One More Day

Author’s Note: This story contains spoilers for numerous series episodes. It also in no way means to infringe on copyrights held by Pet Fly/Paramount. I claim no ownership to these characters... just their angst. Comments always welcome.

"Captain, I'm going to make you a Blair skin rug."

As Sandburg protested the impending scalping and squirmed feebly within the confines of the headlock that his soon to be official partner had him in, everyone laughed with palpable relief, glad that everything was finally back to normal. It had been a tense few days, full of uncertainty in regard to the futures of more than one of the Major Crime team. But everything had seemingly worked out, and nobody was more grateful of that than Jim Ellison. He had stopped Zeller, gotten out of the media spotlight, and had salvaged what he thought was a doomed relationship with his best friend. Megan and Simon were both recovering quickly, and his own wound would heal as well, even though the pain in his leg was nothing compared to the ache he had felt in his soul when he thought his partner had betrayed him. But that was all over now, water under the bridge. Blair was going to become a detective and would be permanently at his side, where he belonged. Everything was going to be all right, and they were all going to live happily ever after.

The sentinel should have known better.

The laughter died away in his throat as Blair's playful struggles stopped and he slid limply from his grasp to collapse on the floor. Everybody paused, not sure what was happening, watching in shock as the young man began spasmatically jerking.

"He's having a seizure," Ellison cried out as he came to his senses. Cursing his stiff leg, he did his best to get down on the floor, but by the time he reached his friend's side, Brown and Rafe were already there, gently restraining Sandburg to keep him from hurting himself as his body contorted violently. Megan reached behind her with her good arm, grabbing the phone that was on the desk she was perching on and using it to call for an ambulance. Naomi wrung her hands as she watched the detectives holding her son down before glancing over at Simon in confusion.

"What's happening to him?" she demanded in terror.

But Banks didn't answer, for he didn't have one to give her.

After a few minutes the seizure stopped, but Blair was still unconscious by the time the EMT's arrived. They checked him over quickly, making sure he was stable enough for transport, then they loaded him up on a stretcher and whisked him away with Naomi in tow. Jim desperately wanted to go with them, but he knew that his limp would slow them down, so he was forced to let them rush on ahead while he followed with H. Rafe volunteered to give Connor a ride, leaving it to Taggert to take Simon home. The captain protested, insisting that he was fine and declaring his intent to be at the hospital with his men. But as he was under doctor's orders to rest and avoid excitement, Joel wasn't having any argument. As he helped Megan slip her coat over her shoulders, Rafe promised his boss that he would call as soon as they knew anything. And then he left with the inspector, trailing after their fellow detectives who had already taken off.

At the hospital, they were all directed to the waiting room where Naomi informed them that they were running tests on Blair and that they'd let them know as soon as they had some results. The group fell silent, with no one knowing quite what to say as they were all still in shock over the energetic young man's frightening spell. Jim sat with his leg propped up on a battered coffee table sporting an array of magazines, wanting nothing more than to pace off some of his nervous energy but forced to settle for tapping his fingers impatiently against the arm of the chair. Once he tried extending his hearing to see if he could discern what was transpiring behind the closed doors, but he found he lacked the concentration to try and isolate the cacophony of sounds. His worry and fear over what was happening to his friend had shattered his focus, and he found he had to divert all of his energy to beating back the panic and foreboding that had descended upon him like a shroud, blocking all of the renewed optimism and hope he'd nurtured toward his future relationship and partnership with Sandburg.

After an unbearable hour, a nurse appeared to tell them that Blair was disoriented, but he was awake and his mental capacities all seemed to be normal. It was welcome news and provided them all with a measure of relief, but for Naomi and Jim especially, the agitation grew as their requests to see him were denied. The nurse was also tight-lipped about what had caused the seizure, telling them only that tests were still being run and that the doctor would be out to talk to them shortly.

Shortly, they soon found out, was a relative term. Another two hours had passed by the time the physician emerged, introducing himself to Naomi and asking her if she'd like to speak to him privately. But Ms. Sandburg glanced around at the circle of concerned faces and shook her head, encouraging the doctor to divulge his findings to all of them.

"All right," he began, perching himself on the arm of the couch as she sat back down. "The tests we ran indicate that Blair is suffering from a subdural hematoma."

"What is that?" Naomi demanded quickly, a hand going to her throat as the ominous sounding term filled her with dread.

"In simple terms, Blair has been experiencing bleeding in his brain," the doctor explained. "A clot formed, compressing the tissues and that's what caused the seizure."

"I don't understand," Naomi protested. "Why is this happening?"

"Most likely the hematoma is the result of a head injury he would have sustained."

"But I've been with him for the last few days. He hasn't had any kind of head injury."

"It wouldn't necessarily have to be that recent," the doctor told her. "If it was a slow bleed, the actual injury could have occurred weeks ago. Maybe even months."

"What about when you guys went after Dawson Quinn?" Rafe piped up, having heard the story of the adventure that ensued after the killer had escaped custody with Simon as hostage. "Sandburg took a couple of hits to the head, didn't he?"

Ellison nodded in the affirmative, thinking back to that fiasco. He had been more than willing to go after the convict and his captain... his friend. But a shiver had run through him as he took in the sight of Blair shrugging into a backpack. A gut feeling set off an instinctual alarm, warning him of danger. He couldn't explain it, not even to himself, but he suddenly had a very bad feeling about Sandburg going with him. The detective had tried to talk his friend into going back to the city, but as usual, Blair was not about to be left behind. Not having time to argue, and realizing that he might well have need of a partner watching his back, the sentinel had consented, vowing that he would do everything in his power to keep his guide safe. But he had failed miserably. At the time, he wrote off his bad feelings to the fact that Sandburg had taken a bullet in the leg. But now he realized that a flesh wound had just been the tip of the iceberg. For the blow he'd taken in the river rapids and getting knocked unconscious by the man who later shot him had caused more damage than had been outwardly apparent. And Jim realized he'd been right not to have wanted his partner along for the ride.

"But that was awhile back," Megan interjected into his thoughts. "Before I arrived here. How was Sandy bleeding into his brain all this time and nobody knew it?"

"The symptoms would have been mild at first," the doctor answered. "Growing worse in proportion to the clot. Blair's told me he's been having some headaches and dizziness and blurred vision off and on that he just assumed were stress related. There also may have been some slight personality changes."

"No," Naomi argued, shaking her head. "Nothing like that."

"Sweet Roy."

Everyone glanced over at Ellison, who had finally found his voice. He lifted his eyes, fixing his gaze on the doctor.

"A boxer friend of his was murdered, and he just got... I don't know. Agitated. Out of control."

The detective had expected Blair to be angry, outraged, upset. It was hardly unjustified. But all grief aside, the vehemence and rage that had come out of his friend had unnerved him a little. It just wasn't like Blair to be so brash and so aggressively obstinate.

"He was like that with that Ventriss kid, too," Brown agreed. "I never thought I'd see the day when Hairboy willingly waged war on anybody. He really had it out for that guy."

"All right, fine," Naomi interrupted. "All that doesn't matter. What happens to Blair now?"

"We need to do surgery to remove the clot," the doctor replied.

"And then he'll be ok?" Ms. Sandburg pressed, sounding almost childlike in her need to be reassured.

"Once the clot is removed, the compressed tissues should expand and his symptoms should be alleviated."

"I'm sensing a ‘but'," Ellison said quietly.

"Brain surgery is always risky," the doctor told them gently. "Without it, the clot will keep getting bigger and it will eventually kill him. But there's a chance the operation itself could lead to permanent damage, or even death."

Naomi buried her face in her hands, trying to hide the tears that were forming. The rest of the group accepted the news stoically, with only their eyes belying their worry. All except for the sentinel. His face and gaze were impassive, except for a slight clenching of the jaw.

"I've gone over all of this with Blair," the doctor continued. "He understands, and he's consented to the operation. We've given him some drugs that will hopefully prevent any more seizures, and we're going to let him rest tonight and make sure he's stabilized. First thing in the morning he's scheduled for surgery, and then we'll take it from there."

"Can we see him now?" Naomi asked, wiping her cheeks discreetly before raising her head to gaze imploringly at the physician.

"Just you, Ms. Sandburg," he said, giving an apologetic smile to the rest of them for he could see that they all cared deeply about the young man. "Family only." Naomi rose gracefully and smoothed out her clothing, then she moved to Ellison's chair and held out a hand. He looked up at her questioningly, the argument he'd been preparing to make to the doctor dying out in his throat.

"Come on, Jim," she whispered fondly. "You're as much his family as I am."

The detective let her help him up, momentarily speechless but instantly forgiving her for the trouble she'd inadvertently caused by accidently outing his secret abilities. At that moment, everything had ceased to matter but his friend's life and the sentinel had desperately needed to see his guide. Naomi had recognized that need and acknowledged it and made sure that it was granted, and Ellison would always be grateful to her for that.

The doctor didn't comment as Naomi linked her arm through the detective's, much to their relief. He just turned and led the way through the double doors down the long hallway, pausing outside of Blair's room.

"I'll give you a few minutes," the doctor told them. "Make sure he stays calm and doesn't get excited. I'll be back in a little while to check on him, and I can answer any questions you might have."

They both nodded absently, impatient to take their leave and to see Blair. His eyes were closed as they entered the room, but he opened them when he heard them come in and smiled as he identified his visitors. Naomi graciously let Jim take the only chair and she perched herself on the edge of her son's bed, reaching out to stroke the curls back from his face.

"Are you all right, Sweetie?"

"Yeah, mom, I'm fine," Blair was quick to assure her.

"You nearly scared me to death," she scolded, pulling him to her and hugging him tightly.

"Sorry," he murmured sheepishly, hugging her back and taking comfort from her embrace.

"Oh, it's not your fault." Naomi released him and straightened the sheet covering him, giving him a fond smile. "But if I get any gray hairs from this, I'm taking it out of your hide."

Blair grinned back, then sobered.

"Did the doctor talk to you?"

"Yes," Naomi whispered, taking his hand and giving it a small squeeze. "But you're going to be just fine, honey. I know it."

Sandburg nodded and quickly changed the subject to take the focus off of himself. He bantered and joked with his mother until she excused herself under the pretense of giving an update to everyone still in the waiting room, for she sensed that her son and his friend needed to have a moment alone. Jim had been silent ever since he'd sat down, studying his guide with an intense gaze. Blair looked a little pale, but he didn't look sick and he definitely didn't look like he was dying. But he did look scared, and even though he was doing his best to hide it, his blue eyes were wide with fear, his cheerfulness forced.

"You know, Chief," Ellison began casually as Naomi left the room. "If you didn't want to be my partner, you could have just said so. All this drama wasn't necessary."

Sandburg chuckled slightly, shaking his head.

"I don't even remember what happened. One minute I was standing there with a badge in my hand, and then the next thing I knew I was waking up here."

Jim carefully stood up and slid his chair closer to the bed. He sat back down, holding back a wince as a twinge shot through his leg, and then he caught and held his friend's gaze.

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm doing ok. You know, the South American Incas used to perform this same operation 3,000 years ago. Archeologists have found skulls at several dig sites, and forensic anthropologists have determined that the surgeries were successful, for the most part, so I'd like to think the procedure has been perfected after three millennia. Of course, back then they were operating on men believed to be possessed in an attempt to release the evil spirits..."

"Blair."

Sandburg glanced away from the piercing eyes, swallowing hard. The sentinel's senses could easily tell that he was misdirecting. But even if they couldn't, Ellison knew him inside and out. There was no point in trying to lie to him or trying to hide his fear, but more importantly, the younger man realized he didn't have to.

"I'm scared, Jim," he said softly, staring at the wall. "I just can't believe this is happening. I mean, I feel fine. And the thought that they're going to have to cut into my brain is freaking me out big time. I don't want to die, man."

Ellison rose once more and seated himself somewhat awkwardly on the edge of his friend's bed, ignoring the painful protest in his leg. He wished that he had some way of reassuring his partner that everything would be ok. But that was out of his hands, and he knew the younger man would not be comforted by words he knew to be patronizing and full of empty promises. All he could do was let Sandburg know he wasn't alone.

"You're in a good hospital, Chief, with good doctors," he began, laying a gentle hand on his friend's knee. "And if the Incas could do this 3,000 years ago, I'm sure that the modern medicine man has the operation locked. But you know how it is in these days of malpractice. They feel obliged to warn you of every little random thing that could possibly go wrong. It's ok to scare the hell out of you if it covers their own asses. I'm sure the chance of anything happening is minuscule, at best."

"But what if something does go wrong?" Blair demanded, fixing his blue eyes on the detective. "I'd rather die than end up... you know. Not all there."

"Whatever happens, we'll deal with it," Ellison promised him, giving his knee a soft squeeze. "I'm here with you, buddy. Every step of the way."

Sandburg seemed to relax slightly, letting out a long breath.

"Thanks, Jim. That means a lot to me."

"Do you need anything?"

"No," Blair murmured with the ghost of a smile. "I've got everything I need."

Jim read the double meaning in his friend's words, but before he could respond Naomi stuck her head in the door and asked him to come with her. He was puzzled, but slid unsteadily off the bed as Blair grabbed his arm to help him find his balance. His leg had stiffened and his limp was even more pronounced, but he ignored it as he walked the short distance across the room. Naomi held the door for him and then shut it behind them as she led him a few feet down the hallway.

"Listen, Jim, I think you should go home."

"What?" he asked in disbelief, for the thought of leaving had never entered his mind.

"I just spoke to the doctor again and they're only letting one of us stay," Naomi explained patiently. "Besides, you are still recovering, yourself, and you are supposed to be taking it easy."

"I just told him that I'd be here for him," the sentinel protested, shooting an unconscious glance over his shoulder in the direction of his friend's room.

"And we both love you for that," she told him, resting a hand on his arm. "But Blair will understand. Jim, tomorrow is going to be a long day, and he's going to need you here, well and strong. I'll stay with him tonight. Let your friends take you home and get some rest so that you can come back when he really needs you."

Ellison sighed in frustration, running a hand over his short hair. Naomi's arguments were not without their logic, and he could not deny that his leg injury was tight and throbbing. The doctor who'd treated him had warned him that trying to do too much could delay healing and cause further damage. And the sentinel definitely did not want that, for he fully intended to make good on his promise to see his guide through recovery.

"All right," he grudgingly agreed. "Just give me a second, ok?"

Naomi nodded as he turned and went back down the hall and slipped inside Sandburg's room.

"They're kicking me out, Chief," he announced regretfully as he limped over to his friend's bedside. A flash of disappointment came over the younger man's face, and then it was gone.

"That's probably a good thing," Blair told him as he took in his partner's increasingly haggard appearance. "You aren't looking so hot. How are your dials?"

"Don't worry about that now," Ellison replied sternly. "I just need to go home and put my feet up and I'll be fine. You just relax and try to get some rest yourself."

"You're coming back tomorrow, aren't you?" Sandburg asked, hoping he didn't sound too needy.

"First thing in the morning," the sentinel promised. "Your mom's going to stay here tonight, but if you need or want anything, you just call me, ok?" He reached out, gripping his friend warmly by the shoulder as his face softened and his emotion shone through. "Are you going to be all right?"

Blair knew he only had to say the word and the detective would stay, no matter how hard he had to argue, fight, or even beg. And while he would have felt better with the reassuring presence of his friend close at hand, he was ok with letting him go, understanding that his partner was struggling with his own injury and needed time to rest. He would be fine until morning, when the impending surgery was upon him and the reality set in and the fear began washing over him in waves. But Jim would be back by that time, and would give him the strength he needed to get through it.

"I'll be ok," Sandburg replied, glancing over at the IV trickling into his arm. "The room is getting fuzzy, so I'm starting to think they slipped something in here to make me sleep, anyway. I'll probably be down for the count before you even make it home."

The sentinel looked down at his guide, his throat going tight. There were so many things he wanted to say to him, but he didn't know where to start. Couldn't even begin to think of a way to put everything they'd experienced over the last three years into words. All he could do was just put his heart and his soul into his eyes, and hope that his friend was able to read the powerful love he had for him there.

Blair smiled, reaching up and covering the hand that was still gripping his shoulder with his own. Jim closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and swallowing hard against the lump in his throat as he in turn covered the younger man's hand with his free one.

"Chief..."

But the words didn't come, and after a lengthy pause the moment was broken by Naomi's arrival. Ellison squeezed his friend's hand between his own tightly and then moved aside as she approached the bed.

"I'll see you in the morning," he promised, a bit hoarsely. "Take care."

"Yeah, you too," Blair murmured. "Good night, Jim."

The detective hobbled to the door, turning back for one last look at his friend. The forced cheerfulness was back as Sandburg did his best not to worry his mother. It was his nature to take care of everyone else, not knowing how to shut that off and accept caring and concern when he was in need. Ellison alone was the only one ever able to get him to drop the act, and it stung him that he had to leave his friend this way, with Blair putting his energy into his brave front instead of taking care of himself and dealing with the emotions that were eating him up inside. But with a heavy sigh, the sentinel slipped out of the room and began limping down the hallway. It was just for one night, and after the surgery he'd be there to take care of his guide and ensure that his relentless energy was focused on his recovery and himself, where it belonged.

Rafe and Megan had already gone, but H was still there waiting for him in order to drive him home. But Ellison had other ideas and insisted that his fellow detective drop him off back at the station. He's ridden in with Naomi earlier that day, but he figured he could pick up Sandburg's car since he'd already stolen his keys. Not that Blair would mind him borrowing the Volvo ordinarily, but Jim knew his friend would be reluctant since he wasn't supposed to be driving until his leg healed. Brown was also reluctant, but Jim was adamant and vowed that he would be able to operate the vehicle despite his injury. H was not convinced, but he knew better than to argue with his stubborn colleague and eventually complied. He followed the car for a few blocks, just to make sure that Ellison was able to drive and to give him the chance to change his mind. But the sentinel waved out the window, urging him onward, and against his better judgment the burly detective switched directions and headed home.

By the time he reached the loft, the pain in his leg had grown to an agonizing throb. Jim realized he had over exerted himself, but it was too late to do anything about it. He couldn't even bear to think about attempting to climb the stairs to his bed, so he hobbled to the fridge for a bottle of water and then made a beeline to the couch where he collapsed unmoving until some of the pain started to recede. After a few minutes he wriggled out of his jacket and settled into a more comfortable position as he shoved a few pillows under his leg to support it, which fired up the deep aching anew. He had his pain dial down as far as he dared to go, so in desperation the sentinel fumbled around in his coat pocket, pulling out a bottle of prescription painkillers. Washing two of the pills down with a sip of water, Ellison tried to relax and focus on something other than his misery, wishing he'd had the foresight to grab the remote for the tv while he was up. But he hadn't, and he was not about to move to get it. And there was no one there to get it for him.

The solitude that he had once cherished now just felt lonely. It was quiet in the loft, and the sentinel realized how much he missed hearing that steady heartbeat coming from the room under the stairs. And with mounting shame, he realized just how close he'd come to losing it for good, and being lonely forever. It all seemed so pointless now, confronted with the fact that Blair was faced with risky surgery and there was a chance that something could go wrong. He could lose his guide, once and for all, and it made him sick to think that he had ever willingly tried to give him the boot.

The animosity that had exploded between them after the media had gotten hold of Sandburg's thesis was not a sudden thing, but had been slowly building over the preceding weeks. Ellison had tried to blame it all on some kind of sentinel crap, but looking back on everything with honest eyes he had to admit it was really all because of his fear. Fear of losing another person he loved. Everyone left him, sooner or later. His wife, his unit, his partners, his friends, his lovers... Even his own mother had virtually abandoned him when he was just a boy. So it was inevitable that Blair would be no exception. And the reality of that hit him the night the anthropologist had teased him with the introductory chapter to his thesis. For once that was completed, Sandburg would have no reason to stay, and like all the others, he would be gone.

The irony was that Jim had wanted nothing to do with the kid when he'd first met him. But in the end he had no choice, not if he wanted to keep his sanity. He needed help, and Blair gave him that, so the detective began to tolerate him. Then he began to like him, almost against his will. Like grew into love, and that love became need. It was a position Ellison had vowed never to put himself in again. Loving someone, needing them... it just left him open for more hurt and heartache. So he began to shut Sandburg out, cutting the strings and unconsciously trying to drive Blair off before he could leave. At least that way it would be on his terms and in his control. And then maybe it wouldn't hurt quite as much.

But then Alex had entered their lives. Those dark days were all a blur to the sentinel. His instincts were on overdrive, and he was overcome by strange compulsions that he couldn't rationalize. The only thing he could remember clearly from that time was arriving at Rainier to find Sandburg floating face down in the fountain. Blair was dead, killed because Jim had failed to protect him. Just like all the others, his guide had left him. Only Ellison couldn't bear to let him go. He still didn't know how or why, but he had called out and Sandburg had answered. Blair cheated death to return to his side.

It was a miracle, and it should have taught him to treasure the time he had with his friend. But once they returned from Mexico and things returned to normal, more or less, Jim became even more remote, distant. For the pain of loss that he had felt when the EMTs had given up their efforts to revive Sandburg was nothing like he'd ever felt before. It was more intense and acute than he ever could have imagined, and he knew he could not bear to face it again. So he slowly began the process of extricating himself, relieved when Blair didn't fight him on it but focused his attentions instead back to his scholarly life. It was for the best, he tried to tell himself. For both of them.

Then came that horrible day when a pack of jackals swept down on him from nowhere, shoving cameras and microphones in his face and demanding to know if he was a sentinel. Ellison had been furious, but his rage masked a deeper hurt. He felt so betrayed, but it had been a knee jerk reaction. The detective spent his life looking over his shoulder, expecting to see a knife heading for his back. And Sandburg had not disappointed him.

Jim scrubbed his hands over his face, wishing he could just wipe the memories from his mind. How could he ever have thought Blair had betrayed him? Sandburg had never failed to stand behind him, and even when he had screwed up, he had honestly set out with good intentions. He hadn't deserved the accusations that Ellison had flung at him, and the sentinel realized that he had absolutely no business assuming a holier than thou attitude. Stealing and reading the introductory chapter, kicking Blair out of the loft, kissing the woman who had tried to kill him, automatically believing the worst about his best friend... If there was any betrayal going on, he was just as guilty, or more so, than Sandburg ever was.

Yet Blair was left to answer for all of it. He was a man of principle, always wanting to do the right thing. A loyal friend, and one who owned up to his responsibilities. But Ellison knew that the anthropologist had really sacrificed his career out of love. Blair loved him so much, he gave up his life to give Jim back his. Over the years he'd given selflessly everything the sentinel ever demanded of him without getting much back in return. But this final, blazing act had proven his love and devotion to his friend once and for all. And it left Ellison wondering if Blair even knew how he felt about him. He'd certainly never told him.

Jim sighed wearily. Things were a huge mess and he realized he'd been an idiot to think he could just toss his friend a bone and they'd be able to move on, the past behind them. All the things that had happened over the past months couldn't be ignored or forgotten. They both had a lot to talk about and deal with. He knew there wouldn't be time to hash things out in the morning, but Ellison decided he could at least let Blair know that he was ready to work things out. And more than that, that he wanted to work them out and to clear the air between them so that they could truly move on, and then maybe things could be like they were before. If nothing else, before Sandburg went into surgery Jim could tell him that he cared about him and that he was the best friend he'd ever had. Doing so would leave him open and vulnerable, a prospect that scared him, but his guide at least deserved that much.

The sentinel began to feel better, but he wasn't sure if it was from his new resolve or the pills that had started distancing him from the pain. They made him feel light headed and relaxed, and he decided to let them lead him to sleep. He pulled the afghan off the back of the couch and spread it over himself, trying to embrace the quiet and the peace of the loft while he had it. After all, it wouldn't be long before Sandburg was back home, shattering the silence with noise and energy. Which was just the way Jim wanted it.

Ellison was slightly disoriented when he woke up, and it took him a minute to realize that the sound invading his consciousness was the ringing of the phone. He sat up, groaning at the pain the movement caused in his leg, and pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket which was still draped over the arm of the couch.

"Yeah," he muttered in greeting, stifling a yawn.

"Jim, where are you?"

"Naomi?" he asked, as voice recognition set in. "What's going on?"

"I'm here at the hospital and Blair's been asking for you. Are you all right?"

The sentinel scrubbed his free hand over his eyes then flipped his wrist over to check his watch, snapping instantly awake and cursing softly as he saw the time.

"I took some painkillers last night and I guess they knocked me out," he explained hastily as he struggled to get to his feet. "How's Blair doing?"

"He's fine," Naomi reassured him. "He just thought you'd be here by now and he was getting worried that you hadn't shown up."

"I'm leaving right now. Tell him I'm on my way."

"Hurry, Jim. They're starting to prep him for surgery."

Not bothering with a goodbye, Ellison snapped his phone shut and stuffed it back into the pocket of his jacket, which he then pulled on. He was well aware that he was still wearing the clothes he'd had on yesterday, which he had slept in, but there wasn't time to change, let alone shower and shave. His guide was about to go under the knife, and the sentinel just had to see him before it happened. So he swept his fingers through his short hair and grabbed his cane and keys and hobbled out of the loft. His leg had stiffened, but there was no time to gradually ease it back into motion, so he blocked out the pain and tightness and managed the best he could, almost dragging the limb along behind him, not caring how stupid he looked.

As he exited the building, the detective realized he'd grabbed the keys to the Volvo in his haste. The small car was undoubtedly a little easier for him to manage with his injury, but it lacked the flashing lights of his truck. But he didn't want to waste precious time limping back up to the loft for his keys, and he figured that it was early enough that traffic wasn't going to be much of a hindrance anyway. However, as he sped down Green Street and got on the bridge, he was forced to slam on the brakes as traffic hit a standstill.

"Come on, damn it," he growled impatiently, tapping the steering wheel in frustration. He tried to extend his sight to determine the cause of the hold up, but there were too many trucks and large SVUs blocking him. And when he glanced behind him, he saw that a line of cars had already filled in behind him, blocking him in. He was trapped.

As he watched the minutes tick by, his frustration quickly became panic. He didn't have time for delays. Blair needed him. He'd promised his guide that he'd be there, and he promised himself that he'd start making amends. Just in case...

Jim shook his head, not allowing himself to think that way. He opened the car door and stepped out, desperately trying to see what was going on up ahead but there were too many barriers in his way and wailing sirens in the distance cut short his listening attempt. The other drivers were beginning to mill about, their emotions ranging from anger to frustration to weary resignation. One man in a suit began trotting past the line of cars, presumably to go and find out for himself what was causing the traffic jam. It was an idea the detective had considered, but his fear was that the cars would start moving and with his lame leg, he wouldn't be able to get back to the Volvo very quickly. Rejecting his only other option, which was to jump into the river and swim upstream to the hospital, he had no choice but to get back into the car and wait. With a violent door slam and a hearty smack to the innocent dashboard he did so, snapping the radio knob angrily and spinning the dial, bypassing all the usual inane morning show chatter in an attempt to find a traffic report. He finally settled on a station that promised an update, but when the commercials were over, the deceitful djs began another song. And through his haze of helpless rage, the lyrics penetrated his consciousness and pierced his heart.

The words hit him hard, making him realize that he'd taken Blair for granted. Even when he was pushing him away, holding him at arm's length, and telling him to get lost, somewhere deep in the back of his mind he knew that Sandburg would never go far and that he'd be right back beside him whenever Jim needed him. And it was inconceivable to him that one day he'd turn around and his guide wouldn't be there. So he was unprepared for the reality that suddenly reared up in his face. That this could be the day that Blair was lost to him for good. The moment when his best friend left him, never to return. Gone to a place where Jim could not get him back. That was bad enough, but the sentinel was overcome by the realization that his guide could leave with so much left unresolved and unsaid between them. And it made him sick to think he'd squandered the three years they'd had together. It was truly all the time in the world, now that he so desperately wanted just five precious minutes. He pulled out his cell phone and called the hospital, asking to be connected to Blair's room. But the phone went unanswered, and as Jim checked the clock it broke his heart to know that when his friend had needed him, he'd failed him.

He began to shake, and he wrapped his arms around his chest, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the steering wheel, closing his eyes as he tried to get a grip on himself. Ellison took a deep breath, realizing that he really did have a pair of balls to be asking for yet another chance. He'd already been given several that he had wasted and he knew he did not deserve yet another shot at redemption. But Blair did not deserve to pay for his devotion to his sentinel with his life, so Jim silently sent a prayer out to whatever benevolent force in the cosmos might be listening that his friend would be spared. And for himself, he just wanted one more day. One more time to talk with his guide and set things right. One more chance for them to make peace between them. Just one more day, and he vowed that this time he wouldn't screw it up.

By the time he arrived in the waiting room the detective was numb, both in body and in soul. Naomi informed him that Blair was already in the operating room, and he gave her a brief explanation of the traffic accident that had delayed him.

"We figured it was something like that," she told him. "Blair knew you would have been here if you could, Jim. He was worried about you, but he was all right, so don't beat yourself up over not being here for him, ok?"

Ellison nodded, but Naomi could see he was barely listening to her, his blue eyes distant and remote.

"Come on," she urged, slipping an arm around him.

"Where are we going?" he demanded, resisting as she tried to lead him out of the waiting room.

"We need to find you a doctor."

The sentinel followed her gaze and glanced down to see a wet spot of blood staining his pants. It surprised him, because he felt no pain in his leg. And strangely, it didn't really concern him, but he allowed Naomi to escort him down to the emergency room where he endured a stern lecture about overdoing it as an intern cleaned the opened wound and stitched it back up. After he was rebandaged, he let Naomi talk him into a cup of coffee before they returned to the waiting room to resume the vigil. And as they sat there in silence, Ellison sipped at the hot beverage absently, realizing that he was right back to the same place he once vowed never to find himself in again. Rigid with worry and tense with fear that he was going to lose someone else. It was the price one had to pay for caring about people. A price he'd paid far too many times in his life, and a price that he was starting to think was too high. Of course he fervently hoped that Blair would be fine. But Jim was uncertain as to what the future held for them once he recovered. Because he couldn't keep doing this. It was just too hard, on both of them.

After all, it was his fault that Blair was even in the hospital to begin with. If he hadn't brought Sandburg along when he'd gone after Dawson Quinn, then the younger man wouldn't have been hurt and wouldn't be lying on the operating table now. In fact, if he'd nipped this whole sentinel thing in the bud once he'd learned control, then Blair would still be at Rainier working on his doctorate, safe and happy. And Ellison wouldn't be sitting in yet another waiting room, his gut twisted in knots and his heart pounding in fear that his best friend was going to die. Jim hated feeling so vulnerable, and so helpless and lost. He never wanted to care this much, and he decided he didn't want to be in this position anymore. It was only going to get worse if Blair recovered and joined MCU as a detective. He'd constantly be in danger, having to put himself directly in the line of fire instead of sitting in the truck and calling for backup. And the sentinel knew that the day would come when he wasn't able to protect his guide. Then the hurt and the pain of loss would kill him, of that much he was sure.

The surgeon finally came out to speak to them, announcing that the operation had gone very well and there was every reason to think that Blair would make a full recovery. Naomi visibly relaxed, but Jim was still tight with emotion a few hours later when the doctor returned to tell them that Blair was awake and all of his neurological functions were intact. He told them that they were keeping Sandburg in the ICU for observation overnight, but if all went well he could be downgraded to a regular room in the morning. Naomi asked to see him, and the doctor agreed to allow them each a brief visit, one at a time. Ms. Sandburg offered to let the detective go first, since he had missed out on seeing Blair that morning, so Ellison got to his feet and followed the doctor through the double doors and down the hall to the ICU ward, eager to see for himself that his friend was all right.

Jim hesitated in the doorway, looking in to see Blair with his head wrapped in stark, white bandages, lying deathly still and hooked up to a variety of different machines. He didn't know what all the lights and numbers and beeps meant, but his senses quickly raked over his friend's body, taking in his heartbeat and his respirations and relaxing as everything checked out. But Sandburg still made for a pathetic sight, and the sentinel didn't ever want to see him like that again. Ellison had every intention of following through on his vow to see his friend to recovery, and also to make peace with everything that had happened between them. But then... He wanted to back off and distance himself. Let Blair gradually slip away from him until they were both going their separate ways. Then he'd never have to feel like this again. No more loss, no more sorrow, no more guilt, and no more pain that he felt deeply, but that came out as anger, of which Blair had to bear the brunt. This way, they'd both be free.

Sandburg had been resting with his eyes closed, but he blinked them open and focused on his friend, still hovering in the doorway.

"Hey." The voice was weak and a little raspy, but Blair smiled and some of the glaze left his eyes as his sentinel moved toward his bed. "You ok?"

"Don't worry about me, Chief," Jim told him softly. "How are you doing?"

"My head hurts a little."

"I'm not surprised," Ellison responded, grinning in spite of himself.

"And they won't let me have any water." Blair turned his head slightly, sending a feeble glare in the direction of the nurse stationed close to his bed.

"You just behave yourself and do what they tell you so you can hurry up and get out of here," Jim said sternly.

"Okay, okay," Sandburg muttered, stifling a yawn.

"Listen, Chief," Jim began, leaning forward a little to hold his friend's gaze. "I can only stay a minute. But I want you to know that I'm sorry I wasn't here this morning."

"It's all right," Blair told him sleepily. "You're here now. That's all that matters, right?"

"Yeah, I'm here now," the sentinel whispered, covering his friend's hand with his own. "Do you think you can stay awake a few more minutes? Your mom wants to say ‘hi'." Sandburg nodded slightly, and Ellison squeezed his hand. "Ok, I'll go get her. You get some rest, ok, and I'll be back in later."

"Jim," Blair called after him as he started to limp away. "Will you do something for me?"

"Anything, buddy."

"Don't make any jokes about me having a hole in the head, ok? At least not until I get off these drugs and my mind clears enough to think of a snappy comeback."

"You got it, Chief." The sentinel gave his guide one last fond look and then he began hobbling out of the ICU, chuckling to himself.

"I talked to the doctor and he says Blair's going to be mostly out of it for the rest of the day," Naomi informed Ellison as he re-entered the waiting room. "He thinks it's best that we go home and come back in the morning. So why don't I run in and see him for a few minutes and then we can head back to the loft?"

"All right," Jim agreed. He was feeling weary and his leg had begun to throb once more, and spending the rest of the day in the uncomfortable waiting room was not a very appealing thought, especially if visitation with his sleepy friend was going to be sporadic, at best. "I'm going to head down to the car, since it'll take me some time to get there. I'll pick you up out front."

Naomi concurred, and Ellison began making his way carefully down to the ground floor and out to the parking lot, favoring his injured leg so that he would not be forced to suffer through a third lecture on taking care of himself. Once he made it to the car it took him a few minutes to get in, since his leg was stiff and uncooperative and seemed to ache more and more with each passing second. Jim relaxed against the seat with a sigh after he'd gotten himself arranged and the door closed, then he reached out and turned on the ignition. The radio was still on, and as he rested briefly he listened to the words of the song that was playing.

Was that true? Jim's thoughts drifted back over the last three years, for the first time focusing on the good moments instead of on the bad. Would it be worth giving all that up just so he wouldn't have to deal with the pain that went along with caring about someone? He'd lost so many people that he loved. It was horrible and tragic and each time it stole a little piece of his soul. But sitting there, alone in the Volvo, Ellison realized that it was because he loved that he had a soul to begin with. Closing himself off, living remote and distanced and untouchable... yes, it would spare him hurt. But it would also be a pretty miserable existence.

Confused and exhausted, Jim decided that he'd had enough of the messages that the universe was sending him through song, so he reached out and killed the radio with a flick of the knob. Putting the car in reverse, he backed up and drove around to the front of the hospital to pick up Naomi. She offered to drive and he would have gladly let her, but the effort of climbing in and out of the car again was too much for his leg. So he managed to get them back home and safely parked, and then he let her help him inside to the loft.

Naomi spent the rest of the evening fussing over him. Jim wasn't sure if she did it out of guilt for her part in the thesis disaster or out of displaced nurturing that she wanted to lavish on her injured son but couldn't, or because she genuinely cared. It didn't really matter to him. He was too worn out, physically and emotionally, to fight her on it, and he had to admit it was nice having someone to see to his needs so that he could park his butt on the couch and not have to move for awhile. Naomi made him dinner and a calming tea to help him relax since he absolutely refused any more of the painkillers, and brought him sheets and pillows from the loft when he declined taking Blair's bed for the night.

She went to bed early, for she hadn't really slept the night before in the hospital. But she instructed Jim not to hesitate to call her if he needed anything. He promised her he would, although he didn't think it would be very likely. However, it was reassuring to know that he wasn't alone. A feeling he'd never had to know with Blair. Through blindness and bullets and bludgeonings, Sandburg had seen him through. Not to mention countless times when his senses had gone out of control. He'd learned that he could always rely on his friend to be there for him. At least, until the day when he would lose Blair for good. And then that reliance would just make his loss that much more devastating.

Jim sighed, turning off the tv and tossing the remote down on the coffee table as his conflicting thoughts warred in his mind. What the hell should he do? Deprive himself of love and spare himself the inevitable pain? Or embrace the love and light in his life, knowing that he would eventually lose it? Push Blair away and out of the line of fire? Or invite him back to his side and back into danger for his own self-preservation? Turn his back on everything they'd been through and place himself behind an uncaring, unfeeling wall? Or continue on and hope there would be more good times to come?

The sentinel wanted to pace, but his injury wouldn't allow it. So he was stuck lying there, forced to face the memories as they assaulted him one after the other. Blair being held hostage by the militant psycho Kincaid. Kidnaped by the ruthless serial killer Lash, moments from becoming his next victim. Lying in a dark, damp cave, bleeding from a bullet wound in his leg as Quinn waited just outside to kill them. Being carried into an isolation tent, stricken with what they thought was an ebola strain. Guns to his head, tied up, knocked unconscious time and time again. Face down in a fountain, floating lifelessly in the dawning sun. And sitting beside him with a scared, guilty, horrified look as the media forced their microphones into the truck, yammering about sentinels. The combined images would have been enough to drive Jim insane, if they hadn't also been tempered by comforting memories.

Blair not carrying a gun, but coming up with countless ingenious ways to protect his back. Following him without hesitation into every situation, no matter how dangerous or how afraid he might have been. Pulling him out of a zone out in the middle of a bridge riddled with mines. Putting his life on the line impersonating social service workers, sports memorabilia salesmen, big rig drivers, and the odd international terrorist or underworld element, all so they could make the case and take down the bad guys. Taking charge of the ticking bomb in a tampered elevator, preventing hysteria and saving the lives of everyone on board. Using his vast store of seemingly trivial information to aid the investigations. Cheerfully tackling the mountains of paperwork and helping all the detectives with whatever was needed. And on a more personal level, thinking up new techniques for his partner to learn to control and develop his senses. Taking care of him when he was physically hurt, and talking through the emotional hurts, too. And simply just being there, laughing and joking, a warm presence to share a beer with or to enjoy a ball game or a fishing trip. And being a living reminder to a detective who spent his days immersed in the darkest crimes of humanity that there was goodness and purity still in the world to counter the evil.

As much as the bad times filled Ellison with fear and worry and regret, the memories of the good times left him feeling warm and reassured and happy. And some of the confusion left him as he finally realized that sharing love, even if it doesn't last, is worth it. And that he wouldn't give up the past three years and the time spent with Blair Sandburg for anything, for whatever pain he'd suffered dwarfed in comparison to the joy and the fun and the honor he'd gotten from being able to call his guide his friend. Once he'd reached that conclusion, Jim's mind settled down and his body relaxed and he eventually drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Ellison leaned against the doorway, grinning broadly as he watched his friend sitting cross legged on his bed, earnestly flirting with the attractive nurse. Sandburg had the charm on full force, and the detective knew the woman didn't stand a chance. She may have been a professional, detached from her job and having heard it all a hundred times before, but like so many others before her she fell victim to those blue eyes and that disarming grin and the verbose logic that had the power to talk anyone into anything. Before she knew what hit her, she was giggling like a schoolgirl, blushing slightly as she brushed past the tall man in the doorway as she fled the room.

"Hey, Jim," Blair greeted him happily, dragging his gaze away from the pretty woman's retreat to focus on his visitor. "I'm glad you're here, man." He frantically waved his friend closer for a conspiratorial chat. "Track her with your hearing and see if she says anything about me."

Humoring him, the sentinel assumed the look of deep concentration he always got while extending his senses, then he shook his head and frowned slightly.

"All I'm getting is this weird whistling noise."

"Whistling noise?" Sandburg asked, puzzled.

"Yeah." Ellison kept a straight face but his eyes twinkled merrily. "I think it's the wind blowing through that hole in your head."

"Oh, very funny," Sandburg snorted, smacking him lightly on the shoulder.

"That's the snappy comeback I had to wait all this time for?" Jim asked as he took a seat in the chair by the bed.

"That one was your freebie, pal," Blair told him. "Hope it's out of your system, because any more cracks and I'll have to verbally take you out."

"There are laws against threatening a police officer, Chief," the detective reminded him, after making a big show of pretending to be scared.

"Hey, that reminds me!" Sandburg leaned over and retrieved a stack of papers from the table next to his bed and handed them over to his friend.

"What's all this?"

"My application for the police academy," Blair explained. "Joel dropped it off this morning. Said I might as well do something productive while I was just lying around in bed. But don't hand it in, ok? Just give it back to Joel tomorrow. He's got a letter of recommendation he wants to put with it. One from Simon, too, I guess. He's going to pull a few strings so I can start with the next class instead of hitting the waiting list."

Ellison's lighthearted mood quickly vanished. He glanced over the completed forms, then glanced up to catch his friend's eye.

"Isn't this jumping the gun a little, Chief?" he asked. "I mean, you're still in the hospital..."

"Just for one more night," Sandburg said dismissively. "I'm out in the morning. And that gives me two months to recover before the academy. I'll be fine by then." He grinned, running his fingers lightly over his shaved head. "Besides, if I start now, I won't have to cut my hair. And maybe it'll be grown out again by graduation." Blair studied his friend, who suddenly didn't seem inclined to tease him anymore, his own gaze riveted to the forms in his hands. "What's wrong?"

"It's just... Are you sure this is what you really want, Chief? I know we kind of sprung this on you suddenly and didn't give you any time to think about it. Or much of a chance to say ‘no'. But if you don't want this, it's ok. Everyone will understand. I'll understand. Don't think this is something you have to do in order to keep my friendship."

"I don't," Blair assured him. "And I've had a lot of time to think about this while I've been stuck in here. This is what I want, Jim." But the sentinel remained tense, his gaze still averted. "You don't believe me?"

"I know you, Sandburg," Ellison pointed out. "I know that there are parts of the job you aren't comfortable with. And I just can't believe that this is something you ever would have considered if... Well, if you were still at Rainier."

He closed his eyes briefly, the memories of the press conference coming back to him. His best friend's blue eyes shining with tears, his voice breaking, straining to get the words out. Words that denounced everything he'd worked for, everything he'd believed in, and everything he was. Giving up everything, sacrificing his life and his career, all to protect his sentinel.

"You're probably right," Blair conceded after a long pause, his own mind drifting back to the press conference, and the conversation they'd had afterward. "But I'm not still at Rainier, am I? And Jim, you were wrong about one thing." He waited until his friend lifted his head to meet his gaze so that he could see the sincerity reflecting out of them. "It wasn't my life. A big part of it, yes, but not the only part. I'm not just an anthropologist, working on this project. I'm other things, too. I have other skills, other interests. And another big part of my life is the work I do with the Cascade P.D. I followed you for three years, Jim. I know exactly what this job entails, and I admit some aspects of it might be a little hard for me, but I can handle it. As an observer, I had a choice of how far I wanted to go and what I wanted to do. Now that choice is gone and I'm going to have to step up. I know that, and I'm really ok with that because it's part of the job. And I'll do what I need to in order to get the job done, and I'll sleep at night, too. I've got so much respect and admiration for you and the rest of the guys in Major Crime. It would be my honor to be able to be counted as one of the team, officially this time."

"I just wish there could have been another way..."

"Maybe there was," Sandburg shrugged. "But the important thing was getting the press off your back and finding Zeller, and that had to be done quickly. There wasn't time for running interference until we could hatch a plan. But Jim, it's really ok. Nothing happens randomly, you know? And I've got a good feeling that this is where I'm supposed to be in the universe at this point in time. It'll all work itself out. Besides, just because I'm done with Rainier doesn't mean I'm done with my research. You and I can keep going, and who's to stop me from maybe publishing that book someday when we're both retired? Or even sooner. Even if it's labeled fiction, it could still help other sentinels out there understand what's going on with them. There's still plenty of options out there, even if the academy doesn't work out."

"I guess..." Ellison sighed. "Naomi's not happy about this, is she?"

"Not really," Blair confessed. "She's always had some strong opinions where the police are concerned. I think you and Simon and the rest of the gang have gone a long way in changing her mind, but it's still not something she ever wanted for me. But, after all that's happened, she can't really say much about it. I think she's resolved to try and process it and let her feelings go. It'll be hard for her, but she loves me and she'll get over it." He was quiet for a moment, studying his friend's downcast demeanor. "But what about you, Jim? I'm getting the feeling you're not on board with this idea anymore. What do you want?"

Ah, the question he'd been asking himself for days. And just when he thought he'd figured it out, he'd change his mind. The sentinel sighed again, trying to come up with some sort of answer to his friend's question. But as he forced himself to confront that calm blue gaze, the answer was suddenly crystal clear. Before him sat his best friend, the man that filled his life with love and light and brought out the best in him. His inspiration, his rock, his protector, his teacher, his conscience, his comforter, his faith, his hope, his guide... his partner, who loved him unconditionally and would gladly sacrifice all for him. Most people drifted through life without ever knowing that level of love and devotion and selfless loyalty. And Jim was deeply ashamed that he'd ever even thought of distancing himself from that.

Blair was still patiently waiting for an answer, and the sentinel let his own eyes reflect his sincerity as, for the first time, he brushed aside all his thoughts and issues and fears and simply let his heart do the talking.

"Chief, I do want you to be my partner."

"You're sure?" Sandburg persisted. "It'll be different this time, you know, and we both have to take this seriously. I can't stay in the truck and call for backup when the bullets start flying, and I'm not going to hide behind you. You won't be able to protect me all the time, Jim."

"I know," he whispered. "And that does scare the hell out of me. It's going to be an adjustment and I can't promise that I won't slip here and there, but I'm ready to try. I know you can handle yourself, Chief. And I have to admit, together we do make a pretty good team."

"Yeah, we do." Blair grinned and relaxed. "So, we're ok here?"

"No," Jim murmured, shaking his head slightly. "We've got a lot to talk about. Things we both did and said."

"I thought you didn't want to talk about that," Sandburg reminded him, well aware that his friend was referring to the drama over his introductory chapter and everything with Alex, leading up to their most recent fiasco. "It's all in the past, over and done with."

"You were right," Ellison admitted. "It's not going to go away, no matter how much we ignore it. It's time to get it all out in the open and clear the air, and then we can move on with a clean slate."

"You want to get into this now?" Blair asked skeptically.

"No." Jim spared a glance toward the empty bed on the other side of the room, not wanting the cardiac patient who occupied it to return while they were in the middle of hashing out some delicate subject material. Not to mention the parade of medical staff that kept passing by the open door. "We can leave it until you're feeling up to it and we've got some more privacy. But in the meantime, I do need to set you straight about one thing."

"What?"

"That day in the hospital after your press conference, I wasn't wrong about everything. You really are the best cop I've ever worked with, Chief. You have been a great friend, the best I've ever had, and I don't know what I'd ever do without you."

"Well, hopefully it'll be a long time before you ever have to find out." Blair smiled at him, his blue eyes shining brightly before the glint of mischievousness crept in. "But seriously, man, the nurses' station is just right down the hall. Zoom in and see what they're talking about...."

Ellison shook his head, suppressing a fond chuckle. The future was uncertain, but he was relatively sure the immediate future held the prospect of a double date with nurses. As he half-listened to his friend going on about the cute blond's cute brunette friend, Jim thought back to the ridiculous wish he'd made in the car while he'd been stuck in traffic on the bridge. One more day with Blair could never be enough. And as he waved off his friend's pleas to go out into the hallway and "chat up" the nurses, the sentinel tucked the academy application securely into his coat pocket and decided to press his luck and offer up one more wish to the cosmos. It was a simple request. Just a mere lifetime with his partner at his side. And this time, he knew he wouldn't take a day of it for granted.

Finis

* “Fire and Rain” - James Taylor
** “The Dance” - Garth Brooks

The Sandburg Zone

Cascade Library