Thanks to Fox for looking this over. Any remaining errors are mine.

This story is dedicated to the memory of all who were lost on September 11, 2001.

Marion laughed gently, her hair catching sunlight as it waved in the soft breeze. How I love her, he thought, as he led her through the grounds of his ancestors' temple. Together they sat down in the tall grass, solemnly and reverently seeking each other's touch. The first time was sacred, their union sanctioned and blessed by the air, the earth, the light, here in the shadows of the temple.

Why he hesitated before their union was complete, he didn't know. There will be another time, he thought. They were riding in a car, Marion's laughter gently filling the air, when the driver cursed and swerved the car sharply. The car came to a sudden stop against something. His seatbelt jerked, holding him in place. He found Marion pinned under a pile of fold-up chairs. It didn't occur to him to question where the chairs had come from.

He walked out, and met a group of clerics coming his way, men and women of all faiths and denominations. Marion lay on a bed, with one of the clerics, who was also a medical doctor, attending her. How is she, he asked. The cleric answered, but he did not understand. He looked into Marion's eyes and smiled. We will have another time, he thought.

Marion was Jewish, so her body had to be buried before nightfall. Her family wouldn't make it in time. He sat curled in a corner, not really listening to the clerics talking in subdued voices behind him.

There is never enough time.

Blair blinked. He pushed the blanket away from his face and stared out into the darkness until his eyes caught the faint light pouring through the glass panels of the French doors. Marion had lived across the hall from him in the dorm one year. They used to hang out with a bunch of other students, the kind of friends you'd sit with in the cafeteria or go see movies with. Once, he'd found her crying alone in her room after a particularly disastrous exam. He'd made her tea, and sat with her until she calmed down. He thought her sweet and attractive, emotionally intense in a quiet kind of way. They saw each other less when he moved out of the dorms, and he hadn't seen her since she'd graduated and left Rainier. Sometimes he wondered what she was doing now.

They hadn't ever dated, and what was the deal with an ancestral temple, and Jewish custom just said you had to bury someone promptly, and in fact, it was expected that you'd wait for the family to gather so they could mourn properly...

But the dream wasn't about Marion. Or burial customs, Jewish or otherwise.

Blair took a deep breath and rolled out of bed.

Jim pushed up to his elbows and squinted at Blair as he climbed the final steps up to the loft bedroom. "What is it, Chief?" he asked, as Blair came to stand next to the bed.

Blair didn't immediately reply, but sat down on the edge of the bed. Jim scooted over and watched as Blair moved into the vacated space, folding up his legs and making himself comfortable. Jim puffed up his pillow and propped his head in a more comfortable position, waiting for Blair to speak.

"See," Blair said, "I had this dream..."

"Bad?"

"Well, not like a nightmare." Blair pushed back his hair, which had fallen into his face. "Just, it just made me think."

Jim scowled. "And you had to share this with me at," he craned his neck to peek at the bedside clock, "four in the morning?"

"I... yeah. See, Jim, the point of the dream was, well, we always think there's more time, you know?"

Jim's scowl deepened. "You thought that in a dream?"

"Um, yeah."

"You're weird," Jim declared.

"Like you didn't know that before?"

"Okay, you're even weirder than I thought." Jim lifted the covers. "Get in."

"Jim?"

"So you're here to tell me whatever you want to tell me. At fucking four in the morning. Something tells me this is going to take a while, so, get in before you freeze."

Blair blinked. "And you say I'm weird?" he muttered, as he scrambled under the covers.

"I'm not weird, I'm practical," Jim corrected, as he shifted the pillows around so both he and Blair would have equal share of them.

"Jim. Inviting friends who show up for late-night heart-to-heart chats into your bed is weird."

"It's early morning, and a friend doesn't show up uninvited for a heart-to-heart chat at this hour."

"So what am I?" Blair asked, pouting.

"You're the weird guy who shows up at four in the morning to tell me about your dream."

"Right. So about that dream..."

"Blair," Jim reached out to gently cradle Blair's cheek, "Do we have to do this now?"

"But Jim," Blair protested, wide-eyed, "the dream..."

"Did it say you have to tell me now?"

"Not exactly. But Jim, we always think there's time..."

"...and there might not be." Jim grasped Blair's shoulder and levered them closer together. "I get it, Chief. But I've got a meeting with the DA first thing in the morning, and then there's the security detail in the afternoon. I need to be awake for those."

"Yeah, Jim. But what if..."

Jim closed his eyes and sighed. "Chief, I love you, but I need to sleep, ok?"

Blair hesitated, fidgeting in place until Jim opened his eyes and looked at him again. "Um, er, I love you too, you know?" he said.

Jim smiled, reached out, and gently pushed Blair's head into the pillow. "Yeah, I know. Now, sleep."

Blair closed his eyes and hitched himself forward, snuggling into Jim's shoulder. Jim turned his head, nuzzling into Blair's hair.

There is time now. Blair thought, as he drifted into sleep.