Jim lay in bed, following the urgent ebb and flow of voices in the bedroom down the hall. //I'm sure Elizabeth didn't have this in mind when she said she didn't mind the eavesdropping.// But no degree of shame could pull his senses away from their impassioned lovemaking. He listened to Elizabeth rising and falling over her husband, the smooth glide of skin against skin, the dip and swirl of lips and tongues and fingers, low murmurs of satisfaction, sharp sighs of pleasure. It was the music of the ages. It was the natural order of the universe. It was more right than anything ever could be, Sentinel loving Guide, now and always.

His envy of Elizabeth was intricate. It had many threads, and this lay at the core of it. She was fully merged with her Guide. And he wasn't. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. Oh God, how many times had he made the joke in his own mind that if Sandburg were a woman he'd already have gotten him to the altar. But it was no joke. The sharp claw of instinct insinuated itself into his gut. //Want him. Need him. Now.// Any resigned thought he'd ever had of giving Blair up without a fight vanished. This Guide was his and no one else's. There would never be another for him. The Guide must stay. The Guide must be bound to him, now and always.

The true extent of his own folly suddenly hit him with the force of a freight train. He had been fighting against nature all this time, and he would not come out of it a winner. And neither would his Guide. Three months ago, he had wilfully chosen the exact opposite of everything he should have. He had pushed his Guide away in a time of danger, instead of holding him close. He had sensed the other one on his partner and spurned him, instead of fighting for him. His Guide had paid dearly for Jim's stupidity. And when Blair did miraculously come back to life, Jim had not given him the only three words that would ever matter between them, the words he'd begged God so desperately for a second chance to say. //Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.//

The urgent rhythm built, getting close now. An image sprang to life in his mind. It was Blair, naked and beautiful and oh so willing, in his bed, in his arms, Blair beneath him, against him, over him, on him, in him, around him, everywhere, all at once. It was Blair groping and teasing, twisting and writhing, touching and tasting. It was low groans, growls, sighs, sobs, grunts, wails, whimpers, gasps, soul-shattering screams of sheer, fucking ecstasy. It was Blair the incomparable vision. And Blair the sweet music. Blair the intoxicating scent. Blair the texture of velvet and silk. Blair the delicious savor. It was Blair filling his senses, imprinting on them, immersing himself so deep into Jim's soul that there would never again be any separation between them, only this hallowed union, always and forever.

He stroked himself in time to the lovely pictures in his head, hips arching upward off the bed, as if trying to reach for the fantasy images. //Yes. Yes. Yes. Want it. Want it. Want it.// The world was shattering. The blood was pounding behind his ears like a symphony of jackhammers. The darkness was breaking apart. Just thinking about it was so damned good. But then, just as he was about to come, his senses betrayed him, the sweet vision collapsing like a house of cards. As release coursed through him, he felt, instead, the icy dampness of Blair pulled from the fountain, the cold mouth beneath his as he'd tried to give back the breath torn from Blair's body.

//NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!//

He was up and off the bed and crumpled to the floor in an instant. The nausea shot through him in waves. He fought it, too shaken to make it to the bathroom. //Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!// He curled up on the floor, wrapping his arms around himself, rocking, his whole body trembling. His senses did not play around. This time, he recognized their warning with perfect clarity. He had not made things right with his Guide, he had not earned Blair's love, he had not helped his partner fully reclaim his rightful place among the living. He lay there a long while, trying to remember how to breathe, trying to calm down. And when he finally pulled himself together, he picked himself up off the floor, washed himself off, threw on a pair of boxers for decency's sake and went in search of his Guide.

After looking in Blair's empty bedroom, he found him downstairs in the living room, huddled on the sofa, staring blankly out the window. The moonlight touched him, casting him in a blue glow, like some faerie vision. But when Blair heard him and turned around, the vision shattered, just as his fantasy had. The beautiful face was looking haggard, a forlorn expression in those dark-circled eyes, the previously bountiful lips pressed with sorrow. Strong emotion emanated off his Guide, and it was something Jim would have dodged a hail of bullets, walked through a wall of fire, driven into the heart of a hurricane to take away. It was utter despair.

"Oh God, Chief," he said, reaching for his Guide, taking him into his arms. "I'm so sorry. God, am I sorry."

He hugged his friend tightly against him, not in passion or possession or even expectation of what might come, but with simple, animal tenderness, offering his body, his warmth, his strength as comfort. At first, Blair stayed limp in his arms, holding back, but then the slender arms went around his waist and tears trickled, then coursed, down his bare chest. It was only then that he realized Blair had never cried and neither had he. The thought brought tears to his own eyes, but he resisted. Right now, he was on the most important mission of his life, to be there for his Guide, to see him through this difficult journey. The tears could wait. They were part of him, had been since that sickening moment at the top of the steps outside Hargrove Hall when he just knew. The time would come, must come, when he'd set them free, but it would be later, after he'd held his Guide in his arms, listening and witnessing and comforting while he mourned.

"I wasn't sure if you still liked me anymore," Blair confessed, his voice muffled against Jim's shoulder.

Jim tightened his arms around the too-thin frame. "Good God, Blair, how could you think that? You're...Jesus, this is hard to say...you're everything I have."

Blair looked up at him. "But we haven't been close since...you know."

Jim wiped the tears from his cheeks, pushed back damp strands of hair. "I'm sorry."

"It hurt me," Blair whispered.

Jim's resolve to hold back the tears was tested. He could hear the catch in his own voice. "Oh God, Blair, I am so sorry. I never meant to...the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you again. It's just been really hard for me to face up to what I did. And what I didn't do. I wasn't there for you when you needed me. I didn't protect you. I can't forgive myself for that. And I wasn't sure if you could forgive me either."

"Jim, I *never* blamed you. I told you that, and I meant it. I thought *you* still blamed *me*. For betraying you."

Jim's jaw clenched. "You didn't betray me, Blair. I was an asshole."

"But I helped Alex. Thanks to me, she got away with the nerve gas, and she sold it to terrorists. And it was used in that attack in Madrid."

"We don't know that for sure."

"But probably. And even if it wasn't, it will be used sometime. How can you possibly forgive me for that when you're...you? When you care about justice more than anything else?"

"Because there's nothing to forgive. You didn't know she was a criminal. You didn't know she was going to steal the nerve gas. All you did was help someone who was in pain, who needed the kind of help only you could give. That's just you being you. It's a part of your nature that I admire...that I love. And justice is *not* the most important thing to me, Chief."

"But you said you couldn't trust me anymore."

Jim cringed. "I was a prick, Blair. I swear I didn't mean it."

"Then why did you say it?" Blair asked, watching him closely.

Jim had to search himself for the answer. "I guess it's because...it felt like you had taken something away from me. And I had to get even. God, I'm sorry, Chief. That was such a lousy thing to do."

"I don't understand, Jim. What did I take from you?"

Jim hesitated a long moment. It was the step he'd been too afraid to take for too long. It was superstition, he realized, to believe that, once he admitted to Blair how very much he needed him, Blair would just disappear like some kind of apparition. But it was a superstition that had all the power of terror attached to it.

Jim took a deep breath and a leap of faith. "Yourself," he said very quietly, unable to quite look Blair in the face.

Blair frowned. "You mean because of Alex?"

"Christ, Chief, I don't know any other way to say this...I was jealous. I hardly saw you that whole week. And my instincts were just going crazy. And I had that awful dream about killing you. And then you came home that night, the night I pulled the gun on you, and you had *her* on you. And you didn't tell me about her and that felt like *you* didn't trust *me*. The whole thing drove me out of my mind with sheer, fucking jealousy."

Blair's face was alight with curiosity. Jim could almost see the lightning fast mind at work. It was the first sign of animation Jim had seen in him for three months. "Maybe it's a territorial thing?"

Jim shrugged. "I really don't know why it was, Chief. I only know how it felt. Like I was losing you. And you're *my* Guide and *my* best friend. And just *mine*, period. And your helping Alex made me sick with jealousy. And it would have even if she had turned out to be the nicest person in the world. And I should have talked to you about it. I should have done anything other than what I did. If I hadn't pushed you away, she wouldn't have gotten the chance to hurt you. And I'll have to live with that for the rest of my life."

Blair sighed. "Jim, Alex is the one to blame for what happened to me. Not you. I swear, I never *once* blamed you. Not even in the moment. Actually, when I knew she was really going to do it, I..."

"What?" Jim prompted.

"I called out for you. Even though I thought she'd already killed you. I just wanted you so badly, so unbelievably badly. They say in a moment like that people call out for whoever means true comfort for them, usually their mother. But for me, it wasn't Naomi. It was you, Jim. Only you."

Jim tightened his grip on his partner's waist. He buried his face in Blair's hair. He had no words equal to the intensity of his feelings.

"I never wanted you to see me like this. I tried so hard to keep it in," Blair said sadly.

"But why, Blair?"

"Oh man, you have no idea how humiliating this is. It's all coming out now, and there's no stopping it. And I'm sitting here bawling like a baby all over you. I always wanted you to think I was brave, that I could handle myself. But when I knew I was going to die, I was so fucking terrified," he said, shaking convulsively, beginning to cry again.

Jim ran his hands through Blair's hair, across his back, down his arms, trying to soothe him. "I'm so, so sorry, Chief."

Blair pulled back, anger flashing through the tears. "You really don't get it, man. What I want, what I've *always* wanted, is your respect. Not your fucking *pity*," he said the last word as if it tasted bad.

"It's not pity, Chief. It's just me being so sorry you ever went through this, that you were alone, that I wasn't there to help you. It makes me hurt, Chief. For you. And for me."

"I didn't try to fight," Blair confessed softly, dropping his eyes. "When she was the one who showed up at the office, I really thought...and it just didn't matter anymore, so I gave in and did whatever she wanted. I *really* never wanted you to know that."

"She pulled a gun on you, Chief. If you'd fought back, she would have shot you, and that could have easily been fatal. You did *exactly* the right thing, Blair. You survived. And I have all the respect in the world for that. And I thank God for it, every moment of every day. And you *do* have my respect. For a long time now. You've earned it, and you deserve it. And you're not going to lose it for doing the best anyone could possibly have hoped in an impossible situation at the hands of a madwoman."

"Do you really mean that, Jim?"

"You know me, Chief. I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. I think you were very brave in how you dealt with Alex. And I think you're even more brave now. I don't hold back on expressing my feelings because I think it's the courageous thing to do. Just the opposite. It's so damn hard for me. I *honor* your ability to tell me these things and to let yourself grieve. And I know it was hard for you to do it in front of me. And I have to thank you for that. I can't tell you how much it's helped me that you've shared it with me. If I couldn't be there for you when you were hurt, at least I can be here for you now."

"Thanks, man, thanks," Blair said, his voice raspy and shaking.

Jim hugged him tighter, and they sat together quietly a long moment.

"I feel better now," Blair said, sounding surprised. "It's been like this huge weight crushing me. It's gone now. I feel lighter. Although still sad too."

"Give yourself some time."

"I guess it will take a while before I'm more like my old self again. Some days, I go around feeling like I belong more to the dead than the living. Like it's all been a big mistake. Like I'm not really supposed to be here."

Jim shuddered. "It's no mistake, Blair. You're alive. And it's for a reason, a very *good* reason. And as far as I'm concerned, it's the greatest miracle there could possibly be."

"I really thought you wanted me out of your life."

"Without you, I wouldn't *have* a life."

"You're the best friend I've ever had."

"So are you."

Blair laid his head on Jim's shoulder, and Jim stroked his head and back, rhythmically, lulling him. When he felt Blair growing limp with sleepiness, he urged him off the couch, guided him up the stairs, to his bedroom. He helped Blair climb into bed and slid in beside him, gathering up his partner into his arms, holding him while he drifted off, falling asleep himself.

<<< Blair was someplace, he didn't know where. But somehow it was familiar. He had been here before. He had just forgotten. It was an interior. It was white, smooth and cool as ivory. There were benches here and there. And the room was decorated with carved moldings, scenes of lovemaking and hunting and rituals he did not recognize. And jaguars. Many of them. It was the Temple of the Jaguars, and he had visited it before, he realized now, when he had been waiting in the grey place between life and death.

Three figures approached him. They too were wearing white. It was Jim, Sam and Elizabeth, or rather spirits bearing their likenesses. He could hear them speaking among themselves, in a voice that was the sound of the place itself.

"He's returned," noted the Sam spirit.

"That is good," said the Elizabeth likeness.

"We knew he would," said the image of Jim.

"Do you know why you're here?" asked Sam.

"Not really," he admitted.

"What have you learned?" Jim asked.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"The answer is inside you," Elizabeth assured him.

"Um...well, I guess what it means to be a Guide."

"And what does it mean to be a Guide?" Sam quizzed.

"It means becoming one with my Sentinel," he said, the answer suddenly clear to him.

The three of them conferred.

"You have earned the right to hear the mystery," Jim explained.

"In order to attain the light, it is necessary to traverse every aspect of darkness," Elizabeth told him.

"Those who survive the dark night of the soul have passed the final test," Sam said.

"As you have," Jim added.

"Then they may truly be of service," said Elizabeth.

"Only then are they prepared to meet their destiny," Jim said.

"A bond that has been tested is one that will endure," said Sam.

"While a faith that is never questioned becomes brittle," Elizabeth added.

"Every true Shaman dies twice," Jim told him.

"It's the only way to live in both worlds at once," Sam explained.

"Look toward the horizon, Shaman," Elizabeth said, pointing, "The night is passing."

He turned to look and found himself face-to-face with his own image, staring deeply into his own eyes, which weren't really his at all. "How will you see the dawn if you don't open your eyes?">>>


He blinked, and again it was not his own eyes he looked into. This time though, they were much paler blue, the color of an early morning sky, a beautiful eyes, familiar eyes. He refocused his vision and recognized Jim above him, leaning over him, his face filled with concern and fear and care and love. Love. The realization was like the sun dawning on the horizon. And his eyes were wide open to see it this time. He stared up into Jim's face, so close to his own, letting his expression become naked, an advertisement for his want, his hunger. Jim crouched over him, taking his head between both hands, holding it in place, searching his eyes, asking permission. He parted his lips. This was his answer. Jim understood perfectly.

The touching of their lips and tongues was an electric pulse between them. And finally Blair saw it all, the mystery completely revealed to him. Sweet kiss of life, shared breath. This was the way back.

Jim pulled away and looked at him. "Are you sure?"

He traced a cheek bone with his finger. "I need you, Jim. I need you to help me feel alive again. I need you to help me celebrate that I'm still here."

Jim did not have to be invited twice. He was a man who had walked back from the edge of the world, through the wilds of loss, the tangle of despair, the empty, arid plain that would have been his life without Blair. For those few, brief moments that day when Blair was gone, he, too, had been cast out of the circle of life, the cold from his partner's body creeping inside him, freezing his terrified heart. And now that Blair was ready to step back into the magic circle, he felt the living warmth finally return, the gentle glow, melting the last icy vestiges of that nightmare by the fountain, unchaining his heart. Together, he and Blair had so much to celebrate.

Jim knew with perfect certainty that no part of Blair should be passed over in this celebration. There was nothing about him Jim wasn't grateful for. He also knew that he had to love Blair with everything he was, his whole body, his mind, his senses, an open heart. Because there was no part of him that didn't belong to Blair. It was such a simple truth. It stunned him that he'd somehow managed to remain blind to it for three long years.

Because he'd wanted to be blind. But not now. Not ever again.

He leaned over Blair, supporting his weight on one elbow. He kissed Blair's forehead, his cheeks, his chin, the tip of his nose, the line of his jaw--rejoicing in the beautiful shape of the face, the underlying architecture of bone, the warm skin, soft and tender in places, stubble roughened in others. He ran a strand of Blair's hair between his fingers, reveling in the texture, following the sensual curls as they flowed like water across the cotton pillowcase. He rubbed his face against Blair's chest, a ritual movement both solemn and joyous, praising the beating heart pulsing with lair's excitement, the warmth radiating out from his center, the catch of breath in Blair's lungs as he gasped with pleasure. Jim took it all in with a glad heart, giving thanks for the precious life so miraculously restored.

It amazed Jim how one person could be so much, could be everything. How he could find the cosmos in the bend of an elbow, the perfect arch of a foot, the sweet hollow of a hip, a smooth muscled stomach that dipped and trembled at every slight touch of his breath. Or how nipples could be so warm and responsive and alive that he couldn't tease, tongue, nibble, kiss, suck them enough. Or how a cock could taste so sweet he wanted to worship it with his mouth, his lips, his tongue, forever. Or how strong Blair's ass cheeks felt in his hands as he squeezed and caressed them, cupping them as he guided Blair's body, rubbing it against his own in the most intimate, exquisite pleasure.

Jim had not forgotten the delicious fantasy he'd had when he first realized this was what he wanted from Blair, what he needed, what all Sentinels and Guides were destined to be to each other. Now, he had told his Guide and helped his Guide and earned his Guide. Now, he had won the right to fill his senses with Blair, to let that vital essence sink into him and become part of him, as much as his own bones and blood and sinews were. He opened his senses fully to his beloved and welcomed that sweet knowledge. He drank in the lovely sight of a wild, frenzied, aroused Blair spread out before him. He relished Blair's delicious flavor as it exploded on his tongue, the tang and zest and sweetness that were his beloved. He worshipped with his touch all the various textures of Blair's body, rough and smooth, warm, downy, tender. He took in the unique scent that was all Blair, a complicated tangle of spice and sweet herbal essences and something dark and rich like the good earth after a summer rain. And every one of Blair's gasps, moans, sighs, screams of pleasure echoed in his hearing, struck a chord in his soul, at last, the music of the ages.

Blair was never one to be left behind at a party, and he gave as good as he got, Sentinel or not. As Jim learned him, so he learned Jim. As Jim took in the sight, smell, scent, touch, taste of him, so Blair returned the favor. He threw himself into their lovemaking with a zeal only a man so recently returned from beyond the pale could have managed. He had at last found the way back, and he gloried in it, dedicated himself to its pursuit with all the enthusiasm of his nature, extolled the pleasure, praised the love, reveled in it, consecrated himself to it with a near religious fervor.

In their coming togther, Jim and Blair--Sentinel and Guide--forged anew an ancient and primal bond, one that had existed among the chosen pairs of their kind since the world was young. They shared their bodies and their pleasure, opened their hearts and their minds, took each other as mates, partners, Sentinel and Shaman, holy dyad, now and always.

Coming down from his euphoria, it took a while for Blair to realize that the body beneath his was shaking. He turned over and found Jim trying to choke back the sobs.

He caressed his lover and pressed a kiss over his heart. "Let it go, Jim. You told me it was a courageous thing to do. I know you're that brave. We're both long overdue for this."

The tears had been inside Jim since that moment at the top of the stairs when he just knew, and finally, their time had come and he set them free. He pressed his face into Blair's beautiful, silken curls and sobbed. Blair held him, as Jim had so recently comforted him, letting his love cry, a good long while, until it was all gone and the heavy, heavy weight was at last lightened.

At some point, Jim managed to choke out, "Oh God, I love you so much, Chief."

As Blair petted the spiky hair at the nape of Jim's neck and smiled into Jim's shoulder, he answered,"I love you, too."