by Beth Manz
Jim eyes narrowed as he thought about what Blair was telling him. "So that's what's been bugging him...." he said after several seconds.
"You knew?"
"Not what was eating at him, no," Jim admitted. "But I knew something was up."
"Stephen's feeling pretty uncomfortable with you again, Jim. All that progress you guys made this past year is pretty much gone because he feels guilty about not offering you support after my funeral."
Jim raised one eyebrow. "Guilty, huh? An inbred Ellison trait."
Blair snorted. "You got that right. Anyway, I think you should talk with him."
The detective shook his head. "I tried yesterday, but it didn't work."
"Then try again, Jim! Stephen looks up to you. You're his older brother. You can get him to talk to you, I know you can."
Jim frowned, thought about that for a long moment. He glanced ahead, barely able to see Stephen in the distance. He thought of the progress the two men had made over the past couple of years-of the uneasy truce that had evolved into an increasingly comfortable level of camaraderie between them. He hated to see that destroyed. But if his brother was feeling guilty, then their relationship would be destroyed. If anyone knew the destructive havoc that guilt could play in a person's life, it was Jim.
"Okay, Chief," he said after several long seconds, turning his attention back to his partner. "I'll spend some time with him today, let him know that I don't think he let me down."
"Good," Blair replied, clearly satisfied. "But Jim," he continued before the detective could move away, "there's something else I wanted to talk to you about. Something else about Stephen." He paused briefly, his eyes taking on an uncertain look. "I think we should tell him about you-about your abilities," he said finally.
Jim stared down at his guide. "What? Why?"
Sandburg stepped closer, placed a palm flat against Jim's chest. He looked up at him with wide, imploring eyes. "Because he's your brother, Jim. Because maybe he could have helped you when I was gone if he'd known what you are."
"Chief, Eli couldn't help me and he knew what I am. What makes you think Stephen could have been any more successful?"
"Because he's family. I think that might make some kind of difference. Maybe he could reach you where Professor Stoddard couldn't." Blair dropped his hand away from Jim's chest and shrugged. "I think it's worth checking out."
Jim shook his head, his back stiffening at the idea of his brother knowing about him. "No," he said with finality. "I'm not comfortable with this."
"You told your father."
"Because I felt I had to. He didn't accept our partnership and I needed him to understand why we're working together. I needed him to keep his nose out of my business."
"But, Jim, don't you think Stephen deserves to know?"
The sentinel ran a hand across his hair, shook his head. He sighed out. "Maybe. I don't know, Chief." He chewed on his lip for a moment, trying to decide the best way to explain how he felt. "I just feel like I'm losing control of this thing. First, only you knew. Then it was Simon. Then Eli and my dad. Now you want to throw Stephen into the mix. I just feel like too many people know about me and it makes me nervous."
Blair stepped closer to Jim and touched lightly at his chest again. "Jim, if something ever happens to me, then all those people would have to step in and help you. And I'm not just talking about helping you get past your grief, I'm talking about helping you be a sentinel."
Jim's brow furrowed as he looked down at his partner. He reached out and squeezed at Blair's arms, looking at him affectionately. "Chief, don't you get it?" he asked, his voice deep and quiet, serious. "They can't help me with that. Eli already proved that. He-"
"No, I don't accept that," Blair interrupted, cutting Jim off, his eyes flashing sudden anger. "I think if I work with Professor Stoddard or even Stephen, I can teach them how to reach you during a zone. Maybe if we all work together-"
"Chief," Jim interrupted, his voice overriding Blair's, his hands squeezing more firmly at Blair's arms, "it doesn't work that way. It just doesn't."
"You don't know that," Blair argued.
"I do," Jim said softly. "In here," he dropped his hands away from his partner and pointed to his chest, to his heart, "I do." Moving closer to Sandburg, he looked down into his guide's wide, frightened eyes. "Blair, you are my guide. You are the only one who can guide me. If there's one thing I've learned over the past year, it's that. So, no matter how strongly you deny it, no matter what kind of fixes you try and put out there for me, none of them will work." Jim reached up again and cupped Blair's face in his hands. "I need you," he whispered fervently. "Nothing and no one else can help me. I thought we'd settled that."
"I know," Blair said after a time, staring steadily up at Jim, his voice barely above a whisper. "I guess a part of me doesn't want to accept it."
Jim's hands moved down and tightened on Blair's shoulders. "Why not? Like you said when we first met, there's not a lot out there about guides. But through our work together-through our friendship-you've discovered a very important facet of their place in the sentinel world. One guide per sentinel-an almost symbiotic relationship."
"And that doesn't scare the hell out of you?"
"I gotta admit, Chief, a few years ago the idea of being linked to a guide forever would have sent me running. But now...now I find the idea a bit comforting. I thought you would, too."
Blair continued to stare up at Jim and the pain in his tortured gaze tore at the sentinel's heart. "Comforting?" Sandburg whispered. "Jim, I've been declared dead twice since we've met. How can you find comfort in the idea of needing to depend on me for control with a track record like mine?"
Jim lifted a hand to his partner's cheek, stroked it gently with his thumb. "Because, Chief, I need you. And as long as I need you, I know you'll always be there for me."
Blair blinked slowly, then one corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked grin. "Oh, now that makes a lot of sense. Very logical."
Jim laughed lightly. Glancing in the direction in which their friends had disappeared, he reached around and pulled his friend close to his side. "Come on, buddy," he prompted, gesturing toward the trail before them, "let's catch up with the others before they send out a search party for us."
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Blair sat on shore watching the others in their group as they fished for lunch. Fried fish, Simon had been sure to point out. With the exception of himself and Fritz, everyone else had eagerly waded into the water, ready for a break from the hiking. Blair had begged off, his back aching a bit from the heavy pack he'd been carrying.
"I'm taking your second pack from here on out..."
Blair smiled at the memory of Jim's words, at the uncompromising look the sentinel had given him when he admitted the pack was just a bit much for him to handle. But he refused to let Jim carry the whole pack himself. Instead, while the sentinel had fished alongside his brother, Simon and Darryl, Blair had split what was inside his pack between the two of them.
His gaze shifted to his partner. He stood beside Stephen, the two men talking amicably. Stephen was sporting Blair's fishing hat, smiling openly at his older brother, clearly comfortable in Jim's presence again. True to his word, Jim had approached Stephen, somehow managing to regain some of the easiness they'd had with one another before Blair's funeral. Blair shook his head a bit, smiling. Somehow Jim had managed to bring this about without actually discussing the problem at hand.
The Ellisons are nothing if not adept at avoidance.
He sighed, his mind drifting back to their earlier conversation, shifting to the things Jim had said about his place in the sentinel's life. One guide per sentinel. Blair shuddered slightly at the memory of the words, at the realization that if something ever happened to him, Jim would be on his own. And with Marcus Grant still on the loose....
He closed his eyes, exhaling a long, rattling breath. No matter what Jim said, Blair was determined to find someone el
se who would be able to help his sentinel if something happened to him.
"Hey, Doc, what has you so deep in thought?"
Startled by the sound of Fritz's voice, Blair looked toward the old mountain man, finding that he'd settled onto the log beside him. Fritz had a cigar clutched between his teeth-a cigar that was clearly of a much better quality than the one's the guide had been smoking the earlier part of the trip. Blair grinned-the cigar was an obvious bribe from Simon in an attempt to gain information on the "cures" the man had offered the night before.
"You looked like you were a million miles away there," Fritz added as he settled himself more comfortably on the log.
"Just...thinking," Blair replied lamely when he realized Fritz was looking at him as if expecting an answer.
"Thinking, huh? Well, I'd say the expression on your face was more than thinking." He narrowed his eyes as he looked at Blair. "Young fella like you should never have such a look of worry on his face."
Blair shook his head, dropping his gaze. "It's nothing. I just have a lot on my mind."
The mountain man exhaled a long puff of aromatic smoke, then turned toward Blair. "Listen, Doc, I've been taking folks out on these expeditions for years. I've seen all kinds but never once have I taken out a group like yours." He glanced toward the men in the river. "I've never seen a more...diverse group in my life. But you're good people. Close to each other. I can see that."
Blair looked at Fritz out of the corner of his eye.
"You ask me, Doc," Fritz continued, his gaze introspective, "you got nothing to worry about as long as you got friends like these."
Blair glanced out at the water, watching as Darryl caught his first fish, his face breaking into a large grin as Simon helped net the trout. Stephen's shout of congratulations drew his attention and he shifted his gaze left. The two brothers stood side by side, Jim's arm draped companionably about Stephen's shoulders as they watched father and son reel in what would soon be their lunch.
Blair's gaze shifted again, lingered on Jim. The sentinel looked relaxed, content. At peace for the first time in weeks.
You got nothing to worry about as long as you got friends like these. And in that moment, Blair knew...Fritz was absolutely right.
Epilogue
Jim waited as Blair closed the back door and then slipped into the front passenger seat of the rented Blazer. He glanced past his partner and gave Stephen a quick wave. Everyone else in their little group had already been dropped off; it was time to go home.
Jim turned on the left hand turn signal and pulled away from the curb, all the while aware of his partner settling into the seat next to his. A large, unhindered yawn escaped Sandburg and Jim smiled. He'd been surprised when his partner had asked him to drive home, had been even more shocked when Blair had offered to sit in the back seat with Darryl and Stephen, giving Simon the front.
Jim wasn't sure what had caused the change of heart, but he was glad for it.
"Well, Chief," he began as he settled more comfortably into his own seat, happy to be heading home, "what's the word on this trip. Successful?" He glanced at the anthropologist, smiling brightly.
Blair thought on that for a moment. "Well, let's do a bit of debriefing here," he said after a few seconds. Taking a deep breath, he held up his hand and started ticking off points on his fingers. "One, you got one of the worst colds you've ever had, a situation that was only made worse by your impromptu-and may I say, not so graceful--dip in the river. Two, Simon, who obviously failed Botany 101, sat in poison ivy, then got sick on turkey hot-dogs. Go figure-he could have had sushi, but noooo. Three, Darryl, Stephen and I almost got mauled by a crazed bear with a penchant for those same turkey hot-dogs-which, in retrospect, we should have let him eat as I'm supposing food poisoning would stop a bear as much as banging on a pot, though not as quickly. And four, I doubt that any of the evidence we found will pan out."
Jim chewed at the inside of his lip, his smile having slipped from his face during Blair's lengthy 'debriefing'. "Yeah. Not good," he commiserated. He looked across at Blair and offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry the trip was such a loss, Chief."
But the younger man surprised him with a wide smile. "Loss? Are you crazy?" Sandburg held up his hands and started ticking off points again: "Darryl decided to go to Duke, told his dad and everything's cool; you and Stephen came to an understanding-well, as much of an understanding as any two Ellisons can come to, I suppose; and I'm heading back to Rainier with a Bigfoot expedition to brag about-women love that kind of stuff you know! Makes 'em think you're brave and adventurous."
"Brave and adventurous, huh?"
"You know it, man!" Blair laughed lightly before adding, "Wanna know another good thing? There weren't any bad guys."
"Hey, you're right! No bad guys." He glanced over at his partner. "Which means no one was shot, stabbed, kidnapped or beaten up."
Blair's eyes widened in amazement. "I hadn't thought about that! Not one injury during this whole trip! That must count for something, right?"
Jim chuckled softly. "So, what are you saying, Sandburg. You saying this was a good trip after all?"
"Good?!" Blair repeated, incredulous. "Good?!" He took a deep breath and smiled broadly. "Jim, I can honestly say that this was one of the best trips I've ever taken."
The End
