Work Text:
I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you
Jim kept forcing himself to concentrate on Simon's words as they sat through the briefing. Important as the case was, he kept thinking of that damned first chapter Blair had written. Yeah, they'd talked about it, and Jim had tried to make his peace with how coldly Blair had written about the last three years, but the very fact that it was there meant they were coming down the home stretch. It was 'bug under a microscope' time now, and once Blair had finished dissecting him, he'd be gone.
"The Chief is really breathing down my neck on this one," said Simon. "I don't have to tell you two--" He broke off and frowned at the man tapping on his doorframe. "Can I help you?" he asked.
Jim turned to look, surprised. It wasn't often that a colonel in full Air Force dress uniform waltzed into Major Crimes. But more unusual than the colonel was Blair's reaction to him.
"MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A BITCH!" Blair yelled, shoved the colonel out of the way, and stalked right out of Major Crimes.
Jim blinked in shock. "Blair?" The colonel wisely stepped aside and let Jim chase after his partner. He finally caught him by the elevator, both Simon and the colonel close on his heels. "What the hell was that about?"
"He's here to tell me my brother's dead. Again," Blair spat. "Now unless you've got an actual body this time, Colonel O'Neill, I want you to get out of here and stop fucking with me."
Jim reeled in shock. Daniel was dead? Beautiful Daniel with his soft hair and knowing eyes? Dead?
"Jim, I thought Sandburg was an only child," said Simon.
"Beej, I'm sorry," O'Neill pleaded. "Look, the memorial service is--"
"I'm not going. I went to the first one. And the second. We're done, okay? I'm telling Danny next time I see him not to keep screwing with me like this. I can't take it." Blair turned to Jim. "I need some space, man, okay? Simon?"
"Go home, Blair. We'll talk later," said Simon, keeping a firm grip on Jim's arm. "Take all the time you need."
Blair nodded and walked away, heading for the stairs.
Simon turned to O'Neill. "You want to tell me what this is about?"
O'Neill looked like hell, awkward, embarrassed. Grieving. "One of my team members, Dr. Daniel Jackson, is -- was -- Sandburg's foster brother. He was killed in action." At their looks, he added, "Repeatedly. Actually about three times more often than Sandburg knows; I only tell him when we're absolutely sure there hasn't been a mistake. Except there was. Twice. But he's definitely dead now, sort of, at least, well, he's not coming back. Anyway, you can see why I'm not exactly high on Sandburg's list of favorite people."
Jim thought he followed that, having been in a similar situation in Peru. "He goes into situations no one could come out of, but there's no body, and then it turns out that he's alive?"
O'Neill nodded, relieved. "Yeah, that's it exactly."
"So what happened to him?" Jim demanded.
"I'm sorry, the details are classified..."
Jim waved that aside. "Then how do you know he's dead?"
"I saw it happen. No mistake. He's ... on a higher plane now."
"I'm sorry," said Jim, remembering the pain of his own team's death. "I should really find Sandburg."
Simon nodded for Jim to go and turned to O'Neill. "Why don't you give me the details of the memorial service in case Sandburg changes his mind?"
Blair made it as far as his car before he started shaking and crying. He couldn't drive in this condition; he'd get himself killed... "God, please let them be wrong. Please let them be wrong again," he whispered over and over, pounding his head lightly on the steering wheel.
God didn't answer but, after a while, Blair heard a soft tapping on the window and looked up to find Jim leaning against the car, looking upset. "You okay, Chief?"
Blair unlocked the passenger door, hesitated a moment, then scooted over to the passenger side instead, letting Jim get in the driver's seat. "Just drive, man. I don't care where."
Jim got in, took the keys and started driving, saying nothing, for which Blair was grateful. He watched the busy streets melt away into teary blurs. Despite himself, Blair felt the scenery, and the warm presence of Jim beside him, slowly push his grief back far enough for words. "Naomi was a good mother."
Jim glanced at him to indicate he was listening, but otherwise didn't react.
"She never let me doubt that she loved me or that she was proud of me. She never hit me. And she never left me behind, not willingly. But sometimes Family Services decided she wasn't a fit mother, and sent me to live with foster families while she fought for me in court. That must have happened five times when I was a kid.
"Danny and I were placed with this horrible, right-wing Christian family that did everything from locking us in our rooms to hitting us with belt buckles to purge the devil from us, and that's not counting all the hours we spent kneeling in church. Man, I used to get us into so much trouble, trying to play pranks that would get us grounded and make us miss church without going too far and getting us punished.
"Danny's the one who taught me it wasn't enough to escape for a while into a book, we had to push ourselves to achieve so we could declare ourselves emancipated early, keep the system from kicking us around. He's the reason I came to Rainier at sixteen. Hell, he's the reason I kept interested in Sentinels when everyone thought I was crazy: He's got his own crazy theories, and every couple of weeks we used to visit his grandfather in the mental hospital and pick each other's crackpot ideas to pieces." Blair smiled at the memory of the stern old Austrian archeologist with a weakness for gingerbread men, whose obsession and self-doubt had served more as fuel than caution for the two young boys.
"The year before I met you, Danny was in a really bad way. He'd just lost everything, he was the laughingstock of the scientific community, and then he disappeared, and a couple of weeks later, this O'Neill guy comes and tells me Danny's dead. No body, no explanation. Just dead. Then, a year later, O'Neill tells me it was all a mistake, and a few days later Danny shows up at the warehouse, no explanations, and we get royally drunk. A couple of months after that, O'Neill's back, I regret to inform you, wake's at my house, yadda yadda yadda, and a week later, Danny's back again, so sorry, just a big misunderstanding."
Blair hugged himself tightly. Every time he thought he was over Jack choosing his career over Blair, Jack showed up again with the horrible news that made every meeting an awful parody of the way they'd first met. And worse than churning up memories of their relationship or grieving for Danny was the fact that Jack was in the closet, which forced Blair to endure these wakes and funerals completely alone behind a polite mask, unable to even ask Jack for a comforting hug. He still saw red when he thought of that first wake: he could really have done without seeing Jack drunk and hanging off his ex-wife like a cheap suit while Blair was left shell-shocked and raw and trying to make polite conversation with a very strange black man in a panama hat.
"Must have been hell," said Jim, and there was a rough ache in his voice that made Blair turn to look at him for a moment. Jim had suffered so many losses; who was he seeing in his mind's eye?
"Yeah. And I mean, we're still brothers, and we're still close -- Danny's laid some really heavy stuff on me the last few years, just enough to vent without giving away anything classified -- but the last few years I've just been waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know? And without a body I don't know whether to finally bury him or buy a couple of packs of cider jack and get the Go board ready." He sighed. "Man, I need to journal this, try and make sense of--"
"Typical, Sandburg. Your own brother dies and you just want to take notes." Jim's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel; his voice sounded strangled, but Blair's only thought was for the words that felt like a slap in the face. "I should have expected this, after reading that first chapter, but can't you just stop being a scientist and just be a human being for once?"
Blair stared at Jim in shock, then got out of the truck at the next red light and slammed the door. "Fuck! You!" he screamed, then marched across four lanes of traffic and stormed off down the sidewalk.
A few hours later, chased out of his office and unwilling to go home, Blair made his way back to the station. Despite his troubles, he found his attention drawn to the striking blonde Megan was interviewing in the corner. He'd thought he'd heard her say something about her clothes burning her...
"You're here kind of late," Henri commented.
"Yeah," said Blair, forcing a smile. "They're fumigating my building at the university, so I can't work there and I can't work at home, because Jim's driving me crazy. Hey, Brown, you know what's going on over there?"
"Yeah, girl was sitting on a curb, car wrapped around a telephone pole. She was, like, yelling and screaming that the lights were killing her eyes and then she started bugging out about how the noise was getting to her. I mean, it was crazy!"
Blair felt a surge of excitement. Just when he thought life couldn't get any worse, Danny dying, Jim going ballistic for no reason, the gods decided to hand him another Sentinel on a golden platter. "Scuze me, H." He walked over to the corner. "Hey, Megan, can I talk to her for a second?"
"Yeah, I'm just waiting on blood tests for Ms. Grateful Dead here." She looked at Henri, who waved a folder at her, and went over for the lab results.
The blonde looked ready to spit tacks, but Blair knew he only had seconds to make his case before Megan got back. "Excuse me, miss? Hi. My name's Blair Sandburg and I'm a consultant to the police department. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about the light hurting your eyes and about your clothes making your skin ache..."
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
Blair jerked and fought, but the hands gripping the back of his neck and twisting his arm gave him no leverage. Chlorine choked and burned his throat and he coughed and gasped for air, but that only made it hurt more, and he flailed, trying to kick her, but his feet only hit empty air.
And then the coughing eased, and he was kind of relieved, because he didn't know how much more of it he could take. The water was warm and it felt good against his skin, and Alex's hand twisted so softly in his hair. He couldn't remember the last time someone had held him, and Alex's hand was gentle and firm on the back of his neck, and his arm was tingling where she was twisting it, but that was okay. Huh, he thought, taking notes, It doesn't get blotchy, all the colors just seem deeper somehow. And Jim was gone, but Alex was here, Alex was holding him, and he knew he should be very angry about that, but mostly he was just tired, and relieved that it didn't hurt anymore.
And the colors kept turning deeper blue, and the blue was tinged with green and the chlorine smelled heavy and wet, and Blair suddenly became aware that he was standing in the jungle, and no one was holding him anymore. A wolf watched him from behind a clump of ferns.
"Hi," Blair said, mostly because he figured he should say something. "Are you my spirit animal? That's so cool! I mean, I always figured if I had a spirit animal it would be some dumb animal like a three-toed sloth or a squirrel or something. Are you sure you're mine? 'Cause the only two things I know about wolves is that they mate for life and they're fiercely protective of their families, and I'm a total flake, ask anyone. I mean, I go through relationships like Kleenex, man, and I know I'd never let anything happen to Naomi, but I hardly ever see her, so it's not exactly the defining characteristic of my life."
The wolf stepped closer to him, and Blair put out his hand to show he didn't mean any harm. The wolf tilted its head and licked his palm, and Blair laughed at the cool, wet tongue tickling his hand.
A horrible sensation rocketed through his chest, knocking him to the ground. "What the hell was that? It felt like I got hit by a truck." He looked down at his chest and saw two circular burns reddening. "Man, this is so not cool." He rubbed the burns and felt the same horrible shock that left him gasping and shaking.
The wolf turned to go, and Blair stumbled to his feet. "Wait up, I'm going with you. Don't leave me here!"
A familiar voice drawled, "It's about time you showed up; I was starting to worry."
Blair turned and stared at a face he never thought he'd see again. "Danny?" He threw his arms around his brother. "God, Danny, I thought you were dead!" He looked around at the jungle. "I guess we're both dead, aren't we?"
"Actually, we're not," said Danny. "That's why I'm here, Blair. You don't have much time."
Blair heard a growl and caught sight of a black panther in the distance, circling them. "Danny, this is so cool! I mean, I'm supposed to be a shaman, this guy Incacha called me one, but no matter how hard I tried, I could never connect to the spirit world before."
"Yeah, I know. You have some serious blocks up, BJ. That's why it took me so long to get through." Daniel pressed the bridge of his nose with his fingers in a sweetly familiar gesture. "Blair, you're dying. Actually, technically you're already dead; not even a heartbeat. In less than a minute, you're going to run out of time. But you don't have to die. You can do what I did; ascend to a higher plane. It's incredible, BJ, beyond anything you've ever experienced. We could spend the rest of eternity exploring the far corners of the universe together."
Blair's eyes kept flicking back to the panther on the edge of their territory. "What about Jim? Who will look after him if I'm not there? I mean, I'm assuming we can't come back, or you'd have shown up before now. I was really hurting without you, Danny."
"No, you can come back; it just took me a while to get it all figured out. You just can't touch anything, can't interfere. But you could talk to him ... if you wanted to." Daniel locked eyes with the panther for a moment before turning back to Blair. "Beej, I can see the future now. His spirit animal is here because he's trying desperately to bring you back. And he can do it, he can force you back to life, if you let him.
"You'll wake up in the hospital and you'll be bubbling over with love and excitement for everything you've shared. And he'll throw it back in your face and go off to make love to your killer on a beach, and you'll scream inside that he should have just let her kill you if he hates you this much. You'll spend half a year trying to win back your place in his life, you'll give up your doctorate, your reputation, your whole life for him, but he'll never love you the way you love him.
"You have to choose now, BJ, we've only got a few moments left. You can die, you can go back to Jim knowing that there's no way to change how he feels, or I can help you ascend."
At that moment, Blair let go, and all the fear, all the excitement, all the things that rushed through his brain melted into a peaceful, profound stillness, a loving calm. He laughed, and Daniel laughed with him as his consciousness expanded, stretching the borders of his awareness beyond the solar system, to a thousand living worlds. So much darkness and pain. So much love. It was time to go.
The panther screamed as the two young men turned and walked into the light, and Jim was back in his body, still screaming and clutching the remains of his friend.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you.
"No, Sandburg, don't you leave me! Sandburg!" Jim screamed as the vision ended, leaving him kneeling over Blair's dead body.
Simon kept trying to pull him away. "It's no use, Jim, he's gone!"
But then he felt it, static electricity dancing on his skin like the pressure change of a storm rushing in. An achingly pure light burst from Blair's chest, and Jim thought at first that it was another vision, but Megan's gasp and Simon's shout told him he wasn't the only one seeing this. The light consumed Blair's body, rising from it like some incandescent sea creature trailing ribbons of light. It came towards him, and Jim felt an overwhelming sense of love and regret as it touched him.
The being of light moved past him to touch each of the Major Crimes detectives in turn. Then, with a whisper of sound, it rose and vanished into the sky.
"What the hell was that?" one of the EMTs demanded.
"What's the matter?" Megan replied, voice hollow, scrubbing tears away with the back of her hand. "Haven't you ever seen an angel before?"
"That -- that's impossible," said Rafe.
"We all saw it; you got a better explanation?" Simon said quietly, resting a hand on Jim's shoulder. "What was that, Jim?"
"He's gone," said Jim. "Danny took him away."
"Blair's brother?" Simon asked.
Jim nodded. "I never told him, Simon. Danny warned me I'd lose him if I didn't tell him, but I never thought--"
"This wasn't your fault, Jim," said Simon.
"Yes it was, Simon. But not just mine." He could feel the rage growing in the pit of his stomach. "I'm going to kill her, Simon. I'm going to kill Alex for what she took from me."
Simon fiddled for the hundredth time with the scrap of paper that held Colonel O'Neill's phone number. He was grasping at straws, he knew, but could it really be a coincidence that O'Neill had mentioned Danny had also died without leaving a body? Maybe O'Neill had some answers, something Simon could use to pull Jim back from the brink.
He finally picked up the phone, and after a few rings, O'Neill answered. "Hello? Who is this?"
"It's Captain Banks; you left your number in case Blair wanted to come to the memorial service?"
"Beej changed his mind?" O'Neill asked hopefully. "Is he there? Can I talk to him?"
"No, he's not here," said Simon, fighting a catch in his throat. "Listen, Colonel, this is going to sound pretty strange, but when Daniel ... died ... was there ... light?"
There was a long moment of silence, then a sigh. "Oh for crying out loud. He would, wouldn't he?"
"Who would what?" Simon asked.
"Has he showed up yet?"
"Who?"
"Beej! Blair! Has he started sticking his nose in your business in the least helpful way possible?"
And just when Simon thought things couldn't get any weirder... "Why, should I be expecting it?"
"If you ask me, they just get bored and start bugging us so they'll have something to do. Give him a week and he'll start armchair quarterbacking everything you do while insisting he couldn't possibly get off his incorporeal ass and actually help, no, that would be against the rules!"
"So he's not dead?" Simon struggled to understand.
"No. Well, yeah... I don't know, the whole thing always gives me a splitting headache. He's ascended to a higher plane, which means he's got the power of God but he's not allowed to interfere beyond annoying people to death. How the hell did Danny con Beej into something that dumb anyway?"
"I don't think he had much choice. Someone killed him," said Simon.
There was a muffled sound on the other end of the phone, like someone biting back a gasp or a scream. Finally, O'Neill managed, "Do you know if he ... was it quick?"
"She drowned him," said Simon. "He ... he was probably scared, but I don't think drowning hurts."
"When you see Beej, tell him to leave me out of it," O'Neill said roughly. "One of them is bad enough. I don't want to see Beej like that too."
Warning bells went off in Simon's head. If Blair was going to come back and haunt anyone, it would be Jim. How bad was this going to be, and what was he going to have to do to get Jim through it? "Why?" he asked. "I mean, we're not talking Marley lugging chains and rotting, are we?"
"No, nothing like that," said Jack. "He's ... calm. Like this Buddha came in and made itself look like Danny. I mean, normally he's just burbling up with all this wonderful, amazing run-off from his brain until you just want to strangle him--"
Simon couldn't help a chuckle. That sounded familiar.
"--and all that's just ... gone. There's nothing he wants to explore, or fight for, or discover. It's like he's not even human anymore, just ... detached. If there's one word that doesn't describe Daniel, or Blair, for that matter, it's detached." O'Neill sighed heavily. "Now, if you don't mind, Captain, I think I need to go get good and drunk."
Simon thanked him and hung up, muttering, "Damn it, why can't things ever be simple with those two?" But simple or hard, Jim was going to need some support right now, so Simon headed over to the loft to give the other half of his most troublesome partnership a shoulder to lean on.
But the loft was deserted. "Jim?" Simon called, to no effect. Damn, Jim really did a number on this place, Simon thought to himself. It wasn't just that the furniture was gone; the whole place had been scrubbed within an inch of its life. No wonder Blair had been afraid that Jim was going nuts.
The door opened behind him, and Simon whirled and drew his gun, only lowering it when he saw it was just Megan. "What are you doing here?" Simon demanded.
"You're not going to believe this, sir," she began.
"Let me guess," said Simon. "You saw Sandburg."
Megan stared at him. "You saw him too?"
"No, but it's going around, from what I hear. What did he say?"
"I said," replied an achingly familiar voice behind him, "you guys have to stop Jim from going after Alex."
Simon turned, bracing himself for something out of an Evil Dead movie, or the strange alien blob of light from before. Instead, Blair looked completely normal, if a little better dressed than usual in a cream-colored sweater and trousers.
"I told you he wouldn't be here, Megan," said Blair. "You'd think dying would give me a little more authority around here. I mean, near infinite knowledge and power, and I'm still treated like a kid."
"Sandburg? Is that really you? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, man, I'm more than fine. But Jim's not. You guys have to go help him before he does something really dumb."
"If you're so all powerful, why don't you go help him?" Simon challenged. "He's your partner."
"I can't, Simon. They don't let us interfere. I can't even touch things, it's against the rules."
This was sounding uncomfortably close to O'Neill's prediction. "You're telling me you're staying in the truck? Sitting this one out?" he asked with more than a hint of anger. "That doesn't sound like you, Sandburg. It can't be that important if you won't lift a finger to help."
"I can't," Blair stressed. "Simon, please, you have to stop him. If he goes after Alex, he'll get lost."
"He's a Ranger, Sandburg, I think he can find his way around a map."
"Not that kind of lost."
The pews were hard and the church was hot and uncomfortable, but there was a roof overhead and doors he could bolt to keep out the worst of the predators, both animal and human. Part of him still couldn't believe Sandburg was dead. He kept replaying the vision in his mind, hearing Daniel tell Blair that Jim would never have the guts to admit he loved him. He should have said something! He should have fought harder! Danny had even warned him, ages ago, that if he couldn't find the courage to tell Blair what he felt, Blair would assume he wasn't wanted and moved on. He should have listened, should have said something when he had the chance.
He opened the supply pack he'd taken with him and pulled out the flannel shirt he'd packed to help him hold it together. He closed his eyes and sniffed it, breathing in the green tea and tarragon scent of his Guide. He rubbed his cheek against it, losing himself in the familiar texture, and opened his shirt to get a better feel. He felt distantly ashamed, but he pushed that voice of reason further to the back of his mind. The flannel felt good when he rubbed it against his chest, marking himself with its scent. And then--
"Ew. No offense, man, but jerking off to my last remains in a church is a little too Quills for me," said a voice he never thought he'd hear again.
Jim growled and reached for his gun, aiming it at the thing his senses warned him wasn't really there. "What are you?" he demanded.
"I'm me," said the specter. "Come on, Jim, put the gun down, man. It's not like it's gonna do any good, and I've had enough guns pointed at me this week."
Jim put the gun down. "I'm sorry, Sandburg," he said.
"What, the gun? Don't worry about it, man."
"I'm sorry I kicked you out. I'm sorry I said those things. But mostly I'm sorry I didn't tell you..." He shook his head. "Doesn't matter now."
"Listen, Jim, please, you have to stop this. If you go after Alex, you're going to lose yourself."
"She has the nerve gas and you expect me to let her go?"
"Simon and Megan will be here in less than twelve hours. Just wait for them to back you up, okay?"
Jim shook his head. "I need to do this alone."
"Why? Why can't you just listen to me for once?"
"Because she killed you!" Jim snapped. "Because Simon and Megan aren't going to let me do what I need to do to her to punish her for that." He took a deep breath, tried to calm down. "I just need to do this one last thing, and then we can be together."
"I don't like the sound of that, Jim. What do you mean, be together?"
Jim shook his head. Wasn't it obvious? "Got a special bullet for the job, no mistakes. Quick and clean, and then I'll be with you again."
"Jim, look at me. We're together now. I'm here. I'm real."
"I can't smell you." He passed his hand through Sandburg's chest and waved to emphasize his point, which seemed to annoy Sandburg. "I can't touch you. I can't taste you."
"Not to point out the obvious, man, but you weren't doing much touching or tasting before, either. Or did you forget why I chose door number two?"
Jim's face twisted in anguish at that, but Blair cut off his apologies. "I'm not angry, Jim. I don't think I can get angry anymore. I'm just sorry we never had that." He sighed heavily, then tilted his head to catch Jim's gaze. "But killing yourself isn't the answer, man. If you die, then we'll never be together. You'll just be gone. If you want to be with me, the way I am now, you have to ascend. There's meditation you need to do, insight--"
Jim shook his head. "You know I hate that new age mumbo jumbo, Sandburg. Dead is dead. I'll be with you soon, I promise. Just got this one last thing to do."
"Jim, no, listen to me--"
It was dawn. Jim stood up, checked that his gun was loaded, and shouldered his pack. He knew where she would be. He could feel her. But not for much longer. Just this one last failure to correct, and then he could rest and be with Blair forever.
"Jim! Please!"
It was a beautiful morning, at least, Jim thought as he walked to the beach. Or it would be if Sandburg would stop yammering. Why should he care if Jim killed Alex? Maybe he had to protest, maybe angels weren't allowed to stand by when people died, even ones who deserved it.
"I have to stop him," said Blair.
"Blair, no!" a familiar voice insisted.
Jim stopped in his tracks to find Danny, shorter hair, but otherwise looking the same as Jim remembered, barring Blair's path.
"You can't interfere, you know that," said Daniel. "You know what kind of trouble you could get into."
"He needs me," said Blair. "If Alex doesn't kill him, he's going to do the job himself. I can't let that happen."
"Blair, trust me, you don't want to cross them. You can't interfere."
Jim shook his head and let the two of them fight. He knew there was no point arguing over what had to be done, just as he knew there was no way to get either of those two to let something happen without thinking it to death. There, on the beach. He could see her, beautiful, loathsome, wrapped in black silk and waiting for him.
Surely he could aim from here; he had a clear shot, but he could feel his legs moving of their own volition, drawing him closer to her. He tried to raise the gun, but he couldn't do that, not to her, the only other one of his kind. Confusing, unwelcome emotions swamped him; a moment ago he'd felt pure hatred, but now the thought of hurting her made the pain inside even worse.
Blair tried to grab him, but his intangible arms swept through Jim's body uselessly. "Damn it, Jim, please, listen to me! You have to ascend! Danny, there has to be something we can do."
Danny shook his head. "You know there isn't."
Alex seemed surprised to see Blair and Daniel, but when she saw Blair's hopeless attempts to grab Jim, she smiled, baring white teeth. "I've never seen a ghost before," she said. "There's so much more to this Sentinel thing than I imagined." She turned that cold smile on Jim and said, "And there's so much more that I can show you, so much we can be together. Can't you feel it, feel the pull of it?"
Jim snarled, unable to resist that terrible pull, but he showed her with his eyes all the hatred and contempt he felt for her. "Only in my nightmares," he said. He raised the gun, arm trembling with the effort.
Her hand swept down, nimble and sure, to take the gun from him and point it at his temple. "It's a shame, Jim. I really didn't want to kill you."
Jim met her gaze, unafraid. "Make it a clean shot."
"No!" Blair reached out, and the gun turned into a startled white dove that burst out of Alex's hands and flew away. But before either of them could react, Blair screamed and just sort of shattered, pieces of him splintering off and vanishing like melted snow.
"Blair? Blair!" Jim screamed, and fury surged through his muscles as he knocked Alex to the ground and snapped her neck with a sharp twist.
He knelt there beside her cooling body for a long moment, and then he heard Daniel ask softly, "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"Where's Blair? What happened to him?" Jim demanded.
"I don't know. He broke the rules; I don't know how they punish us for that. But I can't feel him anymore. He's gone. I told him to let go of you. I told him you could never love him the way he loves you. He wouldn't listen."
"You're wrong," said Jim hoarsely. "If it had been the other way around, I would have died for him. Just because I was too scared to call it what it was doesn't mean it wasn't love." He saw that hit home, deeper than he would have guessed, but he was tired now. It was time to stop. The gun was gone, but he had a knife in his pack...
"No, Jim," said Danny as Jim's hand closed on the blade. "He saved your life. You have a responsibility to honor that."
Jim closed his eyes against stinging tears, shaking his head. No, he couldn't be expected to keep going, not with Blair dead and gone. The pain he'd managed to hold off for days overwhelmed him now, and he knelt there and wept until Simon and Megan came to take him home.
The corpse you planted last year in your garden,
Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
It had taken weeks for Jim to come back to work, and he still felt like a zombie, just running on automatic. He did paperwork, mostly, and Simon didn't say anything when half of it was done wrong.
For some reason, every poker night was at Jim's house, and everyone brought food and was extra nice to him. You'd think they were afraid to leave him alone or something. He folded early most hands, couldn't focus on the cards, but it didn't seem to matter.
This poker night, though, something was wrong. He could feel it, like a change in the weather, a whispering undercurrent to the cheerful banter that the other detectives tossed back and forth. He could feel it dancing on his skin...
Jim stood up abruptly, and everyone turned to stare at him. "Something wrong, Jim?" Joel asked.
A blinding flash of light seared his vision, and when his eyes cleared he saw the impossible.
Blair Sandburg was curled in the center of the scorched floor, nude and alive and whole.
"What..." Simon gasped.
Jim leapt into action, grabbing the Indian blanket off the back of the couch to cover Blair. "Blair? Can you hear me?"
Blair stirred. Confused blue eyes opened to take in the crowd of people. "What am I doing here?"
Megan was crying and laughing at the same time as she answered, "Proving the laws of reality don't apply to you, as usual, mate."
She grabbed him and kissed his cheek, but Blair flinched from the contact, looking frightened and confused. "Who are you?"
"Guys, could you give us a minute?" said Jim. He rubbed Blair's shoulder, worried when there was no spark of recognition in Blair's eyes, but at least he didn't flinch from Jim. "Do you remember who you are?" Jim asked.
"Blair? You called me Blair?" he asked. He huddled tighter into himself, eyes flicking from one eager face to the next, clearly overwhelmed.
"So how'd you get kicked out of heaven, Hairboy?" Brown joked weakly, still rubbing his mouth in shock. "Peek up the angels' skirts?"
"Are you all right, Sandburg?" Simon demanded.
"You're really back?" asked Megan.
Blair looked to Jim, mutely pleading for rescue, and Jim stood up and started pushing everyone towards the door. "Give me some time with him, okay? Whatever he's been through, he's a little out of it. I'll call you guys in the morning, after he's gotten some rest." He ignored the protests and forced everyone out into the hallway, then closed and locked the door.
Blair was sitting up now, still clutching the blanket and wearing a vague expression. "What's going on?" he asked.
Jim approached him slowly and offered him a hand up. "You've come home," he answered.
"And who am I?"
Jim's throat locked up, trying to keep the words back, but he'd lost Blair once; he couldn't lose him again. "You're Blair. You're my guide. You're the man I love more than anything."
Blair looked confused and smelled nervous, but he tilted his head to accept Jim's gentle petting. God, he was real, he was alive... Jim wanted to be good, to wait for Blair to remember and get his feet under him, but it had been so long! He had just enough self control left to check Blair's face for permission before leaning into Blair's warm body to scent his neck, nuzzle his soft hair, trying to let his starved senses drink their fill without frightening Blair. Blair's hands came up to rest against Jim's chest and Jim chuckled and nipped Blair's throat, encouraging him.
Blair's hands bunched restlessly in the fabric of Jim's shirt, and Jim laughed. "It comes off, you know."
"Oh?" Blair asked, seeming confused by the buttons. Jim took pity on him and pulled off his shirt, delighted at the whiff of pheromones Blair gave off at the sight of his bare chest. "Beautiful," said Blair, leaning in to taste Jim's skin, rough tongue rolling over hard nipple. The Indian blanket had slipped to the floor, and Blair's cock rose to press against the denim of Jim's jeans.
"I don't remember this," said Blair.
"Does that mean you want to stop?" Jim asked, trying to rein himself back.
"No..." Blair decided. He was trembling with the chill, and Jim grunted and picked the smaller man up in his arms and carried him up the stairs, laying him out on the warm, soft bed, stripping off the rest of his clothes before joining Blair.
It seemed as though the whole concept of bodies was new to Blair: he spent a good five minutes just turning Jim's hand this way and that, fascinated by the way the fingers moved, not seeming to notice the way his experiments with tasting Jim's fingertips and palm made Jim squirm and bite his lip. Shoulders were equally intriguing, and Jim gave a sob of pure need, arching over Blair to silently plead for him to move.
Blair pressed up off the bed to kiss and lick his way across Jim's sensitive ribs, down his belly, then traced the veins of Jim's cock with curious fingers before leaning in to taste the drop of liquid that welled up from the tip. Jim groaned at the quick flash of pleasure, watching the puzzlement on Blair's face. He held his breath as Blair bent to get a second taste, then to welcome Jim into his mouth, discovering him with lips and teeth and tongue and fingertips. He didn't seem to realize what power he had over Jim, and Jim was terrified that he'd stop and explore Jim's knees next, God, please! and he realized he was begging Blair, whispering over and over, "Please, please, please, don't stop, don't stop..."
He tried to fight his orgasm off a little longer, wishing the gentle torture of Blair's mouth could go on forever, but he'd wanted this so long and he finally bit back a scream and came in thick pulses into that beautiful, curious mouth, feeling Blair's fingers discover the minute spasms of his cock and milk the last traces of his orgasm.
Jim pulled away and collapsed on the bed, still shaking, his hands running up and down Blair's chest and belly. Blair was still hard, though he didn't seem to realize that there was anything to be done about that, still engrossed by his discovery of Jim. Jim reached into his nightstand for lubricant and poured some on his fingers before reaching down to open himself a little. He pulled his fingers out and spread the last traces on Blair's cock, then pulled Blair closer, guiding him in.
The vague confusion on Blair's face lasted until the head of his penis pushed inside Jim, it was quickly replaced with shock, wonder, and need. "Oh!" Blair whispered, pushing a little deeper in, then out, instinctively falling into the rhythm he needed. "Oh, oh this ... this is good..."
Jim could feel each stroke sending lovely aftershocks through his system, but he was far more interested in the beautiful man coming apart in his arms. This was what Blair looked like when he came, so lovely, so open, and Jim murmured, "That's it, Blair, let it happen, let go, I love you, I love you so much..."
And Blair cried out in helpless delight as his body trembled and spasmed and shot its seed deep inside his lover, "Oh, l-love you, love you, Jim!" And then it was too much; he collapsed on Jim's chest with a thump, shaking from the intensity of it.
He remembered my name, Jim thought with a flood of relief. "Took you long enough," he said, overjoyed that Blair finally remembered him.
But Blair looked up at him, sleepy-eyed and still a little vague around the edges of his smile, and said, "Took us long enough. But that's okay. We're here now."
End.