DISCLAIMER: They aren’t mine. If they were, I might actually get paid for this stuff. But I don’t, so don't sue, because you won’t get anything.

This is a missing scene that takes place during Sentinel Too Part 2, in the time between Blair was revived and when Jim comes to see him in the hospital. Spoilers for Sentinel Too Part 2 abound.

The EMT’s returned to kneel beside Sandburg, and Jim gladly followed their request to step out of the way. He glanced at his captain as he stood up, both amused and touched by the tears the older man was trying in vain to hold back. He looped a friendly arm over Simon’s shoulders, wordlessly letting him know that he wasn’t fooling anyone, and that everything was all right.

“It’s all right,” Jim murmured, watching as the medics fixed an oxygen mask over his partner’s mouth and nose. His voice trembled slightly with emotion and he, too, had to briefly battle down a serge of tears from the events that had recently transpired. But the thumbs-up from the head medic calmed him. It was going to be fine. Blair was safe.

They loaded the young man onto a gurney, and Jim stepped forward to assist as they trundled the damp grad student across the short distance to the waiting ambulance. Just as they were preparing to lift, their passenger gave a small moan, almost a whimper. Ellison held up a hand to stop the gurney’s motion, and leaned down to whisper to his half-conscious friend.

“Sandburg?”

The anthropologist’s brow furrowed, and then slowly, beautifully, the cornflower blue eyes were revealed from beneath trembling lids. They darted around for a moment before settling on the face of the Sentinel of the Great City. Then tears filled the blue depths, and the damp chest hitched ever so slightly. One of Blair hands, strapped down onto the gurney for safety, twitched briefly toward Jim.

Wordlessly Ellison took that cold hand in his, warming it between his larger palms, smoothing the clammy skin and lacing his own fingers through the smaller ones. Blair didn’t have the energy or cognizance to squeeze back, but he stilled on the gurney. His eyes slid shut, and a tiny sigh of contentment whispered behind the oxygen mask. Jim thought he could see just the barest hint of a smile behind the fogged plastic cup over his Guide’s nose and mouth.

Everything was going to be fine.

Jim and Simon stood up as one as the doctor stepped into the hall. The kindly white-haired man smiled, holding up a hand to stave off the imminent rush of questions. Ellison had been as bad as a precocious five year old, exasperating the nurse’s station with his barrage of questions regarding his friend’s condition.

“Doctor?” Jim prompted, easing back a bit as Simon’s hand settled upon his shoulder. “Doc, how is he? Is-is he...is he OK? You know?” Ellison gently tapped a finger against his temple, almost not wanting to hear the doctor’s reply. If his brilliant, lively friend had suffered some kind of brain damage....

But the old man smiled warmly, and shook his head. “No, detective, no sign whatsoever of any loss of mental capacity. Motor functions are above the expected norm for such a case. I think your friend is going to be just fine, I don’t foresee any lasting side effects of his little ordeal.” The doctor gasped in surprise as he was suddenly hugged, and lifted off his feet.

Simon fought down a grin as his top detective made a fool of himself. The look on the good doctor’s face was priceless as Ellison bear-hugged him. The white-coated man, smiled and patted Jim on the back as he set back on his feet, straightening his stethoscope and name tag.

“Can I see him?” Jim asked, trying gently to move past the doctor. He was stopped by a gentle hand on his chest.

“You can go in for a few minutes,” the doctor said, “But he’s sleeping right now, and I’d rather you didn’t disturb him. His body’s been through a terrible ordeal, and he’ll probably sleep the day through. It’s our body’s way of recovering.” With that, the older man held a finger to his lips, before quietly pushing the door open.

Jim stepped into the room, listening as Simon began to speak with the doctor. Then the door clicked shut, and all his attention was drawn to the motionless figure in the bed before him. Tiptoeing, the sentinel crept forward and stood over his partner. He frowned at the tube under Blair’s nose, and the other tapped into the vein on the back of his left hand. But inside he knew it could have been much worse; Blair was only sleeping. Had things gone differently, the two of them might be in this same position, only the kid would be laying on a slab at the morgue instead of in a warm, cozy hospital bed.

Jim fought down a tremble at the unpleasant thought as he gathered a spare blanket from the chair beside the bed. Sandburg was going to be OK, the doctor had said so. With the greatest of care, he unfolded the thin blue blanket over Blair’s body, tenderly tucking the edges in under the mattress to provide maximum warmth. When he was sure his Guide was content, he pulled the chair close to the bed and sat. He folded his arms on the bed beside his partner, and rested his chin on them, studying his sleeping friend’s face from a few inches away.

“You scared the hell out of me, Chief,” Ellison whispered, swallowing hard against his emotions. “I really thought this was it.... That this was the day I was going to lose you.” His voice cracked, and he lowered his face for a moment, breathing hard, rubbing his eyes against his folded arms.

“I still don’t understand what happened between us, Blair. But I want to. I want to know what went through both our heads to allow this to happen.” Jim paused, and reached out stroke his knuckles across Blair’s forehead. He maintained the gentle motions for long minutes, soothing his sleeping Guide with his touch, letting him know he was there.

“We’re going to talk, Chief. Just as soon as you’re well, and settled back in the loft.” Ellison chuckled briefly. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Megan told us where you had your stuff stashed, and we’ve already moved you back in....Th.-that is...you know...if you still want to....live with me.” Again, Jim’s throat tightened painfully and he had to stop.

A sound behind him got his attention, and he turned to see the doctor watching him. The older man reluctantly pointed to his watch, then shrugged apologetically. Jim nodded his thanks, and the doctor retreated, closing the door again.

“I’ve gotta leave now, Blair,” Jim murmured, standing and returning the chair to its corner. “But I’ll be back when you wake, I promise. I...I’ll never leave you alone again, buddy. Never.” He tugged the blankets up a little higher, tucking them under Blair’s chin. He studied the peaceful, oh, so young-looking face for a few moments, gently brushing the dark curls back from the rounded brow.

Kneeling, he carefully cupped Blair’s face and turned it slightly toward him. He paused, just brushing his thumb over the smooth skin of Sandburg’s cheek, grinning when the corner of the full mouth twitched in response to his touch. Leaning closer, Jim softly touched his lips to Blair’s forehead, then cheek, caressing each spot with his fingertips. He moved closer still, until his lips were just brushing the curls near his friend’s ear.

“I love you,” Jim whispered, “I love you, Blair... very much.” He punctuated the unheard confession with one more kiss, touching his lips lightly to Blair’s temple. “You sleep now. Get well. I’m gonna need my Guide with me if I want to stop Barnes, right?”

The still figure in the bed slept on, oblivious. Ellison watched him for a few minutes more, a gentle, loving smile gracing his normally stern features. As he straightened, he scanned the small room for anything that might disturb his partner’s rest. Finding nothing, he gave one last pat to Blair’s blanket-draped shoulder, and slipped silently away, content with the knowledge that Shaman and Sentinel would soon be back together, protecting their city.

THE END