What good does it do for a man to have ears that can hear a thousand miles...if he cannot listen to the whispers of his own heart?

Gabe's words echoed in Jim Ellison's mind as he led his cuffed, bare-bottomed prisoner down the stairs and into the crowded hall of major crimes. The hubbub of the last few minutes had died down some, he gratefully noted as he handed the whimpering thug to Ricardo.

"Check his derriere," Jim muttered with a half-grin, "Our reptilian buddy mighta taken a chunk out of him." He watched as Ricardo led the killer away. Satisfied, the sentinel opened his sensitive hearing to the noises of the hallway, listening for that one special heart beat.

He picked out the treasured rhythm, and followed it down the hall and around the corner. The detective watched from afar as Blair hovered over Gabe. The young man was trying to help the medics as they loaded the fallen angel onto the stretcher, oblivious to their gentle but persistent attempts to shoo him away.

"But he's gonna be all right? Isn't he?" Blair was muttering, distraught hands threading again and again through his disheveled locks. "You gotta help him, man, he...,"

The young man's head snapped around as Jim dropped a heavy hand upon his shoulder. The detective saw the brief glimmer of terror flash across the young face, and cursed himself for his thoughtlessness. The anthropologist had just been used as a human shield. The last thing he needed was to be startled and grabbed.

"Sorry about that, buddy," Jim said softly, squeezing the bony shoulder beneath his hand. He watched as Blair calmed himself, the young blue eyes darting back and forth briefly as he regained his composure.

"N...no problem, man," Blair replied quietly, a faint tremor in his voice.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Both men suddenly became fascinated with the other's shoes. Ellison kept his hand on Blair's shoulder, feeling the warmth, the life that pulsed beneath the layers of cloth and skin. The life that might have been snuffed out, had things happened differently on this long, long night.

"So um...about my disser...," Blair's voice was muffled as Jim gently pulled him into an embrace. The slim figure tensed momentarily, then relaxed into his friend's arms. He allowed himself to be held, pressing his cheek into Jim's shoulder. He heard his partner's breathing waver slightly, followed by a tiny sound, not quite a whimper. He lifted his head, and was amazed to see tears shining in Jim's eyes.

"Jim?" Blair inquired gently, tightening his arms across the strong back. "Jim, I'm sorry. I really will tear it up. Your friendship is way more important than....,"

"Could've lost you...," Jim whispered, interrupting.

Blair fell silent, mouth open in mid-apology. Jim blinked, and the anthropologist watched a tear trickle slowly down the rough, stubbly cheek. Then he was drawn tight against the cop's body again and squeezed. The young man gasped, wondering if his ribs would survive. Soon, a warm hand slid up his back to weave through his curls, gently pulling his head down onto a broad shoulder. Uncertain of how to cope with the totally uncharacteristic show of affection, Sandburg tried to pull away.

"No...please," Jim begged faintly. "Please, Chief. I just need to....Please...let me hold you...just for a minute?" Ellison closed his eyes, sighing with relief as Sandburg settled into him again. He held the warm, beloved figure tightly to him. In his mind, he saw it happening again and again; Blair grabbed and used as a human shield. He, the Blessed Protector, unable to risk the shot to save his life because of the crowd.

As he held Blair, Jim catalogued his senses. Smell...tropical shampoo, spices, the last, musky lingering trace of fear. Sound...soft breathing, a younger heart thrumming in time with his own. Touch...warm, small, familiar. Sight...his best friend, safe, whole, alive. With a faint smile of relief, Jim turned his head to gently rub his cheek across Blair's brow.

"I'm sorry about everything, Chief," the sentinel murmured into the dark tresses. "I never wanted to...wanted to make you think you had to...sacrifice your work for our friendship." He took a deep breath as he pulled back, just enough to gaze down at his friend's face. Blair had a few tear streaks of his own now, he noticed.

"It's the fear again, buddy," he continued quietly, rubbing a hand slowly up and down Sandburg's back. "This time it was fear of having to say good-bye. First to our friendship...then to your life." His voice broke, and he swallowed hard. In response, he felt the slim arms around him squeeze tighter.

Ellison leaned close again and whispered against his friend's forehead. "But I want you to know, Blair. You're so...important to me....So precious." Slowly, tentatively, he turned his head and punctuated his affection by pressing his lips softly against the teaching fellow's temple.

Blair closed his eyes as Jim kissed him, nestling as close as he could to his partner. The hand in his hair never ceased its smooth, comforting stroking, and he found a pleasant calm descending over him. A dissertation was words on paper. It could be replaced. This was friendship, true friendship. And he knew in that moment that he wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Y'all right, Sandburg?"

Rafe's gently accented voice drew the two friends back into the real world. Jim looked up and smiled, giving Blair's back one more pat. "He's OK, " he replied quietly, draping an arm around his partner's shoulders as the young man turned to Rafe.

"Yeah...fine," Blair concurred, running a hand through his hair.

Rafe smiled. "Glad to hear it. Now...what are we going to do about this gator?"

THE END