Disclaimer: these characters aren’t ours, darn it! They belong to UPN, Pet Fly, and The Powers That Be, so please don’t sue. :) The song lyrics are from Bella Linda by Grass Roots, and they aren’t our either. <g> Feedback, please!

Warnings: no sex, not even much mention of it—but there be angst here, in almost frightening amounts. This is not a death story!

PLEASE DON'T SAY GOOD-BYE by Owlet and mcvey

//I'm only what I am

It's so hard for me to say

The things I really feel

If I could, I'd chase away

The pain your eyes reveal

The pain your eyes reveal

The foolish things I've done

The times that I let you down

And I'll never change

Believe me, I've tried

If you go away, you know that I'll die

Oh I love you

Please don't say good-bye.

We've had bad times through the years.

And though I've made you cry.

Think of me through tender tears

And try to close your eyes

And try to close your eyes

To the thoughtless things I do

The dreams that don't come true

Cuz I'll never change

Believe me, I've tried

If you go away, you know that I'll die

Oh I need you//

The slamming of the door reverberated through the loft.

God, what had he done?

/I'm only what I am.

Its so hard for me to say

The things I really feel

If I could, I'd chase away

The pain your eyes reveal/

Why couldn't he say "I love you?" When had it become so difficult to tell the man he trusted with his *life*, his *sanity*, his *soul* that he also trusted him with his heart? The pain reflected in the cornflower blue eyes had neatly carved away the rocks and stones assembled around his heart. But no matter how small the rocks shattered, ground down to pebbles, to dust, they still didn’t allow the words, the feelings, the desires for his partner to escape the from his self-imposed prison. The pain was there because he could not, would not allow the prison door to open.

/The pain your eyes reveal

The foolish things I've done

The times I let you down./

Jim didn't need Blair to list all the times he had let him down. Almost every day, from the first day they met, somehow, in some way, he had denied the soul of the man who had healed his wounded psyche. Denied the passion that stirred the embers of long forgotten desires, denied the depth of his commitment to a man he could never express it to. He was in agony without Blair, but helpless to make him stay. He simply couldn't give him the words he knew his partner needed.

And god, he was so *fucking* foolish to let what others thought he was or what he should be determine who he loved. But even knowing that, he couldn’t stop himself. He moved over to the couch and sat down hard, dropping his head into his hands. Oh, god, he wondered distantly, what am I going to do now? He felt cold, brittle and empty, shaken from the memory of Blair walking out the door, resolve masking the desolation and misery in his Guide's eyes. All the times he had let Blair down denying what was happening, denying the love denying Blair.

/And I'll never change

Believe me, I've tried

If you go away, you know that I'll die

Oh I love you/

He clenched his fists and rubbed his eyes fiercely against the burning of the tears that threatened. God, just the thought of what he had done to Blair was enough to sicken him; his wonderful, beautiful, vibrant Guide reduced by the man he loved to misery and despair. And for nothing but the fear of what others would think, the last ingrained response to the father who had raised him, telling him that this was wrong, that it was all so wrong. He had let Blair down in so many ways because of it.

And he was afraid. Afraid that Blair would go. Afraid of what would happen if he stayed. Afraid of himself, and these feelings that nothing in his life had prepared him for, that everything in him upbringing had warned against. Afraid of what would happen if he tried to change.

This is what you drove Blair away for, a small incredulous voice in his head asked him. Because you're *afraid*? James Ellison, cop, sentinel, army Ranger, is afraid to love a man. He shuddered under the realization of what he had done, lost the best thing in his life...

And Jim didn't like being afraid.

After all, "real men" were never afraid, were they?

He could almost hear his father saying that, in one of his endless diatribes against "the weak"--men who weren't strong, or, at least, who weren't what he considered to be "strong". But what made a man strong? Was it having the guts to take everything life gave you and come back for more? Was it the having strength, the resilience, the courage to dare to love someone, and say it to their face?

If that was strength, then Blair was stronger than he'd ever be.

Despair surged up within him, and he gasped soundlessly as pain knifed through him. I love you, Blair, he thought, in the privacy--in the emptiness--of his mind, and wished he could say the words aloud. He folded around himself, doubled up in agony at the impact of that thought, and the hopelessness that came with it. Blair would never hear the words, he thought, and for a moment, he thought he might be sick.

But he wasn’t. He held himself tightly, arms wrapped around his knees, fighting for control. With every breath he had to grit his teeth against shockwaves of pain that ambushed him from the depths of his soul, tearing and clawing at his insides. But his eyes were dry, and his face blank.

He didn't cry. Real men didn't cry.

The tears Blair cried, when he thought Jim didn't know gathered in the well of Jim's heart.

The years of pain, of loneliness, of despair had not driven his Guide away. It was the pain of Jim's rejection that had finally broken the spirit of his partner. The memories tore at him, memories of Blair's animated, vibrant features frozen and still under the realization that his partner would never change, that he would never have Jim's love. He would never have the words. And the memories of how Blair had looked at him once, then turned away, walking stiffly into his room. Memories of the sounds of packing, each muffled rustle and thump like a physical blow to his heart. By the time Blair reappeared, carrying an overstuffed duffel, Jim was in shock, fighting for breath as his Guide prepared to leave.

And when Blair walked out, he never looked at Jim. And Jim didn't say a word, staring at him, memorizing his, trying to catch his gaze. Blair’s blue eyes were brilliant with unshed tears, but otherwise clear and calm as he looked everywhere but at the unyielding, granite profile of his partner.

"Sorry, man" he had said, quietly, sentinel soft.

He had only whispered, knowing the Sentinel could hear it, but Jim flinched as though he had shouted. And Blair had gone, left, and took part of Jim's heart, his life, his soul with him as the door clicked shut quietly behind him.

The evening darkened in a blur, as Jim sat on the couch and remembered. Remembered how laughter had turned to pain. Remembered how love had turned into despair and emptiness. Remembered how dreams had shattered into dust, dreams of love and forever and Blair, and how the dreams had turned to waking nightmares that consumed him now. And the tears slipped free, at last, falling onto his clenched hands in the darkness. Blair was gone.

The loneliness, for which he could only blame himself, was calling to him, beckoning for him to come closer. "Let me swallow you," the darkness was saying. Darkness swirled all around him, he could feel it searching out his heart, and abruptly he had to move. He pulled an image of Blair to him, protection against the dark, and felt some of it's seductive emptiness leave. He surged to his feet and lurched gracelessly across the living room to stare out at the softly glowing lights of Cascade. He closed his eyes and turned away.

The questions he couldn't answer tore at him.

What was he without Blair?

He couldn’t even think of an answer, no anymore. Everything he was, everything he looked to in himself, was Blair. Blair had torn into his life like a tornado, and set down roots that went all the way into the most private, sacred parts of Jim’s soul. He had forced Jim to start *living* again—really living, not just the aimless existing that had been his way before meeting the grad student. He had made him feel alive—and wanted, loved, in a way that had nothing to do with gender, or sex, or partnership or friendship or even Sentinel and Guide, but that went soul-deep.

Jim had recognized long ago that Blair had his soul as surely as he had his heart, as surely as he had his friendship or his trust or his spare room or anything else the student wanted. Jim was sure that there had been a time when he belonged to himself, but he couldn’t remember when it had been. He had given Blair all of himself, knowing as he did so he would never be able to tell him. Now Blair was gone, and it was as if he had torn out Jim’s heart and soul and taken them with him. Jim felt weak, shaky, like he was bleeding to death inside, and hoarse, choked sound came from his lips, eloquent of a pain and anguish most people would never--*could never*—know. Without Blair he was nothing.

Then again, maybe he could answer that question after all. A slow, shaky smile spread across his face. If he was nothing without Blair, then how important, really, were the fears that had kept them apart? If his life without Blair was meaningless, then what, really, was the point in him holding onto these destructive feelings? Pride?

Yeah, he supposed it was. It was what he was, what life had made him. How could he change? It wasn't possible. And if change was impossible, and life without Blair was impossible, what did that leave him? Pain. Loss. Despair.

Loneliness.

Nothing. Almost against his will he found himself turning to where his gun lay, forgotten, on the table. The thought was abhorrent, deeply against his principles--but look how well those had worked for him, he thought with almost savage irony. What else was there? Blair was gone. There was nothing left. How long before the darkness was too great, the emptiness too strong—the loneliness too much?

He picked up the gun, hefting it absently as his thoughts drove themselves in cirlces, tighter and faster and darker until he was dizzy and reeling.

Blair was gone, and *he* had driven him away. Jim was the one who couldn't, wouldn't acknowledge what was between them. Jim was the one who was unworthy. Unworthy of life, of love, of passion. Unworthy of the light that Blair brought to his life. Blair was life, was brightness and morning and love. Jim was nothing but darkness, clouded night, dim and cold. Blair had all the warmth of the sun; what did he have? Just the cold.

Blair would never come back. Why should he?

*Oh, god, will I ever see the sun again?*

Almost unnoticed, the gun crept up the side of his face, smearing the tears that ran down his cheek in silvered tracks, to pause at the hollow of his temple.

Jim closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and spoke to the pinpoint of light that was within his absent soul. The light that had been Blair. Would he ever see that light again? And something in him died a little, when he answered himself, brutally.

*No.*

//If you go away, you know I'll die

Oh I need you

Please don't say goodbye.//

Please don't say goodbye, Blair.

And his finger tightened on the trigger.

Just... don't say goodbye.

End