Fatal Flaw
By: Tate

Blair turned his key in the lock and opened the door. Shutting it behind him, he stripped off his backpack and jacket and deposited both on the couch. Another night alone. 'You lived alone a long time before moving here with Jim. A couple of nights isn't going to kill you,' he thought.

Jim was on a series of all night stakeouts somewhere, and he'd assured Sandburg he'd be fine without him. Blair tried to get someone to fill in at the university, but it was midterms and everyone was swamped. He had no choice. He had to administer, proctor, and grade exams. If he'd gone with Jim, he wouldn't get any sleep at all, and he'd be forced to grade papers in the truck in the dark. "No big deal," Jim had said. "It's not like you have to be with me during every case." Ellison promised to keep in touch and to do his best not to zone-out at an inopportune moment. In fact, he'd called the night before and all was well. It shouldn't be much longer now.

The anthropologist removed some exams from his backpack and deposited them on the coffee table. He walked over to the kitchen and put a pot of water on a burner. It would be another long night of grading. He had to have some caffeine to get him thorough it.

Just as he started around the counter, it hit him--searing pain in his left shoulder. He stumbled, gripping the counter with his right hand. At first he thought he was having a heart attack. "God," he moaned, as his knees buckled. Then he heard a voice, distant but discernible, shouting. "Ellison! Ellison's down! Call for backup now!" Shots rang in his head. One, two, three. Sandburg knew something had gone terribly wrong, and their connection had suddenly come to life again. Jim needed him.

He struggled to his feet, still listening to the sounds in his head and trying to make sense of them. Blair turned toward the phone. He had to let Simon know they were in trouble 'Only a few steps, Sandburg, you can do it,' he said to himself. But he couldn't. His strength failed him and he ended up on the floor again. He pressed a hand against his throbbing shoulder, half-expecting to see blood streaming from a wound. He wasn't injured though, but Jim had been. Sandburg took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and control the pain. It felt as though his left side was on fire. "Man, if this is what it feels like to be shot... it sucks," he said through clenched teeth. "Get a grip, Sandburg. Get off the floor and get a grip."

Once again, Blair managed to pull himself up and this time he made it over to the phone. He could barely remember the captain's number.

Thankfully, it started ringing and Simon promptly answered. "Banks."

"It's Blair, sir." He tried his best to keep his voice steady.

"Sandburg, what is it?"

"I think it's Jim, Captain. He--he's hurt. You have to get some backup out to them. They're under fire."

"Blair, where are you? How do you know this?"

"I'm at the loft, and I just know. Simon, please, you have to..." Sandburg barely had the strength to continue. He could feel the phone slipping from his weak grasp. "He needs you to get out there. I'm not kidding around, man."

"Okay, okay. You stay put. You understand?"

"I will. Let me know when you find out anything." The words came in a rush of breath.

"Sure. Sandburg, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Please, just get to Jim."

"Don't worry, I'm on it."

The line went dead and Blair dropped the phone. He felt like all the energy was draining out of him. 'Blood loss,' he surmised. 'Just hold on Jim, help is on the way. Hold on.' Blair turned toward the couch, and, summoning strength born from sheer adrenaline, he stumbled toward it. He didn't make it. Instead he found himself falling into darkness.

****

"Ellison! Ellison's down! Call for back up now!" Buchanon shouted.

Jim wanted to say he was okay, but his teeth were clenched tight against the pain. The force of the shot had left him with his back against the asphalt. He pressed his right hand over the wound in his shoulder. Only his truck stood between him and the gunmen. Two other officers were pinned behind their car a short distance away.

Warmth and wet washed over his hand. The bullet had gone straight through his shoulder and out his back. He could feel the entry and exit wounds clearly, thanks to his sentinel abilities. He visualized a dial, like Sandburg had taught him, and turned it lower, but for whatever reason, the pain wasn't responding. He could feel each nerve ending screaming along the path of the bullet. He wished the kid were with him now. He'd know what to do.

Their suspects were still firing. Bullets impacted the two surveillance vehicles. No one had managed to get to a radio, and Jim's cell phone was in the truck. "Dammit," Ellison muttered.

'Just hold on Jim. Help is on the way. Hold on.' It was Sandburg's voice threading through his brain.

"What?" Ellison couldn't believe it was happening again. For long time, the voice that had invaded his head was silent. He'd thought he had just imagined it.

But then, his fear was confirmed. 'It's me, Blair.'

'This can't be happening again,' Jim thought. "I know it's you. Don't do this, Chief. I'm okay," Ellison whispered.

'No you're not. I feel your pain. I can help you.'

"You're beginning to sound like the President," Jim quipped. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, now he had Sandburg to worry about. "Get back in your own head, Sandburg! That's an order."

'Uh, I don't think I have a choice.'

Shots continued to ring out. Then, Ellison heard a muffled shout. Turning his head, he watched in horror as Officer Schultz went down leaving only Buchanon to keep the suspects at bay. He had to do something. The young officer couldn't handle this alone.

Jim released his shoulder and turned on his side, wincing at the incredible pain the movement caused. He heard an answering gasp in his head. "Sorry, Chief." With one, bloodstained hand, he pushed himself off the pavement. When he was sitting up, panting from the effort, he reached for his discarded gun. He was weakening.

'Let me help you, Jim. I think I can help you get out of this.'

"Shut up, Sandburg and mind your own store," he snapped, then more softly, he asked, "Are you breathing, Chief? Please tell me you're breathing."

'I'm breathing.'

"Good. Now just concentrate on that." Jim got to his knees and finally his feet. Crouching close to the ground, he made his way to the truck, using it as a shield. His movement didn't go unnoticed.

"Ellison!" Buchanon's voice covered the distance between them. "I thought you were--"

"Just stay where you are. How's Schultz?"

"He's hurt pretty bad." The younger man's voice shook, and Ellison could hear his heart racing, while the heart of the downed officer sounded dangerously slow.

"Help is on the way," Ellison assured Buchanon. And it was thanks to Sandburg. "What's the situation?" Ellison motioned toward their assailants with his weapon.

"I got one of them, but the other is still shooting from behind the Dodge in the driveway."

Jim leaned against the truck for support. Blood loss and pain made him disoriented. He couldn't fade now. Buchanon was depending on him.

'I know how you're feeling, Jim. Please, stop being so stubborn and let me help you.'

"How?" Jim mouthed.

'Give me your pain, and I'll lend you my strength. It can work. I'm sure of it. We just have to trust the connection between us.'

Jim had a hard time trusting a bond that had almost killed Sandburg at the Wilkinson Tower a few months ago. Then, Sandburg had come to him to keep him from dropping Rachins, an extortionist, out a 37th story window. Jim thought he had just killed Blair by detonating a bomb he'd put in an elevator. He didn't know his quick-thinking partner had just saved himself and three other people by cutting a hole in the floor and dropping the bomb into the shaft.

Sandburg mysteriously appeared in Jim's mind, leaving his own body and ceasing to breathe. He convinced Jim to release Rachins, and in the process, almost died. This could very well be a repeat of that incident.

Blair interrupted his thoughts. 'I've been trying to prepare myself for something like this with meditation and breathing exercises. I can do this, Jim.'

"I don't like it," Ellison admitted.

'It's just a sensation, man. It won't be like I've really been shot. You're the one in danger here.'

As if in response to Blair's comment, bullets began sounding again, and there was still no sign of backup. Buchanon needed help, but Jim was in no condition to provide it. He had no choice. "Okay, Chief. Now what?" Ellison whispered.

'Just listen to my voice, Jim.' Blair sounded as sure of himself as ever. 'Let the pain leave you. Send it toward my voice. I'll do the rest.'

Ellison closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and, as he exhaled, he felt the pain slowly but steadily seep away. In the space of a few more breaths, he felt a burst of energy, much like an adrenaline rush. It would have to be enough. Opening his eyes, he pulled himself up against the truck. He leveled his gun over the hood and waited.

****

Blair moaned. He shifted on the floor as the pain hit him. This was a hundred times worse than what he'd felt before. He'd have fallen if he had been standing. The force of it brought him fully awake. Staring up at the ceiling, he willed himself not to cry out. He brought one hand up to his face and clamped it over his mouth. Surely Jim would hear him if he did. It would ruin everything.

His breath came in gasps that seeped through his fingers. 'I can do this. I have to do this. God, it hurts.' He hoped Jim couldn't read his thoughts when he wasn't consciously sending them. But somehow, he didn't think so. As a Guide, it was his charge to keep Jim safe so he could defend others. It wouldn't make sense for Jim to be able to read Blair's mind. After a minute or more, Sandburg decided he couldn't, because if he had, the pain would have vanished. He knew Jim well enough to believe that.

Sandburg closed his eyes and visualized the thread that carried Jim's pain to him and, along the same path, he sent what he hoped was the strength to keep the detective on his feet. Jim had to be able to protect himself and the other officers from the gunmen until help came. Blair hoped for all their sakes, it would come soon.

****

Ellison was ready when the suspect inched around the Dodge to fire at them. Before the man could get a shot off, Jim used his enhanced sight to target him and fired. The gunman went down, and the gun went flying.

"Great shooting, Ellison!" Buchanon exclaimed, straightening.

"Buchanon, wait!" Jim shouted, but another shot rang out. Before his eyes, the young man took the bullet in the chest and fell beside Shultz. "No!" Ellison screamed. He turned toward the source and pulled the trigger, but the third, and unaccounted for, suspect had already taken cover.

Jim slid behind the truck and called for the injured man. He received no response, but he could still hear two heartbeats. They were both still alive, but they wouldn't be for long if Jim couldn't hold the gunman off. Another thought came to him that disturbed him even more. There had been no sound or reaction from Blair. Jim tried to contact his partner. "Sandburg? Are you with me?"

Silence.

"Sandburg! Answer me!"

After another tense moment, the reply came, sounding as though it had to be carried across a great distance. 'I'm here.'

Jim sighed. "How are you doing, Chief?"

'Watch out for yourself, man. Don't worry about...'

Sirens drowned out Sandburg's reply. Their still distant scream was a welcome nuisance to Jim's sensitive hearing. They were still far away though. In Jim's estimation, it would be another few minutes before help arrived on the scene. That was long enough for the remaining gunman to take control of the situation if Jim didn't do so first.

Jim resumed his position, ready to fire once the suspect appeared. 'He must be reloading,' he thought. Just then, a shot rang out. The bullet whizzed by his right ear. His keen senses registered the near miss with terrifying clarity. He dove behind the truck. The bullet hadn't been fired from behind the Dodge. It had come from much closer. But where?

Jim focused on his hearing, eliminating each familiar sound like Blair had taught him. Once he had done so, he listened for the sound that would reveal the gunman's whereabouts. Jim heard agitated breathing, and the click of a gun hammer being drawn back. It came from behind a wooden fence surrounding the backyard. From this angle, a lucky shot could have taken Jim out, even hidden behind the truck.

Now that Jim knew where he was, though, the man wouldn't have the opportunity to get lucky. A brief glimpse of clothing between the boards caught Jim's attention, and drove him to action. He aimed and fired, knowing immediately he had found his mark. They were all down, and his fellow officers were safe.

Jim sighed and let himself drop to his knees. He leaned his back against the truck. As he closed his eyes, he listened for the sounds of life around him. Both Shultz and Buchanon were still with him. Then he reached inward for his Guide.

****

Blair rolled onto his side on the hard floor of the loft. His vision was blurred by silent tears, and all his other senses numbed by pain. It was all consuming now. In his mind, Blair believed it was the only sensation he'd ever felt. Nothing existed before this, and nothing would after. Pain was all he had known and all he would take with him to the grave. The tenuous thread the bound him to his Sentinel no longer mattered. The voice screaming across it spoke a language he couldn't understand. Blair's language was made exclusively of sensation, and it was screaming blood-red pain.

After what seemed like a lifetime in hell, Blair closed his eyes and fell into a dark hole. Without the strength to climb back out, he knew it could be where he spent his last moments on earth. He didn't hear the police shouting at the door, or the sound of them breaking into the loft.

****

'Sandburg, let it go!' Jim screamed in his mind as he watched the police cars approach. 'Do you hear me, Blair? Answer me!' The link was still intact but remained deathly silent.

Unaware of Simon's approach, Jim was startled by his touch. The captain knelt in front of him. With concerned mirrored in his eyes, he spoke. "Jim, you did good. The ambulances are on their way. You just need to stay with me."

"Simon, you have to get to Sandburg," Jim said in a strained voice. His own wound, though serious, was the last thing on his mind.

"He told me you were in trouble, Jim. He knew something was going down."

"It happened again, Captain." Jim's voice was full of regret. "He came to me and gave me the strength to keep going."

Simon nodded. "When I couldn't reach him by phone, I sent a car to the loft to check on him. They should be there now."

"God, I should never have let him do this. I should never have..." Jim lost consciousness.

****

In his mind, Ellison drifted back several months to the day Naomi Sandburg entrusted her son's life to him. They had only just met. She had spent time with the two of them and had even helped with a case. The day she left, she said her farewells in the loft as the two men departed for different worlds--Jim to the station and Blair to the university.

Ellison thought he'd seen the last of Naomi that day. Instead, she decided to pay him a visit at the station on her way to the airport. When she said she needed to talk to Jim in private, Simon let them use his office. "I want you to know I respect you, Jim," Naomi said. "I usually don't feel that way about police officers, but I do mean it."

"Thank you, I think," Jim replied with a smile.

She returned it. "I have something for you," she said, fumbling through her purse.

Jim waved a hand. "No, please."

Her face became serious. "This is something I need you to have." She pulled a picture from her bag and handed it to Ellison. It was a picture of a child--a little boy no older than five. Jim instantly recognized it as Blair. His huge blue eyes stared out from under a generous mop of hair. He wore a small tie-dyed shirt and shorts, and in his hands he held a peace sign. He stood in a field surrounded by tall grass and flowers.

"Naomi, I can't take this," Jim said trying to hand it back.

"Keep it, Jim. I want you to understand why I've been so difficult lately. You see," she said as her eyes filled, "that is how I see my son. I know you don't have any children, but I think you can understand."

Jim looked at the picture and then back into Naomi's eyes. "I do."

"Good," she said. "I know you'll do your best to protect him from... from whatever." Naomi tried to smile again, but failed. She clasped a hand over her mouth, and the tears spilled over.

"Hey, it's okay." Jim reached a hand out to touch her arm. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Naomi shook her head. She dropped her hand and cleared her throat. "No. I just-I want him to stay safe."

"I'll see to it. I promise."

Naomi placed her hand over Jim's. "I know you'll do your best." She let go and he released her as she made a move to leave. "Take care of yourself, too, Jim." This time, as she turned toward the door, her smile didn't waiver. She walked out of Simon's office, shutting the door behind her. She left Jim standing with a picture of the child who had grown into his partner.

The memory of that meeting was fresh in Ellison mind as he woke in the hospital. His shoulder throbbed, and he felt extremely weak. But worse then his physical distress was the idea he had let both Blair and Naomi down. He hadn't lived up to his job as a "Blessed Protector." He hadn't kept his promise to Naomi.

"Jim?" Simon's voice came from just beside him.

Ellison turned his head toward the sound. "Sandburg?" he asked.

"He's here," the captain admitted. "They're taking good care of him."

Jim knew Simon only had his best interest at heart. He didn't want to worry him, but not knowing would only make it worse. "Tell me, Simon," Jim said, simply. He didn't have the strength to utter more than a few words at a time, but he knew Simon would understand him.

Captain Banks shook his head in frustration. "Now is not the time."

"Tell me."

"He's hanging in there, Ellison. That's all that matters."

'No,' Jim thought, 'that's not all that matters.' Blair was in the hospital because Jim had allowed him to try something they'd never tested. He wondered if the outcome would have been any different had he let Blair test their link and its limits. They would have had time, months, to know what was safe and what wasn't. Had Jim's stubbornness brought them to this point?

Simon's voice broke through his thoughts. "I've contacted his mother. She's on her way here."

That revelation drove Ellison's reserves to the surface. He struggled to sit up. He fought against his weak limbs and the cumbersome tubes taped to his arms. Sandburg must be in dire straits if Simon had called Naomi. Neither of them had even mentioned contacting her when Blair had overdosed on Golden, and that certainly was a close call--one of the closest until now.

"Take it easy." Simon's restraining hands pushed him back against the bed. "Lie back. You've got a lot of healing to do."

"Naomi?" Jim couldn't manage more than a breath tinged with her name.

Simon nodded. "I wasn't sure if I should tell you, but she'll be here in just a couple of hours. I know she's going to want to she how you are doing. I just didn't want it to be such a surprise."

"I've let her down,' Jim thought. 'She trusted me to keep her son safe and I put him in danger, just as if I'd used him as a shield for a sniper's bullet.'

Simon let go of him but remained at his side. "I know what you're thinking. Don't do this to yourself. It's not your fault." When Jim made no effort to reply, he continued, "I'm not sure what happened out there, but I do know you managed to save two officers and yourself, and somehow Sandburg helped you. You can't beat yourself up over this."

'Yes, I can,' Jim said to himself.

"You need to get some rest. I'll be right here with you." Jim heard Captain Banks move to a chair. Without the energy to protest, Jim closed his eyes and slipped into a place between the waking and the dream world--a place where old conversations replayed themselves, and snatches of memory became solid, living things.

"Can you tell me you won't need me like the other day? Can you promise me you'd get to me before... before... I'm not being fair. I'm sorry, Jim."

'You were being fair, and now we're both paying the price, Chief.'

"You almost killed a man, Jim. You almost tossed him out the window, and to save your butt, I had to do a freaky-ass Shirley MacLaine thing."

'I would have done it, if you hadn't come to me. I thought he'd killed you.'

He saw Blair like he'd never seen him on that day. The EMTs leaned over him, frantically trying to save his life in the small confines of the elevator. Jim could see Blair's familiar jacket, his limp hand and the brown of his long hair. He could hear the rush of air being forced into his lungs.

"You were like an anchor. You brought me back." Blair's words echoed in his head. "You brought me back."

Jim startled himself out of sleep. Recognizing his agitation, Simon came to him immediately. "Easy, Jim. Everything's okay."

Ellison met his eyes. "How long?" His own voice sounded raspy and unfamiliar.

"Almost a whole day. I've been here as much as I can."

"Thanks." Jim searched Simon's eyes before he spoke again. "Sandburg?"

"He's a strong kid. The doctors are hopeful."

Jim sensed a slight increase in Simon's heartbeat. He was lying, but Jim didn't challenge him. It was enough to know the truth. "Naomi?"

"She's with him now. She's barely left his side since she got here yesterday. He's in good hands, Jim."

****

Naomi Sandburg kept a vigil beside her son's bed. The chair beneath her was hard, but she didn't notice. For hours now, all her attention and energy had been focused solely on the still form in front of her. She held one of his hands in her own and brushed through his long hair with the other. For a long time, she had talked to him, but now she was silent with her thoughts.

The rhythmic sound of the respirator constantly reminded her of the seriousness of Blair's condition. He wasn't able to breath on his own, and without it he'd surely die. The heart monitor beeped loudly, reminding her she hadn't lost him yet. The doctors said he was in a coma and they said he could wake tomorrow, or he might never wake. As his mother, she knew she had a decision to make, and it would be the most difficult decision of her life.

Naomi Sandburg cherished the natural cycle of life, and her convictions were her strength. She'd shared these ideas with her son, and to her great pride, he'd made them a part of his on belief system. Now these beliefs, these truths they held so dear could cost them both everything.

He had asked her to witness a living will. He was only eighteen at the time, and she'd proud he'd thought of this all on his own. She obliged, happy he shared her views. She never imagined something like this would happen to him.

Blair was her life and, though they'd spent much time apart, she always sensed his presence. Every night, she would sing a song she used to use to get him to sleep. She thought somehow he could hear her, and her love would reach across the miles to reassure him he wasn't alone. She sometimes dreamed of the way his smile lit his bright blue eyes, or she'd hear the innocent peal of his child-like voice.

What would she do when he was gone? Would it be her curse to outlive her only child? If she didn't do this, could he forgive her? She could be condemning him to a world between life and death, a terrifying and empty place. But how could she let him go if even the smallest chance existed?

"Blair," she whispered. "I know you can hear me, and I know what you want me to do, but I can't. I'm your mother, sweetie. I can't give up hope." The word caught in her throat, as tears threatened. "What would I do without you? You have to give me some time. I can't do this. I can't let you go." She bowed her head and sobbed against his shoulder.

****

Jim slipped in and out of consciousness for the better part of two days. On the third morning, he woke slowly to the smell of sage... Naomi. He opened his eyes and found her next to him. Her arms were folded on the bed, almost touching him, and she rested her forehead on them. Her reddish hair glinted in the early morning sun filtering through the window. She was too close to touch, so Jim called her name.

She raised her head slowly. Jim thought she'd been sleeping, but her eyes shined with newly shed tears. Her face was lined with sorrow and exhaustion. "Jim," she whispered, wiping her eyes and straightening.

"Naomi, I..." Jim began, but his voice faltered. What could he say? Naomi, I'm sorry I failed him. Or maybe, Naomi, I risked his life to save my own? Both were true, but neither could even come close to expressing how he had betrayed his Guide--his closest friend.

Naomi could hear the tension in his voice and see it in his clenched jaw. She reached out and placed a finger on his lips. "Shh, Jim. It's okay."

"Blair?"

Her bottom lip trembled. Though she tried to hide the emotion in her voice, it came through like a cold wind. "Jim, we have to talk about Blair. I don't--I don't know what to say--how to say this..."

It was all Ellison needed to hear. Blair was dead. He immediately tuned out Naomi's voice and his entire surroundings. He could no longer hear, see, feel, taste, or smell. His senses shut him off like a short circuit in a house turned off the electricity. The current ceased to flow in Jim Ellison's brain. Here was the dark space he'd imagined before. He knew it would eventually consume his entire soul.

But suddenly, the darkness took on dramatic life. It filled itself with familiar voices and remembered scenes. It filled itself with memories.

Jim remembered Sandburg's look of dejection when Jim lied and told him some young teacher assistant had just referred to him as a dork. He saw Blair come up to him after a helicopter ride with some thugs who had taken over the station and ask if all his days were like that one. He saw Blair's brow knit with concentration as he tried to solve yet another one of Jim's Sentinel dilemmas. He heard Blair laugh. He saw the young man sitting beside him in the truck. He heard his heartbeat as he did almost every morning for two years. Sandburg had become so much a part of his life he could hardly imagine it without him.

But now he was gone, and the stone that had lodged in Jim's heart when he knew their connection could cause Blair harm, would grow until he was a solid mass of despair. Now all he had were the memories.

"Simon! Simon!" Naomi's cries reached into the hallway and brought the captain in immediately.

"What is it?" he began, but one look at Jim answered his question.

Jim blue eyes stared straight up at the ceiling, dancing back and forth as if he were witness to some vision they couldn't see. His breath came in rapid, jagged heaves.

"I don't know what happened," Naomi admitted. "We were talking and then this."

Simon leaned over Jim, grasped his arm tightly and called his name, but there seemed to be no breaking the spell he was under. He wondered if this could be a zone-out, but if so, what was Ellison zoning in on? "What were you talking about?"

"He asked about Blair and I told him we needed to talk." A sudden realization transformed Naomi's face, which was as expressive as her son's. "Oh, you don't think... he might've thought... oh." Her hand came up to her mouth.

"Thought Blair is dead?" Simon completed the sentence she couldn't. "If so..." The captain leaned over Jim and held his face in both hands, trying to capture his attention. "Jim, listen to me. Listen to my voice, Ellison. Sandburg is alive. He's not dead, Jim. Do you hear me? He's not dead."

Like a voice from another room, someone was shouting at him. He couldn't quite make out all the words, as they floated above scene after scene from the past. Weren't people who had near death experiences supposed to experience a life review? If so, why, upon hearing of his partner's death was he experiencing this review? Was it some kind of self-torture, or now that Blair was gone, did he feel the need to relive his Guide's life through the moments they had shared.

And the voice. It kept repeating the same words. They became more distinct every time. Louder and clearer, they rang above the gold-shaded memory of Blair struggling with his own demons in the station's parking garage. Jim had come so close to losing him then.

"Not dead," the voice said. "Jim, he's not dead. Blair's alive."

It had to be some trick, some ploy to bring him back to the present. Here, in this living tapestry woven by his mind he was surrounded by life, but there in the cold hospital lurked the harsh reality of death. But Simon wasn't giving up. "Blair is not dead, Jim. Do you hear me? He's not dead."

As the words grew louder, Jim instinctively reached for some kind of confirmation. Amid the swirling images, he sent a thread outward or inward. He didn't know which, since even his sense of direction had failed him. With this energy, he searched for a sign, any sign that might confirm or deny Simon's words. A response wasn't immediate.

Jim's agitation grew as he encountered only emptiness, and in response, the visions that continued to play became his most unwanted memories--an image of Lash pouring a drug down his helpless partner's throat, the sound of gun fire coming from the floor above where Blair was undercover alone, and finally the sound of the explosion at the Wilkinson tower that had nearly driven Jim mad.

But then, he found what he hadn't dared to hope for. He found a beating heart that wasn't his own. In his exertion, his own heart raced within, but this heart beat slowly, almost carefully as though it counted off precious moments. "Blair?" He must have said the name aloud, because he heard Simon's voice reply to him.

"Yes, Jim. He's alive. Come back to us, Ellison."

But he couldn't, not quite yet. He had to be sure. He needed to know if the beating heart belonged to his partner. Through the thin line connecting them, he sent a plea. 'Chief, it's Jim. Answer me. Answer me, please.'

In reply, he heard only the steady thrum of a heart. It had to belong to Sandburg, but was slower than sleep, and that frightened Jim. It terrified him.

'Blair, please. You said I was your anchor. Let me bring you back.'

Suddenly, the world around Jim spun, and all the images were stripped away like a torn movie screen. Ellison became intimately aware of all his senses again, but this still wasn't the hospital. He stood on a dam, facing the sun and a breeze coming down from the mountains. In front of him, he expected to see the young girl who had fallen to her death during a bad trip on Golden--the young girl who had slipped through his fingers.

Instead, it was Sandburg.

His young Guide stood on the other side of the barrier, a breath away from an endless drop. His back was to Jim. Ellison was afraid to speak or move toward him. Any sudden gesture would likely cause him to fall. He wanted to reach for him so badly it hurt.

Blair must have somehow sensed his presence. He turned slowly, gripping the ledge with both hands. 'Jim.' This time the voice was no memory. Ellison knew this time he'd managed to find his Guide, alive but in mortal danger.

'Chief, I'm here.' Ellison stepped closer to the barrier, but didn't dare put his hand out until he knew Sandburg expected his touch.

'Can you see it?' One of Sandburg's hands left the ledge and gestured behind him at the sky. 'The light... the towers. It looks like a castle.' His voice held the wonder of a child's, but it also sounded pained and desperate. Like the young victim of Golden, Sandburg saw a city in the sky and it called to him.

'Blair, look at me,' Jim pleaded.

The young man turned his face from the castle Jim couldn't see, to meet his eyes. Jim say the weariness etched on his face. He seemed ready to let go. His next words confirmed Jim's fear. 'I can't stay. I can't... I'm sorry.' Blair shook his head. 'Sorry.'

'Chief, please, let me help you. Let me reach for you. I can't let you fall. I won't.'

Blair bowed his head, and his hair fell in front of his face. Brown strands swam in the crisp air. One hand still gripped the ledge tightly. Sandburg's blue eyes glinted as he raised his head, and loosened his grip. 'I just wanted to say... goodbye.'

The last word was a whisper, but to Ellison it sounded like a scream. He rushed forward, just as Sandburg released his hold. He caught Blair's wrist. Their contact sent a current through Jim that struck him like a blow. The pain shot through him as though the bullet were burrowing in his flesh again. Here was the pain Blair had held onto for days now. It knew its true owner, but had battered its host into oblivion. Truly, it was a Sentinel's pain, ten-fold that of a normal man, and never meant to be shared with a Guide.

Ellison didn't let go of the young man, if anything his grip tightened as his own body tensed. The pain left him breathless, but he refused to give into it.

Sandburg hadn't lost his footing, but he wasn't fighting for it either. "Oh... Chief," Jim moaned, "I'm so sorry." Just as he reached out with his other hand to pull Blair toward him, the scene swirled and faded. "No!"

"Jim, it's okay," Simon comforted. "You're with us. It's okay."

Jim looked up at Simon and Naomi. "I had him," Jim said, through clenched teeth. "I was holding onto him. I had him."

****

Blair remained perched on the ledge of the damn. His Sentinel had vanished, taking away his pain, but leaving him without a focus. He felt like an empty shell now. He was tired, all his energy spent.

Slowly, he turned toward the crystal castle in the sky. The spires split the sunlight into a thousand colors that reached for him, just as Jim had. He wanted to let go, but he couldn't. He had to wait for Jim to come back. He needed to tell him this wasn't his fault. The guilt in his eyes had been almost unbearable. Once he told Jim, then he could go. He carefully pulled himself up until he was sitting on the ledge. He thrummed his sneakers against the concrete and waited.

****

Naomi spoke soothingly to Jim; her voice calming him. The pain had returned with a vengeance and nothing the doctors had given him could take it away. But he never should have let it go. What had possessed him to allow his Guide to take what was meant to be his?

Nature shouldn't work that way and, in truth, Ellison believed the bond he and Blair shared should not exist in nature. How could something so deadly have invaded their status quo? They should have been able to continue as they always had, with Sandburg helping Jim learn how to control his senses. This cursed connection hadn't brought them closer together; it had driven them apart. Both of them had lost their temper after the first incident at the Wilkinson tower, and now they were separated by the veil between the living and the bridge to the other side.

"Jim, I'm sorry you thought Blair was gone," Naomi said, capturing his attention again. "I didn't mean for you to think that. I just needed to talk to you." She smiled and patted his arm.

"About what?"

She sighed. "It can wait."

Jim noticed the increase in her heartbeat and respiration. Whatever she had to talk to him about was important, and it had to do with Sandburg. 'Dammit, why can't I bring him back,' Ellison thought. He'd done it before, but something about this was vastly different than before. He wished Blair was with him. His logic and cunning had always managed to decipher the coded language of the most difficult dilemma involving Jim's senses. Of course, this involved more than just a Sentinel. This was about the difference between the life and death of a Guide. Maybe there were clues in Blair's current condition, a condition Simon had refused to reveal. But the captain wasn't here now. "Naomi, please tell me how he is. Simon didn't give me any details. I need to know how Blair is."

Naomi took a deep breath. "I won't lie to you, Jim. He's on life support. They have a machine breathing for him. They say he's in a coma." Her eyes began to water, filling in only seconds. "They don't know exactly what caused it, but they are doing everything they can to help him."

'And it isn't enough,' Jim thought. Once again, he remembered Blair's overdose on Golden. He'd been on a respirator then, and had been taken off it. When Sandburg opened his eyes, Jim's sturdy frame could have melted with relief. But this wasn't the same. This time, he knew Blair teetered on the edge and his will had been destroyed by constant and overwhelming pain. How could he even have managed to speak to Jim without crying out? Ellison couldn't bear to pursue the thought any further.

What Jim needed was to see his partner. Maybe the close proximity could strengthen Jim's ability to reach him and pull him out. He knew the doctor's wouldn't let him leave his bed yet, but he could do this on his own. When Naomi left, he'd just get up and find his Guide using his senses. He'd have to fight the physical pain that still came in blinding waves, but the physical pain would be nothing compared to what would happen to him if Blair died.

****

Much later, Naomi announced she was going back to the loft to take a shower and change. Simon had given her the keys and pleaded with her to get some rest. She wouldn't hear of it then, and wouldn't now. She just needed a short break, and she'd return.

'Probably smelling more strongly of sage,' Jim thought.

After she left, and he was sure the hallway outside his room was clear. Ellison carefully pulled the needle from his arm. The painkillers it had been delivering were useless anyway. He was able to get out of bed and stand on shaky legs. The pain was worse now that he was moving around, but he was determined. There was no going back.

Knowing Blair was likely under constant supervision, and that they'd send him right back to bed if they thought he was a patient, he found his clothes and dressed. He covered the bloodstains on his shirt with his leather jacket. It had a hole in it and was itself darkened by his blood; it was black and concealed its and his injury well.

Finally, making his way to the door, he checked again for signs of activity, but heard none. This was his chance. He quietly opened the door and stepped through.

The hospital was a maze of corridors, but he stopped to use his senses every few feet. Strangely, this act of focusing on his abilities drove the pain to the background. Without it screaming at him, it wasn't long before he heard it--the same heartbeat he'd heard before, beating in a slow but steady rhythm.

He approached the Intensive Care wing and flashed his badge at the nurse on duty when she told him visiting hours were over. "He's my partner," Jim explained. "I couldn't get away from the station before now. Please, I need to see him."

The woman took a good look at Ellison. "Are you okay, Detective?"

"Fine. A suspect managed to bleed all over me." Jim hoped she would buy it, and she did after he added a smile.

"Go right ahead, sir," she motioned toward the glass door.

Jim walked through the door and into Sandburg's room. His friend lay, looking very small, surrounded by machines. The respirator hissed and the heart monitor beeped.

Jim could even hear the drip of the IV as it passed into the tube.

Slowly, he made his way over to the bed. He reached for Blair's arm. For a moment, he hesitated, wondering if the physical contact could somehow return his own pain to his

Sandburg again. But it couldn't happen, he had to release it and send it, and he would never, as long as he lived, do that again.

He touched Blair's arm and no current passed between them. Jim sat down in what he supposed had been Naomi's chair, and spoke softly. "I'm sorry, Chief. This never should have happened. If you come back, I promise I'll never let it happen again. I'll... we'll find a way to break this connection and free you of this... this obligation. You will never risk yourself for me again, even if it means..." Jim paused. 'What? Even if it means what, Ellison.' How far would he go to insure Blair's safety? What could he possibly do, short of totally disassociating himself with his Guide? Jim sighed and closed his eyes. 'This is useless. He doesn't even know I'm here.' He lingered in a place far away from Jim's promises. Or so, he thought.

****

Sandburg turned to face the solid ground behind him. From somewhere in that direction, he'd heard a voice. Jim's voice. He could only make out disconnected phrases, as though Jim were calling him on a bad line. "... sorry, Chief... break this connection... free you...obligation... risk yourself for me ever again... even if it means..." Then, the voice faded.

'Even if it means what?' Sandburg wondered. No, this couldn't happen. He wouldn't let Jim take all the blame. He'd suggested they try this. He goaded Jim into it.

Blair swung his legs over the barrier and dropped to the asphalt. He walked across the road toward the direction of the voice, but just before he stepped onto the shoulder, the vista before him changed. The landscape became and endless sea of black. A void. Jim was somewhere on the other side of the darkness, and Blair would have to go through it to get to him, to tell him it wasn't his fault.

But he could get lost in the void and never find his way to Jim, or back to this place. He could be trapped there, alone.

****

"Jim?"

Ellison started at the sound of his name. He groaned as his shoulder protested. As he turned to face the sound, he released Blair, and placed his right hand against his injury.

Naomi Sandburg stood beside him, a look of concern on her face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I had to see him," he replied simply.

"You should be back in your room. I'll get someone to help us get you there."

Jim reached for Naomi and caught her arm before she could move away. Again, he aggravated his fresh wound and in protest, it sent a jolt of pain through his system. "Please, don't," he muttered. "I can't leave him."

"There's nothing you can do for him, but take care of yourself now." The courage in her voice touched him. She was his mother, and yet she felt the need to care for Jim as well.

"Naomi, you don't understand." Ellison began.

She advanced toward the detective, kneeling beside the chair. "But I think I do, Jim. You feel responsible, because you weren't there for him. I know and so do I, but you can't continue to beat yourself up about it. He needs us to be strong. He..." she bowed her head, and looked away. "He needs us to do the right thing." She looked up with fresh tears in her eyes.

Jim's brow creased. "What do you mean?" he asked, but as the question left his mouth, understanding dawned like a black sun. He wanted to scream, but couldn't find the air enough to fill his lungs.

Naomi seemed too emotional to answer; instead she fumbled in her purse and withdrew a document. With shaking hands, she unfolded it and handed it to Ellison. He held a written, signed, and witnessed copy of Blair's wishes not to linger should something like this happen. A living will. A piece of printed paper crushed all of Jim Ellison's hopes.

He knew he had no right to protest, but he didn't want to let Blair go. Maybe there was still time. "Wh-when?" he asked, softly.

Naomi's reply was equally hushed. "In the morning."

****

Blair listened at the edge of darkness, and from somewhere on the other side, he heard his mother. He shouted for her, but she couldn't hear him and didn't reply. She was so close, and yet far enough away to be unreachable. He felt like a child lost in a bad dream, like a little boy who screamed for his mother in the night, but she couldn't hear him because it was just a dream.

He sat down hard on the pavement and put his face in his hands. And the voice traveled to him from across the dark ocean. "In the morning," she said. He looked up and into the darkness. He had no concept of time here, and it was always light. But out there, it was always dark. He knew he had to go through the darkness to reach the next morning.

****

Jim believed he had no right to protest Naomi's decision. She was his mother, and she thought she was doing the right thing. Blair thought he was doing the right thing by signing the paper in the first place. But those truths didn't make the situation any easier to bear.

Jim leaned forward and hid his face in one hand. This would be it, then. He would keep a vigil with Naomi ending with the morning light and his partner's death. No, he couldn't allow that to happen, and since he couldn't ask her not to remove Blair from life support, he had to try everything in his power to bring his friend out of the coma himself. This night, these last few hours, were all he had to bring Blair back.

"Jim..." Naomi began.

"Don't even think of asking me to leave." He sounded harsher than he intended, but this could be the difference between life and death. He needed to be close.

She shook her head. "You have every right to be here." Naomi touched his face. "I wish you had been his father," she said and, before Jim could respond, she added, "I know you're too young, but he couldn't have asked for a better father figure than you, Jim."

Ellison's breath caught in his throat. Truly, he felt as though he were losing someone in his family, a younger brother, or even as Naomi had suggested, a son. Though he was only about twelve years older than Sandburg, the difference made them a generation apart. He always referred to his partner as a kid. He always felt he needed to protect him. Now he had to summon the strength to reach him and save him.

****

"... he couldn't have asked for a better father than you, Jim." Naomi's words drifted across the void. Sandburg looked up at the darkness and smiled. He'd never really had a father figure before Jim. As a child, his mother's boyfriends would just pass in and out of his life without providing much stability or guidance, and though he was supposed to be Jim's Guide, Ellison had taught him more than just a thing or two.

Blair had always refrained from thinking of Jim as a father figure since he was much too young to be his real father, but now, in this far off place that fact really didn't matter.

The two people he needed most, and the two people who most needed him were his mother and Jim Ellison. Both waited for him on the other side of this void, and the only way to reach them would be to cross it.

Sandburg stood and brushed off his jacket. He looked back at the crystal towers and bright colors, trying to memorize their beauty, but knowing like a dream, the image would fade when he took his first step into the darkness. Turning his face back to the void, he brushed his hair back. "Okay," he muttered to no one. "I'm ready." Placing both hands in front of him, he took a step forward.

The earth fell away beneath Blair's feet, and the darkness like a living thing, reached for him and drew him close. It stifled him. It suffocated him. He couldn't breathe.

****

Jim knew he should reply to Naomi, but he was at a loss for words. Before he could think of what to say to her, he felt a sudden wave of dizziness overtake him, and for a moment everything went black. When he came to his senses, he reached for his partner's arm.

"Something's happening," Jim announced. "Naomi." When he said her name, he met her eyes and saw his own fear mirrored there.

"Jim, what? What do you mean?"

"I don't know, but..." Before he could continue, he felt an overwhelming sense of fear flood through him. He knew it was coming from the connection he shared with Blair. In his mind, he tried to calm his Guide. 'It's okay, Chief. I'm here. Listen to my voice. Relax. Everything is going to be okay.'

'But I can't find you!'

The terrified cry almost shattered Jim's composure, but he managed to stay in control. He had to. 'Just calm down, Blair. Look for the connection, and reach for me.'

'It's dark.'

Blair sounded so much like a lost child, and at that moment, Jim couldn't have felt any more like his father. 'I know it is, but you can do this. Remember how you're always helping me? Let me help you. Let me led you back.'

Silence.

'Sandburg?'

Nothing.

'Please, Blair!'

"Jim! Jim!" Naomi shouted his name and shook him out of the void.

He wanted to scream at her, to tell her he was trying to help her son, but he heard a sound that diverted his attention to Sandburg's physical body.

Blair had started coughing, almost gagging at the tube in his throat. His eyes fluttered, but didn't open. The heart monitor began to sound off faster.

"Please, Naomi, get the nurse!" Jim urged. He would have done it himself, but she was more mobile than he.

She rushed out of the room. Ellison leaned forward and put his hand on Blair's forehead. This time he spoke aloud. "It's okay, easy. You're going to be fine. You're going to be fine, partner."

Naomi returned with a nurse. She noted Blair's condition and rang for a doctor. "Shouldn't you do something now?" Jim asked, as calmly as he could.

"He needs to come off the respirator, but only a physician can shut it off," she explained.

"Can't he choke on it?"

She shook her head. "No, he's just reacting to it. Don't worry."

Her words did nothing to assuage their fears. Both Jim and Naomi spoke soothing words to Blair, though he was still unconscious, until the doctor arrived. He confirmed the nurses' assessment and shut off the respirator, gently removing the tube from Blair's mouth.

Blair's first few breaths seemed unsteady and labored. Naomi stroked his hair and whispered to him. "It's okay, baby. Just breathe easy. You can do it."

Jim stood right behind her and spoke across their shared connection. "Chief, listen to your mother. Just be calm and let your body take over.'

Soon, Blair's respiration had returned to a normal level. The doctor assured them this was a good sign, and that Blair would continue to be monitored around the clock for other changes. He was about to leave, when Jim asked, "When can we expect him to wake up?"

"I wish I could say," he replied. "It could be any time now, or we could still be in for a wait."

Jim nodded, and the doctor turned to go. He and Naomi settled in two chairs beside the bed, prepared to wait together. "Jim, you knew he was starting to breathe on his own before he did. How?"

Ellison knew a truthful answer to her question would reveal Jim's sentinel abilities and Blair's real reason for becoming a police observer. It would also bring to light the dangerous psychic connection between Sentinel and Guide which Jim desperately wanted to deny. Besides, it was a conversation the three of them should have together. Naomi had to know eventually, but Jim didn't think now was the time. "I just knew. I don't know how to explain it."

Naomi nodded. With her new age mentality, she had very little difficulty believing in strange occurrences. "It could be because you are around each other so much, at work and at home you just picked up on it."

"Yeah, that must be it."

A long and peaceful silence ensued. Jim could hear his partner's steady intake of breath, as well as Naomi's own breathing and heartbeat. He used the quiet rhythmic sounds as a focus, and reached through the connection for Blair again.

'Hey, Chief, are you with me?'

No answer.

'Chief?'

'Jim?'

Jim sighed. 'Yeah, partner, it's me. How are you feeling?'

'Tired.'

'I bet. Good job, though. You're doing just fine.'

'I want...' Blair's voice trailed, and Jim could sense the young man's growing frustration.

'Just rest. Naomi and I are here with you. Just rest.'

Silence.

****

The morning light filtered through the window of Blair Sandburg's room. Both Naomi and Jim hadn't slept all night, and though Naomi had threatened more than once to tell the duty nurse Jim needed to be escorted back to bed, she never found the heart to reveal his secret. Together, they had passed the time talking to each other and to Blair.

The long vigil came to an end when the center of their attention opened his eyes. Blue irises focused on the two of them sitting beside the bed. Naomi leaned forward and kissed Blair on the cheek, smoothing his hair.

Jim squeezed his arm and smiled. "Hey, Chief."

Blair had made it through the dark ocean of emptiness, and found his way back. But the journey had left his body weary and his throat parched. He could barely summon the strength for a one-word reply. "Hey," he whispered. In the silence of the space between worlds, Blair had thought of what he could say to make Jim realize none of what had happened had been his fault, but now, though he desperately wanted to, he couldn't speak any of them.

He could see the drying blood on Jim's leather jacket. If Jim hadn't agreed to let Blair help him, he might not have survived the shoot out. Blair had no regrets, but he knew Jim did. He remembered what Jim had said about not letting this happen again. The words "even if," rang in his head along with a number of countless endings to the phrase. Each chilled him. No, he wouldn't let Jim push him away. Especially not now. He needed his strength back soon, because he was sure he was in for one hell of a fight.

Blair closed his eyes, and let sleep take him to a warm and comforting place full of light and dreams.

Once Jim knew Sandburg was on his way to a full recovery, he allowed Naomi to call a nurse to help him back to his room. "I'm glad you could stay with me--with us, Jim," Naomi said, when the woman entered.

"Me too." Jim stood, stiff from the long night, but in less pain than he expected. With a final glance at Naomi's smiling face and at Blair sleeping peacefully, Jim walked out with the nurse.

****

Two days later, Jim and Blair were both given permission to leave the hospital. Captain Banks arrived that morning to give them a ride to the loft, insisting they take some time off to recuperate. Naomi offered to stay with them until they could get around enough to care for themselves.

When they arrived at the loft, Captain Banks made sure they were settled, and then left for the station. Naomi fussed over them for a while, making them comfortable in the living room. Once she was sure they'd be okay on their own for a few minutes, she asked Blair for his car keys so she could go and pick up a few things at the grocery store.

As the door closed behind her, Blair breathed a sigh of relief and rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, man, she's just trying to help."

"I know," Jim replied with a smile. "She loves you very much, Blair."

"Yeah." Blair returned the smile. "I'm lucky."

Jim glanced down at his sling, and then looked back at his friend. "We need to talk, Sandburg."

'Oh, no. This is it,' Blair thought. "Look, Jim, I know what you're going to say and you're wrong."

"Wait a minute. I don't think you do know." Jim's tone was stern, but not quite angry. "Blair, what happened to you... I can't let this happen again. I won't."

"I'm fine," Blair protested. As if to punctuate his statement, he stood and walked over to the kitchen and out of the conversation. "You want something to drink?"

"No," Jim answered, unable to hide the growing annoyance in his voice. "Sandburg, don't run away from this. Not again."

Blair turned, placing his hand on the counter for support, as he launched into an argument. "Dammit! It wasn't your fault, Jim! None of this was your fault."

Jim tossed aside the blanket Naomi had placed on him and stood. "Easy, don't get worked up. I just think we need to discuss this." Standing beside the dining table, Jim pulled a chair out and nodded at it. "Come on, Chief. Let's just talk about this. We're both adults here, aren't we?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean!" Blair stared at Jim with a look of betrayal in his eyes. "You are not my father, man. I am not a kid you can push around."

Jim shook his head and shot Blair a confused look. "Whoa, time out." Jim held up his sling, and made the signal with his other hand to punctuate his words. "What was that all about? I just want to discuss this."

Blair leaned more heavily on the counter, refusing to approach the table. "By discussing, you mean you're going to tell me what we're going to do. You have no intention of listening to me, Jim. You never do."

Jim had no idea where this was coming from, but he felt the need to dispel what was an obvious lie. "You know that's not true, Sandburg," Jim shot back. "I listen. If I hadn't listened to you, you wouldn't be living here." It was the wrong thing to say. Jim knew it the moment the words left his mouth. He knew it when he saw the color drain from Blair's face and heard his breath become shallow. "Blair, I didn't mean..."

"You did," Blair managed in a strained voice, "and you do."

"Please, Sandburg, calm down," Jim said, approaching him. "You need to relax."

Blair waved him away. "Don't, Jim."

Jim frowned. "Look, I'm sorry," he offered. "Let's just start this conversation over. Sit down." He nodded at the chair.

Sandburg glared. Taking a deep breath, he spoke. "I know what you want to say. You want me to leave, don't you? I heard you, Jim. You said 'even if,' and you meant you wanted me out. Out of the loft and out of your life. Dammit! I heard you!"

"No," Jim insisted. "I don't want you to leave."

"But you said..." Blair swallowed hard. "You said something about freeing me from my obligation to you."

"I was talking about the connection that's almost killed you twice, not about us. I need you, Blair." Jim paused, studying his roommate for further signs of distress. Blair still looked shaken, but his color was returning. "You're my partner and my friend," he added. "I don't want you to leave."

He must have been able to convince Sandburg, because the younger man released his death-grip on the counter and stepped forward. He pulled the chair back from the table and slumped into it, immediately dropping his face into his hands. "God, I was so scared this was it," he muttered, knowing Jim could understand him.

Jim sat down beside him. "No, Chief. You don't have to worry. I have no intention of turning you away, but we have to get to the bottom of this problem, before it gets the best of us."

Blair straightened and pushed his hair back from his face. Jim could see his hands shaking. "I--uh--I've been thinking about what happened this time, and it should have worked, man. I don't know what went wrong."

"You wouldn't let go of the pain," Jim said, softly. "You took it and you wouldn't let go when the time came, Chief. Something happened and you couldn't or wouldn't respond to me. What do you remember?"

"I don't remember much of anything after I felt its full force. It was like--like I zoned-out on it." A light went on in Blair's expressive eyes.

Jim leaned forward. "What is it?"

"I zoned, man. I couldn't hear you. I didn't even remember you existed or the pain I felt wasn't mine. I tricked my own body into shutting down. God, if only I could have focused on something. If only..."

"Sandburg, you said I was your anchor. Maybe you need to learn to focus on me, on my voice and my presence," Jim suggested.

Blair turned to Jim and beamed. "You're a genius, man." Before Ellison could reply, Blair was up and out of the chair, dashing to his room.

"Sandburg, slow down." Jim stood, prepared to offer assistance should he need it. But Blair returned unfazed, with a pen and notebook in his hands. He dropped them on the table and slid back into the chair. "Now what?"

Blair looked up and smiled. "I didn't get to this point without knowing when to take notes, Jim. I mean, really."

Jim returned the smile, and playfully asked, "So at what point are you?"

"I'm a Sentinel's Guide."

The pride behind the answer touched Jim, but it also brought with it a startling thought about the connection and how it could manifest itself in the future. They had to be prepared for every possible scenario, every likely event. Though he hated to consider it, there was one they hadn't thought of before. Ellison was usually good at hiding his emotions, but this one must have been plainly etched on his face.

"What's the matter, Jim? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Jim didn't reply right away. He didn't quite know how to. The words were slow in coming to him, and when they did, he spoke each carefully. "Chief, we know I can sense when you are in danger too. Remember when you passed out at the university just after the incident in the elevator? I knew you needed my help."

"Yeah, and--" Blair encouraged, not seeing the point quite yet.

"It means we know this connection works both ways, but we don't know how it will effect you if you're the one in danger. We don't know what this can do to you, then."

"Or what it can do to you, Jim."

Jim shook his head. It was just like Sandburg to be concerned about Jim's well-being instead of his own. He took a deep breath and admitted, "We have to be prepared for anything, Chief. This is going to happen again, as much as I'd like to deny it. We need to know how to deal with it when it does."

"Don't worry, Jim. We will." To Blair, the fact Jim had included the two of them in the equation was enough. Together, they had a chance to make the connection work the way it should work. Together, they would explore a bond that went beyond a simple partnership and could be as ancient as the human race. Sandburg smiled to himself.

THE END