Together

Blair awoke to a feeling of unease, a sense of something being not right. He tightened his hold around his lover. His mind dimly registered the fact that the body next to him was cold.

He opened sleep-drugged eyes with dread.

"Oh, Jim," he said, softly, his heart breaking.

Jim looked as he always did when asleep, but his brow was locked in a frown and Blair could tell that what lay beside him was the empty shell of his lover of nearly fifty years; Jim was dead. Blair knew the day would come when one of them would wake up to the fact that his partner was gone, but he didn't really believe it would happen.

There'd been so many advances in medical care over the past years, even Alzheimer's had been beaten, or at least held at bay with medication. There were people running around today with more metal in their bodies than real flesh, metallic replacements for limbs, muscles and joints that no longer worked. Life could be prolonged almost indefinitely - if you had the money, not that that many did - and there was always the chance that a new disease would come into being which could potentially wipe out the human race because it was resistant to the latest drug.

People still committed crime for the three main reasons of greed, sex or revenge. Senseless wars were still being fought over land and religion. People still starved and died needlessly, and prejudice over color, greed, or sexual orientation still showed its ugly head every so often; for all the good changes, people remained fundamentally the same.

Blair always thought he and Jim would have many years to fight the good fight; to lead the way with the new generation of Sentinels and Guides that had appeared since his dissertation farce had been so widely published. Men and women who had quietly contacted him with their problems. People he and Jim had helped.

He imagined that when he and his lover died, it would be in each other's arms after a bout of energetic love making, and that they would go together! They'd talked about it so often, even laughed about it.

"Jim, we agreed, we agreed, we'd go together, not leave the other behind!" Blair said, miserably, to the body beside him.

They both knew deep down that that was unlikely to happen; however, it was a hope... a wish...something to cling on to as they grew older. There had always been the risk that someone would try to part Jim from Blair, but they had lived with that for so long. Sure, Jim had been complaining of being tired lately, he'd even paid their doctor a visit to discuss his feeling fatigued, and the last infection Jim'd picked up had taken a longer time to shake off than normal, but he'd been okay the past few days.

"Well, Ellison, you are not going without me!" Blair declared, tucking himself around his lover tightly and trying to will himself into the blue jungle of the spirits that they had both visited - willingly and unwillingly, in the past - determine to join his lover in death.

An hour later Blair gave up and sighed, wiping eyes that wouldn't stop weeping, and climbed out of their bed, feeling every bit of his eighty two years. He picked up his robe and put it on, tying the belt tightly around him to try and beat the chill he felt. He walked slowly down the stairs and over to the hub - he couldn't make these calls from their bedroom with Jim lying there - and instructed the computer that he wanted to make a phone call, with the privacy on. He didn't want anyone to see how wretched he felt right now, through some video link.

There had been a number of changes since Jim and Blair retired from Major Crimes, people came and went, but there were a number of people who still knew the two men though their informal visits, including the officer on the desk phone whose voice Blair recognized.

"Is that Officer Harvey?... This is Blair Sandburg. I... erm, I'm not familiar with procedure these days, but I guess you have to check things out. I rang to inform you, that my life partner, that Jim... James Ellison, has," Blair swallowed around the lump in his throat and the pain in his chest, "died in his sleep. I'm not sure what you have to do, I'm guessing that you have to send someone out... No, I'm not going anywhere.... Thank you."

The next call was just as hard.

"Hallo, Stevie? Sorry to wake you. It must be early in Hong Kong. I... I don't know how to say this, but, Jim's... Jim's dead. He didn't wake up this morning.... No, I wish I was joking.... Yes, I'm sure. I've seen plenty of dead bodies in my time...No; I'll call our doctor as soon as I come off the phone with you.... Okay. I'll see you when you get in.... Yes, I'll be okay.... Thank you. Bye."

His next call was to their doctor, who said she would come by as soon as possible.

Then Blair called the Banks' residence.

"Hi, Daryl, I called to let your dad know, well you too, that Jim's dead." Funny, its getting easier to say that word, he thought. "He died in his sleep.... Yes, it's a shock for me too.... No, you don't have to come over... okay. I'll see you both soon.... Thanks. Bye."

"Looks like it'll be a full house, Jim," he said to the empty air. "Daryl said he'll ring Megan, Rafe and Henri. I guess I should get washed and dressed...."

He looked up at their bedroom. They could have bought a one story apartment, one with all mod cons, but Jim had wanted stairs because that was what he was used to, and the chemicals in new furniture still played havoc with Jim's senses, so they'd opted for a two story place with a garden on the outskirts of Cascade, with plenty of security measures - Jim was paranoid about someone from their past coming back to bite them, but a place you could still relax in with good, well made wooden furniture. Every year they took a holiday during the worst of the wet, cold weather, to Saint Marie in the Caribbean, but Cascade was home. At least, it had been home with just the two of them....

Blair made his way back up to their bedroom, determined not to think about the body of his lover, or of anything else. "Just get your clothes and go freshen up. Take one thing at a time," he mumbled. He angrily wiped his eyes again. He just didn't seem to be able to stop crying. "Don't think about it, just do," he instructed himself.

Mechanically he cleaned his teeth, washed, shaved and got dressed before returning downstairs.

He stood, suddenly unsure what to do. "I guess I should also ring George." George Singe was their lawyer, and had two enhanced senses himself; he was a friend as well as their legal advisor.

Glad to do something, Blair did just that, leaving a message for him as George was unavailable right then.

Then the intercom to the front door buzzed. A very young - to Blair's eyes - policeman arrived, looking slightly uncomfortable, obviously having been told to be on his best behavior. He took the details down on his Reader, sending them straight to the station's main computer, just as Daryl and Simon arrived, and with them, Blair and Jim's doctor. Dan Wolf's youngest daughter had gone into general practice and had taken both men on as her patients, knowing about Jim's senses from her father and contact with Jim and Blair.

They waited while the doctor did her assessment.

Ex-chief of police, Henri Brown arrived, along with Rafe and Megan both looking as though time had stopped for them when they reached their fifties. They insisted Blair have something to eat and drink while they were waiting. But Blair had to force it down.

They sat in an uncomfortable silence, each wishing to say something, but unable to find words which didn't come out as meaningless platitudes, and each carrying their own grief.

The doctor came down the stairs. "I've examined Jim, Blair," she said. "I can't see any problems with signing a death certificate. He has been complaining of fatigue for a while, and as I couldn't give him any medication that wouldn't have upset his senses, plus the stress his body's been through over the years, it was very unlikely he would have lived to a grand old age."

She paused. "I am sorry for your loss."

She put her hand on Blair's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.

Blair felt strangely detached and defeated. "He didn't like to complain of his health. Thought I'd get out some obscure folk remedy." He looked up at the doctor. "If I'd woken up, could I have done something to save him?"

The room was suddenly full of his friends' voices, each remonstrating even as the doctor was shaking her head.

"He probably would have just died in hospital instead of at home. And, if I knew my patient at all, I'd have said he'd have wanted to die with you at home, rather than some hospital that smelt of chemicals."

Blair nodded. "I'm glad you don't have to cut him open and examine bits of him under a microscope. He would have hated that."

"Yes, yes he would." She picked up her bag. "Now, what about you? Will someone be staying with you overnight? Is there anything I can give you to help? You know you may ask for grief counseling."

Blair brought up a smile. "I know. It's too early for me to think of that, but thank you anyway."

"I can stay, if you want, Blair," said Megan. "It wouldn't be a problem for me."

"Thank you, but really, I'd prefer to be alone. I have to get used to the idea..."

"Blair...maybe you should stay with one of your friends," the doctor said.

"No, please, I need to be on my own. This is my home. If I need to get up in the night because I can't sleep, I have things here to do, my own stuff around me. I'd be more comfortable here alone, please, people," he pleaded to his friends.

"Okay... don't like the idea," said Simon, "but I for one, can see you've made up your mind." He stood, leaning heavily on his walking cane. "What about practical side? Have you called the funeral director?"

Blair shook his head. "No, I didn't know if the doctor would sign it off as Jim died at home."

"It's fine, you can go ahead and make the arrangements. Let me know when it's to be, I'd like to attend if I'm free," Dr. Wolf said.

"Thank you." Blair was getting fed up with saying that. He was tired of being polite to their friends. He just wanted to be alone to cry in peace, maybe even do a bit of screaming at the world, but that was not to be until much later, when finally he ushered the last of his well meaning guests out of the door. Everything had been sorted, now there was nothing to do. Jim's body had been removed to the funeral home, the bed sheets had been changed, and food and drink had been consumed.

Blair considered the bed upstairs, but decided to sleep downstairs; he couldn't face rolling over and Jim not being there.

He finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

He woke the next morning, feeling disorientated and grungy, but memories of the previous day quickly returned and he sighed deeply. "Okay, I guess I've got to go through another day." He swung his legs off the couch and sat up, bending over and scrubbing his hands over his face and head.

The phone ringing made him start.

"Oh, hi Stevie.... What hotel?.... You could stay here... okay, sure, I understand. You rang George.... Okay, I'll meet you at the office. What time have you made the appointment?... No, that's fine. See you there."

The day passed. Blair couldn't remember much of what went on. Jim's will had been read, all his bequests could be carried out as soon as the funeral had happened. Blair and Steven had visited the funeral home and checked that everything would go ahead as per Jim's wishes. Blair and Jim had agreed, long ago, the order of service, what songs should be played; Jim had wanted a Santana one, of course, and both decided on an old Angie Farris love song... and they had decided on cremation so their ashes could be mixed together, and interred in the cemetery in Cascade.

Once home, Blair made himself and Steven a cup of tea and they sat and made small talk until Steven left and Blair was alone again.

He did some household chores, people rang to check up on him, others called round, and then it was night time again and he faced another lonely night.

Days passed marked by the difference between light and dark, the need to find something to do to fill the day, and the convention that you tried to sleep at night.

Blair tried to reach Jim on the spirit plane, sitting and meditating, but it didn't work. It was as if the spirits and their world had shut him out. He went through the motions of living, all the while feeling as if life was happening to someone else and he was in a kind of limbo. He had no interest in anything or doing anything. He lived because he hadn't physically died, but he felt drained and despondent.

Friends told him that it would get easier; time would heal. They tried to take him out and interest him in things. He told them it was too soon.

Jim's funeral went ahead and Blair was told when he could collect Jim's ashes, which he decided to keep at home. He put them on the mantelpiece over the fire. It meant nothing. The ashes weren't Jim. Jim was gone and Blair couldn't reach him, touch him, talk to him...

Life went on.

Blair went to bed as he did every night, alone and feeling exhausted, but unable to get enough sleep.

In the morning he got up as he did every morning and began to start another long day.

As he stepped into the living room, he saw Jim leaning against the wall, looking as he did all those years ago, sexy and ever so slightly arrogant, in his black, short-sleeved shirt, the one that hugged his chest, abs and shoulders, the shirt that Blair had once tried to rip off with his teeth.

Overcoming his shock, Blair went into the kitchen area.

"So you're here now. You took your time. What brought you back now? Bringing your ashes home?"

Jim straightened. "I couldn't come back before."

Blair spun around to face his dead lover. "Couldn't come back?" he said, angrily. "Do you know how many times I tried to reach out, to visit the spirit plane, to talk to you or one of the animal spirits?" He turned away before he started to cry again. "Why couldn't I bring you back, or at least join you? I wanted to join you." He turned around again. "You said you wouldn't go anywhere without me! You left me here alone!"

"I didn't want to, honestly, Chief, but I was so tired, my body just couldn't go on any longer." Jim looked down at his feet. "And as for you trying to bring me back..." Jim looked up, sadness in his face. "You didn't really want to bring me back. I think you knew I was ready to go; you just wanted to join me."

Blair angrily advanced on Jim. "So it's my fault you're dead! Is that what you are saying?"

"No, no, Blair." Jim held out his hands appeasingly. "I was ready to go. As much as I wanted to stay with you, you couldn't have kept me here; I think in your heart of hearts you knew that." He paused. "Blair, you have to let me go."

"Let you go? Let you go!" Blair scrubbed his hands over his hair. "You're not here, man. You are gone. I'm the one stuck here on my own. All that's left of the pair of us is this place and memories and I'm like a ghost haunting the place," he finished quietly.

"There's a life out there, Blair," Jim said. "You can keep those memories, but stop trying to find me here. I'll always be with you in your heart and your thoughts, but you have to start finding a new life for yourself. There are people out there who still need your help; Sentinels who are locked up because people think they are sick in their minds. You can still help them."

"Help Sentinels? Ye gods, Jim, I've been helping Sentinels since I met you! I'm tired, man. Really tired. It's time someone else did their turn."

"Blair..."

"You think I want to be alive without you? You're fucking stupid, man! I hate this!" Blair allowed all the hurt and grief, and anger he felt to come out. "I've done my bit. I do not want to be here. I want to be with you - don't you get that? After everything we've been through? What use is a Guide without his Sentinel? Blair without Jim? You are my life, my brass ring, the other half of me. I can't do this on my own and I don't want to try!"

A thought suddenly struck him.

"You're not being punished, Jim? You're not in Purgatory, Hell, whatever, for loving a man, for loving me?"

"No, though it might as well be that. I've had to watch you wandering around like some lost soul and I couldn't reach out to you until now."

"Is that why you are here now, to tell me to move on?" Blair paused. "Or are you here to give me a choice?"

Jim sighed. "You can live, Blair, you can have a long life..."

"Or..."

"You can come with me."

"Hummm. A long, empty life without you, or spend eternity by your side? No contest, Jim." Blair suddenly grasped Jim's hand, relieved to find that it was warm and real. "I choose to come with you."

"Are you sure, completely sure, Blair?"

"Never been surer. I don't want to live without you any more. Let's go."

The door to their home swung open and a bright light shone through. Jim's hand held Blair's as they stepped through without looking back.

"By the way," said Jim, "all that talk about there being no sex in Heaven? Not true. In fact, I've been told it's the best ever!"

"Whey hey!"

The door closed softly.

All was quiet. If you listened carefully you could make out the low hum of the computer as it registered the occupants were gone and it went into standby mode.

Three weeks later

Simon leaned heavily on his cane as he stood with Megan and a number of others at the interment of a small earthenware pot containing the ashes of Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg.

"The doctor said Blair's heart just gave out. I think he died of a broken heart after Jim died," said Megan quietly.

Simon nodded. "His soul had died. It was just waiting for his body to catch up."

Megan glanced at her old captain and then nodded in agreement.

"You know what?" she said, trying to find a way to cheer up her old captain, "I bet they are both watching us and laughing."

"No," Simon shook his head, "I'd say they are probably concerned because their friends are upset over them."

He took her hand and looped it through his arm. "Come on. I could use a drink."

"You're not allowed on your medications," she reminded him.

"Hmm! Okay, coffee?"

"Yes, nice and sweet for me."

"You're not allowed sugar on yours, remember?"

"That's just so I can keep my youthful figure," Megan replied, running her free hand smoothly down her skirt.

"Huh! That's not what your grandkids tell me!"

Blair chuckled as he and Jim sat watching from a bench overlooking the cemetery.

"You think Megan really is psychic?" he asked his lover.

"Nah, never believed in that stuff when I was alive. I sure don't now."

Blair smiled. "Says the ghost of a man who saw spirit animals and ghosts when he was alive."

He stood. "Come on. You promised me all of space and time to look through."

"Just the good bits, right?"

"Of course. First up, Archimedes leaping from his bath."

"You're a pervert, you know that don't you."

"You never complain," Blair said, grinning broadly.

Jim gave a long suffering sigh. "Okay, but then we go to one of Santana's best ever concerts."

Blair groaned. "If we have to... Hey, while we're watching them, could someone be watching us? Sort of like endless reruns of the Sandburg Ellison Show."

"Ellison and Sandburg," Jim corrected him.

"Whatever."

"Come on, Chief. Who would want to watch us?"

"Oh, I don't know, we did have some exciting bits in our lives..."

"Some bits I'd rather forget!"

"Nevertheless, Jim..."

They faded even as they argued...