Once the nurse and speech therapist had departed, Jim couldn't get Blair situated into the recliner fast enough.
"Mmmmm," his Guide commented, snuggling his head into position beneath Jim's chin.
"Blair! Where are you?"
Over here, man, by the river.
Jim walked through the dense jungle foliage, following the sound of running water. He emerged onto the bank of a gurgling stream to find his Guide seated cross-legged on a large rock.
Come join me, he offered, patting a place next to himself on the stone.
Jim walked over and settled next to his Guide.
Cat got your tongue, Jim? Blair smiled mischievously.
"I'm still in shock, I guess," Jim admitted. "You're awake. You can talk! I didn't know you could talk!"
Hell, man, neither did I. Blair tried skipping a stone across the water, failing miserably. He turned his smile back on his Sentinel. It's work, man. Really hard work. But I wanted to try ... wanted you to know I could.
"Well, I'm impressed." Jim turned to smile at his Guide. He wrapped his arms around the younger man and squeezed. "Anything seems possible now."
I'm glad Casey suggested the speech therapist. I think I'm really gonna need the help. Blair stared at his broken reflection in the fast-moving stream. I don't have any trouble knowing what it is I want to say, but I'm having problems wrapping my mouth around actually forming the words. He sighed. I really want to be able to talk with you again, Jim. I want out of that damn bed. I want to go camping and fishing and to a Jags game. I want to go back to the university. I want to love you, man, like you deserve. I want ... I want my life back. He leaned his head against Jim's broad chest, relaxing into the embrace.
"Yeah, Babe, I know. So do I." Jim's simple reply was heartfelt.
They sat quietly for a while, contemplating the rushing water. The beauty of this place was undeniable, but it wasn't reality. Reality was where it counted. Jim closed his eyes, zeroing his hearing on the steady beat of his Guide's heart...
...and awoke to find Blair smiling up at him.
###
The following day, Jim called Dr. Ramsey, who was more than willing to fax a referral to the speech therapist. He called Rachel, and found she had had a cancellation in her schedule. There was time that afternoon to fit Blair in. Jim arranged for a transport van to take Blair to the hospital.
"Hey there, Blair! Good to see you again so soon!" Rachel greeted her patient as she wheeled him into the room where the exam would be done. With Jim's help, she transferred Blair into the exam chair which was nestled between the X-ray machine and a table.
"Okay guys, here's how this goes down," Rachel said. "Jim, you'll have to leave the room, as we're working with X-rays here. You can stand behind that glass partition," she pointed, "and watch the procedure, if you wish.
"You," she said to Blair, "are going to have to drink one of my special barium 'shakes.' I'll warn you now, they're nasty."
"Do I ... have ... to?" Blair asked with difficulty.
"That's what you're here for. I'm afraid that you do," Rachel sympathized.
"Just pretend it's one of those algae shakes of yours," Jim suggested, screwing up his own features at the thought of the green concoction.
"But ... those are ... good, ... man," Blair protested.
"Whatever you say, Chief. Just drink this stuff for the pretty lady. Okay?"
Blair made a face, but nodded. Rachel went to get the drink and other consistencies of liquid and food trials, and shooed Jim from the immediate area.
Watching from behind the Plexiglas barrier, Jim dialed up his hearing to listen as Blair swallowed the barium shake. He grimaced in sympathy as his partner choked on the thick liquid, trying to push it away. With great patience, Rachel saw to it that he drank enough to get a valid test of his abilities, as well as trying the solid foods.
She conducted the X-ray test with quiet efficiency. When they were finished, Jim returned to help transfer Blair back to his wheelchair.
She turned to Jim and smiled. "Well, it's going to take a little work, but Blair has more control than most coma patients who have only just awakened. I'm going to release him to start eating and drinking again. Start with purees and thicker drinks, he'll still choke on thinner consistencies. I'll call to set up a therapy schedule with you."
"The sooner, the better," Jim answered fervently.
"I know you're anxious, but this will have to go slow," Rachel warned. "Casey tells me Blair is quite a fighter, though. That kind of determination in a patient goes a long way toward effecting recovery."
"I've never known him to give up, and he's been in some pretty tough situations," Jim told her.
"Good. Glad to hear that." She turned to her patient. "Well, Blair, looks like the free ride's over. You're going to have to go back to work now."
Blair smiled and gave her a thumb's up sign.
"Let's get you back home, Chief."
Blair lifted a hand to wave farewell as Jim wheeled him down the corridor toward the exit.
"Bet you're glad that's over, eh?" Jim chuckled, as they made their way to the waiting van.
"Yeah," Blair answered, dark curls bobbing as their owner nodded slowly.
###
That evening, Jim appeared at Blair's bedside, fishing pole in hand. "Hello, Chief," he greeted alert blue eyes.
"Hi. What's that?" Blair's speech was still slightly slurred, but his meaning was clear as he pointed to the object in Jim's hand.
"I spent the day doing some research on the internet..."
"Uh-oh." //Jim on the internet always means trouble. Whatcha planning to do with the fishing pole, big guy?//
"...and discovered an interesting therapy I thought you'd like." He raised the pole above the bed, with the line dangling several inches above Blair's head. Jim's largest and brightest fly fishing lure (sans hook) suspended from the end. "Just follow the lure with your eyes. As you gain strength, you can follow with head movements as well."
//Oh, God, Jim ... you can't be serious!// "Nooo...."
The lure moved slowly from left to right.
"No, no, no ... nonononono...." //Jim, this is embarrassing, man!//
"You're supposed to follow the lure with your eyes. C'mon, Chief, you can do it."
//'Can' and 'will' are two different things. I am not stooping to your level, oh Blessed Protector.// Blair stubbornly refused to cooperate.
"C'mon, Blair," Jim wheedled. "Do this for me and I've got some yummy applesauce for your dinner."
//Bribery! Now you're stooping to bribery?// Blair sighed. "Okay." //Applesauce does sound pretty good.// He reluctantly began to follow the bright lure with his eyes.
"Great, Blair! I knew you could do it!" Jim seemed inordinately pleased with the small amount of progress. He continued moving the lure back and forth, up and down, for about five minutes.
"I'm ... tired." Blair closed his eyes, signaling that he was finished with this nonsense for the time being.
"Guess that wore you out, huh? Well, let me get the applesauce. You earned it." Jim set the pole down, leaning it against the foot of the bed, then went to the kitchen and rummaged through the refrigerator. "Here we go."
He dished up a small custard bowl with applesauce and carried it back into the living room. He raised the head of the bed so that Blair was upright, then tied a bib around Blair's neck.
"Oh, man ... a bib? ... Jim, I'm not a ... baby!" //It's just applesauce, man!// Blair thought, tired from the effort it took to speak.
"Sorry, Chief. It's just a precaution. You know, this is really good stuff. Jeannette made it for us. Canned it herself." Jim dipped the tip of the spoon in the pureed apples and lifted it to Blair's mouth.
Blair dutifully cleaned the spoon, swallowing with great difficulty. He grinned slightly at his success, at the wonderful taste of real food on his tongue, and was rewarded by another spoonful--this one slightly fuller than the last. Blair's weakened muscles couldn't quite compensate, and some of the applesauce drooled out the side of his mouth.
"Damn!" Blair frowned.
Jim wiped Blair's lips. "Too much, huh? Sorry. I'm just getting the hang of this, too, you know."
"Yeah." //I know, Jim. It's just so darn frustrating! I'm trying. Really I am.//
"I know you're doing your best. Here, try this." Jim offered another bite, smaller this time. Blair managed most of it, with little mess. The rest of the feeding continued until the small bowl was empty.
"Guess that's it for tonight. Feel up to a little trip to the spirit plane?"
"Oh, yeah...." //You have to ask?// Blair's thoughts were incredulous.
Jim cleared away the remnants of dinner, and lifted Blair out of bed, settling the younger man comfortably in his lap in the large recliner.
Over here, Jim! Blair motioned with his arm. Be quiet, he mouthed.
"What is it?" Jim stepped over to where his partner was standing at the edge of a small clearing in the trees.
Shhh. Look! He pointed. Jim's eyes followed to the clearing where a doe and fawn were grazing on the pasture's clover. Sometimes I feel a little like that fawn, having to learn everything over again, from scratch.
"Feeling a little frustrated, Chief?" Jim sympathized.
You could say that, the anthropologist sighed. I hate dribbling like a baby. And that fishing pole set up? What was that, man?
"It's called 'cognitive' therapy, my little guppy," Jim chuckled.
Will you please not call me that? Blair moaned. I so do not like feeling that I'm just a little fish on your hook.
"Aw, Chief, give me a break here, will ya? I'm just trying to help."
I know you are, man, but sometimes you try too hard. Sometimes I think I don't try hard enough. A note of defeat slipped into the quiet voice.
"It takes time, Blair. You just have to be patient." Jim placed a reassuring hand on his partner's shoulder. "I know it's hard. I want you to improve faster, too. But these things take time."
I think our spirit talks help. Blair turned from watching the doe, who was leading the fawn back into the dense foliage on the opposite side of the clearing. I always seem to make improvements after we've been here, talking things out.
"I've noticed that, too. Why do you think that is?" Jim turned his steady gaze on his Guide.
Blair returned the look, dropping into his academic mode. I think it has something to do with the Sentinel/Guide bond, he declared. I know you're still a little uncomfortable with the concept, but it's real. I feel it, here. He pounded his right fist over his heart. Our talks here help me to feel connected, to get my thoughts out. In the real world, I'm limited physically, but here I can do anything ... be anything. Here, I'm free. It's a wonderful feeling. You can't imagine what it's like being locked in an unresponsive body twenty-four hours a day.
"No, I can't, Chief. I'm not even going to try."
When can the feeding tube come out? Did Rachel say?
"Not for a while yet, Sport. You can't eat enough to sustain yourself yet. I talked with Rachel on the phone this afternoon, and she said that as you continue to improve, we can cut down on the tube feeding time. Don't count on losing it anytime soon, though. Sorry."
Blair released a pent-up sigh. That figures. Have you got any idea how weird it is having stuff pumped directly into your stomach? Creeps me out, man!
Jim chuckled at his friend's shudder of distaste. "Sorry. I didn't mean to laugh, you just look so ... disgusted."
Wouldn't you be?
"Point taken." Jim fought to stifle a yawn. "Sorry to break up the party, Chief, but I'm really beat."
That's okay. I understand.
"You don't like going to bed again after these talks." It wasn't a question, just a simple statement of fact.
Blair looked up, his eyes filled with longing for something he couldn't have yet ... the freedom to walk and talk once again. I just feel so isolated. So alone. It's hard to get to sleep with all these thoughts swirling around in my head.
"Would it help if I stayed next to the bed until you fell asleep?"
You'd do that for me? You're so tired!
"Chief, if it'll help, I'll do it."
Please?
"You got it."
The forest of the spirit plane faded as Jim opened his eyes. Lifting Blair, he placed the young man back in bed. After reconnecting the feeding tube and catheter, he pulled the blanket up to tuck under Blair's chin. "G'night, Chief." He sat down next to the bed, picking a limp hand off the blanket and holding it firmly. "Time for sleep."
"G'night."
Blair's voice was still somewhat flat, devoid of inflection, as Rachel had told Jim it might be so soon after waking from a coma. Still, it was music to the Sentinel's ears.
He sat vigil, sentinel hearing turned up to listen to the steady rhythm of Blair's heart. When the beat slowed to the level of sleep, Jim quietly made his way up to his own bed, collapsing onto the mattress, too tired to even undress.
"Hey, Rachel!" Jim greeted the speech therapist. "How's the patient?" It had only been a month, and he was astounded by Blair's progress.
"Not bad..., thank ... you very ... much," Blair answered for himself.
"Stubborn and willful as ever, but making good progress," Rachel added with a smile directed at Blair.
"She's ... tough, Jim."
"Good. Just what you need if you're ever going to be giving me your lectures again, Chief."
"Ha, ha. Very funny ... big guy."
"Actually," Rachel added, "if he keeps up this level of progress, I can see him ready to tuck into a full turkey dinner come Thanksgiving."
"Sounds ... great!" Blair licked his lips in anticipation. His improvement had been astounding over the past five weeks. His intake of solid foods had progressed to the point that the feeding tube had been removed two weeks ago. His bladder and bowel control was such that he had graduated to using a bedpan. And possibly best of all, he was moving around on his own, no longer having to put up with Jim's little fishing pole toy.
###
By late November, the hospital bed and all its accouterments were gone, and the loft appeared back to normal. Blair was still getting the hang of the new motorized wheelchair Jim had purchased. Protests notwithstanding, Jim had given him the chair so he could have mobility now. He still fully expected his Guide to get up and walk soon, and didn't let the younger man forget it.
"By Christmas, Jim, I swear."
"Sure. Sure. You're a lot of bluster, Sandburg. I'll believe it when I see it."
Their tirade was interrupted by a knock. Motoring over to the door, Blair tried to open it, but the chair kept getting in the way.
"Here, let me help," Jim said, pulling Sandburg out of the way and opening the door.
"Jen! Happy Thanksgiving!"
"Thank you. Same to you, Blair ... Jim." She smiled broadly, holding out a heavy box for Jim to take. "I just couldn't imagine two bachelors bothering with a big Thanksgiving dinner, so I brought some of ours over to you. We always have way more than we can possibly eat."
Jim rummaged through the contents of the box as he walked toward the kitchen. "Looks delicious."
"There should be enough there for one good meal and a few turkey sandwiches," she smiled.
"Won't you stay and join us?" Blair asked, moving into the kitchen to help Jim with the preparations.
"I'd love to, but I need to get back to my family. Besides, I'm too stuffed to eat again!" She patted her stomach and laughed. "I really should get going. The food's still warm, so eat up!"
Jim walked the matronly caretaker to the door. "Thanks again. This was really sweet of you."
"Don't mention it. Blair deserves a decent meal after all he's been through." She looked over her shoulder to where the young man in question was setting out the various containers on the kitchen table.
He reached up an arm to wave. "Thanks, Jen! This looks delicious!"
"Well, enjoy it, Blair. Don't worry that it isn't exactly your organic 'earth' food. This is Thanksgiving. Eat up!"
Blair turned a dazzling smile in his caretaker's direction. "I intend to!"
After Jeannette had left, and the table had been set, the men settled down to dinner.
"Just remember to take small bites, chew thoroughly, and don't eat too fast," Jim reminded Blair.
"Yes, Mom," Blair grimaced at his Blessed Overprotector. "I think I can manage. Thanks."
Jim just smiled and settled in to eat. He wasn't going to spoil dinner by arguing with the stubborn anthropologist right now. He didn't have long to wait, however. Just as he was pausing to savor the rich giblet gravy, a sputtering sound issued from across the table. He looked up in time to be spewed with stuffing crumbs as Blair choked on too large a bite.
"What did I tell you, Chief?" he asked, coming around the table to thump Sandburg between the shoulder blades. "Here, take a sip. A small sip." He handed the young man his glass of water.
"I'm fine, Jim," Blair managed, after downing a couple sips of liquid.
"Sure you are. And I'm Sally Jesse Raphael. I told you to take it easy! What am I going to do with you?"
"Feed me to the ravening wolves?"
"You are the ravening wolf," Jim quipped, sitting back down to his own dinner. "Now, go slow."
"Yes, oh Blessed One." Blair suddenly found the cranberry sauce on his plate very interesting, studying it intently so as to avoid making eye contact.
Jim just chuckled, letting his partner get away with one just this once. After all, it was Thanksgiving, and he had a lot to be thankful for.
###
Physical recovery had been the hardest for Blair. The accident had dislocated his left hip, and he still felt the pain during therapy. Jim had begun to make it a point to be away from the loft during Blair's PT sessions. As hard as he tried, Blair couldn't control the occasional cry of pain, or the tears the exercises caused. But with dogged determination, the young man put up with the agony, hoping to soon ditch the wheelchair as he had the hospital bed.
Parallel bars had taken the place of the bed in front of the balcony doors. Jeannette worked with her charge daily, helping Blair to make the slow and difficult journey from one end of the bars to the other. The physical therapist still came by weekly to check Blair's progress, and train both Jeannette and Jim to supervise the workouts.
"I've gotta be walking by Christmas," he insisted, sweat flowing from his brow as he made his way laboriously down the length of the equipment.
"It's good to have goals, Sweetie," Jeannette affirmed. "I just hope you haven't set yours too high. Christmas is going to be here in less than a month, and you can barely pull yourself up from that chair."
Blair stopped his struggle momentarily, to give his arms a rest. He had mainly been pulling himself along by the sheer strength of his upper body, dragging resisting feet and legs along for the ride. "I'm gonna do it, Jen. I've gotta do it. I want to do it ... for Jim."
"Blair, honey ... you have to want it for yourself." Jeannette mopped his brow with a soft cloth, and encouraged him to continue the journey to the far end of the bars.
"I do want it for me," the young man insisted, "but I want it for Jim, too. It's going to be my gift to him for the holidays."
"I can't think of anything he'd like more." His caretaker smiled, then applauded loudly as he finally made it to the end and slumped down once more into the safety and comfort of the wheelchair.
###
December:
"Wow, man, that's some tree you've got there!" Blair observed from the safety of the kitchen. "I'm surprised you want to bother with the mess." Flipping a switch on his electric wheelchair, he motored over to where Jim had dropped the Noble Fir, near the fireplace.
"Yeah, well, I guess I was feeling festive this year." Jim smiled warmly at his Guide, who had made so much progress over the past few months. "You gonna help me decorate it?"
"And how do you propose I do that?" Blair chuckled. "It isn't even my holiday!"
"You could do the lower branches ... whatever you can reach. I'll do the top half."
Blair's laughter filled the loft, its richness warming Jim's soul. "You ever notice how a tree tapers toward the top? I'll be doing most of the work here!"
"Smart ass! I still have to put on all the lights, garlands and the damn angel. You can't maneuver that chair well enough." He reached out to gently whack Blair upside the head, tousling the mane of curls as he did so.
"Hey! Don't dis the cripple," Blair laughed, wheeling over to the couch to check out the boxes of ornaments.
"'Cripple,' my ass!" Jim chuckled. "Besides," he continued as he hefted the tree into the stand and began tightening the screws, "I've got something for your holiday, too."
Blair looked up from scrutinizing the glass balls to gaze at his partner with curiosity.
Having finished securing the tree in the stand, Jim stood up and walked over to a bag he had left on the table by the door. "Tonight's the first night of Chanukah, right?" He reached into the bag and pulled out an elaborate silver menorah with one hand, and a fist full of candles with the other.
"Yeah...." Blair answered cautiously, eyeing his friend with questioning curiosity. "But I haven't exactly been a practicing Jew since I left home." He eyed the candelabra with appreciation. "That's really beautiful, though."
"You might have noticed," Jim clarified, "that I'm not exactly a practicing Christian, either. Doesn't stop me from celebrating the holiday. Now, what are we supposed to do with this?"
"The menorah is supposed to be placed in the front window, but I suppose we could put it on a table near the balcony doors."
"Okay, then." Jim dragged a small end table in front of one of the glass doors and set the menorah on it. "What next?"
"The candles." Blair laughed. He'd been laughing a lot lately, and Jim was thrilled that his Guide was finally feeling well enough to see the sunny side of life again. It had been far too long since their home had heard the echoes of that full, rich sound.
"Okay." Jim placed the nine candles and turned to look at his partner.
"Now we decorate the tree," Blair directed. "Candle lighting starts at sunset."
Jim shrugged and turned back to the fir. "If you say so, Chief." He studied the seven-foot tree for a few moments. "Hand me the lights.... Please?" he added, when Blair refused to budge.
The decorating went rather quickly, once the pair had fallen into their usual rhythm. They worked cooperatively and quickly. In under an hour, the tree was so heavy with ornaments and other decorations that the branches could barely hold the weight.
"Ready, Chief?"
"Whenever you are, big guy."
Jim rammed the plug into the socket, and flipped off the room lights. Multicolored mini bulbs lit the room with a warm, festive glow.
"Mmmm ... that's real nice," Blair commented, nodding appreciatively. "What time is it, Jim?"
"Five-thirty, give or take," the older man answered, still eyeing their handiwork.
"Sunset, give or take," Blair told him. "Time to light the Chanukah candles."
Jim followed, watching curiously as Blair lit the center candle.
"This one is called the 'shamash,' and is used to light all the other candles. We'll only be lighting one other candle tonight. Each night of Chanukah we light one more candle, until all eight are lit.
"Before we light the first candle, it's traditional to say prayers."
"Go for it. I'm just along for the ride." Jim listened as his young friend began haltingly to recite the Chanukah prayers.
"Baruch ata Hashem, Elokenu melech ha'olam, asher kidshanu b'mitzvotav v'tizivanu l'hadlik ner shel Chanukah. [Blessed are You L-rd our G-d, King of the Universe, Who has sanctified us with His commandments and has commanded us to light the Chanukah lights.]" Taking a deep breath, Blair paused to gather his memories before continuing.
"Baruch ata Hashem, Elokenu melech ha'olam, she'asah nisim la'avotenu, bayamim hahem bazeman hazeh. [Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the Universe, Who has done miracles for our fathers in days gone by, at this time.]"
"How do you know all this stuff, Chief? I thought you said you weren't particularly religious."
"I'm not, man. One of my uncles was a rabbi. He took it upon himself to see that I got the proper upbringing, whether Naomi liked it or not." He smiled at the memories. "Mom was too much a free spirit to be chained to the old ways. She had a fit, but Uncle had his way. I learned what every good Jewish boy learns--and promptly abandoned it all when I was finally able to leave home. This is my first Chanukah celebration since I was a kid."
"Huh. Well, I did sort of wonder. It's not a subject that comes up very often. What's next? When're you going to light the other candle?" Standing behind Blair, he rested his hands on the younger man's shoulders and stared into the bright, steady flame of the shamash.
"One more prayer. This one is only said on the first night," Blair explained.
"Baruch ata Hashem, Elokenu melech ha'olam, shehecheyanu, vekiyemanu vehigi'anu lazeman hazeh. [Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the Universe, Who has given us life, and has sustained us, and has brought us to this time.]" Taking the shamash, Blair lit the candle on the far right of the menorah, then placed it back in its slightly elevated, central position. Twisting around, he smiled up at Jim.
"We leave them lit about a half hour," he explained.
"Okay.... Anything else?" Jim was still half in awe of the smaller man seated before him. Who would have guessed he could drag up Hebrew prayers from the depths of that brilliant, but injured, brain?
"Well, now we sing Chanukah songs and eat!" Blair laughed, putting a particular emphasis on "eat."
"I'm with you, Chief, I'm starved!"
The songs temporarily forgotten, they made their way to the kitchen where a lasagne had been baking since just before they started decorating the tree. Jim removed the casserole, while Blair slid in a cookie sheet with garlic bread to be browned. Within minutes, they were eating heartily, with very little conversation, just enjoying a good meal with their substantial appetites.
When they had finished, Blair wheeled over to the balcony and leaned in to blow out the Chanukah candles. As he turned, he was startled to see Jim standing directly behind him. "Whoa! Didn't hear you, man."
Jim perched on the arm of the couch, studying the man he loved. "Isn't it traditional to give small gifts on each night of Chanukah?" he asked.
"Traditional, but not mandatory," Blair answered him, eyeing the hands the Sentinel kept hidden behind his back. "You got something there, big guy? Gimme!" He reached out, trying to snag Jim's hand to see what he concealed behind his large frame.
Jim chuckled, holding the box over Blair's head, just out of his reach.
"Not fair, man! Quit teasing!" Blair's fingers strained to reach the package.
Relenting, Jim handed it over, watching with delight as his love tore into the colorful paper with the abandon of a child.
Opening the small box, Blair peeled back the top layer of cotton to reveal a carved stone wolf fetish nestled in the cloud of cotton in the bottom of the container. He picked it up reverently, running a fingernail through the delicate and intricate features. "Wow, man, this is beautiful!" he sighed. Stroking the small totem, he admired the light blue color of the stone. "Angelite."
"What?" Jim asked, distracted from his thoughts by Blair's statement.
"The fetish is carved in angelite. One of the properties of that stone is supposed to be to facilitate communication with your spirit guide. Appropriate, don't you think?" He turned the carving around, examining it from all angles. "It's a communication stone. It's supposed to help diffuse anger, and can aid in telepathic communication between two people who are each carrying a piece. We don't need that, do we Jim?" He turned wide blue eyes on his Sentinel and smiled. "It can even help in communicating with angels--hence the name."
"And you know all this because...?" Jim rolled his eyes in mock annoyance.
"Well, Naomi was into gemology. New age stuff, you know?"
"Yeah. I should've guessed." Jim released an exaggerated sigh. "So you like it?"
"Love it! I'm keeping it with me wherever I go." With one last admiring look, he stuffed the fetish into a pocket of his jeans.
"Want to watch some TV?" Jim asked. "There's a Jags game on tonight."
"Gee, I'd love to, but I'm wiped, man. I think I'll just go on to bed."
Unwilling to part company so early in the evening, Jim suggested, "You could lie down on the couch. I'll get you a pillow and a blanket."
Noting the slight pleading tone in Jim's voice, Blair nodded. Within minutes he was comfortably ensconced on the couch watching the game with Jim, his head resting comfortably in the older man's lap. He really was tired, though, and before half-time, Blair was snoring softly. Jim picked him up and carried him up to their room, pulling off jeans and tee shirt, and tucking the exhausted anthropologist into bed. He retrieved the stone carving from the pocket of Blair's jeans, setting it on the nightstand next to the bed. "G'night, Darwin," Jim said softly as he turned to descend the stairs.
###
The next evening, Jim stood patiently behind Blair as the younger man recited the Chanukah prayers and lit the second candle, and then the first, finally replacing the shamash in its central position.
This time there was no teasing. As Blair turned around to eye the tall detective, he found another small package thrust into his hands. "Thought you might like this, Chief."
With slightly more decorum than the night before, Blair tore off the paper and opened the box. Nestled inside was an intricate hemp and bead bracelet-necklace set.
"You like?"
"Oh yeah, man. I like! These look like the Australian aboriginal pieces we saw at Crown Jewelry. How did you know?"
"I remembered how covetously you were admiring those when we were supposed to be interviewing Mr. Crown," Jim teased.
Blair felt the blush rise up his neck to tint his cheeks. "Yeah, man. Sorry about that. It's just that the workmanship was ... is ... so exquisite." He plucked the pieces from their resting place and put them on. "How do I look?"
"Gorgeous," Jim commented, eyeing his Guide appreciatively. "Ready for dinner?"
###
The candle lighting and gift giving continued nightly for six more evenings. This year Chanukah and Christmas did not overlap as they did in some years, and Blair was chomping at the bit to give his one gift to Jim on Christmas day. But first, he had to endure his partner's Christmas Eve festivities.
Jim was busy in the kitchen when the knock came at the door. Maneuvering his chair with more confidence and agility than he had at Thanksgiving, Blair answered the call to find a group of carolers bundled warmly in their winter coats, standing in the hallway. As the group began "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," Blair motioned to Jim. "Come here, man. You've gotta see this!" A grin split his face from ear to ear.
The detective walked over to join his partner at the door, his own smile mirroring that of Blair's.
When the group finished, the large black man, who appeared to be leader of the chorus, spoke. "You going to invite us in, or what?"
"By all means. Come in. Come in!" Jim opened the door wider, and Blair backed up as Simon Banks entered, followed by Taggart, Rafe and Brown, and a holly-bedecked Megan Connor.
Megan made her way over to where Blair had moved to give the group room to enter. Pulling at a decorative pin which held a spray of mistletoe fastened to her coat, she held it over his head and leaned down for a kiss. "Merry Christmas, Sandy. How are you doing, love?"
Blushing, Blair smiled up at the Aussie Inspector. "Thanks, Megan. I'm doing great. Want a cup of wassail? Jim's been cooking the stuff all evening. I think he knew we'd be having company." He turned to look at his partner, who had the courtesy to blush at being caught in his little deception.
"Sounds yummy." Megan turned to Jim, flashing him a wide smile.
"So, Hairboy, what's been keeping you busy these days?" Henri Brown walked beside Blair as the group assembled around the kitchen island and Jim starting filling cups with the spiced ale.
"Oh, not much. Physical therapy. A lot of PT.... Let's see, getting my notes straightened out for the diss, speech therapy, reading; did I mention PT?" Blair rattled on, his speech punctuated by gracefully gesticulating hands.
Brown chuckled. It certainly looked as though things were beginning to get back to normal.
Simon took a sip of the hot drink and smiled. "It's good to see you up and around, Sandburg. You were pretty out of it the last time Taggart and I were here."
"I knew you had come to visit," Blair surprised the Captain. "I think Jim was going a little stir crazy. Your coming over was just what he needed. It was good for me, too. I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you guys."
"Sorry we didn't come before," the Captain apologized. "I think we were just a little uncertain of what to expect. You were quite a sight lying in that bed."
"I can imagine. Thanks for braving it. It really means more than you'll ever know."
"Well, yeah," Simon mumbled, embarrassed by his own reluctance to visit, and by the obvious pleasure it had brought to the young man sitting before him.
"I'd like to propose a toast," Rafe declared, lifting his cup. Everyone else raised their drinks, waiting for the junior detective to continue. "To Blair, who had a really rough year, but has made a truly remarkable comeback."
"To Blair!" echoed around the group, as cups clicked together.
The recipient of the toast blushed furiously, but smiled. "Thanks, guys ... Megan. It really means a lot that you've been so supportive, especially to Jim. He's had things at least as rough as I have."
"Not by a long shot, Chief," Jim grinned, ruffling the curly brown mop of hair next to him.
Slowly, the group gravitated toward the living area, settling on couches and chairs, getting caught up with the current events in each other's lives. Eventually, the long day began to wear on Blair's weakened reserves. Stifling a yawn, he struggled to keep from nodding off where he sat, over by the crackling fire.
Jim noticed, and smiled. "Time to get 'Sleeping Beauty' here to bed. If you'll just excuse us for a moment?"
He crossed the room to fetch Blair, and wheeled him over to the stairs. Lifting him with practiced ease, Jim carried his partner upstairs, laying him on the bed. He quickly stripped Blair down to his underwear and tucked the blankets under his chin. "Be up soon," he promised.
As he descended the staircase, he was well aware that the Major Crimes gang had taken notice of where Blair was sleeping. He just smiled and shrugged, pleased when his friends smiled back knowingly, but let the topic drop.
###
Christmas morning finally arrived.
Blair awoke, feeling warm and fuzzy. Today was going to be something really special. He could hear rustling sounds downstairs in the living room. Cautiously, he poked his head over the railing of their bedroom to see Jim stashing a rather large box under the lit Christmas tree.
"Good morning, Jim!" he called.
The usually alert Sentinel jumped at the sound, startled. "What are you doing up so early?"
"Couldn't sleep. Too excited."
Jim stood and came over to climb the stairs. Sweeping the young man into his arms, Jim carried him downstairs and placed him in his motorized wheelchair.
"So, did Santa come?" Blair asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He motored his chair across the room to the tree.
"Yeah, looks like he did," Jim answered, indicating the package he had stashed there just minutes ago. He pulled it out from under the branches. "And it has your name on it." He smiled and handed the heavy gift to his friend.
"Whoa! What could this be? Jim, you really shouldn't have, you know. You gave me so much for Chanukah. That was way above and beyond the call of duty. Now this? You didn't have to, you know."
"Will you just shut up and open it?" Jim's voice held affectionate exasperation.
"Okay! Okay!" Blair murmured as he tore into the wrapping. "Oh, Jim ... no. You didn't. Tell me you didn't." He stared in consternation at the box. "This is too much, man. I can't accept this." He tried to shove the box into Jim's hands, but Jim just shoved it back.
"It's not polite to turn down a Christmas present, in case you didn't know. Open it."
Producing his Swiss army knife from his pocket, Blair sliced through the tape keeping the box securely closed. With Jim's help to peel off the unenvironmentally-sound styrofoam packing, Blair unwrapped his new laptop computer. Complete with a Pentium processor, multiple gigabytes of hard drive space, 256K of RAM, and a CD-ROM/DVD drive, the computer was top-of-the-line and state-of-the-art. Blair was, for a change, utterly speechless.
"Your old laptop was totaled in the wreck," Jim told him. "I didn't know if I'd ever need to replace it, but when you started getting better, I put in a requisition. You'll have to start over, unless you know of a way to salvage any data from the damaged machine." He paused, trying to assess Blair's reaction to the gift. The anthropology student was stilled stunned.
"My old laptop was nothing like this. No way the department's going to reimburse you with something like this!" He looked up, questioning the sanity of his lover.
"Well, I took the money the department gave me, and the Major Crimes gang helped by kicking in the rest. This is from all of us to you. Our modest way of saying 'thank you.' After all, you were injured on the job, protecting my backside. The least we could do is give back a small portion of what you've given us for the past three years."
The tears that had welled up in his eyes while Jim spoke finally cascaded down Blair's cheeks in torrents. "Oh, God, man. It's beautiful. You're beautiful. All of Major Crimes is beautiful!" Blair held out his arms, and Jim leaned into the hug, wrapping his arms around his smaller partner and squeezing tightly.
When the tears had finally dried, Blair pushed away, handing Jim his precious laptop. "Now I've got a present for you," he said with a mysterious grin.
Jim looked at him as though Blair had grown a second head. "When did you go shopping? Or did you get Jeannette or Casey to do it for you?" He looked around, but couldn't find any more festively wrapped packages.
"Well ... Jeannette and Casey did have something to do with it," Blair confessed, "as well as Hank, my PT." He looked pointedly at Jim. "Can you clear this stuff from the floor?"
Wordlessly curious, Jim complied.
"Now, go stand over by the tree." Blair backed his chair up, leaving about five or six feet of space between himself and Jim.
As Jim stared in shocked wonder, Blair levered himself up out of the chair. Wobbling a bit, he grasped the chair arms to steady himself. Then, eyes glued to his feet, he let go, taking a shuffling step toward his goal. Then a second, and a third. He paused, looking up into the glowing eyes of his Sentinel. Jim's arms were extended to greet him. One more quick lunge of a step, and Blair felt himself caught up in that embrace. His feet were lifted from the floor, and he found himself the recipient of one of his partner's strong bear hugs.
When Jim finally set him back on his feet, Blair promptly crumpled to the floor.
"Blair! Are you all right?" Jim was immediately next to his Guide, worry lining the face which had so recently been filled with all-consuming joy.
"I'm fine, Jim," Blair assured him. "I'm just not very strong yet. It'll get better. I promise. Did you like it?"
"Did I like it?" Jim's voice held a level of incredulity that Blair had never heard before. "That had to top the laptop thing by at least ten-fold! Make that a hundred-fold! Like it? I loved it!"
"Good. 'Cause I really couldn't afford to go shopping," Blair's lips twisted into a wry grin. "Um, help me back to my chair?" He lifted his arms in supplication.
Jim lifted his Guide from the floor, carrying him back to the confines of his wheelchair.
"Won't be long now, man," Blair declared.
###
Blair redoubled his efforts with his physical therapy. By the middle of January, he was walking unassisted for short distances. Jim couldn't have been more pleased with the progress.
"Feel up to going out for a walk?" Jim asked one rare, sunny morning toward the end of the month. "Casey's wedding is coming up in just over two weeks. You need to build up some endurance."
"The mind is willing, but the body's weak," Blair quoted with a laugh. "Sure, why not? Fresh air sounds pretty good after being cooped up in here the past few months." He grabbed his heavy coat on the way to the door. "Coming?"
The crisp, cold winter air stirred through mahogany curls, blowing tendrils of hair in his face as Blair walked. The park by the waterfront was beautiful in its winter starkness. Blair found himself forgetting the physical effort of walking in favor of admiring Mother Nature's artistry.
"Thanks, man," he said, turning to his tall companion.
"For what?" Jim grabbed Blair around the waist when the younger man stumbled, pulling him in close to his side.
"For suggesting this." Blair gestured widely with his hands, waving them to encompass all of the great outdoors. "It feels great getting out."
"How's the leg? Need to sit and rest for a bit?" Jim asked, concerned about his friend's tendency to tire easily. They were approaching a bench, and he began steering toward it.
"Sounds good," Blair answered with a sigh, dropping onto the weathered wooden planks and stretching his legs out in front of him.
"Can you believe it?" Jim asked, staring out over the choppy gray waters of the bay. "Just six months ago, you were in an vegetative coma, and now here you are, walking down the waterfront."
"I was not vegetative, man! I don't care what the doctors care to call it. I was aware of every word spoken in my presence, of every movement, of every poke and prod. I can't begin to tell you how grateful I was when you told Dr. Ramsey you were taking me home. I couldn't have taken that hospital much longer." Blair released a heavy sigh and turned to scrutinize his savior. "Thanks."
Jim tore his eyes away from the hypnotic waves to look into the ocean-blue depths of the younger man's eyes. "No need to thank me. I couldn't have done anything different. Something told me I had to get you out of there. Call it fate. Call it our bond. Call it angels. I don't care. I only knew that if I didn't get you out of there, you would have died." He shivered a little, but not from the cold.
"Being able to talk with you on the spirit plane saved my sanity, Jim. I really think it was instrumental in my overall recovery," Blair told him earnestly.
Jim squirmed a bit on the hard bench. "There you go getting all metaphysical on me again, Chief. You know how uncomfortable I am with the whole spirit plane/spirit guide thing."
"But you do believe in it. You can't deny that there's a connection between us. A connection that has healing abilities. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you," Blair insisted. "I would have withdrawn into my own mind, gone insane ... or died of loneliness."
"I miss them, you know." Jim returned his gaze to the water.
"Them?"
"Our talks on the spirit plane. There was something innocent and honest and open about them. It was a place where we didn't have to hide our emotions--how we were feeling, what we were feeling."
"One of the many benefits of that 'Sentinel/Guide thing' you're always talking about. You know, it doesn't have to end. We can communicate like that whenever we want. I think the reason it was so common during my recovery was that we both needed it so badly." Blair rested a hand on his Sentinel's thigh, then patted it lightly. "Time to get moving again, big guy. Help me up?"
Jim rose and pulled Blair to his feet. They continued to amble along the walkway, quietly contemplating the metaphysical.
"How do I look?" Blair descended from their bedroom wearing a dark gray pinstripe suit, tying his hair back with a strip of black leather. Dropping his hands, he rotated in place for inspection.
"Never better." Jim's grin nearly split his face as his lover walked toward him with a barely discernable limp. "Ready to go?"
"You bet! This is going to be a little like my triumphal entry," Blair laughed.
"Just try not to upstage the bride, all right?" Jim teased, brushing a light kiss across warm, full lips.
###
"Jim! Blair!" Casey poked her head out of the dressing room. Seeing the coast was clear, she hurried over to hug her guests. "I'm so glad you were able to make it!" She beamed her sunniest smile at Blair as she reached up to tug at the leather strap, releasing a cloud of ringlets around his face. "I love your hair down, Blair." She handed him the tie, which he tucked in a pocket. "You're looking so good! Just look at you!" Putting her hands on his shoulders, she pushed him back to arm's length to look him up and down.
"Sorry I haven't been over to visit in such a long time," she apologized. "The wedding plans have been taking up every spare minute. God, you look great! I can't believe this is the same man we pulled the plug on eight months ago." She bounced in a fair imitation of Sandburg's trademark buoyancy.
"Yeah, he's pretty much up to his old tricks--already getting on everyone's one last nerve." Jim chuckled, turning proud, warm eyes on his lover.
"Hey, no fair! Is that any way to talk about a guy who has clawed his way up from a vegetative coma to become the sparkling spirit of manhood you see before you?" Blair bounced up on his toes to give the Sentinel his version of the evil eye. Jim just laughed.
"I told you not to upstage the bride!" he said, wrapping an arm around Blair's shoulders and shaking him lightly.
"Well, I'm just so glad you both could make it. I guess I should go finish getting dressed." Casey smiled and turned to Blair, laying a hand on his arm. "I'm saving a dance at the reception for you." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before hurrying back to the dressing room.
"Good thing she's getting married today, Chief," Jim chuckled.
"Why's that?"
"'Cause otherwise, I think she'd seriously consider domesticating you!"
"Me, man? No way! I'm wild and free, and intend to stay that way." Blair gestured with hands up, palms out, pushing away the very idea of married life.
"We'll see about that," Jim laughed, slapping him on the back. "Let's go find ourselves a seat, Chief."
###
The reception was quite a shindig, thrown as a wedding gift to Casey from all her colleagues at the hospital. The live band played a Schubert waltz as Jim watched Blair whirl the bride around the dance floor. He really had come a remarkable way in less than a year's time--from almost certain death to the graceful dancer Jim now observed. He felt a sense of pride at his lover's accomplishments, and was overwhelmingly glad he had had a part in that unprecedented recovery.
Blair found his way off the dance floor, dropping into a chair next to Jim. A light sheen of perspiration slicked his brow, and he was breathing heavily.
"Careful there, Babe. Don't want to overdo. Here, have some punch." He slid a china cup of sparkling red punch toward his exhausted partner.
Picking up the offered beverage, Blair sipped gratefully. "I forgot what a workout ballroom dancing can be!" he said with a tired sigh.
"Especially for someone who has only been back on his feet for six weeks. You looked great out there, Sandburg. I'm really proud of you."
Blair grinned, blushing slightly at the praise. Then leaning toward Jim conspiratorially, he whispered, "Do you suppose we could slip out a little early? I'm really beat."
The pair rose, and Jim wrapped an arm around the waist of the unsteady anthropologist. He looked around for Casey, giving a little wave when he spotted her. She excused herself from her guests, approaching the detective and his partner.
"Leaving so soon?" She turned a pouty frown first on Jim, then on Blair.
"It's my fault, Casey," Blair explained. "I still tire easily, and right now I'm dead on my feet."
"Oh, I'm so sorry! That dance probably did you in. I never even thought of that!" She wrapped her arms around him in an apologetic hug, kissing his cheek. "You are a marvelous dancer, though!" she grinned.
"Uh, thanks," Blair blushed.
"I really need to get him home before I have to carry him, Casey," Jim interrupted.
"I understand. Thank you both so much for coming. It really meant a lot to me." She hugged and kissed both men once more, before letting them leave. "I promise to drop by and check up on you soon," she added.
###
Jim very nearly had to carry a flagging Blair over the threshold of the loft when they finally arrived home. The anthropologist collapsed on the couch, looking as though he wasn't planning on moving again this century. Jim came and sat next to him, placing a firm hand on one knee.
"You did it, kid."
"Yeah, I did. Didn't I?" Blair grinned despite his weariness. "Sure is good to be home, though."
"Good to have you home," Jim answered. In every sense of the word, his heart added. Welcome back, Blair. He reached an arm around the younger man's shoulders, pulling him into a fierce hug. "And don't you ever leave again!"
EPILOGUE
Jim walked into the loft to be greeted by flickering candles and the soft strains of aboriginal music floating through the air. Blair was seated on the floor, in front of the coffee table, meditating. The blinds were closed against the late spring sunset, casting the room into semi-darkness.
A few seconds passed before the anthropologist looked up and smiled. "Hi, Jim!"
"Hi, yourself." Hanging his coat on a hook, Jim dropped his keys in the basket and walked over to sit on the couch. "What's up, Kreskin?"
"Just trying to relax. Want to join me?"
"Nah ... no. No thanks," Jim declined. Bracing himself with his hands on his knees, he levered himself back to a standing position, intending to head into the kitchen for a beer. A tentative touch on his sleeve stopped him dead in his tracks.
"I thought we might try to get to the spirit plane together," Blair suggested. He looked up at Jim. "I thought you said you missed that."
"I do, but...."
"But, what?" Blair unfurled himself and stood, eyeing his lover. "You can do this, Jim. Here ... sit down." He pushed gently on the Sentinel's shoulder until Jim capitulated and sat.
"Now, close your eyes," Blair continued, climbing into Jim's lap and snuggling down. "Take a deep breath ... that's right. Now another ... good. Feel yourself relaxing." He closed his own eyes, relaxing into his Sentinel's embrace. "Now, try to empty your mind. Don't think... Don't feel... Don't see... Don't hear..."
"Jim? Are you here, man?"
"Blair?" Jim walked into the clearing surrounding the temple of the sentinels to find his partner sitting on the stone steps. "We're here."
"Told you we could do it whenever we wanted to. Didn't you believe me?"
His Guide's easy smile brought a similar grin to the Sentinel's features. "I don't know. Maybe I didn't ... but I'm glad to be here again."
"Me, too."
Jim settled on the step next to his lifemate, inspecting their surroundings as he sat. "Why does it seem different this time?" he puzzled. "It feels changed, somehow."
"I'm conscious now, that's the difference." Blair glanced at the Sentinel, watching the emotions that flickered across Jim's face. "The last time we were here, I was just barely recovering ... still not able to communicate fully. I needed this then. I don't, anymore."
"I still do," Jim replied softly, turning to look into the cerulean eyes of the man sitting next to him. "How was your first day back at the U?"
Recognizing the change of subject as Jim's way of coping with uncomfortable conversations, Blair answered, "Tiring. That's why I was meditating when you came home. Got everything straightened out, though. My teaching schedule for the spring term is set, as are my classes. The diss committee gave me a year's extension to make up for my 'down' time." He paused.
"That's good news."
"Yeah. It is." Blair smiled. "Jim?"
"Yeah?"
"What is it?"
How does he do that? "What is what?"
"You want to ask me something." Blair's eyes bored straight through to Jim's soul.
Jim considered the cracks in the stone steps before he answered. "When are you coming back to the precinct? ARE you coming back? Because I wouldn't blame you if you didn't." It all came out in a rush. A soft chuckle prompted him to look up once more.
"Is that all?" Blair smiled. "Of course I'm coming back! Whatever made you think I wouldn't?"
"Well ... you just spent the better part of a year recovering from traumatic brain injury due to my driving skills ... or lack thereof." Jim sighed, turning away from the intense blue eyes watching him.
A finger against his chin turned Jim back to face his Guide. "Don't. Don't do that. It wasn't your fault, Jim. You can't assign blame this time. You can try to blame yourself ... blame God ... blame the Ford Motor Company or Firestone Tires; blame the kid who ran out into the street, or the guy you were chasing. Blame me. Jim ... it doesn't matter. No one was at fault. It was an accident. An accident."
A sigh issued slowly from between clenched lips. "But I was driving. It was my fault. You almost died, Blair!"
"But I didn't, did I? I'm here, right where I want to be. Next to you." A lopsided grin split the young man's face. "Don't think I don't know about the grief you gave to Captain Gordynski when Simon made you retake that high speed pursuit class at the Academy." Blair chuckled as he watched a flush move up Jim's neck to tint his cheeks bright pink. "That isn't going to change anything. I know that. And I'm still willing to ride with you."
"I don't know how you can say that." Jim frowned at the anthropologist, wondering if Blair was out of his mind.
"Jim, man, think about it. As a sentinel, you have a built-in imperative to protect the tribe. You'll do whatever is necessary to accomplish that goal. My job, as your guide, is to see that you're able to use your abilities to their fullest, and to watch your back. I can no more deny my part in the equation than you can. I don't want to."
Blair came to his feet, standing in front of the stubborn Sentinel. "I belong at your side, and I intend to stay there." He planted his hands firmly on his hips, body language strongly communicating his determination.
"Are you sure, Blair? Because we can work something else out, you know," Jim said, scrambling for reassurance. "You don't have to ride along."
"Yes, Jim. I do. That's when you need me most," Blair replied, reasonably. "What if you were to zone? Who'd help you if I wasn't there?"
"That's not as important as your safety. I worry...." Jim spread his hands in supplication, begging Blair to understand.
Blair sighed. "I know you do, man. You're only human. But this is my decision, and I want to come back. I want to be your partner again."
"And I want you there," Jim said, rising from his seat, "desperately." He walked a few paces into the clearing, kicking at a stone with the toe of his boot. "I never told you ... but I've been limiting the use of my senses since your accident."
"Jim ... no.... Why didn't you tell me? Maybe I could have helped."
"There wasn't anything you could do." Jim placed his hands squarely on the shoulders of his Guide. "You needed time to heal. You didn't need to be worrying about me."
"But..."
"Shhh, Love." Jim pressed a finger to Blair's lips. "How about I promise to try and ditch the guilt trip, if you try to stop worrying about me? Things are finally starting to feel normal again. I like it that way."
A movement in the bushes beyond the temple clearing caught Jim's eye. Indicating that Blair should remain silent, he turned the anthropologist around and pointed. A black panther stood at the edge of the clearing, watching the two men intently with golden eyes. It opened its mouth to release a triumphant growl, then pivoted to trot back into the jungle, a gray wolf close at its heels.
The Sentinel and his Guide watched the animals disappear into the undergrowth, then turned to look at each other in wonder.
Blair opened his eyes to find Jim staring at him intently. "Think they were trying to tell us something, Chief?"
"Yeah. We're meant to be together." Blair's soft blue eyes studied his Sentinel. "Are you okay with this?"
"With us?" Jim studied his Guide's expression. "I'm more than okay with it, if that's what you really want."
A smile spread across Blair's face. "A guide needs his sentinel as much as a sentinel needs his guide. I wouldn't have it any other way. So ... we're a team?"
"What do you think ... Partner?" Jim grinned, capturing Blair's lips in a gentle kiss. Coming up for air, he looked at his love with a crooked grin. "Want a beer?"
Blair rolled his eyes, but obediently rose to follow Cascade's Sentinel to the kitchen. It was his responsibility and privilege to stand at this man's side, and he was pleased beyond words to once again be able to take his rightful place. Jim handed him a beer. They clinked their bottles together before tipping back long swallows.
From the balcony, the panther roared his approval.
THE END
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