Lifeline
By: Tate

<The lifeline has saved both of us, but at what cost? For completely selfless reasons, we have abused this gift, harming each other in the process. Trial and error--the inevitable way by which we learn about this bond--has resulted in near tragedy. Guilt becomes the by-product. How can this continue? How can I allow this to continue? What choice do I have?>

Blair moved his hand away from the page, letting the pen rest between his fingers. He pressed the palm of his other hand against his forehead. Another headache. He could feel it building behind his eyes. With his luck, it would escalate into a migraine in no time. These episodes, though less frequent, had managed to linger long after the last manifestation of the psychic connection. It was still healing. He was still healing. So was Jim.

Sandburg closed his journal and sighed. He resisted the temptation to just curl up on the couch where he'd been sitting and weather the storm in his brain. Instead, he stood and walked over to his room. A bottle of prescription pills sat on a pile of books near the door. He deposited his journal and picked up the bottle. Making his way to the kitchen, he muttered to himself. "Just keep them down, Sandburg, and you'll be fine." He knew it wasn't the truth, though. The pills, if he managed not to throw them up, only took the edge off the pain. They didn't eliminate it.

He glanced at his watch. Jim was due home in less than an hour. 'Great, just great. He can't find me like this. Not again.' Blair thought. The look of guilt in Ellison's eyes had, on many occasions, hurt him more than the physical pain. How could he do that to Jim again?

****

Ellison climbed up the stairs and unlocked the door. He entered the loft, knowing his partner wasn't there. He'd called home when he was on his way, but had been greeted by the answering machine. Hanging up his jacket and placing his keys in the basket on the table, he immediately noticed the note. It seemed to have been written in haste, but was still readable:

Jim,

Something came up. There are leftovers in the refrigerator.
I'll be back late.

Blair

"Thanks for the detail, Sandburg," Jim said aloud. He crumpled the note and was about to throw it away in the trash, when he noticed the glass sitting in the sink. He reached for it. It contained a little water, enough to down a pill. 'This doesn't mean anything,' he thought, but was unsuccessful at his attempt to calm his growing concern.

Entering Sandburg's room, he found what he was looking for in a matter of seconds. The pills that had been prescribed for his partner's headaches were sitting on the table by the bed. He picked up the container. It was warm; Blair had touched it recently. "Dammit!" What the hell did Blair think he was doing? He was out somewhere with a migraine, when he should be in bed.

Jim returned to the living area, snatched up his keys and grabbed his jacket. He was determined to find the anthropologist and bring him home. He hated the thought of the younger man roaming around in such a debilitating condition. It was dangerous. A sudden thought crossed his mind as he walked out the door. What if the link activated while Blair was having a migraine? What could it do to the kid? "Ah, shit," Jim muttered, taking the stairs two at a time.

****

Only a few blocks from the loft, Sandburg aimlessly wandered along the sidewalk. His vision was getting blurry around the edges and the pain had escalated, but the nausea was under control. Of course, the bright lights and noises accompanying a stroll down a busy street did nothing to help matters.

He'd taken the Volvo and parked it a couple blocks away, knowing Jim would be suspicious if he'd left his car back at the loft. But he'd also known that driving while he was doped up and in pain would be hazardous to himself and those around him. He couldn't take that chance.

Putting a hand up to his head, he briefly closed his eyes and paused. Another pedestrian brushed by and warned, "Watch where you park it, buddy."

Blair muttered an apology and, when he felt a hand on his arm, he thought he would have to voice another. "Hey, you okay, mister?" someone said. Blair looked up to find a young teenager staring at him, a tall lanky boy with dark hair. He didn't seem like the type to be moved by someone else's sign of distress.

"Yeah, thanks," Blair replied. "I just need to sit down."

The teen motioned a few feet away to a bus stop. The bench was empty. "How about there?"

"Yeah." Sandburg allowed himself to be led to the bench by the youngster. For the first time, he noticed the skateboard in his hand. "You any good with that?" he asked.

"The best," the kid said, grinning as he sat beside him. "You look pretty out of it. Do you need a doctor or something?"

"No, but thanks." Blair continued to be impressed by the youth's concern.

"Okay, then, I'd better get going. I'm meeting Tim and Josh down at the park." The kid stood and dropped the board, nailing it with one foot. "Take care, man."

"You too," Blair said. "Kids today," he muttered almost smiling, as he watched the boy sail down the busy sidewalk. Once the kid was out of sight, Blair dropped his forehead into a waiting hand. The pain was throbbing in time to his pulse. What had he been thinking? This was stupid. He never should have left the loft.

"Is this seat taken?" The voice that asked belonged to Jim. It was quiet and controlled, but held a promise of words to come.

Sandburg didn't look up. He couldn't. His embarrassment coupled with the need to shield his eyes from the light kept him from making a move. "It's a free country," he replied, knowing his meaning wouldn't be lost.

"It is, Sandburg," Jim said, sliding onto the bench beside him. "But that doesn't give you the right to make reckless, hell, dangerous choices. What possessed you? Where did you think you were going?"

"Not now," Blair pleaded.

"If not now, when? When you manage to drive like this and get yourself or someone else killed? Would that be the right time?"

Blair leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and using both hands to cover his face. "Look, I didn't drive far. I just didn't... you shouldn't...god, Jim, why are you making this so hard?"

"Could it be that I don't want to see you dead?" The sarcasm in his voice was biting.

"I just didn't want you to see me like this!" Blair blurted out the truth before he could stop himself. He looked over at Jim. The detective's mouth was slightly open as he processed the admission. Blair's first thought was to get away, before he had to explain. He stood abruptly and, not realizing how close the curb was, stumbled forward. Jim's strong hands caught his waist, steadying him before he could pitch into traffic. Score another one for the 'Blessed Protector.'

"Whoa, there, Chief," Jim cautioned, pulling Blair back against him.

Sandburg fought the blackness that threatened to overcome his vision. His breath came faster, as he realized how close he had come to walking out of his own life for good. He let much of his weight fall against Jim, hoping to regain control before he ended up on the ground.

Jim hadn't expected the kid to bolt just then, but his reflexes had been quick enough to save Sandburg before he fell into the path of an oncoming car. He took a step back, bringing Blair with him. Shifting to the side, he repositioned his hands and lowered the younger man to the bench.

Holding on to Blair's shoulders as he leaned over him, he spoke at the bowed head. "I think we need to get you home. Our conversation can wait."

Blair nodded and mumbled, "I'm sorry, Jim."

"I know. Me too," Jim said softly. "Do you think you can make it over to the truck? It's just a few steps away."

Sandburg looked up and around, locating the Expedition. It was illegally parked about half a block from where they were sitting. "You parked in a no-parking zone, man," Blair observed.

"I'm a cop. I can do that."

Looking up at Ellison, Blair managed a half-hearted grin as he started to his feet. As a precaution, Jim kept one hand wrapped around Blair's upper arm as he stood. When he seemed steady enough, he released him, but stayed close as they made their way to the truck in case he faltered. Luckily, he didn't, but his gait was slow and careful. Jim opened the door of the truck for him and helped him with his seatbelt before walking around to the other side.

The short trip back to the loft passed in silence. Blair leaned his head back against the seat, one hand deliberately covering his eyes, shielding them from the light. Jim knew the pain must be severe. Otherwise, Sandburg would have managed at least a few words. It was in his nature to speak, and silence was a true sign something was wrong in his world. That something was a migraine, courtesy of Jim Ellison. Frowning, the Sentinel pulled into the garage.

Once inside, Blair rushed straight for the bathroom. Jim could plainly hear him retching. In hopes of making his Guide more comfortable, and to give himself something to do so he wouldn't feel so helpless, he went around the loft turning off lights and drawing the blinds.

When Blair came out of the bathroom into semi-darkness, he settled his gaze on Jim. "Thanks, man."

Jim smiled briefly, then said, "Maybe you should lie down, Chief." He gestured at the couch. "I'll get you a wet towel."

Without another word, Blair kicked off his shoes, reclined on the couch, and closed his eyes. He wished he could detach his head from the rest of his body and have done with it. The pain was intense. This was easily one of the worst he'd had since these episodes started. His whole body tensed with the battle for control. In a few moments, he felt Jim place the compress on his forehead, but he didn't acknowledge the Sentinel's presence. Soon, he heard Jim's footsteps drift toward the kitchen and then the obvious sounds of dishwashing. 'Leave it to Jim to find something domestic to do,' he thought. The swish of the water and gentle clink of glassware was somehow oddly comforting. He wasn't alone.

It wasn't long before he began to wish he was. The agony in his head built to a searing climax. He longed to scream with it, but he was sure he'd scare the hell out of Jim. Suddenly, he felt as though he were falling though the cushions and straight into the mouth of an endless abyss. And there was nothing to stop his descent.

Jim could feel that something was wrong. He reached his sense of hearing out toward Sandburg, and realized immediately that his vital functions were not normal, not even for someone in the middle of a migraine. Blair's heartbeat had become faster, his breathing shallower, and though the link hadn't activated, he felt something tugging at the back of his mind, as if it were trying to at least get him to notice. It didn't have to tug more than once. Jim dropped the towel, walked over to the couch, and knelt beside his partner.

Blair's eyes were closed. He'd turned on his side, cradling his head on one hand. The compress had fallen to the floor and his face was beaded with sweat. Something was very wrong. Jim reached for his shoulder and quietly called him. "Chief?"

Blair was too far away to hear him. Lost in the jungle of his mind, another voice spoke to him. 'You must make a choice soon,' it said, coming from all directions at once. 'It is one that may change the rest of your life, and the life of your Sentinel.'

'The link?'

'Your life is bound to his. You are the connection and you have control over its existence.'

'I can break it. Is that what you're saying?'

'That is your choice.'

'How?'

'Soon, soon you will know.'

"Sandburg!" Jim shouted, as his attempts to wake his Guide became more desperate. He'd turned Blair on his back and had shaken his shoulders. There had been no response, not even the slightest moan. "Sandburg! Come on, buddy." He was about leave his side for a moment to look for the phone and call for an ambulance, when Blair's eyelashes fluttered. "That's it, partner. Come out of it," he coaxed, gently patting the side of Blair's face.

Blue eyes opened, and the pain in them was unmistakable. Jim winced in sympathy as the younger man brought both hands up to his head. "God, what's happening!?" Blair cried.

"Easy, just take it easy. I think we need to get you to the hospital right now." The fact Blair didn't protest unnerved Ellison. It wasn't like him to give in so easily, but the pain must be unbearable. He wondered if there was some way, through the link, he could manage to help him, to take his pain. Jim knew that, inadvertently, he was the cause of these episodes. If there was anything he could do to help, it was worth a try. "Blair, maybe we should try the link, maybe..."

"No! You can't, please..." Sandburg's stream of words became lost as the pain escalated. Spots were dancing in front of his eyes. "No more," he moaned. He sat up abruptly, curling into a tight ball and clutching his head. Just for a second, he entertained the thought of asking Jim to get his gun, but he knew the detective wouldn't be amused. He couldn't even bring himself to acknowledge the thought as a joke.

Blair wasn't surprised when he felt the sting of tears. He didn't need this. Jim didn't need this. And as much as he longed to think about the voice he'd heard in his head, he couldn't. The pain became everything.

Without hesitation, Jim sat on the couch behind Blair and wrapped his arms around him. With his chin on Blair's shoulder, he spoke softly. "It's okay." His breath stirred the younger man's hair. "You're going to be alright. This will pass."

Almost immediately Sandburg shifted and turned in his arms, opting to bury himself in the comforting embrace Jim offered. "I'm sorry," he murmured against Jim's shirt.

"Nothing to be sorry for, Chief," Ellison whispered. Jim brought one hand up to cradle the back of Blair's head, wishing he could draw the pain away with his touch. 'I'm sorry I did this to you,' he thought, knowing that he dared not voice it to his partner. Instead, he said, "We've got to get you to the hospital now. Do you think you can help me do that?"

"Yeah," Blair answered, slowly pulling away. He combed his hair out of his face with one hand. The tear tracks were plainly visible, but he seemed to be in control for the moment.

Sliding off the couch, Jim knelt in front of Blair. He grabbed Blair's sneakers. "Let me help you put these on," he suggested. "I don't want you sliding down those stairs in your socks."

"Okay," Blair replied.

Jim slipped the shoes over Blair's feet and tied the laces while Blair massaged his own temples. Jim noted that he was trying to regulate his breathing.

Placing one hand on his knee, Jim said, "The sooner we get there, the sooner they can give you something for the pain."

Blair met Jim's eyes and nodded.

Helping him stand, and keeping one hand on his back, Jim ushered his partner to the door.

****

They had given him something for the pain. As he lay in an examining room with the lights off, it lessened to a dull throb. The attending physician had told him to give the medication some time to take effect and once he was ready, he could go home with Jim. Blair floated in and out of consciousness. The darkness and the painkillers were a recipe for sleep, which was something he hadn't been getting enough of lately. This seemed the perfect opportunity, especially after such a traumatic episode.

He allowed his eyelids to fall closed yet again. It was then the voice came to him. 'This is the end of your pain. Your healing is done. You must make your choice based on what you know, not how your body feels. You must make your choice with your own spirit to lead you.'

'But Jim...?'

'He has made his choice. It is your turn.'

"Chief?"

Opening his eyes, Blair saw his friend leaning over him. He brushed the hair back from his face and sat up slowly, aware of Jim's steadying hand on his arm. "Hey, man."

"How are you doing? Are you ready to go home? You might be more comfortable sleeping there."

"Yeah." Jim helped him off the gurney. The strength in that touch was undeniable. He couldn't imagine having gotten through this night without Ellison. He couldn't imagine going through the rest of his life without him. Was that what he was meant to choose? To stay with Jim, or leave him. Or was it something more? What did he have to do to break the link? And how fair would it be to Jim if he did it without telling him? Lastly, how could he trust a voice he heard only in his dreams? The questions were making his head spin.

"You okay? You seemed pretty distant for a second there."

"I'm fine, Jim. I think it's the medication."

Ellison nodded, staying close to Blair's side as they left the room and made their way through the hall. Again, the detective's quiet but reassuring presence gave Blair a sense of comfort beyond expression. How could he walk away from this? How could he become something less than he was, and change the life of the man beside him--the stoic cop who had embraced him like a brother. It wouldn't happen, not if it was in his power to stop it.

****

Three weeks passed, and the promise had been fulfilled. Blair had no more migraines, not even the vaguest hint of a headache. It was bliss. That alone would have made the anthropologist consider the possibility the voice that had talked to him had been real.

Each night since Jim had ushered him home from the hospital, he'd dreamed of the voice, and eventually the dreams took form and color. He could see the man, dressed in native clothing amid the bright green of the jungle. The man told him more about his choice, and what was called 'the ritual of separation.' He knew whatever force was reaching out to him meant to provide him with what he needed to decide his own fate and thus, the fate of his Sentinel.

Blair sat on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. His research, journals, and laptop vied for space on the long, thin surface. It was all there. All of his sentinel observations. Everything he knew and the questions he still hadn't answered were written in his hand and typed into the hard drive. Since Jim had left for the station in the early morning, he'd been poring over all of his notes for hours. He'd told the detective he was presenting an important paper to the department the next day and, though it wasn't the whole truth, it had sufficed.

Ever since the headaches had stopped, he'd spent most of his waking hours on a quest to find out what he should do. As a social scientist, he felt the need to gather as much information as possible and make a decision based as much on observation as intuition. He needed to consider every likely scenario, and play each out to its logical conclusion.

And then there was Jim. The Sentinel to his Guide. It was hard making this decision without him, maybe even foolish, but Blair knew Jim's fear for his well-being would color any of the man's advice. No, he couldn't know, and as much as Blair hated to keep him in the dark, he feared telling him about his dreams and the choice that lay before him would only complicate matters even more. This was something he had to do alone.

The breeze blowing through the open balcony doors shuffled a few papers, bringing Blair out of his reverie. He'd opened the doors earlier to banish the stuffiness in the loft. Despite the fact it was about 40 degrees outside, he'd left them open. He stood, stretched, and walked over to the doors. The breeze felt good. He stepped out onto the balcony and faced the early evening sky. The clouds, lined with the pink of the setting sun, were moving fast enough to simulate the turning of the Earth. The emerging lights of the city glittered softly. At that very moment, everything was right in Blair Sandburg's world. But he knew it couldn't last. In seconds everything could change. Jim or he could be in danger and their link would come alive again, and somehow, they'd screw things up again. Someone would get hurt.

Blair propped his elbows on the railing and rested his chin in his hands. The wind tousled his hair and caressed his face with a cold hand while he stared beyond the sky and the city, searching for the part of him that was connected to his Sentinel, as though somehow the link itself would tell him what to do. But it remained silent and content. Neither of them was injured or in danger of committing a serious injustice, like the revenge Jim almost carried out on Galileo when he'd thought Blair had been blown up in an elevator at the Wilkinson Tower. That was where this had all started. It was their first near-fatal introduction to the lifeline.

And during each subsequent manifestation, nothing had changed. The players were different but the outcomes were similar. They weren't learning. It wasn't safe. Blair couldn't help but feel responsible for everything, not just because he now knew the link resided in him, but also because he'd always prided himself on being able to figure things out. He was a researcher but, for some reason, the secrets of this link eluded him.

One of the most disheartening results of their failure to control the psychic connection was the strain it placed on their friendship. Ever since the anomalous lifeline blazed into being, he noticed the increased tension in their relationship. It began with Jim's overprotective gestures and had moved toward the current guilt he felt for having been responsible for Blair's migraines. Then, there were Blair's own feelings of guilt when he'd severed the link. Though it had kept them alive, it had caused them both much grief. It had to end.

He didn't hear the door to the loft open or the approach of footsteps. The voice that spoke his name nearly startled him out of his skin. He knew immediately who stood behind him, though. Turning, he tipped his chin up to meet his friend's light blue stare. "Hey, Jim."

"I didn't mean to scare you, Chief."

Blair waved the apology away. "No big deal."

"What are you doing out here? It's cold."

He shrugged. "Just admiring the view."

Jim folded his arms in front of his chest. "Are you hungry?"

"Damn, I'm so sorry, man. I forgot about dinner. I'll have it done in a sec."

Blair started to brush past Jim, but the detective caught his arm. "Whoa, slow down. I was about to suggest we go out to eat for a change. How about it?"

"Sure, that sounds great. Just let me clean up around here a bit." Blair pulled out of Jim's grasp, re-entered the loft and started to gather papers into neat piles.

Jim entered behind him, closing the balcony doors. "You can leave that there. It's not bothering anything."

'How out of character is that?' Blair thought to himself. "Are you feeling okay, man? Do you have a fever or something?" Blair joked as he continued to stack papers and close notebooks. He even switched off his computer and snapped the ends into place. He would have hauled everything into his room, if Jim hadn't stilled him again with a hand on his arm.

For some reason, the warmth exuded by the touch caused Blair to shudder. It was almost as if a current passed between them and for a split second, Blair thought Jim knew everything--his dreams, his choice, the ritual of separation. Everything. His heart skipped. He looked over at Jim expecting to see it in his eyes, but it wasn't there. It had been his imagination.

"Leave it. Let's just go eat. I'm starved."

Surprised that Ellison had either not noticed or preferred not to acknowledge his reaction, Blair decided to give in to his request. "If that's what you want." They went over to door where they both picked their jackets off the rack.

"Where are we going?" Blair asked.

"Wherever you'd like."

Behind Jim's back, Blair frowned.

****

Sandburg chose a quiet Italian restaurant close to the loft. In fact, it was so near they opted to walk instead of drive. The chill in the air kept Jim's hands in his pockets and quickened his stride. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize Blair had to rush to keep up with him until he heard the sound of his Guide's hurried footsteps, and beneath them, his accelerated heartbeat. Turning toward the younger man at his side, he noted his flushed face. Could it be something more than just simple exertion? He stopped abruptly, catching the concerned gaze of his friend and partner. It was a look he surely mirrored back. "Are you okay, Chief?"

"I was about to ask you the same question, man. What's up? You seem miles away." Though the rush of words seemed no less excited than usual, Jim caught the hint of breathlessness that followed them. In response, Jim placed both hands on Blair's shoulders. One of Sandburg's eyebrows shot up. "What? What is it, Jim?"

"You're not getting a headache, are you?" Ellison searched the deep blue eyes for some sign of physical pain.

"No. I haven't had one for weeks. Is that what's bothering you? If it is, you shouldn't worry. I'm fine. Never felt better." There was still something in the kid's voice that unsettled the detective. He wasn't lying. Jim could tell if he was lying. It was more like he was holding something back. Something important.

"Are you sure everything's okay?"

Blair nodded, but despite the second affirmative response, Jim continued to stare at him. The Sentinel had known something was amiss the moment he stepped into the loft that evening. He'd felt uneasy on the drive home, and when he found all of Blair's research scattered on the coffee table and his Guide standing quietly on the balcony, alarms rang in his head. Something was going on, and Blair wasn't telling him what it was.

A strand of hair blew across the young man's face and, since his arms were trapped at his sides, he tossed his head to regain his sight. The simple gesture brought Jim out of his reverie. He released Blair's shoulders and cleared his throat, but he didn't unlock his gaze. "You'd tell me if something was up." It was a plain statement of fact, a profession of trust. But there was another undercurrent--almost a dare--that made it clear his sentinel abilities had the power to distinguish lies from truth.

The answer unnerved him. "Let's get something to eat. We can talk then, and you can tell me where all this is coming from. Deal?" Blair was turning the tables.

Jim sighed, but gave in. To show his displeasure, he simply jerked his head toward their destination and they continued in silence.

****

"Man, these breadsticks are the best," Blair commented as he tore off another piece.

Jim looked over his salad at the younger man across from him. They'd gotten a table, ordered, and received their salads and bread with very few words exchanged, and now, the ones they were exchanging seemed of little import. Ellison realized he would have to make the first move. "What's going on here, Blair? There's something you're not telling me."

Blair looked up from his plate, blue eyes flashing. His heart rate increased slightly.

"Jim, I..."

"Don't bother denying it, Chief. I know something's up."

Blair took a deep breath and blew it out slowly as though trying to calm himself. "I should have said something sooner, but..." He paused, dropped his eyes from Jim's gaze for a second and then looked back. "It's just that I didn't know how you'd take it."

"Take what?"

"I'm going on a trip, a short one. It's for my dissertation."

"Where are you going?"

"Peru." The word was said with a barely perceptible movement of lips and a slight breath, but Jim made it out. He couldn't miss it.

The look on Jim's face reminded Blair of their first meeting when he'd told Jim he was "a throwback to a pre-civilized breed of man." It was an incredulous look, almost stricken. Angry and unnerved at the same time. His mouth was half open, his blue eyes staring but not really seeing. 'Now you've done it,' Blair said to himself.

Strangely enough, Blair had just made the decision to go right then. Jim's worry had pushed him to it. He had to go. There wasn't any other choice. He knew that now, and lying to Jim outright would make matters worse, so he disguised his true quest behind the veil of research. It's what he'd do with the university officials anyway. He could use his grant money if he could convince them his trip to the jungle was a justified anthropological study. At that moment, he knew Jim wasn't buying it. How did he ever expect him to?

He reached out and placed a hand on Ellison's arm. "Jim?"

Jim shook his head. "You can't."

"I don't have a choice, man. I have to go."

"Why Peru?"

"Why do you think?" Blair hated having to answer that way, but it was the safest reply. An answer that wasn't one.

"Blair, listen to me. You are not going. You haven't been well, and something like

this... No, you can't go."

Okay, here was something he could fight against. He let go of Jim's arm and grabbed the rim of the table with both hands. "You can't tell me what to do, Jim. You have no right." Blair raised his voice as much as he dared. "This is my life, man. It's my academic future."

"Dammit, Blair! What are you thinking?"

Eyes started turning their way, but Sandburg's attention remained focused on Jim. The man was really starting to make him mad. He wouldn't have to feign his next outburst. "I'm thinking you are treating me like a child. I'm an adult. I make my own decisions. You have no right to tell me..."

"Just hold on a second, Sandburg. I'm telling you this for your own good."

Blair couldn't believe what he was hearing. Jim was trying to pull some sort of father-trip on him. He didn't understand Blair was going to Peru for both their sakes. Though the younger man desperately wanted to tell him that, he couldn't. The frustration alone was enough to urge him out of his chair. "I'm outta here, man." Blair took his wallet out and tossed it on the table. He made for the door, knowing Jim would have to stop to pay the bill before catching up to him. People were staring at him as he left, but he didn't care. All that mattered was the friendship crumbling around him.

As Blair walked back to the loft alone, he tried to convince himself what he was doing was right, and that it was best for both of them. He had to go. He had to break the bond that had nearly cost them both everything. As ominous as the 'ritual of separation' sounded from everything the native man had told him, he would go through it. He'd survive and things would return to normal between them. Maybe. Hopefully. The alternatives were unthinkable. If he didn't come back, his Sentinel would be without a Guide. If he did come back, and Jim didn't accept what he had done... No, he couldn't allow himself to think that way.

"Blair?" The sound of his name reached over the cacophony of the street, but it was a soft, questioning call without any hint of anger. He turned to face Jim. His friend stood a few feet away on the sidewalk. His hands were in his jacket pockets, his head slightly tilted. A crease between his eyebrows revealed his anxiety. "I think we need to talk, Chief."

"No, Jim," he replied, approaching him. "I think you need to listen."

To his surprise, Jim nodded. "Go ahead."

"Not out here. We're almost home."

"Lead the way then."

As they followed the sidewalk, Blair considered his options. He could try his best to obfuscate or he could tell Jim everything. If he revealed his true purpose to the Sentinel, Jim would surely try to stop him. Or he'd want to go with him, and it was likely his presence alone would keep Blair from performing the ritual the way it should be performed.

Unlocking the door, Jim walked in with Blair right behind. This was it. The moment of untruth. 'Okay, Sandburg,' he said to himself. 'You'd better make this good.'

After hanging up his jacket by the door, Jim turned. Blair had only just gotten one of his arms out of his own jacket, when Jim's stare found him. He took a few more seconds to hang his jacket up and collect his thoughts before he began. "There are questions I think can only be answered by going down there, Jim. This is important to my research, but it's also important to me." Sandburg gave his best attempt to look as serious and truthful as possible. He couldn't lie, but he had to find a way to disguise the truth. "It's important to both of us."

"It's about the link."

"Yes." That was as much as he could risk. He couldn't reveal much more.

"What are you going to do there? What can you possibly find out?"

"Your senses became enhanced in Peru, Jim. There's a chance the questions we have about the link can be answered by going there. I have to take that chance."

"I don't like it."

Trying to use some humor to disarm his friend, Blair replied, "I don't like it either, man. The heat. The bugs. Wild animals." He shuddered and made a face.

Surprisingly, Jim's features softened a bit, but the words he spoke were definitely ones Blair didn't want to hear. "Maybe I should go with you."

"I think this is something I need to do alone, Jim."

"When are you going?"

"As soon as I get approval from the university."

Jim glanced away and nodded. His aspect resembled the one he wore when Blair told him about possibly going to Borneo for a year. He looked hurt and betrayed, but resigned. It was a look Blair wouldn't easily forget.

"It won't be for very long, probably just a week." In his head, Blair added sadly, 'or the rest of your life.'

Jim didn't reply. Instead he walked over to the counter and picked up the phone. Blair watched him, quizzically. He dialed and then began to place an order for Chinese food. Covering the mouthpiece, he shifted his attention back to Blair. "What do you want, Chief?"

Startled by the simple question, Blair took a moment to answer. "Lo mein is fine."

Jim went back to the conversation, ordering Blair's portion and giving their address. When he hung up, he looked over at Blair again. "I thought since we didn't finish our meal at the restaurant, we'd eat here. You are hungry, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Blair replied. "Thanks, man."

Jim pulled Blair's wallet out of his back pocket and placed it on the counter. "You might be needing this."

Blair walked around the counter and placed his hand on top of his wallet. He faced Jim across the kitchen island. Another sense of deja vu passed through his mind--Borneo--and he knew he needed to explain more about his proposed trip to Jim. The Sentinel was clearly upset, but no longer on the offensive. He wanted nothing more than to tell Jim the whole truth, but he knew he couldn't do it without jeopardizing everything.

"Hey, man, I just... I want you to know this wasn't a decision I made lightly. I thought about it a lot. I really think it's the right one. I need to go to Peru."

"Okay, Chief. I can't stop you." Jim pushed himself away from the counter and reached for the refrigerator door.

"That's it?" Blair couldn't believe he'd just said that. What was he thinking?

Jim turned back to him. "What do you want me to say?" The hurt in his eyes was more evident than ever.

Blair shook his head. "Please, no more fighting. I've never been good at it, man. Just don't hate me for this, okay?"

"I could never hate you, Blair. You know that."

'You'd hate me if I died doing this,' he thought to himself. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, Jim."

The older man reached over the counter and tapped his forehead. "Just come back in one piece, okay?"

Blair smiled. "Okay." Inside he felt a sudden sting of remorse. 'I'll do my best, Jim.'

****

Two weeks later, Blair's proposal was approved and the plane ticket was purchased. He had everything planned. Once he reached Lima, he would contact a guide recommended to him by one of his professors. The guide would take him through the jungle to some ruins he'd studied and leave him there for a few days, returning for him when the ritual was complete. Then he'd either come home, or he'd be taken home. Taken home. The thought was chilling. He tried to push it into the furthest corner of his mind, but it wouldn't go away.

Ticket in hand, he returned to an empty loft. He dropped his backpack on the floor by the couch and sat down. He rested his head back, closed his eyes, and thought about what might happen if he died out there. The native man had warned that it was a possibility. He had to let Jim know it wasn't his fault, that it was his own decision. He needed to tell Jim that his intention was to save their partnership and friendship and not to end his own life. There was only one way to do that.

Blair opened his eyes and reached for his backpack.

****

Jim leaned over, reaching for Blair's duffel bag. Lifting it, he called toward the back room. "Are you sure you have everything you need? This seems awfully light."

"I won't be gone very long." Blair called back. "Besides," the younger man emerged from his room with his backpack slung over his shoulder, "I'm getting a lot of my gear from the guide I'm hiring in Lima."

"Just be sure you have enough supplies and water. Check everything more than once."

"I will, Jim." Blair reached for the duffel.

"It's okay. I've got it. Do you have your tickets?"

Blair nodded and patted his jacket.

"Let's go then."

Blair followed Jim out of the loft, speaking to his back. "Thanks for taking me to the airport. I really appreciate it, man."

"You're welcome," he replied without turning around.

The younger man shrugged. He knew Jim well enough to know his stoic demeanor was an act. He didn't want Blair to leave, but he was resigned to the fact he couldn't stop him. If Jim had known exactly what was going on, he would have done everything in his power to keep him in Cascade. But he didn't know, and he wouldn't until Blair returned or until he didn't.

****

Jim glanced at his partner while driving. The younger man's heart rate was a bit faster than usual and one of his hands gripped the door handle tightly. He hadn't said much since they left home.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Blair turned to face him. "Yeah, man. I'm fine."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

That was about the extent of their conversation in the truck. When they reached the airport, Blair insisted that Jim drop him off curbside instead of waiting with him in the terminal. The detective agreed, but once they were parked beside the entrance, he got out and met his partner on the sidewalk.

Blair stood with his backpack slung over his shoulder and one hand holding the duffel. A breeze lifted his hair off his shoulders. "I don't need any help. I'm fine, Jim," he said. There was a slight, almost imperceptible tremor in his voice. Jim couldn't miss it.

"I know." Jim smiled and drew him into a quick embrace. He stepped back, still gripping Blair's shoulders and added, "Just be careful, okay?"

Sandburg smiled back. "Okay. You too, man."

Jim nodded and Blair turned away, heading into the terminal without looking back. Jim heard him sigh as he crossed the threshold, the automatic doors closing behind him.

****

During his second night alone in a quiet loft, Jim dreamed of the panther.

It appeared at the foot of his bed, pacing with all the anxiety of a caged animal. As it passed back and forth, it would turn to stare at him with huge emerald eyes. Jim sat up and returned the stare, trying to feel what it wanted him to know, but there was nothing that could be imparted with a meeting of eyes. The animal moved around the bed and with a purposeful growl, it padded down the stairs. Immediately, the Sentinel stood and followed its descent. The beast paused, looking over one powerful and sleek shoulder as though making sure he was close behind before it entered Blair's room.

The sleeper who should have been there was not. Even in his dreaming mind, Jim knew that Blair was in Peru. Far away from home or help.

Once inside, the panther stood on its back legs and placed a massive forepaw on a ceremonial mask hanging on the wall. At Jim's approach, it vocalized an unmistakable sound of distress and then dropped again to all fours. Jim reached over the panther for the mask and woke before his fingers touched it.

Ellison reached for the clock beside his bed, turning it slightly so he could read the time--3:51 a.m. The dream had been vivid, something he couldn't possibly dismiss. Rising from his bed clad only in his boxers, he made his way down the stairs in the dark.

He opened the door to Blair's room and entered. The mask hung on the wall where it had been since Sandburg had moved in. Jim reached for it, gently lifting it off the nail that held it in place. A folded paper slipped out from behind, fluttering slowly to the floor. Holding the mask in one hand, Jim bent to retrieve the paper.

He set the mask down on top of the shelf to his right, and then opened the paper. The writing belonged to Blair. His senses dove through the darkness to focus on the ink strokes. He could hear his own heartbeat increase as he read.

Jim,

If you are reading this, something has gone terribly wrong. I'm sorry.
You have to believe this was never my intention. Though I knew about
and accepted the danger involved in this trip, I don't want you to think
I've left you on purpose. I went to Peru to try to save us both. I believed
this was the only way.

I want you to know I have no regrets. I wouldn't change a moment of
the time we've spent together. I found more than a subject for my
dissertation. I found a true friend. Though this has never been easy for
me to say, except to Naomi, I love you. Please don't blame yourself for
anything. It was my choice, and I take full responsibility for my actions.

There is a letter for Naomi in one of my journals under the bed.
Please see that she gets it. Everything I own is in this room and
is yours now. Keep the journals. They might be of use to you.

Now that I'm gone, you need to find someone to help you. Don't try to
tackle your senses by yourself. You need someone to back you up.
I wish it could still be me. I'm sorry it won't be. Stay safe.

Blair

In the silence of absolute night, the Sentinel stood on the edge of a precipice. His Guide had fallen, but he wasn't beyond reach.

****

"What?" Captain Banks' groggy voice sounded over Jim's phone line.

"I'm going to Peru, sir, on the earliest flight I can get."

"Jim, are you crazy? The kid said he'd be back in less than a week. I'm sure he won't appreciate you following him."

"Simon, you don't understand." Jim paced the living room. "He's either about to do something very dangerous or he's already done it. I may be too late." Jim held the note tightly. He could feel the ink with his sensitive fingers.

"Too late?"

"He left a note," Jim explained. "I'm sure he didn't expect me to find it unless something happened to him, but I found it just a few minutes ago. I have to get down there."

"Go," Banks said. "Just keep me posted, will you?"

"I will." Jim clicked the phone off.

****

This was it. The enormity of Blair's quest weighed heavily on the young anthropologist. He'd hooked up with his guide and together they'd entered the jungle and easily found the ruins. Now he was alone, and would be for the next three days as he completed the ritual. All that was required would be three days of fasting and meditation and, if at the end of this time he wanted to destroy the lifeline, he would be told what to do next.

It had been made clear that the final phase of the ritual could be deadly, and once begun there would be no turning back.

He ran his hand over the age-old stone that could very well become his deathbed. "This is my choice," he whispered to no one, and to the only person who was too far away to hear him.

****

Making his way through the dense jungle, at first Jim followed his instincts. He knew Sandburg would be drawn to familiar territory. He found himself heading for the place he'd met his own destiny and made his own decision. Maybe Sandburg had been drawn to it as well. He sent his senses out ahead of him like scouts. 'If you're out there, Blair, I will find you.'

It was his sense of smell that first gave him the first sign he was getting closer. The scent he picked up was a mingling of herbs and roots, some sort of concoction that reeked so badly, he could almost taste it. Soon after the scent came to him, he heard a heartbeat. It had to be Sandburg's. Jim broke into a run, clearing the jungle's mass in a matter of a few minutes and stumbling upon the ruins. His Guide sat in the middle of what remained. The younger man looked up, startled. Ellison immediately noticed his large pupils, their blackness rimmed by only a touch of vivid blue. Jim crouched beside him.

"Blair, what in the hell is going on?" He couldn't mask the anger in his voice. He looked at his partner's face and then at the empty bowl near the campfire. Realizing it was the source of the offending odor, he picked it up and inspected it. "What was in here?" he demanded. "What did you take?"

Blair shook his head. "I don't know."

Jim knelt beside him and grabbed his shoulders. "Blair, listen to me. I need to know what's going on here."

The anthropologist took a deep, steadying breath. "I had to come here, Jim. I needed to make a choice. I made it. That's all."

"What choice?" Fear was creeping into the Sentinel's voice.

Blair dropped his gaze from Jim's and blinked a few times rapidly, as if were losing a battle to stay alert. "I needed to... I had to..." he stuttered.

"What--did--you--drink? " Jim asked, stressing each word.

"He told me how to make it and how to mix it."

"Who told you?" Jim was really beginning to hate this game of twenty questions.

"The man in my dreams. He told me you met him, too. Right here." Sandburg touched the ground they sat on for emphasis, and returned his gaze to Jim's.

The revelation was a shock, but Jim was even more struck by Sandburg's current aspect, the vacancy behind his stare. Whatever he had taken was strongly affecting him. Was it some kind of hallucinogen, something akin to what natives took to see their spirit guides? Or was it something more? With that thought and without warning, Ellison lurched forward, grabbed the back of Blair's head and stuck a finger down his throat. So much for subtlety. Gagging, Blair promptly bit down and scrambled away from Jim.

"You can't!" he shouted. "It's too late. And it was my choice, not yours. I'm doing this for both of us. Don't you understand?" Blair tried to get to his feet, but was unable. His motor functions were failing.

'This can't be happening,' Jim thought. 'What have we done to deserve this?' Ellison crossed the short distance to his partner. "Easy, Blair. It's me. I'm not going to hurt you."

"But we're hurting each other," Blair said. "Don't you see? This was the only way."

The words Blair spoke were like arrows, each sharper than the last. Understanding dawned like a bloodstain spreading on a white shirt. "You didn't. Oh, god, Blair, you didn't." Jim leaned forward, pulling Sandburg close and hoping he wouldn't struggle against his offer of support.

"I'm trying to break it," Blair words were barely a whisper. He relaxed against the larger man. "Remember, Jim. This was my decision," he mumbled. His head tipped back and his eyes closed.

"No," Jim moaned, as the anthropologist went limp. "Blair, come on, buddy." For a terrifying second, he thought Blair was dead. But he regained enough control to check, both by conventional means and with his enhanced senses. Yes, he heard a heartbeat, and felt it with his fingertips at Blair's neck. "Stay with me, Blair. I'm getting you out of here."

With little effort, he slung Blair over his shoulder and turned in the direction he had come. "Stay with me, Sandburg. Stay with me."

He hadn't gone very far when the unthinkable happened. He'd tuned his hearing into Blair's life functions, and suddenly there was a void. No respiration.

Immediately, Jim set him down. "Don't do this, Chief," he said to the inert form, as he tilted Blair's head and made sure his airway was clear. He pinched Blair's nose shut. Then he took a big gulp of air, closed his mouth over the unconscious man's, and expelled the breath into Blair's lungs. He could taste the bitter concoction on the kid's lips. How had he managed to down that stuff? "Come on, Chief," he encouraged, before the second breath.

He remembered the first manifestation of the link at the Wilkinson tower, and how Blair had stopped breathing then. The combined efforts of the EMTs and Jim's call though the link had brought him back. The link. Jim tried to call out through the lifeline to his partner, but it wasn't there. It wasn't there. Jim felt the rising panic. This was what Blair meant about a choice. The lifeline existed in him. It was a part of him, to destroy it, he had to...No, that wasn't acceptable. "BLAIR SANDBURG! If you die on me, I swear..." Jim inhaled deeply and breathed again into Blair's mouth. He waited. Nothing. He took the kid's face in his hands. "You have done this to me one too many times. Do you hear me? I will not allow it! You have to breathe. Come on!" Jim repositioned Blair's head and continued artificial respiration.

Still nothing. How long was it before brain damage set in? His heart was still beating, but it had become more erratic. Whatever he had taken was poisoning him, shutting down his system. "How could you?" Jim moaned. Blair's lips were turning blue from lack of oxygen. "Damn you!" Jim shouted. "I'm not letting you go!" He bent over Blair again and breathed for him. As Jim lifted his face, he caught himself in a sob. That was when he felt it, the unmistakable brush of air against his skin. Blair had taken a breath. "That's it," Jim encouraged. He let the side of his own face hover over Blair's mouth and nose, feeling and listening at the same time. "Don't stop, Chief. Keep breathing."

****

Slowly, the waking world entered Blair Sandburg's mind. It did so with a touch, a hand that held his own. Then the distant voices drifted to him, speaking another language, one he couldn't understand. The air around him smelled antiseptic, too clean. A hospital. He was alive and in a hospital, probably still in Peru.

"Chief?"

It was Jim. How could he face him? How could he explain? Everything that had happened between them was a blur, but he knew Jim had been angry. Why shouldn't he be? Blair downed a near lethal dose of some unknown poison. Jim probably thought he'd tried to kill himself, when he'd actually been trying to destroy their psychic link. Damn Jim's senses, he knew when his Guide was awake. He had to open his eyes.

He caught the concerned gaze of his partner, sitting beside his bed. Jim didn't let go of his hand. "Jim."

"You really scared me."

"Sorry."

"I know. The important thing is you're going to be okay. Whatever you took, it's working its way out of your system. You're going to be just fine."

Jim was being so kind. There wasn't even a hint of accusation or anger in his voice. 'I probably drained it all out of him,' Blair thought. He took a deep breath, prepared to explain what had happened. He figured Jim deserved that much. "It's not what you think," he began.

"It doesn't matter," Jim said, squeezing his hand.

"But it does. I don't want you to think... to think I'd leave you like that. God, I'm so sorry..." Blair covered his face with his free hand, trying to hide the emotions that were getting the best of him.

Jim's fingers intertwined with his, a confirmation he hadn't lost what was most valuable to him. "You're okay, Blair. That's all that matters to me right now. We can talk about what happened later. And we will talk, not argue, not fight. Life's too short to spend it at each other's throats."

Blair uncovered his face and met Jim's eyes through a veil of unshed tears. He smiled. "You're really not angry?"

"I'm not angry. I know you thought you were doing the right thing. It probably was the right thing, but I wish you hadn't gone through it alone."

"I was never alone. You were always with me."

Jim smiled. "You need your rest."

Blair tightened his grip on Jim's hand. "Don't leave."

Jim lifted Blair's hand in his and pressed the back of it against his own forehead for just a second. "Never," he whispered, as though swearing an oath. He lowered their hands, but didn't let go. "Close your eyes and go to sleep. I'll be right here."

Blair nodded. "Thanks, Jim."

"You're welcome, Chief."

****

The Sentinel sat beside his Guide, listening for the sounds of peaceful sleep. Only when they came did he release his hold and sit back in the chair. But he kept his promise, despite some urging from a nurse. He managed to make her understand, regardless of the language barrier, that under no circumstances would he leave. And he didn't.

The bright light of morning found him still beside Blair's bed, pondering the events of the day before. He thought back to the fear that had stabbed at his heart when he tried to breathe life back into his friend, searching for the lifeline that was no longer there. He remembered the relief he'd felt when his Guide drew a breath on his own, and how he'd leaned down and gathered the younger man in his arms, begging him not to leave. And the gentle hand on his shoulder that had pulled him out of his misery.

He'd turned to find the native man behind him. "He will not leave you, but he has made his choice. The bond has been broken. You are now two souls, and no longer able to reach through the darkness and find each other. But that does not mean you can be separated. Do not be angry with him for his decision. He believed it was the right one."

"I could have lost him," Jim protested, still holding his friend close.

"But you did not, and he may have saved you both from a fate much worse. His decision was selfless; remember that as you both heal."

The man disappeared; in his place, stood a panther, then it too was gone.

Jim looked back at the sleeping figure on the bed. He reached forward and placed a hand on Blair's arm, feeling with his sentinel sense the life beneath his touch. It was a life no longer psychically connected to his own, but one, nevertheless, that meant more to him than anything. They would get through this together. There'd be no lies and no anger, just understanding and acceptance, and a deep unbreakable bond of friendship and love.

THE END