AUTHOR: Kylia (kylia_bug@yahoo.com)
DISCLAIMER: Nobody belongs to me, unfortunately. They belong to Pet Fly, and a few other people I don't know. Title and lyrics are borrowed by OMD without permission.
ARCHIVE: Yes. My site, List archives, anywhere else, let me know where, and it's yours.
RATING: R
PAIRING: Jim/Blair
CATEGORY: Angst; Romance, First Time.
SPOILERS: Post TSbBS.
WARNINGS: None really.
SUMMARY: Jim and Blair prepare for the end of their partnership.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Another one-parter. Inspired by the OMD song.
AUTHOR'S NOTES 2: This takes place a few years into the future, but everything happened just like it did on the show, up until TSbBS. Everything else I will explain.
FEEDBACK: Please. My muses need to be fed, or I'll go find someone else to play with instead :)
DEDICATION: To everyone who likes me to pay attention to Jim and Blair :)
**********
National Law Enforcement Convention
Cascade Washington November 2003
Detective Blair Sandburg looked up at the hotel as he climbed out of the cab. "Home sweet home." He whispered sarcastically.
"Mister, you need any help?"
Blair turned around to face the cabbie. "No thanks." He smiled and paid the young cab driver. After he took his one lone bag out of the back seat he walked into the hotel.
It only took a few minutes to settle into his room at the hotel and he took a deep breath after he was left alone, wondering how it was he had gotten suckered into this convention.
His musings were interrupted a few moments later by a knock at the door.
He really wanted to tell whomever it was to go away, but with his luck, it would turn out to be someone important, or worse. So, instead he stood up wearily and opened the door. He wasn't quite prepared for the person he would find on the other end of the door.
"Sandy? It is you." Megan Connor smiled broadly at him.
Blair Sandburg took a step backwards on unsteady feet, the shock evident in his face. "Megan? What are you doing here?"
Megan smiled softly at her old friend. "Don't I get a hug?"
Blair stepped forward and gave her a tentative hug, unsure of what to make of this new development. "What? What are you doing here?"
"We got stuck with Convention detail." She supplied.
"We?" Blair asked nervously.
"Yeah, Rafe, H and I."
Blair sighed in relief. He didn't know if he could handle seeing Jim again, not yet. Even after four years, he still felt ill every time he thought about the pain he had caused Jim. He still ached every time he thought about what he had lost, what he had given up. And more often than not, he doubted he had made the right decision. But deep inside, he knew that Jim's life was better for him not being in it.
"That's good, Megan. It's great to see you, but I'm kind of beat, jetlag and all that. Maybe we can see each other later?" Blair asked hopefully, knowing it wasn't likely.
Megan nodded and started to leave, but before Blair could close the door she stopped and placed her hand over his, where it was clutching the doorknob.
"He misses you, you know. He hasn't been the same since you left."
Blair smiled sadly. "I know."
Megan seemed to understand as she nodded once more and walked quietly away.
*****
The next day and a half went by fairly quickly. And endless concession of lectures, lengthy discussions and story swapping between various members of police and other law enforcement agencies around the country.
Surprising himself, Blair actually enjoyed himself immensely. He had run into several people from different police departments, which he had had dealings with in the four years he had worked for the DCPD.
Thanks to Simon's glowing recommendation it hadn't been too difficult to get into another department, outside of Cascade. And thanks to his years as an observer with the CPD, it hadn't taken long before his new captain had noticed that he was well worth his weight in gold. His closure rate was above any other in the entire department. And that was in spite of the revolving door of partners he'd been saddled with.
Fourteen at last count.
From the ancient, out of shape, gruff beat cop to the female reject from vice, to the bigoted, buff, former narcotics cop. He'd lost his last partner, a rookie to homicide, who reminded him a lot of Cassie Wells, on her worst days, just last week. His captain had finally realized that maybe partnering him wasn't such a smart idea. It was nothing but a heavy headache, and lots of paperwork.
Blair himself had to agree. The best partner he had ever had he'd left behind here in Cascade. It was both the best and worst decision he ever made. Worst because he left Jim.
And no matter how you tried to look at it, how many different viewpoints, or shades of gray, it always equaled the same thing. He loved Jim. More than he had ever thought possible. More than life, more than death, more than the air you breathe. But it hadn't been meant to be. Hell it hadn't even been reciprocated. So he had left. And a part of him had never regretted it.
The other part of him, the part that had been totally lost in the aftermath of the dissertation fiasco had latched on the move as its salvation. And it was. Because as confused, terrified and completely miserable as Blair had been climbing off of that plane in Washington D.C., Blair knew it was the right thing to do.
He *needed* that time away, that time *alone* to figure out what he was doing, if being a cop was really for him. He needed to find his own way. And he had. He had discovered he truly loved the work. Long hours, persnickety D.A.'s and triplicate paperwork aside, he had fallen in love with his job.
Once he had gotten over his queasiness at autopsies and near-debilitating sorrow over some of the lives lost, he had realized detective work was a lot like anthropology. Although, he had *known* that before. But *knowing* it, and *feeling, living and breathing* it were completely different things.
Blair was honest enough with himself to realize that the things he had learned would probably have never been gleaned if he had remained Jim's partner. Jim's over-protectiveness would have never allowed him the freedom that he needed to find his own way.
But now that he had? What now?
Well that was easy. Nothing.
Nothing had changed in the four years since he had left Cascade. The reasons he left hadn't changed, and probably never would. His being chosen to come to this convention changed nothing. In a couple of days he'd climb aboard another plane and return to D.C. To his small desk in the crime capital if the world. To his small, one-room apartment. To his loneliness.
*****
Blair Sandburg stepped out of the familiar elevator and hesitated. He didn't know why he was doing this. It was surely the stupidest move he had ever made in recent history. The convention was over, and he was due to fly back tomorrow afternoon, never having seen Jim Ellison. But he couldn't. He just *couldn't*. Too much of his life, even now, was wrapped up in the man he had once called friend. The man who had once called him friend.
How had things gone so wrong?
Shaking his head from his memories, he started moving down the hall. When he reached 307 he stopped for a second, wondering if this was a waste of time. Would Jim be home? Would he be alone? Did he even live here anymore?
Before he could second guess himself further the door opened, and the object of his thoughts stood in the doorway, looking to all the world as if he'd been expecting him.
Maybe he had. Maybe Jim had seen him pull up in the parking lot in his rental car. Maybe he had heard Blair's footsteps or heartbeat on the way up. Would he still recognize his Guide's heartbeat?
Blair looked up and blue locked onto blue and the most amazing thing happened, the world fell away. The world, and the past.
*****
Jim stood, standing in his doorway, only partially dressed, frozen in a single moment in time. Blair, his Blair, was back. Here, in Cascade, on his doorstep. The doorstep to the loft they had shared for four years. The doorstep to a place that had been empty without him.
Jim knew that he wasn't back to stay. He couldn't be. So much had happened. So much had gone unsaid. But here, now, there was a chance. There was an opportunity for him to tell him what he never could before. If he could only have this one night. This one moment, then maybe when the morning came, and he was gone again, he could at least pretend to be happy, be alive.
****
If you leave, don't leave now
Please don't take my heart away
Promise me just one more night
Then we'll go our separate ways
We always had time on our side
Now it's fading fast
Every second, every moment
We've got to, we've got to make it last
****
Jim stepped aside and let his former partner enter the loft they had once shared. No words were spoken, but none were needed. Blair looked around the loft for unbearable minutes and Jim just *knew* he was noticing how little had changed. Not a single thing had been moved in the four years of Blair's absence, forever hoping he'd call one day and say he was coming home, wanting a transfer back to Cascade.
Even when Blair had won his own 'cop of the year' award the previous year, Jim had still held out hope. He could do no less. To admit it was well and truly over, was to admit his own life was over. And he couldn't do that.
Even though he knew that he had caused this split between then, with his accusations after the dissertation was released, and his silence after Blair's press conference. He had all but told Blair to go.
He had failed his partner, and he couldn't blame him for getting out when he could. And he was truly proud of him, of all that he had accomplished. Of the grief he had dealt with after transferring out of Cascade so soon after finishing the Academy and the discrimination he probably received after arriving in the new department.
But Blair withstood it all, just as Jim knew he would. It made him proud. And incredibly depressed. Because a small part of him had hoped, selfishly, that Blair would come running home, wanting back into Jim's life. But he never had. And who could blame him?
But he was here now. And that was all that mattered. The here and the now, for who knew what tomorrow would bring?
After several long minutes of silence, Blair finally spoke. "It hasn't changed." His voice was tinged with the slightest bit of awe.
"No." Jim agreed.
Blair turned around. "How are you?"
"Good."
"Your senses okay? No zone outs?"
"No, I'm good."
Blair nodded, smiling at his Sentinel's usual lack of conversational skills. His eyes locked once more on Jim's and he almost melted from the intensity of the gaze.
"I can't stay. You know that." He whispered as Jim came forward.
Jim nodded his understanding as he continued his walk across the living room. When he had arrived to where his Guide stood, his right hand reached forward, as if to touch, but then hesitated. Blair stepped forward, and brought himself in contact with the fingers, which sought to touch him.
Jim sighed as he brought Blair into his body for a hug, his fingers now trailing through the younger man's curls. When their lips finally touched after long minutes of hugging and caresses, it was like an electric fire had been let loose, igniting everything in it's path.
****
I touch you once, I touch you twice
I won't let go at any price
I need you now like I need you then
We always said we'd still be friends someday
****
Blair lay silently, staring up at the skylight in Jim's bedroom, watching the stars streak across a curtain of black. He turned his head slightly and sighed wistfully as he read the time. Four-thirty-three. It was almost time for him to get up and leave.
Something, he really didn't want to do, but something he couldn't *not* do.
They had spent the evening making love as though nothing else in the world had mattered, and nothing had, not then. But now? Now, in the breaking light of day, the reality was nothing had changed.
Their lives together had ended four years ago, and nothing could change that. Not even a beautiful night together. If it had happened four years ago? Maybe they would be in a different situation now, maybe not. Either way, what was done, was done.
Blair extricated himself carefully from the covers and walked quietly down the stairs, picking up his clothes, and locking himself in the bathroom. He needed to shower and leave before Jim got up. Before anything further could be said, or not said.
******
If you leave, I won't cry
I won't waste one single day
But if you leave, don't look back
I'll run the other way
Four years went under the bridge
Like time was standing still
Heaven knows what happens now
You've got to, you've got to say you will
****
When Blair exited the bathroom, Jim was staring out the balcony doors, just as he had so many times before. He spoke before Blair even had time to register his presence.
"Were you going to say goodbye?"
Blair sighed and ran a hand through his still-damp curls. "Jim, man. You know I can't stay."
"Why not?" Jim asked quietly, without turning around.
"Because I have a life. You have a life. *We* have lives."
Jim turned around then. "My life is nothing without you. It has been nothing since you walked out that door. Since I *let* you walk out that door. Without without telling you how I felt."
Blair turned away, not allowing Jim to see his eyes watering. "I knew how you felt, Jim. You loved me then, just like now. But it wasn't enough. I ruined your life. I trashed it. I nearly got you killed. You don't need me in your life, Jim. You didn't then, and you don't now."
Blair began walking towards the front door. He had almost reached it when he heard Jim's whispered response.
"Your wrong."
****
I touch you once, I touch you twice
I won't let go at any price
I need you now like I need you then
We always said we'd meet again
****
Blair stood staring at the sign announcing the flights, their numbers blurring together. He couldn't seem to move. They had called his flight a couple of minutes ago and he *knew* he had to go, to board the plane, but he couldn't seem to get his feet to move.
He kept hearing Jim's parting words in his head, over and over again.
You're wrong.
Was he? Was he wrong? Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe Jim didn't hate him for what had happened four years ago. Maybe Jim did forgive him, had forgiven him. Maybe Jim could trust him again.
Maybe it wasn't his presence in Jim's life that had ruined it, but his absence in it. Thinking back to the way the loft looked, brought a pain to his chest. A part of him was pleased beyond measure that nothing had been changed, almost as if he had been hoping Blair would come home, like he almost had a million times.
But another part realized that for that to be true, that meant that Jim's life had been truly empty these past four years. Just as empty as his own had been. If that was true, what was gained by his leaving again? Surely they were better together than apart.
Weren't they?
*****
Jim stared out at the bay from the balcony, blocking out all sensory input. He couldn't care any longer. The pain was becoming palpable. The loft smelled of Blair again, but soon the scent would be gone, just as the sound of his voice would only exist in memory, with his touch and taste. How was he supposed to survive this?
How could he possibly go on like this, alone, and barren, lacking the other half of his soul?
He couldn't. He knew it. His heart knew it. And his soul knew it. It was only a matter of time before his body caught up.
So lost in his own thoughts and buried in his own pain, the Sentinel failed to register the new presence until a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around his waist.
Once his surprise was overcome, Jim sunk into those arms, soaking up the feel of them as his Guide's scent wafted around him. The sound of his love's heartbeat as it thumped against his back was a testament that this was not a dream.
Blair was silent for a long time, and when he finally spoke it was only to utter three words.
"I was wrong."
****
The End