Blair watched Dee approach the van, his mind turning over what Jim had said.  He had felt the Quickening?  Like he had felt Blair's emotional distress a week ago at the police station?  Jim had never shown that kind of empathy before.  Before what?  What had changed?  He looked up as Dee opened the back door of the van.  Dee, that was the change, Dee was back in their lives.

With a minimum of effort, she grabbed Hale's body and slung it over her shoulders, heading off into the darkness.  She returned a few moments later for his head and the can of paint thinner that had been sitting in a box in the back of the van along with some painting supplies.  As she walked away again, Blair asked Joe, "I thought she was just going to dump him here.  What is she doing?"

Joe turned round in his seat again.  "Immortals decompose more rapidly than mortals.  It has something to do with losing their Quickening.   A couple of days out in the elements, and there's no trace left.  The only thing that hampers that is cold.  If she just left him in a dumpster, he might be found.  She's going to burn him."

Closing his eyes, Blair ran both hands through his hair.  "I'm really, really sorry I asked…" He felt Joe's firm grip on his shoulder.

"You haven't really talked about this have you?"

Blair shook his head.  "No, not about the details.  She told me what she was, and about the Game, and I…I accepted that and then she left. But that was all in the abstract, kind of like the Chronicles.  When I start thinking of all those Immortals as living, breathing people, it's overwhelming."

"Blair, she's not any different than you are.  She has the same thoughts, the same feelings, the same urges."

"She kills people…" he whispered.

"Not for sport, Blair, not for pleasure.  She kills only to survive, and to protect her family.  You realize that's what you and Jim, and Dana and Mulder, and your friend Megan are to her, don't you?  You are her family…"

"Her tribe…" he said softly.

"Her tribe, if you will.  That instinct to protect is deeply ingrained in her.  You've read her Chronicle, you know her, you know she takes her responsibilities seriously."

"She has to," he murmured, "it's in her genetic code."

Dee returned before Joe could ask what he meant by that.  She hesitated by the back door for a moment, then climbed into the front with Joe. Blair felt his stomach knot.  He knew it was stupid, but for some reason it hurt that she had chosen not to join him in the back seat again.  Maybe she just wanted to give him some extra room, since it would be a long, slow drive to the cabin in the still falling snow. Yeah, right.  He knew a brush-off when he saw it.  He laid down on the seat, and pulled the blanket up to his chin, trying not to think about how much his knee hurt, how much he missed Jim, and how much he wanted the comforting warmth of Dee's arms around him.  Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep.

He must have dozed off, because when he awoke, he could hear Joe and Dee speaking in hushed tones.  Joe was talking about what happened in the alley.  "I turned the corner, and saw this guy with a sword confronting Blair.  I had no idea what was going on, and then they were fighting."  Blair could hear the awe in the Watcher's voice.  "I can't believe Blair went after him like that.  He had no weapon, nothing, and yet he stood his ground.  Hell, from what I saw, he would have had him, except he slipped.  I wanted to help then, but there was nothing I could do.  I never would have reached them in time to stop him from being killed.  And then you came out of nowhere, like some kind of avatar…How did you know he was in trouble?"

Dee sighed.  "I felt Hale's buzz, and then Lo…Blair's fear, and I went running."  She shook her head.  "There was nothing else I could have done.  I didn't want to kill him, but there was no other way to stop Hale from completing that blow.  I shouldn't have sent Blair downstairs alone.  I'm supposed to be protecting him, not sending him out to be slaughtered!"

"Dee, you couldn't have known an Immortal would go after him."  Joe glanced at her quickly, his gaze curious.  "Unless, of course, he's one of you. You haven't been holding out on me, have you?  Blair's not Immortal, is he?"

She rubbed her temples with her fingertips before answering him.  "No, no, of course not, Joe.  But he does have a buzz.  It's faint, but there.  I can sense it, and other Immortals can too, or at least Methos can."  Blair stifled a surprised gasp.  This was news to him!

"He's not a pre-immortal?" Joe asked

"No.  I think it has to do with his being a Guide.  I've felt it in others who weren't immortal; they have a stronger life force than normal, and to me, at least, it is similar to a buzz.  Most of the people I've sensed with it were more closely in touch with the spirit world than others.  People like shamans, and spiritualists, and sentinels and guides."  Since when did Joe know about him being a Guide?  What had she been telling him?

Joe seemed satisfied with that answer, and changed the subject slightly.  "So did he actually share the Quickening with you?"

"I'm not sure," she replied.  "I haven't really had a chance to ask him."  She shifted in her seat to gaze at Blair.  "I shouldn't have grabbed him.  Maybe then he wouldn't have felt what I felt.  Hell, I don't know, maybe he would have been hurt worse if I hadn't been filtering the Quickening energy.  Or maybe he wouldn't have felt anything at all if we weren't bound."

Joe looked at her again.  "What do you mean by 'bound'?"

Diandra sighed.  "It's difficult to explain, Joe.  I bound our life forces, our Quickenings if you will, together when we were searching for Ellison, when Kendall had him.  It's what lets me know when he's in trouble, or upset.  There are times I regret that decision.  I did it because it was necessary at the time, and because I thought we would be together.  Now I don't know if that will ever happen."  The pain in her voice cut deep into Blair, and he clasped his hand over his mouth to keep from making a noise that would give him away.

Joe was quiet for a long time, then he said, "So what are you going to do when this is all over, when Blair has testified, and is no longer in danger?"

When she answered, Dee's voice was weary.  "I don't know, Joe, I don't know.  I was supposed to die in that car bomb explosion, and right now, being dead sounds pretty good.  I can just pack up and leave and start over somewhere else.  Preferably somewhere secluded, where nothing ever happens, and there are no Blairs to turn my life upside down.  Maybe I'll move back to Australia, back to the Outback.  Or find a deserted island and spend my time lying on the beach."

"I'll miss you," Joe said simply.

"I'll miss you too, Joe.  You've been a good friend."  She reached across the small space between them, and gave his arm a squeeze.

They fell silent then, and Blair was left alone with his thoughts, and his mixed up, jumbled emotions.  Dee was going to leave, really leave this time, after she'd promised, she'd sworn that they would try to make things work between them.  He couldn't believe she would break that promise, and yet he could understand it.  Who had he been to think he had anything to offer her?  She probably found most of the world's population incredibly boring just on general principles.  He tried very hard to dredge up some anger, some rage at what she was planning, but all he could manage was an incredible sadness and a horrible sense of loss.  He pulled the blanket closer around him, and tried to hold back his tears.

"Yeah, he's been through a hell of a lot today, and I wasn't there to protect him."  Jim looked at her a little strangely.

Realizing he was wondering about her overly large sweats, she said, "They're Dee's.  I just grabbed the first thing on top of the clean laundry…"

Jim gave her a grin.  "Like Sandburg grabs my clean shirts."

Blushing, the Aussie turned away to search the cupboards for a couple mugs.  "So were you able to get a hold of them?" she asked.

"Yeah, I talked to Blair.  He said they were going to be late getting to the island."  Jim poured the soup carefully into the mugs, and handed one to Megan.  Taking the other one, he headed for the living room, and sat down on the sofa.

Megan followed him, sitting on the opposite end of the couch, propping her stocking feet on the coffee table and wiggling her toes in the warmth from the fireplace.  "They're going to be late because of what happened?  I mean, I gather that little episode in the truck was connected to Sandy, wasn't it?"

Jim took a small sip of the hot liquid before he answered, wondering how much to tell her.  Megan wasn't stupid, and he knew she must have put a lot of what she had observed over the past week of living with Dee into some kind of theory.  Besides, Blair had said she had the ability to be a guide, and most of this was stuff she needed to know.  He sighed.  He had hoped that Sandburg would be the one to tell her, though; he wasn't as good at teaching as his partner.  "Yeah, something happened to Blair, and it was traumatic enough that it came through our connection."  He glanced at her, pleased to find her hanging on his words, instead of silently laughing.

"Sandy's kind of explained the sentinel/guide bond to me.  He said it's like a psychic link between the two of you, not telepathy, but empathy. When one is hurt or in trouble, the other can sense it, if he's listening."

Jim nodded.  "I think that explains it pretty well."

"Sandy's okay, isn't he?" Megan asked.

"Yeah, he told me he was fine, but…there's something else going on, and I got the feeling it has to do with Diandra."

A very nasty thought crossed Megan's mind, and she gave voice to it. "You don't suppose Dee was the one that hurt Sandy, do you?"

The sentinel shook his head vehemently.  "I can tell you for a fact that didn't happen.  She would never harm him.  I think it was just an accident; he was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Megan was silent for few minutes, trying to decide how to approach the next subject.  Finally she said, "Did Blair ever tell you how they escaped the car bomb this afternoon?"

Jim took another drink, and wondered how much of Diandra's story was his to tell.  If she hadn't confided in the other woman about her immortality, she must have had a reason, or maybe she thought it wasn't necessary.  She hadn't told him or Blair about it until circumstances forced her to.  Jim finally said, "Blair told me he was out of the car when it exploded."

"But Dee wasn't.  She was hurt, wasn't she?"

Jim nodded, and the Aussie's eyes lit up triumphantly.  "She healed herself, didn't she?  I knew she could.  If she could heal me, then by extension, she ought to be able to heal herself."

Ellison stared at her, a little in shock.  "Just how much do you know about her…abilities?" he asked.

Megan set her mug down on the coffee table, and bounced excitedly on the sofa cushion, a move that reminded Jim of Sandburg.  "I knew she could heal other people, because she healed me, after I was attacked. I figured out she could heal herself after we were shot at in the parking garage.  When we went back to the loft, she took a shower right away and changed her clothes.  I found her bloodstained shirt later in the trash, and I…sort of peeked when she got undressed for bed.  There wasn't a mark on her."  She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest, her expression one of smug satisfaction.

"That doesn't bother you?" he asked.

Megan shook her head.  "Hey, I've already accepted the idea of people with heightened senses.  What's a little psychic healing among friends? I know enough to keep my mouth shut, especially if she chooses me to be her partner."

Jim swallowed the last of his soup, then said, "What do you mean, chooses?  I didn't choose Sandburg, he kind of forced himself on me."

The Aussie met his eyes for a moment, then suddenly became interested in her fingernails.   Finally, she said, "Do you ever have visions, Jim?"

Sensing she was talking about spirit guide visions, he said, "Yes, many times.  I've learned the hard way not to ignore them.  That's what got Blair killed by Alex Barnes."  He felt her hand grip his arm reassuringly as his voice stumbled over the evil sentinel's name. "I've taken them pretty seriously from that point on.  You've been having visions?"

Megan nodded.  "More like dreams really.  I can't yet reach that state of complete relaxation and calm that will let me have them while awake. But I've dreamed of an osprey, a black mare, and a silver wolf.  I've figured out that I'm the osprey, Dee's the mare, and Sandy is the wolf?"  Jim nodded, and she continued.  "But there's one I can't figure out.  The only real person in my dreams is this red-haired woman…warrior, I guess is all I can call her.  Her spirit guide is the red falcon.  She's the only one who talks to me, and she's been teaching me how to be a guide, only she doesn't call herself that.  She calls herself the Companion, and she told me that Dee has to choose me as her guide, but she's never really said how that's supposed to happen.  Do you know who she is, Jim?  Have you ever seen her?"

Ellison let the breath he was holding out slowly.  "No, I've never seen her, but Sandburg has.  He told me he had a dream in which she helped him make a choice to learn to fight, so he could protect my back.  He also said she helped him find me when Kendall had me.  He said she was the spirit of Dee's dead guide."

Megan's hand flew to cover her mouth as she gasped, her mind reeling. Dee's guide was teaching her how to take her place.  In a way she had already been chosen… She felt Jim's arm going around her shaking shoulders, pulling her close.

"It's okay, Megan," he told her gently.  "You are not going to go through this alone.  I know how terrifying the idea of that kind of responsibility can be, but I'll help you as much as I can, and so will Blair.  And I'm sure Dee will choose you; Blair says you have the talent to be a very good guide."  He could hear her heart pounding, and felt warm tears on his neck.  It had been a long day for both of them, and would probably be another long one tomorrow.  "Come on, Connor," he said, getting them both to their feet.  "Let's get you to bed."

Blair must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing he knew, Dee was shaking him gently.  "Come on, L..Blair, we're here."

Yawning, he sat up slowly, every muscle screaming.  "Oh, god, that was a mistake," he said.

"You hurt, huh?"  He nodded.  "Sorry, there's not much I can do for aches and pains.  How's your knee, you need me to rewrap it?"

Blair flexed it a couple times, then shook his head.  "I should be okay if I don't have to walk too far."

"Not too far," she said, giving him a grin, "just to the canoe."

Getting out of the van, he could see a canoe already packed with their gear halfway in the water of the lake.  Snow was still falling lightly, and clouds hide the light of an almost full moon.  He could barely make out the where the beach ended and the water began, let alone the island they were supposed to be heading for.  He was very glad Dee knew where she was going.

"Go ahead and get in, I'll just be a minute."  She turned to give Joe a hug and a kiss.  "Thanks for all your help.  I owe you several now."

Joe smiled at her.  "I'll be thinking of ways to collect, and most of them have to do with you singing at the bar."

"That I can do," she replied.  Turning her back on him, she walked over to the canoe, and pushed it the rest of the way into the water, leaping into the stern and picking up a paddle as it began to float.

They headed out onto the lake, and soon the shore was no longer visible to Blair.  He had grabbed a paddle also, and did the best he could to help her, even though his muscles protested every stroke.  Kneeling in the small aluminum canoe was making his injured knee throb, but soon it didn't matter; the cold temperature of the lake leeching through the metal quickly made both his legs numb. After about half an hour, Dee announced they were almost there, but Blair didn't see the island until the bow of the canoe stuck the beach.

"Stay put, Blair," she told him, jumping out of the boat into the thigh deep water, and dragging it ashore.  Giving him a hand out of the canoe, she held onto him as he tried to work the pins and needles out of his legs.  Grabbing as much of their stuff as she could carry, and still help Blair, she led him through the underbrush, and up a slight hill to a rough-hewn log cabin.  Opening the door, she leaned him against the wall, and told him not to move.

He could hear her moving around in the room, then a match was struck, and a lamp lit, it's soft yellow glow illuminating the large room.  Dee was already putting a second match to the wood laid in the fireplace. The dry tinder caught quickly, and the room began to warm up.  She glanced up at him still standing next to the doorway, and smiled. "It's okay to move now.  I just didn't want you walking into anything until I had a light lit.  Get changed out of those wet clothes, and I'll be back in a minute with the rest of the supplies."

Blair nodded, and did as he was told, pulling some sweats out of the clothes she'd borrowed from Duncan's closet for him.  He'd managed the sweatshirt okay, but was having trouble getting his jeans down over his reinjured knee when she returned.  Seeing his predicament, she pushed him down on the couch and worked them slowly off.  Unwrapping the Ace bandage she'd put on it earlier, she probed it gently as Blair bit his lip to keep from crying out.  Shaking her head, she made a disgusted noise with her mouth.

"I take it that's not a good sign," he said.

"What did you do to it, L--Blair?  It's worse than it was before. There's some muscle tearing and some cartilage damage now. Fortunately, it's nothing I can't fix."  She waggled her fingers at him.  "Hold on to something," she warned, "and feel free to scream as loud as you want."

He grabbed hold of the back of the couch, noting that was about the fourth time she'd started to call him "Lobo" and caught herself.  He was going to ask her about it, when his world was reduced to the inferno raging inside his knee.  He didn't quite scream, and he managed to stay seated on the sofa, but he did put forth a string of profanity that caused Dee to raise an eyebrow.

The pain slowly faded, and was replaced by the exquisite sensation of her hands tenderly massaging his thigh and calf.  Opening his eyes, he watched her work, the trace of a smile on her lips.  "I think you'll live, though that's the first time I've ever been called the bastard daughter of a three-legged demon dog in Sumatran," she finally said. Giving his thigh a light slap, she got to her feet from her kneeling position.  "You hungry?"

When was the last time he'd ate?  Lunch, maybe.  He remembered a salad consumed in Rainier's student union a lifetime ago.  "Yeah, I could eat."

"Good, because you're cooking."  She headed into the kitchen, and began to lay wood in the wood-burning stove.  Blair followed her, grumbling good-naturedly.  He quickly found the pots and pans, and figured out how to use the hand pump on the sink to draw water.  Grabbing a can of stew Joe had included in their provisions, he opened it, and dumped it into the pot, then set a kettle on a second burner to boil water for tea.  Turning round to ask Dee a question, he found she'd disappeared. Sliding the food off the burner, he went to look for her.

There weren't too many places she could be.  A quick check of the cabin turned up one bedroom, and what he optimistically labeled a washroom. A dull thunking noise drew him to the front door, and opening it, he found her standing in the snow, splitting logs with a long-handled ax.

"Dee," he asked, "what are you doing?  There's plenty of wood already inside."

She glanced up at him, but showed no sign of stopping her chore.  "I need the exercise," she told him, and he suddenly remembered a conversation they'd had as they'd climbed a cliff in the dark.

"The Quickening," he said softly.

"Yes," she answered him, "paddling a canoe, hauling Hale's body around, and healing you weren't enough.  I feel like I've had about 12 pots of coffee, and the caffeine is coming out of my pores."  She set another log up on the tree stump and swung the ax, cleaving it neatly in two.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.

She sighed exasperatedly.  "No, just go inside, eat something and go to bed.  I'll be fine, Sandburg." Setting the ax down, she reached for another log.

Everything Blair had been through for the day, week, and months before exploded inside him at her Jim-like comment.  He was off the porch like a shot, tackling her around the waist and dumping her on her back in the snow.  Her startled blue eyes stared up at him as he hissed fiercely, "My name is not Sandburg, and it is not Blair!  I'm Lobo! Your Lobo…"  His voice trailed off as he raised his hand to touch her cheek, and watched her flinch away.

Blair remembered his actions in the warehouse after the explosion, and then again in the van after she'd killed Hale, when he had done the same thing, had refused her offer of comfort, of closeness.  Suddenly her conversation with Joe became crystal clear to him.  She thought he couldn't handle what she was, what she had to do to survive.  "Oh, Dee," he whispered, "shit, Dee, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"  He moved back, releasing her.

She sat up, the expression on her face unreadable.  "Go inside, Blair," she said, her voice deadly quiet.

He shook his head, the loose strands of his hair flying.  Grabbing her hand in both of his, he said, "No, damn it, I am not going to let this happen to us.  I am not going to hurt you this way.  I'm sorry I let you believe I was having doubts, that I was afraid of you, of what you are.  That couldn't be any farther from the truth.  I love you."

Seeing she was not convinced, he tried again.  "Look at me, Dee, -look- at me.  You'll know I'm telling you the truth."

Dee closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.  When she opened them, Blair could feel her power stripping him bare, peeling away the layers he'd created to protect himself from the sometimes cruel reality of his world, reading what was written in his heart, in his soul.  A soft little "Oh" escaped her lips, then she flung herself at him, her arms wrapping tightly around him as she buried her face in his hair.  "Oh, goddess," she breathed, "I don't deserve you, Lobo. Nothing I have ever done is worthy of this kind of reward…"

Lifting her head from his shoulder, Blair cupped her cheek in his hand, blue eyes meeting blue eyes.  "You love me," he told her softly.

"That's worthy enough."  Leaning forward, he kissed her tenderly, almost chastely, unsure of how far she wanted to take it at this point in time.  "Come on back inside," he coaxed, getting to his feet, pulling her up with him.  "We're just getting cold and wet all over again out here."  She followed him into the cabin, still holding his hand, waiting patiently while they detoured to the kitchen to take the screaming kettle off the stove.

"Dinner?" he asked.

"Later," she replied, leading him into the bedroom.  She paused at the end of the bed, feeling his arms go around her waist.  Tilting her head down, she kissed him, and he returned it eagerly, his nimble fingers pulling her flannel shirt out of her jeans, followed by her T-shirt. She wriggled against him as his hands slid up her sides, breaking the kiss long enough to mutter, "Your hands are like ice, Lobo."

"What do you expect?" he asked with a grin.   "We've been out in the snow. I know just how to warm them up, though."  His hands moved higher under her shirt, and Dee squealed, backing away from him, and falling onto the bed.  His arms trapped, Blair was forced to follow her, landing on top of her.  He looked down at her, and found she was trying very hard not to laugh.  A sly grin spread from one corner of his mouth to the other, and his fingers moved lightly over her soft skin.  She giggled.  Encouraged, he tickled her a little more.

"Ahhh, Lobo, don't…damn it, I'm very…" She couldn't finish the sentence, her giggles turning into moans as he pushed her shirt up and his mouth joined his hands.  One of her hands buried itself in the curls at the back of his head, the other clutched at the quilt as she writhed under his expert attention.

His fingers stoked down her stomach and unfastened her jeans, easing them over her hips and down her legs.  Blair then hit a snag.  "Boots," he said, raising his head from planting kisses along her collarbone. Her hand in his hair dragged him back down, and he felt her squirming underneath him, followed by the sound of first one, then the other boot hitting the floor.  She moved again, and he heard her jeans drop to the hardwood as well.  "A woman of many talents," he murmured against her cheek, as she grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt and yanked it over his head none too gently.

Raising himself up on his elbows, Blair felt her fingers roaming his chest, sliding through his chest hair, her palms grazing his sensitive nipples.  He groaned as her mouth followed in her hands' wake, kissing and nibbling.  She pulled his head down for a kiss, her tongue tangling with his as she hooked a leg over his thigh, and brought her hips up to meet his.  The rest of their clothes quickly vanished over the side of the bed.

Moving over her, Blair gazed into her eyes, imagining he could see her Quickening flaming in their electric blue depths.  Her hands pulled him into her then, and all coherent thought was burned away in the heat of their passion.