Jim had taken up his spot again at the table on the terrace, his favorite place to think. He still had so much to sort out. His dream had only further confused matters, but strangely enough, he finally felt a glimmer of hope. The spirits in his dream had not given the impression that this problem was in any way permanent. He had created it with his choices, just as Sam had suggested, and so he could also remedy it, by doing things differently.

He stared out over the lawn. Everything was bathed in gold, the light heavy and lush as the sun hovered low in the sky, a last, spectacular coda to the day, before the sun began to set in earnest and twilight descended. Jim marveled over the play of color and shadow on the grass, in the trees, along the slate walkway. There were layers and layers of texture, elegant gradations of hue, so many subtle pleasures for Sentinel sight. Jim fervently hoped he'd never lose his newfound appreciation of the world's sensual wonders.

//Like Blair.// The thought made him smile. If there was one thing he could be certain of, it was that Blair would never fail to delight him.

A slight rustling noise by the terrace doors drew his attention. Clare stood in the doorframe, watching him, apparently wanting to talk, but not willing to disturb him.

He smiled at her, pulled out a chair and motioned her over. She hesitated a moment, watching him carefully, feeling out the situation, making sure she was truly welcome. Finally, she joined him at the table, accepting the seat he'd offered.

"Hey," he said, smiling at her. "How's it going?"

"Okay, I guess." She fiddled with her bracelet, which she hadn't taken off since Elena had given it to her.

"I see you like your surprise," he commented.

She nodded, staring down at her wrist. "It's the nicest present anyone has ever given me."

There was something so unbearably sad in her voice. It pained Jim to hear it coming from somebody so young, a child really, certainly someone who deserved to feel precious and treasured.

"It's not that my parents don't give me things," she continued. "They're very good at spending money on me. It's just that they never pay attention to what I'm really like, so the things they buy me never match who I am. And I just end up feeling ungrateful, because none of that stuff ever means anything to me. Does that make sense?"

Jim nodded. "Perfectly. My father was very much like that. It was easier for him to give his money than himself. It was preferable to him to think about who I *ought* to be, rather than to see me for who I truly was. So no matter what kind of things he gave me, I never really got what I wanted."

She stared at him. "You really do understand. The kids I go to school with, my friends, they just think I'm crazy. They think I should milk it for all its worth and enjoy it. But I can't. I don't. It just makes me feel more...I don't know...empty I guess."

"But the bracelet, that does make you happy?"

She smiled. "It's so beautiful, and it's just my taste. And it's even my birthstone," she said, happily, proudly. "I feel like Elena really saw me. She cared enough to go to the trouble. But..." Her face clouded.

"What?"

"I've been such a bitch to her. I've been nasty to everybody, actually. I don't even know why. I just feel so mean sometimes, like I *want* to fight, and I take it out on whoever's around. And that's what I don't understand. Why would Elena do something so nice for me? I don't deserve it."

It was like listening to a clone of his younger self, talking about what life was like, if he ever could have managed to be so clear in understanding and so articulate in expression. He wanted to reach out and hug her, to drive all those poisonous thoughts out of her head, to show her the true value of who she was.

//I don't deserve it.// The sentence jarred his memory, bringing back his dream and the spirits confusion when he'd said he didn't deserve Blair. //Of course.// Clare deserved every wonderful thing life had to offer her, including the love and caring of her Guide. Of that he was absolutely certain. So if he applied the same logic to himself, didn't that mean...

"You know, Clare, I've been doing a lot of thinking about this lately. I've come to realize that we only hurt the people we love when we won't accept what they freely offer, what they *want* to give us. I mean, they have no way of knowing it's because we feel we don't deserve it. They just think we're rejecting them, that we don't love them back. I don't want to do that anymore. And maybe it really is true that we never get anything we don't deserve, that it's our sense of our own unworthiness that's out of kilter. Don't you think maybe?"

She frowned, wrestling with that idea. "I don't know," she finally said, very softly.

"It's so much easier to see in someone else. I look at you and see somebody smart and funny and caring, who just needs to let all that out a little more, somebody who deserves love and a good life. But for myself, there's a part of me that hangs on to the idea that there's nothing I can ever do that will make it so I deserve Blair."

She looked shocked. "You're kidding, right?"

He shook his head.

"But he loves you so much. He's just crazy about you. Any half blind person could see that. He wouldn't feel that way about you if you didn't deserve it, right? It doesn't make sense."

He smiled at her. "And Elena wouldn't have cared enough to pick out a gift for you that you'd really love if *you* didn't deserve it, would she?"

"That doesn't change the fact that I haven't been very nice to her."

Jim sighed. "Since I've known Blair, I haven't always been very nice to him either. I don't always understand why, but he's stuck with me anyway. Maybe that's just what love means, accepting someone for everything they are, both the good and the bad."

Clare nodded, light breaking through in her expression. "Yeah, I think I understand that," she said, gathering her thoughts for a moment. "It's like this conversation Elena and I had one day. She said that Dr. Knowlton reminds her a little bit of her mother, and that's why she never feels homesick. And I said that Dr. Knowlton isn't anything like my mother. Elena thought I meant that I don't like Dr. Knowlton, but that's not it at all. She doesn't remind me of my mother, because she actually cares about me. She wants to know who I am, and she doesn't give up on me, even when I'm being a big pain in the butt. I've never had that before. I like it, but it makes me feel weird, like I'm not quit sure what to do about it."

Clare said it all in a matter-of-fact voice, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world to believe her mother didn't care about her. //Love starved. God, is this what Blair saw when he first met me? Must have been.// An immense wave of gratitude swept through him. It was only now that he could fully understand what Blair had rescued him from, hopefully the same way Elena would rescue Clare. He felt a flash of anger, hot and pungent, at Clare's ignorant, selfish parents, at his own mother and father. He was overcome by the most desperate need to protect her from all this pain that he understood all too well, as if by saving her he could also save the boy he'd once been.

"Elizabeth loves you, Clare," he said, very gently. "A lot of people do."

Her face twisted in pain. "I know you're right. I really do. But when I let myself feel it...I know it's supposed to be this amazing thing to be loved and I *do* want it, but somehow when I let it in, it just makes me hurt so bad, like I might break into a million pieces. I know that doesn't make any sense. I don't know why it feels like that to me. Why would love hurt, Jim?" she asked, desperately needing an answer from him.

"Somebody very wise once told me that fear of loss creates an imbalance, and that's always a destructive force. Maybe it hurts so much to let yourself understand how much you're loved because you're afraid once you do that you'll lose it somehow. And maybe you fear you'll lose it because there's a part of you that doesn't believe you ever deserved it in the first place."

Clare stared down at her hands. "It's hard to accept that anybody can love you when your own mother doesn't."

Jim started to say that surely her mother did actually love her, but he stopped himself. If she didn't *feel* loved by her mother, then however much the woman might actually care for her daughter didn't really matter. In this instance, perception was reality. "It's human nature to believe there's something wrong with us when somebody disappoints us, doesn't give us what we need, but the truth is that there's usually something wrong with the other person, some limitation that has absolutely nothing to do with us, that's not our fault in any way."

Jim had a hard time believing that these words were coming out of his mouth. He sounded more like Blair or Elizabeth. But he kept flashing on images of his father, snatches of their sad history playing in his head. These thoughts had been simmering inside him for a long time now. Somehow, it was just easier to get them out when he was trying to help Clare, than when he was trying to heal himself.

"She hates what I am. My mother, I mean. She wanted this tidy, perfect little daughter who would be pretty and sweet and no trouble at all. And I'm not that. I'm never going to be that."

"*Nobody* is like that. It's not humanly possibly. And even if it were, it would be boring as all hell."

"She thinks I'm a freak," Clare said, very, very softly, tears shimmering in her eyes.

"My father thought that about me too," Jim said.

"It's so horrible," she said, the tears spilling over.

He took her hand and held it. "I know."

"What did you do about?"

"Not anything too constructive. When I got old enough, I left, and I pretty much never went back. I cut off that part of my life completely, but I can see now that I was still carrying all those old, bad feelings around with me still. It's only now after all this time with Blair that I'm finally beginning to put that shit behind me. To be honest, Clare, it's really only in the past few days, after whatever this thing is that happened to me, that I've actually *liked* being a Sentinel, that I've allowed myself to enjoy my senses. But I do like it. It really is an amazing thing, and I finally feel lucky, instead of cursed."

He could see she was torn, like there was something she wanted to say but was afraid to.

"It's okay to tell me," he gently reassured her.

"I like it," she said, haltingly.

He smiled at her encouragingly. "That's a good thing."

"I guess. But I always feel like I'm not *supposed* to enjoy my senses, like there's something wrong with me if I do. You know, kind of like if you enjoyed having cancer or webbed toes or something."

"It's not a disease or a defect. It's a special ability, like having a beautiful singing voice or being good at football. You wouldn't think there was something wrong with a music prodigy liking to play the piano, would you?"

"Noooo," she said, mulling that over.

"So what's so different about enjoying your heightened senses?"

Clare's face went blank. "I guess nothing."

"Don't let what your mother feels about your Sentinel abilities poison them for you. I'm not an especially religious person or anything, but I really do believe there's a reason why we have these senses. They're a gift. We just have to figure out how to use them to do some good."

Clare nodded, trying to absorb that thought. "I really want to do that."

He smiled at her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Then you will."

She returned his smile, a little shyly. "Thanks," she whispered.

"Any time," he said.

"You know, I never really did tell Elena how much I like my bracelet. Maybe I should go do that."

He nodded. "It's easy to take our Guides for granted, but it's never a good thing."

"No," she agreed. "It's not. I don't want to do that anymore."

"So don't," he told her, passing along the advice the spirit in his dream had given him.

She laughed. "You've got a point there. Okay, so I'll be nicer to my Guide from now on. And Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks again. I mean, really, thanks."

He patted her shoulder. "You're very welcome."

She gave him one last shy smile and went inside. He could hear her running up the stairs, calling for Elena. He shook his head. It amazed him how much damage uptight, unthinking parents could do to their children. Clare deserved so much better, and maybe, just maybe, that meant he also had deserved more.

He let his mind wander again, staring out over the backyard. He blinked and did a double take. The child from his hallucinations looked up at him from the back lawn, an expression of pure despair on his face. The boy started running toward the back of the property, and then he just disappeared.

"Hey! Wait!" Jim called and raced down the back stairs after him.

The world seemed to tilt, and suddenly he was no longer in Elizabeth's neatly manicured back yard. He was in the middle of the jungle, and he could hear the boy's choking sobs coming from up ahead. A wave of panic swept over him. He tore off after the child, in the direction of the cries, using his Sentinel hearing to track him. He ran flat out, and his heart hammered in his chest, out of control with exertion and fear.

There were so many things that could happen to a little kid in the middle of the uncut rain forest, and they all took turns popping into his head. //Focus, Ellison. You know better than to indulge in "what if" scenarios. Keep your mind on what you're doing.//

Ahead of him, he could see the little boy stopped and seated on an overturned stump, his head buried in his arms, sobbing hysterically.

Jim ran up to him, out of breath and knelt by the boy's side. "What are you doing here? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

The child didn't look up and continued to cry. Jim put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

"You're mad at me," the child managed to say, in between choked, heaving sobs.

Jim was taken completely aback. "Why would I be mad at you? You helped me find Blair. You saved my life."

The boy looked up at him with those huge blue eyes, tears shimmering on his face, his lower lip trembling. "But I can't get born. You want a kid that can get born. Both of you do."

"Who?"

"You and my other daddy. You're both sad because I can't get born. I'm sorry."

"Other daddy..."

Suddenly, the light went off in his head. //Five years old. The same amount of time I've known Blair.// For the first time, Jim took a really good look at the kid. He gasped at what he saw--Blair's beautiful eyes set in his own face, a diminutive, boyish version of it, capped with a riot of wild, dark curls, just like his lover's.

"Oh, my God!" he said, reaching for the child, his *son*, pulling him into his arms, holding him close, rubbing his back in comforting circles. "Please don't cry. I just didn't know. I never realized."

"So you're not mad?" the boy asked, still snuffling, but with a glimmer of hope creeping into his voice.

"Of course not," Jim said, holding his child tighter. "But how?"

The boy pulled back, wriggling out of Jim's grip, so he could look his father in the face. "Love always makes more of itself. Everybody knows that, silly," the boy said, sighing dramatically, rolling his eyes.

Jim smiled. "Forgive me for not being very bright."

The boy giggled.

"I still don't understand," Jim told him.

"That's okay. You're not 'sposed to. It's just cause you were in so much trouble that I got to come see you. Usually you don't get to until you're born. They say I might get born next time, just depends. But sooner or later. Until then, I got to wait in the temple."

"They won't let me in there," Jim said sadly.

"Yes, they will. You just have to decide it's what you really want."

"It is."

"Then you know what you need to do."

Jim looked into his son's eyes, and everything became suddenly clear. He nodded. "I love you," he whispered, surprised by the strength and certainty of the feeling.

The boy launched himself at his father, wrapping thin little arms around his neck. "I love you too."

A commotion in the underbrush interrupted them. The boy slid off Jim's knee.

"I have to go now," he said.

"Wait."

"You know what you need to do."

"But how will I find you..."

"Jim! Jim! Listen to the sound of my voice. Follow me back, buddy. Come on, Jim. You're scaring me here."

"Blair?"

Jim looked around in confusion. He was back at Elizabeth's house, in the yard, sprawled out on the ground.

"What happened?" Blair asked him.

"I thought I saw...ow! Why does my head hurt?"

"I don't know, man. I found you down here in the yard, at the bottom of the steps, unconscious. You must have fallen."

"I remember...I was in the jungle and I was running...and then I saw him. He said..."

"Who, Jim? What are you talking about?"

Jim shook his head. "Um...I'm not sure anymore. I don't know what happened."

"Did you zone?"

"I might have. I don't know."

"I'm going to get Elizabeth and have her take a look at you."

He put a hand on Blair's arm. "No. I'm fine."

"You were unconscious."

"Really, Chief, I'm okay now. Help me up?"

"Jim, I really think..."

"Please."

Blair sighed, but held out his hand. "Don't let anyone tell you you're *not* stubborn."

Jim broke into a smile. "You wouldn't have it any other way."

"You mean I wouldn't recognize you any other way."

Jim got to his feet again. He still felt a little woozy, but he didn't think he was actually injured. He just didn't quite know what to make of his strange vision, the boy...his son? //You know what you need to do.// Waves of images came flooding back to him, the jungle, the temple, the spirits. //Sentinels and Guides must be equal partners. They must bring each other completion.//

Okay, so he didn't exactly understand the subtleties of his visions, but he did know what he needed to do, didn't he? Wasn't that the important thing? Wasn't it time to make things right with his Guide, once and for all?

He put a hand on Blair's arm. "Chief, give me ten minutes and meet me upstairs in our room, okay?"

"What? Are you crazy, man? I just found you nose down in the grass, completely out of it. Three days ago, you were on death's door. I think we need to spend some time on this, figure out what happened here."

He put both hands on Blair's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "I swear we'll talk about it, Chief. I want to do it upstairs, just you and me, ten minutes, okay?"

Blair started to protest, but Jim gently squeezed his shoulders. "Trust me. Please."

Blair still looked unconvinced, but he said, "Okay, man. But ten minutes. That's it. And I'll expect answers, you understand me?"

Jim bent down for a quick peck on the lips. "Yes, Chief, I understand and thanks. See you upstairs. Ten minutes. Don't be late."

He could sense Blair watching him as he went up the stairs and into the house. He could feel waves of frustration and worry coming off his Guide. //Just hold on, Chief. A few more minutes, and we'll work this all out for good.//


Jim stood in the kitchen, listening for Elizabeth. He heard her in the living room and followed her there. He found her curled up on the sofa, reading a book.

"Hey, Elizabeth, can I ask you a favor?" he asked.

"Sure, Jim. What's up?"

"Could I borrow some candles? Those...what do you call them?...those votive ones. Do you have any of those?"

"Sure," she said, getting up. "Let's see. I think I have some in the desk here."

He watched her rummage around in the bottom drawer. "Oh, here they are," she said. "You can take the bag, and here you go, matches. You'll need those."

"Thanks, Elizabeth."

"You're welcome," she said, smiling at him. He could tell she was dying of curiosity, but he also knew she wouldn't ask.

He took the candles upstairs to their room and shut the door. He closed the curtains, shutting out the sunlight, and turned back the covers. He lit the candles and spread them out on the dresser and bedside table, bathing the bed in soft, warm light. He undressed and folded his clothes neatly on a chair and found the massage oil Blair had bought the other day. He laid down on the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest, and poured some of the oil into his hand, slowly working his fingers into his ass, opening and lubing himself, in preparation for his lover. When he was finished, he stretched out on the bed, propping himself up on the pillows. //Now all I have to do is wait for Blair.//

He didn't have to wait long. Blair must have been watching the second hand, because he came bursting into the room precisely on the dot.

The look on Blair's face at finding Jim naked in the candlelight was priceless. "Wh-a-at?" he stammered.

"Hi, Chief. What took you so long?"

"Jim?"

He could see the muscles in Blair's throat working as he swallowed. Jim knew his lover must think he'd really lost it or was seriously head injured.

"Come to bed, Chief."

Blair ran his hands through his hair. "Oh, man. We seriously need to talk."

"Yes, we do. Come here."

"No way, man. If I do that, the last thing I'll be doing is *talking*."

Jim stretched languorously, showing off for his lover. "Something else on your mind?"

"Stop teasing me, Jim. This is serious."

"I'm not teasing you. A tease doesn't deliver, and I definitely plan on delivering."

A tremor passed through Blair. "This is *so* not you, man. Who are you and what have you done with the Jim Ellison I know?"

Jim looked at him sadly. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

Blair came a little closer. "Why?"

"Because all I've given you up until now is the Jim Ellison who's way too rigid and an asshole on more occasions than I'd like to remember. You deserve more. You deserve everything I can give you. There is more, you know. I promise."

"Jim, what's been happening with you?"

"Take off your clothes and come here. I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Blair didn't seem to know what to say to that, but he did start to unbutton his shirt. Jim propped himself up on one elbow to get a better view. He watched his lover strip off his shirt and then his undershirt, unbuckle his belt, undo his pants and slide them down his legs, taking his boxers with them, leaving it all in a tangled heap on the floor.

"You're so beautiful," he told Blair.

Now that Blair was naked, he could see his lover's ribs moving up and down with his breath, which was getting heavier. He could smell the dark, earthy scent of his excitement, sense Blair's pheromones surging off him in waves, surrounding him in a cloud of arousal. It sparked Jim's own responses, desire racing through him like wild fire. He was hard and ready, and so was Blair, his erection bobbing out in front of him, making Jim want him just that much more.

"We still need to talk," Blair insisted, but his voice shook.

"I know. I want to tell you. Come and lie beside me."

Blair walked over to the bed smiling faintly. "It's that kind of conversation, is it?"

Jim gazed up at him longingly. "Yes. Come here, baby."

Blair sat down on the bed and then stretched out, laying his head next to Jim's on the pillow.

Jim curved an arm around him and kissed him. "I love you," he said.

Blair smiled, his face lighting up. "I love you too. Now tell me what's going on."

Jim brushed the hair back from Blair's face and stroked along his hairline. "Okay," he said and kissed his Guide again, passionately.

Blair returned the kiss, eagerly, stroking the curve of Jim's hip in loving circles. "So this is the idea, huh? Talk a little, kiss a little."

"Mmmm." His hands lingered on Blair's chest, relishing the feel of the soft hair and warm skin. "I *do* want to try to tell you what happened."

"Outside just now?" Blair asked, looking intently into his face.

He nodded. "Yes and the dream I had the other day and everything that's been going on."

"So tell me."

He pulled Blair closer. "I'm not sure how..."

Blair brushed his lips lightly across Jim's. "How about start with the dream?"

Jim nodded and paused for a moment, trying to pull his thoughts together, to figure out how to describe something so mysterious and confusing. "I was in the jungle, and something was calling me. I kept following it, and I found it, the temple, the Temple of the Jaguars. I can't tell you what that felt like. It was just the most amazing thing. I was finally home, like I never was before."

Blair stroked his arm and looked at him intently, following every word, his bright blue eyes filled with curiosity. "That's so wonderful, Jim. It sounds like a very moving experience."

Jim nodded. "It was. It really was. All I wanted was to go inside. I had this really strong feeling that something very important was in there. So I walked up to the door, and I turned the handle. But the door wouldn't open. I did everything I could. I beat on it and tried to force it. I screamed for whoever was inside to let me in. But none of it worked. They just weren't going to let me go inside."

Blair frowned. "Maybe it wasn't time yet."

"No, Chief. I'm not allowed in. After I gave up on the door, these three, well I don't really know what they were, presences I guess you could call them, showed up, and they told me that I'm not complete as a Sentinel. That's why I can't enter the temple. I haven't earned the right."

"I don't understand," Blair said. "You accepted your Sentinel senses. You made the commitment."

"They said I'm holding back something from my Guide, that there's something I won't give you, that I've made you unable even to ask me for. That's what's been unbalancing our relationship. At first, I argued. It seriously pissed me off, what they were saying. But when I was really honest with myself, I had to admit that it's true."

"Jim, are we talking about your not letting me make love to you?"

"In part."

Blair stroked his shoulder comfortingly. "I just always assumed it bothered you, and that's why you never offered. I didn't want to push. That's why I didn't ask."

"It wasn't a problem for you that I wouldn't give you that?" he asked.

Blair wouldn't meet his eyes.

"You can tell me," Jim reassured him.

"I can't say that it never, ever bugged me. I just don't want it to sound like some kind of quid pro quo thing, like you were supposed to let me make love to you because I'd let you do it to me. Because that's not it. I just always kind of hoped that you'd trust me enough to give yourself to me, that you'd *want* to."

"So why didn't you ever tell me?"

"It's a sensitive kind of thing. I mean, it's not for everyone. For a lot of guys, it makes them feel...I don't know, like less of a man somehow, and I didn't want to put any pressure on you to do something that was going to seriously mess with your head or damage your sense of self."

Jim frowned and felt a cold knot of worry uncurl in the pit of his stomach. "Is that how it makes you feel, Blair? Like less of a man."

'No," Blair hastily reassured him. "But you know, man, we don't exactly...er, feel the same way about things."

"You mean I'm more hung up than you are."

"I wouldn't put it that way."

"But it's what you meant."

"Please don't get angry with me. I don't want to spoil this moment. I don't want us to stop talking now that we're both being so honest."

Jim took a deep breath and calmed himself down, realizing that he wasn't being fair to his partner. Blair had only been working with the evidence he'd given him. If he hadn't gotten things exactly right, it was because Jim had withheld important facts about his past, about who he really was, things he'd been unwilling to admit even to himself.

"No, I'm sorry, Chief. I shouldn't get angry with you for being honest about how you feel, especially when you're right. I am hung up, but not exactly the way you think."

Blair looked distinctly confused.

"I don't know how to say this. Ah, hell Chief, I haven't exactly...I'm not a virgin, you know, with guys."

"What?" Blair asked, his voice filled with disbelief and something Jim was pretty sure sounded like the beginning of fury.

"I've had sex that way before."

"I understand what 'not a virgin' means, Jim. I'm just having a little trouble processing the fact that you were willing to lay down for other guys, but not for me."

"I'm sorry. I should have told you. I shouldn't have let you believe that it disgusted me or whatever. Please, don't be angry."

"I'm not."

"No, you're hurt. That's worse."

"How am I supposed to feel? For two years, I've just assumed that this was something you couldn't give me because it would feel unmanly to you, and I was willing to honor that, to not push you to do something you couldn't. But now I find out it was just me you weren't willing to give yourself to, and I don't know what to do with that. What? Am I not man enough for you? You couldn't let some *wimp* fuck you, is that it, Jim?"

"Please, don't do that, Chief. Don't say that. You know it's not true. This is about me, about *my* hang ups. It's nothing against you. You know I don't think you're a wimp."

"How many?"

"What?"

"How many guys have you let fuck you?"

"I don't know, Sandburg."

"Oh, yeah, now I'm *Sandburg*. That's just great, man."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"Yes, you did. You didn't like my question, you didn't want to answer it, so you pushed me away."

Jim sighed heavily and counted to ten. "You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know how many. It was a pretty long time ago, in the army mostly, and a few when I was in Vice."

"So what? 10? 20?"

"Somewhere in there."

"But definitely double digits?"

"Most likely."

"Jesus, Jim, that's hardly hung up."

"It's not the act that's the problem for me. When the spirits asked me what I was afraid of, what I was too scared to give you, I tried to tell them it was about sex, but they told me I was full of shit. And they were right."

"What then?"

"It's hard to...the spirits said letting you make love to me is symbolic for what I'm really afraid to give you. That's why I could let the others...well, you know, and I couldn't let you. I never loved any of them. With them, it *was* fucking, and I guess that was easier for me. Before us, I never had to revise my concept of myself. I never felt gay."

"And now?"

"Now, I'm in love with you. Now, I feel safe enough to be who I really am, who I *always* was. I used to be so terrified of admitting that I'm just more comfortable with men than women, that other guys, well, that's where my real interest is. But not anymore. I'm not afraid of being with you because you're a man, Chief. I'm not afraid of being gay."

Blair just stared at him. "Jesus, Jim, sometimes you shock the hell out of me. There I am thinking I have you all figured out, but really I don't have the faintest clue. Okay, so if it's not the gay thing or the sex thing, what is it? What are you afraid to give me?"

Jim's mouth went dry and he could not remember feeling more terrified. But he had to do it. They would never have any peace until he took this step, until he came completely clean with his Guide. He opened his mouth, and the words somehow just tumbled out of him. "It's about giving myself to you completely, really and truly, all of it, nothing held back, no secrets, no omissions, the whole truth and nothing but. It scares the shit out of me. Please don't leave. I know you're angry. I know I hurt you. But please don't leave."

Blair took Jim's hand in his own. "I'm not going to leave you. Breathe, Jim. I can't lie and say I'm not still hurt that you've done stuff with other guys that you wouldn't do with me. Hell, I can't say I'm not a little upset and jealous that there have even *been* other guys. I am. I can't help it. I still don't understand all this, but I'm trying. I *want* to understand. I just need you to explain it to me, so I really get it."

Jim sighed and closed his eyes, trying to figure out how he could make his lover understand. "The other day I was sitting out on the terrace trying to figure out this weird shit that's been going on, and it struck me that you're the first person who's ever really known me. I'm almost forty years old, and this is the first time in my life that I'm not pretending about who I am. It's been so amazing, and I'm so grateful. But it's still just...I'm afraid."

"Why?"

"I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me. Why would you lose me?"

"If I really give myself to you, if you have everything I am, you'll know."

"Yes, I'll *really* know you. What could be wrong with that?"

"Because you'll know that I'm not good enough for you, that I don't deserve you."

"That's silly, Jim. I love you. I chose you. I'm your Guide. I was meant for you."

Jim clung to Blair's hand. He desperately wanted to believe him, but the nagging, doubting part of him would not be convinced.

"Whose voice is it that says you're not good enough?" Blair asked him.

"What?"

"Who's voice? In your head, who is it telling you that you're not good enough? Is it mine?"

Jim shook his head. "No, baby, never you."

"Is it yours?"

"I don't..."

"Does it sound like you?"

He shook his head again.

"So who said those things, that you're not good enough, that you don't deserve things, that if anyone really knew you they'd leave? Who told you those things?"

Jim closed his eyes and concentrated. Fragmented images formed in his head. An angry face materialized in his mind's eye. He watched as the angry presence grabbed his arm and told him never to let anyone know what a freak he was or they'd put him away somewhere and no one would ever want anything to do with him again. He watched as the angry presence ridiculed his grades, his performance on the football team, forbade him to hang out with the boy down the block whom everyone called a sissy, telling him that faggots always got what was coming to them. No matter how hard he tried to be perfect, there was always some flaw, some shortcoming, something that the angry face would pick out and demean. He could see himself as a boy, trying so hard and always failing, learning to put up a wall to protect himself, always holding something back, some little piece of himself that was his and his alone, so that there would be some part of him that wasn't judged, criticized, found wanting.

"It was my father," he said shakily.

Blair nodded, stroking Jim's arm, trying to help guide him through this painful discovery.

"He said I couldn't let anyone know the truth about me or they'd think there was something wrong with me."

"He was wrong, Jim."

Jim's shoulders shook.

"He was very, very wrong," Blair said, pulling his partner closer. "I know you better than anyone else ever has, and I love you very, very much. Not that you don't still surprise me sometimes. I mean, that thing about sleeping with other guys came as one hell of a shock. But I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you're still here, Chief."

"And I'm never, ever going to leave. I mean, where would I go? What would I do without you? You are my *life*. We are each other's lives. That's just the way it is between Sentinels and Guides. Let go of your father's voice and put my voice in its place. You're a *wonderful* man, Jim--strong and brave and kind. You deserve all the good things in life. You can let me in all the way. I'm not going to see anything I don't like. Nothing's going to drive me away."

"I'm sorry, for hurting you, for all of it."

Blair stroked his face with his fingers. "I know. It's okay. It's not your fault. Ideas like that sink into us when we're children, so that we don't even know they're there anymore. But we still react to them just the same. I'm just glad you figured it out now, so you don't have to keep acting out on them unconsciously, in a way that you don't want to."

"How could he do that, Blair?" Jim asked, his voice shaking, finally asking the question that had been screaming inside him since he was a very young boy.

Blair shook his head, stroking Jim's arm. "I don't know. I really don't," he said, quietly. "But you need to believe that you never deserved it, not any of it."

"Earlier today, I was talking to Clare, and she wanted to know how you can ever love yourself when your own parents don't love you."

"And what did you tell her?"

"That I understood."

"You've felt that way a long time, haven't you, Jim?"

"I've been so afraid to tell you so many things," he said, his voice nearly inaudible.

Blair caressed Jim's chest, soothing him. "I can understand why you would be if every time you expressed anything about yourself to your father you were punished for it. It's conditioned response, man, and your father was a cruel teacher."

"I could never tell him anything, and finally I stopped trying. I just got silent. It seemed..."

"Safer?"

"Yeah."

Blair looked him deeply in the eyes, lovingly, compassionately. "That was all *so* wrong, Jim. It never should have happened. Who you are is a beautiful thing. When you share yourself with me, it's the most precious gift I could ever receive. No matter how angry I ever get at you or how hurt, all the stuff that just happens in relationships, I accept and honor all of you, without exception or question. You never need to hold anything back from me. Do you understand?"

Jim nodded.

"Do you believe me?"

The part of him that was habitually clenched out of self-preservation balked for a moment. He wasn't at all sure why Blair's offer of unconditional acceptance terrified him, but it did. But he looked into his lover's face and saw nothing but kindness, nothing but bright affection, tender concern, Blair's wonderful openness, the shadowless truth.

"I believe you," he finally said.
Blair smiled. "Good. Look, Jim, I know it's not possible to let go of a lifetime's experience in one day. I don't expect that. But I really meant it when I said I never want to see you struggling alone. You don't deserve that. No one does. I'm here for you, whenever you need me, just the way you're always there for me."
"Thank you," Jim said, reaching out to lightly brush Blair's face with his fingertips.

Blair caught his hand and kissed his palm. "It's my pleasure."

"I'm ready now," Jim told him.

"For what?"

"To give myself to you without reserve. That's what the spirits said I needed to do. It's what I want to do."

"You're sure? Because we don't have to do this right now. I can wait. I don't want to rush you."

Jim nodded and leaned in to kiss his partner. "Make love to me. Please."

He could hear his lover's heart rate accelerate and smell the rush of his arousal. "Oh yes, Jim. Yes. If it's what you want. I want you so much. Turn over for me, lover," he said, urging Jim onto his side.

"I want to see you."

Blair pressed a kiss to his temple. "You can look at me over your shoulder. Don't worry. I'm going to kiss you and talk to you while I make love to you. I'm going to fill you--your body, your senses, all of you. I know what you need, Jim, and I'm gonna take good care of you. I'm not going to do anything you don't want, that doesn't feel right. Just trust me, okay?"

Jim smiled at him. "I can do that."

Blair curled up behind him, propped up on one elbow, so he could lean over him. His Guide ran a hand down his chest, across his belly, following the line of hair down to his cock. He rubbed his erection against Jim's backside, as he stroked Jim's cock and gently teased his balls, whispering in his ear all the silly, sexy, sweet, obscene things that turned Jim on so much. Jim groaned out loud at the feeling of his lover's hard cock rubbing intimately between his ass cheeks, an arousing prelude to what would soon follow.

"Please, Blair. I need you inside me now." He could feel the puffs of Blair's excited breath against the side of his face.

"I need to get you ready first, love."

Jim shook his head. "I did it already, while I was waiting for you. I'm ready. Take me, Blair." He looked back over his shoulder at his lover, to show him that he really was ready for him.

Jim nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Blair's fingers travel along his cleft, stroking between his cheeks.

"I'm not going to hurry this," Blair told him. "I want it to be good."

Blair leaned in for another kiss, and Jim's senses erupted with pleasure. This kiss tasted like fulfillment, long awaited, hard fought for, perfect--worth the fear and old pain he'd been forced to confront in order to get there. Blair's fingers brushed his opening, very briefly, teasing, flirting. It was still nearly more than Jim's peaked senses could handle.

"Don't dial it up too far," Blair warned him.

"I want to feel it all."
Blair smiled at him wickedly. "Oh you will, Jim. I promise. You will."

Jim dialed down his touch very slightly, and Blair returned to his play, circling his entrance, caressing him. Jim could feel himself opening up even more for his lover, his body so very eager to be claimed. Blair pressed in one finger, and he groaned out loud.

"Oh my God," he said.

It felt so different to have Blair's fingers inside him than it had his own. Every nerve ending in his body tingled with sensual thrill, erotic longing, demanding more.

"Please," he begged.

Blair added a second finger, stroking and caressing him intimately. "God, Jim, do you know how amazing you are? How beautiful? Do you know what it does to me to touch you like this? To feel you so hot and slick and ready, to know that you did that to yourself, so you could give yourself to me. God, I want you so much."

"Want you too, Chief," he managed to say, panting heavily. "Take me."

Blair kissed him deeply. "I love you," he said and entered him in one smooth stroke.

It took Jim's breath away; it dizzied him, the feeling of Blair inside him, a physical part of him, as he'd long been a part of his soul. It had felt good with those other men, but had been nothing like this. Blair wasn't just filling him. He was making him exquisitely whole, something he'd never felt before, never even close.

Jim closed his eyes tightly, and colors exploded behind his eyes. The cosmos swirled away from him. The ground fell out from beneath him, and he was freefalling. He grabbed for Blair's hand and gripped it tightly. When the spinning stopped, he opened his eyes and was standing once again outside the temple door, only this time his Guide was by his side.

"Did I pass out?" he asked Blair.

Blair's face was filled with confusion and amazement. "If you did, then I did too. Which is possible, I guess. I've never felt anything so incredible, man, as being inside you."

Jim smiled tenderly at his Guide.

"When there is nothing you are afraid to give, there will be nothing you cannot gain," a voice said behind them, causing them both to start and whirl around.

It was the Clare spirit.

"Oh wow, man, is this what you were dreaming?" Blair asked.

Jim nodded.

"It's time now," the spirit told them.

"To go inside?" Jim asked.

She nodded and motioned toward the doors. "Try it again."

Jim looked from the spirit to his Guide, who nodded, encouraging him. He walked the few steps to the door, slowly, with great seriousness. He reached his hand slowly toward the knob and turned. This time, it moved easily in his hand, the door opening without difficulty, as if by magic.

He smiled at both his Guide and the spirit. "It worked!"

Blair returned his smile. "That's great, man!"

"You have learned the lesson and taught it to another, as well. You have more than earned the right to pass into the temple. Welcome home," the spirit said and turned, disappearing once more into the jungle.

Blair stood very close to him, holding his hand. "Let's go inside," he said.

Jim hesitated.

"It's okay," Blair assured him. "Come on."

He let Blair lead him through the door. He followed his Guide inside, and then everything stopped. He was overwhelmed by the hushed stillness, his chest expanding with a sense of awe. The interior of the temple was simple, bare walls and floors, smooth and white as ivory, timeless, still, perfect. It sang to him. It filled him with a perfect feeling of belonging. //Home. Home.//

"It's so beautiful," he said to Blair, in a shaky voice.

Blair nodded. "Yes, it is."

He watched his Guide. "You've been here before?"

"Yes. The first time when I was...well, before I regained consciousness after you pulled me out of the fountain. I didn't remember it though until I went back the second time. That was the first night we made love. Since then, I've kept coming back pretty regularly."

Jim nodded. "Why do you think we came here together this time?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's a sign that whatever was wrong between us is healed now. Or maybe there's something else..."

"Daddy!" a familiar voice squealed and the child came running to him, from the depths of the temple.

Jim caught him in his arms, twirled him around and hugged him. "Hey, did you miss me?"

The boy nodded earnestly.

"Daddy?" Blair asked, staring at them, a look of both confusion and disbelief on his face. "Um...Jim, is there something else you forgot to tell me?"

"Yes. We have a son."

"*We* do?"

"Yes."

"A son?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"I don't get it."

"Love always makes more of itself," Jim told his lover, his voice deep and husky.

Jim watched Blair taking in that information, staring at him and the boy, his eyes going back and forth from one face to the other. Jim put the child down, and the boy shyly approached Blair, who knelt down so they'd be on eye level with each other.

"My other daddy's not mad I can't get born. Are you?"

Blair stared at him, and finally shook his head. "No, of course not." He touched a curly dark strand of the boy's hair, lightly, reverently. "How could I be mad at you? You're a miracle."

The boy's face filled with pleasure. Blair gathered him up in his arms, stroking and kissing his hair. "I love you," he told his son.

"I love you too, Daddy. But you have to go now. You're not finished yet."

"I don't want to let you go."

"I'll be here."

"What's your name?" Blair thought to ask.

The boy grinned at him. "You haven't given me one yet."

Blair squeezed his shoulders, rubbed his arms, couldn't stop touching him. "We'll have to take care of that."

Their son nodded. "When you come back."

Blair frowned. "How do you know..."
The boy pulled out of his arms. "This is home. You'll always come here."

Jim and Blair both watched the boy step back, and the temple dissolved around them. They were in bed once more in Elizabeth's guest room, Blair buried deep inside Jim's body. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," Blair kept saying.

Jim began moving, pushing down on Blair's erection and pulling up. "Come on, baby. Make love to me. I need you to move. Please."

Blair's breath came in short, excited pants, as he began thrusting in and out of his lover's body. "My God, Jim. Was it real?"

Jim nodded, unable to speak as Blair found his prostate and began working it with short, shallow strokes. "So good, Blair. Oh God, so good."

"I want to love you so long and hard and sweet that you'll never forget it," Blair said, beginning to pound him harder. "God, Jim, look what we made together. So good. So beautiful. Gonna make more love. Gonna make more miracles."

"More," Jim agreed mindlessly, beyond conversation, beyond rational thought.

Blair reached across Jim's body to stroke his cock and fondle his balls. Jim, who hardly ever screamed during sex, wailed like a banshee in heat. "Oh God, I love you, Blair."

"I know, baby. I love you too. Love you so much."

"Fuck me harder. Take me."

"Yes! Yes!"

"So good."

"I'm taking all of you, lover."

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. Take it. Please."

"Say it."

Blair sucked Jim's neck hard and bit down. "Say it, lover. Tell me."

"I'm yours. God, Blair, yours, yours, all yours."

"Mine," Blair said, biting down hard on Jim's shoulder, claiming his lover, his voice the growl of a wolf in the throes of mating.
Jim made a deep keening sound in the back of his throat, the panther lying down for its mate, Sentinel submitting to Guide. Jim could feel Blair's trembling, his muscles losing control, so close now. Blair began to stroke his cock more urgently, and Jim could feel his release gathering its forces, sending him over the edge, into mind-shattering orgasm.

At the height of ecstasy, Jim understood at last what it meant to be tamed by love. This was how it was always meant to be: Sentinel giving up control to the Guide, the Guide losing himself to his Sentinel, the way it had been since the beginning of time, so that neither would lead and neither would follow, so they would be true partners, walking alongside one another, neither in the other's shadow.

So that they would complete one another, now and forever, the way it was always intended.