A Second Chance

by missfae

Sometimes second chances never happen. A Sentinel/CSI:Miami crossover Slash Jim/Blair; Horatio/Eric

Title: A Second Chance

Title: A Second Chance
Author: missfae

Email:

Website: /missfae/missfansfictions.html

Permission to archive: yes

Fandom(s): CSI Miami/Sentinel Xover

Genre (general, hetero or slash) het and slash

Pairing/Characters: Michael/Lucy Maddox, Jim/Blair, Lucy/Charlie
Decker, Lucy/Peter Cullen, Horatio/Eric and three OCs. (het pairings
are implied)

Rating: Mature for non-graph m/m and m/m/m sex and swearing.

Summary: Sometimes second chances never happen.

Warnings: Character death, revenge.

Notes: Just an idea that popped into my head as I was trying to update my other stories. Also, I didn't try to quote Jim's and Blair's meeting verbatim. I only wanted enough in there to make it recognizable. indicates thoughts.

Acknowledgments: My sister who constantly rides me to update… my own personal fic nazi…

Disclaimer: The Sentinel and CSI: Miami are the property of their respective producers. I just wanted to borrow them for this story.

Archive: Be my guest to any site that will accept this.

Comments are very welcome... thanks

Thank you so much Lyn for being an outstanding beta. I must not have scared her away because she volunteered to beta my other Sentinel stories that I have brewing. Hugs to you.

"Okay, Chrissy, I need you to raise your head and face the camera… Good! Now hold it. Xhan… Xhan! Are you planning on working with me or not? I've got to get these shots to the labs today or they don't make it to the magazine in time. And if they don't make it to mag in time, I don't get paid. And if I don't get paid… I won't be a happy camper!"

"All right, all right. I'm sorry… Chet… Chet… I can't work under these conditions… Why is he picking on meeeeee?" Sobbing, the slight young man ran off the stage.

Chet sighed. "They don't pay me enough to put up with this shit.
Jimmy, Jimmy, please can you lay off Xhan, you know he hasn't had his weekly colonic yet."

Piercing blue eyes regarded Chet for a moment before the twinkle began, then came a shaking of the shoulders, and finally a deep belly laugh that completely transformed the normally stoic features of the
man known as Jimmy.

"All right. Take ten and then we'll try this again. And Chrissy, you don't have enough time to go to the bathroom and throw up, so please refrain from trying."

Chrissy, a gorgeous dark-skinned African-American with gentle gray eyes and short dreads, just grinned.

"Now that you've revealed my secret, you know that I have to kill you."

Jimmy laughed and shook his head as he checked his equipment.

At 6'1" and 210 lbs, all of it muscle; 44 year old Jimmy was one of the busiest fashion photographers in the business, his work having graced the covers of Vogue, Elle, and other famous magazines. Blue eyes that seemed to look into one's soul were set in a craggy, masculine face. His full head of salt and pepper hair, courtesy of one of the best hair replacement specialists in Hollywood, was stylishly long and pulled back in a
ponytail.

"Jimmy, Jimmyyy…" Xhan's voice reverberated around in Jim's skull. "I'm back and I forgive you."

Turning towards the slight young Asian model, Jim sighed. "Thank you, Xhan, you know I only tease you because I love you."

Xhan's smile displayed his 10,000 orthodontic smile. "And I love you too." Sidling up to Jim, he reached out, squeezed the bulge in the front of Jim's pants, and coquettishly batting his eyes, exclaimed, "And one day you'll let me show you how much I love you."

Inwardly cringing, Jim endured the fondling for another minute and then gently disengaged the young man's hand. Reddening at the latest rejection from Jim, Xhan turned on his heels and stomped away.

"Please, Lord, let me get through the rest of this shoot," Jim muttered, and then blowing out a deep breath, said, "All right, kiddies, let's get this show on the road."

An hour later, Jim was still snapping away.

Suddenly, a sharp projectile entered the left side of his chest. He desperately slapped a hand over the wound to staunch the eruption of blood then the air was knocked out of already tortured lungs as the second bullet entered his torso.

Falling, Jim watched his camera tumble lazily through the air and then explode into shimmering pieces as it met the unforgiving floor.

"Jimmy, are you all right?" The voice echoed as if from the end of a long tunnel.

"Blair," he whispered as his vision turned gray and then black.

"American Flight 101 from Seattle to Miami now boarding at Gate 23. Please have your tickets ready."

…………………..

The phone call the day before had come as no surprise.

"Is this James Ellison?"

"Yes."

"This is Horatio Caine; I'm a Lieutenant with…"

……………………..

His movements molasses slow, James "Jimmy" Ellison moved though Gate23. Without conscious thought, he boarded the plane and found his seat. The pilot's instructions barely reached his ears as he sat zombie-like, trapped within his own miasma of pain.

"Sir? Sir?" The shrill voice produced a lance of pain that seemed to shear his brain in two but that pain pulled Jim back from his dark prison and back to the here and now.

"What…"

The flight attendant stepped forward to speak to Jim.

"Sir, are you ill?"

"No… no." Jim nervously licked dry lips. "Sorry, I didn't mean to alarm anyone. I was deep in thought… it's just… well, when this happens; I tend to tune everyone and everything else out. Sorry."

The attendant regarded him for another moment, green eyes boring into blue, probing. Then he nodded and turned away, apparently satisfied with whatever answers he'd discovered.

"All right, but we'll will keep an eye on you, just to be sure."

"Fine. Again, I'm sorry if I caused any problems."

But the man was already briskly striding up the aisle, returning to his haven in the pilot cockpit. Feeling like a schoolboy caught with a cheat sheet up his sleeve, Jim slumped down in his seat and steadfastly looked out the window. Blankly staring at the clouds, Jim wasn't aware of the lone tear rolling down his cheek as his ruminations turned back to his wayward guide and their fateful first meeting.

………………………………………………………………….

"What's taking so damned long?" Muscles tense as a bow's string, Jim sat in the MRI room awaiting the doctor's verdict. "Is he going to tell me that I crazy too?" He let out a frustrated breath. "Shit, maybe it's time to get out of this job and give it a rest."

"Detective Ellison? My name is Dr. McKay."

Jim turned and- it was a cliché, he knew- was hit by lightening. Standing before him was a 5'8", blue-eyed, curly haired, cream-skinned bowl of yummy dessert.

"Whoa! Where the hell did that come from? "Your name tag says, McCoy," Jim blurted, attempting to distract himself.

The good-looking young man glanced at the tag and smiled. "Oh, it's actually McKay; you know the old Gaelic pronunciation."

He's looks no older than 25, and what a load of bull… Jim thought but he said, "You got the results?"

McKay/McCoy looked confused.

"You know… to the tests… the results?"

McKay/McCoy instantly jumped in. "You don't need tests…"

Jim frowned. "What are you, an intern? Get me a doctor."

Please be a doctor, Jim silently prayed, I want you to stay.

Mckay/ McCoy broke into Jim's prayers. "Listen, you don't need tests, you need help. What is it… hearing things that no one else can hear, hypersensitive taste and smell, seeing things at distances you shouldn't be able to…"

"That's all in my charts—"

"… but this isn't. A hyperactive tactile response—"

"What?"

"You know, extra sensitive touchy feely."

"What are you? Some sort of —"

"Listen, I know someone who can help you." McKay reached into the pocket of his lab coat, and producing a card, handed it to Jim. As Jim reached to take it, their fingertips brushed together. Jim could have sworn that he saw the crackle of electricity dance between them. Jim wondered if McCoy had felt it too, because his breath hitched and a deep flush colored his cheeks. Jim quickly turned away. The pretense was to read the card but he didn't want McKay to see the erection that strained against his zipper.

The younger man quickly moved to get around Jim. As he was leaving the room, he tossed over his shoulder, "See the man. He can help." And with that, he was gone.

……………………………………….

On the plane, Jim had fallen asleep but the memories continued…

……………………………………………..

Walking across the large campus, Jim studied the buildings surrounding him. Finally, he arrived at his destination. The building housed the Department of Anthropology. Speeding up to a jog, he entered the
building, and after checking the directory, descended a single flight of stairs. At the end of the hallway was the room for which he was searching.

The door-plate read: Artifact Storage Room #3. Below it was a hand printed sign: Blair Sandburg. Opening the door, Jim was instantly assaulted by jungle music. Someone was sitting in a chair, his back to Jim. The long hair made it impossible to see the face. Whoever it was, was gyrating to the beat.

Suddenly, almost as if he knew he wasn't alone, the swaying stopped and a hand reached out to
turn down the music. The person turned around. Jim stared at Blair Sandburg.

Blair spoke. "Notice how the war chant of the Yanomamo Headhunters finds its echoes in the cellars of Seattle."

His lips continued to move but Jim heard nothing but the pounding of his own heart as he was instantly seized by the desire to grab this beauty, sweep the items off the crowded desk, rip both their clothes
off and fuck the younger man until he came screaming Jim's name. Instead he struggled to focus on the moment as Blair said, "… turn that jungle music off."

"Yeah." Jim shook his head, clearing it, "and I'm saying the same thing."

"Umm, sure." Turning off the music, Blair faced a silent Jim. Bouncing nervously on his toes, he said, "Sorry about all that Shakespeare's stuff at the hospital but I needed some way to get you into my area here to talk."

Jim inclined his head as if to say, 'So talk.'

Flustered, Blair moved around Jim to clear a seat. "Here, have a seat." Jim sat as Blair began to pace. "Well… I've been, um… tutoring a nurse at the med center and when she saw your chart, she contacted me. After reading it, I knew I'd hit the jackpot."

Jim gave him an impatient stare. "You're losing me, Chief."

"Okay, I'm Blair Sandburg and I'm working on my doctorate in Anthropology and you are the living embodiment of my thesis. You, my friend, are a throwback to a pre-civilized breed of man."

"Are you high?" Jim surged out of his seat. "Did you call me all the way over here to call me a caveman?"

"Well, maybe I was a bit hasty with the comment—"

Blair was cut off when he was lifted by his lapels and pushed against one of his office walls. Suspended there, he was nose to nose with a pissed off James Ellison. What happened next took them both by
surprise. Jim meant to threaten him; instead he kissed the younger man. The kiss was hard and demanding. Moaning, Blair opened his mouth and Jim plunged his tongue inside. Suddenly mortified at what he had done, Jim released Blair and stumbled back towards the door. "Chief, Sandburg, Blair… I'm sorry…"

The young man moved quickly until he was in the detective's face, "Don't be… I'm not." With those words, he pulled Jim back down into the kiss. They didn't use the desk; Blair had a couch buried under all the books and paperwork.

As they cuddled in post-orgasmic contentment, Jim whispered, "Tell me more about Sentinels."

"Well…" Blair replied, "I have a monograph written by Sir Richard Burton, the explorer not the actor, that's over 100 years old. Every village had a sentinel who patrolled the borders—"

Nuzzling Blair's neck, Jim cut in. "…like a scout?"

Moaning, Blair answered. "More of a watchman. Jim, I can't concentrate when you do that."

"What? You mean this?" Using his teeth, Jim seized the ring in the younger man's left nipple and tugged gently.

"God, Jim… you'll make me come." Blair struggled for breath. "I thought you wanted to hear about Sentinels?"

Sighing, Jim released the ring, and with a last kiss to the nipple, said, "All right, tell me."

Blair, after taking a minute to compose himself, continued, "The sentinel would watch for approaching enemies, change in the weather or the approach of game. The tribe's survival depended on him. Jim, you have a genetic advantage. A sensory awareness that can be developed beyond normal humans."

"But how could that have happened?"

"I think that your senses were dormant, off line, so to speak, and when you spent that eighteen months in the jungle, those senses were awakened and honed by that solitary time."

The two of them lay there quietly for a moment.

"But there is one thing I have to warn you about." Jim waited so Blair continued to speak, "What Burton calls, The Zone Out Factor.'"

"And that is?"

"Well… when the sentinel is doing his thing, he becomes oblivious to the outside world, kinda like having on blinders. That's the reason he has a partner, someone to watch his back and to bring him back if he
zones out."

Jim smiled. "Someone like you."

Blair nodded. "Someone like me."

"Okay… let's practice keeping me from zoning," Jim whispered, pushing Blair onto his back as he reached for the lube, "because I don't want to miss any of this…"

…………………………….

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing at Miami International Airport. The temperature is a hot 88 degrees with clear skies. If your trays are down, please put them up, return your seats to the upright position and buckle your seat belts."

Jim hadn't realized that he fallen back to sleep until he was startled awake by the announcement.

………………………..

As Jim waited for his luggage, he sensed a presence coming his way.

"Get a grip, Ellison, the airport is teeming with people." But the feeling persisted, so he turned, and looking to his left, saw two men heading in his direction.

One of the men was tall, pale-skinned and red-haired. Although he was slender, the strength that emanated from the man belied any notion of fragility. His blue eyes seemed to zero in on Jim and draw him in like a tractor beam. By his side was a handsome darker skinned man of Hispanic origin. His short black hair was casually styled and his clean shaven face gave him a boyish appeal. Shorter than his companion, about 5'9" or 5'10", and dressed more casually than the other man, he exuded an aura of tranquility.

Jim shook his head. 'What's going on here?' he wondered as they drew closer. In that instant he heard another sound - thump thump… thump thump… 'What the hell?' he thought.

The two men froze in their tracks. As Jim watched, the red-haired man pushed the shorter man behind him, bared his teeth and snarled. Heat started in Jim. A burning sensation started in his toes, moved up his legs and through his torso. It warmed his arms and hands as the nerves were set ablaze and finally
settled in his brain. A cacophony of sound hit him like a sledgehammer, while too bright light burned his eyes and his clothes threatened to rub his skin raw as he went down to his knees.

"Make it stop!" someone screamed and Jim realized it was him. He prayed for death to relieve the pain, instead he heard a soft voice.

"Dial it down… your senses are wide open, you've got to bring them back to more manageable settings."

Jim pictured the dials and slowly, ever so slowly, grasped the master dial and turned them all down as one. When he looked up again, the taller man was telling the crowd that everything was fine and to move along. All the while, he kept his eyes on Jim and the shorter man.

The shorter man moved to Jim and placed a hand on his arm. Ignoring the low growl from his partner, he asked, "Jim Ellison?"

Jim nodded. "Yes." A pause. "I don't understand. Are you—"

The other man cut him off. "I'm Eric Delko and that growling gentleman is my boss, Horatio Caine. I think we need to go someplace private to talk."

Jim regarded both men, and when he turned back to Eric, he relaxed. Picking up his suitcase, he indicated for the smaller man to lead the way.

"So you're a guide?"

Eric nodded. "And Horatio is my Sentinel."

Horatio was driving as the three men rode together to the morgue. The air conditioning in the Olds worked efficiently, cooling the inside of the car.

"How did you find out about Sentinels?" Jim asked.

Turning to face the man in the back seat, Eric considered his answer. Finally he said, "Although it didn't mean much to me at the time, I was watching a press conference in which a young anthropologist
denounced a dissertation that had been sent to be published."

"The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg," Jim sadly replied.

Eric nodded. "I hate to say it, but being the nosy person that I am and since my family has money, I contacted a friend of mine who worked for Berkshire Publishing and was able to get an illegal copy."

"Go on."

"Years later, when I met H..."

"H?"

Eric nodded toward Horatio. "Yeah, that's what we call our boss,anyway, I recognized the symptoms. The real test was when he had a zone out…"

"…you were able to bring him out of it," Jim finished.

Eric nodded. "The rest, as they say, is history."

Jim was quiet and then he said, "I want to ask you a question and tell me if it's none of my business… but are you two lovers?"

Horatio spoke for the first time. "You're right, it's none of your business, but… yes, we are."

"Does that make a difference?" Eric asked.

Jim shrugged. "Not really, but I felt the deep connection between the two of you."

"Kinda like the one you and Michael shared?"

"Yes." Jim exhaled heavily. "I'll never be able to call him Michael; he'll always be Blair to me."

"If he is indeed the same person," Horatio put in.

"He is," Jim said with finality.

Soon they pulled into the Dade County Coroner's Office.

Jim paled as he stepped out of the car. Although he tried to put on his best face, his steps became more halting as each one took him closer to the morgue and Blair's body.

As he turned the corner, Jim froze.

"What is it?" Eric asked his concern evident.

"Don't you see it?" Jim was panting.

"See what?" Horatio demanded.

"Look!" Jim insisted, pointed to the door that said morgue.

"Oh man," said Eric.

"Yeah," Jim choked out.

In front of the door leading into the morgue were a wolf and a panther. The wolf lay on its side, tongue lolling out while the panther gently nudged it with its muzzle. When the wolf didn't respond, the panther raised its head, and with a cry that was more of a humanlike wail of anguish, both disappeared.

"Jim?" Eric turned to him.

"I've got to go see Blair." Jim pushed through the door.

The morgue was cool and brightly lit. A comely African-American woman stepped up to him.

"Jim Ellison?" Jim nodded. "I'm Alexx Woods."

"Can I see him?" Jim asked, barely sparing her a glance.

Looking at Horatio and Eric, Alexx turned and pulled out a drawer but as she reached to pull back the sheet covering the corpse's face, Jim stayed her with a gentle touch to her arm.

"May I? Please?"

Alexx nodded and stepped back as Jim took a deep breath.

Grasping the sheet, Jim thought, 'this cover is so rough. I'm sorry Chief; I know you had gotten used to softer sheets.' Breathing shallowly, Jim slowly peeled the sheet back from the slack face.

"Chief." Even death couldn't destroy the beauty of Blair Sandburg.

"Is that him?" Eric asked gently. "Is this Blair Sandburg aka Michael Maddox?"

Jim's eyes never left the beloved face as he replied, "He's heavier, and the hair is shorter than he's ever worn it, and I don't know about Michael Maddox, but this is Blair Sandburg."

Horatio was speaking but Jim was concentrating on Blair's face, remembering their last day together almost 10 years before.

……………………………………………………………………….

"…Yes, Jim… like that…"Blair panted as Jim's thrusting body blanketed him. "Jimjimjimjim…" Blair's chanting was becoming a prayer, reaching a crescendo until he yelled, "JIM!!" And he came so hard that he passed out.

The touch of a warm towel brought him back to his senses as his lover gently cleansed the semen from his body and between his legs. Once finished, Jim pulled him close, cuddling him as he stroked Blair's curly hair. Jim had always enjoyed the feel of Blair's hair and now that it was even longer, he couldn't wait to bury his hands in it as they made love. They lay together, quietly content until Blair spoke.

"How do you do that?

"Do what?"

"Well… you're the sentinel but I'm always the one who experiences sensory overload. Explain that."

Chuckling, Jim pulled the younger man closer, nuzzling his neck. "Don't know... maybe we need to run some more tests."

"Oh yeah," Blair replied and pulling Jim on top, kissed him deeply.

Later, as Jim was drifting off, Blair spoke so quietly, Jim almost missed it. "I want to come out."

Jim stiffened.

"Jim?"

"I heard you."

"Well?"

"We've had this conversation before and I'm not ready to announce our relationship the world. Not yet.

Blair sighed as he pulled away. "I don't get you. Our friends know…"

"…and they are the only ones who matter."

"Right, if the others are so unimportant then you shouldn't care who we tell."

"Sandburg, are you listening to yourself?" Getting up, Jim snatched up his shorts and tank top. Instead of dressing, he paced the room, waving his clothes as he lectured. "You're thinking about going to the academy. Are you certain you want to be known as the gay recruit?"

"Jim, if I know that you'll be waiting for me at the end…"

"Then it'll make the harassment better?" Exasperated, Jim threw up his hands and walked down the stairs.

Throwing on a robe, Blair followed him down, "Jim, please…"

"What about when you finish? No way will they allow us to be partners. And what will you do when backup is late coming because they didn't get the address right, then what?"

"So I won't go to the academy…"

"Okay, you don't go. What will happen to your observer status? I know the powers that be will find a way to have it revoked."

"You don't know that…"

"I do and if you weren't so stubborn, you'd see it too."

"Jim… do you love me?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"You didn't answer."

"Of course I do."

"Then say it, say I love you.'"

"Chief, now you're being ridiculous."

Blair smiled sadly. "Even after three years together, you still can't say it." He turned to head into the kitchen.

"Chief…" At that moment, the phone rang.

"Jim, it's Simon, I need you to come in to go over one of your reports. Some of the details need to be clarified."

"Simon, can't it wait until tomorrow? This really isn't a good time."

"Jim…" Simon started.

"Go." Blair was standing beside him. Jim hesitated. "We can talk later."

Jim regarded him, listened to his heartbeat. When he ascertained that it was calm, he spoke to Simon. "I'll be right in."

"See you soon." Simon hung up.

Blair stood by the balcony, watching as Jim moved around the apartment getting dressed.

"We'll talk when I get back."

Blair wrapped his arms around himself and nodded.

Walking over to stand in front of Blair, Jim gently gripped his chin and raised his head. "We'll talk."

"Sure," Blair replied, and with a light kiss, Jim turned and walked out the door.

Later that evening, when he returned, Blair was gone. On the table was a copy of Blair's dissertation with a noted taped to the cover.

Jim,

I think we both knew that this day was coming. Every since Alex, we have been tiptoeing around each other, wary of our feelings. So careful not to bruise the other... so careful, that we've forgotten who we are.
I'm your guide, the same man who lusted for you when our fingers brushed together in that MRI room. But as I worked with you, I grew to love you and I had hoped that you loved me. No… I take that back, I
know you love me, but you still have a hard time saying it.

Maybe it's selfish of me to want more than you're ready to give but… damn, I'm supposed to be the one who's the expert with words yet they're failing me.

Just believe that I love you and want the best for you, so I'm leaving. Before you panic, you have learned to control your senses well enough that Megan will be able to help you over any rough spots.

It's funny, I want to say more but I don't think that anything I write will make this any easier.

Know that I love you and you are forever in my heart.

Blair

………………………………………..

"Jim? Jim? Okay, big guy, come back to me, come back," a soft voice intoned.

"Chief?" Jim turned and clasped the warm body to him. "Chief." He breathed in the scent… but it was all wrong, and the hair, it was short, but not the curls that he was used to. Startled, he thrust the body to arm's length and looked into the face of Eric Delko. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay," Eric responded just as softly, and it was that tenderness that pushed Jim over the edge. There were no loud sobs, no falling to his knees, just the simple trickling of tears that showed his anguish as he kissed the lips of his dead Guide. Finally, Jim gently covered Blair's face, turned and walked out the morgue, never looking back.

…………………………………………………………….

The gray walls of the prison's visiting room did nothing to alleviate the claustrophobic feelings of those inside the large room. Jim struggled, not wanting to inhale the atmosphere that stank with fear, loneliness, boredom, anger but most of all… desperation. He looked around.

Unlike many of these areas, this one was set up with round tables with chairs, and even two couches. Sunlight streaming through large bay windows protected by mesh on the inside and bars outside, did its best to dispel the gloomy atmosphere of the room. Gone were the days of talking on the telephone while staring at your guest through bullet proof Plexiglas barriers. It was like being in a friend's sitting room. Moving to a table by the window, Jim lowered himself into one of the plastic chairs and stared at nothing. While he waited for the prisoner, he thought about his conversation with Eric and Horatio
after leaving the morgue.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

"When Blair left me, my senses went offline again."

"So what happened when we met you in the airport?" Horatio wanted to know.

"I don't know…" Jim confessed.

"I think I do," Eric mused. The two older men focused on him, waiting.

"Well," Eric nervously cleared his throat, "this is just a guess because Michael, I mean Blair, was the only person that I've read, who wrote about Sentinels. And when he discredited himself… people assumed
it to be a hoax so no more research was conducted." He paused as he gathered his thoughts.

"I believe that it is on a genetic level that sentinels recognize their guides. It is in our basic makeup that the bonding is imprinted and just as the sentinel is genetically enhanced to protect his or her tribe, the
guide is genetically enhanced to sense their sentinels."

"Sentinels?" Horatio asked, glancing at Jim.

"Sentinels," Eric reiterated. "There is nothing in the research to indicate that a guide can't have more than one sentinel or vice versa.

Jim said almost to himself, "So you're saying that if the four of us had met when Sandburg was still alive…"

"…we could have had a foursome." Horatio finished Jim's thought.

Eric nodded.

"How is that possible?" Jim countered. "Whenever an unbonded sentinel enters another sentinel's territory, conflicts are bound to occur."

"At the airport, I felt that an intruder was poaching on my territory," H affirmed.

"True," Eric turned to H, "but by the time we made it to the morgue, you were more accepting of Jim's presence, and when he held me at the morgue, it didn't bother you."

"I wouldn't say that it didn't bother me…" Horatio sniffed.

Eric grinned. "You know what I mean. Anyway… it seems that Jim and I are compatible and could become bonded."

'Yes, we could,' Jim thought, 'but I have business to get out of the way first.'

……………………

And this is how he wound up here. Horatio was kind but blunt about the disposition of those who were involved in the plot to kill Blair.

"Decker turned state's evidence and put himself at risk to help us nab both Cullen and Rossi; unfortunately, he was granted immunity from prosecution in exchange for his cooperation. Cullen then turned
against Rossi and Lucy Maddox—"

"Blair's wife," Jim interrupted.

Horatio noted that Jim still refused to call the victim Michael as he nodded and continued, "…after he spilled his guts, his lawyer got him off on a technicality. Claimed what we did was entrapment. I don't know whose pocket the judge was in but he got it thrown out and we could only get him on obstruction of justice."

Eric picked up the story. "Of course, Lucy claimed that she had no knowledge of what Cullen was doing. She thought that he was simply going to scare Michael into backing out of selling off his share of
the company. And with everyone blaming everyone else and no one being held accountable…" He let the sentence trail off.

Jim's jaw clenched. "What about Rossi?"

"Again, all we had on him was obstruction."

"What about the files and recordings in his possession?"

Horatio shrugged. "Can't put him away for that, none of it was obtained illegally… or so the judge said."

Angered radiated from Jim. "So all any of Sandburg's killers get is what 18 months and most will be out sooner with good behavior?"

Eric reached across the seat and softly caressed Jim's arm. Jim felt a calm flow over him, like a cool stream on a hot day.

"I'm sorry, Jim," Eric said.

Jim nodded and stared out the window.

...

Sitting in this room that did its best to masquerade as someone's sitting room, Jim waited for one of Blair's killers. The woman was not what Jim expected. She was 5'7' and slender. Her long blond hair was
swept back from her pretty round face. Even in the prisoner's uniform, she exuded an air of innocence and fragility. As she approached, Jim pictured a wounded deer, cowering as if about to be struck again. But it was her eyes that gave her away as she regarded him first with curiosity, then with recognition, then finally with disdain.

She spoke. "So you're the great James Ellison."

If Jim was the type to cringe, then that voice, which seemed to scrape across his nerves as painfully as a rusty knife, would have made him do so.

Regarding her coolly, he replied, "You were his wife."

"Wife?" She snorted while reaching into her pocket to retrieve a cigarette and matches. "Not for a long time."

She lit her cigarette, cupping her hand around the match, while giving Jim another once over.

"I guess you want to know why we did it."

"You want to tell me?"

"Sure… double jeopardy and all, it's not like I can be tried twice."

She grinned as something in Jim's eyes flickered. "You really want to tear me to pieces, don't you?"

Instead of replying, Jim stood up and walked to the covered bay windows. Looking out of them, he studied the landscape in an effort to get himself under control and to dial down his sense of smell. A
minute later, he returned to the seat facing the woman as she casually sat and smoked her cigarette, looking for all the world as if she was chatting at a coffee klatch.

"Tell me," he whispered as he sat back down.

She smiled. "Jim, do you mind if I call you Jim?" Receiving no response, she continued. "Do you know what it means to have another's body but not their heart or soul? Well, I haven't had Michael's for quite some time. Don't get me wrong, he was very kind and attentive to me but it was as if he was going through the motions, and truly he was. He thought that I was having an affair but he couldn't prove it at first. But that didn't stop him. You see he was extremely paranoid."

As Jim listened, his heart pounded. Surely this woman wasn't describing the person that he knew. That gentle soul who trusted everyone, and when he gave, he gave all of himself. No… this, this was
a stranger.

Lucy continued, her voice growing more bitter. "One day he saw you on the television; it was some show about famous photographers. Do you remember it?"

Jim shook his head.

"Doesn't matter," Lucy bit out, "I'll never forget it. The way his eyes lit up and how he whispered, Jim' as if your name was some sort of prayer. I never asked him about it because I didn't want to know
how he knew you. All I ever knew was that even when we were first together, he never looked at me or said my name like that."

She stopped and stubbed out the cigarette. When she turned back to him, her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "It was soon after that, that he started talking about that he used to be an anthropologist and how he traveled the world. He told me about some hippy mom that he had. And how he missed going out making new discoveries. When he talked, his face would get that glow again and it
was like he was a totally different person…" Her eyes took on a far away look. "Maybe he was." She shook herself. "Anyway… he started letting his hair grow out. All through our marriage, he wore his
hair buzzed. But one day he just up and announced that he wanted to let his hair grow out. When he died, it was the longest it had been since we were married."

Pushing her hair out of her face, she reached for another cigarette. After she lit it, she continued. "Then he hired that damned private detective because he was convinced that I was having an affair." She
giggled. "I was, but he was so fucking paranoid… Anyway, about a week later, he tells me that he is going to sell his half of the business, divorce me and go back to the only person that he loved…." Her voice
broke, "…that loved him."

Jim felt tears coming to his eyes. He blinked rapidly; he refused to let them fall as he realized that he did love Blair and because of his inability to admit it, Blair was now dead.

"I couldn't let that happen. I stuck with him all those years and now he was going to take that away from me." She snorted. "Do you know what he was going to do with the money?" She wasn't expecting an
answer and Jim didn't volunteer one. "He was going to give it away and live free, unencumbered by "material things," she mocked as she made the quotation mark gesture. "Then he was going to find you, and if necessary, beg you to take him back. I couldn't let him do that. I deserved something and I wanted my share." Giggling again, she said, "Too bad he stopped with the first affair or he would have discovered the one I was having with Peter. We both had so much to lose if Michael sold the company and that's when we came up with our plan to get rid of him. And well… you know the rest."

When she finished they both sat in silence. Finally she stood. "Guard, I'm ready to go back to my room."

While they waited, she said, "When I get out of here, I'm going to take the money that I saved up
in an account under my name and make a new start somewhere. It's not as much as I deserve but it's a nice amount, so I guess I didn't do too badly, did I?"

Jim never looked up as she left the room.

………………………………………….

The trip to the airport was quiet as each man was lost in his own thoughts. As the three men walked towards the boarding lounge, Eric finally spoke. "Are you coming back?"

Jim nodded. "I just have some things I need to settle back home and then I will be back."

"How long?" Horatio asked.

"Two, three months."

"Okay, we'll be looking for you."

"American Airlines, flight 234 to Seattle, Washington now boarding. Please proceed to the gate and have your boarding passes or tickets ready."

"This is it." Jim stuck out his hand first to Horatio who shook it solemnly and then to Eric who pulled Jim into a tight hug. Jim tensed and then relaxed as he glanced at Horatio and saw acceptance in his
eyes. He then breathed deeply, cataloguing his new guide's scent. Before releasing Eric, he whispered, "I'll be back." With that, he turned quickly and strode toward the boarding gate.

Horatio and Eric stood there and watched until the plane took off.

…………..

Over the next six weeks, four news bulletins came across the wire. It seemed that four persons: Lucy Maddox, Peter Cullen, Kurt Rossi and Charlie Decker were killed in separate incidents. The strange thing
being, their bodies appeared to have been mauled by some sort of wild animal. Since the victims were still incarcerated, officials were having a difficult time trying to determine how a wild animal would have gotten close to the prisoners.

Three months to the day that he said goodbye to Horatio and Eric, Jim said goodbye to his life in Cascade and moved to Miami.

Later that night, Jim was in bed with his two lovers. Eric was sandwiched in between the two older men, the evidence of their lovemaking on their cooling skins. Jim was spooned up to Eric's back as he lay with his head on Horatio's chest, his arm thrown across his waist. Jim was just starting to drift off when Eric asked, "Jim?"

"Hmmm?"

"Did you get all your business settled in Cascade?"

"I sure did."

"Are you going back?"

"No reason. My life is here right now."

"Good."

Jim felt Eric settle down. Soon both of his lovers were breathing deeply and evenly. As he began to drift off, he heard it. Turning over, he looked towards the closed bedroom door. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a black panther wrapped protectively around a white jaguar that had a falcon perched on its back. Jim's breath caught as a wolf materialized, and nuzzled first the falcon and then the jaguar. Finally, he insinuated himself so that he lay cuddled in the warmth of the panther. The panther's purr rang loudly in Jim's ears as he lay back down, and smiling, whispered, "You're always with us Chief… always with us."

Then he too settled down into sleep.

End

Hope you enjoyed it.