Jim spent much of the next several hours in motion, pacing the confines of the small waiting area like a caged animal. He checked in frequently at the nurses' station, only to be told that the doctor would find him when there was any news. He returned to his pacing.

Pictures played in his mind like scenes from a bad movie. They repeated over and over, in tortuous slow motion, filling his mind with their incessant images. The kid with his pathetic toy gun, desperation haunting his rich brown eyes as he tried to explain his motives for the attempted robbery. A birthday present for his brother. That was all the poor kid had wanted, and just look where it had landed him. Dead on a cold slab in the morgue.

Then there was Blair. All he had wanted was to take care of his partner, to protect Jim when he thought he needed help. What had those loyal feelings of protection gotten Sandburg? A ticket to the hospital ER, only the latest visit in a chain of similar visits forged far too long over the past few years.

It was all so damned unfair.

The walls of the waiting room were closing in upon him, the air turned heavy and stale. Desperate for escape, glancing in both directions down the corridor, Jim turned to the right and headed down the long hallway. At least it would be a change of scenery.

He turned his hearing down to a low normal range. The sounds of suffering from the rooms he passed was too much to tolerate on this evening. His own pain was enough for him to handle at the moment. He needed to be alone, to find a place of solitude within this maze of suffering and confusion.

A sign caught his eye as he brushed past it.

Chapel: Open to All.

Jim hesitated a moment, then he entered the dark quietness.

Rows of dark stained wooden pews faced the simple stone altar at the front of the small room. Subdued lighting lent a subtle glow, illuminating the panel of stained glass high above the altar. As the heavy door closed behind him, the hospital sounds and smells faded away, enveloping Jim in an isolated world set aside from the reality of the hospital.

He sank down onto a padded pew, sighing with exhaustion. His eyes closed, and he allowed his mind to wander. Now, other pictures played through his mind, happier times for Sentinel and Guide. Fishing in the mountains, Blair yelling encouragement to him as he struggled to bring in his catch... Sandburg, the professor, expounding upon the traditions of some obscure, yet fascinating, civilization Jim had never heard of before... Laughter at some shared joke... Teasing each other affectionately... Gentle roughhousing and tickling... Wide blue eyes looking up at him, filled with trust and devotion...

Jim's heart constricted, and his eyes flew open . There had been so many good times. Why did it sometimes seem that those good times got buried beneath the memories of the bad? How could a friendship so deep, so rare, also be filled with such pain?

His eyes were pulled upward to gaze at the colorful glass panel suspended above the altar. The pattern was abstract, with no recognizable design. Yet, the colors came together to form a pleasing whole...blues, greens, golds, and reds merging their individual hues to create a restful tapestry.

As Jim stared, his vision focused deeper and more intently on the colors. They were so vivid, so beautiful. He could see the tiny air bubbles trapped forever inside the frozen colors at the time of their creation. Minute flaws suspended within a rainbow of perfection.

A rainbow of colors.

Reds...the color of that boy's blood as the force of life gradually drained from his body.

Greens...the colors of the rainforest in Peru where he faced death and survived.

Golds...Reminiscent of autumn leaves dancing down from mountain treetops.

Blues...All the colors and shades found when he gazed into Sandburg's eyes.

Slowly, the external world faded into the background. No longer were the colors merely pieces of glass in a panel in a chapel. They were swirling around him, and beneath him, above and beside, and within him, radiant colors encompassing the entire world. Perhaps, the entire universe.

The Sentinel zoned.

Even though the hour grew late, the old priest wasn't surprised to find the chapel occupied. This was a hospital, and the need for solitude and comfort recognized no time restrictions. People often sought the quietness of this place to get away from the sometimes overwhelming environment of the hospital. It wasn't easy having a loved one here, whether or not the patient's condition was serious. The chapel provided a small refuge in the midst of emotional chaos.

He went about his work of dusting the pews and altar, all the while studying the still figure of the man out of the corner of his eyes. If the man was aware of the priest's presence, he gave no indication. Not a muscle moved; his eyes scarcely blinked. In fact, he barely appeared to be breathing. His eyes remained fixed on the panel of colored glass above the altar.

Strange.

Concerned, the elderly priest approached the man.

"Excuse me, sir. I don't mean to intrude, but are you all right?" He waited for a response that never came. The blue eyes, tinged with a touch of exhausted red, continued staring, unfocused, at the stained glass.

Reaching out, the priest laid a gentle hand on the muscular arm. "Sir? Are you all right? Can you hear me?"

When there was no response, the priest hurried from the chapel in search of a doctor.

Patience had never been one of Blair Sandburg's virtues. Lying on the hard exam table certainly didn't improve matters any.

He felt much better now. Not fine, necessarily, but better.

The nauseous feeling which had tormented him in the loft had subsided some time back, and except for a very sore throat, painful ribs, and tender muscles in his belly, he felt okay. So, what if it was a little difficult to breathe? The doctor had told him that an irritated respiratory system was not unusual after such a choking episode. Sore throat, bruised and tender belly, no deep breaths for awhile... Small price to pay for the gift of life.

He was ready to go home. More than ready. Problem was, Jim Ellison seemed to have vanished. That worried Blair much more than the minor discomforts he was experiencing as a result of his confrontation with the Brussels sprout. His repeated inquiries about his partner's whereabouts had thus far been met only with blank stares and shrugs. Nobody had seen Jim since much earlier in the evening.

A Brussels sprout! You've been drugged, shot, beaten, kidnapped, drowned, and you almost cash it in thanks to an innocuous vegetable. Way to go, Sandburg!

The doctor came back in the room, and Blair struggled to sit up on the exam table. Lending a helping arm around his shoulders, Dr. Vincent assisted Blair to a sitting position. "So, Doctor, am I out of here or what?"

The tall black man glanced over the chart, his wire framed glasses riding down on his nose, then nodded at his patient and smiled. "Your vital signs all look normal, Mr. Sandburg, and the nausea has abated. Your eyes look worse than they are. It's very common to burst blood vessels after severe vomiting. Give them a few days, and they'll be fine. So, the bottom line is, you may go home, as soon as your friend gets here to drive you. I don't feel comfortable releasing you without knowing that there's someone to keep an eye on you for the night."

Blair's bloodstained eyes narrowed. "I figured he'd have been in here by now; he's not one to cool his heels if I'm in the ER. Isn't he out in the waiting area yet?"

Dr. Vincent closed the chart and helped Blair down off the table. "I haven't seen him, but then, I've been busy with patients. Let me help you out there, and we'll see."

By the time they reached the ER waiting area, Blair was grateful for Dr. Vincent's strong supporting arm on his elbow. "Amazing what almost dying takes out of you," he joked when the doctor noticed the slight quivering in his knees.

"I don't see Detective Ellison about," Dr. Vincent commented. "I'm sorry, Blair, but I can't release you until there's someone to drive you home. Why don't you just rest here for awhile? I'm sure your friend will be back shortly. I'll check in on you in a few minutes."

After Dr. Vincent had departed, Blair studied the nearly empty corridors. Where the hell was Jim? No way would he just leave, not with Blair lying in an emergency examination room. He glanced at the clock on the far wall. 1:06 AM.

Damn it, Jim. Where are you?

Two floors above, the nurse quietly wrote down the vital signs of the silent man lying in the bed. In her six months of experience on the job, the young nurse had never had a patient just lie there, eyes staring blankly into space, totally unresponsive. It was rather unsettling.

Outside, she knew that others were trying to reach the emergency contacts listed in the man's wallet. James Ellison. Detective. Cascade PD. The young nurse shook her head, wondering what could have happened to the big, strong detective to send him into such a state of emotional withdrawal. Looking back once more at the unmoving, unseeing blue eyes, she left the room.

Simon Banks groaned as the phone rang, bringing him out of a very pleasant dream. Fumbling on the night stand for his glasses, he looked with bleary eyes at the luminous numbers on the clock. "2:20 in the morning? Damn it, this had better be good," he mumbled as he groped for the phone.

"Banks!" His head fell back onto the softness of his pillow, and he shut his eyes.

In a moment, he was sitting upright in the bed. "What? Is he injured? What time did he come in? Was he alone?" Simon's eyes were wide open now, staring up through the darkness. "All right. I understand. I'll be there in twenty minutes." Totally awake, the captain jumped from the warmth of his bed and headed for his closet to grab some clothes.

Blair had waited long enough. His thin veneer of patience had worn through, and it was time to do something. Anything but sit here waiting. Glancing furtively around the corner, he saw Dr. Vincent go through the swinging doors leading into the ER after his most recent check on his abandoned patient. He wouldn't be back for at least another forty-five minutes. Plenty of time for Blair to make his escape.

Even if it was to be a rather slow escape.

It didn't take long for him to discover that feeling better and being completely well were two entirely different things. His belly and ribs complained at every sudden move, and taking a deep breath sent his lungs into rebellion. Slow and steady wins the race.

Gradually, he made his way toward the main entrance of the hospital, discreetly checking every open doorway along the route. He spoke politely to every white uniform he passed, trying to look like he knew exactly where he was going.

No sign of Jim.

The central receiving are was empty at that hour of the morning. No patients to check in, nobody on duty at any of the neat rows of desks with their omnipresent computers waiting blindly for input. Blair surveyed the desolate room, searching for any sign of his partner. With a discouraged sigh which pulled painfully at his tender ribs, he turned to leave.

And bumped right into the sturdy form of Simon Banks.

"What the...?" Blair jerked his head upward, staring in disbelief at the familiar features gazing down at him in exasperation.

"Sandburg! Where the hell is Ellison? The hospital called and said they had him here. Now, why aren't you with him?"

Blair's blue eyes widened. "Jim? The hospital called you about Jim? Oh my God, Simon! What happened to him?"

The captain's expression tightened. "You mean you don't know? Then, why are you here, Sandburg? Didn't you come in with Jim?" Taking in the bloody stains across the whites of Sandburg's eyes, Simon drew a deep breath. "What happened to you, Blair? What's wrong with your eyes?"

The young man grabbed Simon's arm and propelled him as quickly as he could manage toward the corridor leading to the first floor nurses' station. "No, I didn't come in with Jim, he came in with me." Before Simon could interrupt, he pressed on. "My eyes are fine, nothing a little Visine and some rest won't cure. That doesn't matter now, Simon. We gotta find Jim. C'mon!"

The door opened slowly, and Blair stepped inside, drawing a sharp intake of air as his eyes took in the figure lying on the bed in the darkened hospital room. "Jim..." he whispered.

Simon closed the door behind them, then went to stand at the far side of the narrow bed. "What's happening with him, Blair?"

Jim's eyes were fixed, as if staring at some distant focal point only he could see. No expression marred the perfect angles of his face, no recognition of the fact that his two best friends had just entered the room.

Blair's hand hovered above Jim's hand as he hesitated. "He's in a deep zone, Simon. I'm not sure how it happened, but I've got a clue as to why." After a moment, Blair carefully lowered the metal rail on his side of Jim's bed, intently taking in the face of his Sentinel. "I... I almost died tonight."

He heard the abrupt intake of breath from the tall man across the bed. Simon whispered sharply, "What the hell...?"

Blair shook his head. "It was stupid, Simon, a stupid accident. We..." He glanced up at the concerned dark eyes before continuing. "We had a fight. About the shooting. Jim... Well, he got pretty upset at me and left the loft. He told me to go ahead and eat without him. I did, and I... I choked and stopped breathing."

Blair reached out at last and took Jim's hand, cocooning it between both his palms and rubbed it tenderly. "For some reason, Jim turned around. He came back, Simon. He came back and found me and brought me around." When Blair looked back up, his eyes were brimming with unshed tears. "He saved my life, Simon. If he hadn't come back... If he hadn't turned around and come back to the loft..." Blair shrugged his shoulders, leaving the rest unsaid.

Simon reached out and placed a warm hand on the thin shoulder. "But he did come back, Blair."

Grateful for his understanding, Blair glanced up and smiled a small, trembling smile. "Anyway, I started vomiting blood, and it really scared him. He brought me here to get checked. I didn't see him again after they took me back for my exam and x-rays. I think that he must have wandered off somewhere, exhausted and scared for me, and he focused too intently on something and zoned." He studied the blank eyes before him with concern. "It's deep this time, Simon, really deep. I don't know if I can..." The doubt in his voice resonated through the room.

Simon squeezed his shoulder. "You can do this, Sandburg. Jim always hears you, you know that. You've just gotta try." He looked deeply into the uncertain blue eyes. "He will hear you."

A barely perceptible nod accompanied the small smile, and Blair's reddened eyes took on an aura of determination. "Thanks, Simon."

Banks grinned. "Anytime, kid." He moved away from the bed, settling into the chair next to the window and watched the Guide at work.

Blair's attention was now focused entirely on Jim Ellison. He leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of Jim's face. A small grimace of pain accompanied the movement, but he persevered until he was looking directly into Jim's unseeing eyes.

"Jim? Hey, buddy, it's me. It's Blair." The tone of his voice was low and soothing, pitched in the special range he used only for Jim. "I know you can hear me, Jim. Just listen, okay? Focus on my voice first. Try to ignore whatever it is you're seeing right now, and listen to my voice. Hear only my voice, Jim. There's nothing to see, nothing to smell, nothing to feel. Only my voice, my words. I'm here, Jim, and I am all right. I promise you, buddy, I'm okay. You saved my life, Jim. But you gotta do one more thing for me. You gotta listen to my voice and follow it back, okay?"

He hesitated, taking in the still figure. There had been no change. "Jim? Listen to me, okay? Please? Tune out your vision, Jim, please? You need to focus only on your hearing, on my voice. Do this for me, please, buddy? Listen only to me, only to my voice. There's nothing to see, only my words to hear, only my voice. Nothing else..."

Blair cocked his head, studying the Sentinel's still features. Then, he reached out and carefully covered Jim's eyes with his hands. "There, buddy, no more vision. You don't have to worry about tuning it out, because I've taken care of that for you, okay? Just listen, Jim. Listen to my voice. Feel the touch of my hands. Nothing else exists; nothing else matters." The reassuring, soothing words droned on.

Simon felt he could be hypnotized easily by that soft, calm voice. How had Sandburg learned this stuff? Was it really the result of all the research, all the tests? Or was it something more, something...inbred...something natural, instinctual, which led him to know, without being taught or told, what was required to keep his Sentinel safe? Whatever it is, kid, I hope it works for you now.

But, there was still no response from Jim Ellison. The hours passed.

Blair was tired. Bone tired. He felt his body's betrayal creeping up on him like a predator, threatening to overcome his intense desire to bring Jim back safely from this deep zone. He stopped his constant murmuring, allowing his head to slump down, his chin resting on his chest.

"Blair? Are you all right?" Simon whispered. "Should I get a doctor?"

The young man shook his head abruptly. "No. Thanks, Simon, I'm all right. Just tired, that's all. Don't let anyone interrupt us, okay? Jim's gotta focus on me right now. If I can't get him to do that, then... I may not be able to bring him back."

"What would happen then, Sandburg? If you couldn't get him to come out of this?"

The reply was barely audible. "I'm not really sure, Simon. You know most of what I do is sheer guesswork. But, he could just slip deeper and deeper until his heart rate slowed, his breathing slowed..." Blair stopped for a moment, considering the terrifying possibilities, then discarding them. "I can't let that happen, Simon. He trusts me..."

The captain nodded, seeing the shadow of fear on Blair's face. "He does trust you, Blair. I've known Jim Ellison a long time, and believe me, he's never trusted anyone with his life the way he trusts you. No one but you, Blair, has ever gotten close enough to earn that kind of trust from Ellison before. You can do this. Jim knows you can, and I know you can. You're just tired right now, kid, but you can't rest yet. You've gotta keep going, long enough to get Jim back."

Blair nodded slowly. "I know, Simon. I know. I'll be okay."

He focused again on the Sentinel. "All right, Jim. Listen to me, okay? Follow my voice, Jim. Feel my touch." He stroked the short cropped hair beneath his hands before returning them to lightly cover Jim's eyes. "I'm here, Jim, and I need you back, okay?"

As Blair patiently coaxed his Sentinel back from the deep zone out, Simon felt his eyelids growing heavier and heavier by the minute. Sandburg's low, soothing voice droned on, relaxing the tired police captain more deeply with each syllable. Finally, his head dropped back against the wall, and Simon slept.

Blair was fighting the exhaustion which threatened to overwhelm him. If only he could close his eyes for a few minutes sleep. He had been talking for hours, determined not to fail in the most important role of his life, that of Jim Ellison's Guide. Jim had to come out of this zone; the alternative was unthinkable.

Blair leaned his head first to one side, then the other, while rotating his shoulders in small circles, stretching the tired muscles in his neck and back. He reached for the glass of water Simon had placed beside the bed for him to drink. The worst thing he could imagine right now would be to lose his voice. The voice that was Jim's only link back to reality.

Suddenly, a silvery glow caught his eye, and Blair turned to face the darkened window. There, floating in front of the blinds, was a translucent figure of a woman, her face calm and filled with peace. A beatific smile graced her lips and was reflected in her shining eyes. Quickly, Blair glanced at Simon, only to realize that the captain was asleep, his mouth slightly parted and breathing slowly and deeply.

Blair's lips moved, but no words would come. Then, the woman spoke. "Do not be afraid, Blair. My name is Molly." She looked down at Jim's face. "He helped me once, as I helped him tonight and wish to help you now."

"You...? You helped Jim? Did you tell him to come back to the loft? Is that how he found me?" Blair's eyes were wide as he gazed in wonder at the lovely apparition before him.

Molly's smile was filled with warmth and understanding. "It was I. I only reminded him of what he already knew. That you needed him. Now, I remind you as well. He needs you. It may not always be easy for him to acknowledge this, but it is true, nevertheless. You have done your job well, and it is time for you to rest now. Do not worry. He will awaken, Blair. There is no need for you to give any more tonight. Sleep. Rest. All is well."

Blair felt his eyes closing slowly, and he no longer had the strength to hold them open. The last image he saw before fading into sleep was Molly's smile.

Simon's eyes opened slowly, taking in the early light of dawn slipping in through the slats on the window blinds. He stretched his neck, ignoring the protests of stiff muscles and joints. Suddenly remembering where he was, Banks stared at the bed beside him.

Blair Sandburg lay where he had collapsed in exhaustion across Jim Ellison, his head resting against the detective's broad chest. One hand was curled up over his partner's head; the other rested against Ellison's face, the fingers curled lax against his cheek. His was turned toward Simon, his features relaxed in sleep. Lips slightly parted, his breath stirred a few strands of long, curly hair which had fallen across his face.

"Hey, Simon."

Brown eyes widened in surprise as Jim Ellison whispered to him. Quietly, Simon got to his feet and moved to stand beside the bed. Jim looked up at him, a slightly bemused look twinkling in his blue eyes. One broad hand was buried in Blair's thick hair as Jim tenderly supported his friend's head against his chest. The other arm was wrapped gently over Blair's shoulders.

Looking at the pair, Simon smiled. "When did you wake up, Jim?"

Glancing down at the curly head tucked under his chin, Jim shook his head. "I'm not really sure. I was deep in the zone, but I could hear him. I was focusing on him, on his voice, working my way out of it. Then, I realized something was wrong. His voice had just stopped, and I... I had to make sure he was all right. Guess he just gave out on me, huh?" Jim rubbed his friend's back gently.

Simon nodded in agreement. "He was pretty worn out, Jim. We found you about 3:30 in the morning. He talked to you for hours; he just refused to give up."

Jim's eyes closed for a moment before glancing up at Simon. "I worry about him. Sometimes I think he doesn't know when to stop, when to give in to his own limitations. How far would he go, how much would he risk to protect me, Simon?" The worried blue eyes held the captain's for a long moment before returning to the sleeping form of his Guide.

Simon's voice was soft. "As far as you would go to protect his life, Jim. Not one step less."

The Sentinel's strong arm tightened for a moment around Blair's shoulders, then Jim looked up at Simon and nodded, smiling slightly. Then, he rested his cheek against Blair's head, and when he spoke again, his voice was filled with awe. "My God, Simon, what the hell have I gotten myself into here?"

Grinning, Simon reached out and gently tousled the curly hair spread wildly out over Jim's hand. "One hell of a friendship, Ellison, one hell of a friendship."

"It's great to be home!" Blair chortled as he stepped inside the loft, and Jim closed the door behind them. "I know it's only been twenty-four hours, but man, it seems like forever!" He moved slowly to the couch and eased down onto the soft cushions, leaning his head back and smiling broadly.

Jim's face remained impassive. He'd been quiet on the ride home from the hospital, and now, coming back into the loft for the first time since the terrible events of the evening of the shooting, he felt all the pent-up emotions returning once more. He moved into the kitchen and began scraping the remains of the ruined dinners angrily into the trash.

Blair listened to the sounds of his frustrated Sentinel in the kitchen. Whatever was eating at Jim, it wasn't lessening with his impassioned clean up routine.

"Hey, Jim," he called from the couch. "Could you come in here a minute, man?"

Immediately, the Sentinel appeared at his side. "What's wrong, Chief? You need anything?"

"Yeah, Jim, I do." He waited.

Concern clouded the blue eyes peering down at him for a moment. "What is it, Blair? Are you breathing okay? Is your chest hurting?"

Blair looked up at him, his eyes still horribly red from the burst blood vessels. Jim cringed inwardly at the sight, an all too visible reminder of his friend's suffering.

"Nothing like that, man. I just want to talk, okay?" He patted the couch beside him. "Sit."

Jim's eyes darted back to the kitchen, the avenue of his escape. "It's a mess in there, Sandburg. I really need to get it cleaned up, and..."

Blair interrupted, patting the cushion once more, his reddened eyes holding Jim's intently. "Sit. Please?"

Defeated, Jim Ellison sat down beside his friend. "What is it, Chief?' he sighed in defeat. "What do you want to talk about?"

Blair laughed, then clutched his ribs in pain. He shook his head as Jim reached out in concern. "No, it's okay. Just don't make me laugh, all right? I'm not quite up to that right now."

Jim's expression mirrored his confusion. "What's so funny, Sandburg?"

"You, man. What do I want to talk about? I mean, not so long ago, you stormed out of here, furious at me, throwing out lines about whether or not our partnership is worth the effort." Blair's voice dropped to the softest of whispers. "I just need to know what happened to us, Jim. I need to know whether or not you really meant those words."

Jim got up and moved over to the window. He stared out at the skyline of Cascade. His city. His tribe. How the hell could he hear the click of a gun blocks away, see the imprint of a suspect's shoe from across the street, yet be able to miss the pain in his own partner's heart? What kind of Sentinel could protect perfect strangers and cause such suffering to the one most dear to him?

Taking a ragged breath, Jim whispered, "No, Blair. I never meant those words. Never."

Sandburg's next words cut him to the core. "Then why'd you say them, Jim? Why'd you hurt me like that?"

The Sentinel's head dropped, and he closed his eyes. After a few moments, he turned to his friend, his hands outstretched. "Blair, I... Oh, hell, Chief, to be honest, I was angry. I was so damned mad that some kid with a toy gun died out on that street, and I couldn't stop it from happening."

He paced around the loft, gesturing as he spoke. "See, Chief, my entire life, I was trained not to fail. William Ellison tolerate a son who was a failure?" He laughed, a cold, bitter sound. "Hell, no! Perfection wouldn't be good enough for that man, and God knows, I was far from perfect. I never lived up to his expectations, but I damned sure tried, every single day of my life under his roof. Then, I screwed up royally with dear old dad over that damned '65 Cobra, with Stephen's help of course, and I joined the military. Turns out, I traded one set of absurdly high expectations for another. I was a special forces captain, the leader of men. An Army Ranger. That was my role, Chief. Not to let the mission be a failure. Not to let my men or my unit down. Not to mention my country. Now, as a cop and as a Sentinel, that directive sometimes works overtime. In some ways, it's more powerful than ever."

Jim's strident voice softened. "I was the failure that night, Chief, not you. I tried to blame you, to convince myself, to convince you, that if you had stayed in the truck like I told you, that the kid wouldn't have died. It wasn't my fault. Of course not. Jim Ellison doesn't fail. Therefore, it must have been someone else's fault. You were the easiest target, Chief. That's all."

Jim's frantic pacing slowed, and he dropped to the floor beside Sandburg, leaning back against the cushions, exhausted. He pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them, curling his large frame into a tight ball. "I failed, Chief. Me. Not you. That kid would have grabbed someone else, some innocent passerby, if you hadn't been there. He was desperate and scared. We do crazy things when we're that scared and desperate, you know. I've done enough of them in my time." He chuckled bitterly. "And, all too often, you've had to pay the consequences. Just like this time."

Jim took a deep breath. "I should have stopped him, before it got to that point, Blair. I should have seen that the gun wasn't real. If I was a tenth the Sentinel you seem to believe I am, I would have. None of it was your fault. None of it. I'm just so damned sorry I took it out on you. I'm sorry." Jim dropped his head onto his arms.

Blair sat stunned. He had hoped to talk this out, to explain to Jim why he'd run to his side instead of waiting safely in the truck. He'd hoped to mend the rift torn between them in the aftermath of that horrible afternoon.

He hadn't expected this. Never had he expected this deluge of guilt and remorse from his normally reticent partner. If Jim was opening up to this extent, letting Blair glimpse the innermost turmoil in his soul, then he desperately needed his Guide's comfort, needed his affirmation that all was not lost, that hope remained, for Jim...for Blair...and for that magical thing that they were together.

"Jim?" Blair reached out a tentative hand and laid it on Jim's shoulder, feeling the tenseness of the powerful muscles underneath the sweater. He began a slow, careful kneading of those tight muscles. "It's okay, man. Really. I understand."

The bitterness in Jim's voice took his breathe away. "Do you, Blair? What do you understand? How can you understand when I don't even get it myself?"

"Get what, Jim? What don't you get?"

The Sentinel's voice trembled. "Why I hurt you, Chief. How can I keep saying, doing, things to hurt you, when all you've ever done is be there for me? Help me? Protect me? Why do I hurt you, and why the hell do you stay? Can you explain that one, Darwin?" His voice was gentle, desperate.

Blair moved closer, adding his other hand to the slow massage of Jim's shoulders. He concentrated on using his Guide's voice...soft...reassuring. "Jim... Have you ever seen an animal that's been abused? It's constantly on high alert status, just waiting for someone, something, to hurt it again. It trusts no one, and it'll strike out, even before there's any real danger, just to keep from being hurt again. Better to strike first, than to wait for the ax to fall. That kind of animal, it has to learn to trust, to love."

"You saying I'm an animal, Chief? I thought a was a throwback. A Neanderthal or something along those lines." Jim's voice held a hint of humor, but a hand reached up to swipe at his eyes.

Blair squeezed the broad shoulders. "No, man. I'm just saying that you've been hurt. A lot. The response you've learned to deal with that hurt is to lash out, to defend yourself, even when there's no real danger there. It's hard for you to trust, Jim."

Frustrated, Jim pounded the floor with a clenched fist. "But, I do trust you, Blair. That's why it hurts so much when I do something stupid like this. I trust you with my life." His voice broke on a sob caught deep in his throat.

Softly, Blair whispered, "I know that, man. You're just still learning to trust me with your heart."

The broad shoulders shook beneath Blair's gentle hands. "It's okay, Jim. It's all right." Blair lowered his head to rest on the soft, short hair. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, that I didn't stay in the truck. I was scared you were hurt, that's all. I thought you might need me." He felt the slight nod beneath his cheek. "Right now, I just needed to know that our partnership, that our friendship, is..." He hesitated a moment, then summoned the strength to voice the painful words. "Worth the trouble to you."

Blair wasn't sure how he suddenly found himself enfolded in Jim's arms, but he relaxed immediately into the powerful embrace. He wrapped his own arms around Jim's waist, holding on to his friend with all his strength, ignoring the protests of his battered chest and ribs. Jim's hand found his hair, carding through it several times before settling on his head, pressing it gently to his shoulder.

"Blair..." Jim's voice broke with emotion. "I did need you, Chief. I just didn't want to admit it. As far as what I said that night... That was inexcusable. Blair, what we have, it's... My God, Chief, it's everything to me. I don't trust easily; you're right about that. But, I trust you. With my life, my heart, my soul. If I sometimes forget that, I'm sorry." He pressed his lips to Blair's soft hair. "When I do, please... Remember that I love you, kid, that I need you in my life and in my heart. I'm the one who should be asking you if it's worth the trouble, Blair." He hesitated before adding softly, "Is it, Chief?"

Blair snuggled closer against the warmth of Jim's body. He nodded against the soft sweater and closed his eyes. Never had he dreamed of such a friendship. It had its ups and downs, but what relationship didn't? "It's all worth it, Jim. The partnership, the friendship, all of it. You're worth it, Jim. You always will be. I never answered the second question you asked...why I stay. I stay because, for the first time in my life, I'm part of something bigger than I am. Something important, Jim. The Sentinel/Guide thing is only part of it. There's so much more going on here. Our friendship, our partnership... Somehow...I don't know...it's like you're everything I ever wanted in my life, all I ever needed to find, all wrapped up in one person. The brother I always wanted, the best friend I never was able to make..." Blair hesitated, then added softly, "And, maybe, the father I never knew."

The big body shivered once, then the strong arms gathered him closer. "Thanks, Chief," Jim whispered. "Kinda complicated stuff, isn't it?"

Blair laughed softly. "Not really, Jim. It all boils down to the same simple things. Trust, love, friendship... Not so complicated after all. And definitely worth the trouble, right?"

Jim's head nodded briefly. "Definitely. More than worth it all, Chief."

Blair could feel the residual tenseness seeping slowly from Jim's muscles as his friend relaxed in his arms, his soul at last at peace. Blair realized that the pain in his own body was no longer as noticeable. Compared to the glow that was in his soul, it was less than nothing. Physical pain would appear, only to ebb and vanish. Not so the warmth in his heart. The source of that warmth, his friendship with Jim, the devotion of true brothers, the commitment of Sentinel and Guide...that would endure. That was forever.

Morning's light found them still huddled together in comforting, reaffirming warmth. Jim awakened briefly, and he glanced down at the peaceful, sleeping face of his Guide, then out the large windows toward the opalescent pink and blue sky which signaled the coming of early dawn. The first sounds of morning in the awakening city drifted in to his Sentinel ears, blending with the gentle puffs of Blair's breathing. Lightness filled his heart, and a smile touched his lips.

An almost forgotten voice called fleetingly from across the years, reawakening emotions long neglected. His mother's voice, reassuring him with the comforting words of the psalmist. Remembering, Jim looked down tenderly at the sleeping figure in his arms, cradled just as his mother had held him on that long ago night. He brushed a stray strand of soft, curly hair from his Guide's face, the truth of her statement ringing in his heart.

The voice whispered once more from the past before fading again into the recesses of distant memory. Weeping may endureth for the night, but joy cometh in the morning.

With the dawning sun gently bathing his face with light, the Sentinel smiled softly, taking a moment to cherish the new found joy in his soul before drifting once more into the realm of sleep.

From outside the windows of the loft, a figured hovered, silently observing the peaceful tableau in the morning stillness. Seeing the renewed closeness between the two men, Molly smiled softly and nodded her approval. "All is well," she whispered. Shimmering brightly for a moment against the pastel glow of sunrise, she lifted her face to the heavens and vanished.

Unaware of the presence of their visitor or of her departure, Sentinel and Guide slept on through the hushed dawn, together...safe and protected...at peace.

The End

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