Disclaimers: These characters are not mine, they are borrowed with humblest gratitude from Pet Fly and the other PTB. Many thanks; I'll return them safe and sound when I'm done!

Notes: This story came about on the IRC chatroom #spoilers the night Love Kills aired, and it was started out for me by LittleEva (thank you!) with the audienceship and valuable aid and support of LittleEva, SummerRain, Wolfling, Sorka, Maigret, Cenlyn, Taffy, and mcvey. Thanks, all of you! This is a little different from what I wrote on the chat, guys. Okay, it’s a *lot* different. I added some scenes to preserve (or create) continuity, and I found myself on a roll, and just went with it. This lets me work in some of the issues that have come up recently in discussions on Senad that have grabbed my attention. I also cleaned it up a little, and boy, did it need it! *grin* (saraid, this one really *is* new. :)

Warning: this is a Missing Scene for Love Kills, and contains spoilers! You have been warned! It also contains hurt/comfort, angst, and physical and verbal expressions of love between two men, so if any of that is offensive, or you are under eighteen, by the dictates of common sense and/or law, please go no further. Rated R

Remembering Those Gone

by Owlet

The ride back to the loft was silent, and Blair carefully stayed close to the door of the truck, allowing his partner all the room he needed to wrestle his demons. Jim was driving, of course; Blair was still stunned that he’d been allowed to drive the truck to the rendezvous, but of course, that morning Jim’s tension had been largely anticipatory, concerned with what Lila would do and how he would react to her. Now it was just a grim frustration and desperate, helpless anger at Lila’s senseless death.

This morning he had been too preoccupied to worry about Blair driving; now Jim needed to take control over what was becoming an increasingly nightmarish, wrenching series of crises in his life, and Blair was giving him all the help he could. He watched his rigid partner carefully negotiate the rainy nighttime streets of Cascade with icy, remote precision, and stilled a shiver. Jim was very close to breaking over this, and they both knew it.

For a moment he was overcome by a surge of powerless anguish. His best friend, his partner, the man who had saved his life and had stolen his heart, was tearing himself apart inside--and it felt like there was nothing he could do to stop it. Suddenly he felt very much like the one man at the bridge, standing alone against certain death. There wasn’t anyone else in the world Jim was going to open up to; he’d even shut Simon out. Blair had been closer than glue that afternoon while they filled out paperwork, but he had been the only person who could stand to be in the same room as Jim, as the detective snarled and lashed out at any warm body within range. He’d even gotten Blair with a couple of zingers that still smarted, but Blair had refused to go. *Jim’s going to have to physically throw me out,* he swore to himself, watching the granite-visage detective in the patchy light of streetlights as they passed. *I’m not leaving him, no matter what he says. He needs me; I don’t care if he won’t admit it. He needs somebody, and I’m the only one.*

They reached the loft and Jim pulled up to the curb. And waited. "Go on, get out," he said expressionlessly.

Blair looked at him narrowly. "You aren’t coming in?"

"No." Still that same removed tone, one that sent ice into Blain's spine.

"Where are you going? It’s one in the morning, man."

"For a drive."

Another close look, and Blair settled back into his seat. "Sounds great, big guy" he said easily. "Where do you want to go? Grab some food? I don’t know about you, man, but I am *starved*!"

Jim glared at him, but Blair kept his relentlessly cheerful face intact, projecting serenity and unshakable enthusiasm and above all, a refusal to go *anywhere* without Jim. Inwardly, though, he was doing cartwheels. That glare was the most expression Blair had seen him with since Lila had died in his arms, and gave him some hope that this would be okay.

With a last glare that could have scorched paint, Jim pulled his keys from the ignition and got out, Blair scrambling out after him as he stalked toward the entrance, ignoring the rain. *Round one: Sandburg. Coming up: Round Two,* he thought.

Jim stayed about fifty feet ahead of Blair as he ignored the elevator in favor of the stairs, Blair following in his wake. When he finally reached the loft, he found the door shut. Opening it cautiously, half-expecting an order to leave, he entered. Jim was sitting on the couch, beer in hand, face again lit by flickering light. This time, though, it was from the TV, showing an old black-and-white movie with the volume a near-inaudible whisper in the dark room. Blair recognized ships, harpoons, a whale, and identified it as Moby Dick, the one with Gregory Peck and Orson Welles. Grabbing his own beer, Blair settled down beside him. He didn't say a word.

It must have been near the beginning of the movie; Blair couldn't hear a word, so he couldn’t tell. Hours seemed to go by while he sat there, staying uncharacteristically still, all his attention fixed on his partner. He waited patiently. No one on earth knew Jim Ellison as well as Blair did; they were partners, but more than that; they were friends. There was a crisis coming soon, and Blair wasn't about to simply abandon Jim to suffer it alone. The near-silence dragged on and on. Moby Dick ended and another movie starring Gregory Peck started, but he ignored it. Jim's voice, when it came, almost made him jump.

"Aren't you going to bed, Sandburg?"

Blair shrugged. "I'm okay," he said easily.

Jim stared straight ahead, not looking at his partner.

"Chief, I know what you're trying to do, and it's not going to work."

Blair gave him an innocent look. "Me? Hey, man, I just want to watch the movie. I've been meaning to see—" he checked quickly, "To Kill a Mockingbird for a while now."

Jim gave him a look that told Blair exactly what he thought of that little obfuscation. "Go to bed, Chief," he said wearily. "This isn't anything you can help me with."

"Try me," Blair said quietly. Jim was silent for a long while, and Blair was beginning to think he'd pushed too hard, when Jim spoke.

"I feel like him."

Blair turned cautiously, not reaching out but letting Jim know that he was listening. He waited. Jim glanced at him, quickly--so quickly that if Blair hadn’t been looking for it he would have missed it. But he had been looking, and his heart almost stopped. There was such a depth of anguish, of pain, of misery in those shadowed blue eyes, Blair ached inside. *I love you,* he whispered silently, and kept his face still. He just looked at Jim steadily, not saying a word, and Jim went on.

"Captain Ahab. Chasing something you know...in the end is going to destroy you. Knowing that you can’t stop trying, but that there’s no hope of success. Knowing...that in the end all you’ll have is nothing."

"What do you think is going to destroy you, Jim?" Blair asked, so quietly he could barely hear himself, not wanting to break the spell that had been wrought in the early hours of the morning by pain and alcohol; when it became okay to spill your soul, tell your secrets. "What?"

Jim didn’t turn to face him, just stared at the TV. He gave a low, ugly laugh that was almost a sob. "Oh, I don’t know. Love? Life? Happiness?" He closed his eyes. "I thought she might be the one, you know," he said almost conversationally. "I really did. And then she vanished, comes back, turns out she’s a fucking *assassin,* supposed to kill me. And Carolyn, she married me cause she wanted a challenge, you know, ‘Big, Bad Ellison, tough-guy type, strong but silent, doesn’t open up’--she wanted my heart, and when I tried to give it to her she couldn’t accept it, it wasn’t enough. So she got a divorce." A tiny grim smile. "I thought she was the one, too."

Blair was shaking. This was it; he could *feel* it, in his bones, in his soul. He had to tell Jim he loved him, *now*, or he’d lose him forever. The man had given up on life and love; how much longer before he took a bullet in the head to make the loneliness stop? How much longer before he convinced himself that Blair was going to destroy him as Lila, as Carolyn had destroyed him?

*How much longer can I stand to see him torn up inside like this?*

He took his courage in both hands and spoke, raspy and so quiet that he saw Jim straining to hear him. He didn’t worry about it; any louder, and he might not be able to control the emotion that vibrated in his voice. He reached out and carefully took Jim’s hand in his, feeling it cold and clammy with shock. He held it to his face, not kissing it but cradling it against his cheek, letting Jim see the sincerity and love in his eyes.

"I know someone who won’t destroy you."

Jim froze, his hand still in Blair’s. "What?" he rasped.

Blair tried to hide the pounding of his heart. "Yeah. I wouldn’t destroy you."

Jim stared at his partner, and Blair flushed but kept going. "Well, you do know that, right, man?"

Jim looked to be in shock; his unseeing eyes were fixed on Blair’s hand where it wrapped around Jim’s. Blair felt his heart start to pound triple-time, and released Jim’s hand carefully. It lay passive for a long moment, then Jim slowly withdrew it and moved slightly, closing his eyes and shifting away in a move that almost broke Blair’s nerve. He huddled on the far side of the couch, refusing to look at Jim, unable to face the disgust and shock he knew was there.

Jim was dazed, shocked into immobility. One moment he was in a darkness he hadn’t even dreamed had existed, the next he had be jolted out of it by the most incredible revelation he had ever had. And it had very little to do with the words Blair had spoken.

Blair had been right; he did already know that Blair wouldn’t destroy him. He trusted him, on a level that went beyond the absolute. Blair would never leave him, would never betray him, would always be there. He was a constant, a solid strength to rely on that Jim had never realized he needed until it was suddenly there to shelter him. With Blair he was centered; without Blair he was adrift and helpless. Blair had taken on the job of protecting him from everything he could, in a way that would have been amusing if it hadn’t been so desperately clung to in times like these, when the whole world was crashing down on him.

But this--this he hadn’t known, not until Blair turned to him, held his hand against his face, and looked at him with eyes that almost glowed in the dark. Heat poured off the young man in waves, the unique scent of him heightened, strong with apprehension and--desire? And beneath Jim’s hand Blair’s heartbeat throbbed, a steady stream of warmth and life that swept him out of the world he had know, the world that had seemed like all it could do was play the cruelest kind of jokes on one James J. Ellison--and into one where it was all the same, except everything was different.

Blair loved him.

The silence grew until it filled the whole room, the whole world, a silence that had nothing to do with the multitude of sounds Jim could hear elsewhere, but came straight from the heart. Blair looked as though he expected to be thrown out, or murdered. Jim shook his head, the gesture going unseen as an automatic rejection of those courses of action. Blair was his Guide; they were meant to be together. Between them nothing could be wrong. Blair had to know that. Jim might be bent, but he wasn’t broken yet, and if Blair wanted him, and was willing to help him put back together the pieces of himself, then he could have him.

And he knew what to do now.

Blair almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked over at Jim, fighting to stay expressionless, and felt his heart stop, actually skip a beat and go on, thudding erratically.

*This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening--oh, god, if this isn’t happening, I think I’m going to scream...*

Jim was smiling.

Blair was transfixed by the beauty of that smile, so precious, so undreamed-of, so much more than he had expected. He was caught, unable to move, held by the warmth of that smile, feeling it seep into him and thrill him right to his core. The hand moved from his shoulder down his forearm to recapture his hand again--*the same hand he pulled away,* Blair thought incoherently.

Carefully Jim caressed the palm with his thumb, as if trying to reassure him. "I’m glad you feel that way, Chief," he said huskily, and his eyes were glowing, incandescent. Sincere. His thumb stroked again and Blair shivered. Jim’s smiled widened, and he reached for Blair’s other hand. "Real glad." Then he pulled Blair towards him into his arms, never letting go of his hands, until Blair was leaning against him, body to body, heart to heart.

"Sandburg?" Blair heard the hesitant word breathed into his hair when he remained silent. He smiled up at Jim, reassuring him, relaxing bonelessly into Jim’s embrace.

"Yeah, man," he answered to Jim’s unspoken question.

Jim studied Blair, still holding him close but hesitant now, unsure. "You sure about this, Sandburg?"

Blair grinned, feeling that all was right with the world. "Don’t you think you could call me Blair? Just this once? I mean, I don’t want to cramp your style here or anything but..."

Jim’s eyes gleamed. "Shut up, Blair."

Blair grumbled to himself, "Why does it sound the same as when he calls me Sandburg? I don’t think there’s been a huge improvement here, big guy."

Jim smirked, some of the remaining demons in his eyes vanishing at the light-hearted, teasing banter. "Oh, I don’t know--this seems to be an improvement, don’t you think?" he asked, gesturing with Blair’s captured hands to their new position, pressed against each other, faces inches apart.

Blair looked away. "Jim, man, I--I love you, but--I don’t think I can do this just for one night, you know? I mean, I don’t know what it means to you, but--I means a lot to me." Tense, anxious, he waited for Jim’s answer.

It never came.

Instead, Jim released one of Blair’s hands to bring his hand up to Blair’s face, cupping his jaw and turning him to fully face his friend, his partner.

"It means a lot to me too--Blair," he breathed, and Blair’s breath caught over the fresh, unfamiliar intimacy that name had gained. "I--want more, too. It’s not just one night."

And with that he leaned forward those few crucial inches, with a hesitancy and a heart-felt trust that almost broke Blair’s heart. And their lips touched--a gesture of partnership, of friendship, and, finally, *finally,* of love.

For a long moment in time the kiss was the whole universe, and Blair gave himself over to it totally. It was Jim, *his* Jim, kissing him, making his heart pound and his breath stop, and that thought was enough to make him shudder against Jim’s big body. He’d never felt this way before, ever, about anyone. Jim lifted his head slowly at the movement and Blair decided that he had never seen a more wonderful sight than Jim looking at him, sky-blue eyes dilated and darkened with arousal. But there was an undercurrent, a tension verging on fear in his body, his eyes, and Blair clamped down hard on his own reaction, reflexively seeking to help his partner.

"Jim. Hey, Jim, man, are you okay?"

Jim nodded, body tense and rigid now, breathing fast from more than just passion. He looked—scared, and Blair looked at him with growing concern.

"Jim, come on, something just happened to spook you and I want to know what it was." With frustration he began gesturing, tossing his head to get his hair out of his face, intent and focused. He never noticed that he was taking Jim’s hand with him as he tried to get his point across.

"Look, man, if you’re not okay with this, then we can stop. You have to feel comfortable here with what we're doing or this isn’t going to go anywhere. But I have got to know what it was that sent you into this...this tail spin, because how am I supposed to help you if I don’t know?"

By now the fear in Jim’s eyes was almost completely replaced with an extremely familiar expression; the pained look Jim always got when he began to speak so fast his mouth had trouble keeping up with his mind. "Look, Chief," he interrupted, "it’s nothing, okay? I’m fine."

"Well, maybe you *are* fine, but, I mean, this is a big step, and it’s one you probably had never thought about, so it’s only natural for you to be feeling a bit uneasy, maybe even a bit scared. I mean, god knows it freaked me out the first time I thought about it, and, well, growing up with Naomi, I got a lot of exposure to the whole ‘alternative lifestyles’ thing, though I never actually went in for that kind of thing, so it was really weird when I realized..." He saw Jim staring at him and stopped.

"You’ve never done this before?"

Jim couldn’t believe it. He just couldn’t believe it. That kiss—Jim had never had such a strong reaction to such a simple caress in his life. He'd been in serious danger of a zone-out, which had never happened before, not even when he’d been overwhelmed by Laura's pheromones. Blair had practically instigated this whole seduction--if that’s what it was--and he certainly seemed to know more about what was happening here than Jim did. Everything about him proclaimed his comfort with this new development; oh, he was a little nervous, a little apprehensive—but nothing more than could be accounted for by a perfectly natural anticipation of Jim’s reaction t what was essentially a declaration of love from his male partner.

And he was saying that this was all new to him?

He concentrated on Blair's startling disclosure, resolutely ignored the sudden rush of fear that had alerted Blair’s protective instincts. Fear that this was all just a joke, that Blair would pull back and laugh it off and Jim would be left alone, even more destroyed than Carolyn or Lila could ever manage. Pushing the image and the surge of pain it had caused to the inside with practiced ease, ignoring the wrenching in his heart, he glared with semi-serious sternness at Blair.

"Look, Sandburg, I’m fine. Really."

Blair made a disbelieving noise but subsided. Jim sighed. "Look, I just...got a little anxious. Nervous. That’s all." When Blair looked like he was going to continue, Jim stopped him with the simple method of another kiss. Blair jerked with surprise, still trying to speak, then abandoned those efforts to press himself closer to Jim and return his kiss with interest. This time, when Jim pulled back, it wasn’t from fear. He looked at his partner, breathing hard and trembling ever so slightly, sky-blue eyes darkened to navy with desire. Trust, love, abandon, passion--it was a look he had seen before, but he had never dreamed it would ever be directed at him. He could almost feel the heat, the urgency rising in him, taking over, driving him on and up, higher and higher into new realms of pleasure. Now it was his turn to shudder, and he closed his eyes and fought grimly for control. He had to keep his head here. The day had been too rough, too long; if he lost it Blair could be hurt by it--and Jim would rather take his right arm off than hurt Blair.

"Come on, Chief," he muttered, lurching up from the couch, pulling Blair with him, using the interruption to pull himself back together. Blair looked at him with confusion, concern once again replacing some of his passion.

"Jim, are you okay?" Uncertainty colored his words. "Is something wrong?"

Jim shook his head, turning back to face his Guide, his body now firmly back under control and no longer likely to betray him at a moment’s notice. "Nothing’s wrong, Chief," he said. "Just...too much, too good. Too fast. I couldn’t...I want this to last. I don’t want to hurt you. That’s all."

Blair slowly nodded and stood up, turning to fully face his partner. He reached for Jim’s free hand and threaded their fingers together, feeling a wave of contentment go through him as he felt Jim’s warmth against his palm. He didn’t know for sure what had just happened to spook his Sentinel so badly, but he could guess. Despite everything, Jim was still afraid that Blair would leave.

"Hey, man, it’s okay," he said calmly. "Just relax. No pressure. No rush. Your speed, all the way." He looked away, gathering his nerve. He had to say this, had to convince Jim that it was the truth. Jim was so distrustful of relationships; Blair *knew* he was the only one Jim let in, and the only one he trusted with the innermost parts of himself. Now he had to convince Jim that what he feared wouldn’t happen.

And, of course, they still hadn’t dealt with Lila’s death, yet. Blair was still waiting on the crisis for that one; maybe now that this issue was out in the open he could slip through Jim’s armor and get him to open up about his feelings. But first there was something he had to say.

"Jim, it doesn’t matter how we go with this, whether we go upstairs right now or wait for a month, a year, forever." Blair held Jim’s gaze steadily, willing him to believe what he was saying. "I’ll still be here. I’ll love you anyway, no matter what happens. Always." It sounded so sappy when he said it out loud, so trite--but it was the truth, and he waited for Jim’s reaction tensely.

Jim stopped breathing.

Then without any warning he began to shake, his eyes closing tightly. He bent his head, leaning into his Guide, and Blair wrapped his arms around him, holding him. For a long minute they remained like that, then Jim lifted his head, and Blair caught his breath. The uncertainty was still there, and the fear—but now there was something else

Hope.

"Come on, Chief," he said huskily. "Let’s go upstairs."

At the head of the stairs Jim stopped and faced Blair. "Last chance," he said quietly.

Blair shook his head. "Are you kidding, man? No way. You’ve got me, no looking back now."

Jim was shaking again, and Blair realized that the fireworks Jim had been building up to all night hadn’t been alleviated by the revelations of the past few minutes, only postponed. It was all coming back to haunt him now, in a big way. All he could do now was keep his promise and stay.

Blair moved to sit on Jim’s bed, watching his friend knot himself up with tension and unspoken, unacknowledged grief and guilt. "Jim, it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know she was going to run out into fire like that. You did your best."

Jim didn't say anything, and Blair wasn't even sure he heard him. He could almost see Jim closing himself off, and searched his brain frantically for a way to get him to open up again.

"Jim, she would have died anyway."

Jim spun around to face him, stunned. "What?"

Blair met his gaze squarely. "Lila had no intention of leaving that park alive. I mean, she knew these guys, what they were capable of--she had to know that they would be there, and she was ready. When the time came, she made her choice. And she didn’t choose herself this time, she chose you."

Jim was silent, but silent tremors wracked his frame. Blair could see his statement sinking in. It was true; for the first time in her life, Lila had acted for the good of another, not herself. And that person had been Jim. She had actually given her life so that Jim would have a fighting chance against the assassin stalking them both. In her own way, she had loved him. Blair was about to say more but sudden intuition held him silent, and he just waited, with a patience he rarely showed for anything but this. Sentinel and Guide, working together, and it was his job to guard the one who’s job it was to guard. He had said enough. All there was left to do was wait.

And so he was ready when the first silver trails appeared down Jim’s cheeks.

Without a word Blair came off the bed and wrapped himself around his partner, offering comfort with his touch and his warmth and scent, all things he knew the Sentinel in Jim craved. He dropped a light kiss on Jim’s neck, and tugged lightly. Jim followed him back to the bed and sank down on it, and Blair never let him go.

"It’s okay, Jim. I’m here. I’ll be here forever, Jim, as long as you need me--I’m here." And a deep breath. "I love you."

For a long moment there was silence, and then came the soft words that Blair had waited all his life to hear.

"I love you too, Chief." Jim’s eyes were clear and calm, the blue deep enough to drown in--and they shone with a quiet love.

And as they lay together in the dark Jim said a silent goodbye to Lila.