Of course I do. Anyone would look good to you after a gorilla." With that, she grabbed her jacket and purse and, as she walked out the door, tossed out a warning. "See you at seven-thirty sharp - and don't even think about being late."

As the door closed behind her, Blair was left with her other words ringing in his ears - the ones she'd uttered after his compliment.

"Anyone would look good to you after a gorilla."

He got up slowly and walked to his dresser. Something churned in his gut as the words echoed in his room. A sense of dread filled him - but he shook it off. He was in love and she'd obviously meant it as a joke.

Yeah, that was it - just a joke.

***

Naturally he was late. He bounded up the stairs to Camilla's flat, the noise, smoke and burning lamps guiding him like a lighthouse. The door was wide open, students spilling out into the hall. He shoved his way inside, smiling at those few he knew even as he searched for Kelly.

The flat was large by Oxford standards, with cathedral ceilings and one whole wall of windows overlooking the city. Camilla was an artist, like Kelly, and the flat smelled of paint, turpentine, cigarettes and now, booze. He craned his neck, trying to find her in the melee of bodies and - yes, there she was, by the balcony. He began the slow process of making his way toward her - catching pieces of conversation as he passed the party-goers.

"...no, I'm telling you, he sleeps with gorillas."

"You're not serious?"

"I am. Kelly told me. He's like, you know, Tarzan. And she swears he's done it with gorillas. But Kelly's taken care of that."

"...he's going to be here tonight - I think she just wants to show off her very own gorilla man."

As he got closer to the balcony he started losing the thread of the conversation, so even though he knew his face was bright red, he stopped to listen.

"...Mike...what about him?"

"He thinks it's a kick in the head. You know he's not possessive. And besides, a fucking gorilla man, for Christ sake!"

"Anyone know what he looks like?"

"I'm pretty sure he's hairy," someone said, giggling.

The small group next to the bar erupted in laughter at that and Blair froze to the spot, momentarily unable to move. Finally a laugh from his left, one he knew only to well, made its way to him. He turned his head...and there she was, standing at the balcony, a tall good-looking man at her side. She was laughing as she looked up at him - and then he put his arms around her.

Blair watched as he whispered something in her ear before kissing her, long and deep...and yes, she was kissing him back.

For reasons that escaped him, he decided that he needed to hear what they might say so he moved closer and, when they'd stopped kissing....

"God, I can't believe you did it with him, Kel. That was just plain stupid - you could catch some freaking jungle gorilla disease, you twit!"

"Oh, don't be silly, Mike."

"Well, if you think I'm sleeping with you anytime soon, you're crazy. You make an appointment with your uncle and then it's condoms only between us for at least six months. I don't want some gorilla wiggly thing crawling around inside me."

Suddenly the distance between Blair and everyone at the party was huge. An entire world huge. Eyes burning, Blair pivoted around and began to shoulder his way back to the front door.

Once out in the hall, it took everything he had not to run. Instead, he walked slowly down the stairs, out the building and onto the street. On the pavement, he took a deep breath and then felt something on his cheek. He brought his hand up, ran a finger over the wetness and looked at it.

Tears.

He tasted them.

Salty.

He'd never - cried before. Never.

Suddenly his stomach revolted and he threw up on the sidewalk. When he was done - he did the only thing he could - he ran - and as he did, he ignored the bus stop that would take him back to Balliol, choosing instead to keep running, legs pumping, arms swinging...tears flowing.

***

Blair tore into his room, stripped his clothes from his body and, with an anger so deep and dangerous, proceeded to destroy his room. He was vaguely aware of the pounding fists on his door and the voices yelling at him, so he growled as if to dare them to enter. Soon, the sounds stopped and he continued to destroy.

Finally, all anger spent, he dropped down to the floor in the middle of the destruction.

He had to go home.

But he couldn't. He had over two years left and a promise that went with debts owed. There was no way he could, or would, disappoint Father Benjamin.

He had to stay and finish, but when he was done, when all debts were paid, he would go back to his mountain, to his gorillas.

As for Blair Sandburg - he would die.

***

As evidenced by the party, Kelly was not a discreet individual and word of who and what Blair was quickly spread throughout the college - which meant that his remaining time was spent alone.

Blair moved from class to his room and back again. He never spoke unless in class and directed to do so by a professor. He ignored the sniggers and guffaws, avoided all spots where students congregated. His teachers and professors couldn't help but hear the rumors and, while they struggled to maintain a semblance of order and even tried to help by attempting to befriend him, he ignored their advances, suspecting their motives to be selfish - they simply wanted to study him.

His letters to Father Benjamin became short and bitter, but he stuck it out. He put up with the pointing fingers, whispers and snide remarks, but he also stopped eating in the main dining hall - preferring instead to take his meals in his room. He was tired of supposedly intelligent human beings - enlightened students of the world, gawking at him to see if he slurped his food.

The only thing that kept him sane were his books and studies.

As his final months wound down, a silver lining appeared in the form of a rare trip to London and an old book shop. There, he discovered an old monograph written by Sir Richard Burton and, after reading it, he was captured by the idea of tribal guardians with special senses. He started combing antique stores, more bookstores and even museums to gather everything he could on the subject of people with heightened senses. He wrote at great length on the subject, but he'd already decided not to pursue his academic career beyond his masters so, when he finally achieved that goal, when he had his Masters - he took his books, theories and journals - and left civilization behind him.

He returned to the Impenetrable Forest and Blair Sandburg died so that Bakari could live.

***

Cascade, Washington -

Blair continued to stare up at the skylight as he wondered if what he'd experienced tonight with Jim - was Kelly all over again. Jim was beside him - but Blair might as well have been alone.

But he didn't have a clue what to do about it.

***

Three days later -

Blair was alone in bed - again. The last few days had seen their lives turned upside down. As unbelievable as it sounded even now, Jim had been accused of stealing drugs from a bust three weeks earlier and was currently under investigation for conspiracy. And if that weren't enough - someone had killed Alan's wife, Veronica.

Blair had tried to help by offering to aid in finding the killer, but Jim had closed himself off to everything and everyone - except Alan. In fact, Alan had called earlier in the evening and Jim had left to meet him.

But it was now four in the morning - and Blair was still alone.

At seven, he got up, showered, shaved, dried his hair, fixed some toast and orange juice, ate his simple breakfast at the sink, picked up his books and went to the library.

***

Stomach grumbling, Blair kept reading and writing, even as his hands shook. He didn't know if he should go to the station or not. He didn't even know if Jim was even there, so with his cellphone handy, he continued to study and wait.

At four-thirty he closed his notebook, the three psychology books he'd been studying, put two of them back on the shelves, checked the third one out, stuffed it into his book bag and walked out into the dusky evening.

He stood on the top step of Rainier's library and breathed in the early evening air. Around him, students hurried to and from night classes, cars pulled in and out of the busy parking lot, everyone seemingly moving at breakneck speed.

Blair felt a sudden shudder run through his body - because at that moment, he knew that Jim had slept with Alan.

***

The hours and days crawled by, the case against Jim stalling for lack of evidence. Both of them had been grilled by an IA detective named Aldo, but nothing had come of the interrogation - at least not as far as Blair knew.

More importantly, Jim hadn't returned home. He'd remained with Alan while the investigation continued - which meant that it was time for Blair to face facts.

Jim didn't love him.

He might have loved Bakari, but he certainly didn't love Blair.

All right, realistically, it was doubtful Jim had really loved Bakari either. No, Bakari had been something new and different - the same kind of new and different that Kelly had seen in him. So okay, Jim had been happy when Blair showed up on the plane, but Blair figured he'd still been a novelty - and a surprise.

Question was: what was he supposed to do now? Jim was a sentinel and still needed someone to watch his back, to help him. And no matter how hurt he was by Jim's actions, there was no way he could turn his back on him. It wasn't Jim's fault that Blair wasn't the man Jim thought he was in the cold hard light of day.

Which meant the answer was simple: Blair moved from Jim's bedroom and into the downstairs storeroom. It took him exactly two hours to make it livable thanks to already having a futon couch that made into a bed. There was even a desk - so it was a simple matter of moving boxes down to the basement storage area and tidying up a bit before moving his stuff in.

Sure, he'd thought about leaving - for three whole seconds. But he was older and wiser and more than just Jim's lover. He was a guide of sorts and leaving Jim could result in a catastrophe - could even get Jim killed. And no way could Blair let that happen. They'd been lovers and friends - and as far as Blair was concerned - the friendship and love part was still there on his side.

So Blair would stay and help for as long as Jim needed him and that was as it should be.

Broken hearts didn't count.

***

One week later -

Jim unlocked the door to his home, fully expecting to find a loft devoid of Blair. He wasn't disappointed. He moved upstairs, pausing at the top step. He gazed around his room, a nugget of hope insisting that he look for any signs that Blair was still here - but he found none. No books on the nightstand, no glass case, no shoes on the floor or errant sock...the room was just his bedroom - not theirs.

He walked to the dresser, stared at the man in the mirror, and hated every inch of him.

Jim was pretty sure he'd lost the only person that mattered to him. He even understood why now. It was all tied up in his past, his fears about being different - and yes, the heavy responsibility that came with being a sentinel. In the end, it had all proven too much for him. It hadn't helped either that Blair was with him every day - a constant reminder of who - and what - he was. Then Alan had come back into his life and, for a while, he forgot the sentinel and concentrated on the man - plain old Jim Ellison, Detective, First Grade and ex-Army Ranger. With Alan - he'd been that man again - a very uncomplicated man.

Unfortunately, days of reliving the 'good times' with Alan had cost him Blair.

Jim sat down on the edge of the bed. All right, maybe the time with Alan could be considered a good thing. Blair had given everything up for him - his whole way of life, his home, even his family. Maybe now it was Jim's turn. His days of wallowing in self-pity had sent Blair home - where he belonged - where he'd be happier.

Only problem was - how could Jim exist without him?

Working Veronica's murder and dealing with the accusations of drug-theft had shown him one thing - the past was just that: the past. Yes, he'd spent these last days with Alan but there was nothing between them. Nothing but a friendship built on shared combat situations. Admittedly, they'd been lovers back then - and yeah, hearing that Alan was married to a woman had thrown him a huge loop, but after a few days, he'd recognized the complete absence of anything but a faint outline of a friendship. One that had been destroyed today in a pretty spectacular manner.

If he were honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he'd been suspicious of Alan from the beginning. Everything was too pat. First the missing drugs, then Alan's sudden appearance, the fortuitous robbery while Alan and Veronica were dining with him...and then Veronica's death at the dock where Alan kept his boat, Jim's backup weapon lying beside her on the gangplank and some of the missing cocaine from the drug bust.

Alan's house of cards - all of his elaborate planning - had been predicated upon everyone knowing that Jim preferred men - that his fellow officers knew this and thus would believe he'd kill Veronica for Alan - steal for Alan - so he could be free of a marriage he hated while, at the same time, leaving him extremely wealthy, thanks to being Veronica's only heir.

Fortunately, Jim had noticed he was missing his back-up weapon and, since there were only three people (Simon, Blair and the IA investigator, Detective Aldo) who had access to it at the time it must have been taken, it hadn't taken much for Jim and Simon to put two and two together. Especially once they discovered that Aldo had been in the Army and served with Alan during the time that Jim had been with the Chopec.

So - Alan and one bad cop, working together to bring Jim down so they could live their version of the Life of Riley. Too bad they hadn't counted on Jim's friends, his senses, Simon or Blair. Funny how Blair had helped him even when not in his presence. But his words had been with him while Jim was with Alan - and in Jim's opinion, had helped him see the truth.

Now both Alan and Aldo were dead, each killed by the other while trying to kill Jim. Talk about irony - and justice.

While the CSI men and women worked the scene, Jim had stood outside on the patio with Simon, neither speaking but each with so much to say. Jim knew Simon was worried about him and Blair, maybe even thought Jim had succumbed to Alan's dubious charms. But since Jim had spent the last days running away from Blair and all that he represented - Jim did nothing to dissuade Simon of his belief. After all, was there really a difference? Jim had, in a way, betrayed Blair - just not in the manner Simon believed - nor Blair for that matter.

So now he was cleared of all suspicions - and alone. He was still a sentinel, but could he walk that path - or any path - without Blair - without the man he loved and needed?

Jim groaned because he knew the answer: no, he couldn't.

He walked back downstairs, eager to find any sense of the man he loved. It had begun to rain and the loft was gray and lifeless. Except....

Jim had no idea how long ago Blair had left, but he could still feel his presence, warmth and scent. He stood in the middle of the room and breathed in what was left of Blair. A moment later, the front door swung open and the man himself walked in, arms full of groceries and books.

He froze when he spotted Jim, but quickly recovered. "Hey, man, you okay? Long time, no see."

Jim turned, certain that he was looking at an apparition, not the real thing. But Blair was solid - wet - but wonderfully real. He swallowed the lump in his throat and said, "Yeah, I'm fine. You're - here."

Blair moved self-consciously to the kitchen table and set the groceries down before facing Jim again. "Yes, I'm still here. I'm your partner in the sentinel thing - and your friend - so I'll be here for as long as you need me."

More grateful than he could express, Jim said simply, "Thank you, Chief."

***

The next weeks were difficult for Jim because the rules had changed. Blair slept downstairs and Jim slept alone in a bed he'd shared with Blair for eighteen months and there was no one to blame but himself. Sure, he'd have loved sitting down with Blair and trying to explain everything - but in truth, he was still too ashamed. Not to mention it was slow going at the station as he tried to put his working life back together after weeks of being in limbo. At the same time, with Blair still riding with him, he had to find the right level of camaraderie while keeping his love in check and out of their way. The fact that Blair was still willing to be friends - to work with him - had to be enough - but that didn't stop him from daydreaming about their days before Alan and their brief time in Blair's home in the great tree - and of course, the peace he'd found in Blair's arms.

On another level - at work, specifically - Jim could admit to being sick and tired of the sympathetic looks from his fellow detectives when they thought he wasn't looking. Damn it, when were they going to get it? When were they going to figure out that he hadn't cared about Alan?

For Blair - it was simply getting through each day helping Jim. It helped that Jim accepted what they had left; their friendship, but knowing he was unloved in this city and still considered a freak and sometimes even a nuisance, made it more difficult to keep going.

At night, in his bed, he'd dream of his mountain, of Dingane with his arms around Bakari....

***

Three months later -

Blair sat at Jim's desk finishing off some of their paperwork as he waited for Jim's return from court. They'd finally settled into a more comfortable relationship, almost brotherly, and the bond they'd forged as sentinel and teacher had never been stronger. They'd solved several high profile cases in the last three months and Blair was beginning to see a difference in how he was now perceived by Major Crime.

A few weeks ago, their ranks had increased by one - namely a lively exchange officer from Australia by the name of Megan Connor. She and Jim had butted heads in the beginning, but now she was definitely one of the guys. Blair had especially been drawn to the tall, redheaded Aussie and counted her as one of his best friends.

He sat listening to her now while she interviewed a suspected drunk driver - his interest piqued by her strange tone.

Megan had no tolerance for drunks, let alone the idiots that drank and got behind the wheel of a car. That should have made things very bad for the woman she was currently interviewing. Not that interviewing drunk drivers was something Major Crime was supposed to do, but in this case, the suspect had taken out two unmarked Cascade PD vehicles while they were parked, and occupied, thanks to being on stake-out. Blair had been waiting for Megan's tone to take on that rough, zero tolerance edge to it - but so far, it remained honey soft.

Curious, he focused his attention on the suspect, a tall blonde, on edge and squirming in the chair as she kept running one hand up and down her arm, scratching endlessly. Her voice had a tinge of panic to it while she tried to explain - again - what had happened and that no, she wasn't drunk.

"I couldn't see because the lights were suddenly so bright - it was like they'd been turned up ten levels...and the noise...God...everything was so loud - but I swear, I'm not drunk--"

"Then maybe you could explain why you disrobed?" Megan continued, her voice still soft and now soothing instead of hard and penetrating.

"I...my skin...it was on fire...like I couldn't stand the feel of the material...."

Blair immediately sat up straighter in his chair. Lights too bright and loud noises? Skin suddenly sensitive? No, it couldn't be. Not possible.

He got up and walked over to Megan's desk just as Henri Brown came in with the results of the blood tests. He handed the folder to Megan as Blair stood back, watching and listening.

"Well, Miss Barnes, it looks as though you were telling the truth. No sign of alcohol or drugs in your system." She closed the folder. "You're free to go but I strongly suggest you seek out a doctor."

The woman stood, calmer now as she slipped on her jacket and muttered, "Been there, done that." She turned to leave and nearly bumped into Blair who still stood, eyes wide, mouth open.

She mumbled an apology and started past him, but he stopped her. "Please, Ms. Barnes, may I have a word with you?"

Uncertain, she paused and, since something about his voice seemed to demand trust, asked, "Why? And it's - Alex."

Blair stuck out his hand and said, "I'm Blair Sandburg and I think I can help you."

"Listen, you heard the results, I'm free to go, I don't need your help."

"I understand that, but I'm talking about what you experienced. The bright lights and noises? And I'm betting you've been extra touch-feely lately, too. Am I right?" At her surprised nod, he continued. "I think I might know what's happening with you. Would you be willing to give me a few minutes?"

Alex Barnes really looked at the young man in front of her then. He was shorter than her, but it hardly seemed noticeable, his presence was so commanding. But it was his eyes that drew her in, along with that voice....

She nodded, almost without realizing it.

Excited, Blair glanced around and decided on the empty briefing room. He gently took her arm and led her inside, showing her to a seat. He perched on the edge of the table, his excitement barely contained. "I need to know one thing, Alex. Have you recently experienced anything that cut you off from civilization?"

She nodded, his excitement transferring itself to her. "Yes, yes...I was recently lost in the mountains for several days before they found me."

"And the problems you've been experiencing, was that before or after being lost?"

"After, almost immediately after."

"Look, there's someone I'd like you to meet, my partner, Jim Ellison. He's in court right now, but due back by noon. Maybe the three of us could grab a bite to eat and I'll explain then?"

"But... I'm all right, aren't I?"

"Very all right, Alex, very all right."

***

Blair gave another impatient check of his watch. It was five minutes later than the last time he'd checked but damn it, Jim should have been here by now. Thank God Alex had some errands to run nearby so at least she hadn't been kept waiting. Instead, they'd agreed to meet back at the station at twelve-thirty and it was almost that now - but still no Jim - which was bad.

It was critical that Blair prepare Jim before he met another sentinel since he wasn't sure how one territorial sentinel would react when face-to-face with another one.

"Hey, Chief, sorry I'm late, hope you're still hungry."

Blair jumped at Jim's voice and immediately began to drag the detective into the briefing room. "Thank god you're here. Man, have I got something to tell you."

***

Two Weeks Later -

Blair sat on the edge of the fountain in front of Hargrove Hall, watching Jim, Alex and Megan. For the last couple of weeks, since introducing Alex to Jim, he'd done a good deal of teaching and coaching with Alex learning, Jim and Alex experimenting together and even Megan getting into the act by helping out.

He'd also spent the last days watching the two sentinels bond.

The four of them had just come from the library where Blair had shown them some interesting articles on people with one or two heightened senses and now Jim and Megan were working with Alex, Jim walking her through some of the very exercises Blair had used with him.

Funny, he thought, he hadn't really thought it possible that his heart could break again.

He'd been wrong - and painfully so.

Watching them now, watching how each guided the other, Blair was forced to accept the truth: this was Jim's true life, to watch over Cascade with another sentinel - not Blair.

Jim and Alex no longer needed a teacher or a backup - they had each other.

As he watched the three of them laughing together, Blair came to the most painful decision of his life. It was time to leave Jim; time for Bakari to return to his mountain.

Forever.

Or as long as his forever lasted.

***

Uganda - three weeks later -

It had taken him five hours of walking before he could even begin to discard Blair Sandburg. He had deplaned at Entebbe, had moved absently through customs, then outside and into the hot African afternoon. He'd felt no sense of homecoming because Blair Sandburg had no home.

He could have taken a bus with the tourists, mingling and waiting for the opportunity to disappear into the bush - or he could have sought out Ebo and stayed with him - but both choices would have been too human. Instead, he chose to walk - to sweat Blair Sandburg out of his body and, when he finally reached the lower end of Bwindi and was safe from the prying eyes of humans, he would then begin the process of divesting himself of all that was Blair Sandburg.

***

It was with relief that Bakari finally shed the trappings of civilization. Gone was the shirt, t-shirt, jeans and hair-tie. All that was left of Blair were the boxers shorts and sandals he still wore. When he'd climbed higher, and the thick lush forest had swallowed him, when the coolness wafted over his skin, he finally cast aside the very last of Blair, pulling the boxers down from his hips and kicking them and then his sandals off as he continued to run, the sweat streaming from his naked body, cleansing it of the city toxins.

His breath was being forced from lungs that had gotten soft, like his muscles, like the soles of his feet, but in spite of the fire spreading through him - he ran until his body could no longer hold him upright.

Bakari dropped naked to the jungle floor, chest heaving, anger and self-hatred coursing through him. He cursed his mother for taking him on the plane so many years ago, cursed the jungle, the city. He cursed humans and civilization, and he cursed Jim for not loving him even as he cursed himself for all that he was - and wasn't.

***

Night fell and, with it, great shadows now offered protection to the creatures that shunned the daylight.

From the jungle floor, a form rose, pale and ethereal. It raised its head to the sky and howled to the invisible moon, the sound piercing the night, freezing the jungles inhabitants in their tracks with its eerie combination of chilling hate and pain....

***

Cascade -

Simon accepted the first day Jim called in sick - even the second. By the third day, he'd begun to worry and, by the fifth day, with no call even from Sandburg, he was ready to check things out for himself. After work, he drove directly to 852, parked out front and, after checking traffic, jogged across the street and into the lobby.

At the elevator he recognized the woman he'd met a few weeks before, Alex Barnes.

The other sentinel.

She was standing in front of the elevator but looked as though she were a million miles away. Worried that maybe she'd zoned, he said quietly, "Miss Barnes?"

When she didn't move, he took a step toward her. "Alex?"

Shaken from her stupor, she turned at his voice, eyes widening in relief. "Captain Banks, thank God."

She hadn't heard the large man come up behind her, or caught the lingering effects of his cigar, which was a testament to her confusion and fear. She looked up into worried eyes and said, "Captain Banks, I've been trying to reach both Jim and Blair for days... we were supposed to do more testing this last week, but I haven't been able to reach anybody--"

"Jim called in sick five days ago, but I haven't heard from either him or Sandburg since, which is why I'm here." The elevator door slid open and, as he ushered her inside, added, "This isn't like Ellison at all. I sent Megan over to Rainier to check on Sandburg."

Shivering now, Alex said, "Something's wrong, I can feel it."

Worriedly, Banks looked into her cornflower blue eyes and nodded, "That's exactly what Megan said."

Alex felt her skin tingling at the mention of the Australian exchange officer's name. In the weeks of testing with Jim and Blair, Megan Connor had become a part of their group, having accidentally learned about Jim a few months ago while working a case with him. She, like Alex, had watched and learned, but more than that, on several occasions, she'd been able to soothe Alex in Blair's absence. Unfortunately, in the last few days, Alex had been on her own and her senses were once again spiking, causing physical pain and depression. She'd tried calling Jim over and over again, but kept getting the answering machine. Panicked, she'd finally driven over - and thank God Captain Banks was here too. She had the worst feeling.

They rode up in silence and, once at the door to #307, Simon didn't hesitate to insert the spare key Jim had given him years ago. He pushed the door open and they entered cautiously.

The loft was unusually dusty and there were dirty dishes piled in the sink, counters and table. The blinds were drawn so that in spite of the beauty of the day, inside it was shadowed gray with dust moving through the few streams of pale light that managed to squeeze through the blinds.

They found Jim on the couch and Simon was pretty sure he now knew exactly what the phrase 'heart in his throat' meant. He could barely swallow at the sight of Jim that greeted him and Alex.

Jim was wearing only his shorts and a t-shirt and was statue-still. For a moment, Simon actually thought he was dead. He moved quickly but quietly to Jim's side, his eyes taking in the unshaven face and red-rimmed eyes. He glanced at the coffee table where a wrinkled piece of paper sat, an mug of old and now moldy coffee resting on the tattered edge of the paper. He placed a hand gently on Jim's shoulder and said, "Jim?"

Jim didn't answer, but his icy blue gaze flicked over him before returning to stare at some point over his shoulder.

At least he hadn't zoned. Simon was about to ask him a question when he realized Jim was muttering....

"...gone, gone home."

Simon frowned, puzzled by the words. Home? Who'd gone home? Or was he telling them to leave?

Alex sat down next to Jim and asked softly, "Who's gone home, Jim?"

"He left me...can't blame him, don't know why he stayed after Alan...but he did - until now."

Simon sat down on Jim's other side and watched as Alex picked up the piece of paper from the coffee table. Reading it, her expression changed from puzzlement to disbelief and she mouthed several silent 'no's'. When she finished, she handed it silently over to Simon, who was almost afraid to take it - but he did - and he recognized Blair's handwriting immediately.

Confused, Simon looked up and whispered, "Bakari?"

Alex took Jim's cold hand in her own and said, "That was Blair's name in Uganda." She started to rub warmth back into Jim's hand. "Jim, do you understand what he was talking about? I don't know who this Alan was, but I know you love Blair and he loves you--"

Jim jerked his hand away, started shaking his head in denial, but Alex grabbed the letter out of Simon's hand, waved it in front of Jim's face and said sternly, "Look at his words, Jim. It's all there, he loves you but thought you loved this Alan guy - so the only question now is: what are you going to do about it?"

Simon watched the two sentinels, watched the silent war waging within Jim - and thought that his own life wasn't nearly as complicated as he'd thought once Jim had returned from Uganda. Nope. Not nearly.

Now it was complicated.

***

Bwindi -

Two female gorillas sat in the deep grass, their offspring, three babies, playing a few feet away. The females watched with love as they munched bamboo, noses twitching at the baby antics.

Two miles away, a silverback moved away from the battered body of the usurper, a young male who'd encroached on the silverback's territory. The young gorilla would never make that mistake again.

***

Not far from the silverback's family, seven men moved upwind, toward the unprotected females and children, guns ready....

***

Five miles away, a ghost flew through trees and, as one hand reached for a vine, five shots rang out....

***

The great silverback froze - sniffed the air - and then plunged through dense foliage, breath huffing sharply with a need to protect that overrode the need for caution.

He broke through the clearing...and thudded to a stop.

His family - the scent of blood - death. He raised his head to the skies and screamed his rage - a scream that was abruptly cut off.

***

The ghost flew through the air and towards the gunfire just as a sixth shot rang out....

***

Tatu held up his hand and the three Magharibi stopped behind him. Gunfire. To the east.

The Magharibi knew their home was once again under siege, that mercenaries had crossed the borders. They also knew that these men were different, their training different. They moved with the forest, their stealth successful to a point that not even the Magharibi had caught so much as a glimpse of them...yet. But if they hurried, maybe this time....

***

The ghost dropped soundlessly to the ground...and moved toward the clearing....

Blue eyes took in the devastation and horror.

One of the mother gorillas had tried to get to her baby because one arm was outstretched as if reaching...but at the end of the arm - nothing. Both hands had been ruthlessly removed, as had her eyes, tongue and internal organs as well. The second female was in the same condition.

Blue eyes moved to the edge of the clearing where three small babies hung from their ankles... their baby soft fur having been systematically stripped from their bodies.

To the left - the great silverback lay dead, a single bullet to his brain. His body mirrored that of the females - except in his case, his genitals had also been taken.

The ghost stood unmoving, memorizing every detail, each indignity, every wound, each horror - and as he memorized, he swore to himself that there would be no.more.

He would have to make himself known - one final time.

The ghost heard the Magharibi approach, but instead of avoiding them by melting into the brush as he'd been doing for days - he waited.

Four Magharibi, led by his old friend Tatu, appeared across the clearing from him. Four pairs of eyes took in the mass slaughter, then Tatu's gaze rested on him.

"Bakari."

***

tbc in Part 3

Bakari & Dingane Part 3

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 00:21:59 GMT

***

Cascade -

Alex began the clean up as Simon gently led Jim to the bathroom and a hot shower.

Just as Alex put the last cup into the dishwasher, Megan stepped hesitantly through the still open front door. Spotting Alex, she went to her side immediately.

"Jim?"

Alex indicated the hallway. "Simon has him in the bathroom for a shower."

"Sandy withdrew from Rainier - they haven't--"

"We know. He's gone back home... He left a letter," she added in way of explanation. "Jim was almost catatonic when we found him."

Megan raised an eyebrow in question but Alex shook her head. "I don't know everything, Megan, but--"

The rest of her words were interrupted by Simon. "Okay, he's showering - seems to be operating under his own steam now, so could someone explain what the hell is going on here?"

While Megan finished the cleanup that Alex had started, including the raising of the blinds and opening the windows, Alex told Simon the few things Jim had left out of his adventures in Uganda.

While Alex talked, Megan noticed the tension around the other woman's eyes and knew exactly what it meant. She moved silently and unobtrusively to Alex's side, sat down and began to gently stroke Alex's arm.

Alex was still talking when Jim came out of the bathroom, clean-shaven, hair damp, barefoot but wearing a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He stopped as he heard the last of Alex's words, heard the physical pain in her voice, so like his when his senses were out of control. He was about to go to her until he realized that slowly, her tone was changing even as her body began to relax. Something that usually only happened with help from either himself or Blair - but the person touching Alex was...Megan.

He watched in surprise as Megan stroked Alex's arm, exactly as Blair would have done for him....

Blair had talked about a sentinel needing a kind of backup - a guide, so-to-speak - and Jim had always accepted the fact that Blair was his. So did this mean Megan was Alex's?

How had he missed it?

Alex and Megan.

And yet - Blair had been able to help Alex too...teach her and soothe her when her senses went wild, something Megan had certainly never been able to do for Jim. But she was doing a great job of calming Alex now.

This was like some kind of Rubik's Cube. A riddle. Blair could help both of them, but Megan could only help Alex - So what did that say about Blair?

He walked the rest of the way into the living room, pausing at the couch just as Alex finished by explaining what 'Bakari' meant. At the name, the dull edge of his pain went jagged and raw.

To deaden it again, he focused on Connor's pale hand as it moved in small soothing circles over Alex's arm, used his memory sense to feel something similar from Blair and, as he felt the needed numbness begin to return, asked, "You had a headache again, didn't you?"

His words stopped them all as, in unison, they turned to look up at him. Megan recovered first and said, "Are you all right?"

Without taking his eyes from Alex, he nodded and repeated his question. "You had another headache, didn't you?"

Alex nodded. "Yes."

"But it's gone now, isn't it?"

Frowning at the realization, she said, slightly awed, "Yes."

"But Blair isn't here and I was in the shower - so how would you explain its absence?"

"I...Blair could always make it fade--"

"But again, he's not here," Jim said harshly.

"I don't understand...because the headache is gone...."

Her words drifted off as she understood what she was saying.

"And the only person touching you - is Connor," Jim pointed out.

"Touching me?" she asked dumbfounded.

With a slight nod of his head, he indicated Connor's hand and Alex followed his gaze, her eyes widening in comprehension.

"Connor is your Blair," Jim said softly.

***

Bwindi -

Tatu had sent an advance runner ahead to inform the villagers of the return of Bakari and now Father Benjamin stood just outside the small hut that had once been home to his son. He waited patiently with the rest of the villagers, but with an unease that was spreading through him like a cancer.

Bakari - not Blair - was back, but they hadn't known. So how long had he been on the mountain without the Magharibi knowing?

And where was Jim?

Benjamin's unease grew.

Most of the Magharibi were in the center of the village, waiting for their first glimpse of Bakari, feet shifting, voices low as questions were asked but no answers given. Suddenly, several Magharibi moved to the southern end of the village and, moments later, Tatu and his men emerged from the bush.

No one moved. No one spoke - but all eyes were fastened on Bakari, who stood just behind Tatu, eyes roaming the village, but no smile on his face. He finally started to walk toward the priest and the Magharibi parted, creating a path, their eyes suddenly fearful.

Bakari stopped when he was face to face with his adopted father, who said, "Blair?"

The ghost-like figure in front of him gave a slight negative shake, but did not speak, nor did he make a move when Benjamin opened his arms. Slowly, he dropped them back to his side as he stared into Bakari's emotionless gaze. The priest took in his gaunt, shaggy and dirty appearance and it was like looking into the face of death. Heart in his throat, he said, "My son?"

Again, no answer. The tension was palpable and Tatu wisely led the villagers away, leaving the two men alone.

Father Benjamin stared into the dead eyes and longed to take the wounded animal before him into his arms, to coax him back to humanity, but he knew how dangerous wounded animals could be, so fearing that his son would bolt, he simply took Bakari's arm and gently guided him away from the village.

The priest led them to Bakari's favorite spot, the precipice that overlooked the forest below - the same spot where - not so long ago - he'd convinced him to once again take on the mantle of Blair Sandburg....

Jim had been gone for hours and Bakari had not left the outcropping that overlooked his home. He was so intent on watching the sky that he failed to hear his adopted father's approach until the man rested a hand gently on his shoulder.

"It is time, Bakari."

Bakari didn't move, not even when Father Benjamin gave him a small tug. "It's time to decide, son."

"There's nothing to decide," Bakari stated somewhat stubbornly.

"But there is. Your path moves away from us and it's once again time to become Blair Sandburg."

"He's dead. I killed him upon my return from England and I won't resurrect him."

The priest pulled him to his side and said, "Blair, your destiny is James Ellison. You must go to him - be with him - and in order to do that, you must be the man you were born to be: Blair Sandburg."

Bakari shook his head. "Jim's world's in Cascade and mine is here. I'd be a hindrance to him, Father." He finally turned his gaze from the sky to look at Father Benjamin. "You don't know the ways of the world beyond your calling - I do." He shook his head again. "I've made the right decision."

"Believe me, son, I know the world and in sixty years, I have never been blessed to see the kind of love that exists between you and Jim. Don't throw it away." He looked away - as if his gaze could travel all the way to England. "If I could undo the damage of your time at Oxford, I would." He turned back to Bakari. "But I can't, Blair - so I'm asking you to trust once more - to open your heart and go to him. Now, while there's still time. Your clothes, your books, you, all await. Come."

He must have finally succeeded in getting through to Bakari because his son raised his chin, smiled slightly, and allowed Father Benjamin to lead him back to the village.

Hours later, Blair Sandburg, having been born for a third time, bought his airline ticket and, with minutes to spare, ran up to the gate. When his boarding pass was taken, he ran up the ramp and into the plane, breathless, heart beating with both fear and excitement. He moved down the aisle, searching...and finding.

Jim.

Trying hard not to grin, he simply asked, "I believe this is my seat?"

"Blair, please tell me what happened to bring you back here and without--"

"Don't call me Blair - he's dead - for good this time."

The quiet harshness of the declaration chilled Benjamin to the bone. The temperature was over ninety - yet he shivered at Blair's - no, at Bakari's tone. Had something happened to Jim? Was that why Blair was here? With some dread, he asked, "Jim? Has something...is he--"

"Jim is fine and where he belongs. He was never Dingane - it was a false prophecy."

"No, Bl...Bakari, not false. We just assumed that the last battle was the war, but we were wrong. The Magharibi cannot defeat this new soldier without Bakari and Dingane."

Bakari whirled on his adopted father and yelled, "There is no Dingane! Do you not hear my words?"

Deliberately lowering his voice, Benjamin said, "is Jim all right, son?"

Maybe it was the absence of the more priest-like phrasing of "my son" that did it - or perhaps it was the love that came with the simply uttered, "son" - but whatever it was, it succeeded in breaking through Bakari's barriers. He seemed to crumble before the priest's eyes as he reached out blindly with a shaking hand, his fingers grasping for a hold. Benjamin grabbed him then - and enfolded him into his arms.

He held him tightly as Bakari rasped out, "He didn't love...Blair... couldn't love...him."

Benjamin pulled Blair's head down, buried it in the crook of his neck, his hand moving deep into Blair's hair, stroking his scalp as he crooned, "No, no, no, son, he loves you... loves you, all that you are...."

Bakari broke away at that and, with his face flushed and eyes blazing with anger, said, "No! I was a novelty here on the mountain, don't you see? Just like before. The mysterious ape man who could hold Jim's interest...but Blair was just a normal man, nothing unique about him. Bakari is a freak and Blair - a non-entity."

"That's not true! I don't begin to know what happened in Cascade, what went wrong between you two, but you are not a freak. You're a wonderful young man with a future of magic and wonder ahead of you - and I'm telling you now: Jim will come. Mark my words!"

Bakari sneered as his eyes narrowed. He took another step back from his father as he said, "Jim loved someone else and then lost him - but now he's found his destiny with another Sentinel. She's good for him - better for him." He turned away. "I was wrong to show myself, to come here with you, but I'll fix that now by leaving - and by destroying those who would try to take our home. The only deaths to come - will be theirs."

With that, Bakari disappeared into the forest and Father Benjamin dropped to his knees in prayer.

***

"There has been no sign of your ghost man. We've butchered his gorillas with impunity. He doesn't exist."

The tall, reed-thin man who listened - shook his head. "No, he's out there. This I know."

The soldier stared back at his employer before finally saying, "If he is - then I'll find him. That's why you hired me, I'm the best."

With eyes so dark as to be almost black, he regarded the soldier, taking in the fatigue-garbed man as he smiled. Oliver wasn't lying, he was the best. The epitome of a top-notch soldier-for-hire. He had no conscience, no compunction to kill anyone for money; he was a killing machine who stood over 6'2", wore his blond hair in a crew-cut and had the well-toned body of a military man. He even had the requisite facial scar to add to overall look of complete ruthlessness. But Colonel Oliver was more than just a look - he was highly skilled, very dangerous and had a reputation for succeeding where others had failed. Hence he was just the man Gregory Akiris needed for this job. He looked past their camp and into the dark forest as he said, "Do you believe I would not know if the creature responsible for my brother's death was near?"

"No."

"Good. Continue the slaughter and he will come. And then - you and your men will be rich."

Oliver pivoted smartly and returned to his soldiers. Moments later - they moved out.

Akiris watched them leave and thought,"Oh, yes, he will come and he will pay - with more than his life. My brother will be avenged and this mountain will fall.

***

Cascade, Washington -

"Jim?" A shocked Alex stood at the head of the stairs, watching as Jim stuffed clothes into an old army duffle bag. Jim never stuffed anything - ever. "Jim, what--"

"You asked what I intended to do about Blair and now you know. I'm going to Uganda."

"Jim, get down here - now!"

Simon's voice held an edge of fear so Jim quickly zipped up the bag, slung it over his shoulder and, with Alex on his heels, ran down the stairs.

In the living room, Simon and Connor stood transfixed before the television, eyes wide with horror. On the screen, a television news camera was panning a grassy mound where several large, tarp-covered objects lay. The grass beneath the tarps was stained a dark red.

Suddenly a newsman stepped in front of the now still camera and, in a somewhat shocked voice, said, "This is Calvin Meyer - reporting live from The Bwindi Impenetrable Forest in Uganda, Africa, home to over half the world's population of mountain gorilla. Behind me, you see the covered remains of six African Mountain Gorillas, slaughtered sometime in the last three days. Park rangers from the Ugandan Wildlife Authority have stated that poachers are responsible for the slaughter as their hands, eyes, organs and genitalia were taken." The reporter turned to allow the camera to focus on three much smaller covered bodies. "There were three babies, their fur stripped from their small bodies. All six gorillas, two females, one silverback and the three babies, were shot once through the head before being butchered."

The newsman, his jaw clenching in an unusual display of emotion, went on to report that the ranger garrison had been doubled, but that so far no sign of the poachers had been discovered. The camera moved in for a close-up of the three smaller tarps as the newsman concluded his report. "There are only 300 reported gorillas in this beautiful forest, but now, thanks to the greed of man - there are two hundred and ninety four. In Kabale Town, the people are crying out for action, for justice. Can these inhuman butchers be stopped?"

The news broadcast went to the weather at that point, so Simon quickly clicked off the set. "Jesus," he breathed out, horror struck.

Alex grabbed Jim's arm and asked, "Is Blair in danger?"

Jim pulled away; walked to the phone, picked it up, dialed and, moments later was making an airline reservation to London - and on.

Simon waited until Jim put down the phone, then said, "So what, you're taking a vacation?"

"Yes. You have a problem with that?" Jim asked without emotion.

Alex didn't let Simon answer, instead saying, "Well, I do. Two Sentinels, Jim. Two. The Magharibi and Bakari could use both of us."

Jim looked at her as Megan added, "I agree. Two sentinels - and their back-ups."

Simon, not to be left out, promptly added, "Two Sentinels, two back-ups and one aging police captain. Hell, those poachers don't stand a chance."

***

Bwindi Forest -

The soldiers moved quietly through the jungle, low to the ground, guns ready. Ahead and slightly to the east, a small family of gorillas napped, unaware of the imminent danger.

Overhead, a pale, lithe figure moved through the trees, fast and deadly.

The soldiers rose, took aim, fingers ready to pull the triggers...but then a loud, high, animal cry pierced the air, a cry that seemed to surround the soldiers. As one, their gazes flicked upwards as they raised their rifles to the sky. At the same time, the gorillas, now warned, moved out of harms way.

One soldier, slightly apart from his comrades, turned at the strange whooshing sound he felt as much as heard. He had a moment to recognize something flying towards him, to see the long, cleft club, but he never felt the blow as it struck him much like a mallet would strike a polo ball.

He dropped like a stone - dead before he hit the ground.

The swinging figure moved on and another soldier went down...with two more following before the men gathered their wits enough to fire. But by then - the ghost was nowhere to be seen as their bullets flew into the sky and struck nothing but air.

Moments later - stillness.

***

Major Oliver stood and surveyed the area. Four men dead.

Four.

Of the survivors, none of them, himself included, had a clear description of their attacker - Hell, they couldn't even tell if human or animal. Now, as he searched his men's faces, he saw fear - and these were the toughest men that could be bought, true mercenaries, men that would kill their own mother for fifty bucks - and they were afraid.

And they'd lost the gorillas too.

For the first time since his arrival on the mountain, he felt its living, breathing presence and his eyes narrowed.

All right - so there would be a battle and it was the mountain or him.

He smiled.

No contest.

***

Bakari landed effortlessly on a tall tree, the vine hanging free. He climbed down and, as his feet hit solid ground, bent at the waist and began to retch. He dropped to his knees, spewing bile as his stomach rebelled against his actions.

After several heaves, he dropped forward, hands bracing him on the floor of the jungle, head down, hair blanketing his face as he heaved even more. Minutes passed before it ended and he could sit back. He wiped his mouth, scooted backward until his spine rested against the majestic tree, and dropped his head back as he closed his eyes. Face expressionless, he mouthed one word....

"Jim."

***

Two Days Later - Entebbe Airport

Ebo paced back and forth, checked his watch, then glanced back at the flight board. According to British Airways, Flight 623 was on time and should have landed fifteen minutes ago - unfortunately, Ugandan time was not the time of the world. He would have smiled if not for the seriousness of the situation that faced his forest.

Simon had called two days ago to say that he, Jim and two others would be arriving today and would expect to travel immediately to the mountain. Ebo exalted in the news. Dingane was coming.

He'd wanted to go to the Magharibi immediately and inform them, get word to Bakari, but he could never get to the mountain and back before the plane's arrival so he waited impatiently while listening to the news - ever fearful that more gorillas would die before they could stop the slaughter.

But finally - today had come and, in a very short time, he would look on the face of his friend and he prayed that he would indeed see Dingane.

The connection of Bakari and Dingane was critical to this final war. Chatu, the new spiritual leader of the Magharibi, had foretold this just as his grandfather had foretold over fifty years ago. But Chatu had seen more, and this additional prophecy filled Ebo with fear. Chatu had dreamed of Bakari's death because, without Dingane, the mountain could be saved - but not Bakari.

Ebo had been there, along with Tatu and others, when Chatu had come out of his trance. He'd listened in horror as Chatu described the evils that would be done to their home and they'd been forced to hear the horrors that would be visited upon Bakari before his death - but Tatu had gotten angrily to his feet to declare the dreams false, that Bakari would be safe, that he would remain in the place called Cascade. But Chatu had shaken his head as he pointed to the all-telling flames.

"Our ancestors do not lie. But I speak only of what may transpire. Bakari will return to us - and yes, he is strong - but with Dingane, he is invincible. Pray for their return, Tatu, for they bring with them double the magic of Dingane."

No one understood that part, least of all Chatu, but he believed and encouraged the tribe that they must as well - that they had to trust in themselves, their mountain and, more importantly, in the magic of Bakari and Dingane.

So now Ebo waited, knowing that one look into his friend's face would tell him their fate. He'd talked with Father Benjamin, understood Bakari's current condition, knew the priest's fears and pain. If Dingane did not deplane to walk by Bakari's side - if it was Jim Ellison instead - Bakari would be lost to them.

The flight board flashed, telling all interested that Flight 623 had landed. Ebo moved to the aisle next to the door that would open and allow the passengers of flight 623 to exit.

***

As the airliner taxied to a stop, people stood, stretched, pulled luggage from overhead compartments, and filled the aisle.

Jim remained in his seat, staring out the window, waiting patiently for the crowd to begin to clear. Next to him, Simon unbuckled his seat belt, reached under the seat for his carry-on and, when a break provided him the opportunity, unbent his large frame and stood in the aisle. Behind him, Alex and Megan were doing the same.

As the plane emptied, Simon leaned over and tapped Jim's shoulder. "It's okay now, Jim. We can go." The man turned, looked up, blinked, then rose.

The four walked up the aisle, luggage over shoulders, in hands, bonded by their mutual mission, by the unknown danger that lay ahead, and by the need to see Blair.

They walked silently up the ramp, more like soldiers than anything else. As they exited the ramp and entered the airport, an eager voice hailed them.

"Simon - Dingane!"

They turned as a single unit when Ebo rushed up, hand out in greeting. "Jambo?!"

Simon and Ebo clasped hands, shaking heartily, smiling broadly, glad to see each other again. Simon pulled Alex and Megan forward and presented them to Ebo.

"Alex, Megan, this is my good friend, Ebo. He'll be our guide into the Biwindi. Ebo, this is Inspector Megan Connor and Alexis Barnes."

They all shook hands and smiled but finally it was time for Ebo to discover who stood with Simon and his friends. He looked up at Jim and asked hesitantly, "Hujambo, Dingane?"

Jim gazed at his friend, memories of his dinner on the terrace with Ebo, of finding the slain tracking party...his first glimpse of Bakari, their escape through the trees...the waterfall and the first time they'd made love....

And as quickly as the memories surfaced, they were gone and only Ebo remained, smiling uncertainly. Jim nodded and said, "Sijambo, Ebo."

Ebo had his answer. Dingane was here, not Jim Ellison, and he thanked the gods. "Come, we will go to my Jeep. I have food and drink to make our travel easier, but we must hurry. Bwindi awaits."

***

Because of the rangers, road blocks and the tourists being turned away from The Biwindi, Ebo had to take a southern route that passed the entrance. Then he turned west and came back up through the Parc Nationale des Virunga of Congo - but it added precious hours to their journey and would eventually force them them to abandon the Jeep sooner than normal.

As Ebo drove, he noticed the uncomfortable silence of his passengers and it worried him. Jim sat up front with him, eyes glued to the passing scenery. Directly behind them, the two women sat together, quiet but attentive to their surroundings. Simon was in the rear, equally quiet.

It didn't take Ebo long to realize that the woman called Alexis was much like Jim - which meant that she too must be a sentinel. Two sentinels to aid in the fight? This was a very good thing. And the redhead? The one introduced as an Inspector? What was her purpose in being with them? He watched the two women covertly, noticed how the one called Megan kept a hand on Alexis - and he quickly realized that she had to be this sentinel's helpmate.

"Double magic...."

Chatu's words came back to him. Of course - this is what Chatu had meant when he'd said that Dingane would bring double magic. Two Sentinels - double the power. Ebo smiled.

The war for their mountain was far from over now that their chance of success was so much greater. Truth was in a combination of both the old prophecy and Chatu's newest dream. There was hope.

***

The soldiers returned to their encampment with the bodies of their fallen comrades. Akiris came out of his tent and, as he noted the bags, scowled. He strode up to Oliver, eyes narrowed. "How did this happen?" he demanded.

Oliver was not one to waste time on excuses or words. His answer was blunt.
"I don't know. Whatever it was, it came from the sky and took four of my men before a single shot was fired."

"It? It? Don't you mean my ghost man? Or do you think the gorillas attacked you from the sky?"

"No man was seen - only a single shape, quick, barely there. They saw no human."

Akiris took a menacing step forward and, voice low and eerily calm, asked, "Were the men who fell near the rear?"

"The first man - yes, but the second two were in the middle and the fourth - just behind Morgan."

Gregory straightened, a frown replacing the scowl. "And Morgan saw nothing?"

"No. He said he was looking up, heard a strange sound, turned and Reynolds was down, his head smashed in."

Akiris faced the dense jungle knowing damn well that the 'nothing' they'd seen had been his brother's ghost man - he knew it as surely as he knew his own name. "Next time, you will lead and you will be ready. He will strike from the air - and you will capture him and bring him to me. Do not fail, Oliver."

***

Bakari perched on the limb of the great tree, his thoughts focused on his next attack. They would be waiting for him this time, would be looking to the sky - so he would attack from the ground - but he'd need help. He took to the trees, but in a direction away from the Magharibi. He headed to his family instead.

***

Orantu had moved his tribe high again, knowing that danger was close and fearing it beyond reason. He was old for a silverback, but he still defeated each newcomer. As he herded the females, the young males and the babies, Kaleefa prodded from the rear, her movements slower still. Kaleefa too was old for a female, no longer of breeding age, but she was his heart. His first and his last.

Up ahead, his son, Nusu, scampered, a two year old terror. He was rushing here and there, always inspecting and exploring... so like Bakari... his strange, smoothed skin son.

Suddenly - Orantu's nose twitched. He paused to glanced up, spotted the leaves rustling and yet, no wind....

Bakari dropped down in front of him. The great beast reared back in surprise as Bakari immediately went down into a crouch, knuckles skimming the grass....

Orantu's fist came out, pushed against Bakari's chest and then he lowered his head to touch his forehead to Bakari's.

Kaleefa huffed her charges along, forcing the younger females to carry the babies, not daring to lose one - but up ahead she caught a whiff of a familiar and too-long absent scent. Her ancient limbs hurried her along now that she was certain to whom the scent belonged.

She lumbered forward, now the only gorilla moving... and there was her mate, Orantu and, beside him, crouched low, eyes on her alone, was Bakari. Her joy could not be contained as she hurried to his side, almost chortling in delight. She did not use her fist, disdained the usual formalities and simply pulled him to her chest in a fierce hug. She breathed in his scent, took it deep within her... and then her face scrunched up in fear.

His scent was off.

She pushed him away, just far enough to really see him and her nostrils flared as her heart almost broke. Her knuckles brushed his face and then she stroked down his chest to brush across his thin covering of fur. She chuffed, brought her hand back up and cuffed the back of his head - and - for the first time in weeks, Bakari laughed. A deep, all-out, booming laugh that rang through the brush - but only Kaleefa heard the edge of insanity in it.

***

She sat in the deep grass and watched.

Bakari, Orantu and three of the young male gorillas were in a circle with Bakari signaling his anger with waving arms, much gesturing and posturing.

They were making war plans.

On her lap and curled around her, Nusu watched, all eager eyes, his fingers copying Bakari as small sounds came from deep within his chest. Sana, Nusu's mother, joined Kaleefa causing Nusu to immediately crawl over and begin to suckle - but he never took his eyes from Bakari.

Kaleefa could see her son's frustration as he pounded the ground with his fists - and she knew that Hani, Kula and Moto, all of whom were nearing breeding age, were eager to join him in battle. Bakari suddenly stepped back, arms crossed over his chest. He was done and now, could only stand back and wait for the others to decide.

He turned and made eye contact with his mother, caught Nusu's eye, and smiled gently - then he looked on the other females and each baby...and his smile died. He glanced back to his father and brothers and instantly realized his error in coming here. This was a huge mistake - he couldn't allow them become killers. Gorillas were shy creatures and killed only in defense - and even then, only in hand-to-hand combat. And they did not kill humans, nor did they war. It would be ruinous to permit them to enter this battle and would end with their destruction no matter how the war ended - because they would then be branded as killers - they would be feared instead of held in awe.

No, war was best left to man.

To him.

He took a step back, then another and another...and, as his mother's eyes returned to her mate and Nusu quietly drifted off to sleep, Bakari... disappeared.

***

Ebo pulled the Jeep off the road, killed the engine and set the brake. His passengers helped gather up supplies, guns, and food, and then, together,
headed into the forest; to climb.

For Jim - he knew he was holding onto his sanity by the merest thread. He was, to put it bluntly, afraid. Deeply afraid that he was too late - that somehow Blair would never know how much he loved him - and that he'd never hold the younger man in his arms again.

On the plane, as he moved closer and closer to Blair, Jim had made a decision - or maybe it was a choice. Somehow, he'd finally accepted that he was a sentinel and, more importantly - he'd chosen to remain a sentinel.

And it was - freeing.

Liberating.

But not without Blair.

So now he hacked through the jungle, cleared the way for those behind him, and prayed he would be in time.

***

Simon watched Jim as he wielded the machete like a pro - and that's when the truth of what they were all doing actually hit him. They were literally marching into a war. Suddenly he was filled with the longing to see his son, hear his voice. The decision to join Jim had been an easy one - he owed Blair Sandburg and Blair was his friend. In addition, Uganda was home to his ancestors; to relatives he'd never even met. So yes, the need to protect was strong...but so was the fear that he might not see Daryl again.

At least Megan was close and, if he couldn't protect everyone, at least he'd protect her.

Suddenly he smiled wryly. Damn lot of protecting going on....

***

Back home, Megan had never once considered not joining these three people.

Jim, her friend and a sentinel.

Simon, her boss and, she prayed, someday something more.

And Alex - her sentinel. Megan watched as she walked ahead of her and felt a burning pride and, for the first time, truly understood part of what Blair must have felt for Jim. Of course, Blair had felt so much more too - for them, she'd figured the sentinel thing had come second.

And speaking of Blair - oh God, she hoped they would be in time - that he was alive and well. He'd been her first friend within the PD and the only one to accept and help her from the start. Damn, none of this should have happened - none of it. And if she'd been on top of her game - it wouldn't have. She'd have knocked some sense into both men and that would have been that - but she'd been experiencing her own form of identity crisis - what with the sense of protectiveness toward Alex....

Funny how four people could be wired to be so protective - and yet allow one of them to slip through their fingers like this. Irony at its finest.

She was suddenly conscious of Alex's worry so she leaned in and whispered, "It's going to be okay, Alex."

She just hoped she was right.

***

Alex followed Simon, her steps automatic and without thought. Her senses were focused and working well, but her mind was filled with doubt. Would she be able to make her senses work for others when the time came?

This was a deadly war and lives would depend on her - and she could fail. She understood that Blair was a shaman, a real one, wise and powerful, and even if neither Jim nor Blair knew it - she did. Which made this mission of theirs all the more critical.

So much to protect, she thought as the sounds of the jungle surrounded her. So much at stake....

"It's going to be okay, Alex," Megan whispered from just behind her.

Alex smiled. She didn't know if Megan's words would prove true, but she knew that like Jim, she too had someone to support and help her - she had Megan. And if, in the deepest part of her, she harbored a bit of jealousy that what she had with Megan wasn't nearly the same as what Jim shared with Blair - well, no one need know....

And yes, she was fully aware of the covert looks continually exchanged between Megan and Simon. No matter what happened - things were certainly going to be interesting.

***

Bakari ran swiftly through the forest, trying to put as much distance as possible between him and his family. At one point, he paused when he spotted some Chimp droppings. He scooped them up and spread them over his body in an attempt to hide his scent from Orantu or any other who might follow. Once the fecal matter covered his skin, he ran on....

After almost an hour - he took to the trees.

***

They were less than a half day's journey from the Magharibi territory, but it was dusk and time to make camp. Silently and efficiently, the five people set up tents, got a fire going and set up a guard schedule. Alex would take the first watch at ten and Jim would take over at dawn.

Ebo took on the task of preparing their first meal by putting a pot of water over the fire. He then pulled out slabs of dried, salt-cured beef, chopping it up into large chunks along with several plants he'd gathered as they'd hiked. He then cut up several onions he'd brought with him and put it all into the now boiling pot. Forty-five minutes later, he was spooning the thick, fragrant stew into tin bowls for the others.

***

Far away, soldiers sat around their campfire, talking quietly and worriedly as they feasted on roasted pig and stewed vegetables - with generous portions of whiskey doled out by their leader. In spite of the day's losses, Oliver knew he must keep his remaining men happy with talk of the fortune they would all make from the Gorilla parts. He had to keep their minds on a rosy future and not the loss of a few men.

***

Miles away, Bakari stumbled, fell, picked himself up, climbed up the tree, crawled out to the nest he'd made days earlier, and finally curled into a ball and slept.

***

Jim stood, stretched, felt bones crack, grabbed his water bottle, took several swigs, rinsed and spit, then walked just beyond the camp to empty his bladder before returning. As he walked back toward the fire, Alex and Ebo were there and starting the morning meal. Actually, it was more like Ebo was teaching Alex. He was watching her with a smile as she prepared - to his explicit instructions - the hot rice cereal. The tea kettle was heating on another part of the fire and several pieces of fruit Jim recognized from his last trip, lay on a make-shift cutting board.

Using his senses, Jim located Simon, to the south of their camp, having left to take of the same need that had driven Jim away moments before. In the other tent, he could hear Megan muttering herself awake.

He was edgy and eager to start up again, but he wasn't traveling alone and his friends needed food - so he tamped down on his impatience, picked up a knife and began to cut up the fruit.

A little over an hour later, all morning ablutions completed and everyone fed, they packed up camp and, to Jim's relief, were once again on the move and headed for the Magharibi and...Bakari.

***

Oliver and his soldiers headed out after a breakfast of thick, rib-sticking hash. Orders from Akiris had been very specific: destroy as many gorillas as possible and, in the process, bring back the ghost man - alive.

Hanging from Oliver's belt was his ace in the hole: a taser. One sure way of subduing even an elusive human masquerading as a ghost.

***

Bakari took to the skies, eyes searching for signs of the soldiers. As he traveled, he noted with satisfaction, the almost complete absence of gorillas. The few he did see were on the move, heading up and to safety. At least his visit with his family had accomplished that much. No gorillas would die today.

As the day wore on and he covered the jungle in an elaborate 'x' pattern, he ignored his tired, aching muscles, gave no thought to food. His only goal was stopping the destruction - permanently.

It was close to noon when he spotted the first sign of the mercenaries and he smiled. Their mood was clearly evident in the way they had been moving through the jungle. They were angry and frustrated after hours of no gorillas and no ghost man and it had been translated into a total lack of stealth and a choppy, messy swath across his forest. His smile, almost feral in appearance, widened. He finally dropped lightly to the ground, club in hand. He was only a few miles from their location and, on foot, running swiftly and smelling of chimpanzee, he could enter their midst without warning....

***

Ebo called a halt, seeing the exhaustion on the faces of his friends. They had been moving relentlessly for hours and were within two hours of their goal; the village. They could afford the break in spite of the fact that he could tell Jim wanted nothing more than to continue on. But exhausted warriors would do no good, so he stopped them all.

For the noon meal, Simon who broke out more fruit, some nuts and dry cheeses and passed them around. When Megan tried to pass off a plate to Jim, he shook his head and got to his feet. "I'm going to check ahead a bit."

Watching him leave, Megan, asked to no one in particular, "Do you suppose he's all right?"

"No," Ebo said. "His tribe is in danger, as is the person he loves most."

Puzzled, Simon said, "But Cascade is Jim's tribe."

Ebo tossed the last of his lunch into the trash sack and said, "Is it?"

Twenty minutes later - when they caught up to Jim - he turned and said simply, "Blood."

***

Bakari could hear the soldiers now - he was that close. He could hear their grumbling and the angry slashing of reeds and vines. He kept on his silent parallel course, eyes and ears sharply focused. Eventually he paused, cocked his head...and grinned.

It was time.

***

Bud Dolan stopped, the skin on his arms prickling. Something was here...just out of sight. He could feel it. As unobtrusively as possible, he moved his automatic weapon from his shoulder and into his hands. He turned half-way around, and, at the same time, there seemed to be a shift in the air and then something was moving toward him... an apparition, unreal, inhuman....

Bud tried to raise his gun and fire even though a part of him believed the bullets would be useless - but then the weird creature was upon him and there was blinding pain and then - nothing.

***

The body dropped soundlessly to the ground, half the head smashed in and Bakari shot past it, to disappear once again....

***

tbc in Part 4

Bakari & Dingane part 4

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 00:20:14 GMT

In the next twenty minutes - as the panicked soldiers took defensive postures and searched the dense, green ceiling above, Bakari made two more equally fast, silent, and deadly attacks....

Two mercenaries gave up, dropped their weapons and ran.

Watching their retreating backs, Oliver did a quick count. Four men, including himself. That's all that were left.

In two days, his troop had been reduced by two-thirds. His jaw tightened.

Oliver made his decision. Akiris be damned - this ghost man would die by his hand. He would take him down, cut off his hands, gouge out his eyes, and, while still alive and begging for mercy, Oliver would flay him, strip the skin from his bones. Then, just before death, with the man aware and believing there could be no worse pain... he would take his balls, rip them from his tortured body and watch him die. Then and only then, would he take the man to Akiris and drop the carcass at his feet.

Several minutes passed without further attacks so Oliver rose, motioned to the remaining three men and, together, they started back for camp, leaving the dead behind. There was no need for secrecy now.

***

Akiris waited impatiently. His bones told him something had gone wrong - again, and, when only four men entered camp, his anger knew no bounds. Yelling obscenities and spittle flying into the colonel's face, Akiris faced Oliver, his index finger jabbing the larger man's chest.

"You had a simple task - kill and capture - and yet you return not only empty-handed, but with only three of your men?"

Oliver stood silently, allowing the abuse to be heaped on his shoulders even as he planned how he would kill Akiris when this was over.

Akiris ran out of steam, but his ire was still palpable, so voice low, Oliver said, "I'm going back out now and will not return without your ghost. What you do with these remaining men is up to you. They are of no use to me." With that, he stalked over to his tent and grabbed up several rounds of ammunition and his dart gun. From there, he went to the supply tent and filled his pack with food, all lightweight, easily and quickly eaten.

Stunned, Akiris watched and, as Oliver went about the tasks with cool efficiency, his anger faded. Then he caught Oliver's expression and suspicion quickly replaced his earlier ire. As Oliver walked past him, he grabbed the man's arm and demanded, "What do you plan?"

Oliver paused, but didn't turn. "I plan to bring that fucking beast back."

"Alive, Oliver, alive."

"Does it really matter, Akiris? As long as he is taken care of?"

Akiris' eyes narrowed. "Listen to me, Oliver - you want money, a lot of it, but if you kill him, you'll have nothing. I've already sold him and the amount is obscene."

Oliver dropped his pack and faced his employer. "You what?"

"You heard me. He's been sold just as my brother intended." Akiris made a motion with his hand, indicating that Oliver and his men should follow him.

Akiris walked to his tent, stepped just inside, rustled about in his personal lock box and pulled out a folded piece of drawing paper. He turned and it to Oliver. He unfolded the paper to find himself staring at a charcoal drawing of a man - and his breath caught.

The sketch illustrated a young man, perhaps in his early twenties, with long, curly hair. He wore nothing but the slightest bit of animal skin covering his genitals and held by a thin piece of leather that rode low on his hips. Around his neck, he wore another piece of leather from which were strung several colorful beads. A third leather string was worn around his wrist. Even to Oliver's eyes - the young man was, simply put, beautiful.

Oliver glanced up and asked, "This is your ghost man?"

"Yes. After seeing him in the flesh, my brother intended on selling him at Rushtons and I saw no reason to change that plan." He gripped Oliver's arm again. "We'll get over two million when we deliver him - alive."

Two million for a wild jungle creature like this? Jesus, yes. So Oliver abandoned half of his plan. Akiris would still die - but this ghost man would live and he'd take all the money, less whatever he had to give the remaining men.

Of course, only two people needed to leave the mountain alive: him and the ghost man. Grinning, he handed the sketch to Akiris. "I'll bring him back - alive."

***

Jim paused and held up a hand. "Do you smell it?"

Alex nodded but the others just stared blankly at the two Sentinels. Jim moved cautiously ahead, Alex following.

"No heartbeats," Alex whispered.

Thirty minutes later, they came upon the remains of the battle. Three dead soldiers. Heads caved in.

Jim and Alex walked carefully around the area of the bodies, eyes scanning, seeing what no others could see.

"Did the Magharibi do this?" Simon asked.

"No," Jim answered. "There's only one set of prints other than the mercenaries."

Staggered by Jim's announcement, Simon stepped to Jim's side. "One person did this, killed these mercenaries?"

Jim nodded.

As Megan moved to Alex's side, Ebo joined the two detectives and asked, "From the air, Dingane?"

Jim glanced at Ebo and shook his head. "No, he ran in from over there, used a zig-zag pattern and slaughtered them. It wasn't Blair."

Ebo stepped closer, eyes narrowed in anger. Jim almost stepped back, the potent glare surprising him.

"You do not understand, Dingane. These men received mercy at the hands of whoever did this. If it had been the Magharibi, there would not be enough left to bury." He glanced around him, connecting with each of them before he spoke again.

"You have no idea the destruction these men have visited upon this mountain. None." He turned back to Jim and added, "You saw the tracking party on your first visit, saw the condition they'd been left in...do you think it's better this time? No, my friend. What these monsters have done to our gorillas is beyond belief. This," he waved an arm at the dead bodies, "this was merciful by comparison."

A veil seemed to be lifted from Ebo's eyes as he recalled the horror of finding so many slaughtered gorillas. To his fellow travelers, who were used to seeing only a smiling, jovial man, it was shocking to witness the depth of hatred and raw emotion now.

"You must see the destruction to our gorillas as we did. You have to see in your hearts how they were killed. Yes, sometimes the mercenaries were in a hurry and shot them first - but just as often all the damage was done while they were still alive. Their hands sliced from their bodies, every organ torn away and their eyes gouged out. The great silverbacks, holy gods, their genitals were sliced off...but that was not the worse...oh, no. The babies, Dingane, the babies. They were all hung by their feet and again, while some were shot first, others were still alive when their soft fur was stripped - piece by piece by piece - from their bodies. If I had come upon these men, all that and more would have been done to them - while alive."

As Jim listened, he couldn't help but see Blair's gorilla family - little Nusu playing with Blair's hair, imitating him whenever possible...and Kaleefa, accepting him as her son's mate....

He could see the family playing, the young ones wrestling with Blair....

Blair's - and Bakari's - family.

Voice low with emotion, Jim said, "I'm sorry, Ebo. Truly."

"I understand, Dingane." Ebo gazed at the bodies, then back up to Jim as he said, "I pray you are right, that Bakari did not do this - but not for your reason, Rafiki."

"The man I know could not have done this."

Ebo shook his head sadly and said quietly, "Did you ever truly know him, Rafiki? He is here, on this mountain, yet does not show himself. He only came to the village after the last murder of six gorillas. And he left almost immediately. He was not the man I knew. Tatu called him Kifu - which you would translate to mean 'as if dead'. Jioni, although a fool, may have correctly warned the Magharibi not to get too close to Bakari because of Kuzimu."

Simon beat everyone else by being the first to ask, "Kuzimu?"

Ebo's eyes flicked away as he murmured, "It means land or realm of the dead. Jioni was saying that Bakari was already in Kuzimu and anyone moving within his circle would join him. There are a few others in our tribe who are as foolish as Jioni, but fortunately, most are loyal and ignored him. But none of us have been able to find Bakari in order to help him."

"So you're saying that Blair is alone?" Simon asked, his voice incredulous.

"Yes."

The words struck them all hard, but Jim physically reeled back and only Simon's arms kept him from literally falling. As Jim straightened, his emotions shut down and, without a backward glance, he started walking again.

Ebo followed - but Megan looked at Alex and Simon and, confused, asked, "But the bodies?"

Ebo was the one to answer her. "Leave them for the jungle. They deserve no more."

***

Bakari sat on the limb of the great tree and surveyed the land around his home. He glanced down at his hands, at his right hand in particular. There was dried blood on it and he knew that more covered him. The hand however, was the source of his disconnected perusal. It had wielded the club.

Even now, he could feel its weight, the ease with which it flew through the air... but then he shut his eyes and he trembled as he felt - again - the club striking its target...the hollow thud, the recoil, and then the blood and brain matter....

He had killed.

Murdered.

But he had no soul to worry about so why the pain?

With dead eyes, he continued to guard his jungle as his mind traveled back....

"Oh, no you don't, you can't get away from me. See? No vines." Jim pointed up at his vaulted ceilings, then back down to his victim.

Blair was backed against the far wall, eyes gleaming wickedly, lips drawn up in feral grin. "I don't need vines, Oh, Great Sentinel. Come on, give it your best shot."

Jim's eyes narrowed as he crouched down, taking what could only be called a football position, fingers of his right hand splayed on the floor, shoulders hunched over, chin jutting forward.

Before Blair could blink...Jim launched himself and, just when he was certain Blair, who hadn't so much as twitched, was his, the younger man vaulted over him to land lightly behind him.

With a cackle, Blair was on the move again.

Jim growled low and began to stalk as Blair moved silently around the room, eyes never leaving Jim's, his lips slightly parted.

Jim was just getting ready to go again when he was attacked by one hundred and sixty-five pounds of octopus.

Jim fell back, one hand behind him to brace himself, the other arm around Blair. Laughing, they fell to the floor as Blair moved at breakneck speed with his hands, ripping material and then exploring with his hands and lips. Jim, wise man that he was, simply enjoyed himself.

After a couple of satisfying minutes, Blair sat up, his legs on each side of the older man's hips. He grabbed the hem of his polo shirt and slowly pulled it up and over his head. Jim's hands slid up his chest, across his shoulders, then, as his head appeared, hair loose and wild, Jim took the shirt and tossed it away.

Gazing up into Blair's eyes, Jim whispered in a low voice, husky with passion, "Seems I caught you."

Blair snorted and said, "Yeah, riii-ght... you're so easy."

"We'll see about that monkey man...."

"Gorillas are not monkeys, you ape."

"Look who's talking, Hair Boy."

"Yeah? Well, you're a snake."

"A python," Jim mused. "Yeah, I like that...a python."

Now both men were laughing - until Jim tightened his grip around Blair, his eyes going molten lava. Blair's smile faded - to be replaced by a wild hunger. He lowered his head as Jim raised his - and their lips met hungrily. When they broke the kiss, Blair simply moved his lips down Jim's jaw, down his neck and to his shoulder, shoving Jim's shirt aside at the same time. He finally reached Jim's left nipple, latched onto it, played with it, bit lightly before moving further down Jim's body. He undid Jim's belt, yanked the button open and pulled the zipper down. Sliding further down Jim's body - until he was poised over Jim's cock - he flicked out his tongue teasingly as Jim moaned in pleasure.

"Jesus, Blair...that's good...so good...."

Blair started to suck as he teased Jim's balls, knowing that Jim was exercising control, trying not to thrust. It was their game - Jim holding back, Blair exercising every trick in the book to bring Jim to the brink before pushing him over.

And he was winning.

Suddenly Jim's hips jerked upward and Jim, all pretense at control gone, grasped Blair's head to hold him in place. Blair smiled around Jim's cock, sucked in his cheeks and then started humming. It didn't take long - he could feel Jim's impending orgasm, got ready for it - and when Jim finally came, it was with Blair's name on his lips.

Blair crawled up Jim's body, licking his lips, watching that normally impassive face now showing signs of his orgasm with twitching muscles, a slack mouth and eyes tightly shut. Blair moved alongside him and took him into his arms, cradling his head on his chest as he smoothed his hand through Jim's short hair.

After a time, Jim shifted slightly and murmured, "What 'bout you?"

"Sssh, I'm fine, Jim, sleep. For you, always. Love you." Jim murmured something unintelligible as he drifted off...safe in Blair's arms.

Blair held tighter, cheek resting on the top of Jim's head, felt the butterflies, the tiny kernel of fear leftover from his time at Oxford - but shook it off. As long as he kept Jim happy, Jim would want him. This wasn't like Kelly because Jim loved him.

But of course, Jim hadn't and it had been exactly like Oxford and Kelly.

Bakari continued to stare out over the jungle.

***

Colonel Oliver sat on his sleeping bag, legs crossed in typical lotus position. His eyes were closed, breathing regular and deep. The sounds of the night did not disturb him, his mind was too focused on his goal and nothing else.

The Ghost Man. His quarry. His prize.

Akiris was a fool. Oliver was not. He'd made another decision. If Akiris got two million for the creature at Rushton's, which wasn't as 'underground' as it once had been, then he could double that by placing him with Carlo Polome, the one person who would succeed in auctioning off the Ghost and deliver, literally, a King's ransom.

Oliver had dipped into white slavery in the past, but computers had changed how these things were done now. Polome ran the most lucrative - and top secret - on-line auction. There were never more than a handful of bidders and they represented the wealthiest, most powerful men in the world. Men who knew that they'd be bidding on one-of-a-kind, rare 'items'.

The law could not touch these men and the money Oliver could realize would ensure a lifetime of wealth and comfort. He would be out of the mercenary business for good.

***

Jim could smell the village, could already hear its life even though they were still miles away. It was dark, but their sense of urgency drove them on. They needed to reach the Magharibi tonight.

They were within two miles when Jim stopped, held up his hand and said, "Ebo, they're about to surround us - you might want to let them know who we are."

Ebo nodded and, holding his hands to his mouth, made a strange bird call. From the darkness came an answering call.

Several minutes later, the Magharibi appeared, seemingly from the vegetation around them. Ebo stepped forward as an older warrior, very tall and carrying a spear, held out one arm, spear extended. Ebo nodded and said, "Jambo! Tatu."

The two men clasped forearms, then stepped back as Ebo made the introductions in Swahili and English. Jim recognized only Abasi, who greeted him warmly, but the others were clearly relieved to see him as many whispered, "Dingane" as they looked upon him.

Ebo said a few words to Tatu, who stepped toward Jim, clasped his arm hard and said, "Dingane, Mfufuaji."

All eyes turned to Ebo who was frowning at Tatu's comment. He shook his head, refusing to answer their unasked questions. Instead, he motioned that they should all proceed, the village close.

As they moved out, the Magharibi leading the way, Jim felt a chill at Tatu's greeting, which seemed more of a foreboding than a welcome.

***

The village was quiet, the welcome of Dingane long since over. Ebo had disappeared with Abasi after they'd eaten and Simon, Megan and Alex were now settled in one of the huts and down for the count. Only Jim remained awake. He sat in the small hut that had belonged to Blair, eyes smarting at the devastation in front of him.

"We don't know when he did this, Dingane."

Jim stood and whirled to face Father Benjamin.

The priest stepped in and stood before the small desk. "It happened sometime in the last few days. Not even the Magharibi heard him."

"Why? Why would he do this?"

Facing the detective, one eyebrow raised in surprise, he asked, "You don't know, Dingane?"

Jim shook his head.

"I believe his intent was to destroy every aspect of Blair Sandburg. Books, clothing, drawings - his notes and journals - anything and everything he left behind when he joined you." Eyes sad, the priest looked at the destruction and added, "It wasn't enough for him to kill my son, he had to destroy all signs that Blair Sandburg ever existed."

"Dear God," Jim exclaimed, falling back down on the bed, knees suddenly weak. "I did this, Father. I did this to him."

Sighing, Benjamin said, "According to my vows, I'm a priest first - but in reality, I a father first; Blair's father, and one who loves him greatly. With that in mind, please understand that I am now speaking as both." He stepped forward and, with gentle eyes, said, "If you do not love Blair, you need to leave at first light."

Shocked, Jim said, "I don't know what he told you, but I love him more than my own life - I would die for him, Father."

Confused, Benjamin said, "I don't understand. I expected you to admit that you were here, not because you loved him, but to help. He spoke of another - someone else who owned your heart."

Jim scrubbed a hand over his face as he tried to find the words to explain to the priest. Finally he looked up and said, "The only person between us in Cascade was me - and my fears. I should have confided in him but I guess I was too ashamed. Damn it--"

Realizing what he'd just said, Jim shook his head. "Sorry about that--"

Benjamin raised a hand and smiled. "It's all right, son, believe me. But maybe you could explain what you mean by 'fears'?"

"I...didn't want the responsibility of being a sentinel. I was running from it - which meant running from Blair because he was a constant reminder of who I was supposed to be." He gave a dry laugh. "I'm a coward, Father. And Blair may pay the price."

Benjamin sat down beside Jim and said, "Are you certain that the fear wasn't more about loving a man than of being a sentinel?"

"Hardly, Father. I'm gay. Loving Blair was the easiest thing I've ever done and he was the best thing that ever happened to me. Unfortunately, I think the weight of being a guardian somehow got all tangled up with my love for him. I couldn't separate the two. I also felt guilty about taking him from you, from the mountain - and changing his life in ways that weren't the best thing for him. Put all that together and I guess I started to push him away." He gave an impatient shake of his head. "I don't blame him for leaving."

"I...I'm still confused. He also told me there was another woman and that she was a sentinel as well?"

Jim nodded. "You met her. Alexis Barnes. Blair discovered what she was and, between the two of us, we'd been helping her cope."

"Helping? But surely she had...what did Blair call--"

"A back-up, like a partner, a guide?" At Benjamin's nod, Jim said, "She does - the other woman traveling with us, Megan Connor, is Alex's 'guide', so-to-speak. But we only discovered this after Blair left. He doesn't know."

It was finally beginning to make sense to Father Benjamin. Basically, it boiled down to two men and their complete and utter failure to communicate. He closed his eyes and, for a brief moment, wished he could let loose with a few choice epithets the Church would definitely frown upon. Instead, he sighed, prayed for wisdom and the right words and finally said in his most priestly-like manner, "When I get the two of you within reach - I'm going to knock your heads together."

Jim blinked rapidly. "What?"

"You heard me. But before I can do that - I have to actually get you two together - and that's going to take all of us. Now, I want you to listen to me, Jim, and listen good. Blair loves you. He never stopped, but he did come to believe that you never truly loved him. Had this other Sentinel not been found, I have no doubt he'd be with you still. It was only when he was certain you'd be safe and taken care of that he left."

"My God, of course. That's why he moved downstairs," Jim said, the light bulb finally coming on. "Not because he thought I'd betrayed him, but because... Oh, shit. That's even worse." He rubbed his eyes tiredly and added, "I think maybe I'll just go knock my head against the nearest tree."

Squeezing Jim's arm reassuringly, Benjamin said, "You just need to understand how he views himself, Jim - especially since you both have so much in common regarding fears. For you, being a detective is how you're comfortable. You know who you are. But then God threw you a curve ball in th form of heightened senses. But instead of viewing them as a gift - you only saw the freakish part of the whole thing - and who can blame you? The world is based on conformity." He looked around the destroyed room. "It was much the same for Blair. Here, on the mountain, as Bakari, he's comfortable, has respect, knows who and what he is. But it was as Blair that he felt the freak." He cocked his head. "Did he never tell you of his years in England?"

"Not really. I know he went to Oxford, but that's all he ever said about it."

"Maybe it's time you knew." With that, he began the story of Blair, Oxford and a girl named Kelly.

***

Jim swung his legs over the edge of the small cot that had once served as Blair's bed. There was nothing left of him, no warmth or comforting scent, but the knowledge that he'd been here was enough for Jim. He stared at the hut, at all that was left of Blair as his heart thudded wildly in his chest - a leftover of the nightmare that had awakened him. He checked his watch and realized he'd been asleep for close to three hours. Only two hours until dawn, but his mind was telling him to go now, to find Blair. He was edgy and twitchy, the jungle calling him so fiercely that he had to move.

He reached for the fatigues hanging on the back of the chair, pulled them on over his boxers, then slipped on his t-shirt. He reached for his boots, upended them, shook them, and then put them on, laced them up and got to his feet.

Last night at dinner, he'd heard the word, 'Mfufuaji' again, whispered over and over again and he'd finally asked Ebo what it meant. He hadn't liked the answer. Mfufuaji, when translated, meant "One who brings back from the dead."

The Magharibi believed that Dingane was also the Mfufuaji. That he would bring Bakari back from the realm of the dead.

Jim glanced into the corner by the door, at the quiver and arrows...at the bow and spear. He walked over, slung the quiver and bow over his shoulder and took up the spear.

Dingane was ready.

At the last moment, the practical detective took over and Jim went back to the desk, retrieved his revolver from his pack and stuck it in his waistband.

***

Bakari dropped to the ground, his body crying out for the soothing, cleansing, cool waters of Lake Kijini and the Kinyamkela Falls. His stomach no longer demanded food, but Bakari instinctively knew that the final battle was near and, if his family was to remain safe, he must be strong. As he walked toward the lake, he took fruit as needed, ate it without joy and discarded what he couldn't finish. His stomach actually rebelled at the unaccustomed food but he fought it and kept the nourishment down.

The thunderous sound of the majestic falls welcomed him before he could see them, their spray traveling over trees to brush against his skin and face. He finally reached the lake and, as he stood on the edge, eyes gazing at the wonder of the Kinyamkela Falls, a vision surfaced of swimming with Jim...but he shook himself in an attempt to shake off the unwanted memories.

He dove in.

Seconds later he surfaced and, with legs lightly kicking, stayed in place while waiting quietly for the first rays of sun to reach his face.

***

Delicious odors woke Simon from an exhausted sleep. Rolling over, he cracked open an eye, peered out the slightly waving curtain that served as a door to the hut, and noted with a miserable grunt that it was still dark out.

Unfortunately, the smells were too enticing to ignore so, grumbling, he got up and received yet another shock - he was alone in the hut. He dressed quickly and headed out, glancing briefly at the cot that had been Megan's. He'd been shocked when, last night, he, Alex and Megan had been shown to the same hut for their accommodations. He wouldn't normally have been fazed, but he'd been experiencing some surprising feelings for his exchange officer, and the sharing of sleeping quarters would definitely test his will power to the extreme.

As it happened, all three had been so exhausted, they'd done nothing more than collapse gratefully and fall asleep almost immediately. But now, alone in the hut, he let his hand rest on her pillow, for just an instant, before going outside.

***

"You mean, he just left?"

"I'm afraid so, Alex. But it is not surprising that he would go to Bakari, is it?"

Alex had to agree with Ebo, it wasn't surprising at all. She knew instinctively that she'd have gone after Megan under similar circumstances. She glanced over at Megan, saw her blue eyes light up, and knew without having to rely on her senses that Simon was up and about to join them.

"Anyone notice that it's still dark out?" His voice boomed out in the quiet.

Megan grinned as Alex and Ebo laughed outright.

"I just knew you'd been made Captain for a reason...Sir."

Simon raised an eyebrow at his exchange officer and quipped back, "Someone has to be the one to tell you these things, Connor. And speaking of still being dark - why are we up before the sun?"

Alex pointed across the middle of the village where Tatu stood with six other warriors. "They're preparing to track the remaining soldiers. They want to end this today."

Simon frowned. Only seven warriors against how many trained, armed mercenaries? "Ebo, they can't possibly be thinking of--"

"Rafiki, there are only a handful of soldiers left. The Magharibi can handle them, trust me."

"I don't care how many there are - they have automatic weapons, they'll slaughter the Magharibi."

"Because they've been so successful in stopping Bakari so far, yes? That's how powerful their weapons?"

"What do you mean, Ebo?" Alex asked.

"The Magharibi confirmed that it was Bakari who destroyed the three we found and at least four others. They came across the remains of another battle days ago. No bodies - only blood."

Seven trained, ruthless jungle fighters - dead - and Ebo was telling them that they had died at the hands of Blair? Their Blair? But they'd already discussed this, hadn't they? Simon shouldn't really be surprised - besides, he wasn't their Blair - he was Bakari.

As he accepted that - he realized someone was missing. Looking around, he asked, "Where's Jim?"

"He left at least a couple of hours ago - he went after Blair," Megan answered, her voice cracking with emotion.

Simon glanced around him, at the early morning activity, at the warriors moving out, families silently watching....

"So," he finally said as he rubbed his hands together. "What are we waiting for? They may need us. Let's go, people."

***

George Akiris faced what was left of his army; three men who represented Oliver's best. Akiris supposed he could take some comfort in that, since these three were still alive - still here. "You have your orders. Find the gorillas, destroy them and make us rich, gentlemen."

The tallest, and if Akiris remembered correctly, the most dangerous other than Oliver himself, stepped forward and saluted. "We won't fail."

"No, Lash, I don't believe you will - this time."

Lash led his men into the forest, Akiris watching until he could see nothing of them. Today, he would have it all.

***

Water. Oliver could smell it.

He pulled out his map, checked his co-ordinates and pinpointed the source; Lake Kijini. He knew of it, of the immense falls at its southern end. He nodded with satisfaction. The area above the great falls would be the perfect spot to keep his ghost man until he could take care of Akiris.

He plodded on, sunrise less than an hour away. The moon, while fading, was still sending silver strips at odd angles through the dark ceiling of foliage and now he could actually hear the Kinyamkela Falls. Twenty minutes later, he was standing on the edge of Lake Kijini.

If he'd been prone to noticing things like the beauty of nature, he would have found his breath leaving him, his heart caught in his throat by the majesty before him. He'd seen Victoria Falls and, while these were not as grand, they were awesome in their own right. But Oliver was not looking at the cascading water, he was gazing at the figure floating in the lake, the light of the waning moon highlighting the still form. Oliver smiled at his luck. This was his ghost man.

Oliver considered his options: he could fire a round into the water and force him out, but that might drive him under and allow him to escape - or he could hide and, when he exited the water, take him down, but he was unsure of the man's strength. The ghost had, after all, taken out seven of Oliver's men - so hand-to-hand combat could be a risk.

That left option number three. Use stealth and take him in the water - now.

With the thundering falls masking any noise he might make, Oliver stripped down quietly and efficiently before sliding into the lake....

***

Bakari floated aimlessly, letting the water lap gently against him, the vibrations of the falls relaxing him. His mind began to wander and both his memory and imagination allowed him to feel Jim's hands roaming up and down his body. Eyes closed, he breathed out one word - "Jim."

As he continued to live in the past, to dream of happier times, he felt a minute shift in the current, but ignored it, too wrapped up in his memories. He could feel Jim's arms wrapped around him...could feel one of them slide upward...and he smiled....

...at that precise moment, he was dragged beneath the water.

He opened his eyes to see the moon fade from his sight as water closed over him, his breath stolen by a phantom arm that wasn't Jim's - but that tightened around his throat. He tried to fight, but the blackness engulfed him and his last conscious thought was that he had failed his family....

***

Oliver dragged the unconscious body out of the water and dropped it to the grass. His attack had been swift and surprisingly easy. He walked to his pack and pulled out two thick lines of rope and carried them back to the unconscious man. He quickly tied the man's wrists behind his back, then brought up his legs and tied them at the ankles. Satisfied with his work, he put his clothes back on, gathered up his pack and gun, hoisted the man over his shoulder and began the journey to the top of the Kinyamkela Falls.

It would be difficult, carrying the man and climbing, but speed was essential. He had to be at the top and set up before the man regained consciousness.

***

Jim reached the tree, heart in his throat. He already new Blair wasn't there because he could hear no heartbeat, but he hoped to find signs that he had been - and recently. He climbed, noted that nothing remained of Blair's original home, but at the same time, he spotted the newly-made sleeping nest. He reached out a hand and ran it slowly over the thick grasses...and smiled. Body heat, Blair's body heat. They'd missed him by such a short time - maybe an hour.

Which meant they were close - they'd find him.

***

The sun rose, and with it, the temperature. Simon paused, drank from his canteen and then capped it and moved ahead. Ebo was leading them to the tree where Jim hoped he would find Bakari - and Simon hadn't stopped praying since they'd left the village. Megan was just in front of him, Alex ahead of her. He saw Alex stop with a hand on Ebo's arm and he could hear her ask how much further.

"Another twenty minutes, maybe less," he answered.

No one else spoke, all hoping that in twenty minutes they would find Jim and Blair.

***

Kaleefa sat in the deep grass and watched her family argue. The younger males were rebelling against their father, posturing, pushing, even beating their chest and baring their teeth. Kula had even thumped Orantu's chest and bared his teeth. Through it all, Orantu sat impassively, secretly proud of their antics, but knowing full well that only he would go down the mountain to Bakari. He crossed his arms over his massive chest, jutted out his jaw, and turned away from his sons. The message was clear: they'd lost.

Kaleefa watched, amused, as one by one, they each dropped an open hand on Orantu's arm, signaling their defeat before ambling off.

Nusu had been observing the whole debacle with interest and he now loped over to his father, beat his small chest and bared his teeth. A great arm swung down and cuffed the baby, who immediately flipped over and scampered back to his mother, plucking up grass and tossing it over his shoulder in an excellent imitation of his elders.

Kaleefa smiled indulgently and then made her way to her mate. She rested her head against his for the briefest of moments, than rejoined her family. When she turned back - he was gone.

***

Pain lanced through his body, pain so sharp that it forced him back to consciousness. His eyes fluttered open and he found himself staring into dark green eyes, eyes that narrowed as a stranger grabbed his jaw. He fought it, tried to jerk away, but the green eyes glinted in anger and an arm snaked around his waist and yanked hard.

The resulting pain nearly drove him over the edge, but he squeezed his eyes shut while trying to block out the blinding pain. He bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. As the pain finally dulled, the man twisted Bakari's head around, forcing their eyes to meet.

"So, you're the ghost man? Or should that be ghost boy?"

Bakari kept silent but his gaze took in the man, assessing.

"Allow me to introduce myself." He bowed slightly. "Colonel Oliver, at your service." He cocked his head. "You've cost me a great deal in the form of both men and money, but that ends now. In fact, you're about to make me a very rich man."

Bakari took what little saliva he had left - and spit in the man's face.

Oliver wiped the spittle away as Bakari prepared himself for more pain - but instead, Oliver simply turned away.

With his captor's back to him, Bakari had his first opportunity to try and figure out what had been done to him. He tilted his head up and back, and realized that he was hanging from the limb of one of the few, ancient trees above Kinyamkela Falls. As he focused, tried to block out the pain, he further realized that two ropes had been utilized to secure him, thus spreading each arm up and out. One end of each rope was tied to a wrist, then looped over the tree limb, brought down and tied to the wide base of the tree. He tried to test the strength of the rope, but any further pressure brought almost unbearable pain as his joints were pulled beyond their range of comfort.

"Ingenious, isn't it? You might call it the jungle version of the rack... my own invention, mind you." Bakari found his jaw captured again as he was forced to stare into Oliver's cold green eyes.

"It's especially clever as your body acts as a counter weight, thus preventing you from attacking me with your legs. The pain upon any such attempt would undoubtedly bring loss of consciousness."

Bakari worked hard to show no emotion or understanding - he didn't even blink. He just stared, unflinchingly.

Looking as if he weren't fooled in the least, Oliver asked, "You understand me, don't you? Or perhaps I need to drop down on all fours, grunt a bit and pound my chest? Maybe then you'd understand me?"

Oliver let go of Bakari's face and stepped back to survey his prize. His eyes started at the top of Bakari's head, then traveled slowly downward before finally asking, "Do you fuck the gorillas or let them fuck you? It won't matter one way or the other, in fact, fucking gorillas can be a turn on to some." He scratched his chin. "However, I do wonder... have you ever been fucked by a man?"

Bakari continued to stare impassively back at his captor, letting nothing show in his eyes, betraying nothing.

"You probably think this will end in your death." He didn't expect a response, so he continued, "But no, my plan is much better considering how much you've cost me. It's only fair that you're responsible for my reimbursement." He stepped back into Bakari's space. "You'll undoubtedly bring the largest bid ever recorded. And believe me, in the past, even royalty has been auctioned off, great beauties of the world, but still, for you? Millions will be offered. Their own private gorilla man - young, beautiful, strong, dangerous... Oh, yes, you'll bring a fortune and I'll have my very generous cut."

He lifted his left hand to reveal a small, black device.

"Do you know what this is? No, of course not. This is a wonderful invention and one that will give me great and immediate satisfaction in the form of another kind of reimbursement." He turned to his right and pressed the trigger. Three wires jumped out, light crackling as a snapping sound electrified the air. "This is called a taser. Normally, it's a fairly safe method of self-defense as the wires shoot out by small air blasts that give enough of an electric current to incapacitate. However, our government loves to fiddle with such things and they've made a few adjustments to this little gem."

With no more preamble than that, he turned the gun on Bakari and fired. The wires shot out, striking his abdomen. The pain hit him hard, sending white-hot flames of it through him as his body convulsed. His head jerked back, eyes widening involuntarily as his world wavered and black streaks shot across his eyes. But still, he managed to bite down hard, to keep from crying out, from screaming to the skies above him.

Everything faded...

...then came back.

"Brilliant, isn't it? I can cause pain the likes of which you've never experienced, yet leave no permanent marks on your body. I get another form of revenge, yet eventually deliver you in pristine condition, take my money and live like a king while imagining what your owner will do to you. Can't think of anything better."

He fired again, this time the wires striking the soft, sensitive flesh of Bakari's inner thigh....

***

Jim was close to the falls but it wasn't his senses telling him that - it was the spray. His senses were past helping him - thanks to spiking all over the place, leaving his head pounding and jagged streaks of light shooting across his eyes.

He tried to keep one foot in front of the other, but the blinding pain finally forced him to his knees as he hissed out, "Blair...."

***

TBC in Part 5

Bakari & Dingane - Part 5

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 00:18:32 GMT

***

He was swimming in blackness with no warmth or comfort, so different from his usual zones. He could feel hands on him, hear their voices, and yet, he was stuck in the darkness....

***

"Is it a zone?" Simon asked, his worried expression a testament to his fear.

Alex shook her head, but her expression said she wasn't all that sure.

Megan dropped down beside Jim and, taking him into her arms, began to croon softly.

Several minutes passed and, while there was some improvement, it wasn't enough to bring Jim back. Ebo glanced over at Alex and said, "Join her. Where normally only one is needed, now is the time for two."

Alex bit her lower lip and gazed worriedly down at the prone man. She could make it worse. "I don't know, Ebo, I could increase his discomfort."

"No. He will feed from your energy. He needs stability now - but without Bakari, he has none. You two, with your spirits combined, can help him. Do it."

She didn't question how he knew this, only whether he was right, but Megan's expression told her to try. She knelt, taking his right hand into hers and holding it to her breast.

***

The jagged spears of light dimmed and the thundering falls diminished to within normal parameters as energy flowed into Jim from two vastly different - yet familiar - sources. Daylight returned and, with it, the overwhelming need to find Blair....

***

...red haze... stabbing pain... awareness....

Bakari's eyes fluttered open and the world swam before him. His stomach rebelled, but through sheer force of will, he kept its meager contents down.

Every muscle, every inch of his skin, every limb burned with a fire so blazing hot, he knew its memory would never leave him. Oliver had hit him over and over again and every time he lost consciousness, Oliver either waited or assisted the his return to consciousness with a few quick slaps before starting over again.

Bakari's thighs, the bottom of his feet, his armpits, his stomach, the small of his back, his neck, the palms of his hands, his wrists, his genitals... strike after strike after strike as Oliver's warped anger found an outlet. It didn't help that Bakari refused to utter a sound. No moans or screams - just complete and utter control in the face of such complete lack of control.

As awareness returned this time, as he fought through the pain, he could see Oliver seated on the grass, eyes closed, legs crossed, waiting for him to come around again - and Bakari made his decision. It didn't matter the cost, he would draw on every reserve he had and he would escape - now.
"Please," he said, making it sound more like a whimper.

Oliver's head shot up in surprise as he scrambled to his feet. Without thinking, he walked close, head tilted in curiosity. "You spoke - and in English too. Well, well, well - your price just skyrocketed. I'm impressed."

"Please...water...."

Oliver stepped in closer, and as he did, Bakari drew on every ounce of strength he possessed and, using his stomach as his center, pulled his legs up at the waist. In a lightening fast move, he quickly had his legs around the man's neck in a punishing grip. He squeezed hard, drawing from a source he couldn't identify, praying it would be enough to bring the man to unconsciousness.

Oliver's hands flailed, tried to lock onto Bakari's legs, but Bakari was winning as he continued to squeeze. Finally Oliver's arms dropped listlessly to his side, Bakari let go, and Oliver dropped to the ground.

For the first time he could remember, Bakari thanked his Oxford education and the lessons in balance, counterbalances and counterweights, not to mention centers of gravity.

He let his own body go limp, conserving energy for the next, more difficult task...even though he didn't know how much time he had before Oliver regained consciousness.

Eventually - he felt ready, so he wrapped his fingers around the rope, closed his eyes tightly - and pulled himself up. Once the pressure was off his shoulder joints, he used the immense strength of his hands - hands that were used to supporting his weight while moving from vine to vine - to start to bounce while pulling at the ropes. Thankfully, he watched as the ropes frayed, as the anchor at the base of the tree unraveled.

It was a race...he knew that. One of three things needed to happen before Oliver came to: The ancient limb had to give way, the frayed edges of the rope snap, or the anchor would unravel - any of which would free him.

He knew one had to happen - but in time?

***

"Jim, are you with us?"

He opened his eyes to his friends, smiled shakily and nodded.

Megan looked up at Simon with a wondrous expression. "It worked, it actually worked." The large man nodded, smiling like an idiot.

Alex turned to Ebo and, with awe in her voice, asked, "How? How did you know?"

"We were told that Dingane would come with double magic. How could it not?"

The three looked at each other, dumbfounded by this logic.

Jim listened to them talking while at the same time, used the time to gather himself together. Now he separated himself from Megan's arms and began to stand. Both Simon and Ebo moved to assist him and neither were surprised when he waved them off.

Once he was standing, Alex asked, "What happened?"

"I don't know. My senses went whacky and it was pretty painful. But now - thanks to you two, I'm fine."

Simon snorted and responded, "I can't wait to tell Blair that your senses went whacky. A new term I'm certain he'll embrace."

At Blair's name, everyone sobered, including Simon, who realized what he'd said moments after saying it.

"Dingane, you were headed for Lake Kijini, yes?"

Jim nodded and Ebo said, "Well then, shall we? We are only a short distance and you obviously hope to find Bakari there."

Megan and Alex stood and, together, the five continued through the jungle, the roar of the falls leading them on.

***

Oliver began to moan, his hands twitching. Hearing him, Bakari started to pull in earnest, putting all his strength, fear, hatred and anger into freeing himself. Coughing, Oliver rolled to his side, which caused Bakari to panic. He started twisting, jerking, ignoring the pain, ignoring the blood running in rivulets down his arms...and the frayed rope ends gave way.

Just as Oliver's eyes opened, Bakari dropped heavily to the ground, rolled, tucked and sprang up, chest heaving, body covered in blood and sweat from his efforts.

Moaning, Oliver sat up, holding his neck as Bakari looked to his right and left, assessing his options. He noted that behind him and to his right there was only rock - while to his left, the falls. And obviously, in front of him, the path back down - and - Oliver.

At that moment, Oliver started to get to his feet even as he reached for his gun, so Bakari took a chance by attempting to vault over the man.

He almost made it.

Oliver, realizing what was happening, abandoned the attempt at his gun and, instead, reached up and caught Bakari's ankle, bringing him down. Bakari landed hard, but whipped around and lashed out with his other leg, catching Oliver in the face. The blow freed him and he scrambled to his feet - but so did Oliver. Bakari knew he'd lose if they fought and if he turned and ran, Oliver would simply shoot him. That meant that his only hope was to his right - and the falls. He feinted left, Oliver pivoted, and Bakari ran in the opposite direction and straight toward the cliffs.

***

"Dear god, it's beautiful," Simon murmured, clearly in awe of the majesty of the falls before them. They stood on the banks of the Kijini, the falls to their right. The water thundered down, spray rising back up, keeping the vegetation thick and nourished. As the others watched the miracle of the Kinyamkela Falls, Jim searched for signs of Bakari....

***

Bakari ran through the sparse foliage that marked the top of the falls, knowing that he was going to have to dive.

He'd made dives from falls before, but none as high as this. He doubted he'd survive but at least it offered a slim chance compared to his other options, which weren't worth thinking about. He could hear Oliver behind him, close enough to use the gun, but he hadn't and Bakari smiled. Oliver knew they were headed for the falls and he didn't believe for a minute that Bakari would jump.

He was wrong.

Bakari could see the river, could hear the rushing water, so he veered left toward the rock outcropping. He ran across the stone and stopped at the edge.

***

"Oh, dear God." Megan couldn't believe her eyes. There was a figure on the of the falls.

Alex and Jim zeroed in on the lone man and Jim immediately yelled out, "Blair!"

Realizing immediately that he couldn't hear them, Jim ran swiftly down the bank, the others following and stopping behind him. As Jim watched, he understood what Blair was going to do. Shaking his head, he murmured, "No, no, no... Dear God, don't."

The figure, so easily identifiable to Jim and Alex, glanced over his shoulder, and now they could see the other man.

"Oliver," Jim hissed out.

All eyes were focused on the top of the falls as Simon whispered, "How high?"

"Almost - 200 hundred feet, Rafiki."

Simon remembered the cliff divers of Acapulco. They dove 130 feet....

"He can't make it," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

At the top, Bakari glanced over his shoulder, saw Oliver, looked back to the sky beyond the cliff...brought his arms out from his side, toes as close to the edge as possible and, with no thought of how this would end, rose up on his toes...and flew....

***

Oliver skidded to a stop, shocked by what he was seing. He watched, helpless, as his fortune sailed over the edge of the falls.

***

Below, they watched in horror as Bakari seemed to float toward them, arms moving into the position of the classic high board diver. Then he was plunging down almost 200 feet...his body quickly disappearing as the white water mist clouded over him.

But Jim could see him easily and began tearing off his clothes. He was in the water before Bakari hit the lake.

Simon and the others watched, helpless, as Jim swam strongly, eyes glued to the spot where Bakari had disappeared.

Alex began to strip, thinking that two pairs of sentinel eyes were better than one.

***

Jim ducked under the foaming spray and kicked down, eyes scanning, searching frantically for his soulmate. He knew that he had to find Blair first time down, that going back up for air would cost too dearly.

He swam as though digging, the water heavy, like wet concrete and he couldn't move fast enough. The falls were deafening him, the vibrations driving him crazy. But suddenly - there, just below him, a glimmer of white. He focused, concentrated, his vision clearing, narrowing down to that smidgen of skin. It was Bakari's arm and now he could see waves of hair beckoning him, reaching out for him, tendrils demanding that he take hold....

Jim struggled forward, fingers itching to touch as his lungs burned and his head pounded....

...and then he had contact. The whiteness of his fingers closed around Bakari's wrist and he gave a strong tug. Bakari's body slid into his arms as he maneuvered them around. He tilted his head up, aimed for the surface, legs kicking, scissoring back and forth, back and forth, one arm around Blair, the other trying to dig them out of their wet trap.

Bubbles escaped as he held Blair limp against him and the surface floated closer, brighter, the circle of light widening, ever brighter, ever wider....

He broke through to the world above, his body shooting up like a whale and, like a whale, he fell back almost immediately, Blair on top of him.

For the others, time froze once Jim went under, but seeing him break the surface, a collective gasp of relief whooshed out. Alex dove in, swam out to him and helped bring Bakari back.

As they neared the bank, Simon and Ebo stepped into the water, arms reaching for Bakari's limp body, pulling him out, Jim and Alex following.

Simon laid him down on the grass and turned him over as Jim knelt on the other side. "Is he breathing, Jim? Can you hear his heart?"

Jim ignored the questions because it didn't matter, he would make Blair breathe again.

He started to administer mouth-to-mouth as Megan took up the position for CPR. He breathed in, turned his head, watched for the chest to rise, then breathed in again, two more times, then Megan, then he, then Megan....

Simon stared at the open blue eyes, eyes that were seeing nothing, and knew Blair was gone, knew that everyone else was equally aware but that Jim was refusing to accept the truth; the inevitable. Megan was crying, but continuing the chest compressions, unable to give up as long as Jim was giving mouth-to-mouth, but it was beginning to feel worse, as if they were heaping more pain and indignity on Blair's body.

Alex stood from where she'd been kneeling, her hand on Blair's cold arm. She stepped back, unable to cry, feeling the icy fingers of hopelessness.

"Jim." Simon said his name quietly.

Jim ignored him.

"Jim," he demanded. "He's gone - let him go."

Megan heard the words and leaned back on her heels, agreeing with the truth behind them. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, unchecked, as she watched the anger with which Jim continued to minister to all that was left of Blair.

"Please, Jim, please? Let him go, oh, God, let him go," she begged as she took in the condition of Blair's body, the strange bruising that signified recognized multiple taser hits, his torn and bloody wrists....

Simon bent down and pulled Jim away, but it took all his strength to do it. "He's - gone, Jim, he's gone. No one could have survived that dive."

For a single, brief moment, Jim gave in. The world seemed to still, the sound of the falls behind them faded as they stared down at their friend, at the slender body, bruised and tortured, his hair flaring out from his head in damp curls and the cerulean blue eyes, eyes that had held so much life - now empty.

Megan leaned forward and gently closed them.

Ebo stared at his friends, then at Jim. "Mfufuaji, Dingane."

Jim blinked in confusion as he looked at Ebo.

"You are the Mfufuaji. Use your spirit to bring him back from Kuzimu. Do it, Dingane, have no fear."

Simon let his hand drop from Jim's arm, Ebo's words giving hope where no hope should be.

Jim focused on Blair and, as he stared at the beloved face, it was suddenly bathed in a golden hue, a brightness that pulled him down, urged his touch, energy, his very life.

He gave it all.

He moved his hands over Blair's face, smoothing the brow, thumb running over Blair's lower lip, not knowing what to expect, but giving himself over to it, prepared to join Blair in Kuzimu, forever, if need be.

As he centered himself, the world began to spin, much a like a whirlpool, colors brightened, then misted over. He was no longer on the banks of the Kijini, but in the deepest part of a forest. Its peace spread over him like a balm as a slight breeze rustled through the tops of impossibly tall trees. A scent surrounded him, tropical and fruity, but gently muted, and he breathed it in, smiling as a warm, playful zephyr played with his hair.

Leaves crunched underfoot several yards from where he stood and he let his vision find the noise, surprised to discover that he was not alone. His eyes widened as he spotted the source - a wolf, chocolate brown and white, beautiful, sleek and blue-eyed but running in the opposite direction. Instinctively, he knew that was wrong so he started running after it, trying to call out, but no words came, just a deep, strange rumble. He glanced down and instead of his own feet - he saw huge black paws.

He was a fierce jungle cat, a jaguar, and up ahead - his mate - the wolf - and running away from him. He stopped, lifted his head and yowled. The wolf turned, tail flicking. It sat down and cocked its head in question.

The jaguar dropped down on his belly, rubbing the grass with his jaw, then mewled. Still the wolf sat, so the jaguar rolled over - exposing his stomach, the ultimate gift of trust.

The wolf seemed to frown at this strange move, but it got him up. He took a few tentative steps toward him, head down, nose to the ground, still suspicious.

The big cat began to purr, legs kicking playfully, tail twitching. The wolf's head jerked up at that - and then he was running happily back, tongue out, tail high in the air.

When the wolf reached the cat's side, the jaguar stilled, waiting patiently, stomach and neck vulnerable, purring loudly. The wolf sniffed, ears back, crouched down on his front paws, rear up, tail flying - and then he licked the cat, one large swipe up the side of its face.

The jaguar cuffed the wolf with one giant black paw and the wolf immediately dropped across the cat and they rolled together playfully before rising to face each other. Pretend growls floated up as they danced around each other...and then the wolf pounced at the same moment as the jaguar...but instead of flesh against flesh, they sunk into each other and became one while the forest around them sparked and crackled, shooting colored shards of light in every direction....

***

Jim bent down and, once again, administered mouth-to-mouth. Moments later Blair's body shuddered, his head jerked up, water spewing forth as he coughed - and breathed.

"Thank God," Megan prayed.

Alex felt tears running down her cheeks for the first time as she watched Jim take Blair into his arms, the younger man drawing in air, sputtering and coughing.

Simon wiped his face and turned away, his own eyes suddenly misty.

"He is returned to us, Dingane," Ebo said.

Jim continued to hold Blair, rocking slightly, his face buried in wet hair.

It was Megan who realized that even though Blair had started to breathe, he wasn't conscious.

"Jim, we have to get him back to the village. He's hurt and he - well, he - drowned. His lungs, Jim, he needs medical attention."

"The village is too far. I will go and bring Father Benjamin and medicine," Ebo said as he looked at Jim for confirmation. But Jim was still holding Blair, rocking him, his face still buried in Blair's hair. More forcefully, Ebo said, "Take him to his tree, I will pick plants that can help him while we travel."

He got through this time because Jim nodded, slid his arms under Blair's shoulders and knees and lifted him as he stood. Without a backward glance, he began the walk to Bakari's tree.

***

It took some planning, but eventually they were able to get Bakari up to his nest. Simon stripped off his jacket, as did Alex and Megan, and they used them to cover the grass so that Jim could lower Bakari. Then Ebo used his jacket to lightly cover him.

True to his word, Ebo had picked several tropical plants and blossoms and, as the others got Bakari settled, he made a paste similar to the one Bakari had made after his capture at the hands of George Akiris so many months ago.

Ebo offered Megan a curled leaf full of a white gooey substance and said, "Please, spread this over his wrists, it will protect the wounds and help heal the skin." He held out another leaf, this one full of a thick, grey substance. "This is to be spread over the worst of the other wounds. It will soothe and aid him with the pain."

Megan took both and set them down carefully as Ebo continued. "I will hurry, Dingane."

Jim didn't answer or even look up, his fingers already dipping into the creamy white paste and smearing it gently over Blair's right wrist, so Simon answered. "We'll wait here, Ebo. We'd only slow you down. Besides, there are soldiers still out there."

Ebo nodded and disappeared down the huge trunk.

It took several minutes for Megan and Jim working together to get Blair's body covered with the medicines. As Jim maneuvered himself so that he could place Blair's head in his lap, Simon asked, "Who's this Oliver guy, Jim?"

Eyes glued to Blair, Jim spat out, "Colonel Norman Oliver."

"How do you know him?"

"He was my commanding officer when I was with Covert Operations."

"And now he's a mercenary? How could that have happened?" Simon asked, incredulously.

"He was dishonorably discharged when it was discovered that he was involved in massive drug ring and black market. And before you ask how he got away with only a dishonorable discharge - his father is Senator Michael Oliver."

"Shit." Then Simon cocked his head at Jim and asked, "Why do I have the feeling that you had something to do with bringing him down?"

But Jim was no longer listening. He pushed back some hair from Blair's forehead, bent down, rested his lips against Blair's, then with a pleading look at Megan, started to shift Blair to her lap.

As she took him, Jim stood and looked down at Alex. "Stay focused, Alex. I think you're all safe here, but this is still no time to let down your guard." With that, he started to climb down the tree.

"Whoa, where do you think you're going?" Simon demanded.

"After Oliver." He glanced up at his friend and added quietly, "Keep him safe."

Then he was gone.

***

Akiris was tired of waiting. No soldiers, no gorillas, no Oliver and no ghost man. He was almost ready to take matters into his own hands, to go after the ghost man himself. He could do it. He was, unlike his brother, an experienced tracker and the jungle was a second home to him.

He sighed, turned and began to pack what he would need. What was the American saying? Ah, yes. You want something done right - do it yourself.

***

Oliver had seen the small group at the bank of the lake, but from his vantage point, he could not tell who they were, only that they were not the Magharibi. He watched them pull his prize from the water and, knowing instinctively that the man was dead, he went back to where he'd held him, gathered up his pack and started back to camp.

If he was going to come out of this with anything, Akiris would have to die and he would take the gorilla parts and sell them himself. Not as lucrative as the dead young man below, but still worth a few hundred thousand.

***

Jim stood at the bank of the Kujini, staring at the ground where Blair had lain, body tortured and, for all intent and purposes, dead. His quiver and bow were where he'd dropped them before going into the water so he picked them up now and then listened.

Oliver had to be close - Jim was certain of that.

He strained his senses, repeated every word of advice Blair had ever given him, and moments later - he had him.

Oliver was two miles south, moving slowly, unafraid.

Jim slung the quiver and bow over his shoulder and started out after the man. It was a hunt, Jim the hunter - Oliver the prey. And it was a hunt to the death.

***

Megan sat cross-legged, one hand holding a dampened piece of Simon's shirt on Blair's forehead. They'd been trying to cool him off for the last thirty minutes, Alex having sensed that his body temperature was too high.

Megan was worried and not ashamed to admit it. She didn't have a clue about what happened when Jim went back down next to Blair after Ebo talked about Kuzimu and how Dingane could help Bakari, but she suspected something pretty spiritual and spectacular. But now, Blair was still unconscious, feverish and moaning, his head shaking from side to side as he mumbled words she couldn't understand. If Ebo didn't hurry...could Jim bring Blair back twice?

Simon's head popped up and he struggled to crawl over to her, having come back up from his brief talk with Alex who was standing guard below. Megan watched him, a half smile on her face as he balanced his large frame, clearly certain the tree limb would eventually go crashing down, taking him with it. He finally made it and, after wiping his brow, arranged himself next to her. "How is he?"

"Worse. If that's possible. And don't worry, the tree won't collapse under your weight, Simon. You're safe." She couldn't quite hide her grin.

"Yeah, yeah, easy for you to say."

Megan stretched her back, arched her neck, trying to work the kinks out. The nest that Blair had made was comfortable for one, even two, but most definitely not for more and definitely not for sitting and nursing. She was stiff and cramped from maintaining the same position for too long. Simon, seeing her discomfort, slid awkwardly around behind her, thus allowing her to use Simon's chest to brace herself. She settled back with a sigh, wishing the circumstances could have been different. She would have liked to be sitting like this because they both wanted the closeness.

"How do you feel about being Alex's Guide?"

Megan took the cloth from Blair's head, soaked it again with water from her bottle and, as she wiped down his face, neck and chest again, said, "I haven't really had time to think about it. But it seems natural. Does that make sense?"

"No, but I'm used to nothing about this sentinel business ever making sense. It obviously didn't feel all that natural to Blair."

Megan shook her head and said, "You're wrong, Simon. It was very natural for him, but you have to understand that for them, there was so much more going on. They're in love and emotions cloud reason. I don't begin to know what was inside Blair's mind, or what really happened regarding Alan and Jim, but it was enough to seriously play with Blair's opinion of himself and his place in Jim's life. Then there was Alex and I suspect that's when Blair decided he wasn't meant to be in Jim's life."

Simon gazed down at the top of the red head so close to his chin, then at the young man he had come to think of as family. Megan made sense, he could see that now. Which brought forth another question, one that had great significance for him. "So what about you and Alex? What if one or both of you fall in love? What happens to the sentinel thing then?"

She shifted a bit so that she could look back at Simon which put her face close to his. She was about to answer when a moan from Blair stopped her. Both turned their attention to their patient.

"Blair? Can you hear me?"

Eyelids fluttered, but didn't open. His mumbling increased, as did his tossing and turning. Megan distinctly heard Jim's name and, as his hand reached out, searching, she quickly grabbed it and held tight.

"God, shouldn't Ebo be here by now?"

"He'll be here, don't worry. And Blair is strong, he'll be fine."

"Maybe under normal circumstances, Simon, but Blair doesn't know - I mean, he doesn't realize--"

"That Jim is here and loves him?"

She nodded, her dark blue eyes filling as she said, "I think he's given up."

***

Bakari was floating in a very hot and uncomfortable place and all he wanted was someplace cool and quiet. He wanted to go back.

Back.

Back where?

He tried to recall and remembered a sense of flight with below him, the cool, blue lake. He was pretty sure he'd hit the water with a force strong enough to knock him out and that it had resulted in a sense of peace with no pain or memories. He'd been - free.

Only...then he'd been running...he remembered that too. Running playfully, breathing in the rich scent of forest, intoxicatingly fragrant air, a cool breeze ruffling his fur....

Fur?

Yes, fur.

He'd been freed of his human form and had been running wild as a wolf. But then something had stopped him - had halted his freedom. But what had it been?

A sound...that was it. A...yowl. He'd turned and spotted it. A cat, a large, black cat. He'd been confused so he'd watched, full of suspicion, until the wild animal had rolled over on its back, baring its belly to him in the ultimate show of trust.

Now he remembered.

He'd crawled over, still not completely trusting, but pulled just the same. He'd sniffed at the animal and immediately recognized the scent.

Jim.

God, even now, he could feel the happiness at the moment of recognition. His Jim, there, wanting him...calling to him, surrendering to him... so he'd loped over, licked the cat's face, and then they'd played, until....

Until?

It was fuzzy again. Where was he now? Where was Jim? And why couldn't he go back to that place? Because he knew he wasn't there now.

Please, let me go back. Please?

***

Jim could smell Oliver and, even though he wasn't close enough to the man for Oliver to hear him, he knew by scent alone that Oliver was aware of him - knew he was being followed.

Jim cut through the roughest patch of jungle in order to get ahead of Oliver. He began to run, swift and silent, holding his quiver to his side, head slightly lowered, eyes moving restlessly from side to side as he listened until he heard what he needed to hear. Then he slowed...stopped...and waited.

Oliver paused, head cocked. Damn. Nothing. But he knew he was being followed and it sure as hell couldn't be the ghost man. He felt a shiver brush across his back; cold and slimy, like the breath of death.

He moved with stealth, moved forward, gun ready, gaze piercing through the thick brush until a voice came out of nowhere....

"Colonel."

***

Ebo arrived at the tree with four Magharibi and Father Benjamin so Simon climbed down to allow the priest to join Megan. At the bottom, he noticed the Magharibi studiously working with vines and the tree. He looked at Ebo with a raised eyebrow and Ebo said simply, "They are preparing a sling to bring him down safely. We brought a stretcher to carry him back."

Simon nodded in appreciation of their foresight.

"How is he, Rafiki?"

"Not good, Ebo, not good. His fever is climbing and he is still unconscious."

Above them, Father Benjamin examined his son, hands moving gently over his bruised body, frowning at the strange marks.

Megan, seeing his puzzled expression, said softly, "He was tortured, Father. A weapon called a taser was used on him."

His hand froze as it skimmed across Bakari's chest. "Tortured?"

"I...yes...I'm afraid so."

"This - taser? What..."

"It was originally designed for self protection, but many have re-configured it so that great pain could be delivered through electrical shock. He was hit - so many times, and in repeat areas, that this bruising is the result."

Father Benjamin felt as though he'd been hit by a tidal wave of emotion. Hatred coursed through his veins, anger burning a hole in his gut. "How, is he, what...."

He struggled with the questions, but Megan understood, took his hand and squeezed it tight. "The device brings incredible pain, Father, I won't lie to you. But there is no lasting effect. No permanent damage. He will be very sore, and I don't know how much voltage, so there may energy surges that cause muscle spasms for a brief time, but again, no permanent injury."

"Who would do this? And why?"

"I don't know, but Jim has gone after the man. Apparently he worked with him when he was in the service."

Benjamin sighed heavily, his eyes still taking in the bruises and the horribly mangled wrists. But for now, his real concern lay with Bakari's lungs and the fact that he was already running a fever. Ebo had filled him in Bakari's dive as well as Jim's subsequent rescue, and efforts to bring life back to him. Benjamin knew that drowning, or near drowning, could cause serious problems with the lungs so he reached into his bag and pulled out a small vial and syringe.

"Father?"

"Penicillin - a precaution against ARDS or Adult Respiratory Distress Syndrome, which can occur when the lungs have been injured. Antibiotics is the suggested course of treatment in hopes of preventing it."

Megan paled. She'd heard of the condition, but in conjunction with severe trauma to the chest, such as a car accident, but drowning?

"I don't think I've ever heard in conjunction with drowning victims but I do remember that it has a...that there's a high mortality rate." Her voice held barely suppressed fear.

Benjamin stuck the needle into the vial and pulled the plunger, filling the syringe with the slightly golden liquid. He tapped it twice, watched as Megan swabbed the arm with the alcohol wipe and, when she finished, administered the shot. "ARDS can occur for a multitude of reasons. Infections, chest trauma, drowning, drug overdose, even shock. Here, we're dealing with two, possibly three events that could precipitate it in Bakari. He did, according to Ebo, drown. He was tortured and is undoubtedly in shock. This is the only method we have of trying to prevent it - and you're correct. The mortality rate is - sixty percent."

"Dear God."

"Yes."

Twenty minutes later, Bakari was resting on the litter and they were all making their way back to the village, except Ebo, who'd left them to join the warriors who were stalking the remaining soldiers.

***

"Oliver."

Jim watched as the man turned to face him.

He smiled coolly, bowed slightly, and said, "Captain Ellison, I presume?"

"Actually, it's Detective Ellison now. Cascade Police Department."

They stared at each other, gauging strength, purpose, commitment. Oliver was the first to break the gaze as he frowned in puzzlement. What did Ellison want and why was he here? Only one way to find out. "This is the last place I expected to find you, Ellison."

"I know."

His simple response, his body language - and the way his eyes seemed to glow in the light of the jungle - all served to chill Oliver to the bone. Something was wrong.

"What do you want, Ellison?"

"You. Dead. At my feet."

Oliver shifted slightly, moving his weight to the balls of his feet, ready for battle. "You just happen to be here, Ellison? Your need for vengeance wasn't satisfied by my discharge?"

"Bakari."

One word. Just that one word - and Oliver knew. The ghost man - Bakari.

"You were among those at the edge of the lake," he stated flatly.

Jim said nothing, didn't move, just stared.

Time to shift the power in Oliver's direction. "So, you and the gorilla man, eh? You fucking him too, Ellison? Or maybe you watch while he fucks the gorillas? Maybe you fuck 'em too, then fuck your animal boy?"

Jim didn't blink. The smile on his face, almost feline in nature, not unlike the ordinary house cat might beam on the unsuspecting mouse, sending more shivers up Oliver's spine. He flicked his eyes to the right, then left, looking covertly for a way out as he said, "Let me pass, Ellison and you live."

"No. Your only chance is to take me down and I don't think you can."

Oliver had no such doubts. He smiled, dropped his gun, pulled out his knife, bent at the knees and, flipping the knife from hand to hand, said, "I've been waiting for this opportunity for a long time, Ellison. Have you ever seen a gorilla after I've skinned it?"

"Yes."

Oliver jumped.

***

They'd made it back to the village and transferred Bakari to his old hut. Blankets were brought in, more medicine administered, and now Benjamin sat beside his son, holding his hand and praying.

Outside, Simon paced as Megan and Alex watched helplessly. "Simon, you're driving us crazy. Please, sit." Alex implored.

"I feel so useless. I want to be out there, with them. Doing something."

Megan walked to his side. Taking his arm, she said, "We both do, Simon, but right now, the best ones for the job are out there. Doing it. All we can do is be here for Blair."

Further discussion was halted as Father Benjamin appeared at the opening of Bakari's hut. All three rushed to his side, but it was Simon who spoke.

"Blair...is he all right?"

Benjamin smiled faintly and nodded. "As well as can be expected. But there's a mixture I'd like to try on his bruises, to ease the heat I can feel emanating from them."

"What can we do to help?" Alex asked.

Benjamin stepped away from the hut and, lowering his voice, said, "Please, get Urigi, she will know what plants I need."

Alex immediately headed to the southern end of the village where Tatu's wife, Urigi, was cooking. "Is there anything else, Father?" Simon asked.

"Yes, you can listen to me."

***

Bakari floated to the surface, a soft voice guiding him, a word breaking through to him.

Jim.

He opened his eyes, gazed around him and recognized his old hut. He moved slightly, felt the pain, and remembered.

A man, a device, his dive.

He was alive because somehow...he'd survived?

He turned his head as voices floated inside....

"...nothing you can do...Tatu and the others will stop the soldiers and Jim will stop Oliver."

Jim was here? In the Bwindi? And who's Oliver?

Of course, the man who'd tortured him. Had planned to sell him. The man that had butchered his gorillas. And now Jim had gone after the man.

Damn it, no. Jim against Oliver and his men? No way. He struggled up, pain shooting through his body, but he persevered, swung his legs over the edge of the cot and, shaking, got to his feet.

He balanced himself for a few seconds and then noted he was naked. He glanced around and spotted his loincloth on the chair. He reached out, tentatively, the dizziness almost taking him down. But he closed his eyes, waited for it to pass, then lifted the strip of animal skin, wrapped it around his waist, then tied it off.

He moved unsteadily toward the curtain, listening to the voices and, with some surprise, recognized Simon, Megan...and even Alex. Had they all come with Jim? He didn't have time to wonder about it now, he needed to go - to stop the soldiers, to find Jim before Oliver did.

He pulled the curtain aside, just enough to see, noted that Father Benjamin was talking to Simon and the others, that their backs were to him....

He slipped out, backed up and melted into the jungle.

***

Taking to the air was not possible, he realized that. His legs seemed to be made of rubber, his vision wavered and his head was pounding, but he walked, one step at a time, moving, trying to make his way to Jim. He never considered what he would do if he found Oliver, he knew only that he needed to move, to protect....

***

TBC in Part 6

Bakari & Dingane - Part 6

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 00:16:30 GMT

Jim remained motionless as Oliver made his move. When the larger man reached him, Jim stepped aside. Oliver flew past him, skidded, turned and, with surprising swiftness, kicked out. His leg caught Jim in the chest, forcing the man back, but he kept his balance and stayed on his feet. He shoved the quiver from his shoulder as they faced each other again, knees bent, arms out, Oliver's knife glinting as it was moved easily from one hand to the other.

"You're soft, Ellison. Always were."

Jim said nothing, just watched and looked for the telltale sign, the quickening pulse, the flicker of an eye...saw it....

...and jumped Oliver.

Their bodies collided, Jim striking out with his arm, the knife in Oliver's hand; the victim. It flew from the mercenary's grasp, leaving him without a weapon. He snarled, brought his leg up and around and caught Jim behind the knee, bringing him down.

Jim felt himself falling, tightened his hold on Oliver, and they both hit the jungle floor. For several minutes they grappled, each struggling to gain control, fingers searching for vulnerable spots. Animal sounds issued forth, marking the battle as one that could only be to the death.

Oliver managed to get one hand around Jim's throat and, as he began to squeeze, spat out, "Do you know what I did to your gorilla fucker? How many times I hit him with my taser?" He squeezed even harder as Jim's fingers raked over his face, clawing their way up to his eyes, but Oliver's voice continued taunting.

"You should have seen his body, bucking, jerking as the electricity shot through him. His eyes rolled back and he even bit his lip, drew blood. But your gorilla man never screamed, I'll give him that."

Jim heard the words even as a thin veil of red fell over his eyes, as his world darkened. His fingers seemed to moving in slow motion, his breath nearly gone....

"All the places I touched him, Ellison. With my hands, with the taser, can you picture me touching him? Do you know what I was going to do with him? Sell him as a sex slave to some Arab billionaire."

Jim was fading, but the words sank in...and fueled his need to live.

***

Akiris could hear a rustling, somewhere to his left. He paused, listening. Footsteps? He ducked down, moved into the dense foliage and waited.

A few minutes later, he could hear heavy, labored breathing and then a figure appeared, moving with difficulty. As the man moved closer, Akiris held his breath.

The ghost man - and only a few feet away.

He held his breath, willing that the man continue toward him, smiling when he did just that. As he came abreast of Akiris' hiding place, the man moved out, gun up and stepped in front of his ghost man.

"Well, well, what have we here?"

Bakari froze, staring with disbelief at the man in front of him. A man so like....

Seeing the expression and correctly interpreting its meaning, Akiris said, "He was my brother."

Bakari said nothing but his eyes were searching for an opening as he once again knew that to battle was to lose. Once again, he'd have to run. But damn, he was so tired of running.

"On your knees, hands behind your head." Bakari didn't move, pretending ignorance. Akiris stepped in close and Bakari looked for his opportunity, but Akiris was too clever. He simply swung the butt of his gun around and clipped Bakari on the jaw. The blow rocked him, sending him to his knees.

Akiris grabbed a handful of hair and yanked his head back to get a good look at him. He tried to compare the drawing that his brother had done of this creature, but it bore little resemblance to the wreck on his knees before him. The body was horribly bruised, thin and dirty. The man was riddled with fever, his face gaunt and grey tinged, the mark of death hanging over him like a guillotine. This creature would bring less than the gorillas. Akiris took out his knife.

"My brother died because of you. Now you shall join him. I send him this gift."

The knife glinted above Bakari and he tried to concentrate, to fight, but there was nothing left.

Akiris moved to draw the blade across the man's vulnerable neck, but a deadly roar assaulted his ears. He barely had time to glance up before a great dark beast was upon him. The knife sliced, then was dragged away as Akiris' body was thrown backward.

Bakari wavered, his body swaying, but when he realized that he was still alive, he opened his eyes, tried to focus, saw what appeared to be Akiris, on the ground, only a few feet away, and struggling with....

...Orantu.

Bakari tried to stand, to go to them, to stop it, but he saw teeth, flashing white as his father snarled his rage, then a great fist came down, once, twice, three times...and Akiris no longer moved.

***

Tatu held up a hand and the others stopped behind him.

"They are near. Perhaps, a mile between us and them."

As they waited for Tatu's instructions, a strange cry pierced the jungle air. A bird call, but louder...

Tatu turned to Ambasi and smiled. "Ebo."

Several minutes later, Ebo broke through the brush and, smiling, walked up to Tatu.

"Habari!"

"Nzuri, Ebo."

"Bakari has been found, but he is not well." Ebo looked at each of his friends as he spoke, watching the worry appear. "They tortured him, Tatu, and I saw Dingane bring him back to this world."

Tatu's face showed nothing, but Ebo could see the depth of his friend's concern.

"The soldiers are not far from here and moving toward us. You are with us, Ebo?"

"I am."

The Magharibi moved off, Ebo beside them.

The Magharibi separated when they neared the moving soldiers, with Tatu and Ebo went around to come up behind and Ambasi took the others to complete the move to surround the killers of their gorillas.

The battle was short. At a war cry given by Tatu, Ambasi moved first, running into the small troop, spear raised and before a single man could react, the soldier behind Lash fell, Ambasi's spear imbedded in his throat.

The two remaining soldiers scattered as Lash ducked into the deep brush.

One soldier broke through, running hard, but he was taken down by an arrow that entered his back, piercing his heart.

Lash continued to move silently, his gun ignored in favor of his knife, which he held in his right hand. The last soldier ran south and thudded into Tatu's chest. The Magharibi didn't hesitate. He plunged his knife into the man.

Ebo dropped down, listening intently. The signals all around him said that all but one were dead....

Lash moved carefully, silently. He fully intended to get out of this fucking jungle alive....

Ebo spotted the top of a blond head moving away from him. He followed.

***

A snapping from behind him....

Lash whirled to find a man standing there, grinning. He brought up his knife, ready for battle, but in a flash, the arm of the native flew up and Lash saw the large knife coming straight for him. He couldn't move as he opened his mouth to yell...and the knife buried itself in the back of his throat.

Ebo walked over to the dead body, reached down, pulled the knife from the soldier's mouth and wiped it clean on the jungle floor.

Forty minutes later, all of the Magharibi were on their way back to their village, leaving behind them the skeletons of men who dared to enter their world and kill.

***

Oliver should have kept his mouth shut.

Jim let his eyes close, let his head fall back, fingers going lax....

Oliver loosened his hold and that's when Jim made his move. His hand came back, fingers stabbing into Oliver's eyes, digging deep, gouging. Oliver screamed, his hand leaving Jim's throat to clamping onto Jim's wrists, nails raking, but as Jim drew in the precious air, he felt his strength returning and, with one bold move, flipped them both over and up, so that he was now behind Oliver. He placed one hand on the side of the soldier's temple, the other cupped under his chin, then lowered his mouth to Oliver's ear and whispered, "He's alive. And it's not Ellison, it's - Dingane." With those words, Dingane snapped Oliver's neck.

***

Bakari fell forward, catching himself with his hands. He stayed like that, on all fours, shaking his head, trying to clear it of the heat and pain.

Akiris was dead, by his father's fist. Bakari managed to squint, to clear his vision momentarily so that he could see his father standing over what was left of the poacher, one bloody fist raised high. Akiris had no upper body left, no head. Three blows had taken care of that.

Bakari watched as the fist came down and thudded against Orantu's chest in a victory cry. It was - somehow - right.

A black veil fell over his eyes as he finally surrendered to the darkness, his body pitching forward. Orantu moved to his son's side, sat down and, with eyes brimming, pulled his son into his arms. One finger brushed over the pale face, then down to push against the chest, to urge eyes, so different from his own, to open, to see him. But nothing happened. The chest rose and fell, but - so - very slowly. Orantu stood almost six feet tall, when completely erect, and weighed over 400 pounds, so with considerable ease, he lifted his son and began the journey home.

***

Jim dropped the lifeless body and stood, legs slightly apart, arms at his side.

He searched the area around him, found nothing, heard nothing. It was over, he could feel it in his bones. Wearily he lifted the quiver to his shoulder, slipped it on and moved away, back to the village, back to Bakari.

***

"This is not possible. He could not possibly have left."

Father Benjamin stood in the hut, staring at the empty cot, Simon and the others behind him.

"But he has. If he heard us, Father, heard that Jim was here and going after...."

Simon didn't need to finish.

The priest turned, his face set. "We must find him. Now." There was no argument.

They quickly gathered up all supplies that they might need, but Simon wondered how far Blair could have gotten. He figured they'd find him quickly.

Father Benjamin stuffed medicine, water, the soothing gel, everything he could think of, into the medicine bag, then turned and walked outside.

"Father, he can't have gone far, not as ill as he is." Megan asked.

"You do not know Bakari." With those words, he started for the edge of camp. Alex grabbed his arm, saying, "Wait."

At the southern end of the village, Tatu, Ebo, Ambasi and the others appeared.

Ebo saw the priest, the medicine bag and the others, all ready for travel. He frowned and hurried to their sides. "What has happened? Is it Bakari?"

"He went after Dingane."

Ebo stared, open mouthed at the priest. "But...but...but how," he sputtered.

"This is Bakari, do you really need to ask?" The priest huffed.

Alex was still listening to the sounds beyond the perimeter of the village and now she said quietly, "Someone else is coming, Ebo. One man, maybe - ten minutes away."

***

Jim made his way to the village, hearing their movements and smelling the food. As he got closer, he concentrated, trying to listen for that one voice, that one heartbeat....

But all he heard was a voice asking, "Could it be Jim?"

Jim paused and said softly, "Alex, it's me. Oliver's dead."

At the village, Alex gave a slight start as Jim's voice reached her ears. She turned to the others, "It's Jim - and he's taken care of Oliver."

Ten minutes later Jim was greeted by his friends and the Magharibi, but he cared only for hearing about Bakari. "Where is he? Is he all right?"

Father Benjamin placed a gentle hand on the detective's arm and said, "Bakari woke while we were out here talking and must have heard us speak of you. He is gone."

Gone.

The one word stabbed into Jim's entire being as he paled. Father Benjamin, realizing how Jim had interpreted that one word, hastened to reassure him.
"No, Jim. He left the village. We believe he went after you and were getting ready to follow when Tatu and the others arrived."

Jim shot a glance back in the direction of the jungle, shaking his head. "No, he can't be out there, I would have known."

"But he is, so I say we move out now and find him. I still say he can't have gotten far." Simon looked at each of them, encouragement in his eyes.

Jim gave no answer. He simply turned around and headed back into the jungle, the others following.

***

In spite of the man he carried, Orantu made good time up his mountain. For a few moments, down below, he'd considered taking his son to those of the twilight, to their home, but decided his son belonged with him, with Kaleefa. Those of Bakari's kind had done nothing but injure him, hurt his heart. Orantu had seen this when Bakari had come to him to ask that a battle be waged. No, Bakari belonged to him, to his family.

He paused, listening, and heard his family just up ahead. He gave a loud snort and, moments later, Moto came down the grassy slope.

Together, they moved deep into the undergrowth, to the nests his family had made, nests safe from the hairless ones. Kaleefa huffed at the sight of her son, carried so gently in the arms of her mate. His body was so still and her nose quivered as she smelled the blood. Her voice rose in a high screech as she bounded to Orantu's side, demanding that he give him to her. Orantu laid the limp form in her eager arms, the transfer oddly gentle and and reverential.

Kaleefa carried him to her own nest and laid him carefully on the deep, thick, soft grass, already warmed by her body. Then she curled her great body around her baby, face buried in his hair, drinking in his scent, chuffing slightly, fingers stroking bruised flesh.

As Kaleefa provided the healing warmth, the others moved about, gathering their own form of medicines.

From Kaleefa's right, Nusu sat, frightened, knowing that his hero was hurting, that everyone was worried. He curled his small hand into a fist and pounded the ground in helpless anger. Several times, he'd start over, small arms thrusting him forward, only to change his mind as one of his brothers or sisters would move quickly past him to give comfort to his brother. Finally, he moved a short distance from Kaleefa and Bakari, sat down and decided it was his job to guard. He practiced his best snarl, just in case.

Moisture was the hardest part for the gorillas, but they instinctively knew that their brother needed it. It was Sana who figured out how. She took several palm fronds, curled them around each other and, as Hani, at her chittering, broke off a large piece of bamboo and sealed it with sap from another bush, she held her 'cup' under the small rivulet of water that had broken off from the waterfall near their nests. As the funnel filled, she'd empty it into the bamboo and when it was full, they carried it back to Kaleefa.

Several times in the next hours, the valuable moisture was placed against Bakari's parched, dry lips as the gorillas watched and waited, hoping that he would voluntarily open his mouth and take the moisture inside.

Nusu contemplated his family as they strove to help his brother and his face was a study in puzzlement. Why hadn't his brother gotten up yet? Would he go away? Fade from them? His heart no longer musical? His fist moved to his eyes and rubbed, and he wanted to touch his brother, to have his brother know he was there.

He looked around and, since it was quieter now, maybe....

Nusu moved slowly and tentatively forward. He'd stop every few feet, going back an inch or two, then forward again, until Bakari's soft hair was within reach. He squatted, refusing to make eye contact with Kaleefa, instead deciding that someone should groom Bakari. With quiet chittering, he began to move his small, clumsy fingers through his brother's hair, plucking out the twigs, leaves, grass and dirt.

Kaleefa observed Nusu, his face intent on the task at hand and, realizing how important this was for the baby, she chuffed lightly, letting him know he had her approval.

Time passed and Kaleefa never loosened her hold and Nusu never left his brother's side.

***

"Jesus," Simon whispered. He was a cop. He'd seen - everything. He thought. But the body on the ground in front of them said different.

Ebo walked around it, eyes looking for signs that would tell him what happened. As he studied the jungle floor, Jim knelt and felt the ground a few feet from the body. Alex bent over and picked up a knife she'd spotted almost buried in the deep brush.

"Guys?"

All eyes turned to her and then focused on the weapon, tinged brown with dried blood.

"There's blood on the ground here as well. It's Bakari's," Jim said firmly.

"Bakari did not do this." Ebo spoke with such authority, no one questioned his statement. Besides, the strength that was required to smash the human skull, not to mention to punch a hole into the human chest....

Jim stood, eyes raking over the entire area. "Bakari knelt here. That man held the knife to his throat, I'd guess. Then--"

"Then Orantu arrived," Ebo finished for him.

"Yes, Orantu," Jim agreed.

The others were suddenly silent, the vision that one word conjured in their brains leaving them speechless.

Except for Megan, who said reverently, "Thank God."

She spoke for them all.

Father Benjamin made the sign of the cross over the body then addressed Ebo.
"Orantu could not have taken Bakari back to the village, we would have known, would have met up with him. So what can we expect?"

Ebo looked at each of his friends, at Tatu, who knew as he did, and said,
"Orantu has killed in defense of his own. He will have taken Bakari home."

Tatu nodded his agreement and added, "We may have difficulty - retrieving him. Orantu has made his decision. He has told us that we failed. He may not relinquish Bakari."

Jim turned, gazing up the mountain. The mist was deep above them, cloaking the area in shadows. "I don't ask Orantu to relinquish Bakari. Only that he allow me to join him."

Jim moved out.

***

The trek up the mountain was difficult, the terrain becoming thicker, the grasses deeper, the tall plants heavier and closer together.

Moving through the bush meant that Tatu, Ebo and Dingane walked ahead of the others, cutting away as much as possible, creating a path. Dingane's eyes kept searching, leading them along the same route Orantu had taken with his precious cargo.

Movement on this mountain, for a gorilla, was easy, but for man, harsh and energy sapping. The only saving grace was that as they climbed, the heat lessened and breezes moving around them, cooling their skins.

For Megan and Alex the trek was especially difficult, thanks to their fair skins. The bugs of the jungle seemed to thrive on the pale, fragile flesh and, for first time, both women were truly miserable. Ebo, realizing this, finally called a brief halt to the climb and, after talking to Tatu in Swahili, ventured away to return minutes later with several plants.

Dingane, though impatient to move on, understood the need for the break and he, like Simon, watched with interest as Ebo and Tatu made a thin, runny paste. They then called the two women over and began to spread the cream over every exposed piece of skin, including their faces.

"Oh, God, Ebo, this feels great," Megan purred.

"Smells wonderful too," Alex added.

"It will protect your skin as well as keep the bugs away. Hopefully, you will travel in comfort now. We will take more with us for your use as needed."

"Thank you, Tatu. Thank you both," Alex and Megan said almost simultaneously.

As Ebo and Tatu stuffed the remaining plant leaves in a pouch hanging from Tatu's belt, Megan gazed up and asked, "How much farther?"

"I don't believe we have far to go." Ebo turned to Jim. "Do you agree, Dingane?"

Nodding, he said, "Orantu's trail is fresh, and here," he pointed to a spot just above where Simon and Father Benjamin stood, "another gorilla joined him - so yes, I'd agree, not far now."

The priest picked up his satchel and slinging it over his shoulder, started to continue the climb. Forty minutes later, Dingane held up one hand and everyone came to a stop behind him. "They're just up ahead and there are at least ten, maybe more."

Ebo stepped in front of the group. "Dingane, perhaps you and I should approach alone first? We must earn their trust once again."

Dingane nodded in spite of noticing Father Benjamin's distress. Ebo hastened to add, "I will come back for you, Father. As quickly as possible."

Benjamin could only accept the wisdom of the plan and slowly handed his satchel to Dingane. "Take this. If his lungs are in any way congested, use the small white vial, otherwise, fill the syringe with the contents of one of the brown bottles."

Dingane, his eyes meeting Benjamin's, nodded. The two men moved up as the rest made their camp and waited.

***

Kaleefa lifted her head - there was a new scent in the air. She searched for Orantu and found him moving away from them, already aware of the intruders. As he moved, she lifted a hand and placed it over Bakari's heart. It was still singing, but far too softly. His body was still too warm, but he no longer moaned or thrashed about. Nusu was curled into Bakari's chest, his small hand fisted around a tangle of curls, eyes closed as he snuffled against Bakari's skin.

She waited, not moving, knowing that the intruders were not their enemy. One scent was known, the other, vaguely familiar.

***

Both Ebo and Dingane stopped at the exact same moment. The foliage parted and two dark, angry eyes peered out at them. Neither moved, both trying to hold their breath. Slowly, Orantu lumbered out, teeth barred.

He moved forward, then back, huffing, but not quite bellowing. Ebo took it as a good sign. Suddenly, Orantu fiercely waved both hands at them and his snarl grew.

Ebo actually took a step back, but Jim stayed put. Bakari was near, he could hear his heartbeat so he had no intention of retreating. Orantu threw grass at them, his huffing growing in loudness.

Ebo grabbed Jim's arm and tugged, but the larger man didn't move. Except - forward. Ebo was stunned.

Dingane had made his decision. Eyes downcast, he started in the direction of his - mate - hoping Orantu would understand.

Keeping his head down, but body ramrod stiff, Digane walked past Orantu and disappeared from view and, after tossing more grass, so did Orantu.

Ebo was left alone.

***

Dingane had no difficulty finding Bakari. He pushed his way through reeds and tall plants to find himself in a small haven. He'd been very aware of Orantu behind him the whole way, but he'd had only one goal.

He spotted him almost immediately, Kaleefa curled protectively around his ill and tortured form. The baby gorilla, Nusu, now larger but in gorilla years still very much a baby, was tucked into Bakari's chest.

Kaleefa sniffed the stranger and realized why his scent had been vaguely familiar; her son's mate. She gently rolled away from Bakari, careful not to jostle him or disturb his slumber. She then backed up and chuffed at Dingane, indicating he should take her place. Dingane hurried to Bakari's side, being careful himself not disturb the man nor the baby.

As he knelt by Bakari's side, he was immediately overtaken by such raw emotion, that his body began to tremble. He gazed down on the beloved face and, for a moment, saw Blair, laughing, full of so much love and life. In that same moment, though, he also spotted, for the first time, the darkness hiding behind the facade. The insecurity, hurts and fears - fears even deeper than Jim's own - were all there to see. He understood what drove Blair to please, to put others before himself. Even their lovemaking had its roots in Blair's insecurities. The need to please Jim before himself, rarely allowing Jim to please him, always taking the lead, giving Jim so much....

He bent his head and rested it against Blair's chest as he whispered, "Dear God, Blair, forgive me."

***

Alex stood, frowning. "Ebo's returning - but without Jim."

The others stood anxious and worried. Ebo ran down the last slope and, breathing hard, told them what happened.

"So now what?" Simon asked.

"We wait." Father Benjamin looked from one to the each of the others, his decision plain. They would wait.

***

Dingane had been surprised by Bakari's condition. His lungs were sounded clear but were nevertheless straining slightly to breathe. But maybe after drowning, that was to be expected. His body temperature was up, but not dangerously so. His family had kept him cool, provided water, and his skin had a thin coating of a sweet smelling concoction that Dingane could tell was helping the bruised flesh.

He reached into the satchel and pulled out the brown vial, tore open a packaged syringe, filled it, tapped it, lifted the loincloth, swabbed a small area and quickly injected the antibiotic into Bakari's left ass cheek.

He put everything back into the satchel, then spooned up behind Bakari, wrapping him in his embrace and, like Kaleefa before him, rested his face in Bakari's hair.

***

The next 24 hours passed with Dingane giving Bakari injections, slathering on the soothing gel provided by Kaleefa and urging Bakari, even still unconscious, to take some water. The gorillas moved silently about them, seemingly unfazed by the presence of Dingane in their midst.

Nusu actually remembered Dingane and after a small imitation snarl, as if daring Dingane to make him leave Bakari's side, he settled back into Bakari's chest, but this time, fingers wrapped around one of Dingane's.

Jim knew that Bakari's deep sleep was healthful, that it was the best thing for him, but he desperately needed those blue eyes to open, see him, acknowledge him...and forgive him.

***

There'd been a shift in his world.

Where there had been darkness, albeit warm, safe darkness, there now appeared to be light. The sense of the warmth shifted as well. He'd been drifting, content with a gentle thrumming next to his cheek, but having no desire to move, to search for daylight. But now, the thrum had changed, had become stronger, more demanding.

The circle of light that surrounded him and pulled at him, was so much like what he'd experienced at the lake - that he was tempted to give into it. Maybe play again and cavort with the big, gentle cat again.

"Bakari... Please, come back...."

The deep comforting voice resonated deep within him and he strained to hear more....

"...and I love you, no one else, ever...."

The light was blinding now and he had to open his eyes to block it out.

He was surrounded by his forest - except for a small patch of black which jiggled and squirmed over his chest. Then two coal black eyes looked into his and he smiled wanly. "Nusu."

The baby's hand came toward him, a finger stroking his chin as Nusu chittered.

His own hand weighing a ton, he nevertheless lifted it and rested it on Nusu's head. Nusu tucked his head in on itself, urging Bakari to pet and groom him as he did the same to the mat of curls covering Bakari's chest. As he watched, Bakari noticed another arm - human - tan...with soft dark hair....

A face swam into view and Bakari whispered, "Dingane."

***

Jim smiled gratefully as Bakari said his name. He nodded. "It's me and your safe and surrounded by your family. Everything's fine - you're going to be fine."

Bakari frowned in confusion. "Oliver - they said you went after him--"

"I did - he's dead. The tribe took care of the rest. The mountain is safe."

Jim drank in Bakari's face as words that needed saying tripped over themselves in his mind, each warring with the others over which would be spoken first. Finally, Jim simply jumped into the fray and said, "I never loved him, never. Only you. But I admit I never really understood how deeply. Waited my whole life for someone like you and when I found you - I started running. I've been afraid of the whole sentinel thing, Bakari - and that made me fear Blair, who was a constant reminder of what I was supposed to be." The words spilled out like gushing water.

"Alan was the past, a past where I wasn't a Sentinel. Everything, my senses, my job, you, all reminded me of what I didn't want to be - a Sentinel. Alan made it easy to forget, to be the old me. Just a man - but nothing happened between us - I never slept with him, Bakari. Never. I loved you, loved Bakari and Blair--"

Bakari raised his hand and rested a finger against Jim's lips. When the stream of words finally ended, Bakari grinned and said, "Whew."

It was rasped out by a voice gone too many days without use, but what was really strange was how the word was so at odds with where they were, what they were both wearing. Jim couldn't help it - he laughed - and hard.

Nusu was jostled from his perch beside his brother, but since he was hungry anyway, he bared his teeth, thought he was getting pretty good at it, then shuffled quickly over to his mother, launched himself at her and began to suckle. All of which just made Jim laugh all the harder.

For Blair, the laughter was manna from heaven. Watching the usually strong, stoic face creased with mirth, hearing and feeling the rumblings through his own body gave Blair the truth he needed.

Jim loved him. Had loved him and still loved him.

His mind and heart, confused and hurt for so long, began to heal with the simple sound of Jim's laugh.

Finally, Jim calmed and, with his hand on Bakari's brow, asked, "Can you forgive me, Blair?"

"Nothing to forgive. I should have known, should have asked, but instead, I assumed it was me, always me. That you didn't - couldn't - love me. I knew you were struggling with the Sentinel thing, struggling with the tests, even after a year and a half, but I didn't see. I'm the one who needs to--"

This time it was Jim's finger that stopped a flow of words. Grinning, Jim repeated Blair's earlier word. "Whew." Then he drew his finger across Blair's lips - ever so slightly, as Blair smiled. With great concentration, Jim traced a path up his cheek, across his nose, up his temple and over his forehead. As he mapped every inch of Blair's face, Blair didn't move because he wanted this connection as much as Jim. But eventually his own need to connect set his hands moving and exploring, once again feeling the strength and vulnerability of the man he loved more than life.

"He hurt you," Jim breathed out.

"I'm okay, I'm okay, Jim. Now."

Jim shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "No, you're not, but you will be. You will be. Now let's sleep and we'll talk more tomorrow. We have time now, so much time."

Blair nodded because he was tired. So very tired. He shifted as Jim joined him, turned so that Jim could hold him and, when he felt a hand rest lightly, but possessively, on his hip, he closed his eyes and slept.

***

The jungle night was peaceful. The war over, the battle won. Gorillas once again moved silently about their home, foraging, playing, sleeping.

The Magharibi patrolled, sat around their fires and talked of Bakari, Dingane, life and prophets...and of Kuzimu, the realm of the dead.

There would be more battles, of that they were certain. This mountain of theirs contained great riches and man would not be able to resist its lure. So, for the tribe, the question was: Would they have Bakari and, if not, would other wars end as well?

They had no answers.

At the camp just a mile below the spot where Bakari and Dingane slept, their friends also slept, fitfully, worried, but they slept with hopes that the morrow would bring them their friends.

***

Muted shards of morning light made their way into the shelter of the gorillas, bringing with it the need to move, forage and eat. The majority of Orantu's family moved out, still wary, but feeling safer than they had previously.

For Bakari, morning brought memories and fears. He stirred within Jim's arms, feeling twinges of pain and discomfort, but needing get up and somehow shake off the memories and accompanying visions. When he rolled over, he found Jim still asleep, his expression peaceful and innocent. Smiling softly at his partner, he slipped out from under Jim's arms, crawled from beneath the boughs that made up his mother's nested shelter and slowly stood. He swayed slightly, but when the dizziness passed, he looked around. Only Sana remained within the shelter, Nusu suckling and happy. With some difficulty, Bakari moved to her side and watched in amusement as Nusu managed to twist his head to gaze at Bakari while still suckling vigorously on his mother's teat. One fist uncurled and reached out, so Bakari slipped his hand into Nusu's.

Sana chuffed softly, her own fist coming up to rest against Bakari's chest. He nodded, making a soft rumbling in his throat.

His legs wobbled under him, so he took the smart route and promptly sat down. At some point, Nusu's hand gripped hard, squeezing relentlessly and, while Bakari could see it, he couldn't feel it. With a detached kind of perusal, he looked at his damaged wrists and figured his nerves had been temporarily damaged. He held up his other hand and examined that wrist as well. He tried to wiggle his fingers, but the message from his brain to the digits seemed slow and lumbering so he gave up. After all, he could feel with his fingers - like experiencing Jim's skin, and that was enough.

At the thought of his partner, he glanced back at the nest and frowned. Their words last night, hurried, full of self-recriminations and apologies, seemed to have less impact this morning but he wasn't sure why. As he went back to observing Nusu, he wondered why all he wanted to do was sit where he was, why he wasn't hungry or curious - and why he was suddenly afraid again.

Okay, maybe answers weren't that difficult after all. They were back on the mountain and Jim loved him again because he was, quite simply, Bakari again. So could he go back to Cascade and take on the mantle of Blair Sandburg one more time - for Jim?

He gazed listlessly around him, because the answer was - yes. He would go back to that world, stuff all his feelings back inside and take comfort only when they were alone. But this time, he'd be on guard, watch for the signals that would tell him Jim was repressing, or edgy or frightened, or....

Or what?

What if Jim again looked to someone else to take the pain and responsibility away, would Blair Sandburg survive a second time?

No.

Which meant that he couldn't go back - but neither could he stay here. He was two men: Bakari and Blair and now, neither had a home.

He was suddenly aware that his head was throbbing and every muscle weak and burning. He slipped his hand from Nusu's and, under Sana's watchful eye, crawled, not back to Jim, but over to another spot, a small indentation that was lit by a stream of weak sunlight. He curled up, his heart thundering inside his chest.

***

Jim would have slept another two hours if he hadn't realized his arms were empty. He woke with a start, sent his senses out and, finding his heartbeat, got up, moved out of the nest and spotted Bakari curled in on himself while resting in a smaller nesting area. He knew Blair was awake, his hurried, almost harsh breathing told him that. He rushed to his side and dropped to his knees. With one hand on Blair's arm, he said, "Bakari?"

With an almost Herculean effort, Bakari calmed his breathing and rolled over to look up at Jim. "Hey, man, sorry. I was watching Sana and Nusu and got a little shaky. Didn't want to bother you so just kind of made my way over here. Not as strong as I thought."

Jim's eyes narrowed with the realization that Blair was lying. He didn't need heightened senses to know it, either, just an intimate knowledge of the man. But before he could question him, a rumbling from the general direction of his stomach stopped him. Blair grinned and touched Jim's stomach. "Hungry much, Jim?

"It would appear so. Maybe I should go--"

"No need." Then Bakari indicated that he should look behind him.

Jim had been so intent on monitoring Blair, he hadn't been aware of what was happening around him - or that Kaleefa had returned and now stood behind him - with food. When he twisted around, she bent and dropped several pieces of fruit into his lap before sitting down next to Bakari and, without so much as a blink, began to groom him.

Blair grinned at Jim's expression and deliberately leaned back into his mother's ministrations.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Mother-in-laws. Umph."

"Oh, please. Now how many mother-in-laws do this?"

Jim snorted and began to peel, strip and otherwise prepare the exotic fruit for their breakfast. As he began to pass pieces to Blair, he wasn't surprised when Kaleefa occasionally confiscated some of the juicy fruit for herself - but only after Bakari had his share. However, Jim was very surprised when a small ball of energy launched itself at him, arms wrapping around his neck - which was how he found himself feeding Nusu as well.

As the gorilla greedily took the offered food, Jim asked, "I thought he was still suckling - which, by the way, I find strange." At that moment, Nusu took a piece of fruit - one destined for Jim's mouth - right out of his hand.

"He's almost two, which is the age most babies are weaned. But almost from the beginning, they're taught to eat the vegetation and small amounts of fruit found here."

Jim waved an arm around the group of gorillas. "I've been meaning to ask; I can't help notice the many older males, but there doesn't seem to be a problem for Orantu as far as being the dominant one."

Blair nodded. "That's because male gorillas don't reach breeding age until they're about 12 or so. Until then, they're children. Nusu has another year of nesting with Sana, then he'll start bouncing back and forth between sleeping with other children or an aunt or--"

"Or an injured brother?" Jim said, laughingly.

"Well, Nusu is a bit different."

"Like his brother."

Bakari chuckled. "No, compared to me, he's normal - sort of."

While happy to see the humor, Jim knew they still had more talking to do - that the night before had only been a cheap Band-Aid.

He walked quickly back to their nest, picked up the satchel and, when he returned to Bakari's side, reached in and drew out the antibiotic. "Time for another shot."

The younger man frowned at the syringe and asked, "Where did that come from? And why?"

"Father Benjamin - and in case you've forgotten - you drowned, which resulted in Your lungs taking a terrible beating, not to mention your wrists. This will guard against infections. Now turn over and let me see that good-looking ass of yours."

Blair rolled over with sigh and patiently waited until the injection had been given. He felt neither the alcohol swab, the gentle caressing hand on his butt nor the quick jab of the needle. In a voice still low and raspy, he observed, "I'm surprised Father Benjamin allowed you to come alone."

"He didn't. He, Ebo, Simon and the others are about a mile from here. Undoubtedly camping out and waiting to hear if they'll be allowed to join us. Orantu wasn't very hospitable."

Blair sat up, eyes blinking in surprise. "They're here? And Simon too?"

"Yep, Alex and Megan as well."

Now he was really confused. Why on earth would--

As if sensing his thoughts, Jim said, "Megan is Alex's backup - or whatever term you want to use." Jim waited for a reaction - and got it when Bakari's mouth fell open. Smiling, Jim added, "Evidently, sentinels helping sentinels isn't a permanent fix by any means. Each needs their own partner, teacher, guide, whatever. Sure, Alex and I could work together, but that was only because I already had you and Megan was almost always with us when we worked with Alex."

Blair thought back and realized the truth of Jim's words. Megan had been there - almost from the beginning - and in remembering the first meeting between Megan and Alex, the way Megan's voice calmed her and the fact that Megan, normally so cold and angry with suspected drunk drivers, was so solicitous - he had to agree to Jim's conclusion. Shaking his head, he said, "Man, was I stupid or what? I should have seen it."

"Yeah, and under normal circumstances, I'm sure you would have. But you were struggling with everything that had happened so your mind was elsewhere."

Bakari glanced away, his hand stroking his thigh, his mind supplying him with the words, but afraid to speak them.

"Blair?"

Without looking at him, Bakari said, "I'm not so sure that you do love - Blair - but you are fascinated by Bakari. One thing I've learned is that fascination doesn't last, Jim. It got us to Cascade, gave us a few great months, but look, now we're back in this world - Bakari's world - and the fascination's returned. But--"

"Good God, do you really believe that?"

Bakari didn't answer.

Jim gripped Blair's arm and said urgently, "Last night, I told you the truth. I didn't love Alan, don't love him. But I do love Blair because he's Bakari and I love Bakari because he's Blair. I will never love anyone else."

Eyes now fixed on Jim's hand as it held his arm, Bakari asked, "And the next time you decide you don't want to be a sentinel?"

Jim couldn't blame Blair for his question. It was a good one. He just hoped he could say the right thing. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I know who I am now and I like me. It's not even about acceptance anymore. Losing you put everything into perspective - but sentinel or not, I wouldn't want to go through life without you."

Bakari searched Jim's face and realized just how much he wanted to believe him.

Seeing that Bakari was struggling with whether to believe or not, Jim said, "You know me better than anyone in the world. Just - look."

Bakari looked deeper, but the truth still eluded him - which left faith.

Averting his eyes, he said, "Why don't you go down to the others and bring them on up."

Jim raised one eyebrow questioningly.

Smiling, Bakari said, "Don't worry, they'll be safe."

"Look, Orantu barely let me in."

"Go on, I'll take care of Orantu."

Even though Bakari hadn't accepted Jim's words, Jim realized that for now, this would have to be enough. He got up and headed out.

***

"Jim's coming," Alex said suddenly.

Everyone stood, turning towards the brush just as Jim reappeared. Seeing their concerned expressions, he held up a hand and said reassuringly, "He's fine. Sore, but the fever's gone and he's eating. He sent me down to bring you all up."

That was all anyone had to hear. Camp was broken so fast, they set a new record.

***

TBC in the Conclusion

Bakari & Dingane - Conclusion

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 00:14:22 GMT

No one was prepared for the gorillas.

As Jim led them to the camp in the dense mountain foliage, the gorillas seemed to appear from all around them. A mother and baby to their left, eyes watching with bright curiosity; two young males to their right, stopping mid-play to observe them; and three very small gorillas, one of them hanging by one hand as they passed under them.

Megan never blinked. She couldn't because she didn't dare miss a moment - nor could she stop her smile, which was outback wide, at least not until Jim told her not to show her teeth. She clamped her mouth shut, but the smile itself remained.

Blair hauled himself up as he heard his friends approach and was standing, albeit shakily, as they entered the sheltered area.

Smiles broke out as everyone moved quickly to his side.

Father Benjamin stood back with Jim, smiling broadly at his son. "He looks better, but still too thin."

"He ate some fruit this morning, but not nearly enough. He's still weak and his muscles stiff, but yeah, he's better."

They both watched as he hugged first Megan, then Alex, clasped arms with Tatu and Ebo and smiled up at Simon, who after a bit of hedging, finally took the younger man into his arms.

Eventually, everyone had expressed their happiness at Blair's condition so it was Father Benjamin's turn. He stepped forward and took him into his arms and, for several minutes, they held each other.

Finally, the priest stepped back and took a good look at his son. "You look better. But still--"

"I know, too thin."

"Don't get smart with me, young man," he laughingly admonished.

It was quickly decided that everyone would stay at least a day, and that they could make camp within the confines of the sheltered jungle.

Jim walked over to Blair and, with his arm around his waist, guided him back to their nest. They sat down and, together, watched the others make camp.

Orantu accepted the intruders because his son willed it. The others accepted them because they were fun.

***

The 'one day' they'd all decided upon quickly became several.

While Tatu returned to the village the next day, the others, unable to turn down the opportunity to observe the gorillas up close and personal, stayed behind. Being lodged in a shelter of gorillas was not something anyone wanted to give up anytime soon.

In their first hours, Jim noticed how both gorilla and man interacted warily - not from fear, but from a lack of protocol. His friends didn't know what they could and couldn't do and the gorillas decided they could do anything they wanted.

For Ebo, Jim and Bakari, the next few days proved hilarious, thanks to the fact that the three of them decided not to share their tips on how to "Live with Gorillas". It was far more fun to watch Megan, Alex and Simon learn the hard way.

Blair, who wasn't allowed to move much anyway, could just sit back in Jim's arms and enjoy the show from his nest, delighting in the antics of both his family and friends. He accepted the shots Jim administered each day, ate when presented with food and, when things were at their quietest, slept deeply. He suffered muscle spasms occasionally, but Jim would just hold him tight and he got through them.

They were wonderful days - paradise even. And he knew that was exactly how Simon, Megan and Alex felt too. Living with gorillas was a once in a lifetime opportunity and they were living it up.

One of the first things they learned was that gorillas had no compunction about satisfying their curiosity regarding the other hairless ones - especially since they understood they belonged to Bakari. Thus all natural shyness and trepidation was removed. Megan would find herself sitting quietly, sketch pad on her lap as she tried to draw a mother and her baby, when, without a sound, another gorilla would sit down beside her and take the pencil. And then the pad.

The drawing would be looked at, the pencil would be stuck in a huge mouth, Megan would say no, then no again. Bakari would make a sign or some low rumbling noise and, while the pencil would be removed from the mouth, it would not be returned. At one point, Megan went through seven pencils in two hours. Eventually, she learned to give and, in short shrift, the pencil would be given back. Wet, but given back.

Jewelry was especially tantalizing to the gorillas, both male and female. The dangling earrings, bracelets and rings proved to be more than the strongest-willed gorilla could ignore. As with the pencils, both Megan and Alex quickly realized that if they gave willingly, the item would be played with, inspected, chuffed over and sometimes even worn, but would eventually be given back.

Belt buckles, snaps, zippers and buttons were also a delight for the gorillas, and Simon, the only one of the visitors whose height was almost equal to Orantu, often found himself nearly undressed by the curious gorillas - and to the catcalls of Megan.

As for Nusu, he was in seventh heaven. He was carried, fondled, kissed, cooed after and generally spoiled rotten. Sana took the whole thing rather well, considering that her son suddenly had two additional mothers. The other babies were less accessible than Nusu as this was the only area of privacy maintained by the gorillas. The babies were guarded jealously but since Nusu was already 'human-proofed' - he was allowed to be cuddled.

Megan found that she could sit for hours and watch the babies with their mothers. The love, attention and care lavished on the children put many human mothers to shame. Simon found that he could sit and watch Megan for hours. The gorillas were wonderful, but nothing beat watching his exchange officer.

***

"They're in love."

Jim turned in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Simon and Megan. They're in love. Can't you see it?"

Jim turned his attention away from Blair and toward his Captain and fellow officer. He watched, somewhat puzzled, but after an hour, said, "Jeez, you're right."

"Of course I am. I'm always right."

"Except when you're wrong."

"Of course. On the other hand, I've only been wrong once and that was when I thought I was wrong, but turned out to be right."

They were sitting back to chest, Blair resting against Jim, watching the antics of their friends and family. Jim leaned in close and said, "So you're saying that you were wrong because you were right?"

Blair shook his head and hid his smirk. "No, I thought I was wrong about something, but because I turned out to be right, I was wrong, see?"

"Ah, so you were wrong about being wrong, because you were right."

Blair reached back and lightly tapped Jim's nose. "Give the guy a kewpie doll."

Jim tightened his hold and said, "I have mine, thank you very much."

"Oh, man, I think you just called me a kewpie doll. Serious consequences ahead, buddy, serious consequences."

"Let me guess. I'm going to have sleep in my own nest?"

"Worse than that. You're going to have to sleep with the children."

Jim snorted and nibbled Blair's ear. Damn fine ear, too.

With his head at a slight angle, to give Jim better access, Blair murmured, "Won't you...won't everyone...have to be going home soon? How did Simon manage this anyway?"

Jim lifted his head, hearing the many-layered question, the many unspoken thoughts. "Joel took over as Captain and, since Homicide owed Simon big time, they offered up two detectives for the duration. Major Crime is covered. But, yes, home soon."

Home.

Jim had said home. His home. Blair sighed. In an effort to prepare Jim for the fact that he wouldn't be going with him, he said thoughtfully, "Orantu and Kaleefa, they're ancient for gorillas, Jim."

Jim realized immediately what Bakari was telling him - so he decided it was time Bakari understood a few things. "Can I tell you about Oliver?" he asked softly.

Blair wasn't prepared for that response, that question, but he heard the need in Jim's voice so he nodded.

"I had only one goal and that was to kill him with my bare hands - so I did. But before I did - I told him my name." He paused...then said, "Dingane."

The stillness wrapped around them as Blair froze. Jim waited, his breath held. Waited for the understanding and comprehension to dawn.

As he waited, Nusu crept forward, ready to launch an attack, trying desperately to sneak up on the two men. Jim watched, even as he monitored Blair's heartbeat. He watched the small gorilla move sideways, head turned away from them; throwing up grass to divert their attention, moving quickly backward, then forward, getting closer every second. Jim tried to look nonchalant, to pretend that he didn't see the little pirate's movements, and then Nusu moved off to the side, barely inside Jim's peripheral vision. Jim knew the attack would happen any second....

A black blur launched itself at Blair and the younger man went over on his back, Nusu clamped to his neck like a suction cup. For several minutes, they played, Jim watching in wonder.

Bakari got on all fours and growled. Nusu got on all fours and growled back, adding a deep chitter into the bargain. Bakari chittered right back at him and tossed some leaves. Nusu grabbed up a handful of dirt, tossed it, then thumped his chest soundly. Bakari lowered his eyes and dropped back down, cowed.

Nusu jumped up and did a somersault, then decided it was time to be baby again and launched himself into Bakari's arms, burying his head under Bakari's chin.

Bakari held him, stroking the soft fur, his left hand cupping the head as he rocked slightly. He lifted his eyes and met Jim's. "So you told him your name was Dingane?"

Jim nodded and repeated, "Dingane." Then he said, "Dingane and Bakari."

Bakari shook his head and said with a smile, "Bakari and Dingane."

***

The day that turned into a few - became an entire week. A week of such wonder and discovery, it was doubtful that neither Simon, Megan nor Alex would ever forget their experiences with the N'gagi of Biwindi. But the week did come to a close and - eventually - it was time to go home.

Simon was packing up, movements slow, heart heavy. Cascade was waiting, his son was waiting, but a part of his heart and soul would remain here, in the forests, with the N'gagi, or gorillas, of Bakari's family. He glanced around him, his eyes taking in the lush green forest, the deep shaded colors, the cooling mists swirling above him, and the sun dappled spots that Nusu and another baby inevitably hunted out for their own.

God, he didn't want to leave.

"I feel the same way, Simon." He glanced sideways to see Megan's sapphire blue eyes on him, her bittersweet smile saying everything he was feeling.

"I'm not going to ask how you knew what I was thinking, but yeah, this is hard."

She nodded, her own eyes flicking over the shelter that had been their home for a week. "I don't know how Blair will be able to leave. How he left the first time."

With eyes only for Megan, Simon answered softly, "He loves Jim. He had to follow."

"Whither thou goes?"

"Exactly."

"Hey, you two, get the lead out," Alex chided.

"Yeah, yeah, we're moving, but reluctantly. You, however, seem more than eager to head for home," Simon observed.

"I should hope so. A real bathroom and a nice hot bubble bath? Oh, yeah." She looked over at Megan. "You can't say you don't feel the same way, right? Aren't you dreaming of a hot bath? And how about a thick, juicy steak for you, Simon?"

They both gazed around them again and sighed. "I think I just might trade all that--"

"You say that now, Simon, but just wait until you get home."

Of the three of them, Alex had been least affected by the gorillas, preferring to wander on her own, testing her senses and exercising them, her partner near enough to aid her should it be needed. Now, she was eager to return to Cascade, to find her own tribe. "Well, looks like we're ready, guys."

Jim and Blair, with Father Benjamin, walked over to their friends. Patting Simon on the shoulder, Jim said, "I've something to tell you. I'm not going back to Cascade. I'm staying here, with Bakari. I think this is my tribe."

"WOO HOO!" Megan yelled, dropping her arm down in a victory plunge. "I just knew it!"

Simon grinned and added, "Well, I can't say that I'm surprised, but I hate losing my best team."

"What about Cascade, Jim? You're its sentinel."

"No, Alex, you are. Cascade is yours."

Alex frowned, biting her lip in exasperation. As much as she wanted her own tribe, she felt that a sentinel simply couldn't give his or her tribe away.

Blair stepped forward and took her hand. "I've been thinking about this a great deal since Jim made it clear he was staying. From the moment you appeared in Cascade, neither Jim nor you had any territorial issues. Every bit of research I've done says that only on neutral ground could two sentinels not react violently toward each other. Cascade was neutral ground because Jim was already, subconsciously, giving it up, or surrendering it to another sentinel. You. This is right, Alex."

"So, Cascade is my tribe now?"

Both men nodded, then Jim said with a smile, "I'd hand over the keys to the city, but--" He suddenly stopped as his eyes widened. "Wait a minute," he finally said as he rummaged in his pocket and brought out his own key chain. He undid one key and handed it over to Alex. "The loft key - consider this the key to the city. I won't need it anymore and you don't have a place to stay - so it's yours."

She started to take it, but something stopped her, something foreboding. "No," she said, shaking her head. "I'll find my own place." Surprised, he left the key dangling.

Megan grasped it and, with a laugh, said, "Well, I need a place to stay. Two roommates, several boyfriends coming and going, no peace for the wicked, yeah, I'll definitely take it. The only question is: do you want me to rent it or buy it from you?"

"Neither. It's yours, Megan. If Blair and I decide to come visit, you put us up in the spare room. Deal?"

She grinned that outback grin of hers and held out her hand, "Deal, Jimbo. Or - should that be - Dingane?"

***

It was decided that Jim would accompany them down the mountain, lead the others back to their original entry point and the Jeep, while Blair would remain behind, gathering strength.

It took the group two days to get back to the vehicle, and in that time, Simon and Jim said their good-byes. The 48 hours were needed by both to grapple with their feelings, their friendship and all that was being left behind by Jim.

On the final evening, the two sat by the fire, talking long into the night. All of Jim's affairs were discussed, like what to do with the truck (save it for Daryl, who would be getting his permit in another few months), his belongings (give to his friends and what they didn't want, give to the Salvation Army) and signing the loft over to Megan.

At the mention of Megan's name, Jim suddenly said, "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

The fire was not needed for warmth, not this far down the mountain, but both men sat near its comforting light, staring into its depths as if the world's problems and answers were hidden in the fiery depths. With the firelight flickering over his dark features, Simon smiled and said, "Yeah, I guess I am - and it feels fucking great."

Jim poked at the blaze and said, "Pretty nifty that she loves you too, wouldn't you think?"

"Does she, Jim?"

"You're hopeless, Simon. Of course she does. A blind man could see it."

Nothing was said for several minutes as both men contemplated love, the last several days, the future and how it would differ from all that had been before. Simon finally broke the reflective silence. "If it matters, I think you're making the right decision. And no one will ever love you as he does."

"It does matter, Simon, and thank you. And yes, I know." Brows knitted in concentration, he focused on the bright orange and red flames before finally saying, "And I'll never love anyone else." He grinned. "And it feels fucking great."

"I'm going to miss you, Jim. And Blair. We won't be the same without you two."

***

At the Jeep, the parting was full of tears and bittersweet smiles, with Megan hugging Jim into a coma and Alex hanging back, letting Simon and Megan have their moment with their friend.

Finally Megan pulled away and warned, "You take of him, hear?"

"You've been in the states too long, Megan. You're starting to sound like my grandmother."

"Answer the demand, Dingane," Simon ordered.

"I'll take care of him."

"And will you let him take care of you?"

"I don't have a choice there, Megan," Jim answered with a smile.

Megan stepped in close, hugged him hard and whispered, "No, Sentinel Ellison, you don't. Be happy."

With another hug from Simon and a quick peck on the cheek from Alex, Ebo drove them from the Biwindi and Dingane continued to watch them long after any normal human could have seen them.

***

The days that kept Dingane from Bakari were not all that healthful for the younger man. Blair knew it had to be tearing Jim apart to say good-bye, to give up his entire world for him - and those thoughts stirred up his insecurities again.

And he'd - killed.

The first night of Jim's absence, Bakari slept fitfully, nightmares filling his mind. He dreamt that Jim decided not to stay after all - and never returning - and he dreamed that Jim found out about the men Bakari had killed, knew of the blood on his hands - and again, headed home with the others.

He never felt Kaleefa slip in with him, taking him into her arms and rocking gently.

The second night was even worse. He woke crying out Dingane's name so loudly, Father Benjamin rushed to his side, worried and fretful.

"Bakari? What is it?"

Blair turned over and grinned wryly up at the priest as he shook his head. "Nothing, Father, nothing."

"Come on, take a walk with me. It's time we dealt with this head on." Then he added more sternly, "Now, Bakari."

Frowning at the fatherly tone, he scrambled out from under the shelter to walk with the priest.

"First, we're all aware of the soldiers you killed - yes, even Jim. And we know that you had to do it. You must forgive yourself."

"You can say that to me? You, a priest?"

"Yes, I can. I'm a priest but also the man who thinks of you as his son. The one person more precious to him than all others. Yes, I can say that."

"Jim really knows?"

"He does. And both understands and appreciates. He killed as well, as did Ebo and the others. Our mountain must be preserved from those who would destroy it. They had no conscience, Bakari, none. And what they would have done to you...."

He paused at seeing Bakari's expression of horror. Reaching out to him, he added, "Yes, son, Jim told me. And I repeat, they were evil men; men who cared nothing for life - neither human nor animal. You killed in defense of your family, just as both Dingane and Orantu killed." He lifted Bakari's face with his fingertip and added softly, "It will haunt you but only because you care - just don't let it destroy you."

They continued to walk a bit further before Father Benjamin spoke again. "I should have said this long ago, but my selfishness prevented me, so listen well. Kelly was an aberration, nothing more. It was unfortunate that she was the first relationship you experienced because it colored your life and may, even now, prevent you from fully understanding the depth of love Jim Ellison has for Blair Sandburg, let alone the love Dingane has for Bakari."

"Father--"

"Do not interrupt me, son."

Taken back, Blair shut up.

"Do you remember what happened to you, after you hit the water?"

Blair shivered involuntarily at the question and numbly shook his head.

"You died, Blair. You died and Jim brought you back from Kuzimu. He was truly the Mfufuaji. You do remember Ambasi's teachings?"

Blair stared at the ground, his mind trying to grasp what the priest was saying. Then he remembered his dream, the forest, the sense of peace, and the cat.

Dear God, he'd been in the realm of the dead and Jim had come for him, risking his own life to bring Blair back. Nodding now, he whispered, "I remember, I do."

"It can't be done if a great love is not present. You know that, Blair. It - can't - be - done."

His heart constricted, did a belly-flop, then started hammering in his chest with such power, he was certain the entire jungle could hear. "So he couldn't have done it if he didn't--"

"Love you, Bakari."

"Yes," Bakari whispered into the night.

***

It was late evening by the time Dingane reached the gorilla encampment. He knew he was safe, that the gorillas had his scent now. He moved quietly, smiling at the odd gorilla still up and eating passively. He made his way to the nest and found Bakari sound asleep. He divested himself of his shirt, boots, gun and belt, then crawled in and made himself comfortable spooned up behind the younger man.

"You're back."

"Yep, and you're not as asleep as I thought," he whispered.

"Some sentinel you are," Bakari huffed.

Dingane took an earlobe into his mouth and suckled gently, then mumbled, "I don't need to be a sentinel to do this."

"Very true."

They were silent for a few brief moments and, as Dingane was about to slip into sleep, Bakari asked, "You okay?"

Dingane opened his eyes and rolled Bakari over to face him. He buried his face in the crease of Bakari's neck and said, "I'm so all right, it's indescribable."

They shifted again so that Dingane could rest his head on Bakari's chest. Bakari smooth down Dingane's bristling hair and caressed his muscular back as he kissed the top of Dingane's head. Slowly, the caresses began more urgent, more territorial. Dingane began to respond, his own hands roving over Bakari's still-too-thin body. He lifted his head, found Bakari's mouth and latched on for dear life.

There had been no intimacy between them while their friends were camped with them, partly due to their closeness and partly due to Bakari's weakness. But no one was close now and it was obvious that Bakari was strong enough. The moment his tongue entered Bakari's mouth, feasting on the dark sweetness, Dingane felt complete - connected again.

Their kiss changed, became demanding, urgent, hands gripping flesh, tongues warring.

Bakari broke first, but didn't stop kissing, just moved the location. They rolled over so that Bakari could straddle Dingane. He kissed a line down Dingane's neck and kept moving downward.

Even in the haze of want and need, Dingane realized what was happening - again.

Blair was doing for him, giving everything to him.

Not this time - and not for a long time to come.

He opened his eyes and quickly lifted Bakari up by his forearms until their eyes were level. "I know what this is about - and I'm here to tell you that I'm not going anywhere, ever, so it's time you learned that making love is about two people. Although, tonight and for several nights to come, it will about Dingane making love to Bakari."

He flipped them over so that he was above his mate and, before Bakari could say a word, kissed him deeply and, as they kissed, Dingane brought Bakari's arms up over his head and held on, feeling the man's need to move, to contradict, to take control again. To prove.

But Dingane had something to show Bakari - something very important.

He began a slow worship of his body, loving him and tasting every inch. He spent special minutes on Bakari's face, kissing his eyelids, temple, down his jaw-line and then up the other side. As he proved his love, he whispered words of endearments, some nonsensical, others full of power and truth. He whispered of eternity, of Bakari's beauty of soul, mind and heart. He whispered his oath, his promise of forever.

By the time he reached Bakari's groin, the younger man was writhing and begging for release, tears streaming down his face, fingers clutching Dingane's shoulders.

Dingane finally took him into his mouth, using every technique he knew. He teased, licked, sucked and stroked. He teased with his teeth and was rewarded with a gasp and a sharp thrust upward. When Bakari was close to the edge, Dingane teased his balls to send Bakari over the edge. Fingers clasped tightly around Dingane's head, Bakari came, hissing out Dingane's name.

Seeing Bakari's face in the throes of his orgasm was all that Jim needed for himself. Even as Bakari was filling his throat, he came.

***

Dingane lay on his back, Bakari draped over him, body spent. One hand was absently stroking up and down Dingane's thigh as the older man's hand slid down Bakari's back.

A chittering caught Dingane's attention so he twisted his head around to see two curious black eyes staring at him.

Nusu.

Dingane shook his finger at him. "Oh, no you don't. Not tonight. Go back to mama."

Nusu gave a small jump and lightly pounded the ground.

Chuckling, Bakari said, "You're not going to win so you might as well let him in."

"No way. This is our nest." Dingane frowned suddenly. "Did he watch us the whole time?"

"I don't know, you're the Sentinel, you tell me."

"Damn, I think he did. Chief, we've got to get our own place."

Bakari, hearing his old nickname, grinned as he said dryly, "Fine, I'll check the classifieds tomorrow."

Dingane jiggled him slightly as he asked, "What about your old place? With a little fixing up, we could have ourselves a luxury condo."

"A little fixing up? What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Rugs, sinks, bathrooms, a four-poster bed. You know, the simple things that make a house a home."

Laughing outright, Bakari said, "I think you left out the 25-inch television."

Dingane raised his head in surprise. "Do we even get cable up here?"

"Sure. If I take two coat hangers, wrap them in foil and stick them into your brain. We'd get over 200 stations that way."

"I'm down with that."

Nusu decided that, since Dingane and Bakari appeared up anyway, he'd just join them, so he jumped into the middle of the nest, mostly clinging to Bakari and snuggled in, arms wrapped around Bakari's neck.

Rolling his eyes, Dingane said, "Oh, yeah, we go to the tree house tomorrow."

"I hate to break it to you, but this isn't a Tarzan movie so there's no tree house."

"Mark my words, when I'm done, there will be."

"I tell you, you can take the boy out of the city, but you can't take the city out of the boy."

"Go - to - sleep."

A rude sound caused Dingane to ask, "Did you just snort?"

***

The next morning Dingane, Bakari and the gorillas made their way back down the mountain to their real home. It was a slow process, as the gorillas had to eat, sleep and play.

The nest Bakari had made in his tree was fine for a few days, but Dingane needed more room. Working hard, the two men soon had the nest looking more like it had when Jim had first come to the Biwindi.

"Now, isn't that better?" He stood, hands on hips, surveying their handiwork.

"Who knew you had such a nesting instinct. But I think the television should go over there," Bakari said as he pointed to a grassy spot.

A piece of dried fruit fired its way across the space to shoot over Bakari's head as he ducked the fruited missile.

"Okay, so the television stays put."

"We need a bath."

"Damn, the plumber isn't due until Wednesday."

Dingane grabbed his mate's hand and yanked him into his chest. "You're a real bundle of yucks today, aren't you? And who needs a plumber when we have our own lake?"

Bakari's face clouded over as he quickly looked away. "Why don't we go to the falls I first took you to? They're called the Baruna Falls, by the way, and
we--"

A finger on his lips stilled his speech.

"I think we should go to Lake Kijini. Face it down, Chief."

Dingane took Bakari's hand and they climbed down and set off for the Kinyamkela Falls.

***

They were just as spectacular as the first time he'd seen them. Bakari had warned him to turn down his hearing and he'd complied.

The thunder of the water as it rumbled over the cliffs and rocks was incredible, even to a Sentinel with turned-down hearing. For the man next to him, it was a different story. His heart was beating loud enough to almost drown out the water.

"Chief, what does Kinyamkela mean?"

"Wind spirit," he whispered.

"And Kijini?"

Bakari took a deep breath and said, "The most literal translation is elf or fairy. The Lake is inhabited by the fairy spirit, but the fairy can only be seen when the wind spirit hits the water. When that happens, the wind and the fairy can be together. They were in love, but the gods distrusted it, so the wind spirit was confined to the water above and the fairy to the water below. But they outsmarted the gods."

"So, they both live in the Kuzimu?"

Bakari faced Dingane, eyes wide. "Yes, exactly, but in different parts of Kuzimu. And of course, there was no Mfufuaji to bring them back. But they're - content."

Dingane pulled Bakari to him, so that his back was to Dingane's chest and, together, they watched the two spirits meet in the mist of the Kinyamkela Falls.

After several minutes, Dingane asked, "You ready to go in?"

Bakari nodded and they entered the lake.

Dingane stayed close, monitoring his lover, but it didn't take long for Bakari's own natural enthusiasm and love of the water to come to the forefront. Soon, they were swimming, diving and enjoying the peace and solitude. The memories might not be banished, but they were where they belonged, in the background, incapable of bringing pain.

***

"Happy?"

Bakari, smiling, said, "Very."

"So, now that we're clean, made love again, bathed again, I want to know what Dingane and Bakari will do all day. No pickpockets, no criminals trying to blow the city to smithereens, no drug cartels to bust, no assassins to bring to justice, so just what the heck do we do?"

They were both on their backs in the deep grass beside the lake, shoulders, arms and hips touching, Bakari's hand was on Dingane's hip and Dingane's hand on Bakari's thigh. It was late afternoon and the jungle sounds were lulling Dingane into a blissful state.

"Well? What do we do?" he repeated.

"Let's see... We could go down the mountain and have tea with Mr. and Mrs. Chimp, they throw a mean tea party. Or we could--"

"Chief?" Dingane said, his voice a warning.

"We patrol, we visit the Magharibi, I teach class, you play chess with Father Benjamin, we live with Orantu and his family, we swim, we eat, we play...oh, and every now and then - we fuck."

Dingane rolled onto his side and propped his head up with his hand. "You teach class?"

Bakari nodded. "To the children of the village. Well, that's what I did - before."

"Than that's what you do now. I like it, sounds good. But the fucking part? Might be more than I can handle. We might want to reconsider that."

"Ah, yes, I see your point. Age and all."

Dingane gave an exaggerated sigh, looked back at the falls and said, "I can see I may have to teach this whippersnapper a lesson or two, Oh Great Wind Spirit."

Bakari rolled over onto Dingane, pinning him down and said, "By the way, those fatigues have to go. The Magharibi are preparing your very own loincloth."

Dingane bolted up, spilling Bakari back onto the grass in a heap. "No way, there is no way I'm wearing a loincloth."

Bakari's laughter floated up to the wind spirit, who smiled gently.

***

EPILOGUE:

The Bwindi was safe, life returning to normal.

The Magharibi went about their daily tasks, often welcoming Dingane and Bakari to their feasts and, once again, Bakari taught their children. Dingane started lessons in Swahili, Tatu his teacher and, in return, he taught the Magharibi a few maneuvers learned while in Covert Ops.

Father Benjamin regularly beat the pants off of Dingane in chess, which was the idea, since he was still refusing to wear anything but the fatigues, although he'd made the concession to ditch the shirt. And every sunset, Dingane and Bakari went to Bakari's cliff top and stood quietly, watching over their mountain as the sun set.

***

In Cascade, a new Sentinel settled in and began the job of protecting her tribe.

The End of the Bakari Saga....

***

BAKARI ADDENDUM

When I first wrote this, I added an addendum, part of which is below. Unfortunately, the address originally offered up for those who wanted to help the Mountain Gorillas is no longer good. But I've offered newer, up-to-date info below, with the rest of the original addendum.

At the time I wrote the two Bakari stories, efforts to save the highly endangered species were ongoing and, to some extent, successful. The Bwindi species had increased in size by approximately 12% (which would mean approximately 350), but they are by no means safe, not to mention the fact that now, many scientists believe that number to be false, that the actual number of Bwindi gorillas is closer to barely 300.

The pressures to take the gorilla reserves and turn them into farming or commercial lands still exists as does the severe habitat destruction and poaching that I first wrote about. Yes, the gorilla is still valued for its hands and genitals, and no, it's not unusual to find them dead as I described in the story.

Part of the original Addendum:

In 1996, when the story Bakari takes place, the Bwindi Impenetrable Great Ape Project began. The primary research endeavors of the project is to study the relationship between tourists and the mountain gorilla. The Ugandan government opened the preserve to tourists in order to finance the reserve and preserve the gorilla habitat, but unfortunately, just how the tourist will ultimately affect the gorilla is completely unknown. But what is known is that, 1) we carry many diseases, which are easily passed on to the apes and 2) our presence in the Forest destroys the natural plant life. Humans are not very tidy, we litter and we destroy. It seems to be our nature.

While Jim took his vacation in the Biwindi and received the permit allowing him to 'track' the gorillas (yes, such tracking parties are the mainstay of the Forest), I suspect that had Blair Sandburg been his roommate and partner, as an anthropologist, he would have put his two feet down on his Sentinel and told him no go.

Since I wrote that - more studies have been done and one of the projects to save the gorillas involves improving the health of the Ugandans. By doing so, they can ensure that we don't pass our illnesses onto the gorillas. In addition, the government and several wildlife agencies are also working to ensure that the Bwindi remains safe by building tree nurseries and plantations. In addition, vegetable and honey production, improved livestock husbandry and solar cookers are helping to improve people's livelihoods and ease pressure off the park.

For a couple of interesting articles on what's happening right now to save the gorillas, check these out: Article #1
Article #2

And if you'd like to follow "Save the Gorillas" on Facebook or Twitter (ah, progress), go here.

Home

The Healer Trilogy Warnings

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 01:03:34 GMT

Warnings under the cut! Warnings: These three stories have violence and both Original Character deaths as well as one secondary character's death from the show. There is also the death of an animal (which if were doing these stories today, I'd have found a way to avoid - but I chose to keep it since my only intent is to correct grammar/punctuation, etc, not to significantly change the story). The primary subject matter is child abuse and can be stressful to read parts of them. The child abuse is in the form of physical and mental (not sexual). This trilogy is most definitely rated R. Go HERE for part one

The Healer - Part 1

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 00:05:51 GMT

For most of Major Crime, the day started out as any other. In fact, better than most.

For Henri Brown, the day started out twenty minutes late because when his alarm went off, he chose to ignore it, thanks to not being alone in his bed. His newest girlfriend, Susie, was curled up next to him, an event that had been a long time coming - last night being the 'big moment' when she'd suggested ending the evening at his place. Smart man that he was, he didn't say no.

Of course, his partner, Brian Rafe would have something to say about his lateness, but Henri just smiled, caressed the lovely lady next to him - and decided to be even later.

***

Rafe wasn't in the least bit worried about his partner because he hadn't awakened alone either. Sure, he'd rolled over when his alarm went off expecting to see the usual empty half of his bed - but instead found Megan Connor's long, slender body stretched out beside him. He smiled sleepily while playing with her long red curls splayed out on the pillow.

Last night had been better than any fantasy he'd entertained and yes, he was still reeling from the fact that *it* had finally happened between them. Megan was a dream come true because he'd been certain she'd end up with Jim Ellison.

But she hadn't. She'd chosen him and he was, at that moment, a supremely happy man. Happier still when Megan reached for him and he took her into his arms.

No, Brian Rafe wasn't the least bit worried about his partner.

***

For Joel Taggart, ex-captain of the Bomb Squad and now a detective with Major Crime, mornings had once again become something to look forward to - now that he was working with Jim and Blair.

He was constantly learning, which was, in part, responsible for his good mood. But the real reason behind his new found joy came from watching his 'partners'. The interplay between them, their quips and equal opportunity harping, was like watching a great tennis match. Then there was the way both their minds worked so well together, in spite of coming from completely opposite backgrounds (some would say planets). Each gave something to a case, a different way of looking at each crime, even as they arrived at the same conclusion at the same time.

Joel also enjoyed watching how they looked at each other when the final clue dropped; the understanding and satisfaction in almost-twin sets of blue eyes. Jim would smile at Blair, a special smile reserved for the younger man, and then Joel would watch Blair return it in his own special way. If Joel had to describe how it made him feel, he'd have said, somewhat sheepishly, that he always felt caught between two bright rainbows. It was amazing that two men could be so in love - and so completely oblivious. Which brought Joel to the final reason his mornings - in fact, his days, had improved: observing the clueless detectives left him not only puzzling out their assigned crimes but puzzling out ways to tip the idiots off - and today just might be that day. He had a new plan so, with a smile and a whistle, Joel left for work.

***

Detective Beth Jenkins started her morning in the usual manner; namely getting one husband off to work and two small children off to school. By the time the house was empty, she was left with fifteen minutes to relax, sip the tea suggested by Blair - and contemplate another day of catching the bad guys with her partner, Luis Maldonado.

Beth had been excited when, four years ago, she'd been accepted into Major Crime, a department still relatively female free. MC was the toughest department a detective could aspire to and only the cream of the crop made it. She'd tossed and turned several nights as she agonized over whether to go for it. The danger had never scared her, but what it might mean for her family had. She knew she could do the job, and do it damn well, but she was a mother with two small children.

In the end, it was her husband, Sam, and his unwavering support that tipped the scales - and she'd put in her application and, to her surprise, had been accepted. And not once in the last four years had she regretted her decision - nor had her husband's support wavered.

She was one lucky woman.

Beth was firmly entrenched in MC and wouldn't have it any other way. They were a special team - a family - and every detective knew it.

Captain Banks was their leader and Detective Ellison, their guardian.

Beth checked her watch and realized she was out of what Sam laughingly called "mommyminutes." It was time to slip into her "Detective Jenkins" mode. She smiled slightly as she wondered what her partner had in store for Blair, their rookie. It was Luis' turn to harass their newest member and he was the most devious of them all, which was why he'd been saved for the last day. Beth almost felt sorry for Blair.

Almost.

As she grabbed her purse and keys, her grin widened. Blair was known for turning the tables on the best pranksters in the PD.

Yep, today should be interesting.

***

Luis Maldonado was feeling no pain as he ran the last 25 yards of his early morning ritual. Running kept him in shape and, lately, kept his mind off his wife, or rather, his soon-to-be ex-wife.

Turning up his driveway, he paused long enough to pick up the paper, then sprinted the last few feet to the backdoor. Entering the kitchen, the smell of bacon and eggs hit him in surprise and, stunned, he watched his sixteen year old daughter, Tirza, pile eggs onto a platter that already held several rashers of bacon and four slices of toast.

"Hey, Dad, just in time. Breakfast is ready."

He looked at the mound of food and, while wondering when she'd learned to cook, he tried to figure out how best to break it to his lovely girl that he was watching his cholesterol. As if reading his mind, she added, "Don't worry, the bacon's mine and the eggs are Egg Beaters. Perfectly healthy. Dig in."

Grinning in appreciation, he pulled out a chair and sat down. "Girl, you're a miracle."

"A real jewel, that's me."

As they ate, Tirza filled him in on her life, the current school play and her newest love, Scott. Listening to her, he could almost forget how hard his daughter had been hit by her mother's absence. She was trying so damn hard to take Barbara's place as the woman of the house.

He gazed tenderly at his "little girl" and felt an overpowering sensation of bewilderment that he and Barbara had created this beautiful, talented, caring young woman.

"Hey, pop, tell me what you've got planned for Blair today. Something wicked, I bet."

"Oh, yeah, it's good," he answered. "And foolproof. He'll never trip to this one."

"Poor Blair." She quickly shoveled more food into her mouth, swallowed, took a gulp of orange juice, then stood and gathered her books. "I'm out of here, Dad. Bus will be here any minute." She dropped a quick kiss on the top of his short buzz cut, stuffed another piece of bacon into her mouth - and was gone.

He was left alone in Barbara's kitchen.

He couldn't help glancing over his shoulder at the stove - where she'd been standing in order to take out his four-hour-old dinner while telling him that she couldn't handle their life any more, his life, and had to leave to preserve her sanity. Thank God she'd understood that taking Tirza would have devastated the girl, in spite of the love she had for her mother.

Two days later, Barbara was gone, staying with her sister, and he and Tirza were alone.

That had been three weeks ago.

He got up and walked slowly into his room. Major Crime waited.

***

Detective Martin Regan gave his partner, Detective Peter Sbarro, a quick jab in the ribs but Peter never moved. Only slightly aggravated, Martin said, "Get up, you lazy bum."

An incoherent mumble was his reward this time.

"Jesus, Peter, we're going be late again and you know how I hate it when Simon waves that cigar in my face. Now come on, get up."

Sbarro rolled over, grunted and opened one brown eye. "Fuck. You're already dressed. How do you do that? And how can I pillage, plunder and ravage if you're already dressed?"

"You can't. Now get up or I leave without you."

Peter pulled himself up, ran a hand over his crew-cut and allowed the sheet to slip down just enough to show his partner a bright-eyed and wide awake cock. Martin just snorted and turned away while mumbling something about brazen hussies.

"You know," Peter said as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "You threaten to leave without me at least three times a week - but we both know it's never going to happen."

"One of these days, Peter, one of these days."

Padding over to his lover, who stood in front of the dresser mirror to straighten his tie, Peter slipped his arm around Martin's slender waist and rested his chin on the taller man's shoulder. "You'd never leave without me and you know it."

Martin looked at their reflection in the mirror and marveled at the view. They were polar opposites in looks, temperament and backgrounds, and yet, fit so well together.

Peter came from Little Italy and a family of cops. He was short and stocky, but, with his blonde hair, obviously took after his mother's northern Italian heritage. Martin knew that Peter had struggled through the academy just as he'd struggled in school, but he was stubborn and, in spite of sometimes being his own worse enemy, he'd persevered. When he'd told his family he was going after Major Crime, they'd prepared themselves for his first failure but he'd surprised them all by making it. However, once in MC, his temper had nearly gotten him kicked out more than once in his first year - and might have anyway if he hadn't finally been partnered with Martin.

Calm, cool, never ruffled - that was him: Martin Regan. Or at least he supposed that was how people viewed him.

Black Irish but with no temper, Peter often told him he was 'fake' Irish. The fact that he didn't drink only cemented that opinion. He'd seen the appreciation of his dark curly hair and Irish green eyes in Peter almost from the get-go but he'd been in deep denial about his own sexual choices and had managed to ignore his partner's obvious desire.

Martin had been an overachiever from pre-school age, had always been a straight A student, graduating at the top of his academy class. He had no family of his own, but Peter's had immediately adopted him and, yes, he'd eventually accepted the fact that he was, in effect, their son-in-law.

Staring at their reflection now, at the three inches difference in their height, and thinking of the eight years difference in their ages, he couldn't help but wonder at how, together, they created an incredible person. Thank God Peter had never given up on him, had continued to pursue him, to force him to see who and what he was.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted as Peter gave his ear a quick nip and asked, "You think Ellison will ever get buy a ticket on the clue bus?"

"He'd better, and damn quick too. Blair's been even more patient than you." He turned in Peter's arms and added, "Speaking of you - shower - now."

"I'm going, I'm going, but Blair would never leave Ellison, he'll hang around forever, he loves the guy."

"I know and I feel for him. He doesn't know what to do about their situation."

"Well, duh. He's never been with a guy before," Peter snorted.

"Oh, and Ellison has? And didn't I say 'shower'?"

"Yes, and yes, Ellison has."

Peter started for the bathroom but was stopped as Martin squeezed his arm and squeaked out, "Ellison? Jim Ellison?"

Grinning smugly, Pete nodded. "Ellison."

"You know this - how?"

"The same way I knew about you."

"Oh, right - the infamous gaydar."

Peter just shook his head and headed for the bathroom muttering about Martin and how his gaydar was on the blink and, "…could you go to a doctor for something like that?"

Martin couldn't resist. He swatted his partner's very fine ass before pulling him back into his arms. "Shower later - fuck now, and not everyone was born with your gaydar, all right? I'm just grateful you do and that it found me."

"Good point." Then, just before kissing his partner, Peter frowned, scratched the back of his ear and said, "I'm thinking Ellison must have excellent jamming equipment."

***

"Sandburg, where's my blue tie? The one with the dark blue triangles." Jim heard Blair's footsteps cross the floor below and then he was at the French doors. He peered over the rail of his bedroom and into amused blue eyes.

"And I would know where your tie was exactly how?"

"I need the tie, Sandburg."

"Well, you could try the tie rack Megan got you for your birthday," Blair suggested with a wink before turning away and walking into the kitchen.

Jim rolled his eyes but walked over to his closet and, sure enough, there hung the tie rack. The same tie rack that he'd stored in the back of his closet an hour after his birthday party last month. "You're a sneak, Chief," he yelled.

"Hey, it wasn't me," Blair disclaimed. "It was the tie elf."

Blair was slathering strawberry cream cheese on a toasted bagel and, thankful that his partner didn't have sentinel hearing, Jim snorted and muttered a promise to himself to one day 'elf' his roommate. A few minutes later, he walked downstairs, dropped his jacket on the back of the couch and joined his partner in the kitchen. As he passed Blair - on his way to the coffee - the younger man handed off half the bagel. Jim caught it deftly and stuck it in his mouth. Three bites and two coffee gulps later he finally looked at his partner.

Frowning, he said, "Chief, you're wearing flannel."

Blair looked down at his shirt and then up at Jim. "Why yes, Jim, I am. Very astute."

"You get sworn in today," Jim reminded. "Four sharp. You do not wear flannel and jeans to your swearing in."

"It's not a real swearing in, and my suit is over there."

Jim followed Blair's head movement and, sure enough, a garment bag hung on one of the pegs next to the door.

"Too bad poor Detective Ellison has court because, unlike me, he has to wear a suit all day. Sniffle."

"I feel the sympathy flowing off of you, Chief."

In answer, Blair took the last of his bagel, which Jim had been eyeing, and popped it into Jim's mouth. Before the bigger man could retaliate, he scooted around him and back out into the living room as he said, "Quit stuffing your face, Jim. We're going to be late."

With that reminder, even though in jest, Jim checked his watch and swore. "Shit. I've got twenty minutes to get you to Major Crime and me to court."

"Now, I'm just talking off the top of my head here, I'm not a real detective yet, but you could let me drop you at court."

"But…that would mean you drive the truck," Jim said, trying to sound totally offended at the very idea.

"Another astute observation from the senior detective. Man, I just learn so much from you."

Jim picked up an apple from the fruit bowl on the dining room table and tossed it, none too gently, directly at his partner - who caught it with precision.

Looking as innocent as an angel with a hairy chest can look, Blair said, "Gee, Jim, for me?"

"Jerk. And just when does the classic get out of the shop?"

"Monday."

The truck keys followed the same flight path as the apple and were just as expertly caught. "All right, then. Guess you drive, Junior."

Blair bit into the apple to keep from laughing outright.

***

Captain Simon Banks climbed into his car, eager to get to work. Today, he would officially swear in his newest detective. The whole ceremony had been given the green light by the mayor, no less and, since more than a little red tape had been snipped to make this happen, it was decided that the swearing in would be private - which was exactly how everyone wanted it. Just family. The Major Crime family. His family.

A few minutes after four - Blair would be Detective Sandburg and, more importantly, Jim's permanent and official partner.

Simon afforded himself a huge grin. Yes, it was going to be a good day. His entire family was intact with icing on the cake being the fact that Daryl had agreed to re-think college before the academy.

Life was good.

And yes, while he'd never admit it, he couldn't wait to see what joke Luis had planned for their rookie. The gang had been teasing Blair all week, playing practical jokes but forced to watch as Blair deftly deflecting them back onto the perps - but Luis was the acknowledged master and consensus was that their newest detective would fall today.

Banks gave a chomp on his cigar and chuckled.

Yep, it was going to be a very good day.

***

Three hours of sitting in the courtroom while waiting to testify, all for nothing. As Jim pocketed his cell phone, he strode down the hall toward the elevators, damning all lawyers and their continuances. Once in the elevator, he couldn't help but give a frustrated shake of his head even as he acknowledged that in this case, a continuance was a blessing because there was now no way he'd miss Blair's swearing in. Outside, he jogged down the courthouse steps even though he knew there was no hurry, that he had a bit of a wait for his ride. When he'd called Blair just outside the courtroom, he'd caught him caught him at the post office, which meant at least a fifteen minute wait - which meant too much time alone with his mind - and his worries.

Leaning against the courthouse wall, senses alert for the sound of the truck, he did a quick mental review of his "Top Five Worries Now That Sandburg is My Real Partner." Starting from the bottom of the list, well, now he'd actually have to let Sandburg drive - and yes, he knew damn well that Blair was the better driver and would probably congratulate him for giving up some of his perceived control. Yeah, well, fuck his control issues, the truck was his baby.

And speaking of fucking - Jim hit number four on his list: Fucking Sandburg, the man who would soon be his official partner, which meant fucking was definitely not kosher. Not that it was happening - because it wasn't. But hell, all the signals were there - had been for months…except now Blair was official - and officially out of bounds.

Except…there was no way anyone would consider them to be 'typical' partners. He was a sentinel and Blair his - what, guide? Sure, guide. Even though hearing from Brackett so long ago hadn't exactly thrilled him, it sounded good coming from him. Seriously, he doubted he could do the job without Blair - not as long as he remained a sentinel. And didn't Simon know it as well as he did? Damn right. So it wasn't as if they'd ever be separated, fucking or no fucking. Maybe he should cross that worry off his list? After all, he did love the guy.

Great, so moving onto number three: He couldn't make Sandburg stay in the truck anymore.

All right, he could never make Sandburg stay in the truck if he really wanted to follow Jim, so he might as well go directly to worry number two: Blair as a cop.

Blair, anthropologist - now a cop. Blair, who'd had two lives, one with Jim and Major Crime, and one at the University. Only now…now it would be one life - with him - twenty-four/seven. How soon before it was all too much for Blair?

Which, of course, led directly to Jim's number one worry - the big one, the one that scared the living daylights out of him: He could lose Blair.

He could lose him in so many ways.

***

"Did he fall for it?"

Henri Brown was perched on the edge of Luis' desk, one of his more smug grins plastered across his face. Luis looked up and winked. "Hook, line and sinker, Compadre, hook, line and sinker. He's stopping at the Post Office first, then to--"

"Excuse me, is there a Detective Maldonado here?" A tall, skinny young man stood just inside the squad room, several bags in his hand, a quizzical expression on his freckled face.

Puzzled, Luis stood. "I'm Maldonado."

"We've got your order, man." With that, two other men, both with boxes piled high with white bags, joined him. All three walked in and began to deposit everything on any available open space. Then they left - only to return with even more bags and drink containers.

When everything was down, the young man who'd first spoken pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper and set it in front of Luis. "You were real lucky, sir," the youngster explained. "The guy that called to tell us the order was wrong, made it just in time. We hadn't started it yet so were able to double it. We've already delivered to Vice for you and they told me to give you their thanks." With that, he remained where he was, a very expectant look on his face even as he cocked his head toward the bill.

Luis looked at it, eyes widening in shock as the large red numbers swam across the bottom of the greasy bill.

"A hundred and twenty-five bucks?!" he exclaimed loudly.

Every member of Major Crime exploded in laughter as it hit them all that Blair had done it again. He'd successfully turned the joke around by turning the perp into the victim.

They had a new king.

With a resigned, and somewhat amused, expression on his face, Luis forked over the money; twice the amount Sandburg should have been paying when picking up what he thought was one small order for Luis and Beth as opposed to lunch for the whole squad - as Luis had planned.

"Damn, he's good" he finally mumbled as the boys left.

Beth grabbed one of the bags, plopped down opposite her partner, gave him a saucy wink and said, "Gee, partner, thanks for lunch." She then she turned to everyone and added, "Right, guys?"

They were immediately assaulted by several, "Right ons" and "Amen, sisters!" Once everyone had their lunches, Beth held up her drink and said, "The King is dead, long live the new King!"

Simon chose that precise moment to exit his office - and he wasn't smiling. The joking and bantering came to an abrupt halt, every detective recognizing Simon's expression, which said clearly that something bad had - or was - happening. They waited.

"Hostag situation at the post office on Twelfth and Alton. FBI is on their way. Rafe, you take Connor. Brown, you stay here." At Henri's baffled expression, Simon added, "I need someone to co-ordinate with the Feds. Maldonado, you and Jenkins roll with Rafe and Connor. Martin and Peter will join you - they're coming from the other end of town."

"Sir, you said…the Twelfth Street Post Office?" Luis asked, fear in his tone.

"I did."

"Simon…Blair was stopping there--"

He didn't have a chance - or a need - to finish as Simon's shoulders straightened and he said tightly, "Roll, people."

***

Simon turned the corner onto Lexington and spotted Jim instantly. He pulled in toward the curb, slowed long enough for Jim to jump in before speeding off, lights and sirens on. After Maldonado's announcement, and while rushing down to his own car, Simon had made the call to Jim. He hadn't intended to disturb him at court, but with Luis' announcement, he knew better than to exclude him. Once connected, he'd given Jim the facts, told him he was on his way to pick him up. Now, glancing quickly to his right, he found Jim sitting stiffly, eyes fixed on something far in the distance.

Just when he was about to speak - to say something - anything, Jim beat him to it. "Do we know for sure?"

"You mean whether Sandburg is actually there?" At Jim's nod, he shook his head. "No, but I tried his cell - no answer. Same thing with you, right?"

"If he'd had the chance to use it - to let us know anything, he would have, otherwise, we both know he'd turn it off so as not to spook…anyone."

"Right - just what I figured."

A few minutes later, they joined the other squad cars, SWAT trucks and FBI vehicles in the parking lot of the Twelfth Street Federal Post Office. Once parked, both exited quickly and made their way to Joel, who'd been the first on the scene.

Simon came up behind him, touched his shoulder and said quietly, "Taggart?"

"The FBI have already taken over, Simon," the large man said, his disgust clearly evident. "They won't let us deploy - hell, they won't even let them out their cars. I approached the AIC, a jerk named Lister, told him one of our men was probably inside, but he brushed me off like it was nothing." He finally faced his friend. "This isn't right, Simon. We've always had a good working relationship with the Feds."

Brown eyes already fixed on the building, Simon nodded almost absently before asking, "Jim?"

"I've got them - and yes, Sandburg's inside," he answered. From the moment he'd been in range, he'd tuned everything out, hoping to hear his partner's voice - and had quickly succeeded. He could still hear him.

"Sssh, it's okay, sweetheart, don't cry."

There were at least two children in the building and Blair was doing his best to keep them calm.

Suddenly Jim's ears were assaulted by a loud, threatening, and abrasive voice.

"Shut that brat up or I will!"

He could hear the sound of footsteps, heard Blair trying to reason with the man and then winced when he heard the sharp sound of flesh hitting flesh - which was followed by more yelling - this time from another one of the thieves.

"The cops are here, Brady! The parking lot is crawling with them."

Jim was then stunned when he heard Blair whispered words.

"Jim, I'm pretty sure you're out there so listen up. There are eight of them. Terrorists, heavily armed, wearing Kevlar and...they have explosives. Their weaponry is high tech, man. I think something went wrong - I overheard one of them say that it was a trap, that the Feds were ready for them. You've got to get everyone back - all our people - or they'll be cut to ribbons."

Jim looked quickly over at Simon - but found the space next to him empty. Looking around, he spotted him moving toward the Agent in Charge. Simon was already gesturing angrily at the man. Turning back to Joel, he said tersely, "Get in your car, pull back onto the street and then tell everyone else to do the same - now."

Joel understood completely and moved quickly toward his vehicle.

It didn't take Jim long to realize that Blair's warning had been accurate, his instructions good - but unfortunately - too late.

Even as Joel got into his car, one of the terrorists lifted a blind, his gun clearly visible - which was all one angry and frustrated agent named Elkins, needed. He started firing and Jim's world exploded.

***

Jim clamped his hands over his ears while trying to regain control of his senses. Even as he did this, Jim realized that the terrorists inside had quickly retaliated and were now firing on anyone - or anything - that moved. Which meant the men and women of Major Crime, all of whom were doing as Joel instructed: trying to back out of the parking lot.

Stunned, Jim watched a volley of bullets hit Luis' beige Taurus just as he started to move. In the next instant, Jim wished with all his heart and soul that his eyes weren't sentinel eyes because the second round hit Luis and Beth. Jim could hear the sound of the bullets as they struck flesh, knew that Luis was hit twice in the leg, Beth in the chest and neck. The surprise was that, in spite of being injured, Luis still managed to get the car turned around and facing the right direction. But before he could the car out of range, another round took out his tires and he lost control. The Taurus struck several other vehicles before coming to deadly stop.

At the same moment, Joel's car was struck, but with great relief, Jim caught sight of the man as he bailed out and rolled safely away. He moved toward the shelter of the drive-up center, gun out and ready.

His senses finally regulated, Jim pulled his weapon just as Martin's white Buick turned into the parking lot. His vision zeroed in and he could see Martin taking it all in, observed the moment Martin spotted Luis' car and, while Jim wanted to scream, "No!" - he knew it was useless - Martin and Peter had to try to get to their friends.

Unfortunately, too many others were trying to get out of the way - namely Federal vehicles - and it was impossible for Martin to move any further. And once again, Jim was forced to watch, helplessly, as another MC vehicle was hit over and over again. He saw Peter throw himself over Martin as bullets slammed into metal - and ultimately into flesh.

***

Rafe, parked at the opposite end of the parking lot and next to the spot the FBI had staked out as their command post, quickly realized his friends were in trouble. Acting quickly, he released Megan's seatbelt, opened the door and, with a hard shove, pushed her out. He then hit the accelerator, shot across the edge where parking lot met sidewalk - and directly in front of the building, thus placing his vehicle between the terrorists, the Taurus and the Buick.

Joel, who like Jim, had been forced to watch helplessly as both cars were strafed, now found himself watching in absolute horror as Rafe drove straight into. He understood Rafe's intentions immediately and started looking frantically around for help. He spotted both Jim and Simon already moving toward him, ducking and dodging bullets.

As the gunfire moved from Luis and Martin in order to concentrate on Rafe's vehicle, the three men met at the mini-center and, almost telepathically, made a unified move. With uncanny timing - and not a single word exchanged - they pulled first Luis and Beth from the Taurus and then Martin and Peter from the Buick - getting all four back to the relative safety of the mini-center.

While Joel and Simon began assessing injuries, Jim ran back toward Rafe. His Blazer, now almost unrecognizable thanks to the bullet holes, had finally slowed and come to a stop a mere two inches from the Taurus. Weaving and bobbing and, against all the odds, Jim reached the vehicle, grabbed the unconscious Rafe, and pulled him out. His only problem was how in the hell could he get him back to safety. The answer arrived in the form of a full-body armor shield wielded by Connor. She placed herself behind Jim, the armor keeping them safe as, with Rafe over Jim's shoulders, they made their way back to the others.

***

Agent Lister, following the first shot, had quickly mobilized his men and the SWAT team. Then, without regard to the civilians or postal workers inside the building, ordered that they open fire. When he realized they were outgunned, he ordered a five man body armored assault to storm the post office.

Twenty minutes after the first shot had been fired - the battle was over.

For Blair - the last hour had been sheer hell. He stood, numb and dumbfounded, in the middle of the post office where three terrorists lay dead, two others critically wounded and another - well, he'd taken that one down himself. As for the last two, they'd finally seen the writing on the wall and surrendered. They were currently face down on the floor and being handcuffed

Eyes glazed over in shock, Blair almost absently noted that two civilians were also dead - victims of the FBI assault. Three postal employees and several other civilians had received cuts and bruises, but everyone was suffering from shock.

Somehow, when things started going south, Blair had managed to keep five of the civilians safe, two women and three children, by pulling two large work tables down and using them as shields. The women were up now, shell-shocked but alive and, children in arms, were moving toward the light pouring in through the smashed front door. Blair, seeing the medical personnel moving in and realizing there was nothing else for him to do, started to follow them.

As he exited the building - it was to a scene that made his idea of Armageddon pale by comparison. Blinking in the bright sunlight, he could make out men limping, stumbling, and holding their hands over bleeding wounds as paramedics rushed from one to another. Cops and men in blue FBI jackets - all looking stunned - walked about as if they knew what they were doing - and some actually did as they started to remove remaining civilians out of the 'combat' area in ordere to get them whatever kind of help they needed. Blair didn't miss the cameras either. The press had arrived and, even though they were held back by yellow tape, they snapped cameras, rolled video cams and yelled out numerous, nonsensical questions to people who weren't listening.

The Day of the Locusts.

At that moment, it hit him again that Major Crime would have rolled, that Jim had to be here - after all, wasn't that why he'd whispered the information to him? Just in case?

Which meant that…that Jim…Jim… Oh, God, Jim.

Blair, heart in his throat, started scanning the injured, looking for a face he knew as well as his own.

"Blair?"

One word. One voice - and just like that - Blair's world righted. He turned around to find Jim standing tall, clothes covered in blood.

Blair immediately reached out but Jim stopped him. "Not mine. You okay?"

Relieved, Blair nodded even as he found himself being carefully steered to where a stunned Simon stood, one hand rubbing his jaw while he focused on what was happening at his feet. Blair let his own gaze follow Simon's.

"Oh, dear God," he thought as he stared at the devastation on the ground before him.

A bloodied Martin sat on the ground, Peter cradled in his arms. Even as he rocked and shook his head in denial, the paramedics continued to try to pull Peter's lifeless body away. Blair felt the hot prick of tears even as his gaze was wrenched to the right where Luis was being loaded onto an ambulance. He was alive, conscious, obviously in pain, but he was looking down, down at one of two covered stretchers, side-by-side in the sunlight, awaiting the coroner's van. Blair knew without asking that if he were to lift the blanket, he'd find their Beth.

He swallowed the bile building up in his throat even as he looked at the other stretcher, at a pale Megan who sat on the ground beside it, her hand under the blanket, a tear-streaked Joel beside her, his arms around her as he gave comfort the only way he could.

How had this happened? How could they all be…no, it wasn't possible. He shook his head - back and forth, back and forth. None of this was possible.

Even as he denied it all, Jim spoke softly, filling him in, telling him how Beth had killed instantly, the first bullet striking her in the neck. Peter had regained consciousness just long enough to see his lover's face before dying in Martin's arms - and Luis, although alive and conscious, had been hit in the leg and the paramedics didn't hold out a lot of hope for saving it.

And finally, with a voice that cracked with emotion, Jim whispered of Rafe's heroism, that he'd been dead before his Blazer had come to a stop.

Blair felt tears threatening again even though his mind and body were still trying to deny the truth of Jim's emotion-filled words. This was too much - too much loss - and therefore, in his mind, at that moment, it simply couldn't be true. He started forward, to go to whom, he didn't know, but he was stopped by a loud, angry, and accusing voice easily overriding Jim's.

"Banks, where is he? Where's the man you assholes had inside? I want him now!"

The man's rage was palpable, his face flushed red with it. Simon started forward, but Blair beat him to it even as he said softly, "I was inside."

Before anyone could react, Agent Lister, the man responsible for the yelling, flew at Blair, grabbed him by his shirt and shoved him back like a man possessed. They crashed into a concrete column, causing Blair's head to snap back, striking the concrete before flopping forward. He was barely aware of Jim and Simon, moving as one to help, but before they reached him, Lister wrenched Blair away from the wall and struck him with all the force behind what appeared to be an insane rage.

Blair lurched back, struck the wall again and, this time, slid to the ground just as Jim and Simon succeeded in grabbing Lister. Stunned, Blair sat where he'd landed, only vaguely aware of more talking and yelling because, at the moment, he didn't really care. He managed to glance over at the covered bodies again…and decided nothing really mattered.

***

Simon grabbed the agent, his own anger, fears and grief finally finding an outlet. Once he had him away from Jim, he lifted the man as if he were nothing more than a rag doll and tossed him away like garbage.

Jim, once the target of his rage had been taken from him, remembered his partner and got to Blair's side just as he was struggling to stand. Putting his arm around him, he helped Blair to his feet.

"You okay, Chief?"

Turning his head with great difficulty, Blair nodded even as he moved his hand absently to the back of his head. "Fine...I'm fine."

Two other agents, seeing - and hearing - their boss, quickly joined them and were now helping Lister stand. Once on his feet, instead of backing down, he once again turned to Blair and resumed his ranting.

"This is your fault! What the fuck were you doing in there?"

Blair blinked in confusion a couple of times before his eyes widened in horror and he turned again toward his friends; at Peter, still enfolded within Martin's protective embrace - at Megan, still stroking Rafe's hand under the sheet - but before he could say anything, Simon stuck his face an inch from Lister's and yelled back, "You son of a bitch! Three of my people are dead and at least two civilians. In my book, buster, there's only one person at fault and that's you! Now get the fuck away from me and my people or I won't be held responsible for my actions!"

One of the other agents began to pull Lister away, his own face flushed with shame while the other agent took in the horror around them, at Blair, before finally facing Simon, apology in his eyes. "I…I'm sorry, Captain. We'll…we'll leave you alone."

With that - he was gone.

Simon took several deep, steadying breaths, then started to reassure Blair, but before he could utter a word, Blair stumbled forward and, face contorted in pain, asked, "Is this my fault? I did…I did this, Simon?" His voice cracked with emotion as, with eyes pleading with him to say it wasn't true, he stared up at his boss, adding, "I didn't know...how could…how could I have...."

His voice finally broke and, as Blair took his hand away from the back of his head, both Jim and Simon could see the blood smeared across his palm and fingers.

Jim moved in closer, to check out Blair's injury, but his action caused Blair to turn to him and helplessly ask, "Please, Jim, man, please, I'm so sorry, so...sorry. Just…so…I don't understand…Peter...Beth.... Oh, God, Jim...Rafe…Rafe is dead…."

With that, Blair's eyes rolled back in his head, jerked sharply and then pitched forward - and into Jim's arms

***

Simon sat down in the corridor between ER and the waiting room. Drained of all energy, he dropped his head into his hands.

Three of his people dead - another might lose his leg - and still another - Blair - in a coma. After several seconds, he checked the time; and his heart clenched within his chest.

Five-thirty.

If nothing had happened, Blair would be a detective now. Although, technically, ceremony or not - he was already Simon's newest rookie. Simon just wondered if Blair would ever have the chance to finally be Jim's official partner.

Afraid of the answer, he sat back and rested his head against the wall. Eyes closed, he whispered an anguished, "Dear God."

He'd just come down from Luis Maldonado's room where he'd left Tirza Maldonado sitting quietly by her father's side; pale, brave, and aware enough to ask about Beth and her family, not to mention taking the time to reassure him that her dad would be fine, would be back on the job in no time.

She was a hell of a woman, already.

In fact, Tirza had provided the one bright moment in the hours following the fiasco at the post office. She'd shown him an expression of hope after too many faces full of shock and loss.

Like Sam Jenkins.

Simon had driven to Beth's home, to personally deliver the news to Sam, who'd stood on the porch; tall, stiff, and silent, two small children behind him. The man's face had given nothing away, but his eyes…God, Simon could still them, dark and bruised with the grief that was starting to break through his defenses. Once the words had been spoken, there'd been little Simon could do but leave them alone to deal, to begin a life without a beloved wife and a caring, loving mother.

For Brian Rafe, there'd been no family to visit - only a phone call to make, to Rafe's brother in Colorado, but it had been no easier just because of the absence of a pair of grief-stricken eyes. Then Simon had to tell Henri Brown, the man he'd left behind. Had to tell him that his partner was dead. Henri had taken the news with uncharacteristic quiet. A scary kind of quiet.

The fact that Rafe had died saving his fellow officers might have brought Rafe's brother little comfort - but it had helped Brown. The only words spoken by the big man had been in response to that information.

"That's how he'd want to go…."

Rubbing his forehead, Simon thought briefly of Megan. He'd known that she and Rafe were attracted to each other, had watched its beginnings, observed them both as their feelings grew - not unlike Jim and Blair.

Damn, what did that say about his department? Breaking all the rules…and yet….

Fuck.

Okay, back to business, back to the ones left behind. He knew Megan was strong, tough, she'd weather this. Never be the same, never could be, but she'd come out the other side in one piece. He'd wanted to take her home, but she'd insisted on going back to the station, to work, to be with Henri.

Luis…well, Simon didn't doubt for a minute that Tirza was right, that he'd persevere, especially with her by his side - pushing.

Then there was Martin, who'd finally relinquished Peter's body after seeing Blair collapse. Once the ambulances had left the parking lot, Simon had hustled Martin into his car, instinctively knowing that he needed to be with Peter's family. Once at the Sbarro home, Martin had finally spoken as he insisted on being the one to tell them. It was an easy thing to allow because Simon had known that Peter's father, George Sbarro, a retired cop, would already know, which meant the family would know. And sure enough, when he pulled up in front of the green house on Edison, the front door had opened and six Sbarro's spilled out, crying, arms open, quickly taking Martin into their fold.

George, upon seeing Simon standing alone on the sidewalk, had immediately separated himself to join him. The two men had faced each other, silent, knowing, until George pulled Simon into his huge embrace, crying openly for his son, for Martin, for all the dead and injured…and for Simon.

The Sbarro's would help, but Martin had a rough road ahead of him - he loved Peter so damn much - and that thought brought Simon to…Jim.

Which brought Simon…to Jim. He opened his eyes and sat up straight. He needed to get back up to ICU, to Blair. And yes, he knew full well that he'd find Jim exactly where he'd left him a few hours ago.

At least Blair was alive to return to in ICU. A small miracle among all the carnage of the afternoon. And Blair was, as Simon had learned earlier, a real hero. He'd saved two women and three children - proven himself in the toughest possible circumstances, kept his head and helped keep things as calm as possible until one stupid man had fired his weapon and an egotistical bastard had ordered an all-out assault on the post office. But damn it, others might be home with their families tonight because of Blair, but his newest rookie was in ICU thanks to one arrogant son-of-a-bitch.

"How are we going to survive this? Will we survive this?" he murmured to no one. And since there was no one to answer him - he had to place his faith in God.

Pushing himself to his feet, feeling older than his years, he walked over to the elevator.

It was time to face Jim and Blair again.

He rode silently up to ICU, stepped out of the elevator, rounded the corner toward the entrance - and came to a dead stop. He shouldn't be so shocked - but he was.

Sitting on chairs opposite the double doors were Megan, Brown and Joel. All three watched him as he approached, with Joel quickly getting to his feet. "They had to come, Simon. Henri needed... He needed to see Rafe and I couldn't stop him. Then we checked on Luis and after that…well, we came up here."

Simon glanced past his friend and at the doors that stood between them and Blair, then looked back at Connor and Brown. Yeah, he understood. "It's all right, Joel," he said reassuringly. "Has there been any news? Have you seen Jim?"

"A few minutes ago." Joel smiled wryly. "The nurses forced him to leave long enough to at least stretch his legs and he gave us an update." The grin faded. "No change. They're hoping they can avoid surgery to relieve the pressure, but…."

The 'but' hung in the air over their heads like a guillotine. Simon's gaze returned to the doors as he asked, "I take it he's gone back in? Won't go home?"

"You got that right," Henri said, speaking for the first time.

"Damn."

Simon straightened his shoulders, took a breath, walked to the doors and pushed the 'enter' button. A moment later, the doors whooshed open to reveal a nurse. Simon flashed his badge and she nodded, knowing precisely who he was there to see. She stepped aside and, as he crossed the threshold and the doors shut behind him, he felt sympathy for his people who could only wait on the other side.

Approaching Blair's cubicle, he could see Jim, silent and still - as immobile as his partner. Simon swore an oath under his breath and then murmured, "I'm not going to lose either of them. I'm not. I won't let it happen."

***

Five days later-

Simon could feel the exhaustion as he parked the car in front of Cascade General. For the last five days, he and his people had kept vigil over both Jim and Blair - the only break in their routine to bury their comrades. Now, returning from Mount Hope Cemetery for the third and, God, please, the final time, Simon knew that no department should have to go through something this. Not the loss of three of their own followed by three funerals, each one only a day apart. Facing three sets of families and friends, all in shock, all so full of grief that no words, no comfort, could help.

All three ceremonies had been gut wrenching as Major Crime and the Cascade Police Department gathered to pay honor to their own, to say their final farewells. But damn it, Simon knew none of it should have been necessary. Not farewells that were bitter and full of anger because three fine people, three individuals needed by families, friends, their fellow officers and the city, were all cut down before their time.

He thought of Beth - no - Detective Beth Jenkins - only thirty-six - and now with the dubious honor of becoming the first female officer in the history of the Cascade P.D. to die in the line of duty. He figured it was an honor both she and her family could have done without.

Then there was Detective Peter Sbarro, thirty, the second youngest on the team, giving up his life for his partner - a partner both on and off the job.

And finally - Brian Rafe - Detective Brian Rafe - thirty-three and hailed a hero by the city, his friends and yes, Simon, for putting his fellow officers ahead of his own safety and, ultimately, ahead of his own life.

For cops, risks were an accepted part of the job, everyone knew it. Suddenly Simon struck the edge of the steering wheel hard as his mind screamed, "But not this time! This time it shouldn't have happened."

Oh, sure, they'd all felt some satisfaction when Lister had been suspended and the foolish agent who'd fired the opening salvo had been terminated, but knowing that Lister would face criminal charges - and that if Blair died - those charges would include murder - well, no one wanted to go there.

For Simon, well, he'd gladly give up any sense of justice in exchange for having his people back, hale and hearty. He wanted Rafe, Peter and Beth alive, working, laughing and loving again. He wanted Blair seated next to Jim, rolling his eyes every time Simon tried to sound gruff with him. But nothing could bring them back or assuage the massive loss or intense grief - so he mourned with the rest of the men and women of the Cascade P.D., while holding on to the one remaining team member still fighting for his life.

***

Jim rested his hand lightly on top of Blair's. He knew Simon was somewhere nearby, was conscious of others coming and going, but he paid them no attention, his entire being concentrated on Blair.

Skull fracture with complications thanks to the intense beating his brain had taken. The doctors were pleased that they'd been lucky in controlling the fluid build up, that surgery wasn't necessary, but Doctor Kennedy, the primary on Blair's case, couldn't, even now, predict the extent of damage or if Blair woke up - no, when - Blair woke up, if any damages suffered would be permanent. At the swelling was finally going down and that was supposedly hopeful.

Hopeful or not, for Jim - as long as Blair remained in a coma - his life was on hold.

He knew the funerals had come and gone, but he'd missed them. No way would he leave Blair - not with the unreasoning fear that Blair would let go if Jim left. That belief kept him rooted to the chair, getting up only to use the bathroom. He slept in the bed next to his partner, sleeping and eating at his bedside. Now he ran a finger in slow circles over Blair's hand, letting his eyes roam over every feature of his face, willing himself into Blair, willing his strength into Blair by the sheer force of his gaze.

Hadn't he done it once before? And he'd do it again - he'd bring his partner back.

Suddenly Jim felt the fingers move within his grasp. Leaning forward to encourage Blair, he was shocked when his partner's eyes flew open.

It was nine-thirty in the morning and it had been six days.

***

End Part 1 - onto Part 2

The Healer - Part 2

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 00:04:48 GMT

Blair blinked a couple of times, yawned, looked slowly around the room, frowned, and finally looked at the man sitting in a chair by his bed. The man was holding his hand and he found that it felt good - but strange. Confused, he gazed about the room again before asking, "Where's mommy?"

***

Jim watched confusion enter the blue eyes staring at him and, worried, observed Blair as he looked around the room, almost as if searching for someone. Then, in a voice strangely young and hesitant, he asked, "Where's mommy?"

Mommy? Mommy?

Suddenly scared shitless, Jim nevertheless leaned over and, in a voice as gentle as he could make it, asked, "Blair, do you know where you are?"

Blair took another look around and finally guessed, "Hos-pital?"

Before Jim could ask anything else, the doctor on call, Dr. Nichols, along with Blair's ICU nurse hurried in, alerted by the finger monitor.

Seeing his patient awake and apparently aware, Dr. Nichols said softly, "Well, looks like Mr. Sandburg has finally decided to wake up."

Blair looked past him and the nurse, past the open door, obviously still searching for Naomi. This was confirmed when he asked again, his voice impossibly vulnerable, "Mommy, where's my Mommy?" His fingers instinctively closed around Jim's hand as he added, "And Deva, where's Deva? I need Deva, please."

Surprised by the youthful sounding voice and obvious regression, Dr. Nichols looked at Jim, who could only give a worried shrug. Turning his attention back to his patient, Nichols asked gently, "Do you know your name?"

Blair gave him what could only be considered a disgusted look and answered, "A'course, silly. Blair. I'm Blair." Then he glanced back at the empty doorway and asked, "Is my mommy away?"

Nichols moved to the other side of the bed and put down the railing. Placing a hand on Blair's shoulder, he said, "I'm not sure where your mother is, Blair, but we'll find her, don't worry. Can you tell me how old you are?"

Blair looked at everyone in the room as if they should know, but obviously decided to play the grown-up game anyway, so he held up the five fingers on his right hand and as he wiggled one on his left, said, "Six. I'm six." But then he dropped his eyes and added somewhat grudgingly, "Almost. I'm almost six." Then he glanced back up and asked hopefully, "Can I have Deva now?"

Jim, fear was forcing his heart to beat so hard, he was certain he was going to pull an Alien act any minute, but still, he managed to say gently , "Blair, I'm Jim, a friend of your mother's. She's away right now, but I know she'll get here as soon as possible."

"Oh." Then more thoughtfully, he asked, "Are you mommy's boyfriend?"

Smiling at that - and remembering Blair's anger with him the first time he'd made an appreciative remark about Naomi, Jim shook his head. "No, just a friend - and yours too."

Blair seemed to consider that for a moment before accepting it wholeheartedly. With a bright smile, he said, " 'Kay. So you can get me Deva?"

Nichols looked over at Jim, his expression clearly stating that somehow, Jim should know what Blair was talking about, but all Jim could do was give another puzzled shrug and shake his head.

The doctor turned his attention back to Blair for some more skillful questioning. Smiling, he said, "Blair, I'm Dr. Nichols and I'm here to take care of you. I'd like to get this 'Deva' for you, so maybe you could tell us just who Deva is?"

"My best friend. Je pro-teks me. Please, can't I have him now?"

"Well, can you describe him for us so that Jim can locate him?"

Blair actually rolled his eyes, but it was far from the grown-up version - so far that it was like a punch in the gut for Jim.

Using the kind of patient voice usually reserved for parents addressing children, he answered, "He doesn't look like anything. He's my jagwar and he's soft and keeps me warm." Blair frowned and wagged a warning index finger at them. "But he's not a panther or a leopard, he's jagwar. Don't call him a panther or a leopard or he'll gro-o-w-l." Holding up his hand and crinkling his fingers like claws, he proceeded to make a low growling noise deep in his throat to illustrate his obviously very important point.

Looking properly chastised, Nichols asked, "Er…just how big is this…this jaguar?"

"Little, like me - and stuffed." Then with a smug grin, Blair added, "He's not real, silly."

The red flush currently creeping up Dr. Nichols neck told Jim that the man had, even if just for a moment, believed 'Deva' was indeed, real. He could also see the instant he relegated Deva to the category of 'imaginary friend'.

"Well, I'm sure Jim, here, can find this jaguar for you. In the meantime, I need to check you out because you took quite a bump to your head, okay?"

"But my head doesn't hurt - although I'm thirsty. May I please have some water?"

"We can certainly take care of that." Nichols turned to the nurse, who nodded and hurried out. He then looked over at Jim and, indicating the door, asked, "Detective, would you step out for a few minutes?"

Leaving Blair was the last thing Jim wanted to do and he wanted nothing more than to refuse, but then Blair, who'd been clinging to his hand like a life preserver, suddenly released him. Chin lifted slightly, he said rather boldly, "It's okay, I'm very brave."

Unable to help the smile, Jim found himself nodding. "Yes, you are. But I'll be right outside if you need me." At Blair's answering - if somewhat tremulous - grin, Jim got to his feet and, with a backward glance at his partner, left the cubicle. He could have remained standing by the nurses station, but he knew his friends were waiting for word and they deserved to know that Blair was awake - they deserved to know everything.

Out in the corridor, he found Connor and Joel, both looking almost as haggard as he felt. He barely had time to prepare himself before Joel was on his feet and asking, "Any change?"

Looking from one to the other, noting Megan's pale features and red rimmed eyes, he suddenly wondered if he should tell them everything - or simply tell them Blair was awake - and knew who he was. He'd just about decided to do just that when Megan joined them. Looking at their faces, at the anxiety and worry etched into their features, he understood that he owed them - and everyone else waiting - the truth.

Rubbing his eyes, he finally said, "He's awake but he's not--"

"Brain damage?" Megan gasped out. "Say it, Jim. Just say it."

"He…he's… He knows who he is…but he…it's as if he's…."

Jim stopped, took a deep breath, and spit it out. "He's the five-year-old Blair."

Both his friends were stunned, to say the least, both giving quick, disbelieving glances at the ICU doors before looking back to Jim again.

Remembering Blair's need for the stuffed animal, and in effort to stem any further questions for which he had no answers, Jim quickly asked, "Joel, could you do me a favor and head down to the gift shop, see if they have a stuffed black cat?"

Joel's expression at the request nearly tore Jim apart. The odd request went the distance to giving his earlier words credence and Jim suddenly felt as though his legs could no longer hold him. He sank into the seat just vacated by Megan and lowered his face into his hands. A hand squeezing his shoulder was followed by a whispered, "You okay?" from Joel.

"I'm…fine. Blair…he wants… I guess he had this stuffed animal when he was young and I'm hoping… He really wants it, Joel."

The words were spoken so softly, so gently, and with so much love, that Megan felt the tears that seemed to be a constant threat lately - spill down her cheeks. Choking back the lump in her throat, she said, "I'll go, Jim. Henri took…he took Bri's brother to the airport so maybe Joel can let everyone at the station know?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course, that would be… Tell everyone…tell them…thanks for me, okay?"

Both Joel and Megan nodded and, as Joel took her hand in his, they walked away.

Watching them disappear behind the elevator door, Jim cocked his head in order to listen to the doctor working with Blair. He might be gone, but no way would he be left out of any loop concerning his partner. At the moment, Blair was answering every question in what had to be the five-year-old Blair's 'brave' voice. Listening to him seemed to refuel an old anger - one he'd thought he'd long since stamped out.

His anger with Naomi.

And not just because they'd still been unable to find her, although that was certainly more than enough. No, there was also his fury at the number of times Blair had been left alone as a child while Naomi trotted off to some new land in order to 'find' herself. Sure, she'd taken her son with her often enough, but it was the times she hadn't that bothered him.

"Detective Ellison?"

Jim had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he'd allowed Blair's doctor to approach without his awareness. Jumping to his feet, he asked, in a less than steady voice, "Well?"

Nichols indicated the chairs and, after both were seated, said, "Keeping this as basic as possible, I believe the injury to Mr. Sandburg's brain has damaged some cells - which may be the cause of his regression. Although…it's also possible that what we're seeing is psychological. In either case, the last thing he remembers is playing in a backyard." The man glanced away for a moment, gave a small, disbelieving shake of his head before adding, "Whatever the medical or psychological reason, as far as Mr. Sandburg is concerned - he's five years old."

The doctor wasn't telling him anything he hadn't already figured out, thank you very much. Which made him mad. Very mad, because the man looked as though he was finished - done. Nothing more to say. In fact, he was getting up.

Sorry, bud, no way. One question - one very important question - not answered. Jim grabbed the doctor's arm, a bit tighter than intended and, swallowing the lump in his throat, he asked, "How long?"

That was it. The question. No need to elaborate, the doctor knew exactly what Jim was asking.

"Detective, I'd be a fool to try to give you any kind of accurate answer to that question until we're sure of the cause. I've ordered another scan and a couple of other tests that will hopefully shed some light on what's going on. In addition, a psychologist will be seeing him later today. That's all I can give you for now," he finished, the touch of regret in his voice audible to Jim.

With no choice but to accept the man's words, Jim got to his feet. "May I go back?"

It was a testament to the depth of his shock and fear that he was asking rather than telling, and it didn't skip the doctor's notice. Smiling faintly, Nichols answered, "Of course. In fact, what with all the testing, well, we're dealing with a child, for all intents and purposes, and he seemed to trust you instinctively, so you can help prepare him."

With a wry grin, Jim said, "Hell, I'd have to do that if we were dealing with the adult Sandburg. He hates - hated - hospitals. Although he loved the nurses." With that, he got tiredly to his feet and headed back into ICU and Blair's cubicle.

***

Jim's exhaustion seemed to drain away when he saw the huge smile on Blair's face at Jim's entrance. It went a good distance toward reassuring him that even though this Blair had no memory of him, he was already not only accepted, but wanted.

"You came back!"

Taking what he now considered 'his' chair, Jim re-claimed Blair's hand, prying it gently from the blanket Blair was currently strangling. "Yep, I'm back and plan to stay as long as you want."

At his words, Blair's muscles relaxed, but then he started fidgeting as he shifted his eyes away from Jim's face and said apologetically, "I...I don't remember you, do I? I should, though, shouldn't I?"

"It's okay Blair, your took a nasty bump on the head." That was all he could say - the only explanation possible for why the five- year-old Blair shouldn't remember him.

Eyes full of curiosity, Blair asked, "How did I get hurt this time?"

Jim didn't like the 'this time' and vowed to find out more about it, but in the meantime, he answered, "You fell. It was an accident."

Blair seemed relieved by the answer, but then his eyes darkened as he asked, his voice even more vulnerable, "Mickey wasn't there, was he? Mommy promised she'd make sure he didn't come over anymore and I know she'll get mad if he was there."

Puzzled that he'd never heard a reference to this 'Mickey' fellow, Jim shook his head. "No, no, Blair, there was no Mickey. Again, it was just an accident."

A sudden delighted squeak from Blair stopped further conversation as Blair reached out eager hands and exclaimed, "Deva!" as Megan walked in, a stuffed black cat in her hand. She put it into his arms and, once there, Blair hugged the stuffed cat to his chest, dropping his cheek onto the soft, furry head. His eyes closed dreamily as he cuddled and rocked gently.

Jim shot a grateful glance at Connor, who was watching Blair, eyes wide and moist.

"You found him, you really found him," Blair crooned.

Megan could do nothing but stare at the full grown man, her friend, who was now acting like a small boy. But at least, at the moment, a happy boy. She thought her heart might break all over again. Blair looked up then and the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen spread across his face as he looked at her with immediate love, trust and acceptance. It nearly took her breath away.

Smiling at the interchange between them, Jim decided introductions were in order. "Blair, this is Megan Connor, a friend of mine - and yours."

"Megy, you found him."

"Well, in all honesty, it was Jim who told me where to go," she said as her mind reeled at being called 'Megy', a name no one had used but her family. Feeling tears threaten again, she brought her hand up and roughly rubbed them away.

Looking guilty, Blair turned to Jim and said sadly, "I forgot Megy too, didn't I?"

"It's all right, she understands. Friends always understand."

"Okay," he said happily before holding out one of Deva's paws toward Megan. "I'm Blair and this is Deva and he's my friend and keeps me safe."

Megan shook the proffered paw while smiling back at Blair. Once done shaking, he turned the cat back to face him and placed the plastic black nose up against his own. With a gently scolding tone, he said, "but he didn't do a very good job this time...a'course, he were lost." He then added softly, "Not your fault, though. Nope, not your fault."

Blair finally lifted his head, covered the cat's ears with his hands and whispered, "He gets so sad if he thinks he hasn't pro-tec-ted me, but this wasn't his fault - was it?"

Jim stared at the animal and felt as if someone had just ripped out his guts. How could he not have seen it immediately. A black jaguar. A protective black jaguar.

Jesus. His spirit guide? With five-year-old Blair?

How had he missed it? The moment Blair had described Deva, he should have known. God, Blair with a black jaguar. His spirit guide with Blair.

***

He watched as Blair groomed Deva; cooing softly while picking out bits of dust and combing through the fur with his fingers - between major hugging.

Megan was gone, having reluctantly taken her leave when the nurse arrived with Blair's first meal, but, before saying goodbye, she'd learned far more about the difference between jaguars from South America, panthers from Asia, and leopards from both Asia and Africa then she could possibly have wanted to know. Jim was still grinning at the memory of how both of them had marveled at the information rattling around in Blair's five-year-old brain. It had always been so easy to accept that he was a fountain of information at thirty, but that was a far cry from realizing how much he'd already stored up as a child.

Jim's grin broadened as he pictured the moment Connor had dropped a kiss on top of Blair's head in preparation for leaving and then been cajoled into kissing Deva as well after Blair whispered something about how, "He'll be in 'possible to live with otherwise."

She'd left the room humming.

It had been a good moment.

Almost as much fun as watching Blair eat his first meal; cereal and juice. Even while eating, he staunchly refused to put Deva down. Instead, he talked to him, told him juice was bad, very bad, for jaguars and no, he couldn't have any cereal either...all of which was followed by a sly look up through his lashes at the nurse as he'd murmured that maybe she might bring some chocolate for the feline. The nurse, not about to be hoodwinked, had immediately clucked and told Blair that chocolate was bad for cats.

Grinning, Blair had nodded in agreement and the proceeded to tell her that, "Deva was 'speshal and could eat chocolate, but that you should never give chocolate to a regular cat or dog. Never."

The nurse, knowing she'd just been bested, had given him a knowing nod before telling him she'd see what she could do about scrounging up some chocolate, "…for Deva of course - and would Mr. Sandburg maybe like some too?"

Blair had been thrilled to be called 'Mr. Sandburg' even as he'd appeared to give the question great thought - as if he hadn't wanted the chocolate all along - before finally telling her that maybe he could eat some too, just so Deva had company. After all, "…you should never eat chocolate alone."

"This isn't the real Deva, you know."

Jim blinked, coming back to the present with a jolt. He should have known they couldn't fool Blair, but he'd hoped. So, now, like any good - parent - he obfuscated while feigning cheerfulness. "Why, sure it is."

Blair just shook his head gently. "Nope, Megy bought him, but it's okay 'cuz the real Deva just hopped right in. I saw him. He was sitting right over there," he pointed to a spot behind Jim, "and when he saw this one, he just jumped in." He tried to wink conspiratorially, but both eyes kind of closed, one squinting shut tighter than the other. "You see, this is a leopard, but Deva doesn't mind." Then he gave Jim a worried glance before asking, "Do you?"

"Me? No, I don't mind. Why should I? As long as you two are happy, I'm happy."

Blair seemed to puzzle over this a minute, because evidently, Jim should mind. Finally, face all scrunched up, he said, "But...this Deva is your Deva."

"O-kay...then I'm very glad he's with you."

That was obviously the correct answer because he was immediately rewarded with a dazzling smile. Blair raised his right hand, hunched low over the cat and, wiggling his fingers to indicate that Jim should come closer, Blair whispered, "Deva's purring." He then took Jim's hand and placed it over the cat's chest. "Can you hear it?"

Jim felt the warmth of Blair's hand, the steady flow of blood through his veins, felt - and heard - the steady heartbeat….

And then, amazingly enough, he did feel a low, soft rumbling coming from…actually coming from the cat. A sound that could only be called - purring. It didn't last long, but he couldn't deny he'd felt it, or hide his delight in the fact.

Seeing the joy in Jim's face, Blair kicked happily under the covers as his laughter bubbled up. "I knew you would hear it too! Mommy always says she hears and feels it, but I know she doesn't. But your speshul - just like Deva."

It was at that moment that Simon walked in.

***

Simon had been trying to get his department back on line, bringing in temporary replacements for the lost while trying to reduce the number of hours the survivors were working. He'd been playing father, councilor and priest, and yes, he knew he looked as exhausted and drained as he felt. The stress of the last several days was evident in his body language even as he held back his own grief in the face of his surviving detectives, most of whom were now entering the stage of grief that brought forth anger. In other words, his people were sullen, silent and tired.

He'd enjoyed a slight respite today, thanks to stopping off at the park by the hospital and indulging in a few quiet moments with a hot dog and soda from a nearby street vendor. The weight of command was put temporarily on hold as he ate and watched people strolling leisurely by his bench. Eventually, though, it was time to leave the peace of the park and head over to the hospital.

Once inside, he stopped off briefly to see Luis, only to find him sound asleep. A nurse let him know that Tirza was down in the cafeteria, so he figured it was time to check in on Jim and Blair.

He was, in no way, prepared for what greeted him as he walked into Blair's cubicle. He'd missed Joel's call, hadn't checked his messages in the last couple of hours, so walking in and finding Blair not only awake - but giggling? Then Blair's words - and the strange quality to his voice, all combined pull the final rug out from under him.

He reacted accordingly.

"What the hell!?" he exclaimed, his voice loud, booming.

***

"What the hell!?"

Blair, who was in the process of holding Deva out to Jim, froze at the angry tone of the large man standing in the doorway. Deva dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers as Blair, whose lower lip had begun to tremble, bit down hard.

Jim, seeing Blair's reaction, jumped to his feet just as Blair began to chant, "Didsomethinwrong, didsomethinwrong, I'm sorry, didsomethinwrong…."

Blair's breathing started to hitch as tears welled up and spilled over. He reached out blindly, fingers searching for Deva as he continued his sorrowful litany. "Didsomethinwrong, didsomethinwrong...."

Jim gave Simon a choppy cut-off motion with his hand before quickly sitting down on the bed. He picked up the stuffed cat, placed him in Blair's questing hands before taking him, cat and all, into his arms. "It's okay, Blair…it's okay. You didn't do anything wrong, nothing at all." He stroked Blair's back as Blair gasped and stuttered out, "Yes, yes, didsomethinwrong, didsomethinwrong…but I'll be good, be good, don't hurt, be good."

At the frightening idea that Blair thought anyone would hurt him, Jim shot Simon an agonizing, almost pleading look as he silently begged him to do something - anything - to help.

Simon came back to Earth with a thud, recovered his equilibrium and, because he was a father, he reacted instinctively - even though he had no clue what was going on. He moved slowly into the room and, in a voice softer than most of his people would have believed possible from such a large man, said, "You are good, Blair. Very good. This was my fault, not yours."

The gasping breaths slowed to a few hiccoughs and, even though Blair still wasn't looking at him, Simon continued in the same gentle tone he'd often used on his son. "You know…I was just wondering how in the heck my…."

He paused and looked at Jim who, smiling, mouthed the word 'jaguar'.

"…my jaguar got here because I could have sworn I left him at home. Of course, now that I see him up close, it's obvious he's not mine. Nope, not mine at all."

Blair took in a few small gulps of air as he cautiously slid around to blink up at Simon. Keeping a tight grip on Deva, he lifted his head to gaze up at Jim from under wet lashes, his face both questioning and trusting as he asked, "Not...bad?"

Pulling back enough to make eye contact, Jim ran his thumb over tear-streaked cheeks, wiping the moisture away, and said, "Nope, not bad, Blair. You're very good and this," he glanced over at Simon, "this is Simon, my boss. He's very good too…except when he thinks he's lost his stuffed cat and mistakes a five-year-old's--"

Blair waggled one finger at Jim, who quickly amended, "Sorry, an almost six-year-old's cat for his, then he's a bear."

Simon gave a slight insulted-sounding huff, causing Blair to look at him. With the open appraisal only seen in children, he inspected Simon and finally came to what was apparently a positive conclusion about him. He held Deva out to Simon and said, "Wanna pet him? He won't bite, he's stuffed."

Feeling only slightly odd, Simon carefully reached out and scratched behind the cat's ears.

Blair giggled delightedly and wiggled in Jim's arms, "He likes you, that's his favorite thing in the whole wide...world." The last word was stretched out thanks to a long yawn.

"Blair, do you mind if I sit with you and Jim for awhile?"

Clearly tired, Blair shook his head slowly even as Jim continued to make gentle circular patterns over Blair's back while he rocked ever so slightly, back and forth, back and forth. Blair's breathing quieted, finally evened out, and he slept.

After several minutes, Jim gently backed off the bed and lowered Blair's head to the pillow. Blair stirred slightly, but only long enough to pull the cat closer to his chest and bury his face in the soft, fake fur.

Jim stood and motioned that they move outside.

***

The two men sat across from each other in the cafeteria, both with large cups of coffee in their hands.

After leaving Blair's room, Simon decided Jim needed food and coffee and, ignoring his protests, had herded him into the elevator and down to the cafeteria. Now, twenty minutes and two helpings of bacon and eggs later, they sat quietly, letting the day catch up to them.

Eventually Simon had to know what the hell was going on, so he broke the exhausted and strained silence. "Tell me everything and what the hell was that "done something wrong" shit? I've never heard anything that scared me as much as listening to him like that."

"I wish I could tell you, but I don't have a clue. The one thing I do know is that Naomi never lifted a finger against Blair. Never." He took a sip of his coffee before adding, "Earlier, when he first woke up, he asked how he'd been hurt this time and asked if someone named Mickey had been there and how Naomi had promised not to him come back. I'm guessing it's all connected somehow, but I'm sure as hell not going to ask."

Jim paused then, taking deep breaths to re-center himself, subconsciously listening to Blair's guide words, letting them wash over him, soothing him as he readied himself to give Simon all the information on Blair's condition.

***

"...so that's basically it. He has all of his five-year-old memories intact, doesn't seemed to be surprised that Naomi isn't here or that he's been left with someone, but he doesn't know where here is."

"Shit."

Jim nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that about sums it up. The doctor's scheduled more tests for later this afternoon and, hopefully, we'll know more then."

"Okay, so this isn't necessarily mean any of…of what I saw in there…is permanent? He could wake up tomorrow and be our Blair again, right?"

"Our Blair?" Jim asked, smiling slightly at Simon's choice of words.

Grinning for the first time in days, Simon said, "Okay, so this is our Blair too, but you know what I mean. Let's face it, no other department has anyone even remotely like him - or you either, for that matter."

There was nothing Jim could say to that, so after a moment, he asked rather tentatively, "How is - everyone?"

Sighing, Simon looked down at his coffee and said, "As well as can be expected. Luis came through the surgery with his leg intact and they think, after several weeks of therapy, he could make a full recovery. Sam is holding up, his sister is him and the kids. As for Connor, well, you know how she is - right now, she's keeping everything close to the chest but somehow, she and Henri are helping each other--"

"Breathe Simon." Jim admonished gently.

His head jerked up. "What?"

"I said, breathe."

Simon swiped a hand over his face and said, "God, I sounded just like Sandburg, didn't I?" He massaged his right temple as he went on. "Martin is staying with Peter's family right now. He's…he's the one I'm really worried about. He's so angry, holding it all in…."

"Yeah, I can see that. He's mad at Peter."

Simon looked up in surprise. "How the hell…why would he--"

"It's how I'd feel. Mad at Blair for letting himself get killed instead of me, for protecting me instead of himself. Martin wants Peter back, wishes it had been him instead. Simple."

Simon looked hard at Jim, decided now wasn't the time to get into relationships, especially not the complicated one that defined Jim and Blair. Maybe it was time for Jim to take some time away from the hospital - to see his friends - and yes, to say goodbye to those they'd lost. He reached over, took Jim's now empty coffee cup, got to his feet, and said, "Listen, my friend. Blair's asleep and will probably stay that way for a good couple of hours. Why don't you let me sit with him while you go home, shower, shave, change and--"

"I'm not leaving."

Simon went on as if he hadn't heard him, "and then head over to Mount Hope."

Jim exhaled sharply at Simon's last words.

Mount Hope.

Slowly he slid his chair back and shakily to his feet as Simon watched him cautiously. "Thanks, Simon… Just…thanks."

"Go. I'll take care of him."

***

Jim knelt before the final headstone. The earth was still fresh, many of the floral arrangements still in place. Now as he stared down at the fresh earth, he thought back to the first headstone; to Beth's. He'd run his finger over the etched cross as he'd read the simple words:

Detective Elizabeth Jenkins

1963 - 1999

wife - mother - friend

Jim hadn't been able to stop the memory of the first time she'd sauntered into the locker room, a towel wrapped around her while all the men, Jim included, scrambled over each other to find something to cover themselves up with. She'd watched, grinning like a Cheshire cat until, just as every man could be considered 'presentable', she dropped her towel.

She'd been wearing a black Speedo bathing suit.

From then on, she'd been one of them.

When he'd left her grave, he'd found Peter's - and more freshly turned earth. He'd almost broken down then as he'd flashed back to Peter's first months with Major Crime. Openly gay, cocky as hell, always in trouble, challenging anyone and everyone, and carrying the biggest chip Jim had seen since his own. But he'd also remembered the joy of observing Peter woo Martin, of watching the two men fall in love. The tears had burned behind his eyes, but hadn't fallen - until now, here.

At the last gravestone.

Brian's.

Finally, as he knelt in front of Rafe's gravestone, the tears coursed down his cheeks, unchecked. He rested a hand on the fresh dirt and once again let his mind go back to a young man he'd bumped into while on a case, a kid with tons of questions about being a police officer. Evidently Jim had answered correctly, because Rafe had applied and been accepted to the Academy. He'd started as a beat officer, always there in the background but stepping forward and getting the job done before being asked. Eventually he'd made detective and that led to his ultimate goal: Becoming a member of Major Crime. He'd worked hard, taken all the jokes about his choice of GQ clothing - made a few of his own about Blair's wardrobe - and then he'd fallen like a tree when a certain Australian exchange officer had ended up in Major Crime. She'd taunted him, bullied and teased him, and ended up completely ensnaring him.

Brian - Beth - Peter.

Jim had been forced to say good-bye to so many in his life - and now these three good friends.

He honestly didn't know how many more good-bye's he had left in him.

Jim closed his eyes, said a final prayer, and then straightened. He walked slowly back to his truck but, at the last moment, his hand on the door handle, he had to look back at the serene beauty behind him. Doing what only he could do, he found each gravesite again and whispered, "I'll miss you."

Jim climbed into the truck and made his way back to Cascade General Hospital and Blair.

***

"Why?"

"Because the doctor needs to know that noggin of yours is okay, that's why."

"I know it's okay. It's hard, see?" To illustrate that fact, Blair knocked on the side of his head.

Jim bit back a laugh and tried to remain serious as he said, "I pretty sure it's okay too, and I know it's hard, but let's make Dr. Nichols happy, okay?"

Blair screwed up his face. "I don't want to make him happy, and Dev says no too!"

Jim cocked his head, raised an eyebrow and warned, "Blair…."

The young man looked down, a little flush in his cheeks. " 'Kay. Maybe Dev didn't exactly say no." He jerked his head up and, hair flying and stubborn chin in evidence, he said stubbornly, "But he's thinking it."

Jim sat on the edge of the bed and took Blair's hand. He could feel the clamminess, could hear his heart racing and knew just how scared Blair really was. Time to try something else. "Look, do me a favor and let Dr. Nichols run his silly tests, okay? Do it for me?"

Puzzled, Blair asked, "For you?"

"It'll make me feel better."

Looking disgusted, Blair muttered, "Won't make me feel better."

"Blair, the tests won't hurt."

Blair's stubborn chin made another appearance. "I know that, and don't care if they do, I told you, I'm brave."

"Oh yes, I forgot. So then, for me?"

Blair buried his face in Deva, but naturally Jim heard the mumbled, fur-muffled answer.

"Okay."

"Thank you, Blair."

Blair shrugged but then he twisted his head enough to look at Jim - and suddenly he looked all the world like a real five year old, shy and scared. "You sure it won't hurt, right?" he whispered.

"I promise it won't."

"And you'll stay?"

"I'll be with you every step of the way."

"And I can take Dev too?"

"Wouldn't do any of it without him. Although…I might have to hold him a couple of times. Do you think he'll let me?"

Without any preamble, Blair automatically held out the cat. "He loves you, course he'll let you hold him. Here."

Jim gently took the animal and held it against his face. The cat smelled of Blair and was warm with Blair's heat.

Smiling knowingly, Blair said, "See? Told you so. Grownups can be so silly."

Jim peered at Blair over the top of the cats head and winked at him. "Yeah, but don't spread it around, okay?"

Blair giggled wildly before drawing a line across his lips. "Our secret."

Just then, a nurse came in then and, smiling at her charge, said, "Well, love, we're off for some tests. You ready?"

Blair looked at her, then at Jim, then imploringly at Deva. Jim immediately handed him back and, once resting securely within his arms, Blair said, "I'm ready."

***

It was a long afternoon and Jim didn't know which of them were the more exhausted. Jim's head and jaw were throbbing from all the clenching, unclenching and teeth-grinding. For Blair's part, he'd been very quiet through most of the tests even as he won over every doctor, nurse and technician. Whenever possible, though, Blair clung to Jim with one hand, and Deva with the other. Which reminded Jim that it wasn't only his jaw that ached. He flexed his hand and grinned. Blair might be five as far as his mind was concerned, but it had definitely been the hand of a thirty year old that had been gripping his like a life-line.

The good news of the day had come with the last test when Dr. Nichols informed them that Blair had been moved out of ICU and they'd be returning him to a private room (courtesy of the FBI) on the third floor. For Jim, it was close to heaven. Quieter, and a better chair. Blair must have felt the same because he'd no sooner been moved to his bed, than he'd fallen asleep. Simon had shown up a few minutes after that, but one look at Jim's face and he'd gone on a coffee-food hunt. Which left Jim alone - and waiting impatiently for Dr. Nichols and the test results.

It also left him alone with his thoughts. Not a good thing. The trip to the cemetery had brought him no peace - in fact, he now had a darkness inside of him, one that he knew instinctively Blair would have been able to fill - the grown-up Blair. Instead, here he was, in a hospital room, staring at his partner who was sleeping with a stuffed animal.

Before he could really work up a good case of pity for himself, Dr. Nichols appeared. Seeing that Blair was asleep, he indicated with a nod of his head that Jim should join him outside. Heart in his throat, Jim got up and followed him outside.

"Detective, this is Dr. Gail Marin. Dr. Marin, Detective Ellison."

Jim looked at the physician, a woman in her fifties, short, with shaggy short brown hair streaked with gray. She wore a stylish but conservative suit and, at the introduction, immediately stuck out her hand in greeting. Jim took it, with some hesitation, as all his alarms went off.

"Detective Ellison, Dr. Marin operates The Marin House."

"The Marin House? Never heard of it," Jim said warily.

Dr. Marin glanced at Nichols and suggested, "Ben, maybe we should go to your office?"

"Yes, that would probably be better. Detective?"

Jim nodded, but the knot of fear that had been steadily growing, now reached epic proportions.

***

"...so we agree that Marin House is the best place for Mr. Sandburg. At least until his mother can be reached."

Jim had sat quietly through Dr. Nichols entire recitation, the upshot of which was that Blair had no other problems physically. They'd determined that his motor skills were excellent, as was his speech, hearing and mental agility. The CAT scan had shown the doctors nothing more than what they'd already known, that there was still some minor swelling at the base of Blair's skull. So Blair was fine - other than the small wrinkle of his thinking he was the five-year old version of himself. Dr. Nichols went on to say that Blair would need bed rest for several more days but that gradually they would increase his physical activity.

So - that left two still unanswered questions. Time to ask again. Jim leaned forward and asked tersely, "Is it permanent?"

Dr. Nichols glanced over at Dr. Marin and nodded. "We believe so, yes."

Jim closed his eyes against the words. Oh, he'd known the answer - couldn't deny it. But that hadn't stopped him from hoping he'd hear something different. Not that it mattered. The doctors could say anything they wanted - he knew the truth. He knew his Blair would come back, but now wasn't the time for that discussion.

"When can I take him home?"

Nichols sat forward. "Perhaps you didn't understand everything? Blair will never--"

"I understood perfectly and I repeat: When-can-I-take-him-home?"

Dr. Marin cleared her throat and said, "Detective Ellison, you're in no way capable of handling Mr. Sandburg. He's a child in every way that counts, a small child. It's not like he can be left alone when you leave for work. You're simply not prepared to take on this kind of responsibility - but Marin House is. Do you understand?"

"Completely. Now, when can I take him home?" He raised a hand to stop Dr. Nichols who was about to speak. "It's my turn to make something perfectly clear. Blair will come home with me. I will take care of him. He will not go to some home with complete strangers. He will be protected and I'll provide for him. He'll have everything he needs and will want for nothing. And more importantly, he'll be cared for by someone who loves him - more than life - more than anything or anyone in this world or the next. Is that clear?" When neither doctor responded, Jim got up. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to his room and I'll assume that since all he needs is bed rest followed by gradual exercise - I can take him home tomorrow."

With that, he left to doctors with their mouths hanging open.

***

End part 2 - onto Part 3--->

The Healer - Part 3

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 00:02:49 GMT

"Jim, this is crazy. You can't possibly believe you can handle Blair under the current circumstances. For God's sake, he needs constant care and professional help."

Against his better judgment, Simon was helping Jim get the loft ready for Blair's return. Jim had explained everything the doctors had told him and then exactly what he intended to do about it. Simon had been able to see just how committed Jim was to caring for Blair, but that hadn't stopped hi from trying to talk some sense into his friend. Even while they'd been shopping for Blair's room, he'd tried. But so far, Jim was adamant about his decision. As of tomorrow, Blair would come home.

Now they were in Blair's bedroom and Simon was still trying to get Jim to see the truth while Jim continued to exchange Blair's set of plaid flannel sheets for dinosaur-patterned ones. He'd already tidied up the room and, with slower movements, had removed most of Blair's books, journals, academy study material and some of his scarier artifacts.

He'd completed this task in silence, lips pressed together in a straight line and Simon knew exactly how he was feeling - because it was how he was feeling. It was as if they were putting one Blair away in order to make room for another.

It was killing both of them.

Every time Jim touched a book - like the police manual, already dog-eared, laid open and highlighted, or picked up one of the many items Blair had collected over the years, his hand would falter, shake slightly, but then he'd clear his throat, blink several times as if to clear his vision, and pack the item away.

They both picked up pencils and pens with tips chewed by an obsessive Blair, several notepads filled with Blair's sprawling handwriting, Post-It notes with scribbled reminders about police procedure, laws and codes...and for Simon, it was like another chink of armor was falling - leaving him frail and open, all defenses down. And if he felt that way - it had to be a hundred times worse for Jim - who was already looking completely drained - stubborn, but drained.

Eventually, they were done. The sheets had been replaced, there was a new comforter with a picture of several jungle cats on the bed - and sitting on the desk, instead of reminders of who Blair had been, there were now items for who he was now.

As Simon looked around the room, at the comics, the small toys and children's books, he had to admit that even while ranting and raving about Jim's lunatic idea as they'd walked down every aisle of the store, his own experience as a father had come in pretty handy. He'd helped Jim pick out the kind of items a bright, intelligent five-year-old would enjoy - and all right - more specifically, that Blair would enjoy.

Now he watched as Jim patted the comforter, straightening it even more than it already was, taking more time than even his military training or his own anal perfectionism required. It didn't take a genius to figure out he was simply trying to keep his fingers busy, hands occupied, mind focused on the mundane. Simon gave a small shake of his head and decided to give it one more try, to attempt to make Jim understand.

"Okay, so now you have a room for a kid - except Blair isn't. He may have the mind of one, but he's still--"

"Simon."

He paused mid-lecture, short circuited by the plea behind the simple use of his name. "Jim, I'm just trying to--"

"Do you really expect me to leave him at that home with strangers who don't know him? With people who don't understand him or love him? Is that what you would do?"

Suddenly, in the face of Jim's simple, heartfelt words, all of Simon's arguments, logic and careful reasoning flew right out the window. He dropped down onto the bed, legs suddenly weak. "No…no, of course not." He glanced up at his friend, one final question, more rhetorical than anything else, because the answer didn't matter. "But how?"

"Obviously I'll need some time off, time to find the right person who can come in during the day, but it will work. And you know this is where Blair belongs - here - with me."

Truth was truth and even Simon had to accept it. Somehow, Jim would make it work. But there still other issues to deal with and now was the best time to talk about them.

"You know he's going to have questions as he starts getting out - notices the differences between himself and others. Will you be prepared to answer them? And what about Naomi? What happens when she finally shows up? And what about the daily tasks like…well, like shaving, for instance? Shit, Jim, this is just too damn complicated."

Jim sat down next to Simon, close enough that their shoulders just touched. "Simon, according to Dr. Nichols, Blair sees himself as he was at five - he isn't going to notice any differences. Besides, you've seen how easily he accepted me, how easily he accepted everything." He looked down at the comforter, smoothed his hand over it again, and added, "It will work, trust me. Oh, and…there's one other thing - something I never really mentioned before, about the whole Sentinel thing--"

"Yeah, about that. How are you going to--"

"Simon, will you listen?" At Simon's reluctant nod, Jim went on. "Look, I have something Blair called a spirit guide. It's a…you're not going to believe… Okay, look, it's a black jaguar, okay? I guess it's part and parcel of the Sentinel package." He looked hard at Simon. "Now do you get it? A black jaguar just like Deva - protecting Blair - keeping Blair safe when he was a child?"

Simon's mouth dropped open. Slowly his mind put all the pieces together - in spite of his discomfort at anything sentinel related. "You're saying that Blair picked a black jaguar to protect him when he was a kid?" In spite of asking a question, Simon's voice held a note of amazement and wonder.

"Yeah, I do. Now - do you really think I should - or could - abandon my partner?"

There was only one possible answer - so Simon gave it. "No."

"Right." Then Jim's expression changed, softened. "You need to understand something else, Simon. Partner in this Sentinel thing or not, I'd have him here because he's more than just some…some kind of guide…though all of this. He's more than a friend too. He's my other half, Simon. I love him."

Simon had known - probably before Jim had, so again, there was only one thing to say. "You're right. This is his home, this is where he belongs. This is right."

They finally looked at each other…and smiled. It seemed to Simon that, in that moment, so much passed between them, not the least of which was love, one borne of comrades in arms, of a newly forged connection and of a shared goal.

"I'll do everything I can to help, Jim," Simon finally said.

"I know. And thank you. You're a good friend."

"I'm a sap and Sandburg would be the first to say so."

They both laughed then - a good laugh - and the first step toward some sense of normalcy.

***

Simon was trying to clear up a few reports on his desk before heading over to the hospital to pick up Jim and Blair but he wasn't making any headway. It was a lost cause, but at least he'd managed to escape his crew and the thousands of questions that had hit him the minute he'd walked in earlier.

"How's Blair?" - "When's he being released?" and "Is it true, he really thinks he's only five?" were the top three and, when he'd finished answering them - over and over again - the fourth question popped up. "How's Jim going to handle him?"

Realizing no one would get any work done if he didn't settle things down, he'd spent the next thirty minutes filling his people in, including the fact that Jim was, indeed, taking Blair home and that he'd put in for some vacation time in order to get organized. Once he'd satisfied their need for answers, he'd quickly escaped into the inner sanctum of his office. That had been over two hours ago and, in those two hours, he'd accomplished exactly...nothing.

A gentle rap on his door brought his head up just as Joel peeked in.

"Simon, if you have a minute, would you join us in the briefing room? It's important."

Puzzled, Simon got up and followed him next door, where he found most of his people lounging in chairs and perched on tables. Except Megan and Henri who were standing somewhat nervously in front of a dry-erase board.

Simon looked around the room, at each detective, then back to Connor and Brown before asking, "What's going on, here, people?"

Megan stepped forward, clearly taking the position of speaker for the group. "Sir, we've been working very hard on a particularly difficult project, one that involves all of us. We've been making phone calls, getting information, soliciting volunteers...and well, we'd like to introduce you to," she and Henri moved away from the board, "The Blair-schedule!"

Flabbergasted was a good word, Simon thought. Yep, it summed up his feelings at that moment to a tee. He somehow managed to walk closer, to get a really good look at the board, letting his eyes fly across the marked-up surface.

It was a monthly schedule of every detective in his squad, one that plotted out their work shifts as they corresponded to Jim's, whose normal shifts were in green. Every detective who was off - when Jim was on - were slotted into a special column - with specific times - and written in red. The heading for that particular column was titled, "The Blair Shift."

"Simon? What do you think?" Joel finally asked.

Hardening his expression, Simon said, "It's no good." He turned to face his people and, scowling, added, "I'm extremely disappointed to find my name missing. Fix it. Now."

With that, he walked out, a huge grin replacing the scowl.

***

Blair was slurping and Jim knew darn well he was doing it on purpose. His clue came in the form of small sidelong glances Blair kept shooting at him - but when Jim caught him, Blair would move his gaze innocently up to the ceiling, wall or the television.

Then he'd slurp again. Loudly. He'd suck all the milk and Rice Krispies into his mouth like a Hoover vacuum. Finally Jim put his paper down, folded it neatly, and said, simply, "Blair."

Innocent blue eyes stared up at him. "Mmm?"

"You're slurping. Not good."

Blair cocked his head, wrinkled his face as if in deep thought and finally asked, "I don't slurp good? I should slurp more good? Like this?" Then he gave his best slurp yet, really drawing it out and 'milking' it for all it was worth, before giving him an expectant look.

Jim would dearly have loved to tell everyone that he'd handled the whole thing like an expert parent, but he didn't. He burst out laughing as his 'slurper' giggled.

Eventually the giggling died down and Blair took a regular spoonful, swallowed it and said, "Yuck. They fibbed, you know. It doesn't snap or pop - it just crackles. That's all, just a boring crackle. And it does too get soggy."

"Not if you eat it fast. And trust me when I tell you that it does 'snap, crackle and pop."

"Maybe for you, you're speshal, but not for me or other kids. We're not speshal which means they fibbed and that's not good. They should say that it only crackles."

Jim looked hard at Blair, who'd gone back to his cereal with a somewhat disgusted and disillusioned look on his face. Shit, where should he go with the fact that somehow this Blair knew what he was - in his own five-year old way? Since he didn't have a clue, he decided to do what he did best - ignore it for now and, instead, tell Blair about leaving the hospital.

"Blair? I've got some good news."

Blair stopped eating, the spoon clutched in his fist and halfway to his mouth. "Are we going home today? Please?"

Damn, even as a kid, Blair could surprise him with his intelligence and intuition. He nodded. "Yes, you're going home."

The spoon dropped onto the tray as Blair looked frantically around over at the door and then, disappointed, back to Jim. "Mommy's here? But where? Where is she?"

Realizing his error in how he'd told Blair, Jim immediately moved to the bed and sat down on the edge. "No, I'm sorry, Naomi isn't here yet - what I meant was that I'm taking you and Deva to our-my-place today."

"So she's not here?"

Jim could feel steely fingers gripping his heart at Blair's simple, pleading question. Evidently, even a mother who was frequently gone, was a mother who was needed. At the moment, Blair looked completely lost as tears sprang up. He blinked them back, trying so hard to keep them from falling.

"I'm so sorry, runt. If I could bring her to you right now, I would. But I promise, I'll take good care of you until she comes."

Suddenly Blair threw himself into Jim's arms. "I want to go home with you. Don't want to move again. Besides, Dev says you need me to take care of you and I will, I promuse."

"Blair, you don't have to take care of anyone but yourself, okay?"

Blair shook his head wildly back and forth. "No, no, must take care of you, will take care of you."

"Okay, okay," he said helplessly as he patted Blair's back rather awkwardly. "We'll take care of each other - and Dev will take care of us. Deal?"

Blair didn't lift his head, but he did snake his hand out and put up his little finger. "Gotta shake."

Jim wound his finger lovingly around Blair's and they 'shook' even as Jim mumbled into Blair's hair, "Let's go home."

He was rewarded by a muffled but strong," 'Kay."

***

Blair sat in the front seat - between Simon and Jim - in Simon's car as Simon drove them home. The back seat was full of flowers, stuffed animals and balloons. While Blair had been in ICU, all the get well flowers, etc. had been kept at the nurses' station but, once he'd been moved to a regular room, the gifts had joined him - and of course, they had to go home with him. Unfortunately, the flood of presents had grown during the time Jim wheeled him to the elevator. Nurses, orderlies and doctors had stopped to say goodbye, all bearing more presents that ended up in Simon's arms.

Now they were finally on the way home and, as Simon negotiated the mid-day traffic, Jim was enjoying Blair, who was bobbing his head up and down and from side to side like an over-sized bobble-head doll. His eyes were darting in every direction because no sooner would he glimpse something interesting, than something else would catch his eye.

Oddly enough though, even though his energy level was high, he wasn't saying a word. No questions, just looking - and gripping Deva so hard that if he'd been real - he'd be dead.

Jim had turned his sense of hearing up a notch in order to monitor Blair's heartbeat and respiration the moment they'd left the hospital. He had hope that once on their way, Blair might…that maybe he'd recognize something and somehow…but of course, that was ridiculous and Jim knew it, but still - he listened. Which was why he could now hear the kind of rapid heartbeat that meant fear. He could smell it too.

Blair was scared to death - but hiding it well.

Jim slowly lifted his left arm and let it drop behind Blair to rest on the back of the seat. Then - after a few seconds, he dropped it to rest lightly on Blair's shoulders. Blair relaxed slightly and even gave Jim a grateful look before going back to his task of trying to see everything at once.

***

Simon pulled up in front of 852 Prospect, shut down and sat back, allowing Jim to take the lead.

"This is it, Blair - home. You ready to go up?"

Nodding, Blair gripped Deva even tighter to his chest.

"Okay, then, let's go."

***

Jim unlocked the door to the loft and, with his hand resting on Blair's back, he gently guided him inside.

Blair slowly walked in - only to stop. His gaze took in everything - and finally Jim heard his heartbeat settle down.

Looking back at him, Blair gave him a brilliant smile and said, "Home."

Surprised and inordinately pleased, Jim nodded as his throat constricted, preventing any kind of verbal response. Blair walked the rest of the way in while both Jim and Simon put all the goodies on the table.

The last of the balloons were tied to a chair just as Blair suddenly spoke. "Bed? Deva's pooped."

This succeeded in breaking the residual tension and both Jim and Simon chuckled as Jim took Blair's arm and led him to the open French doors. They didn't go right in, instead, Jim let Blair look around.

Eyes wide in amazement, Blair took in the books, comics, the bed with its jungle motif and, finally, the toys, neatly arranged on the desk. He actually squeaked at the grouping of Transformers and Hot Wheels - but then his gaze strayed upward, to a shelf above the desk - and two dolls together on a wooden stand.

They were the only items Jim had left in the room - of the old Blair. Hand-carved Chopec warriors Blair had brought back from Peru after he and Jim had rescued Simon and Daryl. Blair had caught site of them in a stall outside their hotel on the day they left for home and he hadn't been able to resist them. One was taller than the other and in full war paint, clearly ready for battle. The shorter warrior stood to the left and slightly behind the taller, his hand on the back of the warrior in front of him.

Now, seeing them, Blair pulled away from Jim and walked somewhat unsteadily toward the desk. Jim, holding his breath, waited, unsure if he'd made a terrible mistake. When Blair reached the desk, he simply stared at the carved warriors and Jim, remembering that Blair was seeing the world through the eyes of a five-year old, took the dolls down and held them out to him.

Staring at them in awe, Blair tucked Deva under his arm and took them, oh, so carefully, from Jim. His gaze never leaving them, he said, "Won't drop them, never drop them. I'm big, I can hold them."

"I know, Blair."

Nodding, Blair walked carefully over to the bed and then placed them lovingly on the nightstand. Once they were down safely, he let out a breath and flopped onto the bed. He looked over at Jim and said simply, "Nap."

Jim could see Blair's exhaustion - it was visible in his pale face, drooping eyelids and the fine sheen of sweat across his forehead. He walked over to him. "Nap is right, I can clearly see that poor Deva is indeed pooped." He then bent down to help Blair, who was struggling to get his shoes off, his fingers clumsy with fatigue.

Once he got Blair's shoes off, he discovered that Blair wasn't so tired that he couldn't be ticklish. Blair wiggled his toes through the socks and giggled - which was an unusual sound, to say the least. But Jim couldn't resist it, so he ran his thumb up Blair's arch, which set him off into gales of laughter.

In the doorway, Simon had been watching, silent, unsure and very nervous, but now, seeing the two men together and observing the ease with which Jim was handling Blair, not to mention the complete trust Blair obviously had in Jim, Simon felt the last of his lingering worries fade away. He turned away, feeling almost as if he were intruding and, with hot tears stinging the back of his eyes, he walked back into the living room.

***

Blair was still wiggling his toes, but only halfheartedly, so Jim flopped down beside him and, for a few minutes, they played a game of hide and seek with Jim hiding his face behind his hand and Blair hiding his behind Deva. Eventually, Blair's movements slowed again and Jim figured it was time to get him under the covers. He started tugging Blair's Jags sweatshirt up, tickling him lightly as he did so, and when Blair held up his arms and Jim pulled it over his head, Blair mumbled, "Lights out!"

Chuckling, Jim folded the shirt and set it on the nightstand, got Blair under the comforter and, as Blair pulled Deva back into his arms, he said, "Not gonna sleep long, 'kay? Just a little nap for Dev."

"Right. And you'll let me know when Deva is ready to get up?"

Blair yawned a "Yes", rolled onto his side facing the nightstand and the two dolls - and was asleep in seconds.

For a moment, Jim stood watching the gentle rise and fall of Blair's chest under the blankets, which were pulled up under his chin. One hand rested on the top of Deva's head, Blair's fingers curled around the fake fur. Jim could see the faint ruffle of the flannel pillowcase as Blair breathed easily and deep. He stroked back some hair from Blair's face - and then kissed him lightly on the cheek before joining Simon in the living room.

***

"He's asleep."

Simon was in the kitchen and, at Jim's voice, he faced him, an accusatory frown on his face. "While you two children were playing your game of hide and seek, I've been checking the kitchen. We bought toys and books but you've got nothing suitable for a kid."

Smiling, Jim leaned back against the counter. "What are you talking about, we've got plenty of food."

"Why do I not think a five-year old will want an algae shake or beer? Jim, you've got no bread, no peanut butter, no sliced cheese, no cereal and no bologna. In other words - no food."

Jim straightened and made a face. "Shit, I thought of everything but that. Wait, maybe this Blair will like algae shakes."

Simon picked up his jacket and snorted. "I don't think the thirty year old Blair really likes the damn things, okay? Look, I'll run down to Martini's now, pick up enough to get you through the weekend. Oh, and by the way, your Blair-sitting problems are over."

Jim pushed himself away from the counter, surprise written on his face. "What are you talking about?"

"It seems Major Crime has put together a little something they call a Blair Schedule. When you're on duty, one of us will be here with Blair. And trust me, they were very discerning about who was chosen to Blair-sit with the primary consideration being that they had to have kids. The second condition - actually, there was no second condition, although I noted that Megan, Henri and Martin were all put on the schedule even though they don't have a pet turtle between them."

Jim was stunned - humbled - and more importantly, grateful. But it wasn't right. "Simon, I can't let them--"

"You can and you will. They, no, scratch that - we - need this, Jim. Believe me. We've been hit hard and we're down for the count, but it isn't over. This might be just what we need so be gracious and accept."

He started for the door, making a mental list of groceries, when Jim threw out a parting shot.

"Megan raised her sister's children before coming here and Martin raised his younger brother, not to mention all of Peter's nieces and nephews. Henri? Well, H is a kid."

Jim could hear Simon's laughter down all three flights of stairs.

***

"Gr-r-r-r."

Jim looked up from the magazine he was reading.

"Gr-r-r-r."

Grinning, he closed it, got up and strolled toward the French doors to find Blair sitting in the middle of the bed, covers tumbled around him as he held Deva up in front of his face. He wiggled one of the cat's paws and followed it with another growl.

"I take it Deva's ready to get up?" Jim asked, trying hard not to laugh outright.

Blair lowered the animal to reveal a rested, sleep-flushed face framed by a riot of curls.

"Yep. All rested 'n hungry."

"Mmm, well, the doctor said bed rest for a few days, but he also said you could lie on the couch if you're good - and you look pretty good to me. In fact, you look good enough to eat - and tickle." Jim then mimicked Blair's earlier growl and pounced. Blair laughed delightedly as he dove for cover, but Jim was too fast, his fingers finding the ticklish spots immediately. Blair's giggles filled the small room and reached their peak when Jim got a hold of Blair's arm and planted a big raspberry on the inside of it.

"Okay," Jim said before Blair could tire. "I declare myself the tickle king so why don't we get you in a robe and out to the couch. Sound good?"

"Sounds very good!"

Blair got up and into a robe he didn't even know was his. It was his old flannel one and, for just a moment, Jim felt caught between two different worlds. But then Blair picked up Deva and marched out into the living room where he immediately made himself at home on the couch. He gave Jim a very expectant look as he indicated the fire place. Jim got the not-so-subtle message and once he got Blair settled with a pillow and afghan, he got the fire going.

Standing up, he rubbed his hands together in front the flames and, thankful for Simon's earlier run to the store, said, "Okay, we need to think about dinner. Since it's a rainy day, I'm thinking grilled cheese sandwiches and soup? How does that sound?"

Blair leaned forward, propping his chin on one hand. "Mmm, I think peanut butter 'n banamas with noodle soup instead!"

Jim almost groaned at the combination just rattled off by Blair and, making an exaggerated face of disgust, he asked, "Peanut butter and bananas? Together?"

Hair bouncing, Blair nodded vigorously. "Tasty," he said as he then smacked his lips.

"Would 'noodle' soup be…chicken noodle soup?"

"Mm-mm good."

"Right. Okay, so Chef Ellison is on his way to the kitchen."

As he started past the couch, Blair gave a small chittering sound and said as if Jim should know, "TV?"

Frowning, Jim checked his watch. Okay, it was four - he was never home at four on a weekday - and certainly had no idea what might be on that would capture Blair's interest - but before he had to think to much about it, Blair said, "Animal World - gotta watch Animal World."

Jim's face cleared. This was good. He actually remembered that show from years ago, and while it was no longer on, there was a cable channel called Animal Planet. He made a quick detour, grabbed the remote, clicked the set on and punched in channel thirty-nine. The screen was immediately filled with whales.

"We don't have Animal World, but we do have Animal Planet. Will that do?"

Blair, already deeply absorbed by the whales, offered no answer. It was obvious none was needed and Jim offered up a little prayer of thankfulness for cable channels that ran for 24 hours. All right, time for soup and the rather daunting task of creating peanut butter and banana sandwiches.

***

Tray full of food, Jim walked into back into the living room. He stopped in front of his patient in order to put the tray down, and immediately noticed how Blair moved to his right in order to see around Jim. Grinning, he said, "Dinner is served, Mr. Sandburg."

"No, no - Blair," Blair said even as his eyes remained glued to the set.

"Oh, pardon me. Dinner is served, Mr. Blair."

He giggled. "No - just Blair."

"I see. Well then, dinner is served 'just Blair'."

This time Blair snorted, "Silly, Blair. I'm Blair."

"Funny, you don't look like someone named, 'Silly Blair' - wait, come to think of it, you do look a little like a silly Blair."

Grin in full bloom, Blair shook his head adamantly. "Nuh-huh. You're silly." Then he cocked his head and added, "And you're stomach just growled."

"Oh, right, my stomach growled. I guess we'd better feed it before it starts looking at you."

Blair's response was to show Jim just how good a raspberry he could make. Laughing, Jim put the tray down and they settled in to enjoy their dinner. Jim was proud that Blair didn't slurp his soup once - but on the other hand, it was fascinating to watch as Blair took the bananas off the sandwich, plopped them into his mouth, then rolled the peanut butter-smeared bread into a tube and shoveled it in right behind the bananas.

Future meals promised to be very enlightening - and messy.

While they ate, the Animal Planet showed a program about Golden Eagles, followed by the 'Life of Foxes' - and finally, just as Jim started to clear the dishes, an episode about wolves came on. Blair perked up at once and began to watch avidly. As Jim took the dishes into the kitchen, he couldn't help but notice how Blair nodded his agreement as the narrator discussed a myriad of facts pertaining to wolves, showing a wolf den and three young pups scampering about and chasing each other. In the kitchen, as he cleaned up, he enjoyed the sound of Blair's laugh so much that he actually decided to finish later and join him. This sounded too good to miss.

Watching the antics of the pups, Blair huffed a little into Deva and said, "See, wolves are powerful. You'd like them and maybe, just maybe, you'll have one of your own."

One of the big questions Jim had been mulling about since the whole Deva thing started, was why his animal spirit would be 'protecting' Blair and not his own. Maybe he was about to have the answer. If he asked the right questions.

"Blair, why would Deva want to play with a wolf? Wouldn't he rather have another jaguar as a playmate?"

"No, no. He wants a wolf - needs a wolf. They'll play and have fun and wolves are very powerful and loyal. A'course, Dev just growls, but I know what's best for him and he'll like the wolf. I just know it." He turned his attention from the wolves on the screen and asked, "Don't you like wolves?"

"I love wolves. They're my favorite animal in the world - with Jaguars coming in second, of course."

"Ha! See, Dev? I told you so."

"So…why didn't you have a stuffed wolf for Deva? Or a stuffed wolf instead of Deva?"

Looking all the world as if Jim should know better, Blair huffed a bit before saying, "Silly Jim. I'm just a little boy - I won't find my wolf for a long time." With that, he returned his gaze to the set, leaving Jim stunned. He wasn't sure he understood - but that was nothing new whether he was dealing with the grown-up Sandburg - or this one.

At that moment, the show took on a more serious note as a young woman began to discuss how the gray wolf was endangered, partly due to being so misunderstood. She talked about how they needed our protection from poachers and ignorant ranchers.

Watching, a small frown creasing his brow, Blair suddenly said, "Deva will protect them. Bad poachur, bad." He sniffled a bit and that was followed by a little hitch in his breathing. It didn't take a sentinel to know that he was trying hard not to cry.

Jim put his arm around Blair and said gently, "Wolves are pretty smart, buddy, and more people are becoming aware of their plight and working hard to save them thanks to shows like this one."

In a voice that telegraphed stubbornness, anger and hurt, he said, "People are bad. They hurt animals and don't know they're hurting themselves. I hate them."

Listening to him, Jim could see exactly how his activist Blair had originated. Which didn't help now. He gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "You don't really hate them because you understand they don't know any better. But maybe some are watching this show, like us, and they'll learn."

He tugged Blair closer and, together, they watched the rest of the program, quiet and still. When it ended, and during the commercial, Jim watched Blair's head drooping, eyes getting heavy. He glanced back at Blair's room and, for the first time, almost wished he was actually only five. That Blair he could have easily carried into his room. This one, not so much. Blair might be only five foot seven in his bare feet, but he was stocky and, thanks to prepping for the Academy, was much more muscular than the Blair of a even a year ago.

Scratching his head, he muttered to Deva, "Guess I'm about to find out if I can carry a full-grown Blair." Too bad a fireman's carry wasn't appropriate.

Jim separated himself from the sleeping man, got to his feet and then gathered him - and Deva - up in his arms. He made his cautious way to the bedroom, got him down on the bed and then covered him, making sure Deva was right where he belonged - in Blair's arms.

Back in the living room, he stood for a moment, contemplating the empty room and, for the first time in days, allowed himself to miss Blair. To miss the rookie detective - to miss his partner, their bantering and yes, even Blair's humor. He missed his mind, the intelligence - and he missed the man that he'd been, the man Jim loved.

Finally, having no desire to do anything but push the world away through sleep, he turned off the fire, locked up, turned out lights, walked upstairs, got undressed and into bed.

Hands clasped behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling and allowed himself to remember, to conjure up pictures of Blair at various moments in their past. Like that time at the doctor's office when Blair was trying to teach him to meditate. He could see him so clearly, balancing himself on the arms of the chair in order to pull his legs up and cross them under him, then spooking him just as the meditation worked.

Like a movie, more pictures played across his mind: Blair playing basketball with the Jags, his ponytail flying, short, lithe body moving easily in and around the taller men, throwing the ball to Jim and excited when he scored.

A press conference, Blair standing behind a podium, cameras rolling while he told the world he was a fraud, stumbling over Jim's name, giving up fame and fortune for his Sentinel.

Slowly - the tears flowed unchecked down Jim's cheeks.

***

Jim's two week 'vacation' seemed to fly by in spite of the relative quiet of its first few days - days where Blair was still confined to either bed or the couch. Looking back, Jim found them oddly joyful. He'd actually had a lot of fun watching Blair watch cartoons - especially The Road Runner. Who knew that Blair could do a mean imitation of infamous, "Beep-beep"? And when something wicked happened to, say, Wiley E. Coyote, Blair would deepen his voice and intone, "Don't try this at home, kid-deeeees."

Jim was pretty certain that he'd never laughed so hard in his life - and considering that the grown-up Blair had always been the one to make Jim really laugh, that was saying something.

Of course, while stuck watching television, cartoons hadn't been the only item on the menu. There'd been a liberal sprinkling of nature shows and, even at 'five', Blair was fascinated by any program about other countries and cultures. The real surprise, however, was Blair's fascination with Science Fiction - and the cheesier the better. This love had been unveiled on day four of his confinement. Blair had been getting antsy and just plain ornery so Jim, in an effort to occupy the Machiavellian monster, had started channel surfing in the desperate hope of finding something, anything, that would quiet Blair down. Suddenly the screen was filled with rubber suited aliens, their costumed zippers clearly visible. Blair went absolutely wild. He started pointing while giggling almost hysterically, tears eventually streaming down his face.

But he watched - and Jim found himself thanking the gods of television for something called Science Fiction Theater 2000.

But now, finally, it was time to get Blair up and outside - time to put his physical therapy to work. Jim's choice for the day was simple: A picnic in the park. He just prayed the weather would hold. He remembered all too well how he and Steven had acted when rain forced them indoors. He didn't dare imagine how such an event would affect Blair, who was already complaining.

Jim tucked the last of their picnic into the basket and, satisfied, closed the lid. And yes, he was very aware of Blair's eyes on his every move.

Strangely enough, their plans for the day had gotten off to a very bad start. Blair had awakened earlier than usual, excited and eager for his day in the park. He'd gotten out of bed and had, for reasons known only to himself, decided to help Jim out by making breakfast. He'd decided to start by making Jim's coffee, then pour his own cereal and even make his own toast. After all, hadn't he watched Jim every morning of the last five? Hadn't he figured he could reach everything that needed reaching?

Of course he had.

So Blair had managed to grab his Tarzan bowl, a spoon, his Cheetah cup, and place them very quietly on the table. He'd then gone back for the box of cocoa puffs and, finally, the milk. Once everything was ready, it was time to tackle Jim's coffee - which was when things had gone south.

After staring at the complex coffee maker, he'd opted to go for the easiest first: Jim's mug. He'd just taken it out of the drainer and placed it on the counter when Jim, finally awakened by Blair's movements, hurried downstairs. Seeing Blair in the kitchen had surprised him so much, Jim had yelled his name.

What had then happened would probably haunt Jim for a long time.

Blair had whirled around so fast, his hand had swept the mug across the counter, causing it to skitter to the edge and topple over. It hit the floor, shattered and, as Blair gasped in surprise, Jim had moved toward him on the run. At the edge of the kitchen, he'd skidded to a stop, not because of the mess on the floor, but because of the way Blair had looked.

He was backed up into the far corner as if trying desperately to disappear, all the while murmuring in a heart-wrenching voice, "Sorrysorrysorrysorry…."

Jim had quickly taken stock of the situation, namely that he was barefoot while Blair had on socks. He'd raised a hand in supplication as he'd murmured gently, "It's okay, Blair, it's okay. This was just an accident - all because I scared you. Now, I need to clean up the broken glass, so will you stay right where you are while I get shoes and the broom? Promise me you won't move until I get back? I don't want you to cut yourself, okay, buddy?"

Blair had stopped muttering at Jim's first word, thank God, and at Jim's request, had nodded. "Stay. I'll stay. Won't move 'til you tell me."

"Good, very good. I'll get the broom and be right back."

"Shoes - don't forget your shoes."

"And shoes. Thanks for the reminder." He'd hurried back upstairs at that point, slipped into his loafers and then back down for the broom, during which time, Blair never moved an inch. When Jim got back to him, he was still huddled in the corner, eyes wide, but quiet.

Jim had planned to sweep up before getting Blair into the living room, but one look at him had Jim going with his gut. He'd lifted Blair, felt him give a small jump, and hadn't been surprised when he'd wrapped his arms around Jim's neck. Somehow, Jim found himself 'carrying' Blair once again. But it had seemed the right thing to do - even when Blair had wrapped his legs around him and buried his face in Jim's neck.

He'd taken him to the couch and, after a bit of awkward shifting, managed to get both of them down. He'd been pretty certain that Blair was sniffling - an odd sound coming from a grownup, but from that Blair? It had been enough to cause Jim to stroke Blair's back, patting it gently while cupping the back of Blair's head with his other hand. They'd stayed like that for several minutes - Jim rocking and murmuring meaningless words into Blair's ear - until finally Blair stopped shaking. Then he'd turned his face toward Jim's ear and whispered a sad, "No picnic now."

It hadn't been a question so much as a statement - one that Jim correctly translated as meaning that Blair believed he was going to be punished. Jim reacted immediately by pushing Blair back just enough so that they could see each other - but Blair had his eyes shut - tightly.

"Blair, would you look at me, please?"

Blair hadn't moved so Jim just went ahead and said what he'd thought needed saying.

"Blair, listen to me. It was an accident. You didn't mean for the cup to fall, so you didn't do anything wrong - which means that we are going on our picnic, okay?"

Blair's eyes had shot open then and, surprised, he'd asked, "Not a bad boy?"

"Definitely not. You're a very good…boy."

Slowly, Blair had grinned. "Good 'nuff to eat?"

Jim had answered the only way possible: he'd ruffled Blair's hair right before planting a huge and very loud raspberry on Blair's neck.

Blair had giggled a bit before quieting down enough for Jim to ask something he'd wanting to find about since the hospital. "Blair, does Naomi spank you when you have a boo-boo?"

Blair, who gone back to resting against Jim, shook his head.

"Okay, did…anyone…spank you…or…strike you?"

Blair had then tightened his grip on Jim - right before whispering, "Mickey."

Jim had frowned at that - he couldn't remember Blair ever mentioning any one named Mickey. "Can you tell me who this Mickey is?"

"My almost daddy."

Figured. Another one of Naomi's many conquests. Except this one had hurt Blair.

Jim had somehow managed to tamp down his anger enough to ask, "So you lived with Mickey and if you dropped something - he'd spank you?"

Blair nodded.

"Did Naomi know?"

"Found out. Came home early. I was hiding under the bed so he couldn't reach me. He hurt me and mommy swept him away and then promised she wouldn't let him back in. But we had to move again."

Jim couldn't honestly say that he'd always understood the adult Blair - but making sense out of all that was even more difficult. But hell, he wasn't a detective for nothing. A few more questions and he'd had the entire picture.

"Okay, so when Naomi went work, Mickey stayed home with you?"

"Yup."

"And if you did something, like….?"

"Spill or drop or play."

"Like, spill or drop or play, he would be angry and hurt you?"

Blair had nodded again.

"But one day, Naomi came home early, after you'd....?"

"Dropped a glass of chocolate milk."

"Right. And Mickey hit you but this time, you ran away and hid, and then Naomi came home and found him trying to get to you, right?"

Blair had nodded again and added, "He was trying to poke me."

"Ah, got you. With the broom. So Naomi grabbed it away from him."

"And whacked him," Blair had said, unable to hide his pride.

Jim hadn't been able to help himself from a bit of pride in Naomi himself as he'd thought, "Score one for her."

"But it was my fault, I was clumsy."

"I bet Naomi never tells you that."

Blair had smiled then. "She's my mommy."

"But they tell the truth - and so do I - and I'm telling you that you're not clumsy or bad. And no one is going to hurt you again. Ever. You have me now - and Deva - okay?"

Blair had seemed truly happy then as he'd nodded firmly. "Okay."

But Jim had questions he'd still wanted answered - curiosity that needed satisfying, so he'd taken that opportunity to ask them.

"Blair, when did you get Deva?"

"After we moved. He came to me in my sleep, said he would protek me from bad men. I told mommy and she found him the next day. I won't ever let him go, or you."

"Guess what?"

"What?"

"I'll never let you go either. Ever. And that's a promise."

"An you always keep 'em. I know."

"Yes, I do. So, are we ready for breakfast, runt?"

"Yep. But I wanted to make your coffee, surprise you."

"And I appreciate that, but will you make me a promise now? Promise to let me be the kitchen half of this partnership and you be the bedroom half?"

"So I'm in charge of my bedroom?"

"You are."

"But I can help you sometimes?"

"Okay, we'll help each other. Partners?"

"Pardners. But we have to shake." Naturally he'd waved his pinky finger in Jim's face again, so of course, he'd taken it and they'd shaken.

They'd finally had their breakfast and, while Blair had still been a bit subdued, he'd eaten all his cereal and toast. Later, Jim had allowed him to 'help' tidy up the kitchen before they'd gone into the bathroom for their morning ritual of teeth brushing and what Jim had come to call 'pretend' shaving (the only way to keep - let alone explain - the need to actually shave Blair each morning).

Blair's natural exuberance had quickly reasserted itself and the bounce was back. He'd made little chittering noises (presumably replicating the animals he expected to see at the park) and had asked a million questions, like, would there be ducks - and did the park have a merry-go-round - a zoo? And could they have hot dogs?

Jim had originally planned to take him - and several tuna sandwiches - to Frasier Park, but the questions forced his brain to go through every park within a reasonable distance - that had ducks, a merry-go-round, a zoo and, of course, hot dogs. He'd finally remembered Carver Park, which had it all and, in a way, Jim was kind of glad because he'd been dreading what Blair might want added to his tuna.

Yep, they'd definitely had quite a morning. Now Jim took out a couple of waters from the fridge, as an afterthought, and added them to the basket before closing the lid again. He turned toward the living room and asked, unnecessarily, "So, we ready for the park?"

Blair did a Roadrunner "Beep-beep" and was standing out in the hall before Jim could blink.

***

So far, their day in the park had been perfect which pretty much ensured that Jim would be spending a lot of his spare time in parks. What amazed him was how he'd managed - so far - not to lose the whirling dervish that was this youthful Blair. Even more surprising that, at the age of forty - he was able to keep up with him. Sure, he was in great shape and come on, a cop, but still, Blair was Blair and at five - he was even worse.

According to Blair's rules - and he had quite a few, so many in fact, he put Jim to shame in that department - but anyway, Blair's number one rule at a park was to do everything. Twice.

Except the Merry-go-round - that they had to do four times because it had both a loping panther and a leaping wolf and they had to take turns on them.

But they fed every goat, goose, gosling, pig, burro, donkey, horse, chicken, rooster, rabbit, llama and camel in the petting zoo. Twice.

So far, Jim hadn't really given much thought to how they looked to other adults, how others would perceive them or react to a big man following behind a bouncing, chattering 'boy'. Now, as he looked around him, he caught a few open, curious stares and yes, more than a few disgusted looks. But, for the most part, he was happy to see nothing more than mild curiosity in most - a curiosity that quickly turned to sympathy and, for some, to sadness. Then there were the very few who continued to watch, allowed themselves to be pulled into Blair's world, even briefly. Their sadness quickly changed to an open joy as their expressions relaxed, their smiles broadened.

Right now, it was time to eat and, thank God, they didn't have to do that twice.

Jim guided Blair over to what he deemed the perfect spot, under a huge elm, and, after laying out the blanket and setting out all the picnic paraphernalia, they set off for the snack stand, about twenty yards from their tree. The line was short, for which Jim was very thankful - since Blair was currently play-acting like a sleeping stork - meaning that he was hopping around on one leg. When Jim got up to the window, he glanced over at his new 'pet stork' and asked, "So it was chiliburger, right?"

Blair snorted - a very un-flamingo-like snort, and said, "Hot dog, silly."

Rolling his eyes - fondly - Jim ordered two jumbo dogs, a large soda for him and a juice box for Blair. He paid for them and they both stepped aside to wait for their order. Blair was still hopping, but his eyes were taking in everything around him - just like the grown-up version would have done. Jim's number was called and, after picking up the dogs, he guided Blair over to the condiment table. Once there, Blair stopped hopping and chose instead to watch avidly as Jim unwrapped his dog, heaped mustard, relish and onions on it, and then carefully wrapped it up before returning it to the carry-out box. Jim purposely waited to see what Blair would do - if anything of the real Blair was there. Would he skip the relish like he would normally do? Add a ton of ketchup?

A moment later, he had his answer as Blair promptly copied everything Jim had done. He carefully unwrapped his dog and put exactly the same amount of mustard, relish and onions on it before wrapping it just as carefully and setting it down next to Jim's in the box. As they walked back to their tree and blanket - Jim should have been disappointed - he knew that. But he wasn't.

He was oddly pleased - and a bit humbled.

Once they were seated, Jim pulled out the paper plates followed by the other items he'd added at home, namely napkins, chips, fruit and, of course, Oreo cookies. He also took out the waters, knowing Blair would want some later.

"Mmmm good," Blair said as he gazed happily at the spread.

"Agreed. Let's eat," Jim said as he unwrapped his loaded hotdog.

Nodding, Blair took his dog from the box - but instead of eating right away, he watched Jim take his first bite - then - and only then - did he take his first bit.

Jim was halfway through his hotdog when he realized that Blair was copying his every move. Wondering if he was imagining it, he decided to run a little test. He scooped up some relish from the top of what was left of his dog - and plopped it in his mouth.

Blair promptly did the same.

He tore off a piece of bun, dipped it into his cup of soda, and plopped it into his mouth.

That stumped Blair for a moment, since he had a juice box. Finally, he simply sucked on the straw, pulled it out, and let the juice dribble onto a torn-off a piece of bun before plopping it into his mouth.

Grinning mischievously, Jim started to push the whole rest of the hotdog into his mouth and wasn't the least bit surprised when Blair did the same.

Eyes twinkling with mirth, Jim smiled at him - and was rewarded when a huge grin split across Blair's mustard-slimed face.

"Gomnod," Blair managed through a mouthful of food.

Since he was the adult, Jim swallowed before saying after smacking his lips, "Tasty."

Nodding his agreement, Blair said, mouth still full, "Tasnmpty." He would have smacked his lips too, but there was too much food in his mouth.

They finished off the chips and cookies and, while Jim tidied up, Blair dropped down to watch to watch the sky and name the clouds. When everything was either put away or tossed, Blair patted the ground next to him and said, "Play."

It was a simple word - but the command was definitely there - and who was Jim to argue? It seemed the perfect way to spend some time while their food digested. So he laid down next to him and turned his gaze to the sky.

"G'raffe," Blair said as he pointed straight up.

Jim shook his head. "Nope. Hippo."

Blair giggled, reached out, took Jim's arm and moved it slightly to the left before saying firmly, "Hippo."

"Right," Jim said smugly. "Two hippos."

"No, no, no. One hippo - one g'raffe!"

"Then what's that?" Jim pointed off to the right, to a formation of clouds that looked, to him, like, well, clouds.

"Seals," Blair said with great certainty. "Swimming and playing."

Jim narrowed his eyes - and had to agree. That particular set of clouds did, in fact, now look like seals. Must be the power of suggestion - or something.

***

End Part 3 of The Healer - onto Part 4

The Healer - Part 4

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 23:58:20 GMT

"Do we have to go home now?"

"We do. It'll be dark soon and you've had a long day. Time to get you home."

Blair made an expression that Jim would have bet was the five-year old version of a pout, but he didn't argue. They headed for the parking lot at a leisurely pace when Blair suddenly spotted a big, shaggy dog and, before Jim could stop him, he took off on a run. When he reached the animal, he dropped down in front of it.

The golden dog was leashed and sitting obediently next to its owner, a woman of about sixty, who was resting on one of the benches. Blair, without any warning or permission, immediately threw his arms around the animal and was rewarded with a wet tongue lapping up the side of his cheek.

As Blair buried his face in the massive, fur-covered neck, he murmured, "Good dog, good dog."

Jim hurried up to them and started to apologize to the woman, but she held up a hand, her expression one of kindness.

She and Jim watched for a moment before she finally said, "His name is King. What's yours?"

Blair turned his head towards her and, grinning, answered, "Blair."

"Hi, Blair, I'm Cora."

"Hi, Cora. You're lucky, big dog. Nice dog."

"Yes, I am. He's three years old and keeps me company. How old are you?"

Cora had seen the innocence shining from Blair's eyes and it was clear to Jim that she believed she was dealing with a special needs adult - until he answered.

"I'm five, almost six."

Surprised, Cora looked up at Jim and touched her head in question. He nodded and introduced himself. "I'm Jim Ellison and Blair here, is my owner."

Blair snorted into the dogs chest as he muttered, "Humph."

Cora got to her feet then and, letting out a bit of the leash, indicated that Jim should follow her a few feet away from Blair. Once they could speak without being heard, she asked, "He was injured?"

Jim nodded, his face clouding over. "Yes, a few weeks ago."

She looked back at King, who was now rolling around on the ground, and at Blair who was rubbing the dog's tummy and cooing softly.

"Your brother?"

"No…my…partner."

Cora glanced up and into his eyes then - and saw more than Jim realized he'd revealed. She placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "He's a gift, Mr. Ellison. Don't ever forget that. And remember, the ways of this earth are mysterious and varied." She cocked her head, regarded him again, and added, "But somehow I suspect you already know that."

Staring at her, he finally stammered out, "I…I…yes."

She squeezed his arm. "Take care, Jim, and yourself. And be patient." She glanced back at Blair. "My daughter is always telling me I have the gift of extra sight - if I do, it's telling me that he'll come back to you but in the meantime - well, just take care of yourselves."

With that, she walked back to Blair, who realized he'd have to say good-bye to King. Cora knelt next to him. "Don't worry, Blair, King and I are here all the time and I'm sure we'll see you again."

As she straightened, Blair followed suit and, with one hand resting on top of King's head, he held out his hand in his best "grown-up" manner. Cora took it, squeezed it and repeated what she'd told Jim - to take very good care of himself and Jim.

Nodding solemnly, "I will. Very good care."

She hugged him tightly, waved goodbye and then walked away with King.

Jim was expecting sadness on Blair's part - so he was surprised when he smiled, took Jim's hand, and headed for the truck.

***

"No."

Had Jim ever noticed this stubborn streak in the grown-up Blair? He didn't think so. Somehow, with age, Blair had learned that subtle worked better than what Jim was seeing now. He knew he'd never seen a time when Blair's chin had been set just so, or his lips pursed together in what could only be a very stubborn pout - one that telegraphed quite clearly that Blair wasn't willing to give an inch.

In their years together, he'd been the recipient of Sandburg's pleading, cajoling and yes, even nagging. He'd observed Blair weigh options, consider and struggle - and he'd certainly seen him angry - but he'd never seen this - this stubborn-as-a-mule act.

On the other hand, he now knew exactly why that phrase was used - Blair looked exactly like a stubborn mule.

He was standing by his bedroom door, arms crossed defiantly over his chest, chin sticking out a mile, legs slightly parted but firmly rooted to the spot. And, if that weren't enough - Blair was refusing to make eye-contact with him.

Taking another deep breath, Jim tried again. "Blair, we discussed this and you know I have to go to work now." He cocked his head and decided maybe a bit of bribery was called for. "After all, if I don't go to work, how could we afford peanut butter and bananas?"

"Hate peanutbutternbanamas"

"You know that's not true - you love peanut butter and bananas and you know you liked Megan. She's a lot of fun and I know you'll have a great time with her today. Besides, I'll only be gone a few hours."

Now he looked at Jim, his eyes blazing. "All. Day!" The d was punctuated with a hard shake of his head and the stamping of one foot on the hardwood floor.

Hands on hips, Jim glowered down at Blair and, in what he hoped was a firm, parental tone, asked, "Young man, do you know what a temper tantrum is?"

Blair's eyes narrowed as a wicked gleam entered them. In that moment, Jim knew he'd blundered. Worried, he watched as Blair went back into his room and, a few moments later, the first pillow flew out the door to land on the floor. It was quickly followed by two more and then several rolled-up pairs of socks.

Blair came back out and, after re-crossing his arms over his chest, said simply, "Yes."

Jim knew he couldn't laugh. Absolutely-could-not-laugh. Should not laugh. Big no-no with parental control flying right out the window - again. He felt the corners of his mouth start to twitch as they tried to turn up so he bit down on his lips, stifling the laughter. When he felt more in control and less likely to ruin the 'firm but fair' attitude, he said, "Blair, I will go to work and Megan will stay with you and I will be home early."

Slowly Blair's lower lip started to tremble - which really threw Jim for a loop - so he quickly added, "But I'd give anything if I could stay with you, I swear. Heck, if it were my choice, I'd be here everyday - with you."

Looking only slightly suspicious, Blair asked, "Truth?"

"Cross my heart." He ran his finger across his heart to punctuate his statement.

Blair walked slowly over to the first pillow and picked it up, then the others and finally the socks. Jim didn't miss the glistening of tears that had yet to fall.

As Blair picked up the last pair of socks, he mumbled, "Dev is very messy."

Letting his grin show, Jim nodded wisely. "Mmm, yes. You should teach him that temper tantrums are for babies."

"Your fault. You asked."

That did it - he chuckled and then laughed outright. He was relieved when the corners of Blair's mouth started to turn up.

Jim crooked his finger at him and said, "Come here a minute, please?"

Blair walked over, eyes downcast. Jim tipped his face up with a finger under his chin. "I'll be back and you know it, right? I'm not going away, just to work."

"Promise?"

"Promise." Jim held out his little finger and Blair grabbed it like a life preserver.

As they shook, Jim said softly, "I love you, Blair."

"Luv you too." With that, he launched himself into Jim's arms, his own wrapping around Jim's waist. Which was the precise moment Megan knocked on the door.

"Megy's here but I can't let her go unless you let me go."

"No."

"Ever?"

"Never."

"Well, in that case, answering the door could be tricky."

"Nuh huh."

"O-kay, let's give it a try."

Just then, Connor knocked again so Jim took one step - sideways - and Blair did the same.

Connor knocked again.

Jim took two sideways steps this time, his shadow matching him step for step - but Jim didn't miss what sounded suspiciously like a giggle coming from his shadow.

Connor knocked a fourth time - hard enough to make Jim wince - but at least he was now within reaching distance. He bent back just enough, grasped the handle and pulled the door open - catching Megan with hand poised for a fifth knock.

At the sight that greeted her, she smiled. Jim shrugged and said, "Sorry, Connor, but I have a Blair stuck to me and I simply can't un-stick him."

She gave each of them a look, noticed that Blair was resolutely refusing to look at her, and decided it would be a good idea to play along. She clucked a bit and then said, "This could be bad because of course, you have to go to work, but Blair and I are expected at the Cascade Aquarium and I have it on very good authority that the whales and dolphins are waiting for Blair."

Blair turned to face her - smiled shyly, and said, "Dofins?"

"Yep, and whales."

Eyes brightening, Blair suggested, "Glue dust. Must use glue dust."

Frowning, Megan asked, "Where does one find this…glue dust?"

"Pocket, silly."

"Oh, of course, silly Megy."

Exchanging amused looks with Jim, she reached into her pocket, pulled out some imaginary "glue dust" and sprinkled it on Blair. He immediately made a loud sucking sound as his arms miraculously "popped" loose.

For a moment, they stood together, a bit awkwardly, but then Blair ran into his room and came back with Deva, whom he held up to Jim. "Kiss good-bye."

Knowing better than to refuse, Jim dropped a kiss on the cat's nose and followed it up with a kiss on the top of Blair's head.

"Blair, why don't you tidy up your room while I show Megan a few things?"

Blair nodded, but as he went into his room, both Jim and Megan heard him whisper - rather loudly - into Deva's ear. "Can't fool me. Grow-up talk."

Both detectives burst out laughing as Megan managed to say, "You certainly had the wool pulled over his eyes. Not!"

They both chuckled some more as Jim steered them toward the couch. When they sat down, he took in her pale appearance and the loss of weight, and asked gently, "How are you doing?"

Her smile faded as she shrugged. "Good days and bad days." She glanced down at her hands. "I...miss him. So damn badly."

"I know."

They were both silent for a moment, remembering - but then Jim asked, "How are things at the station?"

Megan had clasped her hands but now she balled them into fists. "Not good, Jim. There's so much anger and everyone is snapping at one another. There's just so much resentment and guilt." She paused a moment, then added, "Martin came back last week but if anything, having him back has made things worse - he's so closed off that it hurts just to look at him. Maybe you can help him today?"

Wondering what on earth he could do, he nevertheless said, "I'll try, but this is going to take a while, for all of us."

"You think I don't know that? But damn it, in the meantime someone - else - could get killed."

"Shit. It's that bad?"

"Worse. And Simon hasn't a clue what to do - none of us do." She pushed some curls behind an ear. "Simon is like a walking zombie."

"I wondered…he hasn't stopped by in several days. What about…Luis?"

She smiled briefly. "He's the one bright spot. Barbara's back and they're trying to work things out. It's going to be a few months before he's fit for desk duty - so they're using the time to put their marriage back together."

"A silver lining, but not the only one," Jim said as he glanced over his shoulder at Blair's bedroom

Understanding his look, Megan nodded before tapping her wristwatch and noting, "You're going to be late on your very first day back."

Jim jumped to his feet, confirmed the time by looking at his watch. "Fuck."

A moment later, from the bedroom, came a clearly said, "Oops."

Giving Megan a sheepish look, Jim said, "I think I just failed at setting a good example."

"I won't tell a soul," she promised just before they both broke into laughter.

Jim hurried over to the door, fished his keys from the basket and, as he pulled his jacket from the hook, said, "Okay, before I leave, you need to know the 'Golden Rule of Blair-Sitting' - which, quite simply, is: Once you step outside, don't take your eyes off him for a second. Got it?"

She crossed her heart, then held up her right hand, two fingers up. "Guide's honor."

"Guide's?"

"Australia's version of the Girl Scouts," Megan said as if he should know.

"Oh, right. How did I not know that," he responded sarcastically. He pulled on his jacket and called out, "Blair, you can come back in now."

Blair immediately poked his head out and asked, "Grow-up talk done?"

"All done. I do need to warn Megan about Deva." At Blair's questioning look, he added, "How messy he can be, especially if he's eating hotdogs."

Blair sniggered at that and Jim found himself torn between wanting to stay with Blair - and the need to go to the station. He supposed this was how any new parent felt when leaving their child for the first time. Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, he said, "You'll make sure Deva behaves for Megan, right?"

Blair gave him a very solemn nod so Jim opened the door and said, "Okay, have fun and I'll see you later this afternoon." Then, before he could change his mind, he left.

***

Megan was exhausted. So far, their day at the Aquarium had been an experience Megan would not soon forget. She'd been around children all her life but nothing could have prepared her for this particular incarnation of Blair. Within the first two hours, she'd already nicknamed him "The Blair-i-cane".

She'd always accepted that fact that Blair evidently had a never-ending store of batteries - after all, how else to explain his ability to work full-time with Jim and yet put in all the required hours at the University? Yep, he was legendary in that regard, but as a five-year old, he actually managed to make his older self look sedate and settled.

Since their arrival, neither his mind nor body seemed to stop and she was constantly being dragged from one exhibit to another - never staying long as his attention would quickly be captured by something new. He also asked as many questions as she discovered him able to answer. But the best part by far was his all encompassing love for every creature they came across.

Now, here they were, at the last exhibit of the afternoon: the whale tank. She was both grateful - and a little sad that their day was coming to a close. And based on Blair's sudden quiet, he was feeling the same way. But then she really looked at him….

He stood silently in front of the huge tank, his face pressed up against the glass, hands flat against the tank as he watched the whales float by.

The odd thing about it all - was that it seemed to Megan that the whales kept…pausing…in front of their window. They seemed to float effortlessly, eyes on Blair. She would have chalked it all up to her imagination - except other spectators were gathering around them, whispering and pointing at the three whales - and Blair.

She watched, fascinated, as Blair caressed the glass with his fingers - and would have sworn to anyone who asked that the mammals seemed to react to his 'touch' - to undulate happily, almost as if they could feel his fingers - which was absolutely ridiculous.

Finally Blair murmured softly, "Bye, guys." He then removed his hands and stepped back - which seemed to break the spell as all three whales resumed their movement away from the window and through the tank.

Blair turned to Megan and asked quietly, "Home now?"

Puzzled, she nodded, took his hand, and they left.

On the drive home, Blair seemed restless and impatient but once they arrived at the loft, he completely relaxed. She got him settled on the couch and asked, "Hey, how about a snack?"

"Ice cream?"

"You got it. I'll put your goodies away and then we'll sit down to bowls of Ben and Jerry's."

Megan hadn't been able to resist buying a few souvenirs for Blair and now she walked into his room to put everything away, except the items Blair had insisted they buy for Jim - those she wisely left out so that Blair could show them off to him later.

She was just about to put Blair's new whale sweatshirt away when he surprised her at the door and said, "Nuh-huh. Must stay out with the hat and my new whale." He grinned disarmingly. "Play and eat."

"Ah, of course. Can't eat ice cream without playing our new toy, can we?"

"Z'xactly."

Then she indicated the shirt and cap on the bed, wondering why he didn't want them put away.

"So Jim can see," he said as if she should know.

And she should have. Blair would naturally want everything laid out for Jim's enjoyment.

"Right. Okay, then, all done here, which means on to the ice cream."

***

Megan and Blair sat companionably at the table as they enjoyed their bowls of Chunky Monkey. Of course, Megan couldn't help slurping hers, which caused Blair to giggle each time until he finally said, "Slurp contest, now!"

Eyes narrowing at the challenge, Megan started to stir her ice cream to get it even softer. Naturally, Blair did the same. When both were satisfied that the goo in their bowls was smooth and creamy, Blair, using his fingers, counted out, "One - two - three…."

And then gleefully added, "Go!"

The slurping contest was on.

They were both slurping away when Megan realized how rusty she'd become. She not only lost, but she knew she was covered in ice cream. For that matter, so was the table, floor - and Blair - who could have posed for the "Got Milk?" campaign.

She knew this was a time for being stern, but since she was part of the problem, Megan decided to join Blair in laughing and flicking Chunky Monkey toward each other.

***

Jim entered the lobby, his hearing zeroed in on his apartment. As he took the mail from his box, he frowned at the odd sounds - which resembled...slurping? Now he could hear both Megan and Blair laughing and, as he and his two companions got into the elevator, he tried to figure out what was going on. He'd pretty much succeeded by the time all three of them exited on the third floor - so much so, that he was prepared for the sight that greeted them the minute they walked in the door. Unfortunately, his two companions weren't sentinels.

As they stepped inside, both Megan and Blair turned in surprise. Blair had his hand in the air, waving an ice cream-dripping spoon while Megan's eyes were rounded up by +3. Then Blair dropped the spoon, grinned broadly, pushed away from the table and ran full throttle into Jim's arms.

Henri Brown and Martin Regan remained just inside the door, watching, both a bit stunned at seeing Blair, covered in ice cream, arms and legs wrapped around Jim as he squealed, "You're home!"

"I sure am, but I'm not alone," Jim answered even as he quirked an eyebrow at Megan.

Blair pushed away just enough to see Henri and Martin. Smiling, he waggled his fingers at them in such a way that both of them found themselves smiling back - with Martin going so far as to waggle his fingers right back.

Still grinning, Blair cupped his hand around his mouth and, in a whisper loud enough to wake the dead, said, "Messy Megy!"

Which of course, drew their attention to their ice cream-covered friend.

Raucous laughter burst forth from all three men and, while Megan tried to think of a subtle way of flipping them the bird, she said with as much dignity as her appearance allowed, "Excuse me while I go clean up." She pushed her chair back and walked stiffly into the bathroom, muttering something about never entering a slurping contest again - until she'd had more practice.

Jim let Blair unwind himself until he was standing next to him and asked, "Do you remember Henri? He visited you in the hospital."

Even though he was still smiling, Blair moved a bit closer to Jim before nodding shyly.

Henri grinned back at him. "Hi, Hair - er…hi, Blair."

Jim indicated Martin. "And this is Martin."

"Hi, Blair. I'm sorry, I wasn't able to visit you."

"That's okay, hospitals are icky." He illustrated that fact by wrinkling his face up and pursing his lips. Then he grabbed Jim's hand and began to pull him into his room. "Ya gotta see, gotta see everything."

"Okay, okay," Jim agreed even as looked hopelessly over at Henri and Martin. "Why don't you guys make yourselves comfortable while I check this out?"

"Sure, no problem. We'll rag on Connor once she comes back. Don't worry about us," Henri said with a wink.

Rolling his eyes, Jim followed Blair into his room.

Once inside, Blair proudly announced, "My soo-vi-neers."

"Wow, looks like you bought the place out." He walked over, examined everything, then lifted the sweatshirt, held it up against Blair's chest, and said, "I think you need to change into this now, don't you? Show it off to the guys?"

He'd barely gotten the words out before Blair began to tug at his shirt in an effort to get it off as quickly as possible. With Jim's help, he succeeded, discarded it, and pulled the sweatshirt on. Jim tugged it down a bit before leaning back to survey the results. He gave a low whistle of appreciation and turned his thumb upwards. "Very nice. Come on, lets go show everyone."

They went out into the living room where they found a presentable Megan who'd just finished cleaning up the ice cream mess. Henri was standing by the door, holding out Megan's coat.

Frowning, Blair said, "Stay? Please?"

Henri gave him his best smile. "Hey, don't worry, runt. Connor and I have the nightshift but Martin is staying for awhile. Besides, we'll all be over this weekend to visit." He ruffled Blair's hair and added, "Now that we've seen your slurping abilities, you can bet we'll bring ice cream. I'm pretty sure I can beat you."

Blair brightened at that and Henri added, "By the way, killer sweatshirt, dude. Gotta get me one of those."

Looking just like a peacock, Blair preened even as Megan held out her arms to him. He didn't hesitate to move into them and hug her right back. Then he whispered, "Don't worry, I'll teach you to slurp better, okay?"

Smiling back at him, she whispered, "Thank-you. Against these guys, I'll need all the help I can get. Then we'll team up and beat the…and beat them. Badly."

She slipped into her coat and, with a final goodnight, she and Henri left.

***

"Hey, Blair, how does pizza sound for dinner?"

Blair was sitting on the floor, legs outstretched in front of him, a group of toys between his legs and Deva on his shoulder. Without looking up he replied, "Cheesy!"

Jim chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes. Martin, you'll stay? Join us?"

The two men were sitting on the couch and, as Jim extended the invitation, Blair looked up and entreated, "Please? Dev says yes too!"

The look on Blair's face won Martin over and he realized he really did want to stay.

Work had been rough since Peter's death - and had only improved slightly with Jim's return. He'd spent his first hour back regaling everyone with tales of Blair's antics and, for the first time in weeks, laughter returned to the squad room. Martin had been particularly impressed by Jim's total lack of self-pity. Instead of being upset at the damage to Blair's mind, he was sharing the joys of the last two weeks at home with Blair.

Everyone had then started asking about when they could visit, which was when Martin, who said little since his own return, had offered up the idea of starting up the Saturday night poker game again, only earlier in the evening so they could all spend time with Blair. The idea had been immediately embraced by the whole gang and Martin still remembered the look of thanks Jim had thrown his way. Even Simon had seemed more himself after that. And for Martin - the idea signaled the first stirring of anticipation for something other than death. And now, he was being given the chance to spend some time with Jim and Blair - and again, he found himself happy at the prospect.

"How can I turn down an invitation like that? I'd be honored to join you guys for pizza."

***

Dinner was over and Jim had both a clean kitchen and a clean Blair. It seemed that the five-year old version could handle slurping ice cream and remain relatively clean, but a greasy, cheesy pizza was altogether different, especially with Martin setting the example on how to properly eat a slice.

Blair had immediately become fascinated by the way Martin ate pizza. While Jim simply folded it between his fingers and took his bites, Martin let the cheese 'string' out as he held the pizza away from his mouth - and then he'd eat the cheese back to the slice. Naturally, Blair had to try it too, so he'd take a bite, then pull - and pull - pull. But in his case, he'd felt the need to rush, fearing that the cheese would break, so that meant attacking from under the cheese, which resulted in mozzarella in his hair, all over his face, hell, Jim even helped get some out of his eyelashes.

Of course, during the eating process itself, Blair hadn't minded at all, thought it hilariously funny, and with Martin laughing hysterically, Jim had begun to wonder if he might be the only adult left in the world.

Now Blair was in his 'sleeping' sweats, on the floor a few feet from the warmth of the fireplace. He was playing with toys, which were scattered about but all within easy reach, while Jim and Martin sat on the couch, talking quietly about Peter.

Martin rubbed his eyes tiredly as he said softly, "You know what's so hard? I can't touch his stuff yet, can't stand the idea of packing it up, of putting…."

He let the words trail off as he swallowed hard and glanced down at his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of beer bottle. He shook his head. "I can't put Peter away. I can't do it, Jim, I just can't."

"No one is asking you to."

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong. That's exactly what's happening. I'm being asked every day. And God forbid I should cry. It's as if the period of acceptable mourning is over for me because I'm a man. Like, I should be ready to pack him away…like, maybe, Time's up, you know?"

Jim was at a loss on how to help his friend, what words he could use to bring comfort. He was just about to say something, when a soft voice from the floor said, "Crying stops when you don't cry anymore and nobody can tell you when to stop."

Both men looked over at Blair, who still sat on the floor, head down as he worked on one of his Transformers. Frowning, Martin got up, walked to where Blair sat, and slowly lowered himself to the ground. He crossed his legs, picked up another transformer and started to 'transform' it.

From the couch, Jim watched silently, his heart in his throat, although he'd never be able to explain why - he just knew something was about to happen.

"Blair, what did you mean?" Martin finally asked.

Keeping his head down, and concentrating on the toy in his hand, Blair answered simply, "It's your hurt, no one else's, so you cry until you don't."

"Can anything help?"

He nodded.

"What?"

"Hugs. Hugs help - a lot."

Before Martin could ask another question, Blair shifted so he was facing both men. But he didn't look up as he said, "Mickey ran over my dog." Blair began to studiously tear apart his transformer. "And I cried - a whole lot, but he said I shouldn't, that I was a 'bay-beee'. But it hurt and mommy hugged me and that helped. She said I would always have Luli." Blair finally looked up and, with tears in his eyes, but a tender smile on his face, he added as he put his hand over his heart, "And I do. Luli is right here."

Blair reached over and gently touched Martin's heart. "Do you have someone there?"

"Yes, I do," Martin answered, his voice breaking.

"Do you need a hug?"

"You know, I believe I do. A really big one."

Blair leaned forward, arms outstretched, so Martin moved in. He pulled Blair close to his chest and rested his head against Blair's. They both stayed like that for several seconds before Martin finally moved backward. Smiling, he said, "You're right. Hugs help."

Blair nodded solemnly. "A whooooole lot."

When Jim walked Martin out, an hour later, he noticed his steps were lighter - and maybe Jim's were as well.

***

"And I can stay up?"

"Yes," Jim answered for the hundredth time. "You can stay up."

"Really, really, really late?"

"A whole extra hour."

"A whole hour?"

"Yep."

"Can I play?"

"With your Hot Wheels, Transformers and coloring books," Jim said with a grin, knowing exactly what Blair had meant. He watched the pout start to form on Blair's lips.

"Wanna play pokur," Blair muttered.

"And I already explained that you'll probably find it very boring. Not like the other games we play."

"So not like watching…Jungle Book?"

"Definitely more boring than The Jungle Book."

Blair smirked. "Good. You play pokur and I'll watch Sher-kan."

Jim signed. Yep, he'd just been masterfully manipulated - again. So much for no television on poker night.

They were at the table finishing lunch after having spent the morning getting ready for that night. Watching Blair finish his sandwich, Jim thought back over their trip to the supermarket. Their first one together. Jim had been dreading it, worrying about what he'd do if Blair wanted to ride in the cart. Fortunately, once there, he'd only wanted to push the thing.

As they'd rolled it down the various aisles, Jim had given Blair a new nickname: Sticky Fingers. He'd been truly shocked by how sly Blair could be about getting items he wanted into the cart.

It seemed that every time Jim turned away to pick up an item, another one would mysteriously appear in the cart. He'd glance at Blair, who in turn, would look around, the picture of total innocence, before giving Jim a look that clearly said he didn't have a clue how that item got in their basket. Oreos, Fig Newtons, popcorn, Bugles, all managed to make it into the cart without Jim's notice. And he was a sentinel, for God's sake. Yeah, shopping with Blair was a real experience. And the opposite of how it had been…before.

In order to escape his sudden thoughts about…before…Jim picked up his plate and carried into the kitchen - even though he hadn't finished eating. As he tossed the now unappetizing food into the trash, his mind couldn't help but think of the ironic fact that a grown-up Blair was always taking items out of the cart, while this one was always putting them in.

***

They had forgone a trip to the park because Jim knew their guests would provide more than enough stimulation for Blair - but now he found himself wondering if maybe Blair still needed a nap. In spite of not actually being five years old, Blair still seemed to tire easily, to get cranky if he didn't take a nap, and considering he'd be up later than usual…yeah, maybe he should suggest it.

"Since you're going to be up so late tonight - I'm thinking - nap," he said in a voice he hoped was devoid of trepidation.

"Please, watch Bambi instead?"

They'd picked the movie up the day before but had yet to view it. Jim didn't really think now was the time either. Trying to sound like reasonable, he said, "It's going to be a late night for you so I think a nap would be better."

The look Blair gave him said maybe not.

Jim found himself giving in - mostly because he'd promised they'd watch Bambi together, Friday night, but a case had kept him at the station so that by the time he'd arrived home, Simon had already put Blair to bed. And now, without saying a word, Blair was kindly reminding him of that fact. Man, he was good.

"Okay, okay, but," he held up a finger in warning, "you lie down on the couch, with a pillow and your blanket, and we'll watch Bambi."

Grinning that 'I know I've won' grin, Blair nodded, got up, ran into his room, grabbed a pillow and his blanket, came back into the living room, set everything down - and then looked expectantly at Jim.

"Right. So. Bambi it is."

" 'Sxatly."

Resigned to his fate, he got up, got the DVD, popped it into the machine, turned on the set and hit play. He sat back down and pointedly looked at the pillow and blanket. Blair simply picked up the pillow, dropped it onto Jim's lap and promptly made himself comfortable.

***

Okay, this wasn't half bad, Jim thought. In fact, it was fun. Especially listening to Blair repeat after Thumper and Bambi.

When Thumper said, "Burd", Bambi wasn't the only one to repeat it. So did Blair. And he managed to sound exactly like both Thumper and Bambi.

Giggling, he pointed repeatedly at the screen, at the antics of all the baby animals, mimicking their voices, chirping, whatever. He watched in wide-eyed wonder, amazement and joy floated across his face almost as fast as the cartoon played across the screen.

Unfortunately, Jim forgot all about the fact that Bambi lost his mother in the story.

When the shot rang out, Blair froze. And so did Jim. He waited, unsure of what to do. When Bambi lay alone and crying, Blair cried - and hard, but just when Jim was thinking he'd better turn it off, Bambi's father appeared. Strong and dark against the backdrop of the forest, he urged Bambi up and on - and Blair's hand crept into Jim's, tightened a bit as he sniffled, but he kept watching. A few minutes later, Jim was very glad he'd kept it on.

***

The last of the credits were rolling by and Jim thought maybe he and Blair should talk about the movie. He was just about to start when Blair, always one step ahead of him, said, "Don't like hunters. They're bad. But mommy saved Bambi and then it was daddy's turn and then Bambi became the daddy."

Succinctly put. Jim doubted he could have said it better.

Blair yawned - a huge yawn, and Jim figured if he stayed very still - Blair would take that nap after all.

And he was right. Minutes later Blair was sound asleep.

***

The gang began arriving earlier than planned, thanks to being eager to see Blair.

Simon, Connor and Brown arrived together, with Martin, Perkins, and Stevens showed up within minutes of each other. Joel arrived last, but was forgiven since he brought the dessert; strawberry shortcake, which solicited an "Oh, goody!" from Blair.

As their friends entered, Blair stayed behind him, shy but smiling, however, in less the ten minutes after everyone's arrival, he was on the floor, surrounded by big, burly, tough cops, all playing with his collection of Hot Wheels and Transformers.

Within ten minutes though, he had every big, burly, tough cop down on the ground, playing with Hot Wheels and Transformers.

Connor was the only one not joining in, choosing instead to stand against edge of the kitchen island while Jim put out all the bowls of poker necessities like popcorn, peanuts, cashews, and pretzels. Even though Jim was working, both he and Megan watched humorously as Simon made hooting noises at Joel who was trying to speed his Hot Wheel past Simon's fire truck. Next to them, Martin and Richard Perkins were battling with Blair over an imaginary planet called, "Blairrules".

Both Richard and Martin were losing badly to Blair's superior tactics - which went something like, "No, that's mine. That's mine too. No, you can't land there, I hid Spider-bombs there and they'll hatch and eat you up."

What could two intelligent, brave detective's do?

Both Connor and Jim laughed when they surrendered to a cackling Blair.

As for John Stevens, he sat on the floor with his back against the couch, a Xena coloring book in his lap, studiously coloring inside the lines while trying hard not to drool.

Eventually Jim had to end the 'play time' so, with a hand in the air, he said, "Guys, I know it's rough to give up Transformers, Hot Wheels and," he sent an arched look at Stevens, "Xena coloring books, but I think it's time for some poker."

He pretended not to notice a certain reluctance on the part of his friends as they sadly got to their feet and ambled over to the table. With a grin, Jim put in The Jungle Book, ruffled Blair's hair, and headed over to the game. He had every intention of cleaning a few pockets.

***

"…so I tell the little dweeb, 'Drop it or the raisin elves will get you!' - and damn if he didn't believe me and drop the gun!"

"Oops."

Everyone at the table quieted even as they shot dagger looks at Stevens who, with an apologetic look toward the couch where Blair sat, said quickly, "I mean darn - he dropped the darn gun."

Blair turned around, wagged a finger at him, and said, "That's better. Don't want soap in your mouth."

Seven Major Crime detectives and their captain erupted in laughter.

***

"You know," Jim said as he tapped his cards. "I think you're bluffing, Simon. I don't think you have that full house you've been hinting at."

"Then I suggest you put your money where your mouth is, Jim. The cards don't lie and I never bluff."

This remark was followed by a loud snort coming from the couch.

Looking over at where Blair was now lying down, Simon asked gruffly, "Are you implying, by that snort, that I do bluff?"

"Who, me?" Blair asked in a small voice that couldn't quite hide his smile.

"So no more snorting. Understood?"

Blair's rather forlorn response was a simple, "Yes."

Moving his cigar back to the corner of his mouth, Simon said smugly, "So Jim, as I was saying, put up or shut up."

Unfortunately, that solicited another snort from the peanut gallery in the living room.

"Young man. I believe we're supposed to go to the zoo tomorrow?"

"Mmm, yes?"

"Then you should know that I do not take snorters to the zoo because the elephants always try to eat them."

Blair sniggered, Simon rolled his eyes, Jim called him - and Simon lost. He had his full house, all right, but Jim had four sixes. He chomped down hard on the cigar as Megan pulled the cards toward her for the next deal and Jim raked in the chips with a wink towards Blair, who was now peeking over the back of the couch. Grinning, he slipped back down again.

***

"Is he really asleep?" Megan asked as she got her coat.

Jim, handing Joel his jacket, nodded. "Soundly."

"Need help with him?" Martin offered.

"No, don't worry, I'll take care of it later. And you know, guys, you don't have to whisper, he sleeps through anything."

Jim's helpful hint didn't stop everyone from keeping their voices low as they said their goodbyes and gave a final peek at the sleeping figure on the couch. Blair, who was on the floor and wrapped in an afghan, waved his goodbye before going back to trying to tickle Simon back to wakefulness.

***

Simon and Jim collapsed on the couch with heavy sighs. Blair was finally asleep.

"Okay, so the zoo was fun - I readily admit it," Simon said through a yawn. "But damn, I'd forgotten how exhausting following a kid around could be."

"Yeah, it's been awhile for you, hasn't it?" Jim asked with mischievous grin.

"If you're implying that I can no longer keep up with Blair - you're right. But then, let's be honest, I never could." He shared a fond look with Jim as he added, "It was fun watching him run from exhibit to exhibit, asking questions non-stop, making us read every single post on every single animal--"

"Don't leave out the mimicking. He's a crackerjack mimic when it comes to cartoon characters and zoo animals," Jim said proudly.

"Thank God for the gorillas. By the time we reached their enclosure, I would have killed for five minutes of standing still."

Jim couldn't argue. The only few quiet minutes of the day were thanks to the gorillas. Blair had been fascinated by them - and they by him. He'd stood by the railing, smiling and, of course, mimicking their every move - but he'd been content to remain there, allowing Jim and Simon some breathing space and a chance to rest. Not to mention watch the show. One large silverback had been positively entranced by Blair and started copying his every move. Then he'd scratch - Blair would scratch. Blair would yawn, the gorilla would yawn. Eventually the animal moved closer and chose a boulder closer to the railing. Once there, he'd scratched the top of his head - and waited. He hadn't been disappointed as Blair promptly scratched the top of his.

At that point, Blair had turned to Jim - and the smile he'd given him had left him almost paralyzed by the pure innocence. Then Blair had giggled, turned back to the gorilla and stuck out his tongue. No one had been surprised when the gorilla did the same - and they were off again. The final showdown was Blair, throwing back his head and letting out with a loud guffaw. The gorilla pounded his chest and yelled. Although, to sentinel ears, the yell had definitely sounded good-natured.

Jim had finally suggested that they needed to move on if they were going to see the rest of the exhibits - and as they did, it had been a toss up as to who was the unhappier; Blair or the gorilla.

When their day was over, Simon had broached the subject of dinner and it had been voted that they stop at Chin Lees and indulge themselves in all their favorites.

Now, sated and relaxed, Simon sighed, prompting Jim to give him a quizzical look. "Not regretting joining us today, are you?"

"Not at all. Like I said earlier, it brought back wonderful memories of similar trips with Daryl."

"Then why the slightly aggravated sigh?"

"Only you would recognize one type of sigh from another." Simon shook his head good-naturedly. "Honestly, though - I was thinking of Naomi."

"Ah. That says it all. Not good thoughts, I assume?"

"Well, I am starting to see why she felt the need to take so many trips. Blair can really wear a person out."

"Come on, we both know the fact that you slept here last night - on the couch - may have had more to do with that than anything else." Jim managed not to snicker.

"Fuck you."

"Oops. Soap for you."

Simon gave him a half-hearted smile before glancing back at the small room where a very tired Blair slept the sleep of the innocent - and the well-fed. "All right, here's what I was really thinking. I was wondering how in the hell Naomi could ever leave him. I don't want to leave him when you get home and I don't want to leave now. How could Naomi do it for a day, let alone weeks? How could she give up a minute of the joy, of his energy and the excitement in the discovery of everything that surrounds him?"

He looked over at Jim then, who was nodding, a slight smile touching his lips. Seeing the agreement in Jim's eyes, he went on. "He accepts so much on faith, yet manages to questions everything else. He loves unconditionally and gives of himself like no child I've ever known. What's his is yours - and yet, Naomi routinely left him. How?"

"I have a better question. How the fuck could she stay away so long now? We can't even find her in order to tell her what's happened. And it's not like this is the first time. She can go for months without a call, a letter or an email."

Now it was Jim's turn to glance back at Blair's room. He could easily see through the slats, could see the glow of the nightlight fall on Blair, who was cuddled up with Deva. His voice taking on an edge, he said, "On the other hand, I'm glad we can't find her because I'm not giving him up."

"That's hardly realistic and you know it. If she does show up, he's her son and no matter what we think about her choices in how she brought him up - he is hers."

Jim turned in his seat, putting his arm on the back of the couch. "You don't get it, do you? As far as I'm concerned, this is no different than if we'd been married when this happened. And a spouse trumps a mother every time."

"Except…you and Blair…weren't."

"But we should have been," Jim said stubbornly. "Would have if I hadn't been so damn afraid."

He got to his feet then and walked over to the windows. With his back to Simon, he struggled to rein in his emotions before speaking again. When he finally felt some semblance of control, he said, "I couldn't make it without him, Simon. Even now, he manages to ground me. I keep my senses turned down all day - until I come home." He turned back around. "Even though he has no knowledge of the Blair we know - of the one who guided me, for want of a better term, he still helps. How do you explain that?"

"I can't and don't intend on trying - I just know that Naomi is his mother and if she wants him…."

"I disagree. In my opinion, she's given up her rights. You think she's stayed away all this time just because she wanted to travel? No way. It's because she knows she screwed up so she pretended to be happy when he became a cop. But in reality, she hates it and she's punishing him."

"So you'd what?" Simon demanded. "If she comes back, wants her son, you'd refuse? Take her to court? And if you do, what about him? How the hell do you think it would affect him, Jim? You can't be thinking of what's best for him."

"Damn it, I am thinking of what's best for Blair." He took a step forward. "Do you honestly think he'd be better off with her?"

"I didn't say that, Jim. But--"

"But nothing. She can't have him." He faced the windows again, head lowered, slight tremors coursing through him. "I keep…I keep having the same dream. I walk in the door and he's sitting where you are. He hears me, turns, and says, 'Hey, you're home. How about Thai for dinner?'…and then I wake up."

Simon got up and moved to his friend's side. He placed a hand reassuringly on Jim's shoulder. "Jim--"

Jim shrugged off Simon's hand. "I feel so damn guilty. Like I'm turning my back on this Blair because I want…I want…Chief."

This time, Simon draped his arm awkwardly across his friend's shoulders and they stared out the windows at their city.

***

For Jim, most of the next week passed in a flurry of activity, both criminal and personal. By Thursday, any thought of Naomi's possible return wasn't even a blip on his mental radar.

Now, as he sat at his desk, typing up his last report before going home, the doors to Major Crime opened and Luis was wheeled into the squad room by his wife, Barbara. Tirza was beside her, both of them beaming. Every detective in the room was up in seconds and had them surrounded. The two women immediately stepped back to allow them all better access.

After everyone's questions were answered regarding Luis' progress - and the other detectives had brought Luis up to speed on their case load and lives, Barbara checked her watch and held up a hand to interrupt. "I'm afraid we've got to get Luis home - we only stopped by based on his promise not to overdo things."

Everyone nodded understandingly but, as Barbara took control of the wheelchair, Luis looked up at Jim. "Follow us to the elevator?"

"Sure."

Jim was pretty certain he knew why his company was wanted. Luis wanted to know about Blair and seconds after the doors to the Major Crime closed behind them, Luis confirmed Jim's theory.

"Look, Simon's kept me up to date on…things…so how's Blair doing?"

"He's fine, wonderful, in fact."

Luis studied him for a few moments and finally asked, "You think I might be allowed to visit? I'd like to see him."

"Come on, you don't even have to ask." The elevator arrived and, as the door slid open, he added, "But you'd better know how to play with Transformers."

Luis' face lit up like a Christmas tree. "I love Transformers!"

***

End part 4 tbc in the Conclusion

The Healer - Conclusion

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 23:56:18 GMT

Friday was a day straight from Hell. It seemed that every criminal in the city decided this was the day to try to outrun Jim, who'd been forced to chase down three separate suspects. Exhausted, not even the prospect of seeing Blair could speed his movements. He trudged up the three flights, thanks to a broken elevator, wanting only one thing: a shower - a very hot shower. Okay, two things. Blair and a hot shower. As he approached the loft, he was disturbed to hear a conversation between a very firm Joel and a very stubborn Blair.

"No. Don't want to."

"Blair, you made the mess, you need to clean it up."

"No. Not going to."

Jim didn't like Blair's tone. Not because he was acting up, but because it the total opposite of Blair's behavior - so much so that Jim was worried. When he unlocked the door and stepped inside, he found Joel cleaning up the floor and Blair stomping into his room and slamming the French doors.

"Whoa, what's up?" Jim asked as he took off his jacket and tossed the keys onto the table.

Joel straightened and, with an expression of both relief and concern, said, "Oh, man, am I glad to see you." In his hands, he had a dustpan full of spilled macaroni and cheese.

"What the heck happened?"

"I wish I could explain this. He's been…well, peevish is the best word to describe his behavior. He's been cranky and contrary all day - kept wanting me to call you and insist that you come home. I almost did, but I guess I wanted to try to handle it myself."

"So what just happened?" Jim asked as he joined him in finishing the clean up.

"Well, I set his dinner in front of him and then…he just refused to eat. When I asked him if there was something wrong, he just said no, so I told him to eat. That's when he accidentally swept his plate to the floor. I was trying to get him to clean it up and when he kept refusing, I…well, I…I sent him to his room." He shrugged helplessly. "It's what my mother always did when we acted up."

Jim frowned throughout Joel's recitation. Now of the behavior was Blair in the least. He tossed the sponge he'd been using on the floor into the sink and then walked toward the French doors.

"Blair, would you come out here, please," he said firmly.

The doors slowly opened and, just as slowly, Blair walked out, head down, hair obscuring his face. Jim's gaze drifted downward - and his eyes widened. Blair was dragging Deva by the tail.

Really worried now, Jim still needed to deal with the issue at hand, so he said quietly, "You made quite a mess."

Blair nodded.

"You should have cleaned it up."

"No."

Jim's eyebrows shot up. Unsure of where this sudden rebellion was coming from, he decided to try another tack. He pointed at the stuffed cat and said, "Deva can't be very comfortable."

"Dev's gone," Blair answered forlornly.

This was not good. Jim could feel a strange unease moving through him. "Blair, what do you mean?"

"Deva's gone. Just a stoopid stuff'd cat now."

Jim gently took the animal out of Blair's listless hand. He studied the cat for a moment and was about to try to reassure Blair when he realized that Deva did look different. He looked…scruffier and…somehow…empty.

Suddenly Blair said, "Head hurts. Head hurts bad."

He looked up at Jim then and he could see the pain visible in Blair's eyes.

"Hurts bad, bad."

Jim dropped the cat and took Blair into his arms. As Blair rested his head against Jim's chest, Jim asked, "Blair, when did the headache actually start? How long ago?"

"Now. All day. But now, hurts bad. Very bad."

Jim turned toward Joel and mouthed the word 'hospital', which was all Joel needed. He grabbed the keys from the table and got the front door open.

"Blair, I think we'd better go see your doctor, all right?"

"'Kay." It was the barest of a whisper.

As Jim guided him toward the door, Blair reached out and touched Joel. "I'm sorry," he said sadly.

Joel tweaked curl. "It's okay, buddy."

By the time they got down to Jim's truck, Jim was ready to lift Blair and carry him, but he made it and they both got him inside. With one look from Jim, Joel nodded and quickly moved to the driver's side and climbed in while Jim slid in next to Blair.

***

A good chunk of the ride to the hospital was a nightmare for Jim. Vehicles and pedestrians seemed to deliberately slow them up and the traffic signals were definitely against them. But then Blair groaned and seemed to fold in on himself - and that's when Joel shoved Jim's police light onto the dashboard and Jim made a frantic call ahead to warn the hospital. By the time they pulled up in front of the Emergency entrance, Blair was unconscious and totally unresponsive. With Jim and Joel helping, the orderlies got him onto a gurney and then rushed inside where Dr. Nichols was waiting.

As the gurney was pushed into ER, the doctor took Jim's arm, stopping him from following. "Detective Ellison, I've got everything ready, we'll run some tests and hopefully I'll have an answer for you, but for now, you need to wait here, all right?"

"But…I need--"

"I'll come out the moment I have anything to report, I promise."

Joel took Jim's arm. "Come on, let's go sit down and wait. Blair's in good hands."

Senses reeling, Jim nodded and allowed Joel to guide him into the waiting room and then into a chair.

As Joel sat down beside him, he tried to concentrate, to find Blair; to listen, but he seemed incapable of filtering out all the sounds of a big city ER. Head pounding, he did the only thing he could - he dialed down.

***

Joel wanted to go outside and call Simon, but he didn't dare leave Jim. He looked terrible, was clearly in shock, and Joel suspected that Jim wasn't able to use extraordinary senses to listen in on Blair's care. He would have liked to try to help, but he knew how much Jim valued his privacy - and his secret. Even though it wasn’t much of one. Just about everyone in Major Crime knew or suspected the truth - but now wasn't the time to share that information.

"Joel, you should call Simon. He needs to know."

Because Jim's words represented his own thoughts, Joel thought maybe he could go long enough to make the call. He got to his feet. "I'll be right back - don't do anything, Jim. All right?"

Jim just nodded, his mind blank.

Joel moved quickly outside and used his cell phone.

Twenty minutes after he made the call, Simon strode in and took the seat opposite Jim - and by the end of the first hour of their wait, the room had filled with their friends.

Joel looked around and nodded to himself. The guardian was now the guarded, the protector - now the protected.

***

Dr. Nichols stepped inside the waiting room - but could go no further. It was full, with literally no available space other than where he now stood. Heads turned in his direction and, without a word passing between them, the men and women of Major Crime created a path between Nichols and Jim.

When he reached the man's side, he placed a hand on his shoulder. "Detective Ellison?"

Jim raised his head slowly, blinked a couple of times, focused his gaze and, seeing the doctor clearly, got to his feet. "Tell me."

"We did an MRI and the results disclosed a small bone fragment lodged at the base of his skull. Now, there are two explanations for why we didn't spot it before. Either the previous swelling obscured it, or it's moved to a point where it's now visible. I'm inclined to think it's latter due to the suddenness of Blair's headache."

Jim's expression reflected his inner fear as he asked, "Surgery?"

Nichols nodded. "We need to remove the fragment." He touched a spot on the back of Jim's neck. "We'll enter here."

He went on to explain the surgery but for Jim, he'd already said enough to give him the slightest bit of relief. It sounded easier than he expected.

"What are the risks?" Simon asked quietly.

Nichols shrugged helplessly. "The fragment could move, become more dangerous. But we're already prepping him and, to be honest, I helped pioneer this technique and I believe that, if all goes as planned, you'll be able to take Blair home tomorrow."

"Is it possible that this fragment caused the...regression? That once you remove it…." Jim let his hope trail off.

"Anything's possible, but if you really want my opinion - I believe the cell damage is permanent. I'm sorry." The he added, "As soon as we're done, I'll be right out and give you what information I can and once we've moved him out of recovery, you can sit with him."

Dr. Nichols gave Jim a rather brusque pat on the shoulder and left.

Simon took a cigar out of his pocket and, as he fiddled with it, said, "Well, that sounded simple and hopeful. I'm sure he's going to be fine, Jim, just fine."

Jim's gaze traveled upward to fix on Simon. At the same time, it seemed he was suddenly aware of the men and women standing there, smiling and nodding, and hopeful and united.

Jim nodded. "Right. Of course. Fine. Just fine."

***

The procedure took a little over an hour and a half, the fragment successfully removed and now, Jim sat, once again, at Blair's bedside. Blair was sleeping soundly and, according to Nichols, it was a good, normal sleep.

The room was dark, with the only light coming from the hall outside. But Jim didn't need illumination. Now that he was here, with Blair, his senses had settled and he was using them to monitor Blair - to observe him. He stretched a bit and checked his watch. It was almost midnight. As he dropped his gaze back down to Blair, the younger man stirred, moved a little, sighed…and slowly opened his eyes. Jim immediately reached up and pulled the chain to bring up the overhead light, but on its lowest setting.

Blair blinked sleepily, looked around the room and finally at Jim. He smiled broadly. "Not hurting anymore. All better?"

Smiling tenderly, Jim nodded. "Yep, all better. Go back to sleep and in the morning, if all goes well, the doctor will let me take you home, okay?"

Blair nodded even as heavy lids started to slip down - but then they immediately flew open again. "Why did Deva leave?"

Jim took Blair's hand and said hopefully, "I don't know, but maybe by the time we get home, he'll be back."

Content with Jim's answer, he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Jim pulled the chain again to darken the room - and allowed the tears to fall.

Here, in the darkened room, he could admit to himself that he'd prayed - believed - that Blair would his "Chief" when he awakened.

***

It was late afternoon before Nichols gave Jim the word that he could take Blair home. The release didn't come a minute too soon. Blair had awakened at seven and, once up, had been wired all day. He was antsy and eager to go home - so much so, it was hard to believe this was the same person who'd been so ill yesterday. It was also hard to believe he was being released so soon after surgery. Okay, Jim thought as he got Blair's clothes out of the small closet, the incision was small, and there was only a square bandage to mark it, but still, surgery was surgery. On the other hand, the sooner he had Blair out of here, the better - for both of them. All day long, every time someone had come in, Blair had asked, "Home now? Go home now?" And every time, Jim had to shake his head.

Now he put the clothing on the bed next to Blair, who was sitting up and swinging his legs. "Okay, let's get you out of that thing," he pointed with disdain to the gown, "and get you in your sweats. Then it's home-sweet-home."

"Yay!" Blair pumped his arm up and down but quickly stopped when he realized it was interfering with Jim's ability to help him get dressed.

By the time he was in his sweats, the nurse was there with the wheelchair and the release papers for Jim to sign. Thanking God, not for the first time since Blair's injury, that he and Blair had both made the other their 'agent' and 'legal guardian' in a medical emergency, should other family members not be available. Without that, all of this would surely have been an even worse nightmare.

"Okay, all ready," Blair said as he tugged at the shirt, adjusting it to his satisfaction.

"I guess you are. And now," he finished signing the release, "you're officially free."

He handed the clipboard back to the nurse, who then gave him his copies and two prescriptions. Looking them over to make sure they matched the antibiotic and pain medication Nichols had prescribed, Jim added, "But looks as though we'll have to stop at the pharmacy downstairs first."

Blair eyed the wheelchair with obvious delight and said, "So I'll have to stay in that, right?"

Unable to stop the grin, Jim nodded. "'Fraid so, buddy."

Rubbing his hands together gleefully, Blair said, "I'm gonna do wheelies."

"Wheelies?" Simon asked as he walked in. "You do wheelies inside the hospital and I'll have to give you a ticket, young man."

Blair giggled but the twinkle in his eyes said he was going to try at the first opportunity.

"Simon, you didn't need to come--"

"How did you think you were getting home?" Simon interrupted. "Joel had to take the truck."

Groaning at his forgetfulness, Jim said, "I might have been a bit…pre-occupied."

"No, any of us could have taken him, but he wanted to stay even after the doc showed up with the good news and, since I had a meeting with the Commissioner, we agreed on this as the solution for getting Joel home last night, and you and Blair home today."

"Well, no matter how it came about - thanks for the lift. We just have to stop downstairs for these," he held up the prescriptions, "and then home."

"Then let's head out."

***

It was after six by the time they walked into the loft. Blair was dragging so, after a quick but simple dinner of soup and crackers spread with peanut butter, Jim was able to get him to bed without a fuss. Blair did pick Deva up from the ground where he'd left him, but it was clear from his expression that nothing had changed - Deva was just a toy - and no more.

Now, with beers in their hands, Jim and Simon sat in what had become their usual spots, both quiet and somewhat contemplative. Although, it hadn't skipped Simon's notice that Jim was on his third beer. In fact, he'd been debating himself for the last fifteen minutes as to whether he should say something. Then it hit him. Jim was…disappointed…and hiding it with the beer. Or maybe…numbing it would be a more appropriate description.

He didn't believe allowing Jim to stew about it would do the man any good, so Simon finally said, "You really believed that it would be Sandburg that opened his eyes in the hospital, didn't you?"

Following a heavy sigh, Jim nodded.

"I'm sorry," Simon said, feeling desolate that he couldn't offer more.

"I just feel so damn guilty again. No matter what I think - or how I feel - I'm ultimately betraying one of them."

"I think I get it." He put his empty bottle on the coffee table and added, "But you know, I really wondered if we'd be able to put Major Crime back together again after the shootings - if we'd survive. I think the Blair in that room had a lot to do with the fact that we have. He gave us all someone else to concentrate on. Instead of feeling sorry for ourselves, we played war games with Transformers and Hot Wheels." He grinned. "Kind of a miracle, in a way."

Jim couldn't deny Simon's words - but he'd really have preferred a different kind of miracle last night.

He'd been counting on it.

***

Jim moved slowly through the loft, turning lights off and locking up. Simon had left over an hour ago, but not before offering to stay, to keep Jim, who'd had another two beers, company. Jim had waved him off while assuring him that he was fine - but he wasn't. Not by a long shot.

He stopped in front of Blair's room…and finally went in.

For several minutes he remained by Blair's bed, just looking down at him as memories floated across his mind - memories of both Blair's warring for dominance.

In the end, neither won - because there, in the dark, listening to Blair's even breathing, Jim understood that they were equal - they were both Blair. With that acknowledgment, a strange sort of peace settled over Jim. As he stared at Blair, he felt the most complete love he'd ever experienced.

And it was enough. He was content.

Jim let go of the past, let go of a future that could never be, and held onto the present and the gift he'd been given. Bending down, he kissed Blair's warm cheek and whispered, "I love you."

As he headed upstairs, he really regretted that last beer.

***

He woke up with a throbbing head and a mouth stuffed full of cotton.

Coffee, he needed coffee. He stumbled out of bed and, on the way to the kitchen, decided a pit stop was required. When he was finished, he left the bathroom and headed groggily into the kitchen while trying to remember just how much he'd had to drink the night before.

He plugged in the coffeemaker and was just reaching for his cup when a shadow fell over him.

"Didn't we have an agreement about how I need to be in the kitchen with you?"

"Gee, Jim, I know we do almost everything together, but don't you think this is taking it a bit too far?"

Jim stalked into the kitchen and was in the middle of pulling out the cord when Sandburg's words hit him. He froze for a moment before allowing his hand to drop to his side. He turned around and looked down at the man in front of him.

As Jim's eyes bore into his own, as he moved into Blair's personal space, Blair knew instinctively that something strange was happening - and that he needed to allow it to happen. So he kept still, let Jim do this - whatever this was. He watched as Jim seemed to drink in every inch of his body and face and then, as impossible as it seemed, he moved even closer to Blair. He reached one hand up, let it hover next to Blair's face - so Blair nodded slightly, even thought he didn't completely understand what he was saying yes to. He only knew it was necessary.

Jim rested his hand gently against Blair's beard-stubbled cheek and, slowly, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing, ran his hand down Blair's jaw. Then the most joyous and beautiful expression Blair had ever seen moved over Jim's face as he breathed out one word as if it were the most beautiful, miraculous word in any language.

"Chief."

***

"Jim?"

It had been several minutes of allowing Jim to do whatever it was he was doing and now, at Blair's voice, Jim tenderly tapped Blair's lower lip. They were still in the kitchen, Blair with his back to the counter, Jim standing over him, their bodies just touching. There was no pressure because Jim wasn't actually leaning against Blair - he was just sort of - there.

Blair closed his mouth against all the questions as Jim trailed his finger across Blair's lower lip before whispering, almost reverently, "I promised myself that if you ever came back to me…."

Jim lowered his head and rested his lips against Blair's. The moment was pure, simple and yet, spoke volumes for both men. When the kiss finally ended, Blair opened his eyes to see Jim grinning down at him, looking all the world like a man who'd actually been given everything he'd ever asked for in life.

"Okay, this has been weird, but that was, you know, nice - and all, but maybe you could tell me what the hell's going on now? And what do you mean if I ever came back to you? Just where have I been?"

Jim could have wasted a lot of words, but he decided that showing might prove quicker than telling. He took Blair's hand and lead him to Blair's bedroom. When they got to the French doors, he stopped, lifted Blair's hand and guided it to the bandage on the back of his neck.

Eyes widening in shock, Blair said, "What the hell?"

Jim turned him to face the bedroom and said softly, "I'll assume that when you woke up, you were your usual 'can't see straight until I've had my coffee' self, so you probably didn't get a good look at your room. Now might be the time to do that."

Frowning, Blair looked.

Okay, his bed, toys, books….

Toys?

He walked inside and looked closer.

He had…dinosaur sheets and a jungle cat bedspread? He rubbed his eyes, looked again. Yep, the toys were still there, lined up on his desk. And there were comic books and coloring books where police procedural books used to be - and anthropological books.

His legs gave way and he dropped down onto the bed even as he continued to comb every inch of his room, questions bombarding his mind, but still too stunned to voice them.

On some level, he realized he was sitting on something and absently reached under his leg, rooted around until his fingers found it and he pulled it out. He looked down and found himself staring into the black eyes of a stuffed cat. As he focused on it, a memory, vague but persistent, from his childhood, hammered at him - and with it came a name.

"Deva," he whispered. He lifted the cat to inspect it more closely. "Jesus. I'd forgotten all about him." He his head and rubbed his cheek across the top of the animals head.

Watching, Jim felt tears stinging the back of his eyes, but he didn't bother trying to stop them as they finally overflowed. Instead, he walked rather unsteadily to the bed and sat down next to his partner who, while still resting a cheek on the furry head, faced him.

"What happened, man? What's this all about?"

"Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

He frowned, tried to reach back….

"A…call. A phone call to…Wonderburger." He snapped his fingers, "That's it! Luis and $65 worth of hamburgers. His practical joke." Then he smiled wickedly, "But I doubled the order and had half delivered to Vice. Luis must have shit a brick."

"Anything else, Chief?" Jim gently urged.

Blair shook his head…but then added thoughtfully, "Wait. The post office. I stopped to mail something to mo…Naomi…and…."

"And?"

Blair's face clouded over as sudden visions, fast, stark and horrific, bombarded him.The memories assaulted him, pounding relentlessly and, without realizing it, he cried out as his face contorted in pain. "Jim!"

He felt Jim's arms wrap around him, strong and comforting, the stuffed cat trapped between them. He shut his eyes tightly as he said, "Beth…and there's so much blood…she…she's dead. And I can see Peter in Martin's arms and he's rocking back and forth…won't let them take Peter…and oh God, Rafe…Rafe is dead, Jim!"

The truth came out in wrenching sobs and all Jim could do was hold on, let Blair remember….

Suddenly, Blair started shaking his head and saying, "Myfaultmyfaultmyfault--"

Jim held him away and said firmly, "No, Chief. No. It wasn't your fault, do you understand? Listen to me--"

"Didsomethingwrongdidsomethingwrong--"

Jim had no choice, he had to stop this, so he gave Blair a slight shake, careful of the stitches. "No! Now I want you to look at me - look at me."

The litany of self-accusation stopped as Blair opened his eyes and focused in on Jim, who then said quickly, "You did nothing wrong, do you hear me? Nothing. The FBI blew it, understand? One stupid agent fired when he shouldn't have and we had a war on our hands. Our people were trapped, caught in the crossfire. There was nothing anyone could do. You just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Although," he added, "several civilians would disagree. You saved lives that day. Women and children. Do you understand, Chief?"

Blair frowned as he raised his hand to the back of his head, eyes asking what he could not find the words to say.

"Yes, you were hurt, but not during the fighting. It happened later. An FBI agent by the name of Lister decided to hide his own blunders by finding a scapegoat. When he heard we had a detective inside, namely you, he decided to play 'tag, you're it'. He shoved you hard, you hit your head…it was…it was bad. You were in a coma for several days…we thought we'd lost you, but then you woke up. Only…."

He touched his forehead to Blair's. "But you came out of it. Only…there was some damage and you were…a child. You, but the you at five."

Worried, Jim watched as it all sunk in, as Blair's face reflected the myriad of emotions he was experiencing. And then anger. Cold and hard, his eyes darkening with it. "Tell me he's dead or in prison - just tell me that, man."

Shocked by Blair's question and the emotion behind it, he almost didn't know what to say - but then he realized that, unlike the rest of them, Blair hadn't had all these weeks to mourn the loss of Beth, Peter and Rafe. To him, this was now, today. There was no five-year old to soothe Blair, to heal him or bring him peace.

"Chief, he was fired and criminal charges have been brought against him - he may even serve time."

"It's not enough."

"Look, it was a massive FBI screw up." Jim took a few minutes to fill Blair in on the tip the FBI had received two days earlier, a tip that terrorists were going to hit Centennial Private Academy, a school located two blocks from the post office. It catered to the sons and daughters of diplomats and foreign dignitaries who made Cascade their home. But the agency had accidentally tipped their hand too soon and the terrorists were alerted to the trap, so moved their action to the nearest Federal Building; in this case, the Twelfth Street Post Office.

"There are rumors that Lister deliberately provoked the terrorists, that he wanted a shootout, wanted the whole thing to blow up because he wanted every terrorist dead - killed by our people and his. He didn't stop to think about you or the others inside, let alone our people - he just wanted to cover his colossal blunder in allowing his agents to move too soon. When that didn't work, he blamed the P.D. by blaming our man inside. You. But that blew up in his face too, big time. He's going down, Chief."

"Yeah, but they're still…dead. Gone," Blair whispered in anguish.

"That's true - and nothing will bring them back, but Rafe saved Luis and Martin - and Peter saved the man he loved; he saved his partner."

They were silent then but Jim noticed Blair's fingers, which were unconsciously ruffling the fur on the cat in his arms. Eventually, Blair asked quietly, "How long?"

"It's been…it's been almost two…months."

Blair looked at him then. "And you took care of me?"

Jim shrugged. "I had help, Chief. Lots of help."

Blair frowned in puzzlement so Jim added, "I guess you could say you had a series of…sitters. The gang made a schedule so that when I was at work, one of them was here with you. Joel, Megan, Henri, Martin, Jeff, others - and of course, Simon. Almost everyone took a turn."

"Shit." But surprisingly, he was grinning.

"Okay, what's so funny?"

Now it was Blair's turn to shrug. "Mom would be the first to tell anyone what a holy terror I was as a kid. I was just enjoying the thought of a little payback for all the practical jokes. I bet I ran the whole gang ragged." He chuckled at the thought.

Jim tweaked a curl and, using the strand, gently tugged Blair closer. "Trust me, at five or thirty - you're a holy terror - but you're my holy terror."

"Speaking of my, maybe now would be a good time to talk about that kiss? Not that I minded - I just thought an explanation might be nice."

Jim fingered the strand of hair he was still holding as he said, "Not much to tell, really. I love you - couldn't tell you before but swore that if - no, when - you came back, I'd tell you how I felt. So I did. Obviously I'd hoped you'd--"

"Feel the same?"

"Mmm, yeah, that about covers it."

"Well, isn't this your lucky day - because I do." With that, Blair glanced around his room again before adding in a voice touched with awe, "You kept me."

Jim nodded again. "Yeah, yeah, I did."

"And mom let you? Or is she here too?"

Jim's expression changed, took on a harder edge. "We haven't heard from her, Chief."

"Ah. Of course. She wasn't really happy about the whole badge thing, not that she didn't try, but…well, I suspect she's off on some sort of retreat where she can meditate and come to terms with the fact that her son is now a pig. I'm betting she hasn't even checked in with her friends."

"Yeah, that's kind of what we figured. But…you need to know that I wouldn't have given you to her even if she had shown up. Wouldn't have let her take you. You need to know that."

With Jim's admission, the most gentle, loving smile crossed Blair's face. "Oddly enough, even before the kiss - I knew that."

"I mean she's your mother, but--"

"Jim, did you hear me? I know. And it would be the same for me if things had been reversed. We're for…always."

Wonderfully relieved, Jim smiled. "Yeah, yeah, we are." Then he closed the remaining distance between them and, once again, touched his lips to Blair's - but this time, they both allowed their lips to part….

Only to be interrupted by loud pounding on the front door.

Jim reluctantly broke the kiss which caused a rather dazed Blair to fall forward even as Jim said, "It's Simon."

"Well, won't he be surprised," Blair said as he touched his lips.

Jim laughed then, a booming, totally uncharacteristic laugh, one full of joy, relief, and excitement. Getting to his feet, eager to witness Simon's shocked face when confronted with this Blair, he held out a hand and, when Blair took it, he pulled him up.

"Come on, let's go surprise the man."

***

The shock wasn't immediately noticeable for the simple reason that when Jim opened the door to admit Simon, Blair, hair still tousled and still carrying Deva, was right behind him.

"Morning, Simon," Jim said with a huge grin.

"Good morning," Simon answered, his eyes moving toward Blair. "Uhm, how's…you know…everything…today?"

Jim, doing a great job of hiding his total happiness, not to mention the laughter that threatened to explode, he followed Simon's gaze to Blair, saw him as Simon must: Deva under his arm, hair in total disarray, looking both flushed and a bit nervous. Biting back a chuckle, he said simply, "See for yourself."

Blair stepped forward, smiled, and said easily, "'Morning Simon."

Simon started removing his coat and answered without thought, "How's Blair, Sandburg?"

Blair and Jim exchanged delighted grins before Blair answered, "I'm fine. We're both fine. And you?"

Simon paused, coat hanging by his fingers. As he turned around, it slipped to the floor. Head cocked to the right, he said in disbelief, "Sandburg?"

"Yeah?"

Simon took two steps forward and said again, "Sandburg?"

"Yeah?" Blair repeated, grinning widely now.

"Sandburg!" Simon yelled.

"Simon!" Blair yelled right back - just before being engulfed in two strong arms and crushed into Simon's very broad chest.

Now Jim let his laughter and joy out.

***

"Mmmsimnph?"

"Simon, I don't think Blair can breathe," Jim said several minutes later.

"Oh, God," Simon said, horrified. He quickly loosened his hold - but didn't completely release Blair. Instead, he studied him carefully before asking, "You really okay, Sandburg?"

Blair nodded. "Yep."

Looking over the top of Blair's head, Simon asked Jim, "How? When?"

Jim could only shrug. "How, don't have a clue. When - he woke up this way. One minute I was chastising Blair for using the coffeemaker without me and the next thing I know, Sandburg is cracking some joke about carrying togetherness too far." He gazed fondly down at Blair. "Guess we'll just call it a miracle."

At that point, Simon realized he was still holding Blair - so he abruptly let go, which sent Blair and Jim off into new gales of laughter even as Simon said, "We've got to let everyone know. Call them - they'll want to see for themselves."

"So call them. As for me and Sandburg, we're going to have breakfast." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "I'm thinking…pancakes."

***

Pancakes had been made, cooked, and eaten by all three men, and then Simon had made all the necessary calls. By noon, the loft was full of detectives, including Luis.

For Jim, it was almost a repeat of the poker game. He found himself standing against the pillar, arms crossed, as he enjoyed watching everyone fuss over his partner. They all seemed to have a need to touch Blair as they moved about the loft, laughing, crying and touching. They touched his arms in passing, tweaked or ruffled his hair, patted his back - anything they could do that reassured them, they did. Proof that he was not only real, but himself. They wanted to hear him talk, asked to hear some of his old anthropology stories as if they'd never heard his exploits before. They even wanted to hear his laugh, which confused Jim - left him conflicted again. Watching everyone, watching Blair, he had a moment of feeling as though he were now betraying the young Blair - because he'd come to love the beautiful, freeing, exhilarating laugh of the five-year old Blair.

Frowning at the thought, he realized that the loft had grown somewhat quiet, that the questions had all been answered - well, as much as either Jim or Blair could answer them. Since neither of them knew why Blair was back, Jim had every intention of taking Blair in to see Doctor Nichols as soon as possible - but for now, the mood in the loft was mellow and content. No one seemed willing to leave, though, so with Simon's help, Jim had passed out sodas, popcorn and other munchies.

Eventually, Blair stood up to get everyone's attention. "Uhm, everyone?"

The chatter stopped as all eyes turned toward him. To Jim's astute eyes, he looked nervous as he'd said, "I…well, I mean…Jim kind of told me everything that's happened. I obviously don't remember the last few weeks, but I do know how all of you helped. How you helped to care for me, watch me while Jim worked…and I just want to say…well--"

Several kernels of popcorn flew through the air, many hitting their mark, namely Blair's hair as Henri got to his feet. "Come on, Hairboy, we've been babysitting you from day one!"

"Brown's right," Joel added with a grin. "Every time Jim said, 'Sandburg, stay in the truck', we knew there was a fifty-fifty chance that you wouldn't. So we kept our eyes on you, and when you did leave--"

"Hell," Luis interrupted. "I'm surprised one of us wasn't permanently assigned to the truck. Can't you all hear the radio transmission?" Then, in a perfect imitation of Megan's Australian accent, he said, "Uh-oh, mates. Jim's left Sandburg in the truck, who's got the duty?"

The loft exploded in laughter, including Blair, but when it calmed down, he got their attention again. He looked around the room, at the men and women he'd come to know, trust, respect - and love. He could even see the ones who were missing. Like Beth, who'd have been with Luis, poking him in the ribs - or Peter, a hand resting possessively on Martin's thigh - and of course - Rafe, who'd have been seated as close as humanly possible to Megan and stealing glances when he thought no one was looking.

Blair paused a moment, their memories soft on his mind. Somehow he knew that any flowery speech now would be wrong, so instead, with eyes a bit misty, he said simply, "Thank you, guys. Thank you."

There was a moment of silence until Stevens said thoughtfully, "You know, I can't speak for the others…but if you really want to show your gratitude…well, there is something you could do."

Suspicious now, Blair nevertheless asked, "What?"

"I'd really like that white Power Ranger. For my kids, of course."

"That would be your future kids, right?" Blair asked teasingly.

"Oh, yeah, definitely. Future kids."

"Hey, as long as you're giving stuff away, I wouldn't mind the Ramhorn Warrior transformer," Martin added with a wink.

Suddenly everyone was talking at once, all demanding their toy. "No, I want the red Hot Wheel," or "But I played with the blue Power Ranger, it's mine," seemed the gist of the demands.

Finally, Blair held up his hands. "Okay, guys, I get it and I agree with you. But I need to do this fairly - so hang on a minute." He hurried into his room and returned a few minutes later, arms full of his 'toys'. He sat on the floor, crossed his legs, spread the goodies out around him and then, with a truly wicked grin, said, "You want 'em, guys - you've got win 'em. And gentlemen, it won't be easy because this is war!"

Mouth agape, Jim watched as, once again, a bunch of tough cops hunkered down on the floor to play - no, not play - battle - for their favorite toys. With shock, he watched as Luis was helped down and propped up by pillows so he could join the 'war of the toys'. Jim wasn't in the least bit surprised though, to see the very thirty-year old Blair Sandburg - love Jim's life - once again setting up the rules…rules that very definitely favored him.

Cackling in devilish delight, he blasted Simon's Power Ranger to smithereens. At Simon's stunned look, Blair laughed - a rich, deep, all-Blair laugh. It wove its way through the loft, touching everyone, but finally coming to rest in Jim's heart. And when it did, just as he had last night, Jim let go. Not because he had to accept a truth, as he had last night, but because now he knew that he didn't have to miss the five-year old Blair - that child was right here - with the mature Blair. And he always would be.

Jim decided he'd had enough observing for one day - it was time to join the fray. After all, there was no way Simon was going to take possession of the 'Alpha-mate' Transformer. Just now way.

That was his.

***

Epilogue:

The loft was finally back to its pristine self, the gang long gone now. Oddly enough, most of the toys remained. Between them, Jim and Blair had battled bravely - and won. In fact, only Martin and Megan had gone home with any spoils.

Now they sat on the couch, in the darkness, the lights of their city providing the only illumination.

With Jim's hand in his, Blair gave it a squeeze and asked, "You okay?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You don't handle change all that well, in case it's skipped your notice. And this was really - different."

Jim chuckled and squeezed back. "Different describes it, all right. But hey, you're back and I know it - so everything's good. Does that make sense?"

"Sure." Blair cocked his head, "Come on though, you can be honest. Was I too awful? Too much?"

Jim pulled Blair to him, tucking him into the space under his arm, where not surprisingly, he fit perfectly. "Actually, you were a blessing. Now, I don't want you to get a swelled head - or anything. Not just yet, but no, you weren't too awful at all. In fact, I know neither Simon nor I will ever be able see a zoo the same way again, and I know Connor has a whole new appreciation of the aquarium."

"Aquarium?" Blair sat up. "We went to the Aquarium and I don't remember? Damn. I've wanted to go since it re-opened."

"Yeah, well, you did. You even have the stuffed whale to prove it."

"Gee, thanks Jim," Blair snarked.

They went back to sitting quietly, but it didn't last.

"Jim, I don't suppose we could…you know…go again?"

"What, to the Aquarium?" At Blair's nod, he said, "Sure, why not?" He chuckled then and received a poke in the ribs.

Blair looked over at the stairs and said thoughtfully, "We seem to be…putting something off here, man. Like…maybe…going upstairs?" He looked back at Jim. "Maybe you're not as comfortable with the sudden switch from a five-year old me to the thirty-year old as you thought?"

"Actually…it's getting more and more difficult to believe the last weeks even happened. But there might be some…stress involved in going up to bed. We've been moving in this direction a long time - expectations might be a bit high. Not to mention, you had surgery two days ago."

Blair unwound himself from Jim and got to his feet. He held out a hand. "Recent surgery simply means I get to top tonight."

Startled, Jim stared up at his partner, who simply pulled him up.

"We're big boys, Jim. We can do this."

With that, Jim found himself being tugged toward the stairs - and then up them. At the top, Blair paused and they stood awkwardly for a moment as they looked at each other - and then the bed - and Blair smiled.

He could admit that he'd been feeling a bit insecure - afraid he might disappoint. He was one of the few people in the world who knew that Jim had been with men before. He also knew they'd been very similar to Jim - big, military/cop types - and nothing like Blair. And yes, he'd been worried that the last weeks of caring for a younger version of himself might definitely interfere. But then he'd looked at the bed - and what was sitting in the middle of it.

Deva. Looking very smug. If a stuffed animal could be said to look anything but…well, stuffed. That was all it took for Blair to toss his fears aside - just as he'd done so many years ago.

Jim had spotted Deva too and now gave a startled gasp. "How the hell--"

"Who cares how he got here, Jim. He's here." Blair walked over and picked him up. "I can't believe I ever forgot him." He glanced up at Jim. "Don't you think it's odd that I chose a black jaguar to protect me when I was five?"

"I did - until I let myself really think about it. But I was a bit hurt that you didn't name it…Jim."

Blair snorted. "Very funny." He sat down. "So you really don't think it's…weird?"

"Weird is our watchword, Chief. And I think I'm starting to like that about us." He sat down next to his partner. "I think, in a way, you were my…what…my guide? Even back then."

Okay, this was not the Jim Blair knew. Not the Jim who could never accept who he was, let alone all the spiritual mumbo-jumbo that seemed to go hand-in-hand with being a sentinel. Only one response to Jim's word came to mind.

"Shit."

"Give me a break, Chief. I've had a lot of time to think about all this and the truth is, even when you were a wonderful child living here with me, you…well, you guided me. Without the grown-up you with me on the job, I felt it was safer to turn down my senses, but as soon as I came home, heard your voice, as soon as you touched me, I was grounded and they opened up on their own." He paused for a moment, trying to choose his words carefully. "I think I know why Deva came to you, why your mother bought him. You needed the protection and reassurance." He stopped, took a deep breath, and added, "I know about Mickey."

"Well, fuck." Clearly upset now, Blair got to his feet. "How? What did I say?"

Jim reached out for him. "Hey, calm down. It's okay. It doesn't matter how it came out. Hell, with the number of men in and out of Naomi's life, it only makes sense that some would be less than sterling characters and that sometimes, you'd be the one to pay the price." He picked Deva up. "That's why you got Deva - I think."

Blair sat down again and took Deva from Jim. "He did protect me. He really did." He picked at a piece of lint on the shiny black coat. "I've never told anyone this, not even Naomi, but I'm going to tell you because…maybe…you'll believe me now and I never thought anyone would."

Jim held his breath, unsure if he really wanted to hear what might be coming. Not that he had a choice.

"See, Mickey came back while Mom was at work. I shouldn't even remember this, but I do. Anyway, we'd moved, to get away from him. I had some lady with me, a babysitter, but I don't remember her name," he smiled, "she wasn't very nice. Anyway, the door bell rang and it was Mickey. He probably gave her some song and dance, along with money and she left. I was alone with him and he was mad. Said if it hadn't been for me, he and mom would have been happy. That they could still be happy - if I were gone. He said I was useless, an albatross, that they could travel all over the place if I weren't around. He said that she'd never wanted me in the first place."

Blair stopped then, his body rigid with the memory. Jim felt a rush of sympathy - followed by a flush of red hot anger directed at Naomi - and the man who'd said such terrible things to a child.

"That's when he started towards me - and I knew he was going to kill me. I kept backing up until I hit the wall. There was no where else to go, no bed to hide under this time. I had Deva in my hand - but suddenly - he wasn't. Instead, there was this large black cat crouching in front of me, growling at Mickey, hissing and spitting, fur standing straight up. Then it rose up and began to stalk him. This time…Mickey was the one backing up - and he was shaking his head and saying, "No" over and over again until he finally reached the front door. That's when he ran. When the door slammed shut behind him, when I heard the car drive off - I looked down - and there sat Deva - just a small, stuffed cat again."

"Well, fuck."

"Yeah, Jim. Fuck."

They looked at each other, then down at the cat…and they laughed. Sure, it was more of an hysterical kind of laughter, but Jim figured it they'd both earned it. But finally the laughter died as they moved into each other's arms. They held each other, soothing one another with soft caresses.

Eventually, the soft caresses became more passionate as they began to explore each other in their need to reconnect, to express their emotions. To complete something, to mate and lay claim to one another.

For Blair, much like that morning, he understood the need to take the more passive role by allowing Jim to do whatever he needed, to use his senses in every way, to reassure himself one more time that Blair was really back.

Jim moved them backward on the bed even as he began to divest Blair of the material that kept Jim from skin. Blair wanted to help - but again, the need to take control was burning bright in Jim's eyes, so he let Jim do his thing while enjoying Jim's face, the concentration and love.

When he was finally naked, Jim straddled him and began to take his clothes off, fingers now oddly unsteady but eyes never leaving Blair's face.

Blair had seen Jim naked before - but there's always been showering involved - this was different. Jim was undressing - for him. When he too was bare, Jim lowered himself with his arms so that only their lips connected.

Blair sensed that Jim wanted slow and exploratory, but once they kissed, their lips parting, their passion rose quickly, full cocks bumping and rubbing as they explored each other's mouths. They couldn't last - not this time. Couldn't draw it out, indulge themselves. No, that would come later.

Blair came first, into Jim's hand, Jim's name on his lips. Jim followed seconds later, Blair's name whispered into thick, curly hair.

Chests heaving, sweat cooling, Jim lay half on and half off of Blair. Eventually, as one, they turned on their sides with Jim spooned up behind Blair. Eyes already closing, Jim had the presence of mind to pull the comforter up and over them. With contented sighs, they slept the sleep of lovers.

Sentinel and Guide. Jim and Blair.

***

Epilogue -

Jim drove down the narrow, tree-trimmed road and, when he spotted what he was looking for, pulled the truck over and parked. He took the flowers Blair handed him and they both exited the truck and, together, each with bouquets in their hands, started across the expanse of freshly mowed lawn.

When they reached the small, peaceful, sun-dappled path, they followed it quietly until Jim stopped them and pointed to a marker.

Blair, dressed in a flannel shirt, jeans and a brown jacket, his Cascade P.D. badge hanging from his belt, bent down and lovingly set the first bouquet down in front of the gravestone. He touched the granite as he said softly, "Beth, don't worry about Sam and the kids. We'll take good care of them. They miss you terribly, but they know you're watching over them. And don't worry about Luis - we're taking good care of him too." He smoothed his hand over her engraved name - and whispered a quiet good-bye.

He stood up and Jim led him a few yards further away - to another gravestone. Again, Blair knelt down and placed the second bouquet on the mound of earth. "Peter, I can't lie. I really miss you. No one could make me laugh the way you did. Loved you, man." He traced a finger over Peter's name. "I'll take care of Martin, I swear it."

He remained there for a few minutes, head bowed, tears flowing freely. But eventually, after another choked-out farewell, he got to his feet and followed Jim to the final gravestone. Jim handed Blair the bouquet he'd been carrying and for the last time, Blair knelt and placed flowers on a grave.

"Rafe…you and your three piece suits." Blair smiled warmly. "Best dressed detective in Major Crime. Miss you, buddy, and Henri's a bear without you. But Susie's keeping him in line and...Megan is coping, okay? So don't worry about her. We'll keep her safe - but you have to know - she loved you, big time." He rubbed at his eyes, looked up at the sky, and said, "We're depending on you, Rafe. You, Peter and Beth, to watch over us, you hear? We'll hold all of you…right here," he tapped his heart, "forever. We'll never forget you and that's a promise."

Jim bent enough to reach Blair's hand. He helped him to his feet, slipped his arm around Blair's waist and, together, they whispered goodbye. Then, arm-in-arm, they walked back to the truck.

End - The Healer - Continued in Part 1 of The BoogeyMan

The Boogeyman - Part 1

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 23:54:09 GMT

Summer - 1974

The boy ran.

He should never have left, should have stayed because maybe at the campground, with others around, he'd have been safe. But his fear outweighed reason - so he ran.

He was small, so his little legs couldn't take him far or fast, but he could duck under and scramble through and hop over. He could leave the path, skirt around boulders and squeeze through narrow openings. So maybe he wouldn't be found. This time.

Why had his mommy insisted he go? Why couldn't she see that he hadn't wanted to go camping - at least not without her along to protect him.

He wanted his mommy so much.

He stumbled over a root which caused him to tumble head over heels, landing hard after rolling down a small incline, which, looking back, seemed huge to him.

Stunned and panting hard, he decided to stay on the ground for a minute, catch his breath, maybe. He looked upward - at the beautiful sky peeking at him through the tall evergreens; it's pure, deep blue color, along with yellow streaks of light passing through the branches, cheering and calming him.

He supposed he should get up, but he didn't. As his breathing slowed, small tears ran down his cheeks.

***

The tall teenager allowed himself to drift away from the other hikers in an effort to find some solitude. As the other teens moved further away, as the distance between them and him grew, he soon found himself alone.

He cocked his head, wasn't surprised that even though he could no longer see them, he could hear their babbling, so he slowed a bit more until the chatter faded away to a minor buzz. He took stock of his surroundings, sure that he knew the way back to camp and, satisfied that getting lost was not an obstacle to his desire for peace and quiet, he moved off into the woods.

For over thirty minutes, the tall, good-looking teen walked, happy in his aloneness. His light blue eyes took in everything around him, watched the jays fly overhead before landing in the trees to chitter, argue and pick at each other before swooping down and back up again, to once again enter the fray. He felt the gentle breeze of the afternoon, watched as it moved through leaves, and noted how the colors of each leaf changed as it was exposed to varying degrees of sunlight. Immersed in nature, his spirit calmed and a smile of true appreciation spread across his handsome face.

Maybe he was glad he'd agreed to summer camp after all. There was no Stephen to watch over and no father to ruin a good moment - there was only the forest and himself, when he could sneak away.

Summer camp - for a teenager - could be heaven or hell - and right now, for fifteen-year old Jimmy Ellison, it was definitely heaven.

Of course, it was heaven because he didn't do what the others did. He avoided the parties, watched from a distance as they played their practical jokes and pranks on each other, sat quietly but smiling during the 'cabin wars', but he didn't get involved. He enjoyed the clever tricks, like the moving of bunks and belongings from one cabin to another so the hapless inhabitants would be, after a hard day of sports, thoroughly confused upon entering not their own cabins - but someone else's altogether.

Then there were the lovely gifts left hidden for fellow cabin mates...like molasses in the bed or salt, liberally sprinkled on sheets, or the harmless but fierce looking snake hidden under a pillow or in a boot. Or the best prank of all for the boys: stealing into one of the girls cabins, choosing the one with the longest hair and then quietly tying the pigtails to the bunk and waiting until morning to be delightedly awakened by the screaming.

Yeah, summer camp was fun for Jimmy, but it was moments like this, alone and hiking, that he cherished the most. These quiet times when he would experiment, when there was no one to notice, to chastise when he tried to see as far as he could, or to hear.

Jimmy came to a sudden stop as his hearing picked up something out of the ordinary. He strained, trying to focus in, to pinpoint the one sound among all the others. Damn, this was hard. Why was he even bothering - it was freakish. But something told him that this sound...this one needed to be isolated and identified.

Crying? Was that it? A small child crying and maybe...lost?

He sped up then and eventually broke into a run as he followed the sound, changed directions as the crying faded but then grew strong again and he was close, really close, almost there.

***

The small boy finally rolled over and got shakily to his feet. He looked around and heard a familiar sound off to his right - a wonderful sound. Grinning, he headed off toward what he knew had to be the river.

After only a few minutes he found himself standing just above the water and, in spite of his fear, grinned again. The water was so nice and cool and he was so dirty and hot. He hurried down the short incline to the river's edge and, kneeling down, cupped his hands together and scooped up the delicious water and drank. Then he repeated the process and drank until his thirst was quenched. But he was still hot, so he cupped again and splashed himself, throwing the water with abandon, shaking his short curls and giggling as the beads of water flew around him.

He suddenly realized how hot his feet were, so he plopped down on his butt and clumsily pulled off his tennis shoes, tossing them recklessly over his shoulders and followed them with his socks. Barefoot now, he got back up and waded into the cool water, just up to his ankles. He dug his toes into the soft mud, a few smooth, round pebbles adding to the wonderful sensation.

For a moment, he felt safe. For a moment, he forgot. He happily looked around for his mother, even started to call out for her - before clamping a hand over his mouth as he remembered.
No mommy. Only icky Mickey. His face crumbled, the tears came again, and he promptly sat down in the water and sobbed.

He wasn't crying because he was afraid - but because he didn't understand. He didn't understand why the man who was going to be his daddy always wanted to hurt him, why he hated him. After all, he was just a little boy and that wasn't really his fault. If he were bigger, he would leave, like Mickey kept saying. He would leave his mommy, let her be happy with Mickey, but...he still didn't understand the why of it. Mommy loved him, didn't she? Didn't she want him to stay?

Maybe not - maybe Mickey was right. His shoulders began to heave, the sobs racking his small body until a hand on his shoulder and a gruff but oddly gentle voice got his attention.

"Hey, kid, you lost?"

***

Jimmy broke through the trees and there, ahead of him, was the river. He looked to his right, where the muffled sound of sobbing was coming from, and spotted a small boy. He looked to be about four or so with brown curly hair - and he was sitting in the river, sobbing.

Not wanting to frighten him too much, he approached slowly, quietly. He waded in until he was behind him and then gently placed his hand on the boy's trembling shoulder.

"Hey, kid, you lost?"

The child didn't jump or panic, which impressed Jimmy, who gave a small, inward smile at the tyke's courage. The boy turned to look up at him with a dirt-smudged face that was now tear-streaked as well. He shook his curly head and Jimmy, puzzled, asked, "You're sure you're not lost? You know where your mommy is?"

The damp curls bounced as the child nodded. "she's in 'frisco."

"Frisco? You mean, San Francisco?"

"yes."

"Are you at my camp? Camp Wattachuka?"

A small frown knitted tiny eyebrows together as the child puzzled this out - but finally he shook his again. "no. mickey brought me camping."

Jimmy held out his hand, hoping the little boy would take it so that he could bring him out of the water because his slight body was shivering. He figured he'd better get him warmed up or he'd catch cold.

The child looked at the offered hand and slowly extended his own. Surprised at how easy it had been, Jimmy grasped it and pulled up gently. He guided him over to the grassy part of the river's edge and sat the boy down. He found the tennis shoes and socks, which were scattered all over the place, and went back to the boy. He sat down next to him and, without a single thought, took the child's right foot, slipped on a sock, then the shoe, then tied the laces before doing the same with the left foot. "There, doesn't that feel better? Warmer?"

The boy had been quiet during the whole process, small hitches in his breathing the only indication left of his crying. Now, at the question, he nodded and smiled shyly.

"So, you're here camping. Do you know where your camp is? How far away?"

The boy's light blue eyes shifted away, the smile fading as he slowly shook his head.

"So maybe you are lost," Jimmy suggested gently.

"no. i ran away."

Ah, now that made sense. How many times had he entertained such a thought? Thinking that for now, he should change the subject, he asked another question. "What's your name?"

"blair." He looked up then, his expression clearly indicating that he expected some reciprocation.

Grinning, Jimmy stuck out his hand. "Well, hi, Blair. I'm Jimmy."

Blair put out his smaller hand and the two boys shook.

As Blair's hand slid out of Jimmy's, the older boy felt weirdly bereft. The boy's hand had felt good in his, so perfect. Which was silly really, cause the kid was just a baby.

"How old are you, Blair?"

"i'm big. five. last may."

"Wow, that is big. I just turned fifteen last month."

"wow, that's really big." He managed to mimic Jimmy's wow perfectly.

"Yep. I'm almost old enough to go out on my own, only two or three more years. Is that what you're trying to do? Go out on your own?"

Blair looked away as his shoulders drooped. He nodded.

"That's pretty brave, but if you want my opinion, you might be a little young and, I suspect, maybe your mommy will be sad, too."

"i don't know. mickey says she'd be glad if i were gone."

Anger suddenly flared up in the teenager as he looked at the sweet boy in front of him. Just who the fuck was this Mickey guy, anyway? Maybe he'd better find out. "Who's Mickey? Your older brother, maybe?"

Blair shook his head. "my almost daddy. but i don't want him to be...i spill too much."

Unsure of what spilling had to do with Mickey being his dad, Jim said, "Well, I'm fifteen and I still spill, but what does that have to do with someone becoming your daddy?"

"he doesn't like it when i spill, drop, play or read."

A horrible suspicion was forming in Jimmy's brain, a suspicion that left him cold. "Blair," he asked cautiously, "What does this Mickey do when you - spill?"

"gets angry, hits me. yells."

"Does he spank you?"

Blair looked up again, his expression reflecting the fact that the word spanking might be new to him. He appeared to give it some thought before saying, "i don't think so. i think i was spanked once - on my butt - by my aunt. but it didn't really hurt and she cried more than me. i said a bad word and threw something at a bad boy who said my mommy was...well, it wasn't nice." Blair punctuated that statement with a fierce nod of his head.

Okay, this kid was certainly different. "So, he doesn't spank you. He hits you. Does he use something other than his hand?"

Blair's head bobbed up and down and Jimmy waited patiently - and was soon rewarded as Blair said, "he used a flapper thing once - and his belt - and the broom - and the wooden spoon. that one really hurt."

"Flapper thing?"

"pancakes?"

"Ah, spatula."

"yes, spat-chula."

To be suddenly confronted with what sounded like child abuse was a heavy load for anyone, but a fifteen-year old? On the other hand, Jimmy didn't think he was exactly normal. He felt a fierce protectiveness for this small child - and yeah, it surprised him a little. But he also felt anger and...even hate...for this Mickey. He wanted to hit him, hurt him the way he hurt Blair, but that wasn't an option.

"Blair, what are you planning to do? Or go?"

"i don't know. but i spilled and he was mad and i was afraid, really afraid this time. mommy isn't here at all." Then he smiled brilliantly. "maybe i could go with you?"

"I don't know - I still think your mommy would be sad."

"maybe."

He cocked his head, a new thought coming. "Blair, does she know Mickey hits you?"

"no. he made me promise, said...he just made me promise."
Fuck. God damn the man.

"Okay, Blair, look, were there other campers near where you and Mickey camped?"

Blair nodded.

"Okay, then. I'm going to take you to a couple of sites I know - we need to get you safe before dark. You with me, Chief?"

Blair's face scrunched up again, but this time in thought. He tilted his head and looked seriously at the teen in front of him...then held out his hand expectantly.

Jimmy released the breath he'd been holding, took Blair's hand again, and they got up.

"i like being called chief." Then Blair put his hand flat against his mouth and, patting his lips gently, he made what he supposed were Indian sounds.

Jimmy Ellison smiled down at his new charge - then put his hand to his lips and followed suit. When he was done, he said, "As of now, you're Chief Curly Head and I'm one of your Indian warriors who must protect you and the tribe, okay?"

Blair stuck out his chin stubbornly. "chief curly head? i don't think so. chief big elk, i'm chief big elk. who ever heard of a chief called curly head?" He snorted.

Biting back his laughter, Jim nodded. "Right. Chief Big Elk. What's my Indian name?"

"brave tall trees."

"Brave Tall Trees…yeah, I like that. Well, Chief, let's hit the dusty trail before we're stalked by the lions, tigers and bears."

Blair giggled happily at that and went to great lengths to explain that they wouldn't find lions or tigers, except mountain lions, maybe, but they would find bears, but that he was certain his brave warrior would be able to fight off any beast.

The two boys walked off, hand in hand, moving downstream, toward camps and people, the smaller boy bouncing and chattering, the taller boy nodding as he smiled indulgently.

***

As they walked, Jimmy learned that if Blair didn't like a fairy tale or some other children's story, he simply re-wrote it, which meant that so far, Jimmy had heard Blair's version of Little Red Riding Hood where the wolf was the good guy and it was the hunter who was bad. Then there was Snow White where the evil Step-mother had become an evil Step-father and Snow woke herself up and kicked her Step-fathers butt all the way into another kingdom.

And finally, there was Rumpelstiltskin, which sent Jimmy off into gales of laughter because it seemed old Rumple ended up looking exactly like Blair and of course, was the hero of the story. He saved the King from the awful woman who really just wanted his fortune.

Oh, and there was Superman. At least Superman was a real hero, but in Blair's mind, it was Jimmy Olsen that Superman really relied on, and it was Jimmy who often saved Superman from Kryptonite and evil-doers everywhere. This set Jimmy off again, but this time, his laughter left Blair standing in front him looking hurt. So Jimmy ruffled his hair and said, "Hey, it's okay. I think you're absolutely right. Superman definitely needs Olsen - I just never looked at it that way before."

Blair's face split into a gorgeous the-sun-is-out kind of smile, nodded contentedly and they'd continued on, hands still entwined, arms swinging in tune to Blair's bounce.

***

The first camping site yielded nothing for Blair - but it served to make Jimmy wonder at the wisdom of trying to find 'Mickey'. Upon entering the first site, Blair looked around, his little heart beating so fast that Jimmy could hardly keep count. Eventually though, when Blair didn't recognize anyone or anything, and they moved on, Blair's heart had calmed.

The second campsite was bustling with panicked activity as a young, slender, red-haired girl who looked as though she could only be a few years older than Jimmy, ran around, yanking on peoples shirts. It was obvious she was looking for someone and, when Jimmy heard her ask, "Blair?" - he figured they were in the right place.

He knelt down in front of his companion and asked, "Does your mommy have red hair?"

At Blair's happy nod, Jimmy straightened and led him further into camp - just as the young woman spotted them.

"Blair!"

She ran toward them and, grinning, Blair pulled away from Jimmy and ran into his mother's outstretched arms so hard, he nearly knocked her over.

Watching the reunion, Jimmy was glad he'd found the right camp, happy Blair's mother had shown up - but he was unaccountably sad as well. Couldn't be because he knew he'd never see the child again - after all, he was a baby. On the other hand - Jimmy could admit, at least to himself, that he'd had a good time in the company of the five-year old. He could also admit that he'd never been so comfortable, so free, so - him.

Jimmy looked over his shoulder at the freedom of the forest behind him, but it wasn't time to disappear just yet. No, first he had to know more about this Mickey guy - that had been his plan - if it could be called a plan - all along. Check the guy out and if he didn't like what he saw....

"Oh, god, Blair, I can't believe it...you're here, you're okay." Blair's mother kissed him as she lifted him up, squeezed him and then lovingly brushed the dampened curls back from his face. Blair tucked his head under her chin, wrapped his arms around her neck and squeezed hard. They were both crying and Jimmy felt tears burning behind his eyes, but swallowed hard and blinked them back. After all, he was fifteen.

A man, maybe ten years older than Blair's mother, run up to them at that moment - and Jimmy was pretty certain he was looking at Mickey.

"Thank God he's okay. Didn't I tell you, Naomi? Didn't I? He just ran off to play."

Yep, the infamous Mickey.

The man was tall, about 6'2, with short, black hair and a goatee. He moved with easy grace and was now wrapping his arms around both Naomi and Blair - who, Jimmy noticed, had looked up at Mickey's voice and just as quickly buried his head in his mother's neck. Jimmy was about to step forward, to tell Naomi just what a jerk Mickey was, when the big man spoke again.

"I'm so sorry, Blair, I know I shouldn't have been mad at you. Is that why you went off to play without telling me?" He ruffled Blair's curls and added sadly, "I know it's my fault. I've been so worried about my job, see? And I got angry and took it out on you. Can you ever forgive me?"

Jimmy watched as Naomi lifted Blair's head up by his chin so she could look him in the eyes, smiled reassuringly, and whispered sweetly, "Is that why you went off? Because Mickey yelled at you? Oh, honey, it's okay, everything is fine now, Mickey got his job back and we're going home now. Everything will be okay, I promise."

Okay, so that explained a lot, he supposed. Blair didn't really need his protection because it had been a misunderstanding. He slowly began to back up, before anyone noticed him and, in seconds, had melted into the forest.

***

Blair continued to hide from Mickey but he did turn his head just enough to see Jimmy - only - no Jimmy. Now there was only empty space where his Superman had stood, just moments before. "jimmy," he said, new tears forming.

"What honey? Who's Jimmy?"

Blair, eyes on the forest, answered softly, "he found me. he's big, fifteen. now he's gone."

Mickey looked around for a teenager and, even as he wondered how much Blair might have told him, was relieved to see that he - whoever he was - had left. He smiled and reached out to Blair. "A teenager would hardly want to spend any more time than necessary with a child. Obviously once he saw you were safe, with us, he simply went back to his family or camp or whatever."

Blair dropped his head onto his mother's shoulder as the truth of Mickey's words penetrated. Of course he'd want to go back to camp - probably hadn't believed Blair anyway. The tears stopped as Blair waited, tired and exhausted, in his mother's arms. Finally, they all headed back to the tent Mickey had put up and, while they packed, he sat on the cot - just watching.

For Naomi, while relieved that she had her son back, she couldn't help the small knot of worry left behind. He was so quiet now - too quiet. Then she realized, as they started packing the car, that he must have been lost quite awhile before being found by the disappearing teen. That had to have been scary, so maybe this aftermath was natural, but damn, she wasn't going to let him out of her site again. Period.

An hour later, they piled into the old VW wagon and headed back to San Francisco.

Jimmy watched them leave from his hiding spot behind a tree. He watched Blair's face, pressed against the back window, long after anyone else could have seen it.

***

Present day -

Jim woke feeling lost - and as if he'd done something wrong - but didn't have a clue what it could have been. And damn it, he'd felt so good three hours ago, when he'd first awakened.

A rumbling noise from his right alerted him to the fact that his bedmate was waking up. Jim rolled over, prepared to kiss him good morning, but, judging from the way his body was jerking and the frown on his face, Blair was in the middle of a not-so-nice dream. Jim reached over and lightly stroked his lover's bare arm. Blair, still asleep, nevertheless swatted his hand away.

"Come on, Chief, wake up," he whispered.

"Huh? Wha'?"

"You're dreaming, Chief. Come on, wake up."

Blair turned onto his back and rubbed his hand over his jaw as he said, "Dreaming? More like a nightmare." He sat up, yawned, pushed his pillows up and, after resting back against them, added, "Funny - I know it was awful, but I can't remember what I was dreaming about."

Jim propped his head on his hand and contemplated the man next to him. How the hell did he manage to look so sexy in the morning? His hair was a wild mess; eyes, sleepy; face rough with stubble, and yet, he was beautiful. Even now, clearly disturbed by the dream, lines of thought marring his forehead, he could set Jim's heart racing - not to mention other parts of his body. But his concern overrode any other desire. Running his hand up Blair's arm, he asked, "What do you remember?"

"Maybe...running? Yeah, I was running."

"Away or to?"

Blair thought about that for a moment, then shrugged, "Both? Weird, uh? It felt like I was running from something but also to it."

Smiling, Jim said, "And here I thought once we started occupying the same bed, all our dreams would be perfect. Like lots of hot, satisfying sex on hot, warm beaches."

Blair snorted and then gave Jim a playful punch in the arm. "Trust me, I have the hot sex dreams, don't worry about that. In fact, I often find myself saying, as I approach this haven of unrestrained sexual pleasure that is your bed, 'My, granny, what a big--'"

He didn't have a chance to finish thanks to Jim's hand against his mouth - but he still managed to laugh, albeit a smothered laughter.

Jim quickly replaced his hand with his lips and, as the kiss deepened, he had the vague thought that he should remember something too - something about Little Red Riding Hood. But, between thinking that was ridiculous and Blair's hand, which was now slipping under the elastic band of his shorts...Little Red Riding Hood and a wolf went bye-bye.

***

"Oh, man, I knew I should have had breakfast," Blair moaned, his stomach quickly adding its two cents with a loud rumbling noise.

Jim glanced away from the traffic ahead long enough to grin and ask, "Want me to stop? Joe's is just up around the corner?"

"Do we have time?"

"You can still ask that of me, Detective Always-add-extra-time Ellison?"

"Right, we have time. So stop. I don't want to embarrass myself."

Jim chuckled as he pulled into the driveway that belonged to Joe's Diner. Almost before the truck was in park, Blair was out and racing inside.

While waiting, Jim thought back on the last six - and pretty damn good - months. He and Blair had finally become real partners, in every sense of the word, which alone would have made everything perfect, but their new life had followed on the heels of a terrible incident, one that left three of their friends dead and an injured Blair with the mind of his five-year old self.

A miracle - Jim's word for it, not the doctors who'd chalked it up to the removal of a bone splinter - had restored Blair to his real self and, somehow, Major Crime had survived stronger than ever. He remembered being so worried about having Blair as his partner on the job - worried about protecting him, no longer being able to tell him to stay behind. Seemed silly now - Blair had been a true partner even before becoming official.

He smiled as he watched his partner push through the doors of the diner, hair flying behind him as he rushed back to the truck, a brown bag clutched tightly in his hand. He pulled the truck door open and hopped inside and, as Jim started up the engine, Blair opened the bag, pulled out a sandwich, unwrapped it and took a huge bite.

"Guess you really were hungry."

"Mmmph."

"Thought so. Of course, I just realized that Luis will probably have tons of food like enchiladas, carne asada, carnitas, tortillas...."

Blair stopped chewing. Swallowed. "You shit."

"...and flan."

"You double shit."

Jim nodded happily. "Guess now there'll be that much more for me."

Blair re-wrapped the breakfast sandwich, tucked it back into the brown bag and then stored carefully under the seat where he secretly hoped it would rot and send Jim into a senses tailspin. He deserved it. As he wiped his mouth, he threw down the gauntlet. "That's what you think. You'll be lucky to grab one taco before I eat everything in sight."

"You're on, Chief. Gee, imagine it, two detectives - two mature men - acting like pigs at a celebration party."

"Oink-oink."

They both erupted in laughter.

"I suppose we should show more decorum at the party," Blair said as his laughter slowed.

"Give me one good reason?"

"Mmm, we're celebrating Luis' escape from desk duty to active duty as of Monday? Oh, and the small matter of its also being a wedding with Luis and Barb renewing their vows."

"Doesn't mean we can't pig out - we'll just have to be more subtle," Jim said with a wicked grin.

They were on Luis' street, which was full of parked cars. So many, in fact, Blair's attention was drawn away from the idea of subtle pigging-out to the idea that maybe the vehicles were there for the party.

"Uhm, Jim? I thought this was going to be a small, quiet gathering?"

Looking around, Jim mused, "I'd say Tirza and some of her friends may have taken over the planning. We could be in for a humdinger of a party, Chief."

"This good be good. No need for subtle."

***

Jim had been right, Blair thought, this was one humdinger of a party. Even now, five hours later, it was still going strong, thanks in no small part to Tirza, since she and her friends had, indeed, taken over the planning. They'd hired a real band, made all the food themselves and decorated the back yard with multicolored streamers, balloons, flowers and cut-outs of cupids and hearts, creating a dreamy and surreal environment.

He glanced over at his partner, who was standing with Joel and Martin Regan, all three laughing, beers in their hands. Blair was glad now that he'd decided to stick with the punch, which allowed Jim to really enjoy himself and unwind without worrying about driving home.

Blair then turned his attention to the three teen-aged girls who, just moments ago had surrounded him. He smiled and said, "Excuse me a minute - I need to go check on something." He got three cute little moues for his excuse, but they let him go, thank God. He wasn't used to such adoring looks from anyone other than Jim. It was kind of...off-putting.

He made his way through the crowd toward Jim and, as he did, he grabbed another glass of punch from the nearby table. He was just taking a sip when a bit of their conversation floated back to him.

"We're just plain lucky Simon had that run in with the Commissioner or we'd be doing the trumped-up guard duty."

"Joel, do you really think it's because of an argument between Simon and Webster?" Jim asked.

Martin jumped in with the answer. "A big Senatorial candidate comes to Cascade and the Detective of the Year, two years running, isn't slated for the duty? Sounds suspicious to me. As I hear it, this Michael Goddard guy is a real up-and-comer."

Michael Goddard.

The name reverberated within his skull, bouncing around and leaving Blair reeling. He gasped as breathing became difficult and, as if from a distance, watched the glass fall from his hand to land on the patio - and shatter.

As Jim, Joel and Martin turned at the sound, Blair managed to croak out one word.

"Mickey."

***

"Mickey."

With that simple word, Jim had what could only be called an out-of-body experience. He seemed to float backward in time, stopping briefly to the moment Blair shared the memory of Deva coming to life, then further back to the five-year old version of Blair telling him about Mickey - but then the journey sped up and he was moving faster and faster, traveling further back until he was hovering over two boys in a forest, hand-in-hand and walking a canopy of green....

Jim slammed back to the present and Joel shoved past him, followed by Martin. He shook his head, as if trying to come out of some fog - and found his friends kneeling down next to Blair - who had somehow ended up sitting on the patio floor. He was staring at something only he could see, mouth open, but no words coming out. Someone rushed forward with a glass of water and, grateful, Joel took it and placed it in Blair's hand. Blair stared at it a moment and then seemed to realize where he was. He accepted it and gulped greedily before smiling wanly. He let them help him up, but once on his feet, shook off any further help. Finally able to move himself, Jim stepped to Blair's side. He was still feeling dazed, wondering if what he'd just experienced was real or too much beer.

Barbara Maldonado rushed over, took Blair's arm and, with gentle words, guided him inside and out of the sun. Jim stumbled behind them, trying to understand what had just happened.
***

"Blair, honey, sit down I'll get you some more water, with ice. I'm sure it's just the heat."

Blair did as she asked. It was automatic because he'd stopped feeling several minutes ago. He still couldn't believe he'd heard that name.

Michael Goddard.

Mickey.

He'd almost become Blair Goddard because Naomi had come so close to marrying him after their return from...where had they been? Oh, yeah, a camping trip - that was it. Mickey told her he'd managed to get his job back, which made him happy, which should have made things safe for Blair. Should have.

They'd gotten home and, for awhile, things had been better, but then Mickey lost his job again so Naomi had taken another one herself. Yeah, Blair remembered that because Mickey had become his sitter. Not the ideal situation since Blair knew all Mickey wanted was Blair - gone.

Then one day, Naomi had come home early, heard him screaming, rushed into his bedroom - and found Mickey on his knees and pulling him, struggling, out from under the bed. She'd grabbed the broom and....

...and Michael Goddard was history.

A glass floated in front of his face and he realized that Barbara was back with the water. He took it and drank as she instructed. Of course, he'd probably have walked off a cliff if someone had suggested it.

He felt a hand, unsteady, on his shoulder, and he looked up and into frightened, worried - and guilty - blue eyes.

Jim.

Oddly enough, his partner looked worse than he felt. He placed his other hand over Jim's and asked, "You okay, man?"

Jim blinked at him, obviously surprised by the question, but he nodded. "How 'bout you?"

Blair nodded because he had no choice - too many people were watching them. "Yeah, but maybe...maybe we should head home?"

In answer to the suggestion, Jim dug into his pocket, pulled out the keys and held them out. "You up to driving, Chief?"

One of them had to be. Blair took the keys.

To the worried and concerned looks from their friends, they made their apologies, said their goodbyes and were finally in the truck, windows open, the breeze working like a tonic for both of them as Blair drove back home.

Neither spoke during the twenty minute trip, each deep in their own thoughts. Jim was slumped against the door, head resting against the cool metal while Blair gripped the wheel so fiercely, his nails were digging into his skin.

Not the most pleasant drives home they'd ever had, Blair mused.

Not by a long shot.

***

Blair pushed their door open and, with Jim right behind him, stepped inside. He dropped the keys onto the table but when they bounced off and landed on the floor, neither of them bothered to retrieve them.

Jim moved almost painfully into the living room, while Blair went directly to the refrigerator and pulled out two beers. He joined Jim, but chose the chair instead of the couch. He sat down, set one unopened beer on the table in front of him and, after opening the other, he took a huge gulp.

Looking at the second beer, Jim shook his head. "None for me, Chief. I think I've had enough."

"Actually," Blair said after swallowing the last drop. "They're both mine." He replaced the now empty bottle and took up the other one. Three swigs later, he'd downed the whole thing and was on his way back to the kitchen where he pulled out two more.

"Judging by your sudden need for fortitude in the form of beer, I'm guessing Michael Goddard is Mickey," Jim said dully from the couch.

"Maybe. Could be. Maybe just similar names." He took another swig as he leaned against the counter. "By the way, what the fuck happened to you back at the party?"

"Me? You're the one who decided to take a vacation in the middle of the patio."

Blair didn't say anything for a few minutes, but eventually he dumped the three empty bottles in the recycle bin, took the fourth and, without another word, headed upstairs.

Jim followed his progress with his eyes and, as Blair hit the top step and moved out of visual range, he used his hearing.

He heard Blair's sigh, the bottle as it was set on the nightstand, the rustling of discarded clothing and, finally, the sheets as they were pulled back and the springs as they creaked under Blair's weight.

It was a little after seven, the sun just now disappearing below the horizon, but Blair had just slipped into bed. Jim figured it was a fine idea, so he locked up, finally picked up the keys and put them where they belonged and then made his way upstairs. He assumed that any talking about Mickey would have to be started by him. And he supposed he'd have to share what he'd remembered earlier. It wouldn't kill either of them - but it sure would hurt the man he loved once Blair discovered that Jim could have saved him all those years ago.

***

Jim took off his shirt and let it drop to the floor. Then he added his jeans, shoes and socks to the pile before walking to his side of the bed. He crawled in beside Blair, beside the man he loved more than anything in the world - the man he might now lose, if his memories were accurate.

Blair wasn't even pretending to sleep, he was just staring up at the skylight, so Jim whispered pleadingly, "Let me hold you, please?"

"Look, we both know what's wrong with me, but I'm in the dark about you." With that, Blair turned slightly and...pulled Jim into his arms.

Jim resisted at first, but finally gave in and rested his head over Blair's heart.

After several minutes of Blair stroking Jim's hair and dropping the occasional kiss on top of his head, Jim asked, "Did you and Mickey ever go camping?"

Blair stopped massaging Jim's scalp as he answered thoughtfully, "I...yes. Odd you should ask - I was thinking about it earlier. I don't remember much - other than things started really going downhill when we got home."

"You think the trip might have been...summer of '74...in Yosemite, California?"

Curious, Blair answered, "California, definitely...and I remember a long drive, so yeah, maybe Yosemite. Why?"

"Because...I was in Yosemite in '74. The trip was a birthday present. Summer camp. My first time away from Washington."

Jim in Yosemite in 1974? Blair closed his eyes and tried to think back on the trip - even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. There was something there...something...Superman?

"Superman," he said out loud.

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "Superman and Jimmy Olsen. Jimmy was Sup's protector," he added as if reciting it from somewhere.

"Funny, I always thought so too, but no one agreed with me. But then, heck, I was a five-year old weirdo."

Blair was expecting a teasing retort to that, but instead, Jim said, "Rumpelstiltskin and saving the king."

"Jim?"

Jim shifted restlessly as he said, "I met a little boy while I was there. He'd run away from camp and I found him sitting in the river - crying. He was pretty damn cute, had all this curly hair and the biggest blue eyes I'd ever seen. He told me he was five and when we started talking about his favorite stories, well, he kind of liked adding his own endings. Like how Snow White hadn't been kissed by a prince at all, but awakened herself and then kicked her evil step-father's butt--"

"All the way into another kingdom," Blair finished for him.

"Yeah, all the way into another kingdom. Then, do you know what I did? I took that small, vulnerable little boy back to camp, to where his mother was frantically looking for him - and I left him there - with her and a man named Mickey. To the man who'd hurt him and would continue to hurt him. I did that. Gave him back and didn't say a word. Not even goodbye."

Jim lifted his head, then pushed himself up, rolled over and sat up, legs over the edge of the bed, his back to Blair. "And I watched as their car pulled away - it was an old beat up VW van - but I could see his face, plastered up against the window, and I kept watching, for miles."

"Superman," Blair whispered. "I turned to look at you - but you were gone and Mickey said that a teenager wouldn't want to spend time with me, a little kid...and you were gone."

Jim turned around at the sound of Blair's voice, which sounded so lost, vulnerable and young. Blair looking at the stuffed black jag, sitting in its place of honor, on the corner of the dresser.

"I'm sorry, Chief. I didn't know. I thought, when he talked about the job, that he was fine, and Naomi seemed to understand, so I just left. I mean, I heard them say they were going to pack up and head home...and I sure as hell didn't want you to, I wanted you to stay...but--"

Blair looked at Jim then and his eyes widened. "My God, it was you. You found me, took care of me, helped me." Excited now, he sat up, got on his hands and knees, crawled to Jim's side and sat beside him. "Don't you get it? We knew each other, Jim. We knew each other before. My God, you even met Naomi before. Only, of course, she never really saw you, really."

Then Jim's words, the way he'd said them, hit Blair and he heard the guilt. Shaking his head in disgust, he reached out but Jim pulled away and got to his feet.

Pacing, he said, "Yeah, Sandburg, we met and I blew it. I gave you back to him, to that dickhead."

"Yeah, you're bad, all right," Blair said dryly. "Maybe I should cut off your hand in penance? Some tribes will do that for a friend, to assuage their guilt. Would you like that? We could go downstairs right now, I could get out the big meat cleaver and," he made a chopping motion with his arm, "Wham! No more hand, no more guilt." He cocked his head. "So what do you say? Shall we?"

Jim stopped pacing to look at his partner as if he were some strange bug or a creature from outer space - which, with Blair, was all together possible. "Are you nuts?"

"Actually, since you've decided to take on the guilt of child abuser, I'm thinking I should nominate you for the Nut of the Month Award, you asshole."

"Wait, are you denying that I turned you over to him? Didn't I do that? Knowing he'd hurt you?"

Blair jumped out of bed, grabbed Jim's right hand, and yanked him toward the stairs. "You're right. We're going to chop off both hands. That'll definitely make me feel better."

Jim pulled back. "You are the weirdest man I've ever known, Sandburg. Just what planet are you from, anyway?"

"Earth, idiot. And yeah, I'm weird and proud of it. Now sit your ass down and stop feeling sorry for yourself." With that, he pushed Jim backward - maybe a bit harder than strictly necessary. "Now you listen to me, Jim. You were fifteen. Fifteen. And Mickey was fine and you had no reason to believe otherwise and every right to think that a kid was just exaggerating."

"You? Exaggerate?" Jim asked with the first trace of humor in his voice.

"Ha, ha. Very funny. Besides, I never exaggerate - I obfuscate, remember?" At Jim's 'you're going to hell' look, he shrugged. "Okay, so maybe I exaggerate - occasionally - when describing the size of your penis to our friends. Maybe."

"Bastard. And you don't - do you?"

"What? Exaggerate? Or describe your penis to my friends?"

"Blair Sandburg, so help me...."

"There, feeling better now? See how misdirection works? It's kind of like stepping on a man's toe to make him forget his headache. I just threatened your masculinity to help you forget your misplaced guilt. Of course, as the male organ goes, yours is swell - really, one of the best. As for your guilt, however, well, your guilt trips are way bigger than your penis on its best day. Sure would be swell though, if we could just reverse that phenomenon. On the other hand, I wouldn't be able to sit down for a week."

Jim rolled his eyes. "I could accomplish the same thing with a simple spanking, jerk."

"So we're name-calling now, are we? And threatening kink? Who knew you were such a pervert."

"Blair, this is serious."

"No, no, it isn't. And if it's not serious to me, than it has no right being serious for you."

"Well, fuck, with that kind of logic, how can I argue?"

"Exactly. And besides, it's much more important to discover that we've met before. Way before. Now that's significant and pretty damn wonderful. So maybe that's what we need to talk about."

"And Michael Goddard?"

Blair's smile faded. "No, we never need to discuss him. Ever."

"Wrong. We do - because he's here, in Cascade."

"Maybe he's here - and maybe this Michael Goddard is another Michael Goddard."

Jim got up, ran downstairs and, a few moments later, returned with the daily paper in his hand. He held it out. "Photograph, page three, I think. Let's settle this once and for all."

Blair stared at the paper as if it were a rattlesnake poised to strike, but he took a deep breath, reached out, and took it. He fumbled through the pages until he reached the right page - and there, on the right hand side column, there he was. Older, clean-shaven now, but still handsome and smiling for the camera.

Below the photo, it said:

"Michael Goddard, Washington State Democratic Senatorial candidate visits Cascade.

Mr. Goddard will address the Jewish Humanitarian League on Monday, September 15th at the Temple David Beth El on Woodcrest Ave. at 10:00 am. He will be accompanied by his wife, Clarissa and son, Michael Jr.

Mr. Goddard's plans also include attending a banquet on the evening of the sixteenth, given by the Mayor of Cascade, John Trumbull."

It was Mickey.

"It's him, isn't it, Chief?"

"Yes."

"So what do you want to do? How do you want to handle this?"

Blair tore his gaze from the photo to look up at Jim - and that's when Jim realized how badly Blair had wanted Michael Goddard to be anyone but Mickey.

Evidently denial wasn't only an Ellison trait.

Heart nearly breaking for Blair, Jim caught the paper just as it dropped from Blair's fingers. He set it down on the nightstand and then gently nudged Blair's legs apart so that he could step in between them. Blair didn't even ask, he just wrapped his arms around Jim's waist. as Blair moved in, his own arms wrapping around Jim's waist.

"I don't want to handle it," he whispered against Jim's skin.

Jim understood completely - but also knew that it would have to be handled. But it could wait because right now, the only person that mattered was Blair.

***

End part 1 ---> tbc in The Boogey Man Conclusion

Boogeyman - Conclusion

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 23:51:59 GMT

Jim dragged himself out of bed, wishing he felt more human. Blair was already downstairs, in the kitchen, which surprised Jim. He figured he'd have known instantly when Blair woke up. So much for senses on heightened alert. He scratched his scalp, got up, grabbed his robe, and headed down to the bathroom.

First things first and all.

As he relieved himself, he tried to think of all the possible ways to best handle the situation - even as he listened to Blair fixing breakfast. He sounded downright cheerful - but Jim knew it for what it was: denial.

Jim couldn't blame him. They were dealing with child abuse that was twenty-five years old. But even so, there was no way Jim could allow him to get away with it.

He took a quick shower, finished the rest of his morning ritual, and decided that taking the bull by the horns, meaning Blair, was the only way to deal. He walked into the kitchen, still damp from his shower. "Morning, Chief."

"One-eyed sandwiches on sourdough okay?"

"Perfect."

Jim took the plate Blair had just dished up, along with a glass of juice, and sat down. He waited for Blair to join him and, Blair seeing that he hadn't started to eat, said, "I already ate, Jim. You go ahead, I've got some errands to run."

"For instance?"

"Just - stuff. I'll be back in a couple of hours and then maybe we can go to that new sporting goods store we've been talking about."

No way was Jim going to let it go down this easy. "I take it all this 'ignoring the elephant in the living room' means you still haven't decided what to do?"

Blair stopped in the middle of slipping on his jacket to stare at Jim. Finally, with a sigh, he took it off, hung it back up, walked over to the table and sat down. He looked at Jim expectantly.

In spite of the fact that Blair looked anything like someone willing to actually deal, he still said, "I think you should confront him." He shrugged. "But that's just me."

"You're right - that's you. As for me, well, I'm not going to do anything because there's nothing to do. It's over and has been - for a quarter of a century."

No longer hungry in the slightest, Jim pushed his plate away. "Over? That man abused a child - you, by the way - and now he's running for office and you don't think there's anything to do?"

"You just said it all. A child. I was a child, one who'd never even had a voice raised in anger at him. Never had a hand raised in punishment by Naomi. Hell, in my whole childhood, the only spanking I received was from one of mom's friends whom I called an aunt."

"I know, you threw something at a boy who insulted your mother and your aunt cried more than you did after she spanked you."

Blair's face scrunched up in surprise. "Man, no wonder I've been such an expert on your repressions - turns out I'm a bit of a master at it myself."

Jim reached out and placed his hand over Blair's. "You told me about it in Yosemite and disclosed even more after your injury. What I don't get is how I didn't remember meeting you while I was living the five-year old version. And by the way, how does your mother never raising her voice at you have anything to do with Mickey?"

Blair sighed heavily as he played absently with the weaving on the placemat. "It's really almost funny, really," he finally said. "I mean, I've been yelled at more by Simon in the last three years than in my whole life...and that's the problem."

"You're losing me here, Chief."

"How do I know he really abused me? Sure, he yelled, got mad, spanked me. Happens every day, mothers, fathers, they spank, they yell. But it had never happened to me so how do I know how bad it really was? I was just a kid reacting to something he'd never dealt with before, see?"

"So you're saying that Mickey didn't hit you with wooden spoons, brooms, and spatulas?" At Blair's puzzled look, he explained, "You told me that too, in Yosemite. So did he? Hit you with those things?"

Blair frowned - but nodded - slowly.

"Don't tell you think that's normal, all right? Or maybe he only struck you on your butt, while clothed? Is that it?" When Blair didn't immediately respond, Jim said, "Okay, so tell me - where did he strike you?"

"Legs, arms...and back."

"So basically any place he could reach, right?"

Blair nodded.

"And just what dastardly deed did you commit to warrant such punishment? Steal? Lie? Kill someone?"

"I...tripped once. Broke his sailing trophy."

"You tripped," Jim stated with exaggerated disbelief. "My God, but you were a devious child - and evil. Imagine going to such extremes as...tripping. Okay, so that was definitely bad - but what might your worst offense have been?"

Blair stood abruptly, pushing hard from the table, but Jim stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

"Enough, Jim," Blair hissed out, "Enough."

"No, not enough. Not nearly enough. What - was - your - biggest - crime?"

Blair looked back at Jim, emotions warring in his eyes, each battling for dominance. In the end, there appeared to be a complete surrender as he slumped back into the chair, head down. "I got sick and mom had to cancel the wedding."

"Wedding?" Jim exclaimed as he retook his seat. "She was actually going to marry him?"

Blair nodded. "It wasn't long after we got home from the trip, I think. I was going to carry the ring, I remember that - but then I got the flu or something and started throwing up all over the place. Anyway, they had to postpone - and then he lost his job again...and Naomi went back to work - two jobs. One day, a few weeks later, he pulled off his belt, said it was my fault and that if they hadn't canceled the wedding, they'd have been on their honeymoon and he wouldn't have lost his job."

Blair's words were rushing out, tumbling over each other and Jim cringed at the desperation in his partner's voice but he didn't dare stop the flow of information.

"I remember that I couldn't get away in time and the belt came down on my back. His face was red and he was yelling so I put my hands over my ears and rolled up in a ball--"

Jim couldn't stand any more. He pulled Blair to his chest, awkward in the movement as he tried to soothe and comfort him. But Blair wasn't having any of it. He jerked away.

"No, ok-k-ay, I'm...o-kay."

"I know, I know you are, but surely you see that we have to do something about him? That it was abuse?"

Calming down a bit, Blair shook his head and said, "You told me once, on that stakeout, that you were sometimes afraid of your father's anger - afraid he'd kill you - so what do you want to do about that?"

"That's unfair because it's not the same thing. My father yelled, threatened, but he never touched me. Never. His anger was cold, sure, and he made me feel like shit sometimes, but he never touched me."

Blair gave him a small smile. "It is the same, Jim. Abuse is abuse whether verbal, mental or physical."

"Damn it, Blair, don't you dare make this about me. I'm not falling for it. Besides, we're talking about my father, something Mickey wasn't. And you damn well that all three of us are working hard to put the past behind us - thanks to you, by the way."

"Fine, so you're working through it. You going to report him? He's a famous man, wealthy, important in the community, you going to report him?"

"Man, you're a tough little shit, aren't you? It's just normal anger, still? Nothing to report, because it happens, because he was out of a job? So how long after the belt thing did Naomi catch him? How long before she caught him being 'just angry'? And what about Deva and the day Mickey showed up after Naomi took you away, moved away from him? What was he going to do? Just be a nice man who'd been hurt by a mean kid?"

"Your fucking sarcasm isn't appreciated."

"Neither are your fucking blinders. And if sarcasm gets you mad, then I can be the king of sarcasm. Now, how long after the belt incident did Naomi find out and finally do something?"

"I don't know, o-kay?"

"How long, Blair," Jim repeated.

"God, you're impossible."

"How - long?"

Blair threw up his arms. "I don't know, maybe a few days, or longer, but not much longer."

Blair was exasperated, impatient and getting angrier by the minute, but that just meant it was time to strike. "You told me you'd spilled some chocolate, which obviously made you a rotten, clumsy, little boy who spilled and then foolishly ran away when the nice man came after him with a broom. Did he get you with the broom? Did you get the punishment you deserved? For destroying life as we know it by spilling that glass? And maybe it was glass as opposed to plastic? Crystal instead of a jelly glass? That would make a difference, make the crime even more heinous, what with shards of glass and all--"

"Fuck you," Blair hissed out.

"You know, not long after I brought you home from the hospital, you dropped a mug. You'd decided to help me by fixing your own breakfast and making my coffee. But I interrupted you, scared you so you dropped the mug. Want me to describe your actions? How you cowered in the corner? How you begged me not to hurt you? Or maybe I should just remind you of how you reacted when Agent Lister blamed you for killing Beth, Peter and Brian. How you immediately tapped into all the guilt, all the fucking damage Michael-Fucking-Mickey Goddard did to you...or how--"

"God - Damn - you - to - hell."

"Not before Michael Goddard."

***

The rest of Sunday was spent in a kind of sullen silence, with both Jim and Blair too wrapped up in their different anger and fears to reach out and talk or to allow the other to help.

Jim's frustration was building to a point that he was contemplating acting on the issue himself, knowing full well what it could mean to their relationship, that it would be the worse type of breech of trust imaginable. On the other hand, the idea of someone like Goddard getting away with what he'd done and possibly having the power to make decisions that would affect the people of Washington - it was too much for him to ignore.

By Monday, the two men were exchanging nothing more than the necessary words that come with sharing space. Blair seemed to be on autopilot and it was taking all of Jim's will power to keep his rage in its cage.

But they were partners and crime didn't stop just because there was trouble in the Ellison-Sandburg home.

***

Simon stepped to his door to call Jim and Blair into his office - but what he saw of them in the bullpen halted his action. Not that the vision was new - it wasn't - but every so often, it could still astound him.

There was Blair, sitting on the edge of Jim's desk, jean-clad leg swinging with nervous energy as he talked with Henri Brown, his hands moving rapidly in the air in their aid as storytellers.

No, not new - but the holster and .38 special tucked snugly into the holster was. And of course, the official, shiny badge, secure in its leather holder hanging from Sandburg's belt.

That was the difference that still had the power to amaze Simon - that Blair Sandburg was a cop. A detective - a fact never brought home so clearly as when Simon could actually see the gun.

He gave himself a mental shake and barked out, "Sandburg, where's your partner?"

Blair turned toward him to answer, but at the same moment, Jim walked through the doors. Grinning, Blair jerked a thumb at him and said, "Gee, Simon, he's right here."

"Cute, Sandburg, cute. I need you both - now."

The door hadn't even closed behind them before Simon started talking. "I don't want any arguments about this, Jim. I'm warning you up front that it's not the best news, but I expect you to take it like a man."

He stared at his best detectives, each with almost the same expression on their faces: one raised eyebrow signifying total bewilderment and more than a little trepidation. He took a deep breath and said firmly, "You've been assigned the Goddard detail as of tonight. You'll take over at some political function that was just added to the calendar."

"No, Sir," Jim said simply.

Simon had been expecting expletives, anger and suggestions on where the Commissioner could stuff this detail. He'd been prepared for that - but not this...not this cold, simple refusal. He was so shocked that he reacted with his own version of controlled anger.

"Excuse me, Detective Ellison? Did you just tell me no?"

"Mickey."

That was all Jim needed to say and, with that one word, Blair turned around and walked out of the office - slamming the door behind him.

Simon thought he took Blair's action remarkably well as he asked, "What, he's a cop now, so he gets to slam the door?"

"Apparently."

"You've been teaching him all the wrong stuff."

"Apparently."

"Okay, enough with the witty repartee." He sat down on the edge of his desk, ignored the urge to take out his cigar and chew it to bits as he asked, wondering if he really wanted to know, "Care to expound on your single word reason for your refusal?"

"Mickey is Michael Goddard," Jim said, his eyes boring into Simon's.

Hiding his shock with practiced ease, Simon said simply, "So having my best team as his protection detail would definitely be out of the question." He indicated the room on the other side of the door. "And Blair is mad, why, exactly?"

"He doesn't want to do anything about Goddard and I do. He has some ridiculous notion that Goddard didn't really abuse him."

Simon got up and walked to the door. He twisted the blinds open and, after shoving both hands in his pockets, said quietly, "Maybe I should share his reaction in the hospital when I showed up and yelled?"

Jim joined him. Shook his head. "Won't work. As an expert on guilt, I can pretty much guarantee that's what we're really dealing with. That bastard did a pretty good job of convincing Blair believe that he deserved the abuse."

"No way. I can't buy that, not after spending so much time with him during his...you know. That Blair was a joy. He seemed supremely happy, comfortable and definitely safe. He didn't exhibit any of the signs of a child of abuse who believes he deserved it."

"Yeah, so why his refusal to act now?"

Simon glanced over at Jim and asked with an air of practicality, "What would you have him do, Jim? Arrest Goddard? You and I know that isn't possible - too much time, no proof, I could go on. So what, he should confront him?" Simon shook his head before looking back out the window. "Not Blair's style. Sure, he'll confront us and others - for others, but this is different." He rubbed at his jaw. "Maybe this time...you should let it go, for him. Because it's what he wants."

"Damn it, Simon, the bastard hurt Blair - hell, I think he tried to kill him. How do I let that go?"

"What do you mean, he may have tried to kill him?"

Jim turned from the door and indicated Simon's chair. "You might want to sit down for this one."

Not sure he wanted to hear - Simon nevertheless took his seat - and Jim told him about Yosemite.

When he was done, Simon finally took out his cigar. "Damn. You two actually met when you were kids?" Simon could only shake his head in wonder before asking, "But what does that have to do with the guy trying to kill Sandburg? I mean, it sounds as though the man was under some pressure and Blair ran before anything could happen. And don't jump the gun, I know the bastard abused him, but try to kill him?"

Deciding that maybe Simon might not be able to handle the truth about Deva and Mickey's final visit, Jim said, "So you think my instincts are wrong but I don't. That man hurt a child - abused him - and at the worst, wanted him dead. So how do I let that go?"

"That's the real problem, isn't it? How can you let it go, but it's not yours to hold or release - it's Blair's."

"Shit."

Simon jerked a thumb at the door. "Why don't you try to catch up with him while using one of Naomi's infamous mantras." And at Jim's puzzled frown, he added, "I'm letting go, I'm letting go?"

Jim smiled ruefully. "Right - and we can't forget detach with love."

"That about covers it." He got up. "Now I have to Joel and Martin that they just inherited your duty."

Jim grinned at that, but then, as he opened the door, Simon could hear his mutterings.

"I'm letting go, I'm letting go...."

When the door closed behind Jim, Simon sat down with a heavy heart. He picked up his cigar and, twirling it between his fingers, thought that letting go was easier said than done - especially if that which you were asked to release - was a monster.

***

It didn't take Jim long to find his partner - and no senses required. Blair was where he always could be found when troubled. The roof.

On the elevator ride up, Jim practiced his speech, knowing that an apology was due, that Simon was right, he'd been projecting his own needs onto Blair.

Projecting his need for revenge.

He also found himself asking questions that he doubted he'd ever have any answers to - like how had Naomi really handled the violence directed at her son by the man she must have loved? She'd certainly swept him out of her life fast enough, making Blair's safety her top priority, so Jim couldn't fault her for that. But how much had she really known? And why had Blair really run that day in Yosemite? And maybe the most important one - what would Goddard actually have done on the day he'd found them again - the day he'd confronted Blair alone?

What would have happened if Deva hadn't interfered?

The elevator pinged, signifying that it had reached the top floor. He stepped out, walked over the stairs that led to the roof and started up. When he reached the top and stepped out the door and onto the roof, he spotted Blair instantly. He was standing on the white square used for helicopter landings. The wind was blowing pretty good up here, so Jim knew Blair had to be cold.

"Chief?"

"Go away, Jim."

There'd been a time when Jim would have done just that - but those days were long gone.

"We need to talk about this - and yes - I know it's strange to hear me say that, but it's still true."

"I think you've made yourself pretty clear on how you feel, Jim. There really isn't anything left to be said - other than it wasn't your place to say anything to Simon about Goddard. We could talk about that."

"All right, so we head back to the loft, you get the meat cleaver and start chopping--"

"Jim? Shut up."

Jim shut up - but he also walked over to Blair, stood next to him. They remained that way for several minutes, the wind buffeting them, rushing through Blair's hair. Jim could feel the minute shivers running through his partner but he waited. Actually understood that this time, Blair needed to make the first move - be the first to speak.

Ten cold minutes later, he did.

"I don't know what was going through his mind - what insecurities he suffered. We're talking twenty-five years ago. He's undoubtedly a different man now. He certainly has a job. And okay, so mom caught him yelling at me and pulling me out from under the bed, and she whacked him. But how much did I overreact and blow out of proportion? And maybe the whole Deva thing was my imagination and none of it ever happened. It was just a kid and his invisible friend."

"Sandburg, you don't believe that for a second. Oh, you're trying, but you know it happened. But...if you want to drop it, I'll back you all the way, but don't ever doubt what happened or Deva - because when you do - it's like you're doubting us."

Blair turned then, to face Jim. He searched Jim's eyes - as if he could find the answers to all the questions in the world in Jim's gaze. He seemed to dive in deep, all the way to Jim's soul and, weirdly, Jim felt it, felt his partner move through him like a warm zephyr, touching down momentarily to absorb a part of Jim before moving on.

It felt so much like that day by the fountain - when he'd gone after Blair - brought him back....

A hand on his arm centered him and he heard Blair ask, "What should I do, Jim?"

The relief that flooded through him because of the absolute trust he now heard in Blair's voice left him weak in the knees. But he managed to say, "Maybe just see him. That's all. Just see him."

"All right."

The moment Blair agreed - the relief Jim had been feeling - disappeared.

***

Michael Goddard sat at the desk in his hotel suite, memorizing a speech, when his secretary, Margie Holder came up behind him.

"Mike, I hate to disturb you, but there's a Blair Sandburg on the phone? He says you know him. Do you want me to put him through?"

The name cut through Goddard like a knife.

Blair Sandburg.

An anger he'd learned to control over the years, an anger rarely seen, but often felt, burned through him at the sound of that name.

Michael Goddard was a smart man who'd come far - and he'd done it by harnessing his destructive anger and utilizing it more efficiently. But now - one name could destroy him, his plans and his power base.

Eyes glittering dangerously, he ordered, "No, don't put him through. I knew his mother many years ago, a troubled woman with a troubled child. Tell him I'm in a meeting."

Nodding, she left the room.

Blair Sandburg.

He'd ruined his life once but never again.

He picked up the phone, punched in a number and, after two rings, said, "I have a special job for you. I need information on someone here in Cascade and I want it complete and fast. I need to know where he lives, works, how much money he has, who his friends are, any attachments, wives, children, hell, I want to know what kind of beer he drinks and how many times a day he uses the can. You got that? Good. Your usual fee? Fine - but I repeat, I want this now - is that a problem? No? Didn't think so."

He hung up and sat back in his chair. Time was not on his side, not here, not in Cascade. But he was good at making quick decisions regarding his future and this time would be no different. However - other than information gathering - which could be easily explained - any other action required would be taken care of personally. There would be no loose ends of any kind.

Michael Goddard took out his wallet - and from a hidden back slot, he withdrew a photograph.

Naomi.

His only true love and no longer in his life because of a bastard child.

Staring at the photo, he did a bit of math...Blair Sandburg would be about thirty now. Not so easy to be rid of - but then, he'd been impossible to remove when he was nothing but a child. The kid had lived a charmed existence, damn it.

On the other hand, Michael Goddard was older, sober, wiser...and had more resources at his command now. He'd have no problem this time. One way or the other.

***

Blair sat in the middle of his old bed, in his old room, and contemplated Deva, who was sitting in front of him.

Deva. His protector.

He tried to recall those early dreams about a jungle cat demanding that he find him, bring him home - that he would be protected - but all he remembered was feeling of safety. After they'd moved, he'd been unable to sleep well - he knew that much. He'd been afraid of every noise and shadow. Afraid that Mickey would somehow find them - find him. But then Naomi had brought Deva home - and his fears had disappeared.

But shouldn't he remember more? Shouldn't something so horrible be clearer to him? Instead, it was like looking into a cloudy glass of water. Memories floated close to the surface, but never close enough.

"Chief?"

He looked up to see Jim leaning against the doorframe, brow creased with worry. "Hey, man." He indicated Deva. "I was just thinking about jungle cats, so get that frown off that handsome face of yours."

That worked, the frown was replaced with a smile as Jim stepped inside.
"Handsome, eh?"

"Very. You're one handsome stud. The perfect partner for me, Munchkin Man."

Jim crossed over to the bed and sat down. He reached out and started to absently scratch behind Deva's ear. "Make that Studly Munchkin Man. And you do realize you never should have used the term 'munchkin'. It's going to stick like glue now."

"If it does, it'll be a real shame because that would mean you'd lose out on the best sex - and best sex partner - you've ever had."

"Nah, you'd break after five minutes without this stud. You're hooked on me and you know it."

"But it's amazing how a word like munchkin can act like a cold shower - if you know what I mean."

"You know, Chief is a damn fine 'nickname'. Yep. Chief."

"Works for me." He grinned.

They were silent for a few comfortable minutes as they both stroked the stuffed cat. But eventually, Blair asked, "What do you suppose it all means? The whole meeting when we were kids - Deva - all of it. Do you think it's just one big coincidence?"

"I don't want to have a heart attack when you hear what I'm about to say, okay, Chief? I mean, for me, we're talking radical departure from what could be considered as normal for me."

Blair leaned away from Jim, a funny, quizzical look on his face. "Okay, what?"

"I don't think it's a coincidence at all and...neither do you. I think it's a form of predestination."

"Why, you cheater. You've already thought all about this, haven't you?"

"Already confessed to that, remember? I had plenty of time to think about Deva following your injury. The minute I connected Deva with my spirit guide, the possibilities were endless - but my ultimate conclusion was that you were right all alone. Being a sentinel is not only who I am - but it's my destiny. And I think you're supposed to be right beside me. Like a...guide." He smirked then. "Brackett was good for at least giving a name to you. My guide."

"Yeah? So what about us? Jim and Blair?"

"That's the best part. The filling and frosting. A perk that we fell for each other." He smiled tenderly. "And maybe a blessing."

Blair favored him his quirky smile, the one that generally sent Jim into pudding heaven, as he said, "Maybe a blessing? Oh, I'm a blessing, all right." But then he added, more seriously, "Doesn't the idea of predestination bother you, of all people? The total absence of control that predestination infers?"

Jim had thought about it - and now had an answer for Blair. "Not really, because ultimately, we do have control - a choice. I think destiny just prepared us and protected us until it was time. But we've both had ample opportunities to chuck this whole thing, you know that. But every time, we chose to stay with it. I chose to be a Sentinel and you kept choosing to stay by my side, protecting me, teaching me - and yeah, guiding me."

Blair whistled. "Wow, I'm impressed."

"You're supposed to be. Besides, you've had to learn to slam doors in Simon's face, shoot a gun and fight. It's only fair that I learned something too." Jim shrugged, a small grin playing about his mouth. "So other than impressed, what do you actually think about my theory?"

Blair lowered his head and grinned slyly. "I like the blessing part. Always wanted to be a blessing."

"Blair," Jim warned.

"Well, I have. As for your explanation - it's as good as any."

"High praise indeed."

"Actually, I've kind of thought all of that all along. You, me, the cosmos - the time space continuum and all that. Jim and Blair - science fiction at its best." He ran one finger over the back of Jim's hand. "All this to say that yes, I believe in predestination and choice and yes, I know that seems impossible - but there it is. I think I was meant to be your guide, but I didn't have to accept it - but I did. I've chosen to remain by your side and will always choose to. But I also believe, not to sound to mushy or anything, or to appear to be quoting some goofy lyrics, but I also believe that you were meant for me."

Jim smiled down at Blair with all the gentleness and love inside of him. Blair felt his breath catch even as he moved closer to Jim and finally into his arms.

Burying his face in Blair's hair, Jim whispered, "No one else, Blair, I couldn't have been meant for anyone else but you."

***

Michael Goddard sat on the couch in his private suite and sipping a glass of Irish Mist while perusing the folder in his lap.

The file on Blair Sandburg was, indeed, very complete. He drank Coors, was apparently gay and involved with his own partner, Detective James Ellison. Now that was interesting - but couldn't really help him for the simple reason that he needed to deal with Blair now. The next item might help...seemed Blair was a cheat. Faked his anthropology dissertation for his doctorate, ended up disgraced and now a cop.

Blair Sandburg was a cop.

Goddard lifted his head and stared out the window. A cop. How could he work that to his advantage? Unsure, he went back to reading and, twenty minutes later, a plan began to form. A plan that was deceptively easy.

All he needed was the right bait - and - thanks to the file and the information about their current case, he was pretty sure he had it. He'd set up a fake meeting by using a name tied to the case. Somewhere close, yet far enough away that making someone disappear would be easy. Like the mountains just above Cascade. Only thirty five minutes away and very fitting. They could easily stand in for Yosemite.

***

Jim leaned against the side of building, tapping his foot impatiently as he looked for Sneaks, who was already thirty minutes late. He was just about to give up when his snitch jogged around the corner and into the alley. "You're late and that means no jelly donuts for you."

"Sorry, sorry," he said, arms up in surrender. "But man, this is big and I gotta be careful, you know?" He glanced around and then asked, "Where's your partner - he needs to be here."

Jim squinted down at Sneaks, catching the fast heartbeat, the furtive glances and the smell of fear and sweat. This was not like him. "You're petrified. Why?"

"It's big, man. Someone is after your partner. I don't know why, but the word is on the streets and it's weird, man, weird. Someone's been asking, deep under asking, and there's power behind it, man, big power. That's all I know. But I like your guy so I'm here."

Jim reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He was about to extricate a few bills when Sneaks put out a restraining hand. "I said I liked the man. This one's on the house."

Really worried now, because Sneaks never gave anything up for free, Jim started to question him, but before he could open his mouth, Sneaks was already running in the opposite direction.

Someone with power after Blair. Every instinct told him it was Goddard.

He headed back to the station, back to Blair, uncaring about how many speed limits or laws he broke to do it.

***

"Hey, Hairboy, there's a message on your desk from Ellison. It was in Joel's box by mistake."

Blair looked over his shoulder at Henri, waved a thanks and plucked up the pink slip sitting on his blotter. As he read it, he frowned. This was weird. They'd been after some information on a small time hood named Carson in connection with a murder in Chinatown and, according to this, Jim had a lead and wanted Blair to meet him above Jenks Pass. Why the hell would Jim leave a message instead of just calling? But even as he thought it, he absently found the answer as he patted his jacket pocket and found his cell phone missing. Swell. He'd probably left it in Jim's truck and because Jim was planning on dropping the truck off for its regular tune-up, they'd come in separate vehicles.

Okay, so he'd go meet Jim. What's a thirty-five to forty minute drive in rainy weather for a case, anyway? He shrugged, crumpled the message and tossed it into the trash on his way out.

***

Blair was headed up I-19 just as Jim walked into Major Crimes.

"Jim, man, what are you doing here? Blair left twenty minutes ago to meet you."

"Brown, what are you talking about?"

"The message you called in - asking Sandburg to meet you up at Jenks Pass. You know? The Carson lead?" Brown made a knocking gesture on his head.

Expression turning to granite, Jim said tersely, "There's no lead, but, according to Sneaks, someone's after Blair." Jim looked over at Simon's office and was relieved to see him at his desk. He didn't bother to knock.

"Simon, Blair's in trouble. He's on his way to Jenks Pass, supposedly to meet me, but it's a trap and I think Goddard is behind it. I'm on my way out now, but can you get a couple of men over to Goddard's hotel?"

There was no hesitation, no questioning. Three years with Jim as a sentinel and five years total with the man as a friend was all Simon needed. He got up. "You're going nowhere without me. I'll get Brown and Connor on Goddard. Let's go."

***

The drive out of the city had been relatively traffic free, thanks to the weather, so Blair had made good time. But since hitting the mountain roads, the drive had downgraded. As he looked ahead, craning his neck over the steering wheel to see the sky, he could tell that the light drizzle would soon become a downpour. Up ahead, lightening lit the sky and he was driving right into it.

Jenks Pass was just that, a pass through the lower Cascades that narrowed as the driver passed through Jenks Park. In good weather, it was a beautiful drive - but right now, with the cliff on Blair's right, the drizzle getting heavier, and daylight being obscured by the rapidly approaching storm clouds, the drive was anything but beautiful.

He was supposed to pull off at marker 24 and he'd just passed number 23. He scanned the side of the road - and still almost missed the marker - but he didn't. He swung in, pulling completely off the road and onto one of the many park turnouts. This one was well-shaded and barely visible from the road. The surprise was the total absence of Jim's truck - and he should have been here first. On the other hand - he wasn't the only vehicle. At the far end of the turnout was a parked Mercedes.

When Blair parked, a man got out of the expensive car and, in spite of the years, in spite of the encroaching darkness, Blair recognized him.

Mickey.

***

"Did you try his cell phone?" Simon asked as he watched the rain hitting the windshield.

"You're sitting on it."

"Fuck. Okay, how much of a lead?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Double fuck."

***

Memories and emotions were scrambling around and flooding Blair's brain at the same time.

Mickey, aka Michael Goddard was here. Here. But of course, here was now, not twenty-five years ago.

Blair got out of the car. The rain pelted down on him but he ignored it.

Goddard was approaching, mud splattering up with each footfall. When he was close enough to be heard over the rain, he said, "I couldn't meet you at the hotel. I have a wife and son to think about. But I owe you this, a meeting, face-to-face. To apologize."

"So you arranged this, left a fake message?" He didn't let Goddard answer, there was no need. Instead, he asked, "How did you know about Carson?"

"I know everything there is to know about you because I made it my business to know. And I was afraid, without this little subterfuge, you wouldn't come."

"I'm here."

As they'd been talking, Goddard had been moving steadily closer, smiling, charming, in spite of the rain, the cold, looking every bit the accomplished, powerful man that he was. But Blair was watching, monitoring, and thinking he should never have gotten out of the truck.

They were only a few feet apart....

"You know, I've always felt bad about Yosemite, I want you to know that. Do you remember?"

"Yes."

"I feel bad that you ran. I was rarely sober back then. Alcohol, drugs. I was a menace."

What could Blair say? It so closely mirrored his own thoughts, his own fears about his over reactions. "I'm sorry." It was lame, but it was all Blair could manage.

In spite of the weather, Goddard wasn't wearing a coat, but his hand was slipped casually into the pocket of his slacks. Smiling through the rain, he said, "My drunken state saved you twice."

The words came out so softly and heartfelt, that it took a moment for their meaning to register. And when it did, it was too late. The gun was in Goddard's hand.

***

"Can you see the markers, Jim?"

"You're kidding, right? We just passed number 20."

Jim turned the wipers to high, hit the high beams and stepped down hard on the accelerator.

***

The drizzle was now a full blown, cats and dogs type of rain. But Goddard didn't even waver, he seemed completely unaffected by the storm. In fact, he was smiling. "You were going to disappear in Yosemite, Blair. Completely disappear. And oh, how I would have consoled your mother. But between the pills and the booze, I let you get away."

"You're a fool, Goddard. I would think a man who'd seen what you did, the last time we met, would be a bit hesitant to take me on again."

Blair's voice had been soft, when he spoke, soft and easy and just mildly threatening. Goddard's eyes narrowed and Blair didn't miss how his gun hand trembled - ever so slightly. "The cat, Goddard. The cat," he hissed out. "Or maybe you thought he was a drug-induced hallucination?"

"There was no cat!" Goddard yelled out.

"Oh, but there was. He was black, remember? And when he started to snarl, when he rose up on his hind legs - you ran."

The tremble was stronger this time, but not yet enough for Blair to make his move.

"You came to kill me that day - but you were once again outwitted - this time by a cat. A stuffed cat chased you off." He paused before adding with menace, "I wonder what it'll be this time?"

Blair waited, letting his words do their work, planting the seeds of doubt and fear. He was rewarded a moment later when a bolt of lightening lit up the sky overhead, its brightness striking every corner of the turnout. Shaking like a leaf, Goddard looked up - and Blair jumped him.

Thunder followed the lightening and the rain became even more fierce as the two men fought, bodies wrestling, one clumsy in his overcoat, the other freer in just a shirt, but both soaked, the water weighing them down. They hit the ground, rolled in the now thick mud, fists flying, fingers grappling for any hold they could find. Blair tried to reach his gun, but wet, heavy clothing impeded each try.

Blair tried to reach his gun, but was hampered by his wet, heavy clothing.
He figured that even though he was the younger one, and now a trained cop, Goddard was 6'5, 220 pounds and in excellent physical shape. It was anyone's fight to win or lose.

The mud, the pouring rain, all worked against them both but at least Blair had managed to knock Goddard's gun out of his hand. It was now nestled in the mud a few inches away. Unfortunately, Goddard spotted it and lunged for it, but Blair grappled, pulled, managed to land one blow to the side of Goddard's face, but it wasn't enough - Goddard had the gun, his fingers wrapped around the barrel.

Galvanized by the feel of the weapon, Goddard planted a devastating kick to Blair's chest. As Blair fell backward, Goddard crawled away and got to his feet.

Reeling with the pain, Blair nevertheless struggled to one knee, lifting his head in time to see Goddard, gun pointed straight at him.

They were both near the cliff's edge, but Goddard was far closer. Eyes alight with triumph, he started to squeeze the trigger....

***

The truck careened around the bend and, just as Jim regained control of the vehicle, he spotted marker 24 just a ahead. At the same moment, another bolt of lightening lit up the sky, revealing two men covered in mud, one on his knees, the other, a few feet away and holding a gun.

Jim was too far away, they'd never get to Blair in time.

***

Blair heard it first. The growl. It was deep-throated and menacing. He was seconds from death but he still turned his head toward the sound - and spotted a dark shape just behind and slightly to Goddard's right, where the woods met the turnout.

The growl sounded again, closer now and, this time, Goddard heard it too, but his finger was squeezing....

***

The truck skidded into the curve, Jim fighting the skid, the rear end sliding in the opposite direction....

***

There was nothing Blair could do. There was another flash of lightening and with it, the huge mass seemed to detach itself from the woods and fly through the air, streaking towards Goddard, who, shocked, turned to meet it....

***

The truck skidded into the turnout, coming to rest sideways against the Volvo - but before Jim or Simon could move, a flash of lightening illuminated the whole turnout, allowing them to witness the impossible....

***

The large grey and white mass of fur hit Goddard in the chest - hard - and both man and beast went hurtling over the cliff.

Goddard's scream was drowned out by a huge clap of thunder.

***

Lights swirling, blinking in his eyes as men moved around the turnout, measuring, snapping pictures, questioning, answering, explaining.

Blair pulled the blanket closer around him.

He was sitting on the edge of the open ambulance, the medics having finished with him moments before. He now sported a few bandages for cuts but he wasn't feeling anything - yet. He watched the rescue efforts but knew they'd be bringing up nothing but a dead body.

Jim and Simon were still explaining, shaking their heads and gesturing toward the cliff. Blair just shook his head. After all, why the big fuss? Goddard was dead, killed by a wolf - no big deal, right? Right.

So what if, coincidentally, the wolf looked a hell of a lot like the one in their vision at the fountain? Or the one in Jim's temple vision? And so what if, against all odds, it attacked at all - and only Goddard - just as the man was about to shoot Blair? Coincidence and nothing more. Except - of course - no wolf would be found at the bottom with Goddard. Nope. No wolf.

Jim had apparently given up explaining because he was now walking toward Blair, head down, shaking it back and forth. When he reached the ambulance, Blair held out a hand and Jim took it, oblivious of the men and women around them.

"There's no animal down there, Chief. None."

"Of course not. But you did see it, right?"

"Simon and I both saw a grey wolf launch itself at Goddard and then they both went over."

"But no sign of it now." It wasn't a question but a statement.

"Oh, there's plenty of evidence to substantiate your story, Chief. The gun is still in Goddard's hand, his shirt is ripped to shreds and the marks on his chest and neck are the claws and teeth of an animal. Plus - there's fur on his clothes and surrounding area - just no actual wolf."

Blair nodded. He wasn't hearing anything he hadn't been expecting - although - the news of fur was good. But still.

"So no wolf and the dead man is a famous and powerful person. Could be that I'm in big trouble," he said thoughtfully.

"Chief, think about it," Jim suggested with a smile.

"I'm waterlogged, think for me."

Jim sat down next to his partner, hands still clasped but now tucked under the blanket. "It's obvious to everyone that there was an animal, plus Simon and I make pretty good eye-witnesses. We saw Goddard with the gun on you, we saw the wolf attack him and we saw them both go over. And hello?" He knocked lightly on Blair's head. "Animal bites and scratches, okay? No, you're not in trouble. This is open and shut."

"Open and shut. Right." Blair squeezed Jim's hand under the blanket and said, "He told me that he had been planning to kill me in Yosemite as well as the day he showed up after we moved. Poor mom."

Jim gazed at his partner with wonder. Poor mom? Poor mom? Typical Sandburg. "You know, you're one unbelievably crazy man, Chief."

"Jim, you don't get it. There's no way to hide what really happened back then. She's going to know now."

"Jesus, Sandburg, the motherfucker tries to kill you no less than three times and you're worried about Naomi finding out what a dirt bag he was? I'm going to have to get you to a shrink."

"Been there, done that. Didn't help or haven't you noticed?"

"Very funny, Shecky, very funny."

Simon interrupted any further discussion by joining them. He looked frazzled and clearly exasperated. "The mess you two get me into. I think it might be time to retire. Buy a farm somewhere far away - with no Sentinels in sight."

"Like you'd know, Simon?"

"Sandburg, shut up."

"Yes, sir."

"Jim, consider this my final order before I move to that farm. Go home, stay home. Take the phone off the hook, don't answer the door. I'll take care of this mess, the media, the Chief, and the Commissioner. Sometime tomorrow, Martin will show up to retrieve your reports. Any questions?"

Blair couldn't resist. "So we can open the door for Martin?"

"Jim, stick your partner in a hot shower and don't let him out until he shrinks up enough to slide down the drain. Understood?"

Jim shrugged. "Won't take all that long. Twenty minutes, tops."

There were a great many things Blair could have done, or said. But he didn't. Instead, he let his middle finger, the one enclosed in Jim Ellison's hand, do it for him. He used it to rub slowly and erotically around Jim's palm as he whispered sentinel-soft, "Not a chance in hell, man."

"Fuck."

"Did you say something, Jim?" Simon demanded.

"Who me? Nope, not a thing."

"Good. So go. Now."

The two men went.

***

The hot shower was indeed a good idea and, while Blair really wanted to punish Jim for the twenty minute shrinking remark, he wanted him in the shower even more. Besides, Jim was doing a great job of falling for the 'officer wounded in the line of duty' shit and was, even now, slowly and deliciously soaping Blair down after giving him the most erotic shampoo job ever - on his incredibly muddy hair. Yep, Blair felt pretty darn good.

Revenge might be sweet, but a shower with Jim was sweeter.

Ah, seemed as though the 'washing Blair off' part was down because, at that particular moment, Jim's hands were pulling insistently at him and he ended up with his back to Jim's chest. Blair could feel Jim's hardness teasing his ass and, given the nature of the day and the near miss, it wasn't a surprise that their lovemaking happened hard and fast, Jim slipped in easily but then started thrusting hard, holding fast with one arm wrapped tightly around Blair's waist, the other enthusiastically pumping Blair's cock. Blair felt almost separate from his body as he let his head drop back against shoulder. At least he had the presence of mind to use Jim's thighs as a way of anchoring himself. Blair came first, with a sharp, jerking orgasm, and Jim, after only a few more fast thrusts, came with Blair's name on his lips.

Keeping his hold on Blair, Jim eased them gently to the floor of the shower, his back against wall, knees up and Blair between them, still resting against him. The water was still warm enough to keep them right where they were, eyes closed as they enjoyed the water, each other, and a moment of peace.

***

The water finally went cold and, with the loss of warmth, Blair could feel the hardness of the shower floor. He moved first, a bit stiffly, but eventually helped by Jim. They got to their feet, stepped out and took turns toweling each other off. In their robes, they left the humidity of the bathroom for the warmth of the loft. Neither were hungry so, arms around each other, they head upstairs to warm bed.

The rain at Jenks Pass had finally reached Cascade shortly after their arrival home and now, tucked under the covers, they listened to it as it hit the skylight in a soothing pattern.

Blair felt comfortable now, but he knew he'd be sore in the morning. Jim kissed his temple and said, "I'll give you a good massage tomorrow. You'll need it."

"I won't turn you down," Blair said with a grin.

"Good. In the meantime, do we want to talk about the wolf?"

"I don’t know, do we?"

Jim rolled Blair on top of him and, as Blair settled in, Jim answered, "I think we probably should."

"Man, this is new. Jim Ellison recommending that we talk about something? Wonders never cease."

"Yeah, well, this is the first time you haven't wanted to talk about something sentinel related. Talk about wonders never ceasing."

"Hey, I didn't say I didn't want to talk - I just need time. My brain is on overload, okay? I'm just coming to terms with the fact that a man my mother loved tried to kill me more than a few times. As for the rest, well, I know that Deva was real, that for a short time, your spirit animal protected me. Maybe because my wolf was too young."

"Too young? You're kidding me, right?"

"You got a better explanation? No, I didn't think so. But obviously, based on earlier this evening, my wolf is all grown up and doing just fine, thank you very much. So I say we get some shut-eye, wake up refreshed in the morning, make mad, passionate love, sleep a bit more and, after a couple more rounds with you, I'll want to talk about it. Maybe."

"First of all, you just did a great job of talking about it and second, the whole sex thing tomorrow - talk about pressure. Oh, hell, I'm a cop and a sentinel - I can handle it."

"Jim, can you see my hand?"

"Rude, Sandburg, very rude."

"Go to sleep."

"Yes, master."

"Don't you forget it."

"As if."

***

Portland - Spring - 1975

Naomi stood at the kitchen window - watching her son play in the backyard of their new home. Sometimes, she felt so old even though she was only twenty-two. Michael was out of her life and yes, good riddance, but once again, she was alone.

At that moment, Blair ran into view again - and she smiled. No, not alone, she had her son. Her wonderful, beautiful son - and she wouldn't trade him for all the Michaels in the world.

When they left San Francisco all those months ago, Blair had stopped talking - and she'd begun to suspect Michael had done more than just lose his temper that one time. Afraid to ask him, to bring up anything that could hurt him further, she'd actually taken him to a professional and, while she still didn't have all the answers, he was talking. She could always ask him - but besides being afraid of the answer, Blair was starting to act like himself again, happy and chatty, playing with that new stuffed animal he'd asked for several days ago.

She suddenly smiled. She could still see him standing just inside her room, blanket trailing behind him. His expression had been so solemn and he'd looked a bit nervous as he'd asked, "can i have something? please?"

She'd been so surprised that at first, she hadn't said a word. Blair hadn't asked for a single thing since Mickey had run over Luli. Finally she'd asked him what he wanted and he'd said, "it's speshul, but i have to have it. please?"

There'd been no way to turn him down - not with him looking so serious and small - and certainly not after all he'd been through. So she'd listened, said yes, and the next day, she'd gone looking. She'd gone into several toy stores and had been despairing of ever finding it when there it had been. A stuffed jaguar. Not a panther or a leopard, but the asked-for jaguar. Blair's later squeals of delight had told her she'd done the right thing because he hadn't laughed in weeks.

Now, after a strange set back a couple of days ago, Blair seemed to be himself again. Of course, he had this strange desire to be Jimmy Olsen now, but hey, he was happy.

She watched him as he knelt on the grass, Deva - strange name for a stuffed jaguar - in front of him. He was tying a red scarf around its neck and, thanks to the open window, she could hear him chattering happily, saying how he'd help Deva, "...and 'tect you while you 'tect 'troplis."

She was still grinning and watching him when the phone rang. She picked up the receiver and, keeping one eye on Blair, said, "Hello. Oh, yeah, Gretchen, I did hear about the retreat. No, I don't think I'll be going. Well, I don't really want to leave Blair... Who? Scott? He's going? Mmm, well, maybe...."

Naomi turned away from the window as she continued to talk about the retreat.

Outside, Blair stood up and, twirling around in a circle, the stuffed cat raised high above his head and newly added red 'cape' flying, he provided the air below the wings for his Superman.

End of The Boogeyman - tbc in Fissures

Fissures - Part 1

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 23:50:15 GMT

Prologue

1974 -

Naomi stood quietly just inside her son's bedroom. She could see the top of his curly head on the other side of his twin bed. He was on the floor, wedged between the bed and wall; it had become his favorite play-space since she'd gone back to work. His curls were bobbing up and down as he played and she could hear his sweet little boy nonsensical noises he made that never failed to bring a smile to her face. She could picture him, legs splayed out in front of him, a book spread open on his lap, eyes glowing with rapture as he focused on the pictures, his lips moving silently as he sounded out words he didn't know.

He'd been so strange since their return from Yosemite, so quiet and withdrawn in spite of her attempts to get him to open up - and it had frightened her. He'd run away while on a camping trip with her fiancée, Mickey, and the thought of him alone in the woods - God, anything could have happened to him. But once he'd been returned to her, all he'd said was that a teen-aged boy had helped, brought him back and that everything was okay.

Listening to him play now, she wanted desperately to go to him, sit with him and maybe try to coax him outside. Reluctantly, though, she stayed where she was since she only had ten minutes before she had to go to work, her waitress job at the bowling alley beckoning. But at least Blair had Luli.

Naomi couldn't see the pup, but she knew the dog would be lying there, maybe across Blair's ankles, tail wagging as she watched her master's face, waiting for some sign that they would play - maybe chase or wrestle.

Frustrated, she glanced at her wristwatch and gave Mickey a mental tongue-lashing. He should have been here by now, he knew what time she had to leave. She sighed and immediately realized that Blair had heard because his curly head popped up, wide blue eyes peeking over the edge of the bed.

"mommy?"

She took a few steps inside and said, "Hi, honey. I was just checking in on you before heading to work. You okay?"

Blair nodded, his curls bouncing.

"Good. Mickey should be here soon so let me know what you want for dinner and I'll get it out and ready for him."

He'd dipped his head back down so she barely caught his mumbled, "...'roni n' cheese?"

Worried at the lack of excitement at the mention of a favorite dish, she frowned and asked, "You sure you're okay, sweetie?"

"'m fine. can luli have some too?"

"I don't think Macaroni and Cheese is very good for puppies, so maybe we should stick with her regular puppy food, okay?"

"she eats 'nammas and peanut butter."

Naomi walked over and sat on the edge of the bed and, sure enough, a large book lay open on his lap and Luli was indeed sprawled across Blair's ankles. She shook her head, a grin forming at the sight. "When did Luli have bananas and peanut butter, young man?"

"mmm, t'other day."

"Oh, really? And what did you have?"

"other half. it's im-portant to share. i shared."

Her grin went postal. "You shared? I'd have loved seeing Luli trying to chew peanut butter."

His small giggle floated up, followed by his now beaming face - and her breath caught in her throat at how wonderful he looked, eyes dancing again, his baby grin so infectious and in full bloom.

"was funny, poor luli." He mimicked Luli's tongue, making loud smacking noises, mouth suddenly like rubber and, at the sound, Luli perked up as she gave a little yip of agreement. It was a perfect moment, a moment to savor, a moment she knew she'd remember when Blair was all grown up.

"Naomi!?"

One yelled word - and the moment was fractured. Blair turned away, the joy wiped clean, eyes suddenly dark and shuttered even as Luli growled low in her throat. Not the most menacing sound, considering her age, but strange, Naomi thought.

"Naomi, where the hell are you?"

She got up quickly, ruffled Blair's hair and hurried to the living room.

In the hall, she met her soon-to-be husband, his face dark with rage, a red ball gripped in one hand.

"This was in the driveway and I nearly tripped over it. Didn't we agree Blair was to be responsible for his toys as well as helping around the house?"

In spite of the anger mirrored in his flushed face, his voice was cool, the words enunciated in an exaggerated tone that set her teeth on edge. Indicating the ball, she said sharply, "That isn't Blair's and you know damn well he hasn't been outside in days, not since our return from Yosemite."

Trying to sound contrite, he said, "If it's not his, then, okay, I'm sorry - but - aren't you running late?"

Nothing in his voice telegraphed any real apology but because she was late, thanks to him, she said rather pointedly, "Yes, I am - you'll have to fix Blair's dinner. He wants mac & cheese so just heat the leftover pork chops to go with it."

Mickey opened the front door, tossed out the ball, turned back, gave her an apologetic peck on the tip of her nose and answered almost cheerfully - his anger of a moment ago completely forgotten, "Sure, honey, no problem. Mac and cheese for Blair." His voice was now velvety soft as he ran his fingers through her hair and then down her cheek before leaning in for a more substantial kiss.

When they parted, he asked hopefully, "When do you think we can get together with Dr. Samuel about the ceremony?"

Naomi smiled delightedly and, as she encircled Mickey's waist, said, "I already called and we're scheduled to meet with him on Thursday at two o'clock. Can you make it?"

"Boy, can I! I'm sure I can get off early. Now you get to work and I'll take care of Blair."

By now, Mickey was almost jumping with joy, his handsome face alight, eyes bright with passion - all serving to leave Naomi shaking her head in wonder at the total about-face. It was almost like having two sons. She patted his arm, grabbed her purse, and said, "I'm off then. See you between ten-thirty and eleven."

As she opened the front door, she called out her goodbye to Blair and then hurried down the steps, the door slipping shut behind her.

Mickey pulled off his jacket, hung it carefully in the small hall closet and decided a beer couldn't hurt his promise to Naomi that he'd refrain from alcohol. After all, beer was harmless.

***

The moment Blair heard Mickey's voice, he'd tensed up, fingers gripping the book hard, almost tearing the pages. He scrunched himself even tighter into the corner as Luli turned her small body around and took an almost guard-like stance, ears back, hair standing on end.

When nothing happened, when all he could hear was Mickey whistling while he worked in the kitchen, Blair relaxed. Luli must have felt the all-clear too, because her ears popped up and, panting, she turned around and licked Blair's cheek.

Everything had been better since returning from the camping trip, but Blair was still wary, still having nightmares, and definitely still afraid of Mickey. But most of all, he missed Jimmy, the teen who'd helped him, listened to him, and held his hand.

His superman.

He closed the book and put it down, then invited Luli to take its place. She crawled happily up, more than willing to warm him, snuggle a bit, and do some more licking. It wasn't long before they were wrestling, Blair's giggles filling the room, Luli's small yips punctuating each attempt to swipe her tongue along a baby cheek.

"Blair."

They both stopped instantly.

"Blair, dinner is ready. Put the dog out and come to the table."

"Blair?"

"Blair...."

***

Present Day -

"Blair...."

He jerked up, sleepy blue eyes opening only to blink rapidly at another set of blues staring down at him. He rubbed his face and asked, "What's up?"

"You fell asleep and I've been trying to wake you. The guys are on their way up." At Blair's confused look, Jim rolled his eyes. "Poker night? Hello?"

Blair sat up groggily and ran a hand through the tangled mass of hair as he looked about, surprised to see it was already dark, the loft warmed by a fire and the kitchen light. "Shit, how long have I been asleep?"

"A good two hours. You must really be wiped. Want to skip the game? I can make some excuse - and to be honest, no will mind all that much, what with you always winning."

Blair got up, stretched, and caught the predatory gleam come into Jim's eyes. He smiled wickedly. "You did say the guys were here, right?"

Anticipation changed to disappointment as Jim nodded. "They're in the elevator now."

"Too bad. Of course, if I really put the screws to them, they'll leave early and maybe, just maybe, we can play a little poker of our own." He waggled his eyebrows. "High stakes, if you know what I mean."

"Sandburg, the only person you're going to screw is me."

Laughing, Blair tried to tame his hair by use of a one of his leather bands as he said, "Save the gutter talk for later. Like around nine when they give up and traipse out of here like the losers I'll have made them."

Jim reached across the couch and snagged his main squeeze, pulling him in for a quick kiss. "No mercy in this household, Sandburg. Now go change while I let our guests in."

As Sandburg shuffled upstairs, Jim watched uneasily. In spite of their bantering, he'd picked up the speeding heart rate and the all too-quick breathing that signified a very uneasy slumber. He listened to Blair undressing and heard him mutter, probably at his reflection in the mirror, "God, I look awful." Blair was changing his shirt when Jim heard their friends approaching.

He hurried over and pulled the door open before anyone could knock - or pound. Amid laughter and greetings, the detectives from Major Crimes poured in with Simon carrying the beer, Joel with the makings of his famous nachos, Martin and Megan holding bags of chips and more beer, Henri with his chili and, just behind him, Richard Perkins and Luis Maldonado, obviously pleased they'd managed to make it upstairs completely unencumbered.

As everyone piled in and food items were dropped on sinks and tables, Blair was suddenly with them, helping to get out the chip bowls.

Jim watched somewhat surreptitiously, worried because Blair's heart rate was still elevated - and it wasn't due to excitement.

Eventually, everyone took their respective places around the table, cards were shuffled and dealt, beer bottles were opened, nachos scarfed down, chips dipped and shop talked. Blair was enjoying himself, laughing, joking and winning, which allowed Jim to finally relax.

***

"Two."

Simon dealt two cards to Blair who slipped them into his hand, his face betraying nothing. Simon continued around; three cards to Megan, one to Jim, accompanied by a few rude remarks; two to Joel, Henri and Luis; three to Richard and Martin.

Everyone adjusted their cards, eyes moving cautiously around the table to spot poker 'tells' but Blair doubted anyone was as accomplished at it as he was - except Jim - if he used his senses, which he never did. Blair noted that Martin was rubbing his chin; a sure sign that he'd gotten what he'd wanted. Megan was smirking which meant 'no go' and Joel was doing his best to hide his infectious 'I struck gold' grin. Rick was looking around the loft which meant he was going to fold, while Brown tried to look bored, which meant he thought he had the best hand. Jim sat impassively, like always, the only one who could really hide his 'tells'. Simon, while difficult, was nevertheless giving himself away. His two 'cigar-fingers' were twitching, which meant that he didn't pull whatever he'd been hoping for, but he was going to run a bluff.

Eyes sparkling, Blair grinned broadly and, as planned, his poker mates took as it a 'tell' and gave out with audible groans. Rick and Megan folded instantly, Martin thought about it for all of five seconds before throwing his cards in. Simon, who was now tapping the top of his cards, tried to stare Blair down and, when it didn't work, gave up any idea of running a bluff and folded. That left Joel, Henri and Jim to face Blair, with Joel the first to bet. He threw in a red chip followed by a gold. Jim and Henri called him but Blair, still grinning, raised another gold.

Joel's grin lost a bit of its glow, one of Jim's eyebrows rose in question and Henri started to look nervous, but all three called him.

"Okay, Hairboy, show us the cards."

Blair knew when dramatics were called for versus a simple fan of the cards, but he fanned them anyway - just very slowly.

Ace, king, queen, jack, ten...all red...all hearts.

"Shit."

"Fuck."

"Don't believe it."

"A natural Royal."

"Way to go, Sandburg."

Laughing, Blair reached across the table and raked in the booty, then watched bemusedly as Jim began to stack them in nice, neat little piles; exacting, precise, all matching - while the rest of the gang guffawed and snorted in spite of being used to this little affectation.

It was Henri's deal so while he shuffled, Blair stood and, still smiling, walked over to the fridge and got another beer. It was his fourth for the night, which for him was unusual, it being his habit to nurse one all evening. He popped the top and took a long drag, then walked back to his seat just as Henri finished the deal. When he sat down, he accidentally brushed his arm along the table and connected with Simon's bottle, thus knocking it to the floor.

"Way to go, Clumsy!" Perkins teased.

Simon scooted his chair back to grab the bottle before it could leak any more liquid out, but so did Blair - so hard in fact, his chair tipped over. Surprised at the sound, Simon looked up to see Blair backing away from the table, eyes shocked wide as he shook his head from side to side.

Before anyone could move or say anything, Jim moved to Blair's side, whispering soothing words. "It's okay, no big deal, buddy. Simon didn't lose much…come on, Chief, come on back...."

Blair's eyes narrowed as he focused them on Jim's lips, trying to understand the words and, when he failed, his shook his head some more and started murmuring, "Sorrysorrysorrysorry."

Jim touched his face gently. "Chief, come on, look at me."

Nodding, Blair frowned, looked around, and asked, "What happened?"

Relieved, Jim tried to shrug it off. "Nothing, just an accident. You really get excited when you win." Jim smiled down at him, his expression full of gentle humor, his concern well hidden.

"Oh, okay. And I'm winning?"

"I don't know, Sandburg, does wholesale slaughter count?" Simon added, his own worry hidden in the joke.

The others joined in with their own nervous laughter and Martin tossed a few kernels of popcorn at Blair to hide the fact that Simon was picking up Blair's chair. As Jim guided him back, Megan decided it was time for a little levity, so she called out, "Okay, gentlemen, the game is called, 'Spit in the Ocean.' Lets see how fast you yanks really are."

***

The loft was a mess.

Jim surveyed the junkyard currently masquerading as his home and, with a shrug, began to clean up. Everyone was gone, the night ending early in spite of Megan's attempt to save it. Jim heard the toilet flush, the faucet turn on, then off and Blair finally walked in, wincing at the mess.

"Wow, World War III would have been neater."

"So dig in."

"Right. Dig in. You wouldn't prefer cleaning in the morning? Bed now? Us now?"

Jim stopped his trash-stuffing to look over at his mate and smile, "You know I won't enjoy us - if this mess remains - you know that."

"Ah, yes, my little neat freak. Bet I can make you forget it, though. Care to make a wager?" He moved over to Jim's side, took the bag and let it drop, his hand already moving up and down Jim's inner thigh.

"You cleaned up tonight - chip wise - so now we clean up loft wise. Then I clean you up off the floor, after having sent you to the moon - sex wise. Got it?"

"Shit, you really are anal. Okay, okay, we clean first, slave driver."

Blair bent over and retrieved the trash bag, mumbling all the while how "...Sentinels had to have clean territory and how no way in hell could he send him to the moon, sex wise or any wise...." which was all Jim needed. He grabbed Blair, threw him over his shoulder and headed upstairs, to the sounds of a snorting Sandburg.

Once in the bedroom, Jim dropped Blair on his back and, ignoring the laughter, reached down, ripped Blair's t-shirt down the middle, pulled at Blair's jeans, tugging roughly - not even bothering to unzip them. That's when Blair decided a lost t-shirt was one thing, but his favorite jeans ruined? No way. He batted Jim's hands, unzipped his jeans and, when they were finally gone, he let Jim remove his shorts.

"Can't send you to the moon? Isn't that what you said?" Jim asked while leering at him.

"Never. Never said it," Blair gasped out, his laughter choking his words.

"Ha! You said it and now you'll regret your harsh words, my fine young thing," Jim said as he twirled an imaginary mustache.

Blair's laughter gained new momentum even as he choked out, "At least...you didn't call me...a maiden."

"Too much hair - in all the wrong - or in my case - right - places." He leaned in close and, eyes darkening with passion, whispered, "I'm sending you so far - and going so deep - there will only be me surrounding you, in you, through you."

Blair's laughter stopped, choked off as he caught his breath at Jim's face. He shivered in anticipation, goose bumps rising on his arms. He gripped Jim's shoulders and started to pull Jim in for a kiss but Jim had other ideas. He clamped his fingers around Blair's wrists and pulled them up and over his head. Blair nodded his approval as Jim held both wrists with one hand while using his other to pull his own zipper down. Then Jim captured Blair's mouth in a searing kiss as he lowered his body until he was resting on top of Blair. The sudden pressure, the darkness, and the strange feeling of being smothered drove all his passion away as, gasping for air, everything went dark....

***

The Past -

Blair felt himself being lifted in anger. The closet door was opened and he was tossed inside. He hit the wall, tumbled down to land on a sea of coats and jackets. The closet door was slammed shut and he was alone - in the dark.

The small space was already cluttered, but the slamming of the door jarred items from the top shelf and they fell on him. Everything seemed to close in, to smother him...and he hurt so bad, and it was so dark...and all because of juice, just some juice he'd knocked over...

He reached out and tried to open the door, but it wouldn't move, it was blocked, and he was in the dark, and he couldn't breathe and he wanted his mommy, so bad, he was so bad, so bad....

***

The sentinel part of Jim felt the difference, the change. Blair was no longer writhing in passion but instead, moving in panic. The moans of excitement had given way to groans of fear.

He lifted himself up to look into Blair's face - and what he saw, and heard, worked like a cold shower.

"Nonononono - mommy, mommy...."

God, another flashback.

Jim didn't have time to wonder where they were coming from - he'd save that for later. Now, he needed to get his partner back. He rolled onto his back, taking Blair with him even as he started to croon, "It's okay, whatever it is, it's over - gone. You need to come back to me, Chief," Jim pleaded as he cupped the back of Blair's head.

His words worked as Blair twisted slightly in his arms and finally lifted his head and asked, "Jim? What is it? What did I do?"

"Nothing, you didn't do anything. It's all right, everything is all right."

Blair looked around, blinking in confusion. He finally rolled off of Jim and sat up. He ran his fingers through his hair as Jim said, "You went somewhere without me, Chief. What do you remember?"

"I don't. I mean, we were, you know, and then - I couldn't breathe. That's it, I couldn't breathe." He looked at Jim and gave him a wry smile. "Guess you took my breath away, you stud, you."

Blair's voice was light but Jim heard the undercurrent of fear. He sat up. "Yeah, me, the big stud." He reached ovr and tenderly tucked some hair behind Blair's ear. "We've got to talk about this, Chief. This isn't the first…flashback. When you woke up earlier today, from that unscheduled nap, I know you'd had a nightmare...and then, earlier this evening, when you accidentally spilled Simon's beer...do you remember your reaction?"

Blair shook his head and looked away.

"Ever since Goddard's death, your sleep has been troubled more often than not. Now, I'm no expert in this kind of thing...."

That earned him a snort from Blair.

"Okay, maybe I am. So based on my own experiences - I think it's a safe bet that you're remembering more about Mickey and your time with him."

Blair shook his head. "No."

"Yeah." He ran a hand up Blair's arm in an effort to be more reassuring. "As you always tell me - we need to talk about this, get it out in the open, get to what's really bothering you."

Blair gave an exasperated shake of his head. "It's not Goddard. But you're right, I am remembering more and the more I remember, the worse it gets because it always comes back to one person - Mom."

Jim had been wondering for weeks how long it would take his intelligent partner to question Naomi's role in what happened with Goddard. Blair had seen a great deal in his years with Jim - including child abuse cases. Too many. And he'd seen the one where one parent whose fear or need allowed them to deny the abuse was occurring to their child right under their nose. It was only a matter of time before Blair wondered about his mother and what she knew or didn't know. And now that he was - well, Naomi was still MIA. Which left him.

"You want to talk about it, maybe?"

Blair turned tired, bloodshot eyes to Jim. "Do we really need to? I'm guessing you're way ahead of me on this. On Naomi."

"Hey, what I think and feel is irrelevant. We need to talk about you - how you feel."

Blair suddenly grinned. "How did you get so damn smart anyway?"

Jim tugged at an errant curl. "Years of hanging around you."

"Nah, your exposure to me has resulted in an increase in hair loss, maybe, but...."

Jim wasn't falling for any of Blair's misdirection in the form of humor. He continued to look at Blair expectantly.

Blair, seeing Jim's patience, sighed. "Okay, so I'm thinking...she had to have known." He dropped back on the bed, hands at his side, his left hand plucking at the blanket, tearing small tufts of the material and going back for more. "At the very least, she had to have had an inkling of what was going on, right? But it didn't stop...she didn't stop it...but really, she was just a kid...you know? And she...loved me... Oh shit." Blair could feel the lump forming in his throat and he closed his eyes tightly against the moisture.

Jim wanted to take him into his arms, but he knew it would be the wrong move now. Instead, he asked softly, "Tonight, what happened tonight?"

"I…closed in...remembered a closet. He threw me in and blocked the door. It was dark and a bunch of stuff fell on me and I couldn't breathe, couldn't move."

Shit. So when he'd dropped down on Blair....

Blair felt Jim tense next to him and, knowing the man as well as he did, said, "Don't even go there, man. It wasn't your fault. When this stuff comes, it just does."

"Okay, fine. So...why the closet?"

"I spilled some juice...and I think...I wanted to let Luli in."

"Do you know when this happened in relation to everything else?"

Blair grew thoughtful and, after several moments, said, "Yeah...it was after the wedding was canceled...I think."

"Right, I remember you mentioned that before. Okay, let's start there. What do you remember about that?"

Blair frowned as he tried to think back...to remember....

***

The Past -

Naomi hung the dress on the bedroom door, stepped back and gave it a critical eye...but she couldn't find a single fault. It was perfect - it was her.

Her wedding dress.

It was an Empire style dress with puff sleeves and small, dainty cornflowers on a white muslin background. She'd wear a garland of daisies and carry a bouquet of wildflowers. The vision that rose in her mind was beautiful; outdoors, an all natural setting with azure skies, the twinkling blue of the bay in the background as they walked down a path strewn with rose petals. The gazebo would be draped with greenery and beside her, Blair would be wearing his new tux, his hair tamed and slicked back as he proudly carried the rings on the small pillow. His eyes would sparkle enough to rival the pristine blue of the pacific ocean.

Mickey would be standing in the gazebo, handsome and loving, waiting to make her his wife and Blair his son.

She gazed lovingly at the dress, at what it represented; a husband for her and a father for Blair...but more than that, it represented tradition. She could hear her mother's harsh voice when she'd learned of Naomi's pregnancy.

"No man will marry you now, Naomi. No man will have you. They don't want a ready-made family, a woman with a child, let alone a child whose father is a mystery."

But she had found someone and Blair would have a father and a name. Not a made-up name, a real name: Goddard.

She was just twenty-two, with a five year old son, and she needed stability. Blair needed stability. She needed a husband for that - soon, she'd have one.

Naomi ran her fingers lightly down the material. Only two more days and she'd be walking down that path to exchange 'I do's'. Then she and Mickey would be flying off on their honeymoon, Blair right beside them.

And boy, wasn't that proof of Mickey's love - that he was willing to take her son on their honeymoon? Wasn't it? How many men would be willing to do that?

Her expression changed as she frowned. The only blot on her dream wedding was her son and how he seemed so uncomfortable around Mickey. Maybe it was just that he was used to being the only man in her life.

"mommy?"

She pivoted around to see Blair standing in the hall, wearing only the bottom of his p.j.s and trailing his blanket. His face was flushed and, with his damp curls clinging to his forehead, he looked terribly small and vulnerable. She hurried to his side. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"don't feel good, mommy. 'm hot and my tummy hurts."

She immediately knelt down and placed her hand on his forehead. He was way too warm. Worried, she said, "Okay, honey, I need to get the thermometer. Flight time."

The well-loved phrase failed to bring a smile to Blair's face. They'd been using it to signal that he should lift his arms so she could pick him up and 'help' him fly since he was two and had seen his first airplane up close. He'd say it to her, raise his arms, she'd pick him up and then twirl him around so he could pretend to be a plane.

But tonight, he just held up his arms, eyes pleading with her to make it better.

She lifted him easily and, as he settled on one hip, one leg wrapped around her back, the other around her stomach, he dropped his head on her shoulder and let his arms fall listlessly to his sides.

Naomi carried him into the bathroom, fumbled in the drawer until she found the thermometer, twisted the cap off and gave it a good shake. Blair automatically opened his mouth so she could slip it in. Even sick, he was so good. Could any child be as good as Blair?

She watched him in the mirror as his eyes flickered with exhaustion, his face tinged pink with fever. She smoothed his hair back from his forehead and then started rubbing small circles on his hot, bare back.

Feeling a small nugget of fear start to build in her stomach, Naomi told herself this wasn't serious. After all, Blair was never sick. Not really. The sniffles, sure, but he'd never had the flu or any earaches that plagued other children his age. He'd never even had a sore throat. He'd missed the measles, chicken pox and the mumps when they'd made the rounds of the neighborhoods and, even as a baby, he'd had the colic only once. Even teething had been easier than she'd been told. She'd used ice cubes wrapped in a washcloth and let him chew to his heart's content.

Okay, time to check the thermometer. She pulled it out and was horrified to see it registering 101 degrees. She moved quickly into his bedroom, laid him down, covered him and told him, "I'm going to get baby aspirin and some water, okay? But I'll be right back, sweetie."

He nodded listlessly and watched her disappear.

A few moments later she was back and, after sitting down on the bed, she lifted him slightly and let him down the pink pills, put the glass to his lips and watched as he lapped up the water. She was about to lay him back when he said, "more, please?"

"You got it, honey. Be right back." She almost ran to the bathroom, filled the glass, wet a washcloth and ran back, sloshing the water as she moved. She placed the cloth on his forehead and let him drink some more. "It's okay, sweetheart, you'll feel better in the morning."

He nodded and dropped back down, but was up again and moaning. "sick, gonna be sick, mommy." Even as he said it, he threw up, his body jerking as he tried to lean over the edge of the bed.

"sorrysorrysorry...."

Exhausted, he dropped back, panting out the words.

"Hush, honey, it's okay. I'm going to get a bowl, be right back." Naomi hurried out to the kitchen, pulled a large plastic bowl from the bottom cupboard, filled it with a bit of water and hurried back into the bedroom to discover that he'd thrown up again.

For the next few hours, that was Naomi Sandburg's world.

By three in the morning, with a temperature up to 103, she was worried enough to call Blair's pediatrician. She got the service and begged them to call Dr. Swain immediately. Fifteen minutes later the doctor was calling back to say he'd be right over.

When Mickey got back from his night out with the boys, it was to an exhausted Naomi and a very sick little boy. He managed to hide his exasperation and even offered to relieve Naomi, knowing full well she'd never turn over the care of her son to him. Eventually he fell asleep on the couch.

Saturday was spent caring for Blair as he alternated between fitful bouts of sleep, high fevers and vomiting.

By two in the afternoon Naomi knew the wedding would have to be postponed.

As Blair drifted off, following another bout of vomiting, Naomi left his bedside and joined Mickey in the den where he was working on his computer.

"The kid okay? Any better?"

"His temp is better but he still can't hold anything down." She sat down opposite him and said, "Honey, we're going to have to postpone the wedding, maybe reschedule for next week."

He shut down the program to stare at her in surprise. "Postpone? But why? He's going to be fine, kids always bounce back. There's absolutely no reason to postpone. None."

"Mickey, he's sick and we can't leave him. Children may bounce back, but they have to get well first and Blair is far from well. The doctor said this type of flu is very dangerous for children and the only reason he's not in the hospital is that St. Francis is full. But he warned that if Blair's temperature didn't go down by today, he'd admit him even if he had to move someone else into a closet."

She got up and walked nervously to the sliding doors, opening them to let Luli in. She picked her up and, holding her to her face, crooned, "He's sick, Luli, so you can't see him right now." She turned back to her fiancée. "He's improving but he's far from well. We have no choice, honey."

Damn. That kid was going to be the death of him one of these days...always screwing up his plans, getting between him and Naomi...but he had to be careful, had to appear to be the perfect daddy.

"I guess you're right. I'm still pretty new to this father business. So do you want to start making the phone calls or shall I?"

Fuck, he couldn't wait to tell his boss. Rick Leonard was a bastard under the best of conditions - but telling him that he wouldn't need the vacation now…time that Rick had created by rearranging the entire office schedule...yeah, he was dead meat, thanks to that brat of a boy.

But he wouldn't get off so easy this time, he'd fucked up Mickey Goddard's life one time too many.

***

Naomi smiled as Blair chomped down on his toast. It was Monday and, after one hell of a weekend, Blair's temperature was back to normal and he could hold food and liquids down. He was as weak as a kitten and even needed her help to get to the bathroom, but he was definitely on the mend. And from the look on his face, thoroughly enjoying his cinnamon toast.

The wedding had been canceled - not postponed - and Mickey wasn't dealing with it well at all. Not that it was anyone's fault that Dr. Samuel wouldn't be available for over a month. But Mickey hadn't wanted to hear any of it. She could still hear him as he'd yelled his dissatisfaction, causing Blair to curl into a tight ball and pull the covers over his head. She was almost glad Mickey had gone to work, even though he wasn’t scheduled. Peace was good.

***

Blair didn't want to read anymore, he wanted Luli. But he knew better than to ask. Mickey was still mad about the wedding and Blair didn't want to give him another excuse to yell. His mother and Mickey had been fighting for three days now and he knew it was his fault. Mickey didn't care who married them, as long as they got married but his mommy only wanted Doctor Samuel to do it.

The slamming of the front door startled Blair and he realized that Mickey had stormed out of the house again. He wasn't sure what day - exactly - that it was, only that he felt a lot better and could eat toast and cereal and even chocolate milk. He was pretty sure the weekend was long gone now, that maybe it was the middle of the week - which meant that they all should have been on something called a 'honeymoon'. But they weren't. Because of him.

He really wanted Luli, but she was being kept outside, in the back yard. He needed to hug her and hold her, but if he asked and Mickey got mad again...maybe his mommy would leave him and go off with Mickey and he didn't want that.

Mickey was always saying how she would - one day - if he weren't good. But he was good, would be good.

***

Mickey was barely speaking to her and Naomi was starting to get mad. For one thing, his attitude was hurting Blair. His yelling had to be scaring her son - she'd noticed how, when Mickey was around, Blair wouldn't even call for her to help him if he needed to go to the bathroom. He wasn't asking for any special foods, or for water glass to be refilled or even for Luli. He just napped, looked through his books or played quietly in bed with his cars, robots and Lego's.

She checked her watch and realized how late it was. It was Thursday and they should have been happily married and on their honeymoon - but they weren't - and she knew she'd made the right decision, no matter what Mickey said. Just then, she heard the front door open - and then it was slammed shut, hard enough to shake the small table beside her.

He strode into the living room, gave her a disgusted look, threw his coat and keys onto the chair and then stalked into the kitchen. When he came back out, he had an ice water. He dropped onto the couch, looked at her again, and said, "I got fired. That bastard Leonard fired me."

She got up instantly and moved to sit beside him. "Oh, God, Mickey, why? How could he?"

"He doesn't need a reason, Naomi. He's a schmuck, you know that." He finished the bottle of ice water and threw it at the wall with a loud, "Fuck!"

She resisted the urge to clean up the water and, instead, placed a hand on his arm. "Okay, so you go to Macrodyne like you wanted to months ago. They courted you first anyway, so I'm sure they'll want you now."

"Don't be an idiot. They filled that position months ago. I chose to go with Legionware and that's all there is to it. Besides, Leonard will make sure I don't get a job anywhere. You know how they all stick together. It's over for me here."

In spite of her upbringing, Naomi was, by nature, an optimistic individual and she truly believed that there was nothing that couldn't be turned around. She was a true child of the sixties and believed in peace and love with all her heart. To her, life was an adventure and there was good everywhere. This newest wrinkle in her life was just that - a wrinkle - and one to be ironed out.

She squeezed his arm reassuringly. "We're okay, for awhile anyway, and I'm sure Roger will take me back at the diner. So, until you find another job, I'll just have two. My tips should keep us solvent and, with Blair starting kindergarten in a couple of weeks, we won't have to worry about a babysitter while you look for work. We'll be okay, we will."

She put her arm around Mickey's neck and pulled him to her, capturing his lips with her own. As the kiss deepened, they both heard a thump from Blair's room. Kiss and reassurances forgotten, Naomi was up and moving in an instant.

Mickey growled in frustration as Naomi rushed from his arms. Damn that kid.

***

Naomi hurried down the hall and, on entering Blair's room, she found him pulling himself up from the floor.

"Honey? What happened? Did you fall?" She knelt beside him, hugging him to her as she felt his head moving in the negative.

"no, no, didn't fall, kinda didn't fall - needed to go…to the bathroom."

His heart was beating so hard, she could literally feel it through his thin t-shirt. Almost as if he were afraid. "Honey, you're still weak, it's all right, it's normal. You had quite a bout with the flu. Now come on, let me take you to the bathroom."

He shook his head. "no, no, i can do it, honest. going now." He pulled himself away, got up, and shuffled into the hall and then the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

Naomi shook her head. Sometimes...she really didn't understand her son. But then she smiled, because understanding him or not, he was the sweetest baby in the world and she loved every nook and cranny of him.

***

Friday -

Blair sat on the floor in the den, hands and face pressed against the sliding door as Luli, who was on the other side, wagged her tail and pressed her nose against the glass, fogging it up. Mickey was in the living room watching the news and had already told Blair that Luli had to stay outside and that no, Blair couldn't go out and play yet. But Blair knew he was all better, he was. He was eating peanut butter and drinking juice and eating cereal, and he could go outside - he could. But Mickey wouldn't let him. He was allowed to stay in his room or the den and, since he wanted to be near Luli, he'd chosen the den.

"Blair, it's time for your nap." He stood just inside the door, arms crossed and his perfectly groomed goatee looking almost accusing.

"couldn't luli come in? take a nap with me? i'm better now, please?"

"Luli will stay out and you will stay in. We canceled our wedding for you, young man, and you will get well - so as long as I'm home, that dog stays outdoors. Besides, she drives me crazy. Now, get into your room and take your nap."

Blair turned to plead again and his arm brushed against the glass of juice, which was on the floor next to him. It fell over and the orange liquid spread slowly over the pale wheat-colored carpet
.
Mickey moved so fast, Blair didn't have a chance to prepare himself. The man reached down, plucked him up, stuck him under his arm, marched into Blair's room, slid the closet door open and tossed Blair inside. He then slammed it shut and stuck a coat hanger in the groove to keep it shut.

"When I tell you to do something, you do it, you understand me? If you'd behaved, you wouldn't have spilled the juice. Now you stay put until I let you out!"

Angry footsteps retreated and Blair heard another door slam shut. He was now alone - in the dark.

He didn't move, didn't dare, but he did whisper over and over again, "mommy, i'll be good, promise, be good, please, let me out...."

No one came.

She would leave him now, he knew it. Mickey would tell her and she would be gone. She would go away with Mickey and then what would happen to him, where would he go? Who would love him?

"mommy, don't leave, please...be good for you, be good...be so good...."

***

Jim walked quietly upstairs, a tray of food in his hands. After telling him what Blair could remember, they'd talked and even tried to reach Naomi again. Unfortunately, they were unsuccessful - again. All they were able to do was leave a half dozen messages with her friends. Finally, Blair had fallen asleep in Jim's arms and, as he slept, Jim watched. But eventually, he knew he'd have to wake Blair up, get some food into him, so he'd carefully extricated himself and gone downstairs to make something to eat.

He set the tray down on the dresser and sat down on the side of the bed opposite Blair. He looked so peaceful, no mutterings, no uneasy movements, just a deep, good sleep. Jim gazed at the face he loved so entirely...and then absently pushed a bit of fallen curl back from the cool forehead.

Blair stirred, his hand shifting out from under his pillow as he rolled onto his back. He opened his eyes, blinked blearily, spotted Jim and smiled. "Guess I slept."

"Yep, you did."

Blair hitched himself back against the rail and said, "This is so weird, Jim. I keep getting short flashes, then entire periods, followed by more short flashes." He rubbed at his jaw. "I wouldn't mind so much if feelings I'd rather not re-experience didn't come with the flashes and memories."

"I know, I know. I just wish Naomi would answer because the two of you really need to talk, Chief."

Blair shrugged. "She's afraid...and ashamed, so she's dealing with it the only way she knows how - by leaving. My best guess is that she's somewhere she can't be easily reached. You know, no phones or televisions. In spite of her appearance that day in the bullpen, when you and Simon pulled that academy thing, she wasn't happy with it. She hates the very idea of me being a cop and that, combined with her own feeling of being responsible...well, it could be a while before we hear from her, you know?"

Jim refrained from answering because his answer would have been far too honest. Instead, he got the tray from the dresser and set it on the bed. "Let's get some food into you." He picked up one of the turkey sandwiches and waved it under Blair's nose. "Your favorite...with chips, fruit and beer. A gourmet's delight."

"Uhm, Jim? It's the middle of the night."

"So? Eat."

Blair wasn't fooled by Jim's attempt at misdirection, but he didn't want to burden him anymore than he had...because...after all, how long would they last if things continued as they were? Blair had already been more trouble than any wife, father or brother combined - so he took the sandwich and made a show of taking a bite while rolling his eyes.

"Damn, you're turning into a half-way decent cook, Detective Ellison. You're going to have to watch it, your reputation could suffer."

"Yeah, so don't tell anyone." Jim leaned in. "And since I trust you, I'll let you in on my secret ingredient...of course, once I do--"

"I know, you'll have to kill me. Shoot."

"Cheese. American Cheese."

"You're so pathetic."

***

The next two days passed in quiet desperation for Blair as he worked hard to keep his dreams and memories under control. An unreasoning fear had blossomed in the pit of his stomach, forcing him to keep up appearances. Normal, normal, normal. But it was kind of ironic if he allowed himself to really think about it - the same fear that had stopped him from telling his mother about Goddard, was now keeping him silent with Jim. No more talks in the middle of the night for them, no sir. Everything was peachy keen.

Did anyone say that anymore?

No matter. He knew what Mickey had done - so be it. He was thirty years old, for God's sake - he could deal. Had to deal. Because if he didn't - Jim would - maybe--

"Sandburg? Where's your mind?"

Blair turned his head in the direction of the voice and found Jim staring at him, a report in his hand. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"The Evanston case? Ring a bell? Did you get that info on the broach?"

Blair fumbled with a few folders until he found what he was looking for and then handed it to Jim. "Here you go, and I was right. It's an antique, shouldn't be too difficult to find."

Jim took the folder and, as he read, he managed to sneak a few looks at his partner. In the last two days, Blair had seemed okay, certainly better - but any attempts at further discussions had died on the vine. He dropped the folder and said, "Good work, Chief. You just may make a cop one of these days."

"Yeah, well, I've had a great teacher, coach and mentor." He paused a beat before adding, "Simon's terrific."

"You little shit."

"Who you calling shit?"

Jim bopped him one with the folder. "You, that's who. Come on, let's go interview Mrs. Wilkins again. I still say she knows the whereabouts of the broach."

***
continued in Part 2

Fissures - Part 2

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 23:48:10 GMT

The interview had gone better than hoped, with Mrs. Wilkins offering up a confession regarding the theft of the broach - after Jim zeroed in on her vitals and hounded her until she gave up. Unfortunately, that still left them with a murderer.

As Jim swung onto Prospect, a small dog ran out onto the street, directly in the path of the truck.

"Jim!"

He swerved hard left and the truck slammed into the curb. Before Jim could even blink, Blair was out and running back to where the small dog lay - unmoving.

Blair knelt down, heart in his throat. The tiny black and tan pup lifted its head, liquid brown eyes looking lost and hurt. Blair ran a hand gently down the coat, then looked up when Jim's body blocked out the sun.

"I think we hit her, Jim...did we, did we hit her?"

Jim stooped down on the other side of the pup and laid his hand on the heaving chest. He listened, then ran his hands carefully up and down the dog's body before saying, "No, but she has been hurt, Chief."

"We've got to do something, take her to a vet, now." Even as he spoke, he was pulling off his coat and carefully slipping it under the dog's body, "Can I lift her, Jim?"

"Yeah, just be very careful."

As Blair lifted the animal, Jim ran back to the truck, climbed in, put it in reverse, backed off the curb and swung it around to Blair, who climbed in, bundle close to his chest.

"Hurry, Jim, hurry. The nearest animal hospital is on Fifth, at Rosemead."

***

Jim sat in the waiting room and watched his partner pacing. Shoulders were slumped and he was staring at the floor as if it held all the mysteries of the universe. He hadn't said a word since the assistant had taken the puppy from his arms over twenty minutes ago and, now, as Jim studied him, a memory surfaced from months ago. Blair, playing on the floor, joined by Martin...and then Blair explaining how we keep those we love inside of us, forever...like...what was the name of the dog? Luli. That was it. Luli had died...she'd been...run over....

Shit

"Mr. Sandburg?"

Both men looked up as a tall man in green scrubs came out of the examining room. Blair nodded and said, "I'm Blair Sandburg. How's the puppy?"

"She's going to be fine. A couple of bruised ribs and, from what I can see, she wasn't hit by a car. More likely kicked by someone."

Blair flinched at that but recovered quickly. "Does she, do you...will she have to stay?"

"Not if you know her owners?"

Jim stepped in then and spoke clearly, "We don't have a clue, but if she needs a safe, comfortable environment, we'd be glad to take her. Until we can find them, the owners, that is."

Blair shot him a surprised but grateful look as he said, "Although, maybe her owners don't deserve her. We might not try too hard."

The doctor smiled before adding, "I understand completely. She's underfed and slightly dehydrated, but she's clean so I don’t think she's been on the streets too long. A few hours at most. She'll need some care and she hasa slight ear infection."

"No problem, Doctor, no problem at all," Jim assured him.

The doctor looked from one to the other...and finally nodded. "Very well then. I'll have my assistant bring her out, along with some medications - and my bill." He smiled gently though when he added, "She's all yours, gentlemen."

***

"Thank you, Jim." Blair sat back in the truck, a sleeping puppy in his lap.

"No thanks necessary. She's kind of cute. Reminds me of you."

"If my hands weren't full...."

"Yeah?"

"Never mind. I don't need my hands for what I'm going to do in retaliation for comparing me to a dog. Like...tell every single detective in Major Crimes about your little Gerber's mashed peas fetish?"

"Aw, come on...you love 'em too...and let's face it, you have the exact same puppy dog eyes, except yours are blue."

"And here I thought it was the wiggling tail."

"That too, Chief, that too."

***

The spare room, which had become an office/exercise room of sorts, was now ready to welcome its newest guest - but as Jim came out, prepared to carry the pup into her new home, he found the living room empty. He frowned until he zoomed in on the cooing sounds coming from upstairs.

"That's it, baby. Lap it up...it's good for you."

Blair was upstairs - with the puppy. Jim shook his head in surrender. He should have known. He climbed the stairs and stopped dead at the top.

Blair sat in the middle of the bed, the puppy languishing on his lap, thoroughly enjoying a finger-feeding. Blair dipped his finger in the puppy mush he'd made, then held it to the puppy's mouth, at which time she would lap it up. He really needed a video camera.

"What, the spare room isn't good enough for our guest?"

Blair looked up smiling. "In a word? No. Do you mind?"

Jim grinned as he joined his now enlarged family. "Would it matter if I did?" he joked.

Blair looked down, allowing his hair to fall forward and obscure his face. "It would, yes."

Jim began to stroke the soft fur as he answered, "I didn't mean it that way, Chief, you know that."

"I...yes, I know. But it would matter. I'd take her back to the vet, if you minded." He didn't look up as he spoke, just kept feeding the puppy.

Jim watched, fascinated, as the dog lapped away. "You know what I think? I think we should just keep her. What do you say to that?"

"Yeah?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah. She's ours - period. So - we need a name."

"The vet couldn't quite decide what she was. What do you think?"

Jim tilted his head first one way, then another, taking great pains to study the pup from every angle. The puppy seemed to understand something important was about to happen because she stopped eating long enough to favor Jim with a serious look - as if he were about to decide her fate.

"Uhm...definitely some German Shepherd, right? And something smaller...because she has very small paws. Also, her eyes are lighter than most dogs, almost golden. Maybe some type of terrier? Terrier/shepherd mix?"

"Yeah, that's what I think too."

"So, name?" Jim asked.

"Well, given our jobs - us being so macho and all," he ignored Jim's snort, "I think Taffy is out...although I'd love to see you in the park calling out wistfully, 'Taffy! Taffy, get your butt back here!', you know?"

"Fat chance, buddy. Okay, so the name has to be big, brawny and macho. So...how 'bout Belle?"

Looking shocked, Blair shook his head. "First of all, Belle isn't even remotely macho and second, didn't you ever have a pet? You have to give them a two syllable name that ends in 'y' or 'ie', like this...now watch."

He leaned over and crooned, "Want some more dinner, Belle?"

The puppy just blinked back at him. Then he repeated the question, in the same crooning manner, but with one significant change. "Want some more dinner, sweetie?"

This time, she thumped her tail - hard.

"See? y or 'ie'."

Impressed, Jim offered, "Okay, how about...Katie?"

The tail went into hyperactive mode.

"I do believe you just named our dog." He looked into her eyes. "Well, Katie? What do you say?"

Double thumping answered him even as 'Katie' leaned into the bowl for more mush - and ended up with a mush-covered nose. Both men laughed, enjoying the feel of it, the ease of it. Jim thought maybe things were going to be all right after all.

He should have known better.

***

Blair woke up yelling and thrashing around in the sheets.

Jim woke up immediately and tried to grab Blair, to control him before he hurt himself. He finally got him into his arms and held on tight while reassuring him with soft words.

Blair finally responded and he stilled - then stiffened. "Jim?"

"Yeah, buddy, it's okay. You had another nightmare. Do you remember any of it?"

Blair pulled away, almost in a panic. "Where's Katie?"

"Right next to you, on the floor. I made a bed for her, remember? From your clothes? See? She's all cuddled up."

A yip from below seemed to give credence to Jim's words but Blair still leaned over to check for himself. Satisfied, he still got down with her and started to pet her.

Jim couldn't fail to notice the slight tremor in Blair's hands even as Blair tried to hide the fact by burying his fingers in the fur.

"Can you tell me about this one? Was it about - Luli? That was her name,
right?"

Blair nodded but said nothing.

"After you were injured and regressed, well, you told Martin something about Luli being run over. Do you remember that now?"

Blair looked up, frowning. "Run over? I think...yes, Luli...."

***

The Past -

Blair heard footsteps approaching and then the closet door slid open. He blinked at the sudden harsh light, holding up his hands in front of his eyes to shield them.

"Have you learned your lesson? That if you'd done what I said, if you hadn't argued, none of this would have been necessary." Mickey didn't wait for answer - didn't expect one. "Your mother will be home soon and you need to clean up the mess."

He reached in and plucked Blair from under the mass of stored items and clothing even as Blair shrunk back, afraid. But Mickey simply lifted him and then set him down on the floor outside the closet, straightened his clothing, grabbed his arm and led him out of his room, through the hall, and into the den.

"Clean it up and don't think about telling your mother. I never tell her how bad you are, because she'd leave you, you know that, don't you? She only wants a good boy."

Blair nodded mutely, eyes downcast.

"Good. Hurry up, then. She'll be home soon."

With that, he walked out, leaving Blair alone. He looked down at the mess and wondered how he could fix it. He probably needed some kind of soap and water...and towels? He sighed and rubbed his arm where he'd hit the wall.

How could he hide these new bruises so mommy wouldn't know and leave?

He'd worry about that later. For now, he had to clean the carpet. He shuffled into the bathroom, reached up on his tippy-toes, pulled his Dr. Seuss cup toward him, filled it with warm water, grabbed up the toothpaste and, holding it with both hands, squeezed some into the cup. He wadded up a bunch of toilet paper and stuck it under his arm, then took the cup carefully in both hands and walked back to the den. He was so careful that he didn't spill a drop. He knelt down and put the cup next to the stain, dipped some toilet paper into the water and began to scrub.

Mop, rinse, mop, rinse...and slowly the stain faded.

As he worked, tears began to slide down his cheeks and Luli, who was sitting on the other side of the sliding glass door, bowed her head, miserable for her master.

When he was finished, he picked up the cup and returned it to the bathroom. He flushed the wad of TP and emptied his cup. For a minute, he stared at the swirling water and wondered if he were truly bad. Did mommy believe him to be good when he was really a bad little boy? Should he tell her the truth so she'd know? He wrapped his arms around his tummy and slowly slipped to the floor.

He was bad. But he could try harder and mommy would stay. Mommy would stay if he weren't too much trouble, if he just did what they said, became what they wanted. A good little boy. He'd be good. He would. The best little boy he could be.

***

When Naomi got home, she noticed a difference in Blair. He was so quiet and, even though he was better and could sit with them in the living room, he chose to spend all his time in his room, in his favorite corner.

He did exactly what was asked, as soon as it was asked. He didn't once mention that Luli should be allowed inside and Naomi didn't like it - not one bit. Where was her lively, bouncy, questioning, curious son? Was he having a relapse?

Mickey was still bugging her about setting a new date, but a wedding with Mickey still out of work and her working two jobs seemed impossible. They'd just have to wait. Oddly enough, since her current life wasn't exactly how she pictured her marriage, she was actually glad at the thought of what could be a lengthy postponement.

***

Three weeks later -

Naomi was exhausted. She'd offered to stay late at the diner and close up and now, all she wanted was a hot shower, some private time with Blair, and then bed. She walked up the porch steps and inside to find Mickey on the couch, watching television. Her hopes for a peaceful evening died the moment he saw her.

"Did you call Dr. Samuel today?"

"No, Mickey, I didn't," she answered as she took off her coat and hung it up. She put her purse down and walked into the living room. "Could we not talk about this now? I'm really tired."

Getting to his feet, Mickey turned off the television, tossed the remote and turned to face her, anger blazing from his eyes. "There's no reason to postpone any longer...Blair's fine now and we need to get married."

"I said I don't want to talk about it now. Besides, Blair is far from fine. Not by any means. Now, I'm going to take a shower and then head for bed."

He looked hard at her, his anger building. That damn kid, always the kid. Always. They'd be married now if not for him. He'd have his job too....

"Fine. I'm going out."

Damn it, she knew what that meant. He'd go to a bar, score some coke and then come home in a foul mood.

Taking his arm, she pleaded, "Mickey, stay. You know you'll drink and... Please just stay?"

He brushed her hand roughly away and demanded, "Look, if I want a beer or something stronger, I'll have it. And lady, you're definitely driving me to drink."

Angry at his words, she stepped back and, chin lifting stubbornly, said, "Fine. Go. But don't expect me to take care of your hangover."

"Right, why would I? Why would you take care of me? You'll take care of Blair, but not me. I'm so out of here." With that, he grabbed his keys and slammed out the front door, completely forgetting his car was in the garage around back.

She heard him curse as he remembered and he must have walked to the side because she heard the creaking of the gate - which was when she remembered Luli. Damn, he'd probably ignore her and let her out.

Even as she moved to the kitchen and the back door, she heard Luli's yipping followed by Mickey bellowing, "Shut the fuck up!"

Suddenly very worried - the sick-to-the-stomach kind - she started to open the back door when her son's voice stopped her.

"mommy? what's wrong?"

Blair stood in the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes, hair a curly mess.

Naomi scooped him up in her arms and buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Nothing, sweetheart, nothing. I was just going to check on Luli."

***

Mickey opened the side door to the garage, resentment in every move. He didn't notice Luli or that she'd slipped inside with him. He hit the switch for the automatic garage door opener, got into the car and started the engine. He glanced in the rear view mirror - and froze.

Luli was sitting smack in the middle of the driveway, wagging her tail expectantly.

That damn dog - and damn its owner too.

Eyes narrowing in response to a sudden cold rage, Mickey very carefully - and deliberately, put the car in reverse, his gaze never leaving the mirror or the dog. Then he smiled - an almost feral smile - took his foot off the brake, placed it on the accelerator - and pressed down hard.

***

Naomi walked back to Blair's room and was just reaching for the overhead light when they heard the frightening screech of brakes - followed by a horrifying high-pitched yelp that Naomi would never forget.

Her blood seemed to freeze, her heart stopping - because she knew. She knew.

Blair whipped his head around, eyes blinking rapidly. "mommy? mommy?"

She put him down on the bed. "Honey, stay right here, all right? I'll go check but I'm sure it's nothing."

She walked away, trying not to telegraph her fear and, once out of his sight, ran the rest of the way to the door, which she flung open. She bolted out and onto the porch, frightened by what she knew she'd find - so frightened, she failed to notice that Blair had followed her.

Unable to see clearly, she was forced to hurry down the steps to get a better view of the driveway - and immediately wished she hadn't. It was worse than she'd expected. Naomi started toward the small furry bundle under the tires, but a heart-breaking scream stopped her.

"mom-meeeee!"

Tears immediately filled her eyes as she turned back to see Blair on the walkway, chest heaving, fist to mouth, eyes shocked wide as he stared at the tires. She ran back to him, trying hard to ensure that her body blocked any view of the horror behind her. When she reached him, she gathered him into her arms and kept his face turned away from Mickey's car as she hurried back toward the house. God, he was shaking so badly.

She was barely aware of Mickey, who'd climbed out of the car to walk towards them. When he caught up to her, she shook her head before walking inside and shutting the door behind her.

Naomi knew that Mickey would take care of Luli so she sat down on the couch, still holding her son close. His small frame was wracked with tremors but he'd stopped crying - in fact, there were no sounds coming from him at all. Just the shaking; the horrible shaking.

"It's okay sweetheart, it's okay, I'm so sorry, so sorry."

She repeated the words over and over but still he didn't cry or speak. For almost an hour she held him, rocked and soothed and for almost an hour, he shook but didn't cry.

***

Only somewhat cowed by the expression on Naomi's face when she'd seen the dog and then stared accusingly at him, Mickey moved the car back to the garage, took a shovel and carried it into the backyard. There, he dug a hole before going into the kitchen, taking a small storage box from the pantry, a sheet from the linen closet and carrying them all back outside. He wrapped the tiny, broken body in the sheet, set it in the box, replaced the lid and then put it in the hole.

After covering it up, he looked back at the house, then the garage, and thought that if was going to have a chance with Naomi now, he was going to have to this right - all the way right. So he went back into the garage, to his woodworking station. He found a piece of wood that would do, took some time to shape it correctly before getting a can of paint down from the shelf. With one of his smaller brushes, he painstakingly wrote Luli on it and then carried it over to the mound and placed it in the ground.

Once he'd put everything away and closed the garage, he went back inside.

Naomi was in the living room, holding Blair. He started toward her but she shook her head again, got to her feet and walked into her bedroom. There, she placed Blair in the middle of the large bed and, after he turned onto his side and curled into a protective ball, she covered him, kissed him on the temple, slipped out of her clothes and into her pajamas and then slid in beside him so she could take him back into her arms. She wasn't surprised when he clung hard or by the fact that he was still shaking.

In the living room, Mickey sat down on the couch - where he remained all night.

***

The next morning, Naomi got her son up and, when she tried to talk to him about Luli, he simply refused.

"Okay, okay, I get it, sweetheart. Look, why don't you go change while I get breakfast, all right? I'll make your favorite; French toast."

He didn't say anything, but he did walk out of her room and into his.

Sighing, she slipped into her robe and headed for the kitchen. Mickey was there and, from the look of him, hadn't slept all night. But he was making orange juice and the griddle she used for the French toast was on the stove.

"I buried the do--Luli--last night," he said as he watched her open the fridge. "I made a marker and everything."

When she didn't respond, he added in a tense voice, "It was an accident, Naomi. I never saw her, didn't know she'd followed me outside. How could I?"

Eggs in her hands, she said, without looking at him, "Would you start the egg dip for the French toast? I want to let Blair know about the...about the grave. He may want to - say goodbye."

He got up immediately and took the eggs from her hands. "Go. I'll take care of breakfast."

He watched her leave and yes, he'd noticed the fact that she'd never once looked at him. He cracked an egg and thought, "I can fix this. I will fix this."

***

Blair listened to his mother's words and, when she asked if he'd like to go look, he nodded. She started to take his hand, but he pulled away, picked up one of Luli's favorite balls and marched out to the backyard. Once there, he stood a moment, staring forlornly at the 'grave' before walking over - slowly and uncertainly - but then he knelt on the grass and placed Luli's small red rubber ball on the soft earth. If he said anything, Naomi couldn't hear it. After several minutes, he got to his feet, hurried past her and onto the back porch where Luli's other toys were stored. He lifted the small box, walked back outside and over to the trash cans. He carefully placed the box down, lifted the lid of the nearest can and then, to Naomi's shocked surprise, dropped the box inside and replaced the lid.

And not once did the expression on his face change.

***

In the next few days, no matter what Naomi tried, Blair refused to use the front door, choosing only the side door and their second, smaller gate. He also refused to get into Mickey's car or to go into the garage.

But Blair hadn't been the only silent one in the house. Naomi saw the change in Mickey too. In the few days since Luli's death, he'd done all the cleaning, cooking and laundry. At night, he'd climb in next to Naomi and, without a word, take her gently into his arms and let her cry. Then and only then did he really speak. He murmured soft words of apology and regret over and over again until finally, on the fourth night following the accident, Naomi found herself consoling him.

On the sixth day after the accident, Naomi felt comfortable enough to leave Blair in order to return to work. Not that she'd have a choice - the bills were piling up.

***

Jim watched Blair carefully as he finished telling Luli's story. He couldn't help but wonder how Blair could have turned out as wonderful as he had with the horror that had been that brief time with Mickey - he also worried how much more they could take in the way of memories. Every new disclosure seemed more vile than the one before and, with each newly surfaced memory, Jim was shaken to his core. But for Blair's sake, he held it all in, controlled every muscle and nerve ending even though he wanted nothing more than to kill Mickey. He'd give anything if the man were still alive - because he would have dearly loved killing him with his bare hands.

Then there was the anger directed at Naomi, the woman who'd allowed the atrocities to take place. And atrocities was the right word because Jim knew in the depth of his soul and in the darkest places of his mind that Mickey had deliberately run over that puppy. Question was: did Blair know? Naomi?

Damn it, they needed Naomi.

Blair seemed better for having both remembered that night - and telling Jim. Now he dropped a kiss down on the furry black and tan head and got back into bed. He didn't move into the circle of Jim's arms, instead choosing to lie on his back, hands behind his head. Jim settled on his side, head propped on his hand, gazing thoughtfully at his partner.

Eventually, he felt the need to break the silence. "I never had a pet. Don't even remember wanting one...but I think Steven did...maybe a guinea pig."

Blair didn't say anything, just continued to stare up at the ceiling.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. It's funny, you know? You remembering the thing with Luli before me. What did I tell Marty, anyway?"

Jim wanted to reach out, but he was very good at reading Blair's body language - which at the moment was saying 'leave me alone'. Instead, he simply answered Blair's question. "Martin had come over for dinner - it was the first time he really interacted with anyone after Peter's funeral. But I think the stories I told everyone about you...well, he wanted to see you.

"Anyway, we had pizza and you made a royal mess." Jim grinned with the memory. "Later, you were sitting on the floor playing while Marty and I talked. He was pretty upset because everyone expected him to just pack Peter away, to get over losing him - but he couldn't."

"I can understand that," Blair said, eyes still on the ceiling.

"Yeah, me too. Anyway, he was still in mourning and you told him that no one could make anyone stop crying until they were ready. That's when Martin joined you on the floor...and you helped him." Jim reached out and touched Blair on his chest, just over his heart. "You told him about Luli, how she was there, in your heart...because Naomi told you as long as you keep what you love there, they were always with you. Then you asked Marty if he had someone there and he told you that he did - that's when you said that hugs always helped."

"They do. Sometimes."

"But not always?"

"No, Jim, not always. Sometimes nothing can help and it was stupid to tell Marty that they could because you certainly can't compare the loss of a dog to the loss of your heart."

There was anger in Blair's voice and Jim wasn't sure where it was coming from, or even if he wanted to know. He rested his hand on Blair's chest and said softly, "You weren't comparing Luli to Peter, Chief. Just the feeling of loss and the emotions that surround it...and that helped. You helped."

"Bullshit. Time helped Marty - and you can hardly compare a child's loss of a dog to the loss of a life mate." Blair rolled over onto his side, away from Jim, and added, "Let's go to sleep, morning comes early and you have court."

Jim wasn't really surprised by Blair's reaction, his denial ran deep. He might know he had terrible doubts about his mother, but deep down inside, he was blaming only one person; himself. Jim just wish he could figure out how to get through to him.

He reached over and turned out the bedside light, dropped his head to the pillow and tried to sleep - which was damn difficult with the ocean that seemed to have formed between him and Blair.

***

Jim must have finally slept because when he next opened his eyes, it was to bright sun. Unfortunately, he was alone and worse still, Blair's side of the bed was cold to the touch. Not an ounce of residual heat which meant Blair had been gone quite awhile. Jim tuned into the sounds of the loft and heard Blair, downstairs with Katie and trying to coax her to take her medicines.

"This is good for you, don't be so stubborn. Yes, it's medicine, but it's going to make you better."

He must not have succeeded in getting her to take her medicine because he started to plead with her.

"Please, baby? Come on, you need to get better, okay?"

An idea popped into Jim's head and he quickly got up, slipped on his robe and padded downstairs. Blair was, as he suspected, already dressed and seated at the kitchen table, Katie in his arms, still trying desperately to feed her two large pills.

Coming up behind him, he rested a hand on his shoulder. "Since it's a capsule, why not break it open and mix the powder with some of that mush you made last night?"

Blair looked up at him and smiled gratefully. "Good idea, man. Would you put it together for me?"

Jim nodded, took the pills and headed into the kitchen. He grabbed up the bag of food, dropped some into the puppy's bowl, added the warm water, took the pills, opened them and spread them onto the mush before stirring. He took it back to Blair and set it down before heading back into the kitchen for his coffee. Steaming mug in hand, he sat down and watched Blair feed Katie and was pleased to see that it took less than five minutes for Katie to scarf everything down - medicine and all.

Happy at the success of Jim's idea, Blair set the pup down and they watched with fond amusement as she wobbled uncertainly over to Jim, sniffed his bare foot, then wobbled over to the living room for a sniffing journey. She was moving slow, obviously hurting a bit, but her curiosity was stronger.

When she was satisfied with all the smells, she weaved her way back to Blair and promptly sat down on his foot, looked up at him and yipped her desire to be picked up. Blair chuckled and carefully scooped her into his arms - where she settled happily.

"Chief, I think she's in love."

"Nah, I'm just the one feeding her." He checked his watch and added, "By the way, you're going to be late if you don't get a move on."

"You're coming in today, right?"

Blair shot him a surprised look and, with an indulgent grin, said, "Hello? I work there now, remember? And no worries about Katie and the floors - Mrs. Donaldson from downstairs agreed to watch over her."

"Looks like you've got everything covered. Quick thinking, Chief."

"What can I say? I'm a jewel."

"A rare gem and one that could probably use a good buffing later tonight."

"I'd prefer some solid boffing," Blair snorted.

"Buff, boff, whatever...it all translates to the need for some major polishing by yours truly."

"Man, you're just too romantic - and still undressed - and still going to be late if you don't move it, sweet-cheeks."

Grimacing at Blair's version of an endearment, Jim finished the last of his coffee, put the cup in the sink and then returned to Blair long enough to wrap an arm around his chest and bury his face in Blair's hair. "You know, there's an old saying about cleanliness being next to Godliness - so another shower wouldn't hurt you. Care to join me?"

Blair slipped out of Jim's embrace and stood. Trying to look stern, he said, "Sanchez will have a fit if you're late - which you will be if I join you in the shower, so go." He made a shooing motion with one hand, which caught Katie's attention, causing her to bat at it, trying to catch the elusive new toy.

Giving out with an exaggerated sigh, Jim said, "You win, but later tonight...we do some heavy duty polishing."

Blair rolled his eyes. "With anyone else, that would be code for sex - but knowing you, you'll bring out the silverware and polish when you get home."

"Just for that, I'm going to stop at the hardware store on the way home and get some silver polish. That'll teach you."

Laughing, Blair sat back down and spent a few minutes playing gently with Katie.

***

Blair drove to the station on autopilot, his mind too full of sharp, newly surfaced memories and feelings. It seemed that every time he turned around, there was a new one and, with it, more fear and panic. And he hated the whole cycle. It was interfering with his new life with Jim.

No, scratch that - this fucking trip down memory lane was interfering with Jim's life. Damn his infernal nightmares. How hard could it be to stop them - to just let go? He'd obviously done it for years - so why couldn't he go back into denial mode - go back to forgetting?

Hell, maybe Jim could give him a few pointers.

He pulled into the PD garage, swung into his parking space and, after turning off the engine, sat with his arms on the steering wheel as he thought about his predicament.

Okay, so he was dealing with old memories, memories he didn't want. So, he needed to stop them - before it was too late - before Jim....

Just - before.

When no answers on how to forget them arrived, he got out of the Volvo, stuck his keys in his pocket and walked toward the elevator. He nodded to fellow officers, exchanged a few hellos, and pretended everything was fine - he was pretty good at that - maybe always had been.

As he got into the elevator, grateful to be alone, it struck him that maybe the key was meditation. Yeah, meditation, solid (and exhausting) exercise, and lots of hard work. Between those three things, he should have no trouble sleeping nightmare-free. And if that didn't work - he still had some pills the doctor had given him a month ago following that little inner-city car chase that had ended with him and Jim in the riverbed.

And yeah, in spite of his hatred for drugs - he'd use them - if he had to.

***

Jim stood on the courtroom steps, Joel Taggart at his side. They sighed in relief, both glad to be out in the fresh air, finally finished with the trial. Better still, not only was the trial over, but their perp had been declared guilty as charged. And gosh, Jim thought, it had only taken a year and a half of continuances to get here.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Joel asked.

"Yeah, but it'd feel a hell of a lot better if the trial had taken place last year, but hey, wheels of justice and all that crap."

Joel gave out with a booming laugh as they moved down the steps. "Lawyers, can't live with them, can't live without them." He rubbed his stomach and added, "My body is telling me it's lunchtime - how about some chili at Mom's Cafe?"

Jim shook his head, thinking about Blair and maybe taking him to his favorite seafood restaurant. "Thanks, Joel, but I want to check on Sandburg, see if he's eaten yet."

"Understood. Hey, why don't we see if he can meet us over at Sam's Seafood? He can have something healthy, while we pig out on the Clam Chowder Special."

"Joel, I like the way you think." Jim pulled out his cell phone and punched in two digits. After two rings, Blair picked up. "Hey."

"How was court?"

"We won. Of course."

"Natch. No other outcome possible."

"Look, Joel and I were just heading over to Sam's Seafood, thought you might want join us?"

"Why do I not think Sam's was a first choice, that maybe Mom's was number one?"

"Because you're brilliant?"

"Goes without saying - sexy as hell too."

"Oh, yeah," Jim breathed out.

"Just how close is Joel to you?"

"Too close."

"Poor baby...no phone-polishing."

"Like I'd do that on the court steps?"

"I would. And you know, there's always the bathroom at Sam's - nice large stalls...."

Jim looked up at the sky and muttered, "Elephants - pink elephants."

The laughter coming through the earpiece of the cell phone was loud enough for Joel to cock an eyebrow.

"I'll see you at Sam's in twenty - and the men's room in thirty."

"Pink elephants in tu-tu's."

"Patio table?"

"Natch."

"Good, closer to the bathrooms."

"Anyone ever tell you that you have a--"

"Joel's standing right next to you, man."

"I hate you," Jim said with a smile as he disconnected to the sound of Blair's laughter.

He slipped the phone into his pocket and gave Joel a smile. "It's a done deal. Sam's it is." Jim started for the truck and had gone several paces before realizing he was alone. "Joel?"

Shaking his head, Joel hurried up to him. "Sorry. I was thinking."

"About?"

"Your phone call...and how it sounded."

Jim cocked his head, puzzled, "So how did it sounded?"

"Like an old, happily married couple...you know, with secret words and everything?" He grinned. "It sounded - good."

Jim grinned, thumped Joel on the back and they walked to the truck.

***

The meal at Sam's was excellent and the three men relaxed, laughed and ate heartily. Well, two of them ate hearty. Jim noticed Blair fiddling with his food, moving it around the plate, even as he joked with Joel or taunted Jim.

As they discussed Joel's new girlfriend, coincidentally introduced by Sandburg, Jim took a quick physical inventory of his partner and didn't like what he found.

To Sentinel sight, Blair's skin was dry, his color down, his skin with a slight grayish tint to it - and the dark circles under his eyes would soon be noticeable to everyone. Then there was the fidgeting, almost invisible, unless you were a Sentinel, or the man's partner. His fidgeting manifested itself in the slight tremor of his fingers as they rested on the table, one finger just barely tapping, not actually making contact - almost as if Blair were aware and fighting the urge.

The final sign - the one that really had Jim worried, was the complete lack of eye contact. Through the entire meal, Blair had connected with Jim's mouth, nose, the middle of his forehead - anywhere but his eyes.

Deciding now might be another good time to try and reach Naomi - because he had no doubt all that he'd noticed about Blair could be tracked back his mother - Jim felt in his back pocket for the thin address book and, at the first opportunity, excused himself. He gave Blair a nudge. "Scoot over, Chief. I forgot I was supposed to check in with Sanchez. Be right back."
Blair gave him a surprised look, but nodded and scooted out to allow Jim to exit the booth.

"Chief, order me a spumoni?"

"Sure. Tell Beverly hi for me."

"Will do."

He walked back to the small hallway that housed the phones, pulled out the book and flipped to the Naomi message number Blair had given him years ago, an emergency pager number.

He dialed and, when the call was electronically picked up, said, "Naomi, this is Jim Ellison. Now you listen and you listen good. I don't give a flying fuck about your feelings regarding Blair becoming a cop, you understand? You get back here and you get back here now. Blair needs you and the only hint I'm going to give you is one fucking word; Mickey fucking Goddard. Okay, that was three words." Jim slammed down the receiver. Hard.

He took three deep breaths, the way Sandburg had taught him... waited until he was centered, then plastered a smile on his face and rejoined Joel and Blair.

End part 2 - continued in Part 3

Fissures - Part 3

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 23:46:10 GMT

The walk into town was long and arduous, but for Naomi, a necessity. She'd been with the monks at the Tulani Mission for several months, maintaining her own silence, meditating, reliving the days with Blair and Jim, the havoc she'd created and trying hard to come to terms with her mistakes. Not to mention the fact that by now, her beloved son was a detective.

So far, she'd made little progress and was no closer to acceptance of Blair as a detective, but she needed to get out, see the sun, see people, talk.

The walk took her the majority of the morning and would also take all afternoon to return, but she felt better than she had in weeks. It was both invigorating and inspiring. The land around the mission and the animal-made trail she'd chosen to follow into the village was beautiful, natural and untouched by man's progress.

America, and Cascade were hundreds of miles away - and so were her mistakes.

She breathed in deep, the rush of clean, crisp morning air filling her lungs and she smiled, delighting in the world around her.

Her plans for the day were simple. See the village, check her mail and her service, and then walk back to the mission. Nothing earth shattering, nothing urgent. She recognized that there might be a message from Blair - either a letter or even a phone message - because by now, he'd be a detective. He'd want to talk; to share. And maybe she'd even open the letter - or letters. Maybe - just maybe - she was at a point where she could read his words, his stories - or even hear the excitement in his voice.

The road widened and the delicious odors of cooking meals from the village were now apparent. It was strange, knowing she was in the heart of Mexico, that Mexico City was only three hours north, that millions of people, thousands of tourists were just over the 'next volcano' as some would say. Yet here - there was little to no signs of the modern world.

As Naomi entered the town of Tapaxan, her smile grew. It was a small village, yet bustling with rural life. As she gazed about her, Blair came immediately to mind. He would have loved this place. Then her smile faded...would have... He was a detective now, not an anthropologist.

She made her way to the small building that housed the mail center and even an old wall phone. The interior was cool, clean and empty. A counter stood to her right, the phone to her left. She decided to collect mail first - then brave the phone. A small, ancient looking man smiled a huge toothless grin and inquired how he might assist her. She gave him her name and, with a nod, disappeared behind a curtain, only to reappear a few minutes later, arms full of envelopes. He handed them over and Naomi realized that any reading would have to wait until she returned to the mission - there was just too much mail - which meant she probably had a good many phone messages too.

She stepped over to the phone, plunked in her coins and dialed her service, then said her three-digit code. A moment later, her messages started replaying.

For several minutes she stood, listening, occasionally nodding, smiling, always erasing at the end of the message. Then one message caused her smile to fade and her body to still. She listened, her heart beating hard and, even as the words continued, she began to rifle through the many envelopes until the one referenced in the current message caught her eye. She continued to listen as she ripped the envelope open and pulled out a folded piece of paper. As she unfolded it, two newspaper clippings slipped out. Naomi picked up them up, unfolded the first and read the headline.

SHOOT OUT LEAVES 8 DEAD, 7 INJURED

Naomi read the article, her eyes scanning for one name and, when she found it, under those listed as critically injured, the receiver dropped from her hand.

She stood, frozen in place, eyes stuck on a few all-important type-written words;

"...among those injured was Detective Blair Sandburg, who was inside the Post Office at the time of the attack. He is credited with saving the lives of five civilians, including two children. Detective Sandburg is currently in a coma and listed in critical condition."

"Nonono...."

She heard the whispered word - repeated over and over again - and realized it came from her. She swayed on her feet as her hand convulsed around the piece of newspaper, eyes closing, her heart faltering....

"God, no, not Blair...please, god, no."

She caught herself against the wall, reopened her eyes - and caught sight of the other article. With a dread so intense she thought she might die, she unfolded it.

AFTERMATH OF FATAL SHOOTOUT

Once again her eyes sought words, a name....

"...were buried today, with full honors...."

Her eyes scanned the names...Elizabeth Jenkins - Peter Sbarro - Brian Rafe....

She knew him - she knew Rafe....

Naomi bent her head and squeezed her eyes shut to keep back the tears. She remembered Brian so well. But even as she felt the sorrow - she felt the joy at the fact that Blair's name had not been included. She went back to reading, to see if she could glean any further information on her son.

And there his name. She clutched her heart. He was alive and had come out of the coma but nothing else was said about his condition or any brain damage.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes again - and gave a quick thanks to God.

But she needed to know more and nothing else was in the envelope. She picked up the receiver she'd dropped, quickly erased the message, then listened, hoping now to hear his beloved voice.

She listened, erased, listened, erased...and then, the final message.

"Naomi, this is Jim Ellison. Now you listen and you listen good. I don't give a flying fuck about your feelings regarding Blair becoming a cop, you understand? You get back here and you get back here now. Blair needs you and the only hint I'm going to give you is one fucking word; Mickey fucking Goddard. Okay, that was three words."

The loud click in her ear clearly worked to punctuate Jim's anger.

She didn't move - couldn't move. The phone dropped away....

Mickey Goddard.

Dear God. Mickey. Blair.

Her vision dimmed, the air became hot and stifling...and suddenly she was twenty-two again and living in San Francisco. Her wedding to Mickey had been postponed because Blair had contracted the flu...and then poor Luli....

Memories swirled about her... including her final memory of Mickey Goddard....

***

The Past -

Naomi pulled the black VW bug into the driveway, not bothering to stick it in the garage, too tired to drive the additional three feet. She turned off the engine, gazed at the small house with only one light on in the kitchen and the porch light lit to welcome her home.

No real welcome - and nothing inside would be overly welcoming either - certainly not Mickey. Oh, God. She rested her forehead on the steering wheel for a moment - dreading the fact that she'd have to go inside and face Mickey.

Which was odd considering how, since Luli's death, he'd been loving, caring, and solicitous. He'd kept the house clean, had warmed meals waiting for her when she got home late, ran errands during the day and, not once, had he mentioned the wedding.

Blair, on the other hand, was too quiet, very withdrawn, and speaking only when spoken to. He ignored his beloved books and toys, preferring to lie on his bed and gaze out the window and onto the backyard - and the small mound that marked Luli's grave.

Her heart broke every time she looked at her son. Loss was a part of growing up, she knew that, but somehow - this was worse. This seemed - abnormal - but she didn't know why.

Tired and feeling far too old, she slipped out of the car and walked up to the front door. She had two hours until she had to leave for her second job at the diner, and she desperately hoped it could be spent in the bathtub and later with Blair.

As she unlocked the door, she immediately realized that if she hadn't been thinking of her exhaustion and everything wrong with her life, she'd have heard the yelling sooner, would have hurried - but she was inside now....

"You goddamned bastard! Don't you dare run from me or so help me, I'll beat you black and blue!"

She dropped her purse and keys on the floor and ran toward the yelling, her heart seizing when she heard her son's scared, high-pitched voice....

"mommy, mommy, sorry, sorry, sorry...."

She ran to the back of the house, her son's screams ripping through her like a dozen knives. Then the sound of something striking flesh, more screams, more Mickey....

"Don't you hide from me, kid! You get out from under that bed now - or so help me...."

She skidded to a stop in the doorway of Blair's bedroom, took in the sight of Mickey on the floor, broom in hand, swatting it back and forth under the bed to the small whimpers of her son.

"i'll be good, please, i'll be good, didn't mean to spill, don't tell mommy, please...."

She watched almost in slow motion as Mickey reached for her son and just the thought of that hand touching Blair....

"Leave my son alone - now!"

Every ounce of her strength, her sudden and complete hatred of the man trying to hurt her son came out in those words - but it wasn't enough. She attacked him - flew at him with swinging fists that she used to pound at his back - and when he fell, to strike his chest. The broom was beside him and, because her hands hurt and they weren't really doing enough to vent her anger, she picked it up and used it, raining blows with the sweeper end even as he brought his hands up in defense.

Everything was red and she continued to swing but he managed to crawl away and get to his feet. He tried to use his size to intimidate her, but in spite of the weird, anger-filled fugue, she could hear her son's sobs so she held on to it, screamed at him over and over and over again until, actually frightened, he began to back up...then he was in the hall and she continued to swing as she backed him into the foyer - and that's when he began to yell again.

"Goddamn it, Naomi, put that fucking broom down! You're going to kill me!"

Naomi thought that was actually a good idea so she shook her head and continued to swing. She managed to hit more than not but he had no where else to go, he was backed against the wall and she made the mistake of getting too close. Moving fast and, just as she brought the broom down, Mickey grabbed her arms and held her. He started to shake her - to yell at her - and spittle struck her face but the words were worse....

***

Blair crawled out from under the bed, eyes wide as he watched his mommy attack Mickey. She was attacking him, mad at him.

Hand clamped to his mouth, he scooted toward the door and finally got to his feet. They were in the hall now and his mommy was still yelling, still trying to hit Mickey so Blair tiptoed to the door and peeked out. They were moving into the front of the house...so he cautiously followed.

The yelling was so loud now because Mickey was screaming back at his mommy and shaking her...and scared, Blair dropped down next to the table opposite the front door....

***

"You think I don't know the truth? Once you told me how he was conceived, that you didn't even know who the father was, I know you didn't want him. For God's sake, Naomi, you were higher than a kite - it was a fucking orgy! Peace, love and flowers? That's a laugh! You were nothing but a whore who didn't have the guts to get rid of the mistake that was your pregnancy!"

Mickey pushed her away with disdain and, only because she so was stunned at his words, she allowed it, let herself stumble backward.

He lowered his voice now that he had her attention and, in an oddly reasonable voice, said, "He's kept us apart, Naomi. Kept us apart."

She shook her head at that, at something she couldn't believe was coming from the man she thought she loved - had loved. "No, no, no...."

Anger took hold again and, eyes blazing, she raised the broom up. In a cold, hard voice that belied her youth and size, she said, "Get out of my home now or so help me, I'll kill you."

To punctuate her threat, she slung the broom over her shoulder like a baseball bat and stood, legs spread wide, eyes narrowed, mouth firm.

Something about her demeanor, something in her eyes, got through to him. Stunned, he realized that Naomi was serious. She would hurt him because of that brat.

Mickey was nothing if not a practical man and he could wait. Naomi loved him, needed him. She would come crawling back and, because he knew that - he turned and walked out the front door. There was always tomorrow.

***

When the door shut, Blair crawled back to his room, to the tiny space on the other side of the bed where he huddled, shaking, fingers grasping for a warm presence that wasn't there. For Luli.

***

Naomi stared at the open door, still breathing hard as she listened for the sound of Mickey's truck to start up. When it did, she peeked around the curtain on the front door window and watched as he drove off down the street.

Relief flooded her and the broom dropped from her hands. When it hit the floor, she stared at it - and the feeling of relief faded. He'd come back. Tomorrow, probably. But there was no way she'd let him near Blair again.

Blair. Oh, God.

She ran back to his room. "Blair? Honey? Are you okay?"

His voice, so small, answered from the other side of the bed. "mommy?"

She crawled over the bed so she could see over the edge, see her son.

He was curled into a tight ball, blue eyes almost eclipsed by pupils widened in fear. Heart in her throat, she entreated, "Please Blair, come to me? Please? I really need to hold you. Please?"

"but i was bad. so bad. so sorry, sorry, sorry...."

As the sorrys' tumbled out, he started shaking and she knew she had to say something, reassure him somehow.

"You're not bad, sweetie, never. Mickey was the bad one, not you. Please, sweetie? Come up and let me hold you, please?"

Slowly but surely, Blair raised his arms and, with a sigh of relief, she reached over and gently pulled him into her arms. She cradled him against her and lovingly brushed sweat soaked curls back from his flushed face as she crooned soothing nonsensical words. As he started to relax and the shaking subsided, she sat up and rested against his headboard and began to rock him.

"My baby, my baby...it's okay, he's gone, my sweetie. Never, ever again, will he touch you...I promise, Blair. I promise...never again."

Over and over she crooned the words and rocked, and as she rocked, her eyes took in the small arms around her neck, the bruises already forming. As his lids began to droop, she carefully lifted his striped shirt...and saw the welts, raised and ugly.

That's when she started to cry.

She would take Blair and run. Run far. She would pack that very night, they would stop at the diner and the bowling alley for her final checks and then, tomorrow, on the road, she would stop at the first Bank of America she came to, cash them and close her accounts. Mickey would never find them.

Suddenly Blair roused her from the escape plans.

"i spilled chocolate milk. i was bad."

Heart melting, she said softly, "No, honey, that was just an accident. I spill all the time at the bowling alley and the diner. All the time. It's normal. Just accidents."

She rocked, whispered, reassured and prayed the damage of this night would fade like a bad memory for him.

An hour later, Blair was asleep so she laid him back against the pillow and took a few minutes to gently check his body, biting back the moans as all the bruises were revealed. Seeing them, she couldn't help but think back over all the other bruises of the past...and Mickey's many excuses.

Balls. Rough-housing. Tripping. Running. Falls.

But...no, he couldn't have...Mickey wouldn't have...Blair would have told her, wouldn't he? Of course he would. The other bruises were just that; accidents.

Even as she convinced herself of that, as she silently went about the job of packing, of calling the landlord and her two bosses, packing Blair's toys and clothes, she cried.

***

Naomi washed her face - she didn't want her now ex-co-workers to see her with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. It had been almost four hours since Mickey had left but she managed to pack everything that mattered and to get it loaded in the car. Now it was time to move Blair. He was still soundly sleeping - and hopefully he'd remain that way. She didn't think she could face him now, let alone the obvious questions. She carefully lifted him and, wrapped in his blanket, grabbed his pillow and carried him out to the car. She laid him in the backseat, climbed in the front, started the engine, rolled down the driveway and, without a backward glance, drove away.

As planned, she stopped at the bowling alley and diner, grateful that her bosses were good men. Her checks were ready and, though they were sorry to see her go, she could tell they understood that more was going on than she'd shared - so they let her leave without the dozens of questions they clearly wanted to ask.

Checks in her purse, she pointed the car east and drove. She had no intention of stopping until the next day - when the banks opened and she could find a Bank of America.

***

Naomi returned the receiver to its cradle, gathered up her mail and then walked across the street to the building that passed as a bus terminal. She walked inside, up to the counter, purchased one ticket for Mexico City; for the bus leaving tomorrow.

Minutes later, ticket tucked safely in her purse, she headed back to the Mission to pack.

She could have called Cascade, could have called Jim, but she was too afraid.

***

"You think I don't know the truth? Once you told me how he was conceived, that you didn't even know who the father was, I know you didn't want him. For God's sake, Naomi, you were higher than a kite - it was a fucking orgy! Peace, love and flowers? That's a laugh! You were nothing but a whore who didn't have the guts to get rid of the mistake that was your pregnancy!"

Blair struggled awake, the memory of those words ringing in his ears, slicing through him. Dazed, he looked around and realized he was on the couch. Then he thought of Jim and, almost frantic, sat up, praying that Jim wasn't any where around.

The loft was eerily silent. No Jim.

Heaving a sigh of relief, he relaxed, but only marginally. Jim could walk in any minute...no, wait...he'd gone to Leroy's Gym to work out. Blair checked his watch. It had only been an hour since Jim had left. Blair was safe for now. He swiped a hand across his face, not surprised to find his forehead covered with sweat. He didn't miss the fact that his hand was shaking either.

He could still hear the echoes of his mother and Mickey yelling on that last day - the day he'd spilled the chocolate milk. The day Mickey had come after him with a broom and his mother walked in on it.

The day Mickey had yelled the truth about his birth - and the day his mother had failed to deny the words.

Even when she'd been honest and told him she didn't know who his father had been, she'd still managed to make it sound as though she did and that somehow, he was better off not knowing. But the unspoken words had been a lie.

What he wondered now was...why had she kept him?

He got up and walked into the bathroom, stood over the sink, turned on the tap and splashed cold water over his face. As it dripped down, he stared at his reflection.

Bastard.

Okay, he'd always know that, had let it roll off him like water from a duck's back. He'd learned early to joke about it, even to Jim.

No father? No big deal. Don't even know who he was? So what. Lucky, that's what he was, right? Look at Jim and William Ellison. Besides, what would some man have thought of his long haired, earring-wearing son, anyway?

He was the product of... what? A sixties love fest? Free love and free drugs. His mother, only sixteen and a runaway.

Wait...was that even the truth? Had she been a runaway? Did he have family he didn't know about? Okay, sure, he always referred to uncles, but he was the only who knew they weren't really related - any more than his 'cousin' Robert. Although, he was the closet thing to a real family - had almost become his cousin - but as usual, Naomi left another 'almost' husband in the dust, which meant Robert remained a friend and not a real cousin.

He had tons of almost-relatives spread out all over the globe.

He gave a little half smile. Hell, almost-relatives were often better than the real thing.

But he was drifting. He wrenched himself back to the words that had hurt the worse and that he now remembered all too clearly.

Naomi hadn't wanted him.

So what had stopped her from getting an abortion? Naomi Sandburg was definitely not, nor had she ever been, anti-abortion. Had a phantom family refused to allow it and that's why she'd run away? And then, when she finally settled, was the pregnancy - was he - too far along to abort?

Did it fucking matter now? He had, after all, been born.

And he was pretty certain his mother loved him.

Yeah, of course she did.

Mothers always loved their sons.

Okay, Jim had issues regarding his mother - but that was a mystery for another day. And besides, just because she apparently left her two children with their father didn't mean she hadn't loved them. So there.

All right, he was avoiding. Avoidance.

His mother...his mother loved him. She did....

His world tilted, changed...and he was sinking in quicksand.

The ground kept shifting, and he couldn't get a foothold, couldn't save himself.

He could see Jim, wondered where he'd come from, why he wasn't helping him, throwing him a rope...then Jim reached out, but Blair could see his heart wasn't in it.

Okay, this was strange. Blair was wide awake, but he could see the quicksand, could feel it trying to drag him down while Jim just shook his head. Then, through a strange mist, Simon appeared. He moved to stand beside Jim, cigar in his mouth and yes, he was shaking his head too - and talking. Blair strained to hear....

"Jim, listen to me...Sandburg's too much trouble, it's time to cut him loose."

Blair watched as Jim stepped away from the edge of the quicksand.

"Sorrysorrysorry... Sorry, Chief...."

Now his mother was standing where Jim had been and she was saying something too....

"You still love me, don't you?"

But she wasn't holding out her hands, wasn't trying to help him either. Okay, so he'd have to help himself. He glanced around, looking for a branch, for anything that he could use to pull himself to safety - and was shocked to see Mickey a few feet away, face down in the quicksand and slowly sinking. He quickly looked back at his mother and now she was yelling at him.

"It's all because of you!"

Blair had to make it all go away - so he slugged the mirror. It shattered, pieces falling into the sink. He backed away until he came into contact with the towel rack.

Running would be good right now, a long, hard run....

Ignoring his hand, which was bleeding, he stripped down to his shorts and then ran upstairs. Once there, he put on his running shorts and tank top, changed into his running shoes and tied back his hair, all the while ignoring the blood. There wasn't much anyway.

He took the steps fast, ran to the front door and out.

Once outside, he didn't notice of the rain or feel the cold. He hit the sidewalk and turning in the direction of the bay, he started running.

He ran, feet pounding the pavement, arms pumping, rain hitting his face, blurring his vision... but still he ran.

He crossed streets, ran across lawns, parks, parking lots. He hit Bay Shore Drive and turned east, his pace barely slowing, pumping, churning, heart pounding, sweat mingling with the rain. He didn't notice when the rain turned into a downpour, the water coming in hard, slicing sheets. In fact, if anything, he ran harder.

As his run took him along the shore, he cut down to the beach and, when he hit the wet sand, stopped only long enough to kick off his expensive running shoes, a gift from Jim, before continuing his run barefoot. He was running so hard, so brutally, that he kicked up impacted wet sand as he went.

The storm was giving the beach some high waves and the tide was out, leaving tons of debris in its wake. As Blair pounded down the shore, he ignored the branches, twigs and seaweed right up to the moment he went flying when his foot caught on a large piece of driftwood. One minute he was up, the next, he was flat on his face.

He stayed down, hands digging into the sand, and gave a vague thought to how nice it would be if the earth chose this moment to open up and swallow him whole.

It didn't.

He rolled onto his back and, with eyes closed, let the rain pound down on him.

It felt good.

***

Jim trudged up the stairs, gym bag slung over his shoulder. He'd completed a heavy-duty workout, one of the hardest he could remember, but the pain he'd tried to dull was still there, along with the hate and anger. The hate burned especially bright because it was aimed at a dead man and thus was frustrated at the lack of an outlet. The anger - well, it too had no outlet other than the punching bag he'd used so effectively earlier. He'd managed not to see the leather exercise equipment as Naomi, replacing her visage with Goddard's. When he'd left the gym, the bag had been on the floor and Leroy was muttering something about canceling his membership.

Working out, exhausting himself, seemed the only way to successfully hide the feelings he was experiencing. He couldn't allow Blair to see the strength and depth of abhorrence he had for Naomi. It was the last thing Blair needed right now.

Jim was a cop - a good one - and his experience with child abuse victims and the innocent parent - if there was one - told him that somewhere in the back of Naomi's mind, in the deepest recesses, she'd known what had been happening. She'd allowed it to continue, unabated. A fist squeezed his heart as he recognized how much he himself hadn't known about Blair, all the questions he'd never asked.

As Jim unlocked the front door, he let his mind reel back in time, to the bouncy young man he'd met three years ago.

Blair Sandburg, graduate student, Master's Degree, Doctorate in all but Dissertation. The Ever Ready Bunny. Blair Sandburg, eager to accept anything, to teach, to learn, to observe, to be with his new found toy - a Sentinel. Back then, Jim had been under no illusions about their relationship - he had been a toy to Sandburg. A bright, shiny toy, complete with gizmos, levers and all the bells and whistles. But that hadn't stopped Sandburg from taking the toy, and all of its downsides, to heart. To making Jim's life his own. He'd taken every heartbreaking Ellison event and molded them in such a way that Jim could live with them, could move on, get past them.

Jim had always prided himself on the fact that he could pinpoint almost to the second when he'd ceased being a toy to the scientist and had become a human being to the man.

Peru.

In Peru, his Sentinel abilities had finally taken a backseat and Jim had become the center of Blair's universe.

Or at least that was what he'd always believed. He'd been a fool back then.

Jim, the man, had never been a toy to Blair, and Jim, the Sentinel, had been a gift - a hero.

But it had taken years before Jim accepted that; believed that he came first with Sandburg.

And because he'd chosen to believe the worst about Blair, because it eased his conscience about the unfairness of their agreement, it had cost Blair his life, and finally, his reputation.

And in all of that time, those days that stretched to weeks, the weeks into months and the months into years, in all of that time, had there been even a clue to those early years of Blair's? Had there been a crack that Jim should have seen?

Blair Sandburg; master of the tap-dance.

Yeah, Jim understood now. Understood the dancing Blair had spent three years doing. He'd tapped danced his way around his past much the same way Jim had. Okay, Blair had a lot more finesse - but Jim chalked that up to having more to repress.

Standing in the living room, hot, tired and sweaty, Jim asked himself how in the hell had Blair pulled out of what had happened with Mickey? How the hell had he become the incredible man that he was?

Maybe he was selling Naomi short? Maybe she'd lavished far more love on him than Jim thought, and that love had made the difference in spite of all the traveling and the many times she'd left Blair behind.

Or maybe Blair simply had one of those indomitable spirits, the kind that always bounced back, stronger than before.

Jim looked around their home, at the many Blair touches, the color he'd added, the sense of living; of the two lives that now existed within the four walls.

Somehow, and against the odds, both of them had survived their childhood nightmares - had persevered. They had that in common. But Jim had needed Blair's help to truly succeed, of that, there was no doubt. What still amazed Jim was how Blair had learned to give. The adversity in Jim's life had caused him to wall himself up, giving his friendship and loyalty to but a few. But the adversity in Blair's life had caused the opposite. Blair opened himself to everyone - gave them all what they needed.

Of course, that was a damn fine way of keeping people at arms length. Keep them from asking too much, digging too deep.

Maybe they weren't so different after all.

He gazed around their home again - and smiled. Sounded good - their home.

Except that half of the ownership team seemed to be missing.

Blair was gone, but the Volvo wasn't - and it was raining goats and donkeys, as Blair would say. After all, Cascade rain was rarely light enough for the expression, 'cats and dogs' - so naturally Blair had coined his own phrase.

Goats and Donkeys.

So Blair was out in the rain.

Jim dropped the gym bag and started to move through the loft doing a quick recon. The couch was still warm, the afghan tossed aside and telling Jim that Blair had napped. He could smell the faint trace of fear mixed with the sweat, which meant another possible nightmare. The slight scent of copper confused him - it seemed to surround him. But when he did some filtering, it seemed the strongest as he approached the bathroom.

Inside, he found more than he'd would have liked.

The broken mirror and smear of blood chilled him. Blair's clothes were on the floor, which surprised him. There was no hint of a shower taken...so what the hell?

There were a few drops of blood and he knew now they'd lead him upstairs. He ran up and, with a quick scan, noted that Blair's running shoes were gone.

Jesus, he was out running - in the rain. Blair Sandburg voluntarily running in the rain.

Jim hurried back down, grabbed the keys and headed out the door.

***

He should get up if for no other reason than the sand felt...icky. And of course, rain was notoriously wet

Then there was his foot - which hurt like a son of a bitch.

Blair lifted himself up enough to check - and yep, blood. Well yeah. Duh.

Run barefoot and trip on a fucking piece of driftwood and you're probably going to bleed. Now he had both a bloody hand and a foot to match. Damn, he was clever.

He was also in for a ton of "I told you so's" from Jim.

He sat up, pulled his right leg toward him, examined the cut and decided the rain was a good thing. It was doing one hell of a job washing the wound.

With all the enthusiasm of a slug, he got up and immediately realized that he really didn't know where he was. He looked dazedly about him, skimming hair back from his face, and spotted the Armistead Arms. Okay, location now known...and yes, he was a long way from home. He shrugged and started walking. Slowly. Painfully.

***

If there was one thing Jim knew about his partner, soul mate, partner - it was that when he ran for enjoyment - he headed for Ferguson Park. When he ran out of anger, he headed for the business district and when he ran to forget - or because he was hurt - he wanted the ocean.

Jim turned the truck in the direction of the marina.

He drove for several minutes, eyes scanning ahead, ears listening for any clue. When he hit Bay Shore, he slowed down and finally pulled to the curb. He got out, walked over to the rail and gazed down on the beach, looking carefully in both directions. It only took a moment to spot Blair - the one lone figure limping up the beach, head down, long hair dripping.

Jim took to the beach on the run.

***

God, he felt stupid. Stupid and shitty.

One good nights sleep - that was all he asked. One fucking night without nightmares or more memories intruding. One night when Jim wouldn't have to wake up and try to calm him down.

Well, he was certainly tired enough tonight. Oh, yeah. Maybe he'd finally take one of those sleeping pills too. Yep, tonight could be the night - would be the night.

"Hey, sailor, want a lift?"

Blair lifted his head and looked up into the pale blues of his partner. He lifted his left hand in a sorry attempt at a wave and said, "Oh. Hi."

Jim smiled. "That's somewhere in California, I think. Isn't there a commune there?"

As Jim intended, Blair couldn't help the laugh.

"Yeah, you big jerk. Naomi stayed there once. The Ojai Communal Residence. Nice. Hot. Dry."

"Hot and dry, you say? Heaven. Or maybe you hadn't noticed that it's raining?"

"No? Really?"

"Really. Care to get out of it?"

"Well, I've been having a really good time...wet and all...but I think you just talked me into it."

They started to walk and Jim said conversationally, "You're limping."

"Yeah, and I'm sure that sentinel sight of yours noticed the bleeding too. Most people would have to actually look down, but not you."

"Toad."

"Ribbit-ribbit."

Jim stopped, slid his arm around the younger man's waist, pulled him in and, as he gazed at Blair's tired, wet face, said, "Lean on me."

Blair looked up in surprise, then blushed before looking hurriedly back down. "I'm getting kinda heavy, man."

"Never, Chief. Never." He pointed up toward the street. "Truck's parked up on Bay Shore. Keep the foot raised as much as possible, don't want it getting infected."

"Yes, Sir."

"Damn right."

"I just love you big handsome Army boys. You make this sailor's heart go pitty-pat."

"Actually, if we were to get technical - your heart sort of goes thud-de-thump - except when we make love, then it goes 'thud-thud-thud, oh take me take me hard-thump' and so on."

Blair was pretty astute himself and since Jim was on the water side, he smiled sweetly before pushing Jim backward and into the water.

"Oh, look, my big Army boy is all wet."

Jim sat on his butt, waves slapping against his back, hands behind him and planted firmly in the sand. The look he directed Blair's way was, at the very least, threatening. But that didn't stop Blair.

"Thud-thud-thud, oh take me, take me hard-thump? In your dreams, Ellison, in your dreams."

"I could use a hand here, Chief."

"I so don't think so. Up and at 'em, big boy, up and at 'em."

Jim stood and sloshed toward Blair, smiling just as sweetly as Blair had before the push. Blair backed up and held his hands out in supplication. "I'm a wounded man which means that macho 'protect my mate' shit should kick in any second now... right? Right?"

Jim nodded, looking slightly insane. "Oh, yeah, it's kicking in all right - and any minute now, you're going to feel that kick."

"Aw, come on, you love me. Besides, I could really use some polishing."

"As in thud-thud-thud, oh take me, take me hard-thump?"

"Yeah, exactly." Blair smiled winningly, letting one eye rise suggestively.

"You're so bad." Jim stood over Blair, eyes shining.

Blair nodded. "Yeah, I am. So let's go home and polish me up real good."

***

Blair stretched, raising his arms over his head, then brought them back down and gazed over at his sleeping partner. They'd made it back to the loft, wet, cold and looking like something a cat would drag in. Katie must have agreed, because she scooted back, keeping a wide berth. They'd taken a shower together and then Jim had taken care of both Blair's foot and hand, using hydrogen peroxide to clean the wounds before following up with Bactine. He'd bandaged both and then they'd gone upstairs and made love while managing to ignore the puppy, who had climbed onto the bed and curled up in the far corner to watch as her masters played around under the covers.
Blair checked the clock on the nightstand and noted that it was after midnight. A chill had crept into the room and he shivered slightly as he realized he was alone in being wide-awake. Jim and Katie were sound asleep.

He slipped out of bed and padded quietly downstairs and into his old bedroom. He fumbled a bit in his top drawer, but finally connected with the small pill bottle. He pulled it out, popped open the lid, tapped out one pill and placed the bottle back in the drawer. In the kitchen, he got a glass of water and downed the pill before walking over to the balcony doors.

He gazed out through rain smeared windows and waited for the pill to take effect. A blur of lightening cut through the night sky and he slowly put out a hand, touched it to the glass and, for a moment, saw a puppy staring back at him, black nose pressed to the pane, tail wagging.

How many days had she stayed outside, unable to come in, he unable to touch or pet her? Seven? Eight? No, it must have been...more. Much more. She'd been alone in the backyard - and alone when she'd died. And all she'd wanted was to be loved and petted, to have her tummy rubbed - and to love and protect him.

He could picture Luli so clearly now - as if he'd been with her just yesterday.

She shouldn't have died. His fault. She'd been a puppy, harmless, loving, eager to please.

Blair realized he was crying for a puppy - dead for over twenty-five years.

He turned from the windows, walked upstairs, climbed into bed and let the pill do its work.

***

Naomi didn't fly directly to Washington, she stopped off in Oregon first - Portland to be exact. She took a taxi to Aspen Way and had him pull up in front of a lovely two story Victorian house. She asked him to wait, then walked up the brick path to the front door and rang the bell. While she waited, she found herself really wishing she'd called first.

The door opened and a woman of Naomi's age stood there, hair cut short and wispy, sparkling green eyes lighting up at the person on her doorstep. Arms outstretched, she exclaimed happily, "Oh, my Cod. Naomi!"

The petite blonde threw her arms around Naomi, hugging hard and crying. They stood like that for several minutes - just holding on the way old friends - very dear old friends - do when seeing each other for the first time in years.

Finally, Naomi broke the connection and held her friend at arms length.
"Collie, you look wonderful. Married life agrees with you."

"It does indeed. And honey, you look as beautiful as ever - but what the hell are you doing in Portland and why didn't you call? Oh, who cares? It's just so damn good to see you. How long has it been?"

"Too long, far too long. And I didn't think to call. I'm on my way to Cascade to see Blair, but...well, I needed to stop off and pick up a few things you're still holding for us."

Colleen Maguire put her arm around her best friend's waist and led her into the house, nodding. "Blair. Our beautiful baby. How is he?"

Naomi chuckled as she answered, "We do tend to think of him as our baby, don't we? But he's thirty now, Collie. Can you believe it?"

Collie walked them into the living room and offered Naomi a seat on the couch that sat in front of a large stone fireplace. She took the space next to her and immediately entwined their fingers. "Thirty? Already? Now I do feel old." She patted Naomi's knee with her other hand and asked, "So, when's he going to make us grandmothers?"

Naomi grinned. "If I know my son as well as I think I do - there won't be a marriage or grandchildren. Unless they adopt and that won't be easy."

"You mean because he's a cop?"

"Well, that...and the fact that the mother would be a man."

Green eyes reflected sudden confusion as Collie gazed at Naomi like she'd just been inhabited by aliens. "Naomi? Honey? Did you just say... I mean, are you saying that Blair is...you know...gay?"

"Well, he's in love with his partner who happens to be a man and, while I'm not sure if they've done anything about it yet, yes, that would make Blair gay."

"My goodness."

"That expresses it nicely," Naomi agreed, still smiling.

"Okay, I'm not sure which question to ask first so I'll go with being polite. Would you like some tea? Oh, and how long has Blair been gay?"

"That gets both of them out of the way, so to answer you...I'll take some chamomile and I'd say about three years, no, closer to four. And you know that gay is relative term. We all have it in us to cross genders. Haven't we both said a million times that if you're open to life, you can fall in love with anyone? And we both know Blair has always been open to everything."

Shaking her head, Collie said, "Suddenly I don't feel so old anymore. Everything you just said made as much sense today is it did twenty-five years ago. I guess I'm finally politically correct." With that, she got to her feet and started for the kitchen.

Watching her, Naomi nodded. "Yes, we're both very politically correct now. We're actually 'in'. Amazing, isn't it? Baby Boomers, politically correct, liberal, and yet, totally 'in'. Who'd have thought it?"

"Not me, not twenty-five years ago," Collie said from the kitchen.

As Naomi listened to her friend make the tea, she got up and began to wander about the room. It was truly lovely, full of beautiful artwork, lovely sculptures and, on the Baby Grand, a series of exquisitely framed family photographs. She wasn't surprised to find a few of herself and Blair among them. They were, naturally, old photos, but they defined who she and Blair had become after their move to Portland. She picked one of them up and grinned. She could remember the exact moment Collie had snapped it.
It showed her, at twenty-three, sitting cross-legged on a piece of grass and, behind her, Blair, who'd just turned six and had a huge grin on his face. He was resting his chin on her shoulder, arms wrapped around her neck and, dangling from one hand and just barely visible, Deva.

The day - the moment - was crystal clear in her memory.

Spring, Blair's birthday party in the park and he'd just finished opening all his gifts. They were stacked behind them, just out of camera range, all but ignored in favor of Deva for the purpose of the birthday photo. Not that he hadn't loved every gift - and not that he wouldn't play with them all - but nothing back then was as important as Deva. Nothing.

By the time of the party, they'd been in Portland for weeks and Blair still hadn't said one word about Mickey. The birthday party symbolized a kind of milestone for both of them - a return to normalcy for her and Blair.

Naomi fondled the photo, smiling at the grin plastered on Blair's face. How hard she'd fought to bring that grin back - to see innocence in those bright blue eyes once more.

Her eyes clouded over as she remembered those first weeks in Portland....

***

The Past -

It had taken Naomi three days to find the small house. While searching, they'd been staying in a motel; a quaint, cheerful place. She could have settled on an apartment, but to her, now, a house was a must. No apartment for Blair, it had to be a home with a yard, a place where he could play, dig and get dirty, and have the freedom to run, yell, scream; to be a little boy.

The trip itself had been uneventful if having a little boy who didn't speak could be considered uneventful. They'd just crossed the California border into Oregon when he'd awakened. He'd sat up, rubbed his eyes, crawled over the seat and plopped down in the passenger seat. He'd moved stiffly but urgently and once down, had wrapped his jacket around him and scooted himself into the far corner. He didn't seem surprised that they were in the car, that his toys were in the back seat with them, not to mention suitcases.

She'd gazed over at him, waiting for him to say something, anything, but when he just stared out the window, she'd finally asked, "Honey? You okay?"

He'd turned to her and nodded solemnly, then turned back to the window.

"We've left San Francisco and I'm taking us to someplace new. Okay?" Again, he'd just nodded. Eyes shuttered, no discernible expression in them.

For the next three hours - Blair hadn't said a word. Twenty-four hours later, nothing had changed and nothing changed for the next several days as far as Blair talking. He simply didn't.

He didn't speak in the motel, nor during the days spent moving into their new rental home, or unpacking, decorating and getting to know the city. She'd been afraid, had tried everything she could think of to get him to speak. She'd cajoled, pleaded, even threatened, but none of it had worked.
Oh, he behaved beautifully, helped her in the kitchen, put his clothes away, even struggled to make his own bed. He'd helped her dust - but refused to stay in the room when she got the broom. She hadn't blamed him for that - she'd barely been able to touch it herself.

In those first days, she'd look for a job and then, when she'd come home, he'd take her purse, put it on the little hall table, then her coat. She'd watch him try to hang it up but eventually, she'd take the coat hanger, reach up and hang it on the pole.

Blair had done everything right. Everything good. But he didn't talk, didn't cry, and it had nearly killed her. After what seemed an eternity of the silence, she knew she didn't dare take him to his new school, the George Washington Elementary School. They might have taken him away from her. She thought about a child psychologist, but didn't know anyone in Portland, no one who could help her.

Until she'd met Collie.

It had been a bright, sunny Saturday afternoon, six weeks after moving into their new home. She'd decided to take Blair to the park on a picnic, wanting to help him get to know his new neighborhood, maybe make some friends. They found a big tree for their picnic and, after she'd spread out the blanket, she'd taken out the food. Together, they'd eaten peanut butter and banana sandwiches, sliced strawberries and Kiwi, and a soda for her and juice for him. She'd kept up a running stream of conversation, Blair listening to every word, his eyes watching her face, head bobbing up and down in acknowledgment of her words, but adding nothing himself.

Then - out of the blue - a dog yipped.

Blair had whipped his head around, eyes frantically searching as he'd gotten to his feet, looking as if he would bolt. He turned in every direction, mouth moving silently, forming one word: Luli.

Finally, a woman had broken through a stand of trees off to their left, clearly searching for something. Then she'd started yelling, "Cinder, come here girl, come Cinder!"

Blair, hearing the name 'Cinder', had dropped his head and sat back down. After a moment, a small black dog ran toward the woman, yipping happily - but Blair never even looked.

A small girl a year or two older than Blair had run up to the blonde and Naomi had watched the dog leap into the little girl's arms. Then another woman had joined them and she, the little girl and the dog left.

But the blonde had remained.

Naomi had then leaned over to pull Blair onto her lap. As she'd combed her fingers through his soft hair, she'd crooned, "Sorry, baby, sorry." That's when the girl had walked over to them....

"Hi, I'm Colleen. Collie to my friends. Is everything alright?"

Naomi smiled up at her, figured she was about her own age, and nodded. "Everything's fine. My son...we lost...a few weeks ago...his puppy...."

"Oh, dear. Of course. He heard Cinder barking and thought maybe...sure, I understand."

Blair, who'd ducked his head into his mother's chest, now turned to look at the woman. He watched her, a small frown on his face.

She held out her hand and said, "I'm Collie, and you are?"

Naomi waited breathlessly - but Blair just dropped his head on her shoulder and blushed.

"Blair. His name is Blair. And I'm Naomi. Was that your little girl?"

"Gosh, no. I was just helping her find her dog. I was jogging. No kids. No husband. Just me and a fish named Sylvester."

Blair lifted his head again and now regarded Collie with some interest, which brought a smile to her face. He smiled back, shyly, then ducked his head back down.

"How old is he?"

"Five."

"He's wonderful. Cutest kid I've seen ever. By the way, I live over on Spenser Avenue. You?"

"We're practically neighbors. I live on Elm." Naomi indicated the blanket and left-over food. "Please, have a seat. We've got some sandwiches left."

That was Collie needed. She dropped down right next to them, not the least bit shy herself and, after giving Blair a conspiratorial grin, helped herself to the basket and a sandwich. He grinned back.

As she munched, she asked curiously, "Are you the ones who rented that cute little brick jobby?"

Naomi nodded. "I wanted a yard for him."

***

Naomi smiled as she continued to finger the frame. She and Collie had everything in common back then. They'd both been free spirits, young and on their own - and more importantly, Collie had taken to Blair immediately - fallen for him hard.

And he loved her right back almost as quickly.

That day in the park, Naomi had told Collie all about Mickey, their escape and about Blair's silence. And miracle of miracles, Collie had known exactly what to do. She'd recommended a friend, a wonderful woman, Dr. Karen Lewis, who had an office just two miles away....

End part 3 onto--->Part 4