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The Other Side
by Kikkimax
 

"Oh, David," Blair sighed. He was pulled away by his partner as the resuscitation efforts began. He rested his head on Jim's shoulder to watch in a dull horror, but Jim gently made him turn his head away. Somehow Blair knew it was too late. Maybe there was some kind of bond after all. Because he felt it as David found his peace.
 

They were a pitiful pair as they watched the procession. Released only that morning, both signed out under threat of leaving against medical advice. Blair was adamant about not missing the funeral, and Jim was not about to let him go alone. 

Feeling a small tug of pride as he watched the shiny red firetruck with the flag draped coffin on top pass slowly, Blair thought of the other David. The one he had never known. The fireman. The hero. He turned to look at his partner. "I guess firemen are a lot like policemen, huh?" he said softly.

Jim eyed the long line of dress uniforms that marched solemnly behind the truck and had to agree. "Yeah, they take care of their own," he agreed. "Even if they'll never know what really happened."

"You know it wasn't his fault. Don't you, Jim?" Blair asked, his eyes pleading for understanding.

Jim swallowed past a lump in his throat. It didn't take a lot of imagination to visualize a sea of cops instead of firemen. "I know," he sighed. But for the grace of God...

The rest of the funeral was a blur. Blair was tired right down to his bones. Dead tired, but blessedly numb. He couldn't feel a thing. Not pain, or grief, or even the cold rain that was starting to fall. He had been numb since the shot rang out in the hospital room, leaving a dead sentinel in its wake. Now he was afraid that when the numbness wore off the intensity of his feelings would shatter him. And he wasn't really sure what those feelings would be. Guilt probably, and remorse. Maybe a little sadness thrown in for good measure. Most definitely regret that he hadn't been able to help, as hard as he had tried.

He hadn't slept much since the incident, as he chose to call it, but now he knew that if he ever got horizontal, he was a goner. Propping his head on his hand against the car door, he tried to concentrate on the conversation in the front seat. Jim grumbled that he wouldn't be able to go back to work for another week, and Simon commiserated with him, but didn't give in. Those were, after all, the doctor's orders, and Jim had been gravely injured. He was lucky to be alive, and wouldn't be now if David hadn't been killed as he tried to finish Jim off while he slept.

It occurred somewhat belatedly to Blair that Simon had insisted on driving them to the funeral when he had been the one to actually fire the fatal shot. Not that Blair was angry. On the contrary, if it hadn't been for Simon, Jim would be the one dead. And Blair would once again be in the clutches of the newer, needier Sentinel. The one who vowed that he couldn't live without Blair as his Guide. The one who swore to take Blair with him to the other side in a murder/suicide pact. If only he had found help sooner, or the doctors in the mental institution had been able to do something constructive. If only Blair had pulled a magic rabbit out of his hat and found a suitable Guide for David. If only....

At last they arrived at the loft. Jim and Simon both seemed surprised to find Blair awake, if silent, in the back seat. Mumbling his thanks, Blair gave a little wave of his hand as he stepped out of the car and disappeared into the building.

"I'll be right up, Chief," Jim called out after him.

Blair waved again, but didn't look back. He rode the elevator up to the third floor and let himself in to 307. Once inside, he moved straight to his room, removing his jacket as he went. He dropped it on the floor and rolled into the bed. As the numbness began to slip away, it was replaced by an ache in his chest. Footsteps approached his room as a fat, hot tear burned its way down his cheek. He closed his eyes tight, wanting only to be left alone.

"Blair."

"I'm all right," he whispered, hiding his face. As he waited for whatever solace or comfort might be coming, he fell into an exhausted sleep.

"Is the kid gonna be ok?" Simon asked as they watched Sandburg glumly head into the building.

"Yeah, you know Blair. He'll have the bounce back in his step in no time," Jim assured. "I think he just doesn't feel very well. After all, he still has a concussion. Luckily, he has a couple of weeks to recuperate before the fall semester starts."

"He's tough," Simon agreed. "I guess he has to be to keep up with you."

Jim grinned and adjusted his armsling. "A week?" he asked petulantly.

"I don't want to see you at the station until next Monday," Simon insisted. "I'll bring you some paperwork to finish up at home, if you're that hell bent to get back to work," he teased.

A groan escaped Jim's lips. "Damn. Just can't get away from the paperwork, can I?"

"Go take care of your partner, Detective," Simon said mock-sternly as Jim swung his feet out and stood up.

Jim thumped the top of the car and waved as Simon pulled away. He stood for a minute and watched until the car was out of sight as he reflected on his partner. Blair hadn't cried at all, and that bothered him a little. He knew Blair had feelings for David, even after all the guy had put him through. Sandburg just got close to people. He wasn't closed off to his emotions like his more dispassionate roommate. But he had been so stoic since David's death, Jim was sure there would be repercussions later. With a sigh, he let himself into the building and started up the stairs.

Blair had left the front door open, apparently thinking Jim was right behind him. He knew by the gentle respirations coming from Blair's room that the anthropologist was already asleep. Jim peeked in on him, pleased that Blair had taken the time to hang his suit up before crawling under the covers and passing out. Jim studied his friend briefly. He smelled a hint of saline mixed with the tiniest whiff of something else. It was a crisp and clean smell, very cold. Snow? He suppressed a shudder as he pulled the door closed.

Blair smiled as he walked down the pier, a beer in each hand. The weather worn boards were sun warmed on his bare feet. As he approached the end, the man sitting there with the fishing pole held a hand up for the beer, in spite of Blair's near silent approach. Blair let out a laugh as he drew the cold bottle across the broad shoulders before handing it over.

"Prick," came the response, as the man looked up at him with amused eyes.

Blair took a long draw off his own beer and then sighed. "David," he said fondly.

Waking slowly, Blair was able to hold on to the dream. Something about it was strangely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. He lay on his back for awhile, huddling down in the blankets and trying to go back to sleep. It was very early, and cold. He realized Jim must have undressed him after he had fallen asleep because his suit was hanging neatly on the doorknob, and he was in his underwear. With a weary sigh, he crawled out of his warm bed. He couldn't get the dream out of his head. It played over and over in his mind every time he closed his eyes. It made him uncomfortable, and afraid.

The smell of fresh coffee brewing tickled at Jim's nose and drew him to consciousness. He struggled briefly with the idea of going back to sleep, but the coffee won out, willing him from the bed with its rich odor. He pulled on his robe, mindful of his sore shoulder, and descended the stairs, listening as he went for sounds of his roommate. The loft was silent except for the drip of the coffee maker. 

"Sandburg," he called out, glancing out the window at the promise of predawn light.

Following his instincts as much as his ears, Jim headed for the roof. A sense of foreboding touched him as he spotted his Guide perched precariously on the edge. Blair was staring off into the distance, his hair tousled by a soft wind. "What cha doin', Chief," Jim said gently so as not to surprise the smaller man.

"Hey, Jim," Blair sighed tiredly, lowering his eyes from the horizon where the sun was soon to rise.

"You want to back away from the side a little?" Jim encouraged, unsure of Blair's mentality at the moment.

"What?" Blair asked, turning at last to look at him.

"I thought you didn't like heights," Jim said carefully.

"Oh, I didn't even think about it," Blair replied easily and moved toward Jim. "I started some coffee, it should be ready by now."

"You're up awfully early. Couldn't sleep?"

Blair shrugged. "I keep having these strange dreams. About David."

"I understand," Jim nodded. "They'll pass. You just need a little time."

"I guess." Blair took one last look as the sun's first rays hit the wispy clouds, then tucked his arms around himself as a cool breeze caressed him. "What's one more sleepless night?"

"You look like shit. Come on, it's early. Why don't you go back to bed for a little while?" Jim urged.

"Okay," Blair sighed. "Maybe I can go to sleep if I try."

"That's the spirit."

"Where have you been? I was starting to get worried," David said as Blair came through the door.

"Sorry, I should have called. I got busy," Blair said, picking a piece of lettuce out of the salad and popping it into his mouth. He eyed the rest of the meal and savored the wonderful aroma. "Looks good. Anything I can do to help?"

"Nah, it's ready. Sit down and we'll eat."

Blair sat up and rubbed at one eye with the back of his hand. It was a perfectly harmless dream. Homey, pleasant even. Just wrong. It had never happened, never come close to happening. Any time spent with David had been at the psychiatric hospital or in the cabin. And time spent at the cabin was anything but pleasant and homey. As soon as he had fallen asleep, his head had filled with the false memories of David. Or maybe it was just his mind teasing him with what might have been. Either way, the dream reinforced the sense of unease that had started to build since the funeral.

"Everything okay?" Jim asked from the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Blair answered groggily. "What time is it?"

"It's almost noon."

"Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" Blair grumbled. "I wouldn't have gone back to bed if I thought I was gonna sleep all day."

Jim smiled and turned back to the kitchen. "You needed the rest. Come on. Lunch is ready."

Blair had a weird sense of deja vu as he swung his feet down to the floor. "Anything I can do to help," he whispered under his breath.

"Nah, it's ready. Sit down and we'll eat," came the easy reply from the next room.

Blair stared at the door for a minute. "Too weird," he sighed as he dug through a pile of clothes on the floor. The phone rang as Blair padded into the dining room in his socked feet, pulling on another long sleeve shirt as he went. He sat down and went through the pictures Jim had apparently been looking at and left on the table.

"Hey, Simon," Jim greeted. "Yeah, he's okay... Uh huh...."

Blair stopped when he got to a picture of Jim sitting on the edge of a pier when they had gone fishing last summer. "Prick," he had said when Blair stuck a cold beer bottle on his back. Blair held the picture and gaped at it.

"Ok, see you then. Bye." Jim hung up the phone and grabbed a plate of sloppy Joes to sit on the table. "What's wrong?" he asked Blair on his second pass, bringing a salad this time.

"Nothing," Blair mumbled as he dropped the picture and helped himself to a sandwich. "Let's eat."

Blair was startled by the sound of something striking the floor at the foot of his bed. He closed his book and sat up to look. A shiny new penny lay on the floor. As he bent to pick it up, another came out of nowhere to bounce off of the back of his head.

"Real funny, Jim," he said as he crossed the room to peer out of his open door. Jim sat on the couch with his eyes closed, the remote dangling from his fingers, the TV on a home improvement show. "Jim?" he asked quietly.

The big man didn't move except for the even rise and fall of his chest. As Blair watched his partner for signs of deception, another penny fell at his feet and rolled across the loft towards a splash of afternoon sun from the balcony windows. A draft of cold air kissed his cheek. Blair retreated to his room and crawled under the blanket. He closed his eyes, but didn't go to sleep.

"Jim, have you seen my keys?" Blair asked as he moved through the loft, searching frantically.

"What's the matter? You got a hot date?" Jim asked, looking up from his paper.

"No, I just want to pick up some stuff from my office," Blair said absently, as he felt around under the couch cushions. "Get up," he said when he got to where Jim was sitting.

"If I was sitting on them, I think I would know it," Jim said with a smirk.

"Right, Ellison. I'm sure your Sentinel ass can feel keys right through the cushion. Get up."

"Sandburg," Jim growled.

"Come on, Jim. I won't be satisfied until I look everywhere."

"Did you look in the basket by the door?" Jim asked as he eased himself to the edge of the seat while Blair felt around behind him.

"Gee, why didn't I think of that," Blair said sarcastically as he headed into his room to mount another search there.

Jim folded his paper, then grunted and braced his arm as he got to his feet and went to the table beside the front door. He picked the keys up and jangled them noisily.

"Hey! Where'd you find 'em?" Blair said as he stuck his head out of his bedroom.

"Probably where you left them," Jim mocked, pointing to the basket.

"No way, man! They were not there. I looked, I swear!" Blair protested.

"Uh huh."

"Well, shit." Blair pulled on his coat. "Do you want to come with me? Just to get out of the house for a while?"

"Sure, why not?" Jim agreed as he slid his good arm into his coat. Blair reached over and helped him pull the other sleeve up over his shoulder. "Are you sure you're okay to drive?" Jim asked.

"About like normal," Blair said with a grin.

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."

Blair reached for the lamp on his desk, but it only flashed briefly when he flipped the switch. "Cheap bulb," he muttered as he seated himself to go through the mail.

Jim grinned at him as he wandered around the office, picking up first one thing and then another as he went. He examined a particularly obscene looking fetish for a minute before placing it back on the shelf.

"Oh, man! Look at all these get well cards," Blair exclaimed. "That's really sweet."

"I didn't get any get well cards," Jim pretended to pout.

"Sure you did. You just threw them away after you read them," Blair said as he opened the first card. Jim nodded, he did throw them away. What was he supposed to do? Keep them? It was scary sometimes how well Sandburg knew him.

"This one is from Vanessa Lange," Blair added with a smile.

"Who?" Jim asked absently as he found something else interesting to look at.

"You know, I told you about her. She's kind of...Oops."

"What?" Jim moved closer to the desk in time to see a condom fall out of the envelope in Blair's hand. "Horizontally accessible?"

"No, I was going to say outgoing," Blair corrected.

"What does the card say?" Jim asked moving to read over Blair's shoulder, catching only the briefest glimpse of what was written inside.

"Never mind," Blair said, snapping the card shut. His cheeks began to turn a little pink.

Jim grinned evilly. He could feel the heat rising off of Blair's neck. "You need to ask that girl out," he said. His smile faded as something cool passed through the room.

Blair laughed. "Nah, I'm scared of her."

"There's a draft in here," Jim said, noting the slight rise and fall of Blair's hair. He swore he smelled snow again.

"Shouldn't be," Blair said, raising a hand unconsciously to the back of his neck, which prickled with a sense of unease. He gathered up his mail and shoved all of it, including the condom into his backpack. "I can look at this at home. You ready?" he asked, trying to hide his anxiety.

"Waiting on you, Chief," Jim smiled.

"It's getting colder in here, isn't it?"

Jim sat on the couch and pretended to thumb through a book. In actuality, he couldn't keep his eyes off of his roommate, watching him through the reflection of the turned off television. Blair sat next to him, but on the floor with his back against the sofa, and diligently worked his way through the stack of books, papers, and cards on the coffee table where he had upended his backpack. Slowly the big pile began to migrate into smaller, neater piles around the table. Occasionally Blair would grin or mumble something as he read. Mostly he kept a quiet, mournful expression on his face. His eyes looked tired.

Finally, with a weary sigh, Blair got to his knees and then his feet. "Going to bed?" Jim asked, looking up.

"No, to turn up the heater," Blair explained.

Jim latched on to a fleeing shirt-tail and reeled his partner in with his good hand. "You're not getting sick on me are you?" he asked, reaching up to feel the knotted brow.

Blair bent slightly so Jim didn't have to extend his injured arm too far. "It's just a little cool in here," he stated impatiently, but waited for the Sentinel to finish taking his temperature.

Jim released him, but continued to frown slightly. Blair walked away, brushing against the coffee table with a leg accidentally as he went, oblivious to the avalanche of get well cards he caused. Jim leaned down and scooped them up, straightening them awkwardly with one hand and settled them back on the table. The top card mocked him, daring him to pick it up, so he did. He choked back a cough as he read it.

"Jim!" Blair chastised as he returned to the couch.

"Sorry, it, uh, fell," Jim offered in his own defense. He couldn't help but grin. "Is this physically possible?" he asked, continuing to read the perverted message in the card.

Blair made a face. "It is, but no one has ever survived to talk about it," he said with a ghost of a smile.

"If this is what she wants to do to make you better," Jim teased. "I'd hate to know what she'd do if you weren't injured."

"Vaneessssa," Blair drawled, with a less than innocent sigh, closing his eyes for a minute.

"It sounds dirty when you say it that way."

"Oh, it is, my man, it is," Blair sunk back to his position and picked up another book.

Jim placed a hand on top of Blair's head and gave it a gentle rub. "Why don't you give her a call?" he asked, turning to glance at the glass doors leading to the balcony which suddenly shuddered under a gust of harsh wind.

Blair grunted. "She's way out of my league, man."

"It doesn't sound like it to me," Jim insisted. "Her number is right here in the card. Call her, Chief. Could be just what the doctor ordered. Get you back in the swing of things."

"I don't know if I'm up to all this," Blair said with a slight coloring of his cheeks as he picked up the card and reread it. "It seems too soon."

"Right," Jim said with a touch of anger. "David died, so you're going to lock yourself away and mourn."

"It's not like that, Jim. I just don't know if I want to jump right into a relationship."

"Junior, this girl wants a grudge fuck. She doesn't want a relationship," Jim argued.

"Grudge fuck?" Blair asked raising an eyebrow. Jim mirrored the expression, raising his own eyebrow in return. "Why do you care if I get laid or not?" Blair ventured.

"Because I have to live with you. Now call the girl."

"No! No phone." Temco jumped up from the table and moved around the room in a fit of panic.

"David, I won't tell anyone where we are," Blair soothed. "I just need to make a few arrangements. You know, I teach at the university..."

"Not any more. Now you're my Guide. That's what you do. You won't ever leave me, not for a minute," Temco raged, suddenly becoming quiet and still. He grabbed Blair from behind in a rough hug and held on tightly. "I'll die before I let you go," he whispered. "Or we'll die together."

Blair woke with a start and although he was certain he was awake, he found himself unable to move. He felt a coldness pass through him, touching the very depths of his mind, chilling him to his marrow. Not evil exactly, more like insane. And dead. Very dead. He tried to open his eyes, but his body didn't listen to his brain. Panic shot through him as he felt someone sit on the edge of the bed. An icy hand gently brushed his hair away from his face then moved to tenderly squeeze his shoulder, leaving the sensation of having been burned. Then it was gone.

Blair opened his eyes a split second before the paralysis that kept him pinned to the bed completely receded, half expecting Jim to be sitting there. But the bedside was empty. The involuntary shout of fright echoed off the walls as he tore away the covers and darted from the bed to turn on the light.

Jim appeared in the door with his gun several seconds later, his reaction time hampered by his injury. "What happened?" he asked taking in the now quiet, but shaky and pale Sandburg. "Another dream?"

Blair backed away, heaving for breath, glancing around furtively. "Calm down, calm down, calm down," he repeated over and over to himself until he backed into the wall and lowered himself to the floor.

"Chief? You're scaring me," Jim said softly as he dropped the gun on the bed and slowly moved towards his freaked out Guide. "Must have been some nightmare, huh?"

At last Blair found him with unbelievably wide, uncertain eyes. "I wasn't asleep," he whispered. "Someone grabbed me."

"There's no one here but you and me, buddy. I would have heard it if someone else were here. You were asleep. It was just a dream," Jim soothed as he eased down in front of his partner and grasped him by the shoulders.

Blair gasped in pain and pulled away. Peeling back the sleeve of his tee shirt he began to shiver again in earnest. Jim swallowed as he examined the perfect red handprint on the fair skin.

"It was just a dream, Chief. Just a dream."

Despite all of Jim's reassurances, Blair did not believe that the disturbing episode was a dream at all. The handprint quickly faded and Jim tried to convince him it was where he had had his own hand while he was asleep. He hadn't been sleeping well, and when he did sleep the dreams persisted. They were getting worse, and he felt like he was falling apart. Or losing his mind. After a long night of indecision, he finally decided to get a professional opinion and dialed the university to get the number he wanted. After making an informal appointment, he hung up the phone. As an afterthought, he found the X-rated get well card and dialed that number as well. Maybe Vanessa could help get him out of this funk after all. He needed something to take his mind off things.

"Blair, have you ever heard of sleep paralysis?" Doctor Martin asked, looking over the top of the half glasses perched on her nose. She was the leading sleep researcher in the area and had set up shop at Rainier to run a sleep lab.

"No, I'm not familiar with that term," Blair answered with a small frown of concentration.

"Ok. Let's make this really simple. Think of it as a switch in your head."

"I think I can do that," Blair said with a laugh, thinking of Jim's dials that he used to deal with overloaded senses.

"All right, when you're awake, the switch is off. Your body is free to follow the commands of your brain. You move as your brain tells you to. When you go to sleep, the paralysis switch is flipped on. Now your body rests and ignores most signals from your brain, allowing only simple position changes and such. This is why you don't move around in conjunction with your dreams; dancing, running, doing the dishes kinds of things.

"Some people have a problem with the switch. That's where we get people who talk in their sleep, and sleep walkers, and people who punch out their bedmates when they have a bad dream. See?" The researcher lectured, using her hands to punctuate her points.

"Ok, makes sense so far," Blair nodded.

"Well the flip side to this is when you wake up, but the switch doesn't get turned back off or doesn't get turned off fast enough. This gives you a very uncomfortable instant when your mind is awake, but your body can't react. Sometimes this lasts for a minute or more. It sounds exactly like what you experienced."

"Yeah, it does," Blair nodded again and smiled with relief. He wasn't going crazy after all.

"Something else is bothering you, I can see," the matronly woman said as she studied him intently. "You're not sleeping well?"

Blair shrugged. "I go to sleep fine. I just keep having these troubling dreams. When I wake up, I don't feel rested."

"Hmm," the doctor muttered as she flipped through an appointment book on her desk. "I can work you in tomorrow night," she said.

"For..." Blair prodded.

"For a sleep study. Come to my lab around eight in the morning. I'd like to do an EEG before we do anything else."

"Dr. Martin, I can't afford a sleep study, and I'm sure the university insurance won't cover it."

"Nonsense. I'm always looking for volunteers. Consider yourself a lab rat."

Blair rubbed his face with a hand. "You think it'll help?" he asked.

"Couldn't hurt," she answered with a grin.

"Good, you're home," Jim greeted as he opened the door and caught Blair balancing a couple bags of groceries as he attempted to put his key in the lock. Jim took one of the bags and led the way into the kitchen.

"Why? What's wrong?" Blair asked.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just bored out of my skull. I don't have anything to do, and I didn't have anybody to talk to," Jim grumbled. "And there's nothing on TV during the day."

"Poor baby," Blair teased, sitting his bag on the counter. "I thought Simon was going to bring you some of your unfinished paper work."

"He did. But he only stayed an hour," Jim replied. "Where have you been? I was getting worried."

Blair paused, feeling another bout of deja vu. "You're through with the papers already?" he asked, ignoring the other question as he unloaded the bags and began putting away the contents.

Jim absently folded one of the sacks once it was empty, suppressing a shiver. "No," he admitted guiltily before changing the subject. "Did you notice the drop in temperature in here?"

"Not really. I've been cold for two days."

"So where have you been?" Jim asked again.

"I went to see Dr. Martin who runs the sleep lab over at the university," Blair said.

"About your dreams?"

"Yeah, mostly," Blair muttered.

"What did she say?" Jim asked worriedly.

"She said it's all in my head."

"That's what I thought," Jim said smugly.

"I have to go see her in the morning for an EEG," Blair said. "Don't let me be late, okay?"

"No problem," Jim answered sincerely. "Wait a minute. Are you still going out with Vaneeesssa tonight?"

Blair grinned in spite of himself. "Yeah. Don't wait up. But don't let me be late tomorrow."

Blair knocked on the door and looked up and down the hall while he waited for an answer. He planned to take Vanessa to dinner and a movie, but he was sure they would end up back here afterward. She had made it clear what she expected. And Blair, being a healthy, red-blooded male couldn't find any reason to put her off any longer. It didn't have anything to do with the fact that Jim had strong armed him into calling her.

She opened the door wearing a tiny black nighty, and Blair involuntarily stepped back with his jaw dropping open. "Hello," she murmured seductively.

"Hi," Blair said with a shy grin. "I wasn't all that hungry anyway."

Vanessa pulled him through the door and the temperature suddenly dropped twenty degrees as she kissed him. "That's weird," she said, stopping to look at the thermostat. "There must be something wrong with the heater. Let's get under the cover." She wrestled Blair out of his coat and had his shirt off by the time they reached the bedroom with kisses and caresses all the way. The lights flashed on and off, causing Blair to pause and look, but Vanessa was too wound up to notice. The candles in the bedroom were swished out by an intense draft as the would be lovers fell into the waterbed.

Blair returned the kisses feverishly, but kept an eye open and looked around the now dark room nervously as he kicked off his shoes. Feeling for all the world like they were being watched.

"What's wrong?" Vanessa asked, chewing on his neck as she undid his pants and helped him slide them off, boxers and all.

"Nothing," Blair murmured, as he deftly removed her gown, his kisses growing more passionate. The room filled with the odor of rotten eggs. Blair balked and pulled back.

"What's that smell?" Vanessa asked, trying not to gag.

"I don't know," Blair said as the bed began to rock violently. They held on to each other until the shuddering stopped several minutes later. "Did the earth move for you?" Blair asked in a disbelieving tone.

"Earthquake?" Vanessa asked nervously. Blair shrugged, a little wide eyed himself. The feeling of being watched intensified, but the strong odor dissipated. "It's over now," she cooed. "Where were we?" She leaned forward for another kiss.

"I don't think we should do this right now," Blair offered carefully, holding up a hand to ward off her advances.

"What do you want? A sign from God?" Vanessa mocked. She began to kiss him again, more insistently. Blair's body responded, although his mind remained uneasy. He tore into the condom she pressed into his hand. It was ripped away from him by an unseen force and suddenly all of the glass objects in the room burst at once, sending shards flying in all directions. Blair responded and covered Vanessa's naked body with his own, feeling the tiny missiles strike his back and legs. Leaks sprung from hundreds of places in the bed, soaking them both.

Blair backed off the bed and gathered his now wet pants and boxers as he went. "Are you ok?" he asked. "Are you cut?"

"No, I'm fine," Vanessa assured shakily. "But you're bleeding."

"It's not bad," Blair assured half-heartedly, not really knowing the extent of his injuries.

"Are you leaving?"

"I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me. I have to go. I can't do this right now." Blair kept talking as he dressed hurriedly, dancing cautiously around the broken glass that littered the floor as he pulled his pants on and stepped into his shoes, not even bothering to look for his socks. "You'll be okay. I think this has to do with me. I really am sorry. Good night." Blair grabbed his shirt and coat on the way out and slammed the door behind him, stopping in the hall to finish dressing. He leaned against the wall and tried to catch his breath. His hands shook so hard, he wondered if he could even drive.

A neighbor lady poked her head out of the door across the hall and grinned knowingly at him.

"It's not what it looks like," Blair said defensively, shoving his wet hair out of his face.

"You're not the first boy to ever escape Vanessa like that," she assured him with a wink.

A stunned Vanessa sat on the ruined bed and stared after Blair. She had always heard he was an interesting date.

"Home so soon?" Jim asked looking at his watch as Blair came through the door and disgustedly tossed his keys into the basket.

"Yeah," Blair answered as he shrugged out of his coat. Jim frowned as he took in his roomie's wet clothes. He thought he smelled blood, but Blair appeared to be in good shape, physically anyway.

"I thought this girl was a sure thing," Jim teased, leaning back on the couch, an arm in each direction, but plying Blair with his total attention.

"I can't believe you said that," Blair countered, trying to look offended. He knew his heart was still beating out of his chest, even though the initial panic had subsided.

"Nothing happened?"

"No, Jim. Nothing happened. Not the way you mean, anyway." Blair considered telling Jim the truth, but decided he probably wouldn't believe him anyway. He didn't believe it himself.

Jim smirked and turned back to face the TV. "So, uh, you got a case of blue balls?" he asked with a grin.

"Blue, green, chartreuse. Whatever," Blair answered glumly.

"What changed her mind?"

Blair sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair, pulling out a broken piece of pottery and examining it before tossing it in the trash can. "It wasn't her exactly. It was me," he managed.

"Oh," Jim said, more serious, once again studying his friend. "I see."

"No! Damn it, Jim. It wasn't like that!" Blair blurted out in spite of himself. "Let's just say there were extenuating circumstances and then drop it," he grumbled. "I don't work well with an audience," he muttered as he turned to go into his room.

Jim heard perfectly well, but didn't know what to make of the comment. Obviously, the girl was kinky. He struggled to find something comforting to say. "There's always Rosy Palm and her five sisters," he suggested to Blair's back as he retreated.

Blair stopped in the doorway and turned back to him with a shaky, lopsided grin. "You are a sick man, Ellison," he stated with a laugh before he closed his door. He plopped down on the bed and kicked off his shoes. Damn, but he was tired anyway. He quickly fell asleep in his wet jeans on top of the covers. For the first time in days, he didn't dream.

"Sandburg!" Jim yelled from the kitchen. Blair rolled over and looked at the clock. Damn, he was late. He was certain he had set the clock, but it didn't go off. Once again, Jim had done the mother act and stripped him and tucked him in. It would be okay, if it wasn't so damned embarrassing. At least Jim never mentioned it in the light of day.

"I'm up," Blair said as his feet hit the cold floor. He grabbed his blanket and pulled it around himself as he headed for the kitchen, grimacing at the pull of a hundred tiny cuts on his back.

Jim looked up with a concerned expression on his face. "You cold?" he asked.

"It's freezing in here. Or didn't you notice?" Blair said, blowing out a visible breath to make his point.

"Actually, I didn't notice until you got in here. I'll turn the heat up."

"Uh, Jim, kind of early to be changing the shelf paper, isn't it?" Blair asked noting that everything out of the cabinets was lined neatly along the counter top.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Jim said with a grunt as he started to lift a can to replace the items, ignoring the pull in his healing shoulder.

"Let me, you're gonna hurt yourself," Blair said, taking the can and shooing his roommate away.

"You need to get ready to go to your appointment. You said to make sure you weren't late," Jim protested.

"No way, man. You won't leave this alone until I get home and you'll end up wearing yourself out. The doctor said to rest. Or don't you want to be able to go back to work next week?"

"Ok, I'll wait for you to get home."

"Promise?" Blair asked, squinting at his partner suspiciously.

"I swear. Go get a shower," Jim said. "When did you start sleep walking anyway?"

"You think I did this?" Blair asked with disbelief.

"Well I know I didn't. Even if I did it in my sleep, I would be sore as hell this morning."

"I guess so," Blair said, shaking his head. "It must have been me."

"You've been under a lot of stress. Go on, we'll figure this out later. I'll fix you something to eat."

"Okay, that does it," Dr. Martin said as she began to remove the tiny electrodes that were attached to Blair's scalp under his hair. "How did you sleep last night?"

"Not bad. But apparently I've started redecorating in my sleep," Blair admitted.

"You've been sleep walking?"

"Just once. I took everything out of the kitchen cabinets and stacked it on the counter," Blair explained a little sheepishly.

Doctor Martin stopped what she was doing and turned back to look at him. "Sounds to me like you've got yourself a ghost," she teased.

"You really believe in ghosts?" Blair asked with a questioning gaze.

"Well, the scientist in me can find no real proof," Martin said seriously. "But the little girl in me who grew up in a haunted house believes in them. Oh, yes. I do."

"My friend saw one once," Blair said. "Well, several times, actually." He thought for a minute of mentioning the strange goings on, but decided not to.

"And you believed him?" Dr. Martin asked.

"Of course."

"But you don't believe that you could experience the same thing?"

"I don't know. I hadn't thought of it that way," Blair said thoughtfully. "Things have been kind of bizarre lately." He rubbed a hand through his hair, grimacing at the feel of the gel that remained as Dr. Martin rounded her machine and picked up the mass of papers with squiggly lines on them.

"Blair," the doctor said quietly as she studied the printouts of his test. "You've got some very interesting results here."

"Like what?" Blair asked with dread, quickly going through the worst case scenarios in his head.

"Nothing serious," Dr. Martin assured. "Just some energy patterns I've never seen before. How do you feel?"

"Fine," Blair answered, his eyes getting bigger as he leaned forward to look at the EEG results. "A little tired, I guess."

"Be very honest with me, young man. I want to know exactly what's going on with you. Don't leave anything out."

"It started a couple weeks ago when I got hit over the head..." Blair found himself pouring out the recent events, leaving out all Sentinel related data. He even told about his encounter with Vanessa, but he turned appropriately red as he did.

Dr. Martin nodded and took notes, but didn't interrupt. "Let's cancel the sleep study for now," she said.

"Why?" Blair asked, a little hurt.

"Because I don't believe it will help you."

"What do I do then?" Blair asked reluctantly, trying not to sound as pitiful as he felt.

"I know a medium. I'll give you her number."

Blair didn't call the medium. Instead he went to the library and checked out everything he could find on hauntings and locked himself away in his room to do some research. The light next to his bed sputtered and went out, leaving him in the dark once again, repeating a pattern that had started as soon as he had begun to read, reinforcing Dr. Martin's ghost theory. 

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, he waited. As if on cue, the light came back on, and he went back to the article he was reading. He glanced up and almost dropped the journal. The large collection of books that had been on the desk was stacked neatly on the floor by the bed, almost waist high. He jumped to his feet, knocking the books over as he quickly moved out of the room. The light flickered off again as he left. He backed into the kitchen, staring into his darkened room, his heart slamdancing in his chest.

"Ok, I didn't imagine that," he told himself quietly, wishing not for the first time Jim would get his ass home. Simon had taken him to Daryl's basketball game hours ago to get him out of the house for awhile. Blair had begged off this time, even though he loved to watch Daryl play, saying he had a lot to do to get ready for the new semester.

Blair grabbed his laptop and plugged it in on the kitchen island. He thrummed his fingers nervously on the counter as he waited for the connection to go through. When it did, he typed in a search for 'poltergeist'. The screen went blank.

"Dammit," he grumbled and jiggled the wire. The screen came back up with one word typed in the middle of the blank page: GUIDE. Blair rubbed his face for a second in disbelief. It hadn't occurred to him who his new buddy might be. "Oh, no," he muttered. "David." The screen burst into movement as unseen fingers typed.

GUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDE

GUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDE

GUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDE....

Blair grabbed the cord and wrenched it from the wall. This was bad. Very, very bad. Not only did he have a ghost, he had a crazy ghost. One that was going to be persistent to put it mildly. One that already had homicidal ideations towards Jim. Suddenly all of the lights went out, leaving Blair in the dark with only the glow from the computer screen that should have been dark without a power source.

GUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDE

GUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDE

GUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDEGUIDE.....

Blair stared at his reflection in the bright screen, his mouth open. A face appeared over his shoulder and he froze in place in terror. When a hand grasped his elbow from behind, he gasped and jumped, wheeling around to face it, raising a fist in the air.

"Easy, Chief." Jim said as he ducked the flying fist. "What's the matter? Your heart's going a mile a minute. Settle down."

"What are you doing sneaking up on me in the dark?" Blair squeaked fearfully.

"What are you doing in the dark?" Jim countered, just as the lights came back on.

Blair spun back around to look at the computer screen. It was completely blank as if it had never been turned on. "I gotta get out of here for awhile," Blair breathed, suddenly apprehensive about Jim's safety.

"Why? What's going on?" Jim asked sternly.

Blair began to pace restlessly, weighing his options, trying to decide if Jim was in any danger. "We've got a ghost, Jim," he announced hesitantly.

"No we don't. I haven't seen anything, and you know I would," Jim soothed.

"Like Molly?" Blair asked.

"Right. I could see her."

"Well, yes," Blair agreed. "But only when she showed herself to you. I don't think this one's gonna do that."

"Why not?" Jim asked defensively.

Blair stopped pacing and turned to the Sentinel. "Because it's David."

"You're tired, Chief. Why don't you go on to bed," Jim said gently, his worry evident on his face.

"I'm not crazy, Jim," Blair declared. "But I think I'd better go. It might be safer for you if I wasn't around for awhile. Just 'til I figure some things out." He grabbed his jacket and was gone. Jim stood and stared at the door. Within a few minutes, the loft began to warm up considerably and the strong smell of snow faded away.

Even his office was cold, Blair noted glumly as he sat at his desk. He reached over, turned on the lamp, then sank back into his chair before he remembered the bulb had burned out and he hadn't replaced it yet. Still, it cast a nice warm circle of light around him. A janitor must have changed the bulb, he reasoned, not really believing it, but it did make him feel better.

He thought about calling Jim. Feeling a little guilty and a lot embarrassed about the way he had left, he picked up the phone. No dial tone. Well isn't that just lovely, he thought. He hung it up and leaned further back in his chair, wondering if he still had a blanket stashed around the office somewhere. Closing his eyes, he began a soothing mantra in his head and before long, began to doze off.

"Blair."

Opening his eyes, he looked around, certain he had heard his name. "Hello?" he called out, but there was no answer. More than a little spooked, he went to the door and opened it a crack to peek out into the hall. His heart was hammering away as he locked the door and made his way over to his cot to lie down, looking around one last time before closing his eyes. Within a few minutes, he settled down and his exhaustion began to overtake him once again. He felt himself begin to drift off.

"Blair."

"What?" he shouted as he sat back up. "What do you want with me?" He waited for an answer, but none came. "David?" he ventured cautiously.

The room glowed with an eerie pale light, but the lamp was now off, even though Blair was certain he had left it on. He realized he wasn't alone as he actually felt the presence with him.  The chill penetrated deep into his bones. When the phone rang unexpectedly he jumped. He sprang from the cot to answer it, desperate to hear a real live voice on the other end.

"Hello," he said breathlessly as he grabbed the phone.

"Are you all right?" came Jim's worried voice over the line. "Why don't you come home and we'll talk about this. Please."

"Yeah, I'm okay," Blair assured. "I'm really just worried about you. I don't think he'll hurt me."

There was dead silence on the other end of the phone for several seconds and then a sigh. "Blair... I'm coming to get you."

"It's all right, Jim. I'm not crazy. I'll come home," Blair gave in, realizing he couldn't put Jim off for long. "Go on to bed, I'll be there in a little while."

"Okay, but don't be surprised if I wait up for you."

The line went dead before he could answer, and Blair was certain Jim hadn't hung up on him. He tried to call back, but once again couldn't get a dial tone.

"David," he said to the air around him, but couldn't think of anything else to say. What could he say? 'You're dead. Go away.'? He pulled the keys out of his jacket pocket and looked around before he left. As he pulled the door shut and locked it, the lamp in the office came back on.

"Do you have any idea how much energy you waste doing that?" he grumbled, with an odd combination of terror and annoyance. To his astonishment, the light went out, leaving him standing in the darkened hallway. "Thanks," he mumbled as he walked away.

A light in a building across the way caught his eye as he neared his car. The sleep lab. He bypassed his car and headed to the other side of the parking lot.

Jim stared at the phone in his hand. Sandburg had hung up on him. He was seriously beginning to wonder about the kid's state of mind. Blair had really been stressed out lately. Emotionally, anyway. It was bound to take its toll. Working to calm himself down, Jim decided to give his partner the benefit of the doubt. If Blair said that something was going on, then there must be something going on. Jim settled on the couch, and one by one, used his senses to go over the loft. He found nothing out of the ordinary, so he waited for Sandburg to get home, or the so-called ghost to do something, but neither made an appearance.

Blair walked into the sleep lab a little hesitantly. "Don't mess with anything," he softly cautioned, finding that acknowledging and speaking to the spirit, actually made him feel better. Doctor Martin sat at a row of monitors, four of which were turned on.

"Blair!" she said looking up with surprise.

"I'm sorry to intrude," Blair said meekly.

"No, it's fine. I don't get a lot of visitors in my line of work. Well, not awake visitors anyway. Even my assistant is taking a cat nap right now. Come in and have a seat."

"Don't you get tired staying up all night?" Blair asked conversationally as he seated himself beside her at the work center.

Doctor Martin sighed. "Actually, I'm a world class insomniac. That's one of the reasons I went into this line of work. What about you?"

"Oh, man. I'd love to be asleep right now. But my problem has gotten worse." The screens began to fade in and out, until static completely took over. Doctor Martin moved a few knobs, but to no avail. "Stop it!" Blair said tersely.  The static faded and everything went back to normal.

"Oh, my," Doctor Martin said, growing a little wide-eyed. "I guess that would be the problem you are referring to?"

Blair nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Did you call my friend?" Doctor Martin asked as she took in the exhausted features of the grad student.

Blair shook his head and sighed as he studied his feet.

"Why don't you lie down for a little while? You look terrible. That's another nice thing about working in a sleep lab. There are always beds. In the morning, we can call my friend."

"I should really go home," Blair said, stifling a yawn.

"You're in no shape to drive. Come on, you can sleep in this first cubical and I'll watch over you. You're safe here, I promise," Doctor Martin urged.

Blair did as he was instructed, too tired to argue anyway. He felt like he was forgetting something, but couldn't make his brain function enough to give up the information. As he settled on the bunk, Doctor Martin covered him with a blanket, touching his cheek in a motherly fashion. He closed his eyes and missed the expression of fright that crossed her face as she was roughly pushed away from the bed by an invisible touch. She left the cubical quietly, practically running to her monitors. With a shaking hand she flipped on the switch to the video feed of cubical number one. A small sphere of blue light hovered over Blair's already sleeping form. She hit the record button and after waking her assistant to take care of the four official patients, she settled in to watch over Blair for the rest of the night.

Just after dawn the door opening again got her attention. A tall man with worried blue eyes greeted her with a small smile.

"Can I help you?" she asked rising from her chair.

"I'm Detective Jim Ellison, I'm looking for Blair Sandburg," he said. "I noticed his car was still in the parking lot, and this seems to be the only place with any activity..." he added weakly, not explaining how he had actually tracked his partner by smell and hearing. He looked over the woman's shoulder at the monitor that showed Blair deep in sleep, gratefully noting he seemed all right.

"I'm Doctor Martin. Is Blair in some kind of trouble?" she asked, stepping in front of the screen to block the unknown detective's view.

"No, no. Nothing like that. I'm his roommate and he didn't come home last night. I was a little worried," Jim explained.

"Oh, well, he came here a little after two. I made him rest. He was in no shape to drive. Let me wake him up," she turned to go.

"No, let him sleep. That's fine. I just wanted to check on him."

"Oh. That's very nice of you. I'm glad he has someone who cares."

Blair moaned softly and began to thrash in his sleep. Dr. Martin turned to watch her monitor, wishing she had applied the appropriate electrodes so she could take some readings. Jim moved directly to the first cubical, knowing that was where his Guide rested.

Watching from above, Blair saw Jim and Brown pull his lifeless form from the pool around the fountain. Simon was there, as were Megan and Rafe. The ambulance arrived, and there was a lot of action below, but Blair didn't feel anything, except for a vague sense of sadness and loss. Until Jim moved to his side and placed his hands tenderly on his face. Blair could see the glow and felt himself drift back to his body, the bond he shared with his Sentinel pulling him along. A wolf and a jaguar moved to collide in mid-air... Suddenly he was wrenched back to the other side, ripped away from the scene, from Jim, from life itself...

"My Guide," David purred as he wrapped Blair into a cold and hollow hug.

"No!" Blair screamed as he sat up in the bed.

Jim was at his side, grabbing his arms and shaking him awake. "It's just a dream, Chief," he stated anxiously. "It's over now. Just a dream."

Dr. Martin jumped as the monitor for cubical one exploded outward, followed in quick succession by the screens from two, three, four, and all the rest down the line.

"Let's get out of here," Jim urged as he pulled Blair to his feet and grabbed Blair's jacket from the foot of the bunk. The people who had been sleeping began to stir and wander around near the devastated row of monitors.

Dr. Martin pushed a button and a videotape popped out into her hand. Blair accepted it as Jim hustled him out the door. "I'm sorry," Blair murmured as he passed her.

"All in a nights work," Dr. Martin replied. She brushed the broken glass out of her seat and sat heavily into it. "Call her," she said as Blair looked over his shoulder one last time.

"Call who?" Jim asked once they reached the parking lot.

"Um," Blair paused as he unlocked his car door. "She gave me the number of a medium she thinks could help. Are you okay to drive?" he asked noting that Jim was not wearing his sling. He stopped to rub his own sleepy eyes.

"I'm fine. I'm a little worried about you, though. What's on the tape?"

"I don't know. I guess we should go home and look at it," Blair said. "I'm really sorry about all this, man."

"I'll follow you." Jim turned and got in his truck.

Walking straight to the TV when he entered the loft, Blair turned it on and stuck the tape into the VCR. Jim shut the door and went into the kitchen to start coffee. "What's on it?" Jim called out as Blair sat on the sofa, hitting play and then rewind.

"Me sleeping, mostly," Blair mumbled as he watched the tape as it rewound. When it got to the beginning, he started it again and let out a little gasp.

"What?" Jim asked as he hurried over to the couch to see what was on the video.

"There. See?" Blair pointed to the small blue light that whipped around his unconscious figure on the tape.

"That light?"

"Yeah, it's called an orb. I read about 'em last night. They appear on videotape and in pictures in areas purported to be haunted. But they usually only last a couple of seconds. This one seems to be sticking around."

"You think it's David," Jim said softly.

"It is," Blair insisted, looking up with somnolent blue eyes.

Jim put his hands on his hips and stared for a minute at the TV screen. "So how do we get rid of him?" He asked at last.

"Shhh. He can hear you," Blair cautioned.

"So?" Jim asked with an I-don't-care-if-he-can-hear-me expression on his face.

"Jim, he could be dangerous. You saw what he did to the monitors at the sleep lab. That took a hell of a lot of energy."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know. But it's warmer now, isn't it?" Blair slid out of his jacket for what seemed like the first time in days.

"Maybe he shot his load and he's gone now," Jim offered.

"Maybe," Blair agreed. "But he won't be gone for long." He glanced at the clock and decided it wasn't too early and dug out his wallet to find the number Dr. Martin had given him. As he moved to the phone, Jim stood anchored to the floor, still staring at the video, watching as the blue light came to rest on the image of Blair as he slept. It sent a shiver up his spine.

Blair walked into the sunny little shop and was ushered into a side parlor by the clerk. "Ms. Desmond will be with you shortly," she said. Jim had wanted to come, but Blair insisted he stay home. If the medium could actually reach David, he didn't want Jim anywhere near the place.

A guitar leaned against one of the small couches and Blair reached a hand towards it. As his fingers neared the strings, they seemed to strum themselves softly. Blair pulled his hand back as if stung, startled by the vibrations.

"I see you brought a friend," a kind voice said from behind him.

Blair turned to stare at the raven haired woman who smiled sweetly at him. She was delicate and tiny. Her face didn't betray her years.

"Yeah, we go everywhere together," he said uncomfortably.

The woman frowned. "This spirit is strong. He is very possessive of you. Was he your lover?"

"Er, no. Nothing like that," Blair said shaking his head. "But we did have sort of a connection. Can you talk to him?"

"I don't think he will talk to me. Sit, please." She waved a hand towards the couch and approached as Blair sat. Reaching a hand for him she suddenly stopped and pulled back, a startled expression on her face. She retreated to a chair across the room and tightened the shawl across her shoulders.

"What's wrong?" Blair asked with concern.

"I don't think it would be wise for me to touch you."

Blair blinked, and then swallowed. He felt the temperature begin to drop. "Okay."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Ms. Desmond closed her eyes and seemed to go into a light trance. When she opened them a few minutes later, she looked troubled. "He doesn't know he's dead," she said simply.

Blair swallowed again. "So, should we tell him? Maybe he'll, you know, go away if he knows."

"Perhaps, but he isn't willing to talk to me. You need to explain to him, help him to pass to the other side. You've been there yourself?" she asked.

"Briefly," Blair said with a sigh. "How do I help him?"

"I fear for you," Ms. Desmond said instead of answering the question. "He wants to possess you, but something prevents him from reaching you. He's growing very frustrated. I'm afraid that if you drop your defenses he will take control."

"My defenses?" Blair asked. The Sentinel/Guide bond, his mind provided. Jim. "So, if I, uh, were to meditate, would I be able to communicate with him?"

"Probably. But I think that would be very dangerous for you. He is determined, this one. I don't believe you could resist for long."

A cool breeze wafted around the room, blowing the curtains and disrupting the magazines on the table next to the couch. Ms. Desmond grew pale and began to shiver. "Please go," she whispered.

Blair stood and looked at her beseechingly. "You can't help me?"

"I don't know what to do. If I think of something, I'll call you." When she looked up, her eyes were full of fear.

"Where do I pay?" Blair asked as he reached for his wallet.

"No charge," the woman said in a shaky voice. "Just don't come back."

Blair nodded and slipped his wallet back into his pocket. "I guess if you're afraid, then I should be too," he said softly.

"Yes," she answered just as low. "You should."

When Blair got home, much to his surprise, the loft was empty. "Jim?" he called out, but received no answer. He started to hang up his coat, but decided to keep it on. David was obviously close by because it was cold as hell in the loft, in spite of the humming of the heater. As he moved through the kitchen, he noticed a note on the counter.

Hey Chief,
Emergency meeting of the new joint unit task force.
Simon wanted me there since I keep telling him how
I'm ready to go back to work. Looks like it's going to
be a long one. Don't wait dinner for me.
Call if you need anything.
Jim

Blair sighed uneasily. "Okay," he muttered to himself. "No time like the present." He gathered some candles from his room and placed them around on the coffee table. A small wind whipped around him as he tried to light them. "What is with you and candles?" Blair asked with a bit of frustration. "Oh, right. Fireman. I get it, sorry." He gave up on the candles and selected an instrumental CD and turned it on low. Grabbing the afghan from the couch he wrapped it around his shoulders and settled onto the floor in a semi-lotus position. Taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, he cleared his mind.

"Blair," came the immediate reply.

Finding himself in the jungle, Blair looked around. "David, where are you?" he asked.

"Right here." Some vegetation parted, and David appeared before him, barefooted and wearing the pajamas from the mental hospital. He rushed over to the smaller man and pulled him into a hug.

Blair returned the hug and even managed a smile. "We need to talk," he said sincerely.

"We've got time for that later. Come on, I've got so much to show you," David insisted excitedly, pulling Blair by the hand.

"Slow down, buddy. Here, sit with me for a minute."

David shook his head, but did as he was asked, settling on the ground where his friend sat down, keeping Blair's hand clasped in his own. "What do you want to talk about?" he asked innocently, unable to keep the smile off of his face.

"I've, uh, got to explain some things to you. I think you're a little confused," Blair said gingerly.

"I'm not confused. I'm really happy to be with you," David answered in a childlike voice, grinning foolishly. "Listen," he said suddenly, putting a hand up. A low growl split the air, followed by another from the opposite direction. A howl somewhere in between joined in as well. "What is that? I've seen a mountain lion around a lot."

"That's your spirit guide," Blair explained. "He wants you to follow him. You should follow him, David. He's going to led you to where you're supposed to be."

"No, no, no. He's going the wrong way. He's trying to lead me away from you. I won't go," David insisted stubbornly.

Blair sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. "David, you're dead," he said evenly. "You can't stay here. You have to pass through to the next level."

"I'm dead? That's ridiculous. I don't feel dead," David answered quietly, touching a hand to his chest.

"Trust me, big guy. You are. I went to your funeral."

"But you're here with me now. Are you dead, too? Because now we're together..."

"David," Blair interrupted. "I'm just visiting. I have to go back. We can't be together now. You're dead and I'm alive. These long distance things never work out. Besides, you don't need a Guide where you're going. You'll have everything you need. David, you'll find peace if you just follow your spirit guide."

"No!" David swore as he pulled Blair closer to him. "I won't go! If I go, I'm taking you with me."

There was a rustle in the bushes and a large, tawny mountain lion slunk through to lie on the ground in front of the men.

"That's not possible," Blair insisted as he reached out tentatively to stroke the big cat's fur. "I'm not dead."

A howl sounded close by. "The wolf?" David asked.

"That's my spirit guide. Have you seen a big black cat?"

"No, I haven't actually seen it, but it's always near. I hear it. I feel it. If I could get to it, I'd rip its heart out," David said in an icy tone.

"Don't do that. It belongs to my blessed protector," Blair explained, careful not to mention his blessed protector's name. "It keeps me from harm."

"It keeps you from me," David growled dangerously.

"Yeah, that's sorta my point," Blair whispered under his breath.

"You don't need protection from me," David laughed. "I'll take care of you now."

"I've got to go," Blair said, rising to his feet. "Follow your spirit guide, man. You'll find happiness there. I promise."

"I'm not leaving you," David swore softly, refusing to relinquish Blair's hand. "Ever. And you're not leaving me, either."

"What about Jim?" Blair couldn't help but ask.

"I'll kill him," David answered quickly.

"If you kill him," Blair said doggedly, "then he'll be here with us."

"Oh, right," David admitted, much to Blair's relief. "I guess I'll let him live then. Three's a crowd, after all."

The meeting droned on and on. Emergency my ass, Jim thought to himself as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his shoulder beginning to ache. Simon gave him a look, but Jim shook his head. "I'm all right," he whispered. Simon nodded and turned his attention back to the Captain from Homicide who was pointing to a chart on his little easel.

A heart wrenching cry echoed through Jim's head and he glanced up anxiously. No one else heard, as they all continued to sit bored out of their minds by the never ending report. Jim's unease grew to near panic in a matter of seconds when he reached out to feel for his Guide but felt nothing. The jaguar roared again, and Jim stumbled to his feet. 

"Excuse me," he mumbled as he headed for the door.

"Jim," Simon called out after him and followed. "I thought you said you were all right."

"I, I am, I just, I have to go home," Jim stammered, not understanding himself, but knowing all the same that he needed to get to Blair.

"You good to drive?" Simon asked, picking up on the nervous energy coming off of his detective in waves.

"Yeah, yeah, just take some notes for me. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Driving wasn't easy with only one good arm and a wild cat screaming in his ear, but at last Jim pulled in at the loft and bolted from the truck and into the building. Three flights of stairs passed quickly and at last he threw the door open. Cold air hit him in the face. If his eyes had been closed, he would have expected a winter wonderland as the smell of new fallen snow assaulted his senses. Blair sat in the middle of the floor, looking pale and shivering slightly in spite of the fine dew of perspiration beading up on his forehead and upper lip. His eyes were closed, and his heart rate was slow. Very slow.

Jim grabbed him from behind and yanked him to his feet, oblivious to the pull in his sore shoulder. "Sandburg! Snap out of it!" he commanded as he shook his Guide for all he was worth. Getting no response from the limp body in his arms, he manhandled him down the hall to the bathroom. Dumping Blair into the tub, he turned on the cold water and then the shower. He pulled Blair up so that the cold stream hit him directly in the face.

Blair began to gurgle and squirm. "Dammit, Jim!" he shouted at last as he came to.

Jim reached over and turned off the water. Blair shook his head and sent a spray of water all over him. "Sorry, Chief. I didn't know how else to reach you."

"What happened?" Blair asked through chattering teeth as he pulled himself to his feet, with Jim's help. A towel was thrust into his hands and he took it gratefully.

"You tell me," Jim answered worriedly.

"I, uh, decided to try to talk to David, so I put myself into a trance."

Jim's jaw set and he turned Blair's head so he could look directly into his eyes. He studied him for a minute before releasing him. "Did it work?" he asked as he pulled away.

"Yeah," Blair said as he tugged off his wet jacket. "He's not leaving," he added.

"Why don't you get a hot shower and I'll fix us something for dinner," Jim said softly. "I'm assuming you and David didn't eat?" he asked sarcastically.

"Funny," Blair grumbled as he struggled out of his soaked clothes wringing them out before tossing them into the hamper.

"I'll start a fire," Jim said as he backed out of the room.

"Good luck," Blair called out after him through chattering teeth. "David doesn't like fire."

Jim grunted and moved to the woodstove with determination.

Some time later Blair emerged from the bathroom wrapped in Jim's robe. "Better?" Jim asked as he looked up at him from the kitchen where he was fixing sandwiches.

Blair nodded and looked towards the livingroom with an obnoxious grin. "I thought you were gonna light a fire," he said.

"I think the wood must be green or something," Jim mumbled darkly.

"Or something," Blair agreed as he went to his room to put on as many clothes as he could find. "Might as well turn off the heater," he observed. "Doesn't seem to do any good anyway."

Jim stirred the soup. "Whatever," he said.

When Blair returned, Jim began to set the table. "Sit down, man. You look worn out," Blair said as he took over the duty and brought the food over after flitting around in the kitchen for a minute.

Jim eased himself into a chair and rubbed at his shoulder. "You want a pain pill?" Blair asked.

"Nah, it'll pass. I just over did it a little today."

"Yeah, I guess taking something for pain would make you a wuss, huh?" Blair said with practiced innocence as he settled down across from him and blew on a spoonful of very hot soup.

Jim shot him a dirty look and started to rise from his chair. Blair pulled the bottle of Percocet from his pocket. "Take two, they're small," he said, sparing a tired grin as Jim did as he was told for once.

"So what about the medium?" Jim asked as they ate.

"No help there," Blair said with a shake of his head. "She was terrified. Asked me not to ever darken her doorway again. In a nice way, though. She didn't throw me out or anything."

"This is real, isn't it?" Jim asked gravely. "What can we do?"

Blair picked up his bowl and finished his soup. "I don't know, Jim. I tried to reason with him. That's out."

Jim nodded and looked away. He stifled a yawn and began to gather the dishes.

"Just leave 'em tonight. I'll clean up tomorrow. I'm just so cold right now I want to go to bed," Blair urged.

"All right," Jim agreed without a fight. "If I don't lie down soon, I'm going to fall down."

Blair gathered up the dishes and placed them in the sink. "Night, Jim. Don't worry. We'll figure something out."

Jim nodded and headed down the hall to the bathroom. When he came out, Blair was already asleep, judging by his heart rate. As Jim pushed the door open to take a peek, his blood ran cold. The translucent image of David Temco stood over Blair and adjusted the covers lovingly. When he looked up at Jim, his see-through features took on a murderous expression. Jim jumped back as the French doors slammed in his face. He kicked them back open, his fight or flight instincts on all out fight, but David was gone.

"What?" Blair asked excitedly as he sat up in the bed.

"Move over," Jim ordered as he sat on the bed, struggling to calm down. At last he bent and took off his shoes with trembling fingers.

"What are you doing?" Blair asked, not quite composed himself.

"Body heat," Jim lied, knowing his shivers were not because he was cold. He wasn't about to tell Sandburg he was scared. Now that he had seen the enemy, it was all too real. And he wasn't going to leave his Guide alone for a minute.

"Oh," Blair said in a disbelieving tone. He moved over a little and rolled over to face the wall.

Jim removed his holster and placed it on the table next to the bed and then his outer shirt, which was still damp from Blair's first shower. He stretched out on the bed with his back to Blair and pulled up the covers. "Good night, Chief," he said a little roughly.

"Night, Jim," came the muffled reply. "This is a lot warmer."

Jim fought the effects of the pain medicine, but the exhaustion of the day, combined with the pills soon pulled him into a deep, troubled sleep.

"Blair."

"Let me sleep," Blair mumbled.

"Come on, Blair. It's time to wake up."

When Blair opened his eyes, he was no longer cold. Unfortunately, he was no longer snuggled in his bed either. "Shit," he said softly, looking around at the jungle.

"I have to take care of some things," David told him as he gently reached down and swept Blair's hair out of his eyes. "I'll be back soon, and then we'll be together forever."

"Wait!" Blair called out as David disappeared right before his eyes.

Jim struggled to wake up as he felt Blair crawl over him in the bed. He wondered if he was dreaming as he heard the soft sigh of metal as it was removed from its leather sheath. He managed to open his eyes and felt the bed next to him. It wasn't a dream then, Blair was up and for some reason had taken his gun.

"Blair," Jim called out as he pushed the covers away and unsteadily got to his feet. As he rushed through the kitchen, he saw Blair standing in the livingroom and watched in horror as he cocked the gun and raised it as if in slow motion to his head. "No!" Jim shouted as he threw himself at his Guide, causing them both to crash to the floor. He felt the sickening crunch of bones as they hit, but the gun didn't go off. Rolling off his partner, he grabbed for the gun and sent it tumbling across the floor to rest under the couch.

"My God, what were you thinking?" he asked in horrified disbelief. As he felt along Blair's neck and back, the smaller man began to laugh, then rolled over to stare at him with a look of undisguised hate on his face.

"Chief?" Jim asked carefully.

"Chief's not here right now," Blair grinned savagely. "If you'll leave your name and number, he'll get right back to you. Then again, maybe he won't," he continued, regarding Jim with a vicious glare.

"What's going on, Blair," Jim demanded, trying to run his hands over what he knew to be broken ribs.

"Get your hands off him," Blair snarled as he pulled away without so much as a wince.

"Temco," Jim said softly as realization set in. He felt the other Sentinel inside of himself, a part of the bond he shared with his Guide, growing like a cancer. "Let him go."

"He's already gone. I just came to dispose of the body. I don't want him tempted to try to come back."

"Let me talk to him," Jim urged. "Just let me say good-bye."

"I told you, he's gone," Blair's mouth insisted. "Now, I've got work to do." He leapt to his feet and bound into the kitchen where he grabbed a knife and ran for the door, but Jim was already on top of him.

Grabbing the smaller man by the collar, Jim reared back a fist. After a seconds hesitation, he landed a blow squarely in Blair's face.

Blue eyes studied him intently, but didn't blink. "Lot of good that did," David commented dryly. With a smirk, he took the knife and tried to slide it across Blair's wrist. Jim intervened and shook the knife arm until the weapon fell to the floor. David hissed at him and once again tried for the door.

Jim shook with his frustration. How did he fight an opponent that was inside of his best friend's body without hurting his friend. With a howl of rage, Jim pulled the smaller man to him and used all his strength to hold him to his chest. Blair's body struggled for a minute as Jim dragged him across the loft to settle in the livingroom on the floor.

"Let him go, cousin. You're stronger than he is, but you'll tire easily. When you do, I'll do what I want."

"No. I'll hold on forever if I have to," Jim assured.

David sighed and suddenly relaxed in Jim's arms. "You have to sleep sometime. I'll wait," he said smugly.

"So will I," Jim promised grimly and settled back against the couch. Holding on for the life he held dear.

The phone rang until the answering machine picked up. "Jim, are you there?" Simon's disembodied voice asked. "Sandburg? Where are you guys? You've got me worried now."

After pacing a path, albeit a short one, into the grass Blair sighed and sat back on the slab of rock he had woken up on. Off to one side, the black jaguar kept watch, on the other a mountain lion twitched its tail nervously. The wolf came out of the jungle and whimpered to him quietly. Blair scratched him behind the ears forlornly. "What kind of spirit guide are you," Blair taunted glumly. "Go on, Lassie, go get help."

The wolf rose again and trotted back into the jungle. "I was kidding," Blair called out after him. He groaned and lay back on the stone as he tried to will himself back to the real world.

"Rock-a-bye, baby. In the tree top..."

"Shut up," Jim growled at the body he held close in his arms.

"...when the wind blows, the cradle will rock..." Blair's voice continued to sing, as his possessed body rocked itself within the flesh and blood bonds that surrounded it.

"Stop it now, damn it." Jim shook his head to try and wake himself up a little.

"Come on, Jim," David urged. Jim flinched at the familiarity of the words. "You're not going to win. He's mine now. I need him."

"You're dead," Jim argued. "You don't need anything except a coffin, a hole, and a worm or two."

"Nice image," David laughed. "I do need him. He's my Guide."

"He's not your Guide," Jim practically shouted. "He never was and he never will be, alive or dead. Just ask him. Make him choose, David, 'cause he won't choose you."

David let out a guttural sound and began to try to force himself free. Jim smiled a little, knowing he had struck a nerve. "He chose me the first time," Jim whispered into the curly brown hair. "Didn't he? He'll always pick me over you." The struggle grew and David began to kick and cry out.

The phone rang again, this time Simon's voice was a little more intense. "Jim, where the hell are you? I'm on my way. Wait for me if you get this message. I'm almost there now."

"Let go!" David yelled. He tried to move things with his mind, to shatter the glass around them, but it didn't work while he was inside the living body. "Let go," he sobbed and tried to wrench himself free.

"Shhh," Jim soothed. As much as he hated David, he couldn't stand to hear the sobs in Blair's voice. He began to rock him gently. "It's okay, I'm sorry. Shhh."

Slowly the sobs began to ease until at last, David lay in his arms, a shuddering mass of tears and hair. All at once, the body went limp, and David was gone.

"Not so fast," Jim said, and reached out with his mind to follow. His own body dropping as well, just as a knock sounded at the door.

Simon had been a little worried when Jim suddenly left the meeting, but it had droned on and on, and he called as soon as he got the opportunity. But no one had bothered to pick up the phone, and he had called repeatedly. Even if Jim was asleep surely Blair would answer. Still feeling somewhat guilty asking Jim to come, even though the detective had assured him repeatedly he was up to sitting in a chair for a few hours, he decided to check on the two trouble magnets in person. As he came up the stairs, he thought he heard Sandburg crying out. He ran to the door and began to beat on it. When no one answered, he used his key to open the apartment. Jim and Blair lay together on the floor near the couch. Blair's face was wet with tears and bruised. Neither man was breathing very deeply.

Jim found himself in a clearing in the jungle, face to face with Temco.

"How did you get here?" David spat out.

"We're on a level playing field here, David. You don't have the advantage."

"Blair!" David called out.

"It's okay, Blair, I'm here too," Jim echoed.

"Uh, Jim? Who's minding the store?" Blair asked as he moved into the clearing.

"What do you mean?" Jim asked, relieved to see his Guide, even if it was on the spiritual plane.

"I mean, if we're both here, who's gonna bring us back?"

"You're not going back," David said, shifting to stand between Jim and Blair.

"Get away from him," Jim growled and moved closer.

"Easy, guys," Blair soothed. "I've got a solution."

David grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. "There is only one solution. I need a Guide."

Jim grasped Blair's other arm and wrapped both hands tightly around it. "Not this one!" he shouted.

"Whoa, if this is what it's like to be the rope in a tug of war, I don't like it," Blair complained. "Let go! Both of you."

The two angry Sentinels eased their respective grips, and stepped back, but only marginally. They continued to glower at each other as Blair glared at both of them and straightened his shirt.

"You need to pick," David said softly.

"I pick Jim," Blair answered as he lifted his head to look into David's sad eyes. "I found him first, David. I'm sorry."

"No."

"It's okay, because I found someone to be there for you. I just wished I could have found someone sooner, while you were alive. I love you, man. I don't want you to have to be alone."

"No!" David said louder and reached out for Blair, but Jim pulled him away.

"It's okay, David. Really. Here, I want you to meet your new Guide," Blair pointed into the overgrowth as a man passed through and joined them.

"Incacha?" Jim asked in disbelief.

"Who better to train a new Sentinel, even if it is on the other side," Blair asked.

"Come, Sentinel, we have much to discuss," Incacha instructed. He held a hand out to David and offered what he wanted the most.

David smiled slightly as he felt the pull of the extended hand. "Yes," he sighed as he let his soul merge with the man he'd never seen before.

"Good-bye, David," Blair sighed.

Temco looked back over his shoulder and smiled. "Thank you," he said and followed his Guide into the brush. The mountain lion jumped to his feet and followed with a resounding cry of triumph. The jaguar and the wolf joined in for a minute, then settled at the feet of their own charges.

"How did you get Incacha to agree to that?" Jim asked in awe.

"All David needs is to experience the Sentinel/Guide bond for a little while, then he'll pass on over. That's what Incacha thinks anyway. He's willing to teach him. I think David will understand."

"But I mean, how did you even reach Incacha?"

"I sent Lassie. You know, Timmy's in the well? Go get help?"

"Okay," Jim said, not really getting it at all. "So how do we get back?"

Blair shrugged. "How do you usually get back?" he asked.

Jim looked at the remaining spirit guides as they lay at their feet. "A little help, guys?"

Simon watched helplessly as the paramedics arrived and began to examine the two men collapsed on the floor. Suddenly Jim coughed and began to struggle. Within a second, Blair joined him. The EMTs backed off slightly as the men instinctively reached for each other.

"We made it," Jim sighed.

"Never had any doubt, man," Blair assured, then moaned as he realized that David and Jim had not played nice while he was gone.

"Jesus, Sandburg," Jim grumbled. "Can we turn the heat down a little? Aren't you warm enough yet?"

Blair grunted as he got up from the couch. He shot Jim a dirty look as he made his way slowly and painfully to the thermostat.

"Hurt bad?" Jim asked, a little guiltily at Blair's stiff movements and the spectacular bruise on his cheek. He tried to get more comfortable in the sling and swathe around his shoulder. The doctor had set his return to work back another week due to the added damage in the shoulder, and insisted he wear the new torture device at least that long.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it does hurt bad," Blair bitched. "Do me a favor. The next time you kick the shit out of somebody, make sure they're not wearing my face. Okay?"

"I was trying to save you," Jim swore under his breath.

"I know," Blair said, fighting a smile that threatened. "Thanks, by the way."

"You're welcome. But I didn't really save you, did I?"

"You helped," Blair said as he settled back onto the couch. Jim reached out with his good arm and clutched a handful of hair. He tugged Blair over to him, ignoring the low grade whining and wrapped his arm around his Guide.

"Thanks for picking me," he said, not exactly making eye contact.

Blair leaned back into the embrace and grinned wickedly. "Yeah, well, you were the live one..."                                                                       

The End

Disclaimer - Images, characters, and settings taken from various television shows are the property of their respective owners, producers, etc.  No copyright infringement intended, I'm just having a little fun.