Part Two: Homecoming

It was barely two p.m., but Jim Ellison was on his way to the loft. Simon had ordered him to go home for the day, insisting that he was in no shape to stay as he was practically falling asleep at his desk, anyway. Jim didn't bother to argue with him. He didn't have much to say about anything, lately.

Simon didn't know it, but he had ordered the impossible. Jim couldn't go home because he didn't have a home. The loft was empty and unfamiliar without Blair, even though the demon had taken nothing with it but a few clothes and essentials when it left. At first Jim had been glad to have things in the loft, such as the tribal masks, large and dusty leather tomes, and "Earth Music" CDs that reminded him of Blair. But as the days stretched into weeks and the weeks into months, what had started as a comfort soon became a subtle form of torture. He found himself burning Blair's incense, using Blair's shampoo, even drinking Blair's strange teas...anything to keep the memories from fading. So far, it had worked, but only two months had passed and, though it felt like forever, he knew he wasn't likely to forget anytime soon. It would take years for him to forget.

But, God, how could he survive years this way? Feeling this empty? He had gone through so many emotions since that day in the bullpen. First had come disbelief, then denial, sadness and anger. And, of course, through it all, there had been guilt. Had Blair really felt that way during his life? Did he really think he wasn't loved and appreciated? Jim knew that he had made mistakes. He had never been very good at expressing his feelings, and had a failed marriage and an estranged family to prove it. Blair Sandburg had been the first to see through his stone-faced facade--or so he'd thought. Had Blair been fooled just like everyone else?

Ellison barely stayed on his feet as he parked his truck and trudged wearily into the loft. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the rack by the door, then headed into the kitchen for a beer. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep despite his mind-numbing fatigue, so instead he ordered a pizza and prepared to sit in front of the TV, watching something mindless for a few hours.

He rounded the sofa, reached for the remote--and froze. "Blair?" Jim felt tears come to his eyes as he let himself drink in the sight of the man he feared he would never see again.

Blair was curled up on the couch, fast asleep. Quiet snores were escaping from between his slightly parted lips, and his eyes moved back and forth in dreams behind closed lids. He was wearing jeans and a ratty Cascade PD sweatshirt, his hair loose and framing his face with soft curls.

Jim had already reached out a hand to touch Blair before he realized he'd moved, and he yanked his hand back just in time to avoid waking him. His earlier fatigue suddenly forgotten, he sank into the chair next to the couch and just watched his friend sleep.

When Blair woke up, he would say everything he should have said a long time ago. This time, he wouldn't mess up.

Blair woke up slowly, still not used to the feeling of being alive again. When he had first reclaimed his body, it had taken him hours before he got used to the weight of his own head on his neck and shoulders. Even the act of breathing had driven him nuts, because he was aware of each and every breath he took. He had waited for several weeks before leaving San Francisco, where the demon had taken residence. It stayed by his side, offering its support and advice as he prepared for his move back to Cascade.

Cascade...?

With that thought, he came awake all at once, sat up with a gasp...and came face-to-face with Detective James Ellison.

"Jim!" The name came out as a breathless gasp, and he shot to his feet, backing away from his old friend, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

He hadn't meant to do it this way. The plan had been to get into the loft while Jim was at work, using the key the demon had taken with it when it left. He was going to fix a nice dinner, so that when Jim came home, they could talk over a good meal and set things right. But he'd been so tired, and somehow he'd fallen asleep on the couch, and Jim had come home and found him there...

"Hi, Chie-- Blair."

Jim's soft voice stopped his whirling thoughts in their tracks. He hadn't seen the older man since he'd left Cascade in his spirit form several weeks before, and he was shocked at the change that had occurred in just that short time. Jim had lost even more weight, leaving hollows in his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. His skin was so white as to appear almost blue, and his eyes were watery and bloodshot.

"You can call me Chief," Blair managed, trying to stop staring.

Jim gave a tiny smile at that. "Okay."

"What time is it?" he asked, unable to think of anything more appropriate to the situation.

Jim glanced at his watch. "Four-thirty." At Blair's confused look, he added, "I got... I came home early."

Blair nodded. "Hungry? I could make dinner..."

There was a flicker of something indefinable in Jim's eyes as he shook his head. Blair tentatively stretched out the empathic pathways the demon had taught him to use, and was shocked by the sheer intensity of Jim's guilt and self-loathing. Looking at his empathic ability the same way he looked at Jim's senses, he only had the dial set at '2,' and was already nearly overwhelmed. He quickly shut down the pathways and stepped toward Jim, reaching out an placing a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay, Jim, I don't mind. I'm hungry even if you're not, and cooking relaxes me, helps me think. Why don't you go take a shower or something, or watch some TV, and then we can sit down and talk over dinner."

Jim managed a tiny smile. "You saying I stink, Sandburg?"

Finally, Jim was showing some life. "I wasn't aware I was being subtle about that, Jim." He gave his friend a tiny shove toward the bathroom. "Go."

Jim just stood there for a moment, staring at him. It took all of Blair's willpower, but he held Jim's gaze, refusing to look away, even for a second. Jim needed this, that much was obvious. He needed to convince himself that Blair was really back. It felt good to be needed, even as his heart ached for the pain he had caused his friend.

Finally, Jim gave a tiny nod and stepped away, heading up the stairs for his robe and a change of clothes, and then back down to the bathroom for a shower. By the time the shower was turned on, Blair had already started the water boiling for a pasta dinner, and was defrosting some shrimp in the microwave.

He hummed to himself as he melted the butter and sautﾐed the onions and garlic for the sauce, trying to decide what he would say and how he would say it. The first thing he wanted to do was apologize. It was his fault the demon had taken over his body in the first place, since he hadn't exactly fought for it. He'd just been so tired, and so hurt and confused by everything that had happened. His death had almost seemed like cosmic justice, or a punishment, for not being honest with Jim about having found another Sentinel.

Not that Jim hadn't had some fault in that as well. Blair had tried to tell him and been cut off, but that shouldn't have stopped him. He should have persisted and forced Jim to listen. He should have realized, as both Jim's Guide and his friend, that something was causing Jim to act the way he did. He'd gone over it again and again during his time as a spirit. If only he had asked Jim what was wrong. If only he had made Jim listen about Alex. If only he had tried to guide Jim through his confusion and irritation, so that he could get to the heart of the matter. If only he hadn't let Jim throw him out.

He still felt a twinge of pain when he remembered that, and the things Jim had said to him in the bullpen. Their last words had been words of anger, and yet he'd just given up anyway. If for no other reason, he should have fought his way back so that he could tell his friend that everything was still all right between them. But he hadn't done any of those things. He had fallen down on his job as a Guide, and both of them had paid for it.

He didn't know how he could say all this to Jim, but he would try. He would apologize for all of it, and then he would let Jim speak. He would let Jim make the apology he desperately needed to voice, and he would forgive him. Then they would both make promises that they would make every effort to keep. Their relationship would never be the same, but that was probably a good thing.

He heard the shower go off, so he set the kitchen table and dished up two plates of food, then sat down to wait for Jim. It was going to be a long night.

Captain Simon Banks sighed to himself as he entered his office. Here it was, not even nine a.m., and he already wanted to leave. It had been a hard week, filled with robberies, drug overdoses and murders, and it was only Wednesday.

He picked up his phone as he took his seat, grimacing as he realized he had a message waiting in his voice mail. Only a few people knew his private number, so it was likely that the mayor or commissioner had called at some ungodly hour. That was never a good thing, since both of them usually wanted information "yesterday" about whatever it was they'd called about. However, the voice he heard was one he had feared he would never hear again.

Simon, hi, it's Blair Sandburg. I'm sorry to call you on your private line, but I didn't want to leave a message with anyone else. Anyway, Jim won't be coming in today, he had a pretty rough night and he's wiped out. I'll call and let you know when he can come back to work. Oh, and, Simon, please don't tell anyone I'm here yet. I'm going to tell them all myself, in my own way. Thanks...um...for a lot of things. I'll talk to you later.

And for the rest of the day, the members of Major Crimes had to wonder why their captain was walking around with a grin splitting his face from ear to ear.

Blair Sandburg took a deep breath as he prepared to enter the police station for the first time since his death. Aside from a few phone messages left on Simon Banks' private line, he hadn't spoken to anyone in Major Crimes since his return, and he worried about the appropriateness of just showing up unannounced like this.

He could feel his former partner standing behind him, making no move to rush him or influence him in any way, and he had mixed feelings about the older man's actions. On the one hand, he was glad for the time to center himself before what was sure to be a dramatic reunion, but on the other hand, he feared that Jim really didn't understand at all, and was just going out of his way not to do anything that would upset Blair or make him angry. A quiet Jim Ellison was normal, but a subdued one was somewhat frightening.

He had left a final message on Simon's voicemail early that morning, letting him know that both he and Jim would be coming in. He had called in every morning for the past three days, each time reiterating that he didn't know when Jim would be ready to return to work. Jim had basically collapsed after their long talk the night of his return, and had slept for over 36 hours straight. Blair himself had been unable to sleep, at least immediately afterwards; his mind was too busy trying to work through the implications of that talk.

He had started off first, explaining to Jim all of his concerns and frustrations, and the reasons for his leaving. He had talked for over an hour while his food got cold, and Jim had simply sat there and listened, his eyes cast down and his shoulders slumped. Blair had started to feel somewhat guilty, listing all of Jim's shortcomings and faults in such a short span of time, but convinced himself that it really was for the best. If they were ever going to work things out, they had to be honest with one another.

He made sure to tell Jim that he did not feel as strongly as the demon had, and he pointed out the ways in which he himself could have changed the outcome of the Alex Barnes debacle. By the time he finished, his mouth was dry and his stomach empty, but a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Jim's shoulders, however, seemed even more weighted down than before.

Blair put his plate into the microwave and started to eat, waiting for Jim to speak. When nothing happened for several minutes, he put down his fork and told Jim in no uncertain tones that his tendency not to speak was part of what had destroyed them in the first place.

"If you want to fix this," he said as kindly as he could, "if you want things right between us, you will tell me exactly what you're thinking right now, and you won't stop talking until you've bared your soul to me. We have a lot of healing to do, Jim, and at this point, the only way I'm going anywhere is if you refuse to meet me halfway."

Jim's eyes had remained firmly downcast, but slowly he had begun to speak. His voice was low and hoarse, the words halting, but slowly they gained speed. He began with his ill-fated trip to Peru, and he told Blair everything he could remember from that trying time when he had repressed all of his memories rather than deal with the guilt and anger he had felt over losing his team. He spoke of his return to Cascade, his time in Vice, the transfer to Major Crimes, his partnership with Jack Pendergrast and the older cop's sudden disappearance, eventually getting to the re-emergence of his senses and the very first day the two of them had met.

Years and years of hidden emotions--anger, guilt, confusion, grief and the odd moments of joy and contentment, poured out of him in a flow. He didn't even notice as Blair handed him a tall glass of water, which he absentmindedly sipped as his voice began to give out. He kept talking until he reached the day he had first seen the spotted jaguar signifying Alex Barnes' arrival in Cascade, at which point he faltered, his fingers spasming around the weeping glass. But he forced himself to go on. He told Blair of his dream about killing the wolf, and of the unsettling feelings of being crowded, threatened. He talked about his vision at the fountain, and how he had thought that he had somehow brought Blair back to life using his Sentinel abilities. He only stopped when he reached that horrible day in the bullpen, when he had found out that the man he had been living with for the past few months was not Blair at all, but an impostor with a familiar face.

They both sat in silence, then, for a long while. Blair stood and put his empty plate in the sink, then took Jim's untouched food and wrapped it up before placing it in the refrigerator. It was after 3:00 a.m. and they were both exhausted, but he knew there was something they both had to say before they could sleep.

"Jim," he said, kneeling down in front of the guilt-ridden Sentinel and taking both hands in his own. "I need you to look at me." In all the hours of their talk, Jim had not looked him in the eye even once. "Look at me," he repeated, when Jim's eyes merely flickered upward, still only reaching his nose.

Jim took a deep breath and forced his eyes to meet Blair's. Blair smiled at him, his eyes clear of all anger and accusation. "Jim, you are the best friend I have ever had, and I am not willing to lose you. You hurt me, but I know that you didn't mean to, and I know how badly you feel about everything that happened. I hurt you, too, and I apologize for that. Will you forgive me? Can we work this out?"

"Forgive you?" Jim could barely speak after hours of nonstop confession, and his voice was almost inaudible. "You don't need my forgiveness, you didn't--"

"Please, Jim. Forgive me, and forgive yourself."

"Do you--?"

Blair nodded, understanding the question Jim simply couldn't bring himself to voice. "I forgive you, Jim. I forgave you a long time ago. I forgive myself for my own shortcomings, and I resolve to you now that I will not make the same mistakes again. Now, please, tell me if we can do this."

Jim's eyes fell to the floor once again, but then he took another deep breath and brought then back up, squaring his shoulders and facing Blair with blue eyes blazing with determination and resolve. "I forgive you, Blair, and I forgive myself. We will work this out."

And then all the energy left his body and he collapsed into Blair's hug, using the last of his strength to fall to his knees and pull Blair close, his face buried in mahogany curls. Blair was forced to help him up to his room and into bed, but he hadn't minded the task at all. He had called Simon's private line at the office immediately, arranging for Jim to have the next day off, and when Jim stayed asleep well into the evening, he called again. He had called in just one more day before Jim began to get restless, and then he made arrangements to go in with him.

Now, here they were, standing in front of the Cascade Police Precinct, and Blair was afraid to go inside. He took another deep breath and turned to smile at Jim. "Ready?"

Ellison managed a sickly smile in return. "Let's go."

They walked in together.

The bustling bullpen of the Cascade PD's Major Crimes Department went utterly silent as Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg walked through the doors. Conversations petered out, phone calls were ended with terse explanations, and mouths all over the room dropped open in shock.

Blair stopped short in the doorway, causing Jim to bump into him from behind. The Sentinel muttered a quiet apology which was shrugged off without a second thought. It didn't take long before Blair felt compelled to break the silence. "What," he flippantly asked the room, widening his eyes to comic proportions, "somebody die?"

It was just enough to galvanize Megan Connor into action, and she launched herself at Blair with open arms and a squeal of joy. "Sandy!"

Soon, they were surrounded by well-wishers. Hands were everywhere--it seemed as though everybody just needed to touch Blair, to reassure themselves he was really there. Henri Brown gave him an enthusiastic high-five and ribbed him about his slightly longer hair. Rafe shook his hand and quietly welcomed him back to "where he belonged." Joel Taggart, his eyes suspiciously wet, gave him a rib-cracking hug and promised to take him out for lunch sometime soon. Much to everyone's surprise, Simon Banks hugged him, too, and good-naturedly read him the riot act for making him keep the secret of his return for three long days. Jim just stood back through it all, stiff and pale, his face carefully blank.

After several minutes of barely controlled chaos, Banks called for order. It took him several tries to get everyone's attention, but when the room was finally quiet, he smiled kindly at Blair, and began to speak.

"Sandburg, I think it's obvious that I speak for everyone here when I say that I am very glad you've come home."

The room filled with murmurs of assent, and Sandburg's cheeks flushed a deep red color as he mumbled a shy, "Thank you."

"All of us were very upset by what happened here a few months ago, and we've been waiting all this time to apologize to your face, and to let you know how much you mean to us." He stepped closer to Blair and spoke quietly, but not so quietly that he couldn't be heard by most of the people gathered round. "I wronged you, Sandburg. I didn't treat you with the respect you deserved. You have brought a lot to this department, and I consider you an asset to Major Crimes. I know I didn't say it often, and I guess my behavior didn't show it to you, either. I can't promise that I'll be singing your praises all the time now--"

"No, I wouldn't expect you to--" Blair interrupted, but Banks quieted him with a small shake of his head.

"--But I wanted to show you how important you are to all of us. To that end..." He put an arm around Blair's shoulders and guided him to a spot that had been cleared near Jim's desk. "You see that empty space, Sandburg?" The young man nodded slowly. "That is where, if you'll accept the offer, your new desk is going to be. And picture, if you will, the shiny new nameplate that will go on that desk, which will read 'Blair Sandburg, Consultant.'"

Blair felt his heart skip a beat. He had known about Simon's plans to get him a permanent position, having watched throughout most of the process, but had not expected his own desk in addition. His throat closed up just slightly.

"And that's not all," Taggart piped in, obviously barely containing himself. "Tell him the rest, Captain."

"I'm getting there, I'm getting there," Banks grumbled with mock-annoyance. He cleared his throat and waited for the chuckles to fade. "Now, Blair, are you picturing your new desk?" Another shell-shocked nod. "Then imagine, now, the beautiful new Cascade PD paycheck that will appear on said desk, bright and early every other Friday morning!"

Blair gulped. "Paycheck?"

"Yes, Sandburg, paycheck. As in cash, moolah, grass, clams, dead presidents. Money. A paycheck."

"This is unbelievable!" Now Blair's eyes were getting wet. "I didn't... I... This is too much!"

"Not for you, it isn't," Brown disagreed forcefully. "You've always been one of us, this is just a formality, really. We all wanted this for you."

"We're so glad you're back, Sandy." Megan stepped forward and hugged him again, and Blair melted into her arms, struggling to keep the tears from falling.

Banks waited until Blair had calmed down before grinning and motioning toward Jim's desk. "Now, you have a lot of paperwork to do if you want that paycheck, Sandburg, so I'd get started if I were you. And the rest of you... Don't you have any work to do!"

The infamous Banks bellow broke up the party and sent all of the officers of Major Crimes scurrying back to their desks. Jim Ellison watched Blair as he headed down to Records, on Banks' insistence, to get the paperwork for his new position. He sat down at his desk and turned on his computer, forcing himself not to give in to his urge to follow his Guide. He wouldn't make the same mistakes this time. Blair didn't need a keeper, and even if he did, Jim Ellison didn't really deserve the title.

He started on his own paperwork, completely unaware of the worried stares of his co-workers.

Blair Sandburg was back, so that meant that Jim would soon be back to his post-Blair, relatively happy self...

Wouldn't he?